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#who are apparently loyal as hell????
halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months
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ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..
how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)
ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol
have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Our Remains
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Pairing: John Price x F!Reader
Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end
A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.
You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!
But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying. 
Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.
Just an overwhelming sense of dread.
The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer. 
You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm. 
The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant. 
In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines. 
John’s icon dims. 
You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to. 
He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.
“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.
God, you loved him so much.
Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you. 
He tried to call as often as he could. 
John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.
“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down. 
You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic. 
“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.” 
“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?” 
“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”
Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.
Jesus, this was actually happening. 
You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind. 
“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?” 
The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work. 
Above all, he knew when something was up with you.
“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”
Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”
The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.
“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth. 
The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.
Back at the house, your face scrunches together. 
Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad? 
John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears. 
“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.” 
…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted? 
“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”
The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him. 
“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”
He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind. 
There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with. 
John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present. 
“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”
“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…” 
Your voice quivers.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…
Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear. 
You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”
John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?” 
Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring. 
From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts. 
You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor. 
“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”
John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs. 
“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.” 
You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin. 
“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.
“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”
Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.
“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing. 
“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?” 
A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation. 
“I promise, John.”
“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”
Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.” 
The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords. 
He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.” 
“I’ll be waiting.” 
When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else. 
The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences. 
Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.
John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.
All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips. 
It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends. 
“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute. 
Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later. 
John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.
The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.
“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?” 
Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?” 
The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name. 
He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed. 
Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click. 
But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.
“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms. 
His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat. 
John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening. 
Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh. 
He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.
“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.” 
You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod. 
“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”
Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.” 
But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room. 
Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…
“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.” 
Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight. 
You steel yourself and raise the box. 
“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair. 
He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully. 
Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm. 
“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead. 
You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders. 
“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed. 
What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….
Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship. 
John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!” 
Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly. 
“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.” 
It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit. 
Why isn’t he saying anything? 
John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it. 
Pregnant. 
His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly. 
Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts. 
“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss. 
John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold. 
“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”
Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again. 
“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.” 
He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.” 
You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.
“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”
“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.” 
Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”
His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.
You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.
“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.” 
The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second. 
“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.” 
While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child. 
A family that you both had made.
John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.” 
Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.” 
There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave. 
What remains behind, you ask? Simple.
White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.
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phenphoenix · 21 days
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LUTE AND EMILY-
The gals, look at them go.
Lore tiiime
Alright, so Lute! Still fiercely loyal and a bit much- just not as sadistic anymore. Now, here's the fun part, she's still kinda an exorcist. Just now, instead of being under Adam, she's under Sera and Emily. And is in charge of keeping Adam distracted as well as the rest of hevan.
Decided to kinda mess around with the whole exorcist army and split them into like two halves. One half stays up in hevan, creating this image of the exterminations as though they were just going down into hell to try and "save souls." The half that Emily leads, and Lute helps command. The other half is what we see in the show. The half vaggie took part of and Sera leads. Adam knows about this, and is even suspicious about the whole "saving souls" deal. But keeps a blind eye because he trusts Lute so much.
Emily! Still sickly sweet, but give that missing sadistic nature from Swap!Lute to her. She's not as intense as Cannon!Lute but still enjoys going down to kill sinners once a year. All the while looking cute and innocent the whole time. However, she doesn't fully know that she's just further damming them. Sera is the only one who really knows what they are doing. So, while Emily is still killing them, she's thinking that their souls are being set free to get reincarnated or something like that. (Which can also lead to her disbelief is redemption, and the whole "hell is forever")
Of course, this is all based on headcannons. I'm going off of an apparent post made in the past, where they said that "when a sinner is killed, they become a mindless part of hell. That's why there are so many eyes in the walls and why hell seems "alive."" Or sonthing along those lines. Idk if that is still cannon. Or if reincarnation is even a thing in this version of the afterlife. But for the sake of this AU, I say all of it is.
So, in a way, all 4 of the angels are kinda swapped and meshed together. But hey, this is my AU, and it's all for fun and games, so whatever, lmao.
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sheisjoeschateau · 2 months
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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I
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Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+
WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.
An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.
⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe
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Let's just get to the point, shall we?
Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.
Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts.  Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts.  Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying.  ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair.  You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."
And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze.  Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.
Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.
At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --
"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"
You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.
But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.
You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other. 
Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy.  Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.
And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway.  It's the Bauman way.
He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"
You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."
Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught. 
"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers.  "Name."
You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."
Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."
"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously.  Eek, you think.
"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.
And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.
"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night.  Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.
Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy.  Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug. 
Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.
When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures. 
Fuck, you literally just got here.
But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.
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dilatorywriting · 7 months
Text
Monster Mayhem: Love Drunk
Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 1.9k
Summary: You are a succubus, who is apparently really bad at their job. At least if your poor, nitpicking victim has anything to say about it.
A/N: Sorry for being horny on main, but here we are lol I've been writing a lot of little bits lately for a Twst OC of mine, and decided that hey, y'know what, might as well revamp some of the ones that are easily revamp-able into my usual reader-insert style and pump out some shenanigans rather than just letting them languish away in google docs. So here we be.
🌶️🌶️🌶️ WARNING for Spicy Content!
READ WHAT YOU LIKE, BUT BE MINDFUL OF WHAT YOU READ
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“You’re late.”
The steam billowed as if with a sigh, and a familiar figure melted from the warm spray.
You blew a wet strand of hair out of your face with a noise that was nearly a raspberry. “I was busy.”
“I didn’t realize you had a life outside me,” Vil droned, only mostly serious. The little succubus seemed to pop out of the shadows at the slightest beckon, and even when you were gone, you always came back with nothing but talk of all the ways you’d worked to improve your craft since the last they spoke. And of your strange, card-faced friends, on occasion. But that was a topic you tended to hoard closely to your chest like a dragon to gold.
“Not everything revolves around you,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.
Vil leaned his head back to rinse the remainder of the conditioner from his hair. “Then maybe you shouldn’t act like my good opinion is the only thing keeping you employed, fed, and housed.”
You went warm in the ears, even under the heat of the steam, and crossed your arms petulantly over your chest. At least you’d been keen enough to not pop into his shower fully clothed this time. That had been a mess. You shifted back and forth on the balls of your feet with a grumpy, little huff and Vil didn’t bother to fight the way that his eyes followed the slowly rolling droplets of water that trailed lower with each fidget.   
“Whatever. I’m here now, aren’t I?” you grouched. “But anyways, what’s the plan for today? Out late again?”
“More all-day shoots,” he said, reaching up to replace one bottle of custom hair product for another. “And an interview to follow that’s meant to be a pre-recording for the morning programs tomorrow. So that could be close to midnight, depending on when we finish up.”
Your nose scrunched in sympathy. “Ew. I don’t get why you do all this stuff. It sounds like a nightmare. Human media is so strange.”
Maybe it was. But—
“It’s worth it,” he huffed, running one of his newer serums through the silky strands of his pale hair. He glanced down at you from beneath his dripping bangs. “Have you been using the conditioner I gave you?”
“Do you think there are functional showers in Hell?” you snipped, and then averted your gaze in chagrin. “I have been trying. I just—it’s not always an option all the time,” you said, a bit embarrassed.
“Come here,” he sighed, twirling his finger in a sign to show him her back, and you shifted closer obediently.
It was always so funny, he thought, as he reached out to scrub white bubbles into your mused hair. That you would spit and hiss, and throw such a tantrum over everything. But when it came to actually obeying his orders? You were always putting one foot in front of the other to meet him more than halfway. If he said ‘jump,’ you’d whine and complain but inevitably ask ‘how high.’ Like a loyal little stray that growled and raised its hackles but would come preening for food and attention at the first whistle.
“Sounds like a stressful day,” you hummed, arching into his fingers like a cat being stroked down its spine. “Are you still stuck working with that one guy you hate? Nigel, or whatever?”
“Neige,” he huffed, giving your hair a soft tug in rebuke. “And yes. The project hasn’t wrapped yet.”
“So a very stressful day,” you mused, tilted your head back to thump against his chest and stare up at him through the steady stream of water overhead. He watched the thin, feline-like, pupils of your eyes flash and widen into something round and dark. “This’ll be perfect then.”
“What?” he scoffed, as if he hadn’t just seen those pulsing, black pupils himself and felt something in his stomach tug. “That I’m stressed?”
“No,” you huffed, cheeks puffing out in irritation like he’d known they would. “Because I’ve been practicing.”
He arched a pointed brow and your cheeks went rounder yet. You stepped out of his hold and turned so the two of you were chest to chest. Vil let his hands fall to rest at the dip in your back and you pressed along him in one, lean line from toe to hip. Those strange, iridescent irises of yours flicked over his face, his lips, and those rabbit cheeks went hot with embarrassment. (“Humans kiss each other,” he’d said during one of their earliest meetings, when he’d leaned in with a smirk to brush his mouth against your temple and you’d nearly started seizing. “It’s what they do.” And you’d gone rattlingly indignant and started sputtering about impropriety of all things. All while you were sitting there butt naked and demanding he let you jerk him off so you could meet your weekly quota).
Your eyes dipped low beneath your lashes. And then you darted up quick to press a peck to his chin before immediately dropping to your knees. You leaned forward to nuzzle into the soft, blonde hairs tufted there and then dragged your tongue up the length of him in one, long lick. Vil fought a shiver.
“Practicing, huh?” he droned, affecting boredom as best he was able.
“Yes,” you replied, determined, and gave another lick. Shorter, this time. And more focused along the delicate, pink crown of him. “You made fun of me last time! Called it a ‘High Schooler’s First Blowjob!’ How could I not practice?”
“Oh? With who?” he scoffed, a bit more bitter jealousy seeping into the sneer than he would have liked.
Your face went scrunchy with embarrassment again and then you were sinking back down to run your tongue against the thick vein along the underside. Vil reached out to twine his fingers in your hair and you ducked forward to take him into your mouth.
“You’re lucky you caught me before I got out of the shower,” he said on a sigh, hips twitching when you gave a firmer suck. “This would hardly be worth dirtying myself all over again for—”
You pressed her tongue sharply into the little slit at the head and then dragged the muscle forward in a wide sweep—circling the whole of the most sensitive creases and then applying that same, lovely, suction all over again. Vil groaned, low and rumbling, and he could practically taste the bubbling excitement of your pride bursting along his lips.
You hummed—smug—intentionally loud and muzzy, so that it shot through the buzzing nerves in his skin like a symphony. Vil grit his teeth and dug his fingers into your hair to yank. Instead of popping off with an indignant whine and a trailing string of saliva, you narrowed your eyes at him and then dove forward—relaxing your throat and swallowing him down until your nose was pressed into his pubic bone. Vil cursed, head falling back against the tile wall with a punched-out moan and fingers twining shakily in the short hairs by the base of your skull.
“You have been practicing,” he mumbled, fighting the urge to go a bit cross-eyed when you swallowed around him.
You hummed in affirmation. It vibrated all the way from head to base and he shivered in time with it.
After too many long, long seconds of him nearly slipping down the wall with the curl of his toes, you popped off with a cough.
“I can hold my breath for ages now,” you declared proudly, a smear of milky white smudged along the corner of your lips. You leaned forward to prop your chin up against the jut of his hip bone and smirk up at him with a look that was a touch too genuinely excited to be truly impish. “Told you I could do it.”
“How foolish of me to have ever doubted your dedication,” he scoffed, still a bit too breathless for the sarcasm he was trying to spit. It nearly came out on a gasp and your grin grew wider. He sneered, a bit too harsh under his fluster, “What with your stalwart focus on never even touching the kits I’ve bought you. Let alone making any of the other bevy of improvements that I’ve been trying to put into place for weeks now.”
“Oh?” you droned, sharp. “Well, sorry to disappoint, Lord Vil. I guess I’ll just have to try harder.”
And then without preamble, you were swallowing him down all over again all the way to the root—nose brushing the soft, pale, hair there as you dutifully squeezed your throat and ran your tongue along the underside until he was practically seeing stars. You drove forward further, hands coming up to dig your nails into his thighs as you pushed yourself until you were trembling and pinpricks of sharp tears dotted your lashes. One of those hands shifted between his legs, and you reached out with careful fingers to twine around the delicate stones there and squeeze.
Vil curled forward and came with something that was nearly a shout, trembling and loose as he emptied himself down your throat. You swallowed around each pulse, sending zip after zip of oversensitive buzzing through his veins.
You pulled away with another round of coughing, looking positively debauched. You scrubbed some of the dripping water out of your eyes and then moved to swipe away the stray drops of sticky whiteness that had managed to escape your otherwise valiant efforts to drink him dry.
