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buckysegan · 6 months

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With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration - Part three.

Summary: The letters back and forth between our loves through the rest of the war. Word Count: 2.1K A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me, do i know how long the letters took? not a clue. but google gave us a good guess. john egan how i miss you, i need your love so here i give you mine. Part two link.

Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too. It's rather insane to me if I think about it too much, just how much I've thought about you in the time that I've waited for your letters. Part of me was worried that you would think I was a little crazy righting to a man I didn't know and an even bigger part of me was worried my letters would reach you too late, but I'm glad you were happy to hear from me.

I don't mind that you're a simple guy, in fact I think I like that, then I won't have to worry about impressing you whilst we write back and forth I can just say what comes to mind. I like to think that I laugh quite easily myself, laughter is free right? And right now I think we could all use a little laughter in the world. I'll tell you my favorite song next and then you can tell me yours, I love you are my sunshine, it warms something in my chest whenever it comes on, I just can't help but smile you know? Your turn John!

I wish I could know exactly where you are, then I could know if you were some place safe but I'll settle for knowing you're still out there. As for me, I'm in Washington, Redmond to be more precise, is that anywhere near where you're from? I'd like to meet you very much Major.

With all my anticipation, excitement and continued adoration,

A friend from home x

Dear Darling,

That's what the boys have been calling you ever since your second letter arrived and given I don't know your name, that's what I decided to roll with. I hope that's alright.

I have no idea how your letters keep finding me at the exact right time, it's like fate keeps leaving it till it knows I need to hear from you. You should also know, it wouldn't matter to me if you were a little crazy, I know I'm crazy so you'd just fit right in. I don't think anyone that thinks laughter is free could be considered crazy though. You seem to good for such a thing.

I've had you are my sunshine stuck in my head for the past few days whilst I tried to find paper to write you. I think the boys were grateful at first because I wasn't sinking Blue Skies my old favorite, now I think they're ready to kill us both darling. Next question, do you like cats or dogs more? I'm not telling you my answer till I know you can be trusted.

I am with you. Know that much, and I guess Washington will be my first stop when I'm back home.

Please never stop writing.

With all my wondering, respect and ever growing adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I could have given you my name. But I've decided that darling will do quite nicely for now. If you want to know my name you're going to have to make it home and come and get it yourself.

Is it sad of me to confess that every day I don't get your letter I get a little bit sadder until one comes through? I just hate the wait each time even though I know that these things take time. Writing you might just be the most stressful thing I decided to be. How does anyone's heart survive doing this?

You'll be pleased to know, I've been annoying the girls plenty in return with Blue Skies since learning that it's your favourite. I feel like it tells me a lot about you Major. Sing it for me sometime? I also feel like your question is a trick, a cat and a dog have very different purposes in life so I'll just chose both if that's ok?

I wanted to tell you I joined the war efforts myself since I last wrote. I'm in the factories now and I have to admit, I've never enjoyed having dirty hands so much. I'm helping to build the planes. The wings specifically, I think they put me here because I wouldn't stop talking about my pilot John.

I wonder if anything I ever build will make it across to you? My letters won't stop as long as yours don't John.

With all my curiosity, joy and bursting adoration.

Your darling from home x

Dear Darling,

I'm in a terrible mood. Buck said I can't start my letter like that but I told him you'd be alright. You don't mind do you? I have to tell someone or I think I might actually start going a little crazy. I might already be crazy if I didn't get just as excited as you do when the mail call comes through.

I wish I knew you before the war. I wish you knew me before the war, I fear I might not be the John that came to England. I don't even know if I'm the John that start writing you all those months ago. I'm just sort of hoping you won't give up on me anyway even if my letters ain't always sunshine.

And I'm glad darling, I'm so god damn glad that waiting on my letters is the most stressful part of your day. Reminds me why we're doing this, what we're over here for. To keep you all safe at that side.

I suppose I can give you cats and dogs though. I wouldn't want to pick either if we really had to come down to it. My girls smart though huh? Making those planes for us to fly? I gotta say the idea of that does something to me and my bad mood in a good way.

What I wouldn't give to be home with you right now and I never even met you.

My longing, wishing and steady adoration

John Egan

Dear John

You can write to me, come rain or shine, bad moods or good. I don't want to just be here for the fun parts Major. I may not have known you before the war, and I may only just be learning who you are now but I don't doubt for a second, every part of you is worth knowing so tell Buck that I'll take it all and he can keep his opinions to himself.

I'm sorry, it was thoughtless of me to say writing letters were stressful when you're over there doing what needs to be done. More news keeps reaching us and each day I am terrified that your name is going to appear on a list somewhere.

I know that you can't be here, and I can't be there, but I wanted you to have some small piece of me with you so I sent you something with this letter. Keep smiling with me John, through the good and the bad, just keep smiling if you can.

I hope to see you so soon.

All my determination, strength and adoration

Darling x

Dear Darling,

Buck said he's sorry. He won't ever doubt you again. I think you two would really like each other you know.

He's my voice of reason these days, or rather he always has been. One of my two favorite people, him here, and you all the way over there. How is home? Does it still smell as sweet as I remember it?

I'm a little convinced that you're too good to be true darling. Your picture caused more whistles and taunts that I've seen from the boys in forever and I would have knocked them all on their ass if Buck didn't strike and tell me to sit down again. How do you not have a solider of your own to be writing too?

Sometimes when I get down time. I like to day dream about what you're up to over there. How many planes you fixed up for us, imagine taking you dancing on a Friday night, do you have siblings? Your folks still around? I've been trying to picture it all.

I dream of that soon more than I care to admit.

With all my promises, thoughts and adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I'm glad you have a voice of reason. We wouldn't want you getting up to any trouble now would we? Are you the sort to be in trouble a lot? I get the impression you could be Major Egan.

How are your moods holding up these days? I can't help but worry about you over here even when I'm meant to be busy.

If you could see the blush that you have all caused you would all be ashamed of yourself. I promise I'm real. I tried to get my friend Meg to let me send a picture of her but she claimed you were really going to show up here one day and then you'd be looking for the wrong girl.

I like the idea of you imagining things. It means I'm not the only one. I do have siblings, an older sister who works in the factories with me, and a little brother who is out fighting with you somewhere but his own girl writes him. My folks are both still here with me too. What's your family like?

I do have a solider of my own to be writing John, I have you.

Tell me a secret if you can?

Your darling x

Dear Darling,

Forgive me because this letter will be short, but I needed to send it out before we move. If you don't hear from me in a while, don't worry, I'll write back as soon as I'm able. I want that name, I want the dancing, I want you to meet my mom when I'm back.

You want to know a secret darling? I think it's taken me ten letters to fall in love with you after all you've given me.

With my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I'm writing even if you might not get this because I refuse to believe anything else other than you're busy for a while. I'll be over here waiting for you remember. I'm with you even when I'm not.

I have so much more to tell you and things I want to learn before I am satisfied.

In fact, no I may never be satisfied and then I never have to let you go.

You'll be in each of my thoughts till I hear from you again John, I think loving you took me one letter.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear John

I don't think I've taken a real breath in weeks. I figured I would write you again, just in case the first one didn't reach you and you thought I hadn't wrote back.

Your name hasn't appeared on any lists so I refuse to believe that you're not still out there waiting to come home to me.

In case you missed it in the first letter, I love you too.

I am still expecting you home John Egan, I'd be with you till you were. That was the deal right?

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear John

If my letters and love don't reach you where do they go?

Tell me more secrets please? Tell me anything? Tell me you'll sing for me like I asked? What do I do if I never get to meet you?

I've checked each list I've found twice every day for months now. Meg said I'm a mess but I don't really care, I just want to know that you're alright. Even if you're not coming here. Please just tell me you're safe John.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear Darling,

Sorry, I didn't think a little while would be that long but I've thought of you every damn day I couldn't write to you. I got your letters, all three of them made it to my base some how.

I'm hoping I beat this letter home so that I can tell you in person that I love you.

I hope you like what arrives in Washington darling, but please bare with me if it takes me a second to adjust. I'll tell you everything, all of it, anything you want to know about me. I feel like I have very little to offer you but it's all for you now. I'll be home so soon.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Yours,

John Egan

#john egan #master of the air #john egan x reader #callum turner #mota drabble #mota fanfic #bucky egan

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junnieverse · 1 year

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XOXO ➳ L. HEESEUNG

➙ synopsis: for as long as you'd known heeseung, who happened to be your best friend's twin brother, he was just that annoying kid who stole your blue highlighter in 4th grade and was a menace to you from that day on, but somehow along the way he stole your heart too.

pairing: lee heeseung x afab!reader

genre: fluff, best friend's brother au

word count: 1.1k

request: " hi! i have a fluff request ^^ . i don’t have a specific situation in mind but imagine reader’s first kiss with hee, she initiates it with a quick kiss but is unsure if hee actually likes her back, so she starts to pull away but then hee cups her face, pulls her back and deepens the kiss without ever breaking it "

warnings: not proofread

a/n: hi anon, tysm for this request, I enjoyed writing this so I hope you and all my other readers enjoy reading it too~ ^_^

a/n (2): just wanted to let everyone know incase you don't, I do have an enhypen series out so please do check it out if you'd like :)

"I swear if your brother touches my hair again, I'm going to uppercut him." you tell your best friend next to you as you comb through your previously ruffled hair.

You had known Heeseung for as long as you'd been friends with your best friends which was equivalently, many... many years.

You loved your best friend but her brother would never leave you alone.

He had his days where he was sweet with you but most of the time you were fighting back the urge to high kick his pretty little face.

"He says ruffling your hair before a game is his good luck charm." you friend says shrugging her shoulders as she munches on her popcorn.

"Yeah well he better find another goodluck charm, he's ruining my good hair days." you defend glaring at the boy who happened to run across the basketball court with his teammates.

You tried so hard to despise him and how smart, funny, considerate and kind he was, but oh how you wanted to so badly run over to Heeseung on the court and just kiss him.

This was someone who didn't necessarily make the best of impressions on you the first time seeing as he stole your blue highlighter in 4th grade, but the bright side was if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have met your best friend who happened to return the very same highlighter apologising for her 'stupid' twin brother who took it in the first place.

From that day on, you made Heeseung your nemesis, he didn't know he was, so yes, your one sided nemesis, you were a grudge holder.

Heeseung did eventually apologise in which you forgave him but you weren't easy to forget about it either.

Over the years of growing a friendship with your best friend, her brother was seemingly in the picture too.

They were close, but they would also banter and tease each other alot like many other siblings did and you found that dynamic between them special.

Heeseung soon started treating you the same, yes he was sweet to you when he wanted to be but most of the time it was just teasing and being playful and sometimes even the subtle flirting.

Although a year ago everything started changing.

You had had a very romantic and somewhat suggestive dream about him and for days you had tried avoiding Heeseung because you were embarrassed to even think you could possibly think of him in that light.

For years you had only seen him platonically but all of a sudden one dream put everything into a new perspective that just maybe... you had feelings for your best friend's brother.

After avoiding him for almost a week straight, Heeseung obviously thought he did something and so he offered to take you out to lunch as an 'apology' still having no idea he had actually done nothing wrong and it was all just you going through some intrapersonal conflict.

But he had won you over and you were simply left dealing with new feelings for Heeseung you were afraid to admit.

Let alone to your best friend.

"Okay let's start working on this project." Heeseung says as you both walked into his bedroom to work.

It didn't feel all too unfamiliar since you'd been in here before when his sister was around but it felt odd since it would just be the both of you alone this time.

In one of the classes you shared with Heeseung, your professor had assigned everyone a partner for a new project for the semester and Heeseung just happened to be the person you were paired up with leading to this moment.

You had both been working hand in hand for the past hour and a half now and there was great progress being made.

"How about we take a short break since we've been working for a while now." you say turning to Heeseung next to you who happened to already be looking at you.

"Stop looking at me like that, call me a bug like you always do already." you mumble rolling your eyes as you break away from his staring.

"You're actually really beautiful." he says leaning on the table with one hand as he smiles admiring your facial features.

"Funny, are you getting sick, never heard you compliment me in a minute." you joke with him putting your hand on his forehead but his temperature was normal.

Unexpectedly Heeseung gently pulls your hand away leaning his face closer to yours.

Your heart was beating right out of your chest at the close proximity between you both, was he going to do it.

You notice his gaze go from your eyes to your lips and back as you did the same, both of you seemingly waiting for the other to make the first move.

To both of your suprise, you were the one to initiate the first move pressing your lips together finally kissing him.

But the moment was quick to end as the thought of your best friend catching you both crossed your mind and you hesitantly pulled away.

"We shouldn't-" you start off but you were cut off by Heeseung pulling you back in for a second kiss.

This time he deepened the kiss a gentle hand on your cheek and you felt like this moment wouldn't end.

This time Heeseung pulled away leaving a soft peck on your cheeks and nose and reality hit you once again.

Standing up abruptly you began walking back and forth around the room not believing what you'd just done.

