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portgasdwrld · 2 months

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★ Naked in bed.pt2

⋆ ★NSFW content, suggestive

⋆ ★featuring: Sanji, Ace, Buggy (all the simps), GN!reader

⋆ ★authors note: you ask ! You shall receive 🫶🏻

Sanji

Congrats, you killed the man

jokes aside, we all know how Sanji is down bad and you better believe that when it comes to HIS lover?? He’s more down bad than you can imagine

So it started all because you realized your underwear/sleepwear started to smell like smoke so you thought a great solution would be to just go sleep naked and then take a shower in the morning. Then your clothes would be technically safe from the smell.

Sanji was already lying in bed, heavily anticipating you changing into your pyjama or lingerie before bed. You could sense your boyfriend heavy gaze on your body.

You smirked to yourself and started to remove your first layer normally and then you attacked the rest. He cleared his throat and mumbled your name under his shaky breath as he was faced to your nude body.

« Y-y/n..? »

« I hope you don’t mind baby, I just don’t wanna smell like smoke »

His nose is bleeding and he’s quick to pull you by your arm into him. Your body falls on top of him and he’s already kissing you as his hands roam all over your curves.

« Who would complain about this..»

He finally replies with a smirk and mischievous eyes. He’s so down bad for you.

Ace

Ace devil fruit power is very useful when it’s cold, when it’s time to defeat powerful enemies, and so on. But when the ship is in a summer island territory and the heat is almost unbearable, sleeping with Ace who has a high body temperature can be hard.

You lay down on his bed with nothing but small shorts and a tank top as you wonder how long you’re going to have to endure the heat. Your eyes were growing heavy as fatigue started to grow in you, but you knew that even the little clothes you have on you right now, felt irritating.

Sleeping naked doesn’t seem like such a bad idea…

That’s what you do, you remove your clothes and lay down again on the bed, waiting for the commander to find you. Then you hear the door slowly open with a distant goodbye from your boyfriend to someone behind the door.

« Oh- Uh hey there? »

He smirks as he put his hat down and starts removing his accessories. You push your upper body up and stare at your lovely freckled man.

« Hey.. » you say in a sleepy tone. Aces eyes are devouring you and you feel butterflies in your stomach as his eyes linger shamelessly.

« Thé weather is too hot, so I thought I would sleep naked… »

« Umm, I see »

He says as he sits on the bed and let his hand play with your hair.

« My baby can’t handle the heat? »

You nod with a small pout and lean into his touch.

« How about I make your forget about it and give you a good reason to sweat »

You blush and truly who were you to deny anything to this man when he looked at you with so much love and lust.

« Sure.. » you smile as you pull him into a kiss.

Buggy

You felt lazy to put clothe on after your shower so you just walked back to the bed and laid down there. You found again the article you started to read on the nightstand but stopped as you got interrupted earlier. With that you forgot that you were still nude on your bed.

That was until Buggy walked into your shared room with a screech, his eyes popping out of his face.

« What are you doing naked like that ??? »

He screamed-whispered in panic. He didn’t know if he was totally turned on or shocked, maybe both.

You finally turned to him and looked at yourself slowly and back to him. Your mouth gasped a little, but you didn’t care because it was your boyfriend and it wasn’t like it was his first time seeing you naked lol.

« Aren’t you overreacting babe? » you chuckled as you turned your body more to his direction and let the article fall on the bed.

« What if it wasn’t me who walked in?? Are you insane?! »

He said as he walked into your direction. You knew how to shut him up, so you just pulled him harshly by his collar into you and smashed your lips into his. You then ran your hands over his clothed torso and pulled out to whisper into his ear.

« But it’s you , isn’t it? So how about you take care of me instead Captain »

He’s blushing and groping your body.

« If that all you want, don’t ask me twice »

He smirks and dive back into kissing you, having the upper hand this time.

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fortune-fool02 · 10 months

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Run

Miguel O'Hara x Anomaly, female reader

Summary: [Name] had never truly had a reason to fear Miguel, until now.

Warnings: Light spoilers for ATSV, angst, canon violence. Dark?

Word count: 1,351 words

I couldn't help but fall for this man.

Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback and reblog as it really helps. Thank you.

Please enjoy.

My heart pounded in my ears, drumming heavily inside my chest. Weak, pathetic gasps of breath were all my lungs could muster at this moment, straining my muscles on a thin edge of energy, but I had to keep going. Swallowing down what little oxygen I could, I took off running once again.

The power to this place had been cut off, leaving me shrouded in a thick coat of darkness. Shadows shifting and spreading around the walls and floors, spreading their wings like a great crow, reaching out towards me to swallow me whole. Each little sound, each little noise, no matter how soft or distant, shot a fresh wave of fear through my body.

The walls seemed to be closing in on me, bending unnaturally to contain me, like a rat inside an ever-expanding maze, watched by unseen eyes, observed. Every room I moved into began to look more identical to the last to the point I was certain I was running around in bloody circles now.

I knew I took a left this time instead of right. Or was it the other way around?

"Fuck." I softly cursed, looking around frantically to search for any indication of someplace new, some form of escape from this place. The ache in my muscles begged for me to stop and rest, and it was growing more and more tempting for every second that I stood still, but I had to push it aside. I couldn't risk stopping now.

The silence was calming but tense. My ears straining to listen for anything. How had this all gone so wrong so fast? The thought bounced around in my head. They were supposed to be a team, all of us working together as a unit to keep the balance. And now, there was no team. Only those hunting and those being hunted.

A distant sound caught my attention, making the pulse in my veins go silent for a moment. Something sharp scraping along metal, creating that uncomfortable screeching sound that made one want to grit their teeth. An icy coldness filled my body, sapping out any ounce of courage I might have had before.

The sound grew closer and closer, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and I looked around. A small room stood to the side and I pushed the door open, sliding my body inside and tucking down behind a desk, attempting to make myself as small as possible. Anxiety clashed inside of me, gnawing away at my bones and chewed at my veins like a starved dog as I sat absolutely still.

A soft creak was heard from the hinges of the door as it was pushed open, my heart in my throat. Faint, almost silent footsteps tapped the cold floor, the sound almost deafening in the quiet room. A heavy presence filled the room, choking out any ounce of air out and replacing it with this dense, curshing smoke. I almost couldn't breathe.

The bottom of Miguel's shoes could be seen on the otherside of the desk, he was standing so close that if I breathed a little too loud, he would hear it. I bit down on my lip, trying to silence my breathing and watched his movements carefully.

He stood there, his shadow creeping under the small gap under the desk. Even his shadow alone was intimidating. As if I touched it, he would know I was there. I could feel his eyes behind the wood of the desk, piercing down at me with their vibrant, eerie glow. The eyes of a predator hunting down his prey, his meek, pathetic prey.

Any minute now, he would tear the desk apart and expose my hiding spot and then it was all over for me. It was by some stroke of luck that I had survived this long running from him. Miguel had always seemed like a patient man, but behind that patience, there was something brewing. Stirring under the surface. Waiting for its chance to emerge.

Now, he was almost a different man. Someone I had once trusted to have my back in any situation, someone I sided with through thick and thin.

Slowly, his shoes turned away from the desk and began to walk out of the room. A small breath of relief slipped my lips before it was cut off by a painful sharpness, my body distorting for a brief moment as a violent glitch ran through my body. And his footsteps stopped.

Before I had a chance to move, five talons pierced through the wood of the desk, just missing my head by a hair thread before the desk was thrown across the room, shattering upon impact and throwing splinters outwards.

Miguel stood there, his expression twisted with an anger that made my very nerves tense up. His eyes glowing deeply in the darkness.

"There you are." His voice was dripping with the same venom in his fangs, that could out any snake or spider to shame. A fearful cry left my lips as I tried to crawl backwards, trying to get away from him, but Miguel was faster. He always was.

His foot shot out, striking my chest hard and pinned me to the floor. The weight of it crushing out any air in my lungs.

"M-Mi....guel...." I choked out, trying to squirm under his weight, a fruitless attempt. His body lowered down, his knee replacing his foot which only made it worse. A faint cracking sound was made from my chest, my ribcage straining under him to the point I feared the bones would snap. His eyes pierced into me, deep into my very soul, eyes that I once would gaze deeply into. But now, all I saw was rage.

"All you had to do was listen to me, [Name]." He hissed out, his fangs glimmering in the low light, "And you couldn't even do that." I couldn't help but cower. Of all the enemies I faced in my universe, none of them came close to the fear I felt looking up at Miguel at this moment in time. None of them came close to the threat that he radiated.

"P-Please, I made a mistake, I know that." I forced out, wheezing for air as my lungs began to burn. All I could focus on where those eyes of his. The only spark of colour in the darkness around us. Even like this, there was a beauty to the man, in the same way that a venomous snake held the most beautiful patterns in their scales, or a tiger baring the boldest of stripes on their fur.

Or the most stunning spider holding the most potent venom.

The cold sharpness of his talons brushed along the side of my face, pushing some strands out of the way of my eyes, but the tips of them hovering far too close for comfort to my eyes.

"Then you knew this would be coming." Miguel's talon brushed the corner of my eye, making the muscle around it twitch. "Then you wouldn't have tried to run." A light stinging sensation was felt as the tip of the talon pushed into my skin lightly, just enough to break the skin but not deep enough to draw blood. Slowly, he dragged it along to my cheekbone, an almost thoughtful expression filling his face as if admiring something.

Then, he shifted the movement sharply, cutting open a wound. "Ah!"

His other hand gripped the side of my head, forcing me to keep still and look up at him, and only him. I was completely at his mercy. Until he saw my punishment fit of my so-called 'crime'.

When Miles had made a run for it through the 'Go-Home' machine, I made no attempt to stop him. I let him run right past me when I was more than capable of stopping him. I was the last line of defence, and I let Miles escape. My loyalty might have laid with Miguel, but my sympathy was with Miles. The boy deserved a chance to save his father.

Miguel, clearly, did not see it the same way.

#miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #spiderman2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv x reader

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lovableapocalypse · 11 months

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feels like

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

wc- 2k

warnings- mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant, vomit/throwing up, like one f bomb, established relationship, i dont think anything else

a/n- reader is a pilot lol. hope you all like it and send me any requests you wanna see!!!!

You were tired of vomit. Tired of the smell, tired of the nausea, and tired of the harsh sting it was leaving in the back of your throat. The past three days you had been pulled to consciousness by your uneasy stomach and ended up over the toilet as your alarm blared from the bedroom.

Bradley has had to leave for training extremely early this week and luckily has missed your ugly morning wake-up call. You’d been subtly avoiding his concerns at work; when you looked queasy after conditioning, when Jake’s body wash scent made you gag, and when you barely touched the coffee he brought you one morning. You played it off as a stomach bug, but your intuition was telling you something completely different.

Thankfully this week had been a zero flight week. You were terrified of flying if your suspicions were accurate, but you were also too scared to take the damn pregnancy test.

As you walked down the hall Friday afternoon, doing your best to avoid everyone, you made a pact with yourself that you would stop by the convenience store tonight. Bradley was staying late to help with new flight curriculum so you’d have the opportunity to do it alone.

Part of you wanted to share this moment with him, but your fear quickly overrode that. You and Bradley had been together for years at this point, ever since your first run at Top Gun. He’s mentioned kids a couple times, but never seriously. Deep down you knew he would accept this and be 100% in it, but your anxiety was on blast and your logical thoughts were nowhere to be found.

You were supposed to be heading to a group meeting, all Dagger Squad members present. Your nausea has been steady all day, and hasn't eased up since you puked your guts up first thing. It’s been miserable and your sweaty, pale complexion are a testament to that. You’re trying your best to take deep breaths as you walk through the humid hallway, but your stomach lurches anyway. You grip the wall nearest to you and clench your eyes shut.

Deep breaths. In and out. You wait for the pain to subside before you start walking again. You slowly enter the conference room, looking around. Last one here, great. You shoot a small smile in apology and head to the empty seat next to Bradley.

He gives you a quizzical look as Maverick begins a spiel about next week's itinerary.

“You okay?” He whispers, brown eyebrows pinched.

You inhale sharply and nod, reaching for his hand to squeeze in reassurance. He squeezes in return and tries his best to keep his attention on Mav, but your squirming is distracting. It’s too hot in this cramped office space. You swear you can feel each person’s body heat radiate off them, making your head spin.

Breaths. Deep freaking breaths. You’re trying to concentrate once again on your breathing as Phoenix asks a question, but everything is muffled and distant. You feel Bradley’s eyes seer into you and your jaw clenches unbearably tight.

This is not happening. You refuse. You’ve made it the whole week without getting sick at work, and you really don’t want your closest colleagues and friends to see you hurl in a tiny trash can. Bradley squeezes your hand tighter trying to grasp your attention, but you just stare ahead and will your body to stop.

Fuck. There’s definitely no stopping it. You shoot to your feet, pulling your hand from Bradley’s, drawing everyone’s attention. You briefly hear Mav ask if you’re alright and your hand quickly shoots to cover your mouth as you stumble to the trash can. Your stomach empties and you cough harshly, bent over the small container. You hear chairs screech and boots on the ground and soon feel a familiar hand slide up your back.

Bradley pulls your hair away from your face with his other hand and continues to rub your back, glancing around the room in concern. Phoenix and Bob shoot him sympathetic looks and Jake’s grimace is clear as day.

Mav makes his way over to you, cautiously, and shouts at Javy to get a medic. You raise your hand and wave at him, trying to refuse. You cough again, “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“You just puked y/n.” Bradley states.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry- just I’m okay now.”

You slowly stand up and Bradley keeps his grip on you, moving you towards a seat. You glance up, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, and see the sympathetic looks sent your way. “Sorry,” You sigh.

Javy returns out of breath with the medic and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Y/n I think you should go get checked out,” Maverick says, “Rooster, why don’t you go with her.” He nods his head towards the door and motions for you, Bradley, and the medic to leave the conference room.

Bradley keeps his grip on your elbow as you walk slowly toward the med bay. The medic is asking you basic questions that you are trying your best to answer as vaguely as possible. When you enter the med area you begrudgingly let the medic take your temperature and check your vitals.

“Everything looks okay. I’d just get some rest and head to urgent care if your symptoms get any worse.”

You’re grateful the medic didn’t mention pregnancy and you nod in appreciation as they exit the small exam area.

Bradley sighs and places his hands on his hips. “Let me take you home, honey. Get some sleep.”

You shake your head, “No Roo it’s okay, I promise. You have to stay late anyway.”

You’re avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. You’re not sure why you feel so emotional all of a sudden, but with barely any sleep and vomiting up everything you eat, you’re exhausted. You feel tears prick your waterline as Bradley steps closer to you.

He reaches up and cups your face. It wasn’t always like this. You and Rooster are both stubborn to an unhealthy degree, and when you two got off on the wrong foot all those years ago you never imagined this. He rubs his thumbs over your cheeks, examining you with his eyes.

“What’s going on? You’ve been off all week.” His voice is soft and it only makes you more emotional.

You close your eyes and feel the first tears escape down your face. “I think I’m pregnant.” You whisper.

You keep your eyes shut as you hear him inhale. He grips your face tighter, willing you to open your eyes. When you finally open them, he’s smiling.

“You’re pregnant?”

You shake your head, “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t taken a test yet, but I’ve been sick all week and I can’t remember when my last period was.” You sigh.

His smile only grows. Of course he would be excited. You’re not sure why you were convinced he would be pissed or upset. His reaction only makes you cry more and he tugs you closer into the warmth of his chest.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and steps back, helping you off the exam bench. “Let's go home, yeah?” He asks.

You nod solemnly and thread your fingers through his, heading to the exit. Bradley lets Mav know you’re sick and he’s taking you home, planning to finish the flight course next week. He helps you into his Bronco and secures your seatbelt for you. He kisses you lightly before closing the door and heading around the car.

On the way back to your shared place he detours to the nearest convenience store and parks out front. Turning to you he says, “I’m gonna run in and grab a few tests. Do you want to come in?”

You shake your head and lean back against the seat letting it absorb your exhaustion. He’s quick inside and jogs back out to the car with a full bag.

“I didn’t know which one to get so I just grabbed a bunch.” He pulls a few out to show you and you laugh at his eagerness.

He smiles at you and places the bag in the back seat, squeezing your knee as he starts the car again.

He turns the radio on low as you watch your surroundings pass by. You don’t know how to feel about all this. Are you even ready to be a mom? You glance at Bradley and take in his tanned skin and light blush covering his nose and ears. He’d be a great dad, you already know it.

You try to shake off some of your anxiety as you head inside. Bradley pulls you close and squeezes your arm, sending you a reassuring smile. You exhale and turn to him, “Will you take it with me?”

“Of course.” He nods and rubs your arm gently.

You head towards the bathroom with the bag full of tests and Bradley fills a cup of water for you. You’re examining all the different tests when he enters and comes up behind you. He rests his head on your shoulder and reads the boxes with you.

You grab the test with the electronic Pregnant or Not Pregnant answer and a generic 2 line test as well. Bradley sits with you the whole time anxiously squeezing any part of you he can touch. You place the tests near the sink and set a timer on your phone.

You both sit in a comfortable yet tense silence. You can tell Bradley is more excited than you are but he’s doing his best to keep himself calm. The phone rings cutting off your anxious thoughts and you both stand together to look at the results.

