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sserajeans · 6 months

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just for a moment

hanni pham x fem! reader

synopsis: you and your co-star are tasked to make a song for your web drama's soundtrack. your co-star happens to be a childhood friend whom you've had history with.

genre + others: lsrfm! reader, idol au, childhood friends to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff, second chance ish?

notes: not requested, PLS READ THE LYRICS IT'LL MATTER!!!!, how i look delaying yail update 😂😂, also yes another hsmtmts inspired oneshot, pics from @/wiotas

"what do we even fucking write about?"

"y/n..."

"sorry..."

how did you get here? glad you asked!

it's the year 2025, and a team of producers at hybe are on the works for a minor project: a web drama promoting support for the lgbtq+.

you've talked about how odd it was to your best friend, and groupmate, yunjin.

"probably good for publicity, girl. like 'make everyone know we're not homophobic!' kinda thing." was all she had to say about it, which was likely true anyways.

you were convinced the casting was done at random honestly, but it was obvious they wanted a mix of groups to garner more attention. and that landed you the lead role with, you guessed it, ms. hanni pham!

why you two when you each had members who fit the actress role better? well, that's where you thought the random part came to play.

filming wasn't much of an issue. you were comfortable with hanni, and you two worked well on and off screen, just as expected considering your history. the director even pointed out your "remarkable chemistry", but she didn't have to know why it was that way.

as a matter of fact, you guys were about to wrap up in a few days. it was a wild past couple of weeks, but it was nice to get to spend more time with hanni again.

i mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like you two cut each other off when you moved to korea, but the talking definitely decreased, and the filming made up for lost time!

now, on one of the last days of filming, your respective managers sat you two in a conference room together, and dropped the news that you'd have to compose a new song just for the web drama's soundtrack.

the task in itself didn't bother you at all, and you were sure it didn't bother hanni too. you two were experienced in songwriting and composing, your names on a couple of song credits to count, so this was actually much easier than acting.

the issue was that you had enough going on for certain... feelings to resurface.

you see, the plot of the web drama hit a little too close to home for you. i mean seriously, childhood friends with feelings for each other, but couldn't take things further due to complications, then having to work together acting in some play.

it sounded a lot like your story.

hell, they even had your character do swimming! the same sport you excelled in back in australia.

the only reason nothing has gotten too awkward on that note yet, was because of your other labelmates being there like boynextdoor's leehan, minji and danielle, even your fellow members kazuha and yunjin.

with them around, you got to reconnect with hanni, but with a couple safe boundaries! now that you two were tasked to work on something alone though? you were scared things were going to be different.

so that's what brought you two here, together, in the music room. hanni seated facing the table with a pen and paper, you on the floor with your guitar in hand.

you were strumming to any chord shape that could come to mind in hopes of finding a melody that you could build off of, and hanni was tapping the end of her pencil on her forehead for any word, lyric, or rhyme that could work.

nothing came.

so engrossed in your respective tasks, the two of you didn't notice a shadow behind the translucent door, so when a knock came, you levitated off the floor for a millisecond, and hanni let out a soft yelp.

"hey you two~"

huh yunjin.

"how are my besties doing!" she came in doing a little dance, first walking over to check on what hanni was writing before landing on the floor beside you.

"we're stuck." you muttered, head against the wall behind you.

"oh... i see." yunjin shrugged her eyebrows in confusion, because she had just came from peeking over at hanni's notebook and was 100% sure she had lines written down.

"well, let's see... you got the genre down that suits the two of you so there's that. romance obviously sells, so there's that too. maybe you guys should try... writing while in character?" yunjin did her best to help the two of you, as the mutual best friend and seasoned singer-songwriter. "or if there's an experience you guys have had before, that would definitely help. real raw emotion ya know?"

"anyways," the eldest huffed and got up from the floor, messing up your hair and hanni's before heading for the door to leave the room. "i gotta get going. you two don't come home too late okay?"

you and hanni nodded before resuming. after a couple minutes, you realized that maybe you two will have to be communicating more if it meant writing a song together.

"hey han, do you have anything written?" hanni froze for a second before turning around on her chair.

truth was she did. she wrote them down specifically as yunjin started telling you two to write based on experiences.

"i... uh... kind of? just a couple lines, i don't know how i feel about them though."

"can i take a look? might help a bit."

"oh yeah... sure..."

there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, but it'd look awfully suspicious if she scratched out lines right before you'd check.

"ah..." the initial reaction was surprise for you, and a million thoughts came racing through your head.

"yeah! it's nothing much... but i figured it was better than nothing...."

"no yeah! for sure! i'm kinda getting the vibe, wait here." you turned around and picked up your guitar from the floor and took a seat beside hanni. "uhm... okay let's try... this?"

you freestyled a riff on your guitar, allowing your fingers to move on its own to play what felt right. it resulted in one of the most simple yet enchanting melodies that seemed perfect for your song's intro.

"hey that sounds perfect! i love it!" hanni cheered and gave you a thumbs up. "okay so... since you're doing your little guitar intro, perhaps we have the first line written in your character's point of view?"

"sure... okay... uhm..." it took you a couple seconds to think of something, or to get in character on the spot. but then you remembered yunjin's advice.

an experience you guys have had before.

"uh... how's this..." you fiddled with your hands as hanni nodded along, telling you to go on with your suggestion. after about half a minute, you had a two-liner with some sort of melody that matched your guitar intro. "i fell in love with the only girl who knows what i'm about."

hanni froze for a second, which didn't go unnoticed by you, but continued nodding along as she wrote down the lines. "i like your voice in this genre."

"oh..." you looked up from your guitar and faced her side profile as she was still facing her notebook. you felt your face warm a little, but not too much for it to gain color. "that's a lot coming from you. i have your lee mujin service episode on loop."

hanni smiled, a sight you'd never get tired of seeing. "a fan, huh? which part's your favorite?" she turned to look at you, a smirk on her face to mask the flustered and proud version of herself having received praise for her work from you of all people.

she continued writing a line underneath yours, a sudden burst of inspiration coming over her.

"probably lucky."

of course it's the song about being in love with your best friend.

she chuckled at your answer. hanni wasn't dense, and she knew you weren't either.

okay maybe you were, just slightly, but you pick up on context clues.

but point is, she knew what that implied, and what everything that came between the two of you the past few weeks could've felt like for you.

but just as she was getting somewhere, her train of thought was interrupted by your "burst of epiphany", as one would call it.

"oh hey, hear this out. i think it sounds like chorus material." you tapped her shoulder and positioned your hands across the frets of your guitar. you sounded a lot happier, more energy than you did earlier in the day as you finally got a feel of what to write and play.

when we're underneath the lights, my heart's no longer broken, for a moment, just for a moment

in that moment, hanni's mind rushed with too many emotions. objectively, the melody was beautiful. your voice made it better, the guitar felt like it had a voice of its own, and the lyrics. god, the lyrics.

she knew for sure you felt what she felt.

the two of you stayed in that music room a couple more hours, discovering a new type of comfort in a person the other has always known. like reading a book you've had forever, and feeling a newfound joy in a character that has always been there.

by the end of the day, you and hanni seemed to have switched roles, your guitar in her hands, and her notebook in yours.

you were finishing up a final copy of the first half of the song along with chords in case you'd forget the sound. there was also a copy of the both of you singing on your respective voice note apps. (which, unbeknownst to you, would be on repeat for hanni later that night.)

"here we go." you sighed, it took a lot of effort trying to make handwriting like yours legible. you've always hated it. teachers back in elementary all throughout high school would always mark your papers low despite almost flawless answers, just for your handwriting.

"i've always liked your handwriting..." hanni muttered as she admired your written work, unknowingly smiling to herself.

"oh.. thanks. i've always hated it."

"i know." hanni looked up at you, observing the sheepish smile on your face. she knew all about why you hated it, and she understood, but to her, it was an art. a part of you. she thought, "that's why i like it."

there was partial truth into that. besides it being a funny add-on to hanni's compliment, it's always been her thing to love stuff about you that you hated, even if it was something as small as handwriting.

back when you two were together (or whatever that was you had back in australia before you left, neither of you stuck a label on it), she'd always talk long speeches about how your handwriting was an art. something so significantly you that you shouldn't change, and that even if you hated it, she'd love it twice as much in place of you.

as you two shared a couple more laughs, a notification popped up on both of your phones. yours first, then hanni's a second later.

a snort accidentally escaped your system as you read the texts. "sorry.. is it yunjin?"

hanni let out the loudest laugh before nodding and exchanging phones with you to read what the older sent to the other. it was the same message in different forms, panicking to get you home before chaewon freaked out and took it out on yunjin, then proceeding to fear minji and her "wrath".

despite laughing at your member's worry, the two of you stood up to pack up, which really didn't take much anyways. you slid your guitar in its case, hanni hid her notebook in her bag.

walking out of the room to the lobby together side by side was probably the most stomach-churning activity of the day. and you literally had to write a love song about each other with each other. but there was something in the way it felt when your hands touched.

as you reached the part of the building where you finally had to part ways, the two of you faced each other. both expecting something, but not quite sure with what they were expecting.

"i.. uh... it was nice to reconnect today." she started off, awfully awkward at it too.

"yeah... it was..." you smiled, hand reaching for the back of your neck to scratch. a nervous habit. "i'll let you know if i think of anything tonight."

"yeah, same here." hanni nodded back, though a pinch of disappointment evident on her face. maybe she was expecting more, or maybe it was too soon. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah... see ya." you slowly turned around, head racing.

should you say something? should you save it for another time? would it make things awkward tomorrow?

screw it. live in the present, right?

"han... for the record, my heart does still stop when i see you."

#hanni pham x reader #hanni x reader #hanni imagines #hanni pham imagines #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #girlgroup imagines #hanni fanfic #Spotify

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

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Letterman Jacket

Javier Peña x F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tensions come to a head between you and Javier on the private jet back to Bogotá after a long, frustrating day. Or rather - after six long, frustrating years of bad blood.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: My first PW(much)P, enemies to lovers, arguing, swearing, drinking, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, thigh riding, no use of Y/N, soft!Javier

Notes: After obsessing over this damn jacket forever, I finally pulled the trigger. This is my first ever Javier, and I know he’s not perfect, but my 2023 resolution is to not overthink things, and I had a blast writing this in a couple of days since the idea came to me. I’m so nervous posting this, but excited to have finally made a start with Javier. Please be gentle with me ❤️

P.S. I’m going on my honeymoon the next 2 weeks. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around, and I also have new content all queued up for @fuckyeahpedropascal! See you!

I’m still finding Javier’s voice, but my understanding and interpretation of this man so far is definitely shaped by @the-ginger-hedge-witch character analyses and The Crush (which I’m still catching up on). Thank you Professor Ren for sharing your insight into our favourite DEA agent 🥰

It’s cold.

Why is it cold in fucking Miami?

If only you’d checked the weather report beforehand - oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t exactly given much notice, even less detail, when the phone call came this morning. Not that 4am should count as "morning" in your books.

We found him.

Who?

Jurado. Take the first flight out to Curacao this morning, it’s in two hours. We’re taking him in and flying straight to Miami. Get the papers ready, he’ll be testifying tomorrow.

What the actual fuck, Peña -

You can’t even remember what you stuffed into your weekender bag after he hung up without another word. Mostly legal papers and pens and a change of clothes - all of which are now redundant. The bag hangs heavy in your grip, the taste of failure bitter in your mouth.

Something warm descends onto your shoulders, and you almost jump out of your skin, eyes wide as they snap up. Javier isn’t looking at you though, his unseeing gaze trained on the tips of his brown leather boots, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He trudges across the tarmac, the bravado that is usually so loud in his walk conspicuously absent.

Reaching up, you pull his jacket tighter with your free hand, the stretch of the fabric distorting the bold letters DEA emblazoned on the left lapel. He doesn’t wear it often - he’s in suits mostly these days, which you can tell pisses him off to no end. He almost never does his tie up properly, a subtle middle finger to the establishment, perhaps.

Your lips twitch despite yourself. Peña’s always been happier going on literal wild goose chases.

The jacket easily engulfs you, blocking out the unwelcome evening chill. You breathe in the faint but unmistakable scent of cigarettes and you can feel the weight of a full box swing against your side. He keeps insisting he’s trying to quit, but obviously not very hard.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel any warmer in the plane cabin, and you put your arms through the sleeves of the jacket properly before sinking heavily into one of the plush leather seats with a sigh, relieved to get off your sore feet.

You don’t notice the small plane taking off with just the two of you, sitting silently opposite each other until the flight path levels, at which point Javier promptly heads to the small bar at the end of the cabin and comes back with two generous glasses of whiskey.

Sipping in silence, you let your gaze settle on him, no subtlety left in the tank after your shitty day at twenty hours and counting. Javier, in turn, stares listlessly out of the window, uninterested in your scrutiny. Strands of mussed hair fall over his tired eyes, the dark circles underneath shadowing his entire countenance.

His pink shirt, which was drenched in sweat when he’d finally, finally caught up to Jurado in that square in Curacao, has long dried in the cool Miami air. And of course it’s tight and the neckline unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the poor fabric stretched to an inch of its life by his obnoxiously wide shoulders. It’s tucked into even tighter jeans that seem to struggle to contain all of him.

Honestly, it’s a damn miracle he could do any running at all in this ensemble.

You stare at the little fold-up table between the two of you. It had been covered in papers en route to Miami just hours ago, the Cali moneyman sitting exactly where you are now. Jurado agreed to the lesser charges of money laundering and racketeering in exchange for testifying for the DEA. You had him. He was in that interview room. The lawyers from the Miami county court were ready to take over.

But somehow, that smarmy, rotund excuse of a cartel lawyer got there first.

A heavy sigh catches your ear over the whir of the plane engines, and you watch as Javier drags one heavy hand over his face, the tips of his thick fingers resting above his pursed lips, before he shakes his head.

The words are out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘Stop it.’

Dark eyes flicker your way, brows drawing into a frown. ‘What?’

Your empty glass clunks loudly when it hits the table. ‘Stop beating yourself up. We both know this is out of our hands. Quit the self-martyrdom bullshit.’

The grin comes quickly and sarcastically. You hate it. He’s never been big on smiles, but you’ve seen how his face can light up with a laugh over a drink, or at a good joke. From a distance, of course, and never in your direction. You’ve only ever had scowls and glares thrown your way.

You’re not alone though - these days, that’s all anyone ever gets from him.

Leaning back in his chair, one big palm cradling the bottom of the crystal tumbler that looks much smaller than it should, and the other resting on his thigh, Javier huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Is that what you think of me?’

‘I don’t think it. I know it.’

‘You don’t know me,’ he answers coolly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. You’re not some pouty, brooding mystery to me. I’ve been cleaning up after your mess for six fucking years.’ Shaking your head, you can’t help adding, ‘Not that you’ve ever appreciated any of it.’

He gives you a derisive snort. ‘I wasn’t aware that I should be thanking you for getting in my way at every turn.’

‘Getting in your way?’ you chuckle mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you out of jail, asshole.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’

‘Is this what all this is about? Some survivor’s guilt bullshit?’ Unperturbed by his silence, you press on. ‘Well guess what, I don’t work for you. Having the attaché in jail isn’t really a good look for our employer, so bad news, you’re a free man as long as I’m legal counsel for the DEA.’

‘It would make my life a lot fucking easier if you weren’t.’

The words are so quiet, so matter-of-fact, they have no right to hit you as hard as they do. You’re horrified to feel the sting of tears on the seam of your eyelashes, and your lips part wordlessly before you regain your voice. ‘Fuck you, Peña.’

He winces and sits up, setting his glass next to yours on the table. ‘Shit. That came out wrong -’

Nails dig into your palms as hurt threatens to claw its out of the carefully locked compartment where you keep it. ‘No, I think it came out exactly as you meant it. You’ve hated me since day one.’

‘I don’t hate you -’

You glare at him. ‘You think I don’t know what people say behind my back over drinks at the embassy bar, when I’m stuck in the office dealing with whatever legal bullshit you’ve dug yourself into? I bet you like a good laugh at my expense.’

Shifting forward in his seat, Javier reaches out and grabs your left wrist. ‘Stop it. I don’t. You know I wouldn’t.’

You try to pull back but he doesn’t budge, easily holding you in place. You bite out, ‘I’ll quit if that’s what you want. Might as well make both of our lives easier with one resignation letter.’

Javier’s hold on you tightens, and he bares his teeth in frustration. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘That’s exactly what you said you wanted just now. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind, Peña?’ you snap back.

‘I can’t,’ he snarls, his other hand finding your free wrist, almost jolting you out of your seat. He’s so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘I’ve never been able to with you.’

You go as still as the air around you, the mixed signals scrambling the wires in your already exhausted head. You narrow your eyes and him and hiss, ‘What?’

Javier heaves a sigh, breathing out the words through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. ‘You drive me up a fucking wall, woman.’

Anger surges in you, and you manage to yank both of your wrists free. Pushing him away, you spit at him with all the venom you can muster. ‘Fuck you, too!’

