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ethereal-night-fairy · 4 months

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Silver Tongues, like Bullets

Chapter 2

Werewolf!141 x Female Reader

Your camera held darker secrets than any of the men anticipated. It was also the first nail in your coffin. They may have let you go had they foregone seeing those pictures.

Warnings: MDNI, dark themes, manipulation, drugging, punishments, kidnapping, non-con touching, non-con looking, stealing nudes, breast slapping, groping, manhandling, implied jerking off, poly 141 taking care of reader, BDSM themes?, Sorry if I missed any.

Silver Tongues like Bullets Masterlist

Word: 6k

-23/11/2023

A blanket of darkness had fallen over the cabin, the night air getting much icier than before. Not that it bothered any of the boys. They had thick skin and were susceptible to surviving in harsh weather. It was you who they were worried about. It was a shock when they all first saw you. No one was supposed to be able to find this place, not easily that is. It caused a slight rift in the dynamic of the pack. With Gaz and Soap wanting to help you and him and Ghost walking on the edge of caution. In the end they decided to wait and see. And if they thought they needed to they'd have you restrained until they could confirm your innocence.

Soap had gotten you a blanket but you were still shivering even with the fire burning hot. Price was growing suspicious. Were you purposely acting pitiful to gather their trust? Were you trying to make yourself out to be less of a threat? Gaz looked at you with pity as he started plating the food for everyone. A nice cut of venison with some military ration sides. Ghost seeing you weren't able to regulate your body heat goes to gather more wood from the wood pile. While all this going on Soap can't help but ask you every question under the moon. You were quiet and reluctant to answer anything too personal.

Price comes out of the cabin with a first aid kit. You tense up when he approaches you. Like you were just looking for a chance to run. Your behaviour was strange. You were the one to ask for help yet you looked like you wanted to be anywhere but here. He didn't know what to make of it. His first instinct was to think you were a spy who was caught snoopy and just made a cover story to buy time. If that was the case they needed to stay on high alert if they were being watched by someone. For now he told his boys to stay on the edge of caution even after Ghost had secured the parameters. They couldn't be too careful.

Price came to sit beside you. Holding out his hands to look at your injuries. With some reluctance you eventually place your shaky hands in his. Price held your fragile skin with tenderness. Making sure to wipe away the blood and dirt with care. The damage wasn't extensive but you had certainly taken a fall somewhere in the forest on the way here.

You looked disheveled and extremely tired. You flinch and whimper from time to time as Price applies pressure and the iodine on your busted skin. The sounds definitely caused emotions to stir in all of the men. Pair that with your intoxicating scent the situation was a little too convenient.

Such a delicate thing you were, you didn't look like you could do much harm. But you can't really trust anyone, not in situations like these. They're been hunted for far too long to not be cautious of strangers approaching them for help. As lovely as you were, the timing and your behaviour was odd.

You held a cup of hot chocolate to your chest, the warm ceramic starving off the cold from your fingers. The blanket wrapped around wasn't doing much for you anymore, maybe you were coming down with a fever. But it was hard to tell because you were so tired. The situation wasn't ideal. You didn't want to be here. And by the looks of it the men didn't want you here either. Fatigue was settling in and you could feel your eyes drooping. The fire was on its last leg, only a couple embers glowing in the dark. You had offered to help clean up but they kindly told you to rest. You watch them mull around tidying up as Soap keeps you busy with idle chatter.

They didn't say much about themselves nor did they indulge you with your questions. The only information they gave you were their weird nicknames and that they were here on a short break after an extended work trip. You couldn't blame them, you wouldn't share too much information with a stranger either. Despite the shaky introduction the men were very sweet to you. Price had helped patch up some superficial cuts on your hands and legs, while Gaz got you something to eat and drink. You were even given a blanket when the fire wasn't enough to starve off the cold. They even offered to drive you into town the next morning. Your parents definitely warned you about trusting strangers, especially men but these four didn't seem so bad. Hopefully you'll be able to call them soon to let them know you were ok. Though you weren't looking forward to the lecture you were going to receive when you got home tomorrow.

Gaz had gone in first to set up your sleeping arrangements. Price followed soon after with the dirty dishes and utensils in hand. You sit for a while longer enjoying your conversation with Soap, despite his forward personality he seemed like a decent fellow. What unnerved you the most was Ghost, he hadn't spoken a single word to you as of yet. On top of that you could only see his eyes. You watch as he puts away the wood in a neat pile beside the cabin. He was a very big man, much bigger than the rest of them. His biceps bulge as he carries the heavy wood to their designated spot. They were all so rugged and well built it made some stir deep inside of you. No one in town looked like that. No one in town had made you feel this amount tingling between your legs.

You're totally oblivious to the fact Soap is watching you eye Ghost with intrigue or possibly hunger. Maybe a mix of both. You totally miss the full canine smirk gracing his features as you continue answering his questions, though a bit sluggishly. He watches your eyes flickering close signaling the effect of the medication slipped into your now empty cup.

The fire finally dies out, causing you to shiver despite having the blanket Soap draped over you. Soap gets up to escort you in while Ghost waits at the entrance of the cabin. You try standing up to follow him, but you find your feet to be unsteady. Everything felt woozy and unfocused, you felt two familiar arms wrapping around your waist, preventing you from falling over your own two feet.

“Careful thare lassie…wouldn't want ye getting hurt again”, he coils his arms around you tighter, taking the brunt of your weight as you try to formulate words in your mouth. He was definitely too close; his face was practically in the crook of your neck. You could feel his hot breath on your cold skin. You wanted to tell him to move, to tell him not to touch you so casually. But your tongue felt like lead. There was a weird aftertaste in your mouth that you were only just noticing. You couldn't move and you felt your head lolling over. Something was wrong…something was very wrong! The cup was in danger of falling from your hands as you tried speaking again. You still needed to ask to borrow a phone to call your parents to let them know you were ok.

You watch Ghost walk towards you, taking the cup from your hands while telling Soap to help you inside. With surprising strength and ease, Soap lifts you in his arms bridal style as your head rests on his shoulder. Your eyes are fighting to stay awake as small grunts and moans leave your mouth. You really couldn't form a sentence even if you tried. He coos and shushes you as tears form in your eyes from frustration. You didn't know what was happening, why couldn't you move? Did they drug you!?

The fire was roaring inside the cabin. The frigid air long forgotten as Soap carries you towards a bedroom. Your eyes were hazy but you could make out Gaz pulling back the duvet to allow Soap to lay you down in the very comfy looking bed. Your whimpers and whines ceased the second your head touched the pillow, your eyes becoming so heavy you had no choice but to close them. Your body sinks down into the cloud-like mattress soothing the ache in your bones. You feel them remove your shoes and then your jacket, moving your body with precision and ease. Their melodic voices whispering sweet words you couldn't make out anymore. Sleep was calling to you, trying to slip your head underwater like a siren. But not before you felt two pairs of lips on your forehead wishing you a restful sleep. Eventually you go under, everything fading into black as the warmth of the duvet surrounds your sore body.

“How did you get her down so easily?”, Price inquiries as he settles onto the sofa beside the fire.

“Slipped one of Ghost's melatonin tablets into her hot chocolate”, Gaz walks towards him settling on his lap after placing your phone, camera and jacket on the coffee table.

Once everyone is situated on the sofa that's when Price speaks up again.

“I don't know who she is or how she found us….this place was supposed to be hidden. Laswell organised this trip as an outlet for us to roam freely in our wolf forms. No one was meant to be here apart from us.”

“What if she's a spy?”, Ghost chimes in. “What if she was sent to gather intel on us…it's not the first time an organisation has tried kidnapping one of us.”

“I don't know…she looked pretty beaten up when she found the cabin and her phone was broken…She genuinely could have been lost. She also doesn't have much on her”, Gaz tried to reason with the rest of his lovers. “Not to mention her smell…it was very inviting.”

“Aye she dinnae look like she could dae much harm…But her pheromones were driving meh crazy especially when Price was patching up her cuts.” Soap reaches out for your jacket, giving it a quick sniff to confirm his findings. “Can we keep ‘er? Promise Ah'll treat ‘er gently…fragile little thing she is..would make ah great addition to the pack”

“Let's not forget the last time we let someone close, sunshine here almost got a sedative to the neck”, Price grumbled while eyeing Soap.

“Her pheromones are very enticing…But we can't just kidnap someone because you like the way she smells, especially someone we just met. We should call Laswell to do a background check just to be safe”, Ghost offered while running his gloveless fingers through Soap mohawk.

“It might take a while to get the results and Gaz had promised to take her home tomorrow. But that could prove dangerous to us if she informs anyone of our whereabouts.” The men all nod in agreement as they chalk up a plan to keep you for a while longer, just until they can confirm you aren't a threat. Definitely not for other reasons…

Ghost grabs your phone to plug into his laptop to get any useful information that you hadn't disclosed already. Soap was happy enough beside him going through your pictures on your camera. He just wanted to confirm you weren't stalking them and taking pictures when they weren't looking.

Gaz and Price come to an agreement in pretending like the truck broke down tomorrow morning forcing you to trek back into town on foot, with Gaz guiding you. The only difference would be that Gaz would lead you into the wrong direction towards a nearby lake. They'll have to wait and see how you'd react to being baited.

Once everything was settled they put their plan into motion. Price gives Laswell a call as they crowd around the laptop having no shame in going through your personal information or the numerous pictures you have saved. They mirror your phone screen onto the laptop and the first things that pop up are a plethora of messages from your parents telling you to come home right this instant. Calling you dramatic for ‘faking an emergency’ and that weren't going to call anyone to help or come get you. Telling you they'd kick you to the streets if you continued to act like this. They seemed really pissed off by something. But there were too many messages to go through. It was like reading a soap opera script. Your siblings on the other hand seemed really concerned asking for you to come home quickly, telling you that your parents were ransacking your room and throwing things onto the street in anger. It seemed a little too convenient of a story to Price.

“This could all just be a ploy”, Ghost suggested. A made-up story to get their pity so you could get closer to them. Ghost and Price didn't want to give you the benefit of the doubt, even though Gaz and Soap were more than willing to believe your story. Probably too enticed by your scent already. They've been in these situations far too many times for it to be considered a coincidence. Especially when a pretty thing wanders somewhere she definitely shouldn't be, spreading very enticing pheromones to a pack of wolves.

They continue their search for something incriminating. Anything to give away you were working for someone. But everything they found felt very mundane down to the nitty gritty details of your life. It almost seemed too normal as if your life was scripted. You must be hiding something even if it wasn't related to them. Everyone had at least one skeleton in their closet. But you didn't or maybe you were just better at hiding it. The pictures on your phone are mostly tame, the main subject being nature and quite a few candid shots of what they assumed were your friends. And obviously you had plenty of pictures of food, but not many of yourself to their disappointment. Gaz seemed particularly disappointed, the younger two men seemed to be taken by you. Even though they've only spent an hour at most talking to you. Your Instagram wasn't much different but your online portfolio had quite a few creative pictures with models. They were often made to look antique or aged and followed a very classic aesthetic. Soap thought it was a shame they couldn't get to see your pretty face.

You could have just stolen these pictures from someone else but they couldn't confirm that either. At this point they thought they saw enough to get to know you. Gaz seemed to want to come to your defense but held his tongue, he knew how dangerous situations like these could get. But to him you seemed like any typical college graduate trying to make a name for herself. Young, ambitious and full of creativity. But you were also naïve and a bit ditsy if what you told them was true. And he so desperately wanted it to be true, the idea of keeping you around was growing on him. One would think if you enter a forest alone the least you could do was pay attention to your surroundings regardless if you were distracted taking pictures or not. It seemed you lacked common sense. Especially when thinking asking four strange men for help was a good idea. Though in your defense it's not like you had many options at that point. It was either this or freeze to death.

It's ok if you were a bit slow or naive Gaz thought, he'll protect you and teach you everything you'd need to know. Once you were cleared of suspicion, that is, Soap and him could definitely work to convince the other two men to agree to keep you. It didn't seem like your parents treated you well, he's sure you'd be happier with them anyways so I wasn't like they were doing something that wrong. In fact they were probably doing you a favour by taking you away from your abusive parents.

Soap was still off to the side somewhere hyper focused on looking at your pictures for some reason. When your camera finally died, Soap let out a flurry of curses.

“Find something useful?”, Price inquiried. Worried you were indeed taking pictures of them to sell or send to whoever you were working for. Soap just mumbles something in frustration before saying no.

Intrigued, Ghost takes the camera from Soap with some trouble. He slots the SD card into the laptop to see what he was moaning about. It's safe to say none of them except maybe for Soap, were expecting those kind of pictures to pop up. You were still dressed, just barley that is. The men took an audible gulp of air, their Adams apple bobbing in their throats. When Ghost clicked on the first exposed picture of you they all felt their mouth becoming entirely too wet and too dry at the same time. They were practically drooling at the sight of your naked flesh.

Ghost was kinda annoyed Soap was trying to keep this to himself. Greedy little bastard. He would have probably jerked off to the pictures after everyone had gone to bed. Only telling them about it when he got his fill.

It was a photograph of you sitting near some wild flowers. In the photo you were wearing a long white dress so the picture wasn't taken today but they wished it was. They wished you came to them looking like you did in that photo. Your dress was pushed up very close to exposing your panties, your legs were strategically parted but not enough to expose yourself. It left them wanting for more and had their fingers itching to touch your warm supple skin. It was ironic how sweet and innocent you came across when speaking to them yet you took pictures like this of yourself? It had Soap blood rushing to his cock and also his head, it angered him that there was a possibility you were taking these pictures for some girl or dude. A possessive feeling entered his heart, he was annoyed thinking someone apart from them could have possibly seen these pictures of you. The other men probably thinking something similar, even if they wouldn't admit it just yet.

Ghost glanced at Soap adjusting his slacks before going back to click onto the next picture. The silence in the room quickly faded when the next picture loaded up. Gaz and Soap let out audible groans at the image. Their cocks were definitely straining in their trousers.

The picture showed you laying down this time still on the grass, your wet hair arranged prettily. But it looked like it was raining. Your face was wet, your lipstick smudged and the white top completely soaked through exposing your erect nipples. You had a demure expression on your face despite the very erotic pictures you were taking of yourself. The more images they clicked the more erotic they became. Though you were at no point completely naked or fully exposed. But by God you knew what you were doing with that camera. You knew your best angles, the natural lighting was perfect, your clothes were arranged just how you intended. They'd mistake you for a pinup model if they had found these pictures accidentally on some website.

The best picture so far pops up and by this point everyone including Price and Ghost are acutely fixated on your devine body, your soft curves and dips. They all probably felt their cocks hardening. Everything about you just seemed so perfect, like you were made for them. It was safe to say even if they found you were actually a spy they'd find a way to keep you next to them. A body so divine would do no good buried six feet under. They had no idea you were hiding such a figure under your baggy clothes they found you in.

The picture in question was of you laying propped up on your side. The top on your dress was pulled down to your waist exposing your chest, torso and stomach completely. The dress was soaked, becoming transparent and your white stockings were on display. You were looking at the camera innocently like you weren't just sitting prettily half naked in the middle of a forest by yourself. Gaz really hoped it was you taking these pictures not someone else. They really ought to teach what could happen to pretty half exposed girls who wander into the forest to take such naughty pictures. Ghost goes to click on the next picture but it just circles back to the most recent picture of a white bunny you took. Everyone was clearly disappointed but only Soap and Gaz voiced their dissatisfaction. Soap tries to take the laptop to return to his favourite picture of you but Ghost slams the screen shut.

“Oye! What was that for!?”, Soap practically seethes, Gaz not far behind voicing his anger.

“She's not some wank material for you Johnny.. Go to bed, we have a long day tomorrow, both of you…”

“I agree, go to bed. You both need to cool down and think with a level head. This girl can be a danger to all of us…”, Price's stern voice rings out, squashing out any room for complaint. The two men grumble and head off to Soap room. “Don't sneak into her room either!”. They let out some pathetic ‘yes sirs’ before closing the door to their room. Price knew for a fact they were going to get each off to the thoughts of your body. He'd hope they wouldn't get too attached to you just yet… there was a lot at stake. He didn't want any of his boys getting hurt because they were thinking with their dicks..

Price tells Simon to put everything back so you don't suspect them tampering with your stuff. They needed to keep up the air that they were oblivious about you. Price rubs his eyes. The fatigue clearly evident in his face. This was supposed to be a relaxing trip…He needed some sleep. The anxiety was eating away at him. He'd be expecting a call from Kate the next morning for an update. It's best to get as much rest as possible..

Rest would have been good for Simon too yet he found himself making backup of all your pictures once everyone left. Price had told him to return everything back but he couldn't bring himself to allow anyone else to see these pictures of you. As much as he was trying to hide it. He found himself becoming infatuated. By your scent, by your demeanor, by your beautiful breasts. His mouth was just itching to latch on your supple skin. Which was extremely concerning, he shouldn't feel like this. Yet he found his hand discreetly finding his way into his boxers as he made copies of the pictures while deleting them off the SD card. It wasn't like you'd notice, your camera had died. Though he did feel cruel for denying his boys pleasure while he was indulging in it himself. He'll make it up to them later once everything is settled and they decide what they should do with you.

-27/11/2023 present time

You found yourself on a familiar sofa again, only this time it was Gaz who was taking care of your wounds. The cuts sting as you try to escape the grasp Soap has on you as he holds you down on his lap.

“Please I'm not a spy…*sob*.. I just want to go home..”

“Settle down hen…nae need tae work yerself up.. we just want tae take care of ye”, you could still hear the residual anger in his voice. He probably got an earful by everyone for allowing you to escape on his watch. But you didn't care, you just wanted to go home. Anywhere was better than being stuck with four strange men. Four very dangerous men who shouldn't technically exist. Your mind was still trying to process what you had witnessed. Maybe it was all a hallucination. There no way men can turn to wolves right? Right? You'd promise never to mention it to a living soul if it meant they would let you go but you doubted they'd take the risk. You had no way to contact the outside world, had no way of escaping four military men with connections. Four protected military men who could technically get away with anything if they can get away with war crimes.

“Ye need tae stop squirming so much hen… or we'll have another problem on our hands”, Soap whispers in your ear. You stop your movements immediately at his words. You try to get off his lap but he just holds you down harder. His stiff cock brushing against you too bagging sweatpants and you felt everything since they had taken your underwear to ‘clean’ while they were nursing you back to health. You hated to admit it but his body heat was pleasant compared to the cold you were just in. But that didn't mean you wanted his hard cock pressed up against your vulnerable unclothed pussy.

Gaz and Soap continue to try to soothe you, but it's of little help because you begin panicking the second you see Price and Ghost getting the truck loaded with their belongings. They were leaving the area and taking you with them.

You feel Gaz brush your hair out of your face as he shushes you with gentle words. You were a fool to think he was ever going to take you home. You partially blamed him for your fall into the lake. Had he not suggested you climb the nearby boulders to get better reception on his phone; you wouldn't have slipped in leaving you mentally delirious for the last couple days due to your aggravated fever. You don't remember much from the last few days apart from a lot of vomiting and the men taking care of all your needs whether you wanted them to or not. Not to mention them dressing and undressing you like a doll whenever they felt like it. Or maybe it was because you kept vomiting but you wanted to blame it on them..

The fight in you dies down as you just resort to crying your feelings out. The boys continue to soothe you but they were probably just making things worse. You were extremely overwhelmed by everything you were witnessing; it was all becoming too much. You just wanted to turn your brain off for a second. You watch Price and Ghost stop in front of you. They had hard expressions on their faces. Dread filled you as you realised what they were going to do..

“Do you want your punishment now or when we arrive back home?”, Price inquiries. But you know he doesn't mean your home he meant their home. You cry even louder not knowing what to do to convince them to let you go. Pleases and sorrys leave your mouth as you beg them for mercy, beg them to see what they were doing was wrong. Trying your best to convince them you weren't a spy. But they wouldn't listen. It's like they had already made up their minds to keep you regardless of whether you were a spy or not.

Price maneuvers you off Soap lap and over his knee as everyone watches with held breaths. You struggle, you really do. With all the energy you have left you fight the punishment you're about to receive. You feel Price's hand rub over your ass giving it an experimental squeeze despite your crying and squirming. It only seemed like a mild inconvenience to him. You feel his hand brush up to the waistband of your sweat pants which causes you to kick your legs more. It's only then you hear Ghost speak.

“Price maybe we should let her decide her punishment” Price gives Ghost an odd look but decides to hear him out. You quiet down and listen too, hoping for an out from this humiliating situation.

“Let's give her two options to choose from, since it's her first time and hopefully her last time trying to escape”, you look at him like he was your saving grace. That would later be a great mistake on your part since you hadn't heard his options yet.

“What would you suggest?”, Price inquires as he continues to rub your thighs and ass as you held your breath hoping to get out of this punishment. Gaz and Soap look on eagerly knowing either suggestion would have you partially exposed to them. Not like they haven't been oogling your body already, especially while helping you clean up over the last few days. You don't know that though you were too delirious with fever.

“She can decide if she wants slaps to her bare cunt or bare breasts”, your face drops at his suggestion. You were really hoping for something else, like writing lines or doing extra chores like the way your parents preferred punishing you. You start crying again at your predicament. Why was life like this? Why did it have to be you? You were a good person, well at least you tried to be.. Was this your punishment for defying your parents' will? Was God punishing you for being an unfilial daughter? Was it because you wanted to feel sexy in those pictures? Had that evoked the wrath of God?

