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multifandomimagin3s · 1 year

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Mercenary! Reader - 141, Los Vaqueros + Konig

So I recently rewatched Deadpool, and I was thinking about what the boys reactions would be to finding out that (r/n) is a mercenary - gave them a little bit of Wade's personality too~

Mentions of violence, strong language, little bit of angst if you squint.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Oh, he definitely doesn't trust you.

He's impressed by your skills on the battlefield, and knows that you're very good at what you do - otherwise you wouldn't be a mercenary - but he absolutely wouldn't turn his back on you.

Price would have probably already told 141 about you, but even if he hadn't he probably would have put two and two together on his own.

Doesn't judge you...much - he's done some pretty fucked up things, it comes with his line of work, but being a mercenary is on another level.

Your sense of humour piques his interest, his humour is dark at the best of times so the fact that you can match his dark comments with some of your own is fine by him.

Don't get it twisted though, if he thinks that you're trying to double-cross his team, he wouldn't hesitate to kill you.

If you were recruited to help 141 on a mission, it would probably mean that the mission was going to be hell on Earth; I can see Shepard hiring you - his intentions were probably never disclosed to you, which makes you trust him less and less.

Given that you're not part of the British Army, your clothing and gear probably wouldn't be similar at all; picture the suits from Black Widow, because Yelena is a goddess~

He definitely hasn't secretly admired your arse when you're not looking - Soap definitely caught him once and was given a glare as a warning to keep his mouth shut.

You'd have to prove yourself to him before he lets himself feel any of the feelings of attraction he has for you - mans has a lot of past trauma that he doesn't want repeated, so until he knows that you're trustworthy, he's going to be cold and calculative as always.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

While he may be a generally friendly guy, Johnny is far from stupid; he'll make small-talk with you in the beginning, but knows not to let his guard down - no matter how much your sense of humour makes him chuckle.

Watches you take down 4 soldiers almost twice your size with ease, and almost pops a boner.

If you're anything like Wade, he's a bit of an over-sharer; when you tell him about parts of your past that led to you becoming a mercenary - some parts which may have been slightly traumatic and concerning to hear - with a smile on your face, he's a bit worried for you.

Definitely flirts with you on the regular - Ghost just gives him a blank stare, wondering why Soap likes to gamble with his life since the team barely even know you.

Once you prove that you're trustworthy, he opens up to you more; we've seen how he acts with Ghost, undeterred by the big guy's cold exterior.

He asks to train with you - doesn't mind being thrown to the mats a hundred times over, "I don't mind the view from doon here, like ;D" [doon = down], "Aye, I knew you'd look great on top a' me"

Asks to try out your weapons - some are not too different from his own, while some are quite clearly black-market issue.

All in all, Soap's an easy-going guy - so as long as you don't try to kill him or anyone he cares about, you're golden.

Captain John Price

Another one who doesn't trust you at all.

He's been in the military for a long time, and he's encountered mercenaries from across the globe - most of them weren't the friendly type, especially when they were after the same target.

He's definitely angry when Shepard tells him that you'll be accompanying his team on the next mission; he's offended, for one, as it makes it seem as if his team are incompetent or not skilled enough to go it alone.

Doesn't take his eyes off you for a second - in his eyes, you're not a soldier, you don't abide by legalities and you essentially kill for money so you might as well be a fully-fledged assassin.

Doesn't bat an eyelid at your humour either, and doesn't let his guard down.

Your fighting skills are undeniable - you're very good at what you do, and you're clearly very intelligent, but don't mistake this for respect.

You probably don't show your face at all - revealing your identity would probably incriminate yourself and put yourself and anyone around you in danger; this doesn't phase him, but it makes it harder for him to trust you.

For Price to trust you would take a hell of a lot of work; you'd have to prove yourself, not just in the field but from a moral standpoint too.

If you do manage to prove yourself to him, then he might gradually start to see you in a different light.

Soap may or may not have caught him eyeing you up appreciatively - but a stern look from his Captain shut him up immediately.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

I can see Gaz keeping out of your way as much as possible.

Out of everyone in 141, he's the youngest and hasn't been in the military for very long either, so he hasn't encountered mercenaries before.

That being said, he knows what a mercenary is and knows that Price doesn't trust you at all - the fact you were hired by Shepard is questionable in itself, so he keeps his interactions with you to a minimum.

Doesn't know what to make of your humour - sometimes your comedic timing and the things you come out with are quite funny, he can't deny that. But other times, you come out with some twisted shit that makes him wonder about your mental state.

He's naturally curious at to how you went from being a soldier to a mercenary - he doesn't have to ponder for long, sometimes you'd just openly remark about things that happened in your past and he was able to figure it out on his own.

He'd never admit it out loud but watching you rile up Ghost with your sarcastic comments and dark humour was entertaining - even if he did fear for your safety when the hulking soldier was due to blow a gasket.

If you showed him your face, he would be pleasantly surprised - Price definitely gives him the disapproving Dad face whenever he catches Kyle oggling you after that.

Alejandro Vargas

*I used google translate for both Alej, Rudy and Konig so if the translations are wrong I apologise*

Oof, he is angry.

We saw how he reacted with Valeria, he doesn't like soldiers who turn their back on morality for money.

He doesn't even attempt to hide his distaste for you.

"Eres un maldito traidor y un asesino." ["You are a fucking traitor and a murderer."]

Finds out you're working with 141 and he's just >:(

"¡¿Por qué diablos están aquí?!" ["Why the fuck are they here?!"]

Warns you that if you betray the team - his friends - that he'd be coming for you, and he would kill you without hesitation.

Your dark humour would probably rub him the wrong way, further solidifying his perception that you were a soldier who walked down a path that you couldn't come back from, "No tienes verguenza?" ["Do you have no shame?"]

I think that even if you did prove yourself, he still wouldn't fully trust you - it would take years for him to look you in the eye with a modicum of respect.

If he sees you getting along well with 141, it might slightly make him think differently of you - especially if Ghost seems to be okay with you being around them.

But it would take him a while to see you as anything other than a killer; "No eres malo, pero recuerda, traicionarnos y estarás muerto antes de que puedas correr." ["You're not bad but remember, betray us and you'll be dead before you can run."

Rudy Parra

Rudy's naturally quite a quiet guy, so I doubt he'd say much to you anyway.

However, this silence doesn't mean acceptance.

He keeps a close eye on you, analysing every move you make.

Would probably ask for your opinion on things when you're on a mission; it's partially out of curiosity, a way to see how your mind works, and other parts to air on the edge of caution because your sense of humour consisted of coming out with some crazy shit.

I reckon if he did trust you, he'd still be very cautious and aware of what you were and what you were capable of; after seeing you take down soldiers like it was nothing, he's inwardly grateful that you were fighting on the same side...for now.

If you let your guard down and told him about aspects of your personal life, it might change his mind a bit - it shows that you're human, you have a life outside all of this...but that being said, he's never seen your face, so you could walk past him in the grocery store and he would never know. It's unnerving.

If you do trust him enough to show your face, he's conflicted; "No te ves como esperaba que te vieras." ["You don't look how I expected you to look.] You look perfectly normal, minus the black paint around your eyes - pretty, even.

Alejandro doesn't like you one bit from the jump, and is constantly hovering around you both like >:(

It'll take a while for Rudy to trust you, but rest assured if you were to break his trust, it wouldn't end well at all - he's a Sergeant Major, and don't let his quiet nature fool you, he too is capable of doing damage.

König

The big guy is unphased - he's a mercenary too, so if he were to judge you then that would make him the biggest hypocrite of all.

Nonetheless, he doesn't trust you either - if you're not from KorTac, and he doesn't know who you are, then he's not letting his guard down at all.

Your sense of humour could go one of two ways with him:

If he's out on the field, and you're making dark jokes and sarcastic comments, then he'll probably laugh and join in; he's a completely different man when he's working, it's what makes him so good at what he does.

But if he's back on base...he's probably going to be a little awkward - the adrenaline's worn off and he's back to being his normal, shy self.

Wants to train with you but is hyperaware of his size and strength - he's seen you take down soldiers his size, but he's still concerned that he'd seriously hurt you.

Pin him to the mat and watch as his eyes widen and he averts his gaze, cheeks heating up under his mask; "Du kämpfst gut." ["You fight well."

There's a slim possibility that he would show you his face - you made the mistake of teasing him and he almost backed out, "Show me yours' and I'll show you mine~"

If you show him your face, he won't be able to look at you the same; how is he supposed to focus now when he knows you're attractive?!

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holybibly · 1 month

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girl i really dunno how to ask but ummm i...i mean WE need more preacher/saint/priest content....oh i just thought priest yunho with some cnc and bdsm........and maybe some watersports....oh. my. god. i died. my eyes are only seeing some whips, punishment and a lot of sin. bye.

Hi, honey, how are you? I really spoiled you, didn't I? But it seems that everyone is just as crazy about hot priests/pasors,preachers, and nuns as I am. Woo was hotter than hell when he was a priest, don't you think, bunnies?

I've already mentioned that I'll be doing a sequel for each member, but I'll tell you more so you can look forward to my updates.

Below I mention religious, hierophilia and church related topics. Bunnies, please refrain from reading if such content makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned!

Beware of False Prophets Demon San x Reader

Everyone in your town has been talking about the arrival of a new priest. The parishioners have been on their knees in praise of Pastor Choi San ever since he walked through the doors of your little church. He was devout, quiet, and, for a priest, incredibly handsome. He quickly became the object of admiration and wet dreams.

And you were not left out. The way his cat-like eyes would sometimes linger on you during Mass, or the way your name would roll off his tongue when he addressed you, made you blush with shame, not only at the dirty thoughts in your head but also at the fact that your panties were getting too wet just by looking at San.

But little did you know that Pastor Choi San had much more forbidden and depraved intentions towards you than that. Not all that glitters is gold, and not everyone is a saint who wears a holy robe.

It is said that one should beware of false prophets, for good intentions lead to hell. Or maybe the demon San will disguise himself as the new pastor of your church and try to tempt you into committing a sin.

Are you callin' me a sinner? Priest Yunho x Widow Reader

It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be a widow at such a young age. Less than three months had passed since you got married when your husband tragically died, and this became the talk of your small town.

People walked past you, looked at you with disgust, closed their doors in front of you, and pointedly ignored you as if you had committed some mortal sin, which is probably what they thought you had done. You were so young and too beautiful, and your husband... Your husband was a man much older than you. You loved him; you really did, and losing him destroyed you. Your husband left you a huge fortune to inherit, and people whispered that you killed him to get money and to take a lover. Some even said you made a pact with the devil by killing your husband in return for your unearthly beauty and money. They said that you were a sinful brat.

Your only comfort at that time was faith, and you spent all your evenings in prayer and penance. One day, your housekeeper advised you to contact the priest, Jeong Yunho, describing him as a pious, compassionate, and gentle person who always showed mercy to everyone and granted the desired forgiveness of sins to all the troubled hearts. But she neglected to mention that Yunho was also an incredibly handsome young man who was more likely to tempt you to sin than to help you atone for it.

"I will help you get rid of your sins, my child." His hoarse voice whispered in your ear as he let the dress fall from your shoulders and down your back.

"I am going to cleanse you of the sin and the impurity of this world." Yunho said as he put a blindfold over your eyes and tied your hands behind your back.

"The only way you will be able to atone for your sins is through pain, and I will help you with that, my dear." He said this, accompanying his words with a lash of his whip across your bare skin.

Say yes to Heaven Pastor Yeosang x Libertine Reader

You never wanted to have anything as much as you wanted to have Kang Yeosang. He was handsome. He looked like an angel. He was everything that you ever wanted to sink your teeth into. He was your church's pastor. And that was what drove the hell out of you.

Yeosang was a simple man—an incredibly sweet and gentle man—who always helped his parishioners find the right path and to find God in their hearts. You, however, could brag about an endless list of sins and vices that you proudly displayed, like your favourite red lipstick. If given the chance, you would paint the whole town red, but mostly you wanted to see it smeared around Pastor Yeosang's handsome cock while you deepthroated him. The two of you came from completely different worlds—a saint and a sinner—but you had always believed that opposites attract.

Every mass was a game of seduction for you, and you wondered how far you could go before the angelic halo over Yeosang's head would crack and he would fuck you senseless. Although you had doubts that he could do it, you had a feeling that he was a virgin and would probably faint at the sight of a pink, wet pussy in front of his pretty angelic face. God, the boy was so holy and inexperienced about sex.

But how wrong you were about him! There are always two sides to every coin, and you will learn from experience that there are some desires that are better left as fantasies. Or the one where Pastor Yeosang fucks you to the last inch of your life and teaches you the concept of out-of-body experiences through orgasm.

Me and the Devil Lucifer Seonghwa x Reader Nun

From the day your parents took you to church for the first time, you knew that your life would be one of devotion to God. Of course, this was not the destiny your family wanted for you, but they still supported you on your way to becoming a virgin bride.

The convent where you lived to prepare for your vows was far from home and did not have the best reputation. But the priest of your parish convinced you that it was there, and nowhere else, that you could know God. And he was right; you did know God, but it was not the God to whom you prayed every night of your life.

It all began with dreams. Dark and unholy dreams came to you more and more often. The cold hands of a stranger sliding over your skin, a hot tongue exploring your body and lips as if sin itself were branding you with kisses, all ending with the first rays of dawn. Then this strange cat appeared and would not leave your side for a minute. But what frightened you most was the disappearance of the other nuns. One after the other, they vanished without a trace, until there were only a few novices left in the convent.

The night you took your vows was dark and moonless. So were the eyes of the dark-winged angel who appeared before you. It was as if he were woven of pure sin, depravity, and rage, oozing from his skin like ichor, and the rustle of his wings was the very sound you would hear before your death. But Angel, Lucifer, Seonghwa—call him what you like—came here with one goal: to finally get his bride.

"Do you have faith that your God will be the answer to your prayers, my beautiful bride? Do you believe that he is going to save you?" Seonghwa's lips touched your cheek, and his burning breath flowed across your skin. "You belong to me. Your soul, your faith, your body—all of it belongs to me. And you will accept me as your husband, dear child. Or you will say goodbye to your life at dawn."

There will be a separate post for Mingi, Jongho and Hongjoong. I am going to leave you in suspense, my little bunnies.

There's no harm in a bit of intrigue, is there?

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naughtystiel · 1 year

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DEANCAS AU FIC REC MASTERPOST

Although I loved all of these fics, the ones with stars next to them are my absolute favourites! Happy reading! ♡

One million fires burning ☆

Dean Winchester teaches three classes a day, tutors after school, and chairs the English Department for Lawrence High School. He does enough.

Unfortunately, his boss doesn't feel the same and informs him that he has a new job: co-coaching the school's trivia team. His co-coach? None other than the school's golden boy, Castiel Milton. Who Dean can't stand, for various reasons, all of which are valid, thank you very much. And the fact that Dean can't stop talking about the stick up Cas's, sorry, Milton's ass?

Completely irrelevant.

Should have just asked ☆

Despite their age gap and differing social circles, Castiel has struck up a warm friendship with Mary Winchester, a wealthy widowed socialite. When Castiel needs a place to stay, Mary invites him into her house, where there’s loads of spare room. Castiel’s aware that they make an odd pair, but he doesn’t fully realize how things look to outsiders, especially to Mary’s eldest son. All Dean Winchester sees is that his mom has apparently hooked up with a hot young guy (who is totally Dean’s type) and that makes things… weird.

Living in agony ☆

Dean Winchester's life is... well, it's not great. He's a gym teacher, he's in his thirties, and he can't seem to keep any part of his life straight. When the aftermath of a one-night stand goes awry, Dean is dragged kicking and screaming out of his cozy little closet and into the harsh light of reality.

Enter: Castiel Novak, the new history teacher, who knows full well that life gets crappy when you don't allow yourself to live it in the way it needs to be lived.

The last great race

There is a race that takes place every year in Alaska called the Iditarod, a thousand mile journey across the Alaskan wilderness by dog sled team that has come to be known as "The Last Great Race on Earth”. It is a test of endurance, of the relationship between dogs and their people, traversing mountain ranges, frozen rivers, forest and tundra.

When writer Castiel Milton is forced to spend two and a half months in Alaska at Winchester Kennels to cover the race preparations and the Iditarod itself, the only person more dismayed than he is Dean Winchester, one of his hosts. Castiel views his assignment as a punishment and is less than impressed by his surly host, and Dean distrusts the sheltered city-born writer who has invaded their home and their lives. But soon, as the Winchesters prepare for their race and Castiel learns about sled dogs and what a musher’s lifestyle is all about, they forget to hate each other and their relationship evolves into something neither of them expected.

Starstruck ☆

From the outside Castiel Novak looks like a regular guy: a good job, two teenage kids, a nice house and a crappy car he’s way too attached to.

But there’s one thing no one knows about him: that, over twenty years ago, he used to live next to none other than Dean Winchester – back then a brash and loud-mouthed boy and nowadays a huge movie star and Hollywood’s sweetheart.

Castiel never bothered to tell anyone about his childhood friend because frankly, who would believe him? Probably even Dean himself already forgot about his former awkward and weird neighbor, so Castiel seriously doesn’t see any point in mentioning the whole thing ever.

But then an interview on national TV happens where Dean reveals way more about his past than ever before … and Castiel - as well as the rest of the world - suddenly realizes that he left a much bigger impact on Dean’s life than he originally thought.

Russian to the altar ☆

“I need you to marry Castiel.”

They weren’t the words Dean expected to hear from his business partner’s mouth before their bakery-slash-chocolate shop opened for the day. He’d been quite happy being single—and who the fuck was Castiel, anyway?

It turned out that Castiel was a Russian erotic novelist in need of a ticket to America, and Dean… well, Dean was a last resort.

