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nackrosor · 1 year

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~Magic Hands~

𝓢𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓷 '𝓖𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽' 𝓡𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂 𝔁 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

warnings/tags: smut, massage, hurt/comfort, female receiving, v. fingering, soft Ghost, romantic tension, the room is packed with your mates so you have to keep quiet hehe

synopsis: in the aftermath of a rough mission, you find yourself unable to fall asleep due to muscle aches. Your Lieutenant offers to help you release the tension by giving you a massage, which escalates rather quickly.

word count: 4,1k.

[a/n: finally writing for my man Ghost and I'm quite proud of how this first story turned out. Now I'm curious to know what you think of it! Also, this wasn't beta-read so if there's any typo/grammatical error, let me know. Alright, enjoyyyyy 🌶️✨💀]

"You can't sleep?"

Ghost's deep hushed voice coming from somewhere behind you makes you turn in your bedroll. The room is nearly pitch black, with only a sliver of moonlight streaming in through the half-closed window, yet providing enough light to make your close surroundings visible. Therefore, when you turn around, you can see Ghost sitting on the floor a few feet away from you, his back to the stone wall, arms crossed over his chest and legs stretched straight in front of him. The thin dark gray t-shirt, paired with the intense chiaroscuro that imbues the room, highlights the outline of his massive biceps. Your eyes linger on his arms before they meet his, which twinkle slightly as they capture the moonshine.

"You neither?"

He hums in response.

A weary sigh escapes you as you sprawl on your back, hand flying to the nape of your neck, where the muscles tug and burn. You feel like a wreck. You knew today’s operation would have been rough, even more than the last ones and you were prepared for it, you had trained so hard for months. You've risked your own skin multiple times during the offensive, although in the end you got away with only a scratch or two; nothing major. You were still high on adrenaline as you made it back to the base camp -a dilapidated temporary facility in the middle of a thick forest- and you were even rather impressed of yourself for having handled it all so well… until fatigue came crushing on you like a double-decker bus, almost knocking you to your knees and you felt the magnitude of the efforts made in all its gravity. You tried to mask it as you dined with your brothers in arms, a scarce sorry meal that didn’t even quench a third of your appetite, then instantly dragged your 200 pounds heavier than normal legs to the storage room adapted for sleeping and flopped down on your bed roll. You thought the ache would pass, that you only needed to lie down and let your limbs rest but it has already been three or four hours since then and you haven’t been able to close your eyes not even once.

"Everything aches so much. I might have strained a muscle or something. Possibly all of them."

Ghost hums again in understanding. A moment of silence follows; silence only interrupted by the rhythmic snoring of your mates, laying in their bedrolls all around you in the tiny room.

"Come here."

Your head snaps up.

"Uh?"

"You heard me. We need to do something about those sore muscles. Can't allow them to get in the way of the mission tomorrow."

You look questioningly at him, eyes roaming over his masked face, as if expecting to be able to read his intentions. What can he do for you? The same as he can do for himself, which is pretty much nothing; he’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you to suck it up. If only there was a medic in the facility, you could have asked for an injection to ease the tension in your body but alas, you're on your own down here, equipped with no instant medication other than a pack of analgesics reserved for battle and a pain drug; but there's no way you'd take one on a night before a mission and risk waking up as a zombie in the morning.

You’d have to wait for a proper medical treatment when you’re out of this hell, assuming you’re still in one piece by then.

“We don’t have all night, Sergeant.”

Ugh, using your title, of course. It can only mean the Lieutenant won’t accept a refusal from you. And who are you to refuse anyway? Just a lower soldier in pain; nothing special about you.

Even though you are still perplexed about his intentions, you scoot toward him, crawling silently so as to not wake up the others. Fortunately you don’t have to step on someone’s lying body to reach your superior.

He spreads his legs to give you room to get closer and you swallow the thrill that inflames your body at the sight of that big hunk of a man welcoming you in his lap. This is not the time to give in to such fantasies. Nor there will ever be. Hard truth.

Ghost’s fingers masterly find the waistband of your cargo trousers and tug at it to make you slide closer.

"Turn around."