“Make a decision luv or I'll make it for you…”, You hiccup through sobs trying to ask for forgiveness instead. You didn't want to be exposed to strangers. This wasn't how you expected your first time to be. You had your doubts they'd stop at a simple spanking. When Price goes to pull your pants down you speak up, finally realising you weren't going to be shown mercy.

“M-my…my.. breasts”, you cry. It was the lesser evil. May God forgive you for exposing yourself to these strangers. You're gently made to sit upright as Price forces you to lift Soaps shirt, baring your supple breasts to them. Your squeeze your eyes shut as you clench your hands into fists waiting for the pain to begin. But it doesn't come. You wait and wait but nothing happens. You don't hear them speak or move, which just caused more anxiety. You eventually can't take the suspense and open your eyes to find them all staring, eyes full of lust and desire, hands twitching at their sides. It was as if they were transfixed, unable to break the hold your naked body had on them. It unnerved you, you didn't know what they were waiting for…

“Price…”, you whimper out his name so you can get this punishment done and over with. An inhuman groan leaves his lips at you calling his name so sweetly. Immediately his eyes shoot to yours before they dip down again. He clears his throat as his expression changes back to his previous one of anger, but not really. You close your eyes again waiting for him to do something, your body trembling from the fear and anticipation.

“Five slaps to each breast ok darling?”, You nod your head, your hands clutching onto the shirt tighter. You brace yourself while holding your breath again, waiting for the pain to come. He lays his rough calloused hands over your hard nipples causing your breath to hitch at his gentle touch. You try to squirm away but the first tentative slap lands on your left breast, forcing you to gasp despite it not hurting. The next one that lands is much harder, delivered in quick succession like the rest. Your skin felt hot and raw after each thunderous slap. Tears slip past your waterline as the last blow is delivered to your left breast. The skin he was brushing against felt incredibly sensitive. He pinched your nipples again and they felt harder than before, if that was possible.

You felt the rumble of Price's inhuman growl as his large hands cup your sore breast. He keeps it there, feeling the weight of your bosom in his hand as he experimentally rolls your nipples between his fingers. The dangerous throat sounds you were hearing just froze you in place that you didn't even think to move away even though you wanted to. It wasn't just Price, you could practically feel the other men burning holes into your skin despite having your eyes closed.

Eventually you feel him move to your right. He was being much crueler with his slaps this time around. Every time his hand clapped against your flesh you flinched from the stinging pain. Gasps and whimpers left your mouth more readily this time around as well. The pain was spreading all over your sensitive flesh yet you could do little to prevent it. It felt inflamed and hot and all you wanted to do was hide in a corner somewhere far away. Never in your life have you felt this kind humiliation. The worst part was your nether region felt hot and sticky making sitting extremely uncomfortable. You squirm as you rub your thighs together. Trying your best to alleviate the ache. Hopefully no one noticed.

By the end of punishment you were crying again. The tears didn't seem to want to end this time around. Eventually you felt your top being pushed down to cover your tender sore breasts as Price brought you in for a hug despite you trying to escape.

“You took your punishment so well bunny, such a good girl. I'm so proud of you. Our perfect girl.”, Price coos at you while you still try to escape his hold. But he just tightens his arms around you, plastering your head to his chest as you cry it out. Soap and Gaz chime in too as they caress your head and back showering you with praise for taking the punishment so well.

“Being such a good girl for us, we're so proud of you bunny. You deserve a reward. Let me go get you some water. We'll get you some ointment when we get home luv just sit there and rest for now.”, Gaz leaves the room to get some water at you continue crying.

“Let me give ye a reward hen.. Ah’ll make the pain go o’way. You've been rubbing yer thighs since the punishment started”, You feel Soaps hands move to your thighs. Trying to pry them open for your ‘reward’. But you adamantly refuse while fighting to keep your legs closed, not that it was doing much to deter him.

“No..no…please…no more”, you plead through sobs. Before you can cry louder you feel him being pulled back roughly. You open your eyes to find Ghost holding Soap by the hair as he whines kneeling on the ground.

“That's enough Johnny..Not today”, You watch him help Soap up as he grumbles something about it being unfair that only Price got to touch you. But he eventually relents and goes to follow him outside.

Gaz returns with a glass of water from the kitchen and brings it to your lips. You hadn't realised all that running and crying had left you extremely parched. You gulp down the water not thinking much of it when he gently tips the glass for you. Price has to slow you down your movements telling you you'll choke yourself like that. He takes the glass from Gaz to help you slowly finish it. It's only when you're done that the same chalky taste of medicine you've been tasting for the last couple days makes itself known. They've drugged you again.

You cry and plead for mercy in your last couple minutes of consciousness but all they do is coo at you until you pass out. The last thing you see in your hazy vision is Gaz kissing your forehead while Price gathers you in his lap to carry you to the truck.

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cupids-chamber · 1 year

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— LITTLE SPOON OR BIG SPOON ?

LITTLE SPOON ♡, Riddle Rosehearts, Ruggie Bucchi (Idk, he just has the.. vibes), Idia Shroud (No comment)

BIG SPOON ♡, Trey Clover, Lilia Vanrouge, Leona Kingscholar (Cutely cuddles you to assert dominance), Jade Leech, Vil Schoenheit (If you can get him to.), Epel Felmier (Cuddles you to assert dominance),

MIX ♡, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Cater Diamond, Malleus Draconia, Silver (Leaning Little spoon), Sebek Zigvolt (Little spoon in denial), Jack Howl, Azul Ashengrotto (Little spoon in denial x 2), Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper (Crush him, he's probably touch starved), Rook hunt (No one was surprised)

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amywritesthings · 1 year

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silver underground. / chapter six.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: Day 121 - Also known as the day you officially leave the cadets and join the Scouts.

Warnings: Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Eventual Romance, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Flashbacks, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Nonbinary Hange Zoe, Touch Starved Idiots

( Read on AO3 )

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER SIX.

“Are you ready to head out?”

A perky voice breaks you from your fixated attempt at dragging the remaining pesky leather straps up your left thigh. You’d been rearranging your uniform for what feels like hours — taking it off, putting it back on, staring at your wavering reflection in a bucket of fresh water in the barracks to see if maybe you look out of place.

You certainly feel like you are, as the cadet that joined for three-something weeks only to disappear, plucked up by the Scouts at a moment's notice. An anomaly.

What you're wearing isn’t your old uniform, not exactly — that one’s cut up, bloodied and destroyed in a pile of ashes with all the other discarded jackets and trousers — so you’ll have to get used to the one they’ve given you.

At least the Wings of Freedom reside once more between your shoulder blades.

(A gift from Commander Erwin, who could not attend this momentous departure from the training camps to the real deal.)

“Hey, Petra,” you call back to her, dropping a boot onto the wooden floor. She watches you with budding excitement. “Are we leaving now?”

“Just about!” she exclaims. “Eld is finalizing supplies, but we’re ready when you are.”

“Great.” You hold both arms out as you walk to the doorway. “So?”

It takes her a minute, but her eyes finally connect with the white and blue emblem. “Oh, finally, you got your jacket back!”

“Erwin apparently sent a new one over with Hange,” you tell her as you follow her leisurely pace towards the front of the cadet training camp.

“Are you feeling good about this?”

“About coming back to the Scouts?” you ask. She nods in confirmation. “I’m a little nervous but yeah, I feel good.”

“Don’t be nervous. We’re like a little family.” Petra pauses, making a face at the sight in the near distance: a man with dark hair waves his hand beside worn wooden wagon, where several people and horses wait their departure. “...a bit of a weird family but a family nonetheless.”

“Oi! Is that her?” the man shouts across the way, standing on his toes to wave harder — like Petra doesn’t see him.

“Yep!” Petra calls, murmuring low to add, “That’s Gunther Schultz. You always kicked his ass in spars. He's never not been bitter about it.” She chirps again to him in her sweet, peppy voice. “It’s her!”

“A-ha! Alright, awesome!” Gunther replies, dropping his hands to his hips.

From here you can see the silhouette of a tall person with a high ponytail sitting at a spot at the head of the wagon, body facing you — Hange. On their left sits a man on a horse with a mop of dirty blond hair — probably Moblit — holding two additional reigns. A smaller, black-haired person sits to the right edge of the wagon with his arms stretched along the back, his one leg folded over the other. You immediately recognize that it's Captain Levi.

At the mouth of the wagon, two other people await your arrival. Petra gives you the quiet catch-up as you walk together: the man with long blonde hair is Eld Jinn, the squad’s second-in-command (she’s quick to divulge that you pull rank, in technicality) and last is the disinterested looking individual with curly hair and an undercut — Oluo Bozado, a skilled asset to the squad who won’t hesitate to brag about his high titan kill count at any chance he gets.

So this was it.

These were the people you spent your life with.

“She doesn’t look injured,” greets Oluo as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Memory loss doesn’t look like anything, Oluo,” Gunther hisses, before perking up at your arrival. “Hey, Lieutenant. How’s it going?”

“Fine, I think,” you greet pleasantly enough, reaching to shake his outstretched hand. “Thanks for letting me come back.”

“The decision was unanimous,” Eld tells you, hopping into the wagon. He spins on a heel to help Petra up first, and she takes her spot across from Captain Levi. Then he holds his hand out to you, smile vacant but there for comradery’s sake.

You accept his help, pulling up to the wagon to sit beside Petra. Gunther rounds the cart to take the right-hand side horse. From your peripheral, you can feel Levi and Hange watching your interactions with the remainder of the team.

“That’s good to hear," you reply. "Petra went through the roll call, but if you wanna introduce yourselves…”

“We heard you remembered Moblit on sight,” Oluo interrupts gruffly, hopping into the wagon once Eld is settled at the head of the group with his hands on the reins. He plops beside Levi, taking up a corner seat.

“Ha, she totally did,” Hange beams with a grin, and you can see Moblit sigh under his breath. “It was kind of crazy to witness in person. She remembered some things with me, too.”

"She did?" Petra asks, awed.

Eld whistles sharply, and the wagon jerks.

You’re leaving.

Sharply you turn to watch the camp grow smaller, its gates closing shut once the Scouts are out of range.

(You’re actually doing this.)

You blink away from it to look ahead. Immediately your eyes connect with Levi's as he stares directly at you.

Your face grows hot at the unspoken energy settling at your boots.

Hange continues, addressing the group. “Our hypothesis will really come into play once we reach the old headquarters. Our objective is to regroup, train with James so she can refamiliarize herself with Commander Erwin’s strategy before the next expedition. Once we're certain she's caught up, then we'll plan to make our way towards the northeast quadrant of Wall Maria. We've yet to explore that part of the walls, and we're certain we can capture new titans for experiments."

"Capturing more?" Petra asks with the smallest of squeaks. "The last two weren't enough?"

"Yes, but that's only part two of the overall plan. Right now, we're focused on rehabilitation James.” They fix their glasses between a pinched thumb and index finger. “The more we spend time with her, the better her memory will get. The better her memory gets, the easier our expeditions will become.”

“As if I want her to remember all the damn dirt she used to have on me,” sours Gunther, laced with a hint of amusement as he rides alongside the cart.

You look over at him, running your tongue against the seam of your lips. “What? Like when I used to kick your ass all the time?”

Gunther gasps, causing Oluo to break out into a surprised laugh.

“Petra told you about that!” Gunther protests.

You shrug a casual shoulder. “Did she?”

You blink back to Levi, who has his head bowed.

(You swear you see the corner of his lip lifted.)

“Oh — c’mon, you didn’t give her any shit about the rest of them? Petra!”

“What?! It felt like pertinent information,” Petra argues back with a giggle. “She just spent a couple of weeks fighting all of the new hopefuls.”

“And how’d that go?” Oluo asks, shifting his weight in his seat to mirror Levi’s casual body language in the cart — he reaches back, draping his arms over the edge of the wagon.

“Yeah, how did you do with combat training, James?” Eld Jinn asks from the front perch.

You shrug. “Well enough, why?”

The blonde snorts, turning his chin over his shoulder. “Because I’d kill to see if you can still go toe-to-toe with the Captain like you used to.”

“Eld,” Petra warns under her breath.

“What?” he squawks.

One by one, you see the remaining pairs of eyes in the cart turn to the conversation to focus on what may come next. Petra’s ginger hair bobs when she leans forward to chastise him.

“That’s inappropriate to request,” Petra argues.

“How’s it inappropriate?” Eld retorts, raising an elbow as he makes the horses turn out onto a main dirt road. “That’s all they did back in the day was fight. It’s been months!”

“We’re not about to haze her.”

“Why not?”

“I could.”

Hange’s eyebrows fly up their forehead, transparent in surprise at the sound of Levi finally speaking up since the wagon’s departure from camp.

You turn your chin to look his way. The captain’s brow raises a tick as his eyes connect with yours.

The wagon goes silent. The only sounds surrounding the Special Ops squad are grunts of horses and the light dips of the wheels against rogue pebbles in the dirt road.

Unable to look away from Levi, a slow smile creeps up your lips. “Is that something we used to do?”

“All the time,” Gunther confirms to the side of the cart while Petra shushes him.

“He’s right,” Levi agrees. “We did.”

Warm spreads through your chest and makes your heart soar. Levi not shutting down Eld’s idea is… good. Great, even. It’s a step in the right direction — right?

Levi said he wouldn’t spell things out for you, but he didn’t discourage others doing it for him. A loophole. You can’t help but widen your smile.

“I’ve spent so much time fighting kids who don’t even know how to hold a proper fist,” you tell him, dropping your hands into your lap to squeeze them together. “Captain: would you be interested, then, to spar when we reach the castle? Be my first real fight.”

A first, even when it’s anything but.

Levi keeps a neutral expression in front of your anticipated comrades.

All eyes shift in tandem from your face to the captain.

“Couldn’t hurt to welcome you properly,” he replies, legs still crossed and arms draped, chest straps on display under his stretched jacket.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Gunther breathes under his breath with a grin. “The Special Ops are back.”

The trek to the castle takes a few hours, but you spend it occupied enough. Between Gunther and Oluo’s constant questions (What was the next group of cadets like? How does memory loss feel? Do you remember when we—?) and Petra’s combative defensiveness to keep you protected from overexertion, the wagon ride back is promising.

Exciting.

Your blood is buzzing with the very real possibility of fighting Levi Ackerman once the group is settled at headquarters.

Anxiety should be hitting you once you reach the familiar sight of the run-down castle, but all you can feel is exhilaration. Anticipation. Like you finally have a worthy opponent who may give little mercy despite your situation.

Hopping off the wagon without the help of Oluo’s hand, you shrug off your Scout jacket and hand it to him to hold instead. He makes a disappointed noise in the back of his throat, tossing the item of clothing over his shoulder.

Levi hops out without help, light on his feet and graceful as he steps around the wagon to walk with you.

“We doing this right now?” he asks, tone bored, offering a sidelong glance to you.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you sure about sparring so soon?” he asks, lower this time.

(If you didn’t know any better, then you would believe his question hits a note of concerned.)

“What, are you afraid I’m going to beat your ass in front of the squad?”

“No,” he answers, matter of fact. “The opposite.”

Eld whistles low when you turn on a heel, walking backwards to grin at Levi. Levi doesn’t return the same excitement nor does he remove his jacket or cravat, but he doesn’t let you out of his sight.

He stalks you to a clearing right in front of the castle, a lopsided circle patch of dirt and weeds.

“Don’t cream your pants,” Levi crudely quips about your growing smile, his fists rising to rest in a defensive stance at his face. “I don't plan to go easy on you.”

“Oh fuck off,” you reply with equal-parts unprofessionalism, prepping your own fists to your face as your right boot shifting, forming the start of a semi-circle in the dirt. “If you did, I’d be mad at you.”

"Hmm."

Your other boot follows, stalking to find your opening.

Where you can strike.

“You got this, James!” Petra chirps from the sidelines where the Special Operations squad awaits, breath baited and muscles tense.

You do.

You’ll take him and show everyone you’re only just a couple steps behind.

You send a sharp right punch to see where it can land, but Levi juts his chin back at a supernatural speed to avoid it.

He could take a counterstrike, but he holds back.

(He’s lying. He’s going easy on you.)

Petra gasps from the sidelines when you throw a combination of a jab and left hook, but Levi ducks and recovers fast. He throws a fist at your gut, but you manage to slide away before his fist can land. There is a gleam of acknowledgement in his eye as you glide past one another. He throws another, but you lean back and avoid the blow.

It’s a dance choreographed and rehearsed so many times that your brain must have lost count, but your body holds its memory in a vice grip.

In truth, you know — know exactly where he’s going to step next, or the exact direction he favors to dip, and the knowledge delights you. Excites you, even, that this feels so…

Natural.

Like you’ve dissected Levi Ackerman until his movements are your own, mirrored and fluid.

Except you get so caught up in the revelation that he manages to land a sharp jab to your arm. You abruptly dip from the painful hit, teeth grit, but you’re light on your feet and quickly avoid additional attacks. You both strike, arms entangling and locking, to the point where you're mere centimeters from the other's face.

“C’mon, James,” he growls under his breath, and you can’t help but smile.

"Banking on an easy win?" you quip, pushing him away with force and ducking a counterattack.

"This isn't a challenge," he assures, stepping around the invisible circle for a reset.

"You sure?" you ask, catching your breath. Your hands flex before curling back into fists. "Pretty sure I see sweat."

"Little shit." He huffs. “If you say so.”

He strikes, but you counter with precision and manage an uppercut straight to his jaw. Levi’s head snaps back, boots faltering on the ground for a brief second.

You feel it: the whites of your eyes alight with pride.

The hit landed.

You can keep up with Captain Levi.

“I do say so,” you coo belatedly, and Levi rubs his jaw.

“Huh,” he hums. “Lucky shot.”

“Are you giving up that ea— shit!”

If he was holding back earlier, then he isn’t doing so now. Levi comes at you with a flurry of limbs, forcing you to expend all your energy to block his advancements. He is lightning fast, focused on you and you alone, and punches with the intent to land.

To win.

Less cocky than before, you dodge his incoming punches and duck at his swings, holding him back but not enough to land hits of your own.

Shit.

He’s going to win.

If you just keep his arms at bay and—

Wait.

From the corner of your eye, you see it: the smirk on his face when he knows he has you wide open at the legs, and when your mouth opens to gasp, he switches technique and sweeps your legs out from under you.

Suddenly you lose balance and become airborne.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go up there?”

Right in front of your eyes, the sun turns black.

Your back connects with the ground, and it’s as though you’re transported to another world: one that’s dark, devoid of the warmth of the sun.

Overhead you see Levi smirking down at you, but his Scout uniform is nowhere to be found. He greets you with a billowing white shirt cinched at his torso in a burnt orange vest, hair just as floppy but eyes less vacant.

They’re… warm. Amused.

The lines of his war-worn face are all but gone. His eyes still have dark circles, but they’re less prominent. If you didn’t know any better, then you’d call it a near-youthful glow.

(As much as one can get from being a child of the Underground.)

“Gonna stay down there forever?” he asks you, his translucent hand leaving his side to hold a lifeline for you to take.

All it takes is for your hands to connect for the world to shift, transform, and everything echoes.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go up there?”

“Up there?” It’s Levi’s voice.

He sits in the dirt beside you, dropping unceremoniously to your side with a grunt of discomfort. You're lying in the dirt, wearing an unassuming maroon long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers. You sit up to meet him, stretching your legs out to cross them at the ankles. Without a rhythm, your boots sway.

“You’re worried about going up there?” Levi adds.

“Who isn’t?” you ask him, dropping your chin to your shoulder as you regard him from the side. Scents of damp Earth and leaking cobblestone invade your nostrils. “You can’t really want to spend the rest of your life down here, right?”

"It's a pipe dream, James."

"So? Dream with me for a second."

"You're starting to sound like Isa."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you inquiry. "She wants a chance on the surface as much as the rest of us. Hell, she's been to the staircase. That's further than I've ever gotten."

“They’ll call us freaks,” he bluntly tells you, hooking his skinny wrist between the loop of his thumb and index finger when he drags his knees to his chest. “I’m not exactly keen on going.”

“But we’d eat a lot of amazing food and get a lot of sun — maybe even a tan.” You gasp childishly, leaning in to bump his shoulder with yours. Levi stays put, immobilized by your words. “Imagine us with sunburn? How crazy would that be?”

“So your dream... is to become a tomato?” he flatly asks.

You grin, holding off on a laugh until you can’t stand it. It starts breathy and low so as not to alert the chatter in the cobblestone house behind you, but it bubbles and breaks the seal to a full-blown giggle.

Levi shakes his head, the floppy hair in his face following a delayed second.

“Fucking ridiculous.”

You grin towards him. “What?”

“You. You’re fucking ridiculous,” he interrupts, but something miraculous happens:

His eyes crinkle. His lips curve to a smile.

Suddenly the dream of the sun doesn’t feel as beautiful when you’re looking at him.

“James.”

Levi Ackerman dissolves at your side, and you feel weightless all over again.

Darkness; you want to reach towards the sunlight, but a billowing cloud rushes towards you and knocks you back to the dirt once again.

You cough at the dust clouds around your head, disoriented and confused, until a nonchalant boot digs into your side.

“Get up.”

“But I was just up,” you mumble in protest.

“No, you weren’t.”

When you blink up, you’re met again with the sight of Levi hovering over you. He still wears the same loose white shirt and vest, legs covered in dark trousers and boots, but he looks… even younger than before.

Whereas he could pass as a young adult in his early twenties just a short few minutes ago, he now looks as youthful as a teenager.

You grit your teeth, counting down the seconds. “Actually, I kinda dig it down here.”

“Seriously—?”