I wanna get outside (of me) ☆

Dean is a novice in the dom/sub world asked by his employer as a desperate last resort to be a sub for his recluse of a brother, Castiel. Castiel is a diagnosed OCD suffering from PTSD and agoraphobia, mysophobia, and dystychiphobia. Needless to say—he’s a mess who hasn’t stepped out of his home in literally seven years. The only times Gabriel can see traces of the way his brother used to be is when he feels in control—specifically when he has control over a sub. However, due to his idiosyncrasies and paranoia, keeping a sub around has been impossible. Enter Dean, who’s not a very traditional submissive, to try his hand at subbing for the hermit.

Painted angels ☆

Author Castiel Novak has finally hit the big time, with a book based on his failed college relationship with a brilliant painter. He's put all his pain behind him, but at a book signing, he comes face to face with Dean Winchester for the first time in twelve years, and the reunion doesn't go like Cas hoped. Dean's a broken man, with a lot of scars and secrets, shoulders weighed down by his demons and self loathing.

Cas sees a second chance with the man he's never stopped loving, but Dean's moved on, and is about to get married. Sam launches a "brilliant" plan to reunite his brother and his best friend, but Cas is worried it will all blow up in their faces, and he'll go through the agony of losing Dean a second time.

Texas state of mind

Dean Winchester was once an award winning country music star, but fame came too early. Now, he’s fifteen years sober and owns a ranch in western Texas. He’s happy with his life. He has horses, a nice herd of cattle and so what, if he’s alone. He tells his friends that he’s happily single. Back when he was touring, men and women threw themselves at him – but he knew they only wanted him for his fame.

Cas Novak just won his fifth CMA award. He loves singing, but the touring was getting old. Living in a bus nine months out of the year was slowly destroying his creativity. He hasn’t written anything new in over a year. Then he hears an old song on the radio. He vaguely remembers the handsome singer and wondered whatever happened to him. Before he knew it, he'd written a new song. The only problem was…it was a duet. A duet that could only be sung with a voice like Winchester’s.

After locating the man’s ranch, Cas makes a surprise visit. Will he be able to talk Dean into joining him on stage after all these years? Will the two men find what they’ve been looking for all their lives – someone to share a future with?

If angels were men

Castiel Novak was raised by a hunting father, but he left that life behind for college and a flower shop. When his father is killed by a demon, Cas jumps back in the game and finds himself constantly running in the presence of the Winchester brothers, who are searching for their own father. They seem to be everywhere he turns, and at some point they become friends, then a team, then, maybe, in the case of Dean Winchester, something more.

Vagabonds ☆

Dean is a sheriff in a tiny town in Colorado, restless and unsatisfied with his life. It's not like what he's read about in the dime novels since he was little, capturing dangerous outlaws and being the last word of the law. More like tossing the town drunk in a cell to sober up when they get a little too rowdy.

But Dean's chance comes when a thief rolls through their town. He pursues the thief, which puts him right into the path of Emmanuel, a notorious outlaw. When he is captured by the outlaw and his gang to be held for ransom, Dean starts off on a journey he could have never envisioned, and learns that perhaps there's more to Emmanuel than meets the eye.

Four letter word for intercourse ☆

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

Any little heartbreak ☆

Dean Winchester knows everything there is to know about the human heart.

Well.

Anatomically speaking.

Get some

Very slowly, Dean turns. 'How'd you know I was here about a room?'

'Power of deduction,' says Castiel, leaning against the doorway. 'I mean, you're not after pot, and I'm pretty sure we haven't slept together.' He grins wolfishly, gaze sliding over Dean's body. 'You, I'd remember.'

Dean's been hit on by guys before, but never so blatantly, let alone by a semi-naked dude in a kimono. A hot blush warms his cheeks, and he covers his shock with cockiness, tilting his head and grinning. 'Sorry to disappoint you, Cas, but I don't swing that way.'

Castiel throws back his head and laughs. 'And you want to live here? What, did your friends put you up to this?'

'Actually, yeah.' Dean raises an eyebrow. 'Is that a problem for you?'

What i need

A joking phrase commonly heard between a surgeon and his tech is "Give me what I need, not what I ask for." Dr. Novak and his tech Dean will soon learn the impact this phrase has on life outside the operating room.

Mad at your dad? ☆

Dean wasn’t sure why he was even scrolling through Craigslist. Especially not the casual encounters section. It was four days before Thanksgiving. Not like he was gonna try and hook up with someone before that shitstorm. After, sure, but not before.

He kept scrolling, though, not clicking anything until a title caught his eye.

Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? I am a 28 year old male felon who has no degree, but has studied enough theologies of the world, behavioral psychology, and philosophy to set your whole family’s teeth on edge—no matter which way they lean, politically, religiously or in terms of neuroses. I drive a van the same age as me that’s got a mural on the side of an angel holding an orgy. I can play between the ages of 20-30 depending on whether I shave. I live off an inheritance, and sell weed on the side. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship (monogamous or polyamorous, whichever sounds most like it would freak out su familia) with you (and/or others), to torment your family, I’m game...

(dis)affection ☆

When Dean and Castiel are tricked to go on a date, neither is happy about this. To get back at their deceitful friends, they hatch the perfect plan: pretend to be dating, and gross out their friends with their over-the-top, disgustingly cute romantic relationship – and then break up in the most despicable manner imaginable. As it turns out, you can learn a lot from someone just by pretending affection.

Ninety one whiskey ☆

In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.

The breath of all things

Dean Winchester was twenty-six years old when a car accident killed his father and left him paralysed from the waist down. A year and a half later, Dean is in a wheelchair and lives in a care home in Kansas, where he spends his days waiting to die. It's only when Castiel Novak starts volunteering at the care home that Dean starts to wonder if a changed life always equals a ruined one.

If you'd have been the one

A boy sits on the front steps, his dark hair a wild mess.��A gingerbread boy, Dean thinks. Dressed in pressed slacks and a sweater-vest to match his father’s. He looks about Dean’s age; maybe they’ll be in the same class. That wouldn’t be too bad, unless he’s mean. He could be mean; a lot of kids are mean to him, so he has to be mean back.

He hopes this one is nice.

...

In the year 1986, at seven years old, Dean Winchester meets Castiel Novak.

Eleven years go by, then eight, then three.

Somewhere along the way, things start to change.

Spirit of the west ☆

Dean grew up on a horse farm and can't imagine any other life. There are drawbacks to working for his father, but they're worth it if it means remaining with his beloved horses. Besides, between his broken arm and his lack of prospects, he hasn't got much else.

Something of an outsider, Dean always feels like there's something he's missing. But this tense summer brings back a figure from his past: years ago, a teenaged Cas worked for a season at the Winchester ranch. His return could change everything.

If you ever wanted a 90s horse girl book, but starring a young Dean Winchester, this is your fic.

Guns and wings

Dean Winchester is the sheriff in the small town of Sioux Falls, along with his deputy (and brother) Sam. Life there is calm and normal, easy to manage with the occasional problems. That is until the Garrison gang sends an assassin to kill one of their beloved citizens. Dean is ready to hang the man for his crimes, when the outlaw gives him a deal he can't pass up. The whole Garrison gang. Dean and the criminal, Castiel, set off to find the gang; enemies working towards a common goal. Dean is determined to hate Castiel, but the longer they journey together and the more he finds out about the outlaw the harder it becomes to deny the feelings he begins to have for the man. But he's the sheriff and he has a job to do, he can't fall in love with a criminal... Right?

Life was a willow

When Dean’s favorite author becomes a regular at his bar, Dean knows he’s done for. He never could have anticipated the intense feelings that blossomed for the talented Castiel. There’s just one thing standing in his way of being with Castiel the way he truly wants: Castiel is waiting for his soulmate.

Dean has spent his entire life hating the concept of soulmates. He just wants to live his life without the universe intervening. If the only way he can keep Castiel in his life is by swallowing his feelings, then that’s what he’ll do.

300cc ☆

300 Complementary Characters: a forum on Kansas City University’s student website. You can write whatever you want, but it has to be 300 characters or less.

Dean is crushing hard on Sam’s TA, but it feels different than it has before; it feels like he needs to do it properly, to have a grand declaration and to prove that romance isn’t dead. What better way to profess his feelings than posting a poem on 300cc?

Castiel is torn. There’s no mistaking the poem is for him, but who could be posting them? Despite being very tempted by the very attractive new light and sound engineer that will be working on the play he has written, Castiel can’t ignore the feeling that he and the anonymous Poet are meant to be together.

A comedy of errors, mutual pining, and erotic poetry.

Satin and sawdust ☆

When Castiel moves out of Jimmy's house and into his own place for the first time, he saves money on buying a home by investing in a Fixer-Upper. He knows nothing about how to fix the many problems the house has, but he figures he's smart enough to figure it out. Unfortunately it's not too long before he learns that he's way in over his head.

Thankfully his new neighbor Dean is a handyman, and agrees to help him out. He knows Dean has a bit of a crush on him, but he's not taking advantage of it, really. Dean's a great guy, and quickly becomes a good friend.

But a flash of satin under Dean's toolbelt changes everything.

Stay with me, sweetheart ☆

“Alright Cas, here comes the hard part. We’re gonna get you out of here, but we’ve gotta take the roof off and while we do that, we’re gonna have to cover you with a sheet to protect you from the glass. I’ll be right here though. I’m not going anywhere.”

As he starts to drift away, he suddenly feels the press of Dean’s forehead against his own through the rough fabric and hears that warm, sunlit voice murmer quietly in his ear, too low to be overheard by the firefighters currently working to remove the SUV’s roof, “Stay with me, Sweetheart.”

A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV.

When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship.

Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there?

And this, your living kiss

Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen.

Sometimes you'll find that i'm out of my mind ☆

Castiel returns from the Empty, and Dean worries obsessively. Dean also sleeps on the floor in Cas' room, which he admits is weird, but at least he's sleeping.

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withered--s0uls · 6 days

Text

Oh look it's another GD crossover

Ghost Drone AU - @electrozeistyking

You already saw all this art but shhh HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

This originally started out with me just wanting to draw Beanie interacting with the Intertwined Codes Kids but then I added some extra stuff lol.

If you're a reader of Intertwined Codes, this kinda sorta spoils future stuff bc only the twins have been mentioned in the Draft/Teaser fic but oh well. You have been warned.

IC!Uzi wouldn't like actually meet GD!N bc they'd kinda decide that "hey, let's not have the widowed man see an alternate version of his wife that actually got live." simply out of respect kinda?? So she would stick around at home with the kids whilst IC!N goes out to look for Beanies Dad after their kids drag her to them lmao.

So yeah she doesn't necessarily know the extent of the mans depression, the kids just mentioned there only being a dad so she just specifically asks about GD!N in this doodle

IC!N would quickly pick up on GD!N not being completely okay, even without being told any details. So he probably would end up sitting him down to talk on their way back to the IC!Doorman families place, wanting to help if he can in any way. (He runs a Daycare and tries to also be a support to any parent that needs it, so I feel he out of habit would lean into trying to do that with GD!N)

More/The kids under the Cut otherwise the post looks so long rip

I will go over each of these one by one (can'tdo close ups bc 10 image limit, I'll reblog this in a second with the close ups.)

Left are the Code-Related Nuzi kids, right are the adopted ones.

Code related kids

Zagi:

Not much to say, I'm still working out their personality - they're maybe 2-3 years older than Beanie, so they aren't too far apart in age. :)

Orita:

She's the sibling who started the trend of putting stickers on her siblings, so she DEFINITELY would do the same with Beanie.

She also probably originally was going to show her how to build a weapon, but her parents promptly stopped that lmao .

She would think it's really cool that Beanie has a custom core icon & in general is completely customized from the start! She herself was originally put into a regular worker body (just with the tail and headband being custom made by her mom), she had to build the DD forearms herself. She also has a sticker of the DD icon on her core, covering the WD icon :3

Rexim:

At this point he has enough siblings to be past the "ew a little kid" phase, so luckily Beanie gets spared that. His main camera is damaged, he only really uses his headband optics to look around, so he would kinda just look as if he's staring past her a lot. But bc of the obvious cracks in his visor I feel she would pick up on the fact he's not actually ignoring her.

Also he definitely would just play music to her, because IC!Uzi kinda always has music on whilst working in her workspace he kinda picked up some of her taste in music (Hence he's playing the same song that Uzi is shown to have been listening to in Ep7)

Raven:

First up THANK YOU Zeisty for helping me brainstorm silly stuff for them. They're a little ball of chaos now and I love them.

Anyways.

They would join Orita in bedazzling Beanie, and then they'd start talking about bird facts and also try to get Beanie to talk about her interests.

(Their height difference isnt 100% accurate bc halfway through drawing this I changed the IC timeline, making Raven about the same age as Zagi instead of them being a teen, so I kinda had to manually try and semi-fit their heights lol)

Adopted Kids

Ray:

Nothing to say. He's a baby. Tho whilst I was outlining this one I had to giggle because of how big he is in Beanies hands. She's so tiny 😭💕 /affectionate

Annika:

Oh boy. Ann.

Annika is the eldest kid & was adopted a while before Zagi was coded / whilst the parents were organizing the code copies for Zagi

She does NOT know how to talk to other kids. Never did. It made her stick out at the orphanage wing because she just avoided everyone. And it is very chaotic when Olivia and Ray first show up, because Ann's only idea of talking to other Drones is "well you got to be relatable" so she brings up the siblings dead parents bc like, her code parents are dead too. Both pairs dying to DDs. So yeah she probably would be the first, if not only one, in the whole household to just bring up GD!Uzi. She would do it like it's nothing either.

IC!Uzi would promptly get her to stop and sit her down having a conversation about "what did N and I say about trying to connect on that topic?"

Like IC!Uzi would actually feel really bad about it despite Beanie not knowing her mom. Bc she herself obviously didn't remember IC!Nori growing up but still didn't like the topic.

Olivia:

Olivia, as I said, was greeted with the topic of dead parents by Annika as well. So she probably would kinda interfere when IC!Uzi goes to sit Ann down to talk.

She would feel the need to apologize for the older girls behavior (which Ann would apologize for herself later too ofc) and would try to get Beanie to go play something together whilst IC!Uzi sorts that whole situation out.

She's also the closest to Beanies age probably, just was forced to mature bc of what happened to her parents, despite being taken in by Nuzi shortly after. She still obviously acts like a kid tho when comfortable, so I feel she would kinda ease up around Beanie and actually act more like a 4-5 year old around her.

Bonus? Bonus!

Needless to say Beanie would return home covered in stickers & hairpins (Orita & Raven have more than enough of those, they'd just let Beanie keep some)

RIP GD!N having to get her out of those stickers once they're back home

Also, for the "*humming*" variation of the picture I blame @k1k0oftheworld. Kiko was in vc with me when I was talking about how Beanie would be covered in stickers when she gets home, and saw the doodles as well.

He proposed the following scenario after seeing Rexim show Beanie IC!Uzis playlist:

Beanie humming dead batteries song & GD!N having a breakdown bc it reminds him of GD!Uzi

I do not take accountability for this, I was going to spare the poor widowed man.

(I scrapped the idea of him not knowing ab the IC!Doorman family and him getting a mini heart attack when Beanie goes "I met Mom today" in favor of him and IC!N meeting & talking - I WANTED TO SPARE HIS POOR HEART)

@k1k0oftheworld you owe him money for a therapy session now /silly

Anyways that's it, I'll put the close ups in the reblog like I said 👍

#murder drones #serial designation n #md #uzi doorman #ghost drone au #Intertwined codes #beanie doorman #Nuzi ship kids #like a lot of them #I'm tagging all of my kids in the reblog i dont have the patience rn #au crossover #gd x ic #ghost drone x intertwined codes #ElectroZeistyKing #my art #Souls Art

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thewxtchwhowrites · 2 months

Text

Positions

summary: Cas and Dean are tired of you and Sam feeling something for each other and not saying anything, that is why they decide to leave you alone in the bunker while they decide to go hunting. Perhaps that way you and Sam decide to realize what you really feel for each other.

Word Count: 1024 words

Characters: Sam Winchester x reader.

Warnings: sensual dancing, sam winchester (obviously), sit on top (is this a real warning?), touching, mention of an erection.

A/N: This was the first one-shot I uploaded to this platform, if it has errors, I'm sorry since my native language is Spanish and not English.

A/N 2: Yes, I'm reuploading the one-shot because it was originally on my main blog, I still have to accommodate the new version of this one-shot.

Two men, an angel and a woman. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, you met the Winchester brothers in a somewhat peculiar case, a witch who murdered unfaithful men, Donna recommended you and that was when you met them you saved their lives, after they were captured by the witch.

The Winchesters owed you one.

Sam was the one who made the invitation that if you didn't have a place to stay, you could stay in the bunker with them and Castiel.

There were many empty beds, why not have another fighting partner?

Your sister had died a year ago, in a solo hunt that went wrong. Over the months you became good friends with them, you hunted together, shared movie or series references and told funny hunting stories.

But Dean was not a fool, you had been in the bunker for a few months and he could see how Sam was starting to develop feelings for you, as well as you for him. The way Sam looked at you, the tone he used to talk to you with, sometimes he seemed to be grooming himself more than usual, it was pretty obvious.

And also the fact that every time you both investigated a case and either of you found the answer, the atmosphere turned as he called it "Fluffy."

It was morning, Sam was already sitting checking his laptop, a new hunting alert was in progress. Second victim found read the headline of the story Sam was reading from an online newspaper.

"Good morning, Romeo, did you find something?" Dean smiled as he sat next to Sam with a beer in his hand. Sam cleared his throat, ignoring the new nickname that his brother had given him for a few months.

“Well get this, we have a case of bodies turning up in alleys with strategically placed marks in the back, of what it seems to be satanic cults.” Dean wrinkled his face, as he listened to his brother’s words.

