#turning around and plunging a knife into their back.

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Twelve

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: blood, dream violence

Mafia AU

1.3K

Series Masterlist

Lando pressed her against the kitchen counter, his lips against her neck. She whined and moaned as he touched her. Red, bloody stains were left on her cheeks when Lando's fingertips touched her. And then a sharp, stabbing pain erupted in her side.

Lando pulled away from her and her lips chased his. But she couldn't follow him, stuck to the counter. When the fuck did Lando get a knife? And why the hell was that knife covered in blood?

Her hand was covering that stabbing pain in her side. When she pulled her fingers away, they were wet, red with blood. A scream left her lips and she wanted to collapse to the floor, but she couldn't, still stuck to the counter.

Lando shed his shirt, and his entire skin was covered with blood. But it was so clear that the blood wasn't his own. He brandished the knife as he strode into her living room.

It was just the two of them in her apartment. So, who the fuck was Lando walking towards? Her heart pounded in her chest as Lando walked over to the couch, to the person sleeping there. Who the hell was it?

But it didn't matter. Lando plunged his knife into their chest. He didn't stop there, though. He kept going, completely disfiguring them. She couldn't stop screaming as the blood spilled around her apartment, around her safe haven. The wound in her side was forgotten as the blood ran down her body, pooling on the floor.

Hands held her. "I've got you," someone was saying, pulling her close as she woke up with a start. Hands that had just been touching her, leaving blood on her. Even if it was in a dream.

She let out another scream as she fought against him, pushing away and crawling across the bed, away from him. "Stay away from me!" She cried, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Lando didn't reach for her again. He sat on the other side of the bed, watching as she tried to get her breathing back under the control. "You're okay," he said, hand moving across the sheets. But she couldn't even look at him, and Lando's heart snapped in two.

He stood up and walked back to the room. "Wait!" She called, and Lando couldn't stop the way that his heart jumped. "I locked my bedroom door before I went to sleep," she said. "How the hell did you get in?"

Lando had only felt pain like this once before, when his mother died. But the woman he loved, she was trying to keep him out. She'd locked the door to keep him away from her, and Lando wouldn't be surprised if she never trusted him again after breaking in.

He walked out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him. He'd fix this. He'd have to.

Lando didn't get back to sleep that night. How could he when her screams filled the apartment. It was a wonder that the neighbours didn't come knocking. He stared at the ceiling, pillow behind his head as he rested on the sofa.

It was one of the longest nights of his life. When the sun rose, he listened as her door opened and she walked out of her bedroom, looking just as tired as she looked. "Baby," Lando whispered as he sat up and rubbed his hand over his forehead.

She ignored him as she moved to the kitchen and made herself a coffee. Her hands shook as she boiled the kettle. Lando couldn't help but watch as she placed bread into the toaster. The way her hands shook, there was no way she would have been able to butter it on her toast.

Lando stood. He walked over to the counter, coming to stand beside her. "Let me help," he said, taking the butter knife from her hands.

"Lando," she whispered, his hands gentle against her own. His hands may have been gentle, but he was still a murderer. "You... kill people."

His head dropped, curls falling over her eyes. "I know. Baby, trust me I know." She couldn't move as he reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear. "But they were bad people." The lie slipped so easily from his mouth, he couldn't help it. Being in this apartment without her touch was killing him.

"Aren't you a bad person, Lando?" She muttered, but she didn't move away from his touch. Not until her toast popped out of the toaster and she flinched.

Lando took it out of the toaster and buttered it for her. "I am, baby. But I need you to know that I'd never, ever hurt you. You're too precious to me." He kept his hand on her cheek as he leaned in and kissed her.

She didn't pull away, not right away anyway. But, when she did, she shut her eyes. "Lando, I love you," she said quietly. "But I need you to give me space."

"Okay," he said, pulling away and leaving her toast in front of her. "Do you want me to find somewhere else to stay?"

She shook her head as she picked up her toast. "I still want to know you're safe," she said and took a bite. She left Lando standing there in the kitchen while she sat herself down on the sofa and ate the rest of her breakfast.

Lando let out a breath. She loved him, she didn't want him to move out. At that, he could rest easy.

He watched her as she ate. She didn't deserve this, didn't deserve a monster like him in her life. "I'm gonna go and shower," he said as he pushed away from the counter top. "And then maybe we can talk some more."

She shook her head as she stood up and placed her plate on the counter. "Can't," she said and finished her coffee. "I've got work."

Panic flooded Lando. "Baby, you can't."

She let out a huff. "I have to, Lando," she said and walked into her bedroom.

For the entire day that she was at work, Lando was on edge. It took everything in him to not text her every five minutes. But it was just because he wanted to make sure that she was alive.

Unable to do any work, Lando did nothing but lounge around on her sofa. As much as he needed to sleep, he couldn't. He tried cleaning, but Lando had quite literally never cleaned anything in his life, and he only served to spread the mess around.

As Lando sat in her apartment, he couldn't help but picture a little cat curled up beside him. It would have been there cat, one they adopted together after he moved into her apartment. And moving in with her would have been Lando's escape, his way out of the mafia world that he fucking hated.

He hated it more than anything now.

If that was the reason he lost her, Lando would never be able to forgive himself.

Hours later, the door unlocked. Lando brandished the nearest thing to him to use as a weapon. The television remote. It was pitiful, really. But then she walked through the door and he visibly relaxed.

"What do you want for dinner?" She asked instead of saying 'hello'. She placed her bag down onto one of the chairs in her kitchen, rolled up her sleeves and pulled open her fridge.

In an instantly Lando was on his feet and racing towards her. "I've been sat here all day doing nothing," he said as he stood behind her. "Let me sort dinner."

She let out a breath as she pulled out a carton of eggs. "Do you actually know how to cook?" She asked as she began preparing dinner.

She cooked in silence. Every other time she'd made dinner for Lando, he'd gotten in her way, giggles sounding as she danced around him. But there were no giggles now. God, he missed her smile so fucking much.

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[n1ghtwarden]

i appreciate that there is.... no 'good' or 'bad' ending per say for minth beyond the character choices - either she gets what she wants and controls the absolute with tav/durge, or she.... immediately hatches a (rather foolish) plan to go conquer the underdark and turn it into an empire with herself at the head.

#minth 4 president of faerun (evil dictator edition) #'let us conquer the underdark' girl give it up. go to a beach. you are going to get yourself killed for real. #is this part of her ultimate scheme to fight her religious trauma by smiting 1v1ing lolth. #ooc. claireposting. #i say rather foolish bc like.... even IF she has the steelwatch... girl.... its not happening. isnt the saying that one drow fighter is #worth like 20-40 soldiers. #she wants to be the saviour but she wants to be feared. doesn't want to be the hero. she wants to be the person they think saved them befor #turning around and plunging a knife into their back. #girlboss..... #ironically my plan for her solo ending involves much less evil scheming (that will come later)

[daycourtofficial]

I pretend you’re mine all the damn time

Summary: on a mission Azriel ingests a breeding tonic and you offer to help him release

Warnings: SMUT, PIV, sex pollen, slight dubcon

Author’s note: I think this is my longest fic ever and also probably the fic I’m proudest of so yall BETTER enjoy. I think this is my favorite fic I’ve ever written ugh 😩 I will likely write a part two 🫶

Word count: 2.6k

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“What the fuck,” you grunt, as you land a hit on another Illyrian after several minutes of exchanging blows.

You jab him in his ribs, blocking his retaliating kick. You huff as his hand grabs the knife at his side, deflecting your punch to his face.

You go low, swiping his legs out from under him, causing him to crash onto the ground. You climb on top of him, ready to land another blow, when his legs push up from underneath you, throwing you off of him.

He climbs on top of you, grabbing you by the collar to throw you back into the ground, when something strikes the back of his head, causing him to go limp on top of you.

Your confusion doesn’t last long as hazel eyes meet yours over the massive figure unconscious on top of you.

“I had it covered,” you said, pushing the male off of you.

Azriel snorts, “sure you did.”

He reaches out a hand, which you gladly take. He pulls you up with more force than he intended, pulling you in very close to his body. Your breath hitches, his smell of night-chilled mist and cedar invading your senses.

Your heart is beating wildly, and you’re sure he can hear it as he looks at you. He’s smiling down at you, a smile that weakens your knees and distracts you enough to forget all about the abandoned Illyrian camp you two were searching in.

At least, it was supposed to be abandoned, according to the intel you two had received. Azriel had asked you to come with him, the two of you making an exquisite pair on missions. Somehow you both knew when the other needed help, exemplified when Azriel hit the assailant from behind moments ago.

It’s like you both had a sixth sense for when the other was in danger.

You’re about to say something when something hits Azriel on the back of the head, causing him to lose his balance and stumble forward into you.

His mouth turns into a sneer, as he whips around and the Illyrian you hadn’t seen or noticed grabs Azriel by the collar, pushing him into a wall full of bottles and tubes. The guy grabs one of the random bottles from the wall, breaking the lid and pouring the powdered contents onto Azriel’s face.

“Shit,” the words come from your lips as your knife finds its mark in the dark haired male’s back. You rush forward, withdrawing the knife before turning him around and plunging it into his throat.

You don’t pay attention as the body falls to the ground, only moving towards Azriel, who was growing unsteady on his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m here, I’m here,” you say, placing your hand on his arm. He snatched his arm away from you, and you can’t help the sound that comes from you at his rejection.

He is groaning, sweat beading on his forehead. He leans further against the wall, trying to escape your reach.

“Don’t,” he grits out.

“What is it? Do you know what the powder was?”

Azriel finds his canteen of water, unscrewing the cap and pouring it over his head.

“Az,” you say, but a growl cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he grits again, “don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

He braces himself against the wall, breathing heavily. He finally looks at you, allowing you to see his eyes. Golden irises have been replaced by blown pupils, a black pit of desire. The room is coated in the scent of his arousal.

“Azriel,” you say tersely, “we have to go now, we have to go and see Madja because I have no clue what you inhaled.”

Azriel pushes himself further against the wall as you approach him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

“I can’t- I can’t winnow us out of here,” he says, the words strained. It’s then you notice that his shadows are nowhere to be seen, having disappeared when your attention was fully on the Illyrian in front of you.

You step closer again, and his chest heaves with the groan he lets out.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” The words come out harsh and clipped, a tone he’s never taken with you. You’re trying desperately to think of a solution, a way out of this, when you see Azriel’s hand gripping his thigh, moving closer to his crotch.

His face is red with heat and embarassment, but you can’t look away as he begins to palm himself through his leathers, as if he wasn’t in control of his hand.

“Oh gods,” you say, “this was that experimental breeding shit, wasn’t it?”

Azriel nods, his throat tight with pain.

“Fuck,” you say, and he groans.

You think about what you know about the sickening breeding experiments some of the Illyrians were doing. Previous intel from Az had told you all that they had created this drug that made you-

“Oh my gods,” you say, “we have to-“

“No,” he snarls, “no. I can do this on my own.”

“Come on, Az, you’ll die if you don’t.”

He clinches his hands in a fist, his face turning red with restraint. He looks up at the ceiling, and his eyes are damp. His wings twitch and flutter.

“We don’t know that,” he says, his hand undoing the string on his leather, any control he had over the hand is gone as his hand wraps around his cock and he begins pumping it.

“Am I really that repulsive that you’d rather die than have sex with me?”

A moan comes from his mouth. His voice comes out quiet and strained, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I need it to be real. With you - if we - can we pretend it’s real?”

You stop breathing, his words clanging through your mind. “What do you mean?”

The words. He can’t get the words out. His body is on fire. He’s the Night Court’s spy master, for Cauldron’s sake.

And he can’t fucking move. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

“This isn’t how I ever would have imagined our first time.”

“But you’ve imagined it?”

“Gods, yes.”

You step closer, your hand reaching out towards him. You look into his eyes, wanting to know that it’s okay. All you find in response is pleading. Your hands lightly touch the buckles of his armor, and he gasps, his movements in his pants growing faster at your touch.

A man starved. He gazes up at the ceiling, tears about to leak from his eyes at this entire impossible situation. You were going to ruin him. You were going to break his heart, and then have sex with him to keep this from driving him mad.

It was cruel. The mother was cruel for this.

“I’ve thought a lot about it too,” you whisper, your voice softly carrying through the room.

He whips his head down at you, watching your fingers undo his straps. Your touch cools his body, but not for long.

Desire roars through him, and it is taking every ounce of restraint not to rip off your clothes and take you. He’s fighting the primal instincts that the pollen targets, his hands itching to touch you, to ravish you, opting to focus on your words.

“I always wanted you to confess your undying love for me,” you chuckle, “or, sometimes when I’m alone in the middle of the night, touching myself to you.”

A strangled sob escapes his throat at your words, causing him to notice his surroundings for a second. He can smell you, and it pushes him even further in need.

He can’t stop his hips from moving forward, meeting your own. His hand retracts from his pants, wrapping around you instead to pull you closer. Every word from you causes his resolve to crumble just a bit more as his hips grind against yours.

You were a bit breathless at the action, so you say, “when I’m feeling romantic, you tell me you can’t dare to be away from me for another moment, and you need me.”

A snarl breaks from his lips, causing your arousal to deepen. You are soaked, likely through your leathers.

“But when I’m just needy, I like to imagine you hearing me moaning your name through the door, and you burst in, claiming me as yours.”

His mouth opens as he moans, and you push the fabric of his leathers off his chest, raking your nails down his torso.

“Gods,” he exhales, “I-“

You cut him off, needing to get the words and fantasies you kept so deeply buried out there, future consequences be damned.

“I need you,” you whisper, “I’ve needed you for a long time.”

You were well aware of how much pain he was in trying to delay this for as long as possible.

His eyes are closed as your fingers slide down to the strings of his leathers. You don’t let yourself think too much about what you’re doing, about how the flight home will be, about how after this your teeny, tiny crush on him will be blown out exponentially worse.

Your fingers gently undo the ties, and his hips seek out the heat of your hands, begging for the friction they could provide.

You slide his pants down, his hard, throbbing cock springing free at the loss of its confines. Your mouth dries a bit at the size of him and the blood rushing to both your cheeks and between your hips.

You look from his cock to his face, teeth clenched in restraint.

His eyes open to yours at the sound of your leathers unbuckling, a soft, “no” hitting your ears.

“Azriel,” you start, but a moan escapes him at his name on your tongue.

He starts chanting your name like a prayer, over and over, a cadence to his chantings as you peel off the top of your leathers, exposing the expanse of skin underneath.

The chanting continues as you pull off the bra you wore, baring your chest to him completely. His hand wraps around his cock, the tip already angrily leaking in desperation.

The chanting picks up in tempo as you undo the strings of your own pants, eyes not straying from his as he strokes himself to your half-naked form. You push your pants down, pushing your underwear down as well, pulling them off with your boots, kicking your discarded clothes into a corner.

You walk back towards him, the sounds of his stroking and panting utterly sinful through the room. His breath hitches as you near him, reaching a hand out towards his cock.

“May I?” You ask, and you want to laugh at the formality of it, if you weren’t terrified of him saying no.

He nods lightly, his throat bobbing, and your fingers graze his as you grab onto his cock, wrapping your hand around it. His wings spread out at your grasp, head tilting back.

You take the opportunity to kiss his neck, and his grip on the desk is turning his knuckles white.

Your strokes don’t slow down, and it’s not until now that you feel just how wet you are. You feel bad, your arousal a byproduct of the state he’s in. He can’t help his arousal, but you can help yours.