You get an idea. A bad one, but an idea nonetheless.

The question that trails in disbelief earns you enough time to reset your approach to fighting him, your hand quick to wrap around his ankle. Pulling as hard as you possibly can, you use your core and sweep his leg so that Ackerman goes airborne.

When his body hits the ground in a nasty thud, you hurry to scramble over him. The bone of your forearm presses into the boy’s neck, causing Levi to grunt with discomfort.

You grin above him as he grimaces.

“Dirty trick,” he spits, but he doesn’t fight it.

In fact, he doesn’t try to escape at all.

You shrug a shoulder, pressing harder onto his windpipe. He sputters, but his face remains just as neutral as ever.

“What’s got you so pissy today?”

“What?” Levi asks from beneath you. His hands curl around your elbow and fist, but he doesn’t push your forearm away just yet.

“You’re moody.” The correction has you laughing gently under your breath, and the sight beneath you? It’s one to behold.

His dark hair frames his face messily, splayed across dirt and gravel. His teeth continue to grind, growl bubbling in his chest, but when he decides to push against your arm, all you do is push harder into his throat. He coughs with a curse.

“I’m — fuck — not.”

“Are too.”

He narrows his eyes. “And I’m letting you win.”

“Are not.”

“Wanna bet?”

Easing up on his windpipe, you crawl off of him and extend a hand to help pull him up to a seated position. Levi begrudgingly takes it, hoisting himself up on the flat of his palm. He angles closer to you, voice low with a feigned warning.

“Thought we didn’t do draws,” he states.

Your forehead drops to his shoulder, lost in a belly laugh when all you want to say is—

“James!”

When you come back to the world, the sun is blocked by a face. Levi barks your name with an intensity that frightens you out of your dreams of the Underground and into the reality of the old headquarters.

Hange hovers over his shoulder. Their glasses are pushed into their hairline where concern etches over every line of their curious face. The uncertain murmurs of the rest of the squad are somewhere behind your head where they observe from a distance.

"Are you alright?" Levi asks with less fervor.

“I’m fine,” you breathe, rolling your neck to look up at Hange.

“Are you? Because you disappeared on us for a second, kid,” Hange tells you, but something squeezes your arm to the point of hurting.

You blink down to the source — Levi white-knuckles a hand around your forearm, holding it steady to the ground. When you meet his eyes once more, he lets go like your body is the temperature of a steaming titan.

"We're not doing that again," he decides for the both of you.

"Wait."

Sitting up on your forearms, the warmth of the sun brings unbridled joy back into your stomach.

"We have to."

"Excuse me?" Levi snaps, eyes narrowing for a split second until it hits — his expression releases built-up tension. "...did you...?"

At first you can only grin, delirious and overjoyed. "...dream of becoming a tomato, one day?"

His face slacks with dumbfounded surprise.

"Is that an inside joke?" Hange whispers in a hiss over his head. "Is tomato code for something?"

"In a way," you reply, but your attention isn't on Hange. You're too busy beaming over at a crouching Levi, who looks at you in way you've never seen before.

He's warworn and childlike, an oxymoron of your own muddled mind, but he knows.

You know he knows, too.

Because you might have finally figured out a plan to — quite literally — knock some sense into you.

Author's Note: Gosh, your theories have been so fun to read! And we only get brief moments with the Scouts, so I sort of took some liberties with their personalities. Your likes, comments, & reblogs have been wonderful! My inbox is open anytime xo

tag list: @lazylizzy3

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #snk #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #wip series #aot #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #amywritesthings #fic: silver underground.#silver underground

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ewritesfanfics · 28 days

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The Swan Prince

The latest installment of my Krexie Fairytales series! I'm so sorry this one took so long, I'll try to have the next one out quicker.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55694506

The Swan Princess, but make it Krexie. --- Inspired by the 1994 film with touches taken from the ballet. Featuring Krel as Odette and Douxie as Prince Derek (or Sigfried, as the prince was originally named in the ballet).

Up Next: The Princess and the Frog

Excerpt because these just keep getting longer, way too long for a tumblr post:

Douxie emerges onto the shore of a sparkling lake. Its beauty is breathtaking, and something about it makes his magic swell in his chest, lighter than air.

But admiring it will have to wait. He’s chased this damn swan across half the forest it feels like, and he will take it down.

He looks around for the creature and spots it as it gracefully flutters from atop a rock to settle lightly on the surface of the water near the shore where he stands.

What is it doing?

Doesn’t matter.

He aims one last time. This ends here and now. Take it down. Figure out what it did to Krel. Kill it.

A louder fluttering distracts him for a moment, and at the far end of the lake, three more swans appear out of the tree cover, alighting on the water.

He turns his eyes back to the glowing swan just as pure moonlight hits the lake, turning the water brilliant silver.

The water around the swan glows cyan, and Douxie watches in awe as it starts to swirl around the swan, lifting higher and higher in a shimmering curtain until it falls away with a splash, leaving in the swan’s place…

“…Krel?”

He stands shin-deep in the lake, his pant legs soaked through and the entire now nigh unrecognizable suit in muddy tatters, covered in streaks of dirt and stains from grass and foliage, and he’s already lost weight in his frame and face, though the gauntness is exacerbated by the deep circles under his eyes and the devil-may-care state of his hair, his circlet nowhere in sight. He looks less like a prince and more like a wild, half-starved forest-dweller. But it’s undeniable—Douxie would know him anywhere, in any state, come rain or shine.

The next word, said in a hoarse, choked, desperately relieved voice confirms for him though that it is exactly who he thinks, and not his mind playing a trick on him.

“Douxie.”

His bow and arrow clatter against ancient, cracked stone.

Douxie takes off into the water, and the moment he reaches Krel, he picks him up and swings him around, his heart singing with joy. When Krel’s feet meet the ground again, Douxie doesn’t waste another second, pulling him into a deep kiss, holding him in a tight embrace.

Krel presses in just as close, wrapping his arms around Douxie’s shoulders, tears beading at the corners of his eyes.

When they finally break apart to breathe, Krel says with a quiet laugh, “I never thought I’d get to do that.”

“I should’ve done that years ago,” Douxie says, pressing his forehead to Krel’s. “I’m sorry for being so stupid.”

“We were both stupid,” Krel says. “I’ve missed you so much.”

#krexie #krel tarron #hisirdoux casperan #little bit of jlaire #krexie fairytales

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leticris · 2 years

Text

Vesper Reis

“This world has so many things left undiscovered... Would you like to join me?”

template by @unfinished-projects-galore

Technical Info

Japanese: ベスパー・レイス

Also known as: Veve / Killifish-chan (Floyd) / Jeune Archiviste (Rook)

Voice Claim: Romi Paku

Bio Info

Gender: They/them

Height: 182 cm

Eye color: Aqua green

Hair color: Grayish pink

College Info

Dorm: Diasomnia

School Year: 2nd

Class: 2-B (student nº 20)

Club: Mountain Lovers’ Club

Best Subject: History

Fun Facts

Dominant Hand: Left

Favorite Food: Roast Rabbit with Potatoes

Least Favorite Food: Mango Curd

Dislikes: Disrespectfulness and ignorance.

Hobby: Practicing ancient magic

Talents: Potion making

Unique Magic: “Wood to Gold"

Vesper is capable of turning an object into another different one. This can only happen if both objects are of the same size, weight and body mass.

Vesper is a parental figure to the 1st years, acting as the voice of reason and wisdom.

Will punch a b*tch if needed.

As much of a fashionista as Vil -- their style is goth and/or pastel goth. Some cottage core. Definitely darker themes.

Skirts, high heels and big hats galore.

Doesn't wear silver accessories due to fae being weak to it. Wears surgical steel and gold.

There's a rumor they dance naked under the moonlight and make rituals and sacrifices. Yet to be confirmed. (Rook says the rumor is wrong and, instead, that they take walks under the moonlight in search of small fae and ingredients for their spells.)

Secretly very cuddly. Touch starved.

Comes from a traditional witch/wizard family that has been in contact with fae for as long as they can remember. Has a grimoire containing spells from the old times.

Their magic has faint traces of ancient magic mixed.

Smells like flowers and old books.

#drawings #Vesper Reis #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland #twst #original character #oc #my ocs #ocs

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fictionfixations · 2 years

Text

Blog Masterpost (..mostly)

Updated 3/8/2024 Ordered in Oldest-Newest

(btw requests are open, please give them lmfao 🙏 /hj)

To check on my other fic recommendations since im no longer updating this, for all of them I tag #fic rec, #fic recommendation, #fanfic rec, #fanfic recommendation

fandoms that correspond with a post are tagged with that fandom of course

i dont think im gonna keep up to date with this anymore..?? Fic Recommendations

The Children's Rebellion/Revenge (DSMP Space AU - Tommy-centric) by Aria_Cinabun

His name was Tommy Innes, and he was born to touch the stars. Of course, touching the stars was going to have to wait, because he'd lost that dream the moment his parents had died when he was ten years old—the moment he had watched that starship explosion and felt a bit of his heart die with them. He'd lost that dream when he was transported to prison and then to a place called Pogtopia. He'd lost that dream when he watched hundreds of children starve on the streets of Pogtopia. When he and two friends become the lone survivors of the Red Planet's Genocide. When they were rescued, and he was captured again. But maybe—maybe one day, he would regain that dream. Maybe he would hunt down the mass murderer that had executed his friends and gain his revenge—but that day was not now, and now he sat in a prison and stared at the faraway stars. Perhaps there would be people that he could call family again. People he would see again—people whom he had lost years ago. One day. Because he was an Avian, born to be forever alone amongst broken stars. And Avians did not fall unless they wanted to.

Longing for home (DSMP x No Trauma AU - Tommy-centric w/ SBI) by Hydre

When Tommy entered the abandoned building, it filled with life as soon as the teenager took a step forward. Cracked walls were covered with photos, the collapsed stairs were suddenly in perfect condition. And from the room came Wilbur's voice, warm and inviting, devoid of the note of madness that now lurks in his every word. "Welcome home, Tommy." Or; During a late night walk Tommy stumbles upon a ruined old cabin. When he tries to investigate it, coming inside, turns out it's like a door to another dimension, where his family is whole and happy and his problems don't exist.

Wishes and Family (DSMP Modern x Magic AU - Minors-centric [AND OTHERS]) by A_Non_ymousWriter

"-ase be forewarned that your child may be in danger because of the entities 'Ohne' and 'Exde' who are known to contract with children and teenagers. We have yet met an adult 'Magical'. All 'Magical' can be easily identified by the silver bracelet and a colored square on their middle fingernail-" Dropping his soda, Tommy stares at the television while his father and two older brothers stare at him. Stare at the silver bracelet on his wrist and his middle fingernail. "Tommy?" Phil says slowly, a look of disbelief and denial on his face, "Did Tubbo really give you that bracelet?" ----"Tubbo." Tubbo kept his hands behind his back, looking at the wall, guilt and panic growing in his chest as his father, Schlatt, looking desperate and tired. "Tubbo, tell me you're not- Tubbo show me your hands." Tubbo takes in a deep breath, shoulders trembling as he kept his hands behind his back. That's confirmation enough. "Tubbo." --- Ranboo didn't have anyone, he lived alone in his apartment. Which is kind of perfect as he welcomes Tommy and Tubbo inside, both looking haggard and teary-eyed. They ran and came to him. He hugs them both and comforts them.

It's Not Arson, It's Team-building (DSMP Camp AU - TNT Duo-centric) by Bellwether3

Just as he was about to go through the papers, he heard a creak from Cabin 15. He looked up eager to see who he would be sharing his time in the woods with. Whoever was about to cross his path would determine everything about the summer he was about to have. Oh no- Oh God no- Scratch every optimistic thought he had leading up to this point because standing right in front of him was a person who changed everything. The most annoying, entitled, arrogant brat on the property was standing in front of him. “Hello Quackity.” said Wilbur Soot. Or Quackity and Wilbur are summer camp counselors assigned to cabins right next to each other despite their rivalry, and it only gets gayer from there.

The Hermit Archives (HC/MCYT TMA AU - Grian-centric ft. A lot) by Sixteenthdays

A collection of statements from the archives of the VOID Institute.

Switchblade (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by Cacid

"I’m only two minutes late!” Izuku protested. Had he missed the start of an important test? None of the national, standardized tests were supposed to happen this month and even being two minutes late to one of those wouldn’t elicit this sort of reaction. They were discussing their career interest forms today, but that was it. Nothing time-critical was supposed to be happening. “Midoriya, you were reported missing a week ago. No one has seen you for eight days. The police have been combing the city for you.” "I’m sorry. What?” Midoriya Izuku went missing for a week and turned up in a back alleyway with skills he's never even heard of and no memory of how he came by them. He resigns himself to never learning the truth of what happened to him, but he shouldn't waste this chance should he? He could become a hero with reflexes like these.

Datastream (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by TarynMcT

Datastream is known by most of the Underground Heroes and many of the better Spotlight Heroes as a master of surveillance, able to supply information, co-ordinate back up when overwhelmed, they call on medical support when there are injuries, even call in a hero's takedown on occasion. To one Underground Hero, though, Datastream is better known as Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta's nephew.

Complicated Creation (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by Elemental

Midoriya Izuku is medically quirkless, not technically homeless, perpetually exhausted and doing his damned best despite it all. He also sees spirits, which might be cool if not for the fact that a) no one else does, b) they really don't like him very much, and c) he's pretty sure the heroes now think he's a villain working for the League. Aizawa Shota just wants to take down Overhaul, rescue Eri, keep his students alive, get some rest, and find out how this Deku kid knows things he absolutely should not know about his personal life and the Shie Hassaikai case. Unless Nighteye's right, and the kid really is a villain.

Sharing is Caring (MHA Soulmate AU - Midoriya-centric) by Itslivybear

No one knows why, but fifty years ago, people starting getting soulmates. You would find them because you could use their quirks, albeit a weaker version or for far less time than them. Izuku knows he has not one, but two soulmates, something only 1% of people have, but he's quirkless. They don't deserve to be saddled with him, if they can even find him. Then All Might offers him an opportunity to be a hero, and suddenly he has a quirk that he desperately has to hide. Even now, he doesn't feel like he deserves his soulmates, Bakugo helped hammer that home throughout his life. Too bad for him they go to his school, and they aren't about to give up on him now that they know he exists.

Blank Canvas (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by jokeraddict0

All his life, nobody truly believed in Midoriya Izuku's dream of being a Hero. Not his mother, his childhood friend, his classmates or teachers...not even the Number One Hero believes in him. What is a Quirkless boy to do? Show the world it's wrong, that's what. Finally, after years of no one believing him, there was one man who did. After All Might left Izuku on a roof with the answer of 'no', one man who was not a Hero finally told the boy, "I believe you can become a Hero." Izuku wants to prove the man right. Short version: One person, who is NOT a Hero, finally tells him yes, and Izuku decides to become a Hero through the Support Course, making friends along the way.

Beyond the Broken Horizon (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by JoWithTheFlow

About a week after that, All Might asked Izuku if he was aiming for the hero course at UA. The question was so sudden that Izuku nearly dropped a microwave on his toes. The truth was, if All Might had asked him that a week ago, there would have only been one possible answer to that question. All Might had gone to UA, UA was the best, so Izuku was going to go there too, if he could. But things were a little different, now that he was going to receive All Might’s Quirk. “No,” he said, decisively. All Might looked caught off guard, which was a very rare expression on him. “No?” he echoed, like he couldn’t believe it. A laugh bubbled out of Izuku’s throat. He honestly couldn’t believe it either. “No,” he repeated. ___ Or, All Might tells Izuku about All for One before he gives him One for All, and everything changes.

Razzmatazz (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by xylophones

Izuku has plans for everything. He plans out what to say to the cashier when ordering coffee, he plans out his homework before even opening his textbook. He has a whole ten-year plan for how he’s going to get into UA’s hero course and get his hero license fully quirkless. He plans for every wild, unlikely scenario he can think of because his anxiety gets so bad if he doesn’t go through every possible outcome, every way his life could landslide into disaster–– but Izuku never planned for this. For once, he doesn’t have a plan and he doesn’t have time to think of one. All he can see is Yagi-san’s lined, kind face looking resigned as he stares down the villain in his shop. Yagi-san, who is the closest thing to a father figure Izuku has ever had. Izuku doesn’t think. He just moves. (Or: Izuku saves the number one hero, gets a hero license way earlier than anyone wanted, realizes that maybe hero society isn’t as great as he thought it was, and everything just kind of falls apart from there.)

Give Me my Tomorrow With Your Yesterday (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by sensibleshroom

Izuku has lived a million lives. He has seen the secrets of other universes, he has made magic, he has lived a life where all he sees is the possibilities that belong to everyone else. What happens when he is given his own possibilities?

Burn Your Wings (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by oWhiteKiwibird

Izuku inherited his parents’ quirks, but he swore he’d never use his fire. He knows first hand how—bright, burning, scorching, painful, terrifying, destructive—it is, after all, and Izuku promised (promised his crying mother, promised his burning self, promised the laughing memory of his father) that he’d become a hero who stops that kind of despair. Even if he has to burn his own wings to do so. But when someone with the exact same problems, fears, and pain shows up... Izuku can't help but try to heal them. And in doing so, he himself may be healed too.

Swallow the Stars (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by constellationqueen

For years, Izuku suffered through life at the Facility – a villain-run research lab that experimented on Quirkless children. For years, Izuku watched his siblings slowly disappear, one by one, until he was taken into the room that killed them. Strapped to a table, Izuku was forced to stay awake as a dismembered piece of a god – powerful, broken, screaming, and cold – was pushed under his skin. Piece after piece, day after day, Izuku underwent surgeries and experiments until finally, eventually, every part of the god rested within him, powerful and angry and waiting for the perfect moment to lash out. Izuku spent years waiting for a hero to save him, but it turns out that all he needed was the right amount of pain for him to be able to save himself. With the help of a god, of course. The doctors should have known better than to mess with powers they couldn’t control. -- Or, the story where Izuku is forced to be the host of an eldritch god, and Aizawa is more than willing to take him in and keep him safe.

Candor (MHA AU - Midoriya-centric) by OwlF45

It’s the third time Izuku’s hit the pavement face-first.He’s so close to pulling himself up to his knees when a pipe slams through his lower back and pins him to the concrete. His breath leaves him all at once. He tries to scream. He can’t.And the rest of the building falls on him in a burst of smoke and dust. His eardrums shatter, he lays flat against the pavement, spitting red globs of blood, and he tries not to remember red eyes and white hair and—Izuku’s ears pop. Or: The Hero Commission passes a new code that requires all heroes to complete a mental simulation test. For Izuku, the consequences are catastrophic.

De Anno Luctus (PJO x Marvel - Thanos Snap Aftermath) by silverbird6

For once, Percy’s life isn’t a Greek tragedy because of his godly relatives. No, this time it was aliens. In a world where superheroes and demigods coexist, the gods are not as all-knowing as they might think and demigods and mortals alike must rise to the challenges of a new, more dangerous world.

Rise of Cardinal (Batman - Anti-Hero - Tim Drake-centric) by JustThatOneGirl1815

When Tim Drake was 17, he faked his own death. Three years later, a new guy has entered Gotham, with hacking skills that outmatch Oracle’s, a blade sharp enough to cut through bone, and a penchant for disappearing better than the Batman himself. And he’s making a mark on the villain population of Gotham. He leaves no evidence behind, nothing to mark himself by, only the remnants of his kill and a name: Cardinal Or, there wasn't an true anti-hero Tim Drake story on AO3 and therefore I had to write it myself.

Take It Back Now Y'all (Batman - Time Travel - Tim Drake-centric) by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime)

There was absolutely no way this sunshine was from Gotham in April. Not possible. Which meant, Tim was no longer in Gotham, in April. (In which Tim finds himself in the past, and tries to do the right thing. It's more complicated than he'd like.)

Scientific Method (Batman x Harry Potter - Tim Drake-centric) by vogon_poet

It’s not like he’s surprised a magic school exists— that’s probably only a seven on the scale of “crazy things Tim Drake has seen”. No, Tim’s just surprised he’s enrolled.

alone at the edge of a universe by Sarcastic_Metaphor (PJO - Percy Jackson-centric)

The sea is not unlike the abyss; it is deadly, destructive. It hides secrets in its depths and threatens even those that know it well. The sea easily swallows life with no trace left behind. The sea can be quite similar to oblivion. But when the mood strikes them, both the oceans and the abyss can be tempted to create life instead. Or, a complete AU rewrite from pre-canon through all five PJO books: Percy is born a little less human and a little more otherworldly than healthy. With powers he was never meant to have, and a third parent he never wanted, the plans that the Fates originally made for him will be torn asunder.

🔞Harem of a Necromancer by BittersweetAlias, KimpatsuNoHoseki (Harry Potter x Anita Blake)

Harry Potter travels through the world of Anita Blake, book by book. His choices in life change events in the series in unexpected ways. A Harem and Necromancer series starring Harry Potter. Edward never expected a chance encounter in a pub to change things so much. With a new invested interest, lives in St. Louis would never be the same. No one warned Jean-Claude about British wizards. Even if they had, nothing could have prepared him for what Harry would bring to his community. Micah never realized how easy it would be to find sanctuary or family. He wasn't prepared for green, ice blue, sapphire, or color changing eyes.