Satanic cults?

Bodies with strange wounds?

That was totally their thing.

Or probably not, maybe it’s just a psychopath who roams that town.

You walked over to the table to start breakfast and listened to the awkward dialogue Cas and Dean were having.

“Well, this seems like a case that Cas and I can handle, right Cas?” Dean nodded as he read the local news, Castiel was confused.

He wanted you and Sam to be alone in the bunker, maybe in that way you two would finally declare your love and the atmosphere would stop being fluffy.

“That’s right Dean. You two will have time to…study.” Castiel spoke a little uncomfortable, he was trying to sound natural but you could tell that Dean wanted him to lie. “You two are going to help us from here...”

You looked at each other, Dean quickly got up from his chair to get his things and get out of there as soon as possible.

Hours had passed, Dean called saying that they would go to the widow’s house to investigate if the murdered man had enemies, or perhaps was involved in shady matters. You were mumbling the Ariana Grande song “Positions” the slow and reverb version in your room. You love this song.

And then you thought why not go sing this song to Sam? Maybe he laughs a bit, it would be an original way to declare your love. Sam has been a little distracted.

He’s probably still doing research.

You took the headphones off the cellphone and turned up the volume, put it on a nearby table. He looked at you and just smiled, then turned his eyes back to the old book and when the music started playing.

“Really, Ariana Grande? Wow…" He put his hand to his chest, surprised staring at you. Then you put your hands on the table.

"Heaven sent you to me…”

You winked and pointed at him as you approached the table.

“Boy, I’m tryna meet your brother on a Sunday…then make a lotta love on a Monday…”

He let out a laugh, but he wouldn't stop looking at you.

“Never need no, no one else, babe…”

His eyes were wide open, watching you dance and running your hands over your body, to the rhythm of the music. Sam swallowed nervously and began to smile, as you approached, closing the space between you and him, you ran your hand through Sam’s hair, while you sat on top of him.

“Something you want to tell me y/n?” Sam kept looking at your lips and then into your eyes, he began to put one of his hands under your shirt to touch your skin and with the other he took your face to kiss you, but you stopped it.

"I thought the lyrics of the song were very obvious…Sam Winchester” you whispered, when his lips were going to meet yours, you heard a clear throat coming from the door, it was Dean.

"Dean…" Sam said surprised as he took his hands off you. You just smiled, you felt ashamed like Sam to be discovered this way.

He knew Dean would come up with one of his funny lines to embarrass him.

"Doing anatomical research, Sammy?” Dean smiled victorious at his plan, it's just that Dean was sorry he had come at the wrong time.

There is the funny phrase you and Sam thought, and you slowly got up off him.

“Hi. Dean.” You said while adjusting your shirt. “How was the hunt?“

“Yes. He was a road demon, he lied about his dealings and killed people before the ten-year contract expired.” There was a silence.

Cas appeared and knew the situation was awkward, he whispered something into Dean’s ear and Dean just nodded while smiling boastfully.

“I think I’ll be making dinner…” you said almost in a whisper looking at the boys and going to the kitchen. “Cas, will you come with me?”

“I will go find a book in my room…” Sam got up from the chair trying to hide his erection and left, but not before you saw how Dean followed him with a big smile.

#sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester one shot #supernatural one shot #supernatural oneshot #supernatural x reader #supernatural #thewxtchwhowrites

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thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed · 1 year

Note

is it possible for a Wednesday x Reader where they are childhood friends but Reader went overseas and years later Nevermore has a new transfer besides Wednesday and that is reader but Reader is different compared to the young Reader Wednesday knew because Reader lost all memories when reader was young and Reader today is a prisoner who used to be a assassin (just like Black Widow but recently cured from brainwashing) and is staying in Nevermore while waiting for final punishment?

Prisoner of Mistakes

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: mentions of Gore, Violence and Blood

There you go! I had a lot of fun writing this so thank you for the request! I did put a lot of effort in this so hopefully you like it!🖤✨

———

You and Wednesday were both kids when you met for the first time. You were older than her by 3 years, but you were still really good friends. You would play together since you had very similar interests. The way Wednesday grew up never bothered you, you always liked everything that was horror, killing, blood. So it was really easy for you to be friends with Wednesday. You would play all kinds of games, hell you even helped her dig up graves or make autopsies.

One day though when you were around 10, your family decided to move across the world to a scientist, that could help study your ability since no one could find a way to understand it. No one ever managed to figure out what it really was but it messed with your brain and it definitely was not something good. You never got to say goodbye to your childhood best friend because the decision to move overseas was so abrupt, and in your head and heart you never accepted it.

And for the first time you moved you never stopped going around the world, most specifically through hospitals. No one could pinpoint what it was you had, if it was an illness, if it was an ability but you were starting to get so tired of this. You just wanted to live a normal life as a normal girl and have friends, but you were never allowed that.

Then the worst thing happened. While performing an experiment on you, a doctor made a terrible mistake, he hit the wrong button on his machine and ended up erasing all kind of memory you had. Ever since then, your personality completely changed and kept on changing. You had lost yourself, you didn’t recognize yourself nor your parents and everything your brain had was long gone.

Talking about losing your way, you became everyone’s worst nightmare. You were now 16 and a serial killer. You were ruthless, they way you killed people was unbelievable to everyone. you cut their body parts, opened them up and mixed their organs around all while your victims were still alive. You enjoyed hearing their scream and lose their breaths before dying. Probably this “gore” part of you is the only thing that remained in your brain ever since you were a kid, given the fact that you’ve always liked this kind of stuff.

The way you would always get away with it was unbelievable too. Seeing how the victim had been reduced, everyone always thought it was an animal. You got away with it till some day you didn’t. At 17 you made a mistake when killing a guy and left a trace, which led the investigators straight to you. By now your parents had completely disconnected from you and changed their names. Not that you would remind them anyways. Of course you had a trial, but somehow the judge gave you two choices. You could either live forever in prison or go to Nevermore.

You didn’t know what Nevermore was, but you chose that. Apparently you had to spend there a couple years, and see if you would come back to your senses, see if somehow the wrong experiment would reverse itself. The judge knew that all of this wasn’t your fault, and he hoped that in Nevermore you would find something that triggered you and made you go back to the sweet girl you were before you took this road full of everyone else’s mistakes.

The day you arrived at Nevermore was an intense day. Nobody would treat a killer like a normal person, right? Right. Everyone at the school had heard that a killer would be coming to their school to study, but no one quite believed it until you showed up. At your arrival of course you weren’t alone. You got off the police car with police on both of your sides. You were cuffed and as you were being escorted to the principal’s office you walked through the quad. As soon as you did everyone went quiet and stared at you. You looked at them with a psycho-killer-smile and waved at them.

“Hey, look in front of you psycho” one of the guards said as he roughly grabbed you by your head and forced you to look forward. “Alright alright, it’s not like m I’m gonna kill people here with you around, morons”. They pushed you forward at your reply as you kept on heading towards the principal’s office.

Wednesday looked at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she made sure that what she thought was right. “Enid I think I know her” she said, looking at the slightly taller girl next to her. “Why am I not surprised you know a worldwide known killer?” Enid replied not surprised at all, arms dropping on her sides. “She was my childhood best friend, she wasn’t like this. All I know is that she went overseas and then I knew nothing, but she wasn’t a killer, not at all” Wednesday finished her speech being sure of what she said, like most times.

After having talked to the principal she decided that it was necessary that she talked to students and teachers, so she called everyone in the quad and started listening. “May I have everyone’s attention please?” Weems started as you stood by her side, still handcuffed and with cops at your sides as everyone turned to look at her. “From today till the end of her studies, (Y/N) will be studying with us. Keep in mind that she’s a worldwide known killer so make sure not to get too close to her, stay away from her room and most of all DO NOT bother her. She’s manipulative so she’ll get you to do what she wants if you let her so I repeat, do not get close to her. She’s here on court’s orders so she’s not leaving anytime soon.”

That day finished like that, with you going to your room and the guards leaving the school, though making sure that your handcuffs were still on. There was no way they were letting you stay here without them even for the night, although the police officers would be coming back the next day, and they did. After having dressed up they escorted you to the greenhouse for mrs Thornhill’s class. The class had already started when you got in, of course you were late because you were trying to escape.

“Get inside psycho, if you continue we won’t hesitate to hit you and you know that so move your ass!” One of the police officers said as he pushed you, almost making you fall to the floor. Your balance was limited to a minimum because of the handcuffs. Everyone’s eyes turned to you as you had interrupted their lesson. “Fine okay! There’s no need for you to threaten me, jeez” you said as you headed to your desk. Of course it was away from everyone else. “I would think about what you do before bothering her. You both know how she can be right? I wouldn’t feel so powerful if I were you. She could kill you in a second and I’ll stay and enjoy if she does” Wednesday started.

“Thank you shorty, but I don’t need you to defend me,” you raised your hands, showing her the handcuffs “I have these so they’re right after all” you said smirking. You may look like a psycho, but deep down you hated how you were being treated. You were still a teenager. Wednesday looked at you with confusion on her face - for how noticeable it was - and turned back to Enid. “She didn’t recognize me” she told the blonde, and she turned to reply “well I would be happy about that, at least she doesn’t have a reason to kill you right?” The blonde ended the conversation like that. Deep down Wednesday was sorry that her childhood best friend didn’t recognize her.

The following days were pretty much the same, you would get pushed around by those idiots and a couple of times they beat you in your room for the bad replies you gave them. You had started submitting to them, having finally understood that there wasn’t a way out from this living hell and that no one would ever treat you like a normal girl.

This time you were in your Biology class, of course in your alone desk. You weren’t listening to the lesson at all, you were just writing on your diary. It was the only place where you had privacy so you would vent and write all kinds of things there. Then suddenly you felt a presence at your side, and realized that the girl you had learned to be Wednesday Addams had moved to sit next to you.

“Addams maybe you should go sit somewhere else” the teacher suggested, but she quickly shut him up “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. If needed I even know how to defend myself so don’t worry about me” he nodded hesitantly and let her do. “What do you want Addams?” You started, closing your diary as she noticed the bruises on your arms, but decided to say nothing about it.

“Do you remember me?” The brunette asked without thinking of it. “No I don’t. Why would I?” You were quick to reply. “We played together when we were kids and I used to be your best friend. Then you moved when you were 10 and I never knew anything about you” she said, not once looking at you in the face. You wondered why. “Yeah well I lost all of my memory when I was 13 so for my cute little brain my life started at 13” you said and then everything went quiet for the rest of class, until Wednesday got up and sat back at her place next to Enid.

Even more time passed since then and things didn’t really change much. In school you had learned to behave and always went to class on time, but when you were in your room you would always end up fighting with the guards, who always ended up beating you until you passed out, and they also started tightening your cuffs, which started cutting on your wrists and leaving dark bruises and dried blood.

The day after the 100th fight with the cops you went to class with tears in your eyes, which you refused to let go. Arms full of bruises, yet everyone refused to say anything. You were breaking and you had no one to talk to. By now of course you regretted what you did, but at this point there was no going back. Nobody cared about your state, except for Wednesday.

Recently she had been Sending Thing to your room to check on you, luckily you hadn’t seen him. He saw every day how you would get beat up and of course told Wednesday. One day she finally decided to act upon this. Luckily the guards were only outside of your room so she only had to distract them to get inside and help you. Thing took care about this and Wednesday got in your room. She caught you crying on the floor because of the pain.

“…(Y/N)?” Wednesday asked quietly as she walked to you, kneeling down in front of you “are you okay?” She asked again. “Addams get away from here before I kill you!” You warned her in between sobs, but she didn’t budge from where she was “I’m not leaving. I came to help you” she said and without thinking of it she put a hand on your shoulder, but she didn’t expect a reaction from you.

She didn’t expect you to jump up on her and pin her to the floor, a murderous expression on your face as you looked at her while breathing heavily, but suddenly it all came back to you.

How you would always play with her

How you loved your parents

How your parents loved you

How you were such a happy little girl

But then came the experiments

And with it the pain

And the depression

The killing.

Suddenly you remembered everything and it gave you a headache as you quickly stepped away from her and crawled backwards to the wall. Wednesday looked at you unfazed, like she expected it from you. But she didn’t expect you to pull back that way.

“What’s happening?” She asked you as she stood up and once again walked to you. “I- I remember everything..” you told her and began crying once again “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Wednesday I didn’t mean to do anything of that- it wasn’t my fault” you started rantling. You were apologizing to her, she did nothing wrong but she knew that you just needed to say that.

———

From then on you turned once again to the girl you used to be, with the only difference that no one trusted you here at Nevermore, even though Wednesday told everything what had happened, obviously after you had given her consent. The court has been notified about this events and today you were going through another trial to validate what had been said.

They asked you questions of the past to which you replied, and then they called Wednesday to testify that you were back to normal. When they told you you were free to go you breathed of relief but then you asked for one thing you never thought you’d ask.

To go back to Nevermore.

#jenna ortega #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

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fungirl-apk · 3 months

Text

JJK CHARACTERS AS SCAM ARTISTS. (JUJUTSU SCAMMERVERSE.) (PT.1)

____________________________________

(a series dedicated to Jujutsu kaisen characters and what type of scammers they would be. (Keep in mind this is just a joke - slander if you will. Lmao. )

-> PART 2(toji)

TW// dusty!satoru, scammer!satoru, dustmite!gojo, mentions of scammer!geto, crackfic

1K+ words

(if you have eczema , asthma, or a cold, reading this fic featuring dusty gojo and (a very little, but still dusty) geto will make you cough, wheeze, hack, and sneeze. read at your own risk.)

____________________________________

SATORU GOJO - THE MONARCH SCAMMER.

-SATORU is definitely the "over-the-phone" foreign country emperor-type scammer. The kind of scammer who chooses gullible females (such as elderly women,) or vulnerable women (such as lonely widows,) on purpose - he's no misogynist, but he finds women easier to manipulate cash out of (partially due to his good looks and silver-tongue). Besides, what woman can resist a handsome ""emperor"" from a foreign country? with a foreign accent?

-SATORU would definitely be the type to carefully plan out his responses/behaviors before manipulating his victims for cash - he'd purposefully distance himself away from his victim for days, but not before saying things like: "I'm broke", "I have no job", then arrive with a half-assed apology 3 days later, "oh- sorry! was busy working, lol :p"

-SATORU would obviously not be stupid enough to contradict himself, By accident that is. He knows what he's doing, he's just making it seem like he's hiding something... Hiding the fact he's the quote "emperor from some rich foreign country".

He realizes he could never just say that though, so instead, he'd leave little traps for his victim to pick up on, hints, and clues, that'll eventually all add up and corroborate his story.

-SATORU's entire goal from start to finish would be to push the theory without explicitly saying it. The more distance between you two, the more suspicious you will get.

the more desperate for an answer you feel as he pushes you away? This is how he lures you in, although you'll never realize it until the end.

-SATORU would only strike when he knows he's destroyed your morale. When you inevitably lower your standards for an explanation as to why he's been "traveling in and out of Japan", desperate for anything, you'll accept his outlandish confession of being a

"foreign imperial monarch, emperor of the south who has 8 Bugatti's and 5 exotic albino peacock-tigers and an 89 figure bank account".

And regardless of whether you truly believe it or not, you accept it. Because you're just desperate for his company and tired of feeling neglected.

-SATORU would use his previous absence to further push the theory if you still weren't convinced enough. "Yeah, the reason I missed your birthday was because I was helping the local Duke of the North. I got injured, so I was in the hospital". he wasn't.

"remember when I said I couldn't be there for your promotion party? The guards of the south needed my assistance on the day of the party, so I traveled to Japan to help them.". He didn't.

"That picture of me on the airplane was me traveling to my kingdom". He literally snuck onto that plane without a ticket...

-SATORU is smart, smart enough to know you probably would begin to doubt his fictitious empire and his tenuous adventures about "large boats made out of porcelain with golden jewels, exotic albino caviar, and white pearls" in Bali, Indonesia.

So, to further sell the dream - he sends in cash or expensive gifts now and then as the final nail in the coffin. To some inexperienced scammers, it just looks stupid, considering he's supposed to be the one receiving money, "counterproductive" they say.

But Satoru just scoffs and writes them off as "amateurs". He doesn't see it as ""CoUnTeRpROduCtive"" He sees it as an investment, a down payment, or to put it more accurately, a security deposit for the future.

"It isn't guaranteed you will get back the same treatment in dividends from the person you choose to pour all this unnecessary money into..."

Nanamin often remarks. But again, Satoru just scoffs. Nanamin just doesn't understand the psychological genius behind a true mastermind such as THE gojo Satoru, king of the con artists. Some say he's arrogant, but he'd just say he's confident in his abilities as a scam artist.

what comes around goes around, and he's gonna get his money back one way or another. it's just his good karma.

-SATORU's best friend, confidant, and partner in crime, geto, comments that if any regular person were to describe Gojo, they would say he's an absolute despicable excuse of a human being.

If any of his victims were to describe him, they'd say he was a learning experience and their first real heartbreak.

If an advanced scammer were to describe Satoru, they would say he is a genius but arrogant hustler in a world full of flim-flam cowards,

a true fraudster in the flesh. Most scammers who've heard the tales of Satoru Gojo assume he's worked his way up to the top all by his lonesome, brewing his own methods of mind games and manipulation processes resulting in successful licks among women internationally.

But, geto would just chalk it all up to him being born into a very corporate family.

One that happens to scam their customers out of new and expensive phones every 6 months for minimal features but 6000x times the price. it's worth it though, because you get 50kb more space. :>

-SATORU would never let another man in your life. not in jealousy - but in greed. He's had men in the past attempt to distance his victims away from him in either pursuit of a romantic relationship, or because they're trying to play fraudster as well, While he's still trying to play HIS tricks.

you can guarantee no matter who it is - Satoru takes it as a sign of blatant disrespect if another scammer attempts to try and get in the way of his bag

So, he makes an example out of them, which is the number 1 reason why Satoru Gojo became the most notorious figure in the Con-artistry community.