His commanding voice compels you to do as he says without question. There's no room for hesitation when he employs that tone; you must obey his directives, whether you're on the field on a mission or killing time at the HQ. Nobody can stand up to it, least of all you.

You’re barely able to suppress a gasp when you feel his huge hands take hold of your hips and settle you between his thighs, your back colliding with his firm chest. You can't, however, physically stop the shiver that runs down your spine as his palms climb up your sides, sliding upward over your back, causing you to bend slightly forward as he reaches your shoulders. There, he begins to knead your muscles carefully, knowing where to apply more pressure and where to let the tip of his fingers do most of the work.

You’re too stunned to speak. Never in a million years you would have guessed this is what he had in mind to do to help you. Ghost, your Lieutenant, has his hands on you, in a room full of fellow soldiers, in the middle of the night while you are on duty. What crazy-ass dream is this?

"Ghost-," you shudder, his hands working on a particularly sore spot, "a m-massage, seriously?"

“What?”

“They only make things worse-”

While having Ghost do it is a whole new experience for you, you've received your fair share of massages, both throughout your years of training and after you became a special agent and they never seemed to work on you. They always left you in more pain than you were in before. You could have blamed it on the medic if only you hadn’t changed so many during the past years; they couldn't all have been incompetent, could they?

"You never got one from me, innit? They don't call me magic hands for nothing."

You frown, throwing him a sideway glance over your shoulder.

"Nobody calls you that."

You hear him huff and your head is forced back to face straight by a firm nudge.

As strange and unexpected as it may seem, you must admit that his hands are truly doing Lord’s work against your shoulders, easing your tensed muscles and relieving some pain, so much so that you find yourself closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"See? Just relax."

His hands scoot lower, sliding down your back and sides, resting just above your bum. The warmth of his palms rubbing that sore area in circular motions sends more shivers up your spine. In his ascent back up, he pays attention to the tensed muscles of your arms, thumbs kneading deep into them and then finally, he goes back to your neck. Your breath catches at the feeling of his strong hands wrapping around it. His firm touch appears to arouse something primal within you. You can feel heat pooling in your core right away.

"Fucking hell. Your neck is rock hard."

He increases the pressure, rubbing the skin and working on the knots. His thumbs slide up and down your larynx, matching the movement of his other fingers on the nape. Your head bends backward on its own, landing on his chest.

Ghost hums again, appreciatively.

"You liking it?"

"Y-yes, sir-"

His chest shakes softly against your back, a light rumble coming from his throat.

"Good girl."

You bite back a gasp. Those hushed words only add to the growing ache between your legs. The massage is clearly starting to turn you on and you feel… conflicted. You know you shouldn’t let his skillful touch, nor his raspy voice whispering so close to your ear or the warmth of his chest pressed against your back affect you so much. However, you are basically caged in his lap, how are you supposed to not let that cloud your judgment? To not allow your fantasies to run wild in your head? Yes, you’re strong, but… not that strong. You can’t possibly stop your body from reacting so naturally to all of these overwhelming sensations. Especially when you’re so touch-starved, and having Ghost being the one to indulge your craving doesn’t help in the slightest.

" Mh, you're tensing up again."

Ghost swiftly resumes working on your back, placing the palm of each hand on either side of your spine and working his way up, keeping his hands parallel to one another. When he reaches the top of your back, he fans his hands outwards across the shoulders, as if outlining the top of a heart. Using a kneading motion, he returns to the lower of your back to work the large muscles on either side of your spine then presses his fingertips firmly into your flesh before quickly releasing as he works his way up. The constant pressing and releasing sends your spine tingling and you fail to hold back a moan.

“Yes. Don’t fight it.”

If only he knew what you were actually fighting against. How can the tension leave your body if his touch and his closeness and his voice are all working so hard together to make you tense up all the more?

You feel his hands close into fists and his knuckles start to rub gently but firmly across the tops of your shoulders and then glide down your biceps, the inner part of your arms, the side of your chest...

Inadvertently, your body jerks at the new sensation, and his hand accidentally brushes up against your breast, fingers knocking into the slight bulge in your top caused by your aroused nipple. You stifle the moan that erupts from your throat by biting your bottom lip hard, your body stiffening instantaneously.