You don’t let the shame linger for too long as you spread your palm across his chest, pushing him down onto the desk, crawling on top of him as he sinks lower.

His back hits the desk, his large membranous wings spread out behind him. Having him laid out beneath you, you allow yourself a few seconds to take in just how beautiful he was.

His tattoos covered his shoulders, making parts of his skin blend in with the darkness of the desk beneath him. His mouth parted slightly, head tilted back towards the skies, as if asking the heavens to watch your sinful acts.

You climb on top of him, the heat of your body driving him mad with desire.

“Is this okay?” You ask, trepidation coating your words.

“Gods, yes,” he replies, knowing he shouldn’t let this happen, but unable to stop himself. You’re hovering over his cock, the organ twitching as it feels just how close you are to sinking onto him.

The guilt is tampered down by the ever-growing need in his brain to breed, breed, breed. It was absolutely vile whatever these experiments were, but holy gods did it unlock a level of primal need he didn’t think existed.

His hands find your hips, and he can’t control how harshly he pulls you down onto his cock, a sharp inhale coming from you in the painful stretch.

He winces at the noise, but you stop him from allowing self-doubt to run through his head as you lean down and kiss him.

He moans into your mouth, his deep, harsh thrusts making the kiss nothing but teeth clacking and wet noises. Your nails dig into his skin as you keep grinding up and down on his cock, every thrust seemingly feeling deeper and deeper inside of you.

He keeps chanting your name, over and over, into your mouth, and you change the pace of your thrusts to coincide with it. His hands smooth over your hips, gliding up to your breasts. His fingers pinch your nipples, causing your back to arch around his touch.

You know he can’t hold out much longer - he’s painfully close, and so are you. Your stomach’s in knots, desperate for more, more, more. You reach out a gentle hand, caressing the nail on his wing. His eyes shoot open, wings flaring out as he gasps, emptying himself into you.

It causes the same effect in you, the both of you finishing at the same time. His thrusts slowed down, but he kept his tight grip on your hips. You can feel the pads of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving small bruises in their wake. Your foreheads are together, panting as he holds you for a moment.

For one glimmer of a moment, he’s holding onto you, sweat glistening on both of your bodies.

Status report.

Rhys’s voice fills your mind through the tiny opening in your mind you allow him to correspond with you in. You can tell Azriel is getting the same message as his eyes lose their shine, a glossy effect taking over them.

With a heavy heart, you pull off of Azriel, unable to respond to Rhys while his brother’s cock was still inside of you. You start pulling your leathers back on, covering the fluids and marks littering your body - the only proof of what just happened between you two.

The air is tense as Azriel dresses, still speaking with Rhysand. After a moment, his voice comes out, cold and detached.

“Let’s go,” he says, walking out of the room without another word, an icy air following him. Your gaze follows him out the door, before looking around the room.

The stench of sex is in the air, but there’s almost a hint of pain in the aroma. The air is suffocating you - you have to leave, you have to follow Az.

You look to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. Your eyes turn down to gaze at your feet as you slowly trudge out of the room, knowing you likely just ruined your most important friendship.

#ask #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x y/n #azriel smut

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

#slasher #thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #michael myers #slasher x reader #jason voorhees #slashers x reader insert #slashers x gn reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt fanfic #thomas hewitt x reader #jason voorhees x reader #Jason Voorhees fanfic #michael myers x reader #Michael Myers fanfic #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair fanfic

[nyrandrea]

Everything's Fine

As you try to deal with everything that has been thrown at you so early into your journey: forced leadership, mindflayer tadpoles and taking on everybody's personal problems, it all just gets a bit too much for you.

(Takes place during Act 1)

Word Count - 3.5k

Also available to read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

xxx

You felt your patience starting to wear incredibly thin when you realised Astarion had been staring at you for over five minutes now. 

Not directly, he would never be so conspicuous—at least, not intentionally— but you kept catching those fleeting glances he was throwing your way; the corners of his red eyes crinkling every so often before returning to whatever book he was pretending to read. It wasn’t one of those charming, smouldering gazes he would sometimes give you after a night of feeding, asking if you were alright, knowing full-well that your answer was a resounding ‘I’m fine’, and that you would provide for him again soon. 

No, what he was doing right now—very carefully—was scanning you, studying you,  judging you. It was as if he was trying to leer right through to your very soul. 

You almost had half a mind to stomp over to his tent and demand what his problem was, but there were other unfortunate issues to contend with. 

Namely Shadowheart and Lae'zel. 

“I already told you that the artefact is my responsibility,” Shadowheart said, her aloof demeanour and confident tone betrayed by the hand hovering over the hilt of her dagger. “This way it will protect us all, I thought we had already established that!” 

“We have established nothing,” Lae’zel hissed back. “We only agreed not to slit each other’s throats in the night, though...,” she grimaced. “I still have no reason to trust that you will not try again.” 

“At least there’s still some sense in that bullish head of yours.” 

“Tsk!” Lae’zel spat at Shadowheart’s feet, much to the latter’s disgust as she recoiled back. “However, the matter still stands that the relic you hold onto belongs to my people. Therefore, it should be in my possession!” 

The cleric sneered. “I would sooner slit my own throat.” 

“Then go right ahead. Nobody will stop you.” 

Rubbing at your temples to try and ease the incoming migraine that, for once, was not caused by the mindflayer parasite living rent-free in your head, you decided to step in-between the two women, not really caring about risking a gutting from their trigger-happy blades. 

“C’mon, we’re not seriously having this fight again?” You huff incredulously, the question already sounding stupid as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course they were having this fight again. They had it yesterday, and the day before that, and they were probably going to have it tomorrow as well. 

“We are, as it happens,” Shadowheart replied, her eyes flickering briefly to you before narrowing forward again. “Because this savage bitch won’t leave me alone!” 

Lae’zel bared her teeth in a cruel grin. “Better to be that than a revrykal of Shar.” 

At the mention of her Goddess’s name, Shadowheart practically lunged herself towards Lae’zel with an enraged scream, her dagger raised high with the intention of plunging it straight into the githyanki’s chest, who in turn raised her shield to protect herself. In that moment, you were nothing to them but a speck of dust in the wind. 

It wasn’t until your hand shot up in a blind panic when Shadowheart realised what she was doing, forcing her to suddenly pull back to avoid injuring you, only a moment too late as her knife slashed the palm of your hand. Blood sprayed across the ground as your short but pained cry echoed throughout the camp. 

“Oh Gods...” Shadowheart muttered as everyone was suddenly on their feet and crowded around the three of you in a matter of moments. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to...!” 

“What? Attempt to kill our leader in cold blood?” Lae’zel muttered as she took your trembling hand to examine it, you only stared ahead as the shock took a moment to wear off. You didn’t even register her uncharacteristically gentle touch as she turned your palm up. “Only a flesh wound, you will live.” 

“Still,” Astarion piped up from behind. “Perhaps it would be best to get that dressed up lest you attract any...*ahem* unsavoury visitors.” 

“It would seem we already have,” Lae’zel replied, to which the vampire put a hand up to his chest in mock offence. 

“Lae’zel, you depreciate me,” he pouted. “I’m hurt.” 

Astarion’s sudden cold grasp on your wrist startled you as he decided to examine the cut himself in a much less gentle manner than Lae’zel. “Not that I would be able to get much from this anyway, even if I tried.” 

You were slightly worried that he was pondering the idea the longer he stared at the wound; you could practically see him drooling. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he snapped out of his daze. 

“Well, we should probably get this cleaned up anyhow,” he finally said. “To avoid infection and whatnot.” 

“...You’re not gonna lick it clean, are you?” Karlach asked with a grimace. 

“Of course not!” Astarion bit back, much more flustered this time. “I’m not some savage beast, you know.” 

“That’s... debatable,” Gale piped in. 

“Well! It’s lovely to know that you all think so little of me; the feeling is very much mutual,” Astarion said with a fake smile before taking you by the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have to nurse this poor wounded soul, as well as my pride.” 

He started guiding you away from the rest of the group, you only allowed him to because the whole situation had you in a bit of a daze, but not before Shadowheart tried to get in another “I’m... I’m sorry.” 

“It’s... I’m fine,” you replied with whatever level of composure you could muster up with a smile in a small attempt to reassure her before allowing yourself to be led towards Astarion’s tent. Your words seemed to satisfy her as Shadowheart returned a sorrowful but grateful nod, though her expression turned sour when Karlach stepped between her and Lae’zel. 

“Alright now, ladies, what do you two say we let out our pent-up aggression towards each other in a healthier and less murder-y way, huh?” The tiefling suggested before holding up her finger to not let the other two get a word in edgewise. “And before you ask, I will not be taking no for an answer.” 

A small smile graced your lips at Karlach’s enthusiastic yet surprisingly pragmatic way of taking charge, and it seemed to be working as Shadowheart and—to your utter astonishment—Lae’zel agreed to whatever training regimen she had in store for them.  

‘Perhaps Karlach should take over as leader...’  

The idea was extinguished as soon as it had entered your mind, replaced with thoughts of the tiefling messing everything up, of her killing you in your sleep, that you shouldn’t trust her to lead your party. The only one who should have any authority over these subordinates is you. Only you are worthy. 

The voice quieted down after a few moments, leaving you only with a pounding head—just another one of the many wonderful side-effects of the parasite. 

You didn’t take any heed of whatever thoughts the tadpole forced upon you. You knew that Karlach would never hurt you, or any of the others for that matter—not by choice, anyway. However, those flashes of betrayal and blood were starting to wear you down a bit, especially with the lack of sleep; the very notion of it had been non-existent since you escaped the nautiloid and accepted the leadership that everyone had practically forced upon you. 

You weren’t exactly a natural-born leader; hell, you barely managed to keep yourself alive never mind a whole group of people. 

“That’s going to need stitches,” Astarion said as he observed your hand more closely now that the two of you were in the privacy of his tent. Heat flushed around your cheeks at how close the two of you were. Flashes of that night you had shared a bed—or well, the forest floor—came to mind, and you hated how flustered it made you. It was a one-night stand, a bit of fun to ease the stress of adventuring; clearly it meant nothing. At least... that was what you were made to feel. 

What had been a night of passion for you, had been the same old dance for him. 

“Take a seat there,” Astarion’s said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a knife. “I should have a needle around here, somewhere.” 

“You know how to sew?” You asked, settling down on a cushioned stool. 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and a sting of guilt surged in your chest. “How do you think I’ve kept these clothes looking so good for over two hundred years? Certainly not by magic.” 

“Why not just buy new clothes?” 

Your prodding seemed to hit a nerve as he paused for a moment. 

“Why waste the coin?” He finally replied, sounding a little dejected. 

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip as you tried to think of a way to quickly rectify your carelessness. “You do look great, by the way—y-your clothes, I mean,” embarrassment takes over as you trip over your own words. “The gold embroidery is um *cough * it’s nice.” 

Astarion seems amused at your inability to grasp basic English as he chuckles, the sound deep and almost musical. “Why thank you, darling. I’m glad someone around here appreciates the finer details.” 

The vampire kneels next to you and threads the needle before gesturing for you to hold out your hand. “It has been a while so... let’s just hope I’m not too rusty, hm?” 

Those words don’t instil a great deal of confidence within you, but you won’t allow it to show, trusting in him to get the job done. If you ended up getting sepsis, well... Withers was always on stand-by. 

“Now, hold still,” Astarion instructed. “This may sting a little.” 

You nodded, only wincing a little when he made the first stitch, the pain became more bearable as you watched him focus with the kind of laser-like precision that only came with a practiced hand; it made you wonder how many times he had done this. His methodical movements almost lulled you into a sort of relaxed trance, had your mind have not been working overtime, you honestly might have fallen asleep: Gods know you could have done with a bit of shut eye. 

Ever since the ship crashed, your problems just seemed to keep piling on top of each other: Lae’zel was hellbent on getting to that githyanki creche, and there was the matter of Karlach’s engine, Gale was close to blowing to kingdom-come if he didn’t get another magical item to consume soon, Astarion would probably need another feeding at some point, not to mention the dog, Scratch, and the owlbear cub who had started hanging around the camp. A dog was one thing but how much did owlbears need to eat?  

It was fine, you reassured yourself. Everything would be fine. 

“There we go,” Astarion said, relinquishing your hand back, freshly stitched and cleaned. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything a quick healing spell couldn’t fix. 

“Not my best work but it will just have to do for now,” he huffs, as if he was annoyed with himself. “You’ll have to excuse the sloppy stitching, it’s... been a while.” 

“It’s beautiful work,” you can’t help but admire the stitching; it was flawless. “Thank you, Astarion.” 

His gaze remains on you for a moment, as if he were expecting some sort of quip or punchline, and his eyes widen slightly when he realises you’re being genuine. 

“I... uh... you...?” He pauses and squints; still nothing. “You are... most certainly welcome.” 

You raise an eyebrow; did he really think so lowly of you that he believed you simply weren’t capable of a simple 'thank you'? Or was it himself that he had no confidence in? Your thoughts turn to when you asked him about how he came about becoming a vampire. Astarion kept most of his history closed off from you but told you just enough to let you know that this ‘Cazador’ fellow had treated him poorly. Belittled him. Enslaved him. 

You couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been; no wonder he didn’t trust anyone. 

A part of you wanted to pry into his thoughts, to let him know that you were here for him should he ever want to talk, but a new figure entered the tent, startling you into closing your mouth. 

“Hello!” Gale cheerily greeted with a smile, his eyes latching onto you immediately. “How are we feeling?” 

“Oh, we’re feeling quite dandy, thank you,” Astarion interjected with a frown. “You didn’t think to knock before deciding just to barge in?” 

“Well, given the materialistic structure of this very sound establishment, I think you’ll find it’s a little difficult to uh...” Gale trailed off, attempting to rap the tent flap to no avail. “...knock on.” 

“Then why not just knock on the wooden beams with that...” The vampire waved lazily towards Gale’s staff. “Very large stick of yours.” 

“Duly noted, but I think we’re getting a bit off track here,” the wizard said before turning to you. “I need a word.” 

You were taken aback slightly by his bluntness, and you couldn’t help but notice the almost pained way he was wringing his hands and how his eyebrows subtly twitched. He looked incredibly... uncomfortable. 

His hand hovered over his chest briefly, just above the mark that glowed whenever he consumed magic. 

Shit. Was it that time already? But hadn’t you given him something only yesterday? Or had it been a few days now? With recent events, it was hard to keep track of the time anymore; day and night just meshed into one big messy blur. 

Judging by your panicked look, Gale held up his hands in a placating manner. “Now, I know you’ve had a lot on your plate recently but this little uh... situation of mine is growing quite dire again so... if you could just relinquish whatever magical artefact you have, then all will be fine and dandy.” 

“I... don’t have anything on me at the moment.” 

Gale’s expression dropped. “Come now, you must have picked up something along the way, surely?” 

You grimaced. 

“In a dungeon? Along the road? What about that little goblin camp you rampaged through recently?” 

His sudden passive-aggressiveness made you feel uneasy. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Astarion cut in, folding his arms. “But we were a bit preoccupied with fighting for our lives to be on the lookout for any magic boots for you to chew on.” 

Gale chuckled dryly and drew the vampire a dirty look. “I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of what might very well happen if I don’t find something to contain the beast within me very soon- “ 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.” 

“This isn’t a joking matter!” 