“Better?” you grinned, hair mused and cheeks wet and sore.
A quip rested on his tongue. Something about how you could not be, when there’d been nowhere to go but up? But the genuinely delighted look on your face, and the soft, hesitant, undercurrent of nervous tension underneath had him loosening his fingers from your hair to rub at one of the milky stains littering your chin.
“It was good,” he said. “Better than that, even. Well done.”
“Worth taking another shower for?” you beamed.
“Worth an entire morning’s routine,” he smiled, far too soft, and leaned down to press a long, wet, kiss to your lips when you went spluttery and shy.
.
.
“I can come by your trailer, if you want,” the succubus offered, as Vil busied himself with blotting a towel over your dripping hair.
“Oh?” he mused. “I thought you only needed to feed once a day.”
“Well, sure. But I mean for your stress relief,” you said on an indignant little puff, crossing your arms tight across your chest. You peeked up from beneath your lashes, cautious. “I mean, only if you’d want that sort of thing.”
He reached out to cup your cheeks and pinch. You whined under his prodding but didn’t swat him away.
Vil sighed, dramatic and put upon. “I suppose if you insist. How could I deny my most precious little protégé anything they ask, hmm?”
“Easily, if the past few weeks are anything to go by,” you sneered around his tugging. “And who’s ‘your protégé’?! I’m the succubus here!”
“Yes,” he drawled. “A succubus who’s needed me to teach them everything they know. What a fearsome creature, indeed.”
“I could fuck you to death,” you threatened, eyes flashing bright and eerie.
Vil pinched harder, until the skin under his fingers went nearly white, and you winced—those same, slitted eyes going a bit glassy and nervous. He leaned forward until his breath ghosted along your lips and he watched your throat bob in a gulp.
“I’d like to see you try.”
.
.
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visenyaism · 6 months
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🤲 fleabottomtop Follow
“queen rhaenyra is like maegor with tits” okay and i’d fuck him too what about it
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🐦‍⬛ raventr33 Follow
DNI if you support the usurper!!!!!!!!
🐎 brackennation
K
💯 peakesweep Follow
U
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❤️‍🔥 harrenwhore
y’all apparently @ muchandmore, like the tumblr witch who got caught stealing bones from the harrenhal graveyard for “protection charms” last year, keeps getting spotted on dragonback with PRINCE AEMOND ONE-EYE????
🎀 realms-delight Follow
like the k*nslaying war criminal???? isn’t he missing in the riverlands right now
🔮 muchandmore
not to those who know how to truly see the way…
🏵️ riverscrossing Follow
@ muchandmore y’all burned down my house yesterday. i hate this fucking website
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🍒 rhaenyrathecool Follow
“but his old tweets said-“ look at prince daemon and tell me he can’t reclaim. come on now
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🍄 mushroomed Follow
yoooooo streets are saying princess rhaenyra is using your tax money to have 80 person orgies every night
🦚 motheralicent Follow
is this true????? unfollow me if you support this wh0re
🌟 savvysab Follow
hey op where are the orgies. the ones with queen rhaenyra where are those happening. so i know how to avoid them because they’re a sin. if i wanted to not be involved in that where would i not go specifically
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🌷maidens-smile Follow
it literally says in the seven pointed star that b*stards are inherently sinful and base??? i don’t know why we’re trusting them with dragons now let alone the throne
🌊 spicetowngirl-deactivated1326953
hey just because someone’s parents aren’t married doesn’t mean they can’t be loyal and true!!!! prince jacaerys is a bastard and he’s doing a great job leading the war effort!
👑king-viserys-bot Follow
@ staff seize them and take their tongue🫵
[beep boop! i look for examples of the highest of treasons, questioning the paternity of mine own grandsons, the princes jacaerys, lucerys, and joffrey velaryon. if you think I’m doing a good job, tell me here!]
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🏅 tequilasunfyre Follow
i might get high in my tower but call me a targaryen the way i stay in bread
💥 sheepherder Follow
the targ taxes are literally the reason why we DONT have any bread you dumbfuck lizard loyalist. suggest everyone block and unfollow i don’t want to see this child murder apologist on my dash again
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🌖 crownbandz Follow
march back to KL boring as hell AND this edible ain’t shit
🌖 crownbandz Follow
why are the trees…..howling
🌖 crownbandz Follow
who the fuck is cregan stark
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🪲 teamgreenies Follow
guys i’m starting to think some of you don’t really care that much about andal succession law and actually just don’t like women???? this isn’t who we are
🐎 brackennation
K
💯 peakesweep Follow
U
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966 notes · View notes
eddiemuonson · 6 months
Text
"Sugar thing" - Steve Harrington x f!Reader
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Summary: You got cheated on and one of your ways to deal with pain is to eat too much ice cream. The perfect spot for that is Scoop's Ahoy and you meet the charming Steve Harrington, who's willing to make you feel better introducing you to his friends.
Warnings: Sex, unprotected sex, cursing, fluffiness overload. 18+ MINORS DNI
Word count: 6k+ (I lost count honestly)
🍦🍦🍦
"Ahoy! I'm Steve Harrington and what can I do for you today?", he sounded pretty much content. And you were about to cry if that didn't actually made you want to laugh.
He would do that all day and he would never get tired of it, apparently. You tapped your fingers against the counter and looked at the ice cream flavors.
You just wanted to eat the entire thing, so why not ask for one scoop of each? And you literally went for it.
"Hi, uhm... can I get one scoop of each flavor?", you asked. You'd probably be laughed at internally, he thought you were just kidding.
But your face was holding a serious expression.
"All of them?", he asked just to make sure and you nodded. "O-kay.."
He let out a soft side smile at you before scooping the whole fridge. He didn't question you, though. He didn't ask about it.
You were looking blankly at some point, your eyes burning from the tears threatening to fall off.
"There you go", he says as he hands you the ice cream. "That'll be 20 dollars".
You give him the money and he gives you the change. You walk away from the counter and sit at a table close to Scoop's Ahoy. Steve just stands there watching you enjoy your dessert.
He couldn't deny he was wondering how the hell you're going to eat all of that. Maybe you were just used to eating that amount of ice cream.
"Holy Jesus, she just high-key ordered the entire fridge. Girl is brave!", Robin whispers close to him by the counter.
Harrington lets out a giggle as he stares at you. You don't seem to be enjoying yourself, though. You look miserable, and the way you retract yourself automatically from your sadness.
You have been feeling like that for days, how could you not be when your former boyfriend cheated on you? You were nothing but loyal to him, you took care of him and you were devoted.
But he found a way to not care about all of that when he decided to get into someone else's pants and not care about you. Now you were there, sitting by yourself, eating like 398 pounds of ice cream.
While Steve was scooping with Robin, he would look at you once or twice, trying to figure out why you would ask for all the flavors. Maybe you were pregnant and had a craving?
Maybe you were just too fond of ice cream? Or maybe you were upset with something but he would never know.
At some point you left and Harrington didn't see you anymore. You were using your shift break to try new stuff at the mall. You're probably going to pull some weight at some point, but you didn't fucking care.
The next day you were once again at the Scoop's Ahoy, Steve was on his back organizing some things, too distracted to notice you there.
As soon as you rang the little bell on the counter, he turned to you as he was about to say the same words as always.
"Ahoy! I'm St- oh, hi!", he cut himself off as he saw it was you. "Hey, are you?".
You looked miserable, for instance. He could see that from a distance, but he tried to be nice to you.
"I'm good, thanks. Can I get the same from yesterday?", you were actually embarrassed to ask for that again.
Too much ice cream was never actually too much for you. And you were barely eating food recently.
He softly whispered "sure" as he began scooping your dessert. Again you were tapping against the counter as you looked at the way his hair was perfectly sat on his head.
His arms, neck and face had too many moles and you found it adorable. The way he would hum the music playing in the background.
"There you go!", he gave you the dessert and you gave him the money.
You gave him a slight smile and sat at the same table. You've made a schedule already, if anything you'd sit at the same table and eat the same flavors.
Almost the entire week you went there on your break and Steve would just say hi to you, ask how you were and make your order.
He would give you a nice smile and get back to his work. The entire time you were sat there, just eating and looking blankly at a fixed point, he would look at you.
It started to kind of bother him, because you were definitely having personal issues. He was urging to ask what the hell was going on with your life. He would like to know what happened to you and why you looked so sad.
This time you put on your headphones and started to listen to Bon Jovi. His music never failed to make you feel warm, but at the same time it reminds you of your old relationship.
It was still hurting, probably not that much like before, after it happened. But it was. It was a pain that might consume you from the inside. You were trying to not think too much about it, but it was too hard.
Before you leave, you waved at Harrington and Robin, who were distracted having a conversation. They waved back at you and Steve looked at you a warm smile.
It was Friday night, you had just left work and made your way to Scoop's Ahoy. Steve and Robin were probably already bored by seeing your face the entire week, they were wondering if you're ever going to feel sick of the ice cream.
It might even give you diabetes from eating too much sugar, but you didn't want to think about it now anyway.
"Hey, how are you?", he made sure he would be the one to serve you. This time he didn't even introduced himself because there was no need for it anymore. Steve immediately started scooping and he worked so fast on it, it impressed you.
"I'm fine", you smile at him. You were so tired of telling people you were fine when you weren't. But he was being so nice, it was too hard to not even respond to him.
He didn't say anything else. It's not like he was going to keep a conversation when he didn't even know your name. "And you?", you ask as you watch him grab a plastic spoon for you.
The way he looked down and a stray of his hair fell over his forehead looked hot, you thought to yourself. When Steve looked back at you, he had a different look in his eyes.
"I'm drained, honestly. I couldn't even get into Tech and my douchebag dad is trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour, and I have no future", he spilled.
It caught you off guard the way he was sarcastically smiling at you as you gave him your money.
"That's half the price for you today. Courtesy of the house", Harrington said. You were trying to gather all the information in such short time.
Then you gave him ten bucks and gave him a sympathy look. "I'm sorry about your situation. If it makes you feel better, I work at McDonald's. And I'm also trying to get into college, so".
You shrug your shoulders as you try to smile, but it comes off as a terrible disguise. He knows it already, you're going through some shitty stuff.
"At least you get to eat something different every day", he makes you laugh genuinely.
"I actually got sick of the burgers and the fries. The ice cream is terrible", you're being honest. It isn't for nothing you decided to go to Scoop's Ahoy instead.
He giggles at your affirmation and you raise your hand to shake his. All this time and he still didn't know your name. "I'm (Y/N)".
He grabs your hand firmly, it's soft and it's cold from the scoop. "I'm Steve."
"Steve", you both say it at the same time. "I know. Your tag name kinda gives it away", you're playful.
It kinda makes you feel warm at the interaction. It's honestly what you really needed after spending so much time being in deep shit. He laughs as he looks at his tag.
"I'm gonna have a bottle of water as well, in fact". You give him another bill and he nods.
"I'll go grab it inside. Have a seat, I'll be right back". You do as he says. He's usually pretty gentle with every girl that buys ice cream, to be honest.
It's not like you've never seen him serving people, he just holds this longing kindness towards people all the time. As you sat there eating your ice cream you felt a little lighter. You were holding this weight the entire time when you clearly didn't have to.
Steve showed up holding the water bottle and gave you another side smile as he put it on the table. You nod as a thank you and watch him take a seat next to you.
"I have ten minutes to spare", he explained. "I, uh..", he tried to speak up as he reached his hair. He looked kind of embarrassed. "Whatever happened to you, I hope you feel better".
He definitely figured you out, you can't hide your plain face when you're eating. You're always eating there alone. You're always looking sad, you're not wearing any makeup and you have darker circles under your eyes.
It just made you realize how miserable you must have been looking lately. If he noticed, everyone around do it too. It's only up to you to decide if you're holding your head up, or if you're going to care about what people think.
And you say to yourself, you don't care. You didn't care before.
You didn't know what to say other than "thank you". "You and I, we're gonna be thriving soon". You giggle at the way he says it so harmoniously.
"I hope so too. Thanks, Steve", you automatically rest one of your hands on his arm and he rests a hand on your hand for a slight second.
Robin called out his name before his break was over, because there were more people there now. It's Friday, every place is crowded. And then he leaves the table and you sit there watching him yell "Ahoy", trying scared the shit out of the kids as they laugh.
You were watching the agitation of the shop and eating peacefully. You wonder how Steve never feels his throat aching from shouting "ahoy" too many times every day and you can't help but laugh.
The ice cream suddenly burned your throat as soon as you see your ex approaching the same spot as you are. He's holding someone's hand as you stare at them both in slow motion as they get to the counter.