IF a man somehow reaches the god-like proportions Satoru Gojo has achieved in the world of the jujutsu scammer-verse, he'd just have to knock him down to size.

He can't have another shyster challenging his authority. If the JJK scammer verse is the Wild Wild West, there isn't enough room in this town for both of them.

-SATORU in the world of scammers would be the kingpin, the best, the inspiration, the moment, and the blueprint for other scammers in the jujutsu scammer verse.

and he's a dust storm heading toward all the women. ladies, pack your bags, skip town, and lock your doors, it's sneezin' season - and beware of the Toji dust blizzard following right behind

-> PART 2(toji)

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ATTENTION ALL READERSSS, THIS IS MY FIRST FANFIC. I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE IF ITS POPOCACA BUT REMEMBER IT'S JUST A JOKE FOR YOUR PERSONAL ENTERTAINMENT

BUT IF MY FANFIC ERADICATED ANY FORM OF ENTERTAINMENT FEEL FREE TO CRITIQUE ME!!!!!!

(also, here's a quick yuji fanart I created LOL)

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43 notes · View notes

smilingformoney · 1 month

Text

The Eternal Summer | Elliott Marston/Reader

III. Moth to a Flame

Summary: Elliott has a plan.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

You were sleeping peacefully in Elliott’s arms while he struggled to fall asleep. His mind was spinning with plans. He had to find Quigley and kill him, that was certain. Earlier that day, Major Ashley-Pitt had arrived at the station with the bodies of the men who’d taken Quigley into the outback and sealed his fate.

Turning down the work was irritating, considering the lengths he’d gone to to get Quigley there, but he’d have let the man go on his way back to America without any fuss if he hadn’t decided to raise his fists.

Elliott’s back was still sore from his fall. You, with your tender heart and soft hands, had patched him up the best you could, but it still ached. Not only had Quigley made Elliott seem weak in front of his men by throwing him out of his own house, but he’d embarrassed him in front of you too.

Now, Quigley had killed his men, and probably stolen their supplies too. Which meant that he was probably still alive, and though Australia might still do her work on him, there was a chance he’d survive.

Elliott couldn’t let that stand. He had to make sure the American was dead, and if Australia didn’t do it for him, he’d do it himself.

Matthew Quigley wasn’t his only problem. He also had his cousin’s shadow looming over the beautiful woman in his arms, who he was falling more in love with every day. Sometimes he thought perhaps you might be falling for him too, but then you’d mention that bloody husband of yours.

As well as the bodies of his men, Major Ashley-Pitt had also delivered the news from Melbourne that Judge Turpin had been held up in finding suitable accommodation for him and his wife, he’d be travelling to collect his wife as soon as he could and he apologises that she may have to stay at the station a little longer.

That gave Elliott an idea. He didn’t want to have his cousin killed - they were family, after all, and he hardly expected you as a grieving widow would want to be with the man who’d had her husband killed. But he could delay William’s arrival a little longer, giving himself more time to win you over. Then, when William arrived to pick you up, Elliott would challenge him to a duel for your hand. William would either accept, and inevitably lose, or decline and give you the choice to stay.

You hummed with contentment in your sleep and wriggled closer to him, as if you’d heard his idea and thought it splendid. Yes, he’d do that, he decided as he planted a kiss to your head and finally closed his eyes to settle into sleep. In the morning, he’d send three of his craftiest men back to Melbourne and task them with delaying Judge Turpin’s arrival at the station for as long as possible, giving him the time he needed to win your heart.

***

Thanks to his sleepless night, Elliott awoke later than usual in the morning and found the bed empty. He got himself dressed and stepped out onto his porch, the hat on his head protecting his eyes from the glaring sun as he looked around to make sure everyone was at work.

The only person not at work that should be, he in fact noticed, was your brother, Tommy. He had apparently decided that 11 o’clock in the morning was the perfect time to be playing hopscotch.

“[L/n]! Why aren’t you working?” Elliott called just as Tommy hopped onto one leg, causing him to lose concentration and fall down.

“Elliott, you did that on purpose!” you said with gentle admonishment, appearing from around the side of the building with a hat in your hand. “That can only mean that Tommy can go again since he was unfairly distracted.”

“It’s almost noon, he should be working by now!”

“He’s working very hard, aren’t you, Tommy?” you said as you placed the hat on your brother’s head. “Tell Mr Marston what you’re doing.”

Tommy bit his lip, a habit he shared with you. “I’m - erm —”

“Yes?” Elliott prompted, leaning against the pillar with his arms folded.

“He’s keeping me amused, since you’re too busy sleeping to do it yourself,” you said, standing next to Tommy with a protective hand on his shoulder. “I had to have breakfast all by my lonesome this morning, so Tommy offered to keep me company until you woke up.”

Elliott narrowed his eyes at you. You were picking up an attitude, and while that kind of cheek wouldn’t have been acceptable from any of his men, in you it stirred something inside him.

“I don’t accept cheek at my station, Lady Turpin,” he reminded you with a low growl. “[L/n], go find Coogan, he’ll give you something to do. [Y/n], inside.”

Tommy ran off quickly, glad to have avoided Elliott’s wrath, and you followed Elliott back into the house with far less subservience than he would have liked.

As soon as the door was shut, Elliott pushed you up against the wall, lips tantalisingly close to yours.

“Where’s this attitude come from, hm?” he said in a low voice, eyes boring into yours. “Have you forgotten your place?”

“I must have,” you replied with a mischievous grin that only served to stir Elliott’s cock. “Are you going to remind me?”

Elliott’s hands ran down your body, resting on your waist, his fingers flexing as he resisted grabbing you elsewhere.

“Your place… is right next to me,” he growled. “If I’m in bed, so are you. If I’m oversleeping, you wake me up with your mouth. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Elliott grinned. He pressed himself against you, and you could feel the outline of his growing erection through your skirt. He took a deep breath, as if collecting himself.

“Normally I’d teach you a lesson by taking you right here, right now… but as you say, I overslept. I have work to do. I’m afraid your lesson will have to wait.”

“How are you gonna work with this?” you teased, brushing your fingers against his crotch, and he groaned in frustration.

“Fuck, [Y/n]… what happened to the innocent lamb I met in Melbourne, hm? The girl who was so shocked at the idea of laying with another man.”

“You happened.”

Well, there was no way he could resist that.

But… he did have work to do.

He’d better multitask, then.

Elliott took you by the arm and dragged you over to his desk. He pushed his chair back, giving you room to kneel as he pushed you to your knees, and you knew immediately what he had in mind when he sat in his chair and unbuckled his belt.

He pulled his cock out, hard and dripping with precum, and you instinctively opened your mouth for him. Elliott sighed with relief when he slipped past your lips and his cock sat heavy on your tongue, stopping just shy of the back of your throat. You instinctively tried to open your throat to take him fully, but Elliott grabbed the back of your head and held you still.

“Stay still, darling. I just want you to use that slutty mouth of yours to keep me warm while I work. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded as best you could, and Elliott smiled hungrily. You were so good, so obedient. The perfect little wife.

He pulled out a pen and some paper and began drafting demands for Quigley’s capture and promises of a reward. His servant came in with a plate of jam and toast for his breakfast, and you tried to extract yourself when you heard movement, but Elliott put a hand firmly on your head and kept you in place.

He considered drafting orders to the men he’d choose to delay William, but he decided against it. If written proof were found of his instructions, his cousin could cause him some serious trouble. No, this was something that would have to be done surreptitiously.

Since he was so comfortable at his desk with you between his knees, Elliott wasn’t keen on moving, so he took the time to work on some other paperwork he’d been putting off. He wrote some letters, kept his accounts ledger up to date, and occasionally slipped his spare hand below the desk to stroke the side of your face, making sure you knew he appreciated how good you were being for him. He’d have to think of a worthy reward for you later.

About mid-afternoon, satisfied with the paperwork he’d got through, Elliott sat back in his chair and looked down at you. He gently pulled your head back to pull out of you, and you immediately rubbed your aching jaw.

“Oh, are you aching? You’ve been such a good girl, [Y/n],” Elliott cooed, stroking your jaw affectionately. “Come on, get up here. I think it’s about time we had a break, don’t you think?”

You nodded and stood up, desperate to get off your knees and onto his lap, and Elliott chuckled at your eagerness.

“Skirt up, bloomers down. Be a good girl for me.”

You obeyed, and when your bloomers came down your knees they were soaked. Elliott looked so handsome, sprawled in his chair with his legs spread out, shirt half-buttoned and chest hair poking out - how could you not be dripping for him?

You hitched your skirt up to your waist as you climbed onto Elliott’s lap, knees either side of his hips, and slid yourself down onto his waiting cock. He groaned with relief, finally giving into the desires that had been swirling around his mind for the last few hours, the desperate need to fill you up until you could take no more.

Even though your knees were aching, you desperately wanted to feel the friction of his cock moving inside you, so you ignored the ache as you rode him, focusing instead on the delicious pleasure inside you, the stretch you felt as you impaled yourself over and over again on his cock, the beautiful way he groaned with pleasure, letting you know you were doing well.

“Such a good… good girl…” Elliott muttered. He sucked on your breast through the fabric of your dress, desperate to rip the fabric apart to get at the soft flesh beneath your bodice. If it were easily replaceable he would have, but it was a dress you’d made yourself and he wouldn’t dare ruin your hard work.

There was something so deliciously sinful about watching you ride him fully clothed. Your skirt fell over both your laps, and if it weren’t for your skilled bouncing and both of your sinful groans, a visitor might think you were sitting on his lap quite innocently.

Yes, you looked innocent, but underneath the exterior image of the sweet little Lady was a cockhungry slut, desperate to be fucked and loved the way you deserved, and Elliott knew he was the one to give it to you. Sure, William fucked you three times a day, but did he make you cum? Did he look after you, make sure you were clean and comfortable, adore and worship you the way you deserved, even out of the bedroom? From everything you’d said about him, Elliott suspected not.

He grabbed your hips firmly, stilling your movements, and lifted you up to place you on the desk. He supported your back with one hand while he laid you down, hair a mess and dress crinkled, your cheeks bright red, all splayed out on the desk for him to see.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, before thrusting into you once more.

Elliott’s face was red and sweat was dripping off his brow thanks to the Australian heat plus the exertion of fucking you into the table, but that didn’t slow him down. You could see his chest glistening too between the loosened buttons of his shirt, and the way he looked at you, with both adoration and hunger, was an image you wanted to burn into your memory forever.

“Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

Elliott nearly faltered in his movements, and if he weren’t already bright red from exertion you might have seen him blush.

“You think so, huh? Even when I’m fucking you into the desk?”

“Uh-huh. Especially now. You’re so lost in the moment, it’s - ah! - it’s beautiful.”

Elliott laughed and shook his head. “I’ve been called a lot of things, [Y/n]. That sure isn’t one of them.”

You were too lost in the moment to hear the door open, but you did hear the voice of one of Elliott’s men as he walked in.

“Hey, Mr Marston, me and the boys were wondering - woah!”

Elliott stopped his movements but stayed buried inside you.

“I am busy, Cavanagh,” he hissed.

“Yeah, I see that. Hey, I thought we weren’t allowed to fuck this one?”

“This one has a name. And no, you’re not allowed to fuck her. She’s mine.”

“Ain’t she married?”

“None of your business, Cavanagh, now fuck off.”

The door slammed shut, and Elliott sighed. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you said quickly. “Just keep - keep going, please…”

Elliott grinned. “As you wish.”

Cavanagh had a point, Elliott thought as he continued his desperate thrusting into your cunt. You were married. And yet — here you were, on his desk, legs spread open for him, telling him he was handsome when he fucked you. Telling him he was beautiful. And when he slid his hand under your skirt to press his thumb against your clit, you moaned his name so sinfully, he wanted nothing more than to mark you as his.

Your orgasm washed over you, causing you to scream his name loud enough for the whole station to hear, and the way your cunt clamped down around his cock made withdrawing impossible as he exploded inside you, shooting his seed into your womb, a long, sinful groan stuttering from his throat.

Elliott almost collapsed on top of you, just about catching himself with his elbows, and you took the opportunity to kiss him, silencing any apology he might have been forming for spilling inside you. In fact, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in further, as if trying to push his seed as deep inside you as he could.

He trailed kisses down your jaw and neck, murmuring words of praise, telling you how good you were for him, how beautiful you looked in the throes of pleasure… he had to stop himself from telling you how much he adored you, how you invaded his every waking thought, how desperately he was falling in love with you.

Those words would have to wait. But if your words and actions that afternoon were anything to go by, it wouldn’t be long until he could have you all to himself.

***

A few days later, you were sitting in the shade of a tree with a pile of the men’s clothes next to you. You’d offered to patch up the holes in some of Elliott’s older shirts, and when the men heard what you were doing, they began bringing you their torn clothes too. Elliott made it very clear to them that they had to ask you politely, and if he heard of anyone treating you like a servant, they’d have no dinner that night.

You, of course, had no idea of this instruction and thought the men were all just being very polite, and you were too polite yourself to say no. Not that you minded - you liked being useful, you liked sewing and you liked sitting under the tree. Most of all, you liked that you could look up and watch Elliott at work, ordering his men around. Even the way he stood was attractive to you, his hands on his hips, stance relaxed yet powerful at the same time. Any stranger coming into the station would know he was the man in charge.

You had no idea, as he stood giving instructions to three of his men, that he was telling them to sabotage your husband’s journey to pick you up.

“When you can’t delay him any longer, you offer to escort him here,” Elliott was saying to them. “Keep him alive, treat him with respect, but make the journey slow as possible. He’ll get here eventually, and when he does I want him unharmed. Understood?”

“Yessir,” the men all said.

“Good. Get your supplies together and get going. The longer he takes to get here, the more I’ll pay you.”

Excited at the prospect of more gold, the man clapped each other on the back and scarpered. Elliott looked over at you and smiled when he realised you were watching him. He gave you a little wave and you waved back before ducking your head to focus on your sewing, a little embarrassed that he’d caught you watching him. He had a spring in his step as he went around the back of the station to find the women where he’d hoped he’d find them, tending to the allotment that had been cultivated to the rear of the station.

“Afternoon, ladies,” he said, tipping his hat to them. “I wonder if any of you are versed in floriography?”

***

The next day, you spent almost all day patching up the clothes you’d been given, and it wasn’t until almost evening that you were able to finish the last shirt.

You laid out the men’s clothes in a pile outside their lodgings, then you were about to go searching for Elliott when you saw him approaching you with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“I thought tonight we might dine under the stars,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Just you, me and Australia. How about it?”

“I’d love to!” you grinned.

“Excellent, I’ve got the wagon all set up. I know just the spot!”

He took your hand and led you out to the wagon, which was waiting at the gate with Elliott’s servant at the helm.

Elliott helped you up into the wagon, which you hadn’t been in since your arrival, and you noticed that he’d already loaded it up with baskets and blankets.

“Why, Mr Marston, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were taking me on a date,” you teased as he heaved himself up into the wagon and took a seat opposite you.

Elliott winked at you, then hit the side of the wagon twice to signal to the servant that he should start moving.

You were excited for your date, or whatever it was. You always ate alone with Elliott, but your meals were too often interrupted by his men bursting in with some question or news. He always shooed them away, but that didn’t stop them interrupting again when something else came up.

“How’s your search for the gunman going?” you asked.

“I’ve put up a reward for his capture, and I’ve got men out looking for him,” Elliott replied. “If he knows what’s good for him he’ll be heading to Melbourne to get the first boat back to America, so I’ve sent some out that way too.”

“Is it a good idea to send so many men out to find him? What if he kills them like he did the last two?”

“There’s never a shortage of men looking for work,” Elliott shrugged. “Besides, I’m sure they’ll bring him in soon enough. He’s a long-range shooter, he’ll be useless at short range. They just need to get close enough to him.” He shook his head and put a hand on your knee. “But never mind that nasty business. I want to know all there is to know about you. You’ve been by my side for a week now and I feel I’ve hardly scratched the surface of you.”

You shrugged coyly. “You know all there is to know, Elliott.”

“I doubt that. For example - I’ve noticed there’s a scar on your left arm. There must be a story there. How does a gentle thing like you end up with a scar?”

Your hand instinctively grabbed at your upper left arm where the scar in question was. You forgot about it most days, as it was hidden underneath your sleeve - but Elliott, of course, did everything he could to get your clothes off.

“Oh, yes… that’s from when I was shot.”

Elliott’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You were shot?”

“Why so surprised? You love shooting things.”

“Yes, but not women!”

You laughed.

“I suppose not. I was shot by the sailor who stole William’s ward away. She ran away quite literally; I chased after down the street. He shot at me to keep me at bay. He only grazed my arm, but it was enough to delay me, and enough to leave a mark.”

“Why were you chasing after them and not William?”

“He was busy finding a constable to arrest the man who’d tried to kill him.”

The confused frown on Elliott’s brow deepened, and you laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m telling the story backwards. I should tell it from the beginning. It was frightening at the time, but looking back on it now, it’s quite an exciting tale.”

Your telling of the tale of Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street, lasted the whole journey, and you were just telling Elliott about the death toll on the final night of Todd’s reign of terror when the wagon pulled up at your dinner spot.

“What a horrifying experience for you,” Elliott said as he helped you down from the wagon. “No woman should be exposed to that sort of thing, especially not someone as sweet as you.”

He took a blanket from the wagon and laid it down on the ground for you.

“Here, have a seat and admire the view while I get our dinner unpacked.”

