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urhoneycombwitch · 5 months

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breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V, Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

“Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee).

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins.

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask.

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth.

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip.

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach.

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest.

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke.

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft.

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs.

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives.

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked.

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud.

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute.

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington.

___

[END: PART ONE]

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie x reader x steve #steddie #cw weed #weed ment #tw weed

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

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Title: Brave [3 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You manage to earn your day’s water, but also something else—Steve’s attention.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

A/N: a little more world-building, some insights into pack culture—and what’s expected of our reader 👀 i hope you all enjoy!

The rabbit’s ears twitch as it lifts its twitching nose to the air. You’re downwind, so it can’t scent you, not unless the wind shifts. It’s been hours of you sitting here, waiting as one by one the rest of the pack peels off, searches for better pickings elsewhere. You don’t, though, remaining still and quiet until you’re the only one left crouching low in the grass.

She lifts her head higher, ears swiveling before she lowers her head back down to the sparse patch of green in a sea of dry brown, her whiskers trembling. Slowly, quietly, you creep forward, pausing each time she does as you get into position. You nock an arrow, sighting it down your pointer finger—the way Steve showed you.

The thought of him curdles your stomach, and you grimace. What does he care if I live or die? You think snidely, your lips tightening as you draw back the string with a firm, steady hand. You grit your teeth. He thinks you weak—you know the others think so. They speak it freely, and in truth you cannot blame them. Your survival feels like more of a mistake than anything, a cruel twist of luck that had denied you the end you were supposed to meet. You are as unsuited to this life as both the cobbler and the baker’s boy, and yet you breathe while they moulder.

Don’t miss.

You release the arrow, and much to your surprise, your aim is true. The arrow pins the rabbit, the tip sinking into the dirt behind it. Its back legs twitch, and briefly your stomach turns as you watch the light go out in its frightened black eyes. Unexpected tears gather in your eyes as you wrench the arrow from the rabbit’s still warm flesh, and wipe it on the grass.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, placing a hand on its little head. “Thank you.”

“To live out here is to take life.” You aren’t surprised by Steve’s voice, nor his presences. You suppose it had been foolish, really, to think you were alone. You wipe furiously at your tears before glaring at him over your shoulder with red-rimmed eyes. “It was an honorable kill.”

You look down at your hands, and swallow thickly at the sight of dark red blood.

“I have never killed anything before.”

The orc sneers. “Then you have led a much more comfortable life than most anyone, man, orc, or beast.” He gestures to the rabbit. “Come. I do not think anyone will contest that you’ve earned your water tonight.” You watch as Steve strings up your kill, tying it to the back of your saddle.

—

You approach the fire-pit with your rabbit, your jaw clenched nervously as you twist the rope in your hands. The orc female tending the pot is as broad-shouldered and gruff as the males, her blond hair cropped close on the sides, the top long enough to fall across her eyes. She crosses her arms as you approach, a surprised, if wry, smile on her face.

“Well I’ll be.” She takes it from you, nodding in approval. “Clean kill. I’m impressed. I did not think a thing as dainty as you would be able to draw one of our bows.” You know she doesn’t mean it as an insult, merely an observation. Orcs, in your new estimation, seem to be overly fond of blunt communication, unbothered nuance or delicacy. You had never thought yourself particularly dainty, either; though as you look up at her you realize how small you are indeed.

“Thank you.” She turns to place your rabbit upon the chopping block she has cleared, and you look away as she begins to clean it. “What… what is your name?” You ask awkwardly, and she glances up at you.

“Carol.” She unsheathes a heavy looking short blade from her hip, slicing the rabbit from tail to nose. “You’ll make a fine hunter yet, little human,” she complements your work a second time, and you duck your head, your cheeks burning.

“I—I’ve never hunted before.” You admit. “Today was the first time.”

“Have you not? Perhaps I shall take you next time. Mayhap we can catch bigger than a rabbit.” She winks. Carol does not shoo you away, not even when the other orcs begin lining up with their own, impressive kills. Bucky is last, of course, a small deer strung up on a pole he carries easily by himself over one large shoulder.

“We should make jerky from this one. Salt it and dry the skins between the saddles,” Carol says, slapping its flank. You hope in vain that his slate gray eyes will not fall on you—but you feel their weight even as you busy yourself cleaning foraged carrots, and you hear the sneer in his voice.

“Making yourself useful?”

“She killed a rabbit today.” You had not expected Carol’s defense, and when you glance up at her, she stands with her body broadside in front of you, like she’s trying to block you from view. “A good kill, for her first time.”

Bucky scoffs. “Every one of us had a doe skinned and parted out before we were even weaned.” He sneers at you, the tusks poking out from his lower lip glinting menacingly. “But I suppose if you were an orc youngling, you might be blooded for it.”

Carol rolls her eyes.

“I just want to earn my water.” You say, meeting his gaze as you jut out your chin. “That’s all.” Bucky says nothing. He glances down at your rabbit, and then back up at you.

“It’s a good kill.” You swallow—that is probably the closes to a compliment that he’s apt to come. He turns on his heel and walks away, dirt crunching under his boots.

When Carol serves out the stew that night, you get a bowl—instead of the scraps you’d been allowed to take from the pot in the nights before, and your stomach groans audibly at the privilege of being full. For the first time, you find a—small—place by the fire that no one seems to mind you taking. In your bowl, you find almost an entire leg of rabbit. You look up, expecting to find Carol’s knowing gaze, but instead, your eyes connect with cool blue across the fire.

You look down quickly, pretending to ignore the weight of his eye as you bring a spoonful of stew to your lips.

“I beg your attention, brothers, sisters, people,” Steve’s voice carries across the fire-pit like a clap of thunder. The response is immediate, a curtain total silence dropping. Though there is no king among them, you think Steve might be the closest comparable thing.

“The day after tomorrow we ride for Tarrath. You know what this means; we will not stop. Not for rest, not for water.” You swallow the uncomfortable feeling that this speech is partially for your benefit. His bright blue eyes rest on yours. “Do not fall behind.”

Carol sits heavily on the log beside you, a bowl held in her large hands. It provides a welcome distraction, and you drop his gaze, turning to look at her.

“Eat up, little human,” she replies, gesturing at you with a spoon. “You will need your strength.” You bite into the rabbit, a mixture of gravy and grease running down your chin as she nods at you.

“Tomorrow, we hunt.”

to be continued

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augustjustice · 2 months

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Living Dead Boy

rating: T | wc: 1.3k | cw: angst, fixation on death, survivor's guilt, ambiguous ending | tags: meta, prose poem, 2nd person, horror movie allusions, steve pov, steddie (technically)

AO3 Link

Notes: Sometimes, I think about how Steve was supposed to die in Season 1. ...A lot.

You are a character in a horror movie.

In fact, you’re a very specific character in a horror movie.

At best, you're eye candy, like Johnny Depp and his crop top in that movie you saw later, about nightmares and the guy with the blades on the end of his fingertips. A Nightmare on…something. Maple Street, is what it would be, if this was your life.

(You sure as shit hope that’s not a thing, the part about dying in your dreams. You’ve had far too many nasty ones, since everything that happened, to get trapped inside them forever.)

But, at worst, you’re…well.

You’re Asshole Boyfriend #1. You know, the preppy guy. The popular guy. The guy who’s a little bit dumb and a lot too douchey, who drinks too much and parties too hard and sleeps around.

The point is, you’re the wrong guy.

Certainly the wrong guy for the flinty eyed girl who makes it all the way to the final credits, the one with her backbone of steel. She’s a little virginal. And smart, way too smart for you. Intrepid and daring, she’s gonna hack her way to the end, maybe swan off into the arms of Sensitive-Eyed Nerd Boyfriend #2, because, let’s face it. He’s always deserved her more than you have, anyway.

That is, she will, at least…if she isn’t the only one to make it out of the story alive.

The point is…the point is, your fate has already been foretold. Cacked off somewhere towards the end of the second act, hoisted by your own petard. If this were another movie, the more salacious ones they play down at the drive-in two towns over from Hawkins, maybe you would have kicked it caught in the act, the little death becoming the big one as you offer the Final Girl the ultimate betrayal.

Your horror movie’s a little classier than that, but that doesn’t mean you won’t meet the same fate. Not after what you and your friends do to our heroine, spewing bile at her in big-spray painted letters for everybody to see.

You fucked it. There’ll be no coming back, not after that. You’ll die, and all that will be left is a visceral satisfaction on the audience’s part to see you go.

Because, let’s face it…you had it coming, didn’t you?

It’s been said before. Not etched out in stone but typed out in ink. There’s no changing it.

Your story’s already been written long ago.

—

But then, at the end of the story, you…don’t die.

You were supposed to, you think. You’re pretty sure, at least.

That’s how these things go. Right?

At least, that’s what you picked up on, during the late night horror marathons you can’t stop putting on after for their grim familiarity. A taste that follows you all the way to your job at Family Video, when your best friend and you watch them with dead-eyed fascination.

It’s been prophesied, or whatever the hell the kids would say. Foreshadowed by all the shitty meathead boyfriends who came before you, your story sealed in their blood.

Except…you don’t.

You don’t die.

—

It's like you've been given this life–this second chance that you were never even supposed to have–and, the truth is, now you don't know what to do with it.

So, in the aftermath, you loiter and drift, lost without a real, clear sense of purpose.

At first, you and Nancy–beautiful Nancy, the girl who always makes it out alive, who was always meant to–dance around each other, because…well, because what else are you supposed to do? You’re Nancy Wheeler's boyfriend. That's who you're supposed to be.

If you're not that, then.. what even are you?

—

That’s a great fucking question, one fate doesn’t seem content to let go without giving you a pop quiz. After all, you’ve seen this one before…Asshole Boyfriend #1 or Sensitive-Eyed Nerd #2. Who will she choose?

…Was it ever even really a question?

—

So, you aren’t Nancy Wheeler’s boyfriend, and you’re not dead either.

But, you know what you are great at?

Being cannon fodder.

And, okay, so…maybe, if someone looked at it too closely, they might accuse you of having a death wish of some sort.

But…that's not exactly right, is it? It can’t be. Because why shouldn't you be the human shield? You were supposed to be dead already, and you know it, so…it just makes sense.

What other point is there to you?

—

The horrors keep coming back…they never really die, right? Always gotta show up for the sequel.

And you keep stepping in front of them, because, like you already said…not much else you can do. Each and every time, you think this is it, you’ve reached the end of the line. Fate’s finally gonna catch up with you, take back what it meant to at the start.

But somehow, against all odds…you keep coming out alive. No matter how many hits you take, how bloodied and battered you end the night. You’re still standing.

—

The series has made it all the way to Upside Down Horrors Part 4. And, okay, so maybe you think about it every round, but this one…

You’re pretty sure you were supposed to die. For real this time.

But he died in your place. Splayed out, bloody, in your shared pseudo-little brother's arms.

There’s no way it wasn’t meant to be you.

Because, you and Eddie Munson, you’ve got nothing in common, right? Fallen King of Hawkins High and the King of the Freaks, what could you possibly?

Except for all the things you do.

He’s the mentor and reluctant babysitter of the party. The guy the kids look up to with stars in their eyes.

Just like you are.

He ran, that first time around, when the shit hit too close to home.

Just like you did.

A girl died in his house, and the guilt gnaws away at him, keeps him locked in a chokehold.

Just. Like. You.

He’s even goofy and dramatic, makes his protests of your friends’ reckless plans known with the same loud chorus of No, no, no as you do.

Hell, the parallels are so obvious, you were jealous of him, before. Afraid he was taking your place. You’d barely managed to carve out a spot in the narrative for yourself–you sure as shit didn’t need extra competition.

Now, you’re just glad to have somebody else on your side, for once.

And there’s no way he doesn’t make it out of this one alive, right? I mean, Revenge of the Nerds, that’s all the rage. Guys like you get cut off at the knees, pay for your sins with humiliation or death while the audience cheers, vindicated at long last.

But geeky loner outsiders? They come out on top.

It’s poetic justice, or some shit. Robin would know.

So, that’s how you know it. That the narrative has slipped the tracks yet again.

Because the one time you weren’t playing human shield, Munson gets the short end of the stick in your place?

It isn’t right. It isn’t fair.

The universe is just fucking with you, at this point, you’re sure of it. Eddie was never meant for this.

It was supposed to be you.

—

You can’t even call yourself surprised, when the boy who died in your place claws his way out of his grave like a creature in an old black-and-white monster movie, craving blood and covered in ichor.

And the truth is…it’s so easy, from there. You’ve been waiting so long for this moment, and you didn’t even know it until now.

So, when his wings wrap around your shoulders, you fall into Death’s loving embrace like an old friend.

After all…you were supposed to be dead for years now.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #my writing #my things #my stuff #meta #prose poem #strap in folks this is a weird one #but it's lived in my head rent free for a while so #thought i'd finally get it together enough to put it out there

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durmom · 4 months

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Its Useless

Part 2

Part 1⬇️

The next morning you were up at nine ready to train. Walking into the gym you see the boys dressed in sweats and wife beaters. Damn they didn't show this in the show. It’s hard to not find them attractive, I mean they are looking so good. You are wearing leggings and a loose crop top with socks and converse. They tell you to take your shoes off, you realize they were also just in socks. As you take your shoes off and move to put them out of the way one of the boys grabs you from behind and throws you on the floor. As your back slammed on the mat you groan. You didn't even have time to say ‘what the hell’ before Dean was on top of you throwing punches. You took two punches to the face before dodging the third and fourth then pushing your elbow into his ribcage. He folded over and you used that time to punch him in the face, it was a weak punch but a punch nonetheless, he leaned to the side and you used that momentum to thrust your hips to the left leaving him on his side. You acted fast jumping up, jamming your heel into his hip leaving him on his back. You straddle him now throwing punches that he was dodging, you flex your legs squeezing his sides keeping him in place. He squirmed around and you finally got a good hit in. Dean shocks you by head butting you, sending your head back and releasing the tension in your legs which he used to get you off of him. You had a second to get up before Sam swiped at your legs which you barely dodged, he throws a few punches which you took and then threw back. You laugh for a second, “How am I supposed to punch someone a full foot taller than me.” They chuckle and you throw a punch at Sam which he dodges then he does some weird ass move that ends with you on the ground legs wrapped around his waist and him pinning your arms down. If you werent fighting for your life this would be very hot but you were fighting for your life so you wrap your legs around him squeezing his sides with your thighs, locking your legs around each other and squeezing with everything you have. He coughs, struggling to breathe he lets go of your hands and you maneuver with everything in you to twist him on his side. You both lay there on your sides, you still squeezing his sides, a few seconds pass then you hear him hit the mat three times. You smile, breathing heavily and roll on your back. Holy shit he tapped out.

“Pussy.” is what you decide to say to him. They both laugh, Sam still on the floor catching his breath. You hop up and help Sam to his feet.

“Dude where did that come from?” Sam asks.

“My dad was a wrestler and that move was the only one I remembered.”

“You punch like shit but damn that… that move is.. I don't even know.”

“Yeah y/n I had to resort to a head butt.” Dean steps in.

“Yeah, not too happy about that dickhead.” You reach up and feel the blood at the top of your head. “You bitches caught me off guard. How was that fair?”

“Fighting is never fair.” Dean says.

“Okay cheesy mcgee, this was supposed to be a training session not an attack.” You laugh, “Still mad at me? Think I’m useless?” You tease but Dean's smile drops.

“Dean I’m fucking with you. I know who I am.” He laughs a bit, eased knowing you were fucking with him.

“Anyways y/n, you did good. We will work on your punching but I mean you got me to tap out.”

“Thank you, thank you.” You take a bow.

“And next time we will add weapons, if you're gonna fight a vamp you're gonna have to do it with a blade.” reminds Dean.

“Oh shit yeah.”

“ I can take you to our weapons room and show you around?” Dean offers, which is shocking but again it's an effort.

“Yeah, let's do it.” You move to grab your shoes before turning around, “Dont attack me please.” They both mark crosses over their hearts. You grab your shoes and walk out with the boys. Dean looks at you as you walk, when you look up at him he makes a face,

“Let's clean you up first.” You two and Sam split up as Dean leads you to the infirmary. This is normally when the reader and Dean start to have feelings for eachother. You think as you sit on the bed. I mean I already like Dean but he hates me. Well not hates. Just don't like me. Dean sits on a stool in front of you. He pours alcohol onto gauze. You look up at him and you must look worried because he says, “don’t worry it’ll be quick.” He grabs your jaw and dabs the wound. Internally you laugh, you aren’t worried, you were a nurse and could do this yourself. You’re worried about Dean and talking to him.

“How are you not reacting?” Dean asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Oh shit.

“I mean I was a nurse, and I have chronic pain so this is like a mild sting. I’ve had worse.”

“You were a nurse?” He pulls out bandaids, “princesses or Spiderman?”

“Both.” He laughs

“Yeah I was a nurse for a while but I had just quit and was working a serving job when I got pulled here.”

“Why’d you quit?” He puts the first bandaid on your forehead.

“Um, I mean it’s a hard job. I work twelve hour shifts overnight. I was constantly getting punched, bit, spit on, in general just threatened. After a couple years you get jaded and depressed and anxious so I quit,” he puts another bandaid on your cheek from where he punched you, “ I was just tired of living the same day over and over. I mean I wasn’t living.”