Last Wishes by i_am_the_imposter_syndrome (Batman)

After dying with the rest of the Bats, Dick is surprised to wake up at all, let alone eight years in the past. Not that he’s about to question this miraculous opportunity. This time around, Dick knows exactly what’s coming, and he’s going to save everyone. Then Ethiopia happens. Batman is too late again, but now it’s Dick who pays, and his second chance at life is over almost before it’s begun. Almost. When Jason finds the list of names among Dick’s things, he’s a little confused. Dick liked helping people, but these children don’t seem to have anything in common, and what Dick wrote about them makes no sense. The kid next door can’t really be stalking them, right? What is a ‘Gnomon’ and why did Dick need answers about it from some social worker? Most bafflingly, who are Cass and Dami and why did Dick scribble FIND!!! next to their names with no further details? It’s too late to ask now, but one thing’s for certain: Jason’s going to fulfill the last wishes of the brother who gave his life to save him, even if it means being chased through Gotham by some blondie wearing purple. It’s what Dick would have wanted. And if he finds a family along the way? Well, Dick would have wanted that, too.

Awake and Unafraid by rebelwriter6561 (TMA)

Martin's new job at the Institute isn't what he was expecting. Along with Tim and Sasha, he's struggling with a disorganized Archive, no direction from their slightly-devious boss, and the growing feeling that they're in danger. Which is not helped by the cryptic warnings from a far too-knowing voice on an ancient tape recorder calling themselves the Archivist.

Too Much Time by hix (TMA - Time Travel)

Lost and alone at the end of the world, Jon decides to try one last idea. It goes wrong, as his ideas usually do, when both the Web and the Spiral decide to interfere with what he’s doing. For once the disaster goes his favor. Mostly. He wouldn’t have chosen to go back in time to when he was eight years old. He certainly wouldn’t have chosen to catch Elias freaking Bouchard’s attention before he’s had a chance to do anything. And he cannot believe that his luck is so monumentally bad that he gets adopted by the man who wants to use him to end the world. Jon has to figure out how to keep Elias away, while saving his friends and the world. And hopefully growing old enough that he can go anywhere on his own and be taken seriously.

where there's a will, we make a way by bubonickitten (TMA - Time Travel)

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself? What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first." ________________________ Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) by OllieoftheBeholder (TMA - Time Travel)

“So...you’re from the future. In the past. Why?” “You want the short answer or the long one?” “Short,” Martin says after a moment’s deliberation. “Until I decide if I trust you.” The other nods, as if he expected that answer—which, well, if he really is Martin from the future, he probably did. “To stop the world from ending.” They have one last chance to fix this - one last chance to prevent the Eyepocalypse, to save the world - to save their world. It all hinges on which is the greater force: greed...or love.

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World (TMA - Vast!Jon)

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

on laughter-silvered wings by ThatOnePlatypus (HP x KHR - Harry is Skull)

My spin on the Harry-is-Skull AU trope. [1] Dumbledore thinks Harry is in Spain with the Dursleys. The Dursleys thinks he's spending the summer with 'his lot'. And maybe Harry feels a little guilty about lying to them and to his friends about his whereabouts. But if they don't want to tell him what's going on with Voldemort, then he doesn't have to tell them he's taken up stunt-biking, right ? Harry-is-Skull AU. [2] After the curse was broken, Colonello hoped to rekindle his romance with Lal Mirch. After being rejected, he's not sure what he's supposed to do anymore. Enter Skull. - “Okay,” Skull said, nodding as though the shrug had been a whole novel on his feelings. “Want to talk about it, or want me to get my secret stash and get wasted?” “You have a secret stash?” Colonnello couldn’t help but ask, disbelieving. “Duh,” Skull said, looking a bit amused. “How else do you think I coped all those years with you lot?”

just an outsider in the end. by リリス - riris (arurun) (Ass. Class 😭 - OC reincarnated into OC in universe. its good)

"Look, I really didn't mind the fact that I died and reincarnated into Ansatsu Kyoushitsu. I didn't really mind that you gave me a hole in the heart. That was a real dick move, but I didn't complain. So god, Void, whatever, I'm sorry I punched a student. Please recall my demotion into Class E. Please, the moon literally just exploded and I don't wanna be there!" Kuma-sensei did not belong here. He knew better than anyone else that he was just an outsider.

Burn Me With Fire (HP x KHR - Mentor!Xanxus - Harry gets a spine) by Shadowblayze

After the encounter with Quirrell, Harry's world drastically changes. In (sleep) comes a foul-mouthed man with a healthy amount of disregard (of reality). Or, where Harry meets a man who could somehow talk while encased in ice, and his world tilts, spins, and implodes.

The Fairy and the Angel (will kick your ass if you call them that) by IndigosAbyss (Yuri!!! on ice x PJO - Yuri Plisetsky & Nico di Angelo-centric)

Yuri Plisetsky was as normal as you could get. Sure, he was soon going to be an internationally acclaimed Russian figure skater as soon as he was old enough to qualify, but other than that, he was normal. Then he found an Italian boy wearing an aviator's jacket, passed out near the local rink, and suddenly, things... changed. Well, it wasn't obvious at the time. Hell, after the kid left, with a promise to write him letters, he hadn't really been expecting anything except a close friendship and probably a lawsuit as soon as he figured out which kinda neglectful parent leaves their narcoleptic ten year old alone in an unfamiliar country. But Nico di Angelo was an enigma, who brought trouble no matter how hard he tried not to, and chaos inevitably followed. i.e Yuri and Nico are pen pals. Yuri is concerned. Nico is trying not to concern him. It is not working.

The Bat Shaped Bird by Bekbek (Batman - Tim Drake-centric)

Beneath Gotham there is something. Anyone who spends time with their feet on the ground can tell you that much. At the surface level it's goons and scared street kids. Beneath them are the sewers, haunted by endless appetites and the scraping of hide against stone. Beneath that is glowing green, craving warmth of blood and rage, hunting for its host. And even further beneath that is something other. Above Gotham there is something. Anyone who spends time in the city can tell you that much. In the shadows of tall buildings or on outcrops of stone there was movement. Flashes of color or shadows taken form. Ever watchful eyes following the movement of the cities beating heart. Some feared what was above, some feared what was below. But for one... well one craved both.

Trials of Change by Espoiretreves (Naruto Time Travel - Sakura-centric)

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life. Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War. Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

All Roads Lead by Macchiato_Dreaming (Naruto OC - Tensei / Sand Siblings / Suna-centric)

Generally speaking, one does not personally meet the King of Hell after death unless one has fucked up tremendously in life. Someone becomes no one becomes a prince in the Land of Wind. Tensei of Sunagakure has a hit list, a god of the underworld breathing down his neck, and plenty of time to figure things out while he tries to make this house a home. Hopefully.

Until their leaves fall off by stereden (Naruto Reincarnation - Senju Nawaki-centric)

The first time Nawaki realizes something is wrong, he’s three years old and alone in the room in the attic of the orphanage. That’s not my room, he thinks. “Naruto, do you want to go to Ichiraku’s?” Hokage-jiji asks him when he visits him. That’s not my name, he thinks. Because he’s pretty sure his name is Senju Nawaki. It takes him a while to understand what happened. He died, he remembers one night, waking up screaming from a nightmare that shakes him to the bones because it’s not just a nightmare, it’s a memory, and he remembers running ahead of his team, seeing, too late, the wire as he trips it, and then fire, sound and pain, so much pain, and it hurts and it hurts so much and then… Nothing.

Those Last Few Memories by Ourliazo (KHR Oneshot - Arcobaleno)

In one future, the Arcobaleno band together and try to fight off the Anti Tri-ni-set radiation.

Fixing it before it broke by A_N_O_Nyme (TWST Time Travel - Kalim-centric)

After things takes a turn for the worse during the overblot fight Kalim finds himself suddenly back to his first year right when the first term exams results drop. This is for him the unique opportunity to stop Jamil from overblotting and give him the freedom he wished for. Even if it means Kalim had to end their friendship. It’s not like Jamil would be hurt by it, it had been one sided all along, right? Jamil was secretly freaking out, how did Kalim figure out he lowered his grades on purpose? Since when did that dense idiot pick up on those things? And he didn’t want to be friends anymore?! What was going on here?!

AUs, What-Ifs, Headcanons, & Basically Writing Ideas Dreamtale Twins [Stone Dream] Headcanon Genshin Impact [Cyno & Dottore Meeting] Collei Headcanon (Over Cyno & Dottore - Genshin Impact) Figurines (Dead Deku AU ft. Wonder Duo - MHA) Presence Perception (Izuku's Quirk - MHA) Villain/Vigilante Misunderstanding ('Villain' Deku AU - MHA)

Series & Character Thoughts & Theories (SPOILER WARNING!) The Reckoners Ending [Book Series] Double Life Session 5 [Grian's POV] YHS Taurtis [EP 54] Double Life Session 6 [Scar's + Grian's POV] Next Life Series Hopes King of Scars / Grishaverse [Book Series] The Blackthorn Key [Book Series]

ShadowHunters [Book Series] Helluva Boss S2 Ep1 SCU!Tommy Maniacal Double Life [Group 2-Session 1] Your Turn To Die -Death Game by Majority- [Game] Sam & Colby Ghost Hunting w/ Wilbur & George 3.2 Genshin Archon Quest Samsara Cycles Took No Time? (Genshin Theory) The Owl House Ending (Thoughts)

Bungou Stray Dogs: 55 Minutes (Light Novel - Thoughts HEAVY SPOILERS)

The Vale: Shadow of the Crown (Game Recommendation)

My Fics Posted on Tumblr (..just go to my AO3. I don't post half of 'em here.) Baiting the Guard Dog (Genshin Impact - Cyno & The Doctor-centric) "Let the world completely forget me." (Genshin Impact - Alhaitham-centric) And When You See Me // Just Promise You Won’t (MHA - Midoria-centric) Til I’m the Only One Left Alive // Whether or Not You Hate This Me // It’s Not My Turn to Die (MHA x YTTD - Midoriya-centric)

All of your assumptions start to look presumptuous / If you only took a look around (MHA x BSD - Ranpo-centric) [Speak no Evil, Hear no Evil] (jjk x Assassination Classroom - Inumaki-centric) Follow the Leader (MHA - Midoriya & Second User-centric but i still believe this lie will set me free / it’ll be, as i dreamed, the truth, you will see (that is my belief) (PJO x Batman - Nico di Angelo-centric)

edge of the water (PJO - Percy Jackson-centric)

I know what I look like to you ([A/B/O] Batman/Red Robin - Tim Drake-centric)

For a body without wings like mine / I've been told that hell is a good place for me (HP x Anita Blake - Harry Potter-centric) I know / you want something new / But what else can I do? (Batman - Tim Drake-centric)

Batboys Weekend 2023 in pursuit of knowledge (TMA)

SCU x DSMP Crossover Fics

SCU!Tommy gets revived in C!Tommy’s place in prison.

An Unexpected Visit

A New Start

Interlude: The Hotel

Echoes of a Past Unknown (1/2)

DSMP Archive Statement Fics (The Archivist's Tarot Deck)

Where I'm @ online

They/Them (Nonbinary) / Pronouns

@fictionfixations / Tumblr (You're already here) Pr1nce_Thcseus / MyAnimeList Ｎｉｇｈｔ (夜) / YouTube UTMVNightLight / AO3

Pr1nce_Thcseus / Twitch

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astrologerblackmagic · 1 year

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Love Spell, Dark Voodoo Witch Hair Spell, Strongest Love Magic Ritual If everyone is honest with themselves, answering the question of what is the most important thing in life, then 99% of people will answer that this is love. You can be a cynic, and a skeptic, and a convinced careerist, and just a person disappointed in a relationship. The fact is fact. All we need is love, the rest is just bonuses and pleasant additions to life. I, Dark Moss Izaura, obeyed to by people, animals and spirits, can help you find the fire of life! Life without love is like roses with thorns, but without inflorescences, without beautiful flowers... Do you want such a life? If you’re tired of lonely evenings, feeling of emptiness, unrequitedness, moral starving and your own mistakes, all those idols who obey to me, will make your life much better than you think for a short time! Just pay a nominal fee, and my energy costs won't be in vain. I'll make one of my family dark rites, asking the Idol made from a cross from an ancient tomb. I'll say those words that will give you your long-waited love on a silver platter! Think carefully have you already know the person you crave to be yours, or if you’re about to meet someone new. In any case, I will help you, all I need to get are just your photo and a small fee. I will rub the Idol with essential oils of herbal magical plants, dissolving them on it with the words of the strongest Spell. I will tie the Idol with red ribbons and my witch's hair and perform the ceremony on the coming night, and your heart will be a magnet for mutual feelings. Whether you want sexual passion or a strong family – you’ll get it, because those ones I address are above the mortals in this world! With my own hand, I will make your destiny worthy of you walking its path. I always send a photo of the confirmation of the Ritual in the next few days. If you need a specific person, send his or her photo along with yours, and I will show the target to the Idol. All my rituals are completely protected, although my ancestors were voodoo magicians and practiced this type of magic for two centuries. Together with the Ritual, I cleanse the aura from a touch of negativi (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Co-ev7jLltg/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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amerrierworld · 3 years

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I’m Not Jealous

request: more dom!daphne x reader? Thank you!

Summary: the press have seen you and Daphne together, but your relationship hasn’t been confirmed, so speculations are made.

Characters: Daphne Kluger x fem!reader, a real-life actress cameo ;)

Word Count: 2,121

Warnings: SMUTTT. you know how this goes :) dom!daphne & jealousy!

“People are staring at you,” Daphne whispered in your ear as she wound an arm around your waist, flashing a sweet smile at the cameras.

“They’re looking at you,” you chuckled, pressing close to her. “It’s not every day a big-wig celebrity is out shopping.”

“Hmph,” Daphne put her sunglasses back on, you following suit, before pulling you to the nearest restaurant. Your arms ached from the bags hanging off of your wrists.

“Table for two, please, pronto,” Daphne sighed, startling the host who was stacking some new menus. He was about to protest until he realized who was talking to him, and the cameramen pressed up against the front door windows, trying to get a good shot at the actress.

There was a seat in the back, away from the windows, close to the kitchen where chefs were bustling and cooking relentlessly. You would be shielded here, even if just momentarily.

“Daph.. this is a steakhouse.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Are you sure you wanna eat here? You told me you don’t like steakhouses, cause of your diet.”

“Do you want me to drag you out there again?” Daphne raised a sleek eyebrow at you, and you raised your hands in mock defeat.

“Very well, m’lady.”

“This’ll have to do,” she skimmed through the menu, lips pursing as she read through the options, “I’m starving after such a busy day.”

A day that had consisted of manicures and a shopping spree. Not that you were complaining, of course.

Comfortable silence followed. Daphne picked at your side of fries as you ate, just like she always did, when suddenly your phone pinged. You ignored it.

Then it pinged again. And again. A series of text messages from friends and colleagues that read OMG and you sly devil! and other sorts of teasing, confusing texts.

You got a couple of fresh news article links, and intrigued, you opened some.

And then you nearly choked on your drink. Daphne, startled, quickly asked what’s wrong.

You coughed, “...People seem to think I’m involved with.. Anne Hathaway? What the hell?”

“Oh, really?” Daphne’s voice was light, but tense. You scrolled through your phone again, pictures of the other actress jogging your memory.

“Oh, yeah, cause I ran into her at that gallery last week! Remember? You had something to present, and you got me that extra ticket. I ended up sitting next to her in the audience when you were on.”

Daphne scoffed, “everyone knows Annie is straight. She’s got a kid too, for crying out loud.”

“Okay wait, this is hilarious though,” you mumbled around a mouthful of steak, “listen to this... Mystery gal seen in tow with Daphne Kluger a week after getting comfy with Anne Hathaway... Hathaway and Kluger: fighting over damsel?... serial heartbreaker or love birds?”

“What the hell?” Daphne bristled, nearly yanking the phone out of your hand, “I swear to god, tabloids are the absolute worst.”

“I think it’s funny. They don’t have any proof other than I’ve spent time with both of you. They don’t even know your sexuality, so what’s the worry?”

“Hmph,” Daphne chewed aggressively on one of your fries. They were almost all gone, and you had barely touched them.

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Daphne snapped, and you suppressed a smile. “I hate how they feed lies into the media, that’s all. There’s always going to be people who believe them, too.”

“Yeah, but they don’t matter. I can call Anne right now and settle it? Maybe she can come join us for dinner sometime-”

“No! I- I mean.. let’s not. Let’s not bother her, right?”

You reached over and grabbed her hand, and Daphne sighed, flicking her hair over her shoulder,

“Maybe I should just come out and tell them about us. I’m getting tired of this. They’re thinking that I stole you from her. When they should be worried about it happening the other way around.”

“You don’t think that’s actually going to happen, do you?” You asked, startling her. She hadn’t expected you to take what she said that way, and she was lost for words for a moment.

“Come on, call your driver, we should go home,” you suggested, “I’m full anyways, aren’t you?”

“We didn’t even get to that shoe store downtown,” Daphne grumbled as you got inside her second city apartment safely.

“I can call Hathaway,” you teased, smirking as you dumped the bags in the front hall, “she could get us in-”

A finger hooked in the collar of your shirt and pulled you backwards, Daphne catching you and pulling you close, hot breath wafting over your ear.

“Don’t say her name,” she growled. You wriggled your hips, trying to escape her grasp.

“So you are jealous?”

“No.”

“You’re a great actress, Daph, but you can’t always hide-”

“Fine.”

Daphne pushed you forward until you were pressed against the kitchen counter. Her hands tugged at your shirt and pressed against the soft skin of your stomach. Your breath hitched.

“I am jealous. Alright? I’m so fucking jealous at the thought of all those people thinking you’re with her when you’re mine. And will always be mine.”

“Tell them, then,” you said, head tipping back onto her shoulder and your breath hoarse. “Let’s tell the world.”

“I suppose it’s about time, right?” Her hands grabbed your hips and she rolled hers against you with a slow, maddening pace.

“Y-yeah,” you whimpered, because now she was sucking her neck. You could faintly see yourself in the reflection of the cupboard door glass, and dark lipstick was already smudging on your skin.

“You can tell them now, if you want,” Daphne’s voice was lilting, seductive, and your brain was trying to catch up with what she was saying.

“Now?”

“Yes. When I fuck you so hard that you’ll be screaming my name so loudly every paparazzi in town will hear it.”

You laughed, because Daphne was always so private with her sexual escapades, and you knew that would never happened. But you toyed with the idea in your mind briefly, just for fun.

The fantasy escaped you, however, when Daphne’s hands began pushing past your waistband.

“B-bedroom?” you pleaded.

Daph relented, but only briefly, to make sure you both watched your step as you got to the bedroom.

You wanted to pull her dress off, but she tutted.

“Not so fast,” she whispered and you stilled. She pressed against your shoulders until your back hit the mattress and yanked your hands up above your head.

“Hng- wait- the clothes-,” you mumbled deliriously, distracted by her cleavage in her formfitting dress.

“Shush,” she said, as if scolding a child, “all in good time.”

She unclipped the belt that sat at her waist and created a rough resemblance to a pair of handcuffs that chained you to the headboard.

Then her hands pulled your shirt up, over your head, and bunched it around your wrists. The same happened with your bra. You felt their fabric wound around your hands and wrists, cushioning against the metal of the headboard.

Daphne straddled you for a moment, the dress riding up until you cold see her lacy underwear peeking out from underneath. You felt your arousal coursing through your body now, and she raked her newly manicured fingers up your sides, making you shiver.

“If only they knew, hm?” she chuckled, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. She raised herself up on her knees, arms stretching to unzip her dress from behind, and slowly tugged it down.

With every extravagant motion of a silver screen actress she deftly pushed her dress down, revealing her bra, breasts threatening to spill over, and you felt yourself salivate.

Then she turned around, and you watched, gaping as she pulled the rest of her dress over her ass and down her long legs.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, hips bucking up at the sight. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate.

Eventually, Daphne tossed the dress to the side and faced you again. She sat on your stomach, unabashedly grinding against your abdomen, her knees spread wide.

“D-Daphne,” you gasped. She had pulled one cup of her bra down and was tugging at a rosy nipple. Her lower lip was caught by her teeth and she looked down at you with a grin.

“Need more, baby?” she asked, voice rough. You nodded, straining against the multiple things holding your hands together. Your pants felt unbearably tight now. You wanted her skin, wanted to feel her, your body heat suffocating you in the fabric.

“God, you look so needy,” she chuckled. “It makes me so wet, you know that?”

Her hand left her breast and pushed into her underwear, fingers immediately rubbing her clit as she rocked on top of you.

“N-not fair,” you whined, pressing up again, making her gasp softly.

“I’ll decide what’s fair,” she retorted, and her other hand snaked behind her to sneak past your own waistband and press snugly against your cunt.

Your voice came out in a choked cry. It felt nice- warm and wet and her long fingers rubbed vigorously, but it wasn’t enough. The fabric of your pants held her hand in place, in the wrong place, and she was obviously getting distracted by touching herself that you couldn’t get any proper friction.

You spread your legs as wide as possible, pushing her closer with your thighs and you wriggled for her attention. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked down at you and your pleading eyes.

“Not enough?” she asked, a finger slipping around your clit, but not touching where you needed it. You furiously shook your head, and she flashed her award-winning smile.

“That’s too bad then, isn’t it?”

She swiftly took off her underwear and before you knew it her cunt was settling over your face. You whined in protest as her hand left your pulsing clit and she fisted it in your hair instead.

“Give me that tongue and maybe I’ll let you cum,” she gasped.

She cooed soft praise as you followed through, tongue sliding out to suck and lick her wet skin desperately.

“Hungry, are we?” Daphne chuckled, her breath catching as you suckled at her clit. “Didn’t get enough at the steakhouse?”