Seated on the blanket, you admired the view just as Elliott had told you to - but the view you were admiring wasn’t the horizon, as beautiful as the Australian landscape was, but Elliott as he unloaded the baskets from the wagon - particularly when he bent down to open the baskets, and you got a lovely view of his bum.

You were restless after the journey, so you stood and looked out over the landscape. Elliott had taken you to the top of a cliff that looked out over the outback, a landscape that stretched for countless miles, with not a building in sight. You saw trees, and animals, and a few ponds, but mostly it was empty plains. It made you feel small, but it also filled you with pride, knowing that the land you were looking out on was Elliott’s.

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Elliott said softly as he came up behind you.

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” you replied with a smile. You turned to him, and you gasped a little in surprise when you saw that he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I gathered these from the allotment for you,” Elliott said, and you blushed hard when he held them out to you. “Would you accept them as a token of affection from my humble self?”

Your heart was all aflutter. Who knew he could be such a romantic!

“Oh, Elliott, they’re beautiful!”

You took the flowers from him, and your heart skipped a beat when you realised they were red tulips. You hesitated, then held the flowers to your chest and smiled at him shyly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as if speaking any louder might be heard in Melbourne.

Elliott smiled, and you swore you saw relief cross his face. He offered his hand to you and led you to sit on the blanket, where he’d laid out an array of snacks for you. You sat there together for hours, and when the sun went down and the air became chilly, Elliott wrapped his coat around your shoulders to keep you warm.

“Now, I’m sure you’ll agree that the best way to enjoy strawberries… is with chocolate,” Elliott said proudly as he opened a tin of melted chocolate, and your eyes widened.

“You’ve got chocolate!” you gasped. “I haven’t had chocolate in years! And so much of it too - Elliott, you shouldn’t have, this must have cost a fortune…”

“Nonsense. It’s worth every penny to see the look on your face right now.”

You glanced at him and blushed when you saw the way he was looking at you, eyes alight with admiration.

“Oh, but it’s all melted!”

“Trust me, that’s how we want it.”

Elliott picked up a strawberry, dipped it in the chocolate and held it up to you.

“Open.”

You obeyed, and when your teeth sunk into the strawberry, you thought you must have died and gone to Heaven, because nothing on Earth could possibly taste this good.

“Do you like it?”

You nodded your enthusiasm, mouth too busy savouring the flavour to speak. You took a strawberry and dipped it, then held it up for Elliott to take a bite. You giggled when you saw that he’d managed to get some chocolate in his moustache, and when you pointed it out his response was to dab some chocolate on the end of your nose.

“Why have chocolate-dipped strawberries when I can have chocolate-dipped [Y/n]?”

“Oh, sure, I bet you’d love to lick it all up off me, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elliott replied innocently, before licking the chocolate from the end of your nose.

“Hmm, then I guess you won’t mind if I do this?”

You forwent the strawberry and dipped your finger straight into the chocolate and dabbed it on Elliott’s lips. He caught your finger in his mouth and sucked it clean, but you still managed to get some on his lips, so once your finger was free you licked his lips clean in a motion that one might have mistaken for a kiss.

Elliott wrapped his arms around you and pulled you with him as he fell onto his back, both of you giggling like children.

“Careful, you’ll knock the food on the ground!”

“You think I care about that?”

“I don’t want to lose any of the chocolate.”

“Have a preference for sweet things, do you, [Y/n]?”

“I like you, so I must do.”

Your words flooded Elliott’s brain as he kissed you, and though the chocolate was long since cleaned up, he continued exploring your mouth with his tongue, and to his surprise your tongue fought back, fighting for dominance between your mouths.

“God, I want to fuck you right here, beneath the stars,” Elliott growled when you both called the battle a draw and paused for breath. “All of the land below us… and my cock in your cunt, just as it was made to be.”

You grinned mischievously and sat up, scooting back slightly to sit on his legs, pinning him to the ground while giving yourself access to unbuckle his belt.

“You’ve done so much for me today, Elliott. Let me return the favour.”

He stared at you, flabbergasted, wondering what had happened to you to suddenly want to take the lead. But he wasn’t complaining - there was something so incredibly sexy about you owning your power.

Elliott closed his eyes and groaned when you took your cock in his hand, and his eyes shot open again in surprise when he felt you sinking onto him almost immediately.

“[Y/n]…”

You hummed inquiringly, as if you didn’t know exactly what had him so surprised.

“Are you… not wearing any bloomers?”

You grinned.

“Why bother? They always end up a mess anyway. I might as well save on the washing, and be ready for you whenever you want me.”

Now it was Elliott’s turn to wonder if he’d died and gone to Heaven. But he’d killed too many men to ever get anywhere near the pearly gates, so he must still be in the mortal realm, you the visiting angel who was blessing him with your grace, your presence, your kind heart and — son of a bitch, your damn fine cunt too.

He loved watching you ride him with your dress still buttoned, your skirt pooled around your waist, your hair just about still pinned up but threatening to fall out at any moment with the ferocity of your movements. Dressed like a prim and proper Lady, fucking him like the desperate slut he knew you really were underneath. Even under the confines of your corset, he could see the movement of your breasts bouncing in time with your hips, desperate to be free of the stifling confines of your dress.

If only you could always be as free as you were now, taking your pleasure because you wanted to, not because you thought you had to. Elliott could give you that freedom here, the freedom to be your own woman. Even if you were his wife, he’d let you be free, doing whatever you wanted. If you wanted to have five kids and devote yourself to being a mother, he’d happily build a bigger house to keep them all; if you wanted to devote yourself to creating and mending clothes to earn your own money, he had plenty of space to build you a shop. He’d give you anything you wanted, anything at all. You only had to ask. You already had his heart; what was anything more on top of that?

You grabbed his right hand from where it was holding onto your thigh and guided him under your skirt towards your sweet spot.

“Touch me, Elliott,” you begged. “Please…”

Oh, with pleasure, he meant to say, but it came out as more of a mumble, his brain too addled by the pleasure you were bringing him to focus on something so menial as forming coherent words.

You could have happily stayed there for hours, bouncing on Elliott’s cock while he caressed your sweet spot in just the right way, but your cunt had other ideas, and you could feel the pleasure building up inside you.

“If you cum on my cock, [Y/n], I don’t think I’ll make it,” Elliott warned you, his voice high and whiny, betraying the way you were sending him absolutely fucking wild.

You leant down, pressing your clothed torso against his, and Elliott gasped when you nibbled on the skin on his neck.

You pressed your lips to his ear and whispered, “Go ahead. I want you to.”

Elliott immediately increased the speed with which he was touching you, his hips thrusting up to meet yours, and just as he’d promised, when your cunt clamped around him and you moaned his name into his ear as ecstasy overtook you, Elliott shuddered as his seed spilled inside you, filling you up with his desire, his adoration and - fuck it - his love for you.

“[Y/n]… [Y/n]… oh, [Y/n]…”

He mumbled your name like it was the only word he knew, as if saying it over and over again would be enough to tell you everything he could never say.

You stayed in his arms even long after you’d both come down from your highs, savouring each other’s presence, lingering in the cloud of everything you could never say to one another.

But maybe you didn’t have to say it. Because once upon a time, when Johanna was teaching you to read, she showed you a book with many pictures and short descriptions, a book which also taught you about the secret language of flowers among the social elite, and you remembered the entry for red tulips very well.

I declare my love.

You were in big trouble.

***

You’d been at the station for over a week now, and you were starting to get worried.

William had promised to join you within a few days of your own arrival. Elliott tried to assure you that delays happened, he might have been held up in Melbourne or on the journey, and there was surely nothing to worry about.

That didn’t ease your mind. You remembered what Elliott had said to you in the bathroom about your husband taking whores in Melbourne. Surely he wouldn’t? He had promised fidelity in his wedding vows, after all, and your husband was a pious man. He didn’t make promises lightly, and certainly not promises before God.

Then again, he’d ordered you into Elliott’s bed, even knowing it was infidelity. He’d sworn no one else would ever have you, yet he’d offered you up as if he were simply lending a book. Was he getting bored of you? Did he even intend to pick you up at all, or was your ‘visit’ a ploy to get you off his hands? Perhaps he’d found whores more skilled than you in Melbourne, or even a better wife, one of good standing whose womb would take his seed.

Or… perhaps he had left Melbourne, never to arrive. Maybe he got lost in the plains. Maybe… maybe he was lying dead in the sun somewhere, dingos picking at his corpse —

You pushed the thought out of your mind. You couldn’t stand to even imagine it.

You were sitting atop the hill that shielded the station from the worst of the sun, looking out across the land that stretched to the horizon and, somewhere beyond it, to Melbourne. It was peaceful here; with your back to the station, far enough that you couldn’t hear the goings on, you could almost imagine you were alone.

That was, until you heard the footsteps of someone coming up the hill behind you. They stopped, and you ignored them, continuing your watch over the horizon.

“What on earth are you doing up here?”

When you didn’t reply, Elliott clamboured over to you and sat by your side.

“You know, sitting in the sunlight for too long can make you sick.”

He pushed back a strand of your hair that had fallen across your cheek, and you winced.

“[Y/n], you’re bright red. You need to get inside. What are you doing out here?”

“Which way’s Melbourne?”

Elliott looked at you for a long moment. Then, he looked out at the horizon and pointed. “Two or three days that way, speed depending. Maybe four if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Elliott seemed to know what you were thinking because he put his hand over yours and said, “Sitting here won’t bring him any closer.”

“But I’ll see him sooner —”

“And he’ll be greeted by a burnt red tomato for a wife. Believe me, [Y/n], you don’t want to be burnt by the sun. Please will you come back to the station with me?”

You hesitated, but you agreed, and Elliott helped you to your feet. You took his arm to steady yourself on the uneven ground, and as you walked, you noticed your skin was feeling dry and tight. You raised your spare hand to your cheek, and noticed the heat radiating from yourself.

“Am I very red?”

Elliott stopped walking, turned to face you and pushed your bonnet back to examine your face properly. He winced, and you knew it wasn’t good news.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Like I said, we need to get you inside. I’ve got some ointments to help with the dry skin. I’ve caught the sun plenty of times, but it’s not a pleasant experience, and certainly not one I wish for you. You should have told me you were going up there, [Y/n]. You could have been taken by an Aborigine or worse.”

“I wanted to be alone,” you replied dejectedly. “And I wanted to wait for William —”

“I know, sweetheart,” Elliott said softly, gently cupping your face in his hands, and though he smiled sympathetically, a fleeting sadness crossed his expression when you said your husband’s name. “But you need protection, even from Australia herself. I could have given you a parasol for the sun, a gun for defence… Well, never mind that now. Come on.”

As you entered the station, you passed some of the men practising shooting tin cans, and you recalled Elliott’s comment about giving you a gun for defence.

“Would you teach me how to shoot?”

Elliott looked over at you, a hint of excitement on his face. “You’d want to learn? A delicate lady like you?”

“I’m tougher than you think!” you insisted stubbornly. “I grew up on the streets of London, remember?”

Elliott chuckled and put his arm around your waist as you entered the house, and you had to admit the shade was a relief.

He sat you down on the sofa and pulled out a jar of ointment from his desk drawer. “Alright, I’ll teach you how to shoot. But only for emergencies, understand? You should stay with me whenever possible, so you’ll always have me to keep you safe.”

He sat next to you and carefully took your bonnet off to start applying the ointment to your reddened skin.

“You’re so protective,” you said with a giggle. “Like a lion. Will you protect me from the scary dogs and the wild people, my big strong lion?”

“I’ll protect you from anything,” Elliott said seriously. “I’m the fastest draw in Australia, there’s nothing and nobody I won’t shoot down to protect you.”

“You can’t shoot the sun, Elliott.”

“I can try. How do you feel?"

Scared for where my husband is. Frightened of how I feel for you. Terrified that I want to stay.

“It stings.”

“It will, but it’s necessary to heal.”

“I know. I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Because I’ll do anything to have you.

“I’m a dangerous man, [Y/n].”

He gently turned your head to the side to pay attention to your other cheek.

“You don’t seem so dangerous to me.”

Elliott smirked. “The most dangerous men seem harmless, until they stab you in the back.”

“You won’t stab me in the back, Elliott. You’d shoot instead.”

He smiled.

“Shoot you? Never. But if a man threatened to harm you… I wouldn’t hesitate.”

He glanced at your eyes before returning his focus to your skin, wondering if you understood his meaning. He didn’t want to tell you that he planned on challenging William to a duel for your hand as soon as he arrived, but when it did happen, he wanted you to understand that he was doing it to protect you, because from everything you’d told him, no man had harmed you as much as your husband had.

“Have you had news of the sharpshooter?”

Elliott’s lips thinned and his brow furrowed in the adorable way it did when he was annoyed.

“He killed more of my men last night. Seems to have decided he’d rather protect the Aborigines for nothing than shoot them for pay.” He scoffed. “I’ve upped the reward. I can’t afford to lose so many men so quickly. There, I think I got it all.”

Elliott stood to return the ointment to its drawer.

“What will you do when someone does bring him in?” you asked. “Oh, if you have him arrested, maybe William can send him to the gallows.”

Elliott smirked and pulled his revolver from its holster. “Nah, no point in all those formalities for the same outcome. I’ll kill him myself.”

He turned the gun around in his hand and pointed the handle towards you.

”Still wanna learn?”

Frankly you were still scared of guns, but you were more scared of Matthew Quigley and, though you’d never tell Elliott this, the men at the station, who leered at you when Elliott’s back was turned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

***

Wary of your fresh sunburn, Elliott waited until sundown to teach you how to shoot. He stood behind you in the middle of the station, hands on your waist as he guided your stance. The heat being what it was, you’d taken to wearing thinner skirts, which made it a lot easier for you to feel the outline of his cock pressing up against your bum.

“Do you stand this close to your men when you teach them to shoot?” you said with a smirk.

“Of course I don’t,” Elliott murmured in your ear. “But I find myself drawn to you like a moth to a flame.”

“Careful, sweetie,” you whispered in reply. “The moth dies in the flame.”

“And what a way to go that’d be. Now… remember what I told you?”

“That I look pretty in this dress?”

Elliott chuckled, his breath warm on your cheek. “You look pretty in everything, darling. No, I mean about the gun. How do you make sure you don’t accidentally set it off?”

“Safety on at all times. Click it off only to use it, then straight back on.”

Elliott kissed your cheek. “Good girl. You wanna give it a shot?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Alright. Show me your grip.”

His heart swelled with pride when he saw your fingers slide into place around the barrel of the gun, as if you’d held one a thousand times before.

“Good. Now, aim it at that can over there.”

He pointed to a can that he’d placed on the fence. You raised your arm, holding the gun straight, and Elliott gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Relax your arm a bit. You don’t want to be tense, or the recoil’s gonna be a bitch. Now, I wanna see how you aim naturally. Give it a go, but don’t worry, I don’t expect you to get anywhere near it on your first try. Take your time. Breathe. Line it up… then take the safety off and pull the trigger.”

He still had a hand on your waist, but rather than distracting you, you found it soothing, as if his very presence was grounding you.

You thumbed the safety off, then pulled the trigger, and winced at the loud bang as the bullet shot out the end - and the can toppled off the fence.

“Holy shit,” Elliott breathed.

“Hey, I got it!” you said with surprise.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ did,” Elliott growled. He wrapped his arms around you, groping you hungrily, and you felt his cock pressing against your bum again. “God, that was so hot. You’re a natural, [Y/n]. You sure you’ve never shot before?”

You blushed, excitement tingling through you, pleased with yourself that Elliott was impressed with you.

“I just figured it’s not much different from sewing, right? Except it’s a gun and a bullet instead of a needle and thread. The target’s just the hole for the thread.”

Elliott grinned. “Brilliant. So brilliant. Here, let’s see where you managed to hit it.”

He jogged over to pick the can up from the floor and examined it. It was dented right at the top - you’d managed to hit it, but only just. He brought it back to you and showed you the mark your bullet had left.

“Not perfect, but a damn good shot, especially for your first try. I have men who practised for days before they could hit it.”

“Not perfect?” you repeated with mock indignation. “If that was a man’s head, he’d be dead either way.”

“True enough, sweetheart. Even I don’t shoot it perfectly on target every time.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you show me what you’ve got, cowboy?”

Elliott looked at you with a devilish glint in his eye. He loved to shoot, he loved to show off, and he especially loved to show off in front of you.

He replaced the can on the fence, then took your spot to ready himself to shoot at it.

“Nuh-uh, mister!” you protested. “That’s a beginner’s spot. If you’re such a good shot, you need to take another… six paces back.”

Elliott shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

He took six steps back, making sure they were big strides too, and you stepped back as well, not wanting to be close to his firing range - not that you expected him to miss so wildly as to hit you.

Elliott locked eyes with you and grinned cockily. You hardly had time to smile back when his gun was out and the can was flying off the fence.

You retrieved it this time, and just as expected, there was a round bullet-sized hole slap bang in the middle of the tin and mirrored on the other side.

Elliott jogged up behind you to examine his work.

“See? I told you,” he said proudly. “Best shot in Australia.”

“Sure you are.” You grabbed his hat, which he’d left hanging on a fence post when the sun went down, and placed it on your head. It was a little big for you, so you tipped it back to stop it covering your eyes.

“Look at me, I’m Elliott Marston! I like shooting things, making jelly and fucking [Y/n] [L/n]. I own so much land in Australia but I wish I was an American cowboy. I have a massive cock and I know how to use it. I —”

BANG!

You let out a squeal of surprise when the gun in your hand went off, and you instinctively dropped it to the floor. Fortunately, the bullet only lodged into the fence post, but Elliott instinctively pulled you back anyway.

“What’d I tell you about the safety!” he hissed. “You gotta turn it off as soon as you’re done shooting!”