“So hunting is the next step?” He laughs.

“I mean not really. Like I guess it’s kinda the same but I think the reward is greater. Also the bond you have with people is better. I mean I had no one back home. My coworkers were snobby and rude so I was a loner. So even just having two people to go through it with me will make a huge difference. And I know we aren’t close yet but I hope one day we will be.”

“Yeah, I think the reason I’ve stayed in it so long is because of Sammy.” He starts putting away all the supplies.

“I mean that and you’ve never known anything different really. I mean you did leave for a while, had a family. Would you ever do that again?” He sighs.

“Uh I mean maybe but there’s too much going on. I just don’t see it happening for me.”

“Yeah.” Is all you can say because you know how it ends.

“Welp. You’re all done.” He snaps the supply kit shut. You hop off the table and go to look in the mirror. A rapunzel band aid covers your forehead, how did he know? Then a Spiderman bandaid on each cheek.

“You like em?” He laughs watching you examine your face.

“I mean I obviously look badass as hell” you share a laugh.

“Alright spidey let’s go over weapons.” He guides you out the door, you turn to him all excited, “did you know, tangled is my favorite movie of all time?” Obviously being sarcastic as he knows nothing about you.

“I’m glad I chose the right bandaid princess.” Even though he meant it as a joke your heart stops, it’s Dean he says shit like that all the time. He’s just trying to be nice. As you walk into the weapons room and he goes over all the weapons and what to use them for you keep thinking about him calling you princess. I mean why did that get to you?

“Y/n?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you a question.”

“I-uh.” You focus back on and see a gun, his gun, on the table. It’s all taken apart, the magazine is out, bullets laying on the table, safety is off. You just move without thinking, turning the safety on, loading the magazine and putting it in the gun.

“Nice, do you want to shoot today or we can do it later?” Thank god. I did what he wanted.

“Let’s take a break. I’m hungry.”

“I can eat!” He says giving a goofy smile.

“You can always eat, Dean!” You walk into the kitchen grabbing him a beer. He sits at the table.

“Not true princess! One time I got a stomach bug from Sammy and didn’t eat for two days!” You hand him the beer, “thanks” he cracks it open putting his feet up on the table and taking a swig. “Do you not drink?”

“No I do, just not beer.” Opening the fridge you see it’s empty, “someone needs to go on a supply run,” you look up and see Sam walking into the kitchen, “123 nose goes!” You put your finger on your nose and see Dean do the same. Sam didn’t even know what hit him, he was so behind. You laugh, “awe poor Sam!”

“What?” He turns and looks to Dean who is giggling to himself, “what?”

“You are the sore loser who has to go on a supply run.” You lean against the counter.

“What?” He groans.

“Sorry Sammy.” Dean laughs.

“Well anything on the list?”

“Beer.” You roll your eyes of course the only thing Dean wants is beer, “and princess here doesn’t drink beer so whatever she wants.” He tilts his beer toward you. You cross your arms, again with the princess.

“Just Rum and coke. Like cans of coke, the bottled shit is gross.”

“Woah! Princess drinks rum and coke?” Dean sits up now.

“Yes Dean, if I’m drinking I’m tryna drink.”

“Well you heard her Sammy! Better get going.”

“Fine. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Be safe!” You yell as he leaves.

“Be safe?” Dean asks all weirded out.

“Yeah, be safe. Like drive safe, don’t do anything dumb? It’s nice to tell that to people you care about.”

“You care about Sam?”

“Really Dean?”

“What? You’ve known him for like two weeks and one of those weeks you didn’t leave your room.”

“Hey! Need I remind you I’ve been watching you boys since I was a kid? Of course I love and care about you!”

“You love us?” Dean smirks.

“Yeah even though you’re a dickhead, how can I not. And one day,” you walk over to him and get in his face, “you’ll love me just as much as I love you.” You poke his chest, smile, and leave him sitting in the kitchen. Where did that come from?

That night you all get plastered, you’re sitting in the dean cave wearing gray sweats and one of your bluey shirts.

“Wait!” You yell laughing as they talk about when they met the mystery gang. You get up and run to your room to grab your computer. Out of breath you come into the room and connect your computer to the tv, “okay listen this is gonna be hella meta but! That is an episode in supernatural and one of the best ones so I illegally downloaded it and it should still be on here!” You go to your files and there it is.

“No way!” Dean gets all excited.

“Yes way!” You pull up the episode and are about to hit play.

“Wait, should we even watch this!” Sam asks being the responsible one.

“Shut up Sammy” you and Dean say simultaneously. He holds up his hands, “I’m just saying!”

“Okay wait, Sam is right. I should give you a warning, it’s not all cartoon, so we are gonna just skip to the cartoon part.” you fast forward and hit play.

“Hey that's not what I meant!” Dean hits Sammy in the chest

“Shhh it's starting.”

You jump back on the couch next to Dean and grab the popcorn sitting on his lap. You all watch in joy laughing at the episode, I mean you've never seen Dean laugh so hard. Sam is enjoying it almost as much as Dean, you spent most of the episode watching them. You get up to go to the bathroom, it being like the fifth time.

“Another bathroom break princess?” Dean looks at you as if in shock.

“Yes Dean, I’ve been drinking. I gotta piss.” You walk down the hall, not going to the bathroom, just taking a smoke break. You close your eyes and vape, after a few seconds you're blowing out your last puff when you open your eyes and are met with Dean staring at you.

“Shit.” you put the vape in your pocket.

“No Princess dont stop on account of me.” You smile weakly, feeling awkward.

“Sorry, just an old habit.”

“I don't mind. At least it doesn't smell like cigarettes.” you scrunch your face up thinking about the smell.

“Okay.” is all you say and then you stand there in the hall awkwardly staring at each other. You take in his face, his eyes actually have some life in them. He is wearing plaid pj pants and a black tshirt. He's got his robe over top and some slippers. He looks dorky as hell but adorable.

“Guys hurry up!” Sam yells out from the room breaking you out of the daze. Dean coughs, “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, see you in there.” You smile and walk back to the room.

“What were you two doing?” Sam’s eyebrows raise. You go to sit back in your spot on the couch.

“Oh, Dean just caught me smoking.” You say nonchalantly.

“You smoke?” He turns to you, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Uh yeah, not cigarettes though,” You pull out your vape, “I just vape, it's similar but doesn't smell.”

“Oh well you don't have to hide that from us.”

“Well I didn't know what you guys thought and I want you boys to like me.” you smile, thinking about how the last few weeks you’d been sneaking away to smoke. Wait till he finds out about the weed. Sam grabs your hands, “Of course we like you, also a lot of hunters smoke. Jodi, Bobby, Rufus.”

“Wait really? They don't show that in the show!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! That makes me feel alot better.” Dean comes back in, Sam lets go of your hands to let Dean sit.

“ She tell you about her bad habit?” He smirks.

“Yes I did Dean, you ass.”

“What about your other one?” He teases, “Yeah Sam she-” You cover his hands with his mouth, he fights back and then you two are fighting on the couch, you trying to cover his mouth and his trying to get your hands away. Dean unfortunately wins, “She smokes weed Sam! Weed!” He laughs exasperated.

“Dean!” You hit him in the chest, he pretends to be hurt.

“Okay?” Sam says almost as a question. He doesn't care that you smoke weed, he's just confused why you guys were fighting over that, and the fact you two had a shared secret and even got close enough to fight.

“You don't care?”

“No y/n we've partaked a few times.” He looks at Dean, almost scolding him.

“No shit! When?” You sit up fully crossing your legs and pushing Dean away from you.

“Back in highschool, and I did in college. How did Dean know you smoked weed?” He says acting like it's no big deal more curious with this secret between you two.

“When I went to apologize Princess here, was high as balls. Singing, doing her room up all pretty.” He teases you and you again hit him.

“I was not high as balls!” You defend, laughing.

“Dude your eyes were so red, you smelled like weed, and the entire time you were staring at me so intensely.”

“I was not!” again you hit him.

“Stop hitting me!” He covers his chest all defensive.

“ fine.” You turn and face the screen, hitting play. Dean leans down and whispers in your ear, “ You were so high princess.” Your whole body heats up, you pinch him in the side, “OW!”

“Stop it you two! I'll turn the car around!” Sam jokes. You both stop and finish the episode, you all are laughing as it ends. You all have been continuously drinking and it was clear as all of your words were slurred.

“Come on, Cas looked hot as hell in that episode!” You shout, all debating who looked the best.

“He did but come on I looked awesome!” Dean claims smiling like a dork.

“You all looked good but Cas… mmm”

“You got it down bad for the angel!” Sam points at you laughing.

“Hell yeah I do! Look at him!”

“I can hook you up princess.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Ew no!” You lightly hit his arm, “it's more of a crush, I don't want to actually sleep with him. It cas! It’d be all awkward! And does he even have junk?” You laugh.

“He definitely does.” Dean says his eyes widening.

“How do you know?”

“I'm not saying!”

“Come on!” You now are hitting him repeatedly.

“Stop! Stop!” He laughs. You look at Sam begging him for answers, he looks towards Dean, luckily Dean was facing you, facing away from Sam. So Sam just nods his head.

“I KNEW IT!” you shout standing up on the couch and pointing at Dean.

“Sam you bitch!” Dean turns and lunges towards him. He gets him in a headlock and they rough house a bit before Dean is bent over hand on his knee gasping for air. He holds up a hand, “I'm gonna yak.”

“Bathroom!” You and Sam yell, you hop off the couch, you and Sam grab Dean and drag him down the hall. Barely making it to the bathroom as Dean throws up in the toilet. Seeing him throw up makes you want to throw up, you gag. You suddenly get hot and your mouth waters, you turn to the bathtub and throw up. The smell, and sound of you and Dean throwing up gets Sam and then he's next to you also throwing up in the tub. After a minute you catch a break looking at the tub, “ fucking gross.” You reach behind Sam, who is still throwing up, and grab the shower head. You turn on the water and wash the vomit down the drain. You look over at Dean who is resting his head on his arm on the toilet. You get nauseous again and throw up. About 20 minutes of on and off vomiting for all of you before you all were able to leave the bathroom. You were all sniffing, breathing shakily, and holding onto each other for balance. You were the least shaky out of all of you so you guided them to the kitchen.

“No! Bed!” Dean says head hanging down.

“Hold on.” You sit both of them down and grab six glasses and fill them all with water. Once all the glasses are on the table you take a seat, “Okay two glasses each, no bed until all of them are gone.”

“Why? Princess, Why?” Dean groans.

“I'm with her on this.” Sam is the first to take a sip.

“ You’ll thank me in the morning.” You all sit there for an hour struggling to get this water down, constantly taking pee breaks. By the end though you all were feeling a bit better. You walked the boys to bed then made your way to the other side of the bunker to your room. The second your head hit the pillow you were out.

The next morning you woke up around nine am. When you walked out to the library you saw Sam typing away on his computer drinking more water.

“Morning.” You walked past him ruffling his hair. You could hear him laugh as you walked down the hall to the kitchen. You grabbed some water and joined Sam in the library.

“Rough night huh?” He asks looking at your bed head and last nights clothes.

“It was fun tho, I’m surprisingly not hungover.” You run your hands through your hair before putting it in a low messy bun.

“Really? I feel like crap.” He takes a sip of water.

“Must be my new twenty two year old body!”

“I forgot about that.”

“Me too until this morning. I’m starting to love it! You oldies and being hungover,” you huff putting your feet on the table hands behind your head, “couldn’t be me.” Sam laughs

“You’re still 29.”

“Shut up.” And with that you hear Dean shuffling in. Still in his pjs and robe, disheveled but still looking good.

“Morning sunshine.” You smile up at him as he walks behind you and steals your water, downing all of it.

“Hey!”

“Morning Princess, Sam.” He shuffles towards the hallway.

“While you’re in there get me a new water!” He waves his hand and heads to the kitchen.

“So whatcha working on?” You lean on towards Sam.

“Oh I just found us a case.”

“Cool. What is it? When we leaving?” Sam laughs, “uh its vamps and I don’t think you should come.”

“Awe come on! I’ve been practicing with you boys every morning! I don’t even have to get in all the action, I can stay at the motel!” He contemplates for a minute when Dean walks in, “take it up with Dean.”

“What?”

“A vamp case. I’ll stay at the motel!” You plead giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He stares for a moment.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” You slap your hands on the table sitting back in your seat.

“But! You stay at the motel unless we say.” He gestures between him and Sam.

“Fine by me!”

Part 3⬇️

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean x reader #sam and dean #sam winchester #the winchester brothers #reader insert #destiel

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fbfh · 2 years

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Pleaseee I just need a story where the reader is from our modern world and tedros falls inlove with them

anon my darling my dearest my beloved you don't understand how much of my brain space this occupies. bc when you first show up in that fucking field of pink and red flowers you're probably in jean shorts and a crop top. maybe a flannel. you walk confused through the gilded halls, getting as many pictures as you can of the ornate archetecture and glasswork, worrying you won't believe it yourself if you don't have proof. you have no idea how you somehow ended up in a castle that looks straight out of the royaltycore side of pinterest you've stumbled across a few times, and you have no idea where you're even supposed to be going. then the fairies catch up to you. they take one look at you, then start tugging at your hair and clothes, trying to drag you somewhere to get you cleaned up before orientation, so you do the natural thing: start filming them on your phone and haul ass out of there. you get even more lost through the mazes of halls and staircases and breezeways as the fairies keep chasing you. you lose them for a minute, and unbeknownst to you, standing at the hallway is noneother than Tedros. you catch his attention for many reasons, your blinding beauty, the rush of energy you cary with you that seems to sweep him along with it, the lack of restraining your personality for the sake of etiquette. most notably, is that to him you're barely dressed. usually you'd be wearing bloomers and a corset with a dress that's at least tea length over it, but here you are, legs out in front of god and everybody. you don't seem the least bit phased by this either, but before he can snap out of the trance you've put him in, Professor Dovey is sweeping down the halls toward you.

"oh my..." she says, taking in your appearance. she turns to the fairies. "yes, I think you're right. this time does certainly call for an exception."

amid your miriad of protests, she takes your arm, gliding you through the halls with her.

"hush child, I'll explain everything." she respons warmly, bringing you to the doors of the groom room. she sits you down, and with a flick of her now glowing finger, everything in the room springs to life. soft smelling perfume sprays you, your nails are maincured, your skin is moisturized, your hair is done up all pretty. before you know it, racks of dresses are wheeling themselves out, spinning around you as Professor Dovey skims through them, picking one out for you as she explains everything. you don't really get a grasp on the situation until you're sitting on blue and glass pews surrounded by dozens of girls in literal ballgowns. you're wearing a ballgown too, the kind of thing you see used as clickbait on wish or aliexpress, but this is real and it fits you like a glove. you touch the side of your bodice, where you managed to shove your phone when Professor Dovey wasn't looking. you can't bring yourself to focus on anything as all of this sets in, but when a rowdy group of boys burst in and begin sword fighting, you're pulled out of your daze. one of them gets grazed on the arm, and it strikes you that these are actual swords. they're not dulled movie props or plastic kids toys or diy cosplay accessories, these are literal metal blades getting tossed around like it's no big deal. it's probably not a big deal to them, you realize, they clearly know what they're doing. as you lose yourself in thought, beginning to accept the situation you've found yourself in, Tedros fights through the crowd of boys in front of him more determined than ever. you caught his eye, and he'll stop at nothing to stand before you and throw you his rose. he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you since that moment he saw you in the halls, full of more life and vigor and passion than any girls he's ever met. he's dying to know you, yearning to know everything about you, absolutley desperate to sweep you off your feet. he has his sights set on you, and with a love this strong, he's sure you must feel the same. he wonders if this could be love at first sight. you're pulled from your thoughts as the girl next to you, blonde and wearing a purple dress, taps your shoulder.

"I believe that was intended for me." she states with a condescending smile, motioning to the rose that somehow appeared in your lap. your eyes flare, her attitude not slipping past you for a second. Tedros is about to protest, tell Beatrix that his rose landed in the right hands, when you scoff, clearly surprised and a little offended at her tone. Beatrix expects you to hand her the rose, and maybe apologize to her for being in the way. instead you look straight at her, and speak so informally she thinks she must have imagined it.

"okay, dickwad." you state, not an ounce of shyness to be found. you scoff, leaning towards Tedros. "I guess someone hasn't had her morning coffee..."

Beatrix's mouth hangs open in shock as a hush falls from the nearby girls who'd heard the exchange. Beatrix knows that Tedros is going to defend her honor, insisting you apologize and insuring you never speak to her in that way again. instead he lets out the loudest, most sincere, organic laugh any of them have ever heard. You chuckle along with him, not sure what was so funny about that exchange, but you can tell there's no malice or insincerity to him.

"You are just full of surprises..." he muses, once he's caught his breath. he takes your hand in his, and you watch with wide eyes as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, before falling in line with the rest of the boys, more sure than ever that you're his true love. he just kissed the back of your hand. he literally just kissed the back of your hand. the only time you've ever actually seen that is in the occasional straight to hulu period drama, and you never expected to experience that in real life. you also didn't expect it to fill you with butterflies. you and Tedros both find yourselves stealing glances for all of orientation while Beatrix stares daggers at you the whole time. you're sure this school will be interesting to say the least.