"Oh my gosh, I just kissed my best friend's brother. She's gonna hate me. She'll never want to be friends with me anymore. Why did i kiss you. No I shouldn't like you in the first place." you ramble nervously as you hit your forehead for your reckless decision.

"Wait... you like me back?" he asks scratching the back of his neck as he stood up walking towards you.

You'd forgotten he could hear everything you were saying and you had accidentally confessed your feelings indirectly.

Well there was no trying to hide or run away from it.

But he said 'back', doesn't that mean he likes you too?!

"I do like you but-" you tell him as he stood in front of you holding your hands in his as he stopped you probably sensing what you were going to say.

"My sister probably wouldn't care, you're worried about nothing. What matters is that we both like each other and I think we should go out on our first date." he reassures you as you nod.

"I'd like that."

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 months

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The Ghost From The Barrow

Source for pic

Word Count: 6049

Tags: Fem!Reader, NSFW - Oral - you giving and creampie, alternate universe - Scotland, 13th century - cursing, angst, angst without happy ending, gore, blood, death, MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You are the daughter of a clan chief in the Highlands, though you are more trouble than you are worth. Some thugs capture you and attempt to demand a ransom, but things don't exactly go their way when their leader, Kid, discovers what you are truly made of.

Notes: This was heavily inspired by the song “The Ghost From The Barrow” by Paddy and the Rats. It was going to go in a very different direction, much similar to the lyrics of the song, but the story took its own turn and I liked it like this! I hope you do too. Also, the research I did was very shallow, so if you're from Scotland and I got something wrong, I'm so sorry! Also, I had to go with Kilt wearing Kid. 🥴🤤 Have fun!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 (if you don't want to be tagged for other stories other than the meet-cute, please tell me!)

Sidenote: I used a real sigil for the reader’s clan: Clan MacKenzie.

Terms:

Barrow - An ancient burial mound;

Tartan - A woolen cloth with a specific design associated to a specific clan;

Laird - A lord, someone who owns a large estate;

The early morning mist left a familiar dampness upon your hair. Rolling hills of verdant expanse stretched lazily before you. Ancient stone markings of softly defined borders marked one pasture from another, the neighbours, practically family, not caring if the cattle meandered from one side to the other. Heavy tendrils of fog still permeated the mountains and mounds above and you had to cut your morning walk short. You knew those barrows like the back of your hand, but the legends of ancient restless souls still lurked freshly in your mind.

Turning back around, you gathered the skirts of your woollen dress, which hung loosely over your chemise, so you wouldn’t wet the hem of the dress this early in the day. You wore the clan’s tartan over your shoulders to protect you from the earlier chill. The blues and greens of the plaid fabric contrasted heavily with the simple brown you chose to wear. Your mother would be sick to her stomach upon your sight, once more. You were the unruly daughter, the one that could not be tamed and you knew your parents cursed the day you were born.

As wild as the Highlands, as stubborn as a mare. Your father used to jest that no man would ever want you for a wife because you were not docile enough to be domesticated. Respect came with a heavy price in your household and you held your tongue back from lashing at him. But the sting his words left upon you was enough to completely destroy the bundle of hay you used to practise your archery shots.

Your father was a laird of the most prominent households of the Highlands, and the current head of the clan. You were the daughter of the chief. You were supposed to act with the status that your lineage carried. Except you very rarely did. And you had the nagging feeling your father wished to have killed you at birth, as they do with unwanted kittens.

This was a day like any other. You fled your castle without the consent of your family, escaping through one of the many passages you knew by heart, so you could absorb the peace that the morning brought you. The eerie quietness of the barrows, the rustles of the leaves from the forest and, here and there, the lonesome call of the ravens.

Your father had warned you a million times not to leave without guards.

Your mother had forbidden you a million and one times from walking out the door at all.

Your older brother had always counselled you to take your bow anywhere you went.

You heeded none of them.

Yet, it was still with some surprise and with a heavy pounding of your heart, that you realised you were being surrounded. Four mighty horses as black as the night approached fast, their nostrils flaring and smoking. You didn’t even try to outrun them for it would have been an impossible task. The men mounting them surrounded you quickly, using the horses to keep pacing a tight circle around you. There were grins on their faces, each taller than the last, each scarier.

Scars and untreated wounds, long unkempt hair, one even had a rudimentary mask over his face. They were terrifying. You searched for a tartan but the plaids they wore belonged to no clan. You had never seen the yellow and black in any of your father’s gatherings and the sigil they wore was clearly one of outcasts and thieves: a burning skull with the same yellow and black plaid tied to the head.

“What do we have here?” The one in the mask asked, his voice thick with delight, a hint of a mischievous smile you were not privy to.

“A little lass, eh?” The tallest one replied. He was the only one without a smile on his face, his voice thundering around you.

“She seems sweet.” The one with hollow eyes and scars on his mouth spoke softly.

Your hands shook and the shiver that coursed through you had nothing to do with the biting wind of the Highlands. The red-headed man pursed his lips as he looked you over. If they found out you were the chief’s daughter, you would surely be used as ransom bait.

Or worse.

Inhaling deeply, you fought to find your voice. “I am a mere villager, good sirs. I was going to collect some herbs for healing, nothing more. Some lavender and calendula. Chamomile to soothe aches. Please let me return to my home. I have young children to care for.” You tried your best to lace your voice with humility and sweetness, fighting against all of your instincts to spit at their feet and demand their heads for this outrage.

The one who spoke with a soft voice smiled at you. “Poor thing, she looks scared, Captain.” He was looking at the redhead. He was the leader then. So he was the one you had to reason with.

“Yes, Captain, I am so very frightened. Please, I just want to return home.” Trying your best to look terrified - which wasn’t that hard since you were frightened - you warmed your features and fell to your knees, adding dramatics to your reaction.

“Maybe we should let her go.” The one with the mask replied, tilting his head to one side. “She does look like a commoner.”

The captain dismounted his horse and you gulped as he approached you. He was tall and bulky, with an impressive figure. His lips were tinted red and he wore a piece of cloth on his head to keep the hair out of his eyes with the same yellow and black plaid of their sigil. His kilt was of dark brown plaid, resembling dried blood, and his legs were as thick as logs.

“Sir…” You whimpered and tried to appear small. His face kept drawing near and you held your breath as his cloak slipped and you realised he was missing an arm. “Please…” Another whimper.

His lips pursed further as he raised an eyebrow and he sniffed you.

A gasp left your lips at the outrage and your cheeks flushed crimson. How dared he? His hand darted forward and he pulled the tartan off your chest, revealing the brooch you had on your dress, the one with your father’s sigil: a mountain in flames with the words ‘I shine, not burn’ engraved.

His lips pulled back to reveal a frightening set of sharp canines and he finally spoke. It was akin to a roar and it managed to bristle all the hairs on your body. “Take her, ya fools. She smells clean. She’s highborn, for sure.”

You made sure the whole of the Highlands heard you screaming and you wouldn’t go down without a proper fight. You bit and sank your nails into flesh, you kicked and punched all while sputtering curses upon curses over the group. Vile words, not fit for a lady of your status, filled with hate, brimming with rage.

And they all laughed at you.

Your efforts were for naught. You were easily captured.

-*-

You were held like a sack of potatoes, hanging limply over the masked man’s shoulder. They had subdued you easily and tied your hands behind your back. You were still kicking, so with more rumbling laughs, they tied your feet for good measure.

They rode with you on their horses for the entire day, placing a blindfold over your eyes to disorient you to where their hideout was. You were passed around from mount to mount - never to the leader’s horse, though - as if you were a plaything and a new toy for them to play with.

You should be trembling with fear, yet all the trembling came from pure rage. You wanted to punch something, claw, bite, anything! This feeling of helplessness was overwhelming and intensified by the second.

The masked man set you down ungracefully by a fire and removed the blindfold, making you blink to adjust your vision.

“Here we are, lass. Make yourself at home.” He chuckled low and you gritted your teeth. They hadn’t roughed you up, but you were still sore from the daylong horse ride. Your throat was dry and your lips were cracked.

“Can…” You cleared your throat to find your voice again, but it was raw from screaming. “Can I get some water?”

He tsked and turned his back on you, leaving you slumped and looking defeated. Your wrists and ankles were sore from the tightness of the rope and you were pretty sure there was blood as well.

They left you alone in that position for a while, until the man with the scars on his mouth approached you slowly. Using a knife, he cut the ropes from your ankles and then the ones on your wrists.

Whimpering you brought your hands close to your chest and rubbed your wrists softly. You were right, they were bloodied and bruised.

“Here.” He extended a wooden bowl filled with water, which you immediately downed with a heavy sigh.

“Thank you.” You mumbled noticing your voice was less coarse now.

He smiled softly and took out some mashed herbs from a leather pouch, applying the mixture to your wrists. You could smell lavender, calendula and yarrow in the mixture. Someone knew what they were doing, for they were healing herbs.

“You did this?” You asked softly. Clearly this man was the one you could easily approach since all the others were too closed off. He nodded proudly and you patted his hand. “Thank you. What’s your name?” You gave him your name as well so he felt more confident in sharing his.

“I’m Heat.”

“That is a lovely name. Thanks for helping me, Heat.” Another smile. Maybe you could work him well enough to flee.

“Get away from her.” The leader’s orders made Heat stiffen up and he got up with a slight jump, leaving your side without looking back.

“I know what yer doing, lil’ lass.” His thick accent became more enunciated because he was angry, you noticed. So you decided to make him angrier and see where that would get you. Crossing your arms over your chest, you offered him your best annoyed look.

“I’m afraid I do not know what you mean. Thug.” You finished with a smirk.

Grunting, his lips curled upwards, drawing that dangerous smile that made your heart pound.

“Ya want to domesticate my men, lil’ lass, ya can’t! They obey my command.” His figure towered over yours and he was intimidating you. Wincing in pain and discomfort, you got up, still nowhere near his face, fists clenched into tiny little balls of fury as your eyes sparkled with rage.

“What do you want from me? A ransom? Well, send the letter! I’m sure my father will be more than happy to pay you scoundrels to get me back! Or do you not know how to write?” You stomped your foot right in the middle of his parted legs and stood almost flush to his frame, a snide crossing your lips, taunting him. “I’m not afraid of you!”

Yet, you were. Pretty scared, actually. Even more so because you doubted your father would care enough about you to pay a ransom.

You could feel rage seething from his body in short waves. His orange eyes flaming like burning fire, the same fire you felt coursing through your veins in defiance. He gave no warning as his hand wrapped around your throat, tight enough to prevent almost all of the air from coursing freely, enough to leave a bruise, but not enough to truly hurt and cut your air supply.

He lifted you up to his eye level easily, as your nails scratched and clawed at his forearm, leaving red angry trails on his skin, yet he showed no signs of being hurt by your flailing.

“Ya should be. Ya should be pissin’ yer pants.” His jaw kept clenching and unclenching as his eyes raked over your body. He took out his long, wet tongue and licked a stripe from your neck to your ear, making your insides burn and your legs clench together with want. “Tasty.” He grumbled as your eyes bore into his.

“Taste this, then.” You grunted between gasps and, clenching your own jaw, you bent your knee and hit him right in his balls, making him grunt and bend forward, letting go of your neck at the same time as he curled, his hand holding his dick tight.

You coughed and wheezed for air, falling on your knees and taking deep gasps to try and steady your breathing. Your hands pressed and soothed the burn in your throat.

“You lil’ whore!” He grumbled as he strode towards you again.

“I’ve been called worse!” You grinned with bravado you didn’t have, waiting for the blow to come, for his hand to strike, or his feet. Whatever he wanted to use, and you knew it would hurt. Your eyes shut in anticipation as your heart created its own insane rhythm in your chest.

Yet the blow didn’t come.

All you heard was the leader’s rumbling laugh echoing in the forest as he paced away from you.

-*-

Days passed and you remained a prisoner. They left you unbound because there was no way you could ever escape their watch. Heat brought you food and water and sometimes talked with you, when the leader wasn't around to scold him.

You learned that the letter had been sent to your father, yet he still hadn't responded. So they sent another one.

There was a feeling of dread coiling around your stomach. What if your father didn’t want to pay your ransom? You had more brothers and sisters. What good would a bratty child who obeyed no orders do in his household? Perhaps it was better for him to say that you lost your life to the whims of thieves.

It might even grant him more support.

You spent a restless night worrying about this and you cried your heart out. Heat noticed your forlorn expression and defeated demeanour in the morning and returned to you with clean clothes. A plain dress and a worn out man’s shirt. You looked at him warily until he grabbed your hand and led you to the forest.

For a moment you thought he might be setting you free. A rush of happiness spread its tendrils across your heart and you grinned. Until you realised he was only taking you to a lake.

He seemed so happy, though, that you still smiled softly at him. “You can bathe.” He whispered your name softly. “I’ll keep watch.”

His offer was tempting. There was grime under your fingernails, caked blood on your wrists, knees and ankles and your hair… you didn’t even want to get started on your hair.

So you thanked him politely and he turned to give you some privacy, leaving a bundle of soapwort in your hands. A plant that, if wet, creates a lather that can cleanse grime and leave a nice herbal scent behind. You were sure he would turn around as soon as you took off your clothes, but he was still the sweetest of the thugs and you had warmed up to him. You doubted he would try something with you.