“Ugh! Just shut up!” You snapped. “I do get it, Gale. Because you remind me Every. Damn. Day. About this big, scary, mystery catastrophe that might happen without actually explaining anything about it! A bit of context would go a long way!” 

Gale’s hurt wince suddenly had your stomach churning in guilt; you shouldn’t be snapping at people; you were better than that. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised. “As soon as we’re out on the road again, I’ll make it our priority to look for an artefact for you, alright? You have my word.” 

Astarion scowled and Gale forced a smile; his lips too strained for it to be genuine. It seemed like you couldn’t please anyone today. 

“That’s all I can ask for, and I promise... all will be revealed soon, otherwise the tadpoles will be the least of our worries.” 

When Gale left, you plopped down to the ground and took ragged breaths to calm your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt as you nestled your injured hand in your lap. Had Gale only checked in on you so he could ask you for a magic item in return? Was he really that desperate? He must have been, seeing as you had completely forgotten about his predicament. 

What kind of leader were you? 

“You know, you can’t go making promises all willy-nilly like that,” Astarion said. “We have enough problems as it is without having to worry about...” 

His chastising faded into white noise as you grasped your head, the sting of your fingers curling and tugging through unkempt hair was just enough to distract from the pounding that came from within your brain. The ability to focus was suddenly lost to you as your heart raced, and dark emotions swirled within your chest like a wild tornado; it was tempting to let them sweep you away, to ride the waves into the unknown. To be anywhere but here without anyone depending on you for so, so much.  

“Hello?” Astarion drawled. “Are you even listening to- Darling...?” 

He moved closer to you; his steps measured and deliberate as he lowered himself down next to you, still allowing you enough space while being close enough to reach out a hand to your trembling shoulder, his touch cold yet oddly comforting. 

“Hey,” he spoke in a soothing, soft tone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with unwavering support. “I’m right here with you, you’re safe, just breathe along with me, alright?” 

You nodded, albeit shakily, and tried to mirror his calm, measured breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to regain control over your racing heart. 

Astarion’s voice never wavered as your frantic gasps slowly started to synchronise with his calm breathing. “I know things are tough right now, but these feelings will soon pass. You’re stronger than you think, darling.” 

He continued to gently rub your back, tracing comforting circles with his fingertips, a rhythm that matched the cadence of your breath. Your hands slowly unlatched from your hair as you felt Astarion’s reassuring presence and honeyed words grounding you. 

“There we go, you’re regaining control,” he encouraged softly. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of water, will you be alright for a moment?” 

You nodded again, and with a quick squeeze of your shoulder, he left. As your panic attack started to ebb, your breathing evened and your heart slowed as you felt yourself returning to the present moment, the tension that had your body rigid starting to ease. 

Astarion was back by your side within moments, gently pushing a glass into your hand and helping you lift it to your lips for a small sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. 

“How do you feel?” 

“I’m-” 

“And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine’,” he scowled. "Because we both know you’re clearly not.” 

You racked your brain to try and find a way to explain that you were okay and that this was just a small moment of weakness, a blip in the road, that there was nothing to worry about and you had it all figured out. 

But the words never came, instead you draw your knees up and hug them close to your chest as if to hide away from his piercing gaze. 

Astarion lingers by your side for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

“Would you like to stay in here for a while?” 

Unable to find the energy to speak, you simply nod. 

“Then come on, scooch over.” 

As you shuffle slightly to the side, Astarion sits down next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and allowing you to settle your head into his side and cling to his shirt in a way that a child might cling to their mother. 

“...I’m sorry." 

From the corner of your eye, you could see Astarion’s expression soften as he waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, dear. If anything, I should be the one apologising, who knew being in my mere presence would be so breathtaking?” 

You managed a small chuckle at that. 

“But in all seriousness,” he continued. “I know a thing or two about putting on a façade and... well...,” he paused. “Just... know that if you ever want to talk, I’m all pointy ears.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, though you can tell by his undertone that he’s being disingenuous, kindness wasn’t exactly his forte after all, but you appreciated the attempt all the same. But you were just content to sit in his arms for a while, and he seemed pleased enough with the silence. So, for now, you inhale the comforting aroma of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, letting yourself get lost in his comforting presence. 

And exhale. 

xxx

Hellooooo Baldur's Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and the brainrot is real. I'm only in Act 1 hence why this fic takes place so early in the game but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Apologies for any inconsistencies :'3 Let me know what y'all think!

*Edit - since this has been pretty well received, I've opened up requests! Pop me an ask if you would like one :)

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #my writing #tw panic attack

[heartfullofleeches]

Titus [Space Emperor Yan] and former Assassin Cat-Hybrid Darling. (Just a blurbo for now but I love these two now so I'd love to come back to this)

When the pair met, Darling thought Titus was no different from the rest of their targets. A self proclaimed god untouchable by those below him. Little did they know that their employers were basically setting them up on a suicide mention as the tyrant is a damn near immortal deity. As they perch atop his bed - knife planted in his chest, Darling counts their cards as a large hand locks around their wrist; pulling the blade out as one night remove a splinter. There was nowhere for them to run. The element of surprise had been swept from under their feet. They struggle and claw at the man, but there is no give to his iron grasp. As their brain draws to any conclusion a trapped animal may have, the knife in their hands is tossed across the room before they can take the final plunge.

The Emperor should have his little intruder punished. Waking a kind from his beauty rest is a serious offense. A crime in which the accused receives no trial and punished to the highest degree. Their eyelids removed so they never experience another second of slumber before their execution. There is also the more "amusing" route of electrocution or burning everytime they attempt to shut their eyes. Darling surely would have been subjected to this fate if they weren't so... So...

Precious~

Did this adorable little feline really think they could kill a god so easily? They insult him, but fortunately for them, they're cute enough for him to let it slide. The poor thing could use a bath though... And those scars.... When was the last time they had a proper meal? Oh, and those rags!

Titus scoops up the feisty kitty and thrusts them into the hands of his guards while he sorts through his closet for something to throw on until he can get them measured. Darling attempts to flee any chance they are alone, but with Titus promising to have the heads of everyone in the palace if they escaped - they never got far. Once they had some food in them and fully realized Titus wasn't bluffing when he called his home their new place of resident - Darling came up with a plan to lure Titus into false security and learn his witness to take him down when he least expected it. The only flaw in their plan was they underestimate their own commitment to the role as day by day their acceptance of the tyrant's obsession became less of an act.

They no longer had to work for their meals. Everything they could ever deserve was thrust placed right in their hands if they snuggled up to their new master or swished their tail just right in Union with those big adorable eyes. Their word stood above all in his counsel. They were waited on hand and foot by everyone under Titus' rulevIt was paradise. Their former comrades and the person they once were would be disgusted by what they've become, but if the former ever came to drag them back to their old ways they were swiftly cut down without so much as a passing glance from the royal that once stood beside them.

Titus is ever so glad he managed to bag that angry stray and turn them into the sweetest lil dear anyone has ever seen. He nearly loses his composure everytime he catches them lazying around in his robes - cloth barely clinging to their smaller figure. He knows they only do it to make sure he never says no to him, but there's hardly anything he would deny them beside their freedom. Whatever their heart longs for is a small prize to pay for their company. The Emperor is absolutely whipped for his little bedmate and would do anything to keep them collared at his side.

-

Assassin: You used to be something.... You could have lived a life similar to this without sacrificing your freedom if you had just taken his head. You are but a shell of the person I once knew. I despise you.

Cat Hybrid Reader: Hm... What you say might be true, but there's still something this life grants me that makes it all worth it

[Reader tears their shirt and knees on the floor closer to the cell as they shout]

Cat Hybrid Reader: Titus! Help!

Titus, storming down the dungeon stairwell: Oh, my precious angel. [Picks up Reader and checks them over for injuries] Don't worry, my love. I will have these awful, awful person executed at once. I'll have a necklace made from their ashes, but for now - will a massage and treats make do for leaving you all alone?

Cat Hybrid Reader, wiping fake tears from their eyes: yes....

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #male yandere #Titus my oc #tw yandere #yandere alien #yandere exophilia

[daddy-issues-99]

Yautja x Human!reader SMUT

PLOT: You live with your Yautja partner and he’s in heat. Simple and sweet. 

Afab reader, cnc, somewhat omega-verse idk. 

You sat on the floor of the small hut you shared with your partner, carving up some fruit for your dinner. You partner hadn't returned yet with the main course so you decided to get a head start. You heard rustling from outside and gripped the knife before soon realizing it was your partner. 

His steps seemed heavier than usual, quicker too. You wondered if he was hurt but he quickly burst through the door and carelessly tossed the deer he caught aside. 

He quickly glanced around almost frantically and spotted you on the floor. He towered over you, his fists clenched, breathing heavily as if he was in pain. 

You opened your mouth to ask if he was okay but didn't even get a word out before his hand was around your throat. He pushed you down to the floor, slowly examining your body. You weren't wearing much being you were next to a small fire in your hut, all you had on was a crop-top and booty shorts. 

His clawed hand gripped around your throat causing you to gasp while his other roughly explored your exposed skin, leaving small scratches wear his claws were. 

He grabbed your shorts and tore them off without a second thought. You quickly brought your thighs together, trying to cover yourself but hw quickly grabbed your thighs and pried them apart. 

“Stop what are you-” You screamed as he quickly plunged into you with no warning. He was so big it felt like he was splitting you in half. 

He quickly started moving giving you no time to adjust. “W-what's going on with you?!” You asked, his hand still tight around your throat. He was usually pretty frisky but not like this. The only times he was like this was- The thought hit you like a brick wall. He’s in heat.  

“That time a-again?” You asked as he roughly thrusted into you. He let out a simple grunt in response. 

After a few moments you quickly adjusted to the pain and to soon turned to a mix of pleasure. 

He quickly slapped your thigh and pulled out before quickly flipping you over so you were laying on your stomach. He quickly raised your hips and plunged back into you, continuing his rough thrusts. 

You've only seen him in heat a few times in your relationship, most of the times he was he had been away on a hunting trip but the few times he was home he was nothing but selfish. Only seeking his own release. So when he roughly started rubbing your clit, you loudly gasped in surprise

You quickly covered your mouth trying to hold in your desperate moans but he soon grabbed your arms and tightly held them above your head hard enough to leave a bruise. 

He continued his assault on your clit, quickening his pace. The familiar knot in your stomach growing more intense. He showed no mercy and you came within a few moments, practically screaming from pleasure. 

He continued his thrusts, shifting his position so every thrust would hit your sweet spot. You let out a moan for every thrust. 

He slapped your ass, roughly massaging your flesh. The mix of pain and pleasure was almost intoxicating. 

He wrapped his hand around your neck and brought you up so your back was flush with his chest. For every thrust he gentle squeezed your throat causing a stifled moan every time. 

He moved his other hand to caress your sides and breasts, roughly squeezing and tugging on your nipples, causing you to arch your back. 

That familiar warm feeling began to form in your stomach once more. His thrusts soon became sloppy and desperate. After a few more thrusts the knot in your stomach snapped. You let out a strangled moan with his hand still around your throat.

He quickened his pace faster than ever and soon released, shooting his seed deep into you, letting out a guttural growl in your ear. He gave one last, deep thrust before collapsing on top of you. 

You both laid there for a moment before he slid out of you, kneeling in front of you, gazing at your exhausted form, lazily sprawled out on the floor. He gently pulled you close and positioned you onto his lap, holding your close. Gently caressing your skin. 

“Feel better?” You asked between breaths. He gave a simple grunt in response, giving you a gentle squeeze. 

“Next tine though, give me a few minutes warning.” You said letting out a small laugh. Even through all the differences and struggles, these moments are what made it special. 

#predator x reader #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x human #predator x human #predator x yn #yautja #smut #monster fucker #slasher smut

[sleepyangelkami]

WICKED d.dixon

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.1K

DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - you were sensitive, daryl was hot headed. daryl often carried anger in his voice to protect you, never did you think he'd use it against you.

 ☆ WARNINGS - yelling, argument, sensitive!reader, blood, gore, fighting walkers, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

the prison had fallen, tensions were rising. it was just you and daryl on the roads now, attempting to find your group again. you should have noticed the way he shook his head earlier or the way he sighed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut.

you cursed yourself for not knowing sooner.

daryl dixon was never a man that anyone could say was overly patient. but when it came to you, he’d wait years for you to utter a mere sentence. he was suddenly as patient as they come. but that didn’t change his true nature.

you’d been separated from the group for quite a while now. it was just the two of you on the roads.

at first, you’d been silent as a mouse, wondering if everyone was okay.

soon after, you realised that it was daryl who was also just as silent. you began speaking, in hopes of raising his mood. you assured him, the group had found their way back to them hundreds of times before, this would undoubtedly be no different.

but daryl didn’t so much as glance at you, barely letting out a grunt before turning his head. obviously, your plan in trying to lift his mood only dampened it.

however, you didn’t stop there.

and you should have, you really should have.

perhaps if you’d spent less time talking and waffling on, he wouldn’t be as angry as he was. perhaps if you’d just listened to him and nodded with your head bent, he wouldn’t have snapped.

albeit everything was happening so quickly.

you hadn’t even registered the infected make their way out. it took only moments before your life practically flashed before your eyes.

daryl’s back was against yours, his own knife out as he plunged it into walkers heads. in return, you attempted to do the same, holding the knife at it’s base with shaky hands. but you weren’t strong nor brave like daryl was. when fighting, it was obvious just how different the two of you were, how different you’ve always been. and you couldn’t lie as to say it wasn’t throwing you off your game.

not that you ever really had game.

a walker grabbed at your shoulders causing you to let out a fearful whimper. you used the time you had to plunge the knife into it’s head. your eyes widened as you missed the brain, blood spurted out into your face and onto your clothes. you took the knife out and tried again, this time the walker fell limp at your feet. 

before you could so much as try and attempt to take out another walker, one practically lurched onto you from the side.

daryl felt you hit against his back and cursed you. you were so damn clumsy and usually, he was okay with it. more often than not he’d smile at you, kiss your hurt forehead and tell you that you must begin looking where you’re going but now, he was anything but comforting. if anything, it took everything in him not to spin around and yell at you then and there.

but he didn’t, merely because he was too preoccupied with killing the walker in his hands. he plunged the knife forward, hitting two walkers and piercing straight through their heads. with a separate hand, he shoved the knife into another.

he couldn’t deny the relief that flooded his veins as he took out every last walker on his side.

he rolled his eyes before readying his arms, beginning to spin around and just knowing you’d need help. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you on the ground.

foot pushing up against a walker, you attempted to get it away. while another was crawling on you, you could have let out a whimper, knowing your knife had been tossed away from you.

there were too many.

as if the ‘big man in the sky’ had answered your prayers, you closed your eyes shut at the feeling of blood spurting out onto your face. finally, you peeled them open upon the sound of groaning and gargling coming to a stop. the sight of daryl dixon came into view, he’d taken out every last walker.

and he did not look pleased.

“daryl―” you couldn’t so much as get a word out. before you could even try to defend your cause, he was speaking. 

“are you fuckin’ stupid?!” daryl was an angry man, through and through. he channelled that anger, using it for things like this, taking out walkers or any other said enemy. never, had you been on the receiving end of his bellowing voice. “you ain’ gonna fucking make it out here if you need me watching your back every other second!” 

you could feel your eyes sting, pathetically.

you didn’t want to cry nor did you want to let daryl see you cry, not like this. he’d wiped your tears a thousand times over, even if it was because someone was yelling at you. you’d claim that it’s no big deal, that you were being dramatic and he’d always swoop in, telling you that it’s not dramatic and nobody should yell at a ‘flower like you’. you wondered what changed. “i was trying.” you uttered out pathetically once more, voice all broken.