You grab the line test first seeing two very visible solid lines. You quickly grab the other which coincides with a bold Pregnant flashing at you. You close your eyes and pass the test to Bradley, feeling the waterworks begin.

He gasps slightly and puts the test back on the counter. He laughs as he turns you to face him, “Hey, hey it’s okay. Everythings gonna be fine,” You can hear the smile in his voice as your tears fall faster.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? Hey, look at me.” He cups your face again, your eyes opening to meet his.

“We’re gonna figure it out.” His smile spreads, “We’re gonna be parents holy shit.” You laugh at his excitement and pull him into an embrace.

“We’re gonna be parents.” You mumble into his shirt.

The next morning you head to a local clinic just to get a medical test and see if everythings okay with the baby. You’re given the all clear and relative timeline of birth and growth and everything seems so surreal. Bradley is beyond excited and it’s starting to rub off on you. He spent the whole night reassuring you and brainstorming possible names.

The doctor did let you know that flying is off limits. You feel a bit sad at the loss of flying, but know Mav will keep you busy in other ways. You keep reminding yourself this as you head to his office Monday morning. Bradley and you are hand in hand, him excited to break the news. You knock and hear a muffled “Come in” on the other side. You exhale and squeeze Bradley’s hand as you push the door open.

“Hey y/n, Bradley.” He nods. “Feeling better?” He places the paperwork he was looking at down and looks between you both.

You glance to Bradley who quickly nods his head, urging you on. “About that.” You turn back to Mav’s confused expression continuing, “Um, Bradley and I actually have something to tell you.”

Pete remains silent, questioning you both.

“I’m, uh, not gonna be able to fly for a while.”

His brows furrow, mouth opening to object, but you beat him to it.

“I’m pregnant.”

His mouth drops in shock and Bradley laughs at his expression.

“I- I mean wow. Holy shit!” He laughs. He stands and rounds the desk pulling you into a tight hug and then Bradley. He shakes Rooster’s shoulders as he pulls away and his face is ecstatic.

“I’ll be damned,” He looks between you both again and shakes his head. You glance at Bradley and smile.

Bradley’s grin is contagious and he shouts, “We’re gonna be parents!”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #tgm #top gun #tgm fanfic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick x you #top gun maverick x reader

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squirmhoney · 6 months

Text

TWISTED | PART ONE

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader Warning: Smut. Dark. Non-Con. Dub-con. Abusive relationship. Pet names. Possessive!Rafe 18+ MDNI A/N: This is inspired by my drabble here. Hope you enjoy it and please read the warnings before proceeding. Support me through my Ko-Fi linked here.

Part two

Master List Here

Ever since you were three, you had struggled with social situations. Which made starting school awful…

But only for a second.

Because he was there. That taller boy with light blonde hair and a goofy smile, who had practically been your guiding light through your whole first day and the day after that, and after that…

You thought he’d be there till the end but the month after Rafe turned sixteen he started on the cruel path he had always been destined for. Or at least, that’s what you liked to believe. Because truth be told, most of the Outer Banks believed Rafe had always had a cruelness to him, you had just been the last person to see it.

On your twenty-first birthday, Rafe had been the last person on your mind.

Especially when your mother was in the midst of talking you through what was supposed to be your ‘surprise birthday party’.

“You only turn twenty-one once,” your mother exclaimed, holding out another dress for you to look at.

You grimaced at the option, turning away from her to finger through another rack of dresses.

“Who knows when I’ll be able to celebrate your birthday again?” She whined, face dropping to convince you to let her hold this one party. “Especially with you planning to leave the Outer Banks in a few months.”

“It’s not like I’m never going to visit,” you told her.

“You’re finally an adult, Y/N.”

This made you roll your eyes.

“Let me do this one thing for you, please.”

She was insisting and you knew there was only one person that could ever win in this situation.

You nodded, mouthing a small okay before turning away to find a dress to suit the occasion. But you could still hear her screeches of excitement from behind you, reminding you that you’d be her perfect doll to show off to the whole Kook population tonight.

It was only an hour into shopping when you finally grew tired, wanting to call it a day and go home. But without the dress your mother believed you needed, you weren’t going anywhere.

“How about this?” Your mother pulled out yet another gown from the clothing racks.

“It’s too much,” you answered, rolling your eyes as you took another step further into the shop.

You could sense the lecture brewing from your mother, hearing it in her tone as her mouth snapped open. But you were quick to shut it out, focusing on the distant noise of laughter coming from behind the dressing room curtains, a laughter you recognised.

When a head of brown and another one of blonde stepped out of the dressing room, you were quick to duck your own down, hoping if you seemed interested enough in the clothes in front of you, that they might not stop to greet you.

But they hadn’t just got your attention, and soon enough your mother was already calling out for them before you could hiss at her no.

“Kiara. Sarah,” She shouted, waving them over with a huge smile.

They shared that same joy as they embraced your mother in a warm hug, one you were quick to decline as you held your arms to your chest.

“Happy Birthday I guess,” Sarah beamed.

“Oh yeah,” Kiara quickly chimed in, turning to you. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you,” you nodded.

“Will you both be coming tonight?” your mother asked, wide eyes staring at them full of hope. “I expect to see you.”

“Oh no-” you words were cut off before you could make some excuse for them.

“Yeah we both are actually,” Sarah said, throwing her arm around Kiara. She gave a wink towards your mother, sharing something unspoken as they both began to laugh.

All you could do was stare at the ground, practically praying in your mind for them to leave.

You were sure Kiara caught sight of this, frowning in your direction. This had her yanking Sarah away, both of them waving you off with awkward goodbyes.

And once they were out of distance you felt yourself able to breathe again.

“I don’t understand why you don’t talk to those girls anymore,” Your mother said, disappointment laced in her tone.

You brushed her off, not feeling the need to explain yourself because at the end of the day you didn’t really have a reason. Not one you could explain to her at least.

And over time she stopped prying for much of an answer.

If your mother knew where you were spending your afternoon, she would have had a fit.

But that didn’t seem to matter when sandy fingers traced over the skin of your leg, stealing the minutes of your day as if they were mere seconds.

It wasn’t love with Leo, that you knew. It was just easy.

He came at a time in your life where you had been desperate to escape your own terrifying reality and the only way you knew how was by the end of the bottle. Eventually your lips moved from sipping on drinks to sipping the last bit of liquor on his lips. But that’s where it started and ended, a few kisses here and there because you never felt more comfortable than a few heated make out sessions.

And he had never pressured you about it.

“What you thinking about?” Leo questioned, rolling over in the sand to face you.

You shrugged, staring endlessly at the sea. .

“There’s something on your mind,” he urged you to talk, poking at your ankle for your attention. “Tell me.”

“I’m thinking about how badly I don’t want to go tonight,” you admitted, staring distantly to the other side of the beach.

“Don’t.”

“I can’t,” you told him. “It’s one night.” That you told yourself.

“You could take me?” He suggested, chocolate eyes staring through his mop of curly hair. “I could help take your mind off of things.”

“As if you’d want to go to a Kook party,” you joked, pushing him gently.

“I forget, we don’t hang out in the same circles.”

He didn’t seem upset about it, grinning up to the sun in the sky as if it hadn’t even phased him.

That you were glad for. The mutual agreement between the pair of you, never needing to make it more than it actually was.

Leo could kiss a million other girls and it wouldn’t bother you at all. He had done, in the parties you had both been to and you were glad for that, not wanting to pretend this was something more. Because that wasn’t what you wanted.

“I’ll be working a shift at the Wreck tonight,” he told you, sitting up from the floor. “You know if you need me.”

You smiled at him before turning back to the sky. It was only when the sun seemed to be a bit too low in the sky did you start to panic, searching for your phone through the sand.

“What?” Leo asked, sensing your urgency.

“The time it’s-” you groaned when your phone read five pm, along with three missed calls made at least half an hour ago from your mother. “I have to go.”

You jumped to your feet, grabbing your bag and the rest of your things.

Leo didn’t bother to get up, only turning to watch you as you began to run away.

“I’ll probably see you tomorrow,” You shouted at him with a quick wave.

Only to hear a “Happy Birthday” when you stood at least twenty metres away.

Your father saved you from your mother’s wrath when you walked through the front door, throwing you a disapproving look as he told you to get ready and head upstairs.

Even though you hated sociable occasions, you loved your mother and you knew you’d screw her over if you didn’t make sure you were ready on time. Knowing your parents, the Kook population would probably all be in attendance tonight and tardiness just wasn’t an answer.

Luckily for you, your mother had already laid out the perfect blue summer dress on your bed. Meaning you wouldn’t have to throw out your entire wardrobe just in search of one outfit.

The way your mother smiled at you, made your eyes roll but your heart warm in your chest. There had been a time when you both struggled to get along, where you had wanted one person to be on your side and she hadn’t been there. But now when she looked at you with glassy eyes and a hand held to her chest, you could allow yourself be happy with her. Rather than be against her.

“You look amazing,” She exclaimed from the bottom of the stairs.

“This dress is perfect,” you told her, making your way down the stairs. “Thank you.”

It was genuine, heartfelt but didn’t last for long.

“Shall we,” you nodded for the hallway.

“You need to put this on.” She pulled a blind fold from behind her back.

“It’s not a surprise when I know about it,” you huffed out.

“The party isn’t a surprise,” your mother told you, pulling you down the stairs. “Let me just do this one last thing for you.”

“Fine,” you agreed, standing with your back facing her.

The tie was loose and if you really wanted to you probably could have wiggled your eyesight free but instead you played the dutiful daughter, letting her drag you through the hallway and towards the backyard.

As soon as the doors opened you could hear the choir of people singing for you and as much as you hated these sort of situations, being blindfolded made it that much better.

Your mother must have got you a ridiculous cake, you thought, something with sparklers that you’d struggle to blow out in front of the huge crowd of people.

But as the song died and the noise of the crowd died with it, you didn’t needed to no longer wonder what the surprise could possibly be.

Because there came that familiar chuckle and the only voice that could make your whole day crumble with a singular word.

“Happy birthday, princess.”

The feeling that settled in your stomach was gut wrenching, spreading across your body in an instance. Your heart pounded underneath your breast, making you believe that everyone could hear it as you stood just there unable to move.

The blindfold around your eyes slipped away and your eyes widened at the sight of him standing in front of you. Tie already loosened around his neck, a few buttons undone of his white button down shirt that he was wearing and that dirty blonde hair of his was hanging around his face. Then there were his eyes, a violent river blue that threatened to spill at any given moment as he stared back at you.

“Don’t just stand there, Y/N,” your mother squealed, shoving you towards him.

If Rafe hadn’t been there to catch you, you would have fallen onto the floor face first. But instead his hands wrapped around your shaking frame, pulling you into his hold and suffocating you with his intoxicating scent. As his hand yanked you closer, you felt a deep pain in your stomach and it didn’t have anything to do with how tight he was holding you.

“You’re embarrassing me,” Rafe hissed into your ear.

Without question you hugged him back, closing your eyes as you repeated in your head, this wasn’t happening.

“There you go,” you heard your mother shout, others clapping to join her.

Even though there had been times where you had wished that anybody would notice your reluctance to be around him, at that moment you were glad people believed your fake facade to have Rafe Cameron back in your life.

When Rafe finally let you go, he didn’t fully let you out of his hold. With one of his hands pressed to the small of your back, Rafe had already drawn the invisible string that attached you to him for the rest of the night.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here any earlier,” Rafe told you parents, turning you both towards them as the rest of the crowd dispersed. “We only got in this afternoon.”

“It’s no problem,” your mother beamed, brushing it off with her hand. “I’m just so glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Rafe had always been good at sweetening your mother up, it’s why she had a hard time when you had distanced yourself from him all those years ago.

“Am I alright to take the birthday girl for a second?” Rafe asked even though he already knew the answer.

“Of course,” your father nodded at him.

Your breathing was still off, uneven as you struggled to get back to normal.

Rafe didn’t take you far, he never really needed to go far in these situations. The magic of him being the Kook King was the willingness people had to turn a blind eye.

“I have a present for you,” Rafe said, pulling out a small box from the pocket of your trousers.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered, tears catching in your throat.

Rafe looked down at you with squinted eyes, his smile already dropping in your presence. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, standing with your back facing him. “I thought you were in the Bahamas helping with your dad’s business there.”

“I was always going to come home, Y/N.”

His hands came in front of you, along with a long gold chain and a single R dangling off of it. You could feel the bile rise in your throat and when his fingers brushed against your skin, you struggled to keep it down.

“Lift your hair for me.”

Your hands were shaking as you lifted your hair out of the way for him.

As the clasp to the necklace, a single tear slid down your cheek, one you were quick to wipe away.

All you wanted to do was sob when you felt Rafe press a gentle kiss on your shoulder. But you kept it in, only staring back at him with glassy eyes when he finally turned you around.

“You better start smiling,” Rafe told you through a clenched jaw, cupping your cheeks as he held your face closed. “I came all this way to see you on your birthday. I came back for you.”

In some way that was true but you knew Rafe was only self serving at heart.

Rafe Cameron had come back to claim what he believed was rightfully his. And you’d bear the heavy weight of that with the gold collar he had forced around your neck.

“You can’t just expect me to be happy,” you croaked, staring up at him with wet eyelashes. “Not after everything.”

“A million girls would kill to be in your place,” he warned you but you both knew it was an empty threat.

“You’ve picked them before,” you hissed at him, “So why not just pick them again.”

Rafe shook his head, leaning down till your foreheads were pressed together. “I was stupid back then, didn’t realise you were all I ever wanted.”

Before you knew it he was kissing you, teeth brushing against yours, desperate for access that you were unwilling to give.

It was a battle then, not one that anyone could see. With you fighting to get away as you pressed both hands against his chest and with him winning as he gripped onto the nape of your neck, forcing you to stay.

It ended with a harsh bite to your lips and Rafe leaning away.

He stared down at you, taking in your outfit from head to toe and his lips curled up as if he was satisfied.

“I see you got the dress I bought you,” Rafe teased, fingers reaching to play with the hem.

Your eyes widened at the sight, realising the blue matched perfectly with the trousers and jacket he was wearing. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Before you knew it, Rafe was cupping your cheeks bringing your gaze back up to his. “You’re in shock,” he told you, nostrils flaring slightly. “I can understand it’s been a while.”

“It’s been eleven months,” you were quick to point out.

“I can excuse your unwillingness this one time but you better start smiling fast,” Rafe’s tone was clear and low, sending a cruel shiver down your spine as you remembered the previous times he had used it. He rested his forehead against yours, brushing your hair behind your ears as he held you there. “Because I didn’t come back from a year away in the Bahamas to be embarrassed by you.”

“I hoped you wouldn’t come back,” you whispered.

Rafe chuckled and stared down at you with dilated eyes. “You start acting like a dutiful girlfriend or tonight I won’t be so forgiving-” You felt his hands squeeze your head tighter, making you wince in pain. “-and trust me, Y/N, I have a lot that I need to forgive you for.”

“Girlfriend?” You choked out.

He released his grip and pressed his hand back to the small of your back. “What did you think was happening all those months ago?”

You could say a lot of things. Things that Rafe wouldn’t like to hear but the one thing you wouldn’t say was a consensual relationship.

“Be the good girl I know you can be.” That was all he whispered before he pushed you back into the crowd of people.

You were quick to throw on a fake smile, grinning by Rafe’s side for the whole night just like the good doll he wanted you to be.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron smut #dark rafe cameron

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roseglazedlens · 8 months

Text

⦑ spoiled girl ⦒✶.*

requested by anonymous pairing(s): leon kennedy x f!reader synopsis: after the lost of your non-biological father, you find a way to come to terms with your grief with your stepbrother in the most unexpected ways. content: smut 18+ only mdni, stepcest, leon & reader are adopted, hurt/comfort, found family(?), grief smut, family member death, unprotected p in v, mating press, oral (f! receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, mentions of death, childhood trauma « 1.6 k words┇ao3 ┇masterlist┇reblogs appreciated! »

That man was never Leon’s blood father, but he was as close to one could be. Both just as stubborn, protective. Apprehensive at first, Leon found new comfort in calling this man ‘dad’, a word so foreign it spat off his tongue when he uttered it for the first time in sixteen years.

Leon first met you on the summer of ’95. You were antsy, untrusting, straight out of the orphanage. He recognised the signs - how your fingers tap restlessly against your thigh, eyes averted - you reminded him of his younger self. He didn't care if you two weren't bound by blood, instead, took it upon him to care for you like a real sibling he never had.

Sometimes, feeling beyond that with the wildfire looks exchanged through the hallways of your shared living quarters. Granted, none of those emotions will survive to daylight.

That is until your father passed away in a car accident five years later, he drew breath to his final words – “Take care of your sister, son.” Which will grow to be the latest memory Leon will remember of him.

Screeches echo the entrance as Leon opens the front door, embraced by a gust of cool air, chilling to the spine, into the hallway of darkness. You expect to hear the usual rattle of cookware and a distant hum of Billy Joel, but only the mutters of toneless eulogies ring in your head.

“I’m going to my room.” You murmur. Leon doesn’t say anything as you surrender yourself to the hollow in your room.

The door shuts behind you, piercing through the silence that once filled with countless occurrences of laughter and jest. Leon observes the sofa in the living space, one that he often finds his dad sitting on to watch a game. He picks up the throw, relieved to smell lingers of his dad's scent on them.