You hummed in the back of your throat as you pushed your tongue deeply inside her and she groaned. Her milky thighs trembled and tensed at the sides of your head and she pressed closer to you.

You breathed in heavily through your nose, catching her sweat and arousal and bucked your own hips in response.

Taking pity, Daphne’s hand slipped back behind her, clumsily nudging your pants away until her fingers roughly found your cunt and pushed inside of you. You whined against her cunt, your pace stuttering for a moment.

“Don’t slack off,” she said, her other hand tugging at your hair in reprimand. Your fingers twitched and tensed above you, wishing you could touch her.

She slipped her bra off completely as she rocked on your face. Her hand pressed deeply inside of you, wriggling and nudging against your front walls with strong fingers.

“Make me cum,” she ordered breathily, her hips stuttering, and you pressed your tongue against her clit until she gushed into your mouth, sweet and intoxicating. Her soft, high-pitched groans contrasted with the iron grip she had on your cunt.

Now that she had nothing else to focus on her hand picked up a sure pace. She lifted off of your face to let you breathe, only for you to gasp and beg,

“Please- please, please please..”

Daphne chuckled, two fingers pinching and rolling the hood over your clit, and you were done for.

You felt sweat and slick sliding down the inside of your thighs and she kept rubbing lightly as your orgasm rushed over you. Your abdomen convulsed and shivered through the sensations until your senses could return to normal and you saw Daphne staring at you lovingly from above.

Her hands reached forward and tugged the restraints off of your wrists. You felt blood rush back to your arms as they dropped by your sides, but you were too distracted by sucking and kissing her breasts hanging so close to your face to notice.

Daphne squealed as you nipped her skin and cradled your head closely before pulling you up for a deep kiss.

“Love you,” you mumbled against her lips.

“I know,” she muttered, making you chuckle. Her hands worked the rest of your clothes off and then she laid down by your side, stretching like a cat, a leg hooking over yours as she kissed your face.

The shopping bags remained unpacked in the front hall for the rest of the night.

#daphne #daphne kluger #daphne kluger x you #daphne kluger x reader #daphne x you #anne hathaway #anne hathaway x reader #anne hathaway x you #ocean's eight #oceans 8 #oceans8 #ocean's 8 #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

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whumpsday · 2 years

Text

SPK: Desperation

part of the seth/pumpkin/kane crossover between my kane & jim and @whumpshaped‘s writer whumper series, where seth takes kane as a second pet. pieces are non-chronological.

content: starvation, pet whump, vampire whumpee, multiple whumpees, sadistic whumper, reluctant whumper who is also a whumpee, cutting, begging

Sir hadn’t allowed Kane to feed in what he was sure had to be at least a month at this point. Usually, Kane was permitted to feed on Pumpkin infrequently. Definitely not every day, but probably something close to once a week. He was starving, always starving, but he could live with it. It was so much better than the complete and total lack of blood with the hunters. He was grateful for what Sir allowed him, he really was. Even this unusually long break was still miles better than what it was like with the hunters.

But he was so hungry.

Kane was so hungry that he was considering asking Pumpkin to break the rules and feed him without permission. He really didn’t want to. He knew the punishment for such an act would be severe, not just for him, but for Pumpkin as well. He didn’t want to experience whatever punishment Sir came up with, and he definitely didn’t want to put Pumpkin in that position. He’d gone years without blood before, surely he could do this. But it hurt, his stomach twisting into knots with need. The sparse feedings had spoiled him. And unlike with the hunters, he was around a human every minute of every hour of every day.

He and Pumpkin had stopped holding each other for comfort after tortures like they usually did. Kane couldn’t stand the closeness anymore, the smell of their blood so near. He missed it desperately, the kind touch of his friend, but he couldn’t handle it. It was even worse when Sir came downstairs: Sir’s blood was the best thing he’d ever smelled, even better than Jim’s had been. At least Pumpkin’s blood wasn’t as torturously tempting as that.

Kane could smell Sir coming before he saw or even heard him, beginning to salivate a bit. He was so hungry. He had no delusions that he would be allowed to drink Sir’s blood, but he hoped that maybe today he would be allowed to feed from Pumpkin. Just a little. He nodded to Pumpkin to warn them Sir was approaching, and they straightened up in anticipation.

Sir opened the door already holding his phone up in a way that Kane instantly recognized as recording, and Kane’s heart sank. He glanced over to Pumpkin and could see them tense up, too. Sir only recorded them when he was about to try something new.

Sir smirked at their expressions before turning his gaze on Kane. “Hungry, leech?”

And just like that, Kane’s dread disappeared. Sir was going to let him feed! Probably after something horribly painful, but they were going to allow it!

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, good.” Sir said approvingly, strolling over to him. Kane winced instinctively, despite the delicious aroma.

Sir tugged harshly on the chain connecting Kane’s collar to the wall. He flinched as he was pulled backwards, letting out a scared whimper.

“Sit pretty here while I prepare your meal.”

Kane maneuvered himself into the ‘sit pretty’ position, sitting on his haunches and curling his hands in front of his chest like a dog, as Sir approached Pumpkin. He yanked their shirt off without warning with his free hand, earning a yelp.

“What’s the matter, Pumpkin? You’re gonna be a good pet, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Sir!” Pumpkin confirmed hastily.

Sir picked a knife up from his desk. The steel knife, not the silver knife. The knife for Pumpkin.

Pumpkin whined in fear. Kane wished Sir would just let him feed normally, like he usually did, so he could try to be gentle. But though he felt horrible about it, as much as he wanted his friend to be safe and free of pain, he couldn’t suppress the feeling of just being glad he’d finally be allowed blood. He hated himself for it.

“Stay nice and still for me.” Sir ordered. Pumpkin obeyed, and he made a shallow cut on their arm.

The smell strengthened immediately. He’d been surrounded by the maddening smell of human human human for years, but when the blood was exposed like this, it was so much worse. Kane lunged forward involuntarily, his body desperate to get to the one thing that could sate his hunger.

“Wait your turn.” Sir said, the smell growing even stronger as he made another shallow cut further up their arm. They kept going in that fashion, moving along Pumpkin’s arm, down their torso and back up again, then down the next arm. Pumpkin was begging, Kane knew distantly, but he could barely hear them. Every ounce of his attention was devoted to the sweet, sweet blood dripping from them. It was so close, just across the room. He needed it. He lunged again, and again, each time choked back by the collar.

Sir was saying something else as he approached, Kane’s eyes not leaving the blood for a second. Suddenly, the pressure on his neck disappeared. Sir had removed the collar.

Kane could feed now! He rushed over to Pumpkin, his mind clouded with hunger, pushing out all room for other thoughts as he bit into their flesh. The relief was incalculable, the blood rushing into him one of the best things he’d ever felt, soothing the ache of starvation that never stopped plaguing him. As he regained his lucidity, Kane realized Pumpkin was saying something.

“K-Kane? Kane i-it hurts...” they whimpered.

Kane recoiled in horror. He’d hurt Pumpkin, attacked them like a wild animal.

“I’m sorry! Pumpkin, I’m so sorry!” he gasped, backing away. Pumpkin curled in on themself, cradling their cut-up body, only made worse by Kane’s attack.

Sir laughed. “Wow, best friends forever! Hey leech, take a look for yourself.” He turned his phone to Kane, volume all the way up. Kane watched he pounced on Pumpkin, tearing into them with no regard for their comfort, taking too much blood after they’d already lost some to Sir’s knife. A monster.

Satisfied with himself, Sir retreated upstairs with another chuckle.

Kane turned back to Pumpkin. They looked terrified, terrified of him. They’d scooted to the furthest corner from him while Sir showed him the video, shaking in fear. He took a step toward them, stopping in his tracks when they cringed away.

He’d ruined it. He’d ruined everything. Even after saying he’d learned. Even after what he’d done to Jim, he’d done it again, this time to Pumpkin of all people. They must hate him now. They should. They were hurt, because of him. Even the wounds he didn’t cause himself were only put there by Sir because he was here. He might have lost his only friendship, and had no one to blame but himself, because he just couldn’t stop hurting people. Hurting Pumpkin, who deserved so much better.

Kane dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. Please- it won’t happen again. Please forgive m-me, I didn’t mean t-to, please, please- I’m so s-so sorry...”

“It’s okay.” Pumpkin said, their voice quiet and laced with fear.

Kane looked up. Pumpkin looked so uncomfortable and afraid. He wished there was something, anything he could do to help, to make it up to them. Normally, when Sir pushed them too far, he would hold them. Pumpkin would lay their head in his lap while he gently pet them and he assured them that it was over now, the same as they did for him. But this time, he was the one who had hurt them. Pumpkin was trying to stay away from him. What could-

The plushie. Pumpkin’s only possession, the thing they always held close at night. It was still in their cage. Kane got up, making slow, deliberate movements so as not to scare them further. He reached through the bars of the cage, tugging the stuffed creature through.

“Here, Jello will make you feel better.” Kane said softly, tossing it across the room to them. It landed within arm’s reach, and Pumpkin snatched it up gratefully, holding it close to their chest.

“Thank you.” they breathed. They still looked scared, but slightly less so.

Kane went to sit in his usual spot, over by the wall where his collar hung. He didn’t deserve Pumpkin’s friendship, and they certainly deserved far better than his, but somehow, he knew everything was going to be alright between them.

tamara drew art of the events in this chapter!! art one / art two

taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@localvoidwhumper

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

#spk #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #multiple whumpees #starvation #reluctant whumper #pet whump #begging #whump writing

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dem-obscure-imagines · 3 years

Text

Choosing Destiny

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/MCU

Summary: Pietro has never believed in fate or soulmates or destiny…well, until he meets you…

Note: I know it was recently confirmed in canon that Pietro and Wanda were 26 during Age of Ultron, but for my own purposes, I’m going to pretend they were only 23. WandaVision spoilers if you squint, but not really.

Warnings: Mentions of death (he doesn’t die tho)

Word Count: 3.5k

Reader is: Female

Pietro Maximoff didn’t believe in prophecy. He didn’t believe in soulmates, either, but that was another matter entirely. His entire life, he’d been making decisions. Important ones. And he wanted to believe that they mattered. That his choices determined his outcome. He didn’t want his hands to be tied when it came to matters like that, to his destiny or whatever.

And yet, at twenty years old, approximately three years before his life would change forever, the fair rolled into town. Wanda wanted to go. She always wanted to go. It helped take her mind off of everything. And besides, with the fair came the psychics that would set up their stands, charging a handful of coins for a reading on your future. Your destiny. Your soulmate.

Wanda was very into it, as he knew she would be, and so, reluctantly, he handed over the money and she sat down across from the psychic, who took Wanda’s hands, shivering slightly before she reached for her tarot cards and shuffled them. “I do see a soulmate in your future.” The psychic told her. “He’s tall. Heroic. I see a long cape billowing out behind him and there’s a…strong association with the color yellow. He’s very intelligent, wise. He’s quiet, but he has a lot to say. He will help you through difficult times.”

Wanda chatted with the psychic for a while longer before they finished her reading, and when she was done, she handed Wanda a small rose quartz stone, which she admired before tucking it into her pocket.

“Let’s go get something to eat.” Pietro nudged her onwards towards the food carts.

“Don’t you want a reading?” Wanda asked him.

He scoffed. “I don’t have a soulmate.”

“I beg to differ.” The psychic said softly, beckoning him closer. “Tell you what, this reading is on the house. Take a seat.”

Wanda pushed him closer to the chair and he rolled his eyes, but sat down anyway. His foot bounced up and down. He was antsy, always antsy. Impatient. And on top of it all, a skeptic.

The psychic reached for his hands and he gave them to her. As soon as she made contact with his skin, she gasped.

“Oh you have a soulmate alright. She’s incredibly powerful. I can feel her energy radiating just from your touch alone. You’re going to meet her soon. Not right away, but definitely in the next few years. I sense…some tension. Some resistance, but inevitably, things will work out.” She reached into a pouch hanging from the table and pulled out a butterfly charm. It was small and silver and made of metal and when she pressed it into his palm, it was cold to the touch. “You’ll know it’s her when you see a butterfly.”

Pietro was disbelieving, but he nodded, tucking the charm into his pocket.

“How about that, huh?” Wanda asked as they started walking away. “You have a soulmate after all.”

“We’ll see…” Pietro shook his head. “I still don’t buy it, though, for the record…”

“Sure.” Wanda smirked, unconvinced. She’d seen the look on her brother’s face she knew that look. And she knew that whether her brother liked it or not, he believed the slightest bit that there was someone out there made for him. She liked to believe it, too.

***

There were not many belongings Pietro had inside the walls of the Hydra facility he was transformed in. But one of them was the silver butterfly charm he had gotten at the fair that day. He always kept it with him, and he’d fought tooth and nail to be able to keep it when he’d gotten admitted.

When he was in his cell all alone, he’d take it out and look at it, study the intricate patterns on its wings, and then tuck it back into his pocket, his fingers fiddling with it.

He remembered the day when his transformation happened, although he didn’t like to think about it often. It stirred up weird emotions in the core of his being. Being…altered in a way like that. Changed into something he was never meant to be. Most of the moments from that day, his brain had tucked away, had hidden from him, but when he first stepped into the room with the stone, it had seemed to…come alive.

He watched with wide eyes as it released itself from the staff it had been held inside and floated in front of him. And in the glow of the stone, a figure manifested herself in front of him, a girl who was a bit shorter than him. She had giant butterfly-shaped wings spread out behind her and she landed in front of him, as real as he was. Vivid and beautiful. He stared at her for a long time, waiting for her to speak.

And she did.

“Pietro…” She’d spoken, her voice soft and sweet, but also…worried? He couldn’t tell. “I need you to be okay for me. Breathe, alright?”

“I…I don’t understand. What do you mean?” He asked, but she didn’t respond. It was like she was separated from him somehow, somewhere different in space and time although she was standing right there in front of him.

She reached forward and rested her hand against his cheek. “I’m here, now. Just breathe…”

And then everything went black.

When he came around, everything started…changing. For a few days, every step he took was at superspeed. He’d run into walls without really meaning to, rush forward feet at a time when he’d only meant to move a little. He was hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. He’d always loved food, but now, he felt like he was starving all the time when he was eating more than he ever had. His enhanced body burned through it like it was nothing. His hair started to turn blonde and then white, leaving the top half of his head a silvery bleached color that rivaled the snow. He barely recognized himself in the mirror anymore. Barely recognized this person he’d become.

The choice he’d made, the choice he and Wanda had made together, had sent him on a different path, had altered his destiny. And he wondered if he’d ever pay the price for it.

***

The day came, as he knew it would. His home town in Sokovia was being hoisted into the air, higher and higher every minute. The air was thin and he had trouble catching his breath. He was used to running, now. It was part of him, his speed. It was a gift. A blessing. A “miracle” as the scientists at Hydra had said. He couldn’t help but believe them.

He heard something approaching the border of the city, something big, and when he ran to the edge to see what it was, he was surprised, but pleasantly so, to see a Helicarrier rising, a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo emblazoned on it. He looked around and spotted Captain Rogers standing nearby with the Black Widow, so he ran over.

“This is S.H.I.E.L.D.?” He asked.

“This is what S.H.I.E.L.D. is supposed to be.” Rogers nodded, looking on proudly.

Pietro considered it for a moment before replying with a smile, “this is not so bad…”

It was then that he spotted her flying across the gap. The girl with the butterfly wings. And he couldn’t stop staring, his blue eyes fixed on her for a long moment. She said something, but he didn’t hear her, so distracted by her presence. He knew it had to be her, the girl from his vision.

“What?” He asked, blinking a few times. She giggled and the other two Avengers standing beside them chuckled knowingly.

“I said, I’m (Y/N).” You offered your hand and Pietro shook it, squeezing it slightly as he did so, and hesitant to let go once he was finished. “Fury reached out to me. Figured you could use all the help you could get.”

“We’d definitely accept an extra set of hands.” Rogers nodded. “What are your powers.”

“Flight, energy manipulation, enhanced strength…” You listed off. “There are kind of a lot. I can do whatever you need me to do. Be wherever you need me to be.”

“Priorities right now are evacuating civilians and killing robots.” Natasha said.

“That, I can do.” You nodded. “And you’re…?”

“Pietro.” He offered, smiling softly as he did, an unfamiliar warmth tingling in his stomach.

“Pietro.” You repeated, trying the name out. Your pronunciation was a little off, but he couldn’t help but grin at the attempt. “Alright. Well, let’s go kill some robots then, Pietro.” You let your wings flutter, and when you did, your feet lifted from the ground.

He smirked, getting a bit competitive as soon as you’d challenged him. “You’re on. Try to keep up.”

As the two of you rushed off into the city, Steve and Natasha watched with knowing looks, taking another little moment.

“Twenty bucks they’re together by Friday.” Nat said. “Maybe sooner.”

Steve shook her hand. “You’re on.”

***

The battle went smoothly until it didn’t, and as soon as Pietro took fire, you felt the hit in the center of your being. It shook you to your core, and once you’d shot the quinjet that had hit him out of the sky with a powerful stream of pink energy, you landed beside him, his body still and his breathing weak, holes mangling his limbs and torso.

“Pietro…” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes. You summoned your energy to your palms, but it was…different than it usually was. Rather than its typical pink color, the energy you summoned was yellow. It was warm. But you trusted your power and you held the energy over him.

His breaths were shallow, strained. You watched as, very, very slowly, your energy pieced him back together, the holes in his body closing up, repairing as if by magic, as if he’d never been shot in the first place.

He struggled to try to say something, but you just cupped his cheek and shook your head. “I need you to be okay for me. Breathe, alright?”

“But—”

“I’m here, now. Just breathe…” You told him, still pushing energy into his chest, but more slowly, gradually. You felt his pulse and waited as his heartbeat returned to normal, his breathing forced, but becoming more natural as you knelt beside him. “Take a minute. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

He nodded, struggling to sit up, his arms and legs shaking really badly. At some point, you felt like your power hit a wall. There wasn’t anything more you could do for him. He was healed.

“Do you feel okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He nodded, staring at his hands for a long moment, looking at his fingers and moving them. “I’m…thanks to you, I am.”

“I think we’re gonna have to get out of here pretty soon. Can you stand?”

“I’ll try.” He decided.

You stood up first and offered your hands to him, pulling him upright with unexpected strength.

He’d definitely pulled something in his leg, and that became obvious as soon as he took a few steps.

“Do you want me to try to—" You started to ask, raising your hand, but he grabbed onto it, lowering it.

He shook his head. “You’ve done enough for me today. Thank you.”

You pulled his arm around your shoulders and supported his weight while he limped.

Captain Rogers walked over and looked at the two of you, paying special attention to Pietro.

“You alright, kid?”

“I am now.” He answered, nodding.

“Get back to the Helicarrier. Both of you. This’ll all be over soon.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded. The two of you walked most of the way back to the Helicarrier in silence, Pietro sneaking unbelieving looks at you every so often.

Meanwhile, Rogers walked up to Clint. “Did you see what happened?”

Clint nodded. “He almost died. But she…she just…healed him. Like magic…”

Steve considered it for a moment, nodding. He looked back and watched as you helped Pietro onto one of the boats, the two of you sitting together. And he decided in that moment that you might not make a bad addition to the team…

***

As soon as Wanda made it back to the Helicarrier, in the arms of the Vision, no less, she ran towards you and Pietro, disbelief on her face when she saw him. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged around her eyes from crying and she looked paler than he’d ever seen her before.

“Wanda,” He walked towards her, taking a painful step forward.

“You idiot!” She wailed, throwing herself into his arms. “I…I thought you were dead! I…I felt…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He apologized, his voice soft. “She healed me. She…saved my life.”

“Who did?” Wanda asked and Pietro motioned to where you were sitting.

You stood up and prepared to introduce yourself, holding out your hand, but she engulfed you in her arms instead, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She cried into your shoulder. You held her a little tighter in an attempt to comfort her. “I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“Don’t worry about it.” You told her quietly. “He’s safe. You both are.”

Wanda nodded and pulled away from you, looking up at her brother with teary eyes. He smiled down at her. And then his eyes settled on you and he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

Pietro Maximoff, at one time in his life, hadn’t believed in fate. But now, without a shadow of a doubt, he did.

***

“You want me to be a what?” You asked. You were sitting in the conference room that the Avengers, including their newest additions, had all crammed into in the remains of the Avengers Tower. They were scheduled to move soon, but before they relocated, Captain Rogers had gotten ahold of you through Nick Fury and called you there to “discuss an arrangement.”

“We want you to be an Avenger.” Clint Barton, the one you’d previously only known as ‘Hawkeye’ explained. “I saw you. You saved the kid’s life. We…we need that kind of power. All the help we can get.”

You looked at Pietro and his eyes were locked on yours, a serious look on his face.

“Look, I’m flattered. I am.” You forced yourself to focus away from the handsome speedster and on Stark instead. “But I’m just…I’m a college kid. I’m graduating in like a month. I have finals and…and I…I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

“You are. Cut out for it, I mean.” Natasha insisted. “We’re not going to force you, but…you’d be a great addition to the team.”

“Can I think about it?” You asked. “I just need to get through college. Get my degree, and then…then I can…maybe look into this hero stuff.”

“Take all the time you need. We’ll be here if and when you come around.” Captain Rogers said.

“Cool.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

You left the conference room and you thought you were alone, but as soon as you walked through them, someone else did too.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” Your ears picked up the all-too familiar accent of one Mr. Pietro Maximoff.

You looked up at him and you hated it, but your heart raced just looking at him, a blush creeping across your cheeks. You couldn’t deny he was handsome. Incredibly so, in fact, but you couldn’t just give up four years of work for a man at the drop of a hat.