He grabbed the gun from the floor and clicked the safety on. He tucked the gun under his belt and turned to you to check you were okay, and to his surprise you were standing with your head tucked, your fingers fidgeting anxiously with your dress.

“I’m sorry,” you said meekly. “I’m too simple for guns, I shouldn’t have tried —”

“Hey, hey, shh!”

Elliott cupped your face in his hands and forced you to look at him.

“Hey, come on, now. You’re nothing of the sort. You forgot in the excitement, that’s all. You’ll remember next time, won’t you?”

You nodded, and Elliott thought he might just melt at the sight of your doe eyes, so sweet and innocent, looking up at him as if you were frightened of him. Had he ever given the impression you had anything to fear from him if you did something wrong?

No, he thought as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you tight, murmuring soothing words against your skin as he littered soft kisses over the top of your head. He’d never done anything to make you fear his anger - but he was willing to bet your husband had. You’d been so timid in Melbourne, so frightened of disobeying William that you’d even agreed to warm a stranger’s bed because you had no choice but to obey your husband.

And simple? In what world were you simple? Or was that just an insult your husband used to keep you believing you weren’t good enough to be anything more than his obedient wife?

“I think you’re brilliant, [Y/n],” Elliott said, pulling back from the embrace to look at you. “You hear me? I…”

He faltered. He’d nearly slipped and said what he should never say to another man’s wife, what he couldn’t say, not here, not now.

You knew, surely? Could he make it any more plain without saying it?

“Why don’t we work on your draw, huh?” Elliott said, ignoring the thoughts swirling inside his head, willing himself to draw his attention away from your beautiful doe eyes. “It’s all well and good aiming, but if you’re too late to draw, you won’t have chance to aim.”

You nodded, and Elliott kissed your forehead warmly.

“Come on. Bet you can draw faster than half the men here.”

(You could.)

#elliott marston #elliott marston x reader #quigley down under #alan rickman #the eternal summer

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shieldherostuffs · 7 months

Text

Something Naofumi

I just think it would be fun if Naofumi randomly shared these weird and sometimes horrific facts about his life before being summoned, and at some point everyone is trying to piece together his life from off-hand comments and things he mentioned once and never again.

Things they've all gathered:

Naofumi had three husbands and two wives before he was summoned (They have yet to figure out his real age)

All three husbands died under mysterious circumstances (everyone is assuming Naofumi murdered them, but aren't sure of the reason (they're thinking either for inheritance or because the husbands were dicks))

He had platonic relationships with both wives, and got married both times to help his friends

He had two pet snakes and a lazy black cat with orange eyes

He was a florist, tattoo artist, painter, photographer, biologist, pediatrician, teacher, and a chef.

Furthermore, he had a girlfriend who disappeared under mysterious circumstances, but Naofumi made it sound like he knew where she went

He has too much specific knowledge about this one very specific period of ancient history

He has lived in two different cottages in the wood; once high up on a mountain in a pine forest, and once by the shore of a lake in an oak forest

He always has this one locket on his person, with a picture/painting inside, but no one has seen it, and he will never let anyone near it

Somehow inspired by this: "If the men find out that we can shapeshift, they're going to tell the church"

youtube

Which, Naofumi probably does this while getting ready for a ball/party/feast with the girls and the ladies, and they're all both confused and confusedly agreeing.

Basically eldritch/horror/witch/widow/immortal/shape-shift (idk which one) Naofumi who's out to confused and annoy everyone, but he doesn't even realize it.

Hell, he could just be normal Naofumi, but intentionally out to confuse everyone (If so, he has a whole notebook to keep track of everything).

Extras by the Discord Server:

Ren probably has a pin-up board with notes of all of Naofumi's comments pinned with string attached to them like some kind of conspiracy theorist.

One of the husbands asked Naofumi to fake his death because he found out a family secret or something big

#the rising of the shield hero #rising of the shield hero #naofumi iwatani #incorrect rising of the shield hero #something naofumi #naofumi is a little shit #eldritch naofumi #immortal naofumi #shapeshifter naofumi #all of these are maybe's #shield hero prompt #youtube link #Youtube

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anne-the-quene · 9 days

Note

I’m curious…what is your opinion of Henry’s relationship with each of his wves?

Oh my goodness gracious, thank you for this, Anon! (This got ridiculously long so I’m putting it under a cut)

Okay I guess I’ll start with Catherine of Aragon since she never gets to go first…

Hot take (not really) but I don’t think she and Henry had this great romantic love. And, for the record, I think it was mutual. I don’t think either of them loved each other in a romantic way. However, I also don’t think that Henry married her because he was forced to…because who forced him? His father? Yeah, Henry claimed later on that he only married Catherine because it was his father’s “dying wish” (or something to that effect) but we don’t know if that’s actually true and also, Henry denounced the betrothal in 1505 and no one forced him to go through with it regardless. And, certainly, none of the naysayers were forcing him to go through with it. Catherine apologists make so much of Henry uses the “brother’s widow” excuse during the Great Matter and completely gloss over the fact that there were multiple people also citing this as a reason during the period of Catherine’s widowhood.

I think, what it came down to, was that Henry knew that Catherine had been living in wealthy poverty and was maybe not being treated very kindly by his father, and Henry was also dealing with his own poor treatment by his father, and so Henry saw himself as this knight in shining armor rescuing the damsel in distress. Of course, Henry and Catherine had also known each other for almost a decade—it’s hard to know exactly what their relationship was like during those years because I doubt they really interacted much, but if Catherine was kind to him then that would add to why Henry was so okay with ignoring the naysayers. And then, in the early years of their marriage, Henry came to admire and respect her.

Where things get complicated is the issue of their children. I remember once seeing this article Suzannah Lipscomb wrote where she speculated how their marriage would be if Henry, Duke of Cornwall had lived and Suzannah made it out to be that everything was all rainbows and sunshine and she was his beloved wife forever etc etc. That’s great, Suzy, but I really don’t think it’s, at all, realistic. Certainly, if Catherine had had a healthy son who survived, Henry wouldn’t have divorced her even after she hit menopause. But Ithink it’s very optimistic to say their marriage would’ve been perfect. Obviously, losing so many children didn’t help. But, like I said, I don’t think Henry was deeply in love with her, so I think it’s inevitable that he would’ve strayed (I guess is the right word?).

On to Anne (strap in y’all this already way too long answer is gonna get even longer).

So I mentioned how I don’t think Henry was really romantically in love with Catherine. I think that Anne was the first time (and the last time actually) that Henry genuinely, properly, fell in love with someone (sorry Bessie stans…do those exist? Probably…somewhere…I definitely feel like I’ve seen at least one person try to argue that Bessie was the great love of his life). Anyway, yeah I think Henry had all of these grand romantic ideas about himself and he believed himself to be in love with every pretty girl…and then he met Anne and his brain just short-circuited. (And, who can blame him, I mean Anne Boleyn is obviously the most perfect woman whose ever existed, I’m in love with her 😂). In all seriousness, Henry didn’t have the great passionate love with Catherine but he definitely had it with Anne. We could talk about what went wrong in that relationship, but I’ve already stated my opinion on that and almost got run off of Tumblr for it.

So moving on to Jane…

Oh dear. It amazes me how many people still believe Henry’s own propaganda. So, unfortunately, for those of you, it’s very clear to me that Henry never loved Jane at all. He treated her pretty poorly while she was alive. I think she appealed to him because she wasn’t Anne. After she died, he fell head over heels with the idea of her. But that’s about it.

Now, lucky number 4.

I feel like I don’t really need to say much about this one. Henry made his feelings about Anna pretty clear.

I guess I could talk about their post-divorce relationship. What’s sad is that I think Anna could’ve actually been good for him. She comes across as a pretty chill person, but she also enjoyed a lot of the same things that he enjoyed. I think, if Henry had just not done that stupid thing of thinking that he was still 20 years old and that Anna would magically recognize him somehow, then I think they could’ve been brilliant together.

Onto Katheryn number 2.

I feel like this one is pretty self-explanatory. Henry was getting old, he couldn’t exercise like he used to, he had mobility issues, he was becoming obese…and Katheryn made him feel young again. What’s interesting comparing Katheryn and Anne’s downfall—Anne died because she was powerful, Katheryn died because she was powerless.I mean, it’s not insignificant that Katheryn’s downfall took months while Anne’s took just a few weeks. Obviously, the suspicion of Katheryn committing adultery was embarrassing for him, but she stuck around so long under house arrest because the only real threat Katheryn posed was to Henry’s ego.

Yee-haw, it’s Kathryn Parr (any Rex Factor fans out there?)

This one I also feel like is pretty self-explanatory. By this point, Henry has alienated and killed everyone who ever cared about him so, naturally, he’s feeling pretty lonely. What I find most interesting is that Kathryn was older and more mature and, obviously learned. I think with Jane, especially, and to a lesser-extent, Katheryn, Henry was kind of over intelligent women who could stand up to him. But I get the sense that, after Katheryn’s execution, he kind of got tired of the subservient wife. I think Henry actually preferred intelligent, feisty women, but things had gone so horribly wrong with Anne that he wanted the opposite. But then he quickly got bored of the opposite. Obviously, at this point in Henry’s life he’s really not interested in anyone standing up to him or trying to impose their opinions on him, but he still wanted someone he could have a conversation with. And Kathryn, bless her, was clever enough to match him intellectually without pushing the boundaries too much.

Wow, this got so insanely long. I’ll put it under a cut so it doesn’t clog up anyone’s feed.

But, you know, when I really spell it out like this, it just emphasizes how frustrating it is when all the wives get lumped together and the last few even get largely ignored. Because, for all of them, their circumstances for becoming Henry’s wife were completely different, and all of their relationships with him are completely different. People act like him having six wves was inevitable or that his choices were completely random. On one level, I can understand why people lump them together in this neat “Six Wives” package but doing that completely ignores the fact that they were individuals, not just a part of this rotating door of arbitrarily chosen women.

#henry viii #catherine of aragon #katherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #anne of cleves #katheryn howard #katherine howard #catherine howard #kathryn parr #catherine parr #ask

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mooncakesofpan · 2 years

Text

A MILF

Teen dad!Billy Hargrove x Teen mom!hopper!Reader

Summary: Over hearing some of the moms in Hawkins can cause you to have your doubts.

A/n: sorry it took so long to put out another part to this. Also i think ive mentioned this before Reader is Adopted.

Warnings: teen parenting , fluff, non sexual nudity(reader is breat feeding), mentions Neil's terrible and abusive parenting, established relationship, strong language, Billy threatens to beat Mikes ass, She/her pronouns

Word Count: 1.3k

Stranger things Masterlist | Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK

Something about the middle-aged women and their own vendetta with you because of Billy and your’s child Victor, always rubbed you the wrong way. You had told El. you would pick Miked up on your way to Billy’s cause the group was gonna go biking to the arcade from there.

You got to the Wheelers and saw the group of moms huddled around the lemonade stand on the warm day of Holly. they all recognized your truck. you had tried to keep it down low but secrets are hard to keep in a small town. No one had seen you for a good few months you trying to avoid being seen on the way to doctor appointments, but when you had Vicky you looked different. It was hard to miss you around town with a stroller and a baby or the fact that sometimes you would have to drop Vicky with your dad to go do things. It didn't take long for theories to come to the surface and the truth to come out once Vicky was seen with Billy and the noticeable similarities were mainly Billy’s pretty eyes and, his widow's peak. You pulled up and Vicky was asleep so you opened the door and stepped out to ask Ms.Wheeler to get MIke while the ac ran in your car. You could feel the eyes of the neighborhood moms as they spoke about you. “Hi Ms. wheeler can you let Mike know I'm here to pick him up,” you say with a smile. “Yes of course hun,” “Of course” you could hear the other moms behind you "To think getting pregnant so you thank goodness my daughter would never be so irresponsible,” one mom said. “She must have slept around a lot and it finally caught up to her,” another whispered. “She's not a very good mother I hear, Marcy told me she sees her all the time alone around town and doesn't spend nearly enough time with the baby,” one of the moms says. You rolled your eyes getting back in the truck, it stuck to you. Were you a bad mom? Sure you were new to everything but you thought you were doing well considering your situation. The times you were seen without Vicky he was either with billy or with joy so you could shop for you El., and your father. You were drawn out of your head by the sound of a door slamming, seeing Mike go out his front the door and walk to your truck “Hey Mike,’” you say smiling “Hi Y/n” he gets in and looks at Vicky. sees the baby is miraculously still asleep. You take your guy's ride to the Mayfield-Hargrove household in somewhat silence Vicky wakes up about halfway there not too fussy more or crying cause he was hungry. “Sorry he must be hungry but we're almost There," you say feeling slightly embarrassed about the fact that Vicky was hungry and you still had about 10 mins left in your drive. your insecurity setting in. Sure it was just a 14-year-old who probably didn't care but in your head, the fact you didn't stop and weren't immediately feeding the baby was eating you a bit. Even tho you were less than 10 minutes away from Billy's. “Oh it's fine,” Mike says shrugging. You finally get into the driveway and Mike says thanks while hopping out while you grab the backpack with Vicky's stuff and pick the fussy baby up. “I know I'm sorry Vicky I know I know mama's gonna get you some food,” you saw Max walking out the door billy in tow his shirt slightly unbuttoned “Hey hot stuff, woah someone upset,” Billy says chuckling a little as he walks up to the two of you. Leaning in to hug you careful of Vicky. “Yeah uh let's get inside he's hungry,” you say as Billy kisses your forehead. He grabs the bag as you head inside you hear the sound of your door slamming close. You get into his room and he closes the door. you laid the crying baby down on the bed trying to slip some of your top off to try and feed Vic. Billy could tell something was upsetting you probably from the way looked like you were gonna cry outside in front of your car or the fact you still looked like you were gonna cry while trying to get Vicky to latch on which seemed to not be going so well. Vic not latching on was frustrating you more Tears filling your eyes. This entire day was hard on you, and the more the day went on the worse felt. Billy could see the tears welling up in your eyes and decided that he should probably do something other than stare at the situation in front of him. "Okay doll let's try something else huh?” Billy said lifting Vic out of your arms carefully. “Lean on the pillows,” he says. The few pillows on his bed propped up you lean up more against the pillows on the wall the pillows are nice and soft surprising, and defiantly new in the teen boy's room. He closed the blinds a little more allowing a little light threw and turned off the lights so that the room was a bit darker and put a cassette in the player but kept it on a low volume. The room became calmer allowing you to relax a bit. “Now while Vic Feeds your gonna tell me What got you all fussed up,” you nod there was more success the second time trying to feed Vic. “So I was getting Mike and-” “That little Dip-Shit didn't say anything I have no problem beating a 14-year-old as-” Billy says leaning up from the spot he was laid back on, on his bed. “No! no, he didn't say anything, I was gonna say I was asking Ms.Wheeler to call mike out and some of the other neighborhood moms were there and they started talking about me, and it's just-, Billy am I a bad mom?” the words were followed by tears running down your face. Billy looked at you with confusion written all over his face. “You a bad mom? Doll, your probably one of the best moms to ever grace this earth, one of the hottest fucking moms too,” Billy swears ”Language,” you say looking up from Vic's little face “an absolute MILF doll” you felt warm by Billy’s words. The smirk on his face on top of his flattery was enough, to create butterflies. “Your so attentive to Vic, you juggle taking care of you, Vic, your sister, and pretty much your dad while you're at it too, it would be a damn shame to call you a bad mom when you take such good care of our kid. I don't want you believing that crap okay, you're a good mom, you understand?” Billy says seriousness laces in his voice. “And you still find time to do stuff with those kids bad mom my ass” he mumbles the last part. The reason for your falling tears changed with Billy’s words. “Thanks, Billy” “Only statin’ truths Imma go grab you a snack” Vic in true baby fashion had fallen write back to sleep with some milk in his system. You had swaddled Vicky up and placed him in the crib in Billy's room and you had laid down your head in Billy's lap when he got back. "I'm sorry I try to block that stuff out but sometimes it just gets to me," you say softly as you feel Billy's hand rubbing soft circles on your cheek. It was moments like this you wouldn't have it any other way your boyfriend could be a little rough around the edges but he cared a lot for you and Vicky. He was determined to be a better man than his father. "Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault," he said plainly. A toothpick sticking out of his mouth that he had been chewing on. You leaned into his Touch. "Thanks, Billy,"

dad!Billy taglist:

@and-claudia @daringvixen @justarandomflowerchildofthenight

Let me know if you would like to be added or taken off the taglist

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove fanfic #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfiction #x fem!reader #x female reader #x reader #xreader #fluff #fanfic

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 1 year

Note

"Knowing that this is all an act and really knowing it are two different things."

Yenskier! If you feel so moved 🥹🤞🏼

I always feel moved to write Yennskier! Here's a modern with magic AU with mentions of background Yenralt and Geraskier (can be read as pre-OT3)

The ring is perfect, a black pearl surrounded by a halo of tiny diamonds, set in a white gold band. It’s exactly the kind of engagement ring that Yennefer would have picked out for herself, if she were the engagement ring type. The fact that Jaskier is the one that bought it—even sizing it perfectly somehow—annoys her to no end.

“Well, that went swimmingly,” Jaskier says, carrying a pile of dishes into the kitchen and dumping them into the sink. “What do you think, my pearl?”

Yennefer looks away from the ring, annoyed to have been caught gazing at it like a dewy-eyed schoolgirl who was just handed her first promise ring. “I think that was the most tedious three hours of my life, and Geralt used to drag me to all your open mic nights.”

“Your wifely support warms my heart.” He puts a hand to his chest. The wedding band he selected for himself is just as perfect for him, with a sapphire as big as his thumbnail. He’s probably going to put his eye out with that thing. “But I think they all bought us as a married couple, don’t you think?”