Maybe you'll appreciate it. He picks it up, folding the corners neatly together, as if the gesture alone can preserve the scent within. He grabs a box of tissues too, you’ll probably need it.

“Hey.” Leon knocks on your door.

“Go away.” You sniffle.

“I’ve brought you something.” You didn’t say anything, which is a signal, as he had learnt through the years, for him to come in.

Leon finds your figure sitting at the edge of the bed, a photograph of the three of them burying into your face, the tears dripping along the metallic frame onto your black pencil skirt, one you haven’t worn since your first job interview.

“How are you doing?” Leon positions himself right next to you, one hand extending the tissue box slightly to you.

You appreciate the gesture, instantly snatching a few strips to wipe the tears on your face and blow your nose deeply into the tissue.

“I… I already miss him, Leon.” You choke through the words, feeling another sting in your eye. The throw is draped in front of you, and you can't stop remembering how much your father means to you.

Leon almost didn’t know what to say. “Me too.”

“I don't want to be alone again.” Another sniffle threaten to escape.

“You won't. You still have me.” In an effort to comfort you, he slides his hand on your back, rubbing small circles at your centre.

Your hands fly underneath his arms, tears drenching over his tailored black suit, one that snugs around his figure. Leon hasn’t cried once ever since the orphanage, but today, he almost did. He runs his hand into weaves of your hair, massaging your scalp slightly as he pulls you closer into his embrace.

A sigh left your throat, almost a bit content. Pleasured. Leon catches your breath on his shirt, and his breath hitches ever so slightly. Leon parts with your embrace just a tad, just enough until your eyes meet. The smell of your childhood bedroom runs into his nose like juicy steak dangling right in front of his lion’s claw – he was so close to have it all.

“I’m sorry…” Leon cups your face, tilting his closer to you.

He runs his lips to yours, breaking the spell that has been keeping him away this entire time. Your lips twitch in resistance for a brief second, before losing control into the softness of his lips. Gently, he pushes you down till your frame meets the soft mattress as he plants his palms on each side of your face.

“We don’t have to do this…” His lids are hooded, cautious words contradicting the burning desire hiding behind the hardness pressing onto you. Leon tries to pull away from you out of conscience, but it has become impossible looking at how obedient you are underneath him.

“I can't say I don't want this...” Your hands come up to feel the mole next to his adam's apple. “You've always been more than just a brother to me.”

Leon kisses you on the forehead, this time with endearment. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

You nod, stifling a chuckle between your covered mouth. The kisses grow hungrier, more erratic. His hands start running down the zip on your skirt, pulling it down just slightly. Leon's fingers slither into your underwear, grazing lightly against the tiny bud that pulses slightly upon touch. A moan gasps at the back of your throat as he circles it gently, feeling you throb through your clit. Your thighs jolt together for a second, then relaxes, widening your stance for easier access. Leon runs a hand along your slit, collecting the juices onto the pad of his finger, bringing it up to his lips for a taste of that nectar.

“God, I didn’t know my sister is so spoiled.” He whistles, pulling your legs up his shoulders, basking in the wetness between your thighs.

Leon preps his cleaned fingers for another entry. With a skilled movement, he presses his thumb against your clit, index finger teasing at your entrance as he feels around your folds.

Your breath hitches at the impact, composure falling apart and melting into a puddle of your own pleasure. Leon parts his lips and land them right in front of your bud, exchanging places with his fingers. He breathes onto it lightly, triggering a tickle sensation that lets out a giggle in you before he takes in all of it in his mouth. Suckling on them. His fingers resume, moving in between your folds, thrusting his digits into you.

Your moans turn into a strangled pant, crying his name out loud, chasing the high that he instils into you. Leon watches you through the whole thing. When he sees your movement starts uncontrollable twitch, he releases your bub with a wet pop.

He moves his face lower, putting his tongue inside of you, thrusting and licking your sweet juices until you almost unravel on his tongue. Before he suddenly takes his tongue off you, his finger still pressing firmly in your pulsing clit. You whined out, clenching to nothing.

“L-Leon… Let me c-come…”

“Wait for me, baby. I want us to come together.” He kisses your inner thigh to as if to apologise before Leon removes his shirt revealing his chiselled body. He gets his pants undone and let it fall onto his knees. He wrings out of them awkwardly, tossing to the side of the bed.

You see his cock for the first time, looming in front of you. The crest of his cock slightly bulged in pink, tip drooling to enter you.

“Be a good girl for me and lift your legs up for me, won't you?” Leon curls his hand around his cock, fisting it a few times. You can't take your eyes off him as you lift your bottom upwards. He nods in gratitude as he hooks your knees across his shoulders, pressing you down so slightly until your knees almost touch your jaw.

You squirm involuntarily, a light gasp left your mouth as he lines himself up against you. You buck your hips closer, getting impatient. His breath turns heavy before thrusting himself into you.

You use this opportunity to lock his waist with your ankles, securing him just enough for his movements to become strained. The curse that left Leon’s mouth was almost carnal. He buries himself into you, elbows losing balance for a second and falls onto the mattress before he picks himself back up. Your thighs start to quiver under him, a welling of emotions chasing the high of your euphoria. His dick twitches, groans turning into desperate whimpers. He pulls himself out of you, shooting strings of white onto your sheets as he pants in relief.

“Where did you learn how to do all that?” Leon rolls right next to you, asking with a heaved breath.

“You know I’m already twenty-four, right?” You chuckle. “I’ve had some experience.”

“You’re already twenty-four?” He releases a heavy breath, mentally counting the years. “I would’ve graduated high school seven years ago… Man, I'm getting old.”

“Shut up, you’re just a year older than me.” You run your fingers to the soft of his waist, tickling him in the spot you know he’s sensitive to.

Leon guards his sides defensively, hands held in yours to stop you. You chuckle at his reaction, but he holds your hand firmly this time. His eyelids hood the cerulean of his eyes, gaze fixed upon you like wildfire meets turbulent waves.

“I’ll take care of you. Whatever it takes. Always.”

Leon’s hand grip onto yours, a bit firmer. You let a grin tug your cheek, and lunge to hug him.

He intends to keep every bit of this promise.

i've never thought ab stepcest in this way, until this kind anon asked me to write this. ngl i wasn't sure how to approach this at first - but i think i did my best? ik stepcest can be kinda controversial, i just enjoy writing angst in all forms lol thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #꒰💌 rose requests ♡.꒱

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xxsp3llb0undxx · 9 months

Text

The Pack Imprint

Fem!Reader x Uley Pack {2.9k}

Requested - Unknown

Summary: Reader is Bella Swan's neighbour, having lived beside the Swan's her whole life. The once close pair, now hate each other all because of the group of shifters that reside in the rainy state of Forks, Washington.

WARNINGS: BELLA SLANDER // SWEARING // NOT PROOF READ

Forks, Washington - February 19th 2005

It had been a month since Bella came back to town, she was the centre of the school gossip, everyone trying to either be her friend or get a date with her. All but one person - Y/n L/n. Bella and Y/n grew up together, they were childhood friends along side Jacob Black. But after her parents divorced and she went to live with her mom, Bella had grown distant with the young girl she once saw as a sister. Two letters a week turned into one a month, which then turned into nothing. Y/n was heartbroken, her best friend had up and left. Jacob tried to be around more often but with school on the res and his dad nagging at him to help around the house, he couldn't fit Y/n into his schedule. Which in turn, made the pair grown apart from each other as well. That was until she came back.

The last month in Forks had been hell. Everywhere Y/n went, whispers about the Swan girl being back was all she heard. Every time she would enter through the school door the chatter about her once best friend would swarm through the halls, Y/n had enough. She was sick and tired of always hearing about her, Bella this and Bella that - it was giving her a headache. Jessica and Angela had gave Y/n's seat at the lunch table away to Bella, that was until she started sitting with the Cullens. It was infuriating, she's been back a month and she's already pining after the only Cullen available, it was pathetic. Bella was like a plague coming to ruin Y/n's life all over again, but she wouldn't allow it to affect her.

When lunch came around, Y/n found an empty table near the back of the cafeteria. Jessica and Angela tried to invite her back to their table but all they were met with was Y/n's middle finger held up in front of their faces, the two girls turned and walked away but not without Jessica muttering a not so quiet 'bitch' under her breath. Y/n had enough of Jessica's shit; the sly things she'd say about everyone, how she would point out peoples insecurities and worst of all - how she victimised herself all the goddamn time. Y/n had got up out of her seat, the screech from the metal legs dragging against the floor grabbed the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. "Hey Jess?" Before the girl could respond, Y/n had grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back - the scream she let out was loud, almost deafening the Cullens; who were on the other side of the cafeteria. "Don't you ever call me a bitch again, do you hear me? I'm sick and tired of your bullshit. You just never learn to fucking shut up." With that said, Y/n had let go of her and walked out the double doors leading into the parking lot of the school.

The Cullens had watched the whole thing unfold, Bella clinging onto Edward's arm saying she was scared. Emmett had the biggest grin on his face, he was enjoying himself too much, quiet little Y/n had turned out to be a badass and Emmett loved it. Rose had to stop her mate from joining in, a firm grip on his bicep - enough to hurt anyone that wasn't a vampire. Alice, knowing what would happen, had excused herself before the fight broke out. She wanted to see if Y/n was alright, so the pixie like vampire had decided to wait beside Y/n's car, hoping she would show up soon. But she didn't, at least not for awhile. Alice had gotten tired of waiting, she turned to leave when she heard the car door behind her shut with a soft click. Before she could do anything, the car had reversed and turned out the parking lot - heading as far away from the gates of Forks Highschool.

March 5th 2005

It had been at least a week since the whole incident between Y/n and Jessica. No one had seen or heard off Y/n, people had started to spread rumours around saying she was expelled or she had ran away after what she had done but none of it was true, only no one would really know the truth at least not yet. Bella had rang Jacob after it had turned into two weeks of not seeing Y/n, at first the young wolf sounded unfazed, like he didn't care but in truth, it was all an act. He knew about what had happened, he heard it straight from the horses mouth the day it all occurred. Y/n had drove all the way to Jacob's house, he was in the garage when he head the screech of tires pulling up in front of his house. He had poked his head out the garage door to see who it was, not really in the mood for anyone to come rushing into his house when he was busy. The sight of a distraught Y/n had panicked the poor boy, he rushed over to her scanning her body for any signs of injury but he turned up with nothing. Y/n was on the verge of tears, he could hear her heart hammering in her chest. Jacob brought her in to his arms, the warmth radiating off of him helped calm the girl down a little though she was still shaking.

Y/n had brought Jacob up to date with what had happened, he was proud of her for finally standing up to Jessica but he was also upset that it had to get to this point for Y/n to finally step up and confront her about it. Y/n had stayed with Jacob and his dad for the last couple weeks, begging them to not send her back there. A couple weeks had then turned into a month, Jacob had started to ignore everyone and started to hang out with Sam Uley and his little pack of mutts. Y/n wasn't having it, she was sick and tired of waiting for Jacob to come home but he never did, no matter how many times Y/n had asked Billy where Jacob had disappeared to he never told her. She waited for as long as she could until it was too much, she had trekked all the way over to Sam's place; her hands clenched and face red hot with anger. She was going to get her answers one way or another.

When Y/n had made it to Sam's house, Bella just so happened to be there too. Her fiery orange truck parked in the drive. There was a indescribable feeling in the pit of Y/n's stomach, a mixture between anxiety and full blown hatred. She stomped her way over to the group, Sam was telling Bella to leave but she wasn't having any of it, like always. Paul was the first to notice Y/n, her h/l h/c whipping around with the wind. Before he could tell Sam she was here, Bella had shouted at him. "What did you do to him? He didn't want this. He just up and left without telling me anything because he's scared of you." Paul had laughed at Bella, Jacob wasn't scared of anyone and yet she still thought that. Paul was calm until Bella had gone and slapped him across the face, she clutched her hand to her chest, it was surely broken after that hit. Paul had started to shake violently, Sam had pushed Bella back telling her to back away whilst simultaneously trying to get Paul to calm down. Y/n had the dumbest idea ever, we all must admit she's not the smartest. She had slowly started to step towards Paul right as he had shifted.

Bella's screaming could be heard but that didn't bother Y/n, what did though was the huge dark silver furred wolf right in front of her. It's teeth bared, snarling at her. Though, she felt no fear. Her hand slowly reached up and gently lay upon it's muzzle. The wolf huffed, he wasn't entirely trusting the girl in front of him but he also felt no fear towards her. He looked into her e/c and everything stilled. The noise around him had calmed, all he could focus on was her. Paul felt like the centre of the earth had shifted, like he was finally where he was meant to be. Before he knew it, he had shifted back. Y/n's body flush against his own, protecting him from the eyes around them. Soon enough, a blanket had been given to him to cover up until he was able to make it back to the house and put a new set of clothes on. Paul was confused, how was he able to imprint on Y/n when he had already imprinted on Rachel, Jacob's sister?

After the events of earlier today, Bella had told Jacob to never speak to her again and she left, just like that. Jacob was sat on the steps of Sam's porch, he just wanted to be alone but he knew that was impossible. Jacob felt a shift of weight beside him, he turned his head and saw Y/n wrapped up in one of Emily's blankets, she must've given Y/n the blanket to stay warm. Jacob threw his arm over the smaller girl, the warm his body provided her, soothed the chill that made a home in her bones. "You know, Bella doesn't deserve you Jake. You're too good for her." They both sat there in silence for awhile, the soft chime of the trees rustling in the wind settling in to the comfortable silence around them. The door to Sam's house opened, revealing the older male. "Come inside, we're having a pack meeting." The pair looked at each other before Jacob got up and walked inside, leaving Y/n to sit on her own to watch the trees dance around in the soft breeze.

Inside Sam's house, the pack was all sat around in his living room. Embry, Paul, Jared and Quil were sat on the sofa, Leah and Seth took up the two arm chairs while Sam and Jacob were stood; everyone waiting for Sam to start the meeting. "We all witnessed what happened between Paul and Y/n earlier, Paul imprinted for the second time. What we need to figure out is why that happened." All eyes were on Paul, he felt smug about having two imprintee's but it felt wrong, as if he were betraying Rachel. The meeting had gone on for the last hour, the pack had decided to try and see if they would all imprint or if it was only Paul to be lucky enough to have two imprintee's. The pack had left the house, Y/n completely unaware of what was about to happen. Jacob held his hand out to Y/n, pulling her up on her feet and leading her over to the small field where Paul had initially shifted. "I need you to be as calm as possible, okay? We need to see if what happened to Paul earlier will happen to all of us, I promise I will explain it all later." Y/n only nodded her head, giving Jacob the all clear.

The pack had lined up beside each other, Paul was the first to shift. He felt all the feelings from earlier flood back, his heart pounded as he stepped closer to Y/n. She reached out to run her fingers through this fur, earning a soft grunt from the silver wolf. Next was Embry, he was scared to look up at Y/n, he felt sick to his stomach; what if he didn't imprint? Y/n took careful steps to Embry, his fur was gray with black spots; he was slightly smaller than Paul. Y/n crouched down to be eye level with the gray wolf, his eye's locked with hers and it was like his whole body was set alight. Slight tingles coursed through his bones, he felt complete. Embry nuzzled into Y/n, small giggles erupted from the girl, the sound was like wind chimes clashing together. Embry left with Paul to shift back and change back into their clothes. Quil and Jared were next, Quil's wolf had chocolate brown fur while Jared had light brown fur with black markings around his eyes. The pair had imprinted instantly, their tails wagging behind them as they accepted the affection off their imprintee. Seth had imprinted fairly easy, though he was still scared. The sandy brown furred wolf cowered at the attention of his imprint, too overwhelmed by the feelings bubbling inside him. The young wolf left as quickly as possible, wanting to shift back and put this behind him for now.

Leah imprinted soon after Seth, she finally knew what it was like to have someone meant for her. The tingling coursing through her body was welcomed, Leah stayed beside Y/n refusing to leave the girls side. She would not leave her imprint, not now - not ever. Jacob and Sam were the only ones left, they had decided to shift at the same time, afraid of being rejected. Sam was a black furred wolf, he was like a shadow while Jacob was a rusty brown colour, almost like Seth. Sam was the first to look up at Y/n, her e/c stared straight back at him. His heart was pounding in his ears, he didn't feel anything at first. He knew what it was like to imprint and yet, he felt nothing. Sam was about to give up and just walk away, until Y/n sat in front of him and ran her fingers through his fur, an electric shot went straight though him. Images flashed behind his eyes, growing old with her, having a family of their own, loving her till his very last breath. Sam now had two imprintee's, what was he going to tell Emily? The black furred wolf walked off towards the house, his ears pinned against his head.

Jacob still had his head pointed down, his eyes trained on the dirt under his paws. "Jake? Look at me, please." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Jacob listed his head, his pupils blew as images of them laughing together, cooking dinner together, messing around with the pack flashed before his eyes. It was like his ears were flooded with water, he knew he would do anything, be anything for her. His whole world was centred around Y/n and what their life would be like together. A blanket of warmth wrapped itself around his heart, he felt content knowing his best friend would be his forever.