“Why do you want me here so bad?” You countered, raising an eyebrow.

He took a few steps closer to you, framing your cheek with his large, warm hand. “Do you believe in fate?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Kind of. Why?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t until I met you.” Pietro said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver butterfly charm, hanging from a thin silver chain. “A long time ago, a psychic told me I would know my soulmate when I saw a butterfly. And…the moment I saw your wings, I knew…”

He was quiet, shaking his head as he reached for your hand, setting the necklace in your palm. “You saved my life. The least I can do is returning the favor at some point.”

“Okay.” You said, closing your hand around the charm. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

***

You went back to school. It was hard, but you focused on your studies and before you knew it, finals week rolled around. Your wings, for the most part, weren’t active. They only came out when you needed them, and therefore, you were able to blend in pretty seamlessly. No one looked at you differently, although, watching news coverage from the Battle of Sokovia, you’d hear your peers whisper rumors about the mysterious Butterfly Girl who had appeared and disappeared right after.

Tony Stark had been approached for a statement on who she was and where she’d come from and if she was a new member of the team, but he hadn’t commented, which you were grateful for.

Aside from that, everything was…well, as normal as it can be when you’re a superhuman, you supposed.

Your brain fried, your eyes burning, you looked up from your textbook only to spot Pietro standing in the doorway of the building. You stared at him for a long time, unsure if he was a hallucination or your eyes playing tricks on you after so many hours staring at your textbooks.

He jogged over as soon as he spotted you, a mischievous look on his face. It was weird, seeing him force himself to move at a normal pace. At a speed which had once been normal to him, but was now much, much slower than he was capable of moving.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, taking your headphones off and setting them on the table, looking up at him.

“I knew you must be getting close to the end of your semester. I…well, I wanted to know if you had made your decision yet. I’m…impatient.” He admitted, causing you to giggle softly. “And I figured…maybe buying you a coffee could help you make your decision a little faster?”

“It certainly couldn’t hurt.” You laughed.

“Alright, perfect.” He grinned. “What do you want? I’ll go get it right now.”

You told him your usual order and he walked to the coffee shop tucked into the on-campus library, retrieving two drinks and bringing them back a few minutes later. You cleared out some of your stuff so he could sit across from you, and so, when you motioned him to the chair, he did.

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology.” You replied, wiping the sleep from your eyes. “God, what time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Great.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m not nearly done studying.” You raised your drink to your lips. “Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“Of course.” He grinned, resting one hand against his fist and reaching for your hand with the other, which you gave to him, allowing him to fiddle with your smaller fingers. He was a fiddler, you’d noticed. Always had to be moving, even if it was only a little bit. “So…?”

“So what?” You asked, amused at his antics.

“Are you going to come to the compound when you’re done?”

You were quiet for a long time, before you nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I…I think I am.”

Immediately, a smile overtook his handsome features and he gave your hand an excited squeeze. He leaned over the table and captured your lips in a sweet kiss, leaving you stunned for a few seconds afterwards, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized immediately. “I don’t know why I—”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in, pressing your lips onto his again, in a kiss you’d been wanting to give him for over a month. He kissed back passionately, his lips soft and desperate, his scruff tickling you gently.

As soon as you pulled apart, he switched sides of the table, sitting next to you and cupping his hands around your cheeks. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and then another quick one to your lips, causing your heart to race and the butterflies in your stomach to dance around. And in that moment, you knew that whatever you believed about soulmates and fate and destiny…it all went out the window.

You knew whatever you did from here on out, whatever choices you made or paths you took, it would always lead you straight to Pietro Maximoff. And you couldn’t have been happier about that…

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro #pietro x reader #pietro imagine #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver imagine #marvel #mcu #marvel imagines #avengers #avengers imagine

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littlemissnoname13 · 3 years

Text

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part two

Summary: Draco and y/n find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every single night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: excessive smoking, mature language, mature themes, smut, female receiving, 18+ reader discretion is advised.

A/n: a big thank you to everyone that read part one. I adore each and every one of you and your feedback sm <3

at this point, I am projecting my cigarette cravings onto Draco Malfoy. Sorry. (Smoking is injurious to health)

Word count: 3000

You can read part one over here

Friday

When your eyes opened the next morning, you found your thoughts to be littered with the kisses you shared with Malfoy.

And even if you’d somehow managed to forget the way he suckled, bit and murmured onto your skin, you had purple hickeys marking your neck to remind you.

This was a mistake.

Frantically wrapping your green and silver scarf around your neck, you made a run towards your Potions class but before you could even make it to class, you found yourself pulled into a small gap in the wall making your body go into an instantaneous fight or flight mode.

“What in the actual fuc—”

You were silenced with a kiss on your lips once again.

Draco pushed you further up against the wall and moved his lips desperately against yours—kissing your mouth senseless.

“Do you just lurk around in the hallways waiting to sneak up on people?!” You asked in a breathless whisper as his lips made contact with the base of your neck again after he’d loosened your scarf.

“Only sometimes.” He smirked.

The wetness that seeped in through your panties and all the way down your inner thighs was a tell tale sign, warning you to stay away from the abandoned classroom that night.

And you did just that.

Even if you had reached for your door that night, Adrian’s sudden arrival ensured that you stayed away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday

It was nearly four in the morning and anyone with a hint of sanity inside of them would have been fast asleep—if they could sleep through the ear-splitting sound of thunder that is.

It had been raining for three consecutive nights and the sky was as clamorous and angry as ever.

Draco scoffed to himself at the sound of sleep.

The whole idea now seemed so foreign to him. It was like he had forgotten what a good night's sleep even felt like.

With his fourth cigarette for the night lit up and between his lips, He leaned against the glass window waiting for you to walk in wearing your insanely soft night dress that he simply couldn’t stop thinking about.

Why was he waiting for you?

It wasn’t like you were obliged to come to that classroom every night.

It wasn’t like both of you now had an unspoken agreement that you’d meet up in this murky classroom to talk, make out—maybe even shag.

How ravishing you’d look with your slip dress slipped off into a pool at your feet.

He couldn’t help but imagine you seated on the windowsill with your legs parted. He’d eat you out all night if he could. Lick up long, slow, deliberate licks up your slit and place soft, airy kisses along your inner thighs.

The images of you straddling him with your tits bouncing up and down as he pumped into you refused to leave his mind, leaving him all hot, bothered and frenzied with lust.

Draco forced himself to snap out of his vision and shook his head, restraining himself from reaching towards the buttons of his trousers.

The rain clouds had started to clear up a bit and the sky had slowly started to change colours with the darkest shade of black on the top of the sky trickling down into shades of lighter blue indicating the break of day.

He wanted to give himself hell for waiting up all night for you for the second time that week—infuriated with the way you made him feel.

He wanted you out of his system—You and your stupid silk slip dress.

Your stupid stupid stupid slip dress.

But before he could even manage to make an exit from the classroom, you pounced right into him with a thud.

The way you collided with him resembled the collision of opposite magnetic poles—powerful and inevitable.

"Took you long enough." Draco breathed, holding you tightly against him as he desperately ran his hands along your sides feeling the fabric of your silky nightdress.

"I tried to stay away. I tried so hard." You whispered, and he instantly placed his lips onto yours furrowing his brows as you fiercely kissed him back.

“But I just couldn’t help myself.” You mumbled between kisses as he lifted you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his torso as he carried you.

“Good.”

Both of you knew there would be implications to your actions but that seemed like a problem for future Draco and y/n.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder and you moaned loudly when you felt him grip the exposed skin of your thigh—his fingertips and his ring dug deep into your skin making you hiss into the base of his neck from the sting of pleasure.

If he was going to go around leaving markings on your flesh, so would you.

It was only fair.

You went on ahead and sucked on his flesh as he carried you all the way to the window and sat you on the windowsill.

Hastily tugging the straps of your nightie that had imprinted itself into his subconscious, he made the smooth fabric slide right off your body and into a pool on the floor.

“Nothing underneath?” He chuckled gazing intently at your naked body making a pink flush appear on your face as you nodded closing your legs together and crossing your arms over your breasts.

His vision just didn’t do justice to the sight in front of him.

The sight you exposed, sitting timidly on the windowsill with rosy cheeks woke up something primal inside of him.

You felt him kneel on the floor in front of you, parting your legs and gently moving your arms away from your body.

“So fucking perfect.” Draco drew in a sharp breath before leaning in to capture your lips into his, brushing his hands over your shoulders, trailing all the way down your arms and back up again. “Don’t you dare cover yourself up.”

There was an unusually strong taste of cigarettes fused into the flavor of what felt like mint and apples on his lips and you tried to extract every bit of it—running your tongue along his bottom lip earning a feral groan from him.

He let his hands ghost around your breast—barely touching.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to.

He did.

So fucking bad.

But he wanted confirmation from you.

He wanted to know if you wanted this as much as he did. A sign, a sigh, a moan, anything.

“Draco.” You murmured into the kiss with your hands yanking on his black button down—fumbling with the buttons.

Never had he ever heard a sweeter sound.

Actually scratch that, your moans were even sweeter as he massaged and kneaded your breasts, tugging and pulling onto your hardened nipples.

“Oh, Draco.”

His given name on your swollen lips sounded like an invitation he simply couldn’t resist— so fucking innocent and mischievous at the same time.

The lower his kisses trailed, the more incoherent your speech got.

Wet, open mouthed, starved kisses that started along your jaw and down your neck moved lower and lower until you felt like you had forgotten every other word that wasn’t “Draco.” Or fuck.

You felt his hot breath on your hardened nipple as he swirled his tongue around it—catching the left one in his mouth. You grabbed a fistful of his blonde hair as he started to suck and your moans only encouraged him to suck harder.

He wanted to worship every square inch of your body, on his knees in front of you like you were his only deity —repeating his licks on both of your nipples, occasionally stopping to litter dark purple bruises around your chest.

Draco paused and looked up at you with his silvery greys.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t picture this exact scene in this head a thousand times over.

Sure, your complete inability to stay quiet made him livid.

Sure, the way you walked around in translucent white tops, absolutely unaware of the one too many curious onlookers pissed him off.

Sure, he’d thought about pushing Adrian Pucey off his broom.

But the way you sat on that window sill with your legs spread out—wetness dripping down your legs and your pretty little cunt glistening was straight out of Draco’s deepest darkest fantasy.

You arched your back bucking your hips forward and he smirked at your silent pleas.

And when the tip of his tongue gently massaged your clit, it was like your entire body was set ablaze.

You’d never felt that way before and he was just getting started—making you let out a sound even you didn’t know you were capable of making.

It was somewhere along the lines of a moan and a gasp. Maybe a combination of both.

After a long, slow torturous lick up your folds, he looked up at you.

“You taste..” another slow lick “so fucking good.”

“Please—Drac..Fuck—”

You lost it when he started to eat you out. It was as if he was starved for this.

He kitten licked, kissed and nipped you like he’d been waiting for this very moment—this moment with you on the windowsill with his blonde head in between your legs, fingers bunching his hair, calling out only his name with a plethora of other swears.

And you slowly understood.

You understood the screams coming from whoever he was shagging the other night.

There was nothing tentative or hesitant in the way he moved his tongue.

He knew what he was doing, he knew what he wanted, he wanted you.

“Draco—” You moaned jutting your hips forward when his tongue made contact with just the right spot. “Fuck— god Draco yes right there—ah-.”

“Right here?” He teased as he continued to lick. With his grey eyes focused on you—the way you bit your lips and rolled your eyes back in pleasure.

He wanted to remember it, recall and replay it in his mind for hours on end.

He didn’t care about the mellow and golden rays of sunlight pouring in through the window glass you had your back rested against.

He didn’t care about any fucking body or any fucking thing.

You let out another laboured gasp when you felt him push his finger inside you. One finger at first, allowing you to get used to the sensation.

And then he put in a second finger, the cold metal of his ring making contact with your sensitive skin.

There was a strange feeling inside of your stomach. It was pressure—kind of like a knot waiting to snap.

It was delicious.

It had you begging for more.

You simply couldn’t think of anything or anyone else.

Whatever he was doing with his fingers and tongue—you just wanted more.

“Please Draco—don’t stop.”

The sounds you were making made him want to bend you over, press you against the window and fuck you mercilessly, but there was a part of him that reminded him that you deserved more than that.

You deserved more than just a quick little fuck in this classroom.

He wanted to take you, make you his, make you cum over and over again and although he wasn’t sure he could do the former in that particular moment in time, he sure as hell could do the latter.

His fingers and tongue moved in perfect coordination. Each taste accompanied by his fingers pumping in and out of you.

Draco knew you were close. He could tell by the way you gripped onto his hair while you clenched around his fingers.

“Let yourself go y/n.” He murmured. “Yes, that’s it—good girl.”

You felt the tight knot in your lower abdomen snap at his words, and you felt overcome with pleasure that made your legs spasm and your toes curl.

“Draco..I think I’m..ah—”

“That’s it y/n, be a good girl and cum on my mouth yeah?”

Your high felt like an ocean wave—sweeping, billowing and crashing all over your body.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that to you.” He looked up at you, accomplished as his lips twisted upwards and you looked down at him with a peachy kind of afterglow on your cheeks.

“And I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

~~~~~~~~~

Sunday

A four poster bed, a nightstand and a desk full of nothing but books stacked upon one another and an opulent looking rug on the floor.

Of course, Malfoy had his own bedroom.

You kept telling yourself that it was the softness of his pricey pillow, laden with his scent and his thousand thread-count sheets that made you want to spend the rest of eternity there.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Draco kept grumbling in his sleep while pulling you closer to him every passing second or two.

It had nothing to do with how content you felt with your bare body pressed up against him.

He still had his shirt on, unbuttoned all the way allowing you to brush your fingertips against his toned abdomen.

You could tell it was already late evening by the way bare minimum light seeped into the lake and in through the windows.

You had spent the entire Sunday in his room, where he snogged you, ate you out and gave you orgasms upon orgasms.

He was adamant with the way he said “not yet.” every time you tried to unbuckle his pants.

You sighed and allowed your lips to graze his forehead for the briefest of seconds before shimming free from his arms.

After sliding your dress back on, you tiptoed to his dresser when you saw a pack of unopened cigarettes on it.

Blame it on mere curiosity but you slowly took a cancer stick out and placed it between your lips—right in the far corner just the way he did it and looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your neck was marked in a trail of purple bruises and your hair looked like it had definitely seen better days than this.

As messy as you looked, the reflection stared back at you looking content.

"If you wanted a smoke, all you had to do was ask."

The husky tone of his voice startled you. He was propped up on his elbows with his messy blonde hair covering most of his forehead making you weak in your knees.

Damn you Draco Lucius Malfoy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday

Both of you had showed up to your potions class late—your shirt buttoned all wrong and his blonde hair in a riot of knots and tangles.

It was the result of an intense snog fest against a wall but nobody needed to know that.

“That’s the wrong ingredient y/l/n.” Draco scoffed pretending like his tongue wasn’t in your mouth just a few minutes ago.

Two can play at this game.

“It is not.” You glared at him making poor Blaise next to you wish he could just shrivel away.

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

~~~~~~~~

Tuesday

“Oh and thank you very much for getting me into detention yesterday.” You said sarcastically while he quietly smoked his cigarette next to you.

And thank you for making me fall apart by the mercy of your fingers at detention.

You were seated on the same window sill but this time, you had clothes on—three whole layers of clothing actually.

“Pleasure.” He chucked, exhaling.

With his exhale, wisps of smoke escaped his lips creating a veil around you two.

The smell had started to get tolerable, familiar—pleasant even.

It was strange how the human mind was conditioned into latching itself onto anything that brought it comfort.

Where there was smoke there was Draco.

It came as a fixed packaged deal and you didn’t feel the need to complain anymore.

“So, does Pucey know what you’ve been up to these days or is he still as oblivious as ever?

“Adrian wouldn’t notice if I went missing for a week.” You shrugged.

“Then why are you with him?”

“As cliched as it sounds, its complicated.”

~~~~~~~

Wednesday

“I’m starting to believe I’m a terrible influence on you.” He muttered, raising only one of his eyebrows as he watched you pull out the lit up cigarette from his mouth.

“Absolutely, without a doubt.” You confirmed, placing his cigarette between your lips attempting to inhale.

The second you did, you were left a coughing, wheezing wreck—throat on fire, tears streaming down your cheek.

You quickly drank the water he’d already conjured with a simple aguamenti charm and proceeded to smoke again.

His heart felt the strange and inconvenient kind of ache seeing you make a mess out of yourself, struggling with the coughing.

He’d also noticed how you put the cigarette on the far corner of your lip the way he did but he decided to not bring that up.

“And why have you suddenly decided to take up smoking?”

“I’ve grown quite fond of the taste.” You blurted involuntarily.

“Oh y/n.” He shook his head. He’d never seen you smoking so there was only one explanation and the explanation made him feel things he’d rather not.

“Cm’here.”

His hands gently grasped into the hair on the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips on you.

“Could have just said you wanted to kiss me.” He smirked against your lips.

“Shut up.” You murmured back. “Just kiss me.”

~~~~~~~~~

Thursday

You always did feel bolder, livelier and happier towards the end of the week.

Maybe it was the Fire whisky you two and brought to the classroom in his flask coursing through your veins but you felt brave.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to do.” You declared so courageously, taken aback by your own capability of sounding like a reckless Gryffindor.

“And what would that be y/n?”

You pulled him by his green tie and brushed your lips on his for a fraction of a second before dropping down on your knees in front of where he was seated.

“This.”

To be continued....

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3 teaser:

Draco watched with fascination as you tried to slip back into the remains of your silk slip dress.

“I’m sorry about your dress.”

“That’s okay.” You mumbled absently as you tried to get your dress to stay on your body.

“Here.” He said hesitantly before handing you his blazer. “Wear this.”

“Going back to my dorm with your blazer doesn’t seem like a good idea.” You chuckled as the fabric drowned you. “What am I going to tell Pansy?”

His lips quirked up into a faint smile.

“You’re not going to your dorm y/l/n.”

Part three is available here.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @lieswithoutfairytales @dracomalfoys-wh0re @hannahhobnob @sycathorn-slush @mxl-foyrecs @daringvixon @linetteyde @imbadwithunsernames @dracoswhore007 @myunngi @goawayimreadingbeach @loxbbg @icedlattewithalmondmilk @paulina1998

Thank you all for asking to be on my tag list for this story. I would give you all a blonde ferret if I could. (p.s. I was unable to tag the ones in bold for some reason. :’( )

#harry potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #slytherin #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco smut #draco x you #draco x reader smut

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

been a while since i posted a fic update! anyone wanna read some cowboy au nonsense? sure you do! well here it is

The blinding, unforgiving midday heat is enough to raise blisters on the skin. Looking out over a crowd of folks booing him, calling for his demise, probably should have had some kind of emotional impact. On the occasion of one’s death, after all, one does expect tears. Flowers, laid out in lace, dark veils and coal black clothes, a few muffled sobs from those further back in the funerary procession, unable to contain themselves. Instead he’s met with the dusty faces of former neighbors and strangers alike, all eagerly waiting to hear the exact tone and pitch that his neck will make when it snaps.

Bored, he turns his attention from the crowd, and watches a lizard scurry across the wooden planks of the gallows, as a man to his right fits a rough bit of rope around his neck. It scratches, but he doesn’t react, not feeling frightened or even especially interested. A similar rough twine is binding his hands together behind his back, keeping him from having any viable way to save himself. The crowd is calling for blood now. Hangings generally are not gorey affairs, but he did once see a drop too sudden and a rope so long that the fella wasn’t just hung, he was decapitated. Beetlejuice glances back down at the crowd, tries to imagine what direction his head would roll if that happened here, and smirks, because it seems to him the last thing he’d see would be the view from inside the skirts of some of the women standing front and center. Not the worst last sight a man could have. “You think you could hurry this along?” he asks the man fitting the noose around his neck. “Sun’s beatin’ down somethin’ fierce an’ I ain’t got my hat.” His personal possessions are back at the sheriff’s office- hat, bandana, silver plated, pearl handled pistol, and his custom belt buckle, just about the nicest, and maybe only, thing he ever paid for. God damn corrupt lawman’s probably gonna pawn his stuff as soon as he’s swinging. Maybe before. Maybe his last worldly possessions are already gone. S’not like he’ll need them, where he’s goin.

A face he recognizes is led up from the crowd, an ancient wizened body tanned for years by the all too eager sunlight and scorching sands. It’s the local preacher, who he remembers from his formative years. The old man used to give him bread and plain, unseasoned chicken in return for listening to him talk about god, and if he hadn’t been nearly starved to death half the time, he might have spat in the old man’s face. Shouldn't charity be done for the sake of charity, not proselytizing? He’d said so once, and that was the last meal the old miser had given him. Jackass.