Leaving your stained clothes in a pile so you could wash them later, you dipped your toes in the water. It was ice cold, despite the warm weather outside. Still, you really needed to bathe. So, closing your eyes, you dove gracefully, emerging only once the burn settled against your lungs from lack of air.

Letting out an unbridled laugh, you splashed a bit of water before using the soapwort plant to cleanse yourself properly. You used it on your hair as well and, after a little bit, you started to make your way back so you could wash your clothes. You didn’t want to take too long in the lake because you didn’t want to cause any trouble for Heat.

However, the sight that greeted you when you turned around made you freeze as your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat. The leader, the captain. He was staring at you, his back leaning against the trunk of a tree and his lips pursed. Heat was nowhere to be found. He must have discovered both of you here and sent Heat away.

You swallowed a lump in your throat but made no motion to cover yourself. Your breasts were out of the water, nipples erect from the cold and goosebumps all over your skin. He was close enough to see the way you were shivering and the way your chest rose with each gasping breath.

He pulled away from the tree and with nimble fingers began to untie his kilt. First the knot over his shoulder, then he started untucking the sides until it finally fell down in a heap. The shivers that shook your body now had definitely nothing to do with the chilliness of the lake. He took a long stride forward and with one swift movement of his arm, the shirt came off.

Biting your lower lip you took in his muscular form. He was bulky and heavy, built like a strong bull. His chest was made of ripped muscles and heavy scars. Lowering your eyes, you couldn't stop your thighs from clenching together, seeking some friction. His cock was big, girthy and already half hard. It would be monstrous at full length.

He took off the cloth holding his hair back and finally entered the water with a hiss. His eyes never left you nor did yours leave him.

You were no stranger to desire and intercourse. You were the chief's daughter, but you were no maiden. And what you felt for your captor now was true, unbridled desire. And you could see that he felt the same toward you.

Would either of you act upon it?

Shaking your head and gulping, you strode forward, aiming to leave the lake, perhaps? Yet he blocked your path easily. The water hit him around the knees and a quick look down told you he was now standing at full attention.

Screw it.

You were wound as tight as a rope and release would probably do you some good. Besides, he seemed like a good lay.

You approached him, slowly climbing out to the shallow part of the lake, the water lowering until he could see your mound. His lips curled up and he licked them at a leisurely pace.

“Kneel, lil’ lass.” He grunted and, for once, you obeyed him willingly.

Falling forward on your knees, you wasted no time. Using your hands to pump his cock a few times, you gathered the precum at the top and then used your tongue to lather it around his girth. He hummed low when you brought your other hand to cup his balls and squeeze.

“Fuck. That's good.”

His praise made you mewl into him as you hollowed your cheeks and fought against the gag reflex to take all of him inside your mouth. It was a stretch, but you could do it.

Hissing, he tangled his fingers in your wet hair, holding your head in place as he took over and fucked your mouth with relentless thrusts. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes when his tip bullied the back of your throat. Heat began pooling in your abdomen, its tendrils spreading slowly and steadily, burning at your core, demanding attention.

You used one hand to grab his thick, hairy thighs for purchase, and another to friction against your throbbing clit, moaning into him, the vibrato of your mewls making him fasten his pace with sloppier thrusts. “Fuck, fuck. Open wide lass.” And that was all the warning you got before his thick, salty cum dripped down your throat as you swallowed and he pulled out, a small string of saliva connecting him to you still.

He stared at your face, swollen lips, teary eyes and jaw standing open as your hand continued to press and circle against your clit, small moans leaving your parted lips.

“Fuck. C’mere.” Resting his large hand on your chin, he motioned for you to stand up, and you obeyed. He pried your fingers away from yourself and pressed your hand so you could spread them open. A string of your own slick connected your index and middle fingers and you blushed. The Captain chuckled and swirled his tongue around them, collecting any remaining drops of your juices as you gasped and stifled a moan. “Hmm, none of that lil’ lass. Yer going to scream my name. Don't ye dare hold back.”

“I don't know your name.” You said, your eyes sparkling with mischievousness.

Curling his lips back, he grasped your wet hair again, pulling you for an open mouthed kiss, combining your juices with the lingering taste of his cum until your head was spinning and begging for air. “It's Kid.” He panted as he pulled apart from you.

“Fuck me, Kid.” Your hand found his cock already hard again and you had no doubt that this man had the stamina of a horse.

“Will do, lass.” His fingers dug into your mound and you moaned as they descended to your swollen clit. “Let's see how ready ye are for me.” His fingers were long and thick and as he inserted one inside you to collect some slick, you arched your back and rolled your hips against his touch. “Hmm, needy, are ye?”

He rolled his wet finger against the bundle of nerves and then inserted two digits, stretching them and then letting them go further, deeper. Your nails dug into his chest as your head fell back in abandonment. “Kid!” You panted, his fingers filling you up deliciously. A gasp left you breathless as he inserted a third finger, using his thumb to press against your clit as he stretched you further. “Gods! Kid!”

“I know, lass, I know.” He grunted near your ear and the deep rumbling that came from his voice made you snap as you came in his hand. Arching your back and clawing his chest you moaned loud, repeating his name in a crescendo as you reached your high. “That was a good one, lass.” He sucked at your neck and bit hard to bring you back but you mewled again as you leaned into him, too dazed out to do anything else.

But he was not done. Using his arm, he lifted you up and with a swift motion, impaled his cock inside your slick hole, making you scream as you clenched your legs around his waist.

“Hold on, lass, this will be a rough ride.” His digits dug into your flesh as his arm circled your hips holding you in place as he pounded relentlessly, his pace brutal, and you didn't know how he could stay standing up because you could barely open your eyes, let alone stand.

The pleasure built in waves that kept crashing and chasing away your sanity. You had never been fucked like this before. Captain Kid was fucking you senseless. Your pants increased in fervour as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to coming again. His dick filled you perfectly and hit spots inside you that made you see white.

“Kid, fuck, gods!”

“Scream louder!” He growled and thrust faster, making your toes curl as you crushed him in a hug, thighs clenching tight against him and nails drawing blood from his back. You did scream. Loud as a banshee and you were positive his entire camp heard you scream his name like a whore.

His release was not far behind, and you knew that because there were beads of sweat on his temples, his thrusts were sloppier and he was grunting heavily. But you were so close again. “Harder.” You begged against his ear, your fingers circling your burning and overstimulated clit, trying to chase that last high.

“Lil’ whore.” He growled and gave you what you wanted. Three fast thrusts that made you shake and come with a flash of white as he followed suit. You felt his release inside you, filling you up and dripping down your legs into the lake in soundly, heavy plops.

You were still clinging to him like he was your lifeline, both panting and sweating, chests heaving and legs trembling.

“I'm putting ya down, now.” He said between pants and you whined when he pulled out of you, leaving you empty. You were not steady on your legs so he still held your waist.

“Fuck.” You muttered, still catching your breath, a wave of dizziness overcoming your senses.

“I thought maidens didn't curse.” He chuckled.

“Yeah? Well, maidens don't suck cocks either. So why do you think I'm one?” His genuine laughter made your heart tingle and constrict against your chest and you were not quite sure what this foreign feeling was. What you did know was that you wanted to hear it again.

-*-

Days passed, yet you didn't really think you were a prisoner anymore. You slept with Kid every night and he took you whenever he felt like it, making good on the claim that you were his good little whore. You couldn't care less. You felt free.

One night, after screaming his name until your throat was raw - you've come to realise he loves it when you scream his name - you asked him bluntly.

“My father refused to pay the ransom, did he not?” The scoff that left your throat was meant to be dismissive and aloof, yet there was also the bitter taste of tart tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

“Aye.” He grunted as he pulled your naked body closer to his. “I'm sorry.”

You didn't want his compassion, it wasn't what you were looking for. Yet, it felt nice. As if you meant something more to him than just his prisoner whore.

“I was never good for anything but to cause trouble for him, anyway. Like this he doesn't need to find me a husband.” You snorted. “You know what I did to the last one he tried to set me up with? The one who said I couldn't be ‘domesticated’?” Kid's gaze fell on yours, an amused expression wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “I bit off his balls when he tried to fuck me into submission.” Shrugging, you threw out your tongue as Kid burst into a fit of laughter.

“Aren't ya a feisty lil’ lass?” His chest heaved until his laughter died down. You felt droopy and your eyes started to close, drifting closer and closer to sleep. “Maybe ya can be my wife. We'll see if I can domesticate ya.”

You didn't quite know if he was kidding or not, but sleep claimed you with a smile on your lips at the thought of being Kid's wife.

-*-

You were woken up in the middle of the night by loud screams and the clangs of swords and axes. Kid wasn't by your side when you rolled over and got up, hastily dressing in your chemise and dress. It sounded like a battle, so you grabbed the bow you kept by your side of the bed. Kid made you that bow once he realised you were very good with it.

You had been by his side for over a year now. He made you his wife, as he said he would, and there were more nights when you actually made love instead of just fucking.

You had come to love him. Deeply. And you were positive he loved you back, even though he wouldn't admit it to a soul. He would say love made you weaker or something like that. Times had been kind for your new clan and you had all found peace.

Yet that thought was quickly swept away once you stepped outside of your hut and were greeted with the sight of burning buildings, slaughtered people and Kid and his men fighting.

Gripping your bow harder and tighter, you found a secluded perch by climbing onto the roof of the hut and started to take out man after man. They didn't even realise what happened until they were left bleeding on the floor, meeting their final demise at the hands of one of Kid's men or Kid himself, who saw you immediately when an arrow whizzed past his ear.

It wasn't until the tenth body hit the floor that you realised that these men belonged to your father's clan. Their tartan was clearly the pattern you were so familiar with. That realisation gave away your location and in a heartbeat you were being dragged by your hair, your body hitting the ground with a loud oof, as the air was sucked out of your lungs. As the assailant grabbed his sword, ready to pierce you with the blade, you kicked him hard in the shin and you heard the sickening crunch of bone breaking before he screamed.

Getting up with a pained grunt, you realise that you must also have broken a few ribs as you were pulled down from the roof, because it hurt to breathe. Still clutching your bow to your chest, you made your way forward, shooting arrows as you went, aiding people in their escape. All the while your eyes were searching for Kid as your heart hammered against your chest. He was nowhere to be seen and that left you anxious.

And distracted.

A sharp pain travelled from your thigh to your groin and shot everywhere in short stabbing bursts of pain. There was a blade protruding from your leg and hot droplets of tears threatened to escape your eyes. “Fuck.” You grunted as you turned around, searching for whoever was responsible for this, bow stretched and arrow already in place.

“It's true, then.” The familiar voice of your brother left you breathless for a moment, making you lose your focus. “You really have become that scoundrel’s whore. I couldn't believe it until I saw it.”

Your jaw clenched as you inhaled short breaths, trying to focus on something other than the throbbing pain in your thigh. He was standing too close for a proper arrow shot and your vision was getting blurry. You would never make the shot even if you wanted to.

“I'm not his whore. I'm his wife.” You spat at him, rage making your voice tremble.

Your brother's cackles were like another knife piercing your heart.

“That's precious. You're still dying. You're no longer family.”

And he lunged forward, sword raised in the air in a stance you'd known your whole life as you'd watched your brothers learn how to fight in the shadows. You knew when to duck, when to move away, and when to jump. He was predictable and his moves were still the same after all these years. You could win this.

If you weren't bleeding and your movements weren't impaired.

He struck forward and you knew you had to move left. It was all you had to do, really. But your leg gave out, and he stabbed his sword into your sternum.

You had never felt pain like this before. It started slowly, in the middle of your chest, but then, as if in waves, it began to spread, leaving you numb and cold. As you fell to your knees, you could see the snicker spreading on your brother's lips. Until it turned into a grimace and blood started to sputter from his mouth as he grunted.

There was a heavy blade sticking out of his chest, followed by a pained grunt as the sword climbed up his torso, ripping him in two right before your eyes.

You saw the panting figure of Kid behind him, his breaths coming out in shaken gasps as his face contorted into a pained frown when he laid eyes on you. “No! No, no, no!”

He rushed forward, letting his blade fall to the ground, and his arm circled you desperately.

You were dying. You knew that.

A smile found its way to your blood-stained lips as your eyes locked with bright orange ones. Caressing his cheek left a red streak of blood on his skin, but it was quickly washed away by a stream of tears from his eyes.

“Hey, no crying.” You whispered slowly. The pain was drifting away. “Thank you.”

“No, no. Ye can't leave lil’ lass! I didn't give ya permission!”

Your chuckle turned into a coughing fit, blood spurting everywhere as Kid cradled you in his big arm. Around you shouts were heard, soldiers sounding the retreat. The threat had been thwarted for now.

“Kid.” Your voice could barely be heard, but you needed to get his attention. “Kid, please. Don't hold a grudge. Please.” You whined and closed your eyes as the numbness relented and gave way to the pain.