#drabbles #tedros of camelot x reader #tedros pendragon x reader #tedros pendragon #tedros of camelot #sge x reader #sge #sge drabbles #school for good and evil x reader #school for good and evil #school for good and evil drabbles #tedros x modern!reader #(banging pots and pans together) I LOVE THIS DYNAMIC I LOVE THIS DYNAMIC #tbh the only way to do the 'im not like other girls' thing is when you're literally just acting normal but it's a total fish out of water #situation #like yes i'm not like other girls because i was raised with no internet restrictions in the 2000s #instead of going to etiquette lessons and balls in a fantasy village where magic is real #yeah im probably not going to be like other girls bc of that #tedros just has a thing for readers #im gonna say it #if you're not from the forest he's on his knees for you #you're singing jones bbq and foot massage under your breath while you do homework and he has to physically restrain himself from proposing #wish i was joking

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hello-there-cyarika · 1 year

Text

Hive Trooper Milo

This is my OC Milo (CT-4304)! He's a special operative/stealth trooper, and he's here to show off proper hive trooper proportions and anatomy :]! More info below the cut <3

Milo is a sweetheart and has agreed to be a model

His batchmate, Cicada (CT-3301), will show up another time to demonstrate how helmets work with their antennae

(side note if you understand why cicada's number is 3301 you're my new fav ily)

As you can see, Properly Proportioned and not Cutesy hive troopers are much less visibly fluffy when they're wearing their armor

This doesn't mean that there's less fluff, it's just covered properly by the armor

The fluff also continues up the neck, and in the back it meets the bottom of their hair

On the front of the neck/throat area, the fluff is shorter and finer

On the back and base of the neck and chest, the fluff is longer and thicker

The fluff is very soft and comfy- it helps by being waterproof and very warm on icy planets

On the other hand, it's not very breathable and very flammable, so it's not great in hot environments or facing down a flamethrower

Hive trooper wings are made of a very strong, surprisingly light chitin

The chitin has a property similar to beskar: it can withstand a blaster shot! (not one at point blank or very close range, though)

It can't withstand a lightsaber, unlike pure beskar

The chitin of the wings is super flexible, so troopers' wings are actually quite hard to break

The wings attach to the troopers' upper back in the shoulder blade area

The wing joint is like a ball and socket joint, allowing the wings to have a lot of range and flexibility, giving the troopers a lot of finite control over their aerial maneuverability!

The chitin continues onto the back, covering the entire back and a little ways around the sides with a thin, flexible, transparent layer of chitin

Over top of that, there are several dense, stiff chitin plates that are even more effective than the thin chitin

Below the plates, on the lower back, is where the secondary abdomen is connected

The secondary abdomen is covered in overlapping, thick chitin plates, and has thin chitin as a flexible under layer

Each stripe is along the bottom edge of each plate

The secondary abdomen contains stinger, venom sac/gland, crop, stomach, intestines, liver, gall bladder, and pancreas

Since the torso is lacking the majority of the digestive organs, the lungs are much bigger and take up a lot more space

The heart is also larger to compensate for the additions of wings and secondary abdomen

The venom gland produces a substance that can send just about any sentient, allergic or not, into anaphylactic shock within a couple minutes

Thankfully troopers are very polite and keep their stingers retracted while interacting with nat-borns

The troopers themselves are immune to the venom, fortunately

The antennae are very expressive!

Aside from being used as a sensory organ, the antennae move in a somewhat involuntary response to emotions, much like a cat's ears or a horse's tail

One method of silent greeting for troopers is bonking antennae, whether that be bumping antenna to antenna or antenna to head/shoulder

It's a big deal for a nat-born to be greeted like this by a trooper, especially since antennae are so sensitive! It means they're "part of the hive"

Bonking antennae goes hand-in-hand with a keldabe for the boys :]

In case you haven't heard about this amazingly adorable fun fact: bees give a lil "woop" when they bump into each other!

Troopers do it too, but it's more of a gentle lil "oop" or "ope"

Stealth troopers and any ARCs that take on stealth missions have to be trained out of this involuntary response so they don't get caught if they bump into each other

The upper blacks that the troopers wear obviously have to be quite different

They have an open back and a closure at the top back just below the neck

You sort of have to step into it like a leotard and pull it up, put your arms through, and then do the closure at the top

lol okay this one post has gotten long enough! I'll save more worldbuilding for future posts ^-^;

I think next I'll do a doodle of wolffe/fox/thorn/tup/dogma, so look forward to those cuties!

<3 I do not give my consent or my permission for my art to be re-posted or reuploaded on this or any other website <3

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somnolentleviathan · 2 months

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Update version of my boy Sylus (I am open to rps! just send a dm)

He's based off this idea (and is Character B): Character A and character B pretty much grew up together and even promised each other they would be together forever. But due to some circumstances A left, but he promised B that he would be back. Person A wrote a letter promising they would return and they would be together again. But that never happened, as the years passed character A is the head of a Mafia group, as for character B became a drug addict. Character A found him and is doing anything he can to save him. (More)

tws: mentions of drug usage and family abuse (nothing detailed)

"Look, I might look like some weakling but when I was high as fuck I took down three mafia guards- those were yours? Ah- Yikes..Maybe hire new guards?"

Name:

- Sylus Love

Age:

- 24

Gender:

- Male

Sexuality:

- Gay

Personality:

- Jealous little shit, untrustworthy, careless, and defensive - he can be quite brash also to keep people away, sarcastic - Idk if this is a personality but he takes promises very serious

Personality before drugs:

- Very caring to those around him, adventurous, affectionate, patient, playful, sarcastic, takes promises serious

Negative Traits:

- Obsessive

Likes:

- Sweets (mainly cookies), he really likes fish and wants a pet beta (white and black to match his hair) - tbh he would love his own little aquarium, loves rain, sharing food (loves hot pots), he loves any source of water and the life living in it

Dislikes:

- Sour food, the sun, doesn't care for dogs all that much, eating fish. Seeing people eat fish around him.

Looks:

- He has silver hair (which is dyed his hair is normally black) , grey eyes, arms are normally bruised up due to certain drugs - he's 5'3" - Has scar on his left eyebrow, and on his ear

- His outfits do vary from baggy outfits or crop tops with a jacket and always jeans

"You're making more empty promises. You're going to help me get clean?" Sylus scoffed looking away, "Like how you promised me we would always be together? Or that you'd come back to me?" He glanced at the other he felt his skin run cold. "I liked you better when you were a hallucination."

Info/Notes:

- He does have sensory issues with sound depending, ADHD, anxiety, and depression

- He used to be in university to be a marine biologist

- He doesn't remember how long he's been on drugs - but he does know he started when his mom had passed and he was eventually all alone

- He remembers the promise him and his best friend had made about staying together forever, he remembers the promise his best friend made about coming back to him.. Due to this he still has hope the other will return

- He gets more addicted to the drugs due to seeing hallucinations of his childhood crush - it puts him at ease as it's the only chance he gets to see them

- Has a knife (normally hidden away in his shoe or jacket pockets - the knifes hilt is blue while the blade has a design

- He has used the knife several times either in defense or threatening (he has killed a few people but this haunts him)

- When he does see his childhood friend again he blames the drugs, claiming it's a hallucination - but when he wakes up in a penthouse and sees the same man standing in front of him he assumes he died, be he feels relief with this he gets to be with the one he loved finally (though when he realizes he's alive he becomes brash and closed off)

- Due to his addiction he hops club to club, and cause of this he has a lot of information on certain things (rival mafia weakness maybe)

- He's homeless but lives in a warehouse as of right now, or he crashes at friends houses when he's sober

- Being off drugs he has habits of itching his arms and neck a lot, looking around and major headaches - he can be rude due to withdrawal

- Tends to threaten people a lot with "yeah, well my lover is a Mafia boss so.....'

- Hates being called a lap dog (as he sits on his lovers lap)

- He has an older brother and sister that's so *worried* about his safety in the Mafia but didn't do anything for him when on drugs - used excuses like 'oh, but my daughter failed her test...' 'oh but I have this important board meeting'

- He doesn't mind being in the mafia he actually enjoys the power a lot (ordering the guards to do stupid shit like get him a freaking ice cream cone) He also doesn't mind helping out and gathering information |

Faceclaim:

"Dad, did you know what I did when you left me alone in the hospital with mom? I sat by her side crying, begging for her to come back, to not leave me. When I came home I sat in the living room staring at the door like I was a kid again waiting for her to come in bringing cookies or a new toy… What did you do? Oh, right, you got married the same day she died."

Family Relations:

Marie Love

Sylus' mom by blood, Scarlet and Liam weren't her blood kids. She was closer to Sylus and supported his hobbies and dream - Even winning a goldfish for him at a fair

She always baked cookies in shape of fish for him and his best friend when they were kids, and when his best friend left she was always there or her son

Angelo Love

Was abusive towards Sylus mostly when Maria passed away, blamed him for a lot and wanted his son like his other kids to follow in his path

Was partly the reason for Sylus addiction as he would give Sylus heavy dosages

He isn't around in the picture anymore as Sylus fully cut him off, but Sylus still hears from him through his siblings

He used to be a mafia boss before going into strictly business, he cheated on his wife a lot

Loves his other two kids more for following in his footsteps

Scarlet Love

Helps her father with the business

She does have a husband and kids

Sylus is a little bit closer to her but their relationship is a little rocky still but she did hate to see the other hurt (but turns a blind eye on his addiction)

Liam Love:

Is the next in line to take over the business

Followed in his fathers foot steps and beats Sylus a lot, killed Sylus' goldfish (after mothers passing) and was always rude to their "mother"

Was an ass to any of Sylus' friends also

Sylus keeps in contact with him still though due to not wanting to lose every family member

#Sylus #my oc #rp #roleplay #open to rp #open to roleplay #oc #original character roleplay #original character #original character rp #oc roleplay #oc rp #oc notes #lgbt+ rp #mafia rp #mafia au #mafia roleplay #lgbt+ roleplay #🦭

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gruesomejack · 1 year

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"Jackie?" Brows furrowing, Cleo approached the front desk and leaned over. He'd stopped in the store on an impulse-- As he passed by, his eyes had caught a figure inside that made his heart flutter. It'd been about two years since he'd seen him last, but it was hard to miss Jon Stone. After seeing him on TV during his trial, he couldn't stop thinking about him. Jack had looked so... worn and scared, and it was more than a relief to see him win it. He hadn't belonged in detention, and he certainly didn't belong in prison for defending himself. Jon was different-- He was troubled. Cleo was a thief and indignant; he'd done more than enough and kept doing it out of spite, but not Jonny. Even if he'd noticed the boy's own sticky fingers once or twice. It was principle! Jon wasn't malicious. He needed help, not imprisonment.

Digging under the counter, Rabbit peeked up at the nickname and foreign accent, his eyes growing wide. "Cat!" Scrambling up to his feet, he stumbled from behind it and threw his arms out, yanking the man into a tight hug. Cleo grinned and squeezed him back, patting him between the shoulder blades. "Bastard! You were supposed to get in touch with me, remember?"

Rabbit pulled back to look at him and smiled sheepishly, his cheeks warm and pink. "I didn't get a chance! I was trying to settle in a little, and then I got caught up in that stupid trial." He told him, reaching up to pat the side of the man's face. "Everything's just now starting to ease up again. I didn't forget about you."

Cleo warmed, his smile softening. "That makes me feel better. I thought maybe you were avoiding me." He said before glancing him over, "You get taller?" It was a tease; Jon had certainly gotten a bit wider in the shoulders, though.

Laughing, Rabbit stepped back and moved behind the counter again, leaning over to rest against the top. "Nope. You cut your hair, though." He mused, nodding towards the short, slicked cut he was sporting now rather than the shaggy bangs he'd worn in detention. "Got tired of shaking it out of your eyes?"

Cleo smirked and shrugged, "Wasn't practical. I'm fixin' cars now, so I need to see." He said before reaching out to play with Rabbit's cropped cut. "Where'd your curls go?"

Grimacing, Rabbit drummed his fingers on the countertop and chuckled. "Thought I'd solve my greys by chopping them off." He said and watched the grin pull across Cleo's face, "Don't laugh at me!"

Rubbing at his nose, he barely tried to hide his snickers. "Didn't think about that one too hard, eh?" Cleo pat the top of his head and moved to play with the picks and chains hanging up. "What are you doin' here?" He asked, "I figured you'd be layin' low after all the bullshit they put you through."

Rabbit hummed, "I work here. Just started."

Cleo smiled again. "S'good spot for you."

Nodding, his cheeks were tinted a happy pink. "I like it."

The two fell into a quiet for a moment, their eyes just on each other. Rabbit stood and tilted his head while Cleo grew closer, leaning himself on the counter.

"So-"

"I-"

Both breaking into a giggle, they shared a bashful smile. Cleo tongued the inside of his cheek and shook his head, his cheeks dimpling. "When does your shift end?"

Rabbit blinked before warming again. "In-... Well, in about an hour." He told him, "B-But I have plans."

"Important plans?" Cleo tried, flashing a tiny grin. "I've got a dime you and I could share? Good stuff."

Nodding, Rabbit scratched at his cheek, his lips twitching into a fond smile. "Dinner. With my fiancé."

Oh. Cleo blinked and tilted his head-- A fiancé? How long had he been out? And he'd been scooped up and locked down already? The thought was funny, and it was reflected in the way he grinned. "Lucky bloke." As much as he'd hoped to maybe continue what they'd started before he'd left detention, he wasn't a homewrecker. Still, he wanted their friendship to continue. Jack had always been good to him, and they got along rather easily. "Maybe later then. We can get caught up another time."

Rabbit's eyes sparkled, and he nodded again, his smile spreading. Watching Cleo dig in his pocket, he eyed the business card slid towards him. JunkStar Car Diagnostics and Customization. "My number's on the back." He said, offering Rabbit another small grin. "I'll talk to you later. Don't think I've forgotten-- I've got like three book reports to give you." Reaching out, he rubbed his hand through the grey hair on top of his friend's head. "Bye Jackie."

#;junkyard cat #another little one!#don't be fooled by his fuzzy nature with Rabbit he's pretty slimy when he needs to be #Rabbit just tends to bring the sweetness out of people who care for him 😔❤️

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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He's a 10, but... - Part 2

So, my dearest @sorisooyaa and @eunoiaastralwings...my husband is dancing bare-chested in the living room to cheer on me...so, I'll post this tonight for you!

Hello Tumblr, I am not dead, I am just swamped in my events...stressing badly!

-> Part 1

Words: 1,8k

Characters: Maglor x South Asian OC

Warnings: Partial nudity

Ashira felt silly for having gone to such lengths for this impromptu meeting, but curiosity was one of her biggest flaws and had pushed her into rather impossibly difficult situations before, so she was not overly surprised by her standing outside a closed door despite her better knowledge.

“Ah, you’ve come,” Maedhros purred as soon as he opened said door; he had taken off the coat she had seen him in before and she couldn’t deny that the sight of his broad shoulders in the tight-fitting woollen sweater was quite pleasant, “and – forgive the insolence – you look very nice.”

She looked down at her own outfit dubitatively; she had indeed chosen to don her best silk skirt and had consciously paired it with the cute crop top that she had spontaneously purchased in one of the locations they had halted at during the tour, but she didn’t think she could truly compare with the casual elegance of Maedhros’ apparel.

“Here, come in,” he invited gleefully, “and look at my brother in his full glory without all the tinsel!”

“Nelyo!” Maglor cried out angrily, stumbling forward to grab his shirt from the bed and freezing when Ashira strolled in; she gasped loudly upon seeing him – bare-chested and wet – standing hunched over the mattress and staring up at her in speechless, wide-eyed shock.

“He’s not the worst of the lot,” Maedhros repeated his former assessment, “he’s a bit short and dull, but he has a pretty smile and nice eyes, no?”

His own were shrewd and sharp as flint blades now as he observed Ashira’s eyes grow darker yet, liquid in their shivering intensity, and her hands clench into fists at her side; Maglor had never failed to appeal to the ladies – at least visually – and Maedhros was relieved to see that his assistant manager was no exception to that rule.

“I am so sorry,” Maglor stammered, “Nelyo has already berated me for disappearing on you and…”

He shrugged hastily into his shirt, getting caught halfway through and groaning quietly when Ashira – ever the accomplished professional – moved around the bed to help him untangle his arms with the ease and efficiency of habit; mortified by this, he had to admit that he was rather helpless at times.

“Yes,” she replied in a choked voice, “I’d rather you stay where I have an eye on you before we leave. It wouldn’t do to lose you at the very end of this venture.”

She let out a sigh of tired annoyance and unwitting fondness; Maglor was devoid of all malice which made it so hard for her to stay angry at him for long.

“Both eyes preferably,” Maedhros hummed and returned to his perch on the bed, grinning broadly, “or is my baby brother not worth the second one?”

“What do you want to hear, exactly?” Ashira asked warily as she turned away sharply from her heavily blushing client.

“Káno, my boy, why don’t you play something for us that is not completely mangled by technology? I’ve missed your voice,” Maedhros said, completely ignoring her pointed question, and leaned back against the headrest; there had been a deep-felt honesty right beneath the lacquered surface of playful teasing and this alone made Ashira sit down on the edge of the bed promptly.

Maglor looked undecided; for someone paid to perform in front of thousands of people, he looked astonishingly shy when asked to sing for his brother and his glorified babysitter. “Are you going to mock me?” he asked, distrust and a kind of fatigue ringing in his voice that was new and startling to Ashira.