He growls, raking one hand through his hair before slamming it onto the fold-up table, making the glasses clink when they knock together from the force. ‘Goddamnit, won’t you just hear me? I can’t decide if I want you to shut the fuck up or if I just - want you.’

You watch his broad chest rise and fall in quick succession as he slumps in his chair, as if the last two words that are still ringing in your ears knocked the wind out of him.

Want you.

His eyes follow from under thick lashes when you reach out for the glasses, relocating them to the carpeted floor on the other side of your chair, before finding the lever underneath the table and folding it down. And you don’t miss the way his stare falls to your legs as you cross them deliberately, skirt hitching higher up, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in the column of his neck.

You tilt your head to one side in a challenge. ‘Well? What are you going to do about it, then?’

He’s out of his chair and on you in a beat, his arms caging you in as you pull him close by the collar of his shirt. You murmur against his lips, ‘You’re a fucking asshole, Peña.’

‘I know. Let me make it up to you -’ The words barely make it out of his mouth before he kisses you, lips warm and wet and pressing into yours insistently.

You let out a surprised yelp when Javier tugs you onto your feet, hot hands pushing his jacket off your shoulders but leaving it hanging from the crook of your arms. Goosebumps bloom where his fingers brush your sternum as he unbuttons your sleeveless shirt underneath, tugging it free from where it’s neatly tucked into your skirt.

You retort, ‘You’re going to make up for six years of bad blood on a three-hour flight?’

‘Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks almost conversationally, and with a casual flick, he undoes the front clasp of your bra. He breathes a raspy fuck as he palms your tits reverently, the contact making you shudder.

‘Actually, I was going to have a sit down with you. A little birdy told me some outrageous story about the DEA attaché endorsing wiretapping,’ you reply teasingly, wrestling with the small buttons on his shirt.

Javier chuckles, clever fingers sliding down your back and undoing the zipper on your pencil skirt, which pools about your now bare feet after kicking off your sensible low heels. ‘Fucking Stoddard. I knew he'd tattle on me.’

‘You better come prepared with a good defence, Peña,’ you quip, letting him spin you around and ease you into his seat, the leather still warm under your bare thighs. His pink shirt hangs open as he looms over you, so broad that he’s the only thing you see.

He hums and kisses down the side of your neck, stopping to suck on your pulse point. ‘How about a bit of incentive to go easy on me instead, hmm?’

You arch an eyebrow while he gets on one knee, then the other, but there’s no denying the wild rabbiting of your pulse despite your banter. ‘Bribery? Just one of the dirty tricks up your sleeves, Agent Peña?’

He peels your panties down the length of your thighs unhurriedly, smirking at the way you bite into your bottom lip as the scrap of fabric makes its descent. He hooks your right leg on his shoulder, then the left one, opening you up to his dark gaze as he smirks, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, cariño.’

It’s been too long. Too fucking long since you’ve been with anyone. Your hips arch clean off the leather seat at the first broad stroke of his tongue, confidently charting its way all the way up your folds. His weathered palms hold your thighs firmly apart as you writhe in his grip because it’s too much.

‘Javier,’ you breathe, meeting his almost cocky gaze as he stares up at you. He suckles wetly at your clit, lips puckering, and you buck hard into his mouth.

Granting you a brief reprieve, he moves off you with a wet smack of his lips and teases, ‘Am I making a good case for myself?’

‘Clearly not good enough if I’m still speaking in complete sentences,’ you somehow manage to counter.

He grins at you - a real one that lifts both corners of his mouth and chases away the shadows of his demons, and it has absolutely no business making your heart lurch the way that it does. ‘Touché, cariño.’

There’s no polite way of putting this. Javier eats you, meticulous and sloppy in turn, until your slick and his spit trail down the inside of your legs, and you feel the leather growing slippery underneath your bare ass. You can hear yourself over the roar of the plane engines, and you babble incoherently when he pushes his tongue into your pussy. ‘Javier, Javi -’

‘Gonna cum for me, cariño?’ He slurs as he sinks one, and then two fingers into you, biting out a filthy groan at how wet you are.

You nod desperately, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. ‘I’m so close, please -’

Pumping his fingers inside you until you squelch around them, he ducks down and laves your clit in earnest, pushing you until there’s nothing left - no air, no sound, no time and space - all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and your ears pop, and you cum so fucking hard with your hands tangled in his curls and his name on your lips.

‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs almost absent-mindedly, chasing your skin when you try to push him away. His moustache scrapes your thighs and sends a shudder running through you as you catch your breath. ‘I’m an idiot for waiting this long.’

Gently setting your legs down - not that you can feel them anyway - Javier turns his face to his right shoulder, and you watch in rapture as he smears the slick coating his mouth and chin onto his pink shirt, the wet spot staining the fabric.

Your lip curls in giddy amusement as you think to yourself - you look good on him.

Then he leans up to kiss you, and your head spins at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your scent on his moustache.

Pushing back the loose locks that now curl against his forehead, you sass, ‘That’s one trick. Are you going to show me another, Agent Peña?’

Without warning, his hands slide under your bare buttocks and he lifts you clean off the seat. You laugh and close your grip around his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your palms. You know without looking how his biceps must be straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.

He falls heavily into the chair with you straddling him, and you protest, ‘Stop, Javi, I’m going to make a mess of your jeans.’

‘I want you to make a mess,’ he declares in his rich baritone. ‘Want your pussy to soak my jeans, cariño.’

Desire flashes hot and fast up and down your spine. ‘But Javi, I just came -’ you break off as he grasps your hips and settles you onto his right thigh.

‘You can cum again,’ he shrugs with a cocksure definitiveness, coaxing a moan from you when he shifts and your folds drag along the denim. ‘Ride me, cariño.’

‘But what about you?’ You trace one palm down his bare chest and soft stomach to rest on the prominent bulge straining against the front of his tight jeans. He chokes when you give his erection a bold squeeze through the denim, which has you grinning smugly.

Covering your hand with his, he brings it up to kiss it softly. ‘Another time, it’s been a long day. Now - can I get back to making it up to you?’

Winding your arms around his neck, you rock against his thigh, feeling the wet imprint of the slick you leave behind on the coarse fabric as you move back and forth. His palms squeeze the swell of your ass reassuringly but loose enough so that you can find your own rhythm.

Javier patiently mouths his way down your neck and further, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, making you throw your head back in a gasp.

‘You look so good wearing my jacket with your gorgeous tits out,’ he praises you, letting go of your hips to push your breasts together and laps at the soft flesh with his tongue.

‘Javier,’ you whine, tipping forward to bury your face in the long line of his neck.

The same neck you’ve sometimes wanted to wring in the heat of the moment, but also caught yourself staring at when he cradles the office phone in the crook of his shoulder. You can taste the salt on his skin - sweat and sea breeze and sunshine - and when the breath catches in his throat, your hips stutter, your orgasm so close to the surface.

As if sensing you need a bit of help, he whispers into your ear. ‘I can feel you so wet for me through my jeans, cariño. You’re doing so good for me.’

Feeling his nails dig into you as he guides you over his thigh, you whimper needily, ‘I’m so close.’

‘I know you are. You can do it - cum on my thigh.’

‘Oh fuck,’ you choke, pressing your forehead into his as you begin to shake, and he brushes his nose soothingly against yours. The impending vertigo sends you crashing into him, hands trembling on his shoulders, torn between clinging on and letting go. ‘Javi - I’m cumming, oh my god -’

And then he’s lunging towards you in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as you break again, a moan in his windpipe when he feels your pussy leak into his jeans as it clenches and clenches around nothing. Needing air, you pull back to slump bonelessly against him, panting hard into his neck, his palms drawing circles over your back.

You only realise you’ve drifted off when a sudden drop in altitude wakes you, and the PA system cackles to life with the captain’s ten-minute warning to landing. From the corner of your eye, you catch Javier watching you with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’

‘Well, you did have a 4am wakeup call,’ he quips.

Sitting back on your haunches, you do up your bra and then the buttons on your now very crumpled shirt. Easing off him on wobbly legs, you pick up your panties and skirt from the floor and dress yourself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you can. You smile at Javier, watching him he button up his pink shirt, stopping at the fourth one as always.

Stepping in between his spread legs, hands on his upper thighs, you press a soft kiss to his lips. You smile and drag a finger over the wet spot you left on his jeans. ‘That was fun.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. ‘That might be an understatement of criminal proportions.’

You make to take off his jacket, but Javier shakes his head, tugging on the collar so it sits squarely on your shoulders. ‘Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.’

You can’t tell if it’s actually warmer when you step off the plane or if it’s the afterglow, but you keep the jacket on. Your respective cars are waiting on the airstrip next to each other, and Javier loads your weekender bag into the backseat before opening the door on the driver’s side, shutting it after you climb in.

You palm the steering wheel self-consciously as you stare at each other in a slightly awkward lull, before clearing your throat. ‘So, 9am sharp tomorrow at the 3rd floor conference room, Agent Peña?’

Javier smirks, but his eyes are warm as he shifts on his feet, leaning one elbow on the open window and cocks his head to one side. ‘Depends. Will you be wearing my letterman jacket?’

A bark of laughter escapes you. ‘Your letterman jacket? Should I pick up matching friendship bracelets for us before our meeting?’

With a lighthearted shake of his head, Javier half-turns to leave before stopping abruptly. Tapping two fingers on the window frame, he hesitates briefly, before looking up at you with earnest eyes, his voice quiet and almost solemn in its sincerity. ‘Thank you.’

Watching him go, your chest blooms with warmth at the eight letters and two little words you’ve waited six years to hear.

At twenty-seven minutes to nine the next morning, you’re flinging open the front door of your apartment, car keys jingling and thermos balanced precariously in one hand, when a flash of white on navy catches your attention.

For a long moment, you stand off dramatically with the jacket draped across the back of a kitchen chair, the letters DEA staring back at you - before you reach for it and shrug it on with a silly grin.

What can you say? You’ve always had a thing for letterman jackets.

More notes: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and so appreciated ❤️

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics as always 💕

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña x you #javi peña x reader #Javi Peña x fem!reader #Javi Peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #narcos fanfiction #queue

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Dirty Work 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had the worst Monday that could have ever existed. Onto Tuesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"I trust this should be amenable to your work," Mr. Laufeyson holds open the door along the east wall of his study. One you've never opened before though you're familiar with the space within. The library also opens into the hallway and keeps you busier than many of the other rooms. "When you should require it. I expect much of your work will keep you afoot."

You peer past him, his tall figure like a second shadow. You clutch your kit tight and nod. You didn't exactly bring the tools for this new role.

"I should have a blank ledger somewhere, oh and a pen of course," he advises, "given our new... arrangement, I would require a contact point."

You nod and tear your attention from the full shelves and luxurious velvet chaise. You won't get to enjoy those but they give the space a much more welcome feel than the rest of the house. You face Mr. Laufeyson as he keeps the door propped open with his foot. He slides out his phone as if it's a task.

"Never to worry, I wouldn't bother you much so long as you do your work adequately," he assures, "but in case of... emergency."

"Oh, erm," you sputter and reach into your hoodie pocket, revealing the tiny flip phone.

"Hm, vintage," he muses, "as you would."

He holds his phone, gesturing to it with his other hand. You teethe your lip before you recall the digits of your number. Your plan doesn't include a lot of talk minutes but he doesn't promise much of that. He keys them into his screen.

"You'll have mine," he taps his thumb and your phone chimes. "In case."

"Thanks, uh, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Mmmm," he hums again. "Suppose you would need some sort of proper device, a computer of sorts." He clucks and checks his watch, dropping his arm with a huff, "I've an important event shortly, I'll try to venture by the electronics shop before I return.”

You nod and fold your phone, slipping it away as you peek back into the library. He inhales deeply, "suppose you should begin. The list is on the writing desk.”

You accept the command easily. You’re even thankful for it. It gives you a proper reason to find distance. You go to the desk and look over the typed list. You don’t sit, hesitating as you wonder if it would seem lazy, maybe even presumptuous.

“Let me fetch that ledger,” he says before letting the door drift closed.

You run your finger over the top line. ‘Create a schedule’. Hmmm. You look over the bullets that fill the paper. You can only assume he refers to all of that. It’s straightforward, you can handle a schedule. It’s everything that comes after that gives you doubt.

“And you’ll have to review what my wife, ex that is, left in shambles,” Mr. Laufeyson interrupts as he pushes through again. “Her little folder is here. She was always fond of order, even though she left me in much less. This is what’s left of her handiwork,” he approaches coolly and sets down a plain fawn coloured ledger, a fountain pen, and a white folder with golden flowers on it.

“Thanks,” you eke out as his hands linger on the edges.

You sense his gaze, discerning and weighty. He leans forward slightly and you nearly take a step across as he points to the list. You follow the line of his arm and his extended finger.

“Another point to add, ‘acquire work attire’,” he instructs and turns his hand over, flippant flicking his finger in a gesture to your plain hoodie and worn gray denim. “I trust my pay should afford that necessity easily, however should you require a write-off, I suppose it could be argued as a professional expense.”

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you frown in embarrassment, “I didn’t…” You look down at yourself, wanting to hide behind your arms.

“You wouldn’t think of it, just a maid,” he dismisses, “very well, I think you have more than enough to begin. I should be some hours.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree. He is correct, there is more than enough to keep you busy.

“I will review the schedule upon my return,” he affirms. “Should you require refreshment, you recall where to go.”

You nod and cautiously reach for the ledger, sliding it closer as he backs up. You slowly sit, hovering before you let yourself rest. He lingers by the door as you roll the pen aside and put the ledger and folder parallel. You open the former and line up the list inside the cover, resuming your perusal of the bullet points.

The door closes and you keep your attention to the paper. You don’t dare a glance up until you hear his muffled footfalls cross his study. You feel as if he’s waiting for you to make a mistake. You think you might be too.

🧹

A clunk sharply pierces the tenuous peace of the empty house. You hadn’t heard the door or his approach, not even right next door, not until the hefty thunk. You listen but keep your nose down.

You’re just about done with the schedule. Two cleans throughout the week to spread the duties evenly. The main floor on Mondays, and the upper on Thursday. You’ll be able to fit in an unexpected tidying between your other to-dos.

You flutter through the pretty white and gold folder. The embossed suede speaks of a sophisticated owner. You wonder why she would ever abandon it, though you assume, a separation may not inspire sentiment.

You turn over another note. This one about the gazebo. A blurb on a repair. You’ll have too go out and check to see if it was actually done, there’s no confirmation of the job. You stop to admire her loopy writing, as elegant as the folder.

The door opens without pretense. You sit up and wiggle the pen between your index and thumb. Mr. Laufeyson as a flat white box in his hand, along with a smaller one on top. He does not near you, instead place his lot on the square table by the window.

“Here,” he orders shortly.

You rise and leave the pen in the centre of the ledger. You cross to him as he moves the smaller box aside and unfolds the two smaller flaps from the large one. You can’t help but watch curiously.

“This should suffice,” he shimmies out the cardboard insert, revealing a sleek silver laptop, “hmm?”

He shifts it towards you and lets you look it over. You put your hands behind you to keep from touching. You lean in just a little.

“It looks nice, Mr. Laufeyson. Thank you.”

“For your work, of course. These days, it is a requirement. And this,” he takes the smaller box and offers it up, “a proper work phone. It is more professional. Any calls on my behalf, you will make on this. That relic you have won’t do much.”

“Uh, yes, Mr. Laufeyson, that’s really thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful? Practical. Company property, of course,” he insists, “another point to add. Set these up. They should be functioning by the end of the day. You’ll need them to keep up with the rest of your tasks.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. I will put it on the list.”

“Mm,” he circles around you, striding to the writing desk before you can react. You follow at a few paces, not wanting to crowd him. He takes the pen and uncaps it. He adds the bullet himself. “There you are.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson,” you recite again.

He snaps the lid on the pen and his lips twitch, not quite curving, “I’ll review,” he snatches up the open ledger, your schedule open to see. You almost rush forward. You meant to rewrite it before you handed it over. It has scribbles all over it. You won’t argue.

“Go on,” he steps around the desk, waving to the side dismissively.

You return to the table and gather the laptop and phone, along with the stray box. You bring them back to the writing desk and stay standing as you free the laptop from the insert. You let your eyes edge along the top of your vision as Mr. Laufeyson sits on the chaise and browses the ledger.

You refocus and investigate the cord buried in the box as a collection of booklets fall out. You sort through them and find the one in English. You start on the front page, reading over the different buttons and features. The diagram is especially helpful. You’ve never had a computer before, not that it belongs to you.

You squint as you read the precautions. Your mind flits back and forth between your current task and everything beyond. You would go to the library sometimes and spend an hour on the PC, and in school you did all your work in the resource room. This is much fancier than any of the boxy computers you’d used before.

It says you should plug it in and charge to full before booting. You unravel the cord and search for an outlet against the wall. There’s one not far. You hook up the cord to the port on the side of the slender laptop then trail it to the wall. The little light on the side glows yellow.