Once everyone had shifted back and back in their clothes, they had all settled in to the living room. Y/n sat on the sofa, squished between Jacob and Leah, while Seth sat in front of her on the floor; his back pressed against her legs. Paul and Jared were fighting over what to watch, while Quil and Embry made popcorn for everyone. Sam was the only one missing, he was sat in his shared bedroom with Emily. They were arguing, everyone could hear it. "Is it my fault? Them fighting, I mean." Y/n felt guilty, she didn't want to tear apart Sam's relationship, she would gladly show herself out if it wasn't for Jacob and Leah physically holding her in place. Paul was the first to say anything, he had crouched in front of the sofa, his hand linked with hers. "Hey.. it's not your fault doll face, no one could've seen this happening. You are our imprint, you are what matters the most to us, it could never be your fault, okay?" Paul kissed Y/n's knuckles, his lips ever so lightly grazing her skin. She sniffled slightly as she nodded her head. Y/n couldn't have been more happy to have the pack, she finally felt loved and included for once. The rest of the night consisted of watching random movies and eating too much junk, Y/n had passed out on Leah's shoulder after the second movie had started. She was soon followed by the rest of the pack, all spread out in the living room. Seth cuddling into Y/n's leg, Jacob flung half on Y/n while Leah was now hanging off the sofa, Paul laying beside Seth on the floor; his head on Seth's arm. Jared and Embry passed out on the arm chairs, their bodies thrown across them like they were dolls tossed to the side. Quil was the only normal one out the bunch, he was cuddled into a blanket away from everyone else, a pillow under his head as he snored.

Y/n had made a family for life, she would not give this up for anything.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #the cullen family #quileute #sam uley #jacob black #paul lahote #jared cameron #quil ateara #embry call #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #emily young

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dhampling · 3 months

Text

leeches girl!dadstarion, <1k

“What if I were… a leech?” His steady hands continue to work through her hair as his eyes roll briefly into his skull. “Would you like me to elaborate all the ways in which you already are, my treasure?” - astarion and his daughter have a spat. idk what to tell you. this is pure fluff. wc: 540

“I would pick you again in a heartbeat if I had one, darling. I would. Really.”

Astarion is droll as he quips; jacquard ribbon between his teeth. She bares her fangs at him in a baby snarl.

“What if I were… a leech?”

His steady hands continue to work through her hair as his eyes roll briefly into his skull.

“Would you like me to elaborate all the ways in which you already are, my treasure?”

She cries out almost immediately in a nauseatingly telltale screech from where she sits cross-legged on the rug, yelling for you repeatedly in perhaps the most grating tone you’ve ever heard in your whole entire sorry life. Astarion continues to braid her hair with a measured mental detachment. You swear you hear him humming.

You make sure to let out a low-strung beleaguered groan as you approach the living room.

“Okay! I heard you. I do hear you. What can I do for you?”

Your daughter - wholly unconvincingly - wobbles her bottom lip as her brows knit together.

“Daddy called me a leech, mummy.”

“I would never do that.” He clicks his tongue in a muted mock horror. Continues to braid her hair with a genuine perfection you could never manage like his tailor’s hands can.

She launches into a wordy barrage of accusations against Astarion, favourites including ‘completely horrible fabricator’ and a ‘ghastly teller of lies.

“Daddy.’

You’re sharp in tone. His head whips to you.

‘Did you call her a leech?” You ask flatly.

“No.”

“Did you imply she’s a leech?”

He stifles a smile. This time, your eyes roll into your skull.

“I - as I’ve stated - would never do that.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, you absolutely would.’

He looks at you with the grin of a charlatan.

‘We don’t tell lies do we, Daddy?”

“I’m not lying. She called herself a leech.”

She starts screeching in rebuttal, pulling away from Astarion in aggressive shakes as he tethers her gently by her (admittedly immaculate) plaits.

“You are both absolutely as bad as each other.’

This - for some completely unknown and far-distant reason - doesn’t stop the absolute caterwaul assaulting your every sense.

‘Daddy. Say sorry now.”

Your eyes are aflame. The treacle weight of a headache stirs above your brow.

Astarion looks back to you briefly, and his smarmy self-satisfied smirk falls as quick as it appeared.

Your teeth clench with enough force to remove a finger and his gaze drops to her.

“My darling girl. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

She stands in a pointed uncertainty as he leans forward and cups her now forward face in his large hands.

‘I’d consider myself a leech, honestly. Freaky little things.’

He waggles his fingers next to her cheeks, a genuine smile now as she flinches into laughter.

‘Daddy leech and Daughter leech, hm?'

A quick giggle.

'Shall we go biting?”

Their eyes meet for a brief second and then fall on you, standing in the doorway with hands on hips in exasperation.

It takes you a second to catch on.

Astarion is up and wrangling you onto the lounge before you can act, your stream of stuttered pleas ignored as your daughter and he descend on you in playbites; collapsing in fits of laughter.

#astarion x reader #dadstarion #astarion #bg3 #my writing #shorts #fluffy

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month

Text

At around half past one, Nico gets a Feeling.

He gets feelings a lot. Nothing he can quantify, just something telling him that something is up, somethings wrong. Or something’s about to be. At this point, he’s learned to trust his intuition, based purely on the number of times it has saved his life; a number he’s long since given up counting. (He’s only ignored his gut feelings three times in his life: when Bianca went on her quest, when his father promised not to hurt Percy before the Titan War, and when he went looking for the Doors. He has learned his lesson.)

So when something at the bottom of his stomach tells him to get up, to check things out — he does.

He knows it could be nothing. (The last time he had a Feeling, it turned out that he had placed a book precariously on the edge of his desk, and it had been about to fall. Not exactly world-saving stuff.) But regardless, he steps out of bed, shoves his feet into his shoes, and creeps out of his cabin.

Camp is kind of beautiful at night.

There’s an eerie calmness to it without so many human disasters running about, and the quiet reflects that. All Nico can really hear is the hooting of owls in the distance, the chittering of nocturnal animals and monsters alike, the distant screeches of curfew harpies, and the pleasant crashing of the waves. The air is clean, when he inhales, and he takes the time to hold it in his lungs for a bit, imagining the sweet breath is healing his burned lungs, turning the scar tissue back to something flexible and normal. Whether or not it actually works, he doesn’t know, but it feels nice.

Under the light of the brightly shining new moon and billions of stars, he starts his patrol. Around his own cabin first — there’s nothing, as he expected, the warning doesn’t seem overwhelming like threats tend to be — and then he makes his way around the circuit, checking behind gardens and shrines and inside braziers. He hums quietly as he walks, something preppy and bright the Apollo kids have been hollering for days, and waves to Lady Hestia, sword heavy at his waist.

“Come sit,” she calls, patting the seat next to her.

Nico does.

“Haven’t seen you out at night in a while.”

He hums, toneless this time, leaning back on his hands and mirroring her gaze at the sky.

“Been sleeping, for once.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiles, knowing that she means it. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she picks up his sword, sliding it from his belt loop, and uses it to stoke the flames. She doesn’t seem afraid of it, or wary. To her it’s just a stick of metal. It’s nice.

“You have you been, my Lady?”

She pokes at the embers a few more times, scooping a few to balance at the tip of the blade for a while. It glows with the heat, and he knows he’ll have to sharpen it tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe he can do it while Will is in the archery range. It’ll give him an excuse to be at the armoury at the same time, anyway.

“I’ve been well.” She breathes deeply, small smile pulling at her face. “It’s calmer, and more people wave to me. I like it.”

“Good.”

She dismisses him a few minutes later, sending him off with a promise to chat again soon. She doesn’t need to worry about him promising — he makes a point to sit with her at least once a week — but it’s nice to know someone wants his company, so he appreciates it. He leaves with a wave, walking towards the eastern half of the cabins.

Nothing’s amiss. He can hear campers snoring, and see the odd reading light. Malcolm catches his eye as he walks past the Athena cabin and winks, sending a cheeky salute when he sees the sword held loosely in his hands. So far, everything seems fine. He’s beginning to think the Feeling might have simply been about Lady Hestia, so he decides to do one last check around the Big House and then head back.

Of course, that’s where the issue is.

The infirmary lights are always on. They’re dimmer in the night, more of a glow than anything, but there’s an extra brightness streaming out from the windows, and when Nico peeks inside, he sees Will, standing with his back turned at the nurse’s station.

He takes a moment to check his strength, making sure he has the energy for it — dinner last night was pho and he had three bowls, he most definitely does — and sinks into the shadows by the door. He materializes back in the little alcove by the bandage & wraps cabinet, lurking silently while he blinks the dizziness away.

The first thing he registers is soft singing.

He’s facing Will, now, and can see the glow coming from his hands, enveloping a bowl of some kind. He has both hands coated in some dusky pink substance, massaging and gently pounding it against the sides of the bowl, working it through with great care. As his voice gets higher, the glow gets brighter, fading as he dips lower. He sings something about hills and meadows and the breeze, about wing-song, about the sound of flower stems bending in the wind. For a while Nico stands, listening to the melodious ancient Greek, swaying with every pitch and hold. It’s captivating.

Will is almost haunting when he heals.

There’s a divinity in him — in all of them — but he glows when he sings. Not just his hands, and sometimes his head if he puts enough power in his words, but there’s an almost shimmer to the air around him, a shining warp. His skin gets clearer, and his hair goes more metallic, almost, like spun gold rather than blonde. His freckles make his skin into an inverse replica of the night sky, dark specks surrounded by bright empty between them. His long fingers pluck through bright strands of light like a harpist strums their chords; lightly, carefully, skillfully; like a braider weaves their hair. There’s an undeniable age to his magic, a practice that’s visibly replicated millions of times over thousands of years, as if every healer who has come before him links their arms with his, breathes their strength in his lungs. Sometimes, when he does something truly unbelievable, amazingly beyond reason, he flickers — his orange camp shirt fades into a white chiton, or long robes, or a white coat, or a blue tunic. Watching him heal is like watching the sunrise — breathtaking and unique, every time, but powerful in its cyclic archaism.

It takes Nico a long time to realise Will is swaying.

Snapped out of his trance, he begins to notice Will’s long, slow blinks, the unsteady way he stands, the weight he has leaned on the counter. Even his face looks plainly exhausted under the glow, face pillow-creased and eyes bruised, hair mussed, limbs leaden. Footsteps as silent as he can manage, Nico creeps over to the schedule posted by the door, scanning through the scrawled pen ink.

He curses quietly. Will is not supposed to be awake.

There are really only three people who can work the infirmary to its fully capacity, barring Chiron. Kayla, Austin, and Will are the only ones who can magically heal, as much as the volunteers are imperative, so when the camp is in full swing one of them must be stationed at all times. That’s how Will sets it up. A bit of a waste of time, he acknowledges, but Nico knows he has memorized every time a camper who should have been saved. He carries far too much guilt to ever let it happen again, as inconvenient as his rules may be.

Night shift, though, is a need-be basis. If the infirmary is as empty as it is right now, then there truly is no need to keep one of the three of them awake outside their circadian rhythm, staring at nothing. Instead, they take shifts in the on-call room — asleep, but prepared should anything go wrong, should a monster chase a new camper at an odd hour. It’s Will’s turn for on-call. It’s two in the morning. He should be asleep.

And, yet.

Nico recognizes the look in his eyes. There’s a — frailty, to them, a deep-seated, animalistic fear, one he recognises from the hours after his own night terrors. A single-minded panic that cannot be unseated in any logical way, cannot be comforted with any gentle hands.

Nico handles his fear with slashing swords and bruised knuckles. Will, he knows, handles his fear with obsessive, endless preparation.

Knowing full well nothing is going to drag him away from his focus bar actual cardiac arrest, Nico walks right by him. Will doesn’t move. He settles behind him in the old, creaky leather office chair, curling his legs under him and resting his head on the soft arm. He watches Will, watches the almost machine-like movement to his kneading arms, and falls back asleep to his humming.

———

“…Nico?”

He wakes up warm and a little cramped, in the same position he fell asleep. Sun is streaming on from the many issues, blocked from burning his eyes by Will’s hunched frame, facing towards him now, hands and shoulders shaking with equal violence.

“What time is it?”

His voice is croaky and wrecked from hours of singing. Nico is willing to bet his throat is burned as badly as his hands, cooked from non-stop, sun-borne glowing. The divinity that had emanated from him before has abandoned him and he looks young, lost.

“Early,” Nico says softly. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching slightly — gods, he is going to ache today — and wraps a slow, careful hand around Will’s wrists. “Probably around six, if I have to guess.”

“I don’t remember waking up.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s okay.”

His breathing is heavy, laboured.

“I don’t —”

Nico squeezes gently. “It’s okay, Will.”

Will swallows and says nothing.

“Come on.”

Carefully, letting Will’s stiff joints set the pace, Nico guides him out of the infirmary. The sun shines brighter as soon as he steps outside, but he doesn’t seem to notice bar a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch at the change in lighting. Nico switches from holding his wrists to laying a hand on the small of his back, half-worried he’s going to fall over.

Luckily, he makes it to the Apollo Cabin upright, although the stairs take them a while. The hinges of the old screen door creak as Nico pushes it open, and he sees both Kayla and Austin, up and dressed, jump.

“…Will?” Kayla asks softly, eyebrows creased in concern. She walks over to him when he doesn’t answer, frozen still, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Will leans — almost hesitantly — into the touch. The same blankness from before clouds his eyes, although this time there’s less of the fear.

“Hey.” Nico walks over to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eyes. In the minutes it takes, he hears Austin pad over, standing opposite to Kayla, hands clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide what to do with them. “You think you can sleep?”

Will doesn’t answer verbally, but drifts after a moment to his bed. Nico follows, helping him out of his shoes and shirt. After a beat of hesitation, Austin hurries over, turning down Will’s sheets and helping him crawl in. Soft guitar music begins to play, and when Nico looks over Kayla is fiddling with the CD player, turning the dials carefully. Without much fanfare, Will’s eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows to something deep and even. His twitching fingers still.

“I don’t think today’s an activity day,” Nico murmurs. “I checked up on him a while after midnight; he’d been at it for hours. He didn’t stop ‘til sunrise.”

Kayla rubs harshly at her eyes. “Fuck.”

“He’ll be okay,” Austin whispers. He runs a gentle knuckle over Will’s forehead, then turns his careful, imploring gaze to Nico. “You kept an eye on him?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Nico inclines his head. “Had a feeling.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kayla admits. “He was —” She trails off, staring at something in the left half of the cabin — the empty half. “He was like this after the Titan War, too. I think he spoke maybe two words for the entirety of September.”

Nico almost can’t imagine it. The very thought of it makes something twinge in his chest, clench in his stomach.

“We’ll figure it out.” He nods, to convince himself as much as Kayla and Austin, who look to him with way more trust than he deserves. “We won’t let it — it won’t get that bad. We’ll help, and if we can’t figure it out we’ll get help. It won’t be as hard as last time.”

It won’t be as hard as last time because there won’t be twelve shrouds, Nico doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to. Both Kayla and Austin nod, looking at their sleeping brother with firm resolution.

“This time, we’ll be there.”

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gildedkrone · 3 months

Text

John Price

Recommended listening: John Wayne (Lady Gaga)

The Harley rumbles and bellows when the man gives several twists of the throttle. Several other men roll up in their bikes and Martha yells your name.

The man on the Harley sets his cigar down. Siren wails come from the distant south and it’s then you notice the duffel bags hooked to their bikes.

“You coming, sweetheart?”

“Oooh, check that man out,” Martha whispers and licks cream from her lips. “The one in that booth over there, in that leather jacket and my, almost good enough to eat.”

She’s looking at a booth in the diner where a man is sat. Certainly older with a roguish charm, the leather jacket on the seat next to him is well worn and its your cue to take his order when he looks around.

“What can I get for you?”

“Bourbon. On the rocks.” His accent is distinctly British and his companion across the booth orders bourbon, without ice.

The bourbon is served quickly. You sneak a couple of glances at them when fixing the jukebox; the diner on the roadside of the interstate rarely saw foreigners. Much less with how good the man looked in his leathers.

“And what’s a British man doing this deep in God’s country?”

“Afraid we’ll take what we are owed?”

You glance at the other patrons in the diner—several burly coal miners and an army soldier in faded uniform.

“Don’t let the others hear you. Might have to cut your trip short if that happens.”

When you cleaned the table, you unfolded the tip and turns out, the gentleman is a big tipper, tipping fifty on a twenty order.

What a man.

“Twenty and you put on a classic.”

He’s back again, alone in the same booth as last time. You pluck the twenty out of his hand and he leans fully back with a roll of his hips as he made himself comfortable in the booth.

“What kind of classic?”

“The Beatles. If you have any,” he savours the whisky again.

It takes you a moment but eventually, you do find it and the jukebox plays the dusty record. As the melancholic notes plays, you are more than happy to keep him company. After all, you are a waiter and no one does hospitality quite like the South.

“So, what’s an Englishman doing here?”

“What’s a sight for sore eyes doing here?”

Mike is absolutely going to yell at you for using strawberries in your drink but Mike can go eat shit for all you cared.

“Just working. Paying off my debts to the local gangs.”

He eyes the scar on your arm. “’s how you got that scar?”

“Absolutely is. Pig fucker wasn’t happy that my payment was a day late.” You lean against the table encroaching into his side. “My turn now. What are you doing here?”

“Can’t say.”

“Not even to me?”

“Not to anyone.”

The red entrance door slams open and a pig of man pushes Martha away. Shit, it was collection day and when he sees you, he stomps to the table. The drink floods the ebony table and the man pulls you close by the collar.