“No,” Maedhros replied simply, “I’ve missed you. I truly have, and your young assistant here seems to have no idea of who you truly are under all the glitz and glamour you hide behind.”

Turning to Ashira now – the weight and light of his direct gaze petrifying – Maedhros went on: “Káno here has ever been a league of his own; he was annoying – he still is – but he’s also a loyal friend who – unlike most of us – has at least a potential for true kindness.”

“Oh, I’ve never said he was unkind,” Ashira defended herself maybe a bit too vehemently.

“He’s easily distracted because he takes pleasure in things,” Maedhros explained patiently, “and he talks a lot because he cannot bear the silence. We’ve had a…difficult youth, you must understand. You are allowed not to like him but – as his brother – I’d prefer it if you disliked him for all the things he actually is rather than for things he merely pretends to be.”

“I don’t dislike him,” Ashira sighed; a ray of pale moonlight fell through the open curtains and bathed her in silver light so that she looked as if some deity had carved her out of ebony before pouring precious stones and gold over her generously, “I should not have said that; my mother has been haranguing and I was tired. He’s a handful sometimes, but I should not have made it sound like I resent him somehow.” “Spank him,” Maedhros proposed with a nonchalant shrug, “lock him in a cupboard, tie him to a horse, or just give him a stringed instrument. It’s all happened before.”

“Nelyo, please,” Maglor groaned in a low, desperate voice, “why do you have to embarrass me so?”

“It’s revenge for all the times you’ve interrupted me and made me look like a monster to people I wanted to impress!”

Turning to Ashira, Maedhros grinned: “Are you needed at home right away?” A sly expression washed over his regular features; clearly, he was up to something.

“No,” she replied honestly, “I have some time off to gather my thoughts and rest before going back to bringing His Majesty coffee in the recording booth.”

“Ah come on!” Maglor cried out – horrified – and slung an arm around her shoulders, “you make me sound like the worst slaver. Do I not appreciate you?”

“Do you?” She cocked an eyebrow to express her doubt.

“Of course, I do,” he exclaimed vehemently, “you’ll see. I shall bring you coffee!”

“Well, if that is so,” Maedhros cut in smoothly, “why don’t you stay a little longer? Káno’s treat. Tomorrow, you may meet some of the other awful brothers he’s so ashamed of that he never mentioned them before.” There was a sting in his voice now as his eyes fell punitively on his brother.

“As our dear brother has lost all sense of taste as well,” Maedhros went on, his impeccable charm restored, “I’m sure my brothers would be delighted to heap their talents onto your pretty head.”

“Talents?” Ashira gasped, utterly taken aback by the words of the handsome stranger, “Whatever do you mean, Sir?”

“Are you curious about us? Please say you are,” Maedhros purred, stalking closer across the bed like a huge predator.

“I am,” she admitted breathlessly.

“I am – clearly – the spoilsport “Big Brother”; then we have our brat here, Tyelko who’s out hunting with our two youngest brothers – the twins – and the other two who are – in this very moment – on their way here. Moryo is a devil with a sewing needle and Curvo is a jewel-smith.”

He let his silver gaze glide over her appreciatively, “And you, my dear, are a woman who should be covered in silk and gold. Oh, why don’t you stay and wait for the other two idiots, and then, if you’ve not taken off screaming and kicking, you could come to our house and meet the other three savages? And our parents, of course.”

Ashira’s head was spinning, but she felt herself nodding eagerly.

“Good,” Maedhros smirked, “now, Káno, how about that song?”

They went on squabbling for a time though, arguing about the impending arrival of two other brothers and – somehow – Ashira found herself spread out comfortably on the bed and was dozing off while listening to their voices – silver strings and copper bells – rising and falling like ocean waves.

When she came to, the door to the narrow corridor that led to the music room – booked for Maglor’s pleasure as a courtesy of the hotel – stood ajar and she was tempted to just follow the sliver of light in hopes of finding her renegade singer.

The vision staring back at her from the hotel mirror though convinced her that it would be a most regrettable decision to appear before Maglor and his brother in the creased and sloppy state she was in.

Slipping out of the room and into her own first, she bit her lip as she wedged a towel between the door and the frame to come back later; she had no time for vanity now though, so she hastily tore her frumpy clothes off and shrugged into a simple black dress before heading back into Maglor’s room.

He had disappeared on her again!

She realised that she had no idea what time it was, but it didn’t really matter either; mortified to have fallen asleep on her boss’s bed, she rubbed her face to get rid of the heat of embarrassment and padded along the hallway noiselessly in hopes to save face somehow.

A heart-wrenchingly sweet melody embraced her like a physical caress as she drew nearer, and she froze; she had never heard Maglor sing more than a few hummed bars in the car without the garish influence of technology, and it took her by surprise how truly entrancing his voice could be.

The deep-felt love song flowed like a river across her senses, washing away all pretence of professional distance or personal dislike, and she felt herself be strung along as if the notes were wound around her limbs and made her float across the last few inches.

Her eyes widened in shock as the bright light of the music room hit them; Maglor had taken off his shirt again and his fingers flew across the keys of an old, scratched-up grand piano.

Ashira clawed her fingers into the wooden doorframe to avoid keeling over in sheer amazement.

She had never seen or heard anything remotely as wondrously gorgeous as that man frowning as his voice conjured up images of desperate yearning and hopeless adoration while his brother stood – leaning against the far wall – with a dreamy smile on his face.

Stripped of his garment as much as of his persona of the cheery popstar, Maglor radiated the kind of pure, raw, vulnerable beauty that had inspired priests, poets, and philosophers since the beginning of time, and Ashira had to discover that she was not immune to it.

No matter how annoying and superficial she had felt her employer to be, she would never be able to forget the truth she had glimpsed – insidiously and treacherously – by creeping through deserted hotel corridors in the dead of night.

She knew not how long she had stood there, enthralled and hypnotised by his skill, but she would not have minded if she could have spent the rest of her life rooted to the ground and buffeted by the sweet currents of his music.

And then a sharp knock on the hotel room door behind her interrupted the melody and made all eyes turn to where she stood, a dopey grin on her tired face.

So, that's that...please look at this beautiful art Tara has commissioned from @mysandwichranaway for this fic!

Lots of love from me <3

-> Part 3

#fanfiction #the silm #the silmarillion #Maglor #Maglor x OC #South Asian OC #South Asian representation #Maglor is a brat #writing #my friend Shalini #so much fun #also #Maedhros #Modern!AU #Singer!Maglor #Workplace romance

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expectingtofly · 3 years

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Painted Nails and Pride

1.7k

internalized homophobia, john being an a**hole, bisexual dean, found family, happy ending

written for day 7 of @spnprideweek

Music boomed from the park down the street and Dean tried to focus on the newspapers spread out before him, front pages covered with news about a bear attack at a campsite a few miles west. Not actually a bear attack, of course. From the tracks they’d seen when they hiked out there yesterday, Dad's money was on wendigo.

Cheering drew his eyes from the table where he, Sam, and Dad sat outside a restaurant to the people heading down the sidewalk towards the music. Banners on streetlights along the road proclaimed that today marked Roseville's 3rd Annual Pride Parade. His eyes snagged on a group of kids his own age standing on the street corner, hugging and talking excitedly. One boy had painted nails and wore a cropped shirt that exposed his midriff. As he talked with his friends, he looked around, and his eyes met Dean’s. He smiled at him, and Dean ducked his head, face burning.

An announcer’s voice echoed down the street. “Welcome to Pride,” the voice boomed. Dean folded and unfolded the corner of the newspaper, listening to the cheering, rotating the ring on his thumb around and around.

Dad snorted, and Dean glanced up at him. Arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, he watched the proceedings with a scowl on his face. Dean studied the newspapers more intently, underlining words just to look like he was doing something productive. Part of him wanted to go down to the parade, just to see what it was all about, but that was ridiculous. Only affirmed by a derogatory comment Dad made low under his breath about the people in the street.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed verbally, jostling his leg under the table. He glanced sideways at Sam, who was giving Dad a glare. Dean gave him a look that meant, don’t start, but Sam ignored him.

“Don’t say that,” he said, and Dean froze, eyes snapping to their father. Dad pulled his eyes from the street to Sam, giving him a long, steady look.

“What?” he asked after a long moment. “You one of them?”

Sam only held his gaze for a second before it seemed his courage failed. He ducked his head. “No,” he mumbled, kicking at the table leg.

Dad stared at him for another long moment, expressionless, before turning his journal around and dropping it in front of Sam. “Shut up and make yourself useful. Sooner we figure out what’s killing these folks, sooner we can get out of this goddamn town.”

He waved down the waitress for another drink, and Dean glared at Sam, who was absently thumbed through the journal pages. Returning to his own work, he snapped one newspaper closed and opened another, skimmed an article about the victim’s family. The words didn’t really make sense in his head, though, and too soon he found himself watching the people in the street again. The boy who’d smiled at him had disappeared, though, probably watching the parade.

Finding a one-off line in an article about rumors of a strange being haunting the woods, he circled it and handed the newspaper across the table.

“Nice work,” Dad said, taking the paper, but instead of the usual warmth from his praise, Dean only felt sick.

He felt about the same now, standing in Jody’s kitchen—off to the side so he wouldn’t be in the way during the frenzied preparations to attend the Sioux Falls Pride Parade. Music played from Patience’s phone, some song he recognized from Cas constantly turning the radio dial to the pop music station. Sam helped Kaia finish a sign decorated with the lesbian flag, and Eileen signed with Alex who was learning sign language in high school. Claire sat at the table painting Jack’s nails, who wriggled in his seat excitedly.

Catching Dean’s eyes, he held up the hand Claire had finished. “Dean, look!”

Dean forced a smile. “Looks good.”

“Stay still,” Claire ordered, frowning down at Jack’s hand as she painted his pinky.

This was a bad idea, Dean thought. Jody had invited them for the week, mentioning off-hand that Sioux Fall’s pride events were going on, and Dean had pushed aside the mild panic at that comment, told her they’d come visit. He didn’t know he’d be roped into joining everyone at Pride, but here he was, feeling out of place in the corner of the kitchen. Who knew how he’d feel standing at the parade.

“Want me to do yours?” Claire asked, and Dean snapped his attention back to her. She was holding a bottle of nail polish, others lined up next to her on the table, and he froze, realizing what she was suggesting.

His first instinct was to spit out, “I’m not one of those,” but guilt rushed through him for how harsh the words sounded in his head. Defensive words, unnecessary ones because there was no threat here. He didn't mean them anyway.

Swallowing them down, he glanced around the kitchen for rescue. Cas was helping Donna pack water bottles because “It’s gonna be hot out there,” but he must’ve felt Dean’s gaze because he looked over and gave him a reassuring smile. No judgement in his eyes, or Claire's either, for that matter. He had a feeling he wouldn't find any judgement in this kitchen, which should've been a relief, but he had a hard time trusting it.

“Come on, Dean,” Jack said. “We can match!”

You can do this, Dean told himself. It's just Pride, not an Apocalypse.

He tried to smile. “Sure,” he said, going to the table and sitting down, chest tight.

He chose the color blue because it felt less ostentatious than the pinks and lilacs Claire presented to him. Even so, the color looked strikingly bright in the sunlight as he stood along the street marked off for the parade, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” Cas said, touching his shoulder. Dean tensed, then felt awful for his reaction, but Cas didn’t move away, only rubbed between his shoulder blades until Dean relaxed marginally. “You okay?”

Dean nodded. “Fine,” he managed. Cas gave him a small smile and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder.

A float passed with people waving and dancing on top, a banner strung across the front declaring, “Protect Trans Kids.” Jack waved a rainbow flag around, cheering along with the crowd. Claire’s arm was wrapped around Kaia’s shoulders, a smile tugging at her mouth despite her attempts to look unbothered by the proceedings. Dean wished he could feel that nonchalant. Instead, he kept looking over his shoulder. He didn’t know exactly what threat he was looking for, but the press of the growing crowds and the heat and noise, the bright colors and waving flags everywhere he looked was making him nauseous.

Turning back to the parade, he met Sam’s eyes. “Never thought we’d both end up here, right?” Sam asked over the noise, attempting levity, and Dean wondered if he remembered sitting outside near a Pride parade, feeling so unsure. There were plenty of other instances to remember, plenty of times John made disparaging comments that Dean either pretended to not hear or agreed with out of a panic that if he wasn’t careful, they might be directed at him next.

“This is fun,” Sam commented, watching the parade, and Dean wished he could agree.

Easy for you to say, he thought. You have a girlfriend, people’ll assume you’re straight. But he felt bad for thinking it. He didn’t want Cas to move away from him—if anything, wanted him closer, wanted his arm around him. But he felt too tense to move.

A crowd of middle-aged people walked in the parade, t-shirts reading variations of MOM HUGS, DAD HUGS, GRANDPA HUGS. Dean watched as people stepped off the sidewalk and hugged the moms and dads, some crying as soon as arms wrapped around them.

Without his permission, he felt his own eyes growing teary and he ducked his head, scraped his heel on the sidewalk.

“Dammit,” Jody said. “Where can I get one of those t-shirts?”

“We gotta do that next year,” Donna decided, and Jack gave her a hug.

“You can hand out hugs without the t-shirt,” he told her, and she grinned.

“You’re right.” Lifting her arms, she announced, “Free hugs over here!” People around them laughed, and someone took her up on the offer, telling her, “You’ve got a lovely family.”

Donna beamed. “Why yes I do.” She pulled Claire into a half-hug that Claire resisted, protesting the whole time. “Come here, Sam,” she said, yanking Sam into a hug that he had to nearly fold himself in half for. Everyone else got their turn, then she turned to Dean, holding out her arms.

Dean stepped into it, wrapping his arms around her. A gentler hug, Donna rubbing his back. Dean sunk into the embrace, the chaos around him subsiding for a moment.

“We’re family now, right?” she asked, pulling away to meet his eyes, and Dean nodded. Smiling at him and patting his arm, she turned back to Jody, wrapping an arm around her.

It felt a little easier to breathe now, his chest not so tight. The crowds around them didn’t seem so threatening, just smiling people with their families like he was with his. Eileen cheered as a float passed with an Irish LGBTQ+ coalition, and Dean smiled, easier now, not forced.

Jody pulled Donna in for a kiss that turned into making out. Claire rolled her eyes. “Ew, guys, Gross.” Kaia elbowed her and Claire’s put-on air of displeasure broke into a grin as she elbowed her back. Cas nudged Dean with a small smile when a float of pink, purple, and blue streamers drove past. For a moment, Dean's chest seized, John's voice ringing in his head, but in all the noise around them, it quickly drowned out.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he took Cas’ hand. Cas interlaced their fingers immediately, squeezing tightly, then lifted their hands and studied Dean’s nails. Dean had let Jack paint a smiley face on his pinky to match the one on Jack’s thumbs. Staring at them, he thought of a boy at Pride with painted nails, his own fears and wants tightening his chest, but then Cas looked up at him with a smile, and the memory faded into a warm glow.

“I like them,” Cas told him.

“Yeah," Dean said. "Me too.”

#spnprideweek #bluefirecas #seraphcastiel #rambleoncas #userstarry #userpris #destiel fic #pride #internalized homophobia #john's a+ parenting #established dean/cas #bisexual dean winchester #inspired by my first time at pride #:)#expectingtofly writes

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maybanksbitch · 4 years

Text

The Bathroom || JJ Maybank

* this is not my gif; all credit goes to the owner.

pairing: jj x reader

prompt: jj follows you to the bathroom after seeing some random try and pick you up. he reminds you who you belong to.

requested: no

warnings: jealousy, absolutely filthy smut, choking, spanking, hair pulling, biting, daddy kink, unprotected sex (10/10 wouldn’t recommend; wrap it before you tap it).

a/n: i’m not kidding y’all, this is FILTHY and very graphic. i’m warning you. it’s also pretty long, sorry.

You let out a hum and raised your eyebrows in mock amusement at something the boy in front of you said. You weren’t really paying attention to what he was saying. You were just entertaining him for the moment.

“So, uh, what do you say we- we uh, get out of here?” the guy, Jason, maybe, tried to ask confidently. He was failing miserably, deep down knowing you were uninterested.

You let out a small laugh as you stood up and patted him on the shoulder. At least he tried. “Sorry buddy, better luck with the next one,” you smiled before turning and walking away in search of the bathroom. You just wanted to clear your head for a minute and escape the rooms packed with Kooks.

There was a line outside the one downstairs so you quickly climbed the winding staircase to use Sarah’s. This was her party after all, and she made you and your friends come. You knew she wouldn’t mind you using her bathroom, anyone else would be a different story.

You didn’t hear the footsteps that followed you up the stairs or down the hallway. As you opened the door and flipped on the light, a body pushed you into the room and then slammed you against the closed door. You nearly punched them straight in the face until you recognized the grey cut off tank and the shark tooth necklace hanging around the person’s neck.

“God JJ, you scared me,” you breathed and leaned your head back against the door to look up at him.

Blonde curls hung around his face as his hands kept you pinned to the door. His usually bright blue eyes were now a darker shade. His jaw was clenched, making his cheekbones jut out the slightest bit.

“Did you think that was cute?” JJ’s voice was deep and taunting, causing a chill to run up your spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about..”