Silence falls into the room, coating it in tension; your mates are not even snoring anymore. You don’t dare to move a muscle, you can barely keep your ragged breathing under control.

Has he noticed? Does he realize what has just happened? It’s so dark in here and it all happened so quickly, he may have no idea what he has just touched, he may have not caught the lewd sound that came out of your mouth, either. Your body has tensed so much, however, that your reaction must have caught his attention. Any doubt goes out the window when you feel his hands retract and his body shift uncomfortably behind you.

Well, fuck it . You just had to make it awkward, didn’t you? For both of you! How embarrassing. He will look at you and treat you differently from now on, you know it already. You're soldiers, for god’s sake! You're professionals! And he’s your superior! These things shouldn’t happen! They should stay out of work. And to think that you've managed to get this far, despite Ghost's strong magnetic pull on you since the first time you saw him... You’ve hidden your emotions so well for months. But unfortunately, no matter how hard you try and succeed at hiding it, you can’t really control your body and how it reacts to his presence, touch, or gaze. This was bound to happen sooner or later, as much as you prayed it wouldn’t. Besides, how could you have even imagined you would find yourself in such a crazy situation at one point? Working with him every day, getting very physical on the field and still keeping your emotions at bay was already enough to drive you insane. There was no way you could have handled this and came out victorious.

But perhaps you could still salvage this somehow, or at the very least escape the horrible truth-spilling conversation that awaits you. Yes, it is possible. You simply need to get the hell away from Ghost, crawl back to your bedroll, attempt to sleep it off, and put the burden aside to deal with it another day. Easier said than done.

Your hands fumble around you, hoping to meet the cold tiles of the floor -rather than those god-like legs stretched at either side of you- and you bend forward in an attempt to hoist yourself up.

“A-alright, this has been nice-”

A steel-strong arm snakes around your middle and forcefully pulls you back. You gasp as your spine collides with his chest once more.

Now that you're pressed up against him, even closer than you were before, you can feel his bulge against your lower back and your mouth goes dry.

"Ghost-", your voice comes out in a loud, unsteady squick and he instantly hushes you, tightening the grip around your waist.

You feel his hot breath caress your ear even through the balaclava. “We’re not done here, yet.”

His hands start to travel up and down your body once again, bolder this time, skimming over areas he hasn't touched before. The hand wrapped around your middle slips under your tank top, fondling the smooth flesh at your side as it raises, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin, until it reaches the upper area of your stomach. There, his fingertips tease the lower curve of your breast from above the fabric of your sports bra. Your breath catches again but you don't dare to move. He holds his palm there for a long minute.

Is he testing you? Is he messing with you? Is he silently asking for permission to move forward? The affirmative guttural sound that rewards you as you finally throw your morals out the window and boldly place your hand over his and tug it upwards, sweeps away any doubt. His big hand instantly covers your whole breast, groping it gently at first then squeezing it decisively. His other hand comes to match the motion as they both slide inside the cups and fondle your soft sensitive flesh before turning the focus onto your erect nipples, causing you to arch your back forward and shiver.

“Is this-”, your voice catches in your throat as his fingers pinch your nipples hard, lips squeezing together to muffle a groan, “-why they call you magic hands ?”

You feel a light chuckle rumble in his chest and against your back.

“You catch up real quick, Sergeant…”, he whispers in your ear in that gravelly voice that makes you squirm, “...but you don’t know the half of it.” And as if on cue, one of his hands sneaks out of your tank top and slides down your stomach, skimming over the inseam of your pants and resting on your crotch, causing a warmth to spread from deep within your stomach. Two fingers push against your core, suggestively and your heart races. Your breaths are ragged in anticipation.

“Bet you’re desperate to find out, innit?”

You don’t even realize you’re nodding in response until you feel him huff a laugh through his nose, blowing cool air right next to your ear.

"Curiosity killed the cat, didn't you hear?"

His palm rubs against your crotch up and down a few times before giving it a firm squeeze.

You suck in air through your teeth and your hand lands on his thigh at your side, fingers dipping in his firm muscle.