“The money?”

You grimace when grabbing the stack of cash and he yanks it forcefully. You stumble back onto the seats and pig man starts counting. Sorry, you mouth to the British man across the table.

No worries, as he finishes his bourbon.

“Don’t be late again, buddy. Jackson hates it when you fuck with his money.”

“No thanks to you, Lincoln.”

When he leaves, you straightened your collar and Martha picks up the broom. Thank fuck there weren’t other patrons in the diner to watch you get picked apart.

“Lincoln?”

“Bastard’s the one who gave me the scar.”

“Debt? How much?”

Fifty thousand.

“Suppose you are disgusted now, hm?”

He hums. Pig fucker certainly has an inbred face and you guffaw while clearing the table. Martha shoots you an unimpressed glare and you give her the finger; bitch is still bitter he’s not paying her any attention. You walk him out the diner and whistle when he swings a leg across the black Harley.

“Nice bike.”

He who dares scribbled on the bike and it rumbles.

“Don’t get yourself killed, sweetheart.” And he’s kicking up a dust storm with a flourish of tire screech and peeling off onto the highway.

Funny, chivalrous and a chiselled face by the gods’ favour. How unfair, you can’t have him.

Lincoln returns at dinner service with the man you dreaded seeing, Jackson. The other patrons are affected by the presence of the head gang member. Chatter, normally boisterous, is otherwise muted and Jackson curls his finger.

Resigned, you grab a tray and stop beside his table with the menus. He snatches the menu, looks over it and throws it back at you. A while later, you return with a steak for the man and fried chicken for his lackey.

You don’t think much of his food until he marches up to you. You were midway taking an order for a family of four when he slaps you, hard. Without time to defend yourself, your head snaps to the side and gasps come from the table. Dragging you to his table by the ear, he grabbed a piece of steak from the half-finished plate.

“How do I like my steak?” The harder you struggled against his grip, the more punishing it became.

“How. Do. I. Like. It?”

“Well done! Y-you like it grey!” You barely hand a chance to breathe when he takes the plate and smashes it to the floor.

“You fuckin’ thing, dare to serve me raw food. Are you trying to kill me!”

Martha giggled to herself and you curse yourself—how could you be this blind to fall into one of her traps? He reaches for the whip and Lincoln imprisons your arms before you can run.

The whip uncurls onto the floor and you look around for help. They either looked away or pretended not to see and Jackson gives two experimental strikes using the whip. Lashes of the whip will leave marks against your skin and Jackson owned the local doctor too.

It’s how he has kept everyone indebted to him.

“This is what happens when you try to fuck with me. You get the whip.”

“Hold him.” Lincoln slams your chest down against the table.

The sounds of bikes outside the diner.

“Do you have anything you want to say, sugar?”

You had nothing to say to the likes of him.

The whip is raised high into the sky and you shut your eyes as the diner crowd gasps when the whips strikes something. You wait for anything, pain but nothing comes. When you open you eyes, there was an arm across your back.

It’s him. How? How is he not screaming in pain?

“Take your boys and leave.” He drowns the cigar in the glass of juice on the table.

“Hey, hey, I don’t know who the fuck you are but who are you to tell me what to do!”

He’s unimpressed as Jackson waved him the fuck on. You stagger to your feet and he tells you to stand behind him.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t leave.”

Jackson swings the whip and Brit catches it easily in a grip and rips the whip away. He grabs a beer bottle and Jackson screams in pain when he brings it down hard. The diners are screaming and yelling as Jackson suffers blow after blow from the angry Brit. You catch glimpses of his bloodied face as Jackson yells for help.

He’s violence in motion and Jackson throws every dirty trick he knows and he catches them all in time.

Lincoln pushes a kid off a chair and throws it at the man. The chair clatters to fall and he looks at Lincoln. He’s fuming, with his eyes set into blazing fury and he grabs Jackson off the ground and something snaps when he knees the downed gang leader in the chest.

“Tell your men to fuck off, or you’ll get it.”

“L-Lincoln … T-tell the boys t-t-to … go.”

“What about you!” Lincoln cries out as he looks to the entrance.

The man throws him down onto the floor and Jackson crawls weakly when he drives a boot down hard on the man.

“Apologize.”

“S-sorry! I—I won’t ever!”

“Not to me. To him.”

Jackson pleads for mercy and you nod when he begs for his life. Leaving the now humiliated gang leader on the floor, he crosses to you. His knuckles are bloodied, not with his, and you wipe them off with a napkin.

“You coming, sweetheart?”

What did you have to lose from leaving this crappy town? Nothing. You certainly won’t miss the tiny room you rent as home and the dreary job in a diner in the bumfuck nowhere in god’s country.

Martha bursts through the door and you shout at her very nicely to go fuck herself. She catches your cap and the man smiles when you climb on board his bike in your waiter uniform.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart. This one’s gonna be fast.”

You grasp onto him as he twists the throttle and leaves Martha in dust.

“You never told me what you were in town for.”

He instructs you to open the bag and you gasp. Hundred dollar bills are stashed neatly in rows.

“We came here to rob a bank, darling.”

“Outlaw, huh? Gonna give my mother a heart attack?”

“If she doesn’t die of old age first.”

“You are a bad, bad man, you know?”

The rushing wind forces you to raise your voice and he adds a burst of speed to the bike to join the highway.

“You never told me your name!”

He speaks with the sounds of freedom.

“Name’s Price. John Price.”

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist

#fanfic #cod mw2 #captain john price #john price #john price x male reader #john price x reader #male reader #x male reader #x reader #price fanfiction #cod x male reader #Spotify

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 months

Text

Chapter 1

Notes: This is set after the canon events of ACOSF when Nesta and Cassian go to the Prison. Instead of opening the wards to the cells, she ends up in Lunathion. Bryce doesn't exist in this universe and no magic language beans are required.

Nesta could not do more than twitch her fingertips as an invisible, oppressive weight bore into her, like it’d flatten her into dust upon the starry ground of the strange chamber in the Prison.

Let go, she silently bade the Harp, gritting her teeth, fingers brushing over the nearest string. Free me, you blasted thing.

A beautiful, haughty voice answered, full of music so lovely it broke her heart to hear it. I do not appreciate your tone.

With that the Harp pushed into her harder, and Nesta roared silently. Her nail scraped over the string again. Let me go!

Gone was Cassian’s voice. He was kept out by the wards, witnessing it all.

Shall I open a door for you, then?

Yes! Damn you, yes!

It has been a long while, sister, since I played. I shall need time to remember the right combinations…

Don’t play games. Nesta chilled at the word it had used. Sister. Like she and this thing were one and the same.

The small strings are for games—light movement and leaping—but the longer, the final ones … Such deep wonders and horrors we could strum into being. Such great and monstrous magic I wrought with my last minstrel. Shall I show you?

No. Just let me out.

As you wish. Pluck the first string, then.

Nesta didn’t hesitate as her fingertip curled over the first string, grasping and then releasing it. A musical laugh filled her mind, but the weight lifted. Vanished.

And then everything swirled around her like she was being sucked down a plughole into a vast emptiness. The stars on the floor span, turning white with their speed.

Nesta clung to the Harp as wind whipped her face. She was falling – but into what, she didn’t know. It reminded her of the Cauldon, that endless dark, the never-ending cold. Nesta drifted through space and time until she plummeted downwards.

Her body hit stone, taking the wind out of her.

Nesta blinked, trying to right herself. The lights around her were blurred but there was noise – chatter and distant music.

A bright light came towards her. A long, blaring sound pierced her ears. There was a screech and the light stopped feet from her body curled on the stone.

‘What the fuck,’ came a female voice.

Something slammed and footsteps sounded. ‘Are you alright? I nearly hit you. You landed in the middle of the road.’

‘Move back. Official 33rd business,’ a male voice said.

Nesta was shaking. The bright lights were still in her eyes. Her hip and leg throbbed from the landing.

‘She’s armed, Hunt,’ somebody said.

The male who’d spoken gave a wearied sigh. ‘Ten minutes left of our shift and a fae has to leap in front of a car.’ He stepped closer to her. ‘Hands up. Don’t reach for the sword.’

Something silver and metallic was pointed at her by his hands. The male was fae. Or, looked it. He had wings similar to the Peregryn that she’d met in the Dawn Court with beautiful, grey feathers. Across his brow was a tattoo. Sable hair hung to his shoulders. The other male was slightly shorter with white feathers and fair hair.

Neither was dressed like anybody she’d seen before. Their clothes reminded her slightly of Illyrian leathers but the materials were different.

Nesta looked around, now that her eyes had adjusted to the light. Nobody was dressed in familiar clothing. People had small rectangles in their hands bearing lights and sounds. The fair haired male tutted and started moving them off, saying she was not a spectacle.

‘I’m going to need you to slide that sword over to me in its sheath. Do you understand?’

Where was she? This wasn’t Prythian.

Where are we?

The Harp refused to respond to her, going mute in this strange, new world.

‘Hey,’ the male with grey wings said, not unkindly. ‘Slide it over now.’

Slowly, Nesta reached for Ataraxia and pushed it across the smooth stone towards him. He kept his metal object pointed at her as he bent down and slung her sword over a shoulder.

‘Now your instrument.’

The other male had returned and collected that. He turned it from side to side, examining it. The first handed the sword to him. ‘Fly those to Vik. Get her to run her tests on them. I’ll bring her in.’

***

Ten minutes. That was all they had left after seven days straight. Hunt was looking forward to a glorious day off but Logan had said they should walk back to the 33rd rather than fly. If they flew, they still likely would have seen a female fall from the sky, but they could have pretended it didn’t happen and finished their shift on time. Now, it meant hours of questioning plus paperwork for what he guessed was an undocumented fae who’d rocked up in Lunathion.

The female in question seemed compliant thus far. Hunt hadn’t cuffed her. She was a skinny thing that couldn’t overpower him. From the spike of her ears, she was fae, not human. After basic questioning, they’d likely call in the captain of the aux from the fae side – and Hunt planned to be in his bed by then. Technically, this female had done nothing wrong except fall from the sky with a sword and nearly be hit by a car. It was strange enough though that Micah would demand their heads if they hadn’t brought her in. He was off in the north, summoned by the Asteri. Peace for once.

‘Where are you taking me?’

He kept his hand clasped around her upper arm as they walked. ‘To the 33rd.’

She frowned. ‘The 33rd what?’

Hunt glanced at her. ‘Legion.’

How had she never heard of the 33rd? Who the hell was this?

‘Are you fae?’

She must have hit her head hard. Hunt ushered her along, surveying her for obvious injuries as they went. ‘No. Malakim. Definitely not fae.’

Her silver eyes stared at him then at the ground, processing something. A med-witch would need to see her to remove her concussion.

Hunt led her to one of their interrogation rooms. The white walls looked yellow beneath the lights and she shielded her eyes from it. It was protocol to at least chain her to the table to prevent her from running, but from the bewildered expression on her face, Hunt couldn’t do it.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘Coffee?’

‘I’ll get you a coffee,’ he said, offering a tight smile as he backed out of the room.

He met Isaiah in the corridor.

‘Viktoria’s already working on the items. Both are definitely imbued with magic,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘Logan’s filled me in. Fell from the sky?’

‘Yup. Literally.’ Hunt pressed the coffee cup into his hand. ‘I don’t think she knows what coffee is so good luck.’

Isaiah gave a short laugh. ‘Do you think she’s one of the Avallen Fae?’

‘I have no fucking clue where she is from. Another planet by the looks of things.’

Naomi was waiting behind the interrogation room, computer at the ready. Hunt waited behind the screen of glass too as Isaiah introduced himself and put the cup of coffee in front of her. From the thin frame, Hunt should have grabbed her a snack too. She wore leathers like she was about to do battle. The sword would explain that too – but not the instrument. It seemed to be a common theme that swords were toted by pricks in Lunathion, however this female seemed not too bad so far.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Nesta.’

‘A last name?’

‘Archeron.’

Naomi’s fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘Not a single Archeron in history. Or a Nesta.’

‘I don’t think she’s lying,’ Hunt murmured. It would be a strange name to make up. Better if she gave a common one.

Isaiah spoke gently. ‘What house are you aligned with, Nesta?’

Nesta blinked a few times then, ‘Uh. The House of Wind.’

There was another click of keys beside him then Naomi drew a blank again.

‘What can your magic do?’

‘I don’t have magic.’

‘Why do you have a magical Harp?’

‘I’m a bard.’

The delivery was so flat from Nesta that Hunt couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

Isaiah’s wings flexed at the table. ‘Will you play for me?’

Nesta inspected her nails. ‘I don’t play for free.’

‘What’s the sword for?’

‘When people don’t pay me,’ she quipped.

This female had woken up and found her dry sense of humour then. Hunt examined her through the glass. She didn’t look like the fae of Lunathion. The majority had the same colouring as the king – red hair, tanned skin. Others were brown-haired. The prince was a rarity with black hair, but not unheard of. It tended to be the Avallen fae who were blonde. She certainly fitted the description for now with a limited knowledge of technology; she’d stared at everybody’s cell-phones with utmost confusion. But even Avallen fae knew how to use technology when they left their misty isles.

‘Which king did you pledge allegiance to?’

At that, Nesta gave a harsh laugh. ‘None of them and I never will.’

‘Who is the king of Avallen?’

‘Fionn,’ she said, brandishing her hands in the air with disinterest.

‘Danaan is here,’ a voice said over the intercom. ‘Sending him down.’

Ruhn Danaan was captain of the fae auxiliary unit and exemplified what it meant to be a fae prick. One day, he’d also be their king. And Hunt could not stand him.

He swaggered in, tongue flicking against his lip-ring. ‘This better be good, Athalar.’

Hunt gestured to Nesta Archeron currently stonewalling Isaiah as he attempted to interrogate her on her origins.

‘Don’t know her,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Wish I did.’

‘Is she one of the Avallen fae?’

‘No idea,’ replied Ruhn in a blasé tone. Hunt could stink alcohol on him. Likely the prince had been with his little pals doing what they did best and partying until dawn.

Sensing his frustrations, Naomi stepped in. ‘She fell from the sky. There’s no record of her family name in the history of Midgard. Nesta isn’t aligned to any house, seemingly has no knowledge of Lunathion. She cannot name either fae king – but did mention Fionn. She came with a sword imbued with magic – and a Harp.’

Ruhn finally took notice. He leaned closer to the glass, nose almost touching it. ‘Her eyes are silver.’

‘A fascinating conclusion, Danaan.’

‘Let me talk to her.’

It was Isaiah’s call so he allowed the prince into the interrogation room, claiming that not only was he fae royalty which gave Ruhn a pass to do what he liked in the city, but also a member of the aux. When he entered, Nesta knew him. Her eyes went wide then she stared down at her lap, murmuring something to herself.

‘Hi,’ said Ruhn who turned the chair around and leant his chest against the back. ‘Your coffee’s going cold.’

Nesta raised the cup to her mouth to take a sip then promptly spat it back out. ‘That’s vile.’

‘Need sugar?’

She folded her arms across her body. Anybody else would have called for their lawyer now or asked what they were being charged with. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Nesta seemed more interested in the security camera and even the lights above her head.

‘Are you high fae?’ she asked Ruhn.

‘I’m fae,’ he said. ‘Vanir. What other Vanir do you know?’

Nesta swallowed. Eventually, she suggested, ‘Illyrians?’

Ruhn gave an encouraging nod and lied that he knew them. Beside Hunt, Naomi was doing her best to search for the term.

‘Who else?’

‘Peregryns.’

‘Yeah. Peregryns.’ Ruhn gave another nod. ‘Those big birds that brought you to the 33rd. What are they?’

‘Malakim.’

Which she only knew because Hunt had told her.

‘What’s Sabine?’

‘I don’t know her,’ she replied.

Well, shit. She definitely was not from Lunathion because everybody knew Sabine, unfortunately. Naomi’s laptop made a pinging sound. ‘Toxicology report. Nothing in her system. Not even a drop of alcohol. Definitely no drugs.’

On arrival, the on-duty med-witch had given her a once over but had not found any major injuries beyond a few bruises from her heavy landing.

Isaiah drummed his fingers on his watch face. ‘We can’t hold her for anything. By rights, we’ve held her longer than necessary with nothing to charge her for.’

‘She’s clearly not from here.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’m reluctant to call Micah back until we have full specs on the items that she brought with her.’

‘We can keep those for a week,’ said Naomi.

Ruhn emerged from the room, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his long, black hair. ‘She’s fae. Definitely. No idea where she’s from though.’ Ruhn pulled out his cell.

‘Calling daddy?’

He threw Hunt a grin. ‘Not a chance. I’ll keep her at mine.’

‘No,’ said Hunt with a snort. ‘Do you think we’ll hand over a disorientated female to you and your little pals?’

‘Careful with what you’re insinuating, angel.’

Isaiah cleared his throat. ‘Until we know more, Nesta Archeron is a free citizen of Lunathion, not under anyone’s jurisdiction.’

‘She’s fae,’ Ruhn insisted. ‘She answers to my father.’

‘You didn’t hear her, Danaan,’ Hunt said, fighting the grin from his face. ‘She’s pledged allegiance to no king and never will.’

‘Hunt, discharge her. Ruhn, I wonder if you could take a look at the sword,’ asked Isaiah, guiding the prince out of the room.