Your breath hitched when you felt the cold rings on his fingers against your throat. His fingertips squeezed just slightly, causing heat to flood throughout your body. “Was it fun flirting with that guy, knowing I was right across the room? Did you think that was cute?” he repeated the same question as before, voice coming out almost growl like.

His fingers squeezed a bit harder, demanding an answer but also just trying to rile you up. JJ knew all your kinks. He knew how to turn you on in all of the best ways.

“No,” you whimpered, squirming under his grip against the door.

JJ brought his other hand up quickly, fingers tangling in the hair on the back of your head. He pulled, forcing your head back and exposing more of your skin to him. It didn’t hurt. Quite the opposite, actually. Everything he was doing went straight to your most intimate spot.

“No what?”

“No sir,” you whispered, lips trembling as they parted and you sucked in a breath.

“That’s my good girl,” JJ muttered with a smirk, hand leaving your hair and your neck to grab your hips instead.

You slid your hands under the front of his shirt, fingertips tracing the defined muscles of abs. His lips came down against yours hard and hungry. His teeth dragged against your bottom lip as he tugged on it. When your lips parted in a gasp, he wasted no time, slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

He got a hint of strawberry, from the punch you’d been drinking. He tasted of beer and weed with a hint of mint, something you were so used to but couldn’t get enough of. It was like you were drunk just from kissing each other. You’d both never felt anything like it before.

Your hands left the soft skin of JJ’s chest, sliding up his muscular biceps and into his blonde hair. Your nails brushed his scalp as you tugged on the strands, pulling a strangled moan from the tall male’s throat.

You were spun around quickly, in a daze you caught a glimpse JJ’s crazed eyes in the mirror. You looked at yourself instead. Your hair was disheveled, pupils blown, lips puffy and brighter from the kissing. JJ smirked in the reflection and brushed your hair to the opposite side, fingers trailing from your jaw down to your collar bone. You could see that your nipples had hardened and were peaking through the bikini and crop top you were wearing.

“Look at you, all worked up,” JJ whispered in your ear, wet lips dragging down the side of your neck. He sucked at a spot where your neck met your shoulder and bit down somewhat harshly. After a moment he pulled back and admired the red mark he’d left that would be purple tomorrow.

You felt his large hand in between your shoulder blades and you were pushed forward, bending over the counter. JJ pressed his hips against your ass and you could feel his erection, hard and prodding between your cheeks.

“You want it don’t you? Want me to fuck you over this counter, right here just like this?” he slid his hand down your spine and landed a loud slap to your exposed ass where your shorts had ridden up.

A whimper left your lips as you pressed back against the blonde, grinding your backside against his bulge. “Yes, daddy. Please fuck me. I need your cock,” you whined, looking over your shoulder. JJ’s eyes locked on yours and he lost all control.

Your shorts were ripped off without warning, bikini bottoms following quickly after. You kicked you bottoms off the best you from your compromised position and shivered as the chilly bathroom air met your wet core. JJ kicked your legs apart and you watched in the mirror as his hand disappeared behind you.

You gasped as you felt his calloused pointer finger and middle finger slide through your folds, teasing your clit with soft and slow circles. His mouth fell open a bit when he felt how wet you were. He slipped both fingers into your entrance with little to no resistance.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” JJ said huskily, pulling his fingers out and wrapping his arm around your front. He met your eyes in the mirror and held his fingers right in front of your face. His pupils were blown so wide you almost couldn’t see any of his crystal blue irises.

“Suck,” he commanded, dimples becoming prominent as he smirked when your mouth dropped open.

You took JJ’s fingers into your mouth, his eyes glued on your lips the whole time. You put on a show for him as your tongue swirled around the digits and you let him push them down your throat to the last knuckle.

You don’t know when he got his pants undone or how with one hand for that matter. You moaned loudly around JJ’s fingers, nearly bitting down, when you felt the head of his length slip into you, the rest of it entering swiftly after. The blonde’s jaw dropped, face scrunching in pleasure when he was fully sheathed inside of you.

“Ah, shit,” JJ hissed, ripping his fingers from you’re your mouth and gripping onto your hips. “You’re always so fucking tight.”

His rhythm was slow as he started fucking you, pulling back slowly until just the head of his cock was missing and equally slowly pressing back in. For a minute, JJ watched himself thrust into you. The way your juices glistened on his shaft made his mouth water.

He looked back up to see you watching him in the mirror, lip tight between your teeth. He sent you a quick wink and slammed into you forcefully. It was like the moan you let out was forced out by his dick. His pace turned borderline brutal at that point. You didn’t know someone’s hips could move that fast. The vulgar sound of skin slapping on skin filled the bathroom, as well as your loud moans. JJ let out a few grunts but tried to remain quiet, just wanting to hear you.

Your head fell forward at some point. The cold porcelain felt good against your hot skin, sweat already collecting at the hairline on your forehead. You knew the feeling all too well, the feeling of JJ wrapping your hair around his fist in a make-shift ponytail. All he had to do was pull his wrist back the slightest bit to lift your head.

“Head up. I wanna see you. I wanna see how good I make you feel,” JJ’s voice was stern but tense. No matter how many times you had sex, it was just as good as the last, if not better. He felt like a virgin again, trying not to cum from the slightest touch.

You felt out of control of your own body. You couldn’t stop the noises leaving you. You couldn’t close your mouth or cease the shaking of your thighs. You couldn’t help it when your hands reached back and held desperately to the blonde’s forearms, like it would ground you to the world in some way.

A shout left your lips as JJ’s cock brushed your g-spot. Your nails dug into his skin as he continued his assault against it. If anyone was outside of that bathroom door, they would likely think there was a porno being shot inside.

“Yes, fuck, JJ- Right there,” you gasped out.

JJ’s hips stilled, pelvis pressing into your ass. You knew your hips would be bruised from the edge of the counter. He let out a growl and pulled you up by your hair, your head and back arching almost unnaturally. His chest was now pressed against your shoulder blades, mouth right next to your ear.

“What’s my name?” he growled in your ear, holding your gaze in the reflection.

“Daddy. Daddy, I’m sorry. Please, I wanna cum. Make me cum, daddy, please,” you begged the boy behind you.

JJ kept you in that position as he started pounding into you once again. Hearing those words leave your lips almost made him cum right then and there. He was pressing into your g-spot with every thrust. He pulled on your hair with each movement he made. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold on.

“Gonna cum on daddy’s cock, babygirl? Hm? Who’s pussy is this? Who’s the only one who can fuck you this good?” JJ’s voice was low in your ear, a groan slipping out here and there. His hand slipped down your stomach, the other still holding tightly to your hair. His fingers slowly circled your clit. It was so light your knees nearly gave out, a very different contrast to the animalistic thrusting of his hips.

“Yours! It’s all yours. N-No one can fuck me like you. Please!” you practically sobbed, overcome with pleasure as you tried not to cum before allowed. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pleaded through the mirror for JJ to let you have your release.

“Go ahead baby,” JJ muttered before his mouth latched onto your neck.

His fingers made quick work against your clit now, a wet noise coming from down below. Your hands flew up to his hair and his neck, wherever you could reach. You gripped onto whatever you could as your mouth opened in a silent scream.

Your orgasm hit you so hard your vision went white, eyes squeezing shut. A loud, broken moan left your lips, tearing up your throat. Your legs shook so violently you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, you were relying on him to do that for you.

Your pussy gripped JJ like a vice as you came. You became so tight around him he almost thought he might not be able to pull out. He stuttered out a few more thrusts before muttering, “Fuck, m’gonna cum.”

He forced you to your knees with little effort. Your legs were jelly at that point anyway. He held you by the hair as his hand gripped his cock and stroked fast. You obediently opened your mouth, tongue out and all as you waited.

“Oh-Oh shit- Fuck,” JJ gasped when your eyes opened, wide, wet and innocent, staring up at him.

The groan he let out could probably be heard over the music downstairs as he let go. JJ’s cum shot out so hard he missed your mouth at first, the thick white substance ending up on your forehead and down your cheek, thankfully not in your eye.

You waited until he milked himself dry, licking up the little drop at the end of his tip before swallowing what made it in your mouth.

JJ fell back against the wall, head back and eyes shut as he tried to catch his breath. You grabbed a washcloth from under the sink and cleaned your face off the best you could without looking. You didn’t trust yourself to try and stand yet.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” JJ breathed out through pants, finally opening his eyes to look down at you then his thighs. He grinned slightly as he noticed his leg hair was stuck to the skin of his thighs. “Didn’t know you were a squirter.”

A blush spread across your cheeks and down your neck, hands covering your face. You weren’t embarrassed, just equally surprised. When you finally felt the heat subside, you looked up at the blonde and smiled lazily.

“I think that was the best sex we’ve ever had.”

“Think?! Oh, I know that wa-” JJ went silent when there was a knock at the door.

“Shit,” you whispered and rushed to your feet.

You hurried to put back on your bikini bottoms and shorts, ignoring the numbness in your legs. JJ pulled up his underwear and secured his pants in record time. He fixed your top for you as you buttoned your shorts and cleared your throat.

When you finally opened the door a smidge, you smiled sweetly at Sarah who was on the other side. She furrowed her brow as she noticed your messy hair, until she saw JJ in the mirror.

“Oh, God.. You didn’t,” was all she said. She slapped a hand over her eyes when you opened the door wider and she saw that both of you were covered in sweat. The bathroom absolutely reaked of sex. “In my bathroom?!”

“It was his idea!” you quickly put all blame on the blonde behind you.

JJ put his hand over his chest in mock offense but quickly dropped it. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and hooked his chin over your shoulder.

“Sorry, Sarah,” he mumbled and pouted playfully at your friend.

Sarah scoffed but laughed slightly anyway, turning around and walking back towards the stairs. “You are both totally bleaching that whole bathroom tomorrow!” she called to you, only half joking.

JJ pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek and hummed softly in thought. He then nuzzled his nose against the spot and whispered, “Totally worth it.”

masterlist

#outer banks #obx netflix #outer banks netflix #jj maybank #outer banks imagine #jj x reader #jj imagine #obx jj #jj maybank imagine #jj fanfiction #jj fluff #jj maybank fluff #jj angst #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x reader #obx imagine #jj smut #jj maybank smut

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yamalegacy · 3 years

Note

prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water.

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind.

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

#mirko x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha smut #🐇 usagiyama rumi ( mirko )#⚠️ mdni ⚠️#🍌 drabbles & oneshots #i need to cleanse my soul and wash off my sins #at least i didn't write mommy!mirko #which is nothing short of a miracle tbh

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milkiane · 3 years

Text

revelations and confessions

pairings: regulus black x reader

warnings: mentions of food, mention of abuse, manipulative parents, getting tied up, jily, implied wolfstar

word count: 5548

note: for @rcwenaclaw’s writing challenge — this is my favorite fic so far <3 s/o to @iwritesiriusly and @hellounicorn for listening to me rant and and rave about y/n and reggie, u’re the best mwah

“... and you would be married to the crowned heir of grimmauld by the end of the month,” your father declared.

if you have been listening to what you’ve been blindly agreeing to, you would have had the opportunity to assert your own appraisals of the sudden betrothal.

you choked on your food, earning concerned gasps and theatrical pats by the maids, “‘m fine, ‘m fine,”

your parents stared at you with iffy looks as you cleared your throat, “i thought we’ve agreed years ago that i wouldn’t be betrothed to some high-strung bloke i’ve never met before?”

your mother pursed her lips before giving you a well-mannered response, “well, dear, we ought to make some amends with that agreement,”

you just stared at her with a blank expression so she continued, “and we believe that it would be for the amelioration of our country, considering that the blacks are quite exceptional and-”

“and rich?” you smiled derisively, cutting her off.

your father looked around the royal maids and guards around the dining room, “may you excuse us for a moment?” to which they nodded and left.

he sighed, “look, y/n, i’m aware that you’re upset-”

you scoffed, “i am more than upset, father. you agreed that i will be married on my own time, on my own accord,”

“and i am the king, you ought to meet my commands.” your father bellowed, slamming the silver utensils on the table, making you and your mother flinch.

he cleared his throat, calming himself down, “tell your matron to arrange your attire for this week, we must meet the blacks tomorrow evening at the grand chateau, and i shan’t hear any more complaints.”

“yes, father,” you mumbled, excusing yourself from the table to make your way towards your bedroom, eyes becoming glassy from the upcoming tears.

you arrived at the chateau a few hours before the royal gathering with the blacks, meaning you would have enough time to devise an escape plan.

you haven’t spoken to your parents unless you’re absolutely required to, you know that you shouldn’t be disobeying them, but they should have known from just acknowledging your mindset and behavior.

you weren’t the usual prim and proper princess, no. you are your own person, you’re noble when strictly necessary, but, in all honesty, your personality was far from dainty.

you wouldn’t have chosen to have this life if you could. as fun as it was to play dress up in magnificent ball gowns, you would have chosen a life full of adventures, skinny jeans, crop tops, and dyed hair instead.

the matron knocked on your door, bringing in the gorgeous dress robes that you’re supposed to wear for later evening.

you gratefully smiled at her, asking her to give yourself some time to prepare by yourself until the formal reception.

as you hung it over with your other dresses and gowns, you walked towards the balcony, breathing in some fresh air. it had a clear view of the beautiful gardens of the chateau, the same balconies from your left and right.

you flopped yourself down on the queen-sized bed, staring at the ceiling as you thought of possible ways to avoid the betrothal.

none of your ideas sounded good enough, so you turned on the television in front of your bed to distract yourself from the inevitable proposal.

flipping through the channels, you stopped to watch audrey hepburn’s roman holiday.

when you’ve watched the scene where she snuck out of the castle, an idea popped up in your head. you knew it was impossible, of course, but it was worth a shot.

you glanced at the clock, you still had at least an hour and a half before the matron would come back to get you.

grabbing the satchel you’ve bought at a fair once, you made your way towards the elegant bathroom. you shuffled through the things, you knew that if your mother found out about your clandestine possessions, she would go calling you atrocious for merlin knows how long.

you slipped on your cargo shorts and a halter top. you stared at your long hair, you knew that if you wanted to slip away easily from the guards’ line of vision, you had to make some adjustments.

you grabbed the scissors from the corner of the countertop, taking a deep breath before snipping a lengthy portion.

you let out a hushed squeal, laughing as you stared at the chopped-off hair. you continued cropping and trimming until your hair became an uneven bob cut.

not bad, you grinned, cutting a few more strands to add curtain bangs, impeccable.

you scuffled deeper into the bag, your hand retrieving a bagged pink wig. perfect.

you started packing a few essential needs in your satchel.

you looked out the window, the sun had set an hour ago, meaning it was dark out. which also means it would be easier for you to sneak out.

you had at least ten minutes before meeting the blacks so you immediately stared across the room, looking for something to act as a rope.

stopping at the closet of gowns, you groaned in reluctance. you loved your gowns too much but you wouldn’t risk getting married, so you grabbed the scissors, ripping them up and tying them together.

once you’ve ensured that it was tight enough, you fastened it around the huge handles of the door and threw your makeshift rope out the balcony.

when you heard the whispers and footsteps of people coming you hastily grabbed your bag and ran towards the balcony.

you carefully grabbed onto the silk, lowering yourself down.

a noise from your right caught your attention, making you freeze. you snapped your head to the balcony next to you and made eye contact with a boy doing the same thing.

your prolonged eye contact was cut short when the doors to your room burst open, making you yelp in surprise as your rope had a sudden shift.

you could hear your matron holler for the guards, so you briskly lowered yourself faster, the friction of the silk burning against your hands.

you landed on your feet the same time as the mysterious guy did.

he made a run for it, dodging the bushes and flowers across the garden. his trousers not giving him any justice.

you were not too far behind him, thanking merlin that your yoga and workout lessons paid off.

the yells of the guards caught your attention, surrounding you and the man in the middle.

they all pointed their blades at you, making you gulp.

there goes your escape plan.

“which one of you has the princess?” a guard shouted, shifting the lamp between you and him. each one of the men slowly closing in on you.

that’s when you realized that they weren’t your palace guards. they were merely the chateau’s security.

“does it look like we have a princess with us?” the boy beside you refuted, gesturing between the both of you.

ten guards.

one of them asked their superintendent, “what was the description given?”

“long h/c hair, s/c skin, e/c eyes, last seen wearing a peach nightgown,”

they turned their gaze back at you, one of them approaching you to take a good look, “wait a minute,”

you sucked in a breath, but before any of you could make a move, the guy grabbed your hand and ran, swerving through the distracted guards.

“oi!”

but you already had a head start, you were out of the gates and into the forest the moment they called for backup.

you ran, and ran, and ran.

the adrenaline coursing in your veins had done nothing to stop you from running, it made you feel so free, so alleviated.

so alleviated that you didn’t notice the huge rock that made you stumble, but before you could even hit the ground, the man caught your arm, pulling you against him.

and you were certain that time stopped when you finally locked eyes with him. specks of green and blue surrounding his alluring hazel eyes.

they said that when you meet someone for the first time, they would either be nothing more than another face amongst the crowds of memories or a face that would be burning at the back of your mind for a long time.

it was the latter.

the moonlight was shining over the both of you, the soft light making him look so ethereal. his celestial facial structure giving the famed sculptures a run for their money.

regulus looked at you in awe, neglecting the fact that you almost fell flat on your face. his gaze fell onto your gentle e/c eyes, the smooth arch of your nose, and the sleek curve of the cupid’s bow on your lips.

you would’ve loved staying in that position, admiring the young man for the first time every chance you would be given, but alas, the distant shouts of the guards forbade you from doing it any longer.