“Beetlejuice,” the preacher begins. His name is said with disdain and a curled upper lip. It’s one of the reasons he chose it, honestly. “You still have time to repent, young man. I remember you, as a child, bright eyed, curious about the kingdom of heaven.” Well now, that’s the very definition of taking artist liberty. “Now, here, you have one more chance to repent, to accept god’s mercy, and avoid the lake of fire.” The crowd is watching, waiting to see if he will confess his remorse. Beetlejuice hums, rocks on the balls of his feet, and then sighs. “.. C’mere,” He mumbles, jerking his head to indicate the old man should step closer. The holy man does. “I got a lot to confess to, preacher man, an’ not much time.” His voice is soft. The ailing man can’t hear him, steps closer, if only a little. “So much to confess to, in fact, I oughta just… Skip th’ whole thing an’ go straight to hell!” And Beetlejuice reels back, and then slams his forehead into the old man’s face. The sickeningly satisfying crunch of cartilage tells him he’s broken the preacher’s nose, as the elderly man falls back, crying out in pain, blood gushing from his new wound. The crowd roars, furious, and he grins, and laughs. “Ain’t no good extendin’ your pious pity to me!” he calls, gleeful, as he’s pelted with whatever the people watching can get their hands on, and the old man is helped, taken away, led off of the platform. “Enough, enough, we will have order!” a lawman cries, coming up the gallow steps, to stand in front of the outlaw. It’s enough to get the crowd to settle, or at least stop throwing things. There’s still a bad energy in the air, which Beetlejuice can taste on the tip of his tongue. His smile is rictus, he’s delighted to be the cause of it all.

“This man has been tried and found guilty,” the lawman continues. The trial had been very short, and his incarceration shorter. He understands he’s being made an example of to other outlaws, bandits, and trouble makers. They intentionally didn’t give him any time to plan anything, or for any coconspirators to come and assist him. Joke’s on them. They could have taken all the time in the world. Ain’t nobody alive who cares for this outlaw. Not a soul who would dare to come and stage a rescue. He’s utterly alone. “He’s allowed his last words. Clearly,” the lawman turns, eyes Beetlejuice, who smiles flirtatiously. The other man’s expression shifts from annoyance to disgust. “He’s disavowed the advice of Pastor Neighbors.” “M’not so sure you’re usin’ that word right, friend,” Beetlejuice snorts, but he’s ignored. “Any last words?” the hangman to his right asks, his hand itching to grip the lever that will drop the floor and finally, finally, release the outlaw from the confines of mortal life.

Beetlejuice grins.

“If any of you have a message for th’ devil, give it to me!” he shouts, with a cackle, and he watches in rapt and morbid delight at the way the faces in the crowd twist. “I’ll carry it down to hell for you!” The crowd is furious enough it almost seems to him they’re going to storm the platform, and maybe beat him to death. The wave of gasps from the women folk is particularly amusing.

“Enough of this!” He hears the voice of the lawman, disgusted, and the hangman must agree, because the last thing he hears is the lever being thrown, and the floor gives out under him, and he’s falling, falling, falling.

His ass hits a chair.

There’s a moment of blinded confusion, because he's gone from the unbearable dusty sun of midday California, to a cool, dark, musty smelling interior. His eyes need a moment to adjust to the change. He’s sitting in a room he doesn’t recognize. The chair under him is plush, but just thin seated enough to be a tad uncomfortable. He squirms in it, confused, and finds his hands are still tied behind his back. He turns his head. Seated across from him is a young woman.. Well, little girl might be more accurate, she’s maybe fourteen. There’s a wicked looking hoofprint emblazoned on her right temple. The blood that’s leaking from the wound has gone a sickly old color. They stare at each other. “Did that hurt?” she asks, first, and he squints, because he’d been about to ask the same question. Her hand has gone to her throat, as she looks at him, and he looks down, pressing his fat face into his fat neck to create an unflattering double chin as he does so. He can feel the rope around his neck. He follows the line of it with his eyes, and turns to look up. The rope travels up from him, into the ceiling. It’s still taught, like he’s suspended by it, but his ass is touching chair, his boots are on the ground, and he doesn’t feel choked by it’s presence. He tuts. “Didn’t feel a thing. That hurt?” he tries to gesture to her wound, but again, he’s reminded his hands are bound behind him. She stands. “Hurt a bit, but then I got so dizzy I didn’t hardly feel it, after,” she tells him, and then, like the good little frontierswoman she is, she produces a knife from inside some pocket in the volume of her skirts, and gratefully, he leans forward. She rests a knee on one of the chairs, to get a better angle, as she uses her bowie to cut through the rope at his wrists. “Awful kind of you, half pint,” he tells her, and she smiles. “Ain’t nothin.” She settles into the chair next to him, which is a little surprising, but he doesn’t mind, over all. “You’re an outlaw, then?” she asks. He grunts, and then turns to face her, with a grin. “You probably heard of me. They called me Th’ Ghost, on occasion, cause I could slip away without bein’ caught-” he watches her eyes travel up the line of his noose, and then settle back on his face, a little less impressed than she ought to be. He responds by pinching her nose, and she swats at his hand, and laughs. “I do think I heard of you,” she concedes. “I’m Presley.” “Presley, alright. You got a clue where we are, kiddo?” “I just was told to wait.” “Told by who?”

Across the room, a window he hadn’t registered as being there slides open. This place vaguely resembles a bank, he realizes, and so that means that’s the teller’s window. A woman with a tired expression on a pretty face peers out at him. “Hey, dead beat,” she calls, her accent thick around the words. “Juno wants to see you.” He motions to himself, questioningly. She raises an eyebrow in silent confirmation. “Should I care?” he asks, and her upper lip curls in the most beautiful version of a sneer he’s ever seen. “You’re real funny. Get in there before she loses her temper.” And she reaches up, and slams the window shut.

He looks to Presley, and they both share a little shrug, before he stands, and takes a step. The rope going through the ceiling moves with him, not along any visible track, that he can see, but seeming rather more like a toy balloon on a string, bobbing along as though after a child winding their way through the crowd of a state fair. There’s a door by the teller’s window, and he makes for it, only for the window to slide open again, and that beautiful face to reappear. She looks him over, not seeming particularly impressed, but also not outright cruel. “Where’s your handbook?” she asks. Beetlejuice tilts his head. It lolls a little comically to one side, presumably because his neck is broken. She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t bring your handbook?” “Listen, lady, even if I had whatever book you’re talkin about, I couldn’t read it,” he counters, and she pauses, at that. “Illiterate. Of course. What’s even the point of the handbook when so many folks can’t read it?” she mutters to herself, and then she waives him at the door, the conversation apparently over. Alright.

The door, predictably, leads to a hallway, a bit unlike anything he’s ever seen before, in terms of sheer length of the thing. It twists around like a snake, and the number of doors along the hall leads him to believe wherever he is, it’s massive. The hallway is empty, save for a man at the far end, mopping, and there doesn’t seem to be anything around for him to tuck into his pockets. Too bad, he mopes, as he carries himself down the hall, boots clacking in a way he finds tactile and pleasant. He passes the custodian, who stares at the floor behind him and sighs, and Beetlejuice looks back to see a mess of dusty footprints he’s left on a previously slightly damp but otherwise pristine floor. With a snort, he spits into the bucket of mop water, and the other man jumps back, disgusted, as Beetlejuice cackles, and continues his leisurely walk down the hall.

At a certain point he realizes he’s got no idea where he’s going, but it doesn’t especially matter. Wherever he is now, whatever version of the afterlife this is, because clearly, that’s what this is, it doesn’t seem to be fire and brimstone and all that bullshit, so he takes it easy, opening doors at random and peeking through. The things he sees don’t always make sense to him, feel like they’re out of place from the world as he knows it. He opens one door, and suddenly he’s staring at what must be a city, but the buildings are so tall they’re touching the sky, going up past the clouds, up into the heaven he doesn’t believe can really be up there. The people are dressed strangely, men and women wandering around in little more than underclothes, which he likes, instantly, and the streets are black with painted yellow lines, instead of dust and earth. Some kind of metal.. Something, a trolley without a track, moves on it’s own down the street, and he catches a glimpse of faces inside. He gets lost in the contents of this door, staring for a long time, entranced, and then it’s slammed suddenly. He turns, catches sight of the custodian with his hand on the door, and growls, an animalistic sound he didn’t know he could do. And then he stops, and turns to look, because the custodian is still a ways behind him, mopping with spit water. It’s the same man. “You don’t need to go poking your snout into places it doesn’t belong,” the man says, simply, and then in a blink, both versions of him are gone from the hallway. Maybe that’s just an… afterlife thing.

He reaches, after what feels like a boring and dragging eternity of twenty whole minutes, a set of saloon doors, the swinging kind. There’s a void of blackness behind them, but the draw he feels is unmistakable, and he pushes them open, and walks through. Instead of a room black as ink, he finds himself… standing on the wooden porch of a bar he remembers frequenting fairly often, in his younger days. At least, he has clear memories of walking into the bar. How and when and why he ended up outside of it, well… whiskey has a hell of an effect on a man’s memory. It’s a fairly chilly desert night. The chirping of crickets and the long ways away lonely baying of a dog is a sort of familiar comfort, but god damn it, he’s just left this world. He wasn’t intending on coming back to it, ever. The dusty streets are dim, illuminated only by the moon, the stars, and the few lamps still burning in windows. The town is quiet.

On the dirt road in front of him is a woman, staring at him. She’s small, older, nicely dressed, with hair shorter than he’s ever seen on a lady, and a mouth sort of like a toad, long and downturned. There’s an unlit cigarette between her fingers. She’s watching him, curious and apathetic all at once. He returns the look. “Juno, then?” he grunts, stepping off the porch. No dust lifts when his boots hit the unpaved road, which he notes. Maybe he’s not really here. Maybe he’s a ghost. Fitting.

“Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth,” she says, as he comes to stand in front of her. “Took you long enough. You realize I’ve been waiting here for days. You get lost, or something?” Her tone is sharp, like a schoolmarm with too much on her hands and not enough energy for it all. He feels a little sheepish, if only because no, he hadn’t realized that. “Gimme a break,” he says, instead of an apology. “I just died.” “Like that makes you special,” she huffs, and then, waving her unlit cigarette in his face, machine rolled, not hand, he notes, she asks, “Have you got a match?” He produces one from one of the many pockets of his moss green duster, strikes it on his thumb, and holds it up for her. She has the decency to look grateful, as she leans in, cigarette to her lips, and lights it from that little flame. “So,” she exhales smoke, and it curls from the corner of her lips, and out a previously unspotted slash to her throat. No wondering how she died, then. Speaking of, he glances up, to see that his noose is no longer floating above his head, and turning, he catches sight of it dragging on the ground behind him, long and snake-like in the way it’s twisted and coiled. Juno snaps her long red nails in his face, brings his attention back to her. “You weren’t supposed to die, you know. You’ve mucked things up for me.” “Whut?” he grunts, a bit thrown. She rubs her temples. “You were supposed to go in your seventies. Catch tuberculosis and wither away in obscurity. How old are you?” “Thirty four, or abouts,” he croaks, and she takes another drag. “You let yourself be caught,” she accuses. Well.. yeah. But how the hell does she know that? “I got pinned down in a shootout. Lucky they didn’t blow my head off, right then.” “You’ve gotten out of worse.” She looks almost.. Disappointed. “And then you put down your weapons, instead of fighting it out.” “I was surrounded.” “You were sloppy.” “What’s it to you, anyway?” he growls, again low and animalistic, which Juno ignores, as she walks circles around him, studying him. “You let yourself be caught, and you let yourself be hung. You didn’t even try to get away. You might not have killed yourself, but you let them kill you, for you,” she says. “And it’s giving me a hell of a time, both because it’s changed you, and because I have to put you somewhere, Beetlejuice, and now no one knows where you should go.” “So what does that mean?” “It means, my little statistical outlier, that you’re going to be staying up here, probably a lot broader a time than it would have taken you to just live your life and die at seventy,” she sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “Which is a shame. Because.. I was looking forward to.. To you. And now we both have to wait longer,” and here, she finishes her circle of him, to stand face to face with him again, and she flicks his ear, the way he always imagined an frustrated mother might. “Because you gave up. You weren’t supposed to give up.” “Wasn't much worth livin’ for,” he says, and it’s got more emotion behind it than he meant to give it. Juno’s hand goes to her throat, and she looks pained. “I guess that’s an inherited trait,” her voice is soft, and he squints at her, confused. Instead of giving him any context for that, she points down the dusty main road. Shining under the moonlight, he can see, vaguely, a dark shape suspended in air, near the gallows. “Go put your suit back on,” she says dryly. “And try not to cause enough trouble that I have to come up here and get after you, understood?” “What part of outlaw ain’t you gettin?” he snorts, and she responds by giving him an affectionate pat to his scruffy cheek, before she takes another drag, and vanishes inside the swirling smoke. He’s left standing on his own.

His “suit” is still hanging, he notes, looking up at himself. He’s strung up on a tall pole by the platform, leaving it free for more use, if need be, with his body on display as a gruesome reminder for potential criminals that this is a hanging town, and they’ve even hung their most despised son. His neck is bent at an ugly angle, a little bulge at the side betraying how exactly his bones had shattered, and his skin has gone a bad color, gray and foul looking. But aside from that, he’s not rotted the way he would think he ought to be. Juno’d said she’d been waiting for days, presumably meaning it has been days since his death, but his body is looking remarkably unbuzzard pecked and unrotted. He shimmies up the pole he’s hung from, his ghostly noose trailing behind him, and the moment he touches his own boot, the world spins, going upside down and inside out in a way that’s too painful to try and perceive.

“Gahh-” says Beetlejuice, because he’s back in his body, which is still being hung by that god damn noose, and he realizes, annoyed, that he has no way of cutting himself down. He kicks, pointlessly, one hand going to the rope at his neck, to clutch it and try to keep it from choking himself again, and the other grabbing at the rope further up, gripping it to pull himself up, give himself some slack, instead of hanging taught. It’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been. At least there’s no one around to watch him struggle.

“Holy shit, the body’s movin!” he hears someone holler. Oh, come on.

Read the rest, right over HERE

#beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fic #beetlelands fic #my writing #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice the musical #this is so self indulgent #i love westerns so this is all i can focus on rn

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winchesterxxi · 3 years

Text

Gentle Pathways (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: M (Mature)

Type: Fluff & Smut

Summary: “all these people keep posting how rough a horny Mando can be but I mean, come on, that man probably hasn't been touched as in skin-to-skin contact since he put the helmet on - we all saw his reaction to Grogu touching his face. So how do you think a touch starved Din would react to reader getting close to him?”

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: No clear time frame except that it’s between S1 and S2; Blindfolding; Smut (Virgin!Din, loss of virginity, blowjob, vaginal penetration, swearing, unprotected but consensual sex)

A/N: Vanilla!Din and Soft!Din GIVE IT TO ME, WE NEED MORE and yes I know the gif is of Kylo and Ren leave me alone.

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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It was late at night inside the Razor Crest, although no one could tell if it were otherwise because, as you could see through the front of the cockpit, the cold gloom of hyperspace engulfed the ship on all sides.

The Child was fast asleep and had been for a while now, and you were just finishing inserting some coordinates on the navigation panel as Mando asked you to, before leaving you alone and walking to his makeshift chamber. After doing as instructed your hand brushes against something that falls to the floor of the cockpit with a clatter.

Looking down, you notice that it’s Mando’s e-comm, easily identifiable by the big silver-colored scratch across one of its buttons. He never leaves it out of his sight, even when sleeping, that thing is always at arm’s length so you assume that he probably forgot it.

Standing up with the device in hand, you turn off any unnecessary light in the cockpit before heading towards the direction Mando went just a few minutes ago.

After you reach the steel door, you let your knuckles hit it about three times, before hearing a muffled Come in coming from the other side.

Sliding the doors open you step inside of his room, as he stands in front of you, back facing you, still fully clothed. His helmet rotates slightly over his shoulder as he directs his voice to you.

“What is it?”

“You left your e-comm on top of the navigation panel.” you tell him, extending your hand as your feet follow and you get close to him “I know you always have it on you no matter what, so I brought it to you.” your hand softly lays the device on the table against which he was leaning.

Your face comes dangerously close with the beskar on his shoulder blades and you swear that despite everything in you telling otherwise and that beskar is cold, that you could feel warmth irradiating from it.

Mando strangles a little thank you that you acknowledge with a nod of your head before awkwardly walking back and away from him.

What there was no way of you to be aware of was that the device was left back in the cockpit on purpose. Not in the sex bait type of way, but in the Will she notice this and hence confirm that she also bears some feelings for me for noticing such small things and being attentive enough to come and return it.

A fairly explicit and complex thought, he knew, but that’s exactly what you did to him. Or have been doing for the past year to his head. Although he might not be very skilled in articulating more than one single-worded phrase at a time, his mind is constantly racing. Constantly formulating this extremely clear ways of disclosing his true feeling for you that get stuck in his throat making it shake with anxiety and instead making him opt for the safer options of a simple thank you or You didn’t have to.

Like what he just did. He wanted to facepalm himself right there and then, weren’t it for your presence.

But he’s had enough. This man has fought virtually every deadly creature in this planet and sure enough this little crush as he tried to convince himself so many times was the scariest of them all for him to face. But enough is enough.

“Y/N.” He croaks out, turning to face you.

You hum and turn around almost instantly, surprising yourself at how easily you reacted to him.

“I - ..... I,...” he tries. He really tries.

“You what, Mando?” you question, brows furrowed while taking slow steps towards him, worried that there is something wrong.

“I ... have...feelings for you.” Your cheeks heat up but you look down avoiding getting overly excited, as this could go one of two directions.

“What type of feelings?” you ask cautiously.

“Feelings.” The padding inside of his helmet feel like fire right this moment, and the urge to curse himself has never been this strong.

But you understand. And he sees that you understand by the way your eyes almost pop out of your sockets and your mouth hangs open.

“Oh.” you manage to voice before being struck by utter and absolute confusion “Me? You’re sure about that?.... I’m an absolute trainwreck of a person!”

The tension that he was holding in his body due to the confession suddenly left him in the form of a low chuckle, making you even more embarrassed. “I love you just the way you are.”

“You what?!” your heart stops.

“I...” that’s when it dawns on him what it just said. This man spent months hiding his feelings from you and, just like that, under a minute he goes from saying that he has feelings for you to telling you that he loves you.

“... I love you.” he says, this time more sure of himself.

You pause a moment and look at him, eyes surely meeting something behind his darkened visor and your expression softens.

“I... I think I love you to.” you finally admit, finally letting go of your own months of repressed feelings, that now so easily slipped out to the man in beskar in front of you.

Mando slowly walks up to you, praying that you don’t run away, all the while pulling at a piece of fabric that he had wrapped around his elbow. Your eyes follow his movements before looking up at him and nodding, knowing exactly what he is about to do.

His hands disappear behind your head and then you’re surrounded by darkness.

Being deprived of your vision heightens all of your senses and you can now very clearly hear his breathing. His unfiltered breathing.

“Did you...?” you ask, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Yes.”

His ungloved hand slowly finds your own, bringing your knuckles to meet his lips. You shiver at the contact. Slowly, he brings up his other hand to cradle your cheek, delicately replacing your knuckles with your lips.

You thoroughly melt against his touch, resting your hands upon his chest plate for some balance as he pulls you in closer, ever so gently. The kiss wasn’t too sloppy, but you could feel his inexpertness, but his lips were so soft that everything else was forgotten. And oh how you loved the tickle of his facial hair against you.

What began as a sweet kiss quickly escalates and the both walking into the nearest wall as his hands explore your clothed body, months of previously undiscovered sexual tension arising to the occasion and you could feel how excited he was getting.

The only pleasure Mando had even known had been at his own hand. And even that, he took care of as a chore, a release of pressure, just getting himself off for the day so that he wouldn’t get distracted.

“Wait.” he pulls away, out of breath “I know that you want to take this further, but I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you query “Disappointed how?”

“I don’t know how to do this... I’ve never done this.” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you can imagine how he is motioning with his hands between the both of you.

“You’re a virgin?”

“Yeah.” he shyly admits, rubbing the back of his head.

“No, that’s - that’s completely fine. I just... wasn’t expecting it?”

“Why?”

“You’re a bounty hunter and, well, word runs on the streets. Besides, the way Xi’an spoke to you back when we went to that prison or the things she said, I thought-”

“Nothing ever happened. Not with her, not with anyone ever. She did try, several times, but I always pushed her away.” he couldn’t bear to have you think that there was ever anyone before you.

“Oh.”

“But I want to do it with you. Here, now.” he confesses, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure? I mean, having sex means that you’ll have to -” you begin, knowing fully well the implications

“I’m sure. I trust you.” he assures you with a gentle stroke on your cheek.

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

With your eyes still closed, you feel the knot in the back of your head loosen, and the pressure around your temples dissipating, slowly bating your eyes open. It was extremely dark in the room, but you could still make out some shapes, the disheveled curls and the prominent nose and his eyes. His eyes. You couldn’t make out what color they were but they were as dark as the sky outside this ship, with a slight glimmer as he looks down at you.

Haltingly, you lift your hand to his right cheek, stopping right next to it.

“Can I?” he nods and your rest your hand where you intended, and he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply and leaning into your touch, a pitiful look washing your face. “How long haven’t you been touched like this?”

“Since I swore to the Creed.” he confides, in a soft voice.

“That’s a long time.”

“I know.” he agrees and you bring your face close to his.

“Is this okay?” you question, not wanting to go to hard and break any boundaries.

“Yeah” Smiling up at him, you lean up and press your lips to the skin on the side of his neck, tugging down at his collar. Shuddering next to your ear, Din lets out a soft moan.

Your hands roam the front of his body, before tapping against his chest plate.

“Can i take this off?”

“Please” he almost begs.

One by one, you remove the pieces of beskar that adorn his body, letting him discard of your own clothes after, and finally having you take off his last layer of clothing. This alternate game, painfully slow eased the nervousness out of the both of you - even though he was the inexperienced one, you were more nervous to be with him than you had with any other man.

The others were just quick affairs or one night stands, no one ever sticking around long enough to tell you the things he told you a few minutes ago. Always using you as a quick fix for whatever was wrong with their lives. But he was different. He was special, and you wanted to make this special for him, in return.