Then you take the little box. A phone. The flip phone was second-hand but this is shiny and new. You’re like a kid at Christmas, not that you got much for the holiday, even when you were younger.

You slide out the small device. Your hand is unused to it. It’s not clunky like your phone. It feels easy to drop even if it’s bigger than the flip. You peel off the plastic film around the border and across the screen.

You take out the booklet and read it as closely as the first. Same thing; charge before use. You don’t want to mess up any of this. You plug it in above the computer and place it on the closed lid. You carefully sit in the chair, careful not to jostle the cords.

You peek up and find Mr. Laufeyson looking at you over the top of the ledger. His green eyes gleam and flick back down to the page. You hope he doesn’t see how clueless you are. This stuff that’s all so normal to everyone else is new to you. A job alone is a novelty still.

“You may ask it,” he says abruptly.

You wince and shrug. You don’t know what he means. His brows tweak in amusement.

“You’ve not asked about time off. I am unaware of your previous commitment, what days you had to yourself.”

You didn’t think of it but he does seem to think of everything. You twiddle your fingers on the desk. You would work as much as you need to. You still haven’t seen the final hospital bill.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I worked three shifts per week, but I was on probation,” you explain carefully, “I can work more than that.”

“How much is more?” He wonders, his thumb tapping the corner of the ledger.

You blink. You don’t know what’s appropriate. You don’t want to say too little and come off lazy, or say too much and seem ignorant.

“Six?” You utter, “six days, Mr. Laufeyson?”

His thumb stills, “per week?”

You nod. His eyes narrow and his lips thin in consideration.

“Should do,” he accepts and his eyes fall back to the page.

You think you got the right answer. You look down at the bullet points. It seems like a lot written out but surely it can’t be. Besides, the more you think about it, the more exciting it is. This house is so beautiful and this list means you get to explore it.

You don’t sink too deep into the moment of optimism. Mr. Laufeyson stands, still intent on the ledger. He paces blindly around the library, a click of his tongue as he reviews your handwriting.

“There will be some nights,” he intones, “other occasions where I require you in the evening.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you accept as you flutter the pages of the laptop instruction booklet.

“Mm,” he hums flatly, “I do think the cook liked you, didn’t she? Suppose we might retain that service for the time being.”

You nod and make a note in the corner of the list; simply, Corissa. He shuts the ledger and grips it tight. He walks around the table then turns back, coming back to you. He lays down the book on the desk.

“I won’t know until the day in question. You understand, this would be on-call. I’ve a busy life and so will you,” he girds, leaning on the book as he bends over the desk. “You will be doing more than watching little birds flapping around the garden.”

You nearly recoil as he plucks the memory out so precisely. That was careless of you. You should’ve kept your head down and just got to work. It’s a warning you’ll remember.

“I won’t, Mr. Laufeyson, I understand,” you assure.

“Not to say that you can’t,” he stands and pushes the bottom of his jacket back, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, “but only when there are no other pressing matters.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He sighs and tilts his head back, “you must resist distractions. You are prone to it. I’ve noticed.”

You chew your lip and accept the remonstrance. You’ll take it instead as advice. He is right, you do find yourself bewitched by this place at times.

“Like that man,” he says staunchly, “don’t think I forgot. I will warn you, he is my brother… regrettably. He is well above the staff and he knows it.”

You take the hint. It’s improper of you to stare. Even if he had touched you. Or maybe, you misinterpreted an accident.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Hear me when I tell you, he is not interested in the likes of you,” he sniffs, “with any luck, he won’t be much around for you to believe anything of the like.”

You nod and pick up the pen, nervously rolling it between your fingers. His reproach scalds your cheek. To think he assumes you would ever think of something like that. That you might encourage a stranger in that way.

He watches you for a moment before he spins away. He checks the time on his wrist as you reach for the ledger.

“Very well, I must be at my own work,” he declares, “as I trust you will be diligent in your own.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 7 months

Text

One of Us is Guilty; Epilogue (Final)

Azul is now gone, but the actual room is known. Perhaps they will live to tell this tale.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Jade Leech, Silver, Azul Ashengrotto, Cater Diamond, Rook Hunt

Content; Murder mystery, the ending of this tale

Content Warnings; Blood, injury, death, murder, kidnapping (aka dead dove content)

Word Count; 1.3 K

Do not put my work into AI If you enjoy my writing, check out my masterlist

Azul was gone, in much a similar manner as Cater — the only evidence serving that he was there being the shattered glasses that now lay on the ground.

“AZUL!” Jade was too late though, and this was the most emotion that he had really shown that night; the bottled emotions finally coming to the surface.

He knelt down and carefully picked up the glasses, paying no mind to the tiny shards that pricked at his skin through his gloves. Paying no mind to the pinpricks of scarlet that had begun to stain the white fabric. And he stared at the broken glass; in a way, it represented their night. Normal enough at first, but once you got too close, it cuts at you and makes you bleed… it hurts you. And Jade was hurting, he had been since he had found the Prefect’s body earlier that night.

There was no time though; to mourn, to panic, to freeze. Time would come later, now was the time for action; to stop this here and now.

“Sorry,” Jade breathed, dusting himself off, and pocketing Azul’s glasses. “Are you both alright?”

Silver and Vil both looked at Jade, taking in the slight tremble of his hands as well as the pinpricks of blood that stained his gloves. The calm mask had slipped for a mere second, but they both knew that this affected Jade just as much as it affected them.

“None of us are alright,” Vil sighed, massaging his temples. “And you don’t need to apologize; it’s okay to not be alright… especially in this situation.”

Silver nodded his head in agreement. “If it were Malleus… I would have the same reaction,” he whispered. “You’re strong, Jade.”

Jade pursed his lips but said nothing, instead just offering them both a silent nod; he got the message, but he also knew this was neither the time nor place to lose control of himself.

“But if the teacher’s lounge wasn’t the room–” Silver mused.

“The library,” Vil exclaimed, eyes widening at the realization. “Think about it; where was Rook at the beginning of all this? The library!” Vil calmed himself down though, since that outburst was quite unlike him. “And if Cater and Azul are being held there, that’s where they will likely be.”

Silver and Jade looked at each other before looking back at Vil, and they followed after him, hands on their pens; ready for the worst, but hoping for the best. Because hope was the only thing that they had now.

…

The library was brightly lit up, almost harshly so. And although it was bright, the brightness cast equally as dark shadows.

Rook was nowhere to be seen, and that was both reassuring and a cause for dread. If he wasn’t here, he could be anywhere — hiding.

“Stay together,” Vil murmured, taking the lead again.

Silver and Jade looked at each other, each of them taking to a side of Vil; Silver to his left, and Jade to his right.

“MhmMMMMM!”

Muffled yelling; at least one of them was alive.

Following the muffled sounds, Vil, Silver and Jade found themselves in a sheltered alcove of the library. And amongst the dusty books that rarely got any use was Cater, who was looking at the trio with tears in his eyes, and Azul, who was currently unconscious.

They were both alive. And while the trio felt tremendous relief that they were both alive, they couldn’t help but question why.

Why did Rook spare them? Why did he kill Crowley? Why did he kill Crowley and Professor Crewel with magic, yet he slit the Ramshackle Prefect’s throat? Expired love potions caused some nasty side effects, but nothing to this level of violence and bloodlust.

Jade acted first though, cutting Cater free of his bounds first; using the broken glass from Azul’s glasses to cut through the ropes.

Once Cater was free of the ropes, he ripped the gag off, taking it heaving breaths. “Get out,” he hissed, gripping Jade’s shoulders. “He’s planning something and you need to get out!”

Jade stared into Cater’s eyes and nodded, and took his hands off his shoulders before moving over to Azul. “We will, but not without both of you,” he said just loud enough that Cater could barely make it out.

Vil and Silver covered Jade as he cut through Azul’s ropes, and then carried his house warden like a bag of potatoes over his shoulder. Yes, he would be livid once he woke up, but this allowed Jade to carry Azul while wielding his pen, should he need to protect himself, Azul, or the group.

And right as they were about to cross the threshold of the library’s doors, they slammed shut, and all the lights died out.

It was a trap, but I already knew that. It was too easy. Vil thought to himself, and brought out his pen, illuminating their immediate area in a purple glow.

“Ah, leaving so soon?” Rook’s voice called out from the darkness, a breathy chuckle echoing off the walls.

Vil grabbed a book, and while the others were looking at him with shock — since now is not the time to read — he paid them no mind. “It seems that you caught us,” he answered, hoping that some banter would allow him to do what he needed to do.

Give me a few minutes of time, please. Vil looked into the darkness, searching for that familiar face. “It is awfully rude of you though, to leave your guests in the dark. After all, you can only see the fairest of them all with proper lighting.”

Leave, get out now. Vil’s message got across though, and using the third-year’s distraction, Jade (still with Azul over his shoulder), Silver and Cater managed to slip through the door.

“Roi du Poison, what are you planning? Do you think I would be so foolish to accept anything from you knowing how your unique magic works?” Rook finally stepped out from the darkness, just enough to where he was faintly visible.

Vil quirked his brow at Rook and shook his head, “No, I know you well enough.” But do you know me when I’ve been backed into a corner? “And I know that the real Rook wouldn’t do any of this. It’s the duty of the beautiful to take responsibility for all of their choices. So — Take. Responsibility.” Vil hissed, his grip tightening on the book.

Rook cocked his head, staring at Vil with empty eyes, the sclera still stained black. “Why does the cat chase the mouse, even though its food dish is full? Why does someone hunt, but not for food?” Rook mused, taking a few steps closer, not breaking eye contact with Vil.

Just a bit closer.

“For sport. For the thrill,” Vil tutted. “Was that what all of this was for then? For you to just have fun hunting down your professors and peers just because you were bored?!”

Rook stopped walking, just an arm's distance away from Vil. “No, it wasn’t fun; they didn’t know…”

Now.

Vil took a breath, stealing his nerves. “You trapped yourself, and you shall remain trapped until we find a way to fix this,” he placed a hand on Rook’s shoulder, and once Rook looked at Vil’s hand in curiosity, Vil pushed the book he was holding to Rook’s chest.

Remain trapped until we find a way to fix this.

And the book sucked Rook into its pages; a prison of paper. And Vil slumped to the floor. Out of relief — that for now, it was over — but also exhaustion. He was so tired.

And while, yes, Rook was now caught, he and the others still had far to go. With reporting everything that had happened. To figuring out how to free Rook and reverse the effects of the potion. To working through the trauma they all had lived through, since this whole ordeal definitely had taken its toll on all of them.

...

Fin!

Author's Note; Thank you to everyone who voted throughout the duration of this event. Without you, none of this would be possible. I hope that you enjoyed this event as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

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waltricia · 22 days

Text

A list of what I believe are the main symbolic elements of Bridgerton S3

(I’ll try to keep descriptions as brief as possible)

1. Lighting. The first and last episode titles are “Out of the Shadows” and “Into the Light”. So, all lighting, particularly on Pen, will be very significant. Throughout seasons 1 and 2, she is often cast in shadow, while the Bridgertons shine in the light. In season 3, we’ll see more direct light on her.

2. Mirrors. Yes, I know, but it’s not just about sexy times. Mirrors have been used to tell us about Pen’s secret identity, LW. Her mirror self is the true, brave, witty, brilliant self that she keeps hidden. While you’ll often see the other ladies of Bridgerton checking themselves out in mirrors (in addition to the Featheringtons, I’ve also seen Daphne, Kate, Edwina, and Violet looking into mirrors), you’ll never catch Penelope doing so. That’s the deeper significance of the mirror sex scene- Colin encourages her to confront that self.

3. Greece. This is Colin’s big symbolic element. Greek mythology will be all over the costume and production design. Obviously, we know on a base level that he loves Greece. On a deeper level, Grecian symbols will be used to reference Ancient Greek stories and mythology that will add layers of depth to the love story. Ex) Homer’s The Odyssey is about a man who must journey throughout and around Greece in order to get back to his wife, Penelope. During his journey, Penelope has to fend off a bunch of suitors who are trying to get with her. Even though she thinks Odysseus is dead, she still loves him.

4. Yellow/Blue/Green. I mean, c’mon.

5. Swans. The Bridgertons are mute swans (the regular kind). Pen is a black swan.

Sir, that is a swan.

6. Flowers. Pen is a wallflower. And actually, the meaning of flowers have always been directly explained to us (lilacs, “symbolic of first love”, tulips “they symbolize passion”). Maybe we’ll get another quote about the symbolism of flowers in season 3?

7. Writing/letters/quills/journals. A Polin love language. 🪶💌📔 Literally though, when Pen first asks anyone about sex (yeah, it was Marina, awkward, I know but 🤷), she’s made to equate it with letters.

That’s all I got for now I think.

If you’re just watching Bridgerton because it’s pretty and cute and sexy, totally fine. Watch it however you want to watch it. If you want to go further, really feel things, maybe get a greater sense of catharsis, or at least get more of the ‘oh, damn!’ factor out of it, pay attention to the above elements. They will be shown and not told. If you are stuggling to understand what the symbols mean, hmu. I’m happy to help. I’ve only been on Bridgerton tumblr for a week and a half, but I can say I’ve already seen great analyses from @bingiessm @ktbeets & @sea-owl .

And if there’s anything I didn’t include, but should have, please let me know. I want to learn more, always. 💛

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glassrowboat · 2 months

Text

Silken Shadows Pt.1

Summary: You had many customers, many clients. Regulars even. They dragged you along to dinners, to drinks at bars as they chatted about something you couldn't care less about, and to parties of all sorts. All something that came with the job. What you weren't expecting, however, as you stood on the corner of a side walk cursing the chill in the air as you waited for the latest job to come pick you up was a fatui harbinger. Well, you were told it would be a big money job.

Word count: 3700+

Authors note: I'm not sure how long this is going to be, but probably less than fifteen chapters? But someone had to give this old man some love, so I took it upon myself. And I'd like to specify that the reader is someone who goes on dates in exchange for mora. Like- You have no idea how badly I wanted to name this series rent a girlfriend.

Links: Pt.2: tba Pt.3: tba

Shards sat around him like stars that glistened from the pale light streaming in through the large windows of his office, nonexistent constellations to be found in what was scattered around him. Bits and pieces as large as one's finger and others as tiny as diamond inlaid in a ring. The only difference being it wasnt gold encasing the shining jewel that shined under every twist of the wrist as it reflected a candle's flame, but a wooden floor. One he had taken great pride in picking out once upon after first receiving this office.

Time had scratched its lacquered surface.

How typical.

Another thing he can't control. Just like the natural instinct to grit his teeth so tight Pantalone can hear them grinding against each other in protest, crying out for some form of mercy. It made his jaw ache. Yet his lips still twisted into a smile. They had to. Even if Pantalone couldn't help but want to physically recoil at his own image, his reflection in the glass at his feet. An aged label with yellowed spots attached to what was left of the bottle, a XX17 vintage from Fontaine, the only thing blocking where his narrowed eyes would be in this warped copy.

That damnable woman.

Signora canceled on him. Right before a banquet that was supposed to be quite the occasion. It would have given him just the perfect chance to introduce the diplomat, his fellow harbinger, to a colleague when it comes to the exchange on mora. A fellow businessman. Someone who also speaks in the turnover of gold from one hand to another. A man who could prove beneficial, but all the ‘Fair Lady’ had to say, in as arrogant sounding voice as she could muster Pantalone was sure, was that she's 'being shipped away to Inazuma soon.' For the gnosis in accordance with the last meeting's conclusion, no doubt.

That didn't change the fact that she wasn't leaving right away. There was time she could use, to leverage if she so wished, but now he was left with a tree that wished to bear no fruit. There would be no sweet taste of a win today, of another deal secured at this rate. A wasted opportunity. (Not to mention he was still expected to show up with someone on his arm in accordance with the invite marked with a check right on the box for a plus one.) All that right after La Signora didn't even bother to sit down and have a spot of tea to share this bit of information. Rather, she stormed in as Pantalone was drafting out a contract, unfortunately startling him in the process as the door slammed against the wall behind it. It was enough to have the ink scrawled out under already smudge as his hand curled around a black fountain pen at the idea that her uncaring actions would leave a dent in the drywall.

Surprise. Never an emotion he cared for, but it was all he was being given today. Or at least that's what it seemed.

The floral scent of the ink he specially ordered to refill this pen the last time it emptied out from pages upon pages of tireless work that led to an ache in his hand was the only thing to sooth Pantalone's otherwise swirling mind as he figured out where to go from here. That here having led him to Columbina. Her sweet smile as he slipped into the music room something he was as well used to as a worn in book, just as the gesture of holding up her finger, asking for one moment more. The song on her lips quelled only when she was ready.

It would be unbefitting to ask her to stop with the nonsense already as her voice rose to the heights of the pure white room. If one could see the notes, the sheet music's ever perfect lines of five, from one's song they would surely be weaving around the columns until Columbina finally took her bow.

Pink and black hair covering her face still as his hands clapped together, metal bands wrapped around his fingers causing a small ring each time they collided. “Wonderful as always, Damselette.”