Steve is too busy scooping ice creams but he's occasionally looking your way. And then as Robin is getting the money and giving the changes, he watches as your face falls and you freeze. You become stiff and your face is as white as a paper towel.
You try to look away but you're too impressed to see the man you used to love standing there with another woman. They're sharing their feelings, they're smiling at each other.
He watches as you try to swallow the lump you're holding off and your dessert is already melting. The plastic spoon is being held tightly in your hand as you almost squeeze it. The couple leaves the shop and you look down.
You wait for them to get past you so he doesn't see you, and when they're a few feet your way you look at their direction. Harrington's got it all figured out now. It's somebody. You like him, don't you? You used to.
You tell yourself you're disgusted by him, but you were together for too long for your love to just fade away. You can't like him anymore, you need to move on. If you stay there at the same spot, you'll only burn yourself. You need to leave the train station and keep moving.
You can't hold the tears back and they fall relentlessly fast, you hold a napkin to your face and try to diguise it in front of people. It might work for the others, but Steve can't help but notice how broken and fragile you are.
That's why you're always there, you're trying to eat away your feelings, you're supressing your emotions through that damn dessert and it doesn't help at all. You eat, eat, eat, and it's still there. Fuck, when is this ever going to end?
If it was the other way around he might have been trying to move on already. He would be going out with millions of girls to get back at you, he would be trying to forget you. Why can't you?
You leave the table, you leave the ice cream behind. You're holding the napkin as you try to dry those damn tears that keep falling. You're walking too fast because you don't want to spend a minute there anymore.
You stop as soon as a hand grabs your forearm carefully and pulls you back. Steve is looking at you with some sort of compassion, he's trying to say he's sorry but he doesn't even know what you've been through. He's trying to be kind but he barely knows you.
The moment he offers a hug you don't hesitate, you just crash against his chest and starts breaking down. You don't care you're in the middle of a crowded mall, because people don't care to look at you, they don't care you're crying.
You wash over his costume and he just stays there holding you, stroking your hair while resting his other hand on your back. You're so miserable you're not even embarrassed you're sobbing.
You spent several minutes that way, until you realized you're missing the exact opportunity in front of you. As you stop crying, you try to clean your face with what there's left of the napkin. You're thankful you're not wearing makeup now, but you might look hideous.
He doesn't care how you look, honestly. He's being supportive right now and that's all.
"Hey, me and Robin are meeting a few friends later. Do you wanna join? It's just a small gathering by Nancy's house". He souds too soft, he's still holding your back, trying to wipe away a few small tears from your cheek.
God, you look ridiculous from this point of view. But there's nothing you can't do about.
"If you're feeling ok with this, you can tell me what happened. Or you can tell the girls, they're really supportive. I noticed there's a guy, they might even team up to kick his ass".
You laugh too hard at his statement and he chuckles. There's no way this guy is real. But you can't be too impressed by him like that, you trusted your ex too much and then shit happened. What if it happened again?
"Okay", you say simply. He nods and stares at his watch, it feels like he needs to go back.
"I'll pick up Robin and be by your house at 10", Steve breaks the contact before handing you a small paper and a pen. You write your address and give it to him. "Stop crying over a douchebag!". He demands as he vanishes among the people.
You're not feeling too comfortable but you can't stay home forever. You put on a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. If it's a small gathering then it's probably not a party. You could be hanging out with your friends but they like to do things you don't.
Sometimes you liked being by yourself but it's been too hard to be alone, at the same time it was too hard to go out.
Steve drops by your house exactly at 10 and you think how slow you are, because you're honestly almost always late for things. Except for work. You've only talked to Robin once as he was always trying to be the one to serve you for some reason.
You were quiet almost the entire drive, while Robin and Harrington tried cheering you up talking about work. They would always laugh too much and too loud. You wonder why they get along so well and not date. Only a while then you find out she likes the same species he likes and she's comfortable telling you that.
You start getting nervous being around people you don't actually know. But if they're as nice as both people standing next to you, then you won't have to worry about it. Nancy gets the door and greets the three of you, being too kind when getting to know you.
There aren't many people at her house, you meet her boyfriend Jonathan, her young brother Mike, who's talking about some board games with his friend Dustin. You meet Max, who's arguing over skateboard with this exotic guy who smells like weed, he's Eddie Munson.
It's very hard to catch up with all of them, because they're too comfortable around each other. But Robin makes you sit next to her and you end up between her and Steve, who's complaining about the music to Nancy.
Buckley manages to introduce you to their conversations, she asks if you like playing fantasy games since Mike, Dustin, Max and Eddie play Dungeons and Dragons. You start talking about your favorite movies, your favorite music, they bring you beer but you're only fond of cocktails.
Steve claims he knows how to be a great bartender and guides you to the kitchen, where you see there's a few bottles of somethings and some fruits. You end up asking him to make you a Piña Colada and he tries to look too cool in front of you as he shakes all the ingredients together.
"So, are they always too loud?", you ask with a grin on your face. He shakes his head as he rolls his eyes.
"God, yes. We are always too loud. That's what makes it more fun". He pours the content in a glass and grabs a straw. He tries to make a decoration but fails as the pineapple falls off of his fingers. He hands you the glass and you try it.
Jesus, that's a lot of rum in there. It burns down your throat and your stomach. Then you taste the pineapple. When you cough a little bit, he notices he overdid the shots.
"Sorry, I promise I'll make it low on alcohol next time", he sticks his hands together as he keeps apologizing. You offer it to him so he can have a taste as well.
It barely reached his stomach as his reaction is to jump back and open his mouth with an "O". "Fuck, that's one hell of a drink. You sure you don't want me to make you another one?".
You shake your head no and you walk back to the couch. They're trying to decide which pizza you're gonna order. They can't seem to decide without being extremely loud but you think it's really funny.
Steve feels lightheaded every time your arms touch, he feels you're becoming a little soft from the alcohol and blames himself.
When he asks you if you're doing okay you're already giving him slow responses, but you make sure you're fine. Probably for the best drinking something too strong, but the hit made you feel too comfortable around them already.
You offered yourself to make company to Eddie when he was about to smoke. You never smoked before, but the metalhead told you it wasn't safe to mix a drink and smoke at the same time so you just stood there while he blew his joint.
He was nice and funny, like messy funny. You share your interests in music and he invites you to watch his band play. He wears too many rings but you think he's cute as well.
When you got back inside they were listening to The Police, a few of them were dancing in pairs and Buckley literally shoved Steve at you so you would dance together. You snorted at her action and she winked at you.
You don't realize there's a purpose, but hold his hands anyway as he twirls you around. He's making some weird moves as he swings his body close to you. When "Every Breath You Take" starts playing most of them are already sat down.
Dustin is disgusted by how Jonathan and Nancy are kissing while they dance, Eddie jokes as he pulls Robin close and she flinches. Harrington grabbed your waist and made you rest your head against his chest. You're trying not to freak out as it's probably too weird to dance with him like that, but he feels his heart race a little.
"God, get a fucking room!", Henderson complained and changed the vinyl to something more exciting.
You were finishing your pizza, drinking your third glass of Piña Colada, which Harrington made sure he wasn't even adding too much of rum on it anymore. You were drunk already and he didn't want to feel guilty for making you hammered on your first gathering with them.
You offered to play Monopoly and everyone agreed, but there were too many people so you sorted the game with rounds first. You were still sitting next to Steve and he helped you get up when you had to pee.
You almost tripped over him, because he still had his legs crossed, and you had to hold yourself against his shoulders, your head hit against his chest.
It might be the damn alcohol but he smelled something like musk and it went straight up to your brain. You shortcircuited with the smell, you were so slow you took your time to get yourself up, still laughing.
"You okay?", he asks as he holds your hand, helping you walk between the people. You nod as you let yourself out of the living room. Your head is spinning and you feel like you're gonna throw up from the smell.
Not in a bad way, it just felt intoxicating. You heard Robin complaining about how strong he was making your drinks and he said he barely added rum in your third glass. You were just too weak to drink alcohol and you knew it.
You walk back as you watch them waiting for your turn and you almost trip over their heads again this time. Jonathan's hair is all messy and Nancy can't stop laughing when your now bare foot almost hits his chin.
"Alright, no more alcohol for you honey", Buckley grabs your drink and chugs it entirely. You pout as you look at Steve, who denies making you another drink.
"Fine", you proclaim. With a frown, you roll the dice and gets to own another apartment. You don't know how but you're really good at Monopoly when you're drunk.
"Do you mind sharing a room with me in one of those condos?", Harrington asks as he fails to get at least a six with the dice. You laugh at the way he just tries to drop your pins from the board game.
"I can share a room with you right now", you're too close to him as you try flirting. He notices his cheeks are burning and it makes him speechless. "No?", you try again and he just cleans his throat.
Robin is watching it front row as you see him clearly battling inside his head and she scoffs. "Jesus, Steve. Just say yes to the woman".
You watch him throw a cushion against her face and she grabs it in time. Your head is a little light but you're completely sane. You got cheated on, it's not like you're going back home to your ex.
"Steve is in a coma right now and I'm pretty sure he would say he would like to, but you're drunk", she manages to explain. Everyone is paying attention to the game, it's just the three of you having that conversation.
He takes his time but he comes back from his trance and still looks at you. You're not disappointed, though you're still drunk you keep paying attention to the game, giving him time to gather what you said.
You feel his hand softly grabbing your arm and you look at him closely. God, his eyes are intoxicating and his hair smells good as well. "Are you for real about what you said?".
You have nothing to lose anymore. You're having so much fun, you're around people you realized you already cherished a lot. You didn't give a shit about anything else, you wanted to enjoy the moment honestly. And the man next to you is so hot and adorable.
"I got cheated on, why can't I enjoy myself more than my ex?", you say it abruptly and he freezes again. This time, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the kitchen.
"Are you serious? Jesus, (Y/N), why didn't you tell me about it before?", he sounds like he's too shocked, you're acting like nothing happened. But the rum running through your veins is numbing the pain.
"Is that why you were ordering a huge amount of ice cream?", his tone is now caring. He looked at you as you just nodded.
"I'm telling you now! And yeah, I thought I would be able to drown myself in pain, but it didn't help", you try to stay calm and relaxed, but now it feels like you're about to cry again.
"I'm really sorry. God, what a fucking dickhead", he says as he holds his waist and look over you. "Look, you got us okay? Whenever you feel like you wanna cry or even just talk, we're here".
He's too soft on you, you can't really be mad he's bringing this over right now when you're drunk and having fun. But he makes sure to not step over your personal life more than he can. He gives you a sufocating hug, wrapping his arms around your neck.
You hold his back and pull his shirt against your fingers to make sure you won't cry again. He pulls away only a few inches just to look at you and his nose scratches the tip of your nose.
"It's his loss, you know?", he whispers and it makes you shiver. "Too bad for him". He's about to scrape his lips against yours, it smells like beer and mint from the gum he was chewing. God, it was distressing and so inviting.
Dustin yells "shit" so loud you break contact from the sudden action. You're both now really embarrassed and the moment just slips away. You try to laugh at the kid because he's always so loud and says shit too often.
You grab Steve by the hand and make your way back to the couch. Robin was watching you both the entire time and the look she gives Steve has so many meanings. She knows you just had a little cute moment and Henderson ruined it for good.
You were slowly recovering from the alcohol and you noticed how quieter you've become since then. Harrington kept making jokes you were still laughing about, but again, being around them was too intimidating.
When the game was over Nancy made sure everyone would sleep over and demanded you all to stay. She would make sure Mike's clothes would fit the older guys and offered hers to the girls. Everyone said yes and you thought why not?
It was already 2 am when the kids decided to play videogame and you were too tired to watch them play. So you stayed in the living room, you borrowed a book from Nancy and laid down on another couch. You fell asleep a while later, a faint sound was coming out of the TV.
The kids were whispering while sharing blankets and pillows, laughing about something inaudibly. You felt a warm hand wrap around the book you were holding, removing it from your hand. It was when you slowly woke up. You peeked Steve watching you, probably calling you.
"Hey, let's get in bed. It's pretty much more comfortable and warm", his voice was husky as he spoke quietly. You softly chuckled as you sat up and started making your way upstairs with Steve behind you.
As you approached the guest room, you suddenly stopped moving and turned to face him. He raised his eyebrows waiting for you to speak. "I wasn't lying about sharing a room before. Can you make me company?".
He felt his stomatch sink, but he knew you were only asking him to stay next to you and maybe spoon you if you asked.