He pulled you against him, trying to hold you carefully but, at the same time, holding you firmly as if it were the last time - it was the last time - his kilt was now completely soaked in your blood.

“Promise me.” You said firmly, your hand trying to find his cheek again, but failing miserably as you could barely find the strength. “Grudges create lost souls. I can't have you away from me in the afterlife. Promise.” You admonished him.

He nodded against your face, taking your lips with his, trying to stifle a sob as his shoulders heaved and rocked with the effort.

“I love you…” Your whisper got lost somewhere in the limbo of eternity as the sparkle of life burned away in your eyes. There was a moment of stillness, Heat, Killer and Wire gathered behind Kid, still as logs. The forest ceased its rustling, and even the animals stopped their sounds. The world stopped spinning when you left it, and Kid lost a piece of himself.

It was his piercing agonising scream that brought the world back, crashing into rotation, but never the same.

-*-

Kid didn't really promise you not to hold a grudge. He just nodded. And even if he had made a promise, he was a thief and a scoundrel. Lying was a part of him.

He did hold a grudge.

A huge one. He hunted down every single member of your family and slaughtered them all. No one associated with your clan was left alive to tell the tale. Be they elderly or children, Kid was merciless.

He would not rest until his vengeance was fulfilled. He had never felt love the way he did for you. He had never felt affection the way he did for you.

And he had never grieved harder.

If he was suffering, those that caused that suffering should be put to the same misery.

And he fulfilled that vow. Until he was caught and sentenced to hang in the gallows.

Yet, he would hang with a smile upon his tainted lips. He had avenged you. None of your clan was left alive to tell the tale, he had made sure of it. And he was hopeful that once his body turned cold and lifeless, he would meet you, in the afterlife.

So you could spend eternity together, as it should have been.

The clock struck the hour and Kid was hanged. Killer, Wire and Heat stood watching, heads low and hidden behind cloaks, as their captain paid the price of vengeance.

Killer was proud of his fearless friend.

Wire was saddened that it ended this way.

Heat was worried, because he knew vengeful spirits could not find rest in eternity.

Heat was right.

The spirit of Eustass Captain Kid roamed the Highlands. A ghoulish spectre haunting the barrow, searching for his lost wife, forever aiming to find her in the eternity of the afterlife.

Yet she had warned him.

Grudges create lost souls.

So if you find yourself roaming any barrow in the Highlands, whether at night or during the day, know that the wailing you hear is that of the captain, grieving his lost love and the life he was denied.

Though he avenged her in the end.

But at what cost?

#one piece #one piece x reader #op #x reader #scotland #scotland au #highlands #kid x reader #kid x you #eustass kid #eustass captain kid #kid #you x kid #you x eustass kid #Spotify

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heartilywrites · 4 months

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‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀،، 𝓜ine ; Korra

request guide | masterlist

resume: where Korra finds herself wondering about you.

content warning: comfort ; Korra x fem!reader ; Mako and Bolin being wingmen ; no use of y/n

wc: 1.1k

a/n: HI HELLO 👋🏼 i reappear here with a short tiny spontaneous korra fic to thank you for 100 followers and also to thank all the love you give to my writes you have no idea how it melts my heart knowing you all like what i write <33 i had my doubts since english is not my first language, but you all really make me want to keep writing !!! this os goes also for the ones asking me for more korra content and for the ones that have requested and i haven't posted your request, know that i am working on them. HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I'LL REOPEN REQUEST SINCE I'M BACK <33

“ I can't help it, I'm just selfish, there's no way that I could share you.

Mako was almost sure he could hear the way Korra's teeth were grinding. Her blue eyes were fixated in one specific point and her jaw clenching, he followed her gaze and his own eyes met your silhouette laughing with some other girl who was a little bit touchy with your arm

Korra and you didn’t have a romantic relationship... yet, she always says, it's only a matter of finding the right time and place to tell you and it definitely wasn't in a party celebrating the probending championship.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You'll hurt your teeth if you keep doing that.” the firebender called for the avatar, cutting her thoughts on how she could fight the girl for you. “You should maybe do something about it and stop killing people in your mind when they're with her.”

Korra looked back at him, he knew about the girl's crush on you, just as Bolin and Asami did. Everyone in the group were well aware of how she ogled you at every chance she had to look your way.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I don't think here is the correct place, you know.” her eyes went back at the two of you, you now looked very interested in whatever the hell the girl was saying and that made her heart dropped.

That should be her making you laugh, that should be her having you look fondly and interested in anything she said. The avatar crushed her cup of water in her hand, Mako watched with his brows raised.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm just saying, you should start working before someone else make a move on her.” he finished taking a sip of his drink.

And for you... Just one person was aware of how you would ogled her when she was distracted.

Bolin gave you the idea on making Korra jealous so she could action, you tried to be the one to take the first step before and were met with a one-sided flirt or an interpretation of a friend outing instead of a date, so you gave up.

You didn’t know if your flirting was just bad and sad or Korra was ignoring it since she didn’t feel the same way about you, but it was the earthbender accidentally being a wingman saying how Korra didn’t stop talking about you and how pretty she found you on one of your dinners with him that made you decided that maybe you would wait for her to make a move when she felt comfortable enough... But it felt eternal.

You knew the plan your friend gave you was working when in a quick glance of the place while the girl was talking about some weird bending move she claimed to create your eyes bumped into Korra's for a second and the way her blue eyes looked cold and electric sent chills down your spine, so you continued with the plan.

Your hand looked to caress the firebender's arm with what would be interpreted as a second intention which made the girl move closer to you and Korra stood up from her seat scaring Mako who looked at her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Uhh, Korra, I need you to think with a cold head what you'll do.” the guy at her side said and she moved her hand to shush him.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I got this, fuck time and place.” she said before making her way to you.

You were way too focused on not looking away to not give another impression that when the avatar took you by the arm and pulled you away you stumbled a little bit with your own feet.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What the fuck!? Who–” your exclamation stopped mid sentence when your eyes met the blue ones and your legs almost failed you. “Korra...” the calling of her name left your mouth as if you were out of breath.

And you kinda were; the avatar had this serious grimace painted on her face and her aura felt intimidating. You heard the girl you were talking with protest to the avatar on how she was speaking to you, her eyes shot at her and Korra straightened her posture.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, well, she's going with me now.” she said tilting her head to the side. “Any problem with that?”

The firebender looked for help on your side but you were way too concentrated on Korra to notice anything else. She shrugged and went back to the bar.

Her eyes got back at you and you could actually see how they softened at your sight, non-verbally Korra requested to be out the place with you and you agreed.

The walk out was quiet, once the talks and music sounded distance you two took seats in the concrete stairs outside the place. Your eyes never left Korra, it was clear at how mesmerized and stunned you were at the scene, you imagined everything but that.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you, I just...” her words mixed in the wind, she stopped to think of how to follow. “I was, uhm, I was jealous.”

Your heart skipped a beat, it worked.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's just... I couldn't bear to see you with anyone else that isn't me.” she continued, her gaze was avoiding yours until that sentence. That electric blue that made your legs shake met your curious eyes. “I've liked you for quite some time now... And I know this isn't the time or place to say it–.”

Your lips didn’t let her finish whatever she wanted to say as they were pressing hers, at first it was a shy tiny kiss which had Korra stunned at the action. When you pulled away, a flirty smile was growing in your face.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You like me, you think of me, you couldn't see me with another girl, you were sooo jealous.” you teased her speaking over her lips. That gave Korra the courage to take you by the waist and place you on her lap, your eyes opened with surprise.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What if I am? You're mine now, I don’t have to share you with anyone else.” she attacked back, feels of tingles at the brush of her lips on yours. “You're mine, aren't you? Can I call you mine?”

It definitely felt almost like a dream, one which you didn’t to wake up anymore. A big smile began to grow in your own mouth. “Of course, I'm yours all yours.”

You had so much to thank Bolin the next day.

#the legend of korra #the legend of korra x reader #korra x reader #avatar korra #korra x you #korra fluff #korra x fem!reader

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cherubispunk · 9 months

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CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

playlist

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

152 notes · View notes

sugar-omi · 7 months

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I hate myself for thinking this but, what if MC finds out she’s pregnant and the first thing in her mind is that she’s fucking up Cove’s future. So instead of telling him she just breaks up with him and shuts herself away from him so he can’t convince her that they’ll work it out. Now Cove has no clue why the love of his life just broke his poor heart. Skip to five years later, Cove comes back to surprise visit his dad but surprise there’s MC, Cliff and a little five year old boy that looks way too much like Cove. Like I’m talking copy and paste that’s a little Cove

oh my fucking god.... i. pls i have some thoughts but also OUCH. BIG OUCH

mmm i'm not gonna make a full fic/detailed post... maybe later if we're all itching for some angst or i'm up for causing more heart ache n then i am very much open to expanding on this (already thinking abt cove getting to know his son.... omfg my heart HURTS)

but i wonder how MC "gets away" (for lack 'a better words) with not telling cove about the kid.

because i can tell you right now, cliff and kyra can't know about it and keep it a secret. not for 5 years at least.

so does she beg everyone in her family to keep it a secret? i think that's the best bet. moms would really prefer Not to keep it a secret, but they also can't force you to tell cove...

but i also don't see them letting 5 years without cove at least knowing, go by either... they'd try to keep the secret, but seeing cove's sad face would break them quickly, if not instantly.

also your friends!!! god, they can not keep a secrete to save their life, especially that big. so you can tell them, but expect the news to find its way back to cove in about.. mmm... 4 hours? so yeah....

anyway!!! lets say that your family kept the secret...

i think your son would eventually start asking about his dad. he sees how you and your family react to him, hears all the mumbling about how he looks so much like... "cove"? when you think he's in the other room.

and he sees how sometimes you look sad and how you slowly and tenderly run your fingers through his hair. and how sometimes you tell him "yknow, daddy has hair just like yours."

and when he asks why you're sad, if you respond with something along the lines of "you look just like your dad, thats all."

or even if you say that in response when he asks what his dad looks like (if you haven't shown him pictures), or if he overhears you saying he looks like this "cove" guy

you notice he starts looking at himself more often... maybe even asking, "does daddy have green hair like mine?" "are his eyes really blue, just like mine?" "does he wear glasses too?" and still in awe that he and this man he's never met, but already seems to adore him (as much as a toddler can adore someone they don't know), share the same features.

and if you show him pictures of cove, which i hope you do, but if you don't, don't worry because your son will probably realize "he has green hair like me!!!!" and he'd either run up to enthuse about it or run up to ask him if he's his daddy bc they have the same hair color... or just call him daddy n if anyone tries to argue about it, wdym?! they have the same hair color, what more do you need?!

so hopefully, cove is the only man with specifically seafoam green hair. otherwise, you're shitting yourself every time your son runs off to meet his green-haired-brethern

anyway. I think all your sons questions, and seeing pictures, knowing that he shares so many traits with cove, and seeing you miss him.

oh god, seeing you sad would make him insist so so much on seeing cove.

"if we meet daddy, will you be happy again?"

also can't believe I almost forgot.. your son being sad about not having a dad, and being jealous of other kids for spending time with their dad, etc.

he'd ask you questions about why he doesn't have a dad, n if he does. why isn't he around? and a real heartbreaker.. does daddy hate him? does he not love him? is that why he isn't here?

so I guess that means it's time to go back to sunset bird! and finally explain why you moved away n never looked back, and why you don't talk to anyone but your parents from back then...

now I won't get into everything right now (im a fuckin liar. I can feel a tangent coming on)

but I wanna talk abt how cove would feel, just a bit, and how I think your future with him would look...

I think at first, he'd be really shocked, seeing this carbon copy of his much younger self. the only thing telling him that his 4-5 year old self didn't jump out of one of his many childhood pictures,

is any birthmarks or beauty marks that maybe you have, or the boys hair being curlier than his, or his skin tone, or maybe he has your nose. whatever it is, he knows he's looking at the imperfect combination of you and him.