Once you both stood bare-skinned in front of each other, his hands sneak around your waist, cold skin making you hiss.

“Your hands are cold.” you whisper against his lips, that curiously explore your face.

“Sorry.” he mumbles

“It’s okay.”

You push the both of you in the bed, until the back of his knees hits its edge, and he sits down with you standing in between his legs.

“Y/N, I …um…I-I…I-I d-don’t know how to…”

“Shhh,” you mumble against his lips “It’s okay, I’ll start and when or if you feel comfortable you can take over. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Returning to kiss his lips, you kneel down, breaking the kiss only when your skin hits the floor beneath you. You place one of your hands on his toned stomach, gently pushing it so that he gets the hint and lays down on the bed. Running your hands up his legs, you feel his every muscle harden under your palms.

“Try and relax. I’m not going anywhere.” Din leans his head back and moans softly as your hands work their way up and down his length. You can feel the way his body tenses up when your fingers wrap around his girth.

His fingers unconsciously find their way into your hair, gripping at it as you lick up and down the length of his cock. Every wet trail your tongue leaves pulling another pornographic moan from the man, each louder than the previous one.

You look up at him before opening your mouth and finally sinking onto him fully, earning a grunt of approval.

“How does that feel?” you ask one time, bringing your lips to the top of his head, before popping away.

“Bloody great...”

When you feel that he is starting to get close, you pull away and quickly step onto the bed to straddle him and he instinctively sits up, face close to yours.

Taking the tip of his cock, you line it up with your entrance eager to work on your own pleasure “Can I?”

Looking down at him, he nods and you slowly sink down onto him, moaning at the way he agonizingly stretches you.

“Maker,” Din moans as you settle on his cock, all of his length buried deep inside of you. “Move, please.” He practically begs you.

“Give me your hands” you instruct and he obeys, you guiding his hands so that they are gripping the soft flesh of your hips.

You start slowly moving your hips up and down, grinding against his pelvis every time you come down on him. At first he doesn’t move, just letting you get used to your own rhythm but as soon as he gets more eager, his own hips start thrusting up to meet yours, joining you in perfect synchrony.

The hands that previously rested on your hips part ways in different directions, one of them coming up to cradle the back of you head and the other slides to rest on your bottom. Instinctively, you throw your arms against his shoulder, one hand finding the back of his head as you both keep thrusting. There was no getting closer than this - him buried balls deep inside of you all the while hugging you against his body.

Groaning, he lifts his hips causing you to buckle your legs around his waist as he manages to flip you over, so that now he was the one on top. You refrain from a moan to come out of your mouth.

“Seems like you’re getting the hang of it.”

He only chuckles against the curve of your neck, before resuming the rhythm at which he was working before.

“Y/N...Fuck”

“Mando...”

“It’s Din.” he lets out between breaths.

“What?” you pant.

“The name. It’s Din.”

The knot in your stomach begins to tighten, and your walls squeezing around his cock. Your moans become more frequent as you feel your high growing. You grab one of Din’s hands and guide it down to where your bodies are connected.

“Feel this?” you pant and he hums in response “The hard bud, it’s the clit. Rub it in circles. It feels good.” You guide his fingers a few times circling your clit and once you feel like he has the hang of it, you let him do it on his own.

“Like this?” he pants, stroking it fast causing you to see stars.

“Exactly like that.”

You can feel your orgasm getting closer and by the way he is tensing, you can tell he is about to cum too, the only sounds in the room being those of your breathings and sloppy kisses, and your skin slapping together.

Your hips connect one last time before your back arches off the bed, pressing your nipples against his soft chest and Din’s body tenses, groaning in pleasure as his hot cum dashes your insides.

But he doesn’t stop rubbing your clit until you come down from your own high as he pulls out, rolling to your side, and you let out a soft whimper at the emptiness.

You’re sprawled out next to him and looking over at you, he chuckles adoringly and wipes a bead of sweat from the side of your forehead before placing a kiss to it. You manage a soft smile, eyes meeting his.

His eyes then trace the shape of your body, glazing over the red handprints your hips and waist.

You roll over onto your side, draping one hand over his chest as he wraps his arms around you gently, pulling you to him, and burying his face in your hair. You close your eyes and inhale his scent.

“I love you.” You smile a bit but don’t open your eyes only whispering the same words as he smiles against your forehead, leaning down to kiss it before resting his chin on the top of your head as he holds you against his body for the rest of the night.

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#winchesterxxi #mine #star wars #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #smut #fluff #pedro pascal

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whump-only · 3 years

Text

meal time -- Golden (vamp whump)

Part 2 of my mini vampire-whump series. Wherein Pollen tries out this whole feeding a vampire thing.

tw: captivity, starvation/hunger, light gore (description of prior injury), it/its as pronouns, manhandling, reference to broken bones, suffocation/drowning, knives + cut skin, and who can forget blood

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“Come on, vampy. Breakfast,” Pollen called. Or, he guessed, this was technically its dinner. Since, nocturnal, right?

The thing didn’t stir under its blanket. With a little jolt of concern and hope, Pollen wondered if the shock of having its legs broken just straight up killed it. Pollen placed the dog bowl down on the ground, with the cube of cow’s blood sliding around the bottom, already a small pool of it melted.

With one hand Pollen pinned it down, putting his weight into it. This elicited a moan so at least it wasn’t dead. Yippee. He pulled down the blanket, revealing its thick matted hair and the iron straps that held its muzzle in place. This also meant it was on its stomach, which was good. Its bound hands must be pinned below it.

Pollen fiddled with the key for what felt like far too long until the lock holding the muzzle shut dropped open. He pocketed the lock but hesitated to pull the muzzle away from its face, what if it tried to bite? But he couldn’t leave it like this… Pollen held its hair with one hand and yanked the muzzle off with the other, then swiftly scrambled up and away.

His worry was for nothing, because it didn’t react at all, except to groan. The bottom of its face looked all discolored and part of it was torn open and oozing blood or something.

Pollen grimaced. With his foot he shifted the bowl closer so it was right near the vampire’s head. He then bounded up the stairs and slammed the door shut.

——

When Pollen returned that night, the vampire was curled up away from the bowl, again tucked entirely under the blanket. Pollen checked and the cube had melted, leaving the bowl nearly full of the dark liquid.

It didn’t drink any? Pollen wondered. He stared at the bowl for a while, then finally decided to dump the old stuff and put in a new cube of frozen cow blood. Again, he pushed the bowl so that it was right near where he assumed the hiding vampire’s head was.

“Come on. Food. Drink,” he encouraged, tapping its back with his toe.

It growled from under the blanket.

Pollen left hastily.

——

The next night Pollen managed a few hours of sleep but still woke and lay awake for hours before getting up to check on the vampire.

He felt a sense of relief at seeing that creature right where he left it. But the bowl was also exactly where he left it, untouched.

Was it too sick to eat? That was really possible considering its almost catatonic state. Pollen figured it’d only get even weaker if it didn’t eat soon. It was strange that Hyde hadn’t mentioned this… His skin crawled from the thought of Hyde blaming him for killing his little pet.

Perhaps the vampire just needed to smell the blood or taste it to be… inspired.

Pollen pulled its blanket down off its head, careful to draw his hands away quickly. It growled and squeezed its eyes shut angrily. It was still unmuzzled and now under closer observation, Pollen could see its mouth was all blistered and the sides were torn open, half scabbed and still open.

Pollen gagged. Trying not to look directly at it, he cupped a bit of the cow’s blood in his hands then splashed it onto the vampire’s face.

The vampire huffed in surprise and opened its eyes ever so slightly. Pollen didn’t think he imagined its nose twitching a bit and it swallowing, though it was hard to tell under the dim yellow light.

“Come on. Smells good right? Drink, it’s right there,” Pollen encouraged.

The vampire stared at him for a beat before closing its eyes again.

“Hey!” Pollen said, and splashed a bit more onto it.

It scrunched its nose and looked him over with one eye before defiantly closing it again.

“Fuck,” Pollen sighed, then turned to climb the stairs. “So stubborn…”

Pollen closed the basement door behind himself. Right there, on the counter in front of him, lay the vampire’s muzzle that he’d dropped there after taking it off.

Pollen tried to walk past it. Twice. Finally after rocking on his heels he snatched it up and flipped it over.

A silver bit. Designed to pressed into the mouth, burning lips and tongue.

Pollen chuckled emptily. That would do it.

——

Pollen trudged down the stairs. Unsurprisingly the vampire was under its blanket. Its bowl was full.

“Come on, vamp. You’re gonna starve,” he complained. Pollen knew these things were resilient but they still needed food, right?

Pollen tried to push the still-blanketed vampire onto its back but it resisted, making a low sound, not quite a growl. Pollen put a little more weight into his foot, until he was able to fully pin the creature on its back.

With his boot Pollen tapped the lump of blanket until he thought he found where its bound hands were, and then by stepping down, pinned its hands into its chest. Pollen held his breath and ripped down the blanket, revealing the vampire’s glowering stare and what looked like a scowl behind its ripped lips.

“I hate you too,” Pollen informed it, then grabbed its bowl.

Pollen tipped the bowl, aiming the cow’s blood at the creatures mouth. But the vampire kept its mouth firmly shut so the liquid splattered all over its face and chest.

“God damn it,” Pollen muttered. Was it doing this on purpose? A little protest?

Pollen stepped away to strategize. He could wait the creature out, eventually it would get hungry enough and drink. Right? But what if it didn’t? Maybe it’d had enough and was trying to kill itself. Could he could force it to open its mouth long enough to poor the liquid down? That would be hard. He didn’t want to touch its face. Did vampires even like cow’s blood?

Pollen placed the bowl on the ground, by now the cow’s blood was nearly all gone, poured out and wasted. But there was a good inch left.

Pollen got a firm grip on the vampire’s hair. It winced a bit, before he even pulled.

Pollen took a deep breath and lifted the vampire’s head and smashed it into the bowl. The vampire immediately started to thrash and cough and wail. Pollen lifted its head above the blood for two seconds, letting it gasp for air, then pressed its face down into the bowl again. He continued like this four or five more times before releasing it.

Its whole face was covered in the watery blood, but it looked more like it’d gone for a swim than for a meal. It took shuddering breaths for a while, then as if declaring itself finished, pulled the blanket back over its head.

Pollen checked the bowl. It was pretty much empty but most of the blood had probably been splashed out instead of swallowed. Pollen decided that was enough for the day.

———

Pollen returned the next morning, ready with a fresh bowl of melted cow’s blood.

The vampire whimpered as Pollen made his way down the steps, clearly less indifferent than before.

“Don’t cry at me. Are you gonna eat today? Hm?” Pollen asked it, and set the bowl down by its head.

The vampire didn’t move to drink so Pollen ripped away its blanket and took it by its hair again. It made a long, sad whine.

“I know. But I can’t let you turn to dust on my watch,” Pollen explained, then dunked the vampire’s head into the bowl, trying to keep its mouth under and nose above the liquid.

Like last time the vampire thrashed and growled. Pollen lifted its head and it seemed to cough blood back into the bowl before Pollen pushed it under again. Dunk. Breathe. Dunk. Breathe.

It didn’t seem like the blood was actually going anywhere except the floor. Pollen dropped the thing’s head to the side of the bowl and sighed. It was hopeless.

Maybe he could threaten it. Pollen got up and inspected the toolbox that Hyde had left. Many of the tools felt untouchable, too gruesome to consider, and the rest were useless. There was a little pocket knife… Pollen flicked it open.

The vampire had closed its eyes again. Pollen pointed the knife at it, accusingly. “If you don’t drink everything in that bowl, I’m gonna cut you!” he announced, testing out the words.

The vampire huffed without opening its eyes. Pollen doubted the vampire would even understand why it was being hurt, if Pollen really started cutting it. How absurd this must all be for a creature like that. To wake up one day in this nightmare. Pollen felt his resolve draining. “Shit.”

Pollen looked at his reflection in the blade of the pocket knife. The thought that entered his mind was so absurd that he laughed out loud.

And yet… Pollen chewed his lip. He couldn’t be this soft. It was a vampire. Human blood was off limits. Didn’t Hyde say that? Right? Pollen wasn’t sure.

Maybe a little bit of human blood would make it less… sick. Less depressed too.

Pollen rolled his eyes at how much of a pushover he was for this. He’d never tell Hyde.

Pollen crouched over the bowl that still had the cow’s blood. He took a few deep breaths then lightly pressed the blade into the pad of his pinkie finger. He hissed as it sliced open the skin but just as quickly the pain faded to a throb. A bead of blood welled up and slid off his finger, into the bowl, one drop of human’s blood lost in an ocean of cow’s blood. Plink.

Pollen glanced at the vampire and his heart skipped a beat. It was staring directly at him, eyes alert and wide. Its irises were an undeniably beautiful color. Gold was rare for vampires.

Pollen grinned in triumph even though his heart thrummed in his chest from its hungry attention. “Yeah, you can smell it right? You want this?”

The vampire’s nose twitched a bit, as if to confirm.

Two more drops landed in the bowl. Plip. Plip. He’d really captured its attention now. It really was a beastly thing, so hungry for human blood.

Pollen pressed his thumb just below the cut, pushing out a few more drops of blood. Plip. Plip plip plip. Plip. It seemed the vampire breathed a little faster, imperceptibly strained toward the bowl. But it made no moves, no sound.

Pollen stuck his hurt pinkie into his mouth and stood up. He nudged the bowl toward the vampire, until the bowl touched the thing’s forehead.

“Come on. I know you’re tempted,” he whispered.

The vampire’s nose still twitched but it somehow still didn’t move.

Pollen took a seat on the bottom stair. They were both out of each other’s reach.

The vampire glanced at him, sizing him up, then the bowl, and Pollen thought he could see the gears churning in its brain.

Finally, it shifted. Pollen held his breath as it laboriously got up on its elbows and lifted its head. It gave the blood a sniff and at last, lowered its mouth to the liquid and took free swallows. It even licked the bottom of the bowl.

Pollen waited until it was finished before getting up. It startled, shooting Pollen a glare.

But Pollen was just amused. “Good job today, Goldie,” he said, remembering Hyde’s nickname for it.

#vampire whump #whump writing #golden the vamp #captivity #starvation #gore #it/its pronouns #manhandling #broken bones #drowning #suffocation #knives #blood

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the-a-word-2214 · 3 years

Text

A.L.F.

summary: the A.L.F. are on the move and stumble upon a lost girl on their way to finding Okja. Inspired by the events of the movie Okja.

pairing: Jay x reader

word count: 1,543

warnings: language, fluff, possibly sensitive subjects, mentions of kidnapping and neglect, mentions of medical equipment

soundtrack: Annie’s Song- John Denver

The grime under your fingernails had started to become unbearable. The gnawing feeling of the zip ties around your wrists was enough for you to want to scream.

There should be a village coming to look for you, but alas, no one was coming. Your own father had sold you in exchange for the last bit of food that he could find at the market. So here you were, alone and dirty thirty days later in the deepest of basements. In Korea. You were beyond dirty, your once colorful blue hair now faded as your roots peaked through.

Your ribs were now showing, you’d dropped about ten pounds in the span of a month. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. Just as you went to poke at the stale bread that was left on the dingy floor, a commotion could be heard upstairs. Murmuring and screams of pain sounded as a smoke bomb was dropped next to the door of the basement.

A “thunk” knocked against the door as it was broken open with a hefty shove. Five mysterious figures in masks surrounded you as you cowered towards the wall. They took off their ski masks as an authorative figure bent down to be eye level with you. The tight suit pants intrigued you as you looked over his figure.

His kind and inviting eyes mystified you as he gave you the smallest of smiles. “We are the Animal Liberation Front, we’re here to save you.” His voice came out hushed and gentle as he sliced the zip ties around your wrists with a knife. He handed the knife back to a girl with red hair before he scooped you up and carried you away.

The next few moments were a blur as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Your thoughts wavering as you tried to understand what was happening. Your blood pressure dropped rapidly as they fed an IV through a bag and hooked it up to your arm. The hands that once held you before now cradled your head as he lead your eyes up to his.

“It’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.” You heard him say just before you drifted off into the blackness of your subconscious.

———————————————————

You awoke to a pounding headache and a new sensitivity to light. The room around you was unfamiliar, a hotel room. The same five bodies from before were surrounding you, their appearances all different from one another.

The kind man from before was next to your bedside, his warm hand over yours. “My name is Jay. This is Red, Blonde, Silver, and K.” He pointed to each individual as he spoke.

“You’re the Animal Liberation Front.” Yes. That was it. Your memory, although a little foggy, hung onto the words that he said before you drifted into unconsciousness.

A hint of a smile plays at Jay’s lips as he gives you a confirming nod. “Yes, that’s correct. And you are (Y/N) (L/N). You lived with your father before you were kidnapped, is that correct?”

Tears swelled in your eyes as you looked towards the floor. “That’s not right, h-he sold me. He sent me to Korea in exchange for food.” Your voice wavered as you uttered the words that you denied in your mind every day.

Silver and Red looked to the ground after hearing your story. It was unfathomable that a father could do that to his only child. It was your reality though, and you could only grow from it.

“We’re really sorry, (Y/N). Although, we have a proposition for you. Show her Jay.” This was the first time that you’d heard blonde speak, he was evidently Australian.

Jay shows you images of past missions on an iPad. The sight of them reclaiming helpless animals makes your heart beat twice as fast. You’re snapped back to reality when Jay stops speaking. “Hm? Yes?”

A soft chuckle passes his lips as he hands the iPad back to K. “We want you to join us. We stop animal abusing corporations like Mirando along with many others. Our credo is set in stone and our mission is clear; save the planet, one animal at a time. So, what do you say? We will only begin your initiation if you agree.”

Before he can get another word out, you’re agreeing. “Yes, I’ll do it. I want to join you.” This was new, exciting, enticing. Their cause was noble, no one could deny that.

That was all it took, suddenly Jay was pulling you into a hug, the smell of his strong cologne intoxicating. You slightly chuckled before pulling away, the kind gesture made you realize how touch starved you were.

———————————————————

That leads me to your current predicament, shaky hands gripped the edge of a skyscraper as you dangled over the ledge. Blonde and Jay had their hands outstretched to you, they slowly began pulling you up. It was beyond terrifying but apparently that’s what it took to initiate someone into the A.L.F.

Your breaths were heavy and fervent as you stood atop the ledge and walked into the hotel room where you all were staying. The suit-clad man was who you clang to first, his intelligent mind and calm demeanor drew you in like a magnet. He was your boss first and foremost, secondly, he was your friend. An ally to turn to when things went wrong.

This newfound love made your heart swell with joy as you wrapped your arms tighter around Jay.

Your affection was interrupted just as a group known as the Black Chalk infiltrated the room, tear gas was misted into the air as batons were swung left and right, hitting your teammates.

“No!” You cried as you reached out for them just as a blow hit the back of your head. Your vision blurred once more as you grabbed onto Jay’s hand. He grabbed onto it, intertwining your fingers as he is struck down as well.

With the last bit of strength that he has, he pulls you towards him and dashes out. A limp to his step but he is able to run away nonetheless. With you in his arms like you once were all those years ago, he takes off down the street until he reaches a waiting truck to take you both to safety.

You catch glimpses of your team in handcuffs as the door slides down. With bated breath, you slink down the wall. Your eyes drift to the gaping wound on Jay’s stomach, blood begins to pool at the site. His eyes drift closed as you catch his head in your arms, moving him to your lap.

You let out an inhuman sound, a horrid sob. “K! We need help now!” You screech at him as he immediately gets on the phone with what you assume is a medic. You look down to the man that you’re so desperately in love with and stroke his hair away from his face.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Jay. I need you. I love you.” You press a gentle kiss to his slick forehead.

———————————————————

You never leave his side as the medic works, she makes quick work of an IV and begins to also work in a blood transfusion while she orders you to put pressure on the wound. All you can do is nod as you heed her commands.

Once she finishes, she checks his vitals before K drops her off and you drive to another hotel room. It’s as if the constant places that you called home kept constantly changing. Hotel room after hotel room, it was always what you woke up in.

The A.L.F. was a gratifying yet tiring job. One of the rewards of it was meeting and having Jay by your side. He made even your darkest day brighter, while also being a constant reminder of your team’s main goal.

You and K help your superior into the hotel room, your friend leaves the two of you alone for some privacy.

Your movements are careful as you ease him onto the bed. His eyes are as calm as usual, they hold a sense of nervousness for once though.

“I heard you.” He mutters as he looks at your hands, the nail polish on your nails chipped and worn down.

“Hm? Heard me when?”

“In the truck, I heard what you said. You told me that you loved me, that you needed me.” His lips curl upwards as his eyebrow quirks up.

You can’t help the blush that makes an appearance on your cheeks. “I did say that. You’re right.”

“Well, did you mean it? I have to know. You know how I feel about you, Blue.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease. An affectionate gesture recalling the color of your hair. His voice wavers as he reaches his hand out to touch yours, brushing his fingers lightly against the top of your hand.

You look to his hand and take it, enveloping it in your own. “Yes, I do.”

He smiles even wider and pulls you into a soft kiss. Your lips brushing against each other’s clumsily before you both become sure of yourselves.

This was the start of something beautiful, you just knew it was.

#paul dano #okja 2017 #okja #jay #jay x reader #red #silver #blonde #animal liberation front #Alf #red okja #silver okja #blonde okja #jay okja #k #k okja #jake gyllenhaal #is this self indulgent? yes #paul dano x reader

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