“I am always exultant to have a proper audience.”

Her head rose from its low hang with a grace only she could have. Like every action she took was akin to a bird flapping its wings to soar among the clouds. Fitting for a dove.

“As much as I would like to sit down and show proper respect and courtesy, Columbina, I am afraid I am too short of time for such a luxury.” The event is tonight at o'clock sharp. And while Pantalone has always heard it's fashionable to arrive late, it was never a practice he appreciated others participating in. He wouldn't deign to be the outlier to such a basic rule when there was no need for such. Besides, he didn't need to arrive late to get anyone's eyes to fall on him in rapt attention. The citizens of Snezhnaya knew what his time was worth. As for those that did? Simply put, they were not worth the precious minutes that could be delegated elsewhere.

“First and foremost, are you otherwise preoccupied this evening?”

Columbina turned her back to him with ease, fingers fiddling with the sheet music before her as she scribbled something down he could not see. Not that it mattered. If it wasn't the very notes she was just singing it would be an indent on the piece written in a language far older than he.

“Now, what would you want of me that requires I not be ‘preoccupied'?”

“That Marquess in the west has come to the main city for a short reprieve and is holding an event. One that does not require a show of a song, but I'm sure they would not deny it if you offered.” As Pantalone spoke he stepped further into the room, taking care not to scuff the white floors with his own black shoes.

A gentle series of clicks continued until he was standing beside her.

“So, you want me to act as your substitute plus one since the one you originally planned to invite canceled on you at the last minute. Is that it, Regrator?”

“A regretful circumstance I shall have to amend in the future. If you agree to my proposition, that is.”

“The Fair Lady truly pulled that lavish rug under you. Something I do not see often.”

Pantalone kept from looking down at her, instead keeping his eyes instead fixed on the musician's stand his gloved finger ran over. It would be lace covered eyes and ribbons galore as usual. Nothing he hasn't seen before at every harbinger meeting or the times they cross paths through the ornate halls of the palace, most of which have him catching the sight of her scuttling into this very room.

The faintest layer of dust now coated his finger that had Pantalone itching to grab the handkerchief tucked away in his pocket to wipe it off.

The Damselette always did tend to scare the maids off.

“As stated before, I am currently lacking of time. Your answer would be most appreciated.”

“Oh, right, that.” Columbina mused. “Steak dinners, champagne, maybe even chatter amongst people who are delightful company. Just like my plans for tonight with Arlecchino.”

Right, of course she didn't lead with that.

That means two possible options off his already lackluster list of those to invite along.

The last words Pantalone was given before he walked out with a bow of his head to the third harbinger was: “I hope you find someone to fill the empty seat beside you tonight.” Only for the song to continue on like nothing happened, like nothing interrupted, like he didn't even come in at all.

He made sure to leave the door cracked open on his way out.

Sandrone was all the same, giving him a no. The only difference was she spit the words out like venom the moment his fist knocked on her workshop's door and she flung it open with a flourish, covered in oil and the finest grinds of aluminum that flew in the air. It had him cleaning his glasses off as he walked away.

If it wouldn't reflect poorly on his image, Pantalone would just show up alone. Wave it off and say his date was busy. Yet here he is, arm twisted. Social expectations are truly the bind that holds us all as he couldn't simply message the Marquess on the fly with something along the lines of ‘I couldn't dain to bring a date after my plus one canceled on me.’ Signed, The Ninth.

If it wouldn't come across as poor care for attention, bringing his secretary along would be a viable option. That is if that very employee wasn't a married man who was only just rambling about plans to take his partner out for dinner earlier this very day. Some anniversary or another if Pantalone recalled correctly.

Dottore would at least prove to be an entertaining option. One segment or another would likely get stuck along his side, maybe even the one with the pink bow tie that looks like he's ready to bite the finger off anyone who approaches.

No, best not.

Little options left. If any.

At this rate, his arm would get stiff as it's tugged and twisted into position.

Well, there's always the place that man mentioned last time. His whining was just the perfect pitch that made it hard to ignore as Pantalone's guards tore apart his shack of a house apart in an attempt to find the funds he was due. Only a measly fifty mora that would prove no use in taking was found, and unfortunately, one can not pay if they cannot work as starvation tears them apart from the inside out.

The excuse for his lack of pay? He went to one of those houses in the area.

Exchange time for a woman's company. Nothing he hasn't heard before. Nothing he isn't familiar with. The Northland Bank served customers of all walks of life.

The name, however, was one that rang a bell in Pantalone's head. One that sold a woman's time over her body.

This is what he has been backed into? Truly?

Still, he called the guard that was stationed by the doors he just walked through, fingers snapping to get this individual's attention as Pantalone told them to find a messenger. The need to tell them to be quick about it would be nothing short of an unnecessary addition, noy when they knew that well enough by now.

Steps filled the hall, old wood made for loose wood that creaked with every movement. That was enough of a warning for what was coming as a hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you up off the stool you were sitting on. A shrill voice crying out to get your attention, scratched and broken from what was no doubt the cigarettes The Madame might as well switch out for her meals filling your ears.

A job.

It was no wonder then why a wet rag was being shoved into your face, trying to wash, or better yet scrub off the powder on your face. Messy blobs of green and pink having been painted on your eyelids the same way a crayon would a child's coloring book only becoming more of a mess to handle at this treatment.

“Wash this shit off your face and give it a real try, kid. Don't know why you keep letting the bucket girl apply makeup on you.”

Seems the house's favorite old hag is in as good a mood as any.

“And try do keep yourself lookin’ real good. This client has some big bucks to spend and I don't need you messing it up like last time.”

“You always know just what to say, Madam.”

Snatching the rag from her, you wipe the eyeshadow off your face properly. Even going so far as to lean down to get a proper view from the vanity and its cloudy mirror.

“This ain't your usual crowd, kid, but you're going to high tail it out of here in your best dress and meet this guy two blocks from here so some carriage can pick you up.”

“Ahh, one of those guys. I'm on it. And do me a favor and don't bully the ‘bucket girl' while I'm out.”

It wasn't a surprise The Madame threw a quick “no promises” over her shoulder as she left the room, leaving you to get ready. Brush already in hand as the door slammed shut. Most likely her doing, but you chose to think of it as a simple draft of wind as the bristles brushed through a soft pad of pink.

The same pink of your currently dawned gloves that were surely hiding a dark color underneath, painting your fingertips and palms with proof of your skins agitation even as you stood at the usual spot for clients that needed to pick a girl up a few blocks away from the Marmeladova house. Sure, they had their reasons, but it always came across as the clients having no sense of decorum for a freezing lady. A frozen tundra of a nation, yet they still expected you to stand on the street like a hooker trying to call in her five hundred for the night.

It was when you were pacing back and forth, trying to generate some form of heat through your bones that it felt like they were going through the five stages of grief, did the rolling of the carriages passing by on the street lead to one stopping right before you. Wheels turned stock still as the lines behind painted a clear path right to you. It's not an accidental pullover by some temperamental horses, then. Though if you only looked, such a thought wouldn't have even crossed your mind in the first place.

How charming.

Not.

A carriage with golden accents, horses with shining leather straps, a coachman in clothing that looked actually weather appropriate, and a fatui symbol stamped right before you. Like the sign to a haunted house as the other girls drag you inside, claiming it will be fun, only for you to walk out annoyed and grouchy at the lackluster experience.

Something told you this wouldn't end that way.

A footman, or at least you assumed that's what he was when he was wearing the fatui emblem and one of those masks you see the soldiers wearing so openly pulled the ornate door before you open. A hand held out to help you up along the steps that had a nice coat of snow dusting them. As for the inside? Your hand in this strangers as you ducked inside the red velvet walls, plush cushions greeting you as you sat down, was a man you've only ever seen in the newspapers. Most of which were fished out of the trash from nicer neighborhoods to use as kindling, but that face was unmistakable.

“Lord Harbinger.”

Oh motherfucker.

“A pleasure to meet you, miss.” The shock wasn't enough to hide the icy tune of his voice at least. It would give you a decent idea of where you stood in this dynamic.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Your hand was held out between you both on instinct, hanging there for a moment under the small lantern that lit the carriage with the curtains closed shut. Like a barrier to the outside world.

The shake was strong, sturdy. The gloves did little to help you figure out anything about this man the public didn't already know. An example being how he'd surely have a writer's bump. A man who's bread and butter is contracts surely knows how to hold a quill. How curious. Not as much, however, as the Lord Harbinger wiping his hand off on his jacket the moment yours left his. A folder occupying the other he was holding out to you.

“Read this over and try your best to memorize the names inside.”

Little choice then as you took it from him. The folder failed to bend back under your touch as you opened it, not even when your gloved fingers rubbed the material between them as the names were run over again and again in your mind. A long list. Far too long, actually.

“I expect you to remember as much as you can, but I'll be there to assist you all the while.”

“Assist me all the while?”

“I am to be attending an event tonight. Do I need to piece out more for you? I was hoping you would have enough of an ability to ascertain things for yourself.”

Something about his smile rubbed you wrong. You were once taught that if someone was truly smiling, out of joy or some bull along the lines of being a happy person naturally, their eyes would have wrinkles creasing at the sides. His lacked that. Though it was hard to tell exactly if that was the case when they were closed shut.

But could a smile so freely given from a harbinger be…? Best not to finish that thought. He's still your client.

“Don't doubt me just yet. I haven't even had the chance to prove myself.”

“Then please, don't disappoint. First however,” you could barely catch his eyelashes moving when the carriage started to move again. Whatever that meant would prove little to mull over.

You later learned that was him giving you a look, or as close to one as Pantalone could manage behind those thick spectacles of his you were tempted to break as he walked into a dress store, picked something off the rack, and said this is what you would wear tonight. No input from you, no double checking it fit. Not the mention the fabric had been irritating you from the moment it adorned your skin. How you wanted to claim it rested upon your body like silk.

It was anything but.

Pretty at least. Good movement as the Lord Harbinger dragged you along by the arm interlocked with his as you were met with new face after face. Some of the names you could recall reading only an hour prior, others not so much.

Giant grins.

Pretty women with ornate hair styles.

Champagne glasses. The moment you picked one up Pantalone plucked it from your hands and hissed as low as possible for only you to hear “I am not paying you to drink.”

This was nothing unusual, the event that is, Pantalone is a whole other story, but you have been to many parties of all sorts during your time. This was just another rich boy party with underhanded remarks and fancy cheeses.

One that dragged on too long.

At some point during the night you just barely caught the richest boy himself telling someone who asked about you that you were just a friend. One that once upon a time knew his parents. How you're only back in town for a short visit, that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to bring you along.

He didn't want anyone to know what you actually are then.

Little ever did.

And it kept like that til the point you were tempted to peel the bandages off the back of your heels for they were slipping, peeling from your skin. Like a piece of string on a fine shirt just begging to be pulled. The thought of them still plagued your mind as Pantalone bowed to the same man you were first introduced to that night again, an individual who took no shame in the jewels hanging from his tailcoat and the golden ring with some odd emblem on his pinky. Wishes of a splendid night on both their tongues as the two of you departed.

It was only when you were both back in that carriage you suddenly have a lot more appreciation for as it gave you a chance to rest your aching feet did any words pass between you two again.

Pantalone, a man who was short and concise with you, but had plenty to say to those folks in the hall as they stuffed their faces with meat as they all sat around tables covered in cloth the same thickness as the blankets you use every night. Who made it clear before you even stepped past the threshold of the mansion (though it looked more like a cheap attempt at copying the opera house's structure) that you would speak only when spoken to. Interrupting the few remarks you did say when it was just the two of you during those sliver of moments someone wasn't coming up to sing his praises.

Not like you weren't used to being treated like arm candy. Maybe that's why you couldn't truly care less as he sat in the seat across from you and didn't say anything until you did.

“I was right about you, you are a rather smarmy individual.”

A soft sigh left his lips as Pantalone pulled his hand away from the curtain he was fixing, pulling it taught. You do the very same thing with wrinkled skirts and shirts in an attempt to see what it would look like perfectly pressed and ironed.

“How does an escort like you even know that word?”

“How does a harbinger like you end up with no options for a date besides a hired one?”

Oooooh boy. Shouldn't have said that outlook. Best to roll with the punches though even as you can see his head tilting towards you in such a slow manner it was obvious it was deliberate.

“What's your name again?”

He asked that like he wasn't sharing your name to anyone who asked all night. From prying eyes to, well, even more prying eyes in an entirely different way.

Roll with the punches.

Just as before you held your hand out, waiting for him to comply, to play along, and take it. And like a fool he did.

If he was going to wipe his hand off again this time, you'll give him a damn good reason.

Grip going tight so Pantalone couldn't pull away. Making sure just as he might with each Mora he pinches that there's no possible chance to slip between the fingers as you lift his hand up. Lips to one of the purple and silver rings of his as you looked up at him, daring Pantalone to say something.

That was the first time you've seen his eyes all night.

#Pantalone x reader #pantalone #genshin x reader #x reader #hoyoverse #genshin impact #fem reader #genshin impact x reader #regrator x reader

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 11 months

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The Arcana HCs: MC with M6's familiars

Julian & Malak

Malak has appointed himself as your personal bodyguard

Which means that he has a habit of randomly shadowing you (usually when Julian is doing something that keeps him in the same spot for a long time, like researching or doctoring)

Which usually ends in him swooping in and saving the day anytime he sees you in a situation that he deems to be strange or hostile

Sometimes it's really helpful, like when he started harrassing a pickpocket that had been following you for several blocks

Sometimes it isn't, like when he mistook an excited friendly hug with an acquaintance for a sudden attack and flew in their face

Loves to bring you shiny things

Do you know where he found them? No. Are you fairly certain that some of these objects are too valuable for him to have found them in the trash? Yes

Will Malak be ticked if you use magic to find the owner to return his little gift to them? Yes, but he'll forgive you quickly

Usually nests in Julian's rafters, but he'll fly down and perch on your bed frame if you're having a rough night

Asra & Faust

Faust likes to give you sooo many friendly squeezes!

She also just likes to keep you company, especially when her master is doing something boring, like sleeping or reading

Are you taking inventory? There she is, exploring the next box! Are you cooking? There she is, dangling precariously over the stove to peek into the pot!

Honestly the amount of heart attacks she's given you is insane

She also likes to sneak a joyride in your bag when you go out to run errands

You never see her slither in, you never see her when you check your bag before you leave, but just when you've reached the point where turning around is bothersome, there she is on your shoulder!

It usually ends up being plenty of fun, she'll comment on all the things she does and doesn't like as you walk

She also likes to hide in your shirt and pop out of your sleeve when you reach out to take something from a vendor's hands

Somehow, she seems to know what you're feeling even before you do, and is right there with a gentle squeeze when you need it most

Nadia & Chandra

Chandra likes to keep you company when Nadia is busy, especially when you're spending your time outside

If you're in the palace gardens and can spare a few minutes, she'll bring you some of her toys to play with together. It's also fun to look at the results of Nadia's tinkering

Loves running errands for you, especially when there's treats involved, but really she just likes to be depended on and help make your life a little bit easier

You'll have to start leaving your window open and keeping your things on shelves for better access

You need a pen? Different shoes? A book? Chandra's flapping off as soon as you mention it and returning in minutes with the necessary item safe in her talons

You learned the hard way not to ask for anything made of fabric. She's very careful but her claws are sharp and end up ripping it

Always, always knows when you're about to need support and is right there to help you avert catastrophe

Sometimes enlists your help to get Nadia to understand what she's trying to say

Will shade your eyes with her wing if you fall asleep in the sun

Muriel & Inanna

Muriel used to sleep on the floor so she could have the bed, but once you move in she builds her own den near the clearing

She likes her privacy and alone time, and as funny as it is to make Muriel sweat, she knows he won't make any moves on you if she's around to watch and judge him

Somehow, she always knows when you're going to be walking through the woods and is right there when you set out

You could be foraging. You could be exploring. You could be going into town, in which case she'll walk you to the treeline and then magically meet you there when you're on your way back

She's much more mischievous than she lets on

She likes running off with your and Muriel's clothes when either of you bathes without the other, just so that you'll have to go into the hut in a towel and make the other of you blush

Promptly returns your clean, dry clothes as soon as she's accomplished her objective

She's very protective of you. One time when you had a slight cold, she bullied you into bed and then sat on you until Muriel returned

Portia & Pepi

She likes to follow Portia everywhere

But sometimes, Portia needs to attend important ambassador meetings, to which cats are not invited (no matter how cute said cat is)

So she'll follow you instead. Everywhere

Around the cottage. Around the Palace. Around Vesuvia. On the boat. In your cabin. In the hold. Oh, you're going up to the crow's nest? She's trying to climb the rigging (and somehow succeeding??)

The sailors give you a wide berth when Portia's not around, not because they don't like you, but because Pepi's somewhere nearby just waiting to be tripped over

Portia talks to her quite a bit, so she's gotten into the habit of listening to you talk as well. If you're having a conversation, just look for the nearest climbable object and she's right there, completely tuned in

Every single time you sit down, she'll be nudging her way into your arms or lap

It doesn't matter if you're working on something. It doesn't matter if your hands are full. She is getting. Into your lap. No exceptions.