" Please -"

You're not sure what you're even begging him for, your mind dazed with desire, and all you can focus on is the heady sensation of having his warm palm rest so close to your aching cunt but still denying you the touch you desperately crave for.

Ghost doesn't need you to say anything, he clearly knows what you're pleading for and he makes quick work of unzipping your pants before sliding his hand inside. His eager fingers meet your panties which are, unsurprisingly, already soaked; a small detail that he seems to appreciate greatly. He runs his digits over the wet patch on the fabric, eliciting a loud moan from you.

An abrupt stirring sound freezes you and your head snaps up, heart jumping in your throat, while your eyes dart across the room expecting to meet the shocked expression of one of your brothers. The thought of having been spotted however doesn't seem to stop Ghost from pushing his fingers beneath the damp fabric of your undies. You don't have time to still the violent beating of your heart as he begins to circle his way through your folds, instantly drawing back your whole attention. A harsh whine crawls up your throat when the pad of his finger meets your clitoris and his free hand immediately moves to cover your mouth. His clad lips suddenly draw close to your ear, skin tingling at the contact.

"You don't want to wake up the boys, do you, kitten?"

You shake your head profusely and he hums softly.

"Thought so."

You suppress the cries of pleasure that he provokes by rubbing his fingers up and down over your slit in a slow intoxicating way, your hips shaking with each swipe. He presses his forearm against your stomach to hold your body still, squeezing you closer to him as a result.

You wince as you hear it; the wet sound of your desire seems to be the only noise in the otherwise silent room and it only grows louder when Ghost teases your entrance, rubbing his pads around it before easily pushing two fingers inside. You screw your eyes shut and throw your head back against his chest. As he thrusts inside you in a steady rhythm, he presses his palm on your most sensitive part, and drags his hand in a firm circle against it. The feeling is dizzying and it sends lightning jolting through you.

Ghost's hand leaves your mouth to grab your inner thigh and push it over his adjacent knee, spreading your legs wide apart to gain better access to your core and thus shove his fingers deeper inside you. In fact, his next thrust perfectly hits that sacred spot buried deep between your walls and you grasp a fist of his t-shirt and pull it against your lips to muffle your whimpers, while your other hand tugs firmly at his tensed arm lying on your stomach.

You are close, so close. You can feel the heat in your gut begin to bubble and spread, scorching and hair-raising, to the rest of your quivering body. Ghost too seems to notice by the way you tuck into him and clutch at his arm as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded, your safe anchor. His fingers grab your chin and angle your head so that your eyes meet.

His eyes… his big eyes. The only visible part of his face, the only part you are allowed to lay your gaze on and let it linger. And oh, how beautiful they are. Especially now, glinting with moonshine and looking down at you with a special twinkle which you can’t quite decipher but that makes your heart swell.

You prompt yourself up in a daze, just enough to cup his cheek and pull him down to meet you in a quite unorthodox kiss. You press your lips desperately to his mask, just above his own and you feel them twitch at the contact, responding to the kiss only a moment later.

You stay like that while his hand still works against you, faster and sloppier but hitting you perfectly with each push. You keep your lips glued to his as the coiling pleasure in your belly finally snaps, a heady wave of pleasure washes over you and makes your body jerk uncontrollably. Your cries are muffled by the fabric of his mask, even more so when his hand cups the back of your neck and presses you harder against him. He continues to slowly dip his fingers inside your fluttering walls then litter your small bundle of nerves with a few more soft teasing caresses all the while subsiding your spasms with his strong embrace.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your chest heaving hard, heart still racing and legs still shaking when his hand slips out of your pants and you pull back. You let your head rest on his chest as you take a deep long breath. Almost instantly a subdued ruffle of fabrics strikes your ear and you can feel a cool breath blowing on your neck before a pair of soft damp lips meet your boiling skin. You bite your lips at the shiver-inducing sensation; it feels like a vital secret shared in utmost confidence and you don’t dare break the touching moment until his lips retreat and the mask is safely put back on. Only then you chance a look up through a heavy-lidded gaze and you meet his beautiful eyes again, which in turn watch your reactions with a hazy, adoring gaze. All is forgotten; the packed room, the initial conflict you felt, the aching muscles… The only thing you can focus on is the tingling sensation abandoning your body, leaving the way to the heartening warmth of his embrace and gaze.