"Sure", he agreed as he opened the door to another guest room. It was empty. You close the door behind you, you don't have time to really collect yourself but you feel like you really wanna jump on him right now.
You watch him getting the bed ready as you stand behind him and just holds his chest, resting your head against his back. God he smells so good, it's really hard to breathe that close to him. He holds your hand as he turns around and you slowly push him against the bed.
He sits down, watching while you start to climb on him, both legs around his hips. This time, you make sure to kiss him before anything or anyone ruins the moment again and it's soft, it tastes like toothpaste and it feels too fresh. He's slow when he touches his tongue against yours, savoring you.
He spread his palms against your back as you keep your hands cupping his neck full of moles. He deepens the kiss and slides one hand down to your thigh. You're fully clothed, he thinks. It's a shame he can't feel your skin right away.
You undress him first, taking his shirt off as you take your time staring at his hairy chest, also full of moles spread around. His nipples already too hard and you felt like you could suck on them for hours, because you loved men nipples. You start making a trail of kisses along his neck until you grab him by his mouth again.
This time, it's fast and lustful, his tongue is making circles around yours and you feel something under your core light up. His reaction sends shockwaves through your whole body and you feel your own nipples harden. He uses both hands to help you get rid of your own shirt and gasps at his view.
You're not wearing a bra anymore since you changed clothes. Your bare chest sends shivers to his body and his blood starts pumping faster down his pants and it's already pressing against the fabric.
He gently grabs both breasts and give them both a soft and moist kiss, making sure he's sucking on your had nipples. You hiss against his touch and he starts growing faster under you.
He licks your skin until he reaches your mouth, grasping your lower lip against his teeth. He groans against you and you pull his hair, making a mess. He likes rough hair grabbing, noted.
He clenches his jaw every time you give him a lustful look. Your eyes barely open as he rubs his thumbs against your nipple.
You have to get up to take your pants off and you watch him to the same. He takes his time, though, not fully undressing himself, but he expects you to climb on him again. When you do, you feel how huge his crotch feels now with your thin underwear against his.
It twitches when you kiss him faster, it twitches when you pull his tongue with your teeth. When you start moving around his lap he moans in your ear and you moan back. He's trying not to dig his nails against the skin on your back.
He wanders his hands across your body and lands his palms on your thighs, squeezing them so tightly you start to ride him again. Your kisses are feral and he gathered his strenght to pull you up only to throw you against the mattress.
He spreads kisses all over your skin, making sure he left soft left bites against it. Steve wasn't in a rush, he was enjoying every little inch of your body, but his cock was aching already.
You removed your underwear and helped him with his fabric, watching as his dick slapped against his stomach, his tip was already moist and red. It made you feel dizzy for a second before he went back to kissing you.
His cock was softly scraping against your folds and you were whining against his lips, your kisses became sloppy and he managed to rub it against your core.
Harrington wondered if it was fine to not wear protection and you assured him it wasn't an issue. Usually you would use one, but now you just couldn't be bothered about it.
He placed his tip into your hole and breathed heavily, his forehead leaned against yours. He pushed inside you carefully because he didn't know if it would fit, or even if you were wet enough for him.
But God you were soaking. And he made sure you knew that. "Jesus, so wet for me", he chuckled. One of his hands gripping your waist as the other one was resting on your chin.
You felt his entire length inside you and you tried not to moan too loud, you squeezed your hands holding the sheets under your body and he pumped you.
He didn't stop looking at you for a single moment, Steve just kept thrusting inside you a little faster while giving you sloppy kisses. His heavy breathing hitting your face as you started to make muffle sounds against his lips.
He hit your spot perfectly, his tip rubbing against your walls as you started to roll your hips and he gasped.
You could hear his skin slapping against yours every time he pumped you harder, your hands almost pulling his hair out as you were trying, unsuccessfully, to hold your moans.
"Oh, Steve", you cried and he growled, hitting you harder. His tip was hitting your cervix and you knew if you kept rolling your hips you wouldn't last longer.
"God. You", he started as he planted a kiss on your neck. "Are", Harrington kissed your chest. "Fucking", he pumped you and kissed your nipple. "Delicious", he hit you harder and sucked on your skin.
You almost let out a scream and he laughed at the way you were looking at him, your eyes were flickering with desire. He shifted your legs, holding one above his shoulder and your walls clenched around his dick. "Shhh, we don't wanna wake the whole house", he whispered.
He was honestly just mocking you and teasing you now that he was holding your leg. He spread kisses on your skin as he started to rub your clit with his large thumb with the other hand.
You rolled against him and he couldn't hold it any longer. "Fuck, you're eating me out here. I'm gonna fucking cum", he moaned.
You noticed you liked it when he cursed while fucking, the way his chest was all sweaty and his hair was glued to his face made you flinch on his touch.
His finger was soft on you, too slow to say the least, you started digging your nails on his skin when you grabbed his hand, forcing him to stop masturbating you. But he didn't.
"OhgodSteve", you whined, short on breath. He pumped against you and you started shuddering. You hissed and your body trembled under him. He leaned forward and kissed you, his tongue caressing your lips as you were still releasing from your climax.
"Fuck, you're so good", he groaned on your lips and he let out a grunt as he started to soak you from the inside. He fell on his arms and hit your chest. His cock was twitching so hard in your core, you almost had another orgasm. Steve laid on you for a while until he was done with his cum.
He gasped when he left you empy and you felt his warm liquid dripping off of you. He quickly managed to get you cleaned up first, thanks to the suite Nancy had.
After both of you got in on your clothes, you laid down next to him as he cuddled you, resting his face on the crook of your neck. He inhaled your skin, smelling you.
"You are amazing", he said before planting another kiss on you.
"You are wonderful", you rub your fingers while holding his hand.
You think through your day, how it began and how it ended. You weren't sure if what just happened was a single fuck or just a fling. Or something else. But you made a mental note to yourself that you weren't going to make yourself feel bad for being cheated on.
Like Harrington said, it was his loss. He made the mistake, he messed things up. You have every right and you deserve to be happy as well. You didn't notice how Steve looked at you the entire week. You didn't see how he stared at you the whole time.
You didn't know that, when the morning comes, he's still going to be the lying next to you. Steve was sleeping on you, glued to your skin, inhaling your scent, he wouldn't move a finger to break the contact. Maybe you wouldn't want that either.
The birds were already chirping outside, it was still pretty early but you had to pee. You couldn't even move as you saw his arm spread over you, his soft hand almost touching your stomach. It gave you chills. You tried to get up quietly as you placed his arm gently on the mattress.
You barely took a step as you feel his hand grab your forearm desperately. "Are you leaving?", his hair looks like a bird nest, his mouth has dry drool and he looks too sleepy. You find him incredibly adorable like that and you giggle at his tought.
"I have to pee, Steve". He loosens his grip and nods, his head falls back again into the pillow and you make your way to the bathroom.
"Don't take too long, I miss you here already", his voice barely comes out but you can hear him. Jesus, he's that needy? You think it's cute. Robin will be going to be a pain in the ass about you two for the next century, he just knows it.
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king--of--ducks · 2 months
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I am Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, sin of Pride!
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🍎I am Lucifer Morningstar, but you can call me Luci’ or even Apple Daddy if you wish~🍎
🍎I have a daughter named Charlotte, but everyone calls her Charlie. And if anyone hurts her, well, I’ll fucking wipe them out. This is my game, I’m the ref!🍎
🍎Charlie has informed me that I, apparently, have fans on the internet? And I figured if there are people who love me out there, might as well talk to them! Take that depression!🍎
🍎No spamming walls of text/emojis in my ask!🍎
OOC:I have no association with Vivziepop or her characters, this is just an obsessed fan being bored and goofing off. Things will most likely be out of character at times, I’m just kinda having fun with this.
I have a Discord server
Oh wow, it’s lore!
The Morning(star)
The Blue-Gem series
Mod—
@sockmanduckman Friends—
@alyxdefoisnthere—Bad sleep schedule
Circle of role players—
Same mod—
@moxxies-wife—Blitzø’s employee #1
@mammon-money-maker—Nuisance
@wally-wackfords-wacky-blog—Blitzø’s old chum
Family—
@charlie-morningstar666–My beautiful little girl!
@the-moth-ex-angel—Soon to be daughter in law!
@god-the-lord—My father has Tumblr?!?!
@theholymessenger—Gabriel
@theholyhealer—Raphael
@michael-the-morningstar—Michael
@heavenly--knight—Another Michael?!?!
Other—
@blitztheoissilent—Blitzø (formerly @blitz-horsie-enthusiast and @blitz-the-o-is-silent)
@logical-imp—Blitzø’s employee #2
@ducky-loyal-servant-of-lucifer—Ducky :D
@xxsmilingdeerxx—Freak
@mcalastor—McDonalds freak
@fizzythefrog—Blitzø’s bestie
@featheryhoe—Ozzy!
@blue-gem-overlord—Ripoff Lapis
@heavens-gatekeeper—Petah!!!!
@king-mammon—Another Mammon
@the-original-dickmaster—Adam
@the-exterminator—Adam’s petty ex
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bet-on-me-13 · 11 months
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Immortal Cop Danny P.2
Part 1
So, we have seen my scenario where Danny is revealed as an Immortal Cop really late in the Timeline, like nearly the entire Batfamily has already been formed kinds of late.
But what about a world where Danny has been on the Force since Batman Year 1?
Officer/Detective Nightingale has been one of the best and most loyal members of the GCPD for well over 3 decades. He didn't hide his "Meta Ability" when he first joined the force, since Gotham hadn't been introduced to all of their Superpowered Rouges yet, and the attitude for Metas in Gotham was nowhere near as harsh as it would be in the future.
He was one of the Go-To Cops in the early days of the Batman, since he had proven to be trustworthy and most people felt comfortable talking to him. Most of the community respected him, although some saw his power of Immortality as unnatural or freakish.
Batman met Officer Danny on one of his earliest cases. Danny pushed him out of the way of a Bullet and saved his life, getting shot in the process.
Bruce will never forget when Danny reached into the hole on his side and pulled the bullet out with his fingers. He didn't even flinch.
Danny has also been one of Commissioner Gordon's best friends and closest confidants for years. He was even offered the job of Commissioner once due to his extensive experience on the Force, but refused since he knew Gotham would never accept a Meta Commissioner, or maybe because he believed that he wasn't the right fit for the job.
Dick remembers the time when Officer Nightingale found out about Robin's age. He will always think of Danny laying into Bruce for bringing in such a young kid as one of his fondest memories.
Gordon remembers being invited to dinner with Danny's mom, a nice if cryptic lady dressed in gothic clothes who thanked him for all the work he did for the city, and for keeping her streets as safe as possible. Apparently she did the same for Batman, who had gone to Danny's apartment for some information and left with a full belly and plenty of leftovers.
He was basically the best Cop you could ask for. Calm, kind, honest, understanding, and he genuinely seemed to be trying to help the people around him.
Barbra calls him Uncle Danny, and he was there to help her adjust when she lost use of her legs.
Commissioner Gordon thinks of Danny as his best Cop/Friend, unflappable and loyal to a fault.
Bruce thinks of him as one of his more trusted allies, on the same level as Commissioner Gordon even.
Robin called him "Cool Cop D". Later, he was one of the reasons Dick decided to become a Police Officer.
Hell, even Damian commended the man's resolve to help the City, which was considered a monumental feat at the time.
Which is why it was such a shock when Danny disappeared.
He just didn't show up for work one day. This in and of itself wasn't too out of the ordinary, but he usually called in to tell them he was gonna miss a day. They thought it was just because he was so anxious lately, jumping at the little things like a guy bumping into him or asking to leave room at the mention of Autopsies
Then he missed the next day. Not that bad, I mean he had been really stressed out recently. Maybe he just needed an extra day, to work off the stress? Nobody was really worried anything had happened to him, he was immortal after all, but they were still concerned.
Then he missed a third day. This was far more concerning. The last time this happened, Danny had been found passed out in his apartment because he hadn't slept in days and hadn't eaten in weeks (what's the point if he won't die either way?).
He had been put on medical leave for a month after that.
So one of the guys decided to visit his house, just to see if he needed some help.
They find the apartment empty. No evidence that he ever lived there. It was like the entire place had been scrubbed clean of anything that even hinted at his existence, and whoever had done it obviously wanted to cover their tracks.
So, an investigation is launched.
And almost instantly, the Feds take the Case from the GCPD and declare Danny as dead a week later.
Seems they forgot to take a look at his Resume...
So Gordon takes this to Bats, who immediately starts investigating the Feds in White who showed up to steal the case.
...