“who are you, anyway?” the guy asked. after successfully carrying out your escape plan, with your pink wig askew, he offered to buy you a mug of warm butterbeer at the nearby pub; the leaky cauldron.

you removed the wig from your head’s hold, ruffling your hair a bit to soothe the headache. your eyes searched around the room, looking for a possible new name.

“erm,” guest singer, liane moonshine, “miliane…” holyhead harpies quidditch poster, “harper.” you finished, “miliane harper, yeah,”

he eyed you suspiciously as he took a sip from his drink, “alright, miliane harper, what’re you doing sneaking out’f the princess’ bedroom like that?”

“i could ask you the same thing, stranger,” you mused, fiddling with the straps of your satchel.

“regulus,” he said, “call me regulus,”

“what were you doing sneaking out next door, regulus?”

“i asked you first,” he said, shooting you a pointed look.

thinking of a reasonable explanation, you mumbled, “stealing?” you winced, cursing yourself for hesitating.

“a’right, here’s the deal, miliane harper, because i know f’myself that you aren’t who you claim to be and you certainly weren’t there to steal,” he whispered, leaning in ‘til his face was a few inches away from yours, “now, ‘m gonna ask you one last time, who. are. you?”

you gulped, faintly murmuring your answer, “the crowned heiress of diagon.”

“salazar,” regulus cursed, “you’re princess y/n?”

you shushed him, shoving your hand to cover his mouth as a few heads turned to look at the both of you. you were certain that your parents have sent a search team to look for you by now.

“yes, but be quiet, would you?” you hissed, retracting your hand to curtain your face with your hair, avoiding the curious gazes amongst the patrons.

he blinked at you, leaning back on his chair. he observed your appearance for a bit before snorting, “your hair, it’s uneven!”

your face flushed a deep shade of red, your hand automatically clutching your hair. you scowled at him, “how long have you been aching to tell me that?”

he chuckled, “ever since you took off your wig,” seeing that you rolled your eyes, he continued, “don’t worry, y/n, you look quite beauteous, if i must say.”

“i don’t require you to flatter me, regulus,” you scoffed, grabbing your mug to take a drink, though before the rim of the mug reached your lips, regulus set a few galleons down on the table and spoke up, “as fun as it was to meet you, your highness, i’ve got some places to go,”

“what?”

“good luck with this endeavor of yours, but i mustn’t risk being one of your accomplices,” he quipped, wearing his sweater, “fare thee well.”

it took you a moment to finish your drink and grab your things before leaving the low-lit pub. your eyes searched amongst the throng of people, trying to catch the sight of his brunette curls.

you hurried beside him, trying to avoid bumping into the others. you grew quite fond of the handsome lad who ran with you, despite the fact that he was still nothing but an enigma to you.

“mind if i join you?” you sought, clasping your hands in front of you, walking side-by-side with him.

regulus groaned silently, he looked down at you and sarcastically replied, “it’s a free country,”

you rolled your eyes and responded with a retort of your own, “actually, it’s a monarchy occupied by foreign oppressors.”

he ignored your sardonic comment and asked you a question to defuse the gauche atmosphere, “why’d you run away, princess?”

you looked at him, “y’know, i’m not really obliged to answer your question,”

“i… am well aware of that,” he huffed amusingly, “but given the fact that we’re going merlin knows where, i’d rather have a conversation going than walking in utter silence.”

regulus had a gist of why you ran away, assuming that you had the same reason as him.

you laughed softly before staring at your white tennis shoes, “‘ve been betrothed, and i was s’pposed to meet the lucky bloke who’ll have my hand in marriage,”

regulus swallowed the lump in his throat.

“what about you, regulus?” you asked, “why were you running away?”

“oh,” he let out a nervous laugh, “i- stealing.”

you gave him a keen look, “i used that excuse not too long ago, if you’ve forgotten,”

he smiled tensely, “f’real though, the prince owed me something, and i’d be pleased if he returned the favor.”

you huffed, not sure if you’d believe him, but thankfully for regulus, you caught sight of your palace guards questioning some people about your whereabouts, “shit,”

you immediately linked your arm with his and whispered, “palace guards, let’s go. just- act normal,”

he carefully unhooked your hold, opting to snake his arm around your waist instead, evidently making both of you flustered.

you let out a sigh of relief when you passed by them without causing any havoc, though it was short-lived when one of them called out, “excuse me, sir, ma’am?”

the both of you continued walking, slightly hurrying your steps.

regulus hauled a carriage and helped you get in, “godric’s hollow, please,”

the guards left standing behind, one of them writing down the descriptions of the suspicious couple and the carriage they’re in.

“where are we?” you asked, looking up at the lovely cottage amongst the rows of houses.

regulus sighed, “godric’s hollow,” he walked up from the gate and knocked on their doorstep, stepping back to wait for someone to open the door.

you hummed, “alright, but what exactly’re we doing here?”

merlin must’ve been on his side again because before he could even reply, a beautiful red-headed woman opened the door.

she must’ve been taken aback for a moment because her eyebrows shot up and mouth agape. she stuttered, “i- regulus, hey,”

“evans,” he nodded politely, “is, erm, sirius with you?”

she licked her lips, “it’s actually potter now,” she showed her wedding ring, “and uhm, yes, give me a moment.”

she shuffled back inside, letting the door open but didn’t make a move to invite you in.

“she’s lovely,” you jutted out your bottom lip.

“reggie?” another man, another attractive man, whom you were assuming was sirius, inquired.

“sirius,” he greeted.

the tension was so thick that you could feel it enveloping you with warmth. or that may just be because of the additional presence of the bespectacled man behind the redhead.

“i don’t mean to be rude but are we all going to just stand in here,” you awkwardly shuffled on your feet, “or are you gonna let us in?”

sirius looked at you in wonder, “i- oh, yes, yeah!”

the man whose presence was still looming over, blinked at him, a small smile tugging at his lips as he huffed amusingly at his best friend, letting you in. you looked around the house, the atmosphere giving you a sense of comfort and a feeling of home you’ve never felt.

“james potter,” he grinned at you, “and this is my lovely wife, lily.”

“y/n l/n, the heiress of dia--” you paused, “actually, it’s just y/n. sorry, force of habit.” you chuckled sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as they looked at you in surprise.

you wondered if you could trust that they wouldn’t send you back to your kingdom.

“you’re the crowned princess of diagon?” lily spluttered.

you smiled bashfully, “i may or may not be?”

“merlin, what’re you doing here? guards’re all over the place, knocking on doors n’all,” sirius remarked, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i also may or may not have ran away?” you grinned, scrunching your nose which both the black brothers found quite endearing.

“i would love to continue the chit chat, but d’you mind letting us stay here for a while?” regulus interrupted, but before they could even answer, a knock was heard from the door, “diagon sovereignty wards, we’ve got a couple of questions to ask.”

you cursed silently, sirius and lily quietly ushered you into the living room whilst james went to get the door.

“good evening, sir, we’ve been alerted that you’ve had some contact with these people?” a guard asked, pulling up a sketch of you and regulus.

james smiled warmly, “i’m sorry, but i reckon you’ve got the wrong person. ‘tis just me and my wife, and my best mate in ‘ere,”

they nodded politely, “that’ll be all. thank you, sir, have a great evening.”

as soon as he closed the door, james sauntered back into the living room, looking at the worrying looks on your and regulus’ faces.

he and lily exchanged glances before she smiled softly, “i’ll go prepare the guest room.”

it was deep into the night, the potter household was surrounded by a quiet and serene atmosphere as the people living in it had already dozed off, yet you and regulus were far from drifting off to a dreamy slumber.

both of you had your backs against the headboard of the queen-sized bed you were supposed to share, staring into the void of nothingness as you let the comfortable aura rage around you.

“regulus?” you whispered. as if once you’ve spoken even a tad bit louder, the brittleness of the atmosphere would break.

he turned to look at you, “yeah?”

“what’s your biggest regret in life?” you wondered, voice laced with drowsiness. the adrenaline from a while ago slowly fading away, now being replaced with exhaustion.

regulus pondered for a moment. he had a lot of regrets, letting his parents abuse him and sirius, letting sirius just leave him alone in the dark and lonely castle, not living his best childhood. he had plenty, and lying to you was one of them.

he hummed, “i suppose being a coward,”

you fluffed your pillows and lowered yourself on the bed. you yawned, “i don’t think you’re a coward, regulus. after all, you just ran away with a princess.”

regulus looked at you fondly, watching as you slowly succumbed to sleep. he smiled softly, “yeah,”

your stay with the potters, and sirius, has been wonderful. you’ve felt more at home in godric’s hollow than in your palace. no amount of grandeur wealth would compare to the amount of love and belonging you’ve felt in your sojourn.

regulus has successfully managed to keep their mouths shut about him being a prince as well. the conversation and intention still went unnoticed by you.

you and lily have been the bestest of friends. the sweet girl that made you feel more at home than anyone else could, an evident friendship blossoming into a charming one.

james and sirius welcomed you into their arms as if you were one of their long-lost mates, and quite literally if you must say. they locked you beneath their armpits and ruffled your hair one game night.

you were convinced that james was the human embodiment of a ball of sunshine, never failing to put a smile on your faces. sirius had more of a flirty demeanor, which you’ve brushed off with a quip or two of your own.

“does the princess have a prince charming or do i have to step up?”

“not every prince is charming, sirius.”

and regulus— you’ve grown closer to regulus than you’ve ever had with anyone, getting to know each other more, spending more late nights talking about everything and nothing, and not that any of you would admit it, but inevitably falling in love was part of the list.

you and lily were in her room, she was lending you some clothes to wear as all of you have made a plan to go to the market fair in town.

james was on the phone with remus, asking him to meet up at the place whilst sirius and regulus were in the living room, catching up after a few years of not seeing each other.

sirius has grown quite fond of the princess. not that he was catching feelings, but a date wouldn’t sound too bad, if he must say, so he asked his brother, “d’you reckon y/n would fancy a date w’me? maybe i could bring her to hogsmeade,”

and to say that he was dumbstruck when he heard that was an understatement, “what? no, you can’t,”

sirius looked at him with a confused expression, “how come?”

regulus hesitated, “she’s… betrothed.”

the eldest black brother scoffed, “yeah, t’you, and she doesn’t even know that you’re that bloke,”

regulus shook his head, sitting up straight as he heard your giggles from upstairs, “just- don’t, sirius.”

padfoot grinned at his brother in realization, “by the love of merlin! you love her, don’t you?” he teased, bumping their shoulders together.

“let’s go, handsomes, i’m not getting any younger here!” you laughed. regulus thought you looked angelic, the white dress hugging your curves in the most surreal way possible, the smile on your face proving that any blue day would get better with just a glimpse of it.

“this isn’t over, reggie,” sirius sang mockingly, getting up and linking his arm with yours.

the market fair in godric’s hollow is incredibly enchanting. fairy lights were hanging above the booths, multitudes of colorful stalls, the smell of the amazing street food, and the bubbly spirits of the people mingling around had you in a state of awe.

you went in separate groups, lily with james, sirius went off to find remus, and you were stuck with regulus— not that you were complaining, really.

you dragged regulus by one of the stalls that sold clothes, wanting to buy a few to avoid borrowing more from lily.

you were currently strolling around with him, your shopping bags in his hold as he insisted to carry them for you.

whilst you stopped to look at the fancy daggers, regulus caught sight of a gorgeous necklace. convincing himself that it would only take a few minutes, he left your side and onto the booth to buy the jewelry for you.

once you’ve managed to choose a design, you paid for the dagger and strapped it on your thigh with the holster you bought, “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

when he didn’t reply, you looked up to where he was standing just a few moments ago to find that he wasn’t by your side.

you crooned your neck to look around but instead of seeing him, you saw your palace guards slowly approaching you.

you cursed, turning around and running away from them, making them step up quickly and ran after you.

“regulus!” you called out, hoping that he’ll hear you.

“regulus!” you tried once more, and he finally heard you. he immediately pocketed the paid necklace and dropped the bags as he tried to run after you, “y/n!” but it was too late.

the guards were already surrounding you, two of them managed to carry you to a carriage while you thrashed around, “let me go! i don’t want to go back, please!” you cried, “regulus!”

regulus was running around the big plaza, trying to figure out where your voice was coming from.

the carriage was already a menacing dot as it continued to advance forward, leaving regulus frustrated and broken.

“what were you thinking running away like that?” your father barked, pacing back and forth on the castle’s lounge, “d’you know how ashamed we were when we found out that you snuck off? even more so whe-”

your father stopped talking when your mother gave him a stern look. an expression you know all too well when they didn’t want you to know something.

“it came to our attention that you ran away with regulus, yes?” your mother asked, giving you a tense smile.

you didn’t answer. looking at your parents with hatred as your eyes blurred with tears.

she sighed, “well, if you must know, he was the one who called for the guards. he knew about the huge amount of payment if someone gave you up. he contacted the palace guards before you even stepped foot in that repugnant marketplace.”

“no,” you let out a teary laughed, “regulus would never do that,”

he would never. especially after all those moments you’ve shared, those constant touches, the sneaky eye contacts. he would never.

“no? then where was he when you called for him?” your mother scoffed, a sly smirk on her face.

you glared at them, taking a shaky breath, “i-”

she tutted, “i’m not done just yet, my dear daughter. you will be married to lord riddle, on the contrary, seeing that the walburga and orion’s son was quite… negligent,”

“i will not be married to anyone!” you objected, “if there’s anyone i’d rather get married to, it would be regulus.”

your mother let out a cackle, “quite amusing if you asked me, dear, because regulus was the prince you were supposed to marry!”

you froze, managing to croak out a small, “what?”

your father chuckled, “oh, don’t tell me he didn’t tell you that?”

you swallowed the forming lump in your throat, “i hope you rot in hell.”

your mother scowled at you, “guards! bring her to the room.”

“i don’t need bodyguards surrounding me all the time, mother,” you spat, “i may be of the royal bloodline, but i am no weakling.”

“... and don’t forget to tie her up,” she smirked.

before you could even react, you were hauled up by your arms, screaming at them to let you go.

you made sure to give them a hard time while they walked up the stairs. once arriving at your room, they threw you on the carpeted floor with a right thump.

you flailed around, whimpering as they tied your arms and legs, “stop, stop, stop. please,” but they paid you no mind, leaving you alone in the dark.

after a few hours of trying to remove the rope from your limbs, and a few chaffings later, you ultimately gave up on trying. you didn’t know what your parents’ plan was but you were quite grateful for the noise and crashing outside your door.

crawling a bit towards your door, your forearm brushed against something rough on your thighs. you cursed yourself for being dense, and lifted your dress a bit, carefully grabbing your new rose gold dagger from its holster.

when you heard the jingling of your door, you hastily tried to cut the rope from your wrists.

you cussed as you dropped it on the floor, you tried to get a hold of it once more when the door suddenly burst open.

“y/n!” regulus breathed out in relief, he rushed by your side, grabbing your fallen dagger and cutting the ropes. your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, before turning your gaze to the man you’ve fallen in love with, the same man who lied to you.

sirius approached the both of you, trying to tell you to hurry up before the guards caught up with them, “let’s go!”

“are you alright?” regulus asked, cupping your face in his hands.

you glared at him, rubbing your arms to soothe the burning, “don’t touch me.”

you stood up, grabbing the dagger from his hand, and placed it back on your holster. you snatched your satchel from the floor and started packing a few necessities that could fit in.

regulus looked at you in confusion and hurt, standing up as you shuffled around the room, “what’s wrong?”

you ignored him, shoving past him, and made your way towards sirius, who just shrugged at his brother.

the three of you sneaked past the guards and the members of the order, successfully escaping and meeting up with lily and james at the entrance.

“oh, merlin!” lily brought you in a hug, “are you alright, y/n?”

“lily,” you breathed out, hugging her back. you closed your eyes in relief, letting out a teary laugh, “i’m alright, don’t worry,”

“we’ve got to go, they’ll catch up soon enough if we don’t leave,” james said, “‘m sure frank and the rest got ‘em distracted for a while.”

arriving back at the potter household, they let you retire back at the guest room, regulus following in suit.

“hey, y/n, what’s wrong?” regulus asked, grabbing your arm so you’re facing him.

you looked at him in anger and hurt, “you lied to me!”

“wha- what did i lie about? i don’t understand,” regulus was dumbstruck, he didn’t know what you were talking about until he remembered all about the betrothal. he looked down in guilt.

“stop the act, regulus. you were the one i was supposed to marry,” you whispered, “why did you lie to me?”

regulus sighed, sitting down on the bed as he ran a hand through his hair, “i was scared, alright? i was scared because i fell for you, y/n, and when i found out that you didn’t want to marry me, i didn’t know what to do… so i lied because i was afraid that you’d go if i told you that i was the prince.”

“and it’s terrifying how i would’ve given you the stars if you asked,” he chuckled softly, “but i chose to keep that to myself because that’s how much of a coward i am…”

“reg, i didn’t even know that it was you,” you frowned, expression softening as you sat down beside him, “and i frankly don’t care about the stars, or anything at all, honestly, because all i want is you, regulus,”

“don’t be so sure about that, y/n,” he breathed out, “if you’ve known that it was me, you wouldn’t agree to marry me.”