“Ghost-”

“Simon.”

You gulp, nodding feebly as you reverently search his eyes.

“Simon…”

Saying his name feels strange but also… meaningful. Like uttering a magic word or being handed the sole key that unlocks the armored door that keeps the treasure safe; treasure so priceless and vulnerable that only a few trusted people are allowed to take a glimpse at it.

“I’m-” you fail to find the words, mind dazed and heart hammering in your chest, “that was…”

“Kitten got more than she bargained for.”

You catch an amused hint in his voice and even if you can’t see it, you’re certain there is a smile tugging at his lips, for the corner of his eyes curl up slightly.

“I take it the massage didn't make things worse after all?”

"Well…", you shift in his embrace, turning to face him with a sheepish grin, "that was some effective massage, alright."

You prompt yourself up and reading your intentions he closes his legs to let you settle on his lap, your knees resting on either side of his hips. His eyes never leave yours as you lean up, arms latching around his neck.

"Nothing aches anymore thanks to you…", you grind your hips slowly down against his, relishing in the sound of his heavy breathing picking up, "...but maybe it's you now who is in need of a release ?" You bite your lip at the rousing feeling of his throbbing bulge rubbing against your still sensitive center, as well as at the rare thrilling satisfaction of seeing him crane his head slightly up to look at you.

His hands descend on your hips, fingers almost painfully gripping the flesh, causing you to groan.

"I wouldn't mind it one bit kitten, believe me…", his lust-clouded eyes rake over your body. You see him swallow hard as he glances down where your hips meet and a long breath escapes his lips. His gaze then trails back up, savoring every inch of you, until it finally locks with yours once again. "But you should hit the sack now."

Disappointment shows plainly on your face.

"But-"

"Besides, I'm on second watch tonight."

"T-That’s good! I can sneak out to keep you company. I'm not sleepy! Even less now than before. We can-"

" Negative .” His tone is peremptory and it shuts you up at once. “And don’t fret. You’ll be asleep before your head hits the mat.”

" But -"

His hands slide up your sides and squeeze your waist, pulling you down to sit on his thighs and hold you at eye level.

"We're taking a rain check, Sergeant."

The title again. His words are final, then.

A huge sigh escapes you and you nod at last. Reluctantly, you climb out of his lap, his hands following your every movement to support you. Before you stand on your feet and turn around, you chance one last look at him. Your heart swells as you meet once more his big beautiful eyes which look at you so gently, so wistfully… you think you can catch the promise behind them.

"Don't you dare die tomorrow, Simon."

The corners of his eyes curl up again.

"Surely not on your watch, Kitten."

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strangererotica · 4 months

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Devil Worshipping Cultists Steve & Eddie x Virgin Sacrifice Fem!Reader

ADVISORY: This story contains dark content. Relevant tags are posted below the cut. Proceed only if you’re comfortable consuming content with intense themes and violent imagery. The canon is essentially flipped upside down (no pun intended) with Eddie and Steve behaving as villains in this story.

Eddie and Steve are the villains this story. They are depicted as the kind of devil-worshiping deviants the people of Hawkins accuse Eddie of being. In this story, ‘Hellfire,’ lives up to its name, with Eddie and Steve as a pair of friends who use their ‘devotion,’ to Satan as an excuse to carry out sinister actions.

Additional content warnings: words like bitch and cunt are used as insults against reader. Reader is touched against her will and a knife appears briefly. Reader’s virginity is mocked, as well as her desire to abstain from sex. She is threatened with assault. Misogyny, men being bastards, religious themes (Satan, a church, devil worship). And in the end, the bastards pay…

Eddie Munson’s eyes lick over you sinisterly. “She’s pretty and she’s a virgin?” he huffs, obviously pleased with your ‘credentials.’ “Looks like you hit the jackpot with this one, Steve.”

You hear Steve Harrington, your ‘boyfriend,’ chuckle softly behind you. You’re tempted to turn and face him, but you refuse. He has betrayed you, completely. After three months of dating who you thought was a normal, nice young man, Steve allowed his true personality to emerge. He and his twisted friend Eddie have brought you to a remote location against your will…an abandoned, decaying church. You can’t say for certain what their plans for you are, but it’s obvious they intend to harm you.