(cove's heart is beating outta his chest right now, n you're lucky he only stumbles instead of fainting, because this really is a shock... but that deeper part inside of him, that egotistical, primal almost, part of his heart swells up at the thought, the reality. that his son looks mostly, if not entirely like him.)

but after shock, he's sad. I think he'd be really sad, because he realizes that this is why you broke up right? and no matter how in control of your emotions you think you may be, your wide eyes show how afraid, nervous, and sad you are. he knows. he knows without even talking to you and it hurts

and after he gets past the anger and confusion stage, maybe even in between in fact- which would be more natural since, I think he'd feel this all at once but that's besides the point

he'd be really sad he missed all his sons milestones. walking, first words... God he probably dreams about it (when he does eventually fall asleep), and now his heart is tugging at the seams and the seams are RIPPING.

he also starts thinking about how hard it must've been doing it by yourself. and going through all that without him, your partner.

but maybe you didn't rely on him like he relied on you? maybe you didn't trust him like he did you, maybe you just... didn't need him. like he needed you.

you did break up afterall, and you never let him know about the kid until now, so maybe you thought he'd be a failure of a father and nipped it in the bud before disaster struck...

but I also think that's where anger comes in. because you didn't tell him. he didn't have a choice at all.

he knows he had a tendency to hesitate or run away, but he thinks really hard about it, and he knows he wouldn't have ran away from this.

leaving you alone would scare him a lot more than being a father. being a bad or absent father would scare him a lot more than trying to be a good one. knowingly abandoning a life he helped create, would scare him so much more. he wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise.

so while he gets it. he doesn't get why you didn't try.

and if you explain that you worried about ruining his future, he's so upset and so mad because how could you make that choice for him? how could you take on the burden alone?

this is also where confusion merges in, because while the answers are so obvious or easy to guess, he just can't believe it. he doesn't wanna believe it...

now about your future...

cove still loves you. he's loved you his whole life, it's hard to stop even 5 years later... and seeing you, it makes his heart throb because he's dreamed about this for many nights.

you broke up with him without giving any answers. you even up and moved by the end of the week so when he tried to give you space, before talking to you, it was too late. your room was pretty much void of every sign of life.

you took all your treasured items, your clothes- spare some youd been meaning to get rid of, your pictures, your hobby items. everything. he's surprised you didn't just take the bed and frame.

he's surprised you didn't just carve out his heart n take it with you, because if it's still in his chest, why does it feel so hollow?...

it'd take a really long time to even think of a romantic relationship. if at all. maybe cove's even accepted the break up at some point, depending on how long you'd been together. but if you'd been together since you were 13, it's a hard pill to swallow. bc you can put up with his angsty teenage self, what changed...?

I think seeing you be a parent, and so adored by your son, warms up his heart. makes him fall in love a bit at the sight.

it's not instant, he's getting to know you again. and getting to know this life that he didn't even know was waiting for him.

it's a good 2 or 3 years of figuring out this mess until it becomes something that makes sense. or as much sense as it can make. and if there's still something there, no matter how miniscule. it will catch fire.

now about the kiddo... he's so scared. and I hope you took a few days of talking with cove, and prbly cliff n Kyra bc they have a lotta feelings n thoughts on this too, before you try to integrate cove into his life.

it's small. cove meeting you at the park, and either your son is asking cove a billion questions (both abt why the sky is blue, and awkward questions abt why he wasn't present before...)

or he's trying to drag him on the monkey bars (doesn't work, cove's feet are on the ground still....)

or he's sitting silently on the blanket, reading, occasionally showing cove his favorite scene of the picture book or making him pronounce a word

but it does get bigger, it becomes lunch-n-movie dates, spending the night at your house (at your son's insistence. prbly bc he didn't want him to leave after a fun day), then cove taking him out alone..

it's a lot. and sometimes it feels like you're going backwards or that you're not moving at all because it's hard, for awhile. and even though his dad is on speed dial, there's not enough information he can give cove in how to take care of and deal with a kid he just met a few months ago.

especially a kid who already has a bit of personality, is hell on wheels (like most 5 year olds), possibly has many questions n sometimes problems with cove suddenly being here... it's a lot. n cliff can't help with any of it really.

he does get comfortable, eventually. although there's still times when he's sad, sometimes even angry about what happened, and all he's missed out on, he's so so happy to not miss out on anything else.

#olba #our life: beginnings & always #cove holden #cove holden x reader #angst

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hugmeimtouchdeprived · 6 months

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COD Bakery AU

I can't, for the life of me, come up with names/titles for anything I write (tips and suggestions are more than welcome!)

Content warning: None (I don't think?), other than that this is very, very self-indulgent :)

Also that I'm just not going to have a specific plan for this, just writing when I feel like I need to write something fluffy and not stress about it (although I do have some minor plots in mind, but we'll see!)

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader

The first time he comes in is in autumn, early September.

You’re putting a freshly decorated cake in the display case when you hear the bell chime above the door, notice the tall figure approaching the cash register.

And boy oh boy, does he leave you speechless for a moment.

Tall and muscular, with a slight tan like he’s just come from a vacation or something, messy mohawk on his head, dark shirt tight around his muscles. You can tell those aren’t just for show, either.

“What can I get for you?” you just manage to get the words out as you walk up to the register, pen and paper in hand to take his order.

“I’m lookin’ to buy something for my mam,” he responds, looking at the cakes and pastries on display, as if he’s examining each and every one. “What’s this one? A strawberry cheesecake?”

“Strawberry and lemon. The one next to it is blackcurrant and white chocolate,” you point at the white and blue cheesecake. The man nods.

“A couple slices of both of the cheesecakes, please,” he smiles at you. You tell him the total and start putting his order in a white box, making sure to keep them upright.

“Is there a special occasion?” you ask, trying to fill the silence.

He shakes his head. “Nae, just been gone for work for a couple months, mam’s been worried sick. Wanted to bring her sort of a peace offering,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ah. Well, these should calm the storm, then,” you chuckle, tying a ribbon around the box before handing it to him. “I wish you luck. Hope she likes sweets.”

He laughs. God, how can a person be so attractive? It’s not fair, the way his blue eyes twinkle as his lips curl upwards.

The man takes the box, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. Enough to make your heart flutter slightly. He gives you another smile before leaving.

The second time you see him is only a few days later. You’d almost forgotten about him; it was mostly his looks that had caught your attention. Otherwise, he seemed to be just a regular customer amongst the others. You don’t even know his name.

You’re joined by your boss this time. An older man, who inherited the bakery from his parents a decade ago. The bakery is fairly small, with only one other employee working there besides you and the owner. You prefer the days when you’re either working alone or paired with Ava.

Ava, only a couple years older than you, is sweet. She does most of the baking when she’s in, but always encourages you to bake and decorate things, especially if you express even the slightest interest in trying something new. Always giving you tips and complimenting the things you make.

Your boss, Brent, is the opposite. You can tell he’s not used to actually having employees, used to working alone for most of that decade he’s been in business. You and Ava were both hired mostly because the business started to eventually take off, way more than Brent had anticipated, so he hired the two of you to keep up.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, looking at the apple pastries you’re currently sprinkling powdered sugar on top of.

“The apple pastries you asked me to make yesterday,” you respond quietly.

“Looks like shit.” Brent has never been one to hold his tongue, always finding something to complain or whine about. You and Ava often compare him to Gordon Ramsay, except even he’s actually nice to his employees, from what you’ve heard.

Besides, Brent has openly admitted to not even enjoying baking; he’s only here because it’s what he has left of his parents, which is admittedly admirable. But the man bakes only when he has to, otherwise making you or Ava do it.

You just nod your head at his insults; sometimes it’s just best to roll over and show your belly, so to speak.

“Smells good in here,” a voice comes from behind you, behind the cash register.

Both you and Brent turn at the same time, seeing the same Scotsman from a few days ago.

“Looks good, too. Those for sale yet? I’d like to have one,” he continues, pointing at the pastries in front of you. Brent rolls his eyes at you and waves his hand, motioning for you to take care of it, before disappearing in the back room again.

“For your mum again?” you ask with a smile on your face.

“Nae, just for me this time. And a coffee, for here, please.”

You go about charging him for the order, before sending him off to take a seat wherever he’d like, that you’ll bring everything once it’s ready.

You place the pastry onto a plate with a dollop of whipped cream on the side, pour the coffee into a cup and bring it on a tray to the man, setting everything in front of him on the table.

He pays and takes a seat near the large window at the front of the bakery, with a direct view of the small kitchen behind the register. The bakery used to be someone’s home ages before it became a business, with a bit of a yard at the front with outdoor seating in summer and a few parking spaces. Perks of being located more on the outskirts of the city.

Unlike many other bakeries and cafes, the kitchen isn’t hidden somewhere where customers can’t see; it’s right behind the cash register, so customers can easily see whatever is being made or decorated.

“Mam really loved the cakes, by the way,” he tells you before you can turn and walk away. “She really wanted me to bring her here sometime, had to sneak out of the house just to come today.”

“Why not bring her today?” you ask curiously.

“Eh, she can be a lot sometimes. I can too, so I thought you wouldn’t want to deal with both of us,” he explains with a laugh.

You take a quick look at his attire. Not to ogle or anything, it’s just hard not to steal a glance at the stranger. It looks like he was going for a run, you assume that was his excuse for his mum.

“I’m Johnny, by the way,” he finally introduces himself. Johnny. So that's his name.

You tell him your name in turn, which he repeats under his breath. You like how it sounds coming from him, with that accent.

“Well, as much as I’d like to continue chatting, I have to get back to work. Hope you like it,” you tell him, motioning towards the pastry in front of him before returning to your duties, before your boss can get a chance to complain.

Johnny’s eyes linger on you as you work, hustling behind that counter, trying to keep up with everything even as a large group arrives just as you’re pulling two cakes out of the oven and trying to get two more in.

He enjoys moments like this, even if he’s not one to go out for coffee very often. Prefers his coffee in the quiet of his own apartment, or sometimes at his mother’s house if she insists he come over when he’s on leave.

Johnny even gains the courage to leave his phone number on the receipt for you, when you inevitably come to clear the table after he’s left. How could he not? You’re too pretty for your own good in his eyes, too good to resist. Plus, this way he doesn’t feel like he’s pressuring you into anything; you can just toss the receipt into the trash if you’re not interested.

It's such a shame that it’s your boss who ends up clearing the table when Johnny eventually leaves, eyeing the receipt and the number and the “Text me! -Johnny” scribbled onto it before discarding it himself, not giving you a chance to see it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!🌷

#Also I'm obsessed with soap recently #so that's why this ended up being a soap fic #but i really wanna write for ghost and gaz at some point #bakery au #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader

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rosedforbes · 4 months

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I've been working on this for an embarrassing amount of time, but i finally mustered the courage to post it! this a gift for @galvanizedfriend , my favorite autor, moot, and dare I say friend, on tumblr! Yokan, I'll never stop saying that your fictions are the only thing keeping me sane at the moment, and they've always been a tiny lantern during some tough periods of my life. I really hope you'll like this little Drabble about Kleve 🙏

DISCLAIMERS: Eve is NOT my character, she's from Yokan's series The Wolf ! also, this is my first time ever writing a fan fiction, and English is not my native language, so please, have mercy.

maybe there's a god, after all.

That's the thought that has been crossing Klaus' mind for sixteen years, every single time he looked at his little girl.

After his experience with Marcel, Klaus has realized that raising a child into his own reflection is not a smart move. In fact, if Eve had turned out like her father, it would've been the very end of the whole human - and inhuman - species. Luckily for everyone, his beautiful princess is essentially the mini version of the only woman who shares the custody of his immortal heart with her: Caroline.

They couldn't be more similar if they tried. Like mother, like daughter.

If it wasn't for some specific details that Eve couldn't have taken from anyone but him, Klaus thinks that people would start questioning if Caroline made Eve by herself, without the contribution that is usually required to create another living creature.

That, is all him.

Even if he's quite proud – and grateful — about how Eve's turned out just like her magnificent mother, Klaus can't help but smile when he witness the appearance of one those details he mentioned before: the fondness for art, the passion for swords duels — a voice in the back of his mind reminds him of something Caroline said about this specific factor, "it's called fencing, Klaus. You don't need to kill your opponent anymore to prove your victory." or something along those lines — the constant presence of dark humor and sarcasm in any of her conversations, and her gigantic, stormy blue eyes that are accompanied by a pair of dimples and a wicked little smile whenever she got something on her mind.

Something that Eve clearly hasn't taken from him though, is her way of showing emotions. Just like his wife, Eve wears her emotions like a second skin, which leads to her being a terrible liar. If she's happy, then the room will light up as soon as she enters it, and everyone can't help but be drawn to her joyful behavior. On the other end, if she's feeling sad, angry, or any other kind of negative emotion, then... Well, she would keep her mouth shut and open it just to make salty remarks, keeping an annoyed — yet adorable, if you ask him — little pout on her face.

That's how Klaus knows that something is wrong.

As soon as he sets foot in the compound, he's greeted by a very common view: Freya and Eve, sitting around the table of the living room, reading and chanting spells.

Normally, Klaus would walk towards them just to make them aware of his presence and to steal a kiss on his daughter's cheek as a brief salute, but he soon realizes that Freya is the only one writing down something in witch gibberish, while Eve is just quietly looking at her aunt, with a frowned expression all over her face.

His little wolf is so caught up on Freya's doing that she doesn't notice him until he's behind her, trying to understand what kind of spell his sister is casting, with a hand gently touching her shoulder. Eve tenses up at the touch, turning her head to look at him almost as fast as a regular vampire. As soon as she sees him though, she relaxes a little bit, offering him a tight lipped smile.

"Hey, Daddy," she says, voice so quiet and hoarse that he probably wouldn't have heard her if it wasn't for his vampirism. " 'm sorry, didn't hear you coming in."

Hearing Eve talking with such a tired and low tone makes his heart explode with concern. She's pure sunshine, his daughter, this cloud of negativity does not belong to her. Nonetheless, he tries to mask his thoughts with a tight lipped smile, looking down at Eve, "Don't worry, sweetheart," He says, moving his eyes to his sister, who hasn't left hers from the grimoires spread around the table even as he introduced himself, "Freya, care to explain what's happening or do I have to guess?" He asks with a tone that indicates nothing but irritation.