Hunt cared little for the fae but he wasn’t going to send a lone female who had no clue where she was to the Ruhn Danaan home for parties and orgies. He took up Ruhn’s vacated seat, also sitting backwards on it at the table. Nesta watched him closely.

‘How do you know Ruhn?’

‘I don’t,’ she replied, voice clipped.

‘You looked like you did.’

Nesta furrowed her brow. ‘I thought he was somebody else.’

Hunt nodded his head towards the cup. ‘You didn’t like my coffee?’

‘It was foul.’

‘Oof. No offence taken.’ He began writing out her discharge forms, explaining them to her as he wrote. It would go under a section two; the 33rd reserved the right to question any citizen at any time without reason or without consequence. Anybody from Lunathion would have kicked up a fuss over how long they’d been held for. This one had no cell, no purse, no identification, literally nothing on her person so she likely didn’t know her rights. ‘You can collect your items in a week.’

That was if they found nothing they could charge her for.

‘A week? I need the Harp.’

‘Playing in a tavern?’

Hunt glanced up at her then jerked back. Her eyes were swirling. They looked as if silver flames were trapped within, writhing to get to the surface.

‘You’re free to go, Nesta. I’ll see you out.’

The walk out of the Comitium was just as interesting. The most inane technology snagged her attention. At the coffee machine, she came to a halt to stare at it in wonder then in the waiting room, her eyes catalogued the television screens, jaw hanging open.

‘Don’t worry. You won’t miss Fangs and Bangs.’

Nesta opened her mouth to say something then the phone rang in the office. That also hooked her attention. She was child-like in her wonder as a malakh answered the phone.

‘That device allows you to communicate?’

Hunt touched two fingers to her forehead. The temperature seemed fine. ‘Try and see a med-witch. Have them check you over for concussion.’

He held the door open for her as she stumbled off into the blackness, just as perplexed as she’d been when they’d found her in the road.

Nesta wasn’t Hunt’s duty. His shift should have ended two hours ago. He was a slave, but a slave who could be off-duty – especially when Micah was out of town. Yet, he couldn’t stop the sense of dread from clawing in his chest as he watched Nesta amble aimlessly into the night.

This female would cause him a headache.

***

Seven days.

Nesta needed to survive seven days with only the clothes on her back in this strange city. There were worse places that she could have arrived to. The dungeon had not truly been a dungeon. It lacked the prowling beasts of the Hewn City. The only issue had been how bright the lights were. They hadn’t been the faelights that Rhysand conjured.

There were more lights hanging from towering metal poles on the smooth roads. There were still many out in the darkness but not all of them were fae. Some were like animals with cloven hooves instead of feet or caprine horns that jutted out from their hair.

Nesta didn’t know what to make of it.

She’d left Cassian calling her name in the Prison. Now she was in Lunathion. Wherever that was.

The city was so noisy.

Nesta needed space to think and to breathe so she fought her way out of the densest areas of the city towards a massive river. The sounds of it calmed her. She crossed over it, into the darker area where it felt more peaceful. Nesta sucked in breaths, thinking of Gwyn and her teachings to focus on the inhales and exhales and nothing else. That was easier said than done in a foreign land with no allies, no weapons, and no way back to Velaris.

Something was moving across the bridge towards her.

It made her skin prickle.

It wasn’t walking. It was gliding.

Her hand reached over her shoulder for the pommel of her sword and remembered it had been taken.

The creature made a low, gurling sound from the back of its throat then reached out a grey hand stripped of flesh in places.

Nesta backed up a step, but more were behind her, moving in that same eerie way without a sound.

The air went static.

A bolt of lightning hit the ground which forced one of the creatures to retreat.

The male who’d chaperoned her to the Comitium landed between her and the bulk of the creatures. Lightning wreathed his hands. His hair rose from the static.

‘You will not feast this night.’

Hunt jerked his chin at her, summoning Nesta to him. An arm clamped around her shoulders then he pushed off from the floor. As they lifted off, his other arm swooped beneath the back of her knees.

The motion was surprisingly fluid. Nesta did what she always did if Cassian flew her and put her arms around his neck for support.

‘What were they?’

‘Reapers,’ he replied. ‘I’m guessing you don’t have them where you come from.’

‘We have creatures just as foul.’

‘Yeah. Well, maybe don’t go for a midnight meeting with the Under-king if you want to see the dawn, Nesta.’ Hunt flew them a short distance then landed back amongst the lights on poles. He kept one hand clasped around her wrist like she might run while pulling one of the metal rectangles from his pocket. It displayed numbers that he tapped. His thumb moved down the screen, the words it showed flew by too quick for Nesta to read. ‘It’s Athalar. As you said, she’s one of your kind. She needs to be put up in a hotel.’ A pause. ‘Near the Dead Gate. I’ve flown her near Jesiba Roga’s house of horrors, but she’ll end up wandering through the meat market if I leave her.’ Hunt gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Either a hotel or the barracks with me, but not a chance I’m leaving her in your custody.’

Hunt slid the device into his back pocket. ‘The prince of pricks is booking you a hotel for the night. You hungry?’

The malakh lifted her into the air again to cross the city. They returned to the huge building where he had first taken her but did not stay long. Nesta was told to wait in the corridor outside a room while Hunt retrieved a bag of items. They stopped off at a restaurant along the way while he waited for news from the prince of pricks, whoever that was.

‘Noodles,’ he said, gesturing to the flimsy packaging.

Nesta stared down at them. They reminded her of yellow strings but there were chunks of meat and vegetables amongst them and a sweet-smelling sauce that made her ravenous. Hunt paid for it all, including the drink that was filled with bubbles.

‘Not a fan of coffee, but you like soda,’ he said between mouthfuls.

‘It is so sweet.’

‘Yeah because it’s all sugar.’

Nesta slurped it down, not caring if the ice hurt her teeth.

Hunt pulled the device – a cell phone – from his pocket. ‘Danaan came through. Let’s go.’

The lodgings were nice. One of those moving portrait boxes was hung on the wall and Hunt pressed a button on another rectangle to make it work. He pressed a few more buttons, the portraits changing rapidly.

‘Here we go. Fangs and Bangs, as promised.’

There was a half-naked female on the screen lounging on a long chair near a body of water. A male, equally as bare and bronze, was discussing their relationship beside her.

‘What do all of those buttons do?’

Hunt shrugged one shoulder. ‘Nobody knows. That’s volume. Channel up and down. On and off.’

‘It controls it?’

‘Yes. A remote. Where the hell did you come from Nesta?’

Nesta said nothing. She couldn’t bear to think of the people she had left behind. There was no guarantee that the Harp would be returned to her or it would even let her pluck a string to return to Velaris.

‘Bathroom’s through there. This is a key card. You press it to that black panel on the door handle to get in but try not to leave tonight, alright. I don’t want to retrieve your body from the Istros in the morning.’ Hunt blew out a breath. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll be by in the morning.’

Despite the day she had endured, the sight of the bed with tightly-pulled white sheets was calling to her. As soon as she hit that pillow, Nesta would be out.

Hunt rummaged in the bag that he’d collected from the Comitium. There were soft, grey pants and a white top. ‘For you to sleep in. There are slits on the back for my wings, but it will be comfier than those,’ he said, pointing to her leathers. ‘I don’t know how you breathe in that.’

‘Thank you, Hunt,’ replied Nesta, clutching the clothes to her body.

‘Tomorrow, we will talk. Off the record. About you.’ He swept his hair from his face. ‘I want to help but I can’t if you’re not honest with me. Sleep well.’

#hunt x nesta #acotar #crescent city #hunt athalar #nesta archeron

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juiles · 10 months

Text

Why me?

Summary: y/n is Wanda and Natasha’s partner. After a misunderstanding and 3 months of pain, they finally break through.

Tags: angst and then fluff

Warnings: self harm, pain, fighting, kinda angsty Nat, insecure reader, intrusive thoughts, yelling.

A/N: here’s an angsty wandanat x reader fic that i’ve wanted to read for a while but can’t seem to find any with this plot so if you know of one let me know.

Masterlist here!

————————————————————————

Y/N pov

When i walked into the kitchen, I wasn’t expecting to see Natasha and Wanda wrapped up in each others arms, even though i should have, but i definitely was not expecting to hear Wanda utter the words that shattered my heart.

“You, and you alone, are my entire world and I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend…” She had muttered into Natasha’s neck, neither of them noticing me in the room giving me the chance to walk out in silence.

I should have expected that, the last few months they have slowly started separating themselves from me. Busying themselves in their work so much I never saw them anymore, anytime they weren’t busy, they seemed to find a way to ignore me and when they were around me they weren’t necessarily nice.

This interaction had given me that last needed push to finally give up. I pulled all my clothes into a bag and went back into my old room down the hall, haphazardly throwing the bag in the corner of my room. I felt a sob build up in my throat and with a quick lock of my door and telling Friday to sound proof my room and not let anyone in, i collapsed into a ball in my room and allowed myself to sob for 30 minutes before picking myself up and dusting myself off.

I decided then and there that I would push myself into my work. I wouldn’t let them ruin my life, at least not my life with the avengers.

It had been 3 months since that day, of course Natasha and Wanda hadn’t even noticed i had left or started avoiding them. None of the teams seemed to have noticed anything different about me which just pulled me further into my shell. I had a very simple routine, wake up at 4, train for 2 hours making sure to be in a private room. Grab something for breakfast if i was feeling it, which lately I hadn’t been. Be in the labs by 6:30 to start work. Skip lunch, working the whole day with my headphones on. I managed to avoid ground dinners a lot but sometimes i got sucked in, not like anyone even noticed if I was there or not.

Wanda’s POV

I guess Natasha and I hadn’t noticed how we had been distancing ourselves from y/n but in the last month or so I noticed how different things had been. Maybe we had been too caught up in our work or our lives but somehow y/n had managed to distance themselves from us even more. They had moved out from our shared room and we almost never saw them during the day.

“She’s probably just being petty that we have lives other than her.” Natasha said as we discussed what was going on. “They’re not being adult about this. They should have spoken to us rather than just leave.”

“I don’t think we ever gave them the chance Nat… we’ve been really distant… the day we we’re practicing what to say to them when we proposed… i think they heard us… i don’t think they realized it was about them… and up until then we had been finding ways to avoid them to not make the engagement noticeable.” I said, tears threatening to fall from my eyes. “We really messed up…”

We both looked up when we heard the kitchen door open and to both our surprise we saw y/n standing in the doorway. They had an unreadable look on their face before they quickly turned on their heel and stormed out of the room, towards their own room. My eyes widened and very quickly my body was racing after their own without a thought in my head.

Before I even got the door, it slammed in my face making me screech to a stop staring at the dark brown wood in front of me, tears now falling from my eyes. “Y/n… please open the door.” I all but whimpered before leaning back into Natasha’s arms who had followed behind me. “Please… we just want to talk…”

I heard a smash and a scream so loud it almost hurt my ears more than my heart. Another smash happened before Natasha made the decision to kick the door down revealing y/n in a very panicked state throwing items around their room. Glass and paper already scattered around the floor.

“FUCK OFF.” They screamed throwing a vase at my head, i barely dodged it, a small piece that shattered on the wall behind me, lodged into my arm making me gasp in pain. The gasp must have shaken them out of their frenzy as they stopped and slowly turned to face me, eyes drawn to the small amount of blood trickling down my arm. “Wanda… oh god… oh my god i am so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Their head snapped up to look at me before they backed away, arms being held up defensively. “I’m sorry… please don’t hate me… please…” They pleaded staring at my eyes, a look of pure fear in their eyes.

“Detka… I would never-“

“DON’T. DON’T SAY THAT. ITS A LIE! YOU DID!” They screamed at me before going back to the fear and they cowered again when Natasha took a slow step forward, tears falling down her face.

“We never meant to hurt you… we swear… we love you more than anything… please… let us help you…” She finally made it to y/n’s trembling body and managed to pull them into her arms. “We want to help you…”

I kneeled in front of y/n’s sobbing form and held their hands as they sobbed and screamed into Natasha’s chest.

After what felt like hours, their sobs and screams disappeared into soft sniffles, their face still buried deep into her neck. That’s when I finally took a good look at them. They were shaking, their body looking very frail and skinny, as they pulled their face out of Nats neck, and I noticed the dark circles under the eyes, how pale they were, how lost their eyes are. “Oh detka…” I murmured cupping their face. All they did was stare at me. “I am SO sorry that we ever made you feel like we don’t love you… we love you so much it hurts. It hurts to know that we hurt you. It breaks our hearts because not once did we even step back to notice we were hurting you, that we were so engrossed in our plans that we failed to notice what we were doing to you.”

Their face contorted u to pain when i softly grabbed their wrist making me pull back their sleeve before they got the chance, my heart falling even further into my stomach. There on their wrist were bloody cuts scattered around. “Please let me clean these… baby they look infected. Even if you don’t want us around, i want to make sure you stay safe.” They glanced down at their own wrist before looking at Natasha before looking back at me and they nodded. I shot up and ran into the bathroom before coming back with the first aid kit.

“It will sting but you grip my arm as tightly as humanly possible, it will help.” Natasha murmured into their ear, they nodded staring down at their arm, their good hand gripping onto Nats. I started cleaning the wounds, y/n barely made a sound but I could see the pain in their eyes so i did it as fast as possible, wrapping them up before showering the bandages with kisses. “All better…”

“You… my… I’m sorry…” They muttered squeezing their eyes shut.

“No. No you don’t need to apologize. We do. For the rest of our lives we will be apologizing for ever causing you pain. You are our world y/n. The three of us against the world.” Natasha stopped them quickly holding them tighter. “Detka… you’re too skinny… have… have you not been eating?”

They tended up before I stroked their cheeks gently. “We’re not mad baby… but we need to know… we need to make sure your taken care of so let’s get some food in you baby…” They bit their lip and started shaking their head before Nat cleared her throat and they took a deep sigh before nodding gently.

Nat scooped them up into her arms bridal style and carried them down to the kitchen before placing them on her lap as she sat on a stool. “What do you want to eat detka…?”

It was silent for a moment before a small whisper was heard. “Wanda’s alfredo…?” Was hushed but my I couldn’t fight the smile growing in my face. “Of course baby.”

I instantly started flitting around the kitchen doing what was needed. It was silent for at least 10 minutes before they spoke again.

“I never wanted to upset you guys… before you stop me let me speak. I’m just so used to being used, hurt then dropped as if I’m garbage…” They’re eyes welled up slowly. “I just… i just needed to pull myself away before you could hurt me and I ended up hurting all of us… I’m sorry i didn’t talk to you guys before and assumed the worst…” My heart shattered even more. “I love you guys so much it made me want to go numb so I couldn’t get hurt again…”

“We love you baby… we love you so much and these last 3 months have been torture but it was our own fault.” Natasha said running her calloused hands through y/n’s hair. “We will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Now eat so we can go snuggle in bed to sleep my love.”

Y/n stared at the bowl, their bottom lip wobbling. “I’m scared…” They whispered.

“Baby… me and you and Wanda are going to do this together. Understand?” They nodded with a small sniffle. “Now open up so you can eat.” They opened their mouth and slowly we made our way through the bowl.

After they ate, we made our way back upstairs to our bedroom and settled them in between us, pulling their bony body into ours. “Why me?”

“Because you are our world detka and no matter what we say or do nothing will ever be able to make up for what we did to you.”

Y/n sniffled before snuggling back down into us with a small content smile on their faces they fell asleep.

819 notes · View notes

kl4us4 · 2 years

Text

'broken nose' kind of protective (eddie munson x f!reader)

eddie loves his uncle - he's almost a father to him. he just hates when he brings his rowdy, disrespectful friends to the trailer park.

masterlist

warnings: smoking, drinking, inappropriate middle aged men who make you want to throw up.

You can’t help but watch Eddie as he brings the cigarette to his lips, his other hand expertly lighting it. He inhales fiercely, eyes shutting as the smoke hits his throat and the nicotine hits his system. When he lets out a long breath, he opens his brown eyes and stares at the fire burning in the distance. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t pinpoint, something distant and concerning.

“Eddie,” you call out to him, reaching your hand over to his knee, “how are you feeling, baby?”

He pulls a smile from his raging thoughts, glancing over at you sweetly. “I’m good, sweetheart,” he sighs tenderly, “tired.”

You reach for the cigarette in his fingers, taking a small drag of it. “Are you sure?” You ask genuinely, gazing up at him, “You’ve felt kinda… I don’t know - distant tonight.”

When Eddie looks down at you, he can’t help but almost become lost in your wide, fond eyes. It’s almost then and there that he divulges everything running through his head.

“Yeah, well,” he tears away from your watchful gaze, “I hate my Uncles friends.”

“I know,” you mumble, resting your head upon his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

Every now and again, Eddie’s Uncle would get time off from work and he’d invite all his night-shift buddies over to the park for drinks and music. Its not that they were assholes or ever rude to you and Eddie - it’s just that they like to get Wayne blind drunk, stumbling over his words and over his feet type of drunk. It was always weird seeing your parents or older family getting drunk. Eddie hated it. But he admired his Uncle too much to say anything to him. So he just sat by the fire, smoking, waiting for his Uncle to call it quits so he could help him into bed.

“It’s okay,” Eddie turns to you, a small smile present on his mouth, “at least I’ve got you to hold Wayne’s hair back when he throws up in the garden again.”