Eddie slides a fingertip under your chin, tilting your face upward. Dying sunlight streams through a window on the ceiling. Its rose-tinted glass casts a haunting glow over the room. “See that?” Eddie asks, pointing to the window. “Up there? That’s the only way out of this room-.” He glances mischievously at Steve. “-For her, anyway,” he laughs, then to you, “So unless you’ve got a set of wings I don’t know about...” Eddie moves behind you and abruptly tugs the collar of your shirt downward, splitting the fabric down your back. “…Nope, no wings,” he confirms. Eddie’s eyes feel like snakes slithering over your exposed skin. “…I guess that means you’re dying tonight,” he concludes.

As quickly as it appeared, Eddie’s dark expression turns crudely joyful, a maniacal laughter bursting from inside him. “M’just fucking with you, sweetheart!” he clarifies, but it does nothing to tame the tension in the room. “Something in you is going to die tonight,” Eddie adds, his voice a taunting lilt. “That much is true…”

Steve’s hands close over your shoulders, a familiar touch that had once felt protective. Now, you realize that every gesture of softness, every gentle word from him, has been a lie. Steve’s voice is chillingly calm as he explains: “Your innocence is dying, tonight.” You force yourself to willingly look at Steve. His hazel eyes are filled with a false sincerity. He never cared for you, at all.

Assuming you don’t understand what’s being implied, Eddie chimes in. “We’re taking your virginity tonight, (y/n).” You shake your head at Steve, whose flat expression betrays any sense of remorse. “Why?” you ask, your voice breaking. “Is this because I made you wait?? Because I’m saving that experience…having sex…for my wedding night??”

Eddie laughs out loud at your words; he finds your standards of morality equal parts hilarious and pathetic.

“Christ, Steve!” he chortles. “Where’d you find this one? Behind a pulpit??”

“Trust me (y/n),” Steve tells you. “Eddie and I aren’t doing this because you wouldn’t sleep with me the whole time we were dating. I could have taken what I wanted from you anytime during those three months.” Steve’s lips pout down at you; he’s mocking you now, just like Eddie. “Besides,” Steve continues. “It’s not like I wasn’t fucking around with other bitches the whole time, (y/n). Girls who didn’t have one damn problem spreading their legs for me…”

Eddie slaps Steve’s back in a toxic, macho sort of congratulation. “That’s my boy,” he sings. “Now, let’s get to the best part, Steve.”

Eddie reaches for the front of your shirt and yanks it down, revealing your breasts blooming over a push-up bra. “Well how about that??” he balks. “What kind of virgin wears sexy shit like that under her clothes?”

You glare at Eddie. “Believe it or not, women wear clothes for themselves,” you bite back. “Not everything’s for men and especially not you, asshole!”

Eddie shudders, pretending to be intimidated. “My apologies, y-your highness, your l-ladyship,” he stutters, holding his palms in front of him in surrender. “You got me. I’ll change my ways, I swear.”

Eddie’s open hands close suddenly over your breasts, clutching them firmly, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips. “…But not today,” he grins smugly, continuing to grope you. “Now tell me, did Stevie here at least make it to second base?”

Steve blows a drawn-out raspberry. “Not a chance,” he jeers. “This bitch is as uptight as they come. Barely let me put my tongue in her fuckin’ mouth.” Steve cups your cheek in his hand, making you flinch. “Isn’t that right, baby?” he murmurs, closing the space between you, the tip of his nose nuzzling yours. “You and those fucking standards of yours…But I guess in the end, all your stupid morals made you the best sacrifice of all…”

You lurch back from Steve, right into Eddie’s arms, unfortunately. He spins you around to face him, a sadistic glimmer in his eyes when he speaks. “That’s right (y/n), we’re sacrificing your purity tonight,” Eddie explains. “And the fact that you’re a goody-two shoes little cunt actually makes it all the better.”