Will trip anyone besides Portia who walks too close to you

Lucio & Mercedes & Melchior

So. very. demanding.

Are you sitting down? Pet them! Are you standing still? Pet them!! Are you walking with your hands free? Pet them!!!

Will not hesitate to compete with Lucio for your first hug when you come back after being out all day. They will charge at his knees and knock him to the floor to get to you before he can

They also insist on sharing your sleeping space with you

Inside or outside, on a bed or in a bedroll, they will join you and Lucio and can only be stopped if they are locked out of the room

You'll find them waiting outside with the most wounded puppy eyes you've ever seen when you open the door in the morning

They love to play with you! Give them something to chase!

It can be anything if you throw it far enough really, a ball, a stick, a shoe, a piece of Lucio's gauntlet, a pomegranate if you happen to have one ...

It's okay if you can't find anything to throw - they'll just grab something important of yours in their mouth and run so you can be the one to chase them!

Always there if you need some comfort

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #ask arcana brainrot

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crabdrabbles · 6 months

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Graves + Shadows Headcanons Part 2 [Part 1] [Part 3] Words: 794

Once, when Graves got ill, he ended up fainting in the middle of a meeting because he had been pushing himself too hard. He woke up several hours later, completely unaware of the sheer pandemonium that broke loose just after he lost consciousness. The on base medics had to kick several shadows out on multiple occasions and also nearly quit when they saw almost half the base waiting outside the room for an update on their commander. While he was forced into bedrest, at least one Shadow was stationed in his room at one given time to keep an eye out on him and make sure he had everything that he needed. Even after he got better, there was still a Shadow or two lingering outside his office-- just in case.

Graves has a habit of working himself way too hard to be healthy. As a result, the Shadows have self decided shifts where they check up on their Commander– make sure he’s eaten something or drank some water every few hours. He is just,, so bad at looking after himself sometimes. It's a good thing his Shadows are there to help.

Used to insist that the Shadows just call him Phil when they're off duty but they all said it felt wrong, so they generally stick to 'Commander' or 'Graves' but that's as far as they'd go to calling him by name.

Graves is not shy to show his soldiers physical affection, especially if he thinks that they’re touch starved. It’s mostly little things, shoulder or arm or back pats, a quick ruffle of the hair, he makes sure not to overstep any boundaries. If they ask for a little more, like a full hug, he would absolutely give it to them.

Shadow Initiation is that you have to fight against Graves. Only a few Shadows have ever successfully taken him down, but it’s very much a rite of passage if you get your ass handed to you by the Commander.

Despite all his softness, Graves can be an absolutely wicked trainer. He will push his Shadows to their limits during training, but is always mindful to not push them further than what they’re capable of.

Has attended weddings for his Shadows and has been best man(/bride's man??) for a few of them.

He absolutely has several photo albums filled to the brim with pictures of current and old shadows and likes to show it off to the new recruits/baby shadows like a proud dad.

When a Shadow dies on a mission, they are given the best send off money can buy and their families are provided for e.g. if they had kids, college tuition is fully funded etc. Financial support is provided for several years, and secretly sometimes funded from Graves' own pocket.

Took the deaths of Shadows Dipaolo, Vance and Erikson and the other Shadows on that mission pretty hard and blamed himself. So much so, that he began to doubt his ability to lead as their Commander. He couldn't even protect his soldiers, couldn't even send them reinforcements when they needed him the most. He had to listen to them die. And he won't forgive Shepherd for that.

When the Shadows realised how he felt about it, they were all quick to rush and reassure him that their loyalty to him never once wavered.

Absolutely no Shadow likes Shepherd. Not a single one. Shepherd does not visit the base that often because he genuinely thinks that the Shadows are out to get him. They are.

He spends his time on base during the holidays so those who don’t have anyone to go back to aren’t alone. On Christmas day, he makes a killer turkey roast and gets presents for everyone.

Yes, the base does get decorated during the holidays. So far, Halloween is the one that stirs up the most excitement. April Fools has been banned from being celebrated after the entirety of Graves' office got covered in sticky notes. Everything. Not even the pens were spared.

"NEVER BACK DOWN, NEVER WHAT?!” He says this every mission to get morale up, but he also says it when a Shadow is down to try and cheer them up. If they’re upset over something, he’ll nudge them with his shoulder like “Never back down never what?” and keeps saying it with a widening grin on his face until they’re chuckling with him. He stays with them until they feel better. The same has happened where a Shadow has done the same thing to him when he's seemed down or stressed.

He makes it well known to everyone that his office door is always open if anyone ever needs someone to talk to, whether that's to vent, voice any concerns or anything else.

have a request? send one in!

#//may or may not do a part 3 :)#phillip graves #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 3 #shadow company #mw2 #mw3 #mwii #mwiii

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selineram3421 · 2 years

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Hello! May I get a Alastor x child!Reader one shot that the child basically ran away because of a little fight the child and Alastor had? :)

I'ma say this now. There will be a happy ending because I need it.

Promise Breaker

Alastor and Child Reader One-shot

Warnings ⚠

⚠ a demon gets hit by a car, reader gets an ankle injury, and some cursing ⚠

Alastor adopted you after finding you just outside the Cannibal colony, surrounded by a few dead demons.

Since he wasn't a fan of children he was going to ignore you, but after noticing how quiet and still you were he decided to approach you.

He questioned why you were around the Cannibal colony and you explained you were hiding. It really was an in the moment decision but he adopted you a few minutes after your first encounter.

"Alastor?"

You were bored.

Everyone was busy today and you wanted to play with someone. Fat Nuggets was with Angel, so that's one less playmate.

Walking into his office, you see he's not in the room and decide to wait for him. Sitting on his chair you're at eye level with the desk , finding papers and a pen.

A few drawings wouldn't be so bad. It would also help with your boredom, just until he came back at least.

You didn't know that you were drawing on important documents for the hotel.

A short while later, Alastor enters his office and sees you in his seat which makes you look smaller than you actually are, beginning to walk over to the desk.

"Hello little one, what do you-", he stops, looking down at the papers you've been drawing on.

The tone he uses to say your name makes you freeze. Looking up you can see that he's upset.

"Yes?", you ask, confused.

"These are important.", he states, picking up the papers. "And you've drawn all over them."

"Oh..", you say and put the pen down.

"Yes, oh.", he sighs. "Did you draw on all of these papers?"

"I'm sorry.", you mumble. "I got bored and I wanted to play with you but you weren't here, so I started drawing. I felt lonely."

"Darling, I'm busy. The whole hotel is busy, I can't dally at the moment.", Alastor says, and picks you up from his office chair. "Go and play elsewhere."

"But you don't even care about the hotel! You just-", you begin to whine but shut up when he gives that black eyed stare.

"I will not tolerate a brat.", he says.

You frown and get out of his hold, making your way out of the office.

"And I won't tolerate a promise breaker!", you shout and slam the door behind you when leaving.

Alastor lets out a sigh.

He found some extra copies of the documents that you drew on and made more just in case. You didn't show up during dinner, and he believes that you might still be throwing a fit over what happened earlier.

Still, he should check on you.

Arriving in his hotel room, your room was just on the other side of a sliding door. He prepared your favorite cookies and drink to make amends.

"Darling? My little demon?", he calls, lightly knocking on your door. "I have cookies!"

Its quiet on the other side.

"Alright, I apologize for being upset, but you do need to be more careful with the papers on my desk."

Nothing.

He calls out your name and opens the door. Looking around your room, he doesn't see you anywhere.

Everyone was busy. The hotel has been scarily quiet. That would mean-

Putting on his coat, Alastor rushes out of the room.

Did they get taken again? Are they out in Hell?

He leaves the hotel after searching every room, not seeing you at all. With a snap, shadows are sent to look for you and he continues on his search.

Did they run away?

That thought alone makes him stop.

Standing on the sidewalk, he thinks about what might have caused all of this. Demons avoid walking by him, running across the street to walk on the other side.

What did they say before leaving. A promise breaker?

He hums in thought.

Another demon runs across the street to get away from the Radio Demon, only to get hit by a car.

Then he remembers the promise that he made. "I promise that you'll never feel lonely, even when I'm occupied."

"Oh dear."

You were making your way back to the Cannibal colony. Wiping away your tears and cursing like a sailor now that Alastor wasn't around.

"Stupid fucking jerk! Mean piece of-", you sniff, wiping more tears away with your sweater.

A yelp comes out your mouth when someone lifts you by the collar of your sweater.

"Well looky here~", an old looking demon says, lifting you up to his eyes. "A new lab rat!"

"Hands off Stinky Pete!", you shout and kick him in the gut.

They shout in pain and drop you. Making you land on your bottom. Before you can run away from the creep, they stomp on your ankle.

You scream and kick at their leg with your free foot. "Get off! Get off!", you shout.

"I'm gonna have fun ripping you apart kid!", the demon says and goes to jump you.

"No!", you turn away and hide your face in fear.

Feeling the weight of the demon's foot off of your ankle, you peak out to see what happened.

"It seems that most do still prey on children.", Alastor growls, holding the demon that attacked you by the neck. "Whå† Ðð ¥ðµ †hïñk ¥ðµ'rê Ððïñg †ð m¥ ¢hïlÐ?"

The demon who is being choked looks beyond terrified now, shaking their head and trying to get out of his grip.

You watch as Alastor summons up a portal and lets the demon get dragged off into it by tentacles.

The red dressed demon makes his way to you and you turn your cheek, not wanting to look at him.

"My little one, look at me.", he says.

"I'm mad.", you mumble, not wanting him to hear your voice waver.

"I know darling, but please look at me."

You turn your head and glare at him.

"I didn't mean to break our promise little one. I'm sorry for getting upset over such a silly thing and calling you a brat.", he says and holds a hand out for you. "I care mon petit."

Tears begin to make your vision blurry, and you cover your face to cry.

"You were mean!", you sob and let Alastor pull you into a hug. "I get to say all the swear words I want until I stop crying!"

"Yes, yes. That's fine.", he says and pats your back, lifting you up from the ground and beginning to make his way back to the hotel.

"Asshole! Dumb deer man! Stupid weird idiot!", you continue, now hiding your face on his chest, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Your wound is taken care of in your room, and you eat your favorite cookies that Alastor made for you.

Yay cookies. Oh no headache.

~Seline, the person.

ML for Alastor🎙

#x reader #gn reader #fanfic #platonic #child reader #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor and reader #alastor and child reader #alastor & reader

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pacifymebby · 1 year

Text

Territorial HCs // Billy + Stu

Billy

🔪 He is jealous of everyone who so much as sits next to you in class. You're his, and Stu's of course, but the point is you're his... He views everyone as a potential threat.

🥧 He's very insecure, terrified of losing you or being abandoned by you.

🔪 which you personally think is a little cheeky considering he’s with Sidney not you. Whenever you bring this face up however he gets sullen, gives you a look like you should know better, “its different with you sweetheart, anyway, she's temporary.”

🥧 you do not know what that means and honestly? you don’t want to. Billy gives you some pretty dark vibes sometimes. Sometimes its easier if you just ignore the warning signs.

🔪 When he can sticks to you like glue... Its endearing actually, the way he wants to be around you 24/7. You like the attention he gives you, but sometimes when you’re in school and he comes up behind you when you’re looking for something in your locker, you get flushed and embarrassed. “Billy you’re not supposed to talk to me here... thats your rule!” you’d remind him but he just flashes you that disarming grin.

🥧 “relax y/l/n I just want to ask you about that project we have to do together... you know, for geography...” you know he’s lying, but you smile and relax and go along with it. “So I’ll meet you after class and we’ll walk back to your place right?”

🔪 he’s always coming up with ways to see you.

🥧 You like the way he hangs over you like a shadow, you feel safe when you're tucked under his arm.

🔪 He loves it when you wear his baggy shirts over your croptops and he’s always leaving them at your house hoping you’ll pick one up accidentally and wear it into school. It’s like... he knows its risky and he could get caught but he likes the risk, and he kind of likes the audacity of hiding you in plain sight. Making it obvious that youre his but in such a way that no one could prove it.

🥧 He will climb in through your window almost every night, partially to check up on you, partially because he misses you every second you're not around. He has trouble sleeping anywhere other than by your side. He also doesn’t like the thought that if he isn’t with you, someone else could be.

🔪 the jealousy and fury he feels every time he sees another boy in school check you out! As far as everyone else is concerned you’re single so they don’t even try to hide it. And holy shit when boys flirt with you, or try to ask you out...

🥧 it takes every last drop of his self control to stop himself from stabbing them in the eye with a pen or something. Instead he watches from a distance, those brooding eyes fixed on whoever is talking to you.. you’d be able to feel him watching you too

🔪 he’d spend the rest of the day meticulously planning how to murder the boy, and then daydream about how slow and painful he’d make the killing. He'd be having very violent thoughts thats for sure.

🥧 he leaves bite marks on your neck and wrists and definitely gives you hickeys, all ways in which he can mark you and show people that you’re taken. You’re constantly trying to lie about them, you’ve even made up a mysterious secret boyfriend who goes to another school just so your friends will stop asking who did that to you.

🔪 when the hickeys inevitably get you labelled a slut Billy will be defensive of you whether or not thats a smart idea... if Tatum or Sidney ever say anything about the rumours which are going round about you Billy will get moody very quickly. “Aren’t you two supposed to be feminists... I thought you were more mature than that Sid...”

🥧 he is constantly telling you that you’re his, that you’re “end game” affectionately nicknames you his “final girl” you don’t realise how much he really means that until it’s too late.

Stu

🔪 He doesn’t get jealous so much... its more that every time he sees someone look at you it makes him crave your attention/ to be with you... which is just frustrating for him when he’s at school and he sees other boys flirting with you and he can’t...

🍒but sometimes when he sees other boys flirting with you or checking you out, he’ll flirt with you anyway because he knows he can get away with it. He’ll sweet-talk his way back into Tatums good books if he gets caught out.

🔪 He’s constantly sneaking up on you at school and outside of school, you think its just coincidence but he’s definitely been following you... he always seems to pop up just after you’ve been talking to another guy. He will touch you, even if he’s in public, even if its in the middle of the corridor. He can’t help himself, he can’t keep his hands off you.

🍒he’ll also just cut into conversation if he hears a guy hitting on you, he’ll tell them you’re taken, often lying and saying you’re some other boy from your schools’ girlfriend, which will embarrass you so much

🔪 whenever him and billy are hanging out and he sees you talking to another guy he’ll nudge billy to get his attention and then nod over to the boy. Billy will roll his eyes, “we can’t kill every boy she talks to fuckrag,”

🍒 “Oh come on man why not! I mean look at him... he deserves it!”

🔪 he will give you things to wear, he’ll steal a necklace or a bracelet or something, it'll have a little heart on it and he’ll tell you to make sure people know your boyfriend bought it for you so that then he won’t have to watch people flirt with you

🍒 he’ll definitely sneakily grab your butt in public, he’ll sit next to you in any classes you have together and spend the whole lesson trying to distract you with his hand on your thighs under the table.

🔪 he actually almost wants to be caught, he’s reckless like that, he thinks you’re so hot that it melts his brain and honestly he just wants to show off that he’s fucking you

🍒 you’ve always got some kind of hickey on your neck, somewhere obvious... he actually tells you not to cover it up, no roll necks, no make up... you have to show everyone that you’re his.

🔪 he gets off on seeing you around school with that hickey on your neck, knowing he gave it to you... it makes him desperate to give you another.

🍒 he’d be kind of mean to any guy he thought liked you, he’d constantly be trying to knock their confidence, make sure they didn’t think they stood a chance with you. He’d laugh at them for even thinking about it. He’d definitely try to embarrass them in front of a group of people.

#scream imagine #billy x stu x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader

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silverofthunder · 2 months

Text

☆ watcher in the night ☆

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader

summary: You nodded slowly, trying to get all of this – the whole moment – to fully sink in while you studied the painted face of the man. His expression was soft, in a way, and he seemed curious, though you could also sense the danger underneath all of that.

content: 2.6k words, mystery (kind of), drama, fantasy, some feelings i guess, i don't even know, SFW (i think?)

!! mentions of blood and killing !!

So, I have no idea where this came from. I just started to write and it kind of escalated. This is different from what I've used to write but oh my, how fun writing this was! Let me know what you think. 😊

The cemetery wasn’t far from your home and one evening you decided on a whim to go there late at night. You took your bag and slipped a pen and a small notebook into it with a smile on your face – you never knew when the inspiration might strike so you had to be prepared. You zipped up your hoodie and grabbed the keys from the small dresser and checked that your phone was in your pocket before leaving your apartment.

It wasn’t that dark outside due to summer and the air felt more chilly than you thought but you didn’t bother to turn back to get a coat. You didn’t plan on staying at the cemetery for long, after all. There wasn’t much people on the move – you saw only a few teenagers hanging out nearby the cemetery as you finally reached the main gate.