“wasn’t tryin’ enough!” his hand roughly grabbed yours, practically hoisting you up from the ground. you let out the smallest of whimpers. not because it hurt but because you’d never seen him this angry at you. “are you hurt?” but his voice was anything but caring. it seemed as though you were just another burden to him.

instead of replying, you merely shook your head, it was bent down so he couldn’t see your watery eyes.

but he took it as a well enough response, because he cleared his throat, pocketing his knife. “we have to keep moving.” you wondered if he’d fallen guilty after his words spat you in the face, you guessed he did because for the duration of the walk, he kept glancing back at you, as if to see if you were still so upset.

and you were.

perhaps it really was a silly thing to be upset about. but daryl knew how much you hated yelling. he was well aware of all the baggage it came from, the flashbacks it may have caused. he knew you better than anyone, he’d been the one to wipe your tears from the same thing many times ago. 

deep down you knew he was only yelling because the emotions were high. he was worried about the kids of the prison, everyone else. he was worried about rick and carl, carol and judith, everyone there was to worry about, he was doing the worrying. he got in his head like that a lot.

but that didn’t change the fact that he’d yelled at you so easily, as if he’d been dying to all day. 

and could you so much as blame him anymore? you had been talking his ear off. no doubt, because you thought you were doing the right thing but you tried to put yourself in his shoes. you’d get annoyed too, right? 

the difference between you both?

you never would have so much as dreamed about talking to him the way he spoke to you. 

“there’s a cabin around here, we’ll hole up for the night.” he received no response, so he turned his head. “y’ listening?” 

once again, you didn’t speak, merely nodding. he sighed before turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut. he didn’t apologise, stubborn to the end. he didn’t often apologise to you, probably because he never found himself in a position where he had to but you were the complete opposite, always apologising profoundly for everything you did, even if it hadn’t been your fault.

you wondered if he wasn’t apologising because he wasn’t actually sorry.

he used his hand to beat down on the door, waiting to hear groans and gurgles. when he didn’t, he opened the door, peering inside. it was safe.

he let you go, watching as you practically scurried inside, ready to get away from the horrid outside world. maybe you were ready to get away from him. he found guilt eating at his insides, like a walker biting into flesh. the thought of you being angry with him was worse than the thought of getting bit right about now.

but he knew you, knew you more than anyone. and he knew you weren’t angry with him, you were merely upset.

stubborn as he was, he needed to make it better for he shouldn’t have yelled at you, as annoyed as he was.

after lighting a fire, he made his way towards the kitchen, where he somehow knew you’d be. as if he could sense your presence and everywhere it loomed. he could have spotted the back of your head from a mile away. there you were, stood in the kitchen in front of the sink, you must have been checking if they had running water. surprise, surprise, they didn’t. 

he leaned his body against the door frame, head gently landing on it as he watched you. you were yet to notice his presence, your hands scrubbing dryly at the other. there was blood coating all over your hands, not your own, walker blood. you needed it off and you needed it off now.

daryl knew how you got, always fussing over getting dirty as it was but when it came to walkers, you didn’t want any of it on you. it was always a challenge when the group was willingly putting walker guts all over their coats to disguise themselves.

he’d had enough of watching you, opting to walk inside the room. “c’mere, angel.” you heard his words, freezing up and he could only feel guilt eat at his bones. he carried a cloth, slightly damp. you allowed him to take your hands in his own, cloth gently working against the dirtied skin. “y’alright?” you didn’t respond, nodding.

you hadn’t so much as opened his mouth since he’d yelled at you. 

“baby…” and then he heard it, the mere sniffle that had you turning your head. 

“‘m okay.” voice cracking showing that you were not, in fact, okay. 

he could only frown at you. he felt you try to move away but his hands kept you still, grasping your own and keeping you in place. he waited in silence until you were ready to look up at him. when you did, he almost wished you’d hadn’t. your eyes were red rimmed and watery. you’d been crying. no longer was there that judgemental piece in his eyes. instead, you could only catch the guilt swarming in them.

“‘m sorry.” was the words that you practically clung to, that left his mouth. “‘m so sorry, baby, c’mere.” you felt his arms wrap you up.

you were too upset to argue.

so instead, you allowed him to take you into an embrace, hell you threw your arms around his neck to hold him impossibly closer. there was that gentle feeling again, the one you’d longed for so much. but you couldn’t have asked, no. how could you ask for comfort from the same person that’d hurt you in the first place?

thankfully, daryl made most of your decisions for you.

“‘m sorry.” you croaked out. “i wasn’t looking and then the walker just came out of nowhere and i swear i tried―”

daryl was quick to cut you off.

your head was held in his own dirty hands. though you hated the dirt on yourself, there was almost a comforting feeling to the dirt on him. perhaps it was the familiarity. “you ain’ got nothin’ to be sorry for, alright? nobody should yell at you, ‘specially not me.” 

you didn’t know whether to agree or not.

“you did what you could ‘n i’m proud of you, y’know that?” you felt your eyes begin to get watery again, god you wished you could stop crying. as if he could read your mind, he spoke, “‘n it’s okay to cry, i was bein’ an asshole.” 

you sniffled before giggling slightly. “you were.” 

he couldn’t help the way his lips turned up at the sound he’d missed so dearly. “yeah, i was, wasn’t i? ‘m just… worried, y’know? for everyone. not everyone has a flower like you in their group.” 

you shook your head with a sniffle, ignoring his words directed to you. “they’re gonna be fine, we’ll find ‘em.”

“yeah, we will.” he nodded, as if whatever came from your mouth, he could suddenly believe. you had that effect on him that he’d never tell. “but right now, i jus’ care about you, alright? c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

and how could you deny hands once so angry, now so gentle?

main masterlist/daryl's masterlist

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x you #daryl dixon x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl imagine #daryl dixon imagine #daryl drabble #daryl oneshot #daryl smut #daryl fluff #daryl angst #daryl dixon drabble #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd imagine #twd fluff #twd angst #twd oneshot #daryl the walking dead

[fromforeigntofamiliarity]

Hell Hath No Fury | Aemond Targaryen

Request: Yes

Summary: Aemond has become distant and you find out why.

Warning: blood, miscarriage, cheating, assault

Hell Hath No Fury Masterlist

You couldn't believe it.

He was the good brother, the dutiful son, the valiant knight... the faithful husband. There was no way that your Aemond wouldn't do this to you. 

This explains why he was traveling so often to Harrenhal away from you for so long when you needed him the most, you thought as you rubbed your swollen belly staring at the piece of paper in your hand. 

He had gotten that whore pregnant, and from the letter it seemed you two were both soon to give birth.  

Alys Rivers, the strong Bastard, the Witch...Yet another thing you two had in common, maybe your husband had a type.

This was it. the beginning of the end. If Alys Rivers gave birth to that child there is nothing that would stop her from coming to court, having her child legitimized, having Aemond take her as a mistress, bringing shame and embarrassment upon you and your child.

No.

"Push princess, push." The midwife needlessly instructed as someone wiped the sweat from your brow. 

"I do appreciate your help and respect and acknowledge that you have helped bring many royals into this world so please forgive me when I say, 'please shut the fuck up and let me concentrate." You yelled back as you took two deep breaths before closing your eyes and letting your head fall backwards. 

Opening your eyes again you see your in a hallway standing in front of a door, you can still hear the midwives telling you to push. placing your hand in the door you push it open slowly as you see the sight of Alys Rivers and Aemond in bed together. 

His arm is wrapped around her, as they are both naked it isn't hard to guess what it was that had made them so tired. Walking into the room you hear the door close behind you just as you stand right above them. As if sensing your presence Alys' eyes snap open and stare up at you. 

She opens her mouth to wake Aemond before you stop her. 

"Don't bother calling out, her can't hear us." You informed her reaching for his arm and throwing it away from her causing his to shift in his sleep and turn over. "No one can. From the look on your face I can tell you know exactly who I am, which is amusing considering I knew nothing of you a moon ago."

"I know this must be upsetti-."

"No! You don't because you are not his wife, you are not the one he married and swore loyalty to only to turn around and impregnate some whore." You sneered at her as she flinched back. "What was your plan? to take my husband, become and mistress, you seek to replace me and my child?" You asked as she simply shook her head in denial. 

"It was never meant to happen like this, but I love Aemond and he loves me, I'm sorry that you are hurt by this but that is the truth of it. I never thought I would be able to have children but this is a gift that Aemond has given to me and we both are thankful to be having it, but that does not mean he is any less thankful for your child and I promise you that I mean no harm to your life, marriage or the life of your child."  Alys rushed to explain. Taking a moment you look on at this women in bed with your husband and think of her words.

"Words....are not enough." You say before Alys' body is forced down into the bed. Leaning over her you pulled the sheets from her body exposing her milky skin to the cold air. 

"What are you doing?" Alys asked as she struggled against the invisible force. 

"Don't worry I am simply righting a wrong," You informed her as you pulled a knife from your dress. "The child that grows inside of you belongs to my husband"  You continue as you placed the blade to her belly.

"No! Please no." Alys pleads as she fight to get away from you. "I'm beg you please. I have wronged you I admit but my child is innocent, Aemond's child is innocent." 

"I know." You say before plunging the knife into her womb as she lets out a blood curtailing scream. Once the cut was made you reached inside of her wound ignoring the blood and cries of the women as you pull the child from her body. Cradling the child in your arm you softly coo to the child as Alys lets out another round of sobs. "Please do not morn for the child will live, but it will be birthed by me, as should all children of my husband." 

Turning and walking away the door slowly creaks back open allowing you to walk back into the hall. "Though I am very thankful for this gift you and my husband have given to me Alys, I trust it will be the last one" You say before the door closes once again. 

"Just one more push my princess." You left you head once again over come with the pain of child birth. "Here it comes." After one more push the room is filled with the cries of your child. 

"A prince, you have given birth to a prince." The midwife announced moving to retrieve a blanket for the newborn. She began to hand you your child before you leaned forward and let out a painful groan. "The afterbirth."

another midwife crouched between your leg as you groan in pain. "No there is a head, there is another babe." She informed sending the room into another round of panic as you were instructed again to push.

"Another prince." She soon declares as the second child begins to cry. 

 Cradling both babes in your arms you look down at the two clearly Targaryen princes with a small smile, Alicent entered the room quickly making it to your side "Aemon and  Armon." You names them as she looks to her grandchildren made my her favorite son. 

***

It had been three days since Aemond woke to Alys' screams, the sheets around her covered in blood as she cradled her stomach. The maesters said it was a miscarriage, but Alys insisted that it wasn't, when Aemond tried to comfort her she yelled for him to leave her and refused to be near him. After the second day of trying he chose to return to Kingslanding where is was notified that his wife had given birth to twin boys. 

Entering the chambers he sees his wife cooing at the two newborns laying on their bed. Turning towards your husband your eyes widen. "Aemond, I thought you were Beth to assist me with taking the twins to midday meal, the family wished to meet them." 

"Well I am sorry to disappoint you," Aemond teased walking closer to the bed. "But I promise I can try to be as good as Beth until she arrives." 

"Oh stop." You laughed a bit before letting out a sigh. "Actually I am glad that you are here, I wanted to speak with you."

"What is it you wish to speak of?" He asked rubbing his knuckle along Aemon's face.

"I know that this marriage started as an arrangement, but I understand that at the time we both believed that we become fond of each other and perhaps even love, and I thought that we had begun to share these feeling but I realize that I can not hold you to promises we made as children." You now had his full attention. "And if it is what you want, I will not fight you on seeking annulment."

"You have been distant and it was not until the twins were born that I realize just how distant you've become, we used to spend time together, reading, painting, laughing but I gave birth for the first time and my husband was not to be found." You explained. "I do not blame you for not returning my feeling or for pulling away but I can't live thinking that I'm driving you from your home or thinking that this distance between us will affect our children." 

"Please," Aemond says grabbing your hand and kneeling at your side. "Your feeling are returned I swear it to you, my distance is of no fault of your own."

"Then what is it?" You pleaded looking into his eyes. "I wish for you to be there for our children, for them to love and be moved by you. You once told me you didn't want to be like your father, I do not want this either."

Looking into your eyes Aemond knew he couldn't tell you the reason, he knew it would break your heart and he couldn't do that to you not after you had just given him two son, not ever. "It matters not, It will never happen again." He assures giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "I will not be the father viserys was to me and I will not be the husband he was to my mother. You three are my life and I will spend every second to assure that you know it. 

"My princess It is time for your midday meal with your family." Beth informed entering the chambers.

"Thank you Beth would you please hold Aemon and I will take Armon you instruct as Aemond stands and helps you from the bed. Standing and walking towards the door you asked Beth to please walk ahead of you. "I thank you for hearing me Aemond and I do hope this isn't asking to much but I also must ask something else of you." 

Aemond nodded as he rubs his hand up and down your back in comfort. 

"I wish for this to be a pleasant occasion so I must ask you not fight with Jace and Luke, though it seems you have grown quite fond of Strong bastards as of late." You say before walking ahead leaving his frozen in the door way of the room.  

Part Two

#house of the dragon imagine #House of the dragon #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #aemond x reader #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Alys rivers #aemond x alys #house targaryen #king viserys #jacerys targaryen #lucerys targaryen #harrenhal

[daenysthedreamersblog]

STRANGERS

Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love

Freezer bride, your sweet divine

You devour like smoked bovine hide

How funny, I never considered myself tough

summary: you've won the hunger games, and ready to return home in peace, but president snow has other plans for you, and he won't take no for an answer.

pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, heavy drinking, non-con male masturbation, non-con oral sex (m receiving), roses ( pls let me know if i forgot any!)

notes: im new at publishing on tumblr so pls be patient with me! also new at writing in second person POV so sorry for any mistakes! hope u enjoy! there will be more parts coming soon!

Blood splatters onto your face.

"Please," He mouthed underneath you, but the knife was plunging down anyways. You couldn’t hear it.

The crunch of a sternum bone.

Silence. Cold silence rang in your ears and you blinked climbing off of the body a distant boom rupturing around the arena, but you only felt to shake of it, the sudden vibrational change in the air. You looked around the sun blaring down onto you as you turned away from the dead boy, you stumble forward, knee giving out from under you before you collapsed to the ground rolling onto your back staring upward. The blood oozed from the wound on your leg, it stung, it stung harshly, but it was welcomed.

It was over. Everything. It was over and all you were met with was blood stained hands and silence. You could smell the rot forming in your soul.

Boots were pounding into the ground, surrounding you, guns pointing at your body. Hands wrapped around your biceps pulling you, dragging you out of purgatory and into the looming light ahead.

~

"Congratulations." He whispered placing the small crown on your head, a dainty gold thing, his hands lingering too long on a wisp of your hair. The games had cut off your tongue it seems words never rising to the surface. His hand was under you chin, "Smile. You've won." It felt like a command so the corners of your mouth tugged up as the camera flashed upon you, shaking hands with your esteemed president.

"Thank you." His jaw ticked at your slip, the lack of his title, but he shook your hand anyways as Lucky Flickerman’s crew zoomed in for their close up. The motions were clear, set into place as you read the prepared words off the telecom. If you could get through this then you could return home where it was simple and safe. You would be okay once the Capitol train dropped you off in District 6 where you can happily watch it all disappear forever.