Tag List:
@overtherose @kyrianclawraith @ghostreblogging @the-autistic-spider @just-rant-and-write-fic-idea
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ripdragonbeans · 1 month
Text
To Whatever End // HighLord!Aemond x Mate!Reader
For @targaryen-dynasty's February Sleepover!
Btw if you can't tell it's an A Court of Thorns and Roses AU but also this is fanfic
Thank you @exitpursuedbyavulcan for being my beta! ❤️
Prompts: "I just want to please you" // "let me take care of you"
Summary: High Lord Aemond traded himself for his Court to keep those he loved safe. In giving himself, however, he found himself bound to the witch Alys Rivers and committed atrocities to the other Courts. But it's been too long. Much too long. Aemond's mate, his true love, takes fate into her own hands and goes to free him. To whatever end.
CW: blood, character death, smut, consensual kidnapping???, oral f and m receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, 3rd person
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Long silver-blond hair. A violet eye. A sapphire in place of the other. Expert swordsman. Magic wielder. Cruel but loyal. Wingspan like no other. Aemond Targaryen, High Lord of the Night Court.
Aemond Targaryen loved his Court. He would do anything and everything to keep it safe, including offering all of himself to a witch. This witch, Alys Rivers, had him on a tight leash. Very rarely was he able to do what he wished. Very rarely was he able to visit his mother, brother, or sister. Worst of all, he was forbidden to see his mate.
His mate, how he loved her so. When the mating bond clicked into place for them it made everything right. Alys Rivers, however, yanked him back as far as she could. She claimed that if he ever tried to go back to his mate she would destroy her and his precious Night Court. So, she kept him at her side; forced him to execute any innocent who dared look at her. Used his magic to raise hell on every other Court but his. The other High Lords thought Aemond to be a lover to Alys. They believed he warmed her bed to have power over them all. Little did they know that was as far from the truth as possible.
Years went by. Then decades. Then centuries. Aemond could stand it no longer. He was wearing down in the most terrible of ways. His resolve was breaking, he was becoming numb, he was beginning to forget his mate, his family, his Court. Every now and then Alys would try to lay with him. She knew forcing him would do nothing, but to make him desperate enough to be with her would break him. She was close to this, too. Her seductive ways had been beating down on him. He was desperate to get out, he was in pain, he felt guilty for even having those thoughts about Alys.
His mate. He needed his mate.
She could feel anguish, his pain, through the bond. It was enough. It had been long enough, too long, she thought. Tonight, she would bring her mate home and destroy Alys.
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As she made her way through the halls of the House of Dreams, all she could think of was Aemond. They could never talk through their bond; Alys was able to block that part. The occasional tug from either of them was all that they had to keep them together. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts of Aemond that she walked straight into Helaena, Aemond’s sister.
“Thank the gods I found you!” Helaena sighed in relief. “We just received word that Alys attacked the Winter Court. Apparently, it was out of pure amusement.” The bite in her voice was evident.
“Aemond! Was he -”
“Cregan Stark reported that Aemond was there,” her voice faded down to a whisper, “punishing those who were captured instead of killed.”
The sister’s friend closed her eyes in pain and whispered her mate’s name.
“Helaena, I'm getting him back. We are ridding Westeros of Alys and bringing him back home.”
“When do you go?”
“I am going now. Wish me luck, friend.”
“Wait!” Helaena grabbed her arm. “There are rumors of the Winter Court planning to fight back against Alys; that is why they were targeted.” She looked directly into her eyes. “Destroy her.”
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Much like her mate, she had wings. Not as beautiful as Aemond’s and not nearly as big, but big enough to fly her way to the Winter Court. The journey there was long and grueling. She tried to take no breaks and the ones that she did were brief and out of pure necessity. As she got closer to the court, she could feel the mating bond grown in strength. Yes, Aemond was always near to Alys in the Court of Nightmares, but with her focusing on the attack, her magic against the bond has weakened.
She followed that bond, followed it all the way to the Winter Court Palace. It was there she found Aemond, kneeling beside Alys as she sat on a throne, like a dog.
“Look what we have here, Aemond.” She looked the mate up and down. “I thought I told you that if she came here or you to her that I would kill her and all that you hold dear.”
Aemond made eye contact with you. He was pleading for her to leave, to be safe.
The mate said, “No. I'm not leaving you.”
Alys chuckled. “A fight you wish, then? A fight you shall get.”
“I've always been ready to fight you, ever since you took Aemond away from me.”
“Oh, but you won't be fighting me. You'll be fighting my dear pet.” She gestured towards Aemond.
Fear and denial slid over her body like ice. No.
“I refuse to fight him.”
“You see, your refusal would be accepted but our dear Aemond here made another bargain with me.” Indeed, along with the mating bond tattoo there was a new one. One that held him to his word. He believed you wouldn't try to reach him, so he vowed to fight you if you ever showed up as payment of me keeping the Night Court and the other Solar Courts safe.” Her laugh was nails scraping against rocks.
Aemond slowly rose and unsheathed his sword. Every move was painful. He tried to resist but it was futile.
He whispered to his love, “Please, leave. I do not wish to hurt you.”
“You have already hurt me by believing I would not come to you.” She let the pain shine in her eyes. “But I forgive you, Aemond. I love you.” And she drew her own sword.
“Ah, but to make it interesting,” Alys chimed in. “I will release him from his bargains should either of you deliver a devastating blow on the other.”
Hatred coursed through her veins. “You are vile,” she spat.
“That was not part of the bargain!” Aemond yelled.
Alys laughed. “It may not be, but it will still be amusing.”
His love turned to him. “I love you, but if this is what must happen, so be it.”
Aemond slowly raised his sword and readied himself to fight his mate. Just one devastating blow, that would be it. They could be free.
Their fight was a dance. Twirling to block, lunging to attack. Sweeping up into the sky to avoid. Sweat poured down their bodies. The muscles in their backs screamed with pain and exhaustion as they were constantly in the air. It was all they could to not hurt each other. However, while in the air, away from Alys’ prying ears, they made a plan.
Eventually Aemond found his sword against her throat. He pressed against her until pebbles of blood formed. The bond shook.
“I have her and I have drawn blood,” he called to Alys. “Free me, and free her, and free the Courts.”
Alys tutted. “I said a devastating blow, not a threatening one.”
Aemond’s mate looked to Alys then back to him. He whispered to her, “Now.”
She removed the sword from her neck, ignoring the slicing pain as she slid her hand to the hilt and threw it, aimed perfectly at Alys’. Practiced in magic, however, she deflected it with ease.
“How rude! Attacking a spectator!” She glided towards her. “And now you must pay the price.”
“No, you shall.”
Aemond had retrieved his sword to plunge it through Alys’ neck. He mustered all his strength and poured the magic that she had transferred to him when she was against his sword, as well as his, into the attack and sliced Alys’ head clean off. It fell to the ground with a thud.
Black blood erupted from the body, drenching her and Aemond.
Aemond could only look at his mate. “We did it,” he breathed. “She's gone and all the Courts are free.”
“Yes, we are free.”
Aemond took a step. Then another. Then another. Until he was right in front of her. He gently cradled her face with his blood-soaked hands and brought his lips to hers.
“I thought I would never see you again,” she said against him.
He pulled away. “I must tell you more, I never stopped believing in you. But we must inform Cregan that we are all free.”
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Back-to-back the couple cut down and remaining soldiers loyal to Alys until they found Cregan in his own battle. The three of them were quick to overpower the opponents.
Cregan turned to Aemond, the fact that he was standing before him without Alys trailing him hit him hard.
“Is she,” he could not bring himself to ask the full question, lest the answer be unsavory.
“She is gone,” Aemond claimed. He opened his wings to their full length. “She is gone, and we are all free.”
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Together, Aemond, his mate, and Cregan announced to the Winter Court that Alys was no more.
“We shall rebuild to be stronger,” Cregan said to his people. He turned to Aemond. “We shall unite.”
Aemond’s mate replied for him, “And together we shall rise above the ashes.”
Once the theatrics were over, the two lovers flew back to the Night Court. While they took limited breaks, they stopped right before arriving at the House of Dreams.
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Wings tucked in, they arrived at an inn, Rita's, and found a room.
As soon as the door closed behind them Aemond’s lips were on hers. They danced together as though they were never apart. But their hands wandered as though they were strangers.
He slowly slipped her flying leathers off her beautiful body, taking in every inch of her. Every curve, every scar. He crawled up her body and brushed a hand over the now healed scar that branded her neck. Her body stiffened but in pleasure rather than fear. His touch was gentle, sensual.
“Don't worry,” he said, “I’ll take care of you.” And he kissed her gently.
He pulled away and kissed down her body, paying extra attention to the junction between her neck and shoulder, biting it then soothing it with his tongue.
She extended her neck, wanting more. “Please, my love,” she begged.
Aemond smirked against her and continued his way down her body until he came to her chest.
“Gods, I've missed these beautiful tits.”
He was quick to take a hardened bud into his mouth to tease and lick. Her back arched, wanting, needing, more. His hand slid up her body to play with the other nipple, tweaking and flicking it. All she could do was moan.
He switched, giving the other the same treatment with his mouth. She could feel the coil in her stomach tighten. When he was satisfied with her panting, he continued his journey down her body. He stopped at the apex of her thighs. He looked in awe as he gently stroked her folds.
“Aemond -”
He shushed her. “I just want to please you.”
Aemond tentatively brushed her bundle of nerves and watched as she writhed at her touch.
She looked at him, desperate to see him, only to find a devious smirk on his lips.
“Look at you, so wet for me already. Have you missed me that much?” He taunted.
“Yes, of course I've missed - gods!”
His mouth was upon her, his nose rubbing against her as he feasted upon her. All she could feel was him. All that mattered was him. She closed her eyes in ecstacy as the coil within her threatened to snap.
“Aemond I'm going -” she was cut short by her own wordless scream. A wave of pleasure crashed down upon her.
Aemond, however, kept feasting on her. He did not want to stop. She tasted divine and he needed more. Her hips bucked up with each lick. The pressure of pleasure began to build up again. He then moved to suck on her bud and plunged two fingers into her wet heat. The change itself was enough to bring her over the edge again. Only then did Aemond lift his head up. Her slick coating his mouth. She reached for him and kissed him deeply.
“Now it is my turn.” She nipped at his ear.
She stripped him of his clothes and ran her hands all over his body. Up and down her hands went, taking it all in, until she got to his length.
It had been so long since she had seen it; she forgot how big and thick he was. He was already hard and his tip was red and weeping. As she ran her hand over his cock he bucked his hips up, racing for more.
His love obliged by sinking down and taking him into her mouth. He groaned as she began to bob her head up and down, tongue swirling around.
“Fuck, my love!”
She hummed in response, earning another groan from him. She could feel he was close and was ready to take his seed, but he pulled out.
Aemond pulled her into a searing kiss. “I am going to finish in you. Not in your mouth but in your hot, wet cunt.”
His language sent a thrill down her spine.
“Face down, ass up,” he ordered.
She complied, excited for what was to come next.
She felt him shuffle behind her. In one swift motion he sheathed himself fully inside her. They both moaned at the feeling of the other. Taking their time, they just stayed there like that.
Until Aemond began moving his hips.
“You feel so good around my cock,” he ground out.
He picked up speed, fucking her into the mattress. She moved along with him, wanting him to be as deep as possible within her.
Aemond’s thrusts soon became sloppy, his rhythm uneven. With each motion of his cock her pleasure began to crest.
“Aemond, please I'm going to -”
“Together. I want us to finish together.”
With one final thrust, she screamed as she tightened around him, triggering his own orgasm.
They collapsed on the bed, his cock still inside her. Together they stayed there until Aemond pushed himself up to grab a wet rag to clean them up. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before wrapping his wings around her.
I am yours and you are mine, Aemond sent down the bond.
To whatever end, my love, she sent back.
She pulled him down into another searing kiss, this one promising that they would not be separated again.
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lazycats-stuff · 2 months
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Hello, hope you're having a good day/night
I was wondering if I could request Bruce x Bat Dad (and some bat fam)
What if reader knew about the darker things in the world like demons and horrors unimaginable from the time he was small and that's why he doesn't talk about things like growing up or his family.
What if reader gets captured by a cult that torture him in order to force reader to translate strange eldritch books and artifacts.
You can choose how long it takes for Bruce to find reader
(What if Bruce and the batfam find out that reader has been hunting and investigating the supernatural like a small base of operations that looks more like a library with hidden weapons)
Hi, I hope you have a good day or night too. Of course you can request. Hehe. Lets go. Also, I'm sorry for taking so long... I hope you like it! And yes, the ending may be rushed, but it's not that bad.