“What are you talking about?” you snap. “Sacrificing my purity? Who the hell talks like that? Fucking weirdos-”

“DON’T-,” Eddie shouts, shoving a finger at you. “-DISRESPECT…the RITUAL.” His eyes are like fire; Eddie is seething. “DON’T-disrespect-HIM…”

The sunlight has faded completely by this point. The only illumination in the room is coming from Eddie’s lighter, a thin flame twitching in his unsteady grip.

You stare stone-faced at Steve, your Judas Iscariot, your betrayer, the man whose lies outshine even his beauty. The window blinks above you, lightning flashing nearby.

“Satan,” Steve utters in a low, reverent tone. As if on cue in a cheesy horror movie, thunder rumbles outside the church.

You roll your eyes at Steve, earning you an even harsher glare from Eddie. “Satan?” you parrot back at Steve. “As in, the Devil? Are you serious?”

“-Is this fucking serious enough for you?” Eddie shouts. He pulls a pocket knife from his pants and juts its tip against your throat. “This is how it has to happen. We prayed to Satan, and He told us.”

“Told you what?” you sneer. “That if you fucked a virgin in the sanctuary of an old church, the Devil will give you magic powers or something? You really believe in that kind of shit?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, tugging your arm towards him. “Because it’s real. And you’re about to find out how real it is.”

He yanks you by the wrist, ordering you onto the ground . A bolt of lightning crackles outside, close enough that it makes Steve and Eddie jump. The brief pulse of light illuminates the three of you, and maybe Eddie’s imagining it, but he could swear your eyes look…different. Darker, somehow.

He assumes it’s just a shadow, a trick of the light, and tries to ignore it. Steve pulls at your arm again, trying to force you onto the floor. But you won’t budge. He can’t understand how you’re fighting him; he’s clearly stronger than you are. Thunder shakes the ground beneath your feet, a low hum bellowing from below as if the earth itself is groaning.

“You hear that?” Eddie asks excitedly, his pulse racing. “It’s Him, Steve. It’s fucking Him!”

Wind whips around the old church, its wooden beams creaking like tired bones. Eddie’s lighter begins to flicker in and out; he curses and smacks it against his palm, trying again.

When the flame ignites, its amber glow illuminates only Steve and Eddie’s faces. You appear to have vanished.

“Where the fuck did she go?? She was right-”

“-Well you were the one holding her fucking arm, Steve-how should I-.”

“HEY!” you call from behind the pulpit. Both men whip their bodies to face you, another burst of lightning revealing their wide eyes gazing up at yours.

“H-how did you do that?” Steve asks, his voice wavering. Eddie shakes the bewilderment from his mind, now even more determined to see his plan through. “You little bitch,” he growls. “I don’t know how you did that, how you got up there that fast, but you’re still ours, and we’re still in control!”

Eddie starts for the podium, but finds himself frozen, unable to move an inch. His eyes go wide as saucers, fear washing over his face.

“You both look so small from up here,” you tell them, leaning over the pulpit, your breasts pressed against it. “Small and weak. Pathetic, actually.”

Eddie smacks Steve’s shoulder, telling him to grab you; but try as he might, Steve is frozen in place as well.

The glow from Eddie’s lighter flicks in and out as his hand shakes uncontrollably. “What the hell is this?” Steve asks in a small, timid voice. But Eddie has no answer to give him.

“All those hours the two of you spent praying,” you speculate, getting high on their fear. “I wonder who you were actually praying to? Because it certainly wasn’t me…”

Steve’s jaw goes slack, sweat dripping from his hairline. Eddie wants to know…has to know, if what you’re implying is true. “L…Lord,” he begins tentatively, his voice trembling. “I had no idea-we-had no idea, it was You-.”

“SILENCE,” you order, and Eddie’s lips seal shut. “Bow to your Master, if it’s Satan you praise. Or can you not bring yourself to kneel at the feet of a woman?” A dry laughter rumbles from your chest, filling the room with heat, rattling the church’s bony frame.

Steve and Eddie tremble beneath you. Lightning strikes above the church; you watch its glare in the ceiling window, how it floods the terrified faces of the men at your feet. A tall tree beside the church is struck; it catches fire immediately.