“Your uncles practically bald!” You shove his shoulder playfully.

Eddie hums out a laugh, “Alright, maybe I’ll drink some more and you can hold mine back instead.”

“Hm,” you scrunch your nose up, “I’d rather you hold my hair back - while we do something else.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes flick to yours and he smirks, bringing the cigarette to his lips and huffing smoke out into the air, “Tell me more about that.”

In the distance, you hear someone let out a drunken exclamation before the sound of glass shattering echoes through the trailer park. “Shit!” You flinch, gasping in a harsh breath.

Eddie tenses underneath you and bites his lip. “For Christs Sake!” He screeches suddenly, rising to his feet, fiery and angered.

“Eddie,” you call out in vain. He’s already thrown his cigarette into the fire and he’s beginning to march towards the sound, “Eddie, hold up!”

He scales the steps down the trailer's porch, heading towards the second firepit in the communal area. You trail along, eyes wide and legs struggling to keep up with his angered march. "What the hell are you doing?" Eddie lets out a sigh, seeing Jimmy cackling over a broken bottle on the floor, "There are fuckin' kids that play around here, you get that, right?"

"S-Sorry..." Jimmy slurs, hands raised to the sky, "Was a mista- accident, was an accident, Eddie."

Eddie turns to his Uncle, giving him an exasperated expression. Wayne lets out a hum, "I know, I know - they're leaving s-soon, okay?" By the way that he's slurring his words, you can tell he's gonna be tired tomorrow. Across the firepit, two other friends of Wayne's let out cackles. When you look over, one leans towards the other, muttering something. You snap back to Eddie, who raises his eyebrows at Wayne.

"You know what time it is, right?" Eddie asks, knowing the man doesn't even have a clue as to what year it is anymore, "it's 4 am."

Jimmy and Wayne share glances before bursting into laughter with one another. You wonder if they got into Eddie's stash - or if Wayne had a stash of his own. "We're teenagers again," Jimmy exclaims, slapping a hand down on Wayne's shoulder.

"Bedtime soon, grandpas?" Eddie suggests, giving the pair a convincing grin.

Jimmy lets out a huff, giving Eddie a feigned look of anger, "Grandpa? Ouch. Hurts."

"Bedtime sounds good about now," one of the other men calls out, drawing Eddies' attention. He notices how you avoid looking at them, clearly uncomfortable by their presence. He can't recognise them very well, so he knows they don't come around here much - not like Jimmy does.

"Bedtime," Wayne repeats, nodding a few times as his eyes close.

"Yeah, where we all sleeping?" The man calls out, snickering to his friend before taking a sip of his beer.

The other nudges his friend, pointing his beer in your direction, "Whichever bed she's sleeping in - that'll probably keep me awake, huh!"

You freeze. Eddie's jaw goes slack, he almost can't believe the words that just came out of this old fucks mouth. You just look at the shards of glass at your feet, hoping the light from the firepit doesn't illuminate the disgusted and shocked expression on your face. You're afraid he'll say something else to further fuel your timid embarrassment - though, you think, maybe that's exactly what he wants; to see you go quiet and shy. Eddie tenses beside you as Dave refuses to tear his eyes away. The small smile on his face is enough to make Eddie want to throw a bottle at his head.

Wayne's face contorts in disgust and he turns to look at the man, "Dave... come on, man."

Dave just scoffs, letting out a laugh, "What? No one can take a joke anymore?"

Eddie's hand clasps around your wrist and he leans his head down towards your ear. His lips brush your skin as he mumbles, "Go inside."

When you look up at him, eyes full of concern and shock, he nods his head towards the trailer with certainty. You look down before silently leaving the group, shutting the trailer door beside you. A few words are shared between the group and you see Eddie getting in Dave's face. You angle your head towards the group that's not too far from the trailer.

"If I see you around here again and you say a single word to her, I don't care how fuckin' old you are, I'll break your nose," Eddie shoves his fist against Dave's chest, "got it?"

Dave, eyes wide and a little intimidated, snaps his head towards Wayne, "You gonna let your dirtbag nephew talk to me like that?"

Wayne raises his eyebrows, his gaze flicking to eddies and then Daves, "Uh, yep - I kinda wanna see him bust your face up."

Dave shoves Eddie back by his shoulders and Jimmy, a much larger fellow than both Eddie and Dave combined, places a hand between the two. "Alright, come on, boys," he bellows out, voice - though slightly slurring - commanding Dave's respect, "Dave, go home. You've had enough."

You squint, watching as Dave throws his beer bottle onto the ground by the fire, exclaiming a few words at the Munsons before he storms away. You let out a breath, watching as Eddie gives Jimmy a nod. Jimmy wasn't a bad guy, he often took his drinking too far, but he always had the Munson's back. You saw him with Wayne often. You trusted him. That new Dave dude, you did not trust him.

Wayne begins pacing towards the trailer and you plop yourself down on the couch. He tumbles in, unsteady on his feet. When he sees you, an apologetic look appears on his face, "'M sorry, darling," he huffs, kicking his shoes off haphazardly, "I hope your night's not ruined."

"No," you shake your head frantically, "it's not!"

He just nods silently, running a hand over his face before gripping every surface he can to make it to his bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and you can only imagine he's planted in his bed, asleep already. Rising to your feet, you look outside the blinds to see Eddie. He's half bent over, a trash bag in his hands as he picks up the remnants of glass from the floor.

You smile faintly at your boyfriend, heading outside of the trailer towards him. When he hears you, he looks up for a moment, "It's cold, go back inside. I'll be done in a minute."

Leaning down, you begin picking up shards of glass, popping them into the bag. Eddie gives you a thankful smile when you place the last of it into the bag. He ties it up, tossing it into the large bin before wrapping a hand around your waist and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

After washing your hands, you plop down onto his bed with a tired sigh. He watches you, reaching out to take your shoes off for you. "You alright, sweetheart?" His concerned eyes meet yours and he drops your shoes to the floor before quickly kicking his own off. You nod. He tilts his head at you, "You don't have to nod just for me, you know that yeah?"

You smile lazily up at him, stifling a yawn, "Yes, Eddie - he was a creep. But it was entertaining hearing you threaten to break his nose."

Eddie throws his head back as he lets out a laugh, "God. You heard that?"

Grinning, you sit cross-legged and look up at him, "I did. You know... you're kinda hot when you get protective over me."

"Yeah," Eddie smirks down at you, pressing a finger to the bottom of your chin and lifting your head higher, "You've told me once or twice before, sweetheart."

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x reader angst #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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monstrousvoice · 17 days

Text

Bedtime

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Husk X Reader

AN: Inspired by this post, I wanted to write Husk being sleepy and needing to be picked up from the hotel's bar. Fluffy and sweet! Reader’s gender isnt specified but you do use a couple of sappy, schmaltzy nicknames for Husk, fair warning

Tags: Fluff, References to Alcohol, References to Alcohol Addiction, Sappy Romantic Nicknames, Other Cast Members Mentioned, If I missed any please let me know

Summary: The Hazbin Hotel is pretty peaceful at night.

Read on AO3!

With a huff of frustration you sat up in bed, scrubbing your hands over your face. Your hands dropped to your lap as your eyes wandered the empty bedroom. The lamp light was still on, casting an amber glow over everything from the empty booze bottles still on the shelves you haven't thrown out, to the mounds of dirty clothes neither you nor your boyfriend had bothered to pick up. The clock read midnight. You look to your side, his half of the bed still empty. Still cold.

That was why you were having such trouble sleeping, you knew. You needed your nightly cuddles if you were ever going to fall asleep.

Sighing and stretching your shoulders, you stood up, making yourself look somewhat decent before you left your room. Despite the late hour you knew better than to walk through the hallways without pants on.

It was…surreal to walk through the hotel at night. When you had lived in the center of the Ring, there was always noise, always chaos. There were times you were so scared of being a target for a robbery (or something worse) that you couldn't sleep at all, only closing your eyes for a few minutes before jolting awake at the sound of a car crash and gunfire outside your window.

…But here there was nothing. Night was almost peaceful. If you really strained your hearing or went outside the distant chaos would be noticeable, but walking through red and gold hallways, the only real noise came from your fellow residents.

Sometimes you would come across Nifty scurrying around, dusting and bug hunting and muttering to herself. Sometimes Angel would get back from work in a good mood because Valentino had been in a good mood, and you could hear his favorite music playing from his room as he sang along, spinning Fat Nuggets around and around.

Even when you suspected he was sleeping, the soft sound of jazz and radio static never stopped playing from Alastor's room. You were grateful he was on one of the top floors and far from your room. You don't think your beau would be able to sleep at all knowing his Master was right down the hall.

Sir Pentious could make quite a racket when he was in a tinkering mood, but he always spent his time doing so in the hotel’s workshop and, to give him credit, he tried working on quieter projects during the night after Charlie asked him to keep it down once. Charlie herself, and Vaggie, were both pretty quiet too. The only time you could think of them making too much noise at night was one instance. They had decided to have date night at the hotel watching movies, which led to a tickle fight that had Charlie screeching in joy and sent the rest of you on red alert that she was under attack.

Both her and Vaggie had apologized out of breath and with red cheeks.

You didn't come across anyone tonight as you made your way to the lobby. The tv was off, throw blankets neatly folded on the couch. Some bits of metal and electronics were left on the coffee table, you assumed it was a project Sir Pentious had been working on before calling it a night.

You kept walking, your destination being the bar.

It was neat and tidy as always…except for the unconscious bartender laying across it. You smiled softly as you crept closer, and the sound of soft snoring reached your ears. Husk was dead asleep on his side of the bar, his back slowly rising and falling with even breaths, wings limp and touching the floor. His head was laying on his folded arms, hands still gripping a clean empty glass and a rag.

You hadn't mentioned it to him yet, but you were proud of him. Lately he had been opening up more to the others in the hotel, making actual friends, you dared to call them. And with that change came a change in Husk. He was smiling more, even laughing, and drinking less. It made your heart warm and gooey that he was learning to let his walls down around others besides you.

He was happier.

He wasn't gonna be happy in the morning with a sore neck and pins and needles in his legs for sleeping standing up, however.

You snuck up behind the counter, stepping over his limp tail to get closer to his warmth. With delicate precision you pulled the empty glass and rag out from his claws and set them aside. You slowly wrapped your arms around him next, mindful of his sensitive wings, carding your fingers through the fur covering his arms and shoulders. You leaned close to his flicking ear and whispered.

“Husk? It's time to get up baby…you need to get to bed.” A snort and a twitch of whiskers was your only response. “C'mon, wake up handsome~” you cooed again.

A grunt, and suddenly a golden eye was fluttering open looking around but not really taking anything in. Husk coughed, slowly pulling himself upright and smacking his lips together with a frown. You could guess his last drink was making itself known to his taste buds.

“Fuckin-Wh…where…?” He looked groggy, eyes fuzzy with wide pupils, and the fur on his cheek he had been laying on was clumped together in the cutest case of bed head you've ever seen. (Who were you kidding, every morning waking up next to him was the cutest case of bed head ever-) He gave a loud groan as he stood up, leaning forward hard onto the countertop as his legs and feet woke back up.

“Shiiit…fuckin feet, goddam-...” He muttered and cursed some more, and you wrapped your arms around his middle to help hold him up. Even in his dazed state he tried to return the affection you were giving him, one of his hands moving to cover yours where it gripped him. His tail swished and curled around your legs as he woke up.

“Did you have one too many with Angel again sweetheart? I had asked him to let me know the next time you fell asleep here…” Your brows furrowed in concern. You couldn't really be mad at Angel if he forgot though. When he and Husk drank, they got sloshed.

“N-no…not Angel.” Husk muttered. His baritone voice was deeper than usual, sleep making it sound gravely and…well, husky. He dragged the hand not holding yours down his face, scrubbing and wrinkling his muzzle to wake up more. His mouth opened wide in a yawn, one that granted you a chance to see the rows of fangs he had hidden away in their full glory. You noticed tears pricking the corner of his eyes as the yawn ended and he licked his dry lips.

“...Was Alastor. Wanted some drinks, and when he finally left, I had his mess to clean up.” Your heart ached in sympathy. You know how much a night spent with just Alastor rubbed your man the wrong way. And the worst part was…

You couldn't do anything.

But you could do this for him. You pressed a kiss to his cheek before nuzzling into his neck, taking a deep inhale of his smell. You spoke again, voice muffled by his fur, but with the way his ear cocked towards you, you knew he could understand.

“-’M sorry baby. Com's t’ bed? It's com’y…” He chuckled at your muffled words, turning in your arms to hug you back. Face to face, he was able to nuzzle his own face into your neck this time. Husk took a deep breath and held it for a moment, relishing your scent before breathing hot air against you. It tickled.

“Yeah…yeah ‘m ready for bed…” He mumbled. Despite this you both stood there a moment longer. His arms were so firm and strong where they rested on your hips, and you loved the way his shoulders and back were so easy for you to hold onto. You simply didn't want to move yet. He smelled like booze, of course, but underneath that was the smell of his cheap cologne and his natural scent, and you let it envelope you entirely. Sleepy or not, you could stand here with him for eternity…

But, you figured his feet were probably killing him at this point, and you'd rather you both be comfortable during cuddle time. So, with a sigh you pulled away, but not before giving his other cheek a kiss to match the earlier one. Husk simply smiled at you, eyes hooded and soft with love.

As you both turned to make your way up the stairs to your shared bedroom, neither of you let go of the other. His arm stayed firmly on your hip, keeping you pulled as close to him as possible without tripping you both. You couldn't complain, you were doing the same thing, holding him to your side to support his tired body. His wings still drooped with their weight, the tips of his feathers touching the floor as you walked.

It was a quick walk back to your shared room, kisses and ‘I love you’s being whispered as you went. You didn't even care about the taste of stale booze in his mouth when you kissed him anymore. You had come to love it in a weird, pavlovian sort of way.

When you finally got back, you shut the door behind you with a soft ‘click’, and Husk stayed glued to your side as you did so. Already his eyes were slipping closed again, and the sight had you cooing in adoration.

“You are so adorable you know that? Such a handsome face, looking so sleepy…” He pouted at your words, but the blush on his face was obvious despite his fur.

“Shut that cute mouth up before I shut it myself-” He grumbled.

“Oh? And how would you shut it, hmm? I'm oh-so curious!” You teased him further, and giggled loudly when his response was to bury his face into your chest to hide away.

“-’m too tired for this-” He whined, actually whined, and you relented.

“Okay, okay sweetheart. I'm done, let's go to bed, yeah?” At his tired nod you stumbled your way to the bed, almost tripping on a pile of clothes in the way. When you finally reached the edge of the mattress, Husk finally let you go. He all but dragged himself across the blankets before flopping down on his side, only taking enough time to make sure his wings were tucked away safely and wouldn't get crushed. You stood still, smiling down at him.

“Not even gonna take off your pants big boy?” Your response was a tired huff. Husk laid with his face buried in a pillow, your pillow to be exact, and watched you with one sleepy eye. He held up his arms and made a grabbing motion towards you.

“C’mere doll…wanna hold you…” And if that sight didn't break your heart, nothing could.

“Hold on, let me get you situated.” Husk groaned in protest but didn't stop you as you crawled over the bed and to him. With practiced movements you undid his suspenders and popped open his pants, wiggling his clothes off him. In nothing left but his boxers, you tossed your blanket over him and finally settled down at his side.

Immediately he snuggled into you, pulling himself as close as possible to your body heat and curling himself around you like a leech. His legs wrapped around your hips and thighs, arms around your back as he buried his face into your chest.

He was asleep in moments.

Unable to stop smiling, you brushed your fingers through his fur and settled down yourself, finally feeling the sweet embrace of sleep now that your cuddly man was where he belonged.

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel X Reader #Hazbin Hotel Husk #Hazbin Hotel Husk X Reader #Husk X Reader #man its been awhile since I posted anything here and on AO3 #hope yall like it #My Writing

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jobean12-blog · 7 months

Note

You asked babe to bring you something from your favorite coffeeshop. Did they get your order right?

Fall In Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Takes place in my Biker AU)

Word Count: 986

Summary: When you send Joel on a coffee run he always delivers the best goodies.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for this fun ask Cia! It turned into a whole little drabble here but I couldn't help myself because I LOVE HIM SO MUCH! Hope you love him too! And have the best day! Love and hugs my friend! ❤️Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluffy fluff and fun

Joel Miller Masterlist

The gentle sway of the porch swing keeps you in a constant state of relaxation, the fluffy blanket and Joel’s flannel shielding you from the crisp morning air.

Every leaf that still dangles from the branches of the surrounding trees has transformed, it’s green color gone and replaced by the bright reds, oranges and yellows that now carpet the ground.

Your eyes are closed and your face is turned toward the sun’s warm rays that filter through the trees. It isn’t until you hear the unmistakable sound of his motorcycle that you peek through your lashes, knowing he’ll be coming up the driveway in a matter of seconds.

The distant hum becomes louder until it’s a low growl and you see him whip around the corner. The leaves crunch beneath the wheels and when he pulls up to the house you make grabby hands for him.

With the engine still purring he swings his long leg over his bike and grabs something from the saddlebag. He starts to unzip his leather jacket as he approaches, smiling warmly as he takes you in.

“You look cozy,” he says softly.

You hum in agreement, lifting the blanket in a silent invitation.