Klaus arches his brows in confusion, his gaze switching between Eve and Freya, as to ask for one of them to elaborate what he just heard.

Freya finally looks up, if only to send him a not-so-friendly glare, but before she can snap right back at him, Eve takes word, looking at him like she's about to have a nervous breakdown "Apparently, I'm on house arrest until the Jury," she indicates Freya with her eyes, before turning her attention back to him, "tells me otherwise." She concludes, and the exasperation of her tone is almost touchable.

It's Freya the one that, with a sigh, steps in. "Some witches have been messing around with a kind of magic way too difficult for them to understand, leading to an imbalance that covers all New Orleans." She explains, rubbing her hands on her temples. "Long story short: right now, every witch in New Orleans is having trouble controlling their magic, especially the younger ones like Eve. In addition, being the tribid gives her an enormous amount of power which is hard to control on a good day, so it's better if we keep her under control, in a limited and safe space."

Eve rolls her eyes as soon as Freya concludes, shifting her position to show him the magic-restraining bracelet on her wrist. "I haven't seen this freaking bracelet in years. I thought I was finally free, but no, some dumbass witch thought it was a good idea to mess with something way too big for them to understand, turning me into a fu-"

"Language." Both Klaus and Freya interrupts her, giving Eve a warning look.

she glares at both of them, visibly annoyed.

"turning me into a freaking bomb." she grumbles, looking down at the pages of the grimoires.

Christ, Klaus thinks, he's losing points as the cool parent.

"Dad?" Eve says, looking at him with an arched eyebrow, like she's expecting something from him. "Are you still here? You haven't threatened anyone since you heard of this, and it's more concerning than a bunch of low-level witches messing around." She concludes.

Klaus takes a long sigh, pulling out his phone from his pocket to send a message to Caroline and the rest of the family. It takes all of his willpower to not storm out and look for this gang of inconsiderate witches, accompanied by nothing but his fury, showing them the treatment that is reserved specifically to the ones that put his daughter in a bad mood, but he recognized the fact that this situation is already unsteady, and there is no space for his impulsiveness, yet.

Well, the sarcastic remarks are only funny when they're not directed at him.

"Trust me, Eve, I have lots to say, but none of it is appropriate in the presence of a child." he retorts, switching his attention back to Freya. "I've sent a message to Caroline and to our siblings, they should all be here in about 40 minutes."

Freya simply nods, gathering all the magic stuff from the table. "I'll call Vincent." she stands up, giving a kiss on Eve's head. "I'm pretty sure he's more informed than us at the moment. Besides, another witch would be helpful."

"what am I? a ghost?!" Eve snaps when Freya disappears in her own bedroom. "I can't use magic, I'm on house arrest, this handcuff is back around my wrist and I haven't even had my daily bignets!" she explains desperately, curling on herself, resting her chin and arms over her knees.

Klaus can't help the low chuckles coming out of his mouth, something that earns him a dirty look from his little wolf.

"I'm glad you find my misery amusing. Father of the year, really." Eve says, enunciating her pout even more.

"Not at all, sweetheart. To be completely honest, I would love nothing more than to go fetch those witches myself and show them what happens when someone dares to upset my daughter," Eve promptly rolls his eyes at that, but he sees how she's trying to bite back a smile.

"However, Your mother would eviscerate me if my impulsiveness took place in a delicate situation such as this one."

"Then what do we do while waiting for mom to come home?" Eve says, and truth to be told, patience has never been a strong suits of her.

"Well, I did get that new painting set you've mentioned lately." He says with a grin, observing how Eve's pout changes to a wide smile between record time.

"The pink one?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"You're the best!" she chirps, jumping from her chair to wrap her arms around his waist, the bad mood evaporating completely from her body. Klaus can't help but smile when he looks down at his daughter, holding her close to him. Oh, how he wishes time would stop, just to remain like this for at least a decade, with his little girl safe, sound and happy in his arms, where no bad intentions can reach her.

"Come on, sweetheart," He says, grabbing her hands "let's see if those colors actually blend on their own." he concludes with a wink, leading her towards the art studio. He knows this happiness is going to be short-lived, but the least he can do is to keep Eve's mind occupied, distracting her from the stress of this situation. As he enters the room, Klaus notices that he's running out of dark red acrylic.

Well, it appears those witches are going to be useful, after all.

#how DO YOU EVEN TAG THIS STUFF #this is kinda embarrassing #let's see how im going to feel about this tomorrow morning #CHECK YOKAN'S AO3 PAGE RIGHT NOW #best autor out there hands down #drabble #fanfiction #oneshot #klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #freya mikaelson #eve forbes mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the originals #the wolf universe

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alastor-simp-page · 1 month

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Bill Cipher x Charlie Morningstar: You’re Acutie Though a Bit Obtuse, Right?

Why did I do this? Because I can. I'm cringe. I don't care.

Charlie Morningstar had started to lose hope due to the recent ordeal with Heaven until a rather geometric obsessed sinner appears on her doorstep, more specifically an unsolicited guest interested in redemption! While Charlie takes a liking to the new guest, some of the others welcome him while others regard him with suspicion especially Alastor, Charlie's trusted business partner. AKA Bill Cipher has taken an interest in the Hazbin Hotel and as we all know, wherever Bill goes...chaos follows.

There was a twink at the door. Well, Angel didn’t know exactly what to call this dude’s cartoony ass. The second Angel’s mismatched eyes saw that smirk, cane, and eyesore of a golden suit, he spun around and called, “Eh! Alastor, your long lost half-brother or whatever’s at the door.”

The sinner smiled and tipped his top hat, “Actually, I want to be redeemed. I’m here for that.” He laughed, leaning on his golden cane.

“There’s a patient for you, Charlie!” Angel Dust nodded, cupping his hand next to his mouth as he hollered up the grand staircase.

Charlie blinked awake, rubbing her eyes and sat straight in bed. Patient. There’s a patient?! PATIENT! Her heart leaped and her body did as well as she scrambled out of bed. She was halfway out of her bedroom door still tugging on her slippers. Then she frantically popped her head back in the door, staring at the alarm clock: 1pm. One o’clock. How long did she sleep in for? Shit.

Charlie shook her head and called down, “I’ll be there in a minute!” At a record pace, she dashed down the hall, practically tripping over herself, desperately running a hand through her wild, unkempt hair. It was futile.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she whispered under her breath, taking the grand stairs two at a time which was probably very unwise. In a heap, she finally reached the door, heaving, huffing and puffing. Her hands were on her knees, and she bent over. Wow, she was out of shape. Then she snapped up and waved, “Hi, hi, my name’s Charlie.”

The sinner was, well, he looked a lot like Alastor. He was wearing a clean-cut golden coat with an odd pattern of bricks on the torso and long black dress pants. A black bowtie, a black top hat that seemed to hover slightly above his blonde dyed black hair. His eye was dark, and the right side of his face had a triangular eyepatch. His black gloved hands clutched a golden cane. Damn, he did look a lot like Alastor if he looked more human and favored gold over red.

“Yeah, hi, Charlie. The name’s Bill.” The sinner named Bill said leaning against his cane and extending a gloved hand. “I’m sure you haven’t heard of me!”

Charlie stared down at Bill’s outstretched hand. A small blue flame flickered in between his fingers and then died just as quickly. She blinked and beamed a smile at Bill, clasping hands with him. Well, a patient was a patient. “Hi, Bill! So, you’re interested in redeeming yourself?” With one firm shake, it ended.

“Hello?” Angel Dust narrowed his pink eyes at Bill who in turn glanced over at the Spider Demon. “You know I exist right?”

“Yeah, you’re Angel Dust. The porn star, right?” Bill’s eye slid over, rather unimpressed. Is that all what everyone saw when they looked at Angel?

A smirk spread across the Spider Demon’s face, and he smoothed back his fluffy hair, “So you’ve seen my vids?” Well, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Hah!” Bill laughed and Angel’s face turned sour, “Nah, just saw the billboards. You can’t really miss them in Hell, can you?”

“Likely story, one eyed,” Angel Dust narrowed his mismatched eyes at the one-eyed demon. He used his four hands to jab his pointer finger and long finger at him.

Bill grins, “Well, in life I worked at this mangy shack for who knows how long. Not really one for porn. I just really love kids.” Then he pauses and looks at Charlie’s horrified expression. “No, I’m not in for that . Had these two twins that kept ruining my life and giving me heck.” That grin thins, “I’ll get back at them…one of these days.”

“Ooookay! Ready to check in?” Charlie pumped a fist. Jeez, this guy seemed to be a bit of a wreck. Beefing with kids? Well! It was Hell after all! Everyone was a wreck.

“Yeah, speaking of which, don’t you have a check in counter?” Bill glanced around the spacious lobby wreathed in crimson. Even with one eye, he seemed to be combing through every detail.

“Budget’s a bit tight,” Charlie beamed a strained smile at him.

“Yeah…I can see that.” Bill said quickly and strolled ahead, his golden cane thumping on the ground with each step. Did he need it? He looked rather spry. A sinner that died in his prime. Charlie didn’t pry. She didn’t want to scare him off too early.

Angel Dust waved at the pair, “See you two later.” He sauntered back to the gilded golden doors leading out of this little pure bubble of hell. Charlie briefly glanced, seeing him go, go back to his own personal hell, back to Valentino. A frown was slowly crawling across his bright face, but she shoved it down.

The all too cheery sinner walked side by side with her and elbowed her in the side with a sharp elbow. “Hey, kid, why the glum face?”

Kid? Her mouth opened and then she snapped it close again. She was sure as hell a lot damn older than him. Again, she reminded herself…don’t scare him off. Whatever little sparks of fire sprouted from in between her clenched fingers extinguished.

“Nothing,” Charlie said shortly but thankfully Bill didn’t question it. He seemed preoccupied with the sights even if there wasn’t much to see. Paintings glowering down at them on the walls, long sweeping curtains curling around the window’s light, and what seemed to be eternally empty rooms lining the hall.

Her hand gripped the doorknob to her office and the bell hung to the doorknob jingled. She had almost expected Alastor to come rushing ahead of her to hold the door but of course, he wasn’t there. He was locked up in his radio tower doing who knows what.

She almost hurled at the sight. A new guest and this is what her office or well, her and Alastor’s office looked like? A large stained-glass window filtered in crimson sunlight into what she could barely call an office. Dusty bookshelves lined the walls where her parents’ paintings had once hung. Her and Alastor’s eyesore of a desk sat proudly at the center of the room, littered with scattered papers, a monitor with far too many files on the home screen, an obscene array of stress toys and silly colored gel pens strewn across the hard desk wood. At the midpoint of the half circular desk was a chair for a guest and across the desk were the chairs for her and Alastor.

“Sorry for the mess,” Charlie crossed to the desk, desperately swiping at the papers and plunking them onto the table in a semi-coherent pile. “You can sit–” Her eyes drifted back to the door’s threshold where he was. Then she motioned towards the seat across from her. But he wasn't there. She blinked. He disappeared. No. He didn’t disappear. He wouldn’t just–

“Nah, it's fine. Comfy chair by the way,” His voice said beside her, and she turned. There he was leaning back in his office chair, grinning at the princess and appearing way too comfortable in Alastor’s chair.

Oh. Well, maybe it's better that Alastor isn’t here.

Sitting in her business partner’s chair? Bold, cocky, definitely arrogant. Now who did that sound like: Alastor, Angel Dust, a bit of Vaggie, and her own father. Well, surely one more cocky arrogant bastard wasn’t going to burn down the Hotel, right?

Continue reading this abomination under here:

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pedge-stuff · 1 year

Note

PLEASE WRITE A PART 2 for accident! I’m obsessed

I hadn't planned on it, but... this has been arranged.

accident p. 2 (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," as always.

summary: you let him fuss.

It's well past midnight as you key into the apartment. Pedro busies himself by getting you settled, although his movements are almost as sluggish and haggard as your own. Six hours in the ER had taken its toll.

"Why don't you head up?"

You'd sat on the chair by the door, intent on untying your shoes, but had apparently been staring at them for the last few moments. Without a second thought, Pedro kneeled before you. "I'm gonna take the dogs around the block, and then I'll close up down here."

You are struck, not for the first time this evening, by an overwhelming wave of gratitude. How did you get so lucky?

He jingles the leashes, pausing to kiss your forehead before heading out.

It takes you way too long to get up. Some combination of exhaustion and low-dose Vicodin have you zoning out, effectively sleepwalking without Pedro to move you along. There is a pharmacy baggy on the counter, but by the sluggishness of your thoughts, the remainder of the prescription might need to go untouched.

Eventually, you drag yourself upstairs.

Everything feels dirty. The loaned scrub pants come off easily, shed in the doorway of the ensuite, to be dealt with later. (Thrown away, burned, ripped to shreds... Dealer's choice. Anything to be rid of them and put the whole evening behind you.)

You want to take the hottest shower possible, and scrub off the invisible hospital residue until your skin is raw. But the prospect of standing for long enough to get clean is... logistically impossible.