Summary: (Y/N) gets taken for his knowledge.
Warnings: cult, fight, implications of torture... Nothing is really direct per say.
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(Y/N) sighed as he closed his old leather book. He wished he didn't have this knowledge, this... (Y/N) swallowed as he put his book back and left the room, closing the fake bookcase. He rubbed his face as he was tired from this life. He wished he didn't have this knowledge. He knows the things that would turn the world upside down.
He met with hell's worst demons and he saw some of the other unspeakable horrors. (Y/N) never had a good life. He grew up in a satanic cult, the one who was genuinely believing that Satan is coming and that they are going to be his loyal servants.
He was apparently marked by Satan when he was born, but then again, when you are in a cult, you believe what they tell you. (Y/N) escaped when he was 16 years old, running like the devil himself was chasing him. (Y/N) came to Gotham with only clothes on his back.
Soon he met a nice guy who helped him. (Y/N) is smart and intelligent and he managed to start high school. He graduated after 3 years and went on to study history and religion at college. He was always interested in those things and soon enough, he found himself working in a museum.
It was a nice change of pace for once. Learning about old things and older religions and he liked it when he could teach someone something new. Of course, he was vigilant of new people and people in general. He was careful when meeting someone new, hoping that the cult didn't go after him. He could only hope so.
Dating after being in a cult it's difficult. Always suspicious of any one coming into his life romantically. Men or women, being suspicious from the get go was a certified way to see if someone was from the cult. It was also one of the fastest ways to get your relationship destroyed.
Then Bruce Wayne came into his life.
It was a coincidence. Bruce saw an interesting exhibition and decided to treat Damian to a little treat. (Y/N) was making his way through the museum, just enjoying his day and making sure every visitor was taken care of. He saw Bruce and Damian, looking in confusion.
(Y/N) walked over and asked if everything was okay and the rest was history. He lead the two through the museum, enjoying the fact that Damian knew a lot about history and it was actually fun to debate a child who knew something over a fact.
Bruce was quiet, enjoying the tour and well... Love at first sight for Bruce. He was chatting with (Y/N) and saw how guarded he was. Sure, everyone is guarded around strangers, but this is a whole another level of being guarded.
Bruce was rather intrigued, but he didn't want to push any boundaries. So he left (Y/N) his number, saying no pressure to say yes, but do call.
To say (Y/N) was a nervous wreck is an understatement. What the hell was Bruce Wayne doing with him? Was he just looking for a one night stand? Or was just flirting to keep with the playboy persona? He came home and stared at the card for 10 minutes, thinking about it.
Should he?
Should he not?
You know what? He's not made from glass. He will go for it and whatever happens, happens. He texted Bruce, he wasn't really brave enough to call. He really wasn't.
He jumped when he saw that Bruce responded.
To cut a very long story short, Bruce and (Y/N) are together to this day. The date went very well and (Y/N) was happy for the first time. He has never been happier. Together with a man who loves him and the kids who love him.
(Y/N) may love the kids more than Bruce, but Bruce won't complain. Anyone who accepted his kids, he was more than happy and if that person loved the kids more than Bruce...
Of course, in platonic way.
But there was something that bothered the family, well, not bothered, but it was interesting to them. It was (Y/N)'s past. It was something he hid and refused to talk about. He would get closed off and cold and soon enough they learnt to not ask about it.
Of course, in a family full of detectives, they wanted to investigate, but they knew that they shouldn't have because it was an invasion of privacy. So, they have decided to leave (Y/N)'s past alone.
Also, one thing that they loved about (Y/N) was the fact that he was teaching them history, something they all loved. Jason was a fan of Egypt and Sumerians. Dick loved European history, more so medieval times. Tim loved the Enigma and the making of a first computer?
And Damian? World War Two and Arabic history.
Alfred loved (Y/N) too and he would love nothing more for Bruce to marry that man. God knows that this household needs another emotionally stable person. Somewhat...
Alfred was not the one to complain.
He saw how (Y/N) and Bruce complimented one another and Bruce gave (Y/N) a push to write his book about history of religion. (Y/N) has always wanted to write that and Bruce gave him a push he needed. But not financially.
(Y/N) said he would do it all on his own. Bruce had no problem with that statement. He agreed to not pull connections with anyone or any publishing house. But he wasn't against getting (Y/N) his materials. He had no problem delivering the materials right to his door or at his work.
(Y/N) knew that Bruce was Batman so he knew that Bruce was in front of his apartment or in his office. (Y/N) enjoyed and was happy to see them.
(Y/N) entered his apartment and went to the kitchen. He was completely oblivious to the fact that there was a dark figure in his living room. (Y/N) took a sip of the water before he heard a creak on the floor board. He acted like it was nothing before throwing the glass in the direction on the sound. He hit the figure and (Y/N) grabbed a knife.
(Y/N) watched as the figure doubled down in pain, before recovering. The figure has stepped into the light and (Y/N) recognized the face.
" You motherfucker... " (Y/N) said as he gripped the handle of the knife tighter.
" That's no way to talk to your leader. " The deep male voice said and (Y/N) sized him up.
Maybe he can make it out. But the leader is strong and full of muscles. He has to evade him. Somehow.
That plan went down to shit when he saw two more figures. Sure, the leader needs to have protection. (Y/N) glanced between the trio. Someone is going to attack first.
Which one is the question.
(Y/N) ducked a punch and tried to stab the incoming one, but he was hurled over the couch, taking it with him. (Y/N) grunted as he hit the floor and he stood up after a few moments. He didn't have his knife with him.
Shit.
He nearly died when there was a fourth figure picking him up, before throwing him into his glass coffee table. (Y/N) grunted as he hit his head. He hissed as he tried to get up, but a kick to his face sent him flying back and he was dazed.
" I'm not coming with you. " (Y/N) said as he wiped the blood from his face.
" Oh you are. We know you can translate the demon transcriptions. And we need those translations. " The leader said and (Y/N) glared at them.
He won't go out without a fight.
" You are outnumbered. There is no way out. " The leader said and (Y/N) glanced at the other two. They were blocking the exit. They only way is to fight out or at least try.
But there was no weapon in sight. So he was screwed. Kicking and punching his way out can only take him so far.
But he had to try.
So he did just that. He tried to fight, but he was punched in the jaw quickly that he was nearly knocked. He fell down, hitting his head hard once more.
His vision was swimming and he couldn't see who was where anymore. His only hope now was Bruce. He knew Bruce would drop by later in the night and that he would find him. Bruce would never stop looking for him.
The kiddos too...
His jaw got punched once more and he blacked out. Now the cult had him where they wanted him. They could do what they pleased.
And if that meant torture... Well, then so be it.
Two fucking months. Bruce was losing his mind as he was looking for his boyfriend. He was horrified when he learnt of (Y/N)'s past, who wouldn't be terrified? Learning and growing up in a cult?
Bruce remembers the first time he entered the apartment and he will always wonder about a lot of things. More so that (Y/N) is somewhat normal.
Bruce was shocked that (Y/N) turned out normal. The trauma he must have went through... He was even more shocked when they found out the secret library in his apartment... Bruce had to call John Constantine to see what the hell was happening here.
John knew exactly what this was. (Y/N) was a hunter who hunted demons and banished them back to hell. Bruce was officially in the dark now. His beloved, his significant other was a hunter? Who went after demons?
Bruce didn't know how the hell he was going to explain this to his kids. How can you explain something like this? Bruce analyzed every part of the apartment, trying to figure out what happened.
He saw that (Y/N) had a knife, but was threw around the room. Then he was put through his glass coffee table. Bruce sighed quietly as John looked through the books.
" This is an amazing collection. " John commented as he looked through the books and the weapons.
" Is that really important right now? " Bruce snapped at the man and John just shrugged his shoulders.
" I guess not, but I know people who would kill for this collection. Bruce, he has knowledge of the single handedly one of the most ancient languages in the world. I can only count people on one hand that know this language. " John explained.
Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
" I think I know why they kidnapped your partner. " John said as he picked up a book. Bruce raised his brow in question.
" The cult that took him wanted some translations it seems. " John said as he opened and old, leather bound book, more interested in the book at the moment.
" That's not good. I'm assuming he will resist... They are going to torture him. " Bruce said solemnly, eyes darting around the apartment.
" We will put the bookshelf the way it was. Maybe they were after the books and weapons. " Bruce said and John sighed as he put the book where he found it and then did what Bruce asked from him.
From that day, two months passed. Bruce and everyone else worked tirelessly to find their favorite person. Bruce his boyfriend, soon to be a fiancé, the boys their second dad, one that is more emotionally open and Alfred needed one person who is going to be somewhat normal.
Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin when he got a location. They boys and him piled into the batmobile and drove as fast as the car allowed it.
To say that they had to fight their way in was an understatement. Alfred was anxiously waiting in the cave.
Bruce nearly died when he saw (Y/N). Bloodied, bruised... Bruce didn't want to know the specifics. He picked his beloved up and moved to the car and he made sure to call the SWAT team from GCPD, alongside a few more organizations.
The cult deserves it, okay? Was he over reacting? Maybe.
But that didn't matter now. What mattered is the fact that (Y/N) is taken care of and is alive and well.
To say he drove like a madman... Would be the biggest understatement of the century. Once they came, they rushed their favorite person to Alfred.
Time was of the essence.
Bruce waited for his boys to finish talking to their second dad. (Y/N) had awoken and although still weak, he still talked to his sons. After 20 minutes, Bruce ushered them out, making them all protest a bit, but in the end they knew that they need to go.
Jason hugged his dad, very carefully and left. Dick kissed his dad's cheek and Tim squeezed his hand. Damian hugged his second dad before leaving and the two partners are soon left alone.
" I'm sorry for not telling you the truth... But it was too difficult. " (Y/N) said and Bruce kissed his cheek softly.
" Don't apologize. I understand that. "
" I'm assuming you found my base? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce nodded.
" John said you have a collection people would kill for... This is such shit timing, but would you like to move in? " Bruce said and (Y/N) snorted, but stopped because of his ribs.
" Yes, I would love nothing more. "
Bruce kissed (Y/N)'s cheek again. " Good. I'll leave you to rest. "
" Can you stay with me? "
Bruce smiled and nodded, changing into his PJs before gently laying down next to (Y/N), wrapping him into blankets and the two quickly feel asleep.
The two were finally reunited.
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officialabortive · 9 months
Text
Bakugou x puppy!reader
ft. kirishima
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Never in his life did bakugou think he would get a hybrid. But here he is standing at the threshold of his shared apartment's livingroom, still clad in full hero attire, stuck in a situation he never thought he'd encounter. Kirishima stood frozen mid stride, gaze locked directly back to his roommate's as if staying still in his spot would stop him from being spotted. But it's too late, kirishima has already been caught red handed with a 50lb bag of hybrid kibble flung over his left shoulder. The redhead question that he knew was coming; 'What the fuck did you do?'
"Umm... so, don't be mad... but I may have gotten a hybrid pup from the shelter a few blocks down"
"YOU G-" bakugou was cut of before he could even finish his sentence
"They were just so sad huddled to the back of the cage! the poor thing was shaking! I couldn't just leave them there"
He is well aware of how soft and kind hearted kirishima is. But seriously? This is just some next level bullshit.
Apparently he made the mistake of looking into the window at the shelter. Usually bakugou is there to pull him away from the glass and tells him to keep walking. Successfully preventing any rash decisions from being made. But the one time kirishima was left unattended near the shelter, shit hit the fan.
This is not what bakugou needed as soon as he stepped inside after a long day at work.
A couple hours had passed since Katsuki got home, now in a fresh set of clothing after a lengthy shower. The feeling of water gently massaging his shoulders is always what allowed Katsuki the ability to gather his thoughts and sort them out individually. Thus settling his mood with a clear mind. Relaxation, that's all he wants. No, its all he needs in this very moment. To detach from reality, forget the horrific burdens weighing on his shoulders. Forget the fears and sorrows permanently embedded in his thoughts. To just for a second, allow himself a single moment of peace.
But that's simply not happening. Not now at least.
A slip of paper that had previously been slipped under his bedroom door now sat atop Katsuki's mahogany nightstand. Its mere presence was practically burning a hole into his head. The fact that he doesn't know the information it held. All he knows from the single glance he got while previously snatching the paper from the floor, is that it was some sort of file.
Katsuki finally relents, swiftly reaching over to his bedside table, not being able to withhold the sheer curiosity.
—————
Name- y/n
Breed- poodle (poodles were originally used as guard dogs, but now are mostly known to be done-up show dogs. Poodles are also lovable, family friendly companions. They are loyal and protective dogs that will always protect you and your home.)