You opened the gate, the creaking sound echoing in the quiet of the night. Your eyes took in the surroundings as fast as they could and as you walked along the main path, you started to feel a bit nervous and wonder if this had been a really bad idea. You remembered how it usually didn’t end up well when people visited cemeteries at night in the movies.

With a shake of your head you tried to get rid off those horrible images – it was silly to even think that something could happen. Or technically it wasn’t but you didn’t want to think the worst. Instead you focused on tombstones, their outlines and followed the path until you came to the spot where you could see one of the oldest graves, the big stone on top of a small mound.

You decided to head there and turned right, stepping on to the grass and following a line between two rows of tombstones. Then you took a turn to the left and passed a large tree, almost tripping to one of its roots that was sticking out from the ground. You hissed a curse as you regained your balance, breathed slowly in and out before continuing walking. As you finally reached the grave, you lowered your bag onto the ground and placed your hands on the stone.

It was cold and there was some kind of pattern on top of it as you run your fingers along the surface. Whoever was buried there must have been well-known and notable person.

A sudden rustle made you jump and you turned around, your heart picking up pace in your chest. You couldn’t see anyone and soon there was a sound of flapping and croak, so you suspected it to be some bird flying away. Sighing you returned to your bag and sat down on the grass, leaning your back against the tombstone. You searched for the notebook and pen and took your phone out of your pocket, putting the flashlight on and setting the phone leaning against the tombstone. Then you let your mind wander for a while.

The quietness was a bit unsettling and the chilliness was slowly getting into you, making you regret not getting that coat before coming here. You did your best to focus on the surroundings, the scent of summer night and let your hand guide the words out of your mind, ink them onto the page of notebook.

It wasn’t a story, just some random thoughts about creatures of the night. The one’s who lived in the shadows, had sharp fangs and carried a mysterious aura around them. You weren’t sure if you actually believed the existence of those creatures but it was certainly intriguing thought. A small smile made its way on to your lips as you wrote more words down.

Soon something flew past you fast and you shrieked, dropping your pen and notebook to the ground. Your head turned fast from side to side as you tried to see what it had been. As you couldn’t see anything this time either, you shook your head and picked the pen and notebook up, mumbling some calming mantra to yourself.

You opened the notebook and saw the inkline speading from one word all the way down to the bottom of the page. It called you to doodle something onto it before you turned the next, plank page and continued writing. You could feel your heart beating just a bit faster than it normally would – you couldn’t help it, the sudden noices in the quiet had gotten you nervous and you were kind of waiting for something to happen again.

When the chilliness was getting so uncomfortable, fingers feeling stiff from holding the pen, you decided it was time to leave. You put the notebook and pen into the bag, took your phone, slipping it into your pocket and hoisted yourself up, smoothing out your hoodie and jeans. And just as you were ready to leave, your eyes landed on some figure standing beside the tree on the right. You blinked, hoping it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but the figure was still there.

Your heart missed a beat and you swallowed, staring at the figure. Then it moved closer to you and you could see it was a man.

”Isn’t it a bit late to be out here?” he spoke with a soft, deep voice, taking slow steps towards you. His features came more clear – his other eye was white, face covered with some kind of paint. He was wearing ripped jeans and a shirt that looked like something that was worn centuries ago. You took a step back as he got closer, eyeing to the side and considering just running away.

He stopped moving, eyes scanning you and you just stood there, nervousness stinging within you.

”Who are you?” the words slipped out before you even realized you had opened your mouth.

The man’s lips curved into a smile, flashing something white and sharp, and now you really were sure your mind was just messing with you. You blinked and pinched your arm but the man was still there, and so was the smile on his lips, too. Nothing sharp visible this time, though, and you sighed, but it didn��t really settle your racing heart.

”Just having my night walk,” the man said and you raised your brow.

”On a walk at the cemetery?” you stated and the man chuckled.

”Sí,” he said in another language – Italian maybe? – and took a step closer to you. ”Seems like you were having your own moment here, too.”

You eyed him suspiciously, watching his movements like a hawk. He didn’t look threatening but you still couldn’t be sure… And just like he was reading your thoughts, he raised his hands up a little as if to show he didn’t have any indication of hurting you. Still, it didn’t ease your suspicions much but some part of your mind held a thought that he would have probably hurt you already if he wanted to do that.

”I was just leaving…” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. The man didn’t move or say anything so you just turned and started to walk away. You had to take a look at where the man was left standing after a moment and couldn’t see him anymore. Just as you were about to sigh from relief, you turned your gaze back to forward and stumbled back as the man was now right in front of you.

He grabbed a hold of your arm.

”Careful,” he spoke as you stared at him with wide eyes. His white eye glowed in the dark, the other seeming to slowly change color if you saw correctly. It was dark after all, so you couldn’t fully trust your vision. He seemed to breath slowly in through his nose while a small smirk made its way onto his lips. For a moment his fingers tightened around your arm, you could feel his nails digging into your flesh and it felt way too sharp to be normal. Your heart was beating in your chest rapidly and you pulled your hand away from the man’s hold.

The man shook his head a bit after the contact was lost and let out a small laugh and now you could see the white, sharp fangs clearly. You swallowed, thoughts starting to race in your head.

”What are you?”

It was barely a whisper but you knew the man had heard it. He stepped closer and you were sure now it was time to flee and you tried to take a step back but something stopped you. There was a slight swish of wind and for a moment your felt a bit dizzy and then you felt the man’s hand under your chin as he leaned closer.

You couldn’t be sure if your heart had missed two beats instead of just one but now you were completely frozen. You could move your legs so you probably could leave but for some reason you didn’t… want to.

”I’m sure you already have the answer in your mind,” the man answered finally, voice smooth like a velvet. It seemed to resonate everywhere, making you feel so… strange. It was really hard to describe – it felt like it reached somewhere deep within you and calmed you down somehow.

”The creatures like that don’t exist,” you said.

”That’s what your mind is trying to tell you,” the man said, moving his hand slightly and starting to trace along your cheek with his sharp fingernail, strangely gentle. ”Hate to disappoint but the creatures you’re thinking about are real and I’m one of them.”

He showed his fangs and his non-white eye changed to glow red. It certainly looked real, felt real but also a bit of dream-like. Like two worlds mixing, the lines of reality and fantasy blurred.

”You’ve surely used some… unholy mojo on me,” you stated and the man chuckled.

”Only a little,” he admitted, gently tapping your lips with his finger. ”To make you feel more calm. If you want to go, you can, I’m not stopping you.”

Blinking, you considered what to do. As time passed and you didn’t move, a pleased smile rose to the man’s lips and his finger traveled down to your neck.

”You’re not… going to hurt me?” you asked, hesitant. You had to.

”I could… if I wanted and you could not do anything,” he said straightforwardly. ”But no, I’m not going to hurt you. So don’t worry, you’re not gonna be my meal – unless you want to.”

You nodded slowly, trying to get all of this – the whole moment – to fully sink in while you studied the painted face of the man. His expression was soft, in a way, and he seemed curious, though you could also sense the danger underneath all of that. It was easy to imagine how the predator in him could just take and destroy you, drain the life out of you. But at the same time tthere was this temptation – how it would feel like if the fangs pierced your skin and the blood would rush out of you, feeding him.

You snapped out of your thoughts, noticing the man’s face now being much closer to you.

”Sorry,” he said then, pulling a bit back and you felt some strange energy around you. ”It seems that you are too acceptive of ’my unholy mojo’. And your scent…”

The man didn’t finish his sentence and he really didn’t have to as your thoughts could fill in the rest. You were more surprised by the fact that you seemed to do something to him, too, even though it felt like you weren’t doing anything.

”The thought is intriguing, isn’t it?” the man then asked, flashing his fangs again, and you understood what he meant. You knew you could just lie but you also were pretty sure that the man would know if you were lying so you had no choice but to speak the truth.

”Yeah, it is.”

With his finger the man traced some pattern on your neck, making you shiver. You knew he could feel your pulse while you could hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears. The air around you changed, the dizziness reaching you and causing you to sway a little and soon you felt hands on your sides, steadying you. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your eyes focused but the intensity of the strange feeling only grew and your eyes fell closed, your hands grabbing the man’s arms.

”Damn,” you heard the man speaking. ”You’re not making this easy. I swear I’m not using my powers that much.”

He sounded surprised and his hold on your sides tightened. You drew in a deep breath before opening your eyes and you were hit by the blurry red-white glow of the man’s eyes. The darkness seemed only to highlight it and your slightly hazy mind thought it looked kind of beautiful.

”Oh shit,” you breathed out in awe.

”It’s so addicting,” the man said. ”Easy to get lost in it and lose your self control.”

His words aroused your curiosity.

”Have you ever lost control?”

The man’s expression changed and he lowered his gaze, his hands leaving your sides and causing the spell to break. You blinked, feeling more grounded again.

”Sí, many times,” he answered quietly and your mind instantly filled with images of faceless people lying dead on the ground, their bodies smeared with blood.

”Are you… afraid that you will lose it again?”

You weren’t sure where the questions came from but the whole situation seemed already so weird you doubted it couldn’t get any more weird.

”Not really. I learned my lesson a long time ago.”

The man’s gaze found yours again and you could only nod as you really had no idea what to say to that. For a moment you considered to reach out to touch him but then decided not to. It seemed that the closer you were, the more it affected to the both of you. The man was right, the feeling was addicting – weird, too, but definitely something you wanted to feel again and again.

And it was like the man had read your mind, his hand reached for yours and as soon as your fingers entwined, you felt the wave of warmth coursing through you. The dizziness hit afterwards but only lasted for a short moment. You had never in your life tried any drugs but you guessed that being under their influence would feel close to this.

”This feels so strong,” the man said, turning your joined hands. ”Reminds me of the time when…” he trailed off, shaking his head. ”It’s not important now.”

You were a bit of disappointed that he didn’t tell more but maybe it was a story for another time. If there woud be another time.

”I should probably leave…” you said and the man gave a you small nod. You really didn’t want to leave but it was night and you needed some sleep. The man squeezed your hand before letting go, the warmth slowly leaving you and the chilliness of the night biting into you.

You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your hoodie and slowly turned to leave. Every step that you took away from the man felt heavy and eventually you stopped, turning back to him.

”Will I see you again?”

”Maybe,” the man answered and even though you could only see the silhouette of him, somehow you knew he was smiling.

”What’s your name?”

”You can call me Copia.”

Copia.

You rolled the name in your mind for a moment and with a smile on your lips, you turned to head home. And as soon as you got home, you changed your pajamas on and went to bed, welcoming the much needed sleep.

The rest of that night your dreams were occupied by a pair of red-white eyes, fangs and painted face.

#copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #jen writes fics

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deceitfuldevout · 1 year

Text

Pity Party

Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Runaway!Reader

Word Count: +2,232

Warning(s): +18, Non Con, Mentions of emotional neglect, Stalking, Kidnapping, Reader is sheltered and has no survival skills, Lloyd being a total creep. Also corny alerrrt.

Author's Note(s): Inspired by yet another Melanie song and idc. Didn't spell check and still don't care! Not a Lloyd fan just bored and started writing.

You were sick of having to take orders from your parents. Sick of trying so hard to be the perfect child. Attending every dance recital, achieving perfect scores, getting into a great college. Only for them to disregard the one day you ask from them. It's one thing for your parents to forget a tournament or anniversary, it's another when it's your birthday.

You cried all morning, locked up in your bedroom. As you lit the candles you thought, did they even care? Hell, did they even bother to see if you were alive?! And no, this wasn't just a small thing. It was the only thing you asked for this year. No presents, no extravagant party, just for them to show up. But when your father cancels last minute for another 'emergency' meeting, it broke your heart. They would never learn. You blew out the candles, wishing to never see them again.

Sometimes you were positive they were purposely going out of their way to avoid you. That's why you've saved them the trouble of doing so, packing only a backpack before sneaking out. You'll save them the trouble of dealing with your existence. That's how you landed at a park all the way across town. Seated on a swing set as you cried to yourself. A forever nomad in your own world, with parents who never understood you.

You check your phone, It was only a few minutes this cursed day was over. Since the day you were born your parents had decided everything for you. Everything from the day you were born had been planned out. From the start to the finish. You could predict exactly how each day went by in your sheltered little life. But tonight would be worse than you could ever imagine. He'll make sure of it.

Stalking you in the dead of night was a lone wolf. Lloyd made sure to hide in the shadows whilst keeping a close eye on the unsuspecting woman. He takes a dab of his pen. Breathing as much of the concentrated water before showtime. He tosses it to the ground, still keeping his eyes on the target. Now what's a girl like you doing out here?

In his eyes, You weren't a grown woman with her own independent thoughts. But a stupid, stupid girl who didn't know any better. He'd set you straight. It'd take some time but you'll learn fast. Shit..what time was it? 11? 12? He checks his watch. About ten til midnight.

He notices a heavy look of sleep had crept on your face. You fight against the urge to yawn. He'll fix that. A pretty little thing like you should have a fixed curfew. Can't let any of the bad men find you. God, forbid you found anyone else like him. He grins from ear to ear. Already imagining you all tied up and stuffed in his trunk. His favorite role play.

What you wore made him audibly groan. He could see the top of your blouse unbuttoned. You wore a loose-fitted summer outfit. One that amplified your figure. He takes note of how your knees press together. Stern on remaining shut. It was a telltale sign of innocence. You must've been raised a lady. Were you a virgin? He sure hopes so. He's never had one before and part of him hopes to soon.

The streetlight reflects off of you in an angelic way. Why the hell were you doing here at this time? More specifically, what the hell were you doing on this side of the city? You hung your head, letting out faint sobs. He sees a backpack and puts two-and-two together. Poor thing must've run away from home. But don't worry, he'll take you in. He'll take you over and over again.

Who knows when another opportunity like this may happen? He had this primal urge to do one thing and one thing only: Hunt. He's a natural-born predator. Trained in the art of stalking prey. You've given him no choice. Teasing him at this late hour. He needs to act on his needs first before anything else. You'll understand soon enough.

"Hey Sunshine." There he was, your very own boogeyman. He starts off with his soft voice, almost sounding concerned, "Are you lost?" the voice is coming from in front of you. Looking up to see the stranger. A man, seemingly in his thirties, dressed in business casual attire, "You waiting on somebody?" he leans in, almost a little too close for comfort. How the did he manage to get so close without making any noise?

"N-no sir." You lean back. Something about him hadn't felt right. In fact, nothing about him felt right. He reeks of danger. He smiles at your response, as if you had given him the right answer, "Good. Then no one will come looking." stepping forward.

"Wait! Wait my parents! They're waiting for me!"

"I thought you said you didn't have any family." his voice sounded more like an accusation. You clutch the chains of the swing, "I...I--"

"I-I-I is not a good answer." he pokes fun at your stutter.

Your eyes grew at the man's response. You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights as your feet now touch the ground. You're off in a split second, making a dash for the street. You felt a strong pair of arms push you from behind, causing you to fall to the ground. You scramble to sit up, turning around to see the perpetrator.

There he stood close to the shadows. Basking in it's embrace as he gazes down at you. He smiles, his eyes squinting slightly. Everything about it seemed nerve wrecking. Although you grew up sheltered. It's didn't take a genius to know danger was--is here. You look up at him with beady eyes and trembling lips.

He notices your eyes starting to water. Oh...you poor thing. He can't help but chuckle at your reaction. Of course, you wouldn't know what to do. You weren't prepared to ever receive this sort of treatment. But today's your lucky day. As you begin to crawl back he takes a step forward. He crouches down to grip an ankle, yanking you across the ground. You wince from the friction, skin now burning.

You flip over to crawl away. That's when he pounces. His body now flush against yours. He coos in your ear, "Now where do you think you're going hm?" his voice raspy with lust. His body now pinning yours to the ground. With one hand around your neck and the other lifting up your skirt. Your fingers dug into the dirt, trying to drag yourself away from the perpetrator. He caught both your hands together and pins them. Hearing his belt unbuckling causes ice to run through your veins.

Lloyd secures both yours wrists in a firm grip while fastening them in place. He huffs, "There." panting from the struggle. His hair now a mess. Fixing it can wait. Right now he wants to enjoy his prize. He reaches underneath your skirt, securing his hands around the waistband before pulling down. He groans in disbelief. Never had you felt so weak. This was it, the day you've dreaded since you were a little girl.

Never had Lloyd seen such a pretty pussy. All for him. He sloppily tongues at your folds, dragging his pink muscle along your hole, brushing against the bud a few times before returning to the crease. He collects a thick wad of spit before hacking it on your cunt. Your thighs shook from the sensation. Heat suddenly began to pool at your core. What was he doing?? What in the world was that!?

Moments later you feel a whole new sensation. Something much bigger. No..no! Your eyes began to bulge as he starts to push. This man was going to kill you. If he keeps going he'll rip you in half!

"N-no! nononononononono! W-wait! Please!"