A hand slid to the small of your back, your spine locking up as another photo flashed of the two of you. Your smile stumbled as his shoulder pressed into yours heat pouring off of him where your bodies collided.

You met his eyes, face half turned towards each other, and your cheeks burned with a flush.

The only good thing about winning was finally eating and drinking real food again.

You downed cups and flutes of any alcohol you could find shoved into your hands drowning out the sound of people talking, congratulating you. It was cruel really how when the film of a camera was replaced it sounded like small bones cracking, so your drank more. Why were they so thankful? They arranged for you to be there...they sent you to either die or kill for them. Because some great-great grand-whatever rebelled, so now you had to live with the consequences of someone else actions.

Your brain was beyond heavy, mouth no doubt stained red from the wine. One more day, one more day and you would be going home to die of hopefully natural causes some other time. One more day and you would be out of this hateful city, away from theses entitled, hateful people. You felt it then, the dryness in your throat, the angry water welling in your eyes. You set the empty cup down, stumbling away from the party silent tears beginning to unwarrantedly roll down your cheeks. You gripped the railing as you climbed the stairs towards the mansion doors needing to hide away from the world, and when you reached the top you pushed it open harshly. The heels of your shoes clicked on marble floor in an empty hallway, a door slamming shut behind you as you kept moving. The hallway was spinning like you were stuck in a concrete mixer turning and turning and turning.

You tripped over your foot catching yourself by throwing a hand out to the wall, collapsing onto a small cushioned bench. The groan left your mouth as you slid out of your shoes feet aching, you felt the long gash of the scar the District 2 tribute had given you. It was taking a while to fully close, the wound on you soul would never heal either it seemed.

More tears. More anger.

"You should be celebrating." The cold, calculating voice cut through the air.

You could only roll your head upward, too drunk, too ashamed to be afraid at the surprise. Fresh tears rolled down your cheek. "I did."

Footsteps were coming towards you, slow, like the wolf hunting a doe, and that was when your body alerted, when he had stepped into your space, head snapping towards him. He looked as calm and collected as his tone, a rich black suit fitted to his lean body, a hand lazily in his pocket as his legs bracketed in your knee. "Then why are you in here? I have a whole party out there for you and you hide away in my home.”

"Too noisy." You stared up at him with red rimmed eyes as he towered over, your vision fuzzy at the corners.

His knuckle came up to your cheek collecting the tear freshly traveling down makeup covered skin. "You should be celebrating." He repeated the moisture glistening on his bone. "Not crying."

You sniffed, your voice cracking from crying, "Sorry sir."

"Mr. President." He corrected.

"Sorry, Mr. President sir." You cleared your throat offering him a fake smile.

His hand came under your chin, a pinky resting on your jaw his thumb tracing puffy, wine stained lips, "That's a good girl. Too much wine I suspect hmm?" You only nodded as he held you face, held your life with it too. You might have won his games, but he could still ruin everything, ruin the little family left back home. He had always made that clear to everyone; it wasn’t a shock people started dying soon after they crossed him.

"Yes. Mr. President, sir.” For some reason another tear slipped out with a wide eyed blink.

"You look so pretty when you cry." He traced over your lip one more time gently pushing in until the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. You heard the wet noise of his lips parting, as he took a quiet deep breath your teeth grazing his skin. Then he popped it out, bought it to his mouth, sucking gently on your leftover wine. "Come." He wrapped his arm around your bicep pulling you to your feet in front of him. "Let's get you some food, introduce you to some more friends of mine, and then bed." Two hands stroked down your hair holding your head between his palms. "How does that sounds my little victor?"

A dark gaze lingered in his eyes that there was no way around what he wanted, no telling him no. So you let him bend down and slip your shoes back on keeping your face towards the opposite wall. ”Yes Mr. President, sir.” His hand lingered too long on your bare ankle before he rose.

He smiled, a snake like gleam in it, like he had finished wrapping his body around his victim to suffocate it. One more day, and then you were done. He could introduce you to whoever he liked, feed you whatever he wanted, but come tomorrow on that beautiful train ride home the Capitol, the games would be a distant traumatizing memory, and he would just be a face on a screen come next year.

He plucked the white rose off the front of his suit jacket, took the pin out, and tucked it behind your ear to sit prettily in your hair.

His hand wrapped around your waist causing you to grip his forearm to stumble out into the party once more. Your eyes scanned the party, catching on a young girl, the winner from District 4. Her name started with an M, but you couldn’t find the rest of it in you hazy brain. The only thing you could focus on was the sad frown etched upon her pretty face as President Snow dragged you through his party.

6 months later

You wiped dirt off on your pants standing up to admire the blooming garden spread out in front of you. A smile flittered onto your face for only a moment before it fell staring at the wilting leaves on top of wet soil. They had fallen no doubt during a weeding or pruning or plain decay, but they were there ready for the earth to absorb them for nutrients.

Did the arena absorb their decaying bodies too or were they flown away somewhere else? Did they go back to their families so they could rest in peace?

You shook the thought grabbing gardening tools and the water can heading back to the house. Time was helping, the white noise of the district was helping, the trains going by were helping. The only reminder you had ever been carted away...well that and the large sum you had been gifted upon winning. You decided to ration it, save it but comfortably. It was the only thing truly stopping you from drowning yourself in alcohol or morphling, and the disappointed look your father had given you when they had carried you off the train, too wasted to walk. You took up gardening soon after the initial withdrawing, rotting period needing to keep you hands, your mind busy.

The scent of vanilla hit you as soon as you entered the house your body freezing on the threshold. It was a warm vanilla scent, which meant your mother had made tea, which meant there was company. You set your tools down, peeling off you mud stained boots. Your mother laughed as you slowly continued down the hall, the sound muffled by the kitchen wall you had yet to curve around to enter the kitchen. Alarms shot off in your head, the hair on your neck standing up knowing it wasn't anyone from District 6.

"Mother." You called seeing the outline of her at the table.

"Darling." Your mother smiled as you turned the corner, eyes flitting over to the man across the table from her sipping on his tea. A fresh bouquet of white roses sat in a new vase at the center of the table. "We have a guest."

"Mr. President." Your mouth dried out, feet heavy, gluing you to the middle of the kitchen. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Your mother only stood up rushing towards you, taking your hands to sweetly drag you to the table. "Come sit, my darling bluebell." She forced you into an empty chair around the modest circular table, a plaid green table cloth covering it. You kept eyes on him as she poured tea into the only empty cup. Once the kettle was down she discreetly tried to wipe dirt off your face, "Always covered in something from your little garden."

President Snow mouth quirked up. "Garden?"

You only managed a nod. ”It was a small little thing, something to help…” Her eyes dropped, “Something to keep her busy, and well before you knew it it had taken up most of the lawn." Another discreet pat on the cheek. "I have never been more proud than when I see her out there working on it." She chuckled, "Well besides when you put the tiara on her head." You inwardly cringed at the word tiara, at the reminded of what had been done to earn it.

"My grandmother grew roses." He motioned to the red one he worse pinned to his blue suit. His eyes met yours, "Do you?" A small nod as steam swirled up from the tea that would never be drank, "May I see them?"

Your mother stood up answering, "Of course." Her hands came upon you shoulders, "Go change and show our lovely President." You pushed the chair back using it as an escape for the moment, "Wash your face, and put on that pretty blue sun dress." You didn't answer, only walked back down the hall to your room finally able to breath normally away from his suffocating presence. What was he doing all the way out here? You had figured, had clung, to the fact you would never have to see him, or the Capitol again, and now he was here invading your home.

After washing your shaking hands and face, digging the dirt out of your nails, and braiding your hair back did you put that stupid sundress on and walk back out. Your mother was standing by the door a forced smile on her lips, "Yes sir, no sir." She reminded you, pulling small tendrils of hair loose around your face. "Don't speak unless spoken to."

"I know." You told her, forcing her hands away from your face reciting what your father and mother had both instilled in you. "I am grateful for what you've done for us President Snow."

"Mr. President Snow, sir." She pinched your cheeks to give them color then let you step around her and out of the house.

He was standing near the edge of the garden just before the walkway split separating each sections. "It truly does take up most of the lawn." He smiled holding out his arm for you. You slowly allowed him to hook it under his elbow to lead down the walkway. "It smells divine."

"Thank you." You swallowed, "Mr. President, sir."

He only smirked, "Your mother raised a well mannered woman."

You offered him a shy smile, ”My father and mother always instilled proper etiquette as best as they could. They emphasized respect and dutifulness."

"Important traits to have." He agreed. He was Capitol, he was the president, no doubt relishing in the fact district folks weren't born with those traits, they had to have it beat into them.

His hand clamped around yours, trapping it in his arm. Your breaths shook, don’t stutter. "My roses are just this way." You motioned up the path for him to lead in that direction.

The rose bush could have looked better, but it had always been a work in progress, a difficult flower to manage, and your heart had never truly been fond of roses. Red and yellow seeds were the only color you could acquire so the colors sometimes missed their mark or died all together. “Troublesome for you?” There was no hiding the disappointment in his tone.

“Yes.” An embarrassed response. "I'm tempted to rid myself of them."

"Hmm," He stepped forward fingers running along the soft petals. "I have a garden full of white roses, I brought some for you today."

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I'm sure my mother adores them."

"They're for you, not her." He flatly told you a sneer on his face. "A gift of sorts to my favorite little victor." He smirked down at the bush plucking a perky red rose from its stem. "Or what did she call you?" He turned back towards you, "Her darling bluebell?"

The blush bit at your cheeks, "Thank you. Mr. President sir." He smiled deeply tucking the stem of the rose behind your ear rooting it into the braid. "They are lovely." I lied. The scent of roses overtook the air to the point you felt dizzy with it, felt them swallowing you whole like he did.

"I do hope your mother won’t mind looking after it all.” He sighed his hand running down your arm as blood drained out of you, the question sitting leaden in your mouth. "We're trying something new, something Dr. Gaul believed would bring good publicity to the games." You chewed on your cheek, biting the refusal back. You remembered hearing about her death a year or two ago. "A victory tour of sorts." Both hands were on your arms holding you in front of him, "You'll go district to district letting them celebrate you and then finish at the Capitol. I'm going to throw you another party."

Oh

His hand came under your chin tilting your face up to him, "How does that sound my little bluebell?"

"Okay." You whispered because it was what was supposed to be said to him.

He beamed, "Such a good girl." His smile fell, "Since this is the first time we're doing it I'll be going with you of course to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Ice coated you. How long would this be? Would he ever let you remain in peace? Would the garden wither and die in the time you would be gone? Why did he stare like that?

You only nodded the obedience in your spine locking into place.

It wasn't horrible. The train was comfy and reminded you of home, the rumbling sound it made, the smell of the smoke and gasoline, the horn blaring through the night. They had written words, of course, to say at every district, reciting from a script how sorry you were for their losses and how thankful you are for the Capitol and their generosity. President Snow talked the most which was ironically a godsend since you didn't want to speak at all.

Mostly, there was food, tons of food...and wine.

You more self-indulgent habit to make the time go by smoother. Even more so now because you could, because it was free, because your parents weren't here to shame you. You would stop once you got home; you had done it before. When the tour was over, you would stop, you would go back home, relish in the normalcy, the garden, where it was safe. Where no one could find you.

Snow wouldn't be on the train ride home.

It unnerved you that he was here simply a few train cars down, eating, sleeping, plotting murder no doubt, planning more games. It only made you swig from the bottle more to shove the anxiety down.

You had crawled in the train car window, a comfy seat under it, curling you feet under you to watch the night blur past. Each bump comforted you, like you were in the older train cars carting people around the district. The moon wasn't out making any outline impossible to see, so you closed your eyes, pretending to hear the bustling square at home. You took another drink of wine savoring the lazy feeling coating your body.

The door slid open no doubt an Avox coming to do some chore, so you didn’t even bother to look. "You didn't come to dinner." Your head snapped up seeing Snow standing in the door a tray of food in his hands, "They said you only grabbed a bottle of wine and left."

"I wasn't hungry." Not a lie, you had felt ill since leaving District 9 the tributes faces beginning to gnaw at you once more. You had survived, and they hadn’t, and it felt wrong. "Mr. President, sir."

He wasn't wearing his normal suit instead a pair of dress pants, and a starched white button up, the top two buttons undone. His immaculate blonde hair was slightly mused a stray curling piece falling onto his forehead. "Come eat with me." You weighed the options before unfolding your legs out and turning to slid off the sill. You tugged at the nightgown they had shoved in the closet for sleep, a soft thin robe covering your shoulders over it. They hadn’t allowed you to bring any clothes from home. His eyes glanced up your body as you pulled it tighter around you.

"Excuse my appearance Mr. President, sir." You sat down across from him.

"No need." He only smiled as he pushed the tray. "Do you like the train?"

You nodded picking at the food, "It reminds me of home. We used to live by the test track before it moved, and it used to rumble the house. I used to hate it growing up, but now it seems to have grown on me."

"I bet it has." You should enjoy the food more, shovel it down until it was nothing. Your family had never suffered too much within the district not like the others, like 10,11,12... but it wasn't exactly always easy. The Capitol was always cramming food down your throat before and after the games, before you had reveled in it, the after...it tasted like dust in my mouth sometimes. You set the fork down pushing the half eaten tray away, but he only pushed it back. "Eat, please." You began to open your mouth in protest, but his jaw ticked. "Eat." A command, "All of it."

You watched his face, bottom lip trembling at the new tone he was using. It was bound to come out, but you had been so kind, always listened. You slowly began eating again forcing each bite until nothing remained, until your chest was tight with a full stomach. You took a sip of water. Always thank him, your mother had whispered on your way out of the door, Even if you are not thankful.’ “Thank you, Mr. President sir."

"You are so good to me, my little bluebell." He leaned forward the darkness engulfing the blue in his eyes. "Can you do something for me?" You made yourself nod even-though fear was trickling down your skin. He motioned with his head, "Go lie down on the bed."

The color drained from your face, "Wh-What?"

Don't stutter.

You cursed inwardly for the slip. ”Be my good girl and go lie down on the bed." His grin widened, “I won’t say it again.”

By the time your knee hit the bed tears had slipped over, you tried to stop them, but they welled anyways as you turned to look at him. He stalked towards you unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them, so you forced your gaze upward taking in the sounds of rustling. His hands pushed the robe down your shoulders letting it pool onto the bed. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to stop him as his fingers trailed along your bare shoulders, along your collarbones, up your neck. "Spit." He held out his hand. You swallowed, pulling the liquid back up and spit into his palm watching him bring it between his legs. You forced yourself to not look down, not look at what his hand was doing with a large length, to not look as he slid his hand along it. His other hand came up to your face, once again dragging across your bottom lip, pushing his finger further in, hooking it onto your bottom teeth. "Suck on it." He growled. You blinked fresh tears out before letting your tongue poke and lick up his finger, swirling around his knuckle listening to his pants. A cry of protest sat in your lungs, but would it matter? Were you always bound to be at his mercy, cursed to obey his whims to exert his power. “You listen so good." His head fell back a little the small groan hiding the sounds of him stroking himself. “Will you take my cock good too?”

"Please." You whimpered against his hand finding the smallest resistance in yourself at his words. "Please sir...I'm a virgin. I-I don't-!"