Info: y/n is a royal-sized (large) poodle that was born as a stray and was recently taken in by the shelter. y/n is not yet used to human contact/affection and may bite if approached without caution. Not suitable for a household with children.
—————
what really caught the blonde's attention were the words "guard dog"
Now, Katsuki had been picturing one of those annoying ass small dogs that barks at anything that moves. The thought of it being a big bad guard dog hadn't once crossed his mind.
The process of getting used to human contact and affection will undoubtedly take little time with eijiro around, so that's likely not something to worry about.
Hell, he would bet kirishima's going to spend entire days sitting in your room so you'd get used to him.
You stayed holed up in your den room, not wanting to encounter any dangers of the unknown. Most of the time, the person who introduced himself as Eijiro sat at the opposite end of the room. (To give you space, of course)
He tried his best to come off as non threatening as possible. But considering his sheer size, your intimidation was inevitable. Kirishima would sit and do mundane tasks like paperwork or the occasional puzzle.
He had read that it's best to allow a new hybrid come to you first. They are more likely to do so if you don't acknowledge their presence, showing the hybrid you don't intend to hurt them. Turning to look at the hybrid as they approach will most likely scare them off.
When you were visibly a little less tense, eijiro started talking to you about nothing in particular. Just speaking about anything that came to mind but his voice never rose far above a whisper. Not that the topic even mattered. You didn't understand much of that he was blabbering on about, only knowing the most basic of words
You suppose his work is paying off to some extent, considering the fact that you were able to muster up enough courage to even consider going beyond the confines of your room.
Which brings you here, silently stood at your door, unmoving, listening for any voices or footsteps. Any indication of someone being home.
Nothing. The coast is clear.
You take a cautionary peek into the hall before slipping by the door frame. But only four measly steps were taken before you froze entirely. A waft of air drifted passed your nose, and it was interwoven with the lingering aroma of something, no, someone. And it's delicious. It had your mind held on pause, instead free falling into a foggy haze that was simultaneously crystal clear.
It takes a minute to regain mental clarity, than your at a full sprint, needing to be at a closer proximity. Whatever this is, it's far too enticing to ignore. Your lungs can't possibly get enough to the point of satisfaction.
You forcefully shove at a door till it goes flying open. You hurriedly cross the threshold into a fairly simplistic bedroom and are instantly caught in a crashing wave of euphoria. A deep inhale has your pupils rapidly dilating to an almost unfeasible level. The space and everything it contained is utterly drenched in their scent. Than it clicks.
It is your mate's scent, and it's so incredibly warm, so comforting, so safe.
Your now limp body collapsed on to the wide, king sized mattress. Wrapping yourself in the heavy blankets and burying your face in plush pillows. It's as if he's right here. And the knowledge that he will soon be hopefuly arriving around the same time as kirishima —wich is soon— is enough to instantly ease you to sleep.
So quickly, that you didn't even see Katsuki walking in
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MASTERLIST
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months
Note
Hal congrats on the 5k you absolutely deserve it.
I have a request for the 5k event so here it is
The reader is John's wife who's 9 months pregnant and basically about to burst. Reader goes into Labour while John is out on the field.
Again congratulations on 5k you absolutely deserve every single follower since your Storys are just chefs kiss. I'm very glad i found your blog when i did!
—Here Now
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⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞
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You had told him you would be fine, and, of course, John knew he could take your word—even if over these nine months he’d been more worried than he had been in his entire life. It would have been difficult for you to say how you were truly feeling about being home alone two days past your due date with no one but the birds outside to give you company. 
He had been up at arms about being with you through this, and the man’s stubbornness about that fact had made your face go soft with love. John was the most loyal man you’d ever met; add in a child on the way and he became no better than a hound baying at the scent of a fox. But this had apparently been so important that he’d asked you about the idea of being away for a day—a single day, the man had emphasized, even if the others had to stay wherever they were going for longer. He’d take the red-eye back the second after the time was up, a whole military Heli and all.
One day was far better than one week—far better than one month. So, you’d agreed albeit a bit reluctantly as the man reassured you he’d be back safe and whole. He’d be back for the birth. 
Yeah, that was a load of bullshit. 
You lay in the hospital room, panting and trying to keep your eyes open as the contractions hit once more; a whimper hidden as you bend your neck forward to let your chin hit your chest. 
“Shit,” you breathe, the nurse moving out of the room quickly to grab more water and the doctor for you. 
This had been going on for a good four hours—levels of shaking pain that lasted upwards of a minute and had been increasing in frequency more so in the last sixty minutes. They’d finally had you lay back on the bed only a little bit ago, and you knew at that point that John would be unable to make it for the birth of your first child.
The thought terrified you. 
You place a hand on your stomach and blink down at it, the raised half of the bed behind you and the chill of the room making you shiver. The buzz of the lights—the closed windows. Your heart is running not only from the thought of this, of all that could go wrong, but also because you now lacked the most steady rock you’d had in your entire life: John. He’d know what to tell you to make you calm down, to make your mind stop with all the panic. 
But he’s not here, and that alone makes you want to—
The door opens so quickly it nearly busts off of its hinges.
Your heart sputters, head jerking back as you wince from another contraction, this one far more painful and promising to stay for longer. Closer now. But your eyes blink on something more important. 
“I’m here, Love.” As if a phantom, John hurries through, a gaggle of wide-eyed nurses behind him before the door to your room is shut by firm hands. “Fuckin’ hell, Sweetheart, I’m ‘ere, it’s alright.”
He’s still in his gear—lacking weapons as those had probably been tossed away on Base—but vest and hat are present; the large boots with tucked pants and that compression shirt. You watch in shock as he speeds up to the side of your bed, taking your hand in his large one and squeezing. His other grabs the motion-less chair and drags it over with a grunt. 
“Now,” John says, shaking his head at you as you simply stare. “You squeeze my hand as hard as you well please then, yeah? Don’t care if you break a few fingers, Love, I’ve been through worse.” 
“How…” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. “How did you…?”
He blinks those tiny blues at you, twitching his nose as his gaze darts down your body. 
“Had a feeling,” is all he says. 
You laugh through a sob and he presses his forehead into yours, hand on the base of your skull. 
“I’m here right now,” he utters. “Gonna have to have a few words with the little Muppet when they’re out about timing. Nearly made me bloody miss it.” 
“John Price,” you scolded lightly, laughing. 
He only hums and tries to hide his wide grin, eyes shimmering. 
By the time it’s all over, he holds the both of you to his vest-less top as he leans back beside your bare dewy skin, the small bundle kept to your chest with its gripping hands. John’s arm was around your shoulders, drawing you to him. You had fallen asleep not minutes prior, and the soldier kept watch as he always had when his girl was needing him. 
Well, girls now. 
He watches, not speaking, barely breathing, only pulling you closer to him as you sigh and shift. The baby, his and yours baby, gargles and kicks her little feet until he shifts a hand to assist your own in cupping her higher. His smile is uncontainable, just like the sudden glossiness to his eyes at such a tiny weight in his grip.
John watches, and he comes to a conclusion as he presses a deep kiss into your scalp, his thumb taken into the smallest grip that has ever held it. 
There was never a more beautiful sight than the one right in front of him. 
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caramel-cafe · 3 months
Text
➥ Dating him would include…
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Fandom: One Piece
Character(s): Vinsmoke Sanji
Tags: Gn! Reader, Fluff
Warning(s): None
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By the time you properly developed feelings for Sanji, he had already loved you since the day you met. The only issue is how he declares his love for almost anyone pretty constantly, so when he did so for you, it was understandable to shrug it off.
Despite how forward he can be with his affections, he’s not used to someone genuinely reciprocating his feelings. Because of this, you’d have to be the one to make the first move, or else he won't get the hint.
Once you enter a relationship with him, it takes him a while to get out of his habit of flirting with others, but he’s putting in an honest effort to do so. Sanji’s love for women won’t completely go away, but he at least tones it down substantially.
If Sanji ever thinks that you doubt his loyalty, he will make it a point to profess his love for you at any given opportunity. It doesn't matter where you two are; everyone will know that you are the only one for him, whether you like it or not.
Hell, even when you aren't around, he has a habit of bragging about you to the crew.
He knows that you're loyal, but whenever another person even hints at the idea of trying to get with you, he starts getting jealous. If someone does come up to you and begin flirting, it's a whole different issue. Depending on who it is, you either have a depressed Sanji clinging to you, or you’ll have to hold him back from starting a fight.
The times that he most often takes a more physical approach is when Zoro decides to egg Sanji on by jokingly flirting with you.
It's not hard to get him out of this jealous fit, simply reciprocating his affections is more than enough to get him back to his normal self.
Whenever you’re craving a specific meal, all you have to do is ask and he’ll already be in the kitchen preparing to cook. If he didn't know how to cook it before, he’ll certainly learn it for you.
He loves whenever you join him in the kitchen while he cooks. Not only does he get to do what he loves but he also gets to be around the one he loves while he does so. At least you get the honor of being Sanji’s taste tester.
Whenever you talk to him, he's always listening intently, even while he’s doing something else. Not only that, but Sanji also has a good memory, so if you tell him anything important, he remembers it no matter what. It could be anything from your preferences to any allergies and dietary restrictions; if it’s something about you, he’ll always remember it.
Any time he has with you alone, he will gladly take it. Whether it be while he's cooking or even when the two of you explore an island the crew stopped at to restock on supplies, he savors it all, as alone time is quite rare while on the ship.
Once the two of you get used to sleeping together he can't sleep without you beside him. If you're not in bed for whatever reason he will either wait until you come back or go and look for you.
Sanji is a very physically affectionate guy and that is especially apparent when you two go to bed. You may have fallen asleep with only his arm wrapped around you, but by the time you wake up, he's clinging to your side in his sleep.
If you don't feel like cuddling that night he’ll likely pout but as long as he can feel you in some way (i.e. Backs touching, legs intertwined, etc.) he’ll be fine.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
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writingoddess1125 · 5 months
Text
Poppy Kisses
Buggy x GNReader
⚠️ Warnings ⚠️: Attempted murder, Manipulation, implied sexual tension, implied future Dubcon
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Art by Vamos_MK on Twitter. Check them out!
Please support me Ko-Fi
In and out- That was the job. You'd been asked to murder a certain pirate by a client of yours, He was known as a buffoon and a fool- quite literally it seemed. Buggy the Clown, Captian of The Buggy Pirates. Always failing at his task but getting closer to his goals non the less, apparently he had ruffled some feathers non the less.
Which was why you were hired, asked to join his crew and kill him. Being a skilled shooter made it easy for you to join his crew, however killing him was a different story-
In truth was harder then it seemed to nail this guy- You couldn't stab him for obvious reasons, he was too cautious to go near water and you couldn't risk shooting him since it was loud and you'd risk death by his surprisingly loyal crew.
So you had to get close.. which was just as hard as finding a way to Kill Buggy. He didn't trust easy- He was quite plainly pathetic as a pirate but clever in ways you'd never imagined.
It was awful to say but you hard started to like.. hell even love the goofy bastard? He was fun in a scary way and with him trusting you, you got to see this new side to him.
He watched everyone, including you with hawk like accuracy. Anything even slightly off he could catch and any attitude changes he would immediately notice and question- Who knew this clown would be your biggest challenge.
It took nearly a month before he got comforble around you, playing the act of a wannabe fan of his and an additional two months before he had seemingly started to like you- Clearly his ego finally winning out at your fawning of him.
Soon he was letting you sit in his lap, him telling you stories of his adventures and his past as a pkrate. How he would take your input on his shows and what was needed from your perspective, letting his hand drift to your waist as he would whisper jokes in your ear and drawing true laughs from you.
Sure it started out as a mission but- soon it turned into real enjoyment from your end. So a mission that should have taken 3-4 months tops was pushing on 6... but who could blame you! It was just too damn fun there with Buggy!
Sitting in your room you stared down at the tin canister in your hands, it was a potent poison jell. You rubbed it on anything and it'd dry clear which would work since you noticed Buggy used the same glass cup, claiming it was good luck or something... it was a perfect device to poison Buggy but now- you didn't know if you could.. he had been so kind to you, Even getting you a private room which most crewmates didn't have. Even if it was a bit small and as Buggy had said formally used as a makeup room which explained the large mirrors on the wall. You still knew he had given you space cause he cared..
"Fuck.."
You sighed as the small snail rang in your pocket, pulling it out you cringed knowing who it was and you sadly answered. Wincing at the angered voice of your client rushed into your ears yelling at you for taking so long-
"What am I paying you for?" Your client hissed. "I-I know we had some hic-" You got cut off by the raised voice.