“Well, they haven’t tried to kill us yet.” Yennefer pours the last of the bottle of wine into her glass and leans against the counter, watching as Jaskier puts his ring on the counter and begins to scrub at the dishes.

“The Turners were a bit overly interested in where we’re from and who our families are,” Jaskier says. “But I think they may just be snobs, not necessarily thinking about sacrificing us to any forest gods.”

“Mrs. Paine was very interested in you.”

“Again, I think she may just be very bored in her marriage, not necessarily homicidal.”

“It’s possible to be both.”

“You speak with such experience.” Jaskier looks over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. “I promise you, my dove, marriage to be will be many things, but never boring.”

"We're not married."

“Yes, I know that.” He waves one sudsy hand. “But if we’re going to be doing this for Melitele knows how long, we may as well lean into it.”

Yennefer snorts. She would much rather have gone through this charade with Geralt, but her lover is on the other side of the Continent right now, pursuing another lead. So she’s stuck here with his other lover, investigating the suburbanites who may or may not be trying to harness the power of an ancient forest god. Which she could forgive, if they weren’t so insufferably dull about their potential apocalyptic plans.

“Lean into it?” she asks. “By going to play badminton with Mr. Paine tomorrow? Do you think their forest god is going to be at the country club?”

“I would hope not. Those clawed feet would probably be murder on the golf courses.” Jaskier chortles at his own joke. “I’m trying to get to know the people we’re supposed to be investigating. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

“Just don’t end up tied to any altars.”

“Worried about me, my sun?” He turns to bat his eyelashes at her.

“I just don’t feel like saving your ass tomorrow morning. I have yoga.”

“Well, you don’t have to save my ass. You own enough black clothing; you’ll be a convincing widow.”

“If you die, I’ll have to go to the Brewsters’ potluck alone and I don’t think I’ll make it through the night without turning someone into a hedge.” Plus, she promised Geralt that she would keep Jaskier safe. She tries to keep her promises to Geralt, even if it means not letting his idiot boyfriend get himself killed.

“The Brewsters actually seem perfectly lovely, so we can’t have that.” Jaskier is quiet for a moment, concentrating on scrubbing a tricky spot. His back is turned to her, but she can picture his tongue poking out of his mouth like it always does when he’s focused. “After I get home from badminton, I was thinking we could go look at paint colors.”

“For what?”

“The bedroom.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’ve only mentioned how tacky you find the green and pink seventeen times this week. I thought you might be bored of complaining about the same thing.”

“This isn’t really our house,” Yennefer reminds him. “The owners will remember it eventually and when they get back from their winter in Toussaint, they’ll wonder why their bedroom is a different color.”

“I’m sure you can just waggle your fingers and turn it back.” Jaskier waggles his fingers to demonstrate. “But we’re probably going to be here for a while, so you should like our bedroom.”

“It’s not really ours.”

“Right now, it is. Anyway, it could be a fun project for us next weekend.”

“When we’re not investigating the murderous cult?” Yennefer asks acidly, staring at the back of Jaskier’s head in disbelief. Of course Jaskier would settle into this suburban life so nicely; this is how he grew up. He has a pair of doting parents, four sisters, a gaggle of nieces and nephews. He grew up surrounded by this kind of mundanity, going to barbecues on weekends and watching his parents debate swatches of paint.

Yennefer has never been meant for this life. She went from a pigsty to Aretuza to the Aedirnian government. If her parents ever got invited to barbecues and games of badminton—unlikely, given that her stepfather was the town drunk—they never brought her along.

Not that Yennefer has any kind of interest in this type of domesticity. If she were to ever settle down, it wouldn’t be in a cul de sac of cookie cutter houses, identical save for the six different colors the HOA allows them to paint their doors. She wouldn’t spend her evenings hosting dinner parties for the dullest people she’s ever met. She wouldn’t be cohabiting with Jaskier, of all people.

Jaskier is talking, she realizes, though whatever he’s saying doesn’t seem to require her participation. As he waves his hand to emphasize his point, soap bubbles fly everywhere without him even seeming to notice. A splash of water comes perilously close to his ring, which lies forgotten on the counter. Yennefer picks it up to relocate it to a safer spot.

“Anyway,” Jaskier is saying. “I’m not a sorceress who can look into their minds or a witcher who can fight their forest god. The best thing I can do is casually bring up the local disappearances while I play badminton with Mr. Paine and make a mean brisket.”

“That was a decent brisket,” Yennefer admits grudgingly.

“Wasn’t it?” Jaskier turns to grin at her again. There’s a bubble of soap suds clinging to the tip of his nose. The sight makes her feel an unexpected, entirely irrational surge of fondness. She thinks about closing the distance between them to swipe it away. Instead, she grips the edge of the counter.

“Just don’t get attached,” she says. “These people aren’t your friends. At least one of them is a killer and given the number of disappearances, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the neighborhood is either in on it or knows what’s going on and is looking in the other direction because they’d rather focus on having the nicest hydrangeas on the block.”

His grin fades into a soft, almost sad little smile. “Don’t worry, Yenn, you don’t have to worry about me getting attached. I did theater in college. I know how to put on an act.”

Yennefer isn’t sure why that bothers her. It’s good that he’s consciously putting on an act; it’s what they’re here for. “Geralt dragged me to your plays too. They were terrible.”

That gets the expected offended noise from him. “It’s a good thing you’re not masquerading as a theater critic, Yennefer, because no one can accuse you of having good taste.”

“And it’s a good thing you’re not masquerading as an actor.”

“I want a divorce.”

“We’re not married.”

“Then I want a fake divorce.”

“Mr. Paine’s a divorce attorney, isn’t he? Bring it up with him tomorrow.” Yennefer realizes she’s still holding Jaskier’s ring, the absurdly large sapphire glittering in her palm, and sets it aside. “I’m going to go upstairs.”

“Fine.” He lets out a long sigh. “Leave me to my toils.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes and mutters a spell. A moment later, the dishes are stacked neatly in the dish drainer, all perfectly clean.

Jaskier turns to look at her incredulously. “You couldn’t have done that ten minutes ago?”

“A little manual labor is good for you.”

“Just for that, I’m painting the bedroom orange.”

“Still won’t be the tackiest thing in this house.” Pointedly, she looks over his outfit, eliciting another squawk of protest.

Smirking, she heads up the stairs to the master bedroom, stepping around the pile of bedding on the floor where Jaskier has been sleeping. Even though the room’s horrendous pink and green color scheme is nothing that Yennefer would choose for herself, the room is filled with the trappings of the life she and Jaskier are sharing here: a guitar leaning against the wall, a sweater discarded on the bed, the fake wedding photo Ciri photoshopped for them sitting on the dresser.

Yennefer’s eyes linger on the photo. Ciri is a talented kid; only the most eagle-eyed observer would notice that Yennefer’s skin tone isn’t an exact match of the bride in the elegant lace dress. The false Jaskier stands behind the false Yennefer, arms around her waist, eyes twinkling with love and joy as he holds her close. Yennefer is fairly sure Ciri took his face from a photo of him with Geralt.

They talked about their wedding earlier, the stunning destination wedding to Skellige where Jaskier cried when he saw Yennefer walking down the aisle. They talked about their first meeting at the coffee shop where Jaskier used to work. They talked about Jaskier proposing in that same coffee shop two years later. It was the story of a happy, normal couple, and it was all entirely bullshit.

Yennefer sighs and twists off the perfect engagement ring, dropping it on her ring holder, before she goes to take off the seafoam green sundress she borrowed from Triss.

This is all an act, she tells herself. She just hopes that Jaskier doesn’t forget that.

***

Fake dating prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #yennskier #jaskier x yennefer #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #ghost's writing #prompt fills #beating back the plot bunny for a 10k version of this with a stick

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herlondonboy · 1 year

Text

Kinks

Pairings: natasha romanoff x gn!reader / avengers x platonic!reader

Summary: the og 6 hunts a serial killer that attacks people that look like one of their dearly beloved

Warnings: dark!reader, murder, mentions of sex, weird kinks. This was originally written as a Jennifer Jareau fanfic, so its set in a Criminal Minds Universe. No powers or anything.

Word Count: 1.8k

You wondered how long you would be in the conference room before you could leave. You were beginning to get antsy. Sitting around, cooped up all day, waiting to catch the unsub. The serial killer with an obsession for your wife. Natasha wasn’t allowed out of the police station and was under strict watch when they realised that she was who the unsub was fantasising about. You also hadn’t seen her in 25 hours, 26 minutes and 43… 45 seconds.

It was eating you alive to say the least.

“Maybe the unsub isn’t a crazed teenager with weird sexual fantasies.” Bruce suggested, deviating away from your original profile. “There’s one twice a week, right? Well, maybe they are messy. Maybe the unsub really didn’t mean to kill these people and they just got carried away.”

“How does that retract the idea of it being a teenager?” Steve asked, a frown on his face.

“Well, look.” Bruce pointed at the burn marks where the victim had been electrocuted. “Now Tony, can you pull up a picture of how the the Widow Bite stun batons burn people.”

“On it.” Tony nodded and within seconds there was a picture that was almost identical. It was barely noticeable, but the faint outline of a web was there. This person had been in the building.

Those batons your wife designed. She had been nicknamed the Black Widow because she lured men with her looks and voice before bringing them to their demise. She wanted something of her own and the BAU liked the idea and started making them. She was so proud. You were so proud. But now they were being used for evil. She’d never look at them the same again.

“Its a sex thing. We know that they engaged in consensual intercourse before the women’s death. I think this unsub likes when their partners are in pain. They might even have dacryphilia or be a masochist. The baton is probably how they inflict that pain. Nat could’ve turned this person down a while ago and with the news of her going through an adoption, they could’ve erupted. Hence, the trigger.”

“Good work, Bruce.” Steve patted him on the back. “Y/L/N, go ask Nat to write a list of boyfriends and girlfriends that she dated in high school that she kept in touch with, and people who she met in bars.”

You nodded and slowly stood up before making your way to see your wife. You were more than giddy. Hell, you were over to moon you got to hug and kiss the woman you loved more than anything in the world again.

“Distracted, love?” Nat asked when you walked in, practically looking at her with heart eyes.

“You’re so pretty, Natty.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around her waist, pulling her into you. “There’s no one that I love more than you.” She was the reason you woke up in the morning. Without her you’d be nothing. She kept you breathing, you loved for her and her only. You don’t know what you’d do if this unsub got their hands on her. In fact, you’d kill them yourself.

“I could say the same to you, handsome.” Natasha grinned, kissing your cheek.

“Ugh.” You groaned, pushing away from her. “You’re trying to woo me with those gorgeous eyes, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you know me so well.” Nat rolled her eyes. “What are you in for then?”

You blew a raspberry. “I need a list of all ex-boyfriends or possible suitors. Anyone that has approached you in a bar. He wouldn’t have taken it well when you told him you were married. Even descriptions are good.” You stated.

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Of course.” You nodded, handing her the items.

“All of these people are clean.” Tony said in shock. “How often does that happen, huh?” He chuckled. You were currently with Natasha, tending to her needs as the rest of the team, Bruce, Steve, Tony, Clint, and Thor. “I guess that just leaves y/l/n.” Tony joked, But something in Clint’s mind clicked.

“A few weeks ago, three or so days before the killings started, Natasha came to me. She said that y/n had asked to do something during their sex. Nat said they pulled out their batons with a foreign smile on their face. Nat shot them down obviously and they never spoke about it again, but I’m sure you guys noticed a change in how they act around Nat, right?”

“Holy shit.” Thor breathed out. This was news. A shock to everyone around. You couldn’t… you wouldn’t. Their sweet y/n? You were the baby of the team. The youngest. Their child. Yet you… How could they be so blind? All of the signs were there. The way your arms would tighten ever so slightly whenever someone so much as looked at Natasha. How distant you had been during the investigation. They were disgusted with the thought that their genius, Anthony Stark’s own protégé, could be so cruel.

The way the knots around the woman’s wrists were tied with such care, shows that you were still the innocent little being, that you didn’t mean to kill them. But they knew what Natasha would think. If there was one thing she hated more than men, it was a cheater. Her mother had cheated on her father and ruined their family dynamic. You had taken Natasha’s heart and ripped it out of her hand and though she didn’t know yet, you were about to punch her in the gut.

You were sat on your phone, scrolling mindlessly through tweets when you were suddenly yanked to your feet. “You have the right to remain silent.” Clint said. He was on your right with Thor on your left.

“Hey, what the hell?” You asked, writhing around in your friend‘s arms.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a caught of law.” Clint said, ignoring you. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

“I know my rights, Jackass. Let me go!” You yelled. you were placed into a chair in an interrogation room rather aggressively before being handcuffed to the table. “Let me out, Assholes! Let me out!” You continued to call out as the door was shut behind Clint.

“Calm down.” Clint said softly. You were shaking in anger. Your eyes were red and there were veins popping out of your neck. It was a scary sight. “We know you killed those people, y/n. Natasha turned you down so you got angry and went for the people that wouldn’t. You’re an attractive person, you take of that ring and everyone wants you, it’s crazy. But Natasha loves you. How could you do that to her?”

“I didn’t do shit.” You sat back in your chair, allowing your breathing to even out. Your fists still clenched and unclenched as did your jaw. Your anger and the look in your eyes was uncanny. Nothing they had ever seen before. “You think i’m what Natasha hates most? You think i’m her mother?” You scoffed before chuckling. “Well, kudos to you, Clinton! You cracked the case. I’ve been having sex with and accidentally murdering people with red hair, that all are 5’4 and that have the same body type as my wife before she doesn’t give me more than i deserve!” You raised your voice, slamming your hand down onto the table.

“I said calm down.” Clint repeated.

“No, i will not calm down! I did not murder those women, now i demand you let me go and allow me to see my wife.” You said. You saw Clint look down in thought and you assumed he heard something through the communications device planted in his ear.

He got up and left the room, shortly swapped with Natasha who had been filled in on everything. “Why did you do it, y/n?” Was the first thing she asked and you gulped. You couldn’t lie to her. You promised you wouldn’t. “Fucking look at me when im talking to you! Why did you do it?” She repeated lowly as you looked up at her. “Are you not going to talk?” She scoffed. Now that you got to look at her you could see the unshed tears in her eyes. It broke your heart.

“You’re too pretty to cry.” You murmured. But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, but it was true. She was gorgeous, and now mascara was running down her face. You wanted to ravish her, to show her that she was the only one you could ever love. Her silent crying just spurred you on. It took a while, but she noticed you were getting horny when she heard you groan and saw you roll your head back in pleasure, rubbing your thighs together.

She jumped up in shock, slamming her hands on the table, making you jump and look up at her through hooded eyes. “You are crazy.” She spat.

“I did it because i love you! I love you unconditionally and yet the second i ask to do something for me you blow up. I didn’t bring it up again. I pushed it down and ignored it. But then Jennifer came along. You looked so similar and she was willing to please me. I could imagine she was you! That you were pleasing me.” You told her.

“How does any of that mean that you love me?” Natasha shook her head.

You ignored her, carrying on. “I took it too far with the electrocutions and killed her. But i apologised. You saw the note. I mourned. I experience the same emotions anyone else does. I am not crazy, Natasha. Im in love.”

It was so hard to believe. You, you of all people. You weren’t a murderer and yet you were categorised as a serial killer. You were a monster. Natasha couldn’t grasp the fact that she was going to raise kids with you. She would’ve taken one out of the adoption centre and placed it right in hell. And just like that, she was crying again. You wanted to beg her not to cry, but she stormed out almost immediately. Well, that could’ve been worse, right? She could’ve murdered you right then and there. Clint could’ve too. He and Natasha were basically siblings. You’d hate to be the one on the receiving side of their wrath. Oh, wait.

You didn’t have enough time go think before you were struck in the face. With the power of a thousand Gods. Your whole body convulsed and the chair slipped from under you as toppled over. The skin of your wrists broke around the metal cuffs and you gasped, collapsing to the ground with your hands up. You looked at the man that you once considered a brother and that once considered you a sibling through teary eyes. “Not so fun when its you crying, huh?” He asked. “Pathetic.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #Natasha x you #Natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #reader insert #criminal minds #avengers x reader #the avengers #avengers x y/n #the og 6 #elijah random #uhm #so i did a thing #marvel #fanfiction

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classickook · 2 years

Text

paper hearts (part three): round and round

pairing: stephen strange x widow!reader

summary: it looks like america has some more tricks up her sleeve…

warnings: mentions of injuries, swearing, i think that’s it?

word count: 4.3k

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this one! please let me know what you think <3

series masterlist | main masterlist

“i just don’t understand why he’s acting like this. one second he’s actually kind of… nice, i guess? and then the next, he’s practically kicking me off his doorstep. i mean, what is his deal?”

you were telling yelena about the disastrous events from the other day when you had been tricked into entering the sanctum and coming face-to-face with stephen after so many months apart. it was certainly a shock to your system, and you weren’t sure how you should be feeling about it. he was causing this niggling feeling in the back of your mind that wouldn’t leave you alone no matter how hard you tried.

“he is a dickhead, that’s what.”

you snorted at yelena’s honest response. “you can say that again.”

the two of you were seated outside the compound, enjoying some fresh air after your training session earlier that morning. you were sporting a pretty nasty bruise on your ribs that ached every time you moved—or even breathed, for that matter—no thanks to your counterpart who had kicked you down and then elbowed you back onto the mat. you had gotten your revenge, of course. she was also sporting a bruise of her own that just so happened to be on her left cheekbone with a matching cut to her lip from where you had punched her in retaliation. just your average sisterly bonding activities.