He shoved you back onto the bed with a growl his knees straddling your thigh as he pumped his hand faster and faster groaning into the air as two fingers invaded your mouth thrusting along your tongue. You felt violated, but all you could do was lie there and take it, let him do whatever he was doing because you were good, because he was the president and you had to obey. You closed your eyes tears burning your skin on the way his movements shook your body, until finally he stilled warmth shooting over your skin.

You finally breathed as he removed his fingers and stepped away. You lied there, listening to him straighten his clothes back on. "Don't change. Sleep in that." You glanced down at the white clumps running down your nightgown, some even drying to your exposed chest.

He stared at you expectantly. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President, sir.”

His grin was haunting as he left.

The rest of the tour went unbothered. He only occasionally came back to repeat those events, but each time it got a little easier as you began to know what to expect, each time you dared to look a little bit more. Sometimes even getting lost in the way his hand glided across his glistening cock covered in your spit. On the rare nights, you even gazed upward at him, at his hooded eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead, tongue between his teeth. You even began to listen to the noises he made, the heavy grunts, the soft groans and grit of his jaw, his vulgar words at you when his eyes suddenly met yours making you look away with heat in your cheeks.

And then he would cum over your body.

You threw up after the first night only forcing it to stay on your body because he had said so. After that it became easier to withstand the feeling, the warmth, the smell. You realized after a few times it gave off a scent you had only attributed to him, you only knew that because he often stood so close to you. It was so mild and hidden that you could only tell when you brought some close to your nose, and since it was already there you tasted it and you figured his skin might taste like that too.

It was fine, until you finished the tour of District 2. The boy's face stared down at you, and you remembered how it looked covered in blood.

Please!

The crunch of bone.

You could barely get through the reading, crying halfway through before someone had to usher you to the side. Snow was angry; you could see it in his dark eyes but maybe he could find pity. You had been so kind, so good.

It didn't matter by the time he found you curled into the corner of my room you were covered in smeared make up and tears. You couldn't even take off the stupid pink dress they had given you. He stood there for a moment taking you in then he grabbed you by the hair yanking you up onto the bed. Then he reeled back and slapped you across the face so hard your head snapped to the side. "You were very bad today bluebell."

"I-I..."

Another slap the other way. "Don't stutter."

Your cheek was stinging, "I'm sorry." A pause, and then another hard slap stars split your vision. "I'm sorry Mr. President, sir." You closed your eyes waiting for more but then you heard the familiar noise of his pants unbuttoning and your body began to lay itself back like it had registered before you did. He only darkly chuckled as he pulled you back up and shoved you to your knees in front of him, "I know you didn't mean to break the rules. Right?” You nodded, “And why do I know that?”

"Because I'm your good girl, Mr. President, sir." You stared up at him with red cheeks and pouting lips.

He groaned, his hard length pressing against your mouth. You glanced up at him with furrowed brows not knowing how to do what he was asking. “Open your mouth,” You did. “Don’t bite. I'll do the rest." He pushed past your lips, taking ahold off your face and began rocking his hips into you, his cock sliding along your tongue. "Oh fuck," He shivered shoving himself deeper the tip of him touching the back of your throat. You swallowed the gag as he pulled out to slam back into you bring your throat more tears spilling out, spit running down your chin. You squeezed your eyes as he used your mouth for whatever he wanted as he thrusted his cock into your mouth viciously. "Swirl your tongue around it." He hissed and you obeyed running it along the shaft, around the head feeling him stutter his movements, but pick up speed. His hand was rooted in your scalp yanking your face up, pain bubbling up with each abusing stroke, but something else was there too, and you realized his skin didn't taste bad. "You like that? You like when I fuck your mouth?"

You mumbled out incoherently not even sure what your answer was.

He shoved your head back, neck craned against the mattress his hips pinning you as he blatantly fucked into your mouth. ”I wonder what pretty sounds you would make if I fucked you hmm?” His hand bobbed your head against him as you gripped his thighs to hold yourself up as saliva dripped across your chest. "I can't though...too many others want it."

Your eyes shot open just as his thrust turned sporadic and warm liquid shot down your throat. Your face was covered in fluids, covered in drool and cum, dribbling down your chin as he slowly removed himself. ”What?" Your throat was raw and torn.

"I was going to wait to tell you." He sighed tucking himself back in. "But you are very desirable as a Victor, and once you told me you were a virgin...well it made you a lot more desirable." He patted your tears and cum stained cheek, "But you have been so good to me despite this slip up, so I will try to pick someone you will like. Hmm?” You were too stunned to respond. He was selling you to people, selling you to the highest bidder because you had killed a boy. You weren’t even supposed to win everyone had let you know how the tribute from 10 was slated to win, but he got taken out while you were hiding, and they had lost money. Because your life was a bet for them.

"I want to go home." You cried softly his hand cradling your face.

He cocked his head to the side, "Oh bluebell. You can't leave me yet." He stood up and began to walk to the door, "I might just have to keep you."

He left you there on your knees. No he didn't quite taste bad, in fact, you thought maybe you enjoyed the pool of him on your tongue. You cried even harder.

PART TWO here!

(if you care)

#coriolanus snow #fanfic #dark fanfic #dark coriolanus snow #president snow #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo smut #coriolanus smut #coryo x you #dark fanfiction #smut #coriolanus x y/n #tom blyth #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[marvelfilth]

Hold me close and don't let go

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warning: canon typical violence

Summary: Sam almost lost you.

Masterlist

The stale air of the hospital sits heavily in Sam's lungs. One might've gotten used to it at this point, but not Sam, not even after years spent going to the doctor's with Tara, not even after numerous times she had to be the one on the cot, with her body full of gaping wounds.

She doesn't look away from the too still body on the bed, her hand wrapped tightly around cold knuckles, her body rigid as she waits for you to wake up. She swallows the lump in her throat, her mouth dry, eyes watering.

“Any changes?” Tara walks back in with a bottle of water and a sandwich from the cafeteria.

Sam shakes her head no, and her sister sighs, dragging another chair to sit by Sam's side. “She'll be alright. Doctor said she'll make a full recovery,” she reminds gently.

Sam nods, still not looking away from your face. She counts cuts and bruises, winces when the number grows into double digits.

All her fault.

“Sam,” Tara tries again, quieter this time, “She's gonna be okay.”

Sam nods again, and blindly accepts the sandwich Tara pushes into her hand. When she doesn't make a move to unwrap it, Tara does so herself. “She'll need you at full strength when she wakes up.”

Sam blinks, finally looking at her sister.

Her bandaged arm is snug against her front in a sling, the deep cut on her forehead cleaned and stitched. She's smiling hesitantly, her eyes brimming with exhaustion. Immediately, Sam's guilt grows tenfold - her little sister, looking after her after having to go through another massacre, all because of her.

She pulls her into her side, mindful of her injuries, and presses a kiss to her temple. “I'm sorry,” Sam speaks up for the first time, her voice scratchy.

She feels her sister's head shake against her shoulder. “None of this is your fault, Sam.”

Sam sighs, only now starting to feel a painful throb in her side. She glances down, sees the bandage slowly grow red, and looks back at your still form.

“Why… why did she do that?” She whispers, blinking back tears. “I- I could've handled him. I almost had him, but she…”

“Sam,” Tara pulls away, her voice shaky, “he almost had you. If she hadn't thrown herself at him, you-” she chokes on a sob and turns away, hiding her face in her palm.

It's a startling realization, one that makes her breath come short. No matter what she'd like to tell herself, she was an inch away from inevitable death. She remembers the look in Ethan's eyes - hate, rage and pure, undiluted madness. She imagines she looked the same at the moment.

And then there was you, kind and good and all the things that Sam is not, throwing yourself on his back with a knife in your hands, plunging it into his side without hesitation.

He was stronger, of course. The image of you being thrown into the wall, him towering over your prone body before his knife easily sliced your body open, is still too fresh in her mind.

She made him pay.

Tara's shoulders are shaking. Sam looks down at her sandwich, and after a moment of contemplation places it on the bedside table. She's reaching out to her little sister when a quiet groan makes her jump up.

There you are, eyes slowly blinking open. She rushes forward, but hesitates once you're in reach, her hand hovering over yours awkwardly.

“Sam?” You rasp out, moving to sit up, but Sam is quick enough to gently push you back into the bed, her hands lingering on your shoulders.

“I'm here, baby,” she breathes out, tears sliding down her cheeks. You relax, smiling, and she can't help it, not after holding it in for the past sixteen hours, she sobs quietly, burrowing her face in the crook of your neck - the only place on your body devoid of any injuries. She clings to you like a lifeline, her heart squeezed painfully in her chest.

Your fingers find purchase in the strands of her hair, your other hand wrapped around her shoulders. “I'm okay,” you whisper, “we're okay.”

She cries harder, shuddering in your hold.

#sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #scream #melissa barrera x you #melissa barrera x reader #hmcadlg #carpenter sisters

[xoxo-sarah]

more angst with daryl yelling at or arguing with fem reader for literally anything, ( ex. talking his ear off, being overly clingy, kissing him to much ) like him being so overwhelmed with everything going on in the world that he thinks she’s the problem he’s so angry and stressed out thinking this relationship thing isn’t for him but soon realizes she’s not after she begins crying and tells him she’ll stop doing whatever he was yelling at her for😋 ending with him being very apologetic and holding her and crying saying stuff like “ i dun deserve you “ “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry..” and she holds him and tell him it’s okay😁

Distracted

↝a/n: went a little off request but I kinda like this. Thank you for requesting-- sorry for it taking me ages. I'm not really used to writing for Daryl.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝ Warning: twd, zombies, sprained ankle, grumpy Daryl, sad reader, not proofread, low-key rushed even if it's been half done for months

↝⎙ 8.30.23

You weren't sure how or when you got separated from Daryl on your little trip, but you did.

A herd of walkers came out of nowhere. Sure you mind wasn't really clear, but you should've heard them. Just like now, you couldn't wrap you head around why you didn't. Your thoughts were solemnly on why. So much so that you didn't hear the one coming up behind you.

As soon as you felt a grip on your arm, you swung around, expecting 2 things. A walker or Daryl. The snarling and nipping towards you had any relief or hope disappearing in the wind.

Grunting, you pushed it off of you, reaching to grip your knife. Your foot moved the wrong way and a jolt of pain went through it and up your leg.

As soon as you had the knife gripped comfortably, a twig snapped behind you and more snarling blended in.

Turning with the walker held by its shoulder, you quickly plunged the knife into its rotten skull, pushing the limp body into the one that was slowly moving towards you.

Quickly glancing down at your hurt foot, you put more weight onto the other one. Although the pain was excruciating, so would be getting eaten alive.

The walker swayed when the body came in contact, but continued as the body fell down onto the ground. You waited until it came to you instead of putting extra strain on the foot, and plunged the knife into its head. It fell with a thud, as you fell onto your ass, taking your shoe off to see your foot. It was already bruising, a slight hue and swelling was beginning around your ankle. The side foot was angled slightly down, as if you rolled your ankle. Straightening it, you silently cursed.

Hearing something walking up behind you, you quickly turned your head, gripped your knife. Your hand loosened when Daryl came stumbling over leaves and twigs. He acknowledged you, stopping for a second before continuing to walk towards you. He stood in front of you, looking at the two bodies in front of you and back to you. By now, you had put your shoe back on, hiding what was causing you so much pain.

"Wha're you doin'?"

"Sitting down."

He stared at you for a second or two, before flinging his crossbow over his should and putting a hand out. "C'mon. Don't have time for this."

It was getting dark and you were supposed to be back at Alexandria before nightfall. And here you were going to show up empty handed with a rolled ankle and frowns on your face. Well, it was normal for Daryl but they'd know as soon as you walked in with a sour expression that the run didn't go as planned. You were supposed to go out hunting and bring plenty back, to feed the hungry mouth of the old and children.

Preparing yourself, you tried not to physically let him know the pain that shot through your body when you landed.

The last thing you needed was him lecturing you about being more careful. He was already protective of you as is, and with him being extra grumpy, it wouldn't end well.

Arguments weren't not normal. When you two would argue about something, he'd just grunt (mostly when you make a good point) and walk off. When he had cooled down, he'd come back but he'd give you the silent treatment, but still give you attention at the same time. He holds grudges for a very, very long time. Maybe with you it's not as bad, but that's only because he cant stay mad at you forever.

"Keeping that from me was stupid."

"You weren't really in the best mood. You would've just went on and on, I don't really need your lecturing right now."

He grunting, pulled you closer to his body, his hand holding your arm over his shoulder as he helped you limp through the woods.

Hearing more rustling, Daryl stopped walking, turning in the direction the sound came from. Without a second thought, he leaned you against the nearest tree and grabbed his cross bow, aiming all within a few seconds.

The tree didn't seem to be a good choice when you went to lean more of your weight on it and a big piece of the bark fell off, making a loud sound in the quiet trees.

The arrow flew through the air and missed just slightly as the beautiful deer went galloping away from you.

"Damn it!" Daryl threw his hands up, not even looking back at you. He was probably going to say something he'd regret. It wasn't your fault, the tree was atleast 100 years old. Life was just being a bitch today.

Still not looking at you, he moved to grip your arm again, and continued to make your way back home.

It was silent most of the way. An awkward silence, if you will.

A little after what you guessed was 8, Daryl had stopped to fix up a little camp.

The cold nipped at your skin, making you shudder. Daryl saw, but didn't feel like acknowledge anything but his own thoughts.

You hand slipped into his, "I'm sor-"

"Forget it." He took his hand back, picking up a twig from the ground.

You stared at him.

Was he being for real? Choosing to bite your tongue, you simply stared at the fire.

After a moment, you braced yourself for the struggle to stand. "I gotta piss." Maybe that was TMI but you didn't care at this point. If he was going to be cold to you, you could be just as cold.

He grunted, fiddling with the twig in his hand.

Secretly rolling your eyes, you turned to limp your way behind a tree.

"Jesus-fuck!" Could it possibly get any worse? Was the world out to get you right now? It sure felt like it.

Making your way behind a big tree, you didn't see the hole in the ground, mostly because it was dark.

"Y/n?" Leaves crunched under Daryl's boots as he rushed to follow you. Hearing something fall and your curses had his heart drop, his feet led him right to you.

You sat just like you did earlier. You looked done at this point.

You were walking out of these woods with a broken leg if mother nature had anything to say in the matter.

"Be careful." He crouched, just looking at you. You looked back at him, tears burning behind your eyes. "Why're you bein' so clumsy?"

That was a stupid question. A loaded one at that.

You were being a little distracted by your own thoughts today, but he didn't have to be all rude and point it out. Alexandria has been in a bad spot and the pressure to bring food was laying on your chest like an anvil. You were going to come home empty handed. You couldn't stand the picture of disappoinment on the kids faces you'd be met with.

The tears finally fell.

Daryl saw them shine in the dark. His brows furrowed.

"Hey, don't cry."

Sucking in a deep breath, you looked up into the leaves. "You're not really in a good spot to tell me not to cry."

Maybe he was being a little hard on you.

Daryl reached forward, grabbing your hands to help you up. But you were stubborn. He'd argue with anyone that you were more stubborn than him.

You yanked your hands back, digging into the ground behind you and lifting up. When you lifted your body up enough, he wrapped his arms around your middle and lifted you up the rest of the way, ignoring your protests. After he stood you up, you two just stared at each other. It seemed the two of you have done more staring than talking all throughout this trip. There was this tension ever since you walked out of the gate. Maybe it was the fear of letting everyone down. Either way, you two were being too much and not enough at the same time.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." He rasped, his eyes softening.