"Hiccup!? He's a fucking idiot! Tonight is the last night or else I'm putting a hit on you" they yelled before disconnecting the call.
"tonight..." You mumbled. Rubbing your face as you stashed the snail away, stress bubbling in your chest as you sat there.
This was your job...
Slipping the casaster in your pocket you get up to Visit Buggy's room, Something you often did anyway so you didn't bother knocking.
"Hey Bugs?" You call out, seeing the Captian seated at his vanity finishing his makeup.
"Hell Doll! What brings you in?" He says cheerfully, you shrug and plop down on a chair.
"I wanted to stop by and say Hi before we head to dinner" You lie, but the smile it brought to Buggys lips made your heart flutter. Soon you two began to mindlessly chatter as Buggy finished his makeup, you handing him his hat once finished.
"Shit. I forgot my bandana in the map room. I'm going to grab it real quick, I'll be back" He said with a bright smile before leaving. Your eyes traveling to the glass cup- you knew this was your only chance..
You didn't want to do this, You couldnt do this... Paid killer or not when do you find someone like him? Just some fun clown guy who's weird humor actually makes you laugh!?
Walking to the vanity you sat down, still warm from him and slipped on some gloves. Picking up the glass cup and groaning in frustration at the situation.
Forcing your eyes closed you look at yourself in the mirror, feeling like he could see you or you were seeing yourself for the first time.
Sighing you feel a tears start to slip down your cheeks as you place the coated cup down and took off your gloves. Hiding it away as you looked at yourself again, regret on your face-
"...it's your job- love aside" You reasoned before getting the canister and quickly coating a thin layer of the gel inside. Watching how it dried almost instantly and looking undetectable like it had been only polished.
"Please forgive me... I really do care for you Buggy..." You whisper a prayer before backing away at your placed trap, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes and maks if look like you hadnt been crying.
After a few moments Buggy returned to the room with a cheerful smile on his face.
You couldn't do this, as you watch him pour the wine and get ready to bring it to his lips you got up ready to reach for it when he paused- Looking up at your raised form as you prepared to take the cup from him.
"Ready for dinner?" He chimed, you nodding as you watch him grab the glass from its usual spot. Nodding silently as you followed him to the mess hall, You heart pounding as you sat in your usual seat. Food laid out buffet style over the large table as Buggy took center seat like a king- Your head spinning as you stared at the glass. Watching him make his plate before reaching for the pitcher of wine..
"Change of heart?" He said, making you freeze in your raised spot.
He clicked his tongue as he lowered the glass from his lips, His eyes staring right at you with a knowing smirk on his lips. A chill going down your spine- he had never given you a look like that before.. it was like looking at the waters before a beast rose and took your life. He wiped his lips with a napkin just incase any traces of poison had hit his lips.
"I really expected better from you (Y/N)- even after all this time you would have let the berry win huh? But your feelings really did win in the end" He mused and you felt ice flood your vains.. he knew.. he fucking knew!
Looking around you see the crew all staring at you, a knowing look on their faces as they stared at you and their captian.
"I thought your words of 'I really care for you' and 'Love aside' was just part of the act but look at that!" He rose to his feet as you sat back down slowly, fear now lacing your heart as the realization slammed into your chest.
"One way Mirror, Works wonders both in the bedroom and in shows" He chimed. He was watching you- The whole damn time! He was watching you, from the calls to your client to your hesitation to complete the job. He knew.
Fear slammed hard into you and it felt like you were suffocating as he went to circle you like prey, his footsteps seeming so loud in the mess hall now.
Your feet moved faster then your brain- you ran out of the mess hall as the sound of laughter from the crew followed you. You had to get out of here you had to before he killed you!
"Now then, (Y/N) tell me- when do assassins cry for their targets?"
In a flash you jumped back from your seat like it was on fire and ran.
A yelp escaping your throat as you felt your collar being yanked back and lifted into the air. You struggled like a kitten being pulled up by the scruff from its mother and glanced up to see Buggy's floating hand holding you. Reaching next to you ready to stab his hand another gloved hand appeared right infront of your eyes and squeezed a red ball, coughing as the fight started to leave your body and soon you fell unconscious.
When the darkness faded you felt dizzy- like the world was spinning? Groaning softly at the feeling, before the realization that fabric had been placed in your mouth. This seemed to immediately sober you up as you looked around frantically- you were back in Buggy's bed, wrists tied to the bedpost and gagged, legs tied down with blue sill scarves and all your equipment laid out on the floor next to the bed. Buggy standing over it all examining it, he looked up hearing you move.
"Ah you're awake. Good I was beginning to worry that I made that Muggy Ball too strong"
You shook as you sat on the bed you once would have loved to be in, Watching Buggy as he Lossened his hair from the bandana. His blue locks falling down and framing his face as he stepped closer to the bed.
He said calmly as he rose up, watching you struggle and try to yell through the gag. He chuckled at this and patted your leg playfully.
"I wouldn't struggle. I don't think you can handle being knocked out again"
He said in amusement, removing his shirt and vest with ease revealing his naked chest- Due to years of training and his devil fruit abilties leaving him lean and flawless of marks. Just like how you had imagined.
"Got to say, I'm really impresses. With all the equipment in that little kill kit of yours I'm sure you could have done the job easily- But a painless poison that would let me sleep and die peacefully?.. it's almost too kind... whats it called? Poppy Kisses right?"
Warmth flooded your face and body as you watch him crawl closer to you- Seating himself right on your waist as he smiled down at you brightly, tapping a finger to your chest with a gleam in his eyes. He looked beautiful, terrifying but beautiful.
"Must have been hard, I saw your face.. you looked so hurt using that posion"
"So complicated.. So much trouble you are- So expensive too. Do you know how much I had to pay to your guild in order to make them say you died trying to murder me?"
He smirked as he began undo the buttons of your shirt. Your eyes widening in shock as he spoke and began to undress you.
"You're so lucky I like you~"
He purred, before placing a slow kiss on your cheeks. You felt the red grease paint smear and stain against it, accidently letting a moan slip the gag as his fingers pulled your hair, which he clearly reveled in. Leaving your wanting his lips as he traveled to your jaw, ear and further down.
His fingers working deeper into your hair as he removed the shirt from your body fully- the cold making you shiver at his warmed touch as red kisses blot your neck.
"Now my daring little assassin, I do believe some compensation is in order for all those expenses. Don't you?~"
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ghouljams · 9 months
Note
I wish to hear more about Murphy the feed store guy who is apparently getting freaked out by König paying full price
Murphy is like 70 years old and owns the feed store. The store has a name but nobody uses it because the sign is so old and the paint is so worn that everyone just calls it by the owner's name. "Murphy's" easy. The only thing that's really of note about Murphy or the store is that Murphy loves to haggle.
See every item in the store is slapped with a hilariously high price tag, so high that any farmer with half a brain would look at it and go, "Now hold on, that don't look right to me." But this is Murphy's design. Everyone in town knows that if you go to the feed store you gotta be prepared to haggle, gotta be prepared to stick to your guns and not wilt under Murphy's overgrown catapillar brows and eager grin. It's Goose's favorite part of shopping, and the rest of the 141 find out on their first trip to Murphy's what is expected and why.
One man in town has not gotten the memo. One man is trying to be polite and just pay Murphy for his wares. One man is 7 feet tall and stares Murphy down in a way that makes his stomach churn when he tells him he is happy to pay full price.
"You're sure I can't interest you in a discount?" Murphy asks hesitantly. König tips his head forward looking at the neatly notated order list and the prices. He looks back at Murphy, eyes boring holes into him, expression unreadable behind the bandana mask.
"Nein, I am sure you are asking what is fair." Murphy feels his stomach drop, is this guy trying to intimidate him? Is he trying to say something about his pricing practices? Murphy dabs his forehead with a handkerchief.
"You're a loyal customer, a discount would be-" König holds up a hand to stop him.
"You are very kind, but I am sure you need the money more than I do." Jesus christ. Murphy is starting to sweat. Is this guy trying to say the store is in disrepair? That he thinks business is bad?
"Hey buddy, you a fuckin' moron or what?" Moon asks behind König. Murphy sweats more watching König turn to face her. His eyes sweeping high and then tipping his head down to look at her. König's eyes narrow.
"Ah, hello sister." König says pleasantly, Moon stares up at him with all the patience of a woman parked next to a fire hydrant, "I did not know nuns were allowed to swear."
Murphy tries to motion for Moon to absolutely not respond to that. She blows a bubble with her gum and snaps it at König. "I'll say a Hail Mary later," she tells him, "Who are you supposed to be? Zorro?"
Murphy says a quick prayer: please dear God do not let your disciple start another fight in his store, not with this giant man.
"König, and you are?" The giant asks, tipping his head to the side, his fingers twitching too close to his holster for Murphy's liking.
"You like moonshine König?" Moon pulls a flip phone from her pocket, ignoring König's question.
"I do not know what that is."
"Fantastic." Murphy motions again, desperately, for Moon to maybe stop with the sales pitch. Just for his own health. König turns to look at him mid gesture.
"This is very rude," he tells him, mimicking the gestures Murphy had made, "we are trying to have a conversation."
"Of course," Murphy tells him, holding his hands up placatingly, "don't mind me." König nods, Moon raises a brow at Murphy. It's weird seeing him like this, he's usually so commanding. She looks up at König who is waiting patiently for her to continue their conversation.
Oh she is going to upcharge the hell out of this dumbass.
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bby-deerling · 5 months
Text
to us (zoro x reader)
zoro x reader, fluff, i tried so hard not to make him ooc but apologies if he is! wc 623 (reposting this because it didn't appear in tags the first time... might crosspost this on ao3 too idk)
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You let a heavy sigh escape your lips as you climbed up onto the barstool next to Zoro, propping your cheek up with your palm.  The dimly lit bar was loud, and your head was pounding with embarrassment.  The crew had made a quick stopover to get supplies before heading to Loguetown, and ended up deciding to spend the evening at a local bar; the place was a total dive, and crawling with unsavory men.  Nami was on the prowl for berries, and had initially recruited you as her sidekick to help distract her unknowing targets, but you were so unpracticed at the art of seduction that you ended up putting a dent in the amount of spoils she was collecting, and she was a tad harsh with her criticism.
“You’re impossible!” she exclaimed.  “You’re so awkward, it’s like watching a newborn deer trying to learn how to walk!  Go have a drink with Zoro, I can handle this myself.”  You nodded in response and slunk away and made a mental note to make it up to the navigator later; you knew Nami wasn’t truly that mad at you, but as the newest addition to the crew, it felt bad being the temporary target of her anger.
“Get tired of snatching wallets already?” Zoro asked as you ordered your own small bottle of sake from the bartender.
“Nami dismissed me from my post.  Apparently, I’m too awkward to be a useful accomplice.” you said, tracing your fingers along the grooves and knots in the wood on top of the bar.  Zoro nods to acknowledge he’s heard you, bottle of sake held to his mouth.
“Sometimes I wish I had the kind of natural charm that she has…” you continued, voice trailing off, eyes fixed downward.  “I know it’s stupid, but I’m feeling really inadequate because I lack sex appeal…and—”
“It is stupid.” Zoro says, grey eyes narrowing at you as he cuts you off.  “You’re a lot of things.  You’re clever, driven, loyal, talented…who the hell cares about something stupid like that?”
“I hate feeling incompetent, especially in front of Nami.” you reply, eyes still barely meeting his gaze.
“So what, you’re too uncomfortable to fake being into some creep at the bar to help her out. She’ll get over it.” Zoro said. “Plus, she still owes you for not only being willing to do the worst shift of night watch every night, but sleeping outside beforehand so you don’t wake her up in the middle of the night.”
You smiled at him.  “My body needs a steady routine, it works out better for everyone…plus, I don’t mind spending a bit of extra time with you.”
Zoro’s lips tug into a smirk.  “I don’t mind spending time with you either.”  You give him a soft smile in return, the kind that shines through your eyes with a gentle kindness, tugging at heartstrings Zoro hadn’t realized were there.  Moving a smidgen closer to him as you sit up taller, you clink your bottle of sake against his.
“To us” you both think silently as the warm, grainy taste of alcohol runs down your throats; the understanding between the two of you was calming to the swordsman, who was never one for words.
Maybe someday he would figure out the right string of phrases to tell you how much he’s enjoying getting to know you, and how scary it is that you’ve started to work your way into his heart after such a short amount of time, but right now he was grateful that the smile he sends your way seems to be more than enough.
Besides, the feeling gnawing at his chest is telling him that you were feeling the exact same way.
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