“okay, i will,” she replied with a firm nod. “he is a dickhead and he does not deserve you. you should get over him, his head is so far up his own ass that he can’t even see straight.”

a boisterous laugh escaped you and you practically fell over from the force of it, but had to hold yourself back from the stabbing pain in your side. “woah, where did that come from? no need to sugarcoat it, yel,” you teased.

yelena actually looked rather pleased with her response. “what? it’s true! he paid no attention to you at all. he just strung you along the whole time, asking for your help all while he was pining over his ex-girlfriend, or whatever she was, and then ignoring you.”

well, she had a point. you had felt rather sloughed at the other sanctum, helping stephen and america on their journey throughout the multiverse up until the point where you had watched as he professed his love to christine that could transcend all universes. it annoyed you that it still bothered you so much. several months had passed and you knew that you should be over all of this by now, but some incidents in life tended to rear their ugly heads at the most inopportune moments, with this being one of them.

“come on, y/n,” she continued, reaching for your hand and forcing you to meet her eyes. “you’re so much better off without him. he doesn’t deserve you.”

you smiled at her sincerity. no matter what happened, yelena would always have your back and you didn’t know where you would be without her. in fact, you didn’t know where you would be without the others within the compound as well.

you had felt alone and cut off from the rest of the world practically your whole life, up until recently, that is. now you had yelena and america, bucky and sam, even kate and clint stopped by every now and again. with them, you felt a sense of camaraderie, community—even family; you’d never really had a family before. if it weren’t for this little group you found, you probably would’ve gone down a completely different path in life, and for that, you were eternally grateful that you had been welcomed into this family you could call your own. if only they had come into your life sooner, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad for you over the years.

“thank you,” you replied, and you truly meant it. “i really needed to hear that.”

“of course you did. i’m full of knowledge and advice, that’s what i’m here for,” she said with a smug grin, “and to kick your ass, too.”

you snorted out a laugh. “who’s the one with a busted face right now?”

she rolled her eyes with a gentle shove against your shoulder. “whatever. i just hope you’ll be happy, sestra.”

“yeah,” you said thoughtfully. “i hope so too.”

you released the kickstand of your motorbike parked out front when you felt a vibration in the back pocket of your jeans, indicating an incoming phone call. pulling it out, you saw the caller id image of america’s smiling face peering up at you.

“hey, kiddo. i’m on my way to the school now.”

“actually…” she started and your movements faltered at the hesitation in her voice. “i was wondering if it was all right for me to take the bus from school today? a couple of friends invited me to go ice skating at this cool indoor rink that everyone raves about and i’ve never been before and i’d really like to give it a try—”

you smiled fondly as the teen rambled on. while she was always welcome to ride the bus, you had insisted that you pick her up and walk with her instead, worried that a bus ride wasn’t the safest method of transportation, and that she would be much more protected with you around. however, you understood that she wanted a normal high school experience with other kids her age, especially since she was new to public schooling and new york in this universe, and she was more than capable of portaling herself out if anything happened. you just worried, that was all.

“sure, america. did you check with wong or strange first?”

“yep! they both said it was okay, but i wanted to ask you too.”

your heart warmed at her inclination to include you in any ‘parental’ decisions that needed to be made. “absolutely, it’s fine with me. do you want me to get you after ice skating?”

“well… they also invited me for a sleepover afterwards. is that okay?”

you took a moment to think. it was friday after all, and the weekend was more than an appropriate time for a sleepover and you truly did want america to create lasting friendships and have fun. “of course it’s okay, i’m glad you’re making friends.”

“awesome! thank you, y/n!” you heard the faint cacophony of cheers from her friends on the other end of the line and grinned to yourself.

“no problem, kiddo. but you call me at any time if you want me to come get you, all right? doesn’t matter if it’s two o’clock in the morning, i’ll be there.”

“i will,” she promised. “hey, would you mind stopping by my room real quick to pick up some things for me?”

you gulped. her room was in the sanctum. the sanctum that stephen managed. that meant you might risk running into him. don’t be ridiculous, y/n. it’s not a big deal. you’re acting childish, you mentally scolded yourself.

“um… couldn’t you just portal to your room and pack up some things yourself? i don’t want to pick out the wrong clothes,” you said, coming up with any excuse you could to get you out of the situation. “for instance, maybe you want the purple pajama set i got you for your birthday, or maybe you’d rather just wear that old band t-shirt you like so much instead. see? i might be completely off here. i could totally pack the wrong things and you’d be mad at me.”

her muffled giggle indicated just how foolish you were being. “i wouldn’t be mad at you, y/n. they’re just clothes and it’s only for one night. besides, i can’t portal in public unless it’s an emergency, remember? people would see! i’m trying to remain inconspicuous here,” she whispered into the phone.

time to put on your big girl pants, you told yourself. sighing in defeat, you agreed, “okay, you’re right. i’ll do it.”

“thanks, y/n! you’re the best.”

“yeah, yeah.”

“oh, and y/n?”

“hmm?” you asked distractedly, already readjusting your seat on the bike and getting ready to head out for the sanctum.

“don’t worry about bumping into stephen while you’re there.” your stomach dropped. of course she saw right through you and at the truth behind your initial hesitance, you were about as obvious as the nose on your face. “he’s off in kamar-taj today so it’ll just be wong there.”

“who said i was worried?” you asked nonchalantly.

“y/n,” she deadpanned, “we’ve spent enough time together for me to know your tells by now, and you always freak out when someone mentions stephen around you.”

you gasped dramatically, “america chavez, you take that back right now!”

“can’t deny the facts, y/n. you like him.”

“i most certainly do not.”

you could hear the smirk in her voice. “sure, keep telling yourself that.”

“whatever,” you muttered. “where do you want me to leave your overnight bag?”

“just leave it on my bedroom floor and i’ll grab it real quick.”

“how? i thought you said you weren’t allowed to portal unless it was an emergency.”

“well… as long as it’s only for, like, two seconds, and it’ll only be my arm coming through! no biggie.”

“how will you explain to your friends that your bag just magically appeared out of thin air?” you challenged.

“i’ll run outside or something to get it and tell them that you dropped it off for me. they’ll be none the wiser.”

“you know, i should probably scold you for breaking the rules, but i have to give it to you, kiddo. that’s actually pretty clever, given the circumstances.” you paused. “don’t tell anyone i said that.”

“as long as you don’t tell stephen that i’m going to portal in public.”

“you really think i’m going to voluntarily tell him that?”

“can never be too careful,” she mumbled.

you chuckled lightly. “your secret’s safe with me, kiddo. i’m heading over there now. call me if you need anything, got it?”

“yes, ma’am,” she said seriously but a giggle followed soon after and she hung up the phone.

you flipped down the visor of your black helmet and revved the engine, speeding down the roadway out of the compound and onto the main road. thickets of trees bled into residential communities and public parks that later turned into mammoth buildings that grazed the clouds, their glassy surfaces reflecting the sunlight from every angle.

you wove in and out of lanes, shifting your body from side to side as you maneuvered your motorbike around scattered cars and taxis, but your bruised ribs were acting up and caused a sharp jab of pain to radiate down your side. huffing out a breath, you finally reached the main part of the city but turned down some familiar backroads that would lead to the sanctum. turning onto bleecker street, you saw the old brick building with ornate wrought-ironed balconies and intricate designs within the circular window up above. the sanctum really was quite beautiful, and maybe you would actually stay for a bit after bringing america back from school, if it weren’t for the infuriating sorcerer who lived inside. wong, you knew, was much more pleasant to be around; always one to offer tea and kind smiles to visitors. stephen, on the other hand, maybe not… at least, you hadn’t allowed yourself an opportunity to see if he would or not, always escaping before he could come downstairs and greet america in the foyer.

on a normal day, you would typically leave your motorbike parked on a side street between america’s school and the sanctum so you could walk between both places relatively quickly before driving back to the compound; however, without your usual companion and task of picking her up from school, there was no need to do so, instead, you parked alongside the curb that bordered the sanctum.

knocking down the kickstand, you removed your helmet and hung it around the handlebar before swinging your leg over and approaching the large double doors. you inhaled a deep breath and then pushed them open with ease. once again, you familiarized yourself with the interior of the sanctum but didn’t allow yourself to linger for too long; you wanted to get in and out as soon as possible just in case stephen decided to pop in unexpectedly.

there weren’t many bedrooms inside the sanctum that you could see, but the door with posters plastered to every inch of wood along with a cheeky sign that said do not disturb unless you have pizza somehow just screamed ‘america.’

you let yourself inside, weaving around a bean bag chair and bookshelves stacked high with an array of novels and comic books until you found her closet, pulling out some pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow.

stepping back out into the hallway to grab toiletries she would need, you bumped into stephen who was meandering about the sanctum and must have heard you rummaging around. so he was here after all and america had tricked you yet again. damn it. you cleared your throat as he approached. “strange, hi.”

“y/n… what are you doing here?”

you held up america’s overnight bag and shook it a bit as if that would clear up any confusion. “packing a bag for america. she’s spending the night at a friend’s house and asked me to get this ready for her. she told you about it, right?”

“she did,” he said, “but i wasn’t aware that you would be stopping by to collect america’s things in her stead.” he paused for a moment and then asked, “do you need any help?”

you were genuinely surprised by his offer. “oh. um… sure, i guess. could you tell me where her bathroom is?”

he led you down the hallway until you came upon a single bathroom with what could only be america’s belongings as you doubted stephen or wong used mascara, hairspray, and lip gloss on a daily basis. you gathered her toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, and nightly retainer that she despised wearing and neatly placed them all in her bag. zipping it up, you returned to her room and set it just inside the door so she could portal through and grab it. as you bent down, however, you felt a twinge of pain in your ribs where yelena had so lovingly kicked you earlier. you huffed out a strained breath and held your side as you stood up straight.

“what’s wrong?”

you turned around to find stephen standing off to the side, having watched your little display of discomfort. you felt a bit embarrassed but tried your best to brush it off, rolling your shoulders and facing him fully. his brow was slightly furrowed as his eyes scanned your body, looking for the reason for your reaction.

“oh, it’s nothing. just a little training mishap from earlier. i’ll be fine,” you said with a wave of your hand.

“you’re not fine,” he replied firmly yet you detected a hint of softness in his voice as well. “let me take a look at it.”

your eyes widened at his suggestion. no way in hell would you let him get that close to you, it seemed much too… friendly, intimate. you had managed to keep your distance from him, to a certain degree, up until a pesky multiverse-jumping teen happened to intervene with her own personal schemes for the two of you.

“no, really. i’ll be fine. it’s not like i’ve never been injured in a fight or on a mission before,” you reasoned.

“if simply bending over is causing you pain like that, it could indicate that your ribs are broken.”

once a doctor, always a doctor. “okay, fine,” you sighed in defeat.

“take a seat,” he said as he conjured a wooden stool out of thin air to rest in front of you.

you followed his directions and sat down, trying your hardest to hide just how uncomfortable you felt, and it wasn’t because of the stool.

“may i?”

you rolled your eyes but lifted your shirt enough for him to view the purpling bruises covering your side, tucking the fabric under the band of your bra so it would stay out of the way for now.

goosebumps formed as you felt the warmth of his breath brush against your skin when he leaned in closer to you and surveyed your injuries, and you sincerely hoped he didn’t notice. his cerulean eyes took on an intensely-focused gaze, forehead creasing in concentration as he assessed your injuries. such a doctor. he ran his thumb along your ribs, the rough calluses scraping slightly but not uncomfortably, as he applied just enough pressure to make you flinch. “that’s what i thought. two of your ribs are broken.”

“great,” you sighed as you pulled your shirt back down.

he returned to his full height and fixed you with a look, his features serious and leaving no room for argument. “they should heal on their own within three to six weeks. until then, make sure you rest and ice it regularly, take ibuprofen as needed.” you nodded along up until he added, “and no more riding that death trap of a bike.”

“what? how am i supposed to get around?”

“if you hope to heal anytime soon, you need to take it easy,” he replied firmly. “have someone drive you or get an uber if you really need to.”

you pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger. whatever, you would agree with him just to get out of here and then you would return to life as normal; what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“okay… then what about my bike for now? it’s parked out front and i can’t just leave it here overnight. someone might steal it.”

“what bike?” he asked with a quick snap of his fingers.

your eyes narrowed at him. “what did you do?”

“returned your bike home for you,” he shrugged as if it was obvious. “looks like you’ll need another form of transportation for the evening and i just so happen to have a sling ring right here that can take you wherever you want.” he wiggled his fingers to better emphasize his point, the tarnished gold ring sat snug around his index and middle fingers.

as if you needed any further proof other than the fact that a sorcerer stood in front of you and who you had seen wield magic many times now, you still peered out the window to confirm that, yes, your motorbike had indeed magically disappeared as if it was never there in the first place. you turned back to him and arched a brow. “all right, i’ll give. considering i don’t really have any other choice, thanks to you.”

“i’m glad we were able to come to an agreement,” he replied with a self-satisfied smirk. “now, if you’re ready?”

“sure,” you exhaled, lifting your hands in surrender. “beam me up, scotty.”

stephen looked down as he twisted the sling ring around his fingers and you almost missed the way his lips twitched into a smile. “not quite how it works, but i suppose the intent is similar.”

his scarred hands swirled around in a circular motion until an outlining of golden sparks sizzled in front of you, and within that little portal window was a glimpse of the entrance to the compound. he had ‘walked’ you home, so to speak, right up to your doorstep. you hesitantly stepped out, not entirely knowing how portal-travel worked, and eyed your surroundings as you jumped from one part of the city to another within seconds. there was a sort of tingling sensation, not unpleasant, that kissed your skin as you passed through and landed safely at the front door. you turned back to see stephen still standing on the other side of the portal, watching your reaction in amusement.

“thanks for walking me home, doc,” you said with an easy grin.

his lips lifted at the corners into an almost-smile. “you’re welcome.”

nodding at him in dismissal, you started to reach for the door handle when his soft voice reached your ears and stopped you in your tracks. “wait.”

here we go again, you thought, thinking back to the last time he had bid you farewell. but he surprised you with different parting words this time.

he hesitated slightly before offering you a quiet “see you around, y/n” and promptly stepped back as the portal closed, your response dying on your lips now that he had vanished without a trace.

or maybe not…

as the golden sparks flickered out, a small piece of paper floated to the ground where stephen had stood just moments before. bending down to grab it, you noticed a series of numbers written in chicken scratch, as if the writer was in a hurry. your brows furrowed in confusion until realization washed over you: it was a phone number.

your eyes scanned the number over and over until you practically memorized it, then placed it in your jean pocket as you walked inside the compound. you made a quick stop to the kitchen and grabbed an icepack from the freezer and came upon sam and bucky who were seated around the table and arguing over the difference between sorcerers and wizards, for some odd reason. how fitting, you thought, considering who had just dropped you off.

pulling yourself up the staircase and breathing out a curse with each step as pain radiated up your side, you reached the comfort of your bedroom and heaved yourself onto your neatly-made bed, trying to find a comfortable position that wouldn’t irritate your ribs any further. you wrapped the icepack in a thin towel and placed it on your swollen ribs, wincing at the contact.

you laid there for who knows how long before an idea popped in your head. reaching inside your pocket, you pulled out the paper from earlier and internally fought with yourself over what you should do. you figured you might as well try to be friends with stephen because clearly avoiding him wasn’t working out too well for you, thanks to america’s endless schemes. and it seemed almost kind of sweet that he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or make you feel uncomfortable, instead, he had offered you his number and left the decision up to you whether you would reach out to him or not.

you huffed out a breath. what’s the worst that could happen? it was just a bit of harmless texting. at least it would pass the time before you turned in for the night.

is the doctor in? you texted.

a few moments later, you saw the familiar speech bubble of three dots that indicated he was currently typing.

that depends… who’s asking?

your favorite patient, of course.

hmm… do you have an appointment?

you rolled your eyes as you typed out a response. i would assume so. he did provide me with his personal number, after all.

you must be pretty important, then.

i suppose so, though i’m not sure why he gave it to me. i didn’t really think we were that close.

maybe this is his attempt at reaching out.

you swallowed around the lump in your throat. what did he mean by that? was he being serious or was this just part of the game? maybe… you typed out, not knowing how else to respond.

a few moments passed before his speech bubble popped up. how’s the injury doing?

icing it as we speak.

good. and i meant what i said earlier, no more riding that bike for at least three weeks. he ended his statement with an angry face emoji and you choked out a laugh.

aye aye, captain, you replied.

his only response was an eye-rolling emoji. you laughed again and had to press a pillow down on your ribs to keep from injuring them further.

maybe stephen wasn’t such a stick in the mud after all.

i guess i better turn in for the night and get some rest, you texted. doctor’s orders.

you saw the three dots pop up and then disappear a few times until you finally got a response. goodnight, y/n. sleep well.

“looks like someone wasn’t being truthful yesterday,” you said as america stepped outside her friend’s house the following morning, shielding her eyes against the sun as she approached you.

“who, me?”

“you would be the one i’m referring to, yes. you said strange wouldn’t be there but guess who i happened to bump into?”

“oh, did i say that?” she smacked her forehead. “i meant wong would be going to kamar-taj for the day, i must have gotten their schedules mixed up. my mistake,” she said simply.

you quirked a brow at her. “i’m on to you, chavez.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a mischievous glint in her brown eyes.

“mhmm.” you grabbed her bag and plopped it in the backseat of the car you had borrowed from sam until you could get back on your bike again. america hopped in the passenger seat and waited for you to walk around the front and sit behind the wheel. she looked like an excited puppy, practically bouncing in her seat as she gazed over at you.

“soooo… what did you two talk about?” she asked, resting her hand on her chin.

rolling your eyes, you pushed her face away from you and started the ignition. “not cool, kid. you’re going to pay for that little trick of yours.”

america leaned back in her seat and faced forward, but as you looked across the console at her, you saw that she was still beaming.

what the hell was she up to…?

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