If Merle were to see him now, he'd definitely call him a 'pussy'. Daryl will admit you've made him soft since you've been together. Or maybe he'd blame that on Judith and RJ. Either way, he had become soft and let you see parts of him he'd promised his teen self he'd never let anyone see. But things have changed. He truly would never purposely make you shed a tear.

"I know." You grumbled, emotions all out of wack. "Today has just been too much."

Before long, you were back at the camp, Daryl's arms around you and his pancho wrapped around you body, fighting against the cold of the night.

" 'm sorry"

Looking up at you, you couldn't help the playful smile making its way onto your face. "You've already apologized."

"Half-assed. Could've lost you today."

The world was in chaos - walkers roaming the streets, scarcity of resources, and constant fear. The stress was taking its toll on everyone's mental health, including Daryl's. It seemed like he was becoming more irritable and short-tempered with each passing day. But he'd still find time to let you know he loved you. When he'd walk out mid argument, he'd always come back, crawling into bed.

It would always be you two. Against everyone and everything. Always.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And he meant it, every word. He always would.

"I'm sorry too. My head hasn't been clear these last few days."

He nodded in agreement and understanding.

It will be better tomorrow.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd imagine #twd imagines #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead x reader #🐿️ #xoxo-sarah 🩷

[petit-etoile]

Congrats on 200 followers! :D For drabble ideas, how about one where Tav is becoming overwhelmed from being the leader of their group and they end up having a bit of a breakdown in camp, so Astarion whisks them away and dotes on them for the evening to help soothe some of their worries.

i  am  tired  of  being  brave

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount:  1,036 content warnings: none other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, idiots in love, established relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, be added to the taglist here

summary: All you want is to get away from everything. Astarion indulges you.

‘Enough!’ you shout.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart have the decency to look properly chagrined when they peer over at you, frozen as if turned to stone. Shadowheart’s knife dips underneath Lae’zel’s chin, but the pretense of applied pressure goes away. You have no idea what hour it is or how long they’ve been going at it but the little patience you have snaps like a fine thread.

‘We have only gotten this far because we trust each other,’ you snap at them, pulling your nightshirt tighter around your shoulders. ‘But if you want to ruin that, leave me out of it!’

In what is likely the silliest mistake to make, you turn around and march to your bedroll to pick up your hunting knife and then march beyond the outskirts of camp  —  beyond Halsin and Jaheira and Gale and Wyll and Karlach, and Withers who seems to be musing over the situation with faint interest.

If Shadowheart and Lae’zel want to fight to the death, let them! You’ve done all that you can to get the group this far. You’re tired, you’ve been woken up two nights in a row, and you’ve had it with the drama.

You plunge yourself through the nearest bush you can find and sit next to running water, your arms pulled across your chest to keep the breeze from chilling you to the bone. You’re miserable beneath the moonlight. You can’t remember the last time you’ve slept more than four hours.

You almost doze off in the underbrush beneath a tree, but then there’s a hand sliding over your mouth and a body behind yours, somehow wedged behind you once your eyes closed. You gasp and try to reach for your knife, but Astarion tuts and continues sliding between you and the tree. It would be annoying if you weren’t relieved it was him. You relax back against him despite the feeling that your heart is going to leap out of your throat.

‘You shouldn’t fall asleep in the woods,’ Astarion warns you. ‘There are terrible beasts that have made this place their hunting ground.’

You shiver. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep,’ you say. ‘I just needed to get away.’

He hums. ‘Did something happen back at the camp?’

It doesn’t do any good to keep secrets, and your other companions had already witnessed it. You tell Astarion about Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s never ending fight. It doesn’t make sense to keep attacking one another, especially since the Artefact is the only reason the worms haven’t burrowed deeper into your skulls. It wears you down every day to keep making decisions for everyone when there are people with better experience. Everyone looks to you no matter how much you wish they’d look elsewhere. You never wanted this fellowship to hang on your every word. You just wanted allies.

‘It’s hardly fair,’ Astarion agrees. ‘To have the weight of this…Absolute sitting on your shoulders. I can’t imagine what it must be like to wrangle us all into cohabitation.’

‘Some discomforts are easier to resolve than others,’ you say. ‘It was easy making everyone throw their stakes away.’

‘I’m fairly certain Wyll kept his,’ Astarion snorts.

‘Yes, but he doesn’t wake us all up holding it at your neck,’ you say, elbowing him. ‘They don’t have to become friends or lovers or anything of the sort. They just have to get along until we arrive at Baldur’s Gate.’

Baldur’s Gate still seems so very far away. Acknowledging this drags you down more than you wish it to. You’re tired of walking and fighting and lying your way out of every other conflict. You miss your family and your life before the worm. The only good that’s come of it is Astarion. He lets you lounge on him when you please in exchange for some blood, and…

It’s more than that.

Astarion lets you do whatever the hell you please as long as it doesn’t annoy him. You’re free to nap in his tent or sit at his side while he reads, and he’s even allowed you to style his delicate curls with pomade. He lets you kiss him if you ask, holds your hand. If you asked him to kill someone for you, you’re certain he would without question.

Reluctantly, you sit forward. ‘I should probably head back,’ you admit. ‘I should make sure everyone is still alive.’

‘To the hells with it,’ Astarion disagrees. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back. ‘You close your eyes and sleep. Let them come looking for us if it troubles them that much.’

‘And if Shadowheart kills Lae’zel?’

‘I’m almost certain Lae’zel would win,’ he says. ‘But, I have no doubt they’ll behave. You, on the other hand, are being naughty.’

You laugh but you do as you're told. You worm further in the roots and lean back against him. It’s chilly, but having someone else there does wonders for how willing you are to fall asleep. It’s almost nice how secluded you are away from the drama and stress. You almost wish you were a vampire so that you could sneak out and use hunting as an excuse.

The respect for all you do is nice. Sure, Halsin and Jaheira have both commended you for how hard you work for your age, but it isn’t the same. You still stand in the middle of camp trying to handle things on your own. The planning, the decisions. They somehow fall on your shoulders. A little more input would be nice, or a sign from a god that you’re doing the right thing. You try not to think about it as you feel sleep edge toward your consciousness. Astarion hums softly in your ear, and though it’s uneven, you can’t help but think it’s so off-tune that it’s lovely.

You yawn so hard your jaw pops, and Astarion hushes you, kissing idly behind your ear. It lulls you into an ease you haven’t experienced for a while. You melt into the touch. If you could purr, you would.

‘This,’ Astarion says, ‘is what you deserve. To relax here in my arms. Sleep now, and we’ll deal with what shall come in the morning.’

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa . #my fic #anonymous #* a thousand lives，and one #foreshadowing for the sake of this verse? #mayhap .

[darkbluekies]

What if reader did somehow manage to escape Silas for at least more then a year?

White bunny

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: a year has passed since you escaped Silas. When he finally finds you, you're a shell of what you once were and he desperately tries piecing you back together.

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, panic attacks, a bit of age regressing? (I don't know), broken reader, knife

Word count: 1.6k

He’s found you. He’s finally found you. For a year you’ve managed to keep yourself out of his reach … but not anymore. You’re going to come back home now. He can’t stand to be away from you even a second more. 

“Pick the lock”, Silas tells one of his men. “Quietly. If we wake up the other residents in this building they’ll call the cops.”

The man in front of him nods and sinks down on his knees by the front door with his hands full of supplies. Silas watches as he picks the lock with a satisfying feeling in his body. He’ll be able to hold you soon. A year has been too much for him. He usually can’t stay away from you for three hours … let alone a year. The second he sees you, he’ll capture you in his strong arms and never let you go again. His heart hammers in his chest at the thought that there’s only a locked door in between you. Soon. 

“It’s open”, the man says. 

Silas smiles and opens the door. The apartment is dimly lit, an indication that you must be asleep. His heart swells. Oh, how pretty you must be. 

Sadly, one of his men knocks over a vase with his machete. Silas can hear it crash against the floor, but has no time to stop it. Mortified, he looks around, expecting you to stand in any of the door frames. He’s quiet as a dead mouse, listening. He can hear moving in the room to his left and grabs the handle. Locked? He tries again, harsher this time.

“I know it’s you”, he can hear your voice whisper from the other side of the door. “Leave, Silas.”

“L-Leave?” he repeats. “Are you nuts? I’ve been looking for you for a whole fucking year, baby! I’m not going anywhere. And if I am, you’re coming with me. Don’t make me break down this door.”

He feels like a feral animal. Every inch of his body needs to feel you and he’ll go crazy soon if he doesn’t get to have you.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you spit.

Silas turns to his men and gestures for them to pick the lock. Only a few minutes later, Silas opens the door. You’re crouched down in the darkest corner of the bedroom with a knife held out in front of you. Silas breaks out into a relieved smile. It’s really you. His dear, little Y/N. 

“Why don’t you put down the knife before you hurt yourself and come over here and give me a big hug, hm?” he asks and opens his arms. 

“I’d rather plunge the knife through my heart”, you growl back. 

Taken aback is an understatement. Silas frowns in shock. 

“Why?” he wonders. 

“I don’t want your filthy hands on me!”

“Well, that’s not up to you to choose-”

“No, I’m serious, don’t touch me!”

He freezes at your tone. You sound absolutely horrified at the thought of him touching you? Everything about your body language is in defense. You seem ready to attack him if he moves just the slightest bit closer. You’ve never been like this before. WHat has happened to you?

“Y/N, put down the knife”, he says again, calmer this time, testing the waters. “I’m just going to talk to you. Okay?”

You shake your head quickly, lifting the knife with shaking hands. 

“Take it”, he orders one of his men. 

The designated man moves closer and you swing the knife wherever you can reach, cutting him here and there, but he is like a machine — not moving an inch. He grabs the knife out of your hands and backs away. You’re defenseless now, just like Silas wants you to be. He walks over to you and sinks down in a squat to take in the sight of you. Your entire body is shaking violently, wide eyes following his slightest motions. Silas reaches out his hand to stroke your head and calm you down, but you scream in terror and cover your face with your arms. 

“Baby, I wasn’t going to hurt you”, he says, growing worried. “What’s wrong, little thing?”

he can hear you whisper something and leans closer to hear. A mantra of ‘don’t touch me, don’t touch me’ leaves your trembling lips. He can feel his heart sink to his stomach. Did he do this to you? He can’t have … can he?

“Give me the rope”, he says over his shoulder. “If I can’t touch them, I have to make a leash or something.”

Your cries escalate. Silas turns to look at you with even more despair.

“P-Please”, you beg incoherently. “A-Anything but that. Please!”

Silas gulps. This is his doing, a hundred percent. The touching can be coincidental, but he���s the only one who’s kept you tied. Things start to click together. Oh, what an idiot he is. 

“Little thing, look at me”, he says. “I’m not going to touch you and I’m not going to tie you, but I’m not leaving this apartment without you. You got that?”

You nod quickly. He wants nothing more than to wipe your tears and hold you tightly in his arms, but he won’t be able to hear more of your cries. He starts to think of a way to get you out of here without frightening you even more, but his worries are quickly resolved. The lack of air you got when hyperventilating has made you black out.

“I’ll take them”, Silas says and lifts you up in his arms. “Don’t worry, little thing, when we get home, you’ll go back to normal.”

Oh, how wrong Silas was. You’re quiet and reserved and refuse to be touched. All you do is sit in bed while hugging your legs to your body and keep your eyes down on the mattress. He has to come up with a solution to make you relax. You haven’t slept or eaten in days now. He leaves to go to the store in hope to find something to get you loosened up. While looking through aisles of scented candles and body lotion, he sees the children’s department. With one last resort, he walks over to the stuffed animals. 

“Are you sure Y/N would like a stuffed animal?” his second in command asks hesitantly. 

“What other fucking choice do I have?” he groans. “If they refuse to hug me, I guess I have to find a substitute. I can’t fucking listen to their crying anymore. They barely want to be in the same bed as me. This has to stop before I go insane.”

“Which one should you pick?”

“I think the white bunny will be the best alternative.”

He picks out the fluffy animal and heads straight for the cashier. The woman seems to recognize him, but doesn’t say anything. Silas is grateful for it. He’s in no headspace to be dealing with people today. All he wants is to see his little angel happy. 

When he comes home, he notices that his bedroom door is open. 

“Shit!” he gasps and looks around, seeing his second in command. “Get the car, they escaped again!”

He’s just about to pass the guest room when he notices that the door is ajar. Carefully, he peaks in, finding you lying on the bed in a fetal position. Silas sticks out his head in the corridor and alerts the second in command that you’re found before sneaking into the guest room. 

“Hey, baby”, he whispers gently. “I got you something.”

You don’t move. 

“Here”, he says, placing the white bunny on the bedside table. 

Silas holds his breath, waiting for your reaction. He silently begs for you to like it. Carefully, you sit up and pet the soft toy. Silas notices how your eyes aren’t … dull anymore. You seem to recognize the toy somehow. 

“D-Do you like it?” Silas asks nervously. 

“Bunny …”, you whisper. 

“Yes! Yes, it’s a bunny. I got it for you. Do you like it?”

You nod slowly and take it in your hands. For a few seconds you feel around before hugging it close to your chest. Silas breathes out in relief. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. “I thought you ran away again …”

“I didn’t want to be in there”, you mumble. “Want to be away from you.”

“But … you’re mine. We’re meant to be together. I haven’t touched or tied you a single time since we came home. Why can’t you at least acknowledge my presence?”

“Scary …”

“I’m not meaning to- … wait, why do you talk like that?”

You look at him questionably. 

“You talk … almost baby like”, he says slowly. “What’s going on?”

You hug the bunny closer. 

“Oh … I get it”, he says, nodding. “Would you like to watch ‘Scooby Doo’ with me? In the living room? We can get you some vanilla ice cream and those cookies you mentioned that you liked when you were a kid.”

You nod. Silas breaks out into a smile and nods along. 

“Alright”, he says. “Let’s go downstairs.”

You voluntarily follow him down to the living room, hugging the toy closely. He can’t seem to figure out why you suddenly started to act younger than you actually are, but he's not going to question it. You’re not crying, you’re not telling him to go away. That’s good enough. He creates a fort of pillows and blankets on the floor for the two of you to sit on, almost making a pillow fort. If you need childhood stuff, he’ll give them to you. 

Silas gives you glances throughout the movie. He knows he has gotten a second chance. You’re broken and it’s all because of him. He breathes in. This time, he’ll be careful. He’ll never hurt you again.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #silas oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male

[vvagustd]

☼my cure - newt

[newt x reader]

synopsis - newt survives because my heart needed to be healed

warning! swearing, mention of newts accident, blood and knife use

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"You."

I could feel heavy blood running through my veins. This didn't feel like me, I felt… different. Loud thoughts clouded me like thick fog. I could feel my mind slipping away.

"Newt..?" Y/n's voice made me shiver. I had no control anymore, it took everything in me to not lunge at her. I never wanted to hurt her, I never did, but this wasn't me. I was something else, something uncontrollable.

"You're the cure. It's in your blood."

"Newt, what are you-?" I lost it.

I tackled her and her head slammed into the ground. Stop it! Stop hurting her! I knew what I was doing but I couldn't stop it. The virus took control and it knew she had the cure. It was like I was watching a horrible movie through my eyes, one where I hurt the love of my life.