“you’re right,” you nodded, smiling softly, “i wouldn’t marry you because of some stupid betrothal, i’d marry you because i love you, regulus black, and i know f’myself that you’re the man that i would love to spend the rest of my life with.”

he looked at you with adoration and love in his eyes, a small smile adorning his lips.

regulus tucked the loose strand of hair behind your hair, his eyes shifting from your eyes down to your lips, “may i?”

not trusting your words, you nodded instead, slowly leaning in. regulus cupped the side of your face with his hand, your hand running through his brown curls as the both of you drew closer. eyes fluttering close as you felt the soft, warmth of his lips caress your own.

after a few moments, he pulled away slowly, pressing his forehead against your own, smiling softly at the result of the sudden revelations and confessions.

“let’s run away, regulus,” you whispered, “away from here and our wretched parents.”

“yeah?” he chuckled softly, “where’d you want to go, m’love?”

“italy.”

“... and they lived happily ever after.” you smiled softly.

“mum, what happened in italy?” your daughter asked, hugging her teddy bear as she looked up at you and regulus with her doe eyes.

regulus hummed, “they settled down in florence, italy, with the help of the marauders-”

“dad, who are the marauders?” your son questioned, exchanging looks with his sister and his cousin, harry.

“they’re the best friends of the prince and princess, orion,” james grinned, snaking his arm around lily’s waist.

“what happened next, aunt y/n?”

“well, they had a small wedding by the beach, they traveled around the world, had kids, and are now telling their stories to their adorable kids and godson,” you smiled, “and the said kids and godson should be asleep in the next five minutes.”

the three of them let out simultaneous groans. you, regulus, and the marauders had small smiles on your faces, finding the situation amusing.

“good night, my darlings, we love you,” you and regulus kissed their foreheads and tucked them in bed, as lily and james did the same with harry.

after ensuring that they were fast asleep, you and the rest went back down to the living room.

sirius grinned, grabbing the firewhiskeys and crisps out of the bag, “they finally went to sleep?”

“yeah,” you smiled, fiddling with the moonstone necklace regulus bought you from the fair, “guess our story worked perfectly fine as a bedtime tale, didn’t it, reggie?”

“indeed it did, m’love,” he kissed the top of your head, sitting down on the couch for your traditional game night.

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @weasleyyy @oldschoolkiddo @accioweaslcy @inglourious-imagines @peterssweetpea @iwritesiriusly @fives-cup-of-coffee @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @band--psycho @marswilson24 @miraclesoflove @chokemepansy @spideyspixies @lolooo22 @justfangirlthingies @sw33tgirl @remugoodgirl @tatestripedsweater @gryffindorgirly @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

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fanficimagery · 4 years

Text

a field of daisies

Imagine running into a group of survivors that you decide to take a chance on and bring them home with you. Your decision ends up leading to a reunion no one saw coming, not even yourself.

Words: 7.1K Author's Note: TWD AU. This particular universe has a lot of characters and making sure everyone has a line or three is tough work, so I made up my mind to only keep a select few. This will take place after the prison has fallen, but before Terminus so the group is not as harsh because of what happened there. I get why everyone turned ruthless, but damn.. Rick got scary. Haha. Also, just so you know, Y/N is a powered individual (the gif of Wanda is just to show how your powers look/work). SPOILER ALERT! This piece of work is.. slow. There's nothing much to it- it's honestly just Y/N bringing the group into the fold. I've been having a rough few weeks and it really shows in my writing. I'm sorry this sucks, but I really needed to get something out.

It was pure dumb luck that Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Carl, Judith, Glenn, Maggie and Carol ended up together after the fall of the prison. Rick and Carl had fled together, Michonne followed the blood trail Rick had unknowingly left behind, and Daryl had later caught up to them because he was with a new group that was hunting Rick which he didn't know about until it was too late. Daryl, Rick and Michonne took care of things quickly, and it was a relief to Rick that Daryl still had his back.

Glenn and Maggie came a couple days later with Judith snuggled into a makeshift pack hanging off of Glenn's back, and the group stumbled upon Carol who kept them from entering the so-called sanctuary called Terminus. Apparently she had been keeping an eye on the place from afar, and after the horrors she witnessed Rick and the others were glad they just so happened to choose the entrance she was near so that she was able to stop them.

Hershel's death still weighed heavily on everyone's mind and Maggie was sad that she didn't know what had become of her sister Beth. Lots of people's fates were unknown, but the ones that left everyone the most downtrodden were those of the children that the prison had housed.

The group has taken momentary refuge in a barn, their spirits low and dwindling even more as the days pass. Food and water were scarce, and ammunition was pretty much nonexistent. Daryl had a handful of arrows left and everyone was left to depend on blades to protect themselves.

Judith's sudden cry pierces the quiet of the barn and everyone flinches. Rick readily gets to his feet, rushing towards his daughter and lifting her from the bed of hay they designated as her bed. "Shh. I got 'ya. I got 'ya, sweetheart."

Carl joins his father, frowning at his sister's reddening face. "She's hungry, isn't she?"

"We all are," Rick grumbles.

"There's got to be something out there," the young boy sighs. "A place we haven't come across or a house that's not been picked clean."

"Everyone's tired, Carl. We're all running on fumes." Rick continues to rock his baby girl, heart breaking when her wails only get louder and more desperate. "If we go searchin', we're likely to make a mistake and someone will lose their life."

"Well we can't let her starve."

Rick glances around his exhausted group, a look of determination in each of their features. He sighs and glances down at Judith in his arms. "Tomorrow. We'll go lookin' when the sun is up."

Carl nods and brushes his finger along Judith's brow before leaving his father to settle the baby down on his own.

- - - - - - - - - -

You'd been gone for a day and half now, intent on finding some things those in your community have asked for. Unfortunately everything close by had been picked clean which led you to driving further and further out, and right into an oncoming storm.

You tried to drive right on through it, but the rain just came down so hard to the point that you could not see through the windshield. And since it was nighttime, you knew there was a high chance you could wreck. So you pull off to the side, cut the engine and lean back in your seat to wait it out.

Thunder rumbles so loud it actually shakes the truck you're in and lightning strikes a tree not even a hundred yards away. "Oh screw this," you mumble to yourself. You turn the truck back on, carefully inching your way down the road and hope that you don't hit anything. But then lightning strikes again, you swerve on instinct, but are quick to slam on the breaks. "Shit."

There's a split second of reprieve from the rain- just long enough for you to see a building off in the distance. You know it's a dumb idea to even check it out, but you rather be in a barn struck by lightning than be in the truck. So after cutting the engine once more, you reach over to the passenger seat for your pack and beanie. Shoving the gray beanie down atop your head, you brace yourself before opening the door and hopping out.

Slamming the door behind you, you rush through the rain and towards the barn doors. Pushing on said doors, they open far too easily and you rush to close them behind you. Then with your back against the doors, you hold your hands aloft at your sides should you need to protect yourself from a dead skull or three. But surprisingly there are no dead in the barn, instead a group of the living around a small fire stare at you with wide eyes.

Immediately the people are on their feet with their weapons trained on you, a baby is passed off to a preteen, and the group of adults slowly advance on you.

"Whoa," you utter. "I did not know this place was occupied. I don't mean any harm. M'just tryin' to get out of the storm."

"Are you alone?" The man that had passed off the baby asks, a long barreled gun pointed at you.

His companions spread out- a guy with a crossbow hurrying to the wall to peek through the cracks. There's a Korean guy and a woman with hair just barely touching her shoulders standing side by side, blades in hand, and a black woman with a wicked looking katana held at the ready. The last woman with shortly cropped gray hair points a glock right at you without even blinking.

"Um, yeah."

"You don't sound so sure," he grunts.

"Well you're all pointing weapons at me," you say. "It's a little intimidating."

Crossbow guy returns to his friend's side, shaking his head and muttering something too low for your ears to catch. The main guy talking nods meeting your gaze once more. "Weapons?"

"None."

"Mind if we check?"

You shrug. "Have at it."

Spreading your arms out wider, you push off the barn doors and stand with your feet a little spread out as well. The woman standing next to the Korean guy steps forward and cautiously makes her way towards you. You meet her gaze, keeping your expression neutral, but give her a nod to let her know you were good with what was going on. Her hands land on your waist then, patting you down and checking for weapons.

Her hands slide up your sides and under your arms, and you press your lips tighter together when she hits your ticklish spot. A giggle ends up breaking free and you immediately apologize when she freezes. You think you see her faintly grin before she continues on down your legs and around your ankles.

"She's clean," the woman says as she stands back up and then steps back.

"What's in the bag?"

"My snacks," you muse. "I was looking for a few things and had to travel out further than normal. I've been driving for nearly two days now."

"You got a group?"

"I have a community." They seem to blink in surprise at that.

Crossbow guy looks at who you assume is their leader. "Explains the too clean clothes," he grunts. Then looking at you, he says, "But 'ya damn stupid to be out here with no weapons. It's a goddamn miracle 'ya survived this long."

"Mister, I am the weapon." That seems to make the tense all over again, frowning, and you sigh. "Look, I'm not normal. I don't need weapons because I am literally the ultimate weapon. Now if that makes you uncomfortable, I'll stay my butt over here and just wait out the storm. Then I'll be on my way and we never have to see each other again unless we run into each other in the future. That sound good?"

No one voices a complaint against you so you walk over to one of the wooden beams supporting the barn and take a seat on the ground. You get comfortable, stripping your pack off your back and setting it next to you. The group has no idea what to make of you so they continue to stare at you until the baby in the preteen's arms starts to fuss.

Minutes pass as the baby continues to wail, her cries only getting louder. The thunder doesn't seem as loud as before, so you know if there are any dead nearby they'll be drawn towards the barn because of the baby's cries.

"When was the last time she ate?" You ask when you see them shush and rock her in order to calm her. A few of them glance at you and it's then you actually take in their appearances. They're exhausted. They're hungry. They're desperate. "Actually when was the last time any of you ate?"

Crossbow guy grumbles, but it's the preteen boy who answers. "Days. A week or so maybe."

Frowning, you pull your pack into your lap and open it up. Rummaging around the inside, your hand wraps around a small mason jar with a spoon rubber banded around it and you grin triumphantly. "I, uh, I have this if you want it," you say as you hold the jar up. "Mrs. Stevens makes a mean cinnamon applesauce." Your grin slowly falls as you take in their stares. "Or not. I won't be offended."

"No." The gray haired woman steps forward. "We'll take it, but you need to eat a spoonful yourself first."

"Uh, yeah. Sure, but I don't know why.." Your brow furrows as you free the spoon from the rubber band and untwist the top, and then it hits you on why they want you to eat it first. You gasp as you stare up at them. "First off, rude! Do I really look like I'm capable of poisoning a baby?"

No one says a word at first and then, "Well you did say 'ya were different."

You roll your eyes at the crossbow wielding guy. "Not that kind of different." Sticking the spoon into the applesauce, you pull up a spoonful and shove it into your mouth. Swallowing, you place the spoon back in the jar and hold it up. "Happy? It's just cinnamon applesauce."

The leader rushes forward and grabs the applesauce from you, sniffing it as he walks back towards his group and taking a spoonful for himself. When he deems it okay, he then feeds it to the baby girl. Almost immediately, her cries turn to whimpers before ceasing all together.

"You guys are welcome to whatever's in my pack because, no offense, but you look like you need it more than I do."

The Korean guy is the first to crack, rushing towards your pack that you let him freely rummage through. "Is this- is this jerky?"

"Yep. Mr. Mills has a knack for drying out meat and smoking fish."

As he passes out the jerky, water, and a few MRE's, he then looks at you with an astonished expression. "I'm Glenn, by the way. And this is Maggie." The woman who had patted you down gives you a terse smile.

"Michonne," the katana wielding badass says.

"Carol."

The man feeding the baby glances at you. "I'm Rick. These are my kids Carl and Judith."

You look towards the crossbow guy, but he's shoveling an MRE into his mouth and not paying you a lick of attention. "Y/N," you then introduce yourself to them.

You watch them eat for a few seconds before you avert your attention, listening to the sounds outside the barn. The storm seems like it's finally dying down, but the moans and groans of the dead seem to be getting closer and closer now. You get up and walk towards the door, peeking through the cracks and quietly exhaling at the small herd heading straight for the barn.

"You guys have something to prop against the door? We've got incoming."

A scoff comes from crossbow guy. "Thought 'ya were the ultimate weapon?"

"Daryl!" Carol admonishes.

Your eyes narrow at Daryl who shrugs under the stares of his group and you sigh. "Fine. Whatever. All I ask is that whatever you see, you ask questions before you decide to attack."

"Why- why would you say that?" Glenn asks.

"Because like I said, I'm not normal."

With that you turn around, opening the barn doors and stepping back. Staring at the small herd that's coming in, your left arm lifts up and curls around the front of your face as your right arm lifts up underneath. The only difference is that your left hand starts to glow and you swing back briefly before thrusting your left arm out and sending off a red wave of energy that rushes through the heads of the dead ones and instantly drops them in their tracks. You walk forward then and shut the doors, only to turn around and have Daryl aiming his crossbow at you.

"Seriously?" Your arms hang limp at your sides.

"What the hell are 'ya?"

"Human, as far as I know," you say. You mentally sigh as everyone shifts nervously. "Just with a little extra oomph."

"That was some sci-fi bullshit 'ya just pulled there."

"Well whatever it is, it's come in handy since the world fell apart so I'm not complaining about it anymore."

Rick, having passed Judith off to Carl, steps forward. "This community of yours, are there any more people like you?"

You shake your head. "Nah. I'm the only one."

"How many people are you with?" Carol asks.

"Around twenty or so. Me and this little girl I came across a while back are the youngest. Everyone else is sixty-five or above." You huff. "Kid guilt tripped me into saving a few individuals from a retirement home we came across and gave me the idea of a place safe enough to almost be normal."

"Exactly how safe is this place of yours?" Maggie then wonders as she glances at Judith and Carl.

"There's a, uh, shield of sorts around this abandoned housing community. The dead bounce off the invisible walls and the living need permission to enter which I'm smart enough not to give."

"People try gettin' in before?" Daryl asks.

"A group of three about a couple months back. I would have given thought to letting them in, but my powers kind of misfired and I was able to read their minds," you sheepishly admit. "They- they were not good people. Not by a long shot."

"What happened to 'em?"

"I put them to sleep and had a talk with everyone inside the community." You shrug. "I didn't know what to do, so I asked for everyone's advice. It was either kill them or manipulate their memories and send them on their way."

"What did you do?" Carl asks. He's the only one who has a look of awe on his face.

"I kept them asleep and drove them out in a random direction. After about two days driving, I put them up in an abandoned house and let them wake up long after I had left."

"Why are you answering all our questions?" Michonne asks. "Someone like you, it seems like you'd keep your powers a secret."

"Honestly? You're the first kind group I've seen in a long while. You saw what I could do and yet you asked questions first rather than letting Daryl put an arrow in me."

"Would my arrow have even reached 'ya?"

You smile at Daryl's grumpy expression. "Not even close." There's a challenge in his eyes and his arm twitches, but Rick shakes his head at his friend. You quietly chuckle. "If you guys wanna sit and talk, I'll answer what I can. I don't mind so long as you don't plan on attempting to put a bullet in my brain or a blade to my neck."

Everyone looks to Rick and eventually he gives a terse nod. They hesitantly go back to their fire, huddling closer together and you slowly make you way over to sit across from them. The baby seems rather content now so Rick finally takes a moment to eat something himself.

Bending your knees, you pull them in towards your chest and drop your chin on your knee. "So what do you wanna know?"

Glenn immediately leans forward. "First of all, this is something straight out of a comic book." He grins and you can't help but smile in return. Maggie snorts and shakes her head, rather fondly, at him. "So what I wanna know is if you were born like this or if you had a bad visit with the doctors?"

"I was born like this," you say. "I think it started manifesting when I was about eleven or twelve. Mom and dad were obviously terrified, but I was still their daughter and they refused to just let the government have me. It took- it took months of research before they found a legit scientist who was running tests on people like me in order to help. So they met up with him and let him poke and prod to get the answers everyone was seeking."

"Did they find anything out?" Carol asks.

You shake your head. "No. There were no abnormalities in my or my parent's blood, and every other test was coming back completely average. My powers or magic or whatever you wanna call it honestly scared me, so the scientist had concocted some pills that suppressed it. I never got to learn how to control it and only really got to see what I was capable of when the world collapsed and I ran out of suppressors."

"So what, you're just this powerhouse walking around without a care in the world?" Michonne frowns.

"I have many cares," you say, head lifting to stare directly at the woman over the fire. "I have a little girl and a handful of old geezers counting on me back home. I'm just fortunate enough to be this powerhouse, as you say, so the others don't have to come out into this shit show that has become our norm."

Judith starts to fuss again and neither her brother or father can calm her. You can see just how exhausted everyone is, so you take the initiative to help them out when you see Rick cringe after smelling the baby's bottom. Grabbing your pack, you grab the notebook in there and yank out a sheet of paper. Then letting the paper rest in the palms of your hands, you concentrate on the red wisps of energy pooling in your hands and transfigure the sheet of paper into a diaper. More sheets of paper are ripped out and you quickly transfigure those into small rags.