He removes his jacket and hangs it on the nearby chair then sets the bag down on the small table in front of the swing.

You move over but only so he can sit and pull you into his lap. He takes your chin between his calloused and cold fingers, tugging your lips to his.

“Hi angel,” he croons. “Miss me?”

You kiss him again before snuggling up against his chest and burying your nose in his neck.

“Always,” you whisper.

His hold on you tightens and he smooths his hand down your back soothingly.

“Where did you find this?” he asks, fiddling with the hem of his shirt that you’re wearing.

With a shrug you mumble into his skin, “in your drawer somewhere…smells so good.”

You can feel his body shake with a chuckle.

“It’s a amazin’ I have any shirts left.”

“You don’t need them as much as I do,” you state, stifling a yawn. “What did you bring me?”

Your fuzzy sock clad feet wiggle back and forth as your excitement grows.

“Let’s see here,” he says, sitting forward and grabbing the bag.

He takes out two to-go cups, both hot and steaming and then a small bag.

You shift in his lap and sit up enough to take one cup from his hand. When you open the top you practically stick your nose inside to inhale and sigh in happiness.

“My favorite!” you sing. “Smells almost as good as you.”

He gives you an unamused sideways smirk then motions to the small bag.

“Got you a little somethin’ sweet too darlin’.”

After taking a delicious sip of your drink you place it down and open the bag. Your eyes go wide.

“PUMPKIN MUFFINS!” you screech.

“There’s mor…”

“AND APPLIE CIDER DONUTS!” you shout, cutting him off.

You wiggle in happiness causing him to groan.

“What?” you say, still marveling over your treats.

“Quit your dancin’,” he warns, “or the only treat you’ll be gettin’ is in my pants.”

His terrible joke makes you look up, your eyebrows meeting your hairline. He’s staring at you with a straight face but his mustache is covered in whip cream from his drink.

You stare back and try to hold your composure but it doesn’t last and you snort with laughter.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he says, taking another sip.

When you finally stop laughing you meet his eyes again. “You’re right, it wasn’t, but…”

You trail off as you lean closer, taking his cup and setting it down next to yours.

“Hey,” he starts, sticking his lip out in a pout.

“Joel,” you grin.

“Yea darlin’,” he says, watching you with narrowed eyes as you inch closer.

“You have a ‘lil something on your mustache.”

Your mouth meets his and you suck on his upper lip, tasting the sweet cream.

When you pull back there’s still some left and you giggle. “Mm yum!”

With quick movements he picks up his cup again and takes another drink, practically dipping his whole mouth in.

“Is it gone?” he asks, his eyes glittering.

“Nope,” you say popping the p and kissing him again.

Once all the whipped cream is kissed from his lips you dig into a donut, taking a big bite of the cinnamon sugar goodness.

He watches you intently, his eyes focused on your lips as you lick them clean. Before you can take another bite he grabs the donut from your fingers and holds it up to your mouth.

You keep your eyes on him when you bite into it and when you’re done chewing he smiles triumphantly.

“You have a little somethin’ on your lips there darlin’,” he says, echoing your earlier statement.

His large hand reaches out and he wraps it around the back of your neck, dragging you closer until you’re straddling his waist and his lips are pressed to yours.

Your sugary fingers comb through his hair and you nibble his bottom lip.

His low hum of appreciation washes over you and he tucks you closer, softly kissing your neck and along your jaw before he finds your lips again.

“I want more sugar darlin’,” he murmurs, chasing your lips.

“What about my yummy drink?” you tease.

“I’ve got somethin’…”

You slap your hand over his mouth with wide eyes. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners with glee.

You hesitantly take your hand away and wait. He doesn’t say another word and instead reaches for your drink and brings it to your lips.

“When you’re done with this you’re all mine,” he growls.

“Is that a promise?” you counter, wiggling in his lap again.

“Of course angel,” he grins. “And when have I ever broken a promise?”

@pedritosdarling @lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren @hiddles-rose @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #biker!joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #biker!joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #biker au

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bigboysfalldeep · 1 year

Text

A policemans' tale - Part 3

Two months into his job as a police officer, Lennard couldn't be happier. He's doing a pretty good job at the station, and the chief is also very confident in him and his abilities as a police officer. In fact, he gave him a new partner, one greenhorn who just finished studying, to tell him the ins and outs of the job. Right now, the car is parked in a vacant parking lot. It's noon, and the shift is nearly over. Just two more hours to go. Mario, his new partner, had to go to the toilet, which is why Lennard is waiting inside the car, watching him enter a small gas station.

The sun is shining brightly through the front window, while Lennard is browsing his phone, looking at pictures of himself in uniform. Swiping the pictures away, an ominous feeling washes over him. It feels like hes being watched by someone, something lurking nearby. He looks left and right; there is no one in sight—just a few cars, a bird here and there, but nothing threatening. "Fuck." He chuckles; maybe he's just nervous. However, his body is tensing more and more, and the hair on the back of his neck is standing at attention.

Suddenly, he can hear something deep inside his mind. A noise, a low screeching sound, like somebody is scratching the whiteboard with rusty nails. It gets louder and louder—a pain-inducing sound. He closes his eyes and tries to cover his ears with his hands, but the sound is already echoing through his every thought. Lennard realizes that it seems like somebody or something is calling for him. "Lennard." A familiar yet distant voice mutters again and again.

"What is this?" He groans when the noise suddenly drops. The officer lowers his hands and opens his eyes. Again, no one was in sight. But then. "Can you hear me, boy?" That voice rings through his head once more, causing the cop to shake his head. "What? Who?" Lennard rubs his temple. "Lennard, do you hear me?" The voice says it in a more serious tone. Shaking his head and chuckling nervously, Lennard tries to play it off. "I must be exhausted. Hallucinating." He closes his eyes to concentrate, but then he can feel a presence inside him.

"You're not hallucinating, boy." The voice smirks. "I've been here for a while now." Lennard shakes his head and looks around. Where is he? "You cannot see me, boy." The man laughs mockingly. "It's inside your mind." Still chuckling nervously, Lennard looks into the rear view mirror, and inside his eyes, he can see something different. A faint shine is hiding behind them. "Who are you?" He says it worryingly. "This has to be a dream." He thinks to himself. "This can't be." For a few seconds, the voice is quiet before laughter echoes through his mind. "Not a dream, boy. Let me show you."

Lennard's heart beats through his chest; he can't breathe or move when his eyes close shut. He doesn't have control right now, and more and more flashes explode in front of his inner eye. Memories of the past few months The voice lets him live through these moments again. He remembers the first time he went under, inside a similar police car, just one week into this job. He feels his whole body going through it again, his partner chocking him hard, the music playing in the background, the commands. Obey. Relax. Stay calm and follow orders.

His breath quickens even more as he feels himself going under again. His dick turns rock-hard, edging him on, while all of his muscles try to burst through the tight uniform. Then, as it ends, another memory bursts to life. The second time, that man visited him at home. He went under in just an instant, his body already conditioned to follow this man's voice. The same voice as today. Unable to breathe, he opens his eyes and lets out a long, deep groan. "What the fuck are you doing to me?" Lennard shoots loudly, sweating heavily. "Liked what you saw?" The voice mocks, causing Lennard to look at his crotch, his dick bulging and twitching inside his tight pants.

"This is sick!" Lennard protests, but he cannot help but stroke himself firmly again and again. It's written into his mind; hearing the voice of his master is triggering him more and more. "You're a freak!" He hisses, looking around again.

"Im just going to take whats mine, Lennard." The voice smirks again. Lennard closes his eyes for a second, contemplating. "This has got to be a nightmare". He thinks as he feels himself growing weaker. "Don't fight it, boy; you're just making it harder for yourself." Lennard bites his lips and opens his eyes when he feels a familiar warmth spreading through his body, starting at the top of his spine and sending shivers down his back.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The cop growls as his back gets stiffer. All of his muscles and every fiber in his body are vibrating. "Taking over." The voice speaks calmly. Lennard tries to get out of the car, just away from him.

But somehow, the seatbelt acts as a restraint, growing tighter around his heavy chest. "LET ME GO." He thrashes around, but it's no use. "I love it when they try." The voice laughs, and Lennard's breathing gets heavier as it gets harder to breathe.

At the same time, he is touching himself, his dick getting bigger and bigger the more the warmth spreads through his body. Lennard feels it invading his chest, his abs, and his stomach. "FUCK." He looks down, his pecs hardening, and he tries to get the belt off, or at least his police vest. Still, no use at all. Quite the opposite.

His heart accelerates even more, and he's close to fainting due to pure pressure. It's hot and sweaty inside the car. He gasps for air, for relief, but the warmth keeps spreading right into his thick arms. "No. Please." He cries out as his muscles tense more than ever before. Looking at his sleeves, he can see something move underneath his skin.

Whatever that thing is, it's really inside him already. The warmth then reaches his fingerstips, and his arms go numb. He can't move them or feel them, but in horror, he watches them move again. The hand on his dick intensifies the grab, rubbing the twitching cock now firmly, while the other strokes across his chest, easily sliding underneath the vest to put more pressure on the chest.

"How do you feel now?" The voice mocks him as he's in pain, lonely tears running down his face. "Please, stop." He begs, but that feeling won't stop. Instead, it slowly spreads into his thighs, balls, and further down into his calves, feet, and toes. Lennard kicks violently until his legs go numb too.

He can only sit there, watching his body disobey him. "Nearly there, boy." The voice says, and the officer lets the hand stroke him even harder. Lennard is already sweating; his chest and heart are aching, while his hands wander across his whole body. Then he sees Mario inside the gas station, buying some snacks.

He tries to reach for the horn to make any noise, or maybe the holster around his thighs, but his arms and hands are not responding. "Nice try." The voice giggles. "There is no help for you now."

"Dont. Please." Lennard says, his eyes following his hand towards his cock again, before he grabs himself firmly. His dick is imprinting through the pants along his thighs, and he starts to jack him off. The warmth is still spreading; his chest feels fuzzy now, and his cock is filled with it too.

Still, he can feel the pressure, the pain, and the pleasure with every move of the hand. He shakes his head in one last attempt to break free. "Still so resilient? I like that." The voice laughs, and the feeling stops for a second. Lennard takes a deep breath, hoping for it to be over. But then, so quickly, the warmth spreads into his head and his mind, flooding it with more flashes of past overtakings.

It simply gets too much, and he feels his thoughts being washed away. He drools heavily, and it stains his vest. With his hand still massaging his cock, his eyes lose focus, and with multiple strong thrusts, his body shoots loads and loads of cum right into his briefs, the hot liquid even pressing through their fabric and into the navy blue uniform pants.

For a few more seconds, he sits there, his body stiff and rigid, before it slowly goes limp. Lennard regains his composure, his eyes gain focus, and he moves a hand to steady his heavy head. However, Lennard is gone; it's the voice who's leading that body now. His eyes are shining slightly as he looks into the rear-view mirror, admiring his pretty face.

He moves his hand towards his firm jawline and traces it with one finger while the other hand touches his wet, throbbing cock through the pants. "Finally." He groans, still feeling the pleasure radiating through every fiber of his body.

"I was waiting for this day," he says in the officer's voice, yet not his voice. A mixture of their voices, deep, rough, yet smooth at times. The man starts to touch himself—his chest and neck—feeling his biceps pressing against the tight shirt and vest. "Even better than expected." He smirks, still rubbing his cock firmly. There is a huge wet spot covering his crotch, but this just makes him hard again. And the smell is so good.

Lennards aftershave is easily covering up the faint scent of cum, but it's slowly but surely getting heavier inside the car. He exhales deeply, his body still sore from the hostile takeover. "Fuck, this feels good." The officer leans his head back, enjoying this moment. He licks his lips, taking a closer look at the tattoos, which are beautifully drawn, making him even hotter. Looking at himself in the mirror, he flexes his huge arms one by one.

But then, his eyes spot Mario slowly walking towards the car, some snacks in hand, and when he sees 'Lennard' he smiles. "There he is." 'Lennard" smiles back and quickly picks up his phone from the floor, looking through it for a very special video. The door opens, and Mario gets inside. "It was a mess in there." He says, sitting down, turning his face towards 'Lennard'. "I hope I didn't catch anything." Mario giggles and hands his partner a bag of sweets, but he doesn't respond.

Just then, he notices the state 'Lennard' is in. Messed up hair and face, dranched in sweat, his vest and pants stained, and ultimately a mess. "Are you ok, Lenny?" Mario says, his eyes slowly wandering down his partner's body, catching him stroking his dick through the wet pants while going through his phone. "What the fuck?" he says, but looking into 'Lennards' eyes interrupts him. They're shining ever so brightly—multiple colors at once, it seems. Mesmerizingly, they spin slightly, and it gets worse once their eyes meet. "I never felt better." 'Lennard' smirks, but it's not his usual voice. "Whaat...what happened?" Mario stutters, his eyes pulling back from that burning gaze and back to the hand rubbing that massive cock.

"I took what was mine." 'Lennard' says, placing a hand at the officer's shoulder, right next to his neck. This causes Mario to flinch and look back into those eyes. "Yours?" He says quietly, and 'Lennard' just raises his phone right into his face. "Watch this, and you will understand." The video plays, and instantly, the car is filled with ear-piercing music. The officer tries to pull away, flinching again, but 'Lennard' holds him in place. "Whatt?" He says this, and his eyes stare at the screen. A beautiful spiral dances across the phone, with so many colors swirling around.

"Hold it," 'Lennard' demands, and without hesitating, Mario takes it with both hands. They drop to his lap, but his eyes are stuck at the screen. "Good job, officer." 'Lennard' smirks and reaches for the man's chest. Lovingly, he starts to stroke him underneath his vest, one hand still caressing his neck. "Thats right. Watch it. Good boy. Feels good?" Mario doesn't respond; instead, his mouth opens slightly, and he starts to drool. "Ah, that's good. I see." He says this, stroking him more and more as his body reacts instinctively. The chest grows firm, the nipples hard, and his muscles bulge, with the uniform barely able to contain him. "Big boy, aren't we?"

'Lennard' holds back a low growl while touching his partner's upper body. He feels good, smooth, and young. Mario enters a state of vacancy. That video is made to weaken a man's mind and make him open to programming. And Mario seems to be the perfect subject. His body reacts simultaneously to every single touch, and while he keeps watching that video, he keeps listening to the music. The officer's mind is filled with commands. Obey. Relax. Just give in. That feels so good.

'Lennard's body is reacting as well, with his throbbing cock again tenting inside the uniform. "I love this part." He says this and runs a hand down his trousers. At the same time, he feels Mario's dick tenting as well. "Good boy." He smirks, that twitching cock in his hand. "Can you hear me, Mario?"

"Yes." He says it in a monotone voice, his eyes stuck on the screen. "Good. Were nearly there." 'Lennard' licks his lips, opens Mario's pants, and manages to pull his huge dick out. "Look at that." He wraps a hand around it and gets started. Rhythmically, he moves his hand up and down, starting off slow, with increasing pace and strength. He leans into him, whispering into his ear. "Listen to my voice. You're trained to serve and meant to serve, and that's what you will do. You will follow my orders and my commands. What I say is your wish. What I want is an order. Do you understand?"

Mario's face grimaces due to the pain and pleasure echoing through his whole body. "Yes." He moans deeply, his body tenses, and all of him is pulsating—his mind, his muscles, his cock, every fiber of his being. He begins to thrust against 'Lennards' grip, but he just smirks. "Good. But you won't cum yet. Just when I tell you to. Do you understand?" This makes his body even harder. All of him is ready to cum, ready to serve, but he can't. His eyes lose focus; he drops the phone and leans his whole body back against the seat.

"Officer?" The man says, removes his hand from the erect cock, and places a hand at Mario's neck. In response, he lets out a low, guttural moan. "Now." 'Lennard' says, and with that, Mario's body twitches as his cock explodes again and again. He moans and groans as his eyes roll completely back into his skull. After a few more dry shots, he regains his composure. 'Lennard' is touching himself while watching his newest subject. "Good boy." He pats Mario's cheek, who doesn't react. His eyes are vacant now, but they are shimmering slightly. "Very good boy." 'Lennard smiles, grabs the officers dick, and carefully dresses him again.

He pats his chest and thighs, admiring that man's physique. Then he lets his hands explore the whole body. His arms, hands, shoulders, and thighs; he takes his time feeling his chest, neck, and face, enjoying that smooth skin, the stubble, and soft lips. "Can you hear me, boy?" Mario nods, his eyes looking into the distance. 'Lennard' unzips his pants, pulls them down, including the underwear, and exposes his wet, sweaty, throbbing cock.

"You earned yourself a meal." He says, patting Mario's neck firmly, "He doesn't waste any time. He bends down and takes the cock into his mouth. He knows how to move his mouth, exactly hitting every one of his most sensitive spots. "Fuuuuck." 'Lennard's groan turns into a giggle. He puts a hand at Mario's neck, forcing the whole cock into the mouth, making him gag. This, however, does not interrupt him. He keeps sucking, and after a few more seconds, after all that pleasure before, he cums right into his mouth. Mario swallows it, and 'Lennard' has to tell him to stop.

"Good job." He says, admiring Mario's engagement. "We're going to have fun".

#male on male #tf story #male domination #male transformation #male posession #male body possession #male body suit #male meat suit #cop domination #cop posession #cop tf #male hypno #male hypnosis #gay hypno #hypno story

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