You let out a panicked cry. There was no way that could--would fit. For a moment you couldn't hear or feel anything. Hell, you couldn't even think of anything other than what was about to happen. This man was going to take what he wanted and there is nothing you can do to stop him. You should've never ran away from home.

You felt a deep pit in your stomach. That's when he began to push in. It all happened so fast yet felt like an eternity at the same time.

He began to grind his hips in a rhythem that matched his preference. But there was something about your snatch that has him absolutely whipped. His fingers dip into the flesh of your hips. He starts to pick up pace, plowing in and out your abused channel. Cursing to himself to keep going, almost caving into the warm embrace., "Fuck!" he groans. You felt amazing. He was thankful for how responsive you were.

His rough hands grip your neck, securing you in place as he thrusts deeper in. He strikes your breasts a few times before continuing onto your mound. His fingers spread your folds to tug at your poor bud. Causing a high-pitched squeal to escape your lips. For a moment you felt light headed, spots began to blur in the corner of your vision. This is how your fate would end. There would be no knight in shining armor in this story. He never considered himself to be prince charming. Then another wave of pleasure hits you. Causing all air to escape your lungs.

Your pussy milked him dry. He could physically feel his balls draining each time you'd orgasm. Lloyd wanted more. He needs more. He lifts you up and into his lap, thrusting his thick cock into your leaking channel, “C’mon now princess…open up for me.” he juts his hips up, “Ride me. I said RIDE!” his hand swats at your rear. Causing you to recoil from it. No matter how much you squirmed, you couldn't release yourself from his iron grip.

With his stamina It wasn't going to end anytime soon. You might as well comply, carefully lifting your hips up and down with the little energy you had left. He hums from the sensation, "Hmm that's right. Don't fight it." he licks his fingers, rubbing at your poor bud just to feel you cream. He swings his head back, holding back his groan, "Oh fuck!" his face now a vibrant flush. His voice is raspy, "You were stupid enough to run away. Even more for choosing this side of the city."

"P-please let me go-"

"Shut up." he grips your jaw, growling, "Shut the fuck up or I'll take your ass next." he can feel you tightening around him, "Yeah...yeah take it just like that. Like a fuckin whore."

"M-m'notawhore..." you whine. He yanks back your hair, eliciting a cry from your lips, "Ow! Ow! Please stop!" you sob. He growls in your ear, "You're a whore if I say you are. You speak when I tell you to, and when I tell you to jump all I wanna hear is 'how high'. If you say anything else I'll kill you right now." he sneers, gripping the sides of your face until it hurt. You whine from the pressure, letting out a deep sob.

Lloyd shoves you to the grown before thrusting back in. He absolutely indulged in that glassy look in your eyes. A light of hope dying inside. Your arms flail to cover your intimacy. You squirm from underneath him.

At that moment, he hadn't even realized it began raining. Soon enough the water began to flood the park. And this...this monster. This beast decided it would be him to take you. Whether or not you'd be compliant didn't matter. He ruts into you like the behemoth that he was. Thick wads of his spunk leak from your sore channel. You softly cried as you collapsed to the ground. Finally giving out.

He catches his breath. His nose brushes against the back of your neck, licking a stripe against the exposed skin. Salty yet at the same time sweet. He thought for a moment you would've died. You sure sounded like it. The flailing and squirming around with your little tantrum. What felt like forever only took several minutes. Seven minutes of your life you can never take back.

Lloyd looks at his wrist watch. About a minute til midnight. Right on time. He had to wrap this up anyways, can't have your parents waiting. See, he would've brought you home, all you had to do was comply. Lloyd was hired by your old man to track you down. His little lesson may have gone a bit overboard. But how would you ever know if not the hard way. His way.

"Please just...bring my baby home!"

That was the last thing your mother said to Lloyd before he left in search of you.

Whatever your parents didn't know, couldn't hurt them. Shit...he'd have to come up with one hell of a story. A decoy body maybe. Sure, you'd hate him at first. Maybe even forever. He couldn't care less. Don't you see? This was for your own good. Sluts like you had to learn somehow. He takes a drag from his pen, knowing full well he wanted a cigarette so fucking bad.

He chuckles at how easy it was to break you. Not so strong and independent now are we? It took your parents 20+ years to make the perfect girl. Their protégée child, It only took Lloyd several minutes to break you.

He surprised even himself for what had happened. You're supposed to be his mission, and he never fails a mission. His record had been spiff-clean since becoming a private contractor. He chuckles, as if it would change anything. His reputation was nothing less than impressive, a little hiccup wouldn't ruin him if he covers his tracks.

He lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal style into his car. Carefully securing you in the back seat. It was easy with you already out. He sprawls you across the backseat since the doors only open from the outside. He sits in the driver's seat and starts the car.

Lloyd finger combs his wet hair back, eyeing you through the rearview mirror. He takes note of your shivering. Groaning with annoyance as he turns on the heat. He knows he's not pussy whipped. He just likes toying with you that's all, right?

Fuck it. He's going to keep you. He deserves something special this year. After all it was his birthday.

#Dark fic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #reader #reader insert #fab!reader #fem!reader #afab!reader #lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #my work #my works

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doraambrose · 18 days

Note

Could you draw Batman in Dan Mora's style with copic markers with microns? I'm thinking Bats in only black and white and his surroundings in color. He stands semi-visibly in dark shadows in The AlleyTM where his parents died. He's looking at their bodies which are also only in black and white. It's to give off the feeling of being trapped in the past. Maybe little kid Bruce is also among the corpses? I'm not describing a panel I saw, I swear, but it's a scene that hasn't left me for a while.

Feel free to change anything, it's your art and work after all lmao

Would be super happy if you decided to do it, but not necessary if you don't want to!! Take all the time you want!! Thank you!

I finally finished it! It was definitely a challenge to do in Dan Mora's style, but I think I pulled it off okay lol. I intentionally made the bricks a little wonky because I wanted to give off the weirdness and Tim Burton like style that I think of when I think of gotham. I also added the bats in the background last minute because I thought it would look cool behind batman and kind of contribute to the ominous vibe of it all.

The materials I used:

Copic markers: black, cobalt blue, and ultramarine

Micron pens: brush tip, graphic 1, and 05

Canson XL series oil and acrylic paper pad 9×12"

For any of my Fort Wayne people (or people in the Indiana and Ohio area) all my materials came from United Art and Education, an awesome store off Clinton that is literally dedicated to art supplies and educational stuff (literally nicknamed the teacher store). They have stuff I have never even thought about, like wood carving, print/bock printing, etc. Check it out! They also have a website you can order online! (P.S. I may or may not work there and get 20% off)

Anyway, the reference photos I used:

I hope you like it! Thanks for the ask!!

P.s I feel awful for this, but I gotta just put it out there that I do accept tips and my website it linked in the description!

#batfam #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #dc universe #dcu #art asks #artists on tumblr #comic art

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underground-secret · 8 months

Text

The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Description: Sam, Dean, and Y/N investigate a series of mysterious drownings. They discover the town inhabitants a dark secret buried long ago.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions of drownings, gun usage (sort of), maybe cursing, bad flirting, death, mentions of death

tag list: @athenalive, @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld

Word count: 7,066

Dead In the Water

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

We sit at the diner part of the Inn that we’re staying at.

Dean sits in front of me circling obituaries in a newspaper to find our next hunt, Sam having left for the bathroom. My laptop is out as I type away on the new article I had to write for my work deadline, our plates of food are mostly empty, now pushed to the side as we continue our tasks

A pretty waitress, whose name tag reads ‘Wendy’ approaches our table. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks with a charming smile.

And despite how attractive she is, my eyes aren’t on her but the man in front of me. Deans looking up at her grinning around the pen he’s chewing on and god I don’t know if i’ve ever been this distracted.

My mouth falls a little bit agape as I look at him, perfect smile, messy hair, a sort of 5 o'clock shadow going on, and a pen pulling at his bottom lip. My cheeks burn and I know I must look like an idiot.

“Just the check, please.” Sam answers sitting back down in the seat next to me. This pulls me out of my love sick stare, I take a sip of what’s left of my water trying to cool myself down.

“Okay.” Wendy says, walking away.

Dean drops his head, then looks at Sam “You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while.”

He points to Wendy, who’s back is to us, “That’s fun.”

He looks at Sam and then at me, like he’s expecting some kind of reaction from me. But I remain quiet.

“Here, take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.” Dean gives up, handing Sam the newspaper who tilts it so that I could also see it.

“A funeral?” Sam asks

“Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure or whatever” Dean acknowledges.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.” Sam replies, clearly angry.

“Something you want to say to me?” Dean challenges.

“The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day.” Sam answers.

“Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?” Dean pushes back.

“I don't know. Something. Anything.” Sam answers.

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?” Dean snaps and suddenly I feel like I'm a little kid watching their parents argue while I'm stuck in the middle just sitting there.

“Yeah, I know you do, it's just—“ Dean cuts him off, “I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?” Sam rolls his eyes at this.

Wendy walks by again, catching Dean's attention, full on distracting him.

I clear my throat wanting to change the subject, “Lake Manitoc. Hey! Well doesn't that just sound so interesting.”

This gets Dean’s attention back, away from Wendy.

“Huh?” he asks.

“How far?” Sam asks, catching on to my idea.

If there was an award for how quickly someone could make others uncomfortable I’d have to give it to these boys. From arguing over hunting and their Dad in front of their friend to getting distracted by a hot waitress. But if they did get an award they’d probably argue over that too.

The Impala pulls up in front of the Carlton house.

Dean knocks on the door, a young guy with short brown hair answers it.

“Will Carlton?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, that's right.” Will confirms.

“I'm Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamil, and that’s Agent Hayden.” Dean informs, referring to himself, then Sam, and then me.

“We’re with the US Wildlife Service” He goes on, holding up an ID to match his lie.

Will takes us around the house to the dock, where his father sits.

“She was about a hundred yards out. That's where she got dragged down.” Will explains.

“And you’re sure she didn’t just drown?” I ask, even though it felt inconsiderate.

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

Ok yeah, definitely didn’t just drown then.

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam questions further.

“No, that's what I'm telling you.” Will responds, clearly getting annoyed.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” Sam asks.

“No. Again, she was really far out there.” He said, frustrated.

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean asks further, trying to cross some things off the long list of creatures who could be responsible.

“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?” Will asked, pushing for answers.

“We'll let you know.” I respond simply, feeling bad for attacking him with questions when his sister just died.

Dean gives me a nod to start heading back to the car.

But Sam doesn't move with us, instead he pushes on with the questions, “What about your father? Can we talk to him?”

We stop walking, turning back to hear the response.

Will looks towards his father, Bill, and looks back at Sam. “Look, if you don't mind, I mean...he didn't see anything and he's kind of been through a lot.”

“We understand.”

And we do, we’ve seen these sorts of things break people apart, families even. We’ve seen these things break apart our own families, and we struggle each day to not allow it to break us. Even if we never bring it up, not even to each other.

“Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?” Sheriff Jake Devins asks us, having decided talking to him would be the next best course of action.

“You sure it's accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.” Sam informs

“Like what?” Devins asks, leading us into his office motioning for us to sit. “Here, sit, please. There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake.”

Sam and Dean sit, the sheriff pulling up a third chair so I could sit too as he keeps talking. “There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Yeah. Right” Dean laughs.

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still…we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.” Devins explains, taking a seat.

“You do have to admit it’s weird, I mean that's three missing people all in relation to the lake” I press.

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about.” Devins answers, eyebrows scrunched together with worry.

“Anyway...All this...it won't be a problem much longer.” Devins sighs.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, leaning forward slightly.

“Well, the dam, of course.” Devon clarifies.

“Of course, the dam. It's, uh, it sprung a leak.” Dean guesses.

“It's falling apart, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.” Devon explains.

There’s a light tap on the door followed by a brunette woman peeking her head in, “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

We all stand up at the same time, weird, since we were done with our questions anyways.

“I can come back later.” The woman adds.

“No no it’s okay, we were just leaving” I reply with a friendly smile.

“Gentlemen, ma’am, this is my daughter” The sheriff explains, motioning his hand towards the woman.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean.” He shakes her hand.

Maybe he makes it painfully obvious or maybe I've just known him for so long that I can now easily tell when he wants to hook up with a woman. I know Sam has this ability too as we give each other a knowing look from behind Dean's back, standing on either side of him.

“Andrea Barr. Hi.” She introduces

“Hi.” Dean answers.

“They're from the Wildlife Service. About the lake.” Devon informs her.

“Oh.”

That’s when a small boy with long brownish-red hair walked around Andrea.

“Oh, hi!” I greet the kid, having spotted him first, giving him a little wave.

But he gives no answer or greeting of any kind, walking away without saying a word. Andrea followed closely behind him.

“His name is Lucas” Devon states.

“Is he okay?” Sam asks.

“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have.” Sheriff Devon stands going to his office door, “Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”

We all leave the office, including the Sheriff himself. Dean asked one final question, “Thanks. You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”

“Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.” Andrea answers

“Two—would you mind showing us?” Dean asks

She laughs, “You want me to walk you two blocks?”

“Not if it's any trouble.”

“I'm headed that way anyway.”

I look at Sam again and without words we have a conversation on how ridiculous and slightly annoying this is.

Andrea turns to her father, “I'll be back to pick up Lucas at three.” Then to Lucus, “We'll go to the park, okay, sweetie?” She kisses his head and then turns our way to lead us.

“Thanks again.”

Andrea leads us along the street, Dean making conversation. “So, cute kid” He says.

“Thanks” she responds simply.

“Kids are the best, huh?” He tries again as we cross the street, but she ignores him. We keep walking, shortly coming to a stop in front of the Lakefront Motel.

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks” She states with an awkward smile.

“Thanks so much” I say sincerely, feeling bad for Dean having dragged her here just for a chance with her.

“Thanks.” Sam says too.

She nods her head at us before addressing Dean, “Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

A laugh slips past my lips before I could stop it (for Deans sake). “Ohhh I like you” I can't happen but say through laughs. I get a sharp glare from Dean but a contrasting soft smile from Andrea.

She leaves, calling back over her shoulder, “Enjoy your stay!”

“'Kids are the best'? You don't even like kids.” Sam points out, turning towards Dean with a questioning look on his face.

“I love kids.” He responds

“Mhm” I hum sarcastically

“Name three children that you even know.” Sam challenges. But as predicted Dean can’t even come up with one. Sam gives him a pointed look before walking towards the hotel and I follow after.

“I'm thinking!” Dean yells after us.

We walk into the motel's office, Sam’s talking to the clerk and I can’t help but unfocus my eyes staring at the unpleasantly patterned wallpaper. I’ve been traveling with Dean for hardly a month and he’s managed to flirt with practically every woman he’s seen, and yes I know this is an exaggeration.

Each woman, each time he flirts or even winks at another girl a pain rings true in my heart, one I hate to say I'm becoming familiar with.

It was that moment, that one small moment of waiting for keys to our motel rooms that I decided it.

From now on I won’t feel jealous or even that stupid pain in my heart when he’s with another woman, even though I know that isn’t how it works.

I’ll try to forget that I love him, I'll pretend those feelings aren’t there just so it doesn’t become painful to be around him. Even though I know it’s impossible to forget you're in love with Dean Winchester.

I dropped my bag off in my room, now entering Sam and Dean’s.

Sam’s working on his laptop while Dean’s going through his clothing for I have no idea what.

I take the seat across from Sam as he reads what he finds.

“So there’s the three drowning victims this year.”

“Is there anything before that?” I ask

“Yeah. Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace.”

“So, what, we got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean asks.

“Unlikely, considering there hasn’t been any spotting or legends around the town. Like for the Loch Ness there’s been more than a hundred eye witnesses, but for this, none.” I pipe up.

“I was thinking the same thing. Whatever is out there, no one’s living to talk about it.” Sam adds, getting Dean to stalk over and look at the laptop.

“Wait, Barr, Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?” Dean points to the screen.

“Isn’t that Andreas last name?” I ask.

“Christopher Barr, the victim in May… Yeah Y/N’s right. Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued…Maybe we have an eyewitness after all.” Sam informs.

“Jesus Christ” I sigh.

“Yeah, no wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over.” Dean adds.

There’s a sound of kids laughing and playing as we approach the park, reminding me of similar times. We approach Andrea who’s sitting on a bench, “Can we join you?” Sam asks her gently.

She looks up at us, “I’m here with my son.”

Dean looks over at Lucas who’s sitting down with toy soldiers and some drawing materials.

“Oh. Mind if I say hi?” Dean asks her, she nods her head and he heads over.

“Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.” She tells us, Sam sits next to her as he answers, “I don't think that's what this is about.”

I opt to stand, leaning on the arm of the bench. I take in the soft chill breeze and the kids running around. A feeling of peace creeps into my bones and warmth within my heart as I watch Dean interact with Lucas, a mix of admiration and longing in my veins.

Barley five minutes go by before he’s walking back to us, the warmth within me still hasn’t flickered out.

“Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident.” Andrea speaks up.

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry.” Dean answers, she nods.