"There's a bucket in the back of my truck," you say as you hold out the diaper and rags. "I'm sure it's full of water by now so you can dip the rags into the water to wipe the baby down."

Rick blinks at you in surprise, walking over to you and grabbing the items. He nods. "Thank you." You flash him a faint smile in return.

He looks at Daryl and he hands over his crossbow to Carol. Taking the rags from Rick, he motions for Glenn to follow him should he run into any trouble outside.

The two men return soon enough and Rick readily starts to make his daughter comfortable once more. As she struggles against him and wildly kicks out, you chuckle and decide to let a small orb of red energy pool in your palm. Then flicking your wrist, the small red orb shoots over to hover above Judith and bob up and down. It does it's job, distracting her so her father can easily change her.

"That must come in handy back at your community," Maggie muses.

"I don't really show off like this in front of them," you sheepishly admit. "Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but they don't really ask me to do anything other than to help keep them safe and keep their houses from deteriorating." There are hums and grunts, but everyone is more interested in filling their stomachs. "Well if I'm going to be on my way come sun up, I should get some rest."

No one objects, so you get up and walk back over to the opposite side of the barn. You sit down in a corner, trying to find a comfortable enough position so you can get a bit of shut eye.

When you wake up, the sun has not fully risen yet. It's a little lighter in the barn and you can see without the small fire throwing off light, so it's easy to spot Rick keeping watch by the barn doors. You sit up, stretch, and sleepily climb to feet in order to join him.

"You guys rotated watch?" You mumble. "You should have woken me."

Rick grins. "Nah. We had it under control."

"If you say so."

His grin subtly falters and then he quietly clears his throat before glancing between you and his group. "So before you go on your way, can I have a word?"

"Sure." You yawn. "Lets just go outside so we don't wake anyone." At Rick's nod, you open the barn doors and exit as quietly as you can. He follows you outside and you glance around for any dead before crossing your arms over your chest and turning to face Rick. "What's going on?"

He stares at you, clearly trying to figure out how to voice his thoughts. It takes him a moment to gather himself and then finally he says, "I know we just met each other last night, but is there any chance- any chance you might be willin' to give us a chance? I'm supposed to be this group's leader, but I am runnin' on fumes here. We all are. We're desperate." Your heart goes out to him and you can't help but frown. You understand desperation very well and you figure it must be worse on him because of the two young children he has. "This world, as vulnerable as it is, it's not a place I want to raise my kids."

"Rick, I-" You pause, sigh and then start over. "Of course I'd be willing to give you guys a chance."

"But?" He pushes, seeing the flash of hesitance in your expression.

"No, no buts." You shake your head. "You just- if you guys want to be a part of this community, you have to actually want to be a part of the community. No drama or violence is permitted within the walls. My sole focus is making sure these people live as long as possible and I won't have anyone jeopardizing that."

Rick nods. "We're all for playing fair. All we're askin' for is a chance. A real chance at survivin'."

"Well then I guess today's your lucky day." You hold out a hand for him to shake. He holds your gaze before glancing down at your hand and hesitantly reaching forward to grasp it. "So do you want to tell them the good news or..?"

Rick huffs a laugh of disbelief as he retakes his hand. "Are- are 'ya serious?"

"Yeah. Why not." You shrug. "The community could use a good shake up, so come on. Lets go wake your people up."

You and Rick re-enter the barn, but you let him wake his family and friends on his own. You gather your pack, tossing the trash and rearranging what's left. Rick tells them the good news and you smile when you see them sag in relief. They have no belongings whatsoever, so they pick up what weapons they have and make to exit the barn.

"Um, Carl and one other person can sit up front with me. Three others can squeeze into the backseat with Judith and two can ride in the very back." There are nods of agreement all around before Daryl and Glenn climb into the bed of the truck. Meeting Daryl's gaze, you say, "You and Glenn keep watch. If you see anyone, pound on the roof. I don't want anyone following us."

He gives you a terse nod. "Got it."

"Or if you and Glenn want to switch out with someone from the inside, pound on the roof. I'm gonna drive as long as I can, but if anyone wants to stop during the night we will."

Everyone seems to agree, letting you decide whether or not you drive through the night. You'll make that decision when the time comes, so as everyone else climbs into the cab of the truck you open the driver's side door and get behind the wheel. You bite back a smirk as you grip the steering wheel in hand, red wisps of energy wrapping around the wheel before disappearing into the guts under the hood.

"So that's why we didn't hear the rumble of an engine," Rick muses. "It's runnin' on magic."

"Beats having to find and siphon gas," you say. Everyone chuckles and after making sure Daryl and Glenn are steady, you drive off.

Not even five seconds in and you hear, "What the hell kind of truck is this?"

Daryl's gruff question makes everyone inside the cab laugh, but no one bothers to fill him in.

- - - - - - - - - -

You drive well into the afternoon, only stopping when Glenn and Daryl grow too hot under the sun and switch out with Rick and Michonne. The bit of food you had left in your pack was divided up among the others again and then when the sun set you had stopped to instruct those in the bed of the truck that they could sit or lay down since they wouldn't be able to see anything come nightfall anyway.

Your constant yawning had Maggie concerned, but you assured her you'd done a drive like this numerous times. All you asked was that they talk to you, so to keep things light they told you all about their accomplishments since the world had ended. Carl mentioned being reunited with his dad after being told he was dead, Maggie mentioned finding love with Glenn on her father's farm, and Daryl mentioned finding a prison that they stayed in after clearing it out as much as they could.

You didn't bother asking what had happened to the farm or the prison because you knew full well what happened to places left out in the open. Sooner or later they got taken over, whether it be by the dead or living. So when they ran out of happy tales, you filled them in on your own. You told them all about coming across the retirement home- about how you and Daisy (the young girl you had saved) were allowed to stay with them for a bit while you went out everyday to find a more suitable living situation. You had still been experimenting with your powers, so it was a miracle you managed to fix up an entire housing community and erect walls around it.

Only about half of those in the retirement home chose to go with you and Daisy, and that was even after finding out what you were capable of. The others were grateful for the invite, but they had families they wanted to look for or were too old and didn't want to be a burden on anyone. No amount of pleading from Daisy could sway their decisions.

A new day dawns and the environment around you starts to become familiar. You perk up in your seat and drive just a little faster because after being out for so long all you want is your bed and a shower.

Only you can see the entrance to the community and you know the others can only see what everyone else without permission to enter sees- a run down housing community that was way passed being livable. So stopping right before the barrier, you gesture for everyone to get off with you after letting the truck cut off.

"What's going on?" Rick asks as he hops out of the bed. Michonne follows him.

Facing the group, you grin. "The community is just behind me," you say while gesturing over your shoulder. You see them glance behind you, frowns marring their faces. "You're just seeing what I want everyone who passes by to see- a place not worth investigating. So with your consent," you hold a hand out just at shoulder height, letting a red glow envelop it, "I just need to push a little energy through you so you can see what I see."

Everyone is caught off guard and wary now, but surprisingly it's Carl who says something. "Will it hurt?"

You glance down at him and smile. "Not at all. I promise. Everyone inside has admitted to it feeling like a cold chill running through them and then nothing. Absolutely no pain."

As you guessed, everyone looks to Rick. He takes a moment to think about it before saying, "Do it. But if there's any pain at all-"

"There's not."

"Good." He nods. "So what do we do?"

"Just stand there. I'm the one who has to do all the work." Letting your arms hang down by your sides, you shake yourself out before concentrating on letting your power pool into your hands once more. Then when it feels like you have enough energy to pass through all eight individuals, you face your palms towards them and push out. The energy leaves you and passes through them, and only a couple of them stumble back a step or gasp in surprise. When they finally take notice of what's actually behind you and their jaws drop, you chuckle. "Welcome to your new home."

"How- it looks untouched." Carol mumbles in awe.

"Well it wasn't," you say. "It took me a few days to fix up several blocks of houses. Then about a week to get the solar panels set in with the help of our retired electrician. We were just lucky a water tower was placed close by and the new water lines were set in before the world ended. It's easy to keep the tower operational and our houses supplied with running water."

"This is insane," Glenn mutters in awe. Maggie nods along with his assessment.

"When you reach the barrier, you're going to feel a little resistance. That's normal." you then explain to them. "All you have to do is keep walking through and you'll come out on the other side."

"And if we wanna leave?" Daryl asks. Everyone looks at him as if he's crazy for already thinking about leaving, but he merely huffs and explains further. "To hunt or make runs, not find shelter elsewhere."

You shrug. "Then you leave. You'll feel the resistance again, but that's just so you remember where the barrier is. Now that you've been given permission, you can come and go as you please. But please remember, once you're behind the barrier, anyone who hasn't been given permission to enter will just see you vanish into thin air. So make sure you're never followed or if you are make a beeline for the barrier and come get me. I'll get them outta here." Everyone seems to be in agreement and you smile. "Well come on. Let's go find you a house or two."

Turning around, you readily walk towards the neighborhood. The resistance of entering doesn't faze you as it once did, so you hurriedly turn around to see everyone's reactions. You see when they hesitate and you laugh as they continue on through and seem to all breathe a sigh of relief. Then once they have their wits about them, you gesture for them to follow you.

A few people are sitting out on their porches, some surprised and others (looking at you Gladys) are ecstatic.

A wolf whistle pierces the air and everyone glances in the direction it came from. "'Bout time you brought in some good lookin' fellas! I was getting tired of looking at Tom's ugly mug."

Michonne and Carol snort as Maggie and Carl giggle, and you shake your head at the white haired, seventy-eight year old woman. "Gladys, stop teasin' the men. They literally just got here!" You holler back.

"Any of them single?"

"Oh my god. Go take a cold shower, you cougar!" Gladys cackles and you groan quietly before looking over your shoulder. "Sorry about that. I should have warned you about Gladys and her tendency to hit on any man that isn't her neighbor."

"S'alright." Rick chuckles. "It'll be nice to have some normalcy back in our lives."

"What's with the bars on the doors?" Michonne then wonders.

You look at one house in particular, it's front door having another door of bars attached in front of it as well. "The houses with bars on their doors were requested by those living in the house. These people are at the age where they can easily pass away in their sleep without warning, and after an incident back at their retirement home they requested bars on the doors as a precaution. They lock in a couple of places from the inside."

They seem to agree that that was a good idea as you nod at everyone else coming out to see what Gladys was yelling about. When you spot Mary Alice, a sixty-seven year old ex-nurse, you start to walk towards her house. "Hey Mary Alice, have you seen Daisy around? I want to introduce her to some new people."

Mary Alice stands up and walks over to the top stair of her porch. "Oh. Hello." She beams. "It's nice to see some capable, new faces around here."

"Ma'am," Rick drawls.

You can practically see Mary Alice swoon and you mumble, "You're going to give every goddamn old lady heart palpitations in here," under your breath. Rick chuckles and you clap your hands to garner Mary Alice's attention once more. "Mary! Where's Daisy?"

"Oh, um." She pauses as she fluffs her hair. "Last I saw her, Dave had asked her to help him pick some fruit from the garden."

"Okay. Thanks." Turning around to face the group, you smile sheepishly. "Maybe I'll just show you to your house first. Daisy might be busy for a bit longer." You're about to motion for them to follow you when you see Daisy appear from between two houses, munching on an apple and looking as carefree as a child her age should be. She meets your gaze from across the street, but before you can draw any attention to her you notice her steps falter as the most heartbreaking expression takes over her features when she sees who's with you. For a second you think this group might not be as innocent as they seemed, but then-

"Momma?"

Time seems to slow as Carol, of all people, freezes and then turns around. She stumbles back, hand going to her mouth in shock as she chokes on a sob. "S-Sophia?"

Your eyes widen at what's unfolding before you- Daisy (apparently Sophia) dropping her apple core before sprinting across the street. Carol meets her halfway, the two colliding with one another as their cries pierce the air. The rest of Carol's group looks on in awe before they join in on the reunion and you laugh as your vision suddenly blurs with unshed tears.

You startle when an arm settles across your shoulders and you glance over at Mary Alice smiling as she watches the reunion as well. "Did you know?"

"Not a clue," you say. "This is just an insane coincidence."

As everyone else takes a turn reuniting with the young girl and introducing her to the new faces, Carol glances up at you and starts to make her way over. You smile as she nears. "My Sophia was the kid you mentioned, wasn't she? The girl you saved before you came across the retirement home."

"Yeah. I just didn't know her name was Sophia." You chuckle. "She said something about her name making her sad because it reminded her of her mom, so she chose a new one."

"Why Daisy?"

You shrug. "Because we were walking through a field of daisies and she liked the sound of it."

Carol wetly chuckles and you give a surprised oh when she yanks you into a hug. "Thank you. Thank you for keeping my baby girl safe."

"No thanks needed, Carol. Whether your daughter knows it not, Daisy- er, Sophia- saved me as well. I'm just glad I could reunite the two of you."

The two of you pull out of the hug just to see the rest of the group making their way towards you, and Sophia hurries to wrap her arms around your waist. "Thank you. Thank you for finding my family."

"Don't even mention it, kid." You ruffle her hair, chuckling. "I'm just glad you found each other again." As you look up to meet everyone's house, you say, "So about your house.."

The group chuckle and you finally lead them to a couple empty houses just down the block you currently reside on. You inform them that every house in the neighborhood was built with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Rick tells you they'll take just the one house for now until they're acquainted with their surroundings and you let him know that that was fine, but in a few days you were taking a group out to pick out furniture and appliances for two houses.

Daryl scoffs. "Where exactly does one go shoppin' in the goddamn apocalypse?"

"In the store Y/N hid with her magic. Duh!" Sophia muses. Daryl glances down at the young girl before a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. She beams at him and he playfully reaches out to ruffle her hair.

"So, uh, yeah," you muse. "You guys can go ahead and wait here while I go round up a few sleeping bags that we can transform into mattresses," you tell them. "The water should be working, but you might want to run the faucets and showers for a minute or so to make sure all the air is out of the pipes." You start to back away down the sidewalk, heading towards your house. "I'll even knock on a few doors and see if there are any shirts and pants anyone is willing to let go of so you guys can shower. You can change into clean clothes while washing those you have on right now."

Before anything can be said, you turn around and make your way towards your house. You're not sure why all of sudden you became nervous- there is nothing to be nervous about- but you felt yourself suddenly getting anxious under all their gazes.

It doesn't take you long to find a few sleeping bags in your garage, so you take those with you while stopping by next door. You ask your neighbors for any sleeping bags or air mattresses, as well as a change of clothes, and they're all too happy to accommodate the newest residents of your sleepy little community. So by the time you make it back to the house where you had left the group, arms laden with bags that are threatening to cut off the circulation in your arms, you aren't surprised to see some of them already holding dishes of food.

"These old ladies sure do work fast." You laugh. Rick and Glenn are quick to pass off the dishes in their hands in favor of helping you bring in the stuff for them. They take the sleeping bags from you, leaving you with large shopping bags full of clothing. "So do you guys want everything set up downstairs or you do want to sleep in separate rooms already?"

"Downstairs is fine," Rick says. "At least for now."

In the living room, the sleeping bags are all rolled out and the air mattress is blown up. Rick settles Judith down on the mattress and Carl is quick to crawl on next to her. You've only enlarged one sleeping bag- the one Glenn and Maggie seemed to have gravitated to- when Rick stops you, telling you that you've done more than for him and his family. You ask him if he's sure and he nods, but you can't help just one last wiggle of your fingers to give the sleeping bags a little extra cushion.

"So I guess I'll leave you to it," you say. "In the bag with the clothes, there are plates and utensils. Everyone's offered up their laundry rooms for you to use, but if you're uncomfortable encroaching in on their houses then just get Sophia to show you to mine."

There's a round of thank yous as you leave so you wave and let them settle in. As you're walking out the front door, before you can shut it behind you, someone's gripping it and opening it wider. You're surprised to see Daryl follow you out.

"Everything good?" You ask.

"Yeah." He nods, hands finding their way into his jean's pockets. He shuffles rather sheepishly and you can't help but grin. "Yeah. All good here." You nod and turn to head down the stairs, only for his gruff voice to stop you in your tracks and make you turn back around once more. "Thanks. You didn't have to bring us in or trust us with your secret, but 'ya did. You gave my group a fightin' chance- 'ya gave those kinds in the house a fightin' chance. So thanks."

You smile at him. "You're welcome." He meets your gaze for a moment, eyes hidden behind a curtain of hair and you chuckle. "Go grab a plate of food and a shower, Daryl. You guys are safe here so relax. All of you look like you can sleep for days."

He shakes his head. "We still got people out there."

"And that sucks, I'm sure, but you need to look after yourself first," you say. "You won't be doing anyone any good if you're falling over your own two feet because you're beyond exhausted." Daryl shifts on his feet, his expression turning rather displeased. "Rest up and I promise that when you and a couple others are ready, I'll be right there with you to find your people."

Daryl holds your gaze before he relaxes a bit and he gives you a terse nod. "Fine. Until then, 'ya gotta learn not to rely on 'ya powers or whatever. Gotta keep that a secret until the last second."

Your nose wrinkles and then you sigh. "And here I thought I was done with physical education."

#the walking dead #twd gen fic x reader #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #daryl dixon #rick grimes #carol peletier #michonne #maggie greene #glenn rhee #carl grimes #judith grimes #sophia peletier

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