At least your dominant hand is uninjured. You reach around, fumbling with the buckle on the back of the sling. For a broken bone, it wasn't very high tech— just a few pieces of fabric holding the two halves of your left clavicle in place. But the damn thing may as well have been a rubik's cube, for how impossible it was to unstrap.

That's about where Pedro finds you: back down to your underwear, hunched on the closed lid of the toilet, frustrated to tears.

"This is so stupid."

"Baby," he starts softly. His dinner attire has been pared down to slacks and an undershirt. "Please let me do this for you."

A brown paper bag is set on the counter, so he can gently remove the sling, followed by the scrub top. Eyes closed, you wilt on the lid. Pedro reaches to plug the tub, without asking, though you nod slowly as he looks back.

The man busies himself as you watch on: changes into a well-loved pair of flannel pajama bottoms, tosses some lavender epsom salt into the slowly-filling water, swears a blue streak doing something suspiciously loud in the other room.

When he returns, slightly red in the face, the bath has been filled.

A not-insignificant part of you had hoped he'd be joining, but Pedro chooses instead to perch on the side, running a hand through your hair as you settle against the porcelain. From within the paper bag, a bag of mini Reeses cups are presented.

"Bodega dinner," he says proudly, adding, "you gotta eat something, baby."

"I'm okay," you whisper, though you're not talking about the peanut butter, at all.

"But you almost weren't," he says hoarsely. "I keep replaying that phone call over and over again in my mind. I think my heart stopped for a second. I just..."

You can only nod, mutely. The feverish, borderline frantic look in his eyes traps any response in your throat. (Honestly, he'd been looking at you like that all night. Hasn't really taken his eyes off you since he found you in the hospital hallway.)

So, you let him fuss.

Out of the tub, you lightly dread bedtime, though you've been fantasizing about sleep now for hours. The doctor had specifically warned against sleeping on either your side or back, instead sending you home with a diagram of how to sleep sitting up. Which sounds worse than a car accident, frankly.

But, upon entering, you discover the bedroom has... transformed? Your bed, normally centered, has been pushed into the corner. One nightstand has been abandoned in the middle of the room.

"I'll move that later," Pedro says sheepishly.

All the pillows on the bed, and from the chaise in the opposite corner of the room, have been gathered in a clumsy pile. The dogs have already assumed their positions against the footer.

Pedro shucks off his undershirt, and crawls into the makeshift nest. With pillows to support his often-fragile back, he reclines against the wall corner. Pats the mattress.

"You can't lay down," he warns, as you shift onto the bed. "The doctor was really particular about that."

"Sitting up," you echo. Although, at this point, you'd crash standing up if it meant you could finally fucking sleep.

Pedro splays his legs. "Come here."

Carefully, one-handed, you maneuver yourself according to his gesturing. Settling, back-to-chest, against him; legs between his legs. Propped up like a rag doll. As if on autopilot, Pedro's arm comes up to wrap across your stomach.

"This can't possibly be comfortable for you," you protest.

His lips brush your temple. "I promise." His grip tightens; you are a human teddy bear, which feels appropriate, since your brain is full of stuffing.

Each rise and fall of Pedro's chest presses warmly against you. There is nothing to wake up for tomorrow, no alarm to set— you'd cancelled your Sunday Brunch plans sometime between the IV and the x-ray.

"Hey." You loll your head against his shoulder. Can't meet his eyes, from this angle, but in the darkness of the bedroom, it doesn't really matter.

"Hey."

Your fingers lace with his, where they clutch around your side. "I love you."

"Mm." His chin hooks over the top of your head. "You have no idea, sweetheart."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader

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mono-socke · 3 months

Text

remember this post where I pointed out details about my art ??

yeah, it's been over half a year, so let's redo ittt

jeremy:

has matching pacman earrings w/ michael, acne and, while i don't always draw him w/ painted nails, when they are painted, they're dark blue

michael:

has matching pacman earrings w/ jeremy, painted black nails and a lot of patches on his hoodie. i don't always draw ALL patches on the exact same spot, but the ones that do stay the same are the pacman one on his chest, the 'RISE ABOVE RACISM' one and the rainbow one on his sleeve

christine:

has very curly hair with one or two red hairpins in it, and a few certain pins on her jacket

rich:

has a matching silver earring w/ jake, a headband (though that is only visible in my most recent posts of rich), and this black thing he always wears beneath his tanktop is actually a binder !!

jake:

has a matching silver earring w/ rich, and a matching bracelet w/ chloe

chloe:

has a matching bracelet w/ jake, a matching 'broken heart best-friends necklace' w/ brooke (idk how to describe it), a purple hairband to keep her locks out of her face and she wears black shorts under her skirt

brooke:

has a matching 'broken heart best-friends necklace' w/ chloe. otherwise there aren't many consistent details about her, other than maybe her specific hairstyle and that she's generally very pale

jenna:

has painted purple nails, make up and purple streaks and parts in her hair

squip:

has a blue pill earring, painted blue/white nails, broadway squip has two specific white streaks in their hair (pre upgrade), and while the pattern on their clothes vary a bit from drawing to drawing, they're based roughly on the same base in my mind

and some veeryy specific things I do when drawing squippy are:

the little eye-highlights I give everyone aren't white dots like for everyone else (look at the pictures above to see), but instead are blue-ish ovals (kind of like pills) (at least when I'm not drawing them specifically as a human)

2. the hair-highlights also aren't just random white lines like with 'human characters', but instead blue-white-ish heartbeat pattern (for a lack of a better description (just look at it))

to the three people who might've read this, hope you had fun !!

have fun always noticing these things from now on >:)) (/lh)

maybe some of you share my opinion that details like this are very very cool

#be more chill #jeremy heere #michael mell #christine canigula #rich goranski #jake dillinger #chloe valentine #brooke lohst #jenna rolan #the squip #me doing art #this is fun btw #:>>

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ultrone · 6 months

Note

what music do you think Jackie would listen to…?

very random playlist i know lmaooo i hope it’s at least a bit accurate. i tried to stick to before the 2000s as much as i could 🫡

Gwen Stefani/No Doubt for sure. I feel like she’d specifically love “Cool” by Gwen

I Touch Myself by Divinyls

Crush by Jennifer Paige

Fastlove, Pt. 1 by George Michael

The Cranberries (influenced by Shauna 🤔)

The King of Wishful Thinking by Go West (she got obsessed with it after watching Pretty Woman)

Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer

Back For Good by Take That

Some songs by Fleetwood Mac & Stevie Nicks, like Sable on Blond, I Don't Want to Know, Edge of Seventeen, Only over You…

Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) by Kate Bush

Last Goodbye by Jeff Buckley

Madonna

Waterfalls by TLC

Right Here - Human Nature Radio Mix by SWV

Living On My Own - No More Brothers Radio Mix by Freddie Mercury

I feel like she’d also be lowkey into Country 😭

Shania Twain

Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus

Jolene by Dolly Parton

Amber by 311

Baby, I Love Your Way by Big Mountain

Angel by Shaggy, Rayvon

The Sign by Ace of Base (medicated Lottie got her into it)

Had a hanson phase lmaoooo 🧐

Torn by Natalie Imbruglia

Bitch by Meredith Brooks (she’d sing/yell this one in Shauna’s car)

I Try by Macy Gray

Girlfriend in a Coma by The Smiths

Alanis Morissette

There She Goes by The La’s

Two Princes by Spin Doctors

You Get What You Give by New Radicals

Fast Car by Tracy Chapman (I feel like Shauna would overplay it while driving)

Be My Baby by The Ronettes

Duran Duran

Bon Jovi

Fantasy by Mariah Carey

Genie in a Bottle by Christina Aguilera

Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

Livin' la Vida Loca by Ricky Martin

Savage Garden

Uptown Girl by Westlife

Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners

Summer Of ‘69 by Bryan Adams

The Power Of Love by Frankie Goes To Hollywood

Hero by Enrique Iglesias

Whitney Houston’s top hits

Let’s Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams

Some Aerosmith songs, like Crazy & I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing

The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s In His Kiss) & One by One by Cher

I Love You Always Forever by Donna Lewis

Black or White by Michael Jackson

Accidentally in Love by Counting Crows (from the Shrek 2 soundtrack 😭)

Alone & These Dreams by Heart

I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany

More Than a Feeling by Boston

What’s Love Got to Do with It by Tina Turner

Close to Me by The Cure

Blue (Da Ba Dee) by Eiffel 65 ☠️

Endless Love by Luther Vandross, Mariah Carey

Be My Baby & Divine idylle by Vanessa Paradis

Smile by Lily Allen

I’m Gonna Miss You by Milli Vanilli

Conga by Gloria Estefan 🤣

New Kids On The Block

Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds

Queen

Hey Ya! by Outkast

Dreaming Of You by Selena

extra… songs she’d listen to if she spoke spanish or was latina cuz i’m mexican and i’ve been thinkin abt this 🙂‍↕️

Tu Dama De Hierro by Marisela

Belanova, especially Rosa Pastel, Me Pregunto, and Cada que…

Formas de Amor by Calo

Mi Media Naranja by Fey

Bazar & No Controles by Flans

Gracias A Dios by Thalia

La Ventanita by Garibaldi

Ahora Te Puedes Marchar by Luis Miguel

Cuando Calienta El Sol by Luis Miguel

Mírala, Míralo by Alejandra Guzman

Virgen de las Vírgenes by Gloria Trevi

Ni Una Sola Palabra by Paulina Rubio

No Puedo Olvidarme Ti by MDO

La Calle de las Sirenas by Kabah

Enamoradísimo by Mercurio

Veneno by Ragazzi

Dile Que la Amo by Kairo

Hombres G

Oye Mi Amor by Maná

Rica y Apretadita (feat. Anayka) by El General

Moriré by La Factoria

Enloquéceme & Shabadabada by OV7

Timbiriche

Amante Bandido by Miguel Bosé

Alejandro Sanz

#jackie taylor thoughts #yjs thoughts #yellowjackets thoughts #jackie taylor #yellowjackets #jackie taylor headcanons

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yellow-computer-mouse · 12 days

Text

here's some highlights from my WoF phase when i was 10 years old! all of this is copied and pasted directly from the document. (here's the whole thing if you wanna look through it yourself! copied and pasted into a new document bc i don't wanna share my school acc on the internet)

Darkness with snowflakes of hope Glides on silent claws Be on the lookout for Talons of stealth devouring the world In their gaping jaws Wings of darkness, eyes of terror, blood drips from the mind Fins of kindness, claws of purity All of these you must find Gather your dragons, claw-in-claw, before the next new moons Gather them, for you must know They’ll be coming soon Trust no webs, no gills, no claws, until you look past their eyes Past their brains, into their hearts, and find out what’s inside

^ The Darkness Prophecy. Don't worry, I decoded it for you all! ALSO when I was 10!

Snowflakes of hope: The Snowflake Winglet Silent claws, talons of stealth devouring the world: Evil Wings of darkness: Lanternfly Eyes of terror: Feareyes Blood drips from the mind: Jackal Fins of kindness: Princess Droplet Claws of purity: Isis Gather your dragons claw-in-claw: Have the abovementioned dragons ready, with a full understanding of the risks They’ll be coming soon: Leech planning his big attack Trust no webs, no gills, no claws: Don’t trust dragons, specifically SeaWings Look past their eyes, past their brains, into their hearts, and find out what’s inside: Looking past a dragon’s appearance, past their thoughts, and judging them by their true beliefs

JOE-KEHS (this is how it was. in the fucking document.)

Flipper is just lookin’ scared, then he starts boppin’.

Queen Scarlet be like: That was t h r i l l i n g

When Turtle kidnaps you and locks you in a wet bathroom, the best approach is to vibe

The best way to annoy Queen Scarlet is to kill her. Duh.

(I THOUGHT IT WAS FINE TO CALL KINKAJOU KINK/KINKY FOR SHORT 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 (i also called her joujou. better.)

The headcanons too btw (this is EVER SINGLE ONE IN THE LIST. i'll color the especially funny/interesting ones):

IceWings can be any color, just very light.

NightWings can be any color, just super dark.

Some NightWings are completely silver with black highlights. One of these NightWings that happened to be a mind-reader would have black teardrop scales.

SkyWings can be blue and have blue fire.

SkyWings can be brown and their fire explodes like a dragonflame cactus.

SkyWings can be yellow. Change my mind.

SkyWings' underscales are hard and plated.

SeaWings are generally super chill.

Preyhunter lived, he just has a scar across his chest (like that SandWing guard from Prisoners!)

Icicle is lesbian.

Hailstorm works as a janitor at JMA. (i actually cooked with this hold on)

Kink(ajou) was lesbian, but she’s now demiromantic, because of ANEMONE’S stupid LOVE SPELL!!

Joujou likes sunsets.

Cricket and Tamarin both have mega-crushes on each other and try not to notice (but they do) (THIS IS SO CUTE???? I WAS LOWKEY COOKING)

If asked whether she ships Sunnyflight, Starspeaker, or something different, Tsunami will answer “Starnami. #igetalltheboys!”

Clay is aro.