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asks and I can’t help but think if maybe this is too invasive.

But whether it is or not doesn't seem to matter as she answers, “That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress.”

“That can't be easy. For either of you.” Sam comforts.

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…” She breaks off.

“Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.” Dean offers, I know he’s speaking from experience.

“You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—“

Lucas walking up to us cuts her off.

“Hey sweetie.”

Lucas doesn't acknowledge her, he just hands Dean a picture. One he drew himself, telling from the use of crayon.

“Thanks. Thanks, Lucas.”

We’re back at the motel. Deans sitting on his bed flipping through channels while I'm sitting next to him reading a book, a sort of habit we picked up when we were younger.

Sam enters the room, “So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie.”

“What do you mean?�� Dean asks, putting the remote down, I place my book down.

Sam sits on the bed next to the one we’re on, facing us, “I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”

“He drowned?” Dean asks.

“Yep. In the sink.” Sam confirms.

“Pardon?” I question, I mean how do you drown in a sink, of all places.

“What the hell? So you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.” Dean spoke.

“Yeah, but what?” Sam voiced.

“I don't know. Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...water that comes from the same source.” Dean listed

“The lake.” Sam suggested.

“Yeah.”

“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time.” Sam responded.

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere. This is gonna happen again soon.” Dean says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed towards Sam.

“And whatever it is, it for sure has to do with Bill Carlton.” I add on.

“Yeah, it took both his kids.” Dean confirms.

“And I've been asking around. Lucas's dad, Chris, he’s Bill Carlton's godson.” Sam reveals.

“Then let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

Bill Carlton’s sitting on a bench on the lake's dock.

From here you wouldn’t expect anything sinister from the relaxed big lake.

“Mr. Carlton?” Sam voices as we approach his sitting figure.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.” He continues, gaining Mr.Carlton’s attention.

“We're from the Department—“ Dean attempts to say, getting cut off by Bill. “I don't care who you're with. I've answered enough questions today.” A weak mix of tiredness and sadness etched on his voice.

“Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever see anything out there? Mr. Carlton, Sophie's drowning and Will's death—we think there might be a connection to you or your family.” Sam explains, despite Carlton’s previous response.

“My children are gone. It's...it's worse than dying. Go away. Please.” Mr. Carlton pleads, looking down at his lap.

We all give each other a look, scrunched eyebrows and sympathetic faces. It’s within that look that we decide to head back to the Impala knowing we won’t get anything more from Bill Carlton.

“What do you guys think?” Sam questions as we approach the car.

“The poor man has been through so much…” I trail off, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“He’s also not telling us something” Dean adds, and I can’t help but agree despite how bad I feel for the guy.

“So now what?” Sam asks, leaning on the car.

Dean goes still, stiffening.

“What is it?” I ask tilting my head

“Huh…Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something.” Dean suggests. He pulls out a piece of paper looking at the Carlton house, he tilts it for us to see revealing the drawing Lucas made.

“I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea.” Andrea speaks, closing the door behind us as we enter her house.

“I just need to talk to him. Just for a few minutes.” Dean reasons.

“He won't say anything. What good's it gonna do?” She responds.

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there.” Sam explains, and I can’t imagine how ridiculous that sounds to her.

“My husband, the others, they just drowned. That's all.” Andrea states clearly, voice laced with grief and anger.

“If that's what you really believe, then we'll go. But if you think there's even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son.” Dean pleads.

Andrea nods in defeat.

She leads us to Lucas’s room, he’s coloring while toy soldiers stand guard around him. Dean enters crouching down by Lucas while we wait in the doorway, “Hey, Lucas. You remember me? You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.”

Lucas continues to color, refusing to acknowledge Dean who pulls out the original drawing, “How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me.”

But again Lucas keeps coloring. Dean tries again, “You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.”

I remember the day he told me that story, it was the same day my mom had died and he was trying to comfort me having understood the feeling of losing a mother. I was thirteen, him being two years older, and his mom had already been gone for eleven years. But the grief that was apparent when he told me all those years ago, like it had happened the day before…I sometimes still see it now.

That got Lucas’s attention, he drops his crayon and looks up at Dean handing him a picture.

“Thanks, Lucas.”

We’re back in the Impala, Sam’s holding the drawing Lucas made of a yellow house near a church with red bikes outside.

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died.” Dean says.

“Well it’s said that going through a traumatic experience could make someone more sensitive to psychic tendencies.” I offer, recalling some information I read somewhere.

“Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.” Dean questions, it’s clear he cares about the kid that he’s even worried about Lucas.

“All right, we got another house to find.” Sam responds, referring to the drawing of the yellow house.

“The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone.” Dean grumbled, complaining.

“See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.” Sam states, looking at the drawing.

“Oh, College Boy thinks he's so smart.” Dean mocks, even though we both know it was pretty helpful information.

“You know, um...What you said about Mom...You never told me that before.” Sam admits, the mood changing quickly.

“It's no big deal” He responds before continuing, “Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?”

“Aww, you know you’d love a hug” I tease, patting his shoulder from the back seat.

He rolls his eyes, starting the car.

After driving around for a while we finally approach a white church that looks similar to the one Lucas had drawn. Dean holds up the drawing, comparing the two. There’s the yellow house next to the church and a wooden fence near the house. We look between each other knowing that this must be it.

We cross the street, Dean knocking on the door to the yellow house.

“We're sorry to bother you, ma'am—but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.” He asks the small old woman that answers the door.

She lets us in as she answers, “No sir. Not for a very long time. Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now.

“The police never—I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” She sighs continuing, “Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.”

I nudge both boys motioning towards the many toy soldiers lying on a table.

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” Dean questions.

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up.” The woman explains.

Dean picks up a picture from the mirror of two boys, one who I assume is Peter with a bike.

He reads the back, “Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen seventy.”

We’re back in the car, Dean driving.

“Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow.” Sam remarked.

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean questions.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished.” Sam adds.

“D-Do you think Bill did something to Peter?” I stammer.

“What if he killed Peter?” Sam asks.

“Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible.” Dean remarked, making a sharp turn presumably towards Carlton’s house.

The Impala pulls up in front of the house, we get out and Sam knocks on the door. “Mr. Carlton?” he calls out, the loud roar of an engine cutting off a second knock.

We go around the house seeing Bill out on the lake in his boat. We ran to the end of the dock, yelling.

“Mr. Carlton! You need to come back! Come out of the water! Turn the boat around!”

“Mr. Carlton!”

“Sir! You need to turn back”

Whether he’s choosing to ignore us or really doesn't hear us will remain a mystery as the water rises, flipping him and his boat over. Vanishing.

“Sam. Dean. Y/N” Andrea calls out as we walk into the main room of the police station with Sheriff Devins.

The Sheriff goes up to his daughter, having some sort of conversation that we can’t hear from where we stand.

Lucas looked up from where he was sitting, looking terrified. He jumps from his seat and barrels into Dean grabbing his arm.

“Lucas, hey, what is it? Lucas.” Dean speaks, looking down at the kid.

Lucas whines, looking up at Dean. Sam and I look at each other and then back to the scene unfolding in front of us.

“Lucas.” Andrea orders from where she stands.

“Lucas, it's okay. It's okay. Hey, Lucas, it's okay. It's okay.” Dean tries to sooth him before Andrea pulls him away and leads him outside, but Lucas’s eyes remain on Dean.

Sheriff Devins struts over throwing his jacket down as he leads us into his office.

“Okay, just so I'm clear, you see...something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?” Devins begins.

Dean glances at Sam and then me, “Yeah, that about sums it up.” He nods.

“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?” Devins lists out, the last one making my eyes widen.

He continued, “That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you two.”

“See, now, we can explain that.” Dean says, trying to cover up our initial lie.

“Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.” Devins suggested.

“Door number two sounds good.” Sam answers simply, but I'm not so sure if I agree.

“That's the one I'd pick.”

We left swiftly, only stopping at the motel for our belongings before we were back in the car heading for the interstate.

“Green.” Sam announces, breaking the silence in the car.

“What?”

“Light's green.” Sam answers, clarifying.

Dean turns right. “Uh, the interstate's the other way.” Sam states, getting a simple, “I know.”

“But Dean, this job, I think it's over.” Sam replies.

“I'm not so sure.” Dean responded simply, really not letting anything up.

“If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.” Sam reasons.

“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?” Dean challenges.

“But why would you think that?” Sam asks him

“Because Lucas was really scared.” He answers.

“Dean’s right, somethings not right with this ending” I chime in

“I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.” Dean clarifies.

“I expect this from Y/N. But you? Dean. Who are you? And what have you done with my brother?” Sam questions, looking from me to Dean.

Dean glances at him, “Shut up.”

————————————————

We pulled up in front of Andreas' house. Sam chiming in one more comment, “Are you sure about this? It's pretty late, man.”

“Better to be wrong, then to not have checked” I answered, hugging my jacket closer to me.

Dean rings the doorbell. At that moment, Lucass opens the door, breathing heavy and clearly terrified.

“Lucas? Lucas!” Dean yells as Lucas turns around and takes off, without a second thought we follow after him.

Water pours down the stairs as he leads us up them and to the door with more water coming from it.

Lucas pounds on the door before Dean pushes him over to me, kicking in the door. As Deans about to enter Lucas grabs hold of him, so instead me and Sam enter.

Sam half kneels aimlessly sticking his hands into the water. When she surfaces for just a moment, I manage to grab underneath her arm closest to me trying to pull her out. She goes under again but we keep pulling until finally she’s let free and we’re able to pull her out.

She coughs up water as Sam leaves her to me going to grab something behind us. I hold her to me in an attempt to block her from the boys behind me along with the cold. Sam taps on my shoulder handing me a large fluffy towel while his head is facing away. I grab it, quickly covering Andrea with it.

She sits up fully, breathing harshly wrapping the towel tighter around herself. I sit next to her rubbing her arm soothingly, the bright moonlight shining on her back.

It was a while before Andrea felt comfortable to stand, Lucas immediately running up to her in a hug. After their reunion she went to get dressed asking if i’d stay in the room with her, I knew unless her bedroom had a water source she’d be okay but I wasn’t going to argue with a woman who’s already been terrified so I obliged.

I stood in the room facing the door as she got dressed, she was slow but I didn’t care.

And when she broke down crying I held her until she calmed down a bit.

Dawn was breaking when I’d finally got her to sit down stairs in the living room. Sam sat across from her while Dean was looking through the bookshelves that lined the wall.

“Can you tell me?” Sam asked.

“No. It doesn't make any sense. I'm going crazy.” She started crying again, putting her face in her hands.

“Your not crazy” I tell her.

“Tell us what happened. Everything.” Sam adds.

“I heard...I thought I heard...there was this voice.” Andrea recalled.

“What did it say?”

“It said...it said 'come play with me'. What's happening?” She sobs into her hands.

Dean approaches us with a book of some sort in his hand, he puts it down in front of Andrea opening to a picture of a bunch of boys in a uniform that looks like boy scouts. “Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?” He asks.

“What? Um, um, no. I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” She moves her finger over to another picture, kid Jake standing next to Peter.

Dean looks up at us, “Chris Barr's drowning. The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.”

“Bill and the sheriff—they were both involved with Peter.” Sam adds.

“What about Chris? My dad—what are you talking about?” Andrea asks, looking between the three of us.

Dean looks to the side, “Lucas? Lucas, what is it?”

He asks the boy staring out the window. Lucas opens the door and walks outside and we follow.

“Lucas, honey?” Andrea calls out.

Lucas then stops and looks at the ground then at Dean.

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?” Dean commands.

Andrea pulls Lucas back into the house, Dean heads to the Impala and back, returning with shovels. We start digging, and it doesn't take long before Sam’s shovel clanked against something.

Almost in sync we drop to our knees, digging with our hands, pulling out a red bicycle.

“Peter's bike.” I murmur.

“Who are you?” A commanding voice rings from behind us. We turn around only to be met with the Sheriff pointing a gun at us.

“Put the gun down, Jake.” Sam reasons as we drop the shovels.

“How did you know that was there?” Jake questions, gun still raised.

But he does not get the answer he’s looking for, Dean instead questioning him, “What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” Jake replies with venom.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell I'm talking about.” Dean continues.

Andrea suddenly runs off yelling, “Dad!”

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit.” Dean finishes.

“It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It's gonna drown them. And it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does.” Sam adds.

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” Jake challenges.

“Because that’s exactly what happened to Bill Carlton” I huff.

“Listen to yourselves, all of you. You're insane.” Jake seethes, tightening his grip on the gun.

“I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.” Dean spits a reply.

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea asks weakly.

“No. Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous.” He accuses.

“Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.” Andrea commands and he does, “Tell me you—you didn't kill anyone.”

He doesn't reply, instead looking away. “Oh my God.” She gasps.

“Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.

Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.” Jake explains, lowering his gun.

“All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now.” Dean orders.

Andrea turns her head, but instead of moving she gasps. We all look in her direction seeing Lucas going down to the lake.

“Lucas” Jake yells out to his grandson.

We run the dock, Lucas leaning over the side reaching into the water.

“Lucas!”

“Lucas! Baby, stay where you are!” Andrea yells, but Lucas had a head start on us and was still too far for us to reach before a hand pulled him into the water.

We keep running to the end of the dock, the boys dive in and despite my fear of deep waters I dive in right after them.

The water is cold and murky, it’s hard to truly see in front of me but I keep going further. In the corner of my eye I see two figures that I know to be the boys breach the surface, but I force myself to keep going despite the lack of air I had left. I light one of my hands up to use as a flashlight, seeing Lucas’s small body getting dragged further down by Peter.

I try to grasp his arm but he’s just out of reach. My throat is tight with lack of oxygen, I’m about to go to a second plan when suddenly the ghost boy lets go of Lucas. I grab him quickly, before he can change his mind, I swim as fast as I can to the surface hoping i’d make it.

I break the surface with a harsh breath, the rush of oxygen to my lungs only making my chest hurt more. My wet hair covered my face but I didn’t bother to fix myself as I handed the unconscious boy to Sam, who was closest to me. Sam brought him to the edge and with the help of Andrea pulled him out, beginning cpr.

I stay treading in the water breathing heavily, my chest raising up and down exceptionally fast. Dean lifts himself out of the lake landing on his knees, facing the body of water. Dean offers his hand to me, I swim to the edge of the lake where he sits, gladly taking his hand. He lifts me out of the water with ease, turning himself in the process so that I was next to him and not on top.

I look over at Lucas, who’s okay and hugging his mother before I let my head drop down my wet hair creating a curtain around me as I hold my hands to the firm ground, trying to not only catch my breath but also calm my anxiety.

Gentle, familiar, hands hold the sides of my face. Dean. He brings my head up to look at him, my wet hair in the way, but he pushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ears, his hands immediately going back to cupping my face.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks me, breathing a little heavy too, his voice gravelly and low.

I nod my head in response, feeling as if I couldn’t form the words to answer verbally.

“No. I need to hear you say it, baby” He breathes, hands still on me if not a little firmer.

“I’m okay” I answer, my voice coming out crackly.

He seems to accept that answer as he looks over me slowly, eventually making his way back to my eyes. It almost seemed like his eyes were going to drop down once more but before he could there were sounds of sirens, always our que to leave.

————————————————————————

We walk out of the motel, Sam throwing his duffel bag into the car.

“Look, we're not gonna save everybody.” He tells Dean. They caught me up on what happened on the drive back to the motel, Jake sacrificing himself. Which had made sense why Peter had suddenly let Lucas go.

“I know.” Dean responds simply.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N” Andrea calls out walking up to us with Lucas.

“Hey.” Dean greets.

“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.” Andrea explained, motioning down to Lucas who looked very pleased with the platter of sandwiches he was carrying.

He looked up to his mom, “Can I give it to them now?”

“Of course” Andrea told him, smiling wildly, giving him a kiss on the head.

“Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car.” Dean takes the plate from him.

“Lucas, this is so sweet of you, thank you” I tell him sincerely while Dean places the plate on the passenger seat of the car.

“All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.” Dean instructs the kid as he sits in the passenger seat facing outward, with the door open.

“Zeppelin rules!” Lucas yells out.

“That's right. Up high.” Dean holds his hand up for a high-five. Lucas obliges, grinning. I laugh almost uncontrollably, the moment just a little too sweet.

“You take care of your mom, okay?” He tells him.

“All right.” Lucas answers, determination on his face.

Andrea and Sam come up to the car. Andrea leans over the open door giving Dean a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away with a “Thank you”

My eyebrows raise and I take a half-step back, not really expecting her to do that.

Dean stiffens and you can see the cogs turning in his head, he scratches his head and turns his head towards me, looking at me. I don’t say anything, I mean what would I say, I’m not even sure why he’s looking at me.

He goes around the car passing me, eyes still on me as he calls out to Sam. “Sam, move your ass. We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”

We all get in the car, smiling and waving goodbye to Andrea and Lucas as we drive away.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural #dead in the water #supernatural season 1 #john winchester #slow burn #guilty #secrets #supernatural x reader #witch reader #the hunter and the witch

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