She was the one good thing the creators ever sent up. I saw my fair share of slinthead greenies, but Y/n was something different. I was scared, and alone, until she came up. She was always there with me, even when I was stupid enough to try and take my own life by jumping off the Maze walls.

"newt," she tried to huff through my hands gripping her throat. That's when I realized there was a knife in my hand. I already knew what the virus was planning to do.

I fought with everything I could but I wasn't strong enough. I needed to take control, I needed to take control and get through to Y/n. It felt like I was ripping through my own mind as I pushed, and I pushed. I knew I was there, I could feel-

- "Well hello, greenie." I greeted a very timid girl, huddled in the corner of the Box. "What the fuck is a greenie?" She shot back. That received a lot of laughs and snickers from the other guys. We only had a handful of people in the glade so far, a greenie monthly and we only had about seven, now eight. "Where am I?"

"Welcome to the glade, greenie! I'm Newt, and up there is the first in command, Nick. And second in command, Alby." The two boys waved from the top as she stood on a box and looked out. "What the hell are those walls?" She asked, lifting herself out. "Why am I here? Why can't I remember anything?"

"Slow down, greenie. I know you have a lot of questions, but we only have limited answers. Your name should come back to you in a little wh-"

"Y/n."

-

"y/n," I whimpered out.

"It's me, Newt." She whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I'm right here." She cupped her face around my cheeks. I knew I didn't have enough time, I needed to get my point out now.

"Kill me."

"What..?"

I shoved the knife into her hands. "Kill me now!" I yelled. She flinched, the knife clutched in her shaky hands. "If you've ever loved me you'll kill me now, Y/n. You'll kill me before I turn into one of them." Tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed. "Of course I fucking love you, Newt! I have since the glade. You're my everything.“ My tears mixed with the rain as I coughed up a heavy amount of blood. I was losing it, she needed to do it now.

"I love you so much, Y/n. That's why I need you to kill me, now. PLEASE FUCKING KILL ME."

Something snapped. The virus took over and I lost control as I jumped on her and tried to take the knife. Stumbling back on to the floor, we wrestled with the knife. The virus was trying to kill her for her blood, but I needed her to be alive. She had so much life left to live.

She screamed out in pain, the knife had gashed her in her stomach. It took everything she had to flip herself over on top, still crying out in agony. Her wound bled out everywhere as I fought for control of the knife, I kicked and screamed, grabbing the knife and her hands trying to desperately flip it around on her.

…

Suddenly the world came to a standstill. She did it, she plunged the knife into my chest. I fell back onto the ground behind me as Thomas and Minho came running over, grabbing her as she desperately kicked and punched. The last thing I heard was her screaming my name.

"I love you."

-

"Hey, can we talk?" I walked over to Y/n, my long time best friend. It took me a lot of courage to walk over to her, I didn't know how she was going to take this considering she's probably the most sporadic, unpredictable person I know.

But she's brave when I'm scared, she's hot-headed when I'm calm and maybe that's what I love about her. She's everything that keeps me even and she means everything to me. Today's the day I decided I'll tell her how I feel.

"Of course! Have a seat." She said, patting the ground next to her. I sat down and plopped back on the thick tree stump with a heavy exhale. "You alrighty, Newtie?“ You asked with a laugh. God, he thought you were beautiful. Everything from your laugh tho your hair, to how you yelled at the boys to keep then in line. It was like you kept the whole glade together.

"I wanted to tell you something, something I've had on my mind for a while." She turned and looked at me questioningly. "I've felt something more towards you, like there was something else I felt towards you other than friendship. I value you more than anyone in this glade but I also deeply admire you. Your beauty, how you're so eager to help out, how you always compliment Fry's mediocre cooking without fail." She let out a laugh as her cheeks flushed. "Are you trying to say you like me?"

I stumbled trying to find the right words when I suppose a yes would have done fine. She leaned in and brushed her hand across my cheek before her lips met mine. I completely froze, and she pulled away when she realized I wasn't kissing back.

"I'm so sorry, I thou-"

I wrapped my hands around the back of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss, this time deeper, more meaningful.

-

"Wake up!" A tall, big man in full armor shouted at me over the loud horn of a..

boat?

"Where the bloody hell am I?" I said, trying to sit up and immediately doubling over from the pain in my chest. "What the-?"

"Man, your lucky we got there when we did, you were bleeding out like crazy, can't believe that knife missed your heart." Oh no. Oh no no no no. I can't be here, I need to leave before-

I lifted up my shirtsleeve to find nothing on my arm, no virus in my veins. How is this even possible?

The events of that day flooded back to me, that one line repeating over and over again.

"You're the cure. It's in your blood."

During the fight her blood entered my bloodstream, the blood that would cure me. It's because of her, the girl I begged to kill me that night was the reason I'm still standing.

"Welcome to Paradise." I looked over from the edge of the boat to see a beautiful island. Sure it wasn't much, but there was people everywhere, some laughing and dancing, some getting food, and some making a bonfire. I prayed that Y/n had made it here, if anything she deserved to be here and not me.

"Do you know if a Y/n got here?" He thought about it for a moment. "Nah man, sorry. I don't know much about the people here. But what I do know, is that you're very lucky to be here. We found you half cranked out in the middle of the city, so if it wasn't for my crew I would have left your sorry ass."

The boat docked and the first thing on my mind was to find Y/n. If there was one thing I knew, it was that I desperately needed a shower. My tour guide took me to a disinfectant room, he gave me a change and I showered, probably the best treatment I've had in a very long time.

The sun never really showed since I got here, the island in a constant gray haze. I got led around to get a feel for the island, but everything felt unfamiliar, from the island down to the people. I passed dozens of faces, each either looked at me like there was sometimes wrong with me, or glanced and moved on. I prayed to see a familiar face. I prayed to see her face.

"Newt?"

I whipped my head around.

"Y/n?" My heart dropped. The memories from that night flooded in. Her tear covered face flashed my memory as she plunged that knife into my chest. How could she ever forgive me for what I did to her that night? I took a step forward and she staggered back.

"Is it really you?" Her voice was small, tears started filling her eyes. I nodded, tears filling my own as she ran into my arms. "I can't believe it's you!" She sobbed into my chest, being careful to avoid my injury. She pulled away and looked into my eyes. "How is this even possible?" She sniffled.

"You, love. You were my cure."

---

hope you enjoyed my first newt fic! little angsty but it all works out

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#tmr newt #newt x reader #tmr thomas #tmr minho #the death cure #the scorch trials #newt #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner #the maze runner preferences #tmr x reader #fanfic #fanfic request #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt imagine

[21wanderer]

Night at the Museum

Perhaps there had been signs he had overlooked, maybe there had been plenty of clues that something was going to happen at the museum, that someone had made plans and preparations, and it was culminating tonight.

The museum had amongst its collections, a collection of movie memorabilia, one of the memorabilia being a set of costumes of Batman and Robin from the movie of the same name from 1997 with George Clooney and Chris O'Donnell in the respective roles. A movie of questionable quality certainly, but iconic in its own way.

The suits were by no means unique, as there were made multiple of them during the taping of the movie, but now a set was on display here along side other superhero and movie pieces. As the night watch, he was responsible for keeping an eye on all these artefacts, which usually wasn’t particularly eventful, he might do some cleaning and some fixes around the museum, but otherwise, there wasn’t much to do. Not that he complained, he loved history and could enjoy the exhibits by himself. He did have a particular good eye for the Batman and Robin costumes, but apparently he wasn’t the only one.

An uneventful night became very eventful, when he entered the movie memorabilia collection, he had heard voices and went to investigate. Half of the security cameras weren’t working, which probably was a sign, that something bad was going to happen, but he still went to check. As soon as he entered the room, he was assaulted and overpowered by two masked men. They pressed him firmly against the wall, whilst stuffing a gag into his mouth, they then forced him down on a chair, and tied him to it with rope from their duffle bag. They didn’t seemed fazed by the night watch, quite the contrary, they seemed even more excited, as if they had wanted someone to witness this… And the night watch, whilst fearful and shocked, felt something stir inside him.

These two burglars were a mystery, they didn’t seem like your typical burglar, there were something strange about their approach and their goal, that the night watch would soon come to realize. He saw them approach the Batman display, whispering excitedly to one another, not even caring that he was sitting here watching everything. Had his mouth not been gagged, his jaw would have dropped, as he saw the two men do, what he had always dreamt of doing; touching the suits.

The burglars began to undress the two mannequins, the night watch trying to figure out exactly what they were doing and why. He could feel his stomach twisting and turning as he looked in fear, but also longing as the superhero costumes were disassembled and discarded on the floor.

They had undressed the two mannequins of Batman and Robin and thrown all the neoprene and leather on the floor. The night watch was baffled, if they wanted to steal the suits, why haven’t they just stuffed them in their duffle back and ran? Was there more they wanted?

From their duffle bag one of the masked figure pulled out a utility knife. A chill ran down the night watch’s spine. What were they planning? He stared entranced and fearful, his conflicting emotions made it difficult for him to think straight. He was starting to remember the potential danger he was in, he stared at it with his heart in his throat, fearing that this could turn ugly pretty quickly.

But to his surprise and bewilderment, they did something else. With the blade of the knife one of the masked men began cutting off the head of the naked Robin mannequin, he then handed it to his accomplice, who took the head and turned his back on the night watch.

With his free hand the burglar pulled off his balaclava and dropped it on the floor. The night watch could only see the back of his head, but he appeared to be young and skinny with a buzz cut haircut.

To the night watch’s big surprise the young man plunged his head into the hollowed out Robin-head, pushing and pulling the silicone into place. The night watch wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but he could not take his eyes of it. After what seemed like an eternity the new ’Robin’ turned around a flashed a smile. It was unbelievable, it was so realistic. It was like the young Chris O’Donnell stood in the room, the night watch was in awe, he now knew exactly what the burglars wanted, and he felt aroused, he felt insatiable, as terrified as he was, he wanted to see it all.

The still masked burglar nodded in approval, having dropped the headless Robin silicone mannequin on the floor, he then went over to the naked ’Batman’.

And just like before, he cut off the head, turned his back on the night watch, pulled off his mask and plunged his head into the hollowed Batman’s.

Once the other burglar was satisfied with his new face, he turned towards his accomplice, who placed his hand on the George Clooney-impersonator’s face, before leaning in and kissing him.

Despite the potential danger he was in, the night watch eagerly awaited, what he assumed the burglars would do next. He wasn’t sure they would actually do it, but they didn’t disappoint him. They stripped themselves of their black onesies, and ran the utility knife down the spines of both of the mannequins, creating large enough gaps for them to enter.

Slowly, but steadily they both began to force their way inside the hollow mannequins. The night watch felt like his nether regions were about to explode at the sight. The two men were transforming into movie stars as their scrawny bodies disappeared into the silicone, replacing them with the perfectly sculpted physiques of Batman and Robin.

There was something completely breathtaking about their actions. The night watch could only dream of what it would be like to slip into a silicone body like that, instantly gaining flawless skin, a handsome face and some quick and easy muscle mass. He wanted nothing more, than to be like those two right now.

Once they were both inside they began a process of self-gratification, rubbing their hands all over their new smooth and toned bodies. The night watch was in awe at the sight. It was flawless. The two impersonators were clearly as aroused as him as they embraced each other, kissing each other deeply and passionately with their erections pressing against each other.

Having lost any sense of time, their make-out could have lasted hours as they caressed their new ’naked’ bodies, clearly beyond satisfied with their result. But they weren’t quite done yet, there was still a final trick in their bag.

They began rubbing some sort of paste on each other’s backs and around their necks. It dawned on the night watch what they were doing… They were sealing themselves inside. He would have thought that it would have been unbearably warm inside those silicone bodies, but apparently it wasn’t the case. They were going all in, no turning back, they wanted to stay as Clooney and O'Donnell forever.

The night watch couldn’t bear it anymore, he was so full of longing and desire and without knowing it and despite the gag, he let out a deep and audible moan.

For the first time for what seemed like hours, the impersonators turned towards their spectator, they both chuckled, seemingly enjoying they were being watched. The naked George-impersonator took a few steps toward their hostage: ”I hope you are enjoying the show, it’s only halfway done.” Did he have any idea, how much their witness was into this?

’George’ flexed his right arm, it responded flawlessly, you wouldn’t believe it wasn’t real unless you had seen, what had transpired before. ‘George’ turned away, looking at ’Chris’ who had begun pulling on the Robin-costume.

The night watch stared still entranced, no longer feeling any fear, just unyielding desire. ‘Chris’ had slipped into the pants of the Robin-suit, they were a perfect fit of course, maybe even a little tighter, but the mannequin was made to fit the proportions of the suit, and now, in some bizarre way, they still were.

‘George’ had also put on the pants of the Batman-suit and then helped ‘Chris’ zipping the back of Robin’s top. ‘Chris’ returned the favour as ‘George’ slipped into Batman’s top. The mannequins were almost completely dressed, they put on the costumes’ gloves, boots, belts and capes, then ‘Batman’ pulled on his leather cowl and ‘Robin’ his mask.

The transformation was complete, it was like the mannequins had simply come to life, except it really wasn’t that. It was almost more unbelievable. The two burglars strutted around for a bit, getting comfortable in their new skins and costumes. The night watch was so deeply infatuated, he could only imagine, how they must feel, how he wanted to be them.

“Are you satisfied?” said ‘Batman’ to ‘Robin’. “Very satisfied,” ‘Robin’ replied, whilst tweaking the nipples of his suit, “this feels so good.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” ‘Batman’ responded with a chuckle, running his gloved hand down to his suit’s crotch. ‘Robin’ wrapped his arms around ‘Batman’ and pulled him towards himself and they locked lips once again. The night watch moaned again, as he felt like climaxing any moment, he couldn’t contain himself anymore. The two ‘superheroes’ turned to look at him.

”I think he’s into it!” ’Batman’ laughed to ’Robin’ like they had been completely aware of it from the start. The ‘dark knight’ walked towards the night watch, whose heartbeat began to increase with every step of the approaching ‘hero’.

‘Batman’ placed his hand firmly on the night watch’s erection, giving it a few tugs. “Yeah, you are really into it, aren’t you? We had a feeling…”

The night watch let out another moan, the culmination of a most eventful night.

‘Batman’ walked away and began picking up the clothes of their former identities, the burglars’ balaclavas, onesies and so forth, all the traces of what they had been.

’Robin’ chuckled and walked up to their hostage. He placed his boot firmly on the night watch’s aroused member and smiled the boyish smile of the young Chris O'Donnell. ’Robin’ leaned in on the night watch, their faces so close, that he could smell the silicone and the warmth radiating from it, ’Robin’ placed his mouth inches from the night watch’s ear and whispered sensually: “If you let us get away… We’ll make it worth your while. You can join us if you want. If this turns you on as much as it does us, then I think we’ll get along nicely, and we can even get you a skin like ours.”

’Robin’ stepped back, ’Batman’ was done tidying up after them.

”Give it some thought,” said ’Robin’, “we’ll make sure, you won’t regret it.” The night watch felt the ropes loosen and the gag too. ‘Robin’ then gave him a kiss on the cheek, the night watch felt the warm silicone against his skin, it felt so realistically, he then felt ‘Robin’s’ tongue in his ear, and he almost felt like fainting from the hotness.

The sound of two heavy sets of leather boots walking echoed through the empty halls as the ‘dark knight’ and the ‘boy wonder’ left the crime scene, leaving the night watch behind, pondering what his next move should be.

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