Blue is tired of the “I’m blue dabidabidabidie” meme. (Don’t ask me how I know about this I just do)

Starflight loves doggos.

Winter has a pet python called Black Ice. (emo ass name 💀💀)

Tsu-Tsu and Gloriffic have a contest every year to try and get each other the worst hatching day present ever (as well as something decent). Nami is currently winning with a used bandage. Glory wasn’t even close with her mug. (FUCKING HELP???????)

Listener is pansexual.

When talking to Tsunami for the first time, she’ll change her nickname after every sentence addressing her. She’d say “Please, call me Tsu-Tsu,” then “No, not Tsu-Tsu. Nami! I am Nami,” then “Why’d you call me Nami? I’m Nam-Nam,” then “WHAT YOU EATING WHILE SPEAKING TO MEEEE”

Turtle is bisexual. (damn right)

Winter is gender nonconforming, transmasc, and polysexual. (DAMN RIGHT)

More are coming soon!! (no tf they are not)

some highlights include:

me making up ships to be mad about and then acting disgusted

shipping sunny and hailstorm, as well as tsunami and squid (bro 💀💀 i hated riptide that much (still do))

i said that i didn't like anemone x tamarin bc "Tamarin has shown ZERO signs of loving her back." DAMN why was i so mad??? 😭😭

the term i used for partner was "cute dating entity"

I SHIPPED GLORY AND SNOWFALL 💀💀💀💀 bro WE ARE NOT IN LOVE WITH QUEEN GLORY CHILL TF OUT!!!!!!!! YOU ARE IN 5TH GRADE

i headcannoned icewings with american accents. honestly so fire. keep doin that little me

THIS WHOLE DOCUMENT IS 33 PAGES LONG

#not skeletons #not art #yellow yaps #wof #wings of fire #< main tags this is funny as hell tbh

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herrscherrofyatta · 2 years

Text

Let you break my heart again

Tighnari x reader x Albedo

angst, no gender/pronouns are used to describe reader (if there is one I probably missed it!!)

summary: you finally come back to Sumeru with Albedo for other reasons and meet up with Collei

a/n: sorry for taking so long with this

Collei jumped for joy when she finally finished reading the letter delivered to her by a small bird that seem to poof into thin air as soon as she grabbed the letter attached to it.

'To my dearest Collei,'

She gets ready to start the day, closing the window that she let the small bird get into her hut, it had been letting out quiet chirping until she woke up.

'i'm sorry for disappearing out of no where, if I had known I would leave Sumeru out of the blue, I would have definitely informed you before hand.'

Stepping out, she heads out to where the rest of the forest rangers are gathered, waiting for their assigned patrols and partners. Getting them, after waiting for about 30 minutes, Tighnari finally shows and Collei stares at him.

'I'm sure Tighnari must have informed you of my resignment as a forest watcher or you found the letter I wrote to him.'

Her eyes linger on him as he briefly talks to them about what to do today.

She thinks back the discovery that happened a month ago, he figured out he was in love Y/n long after they left.

Collei just couldn't believe that Y/n had left for Mondstadt and it seems like they found a place there.

'Don't bother telling him that I sent this letter to you, I think it's best if he stays in the dark a bit longer.'

She thinks it truly is bad timing, with Tighnari realizing he was in love while Y/n leaving Sumeru and meeting new people.

"Collei, you're with me today."

Those thoughts are cleared from her mind the moment she hears Tighnari's voice calling for her.

"Coming!" She runs over to him.

"Alright, is everyone clear on what to do today?"

He asks everyone. "Good, stay clear of any unmarked withering zones and stay safe out there. Collei, let's go."

They walk along the route and everything seem well, after a few hours of scouting and helping lost people from the city, Collei is munching on a snack when she looks at him.

'anyways, I met someone whose very interesting. His name is Albedo, an Alchemist who lives on the snowy mountains of Mondstadt and he's a part of the Knights of Favonious just like Amber.'

"Master," Tighnari looks at her, "have you found anything about Y/n could be?"

His eyes briefly cast downwards, "no, they're parents haven't heard thing as well. I've done some poking around, seems like the traveler was last seen talking with them."

He sighs, "I just wants things to be back how they were," he admits.

'Collei, to be completely honest.... I don't think I'm coming back to Sumeru.'

Suddenly, a flash of yellow is seen from a area a good distance from them. Tighnari immediately became alerted.

—

"Fascinating," Albedo mumbles, watching as you begin to cleanse this specific withering zone.

A flash of yellow scattered over the area as you let out a sigh, feeling a bit light headed but over all good.

"This time, it was faster." You tell him as you two stood up, the grass beneath glowing it's healthy green. "Normally..I wouldn't be allowed to step inside a zone and my cleansing would take a couple hours at best."

The training with Albedo had already improved many things about you that never seemed possible.

Albedo wanted to head to the city in hopes of receiving your family's books of advance cleansing as he said that people of Mondstadt could not give you any more guidance to this point, since you already mastered what they taught you.

"Looks like the hard work you put in, is paying off," you smile at him before a flock of bird fly off in the distance and you quickly gather your things.

"We must keep moving, if any forest watcher find us, we won't be able to go anywhere for a couple of days."

Albedo nods his head, "right, we can't be found just yet." He says in a playful tone as the two of you begin to the run in the opposite direction.

Barely sparing a few minutes as Tighnari and Collei show up right where you two were just at.

The black haired male looks around before spotting a small area of the grass bent a bit, kneeling down, he tries to find anything else.

Collei begins to wonder around and at some point, she recognizes the area. "Master Tighnari," she calls out to him and he doesn't respond but his ear twitches so she knows he's listening.

"This area used to be a withering zone," this catches his attention as he looks up from the patch of grass.

She points a tree where a small craved is seen. "Y/n used to carved a little drawing of themselves to show that this would be the area they would take care of," she explains, watching as he stands up and walks up to the tree.

His fingers trace on the scratches, the drawing on it barely visible now, "someone is marking them off."

He remembers coming across a few of them in the past but never knew they were made by Y/n.

Then, he picks up the distant sounds of footsteps but it sounded like they were a good distance from them. "The culprits must have already fled the area." He says, sighing in frustration.

—

Albedo watches quietly as your mother cupped your face in her hands, exclaiming in panic with horror written all over her face.

"Who hurt my beautiful Y/n!?"

Your father just sighs, he's inside the house as your mother looks back at your father, "honey!? Someone ruined my dear Y/n's face with bruises!?"

He hears a grunt come from you as your mother practically drags you inside, her hands still on your face, it seems like she has yet to notice him.

"..I'm...shine.." you say, your voice a bit muffled since your face was being squished by her hands.

Your mother simply shakes her head, "we have to get you patched up right away, the suitor we picked for you will come visit now that you've come back."

Albedo stops the door from closing with his leg, clearing his throat to get your mother's attention. She freezes as she look past you, her hands immediately drop from your face.

"Who are you?" She says in a stern voice as she pushes you behind her, you groan at her protectiveness.

Albedo clears his throat, extending his hand to her, "My name is Albedo, an alchemist from Mondstadt." He briefly introduces himself.

Your mother doesn't budge from her spot, her arms crossed over her chest as she stares him down.

"Mom, this is who I was with for the last month after leaving my position as a forest ranger." You nervously say.

"..." She continues to look at the blonde, not saying a good before you feel your father put his hand on your shoulder.

"M/n, let them come in and explain everything." He says, smiling at you warmly as you let out a sigh of relief as he leads you mother away and to the living room.

Once they were gone, you look at Albedo, "I'm sorry about my mother...she can be a bit protective of me." You say sheepishly, scratching your cheek as Albedo shakes his head.

"No, it's alright. It's good to see your relationship with your parents is good." Your face flushes at this before coughing.

Albedo couldn't help but smirk a bit at this.

"A-anyways, come in. My parents might be willing to give us my family's notes."

You two enter the living room to see your parents sitting on the couch, leaving the other couch in front of them empty, your mother seem to be glaring at Albedo while your father only smiles at you two.

"Sit." Your mother commands and you two comply.

It felt like eternity until your mother finally sighs, "please, just take care of my Y/n. They're my only baby and I want only the best for them."

Your face turns red at this as your eyes dart to Albedo to see his reaction, to your surprise, his face is also flustered a bit.

"Y-you have us all wrong! We came for something else!" You try to clear things up but ended up making things worse as your mother gasp.

"Y/n! What have we told you about moving too quickly in a relationship? You can't get married to someone you've only known for a short amount of time!"

You stand up at this, face so red, "We're not here for your approval, just to get a few things." You shout before running to your room, leaving Albedo with your parents, mumbling under your breath.

Albedo glances back to see both your parents staring at him.

Reaching your old room, you open and close the door behind you. Your room was just how you left it when you left with Tighnari....

Shaking your head, you quickly begin to dig around, back when you were still a student, you often went to the library to copy down any thing that related to your family's practices.

But to your luck, those notes were unreadable and left not finished.

Cursing at the way you thought back then, thinking you would forever be a forest ranger with Tighnari and these notes wouldn't come in handy.

Groaning, you fell on your bed and close your eyes and a memory flashes in your mind.

''Nari, mom said you can sleep over," ah this was probably one the many last ones memories you had calling Tighnari with that nickname you loved so much.

"I told you to stop calling me that, you're not a child anymore."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

You sit up and quickly open your coat before taking off a necklace you love to wear and throwing it somewhere in the room as you plop back down in the comfort of your soft bed.

Sighing, you begin to think a gentle knock is heard, "Y/n, can I come in?" It's Albedo.

You don't say a word, before burying your face in your pillow before sighing.

"Come in." Your voice is muffled as the door opens a second later and Albedo shuts it behind him.

You hear him walk towards you, feeling the side of the bed sink down when he sits down beside you.

"Your room is very you," he starts off, glancing around, some papers scattered on the floor below your desk and he spots some pictures on the wall.

It looked like they were taken during your years as a scholar with a couple of your friends. He can guess from this particular one, you posing for the kamera, a cheeky smile as you hold the peace sign with youe hand while the other one was wrapped around a black haired male who looked rathered annoyed at you.

"Hm, Tighnari would say the complete opposite, always complained at how messy this room was." Albedo looks back at you, seeing how your face scrunch up at the mention of your friend.

"Well, I like it. It reminds me of...well, you."

Your face flushes at this before quickly stuffing your face back in the pillow. God, does he not know how he's making you feel?

Coughing, you sit up, holding the pillow close to your chest.

"Well, I don't think there's anything for us here." You say, sighing, "our trip was all for nothing."

"Actually, I would say it was successful in the end." You look at him, confused before you see your parents standing at the doorway.

Your mother had a smile, although it looked a bit sad, "I know...that you would never let go of our family's ways. Always thought you would see the dangers of it when growing up but it seems like you're more determined then ever." She sighs, "your grandpa's notes are in the attic, please, take them with you back to Mondstadt."

You look at Albedo before you two rush out.

After packing those that seem to be of use, you two were preparing to leave when your mother stopped you at the door.

"Write to us, okay?" You run back to her, wrapping your arms around her as she hugs you back, placing a gently kiss on your head before giving you one last squeeze.

Pulling away, you look at your father before hugging him as well.

"Stay safe out there, okay?" He says as you nod your head.

After bidding the goodbye, you and Albedo leave the city.

"I told your parents everything," your e/c eyes met his, "they were hesitant at first but when I started to explain the potential you had and how determined you were...I guess they finally caved in."

Smiling at this, you stop, feeling like someone was watching you and you quickly look back only to see nothing.

—

Collei was assigned to stay behind that day, take the day off since Tighnari and the others seem to see how tired she was. She was thankfully she got a small break, she has been feeling a bit out of it.

Normally, she would spend the day with Y/n who was stuck doing the paperwork wjil Tighnari was away. So far, she wasn't gotten any letters from them.

She had so many questions for Y/n, was the fight with Tighnari that bad that they refused to take a step into Sumeru and show their face here again?

Sighing, the soft platter of the rain hitting the wood seem to make her feel relax as she was sitting down on a box.

"Collei, someone is looking for you." Her thoughts are broken as she looks back to see another ranger.

"Oh, is it the traveler?'

The ranger shakes his head, "no, the person that's looking for you is wearing a hooded coat."

She perks up at this, "a hooded person?"

He nods his head, "yes, they're at the entrance now."

She stands up, slowly making her way over there and peeks her head out to see two people standing under the rain.

She had no idea who these people were under a shiny gleam catches her attention and her face lights up.

The symbol all the knights wear on their clothes, was imprinted on the coat.

Walking towards them, they seem to spot her as she stops a few feet away from them.

She's quiet.

The people reaches to take off their hood and she's surprised.

"I've been gone for a least a month, did you forget me already?" You joke, smiling down at her as the rain began to soak your hair.

"Y/n?"

You grin at her, "I'm here to take you back to Mondstadt for the festival that starting soon." You inform her, making her even more shocked and surprised.

"Huh?!"

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #tighnari x y/n #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #tighnari #albedo x y/n #albedo x you #genshin albedo #albedo imagines #albedo x reader #albedo #𒆜let you break my heart again𒆜

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