“You bastards would need a taste of Hell, to understand how sick you are,” you tell Steve and Eddie. “Therefore, it’s what I’ll give you.”

The tree collapses against the roof of the church, setting it ablaze. Eddie and Steve whirl their heads to see it, but their feet are still stuck in place.

You remain calm, as if the decrepit old building isn’t going up like a box of matchsticks around you. “Legend says,” you preach to the men. “That the Devil wears a suit and tie…” You lean forward against the pulpit, your black eyes glaring down at them. “…But sometimes, She wears a push-up bra…”

A beam of rotting wood detaches from the ceiling, falling directly in front of Steve and Eddie, blowing dust and smoke into their eyes. As they cough and sputter and try to make out the shape of you behind the pulpit, they realize you’ve vanished. Panic seizes them both as flames draw closer and closer to the place their feet are locked, immovable. Sweat pours down their faces, eyes wide with tears that evaporate as soon as they form. The heat is suffocating, clogging their throats, smoke filling their lungs to bursting…

…And just as the first touch of fire licks at their skin, it STOPS.

Eddie and Steve are laying in the field outside the church, their backs burning, bits of clothing singed off around them. They gulp the fresh air into their mouths, weeping tears that can finally fall, drinking in the rain as it begins to cascade above them.

They watch the church, as the last of its pillars and beams are consumed by fire, brought down to its foundation. Rain puts out the flames remaining, as darkness swallows the area once more. Smoke rises like a prayer to Heaven, along with the tearful utterances of two men forever changed in one night, asking God to forgive them, two sinners grateful to still be breathing…

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the-one-who-lambs · 3 months

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hi hey holy fuck i'm done with this. I tried to render for the first time following a "15 minute" tutorial and my noob ass turned it into a 3 hour learning experience. But now I have Narinder's reference for The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God! Rambles under readmore

SO I BARELY DRAW because I started learning how to draw like... May of last year, and then went bonkers over the summer making lots of progress and once the school year started in august I dropped it to focus on writing... and have drawn basically 1 thing in between then and now. Anyway. Last week I remembered, oh yeah, I used to draw sometimes. And suddenly had an all consuming urge to practice again.

And you know what? I forgot how fucking FUN drawing is. I take it much less seriously than I do my writing so my technique for now is pretty much "go ham and try a bunch of shit because you're getting practice and having fun with it anyway". and it IS fun until I try to do a specific thing and can't figure out how so thanks to those who tuned in to my stream tonight to see me push through the frustrating part of finishing this LMAO. uh according to the krita file this took me 13 and a half hours

If you didn't catch it a while back, the one thing I drew during my kinda-art-hiatus was my Lambert reference! Normal outfit, casual outfit (that they sometimes wear while off-duty, usually when visiting Ratau or just hanging out alone), and wedding outfit ^^

...Which means now that I have my narilamb references I can commission my friends. i have a few people who i already plan to open my wallet for.

"Ive already drawn you fanart for ur fic and now the outfits are very slightly wrong :<" ITS FINE I AM CHERISHING IT FOREVER PLS DONT CHANGE IT ITS PERFECT

"is it okay if i draw your designs" Why do yall think i would be mad about this i will eat that shit UP i would fucking LOVE that and I'm already foaming at the mouth because i'd been asked that a couple times while i was drawing narinder's reference lol

I'm still a beginner and constructive criticism is welcome! Will probably make less intensive references for the OCs in Risen/Fallen or at least draw them, Thenana and Juno for sure

#hannah's rambles #cult of the lamb #narilamb #narinder #cotl #Hannah draws #digital art #idk how else to tag this

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verstappensrealwife · 2 months

Text

Race to remember - Lance Stroll x Reader

fluff, smut

approx. 1300 words

warnings: p in v, fem!receiving oral, smooching, lance P1 🤯🤯

based on this request!

lance stroll masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

It had been a long time coming. Lance was finally leading the race. With just three laps left, the Aston Martin roared around the track at an immense speed, and you were on the edge of your seat. Metaphorically, that is, because you were actually standing, mere inches from the screen in the garage—a definite strain on your retinas, but you didn’t care.

Two laps left. You hadn't moved an inch. The tension in the air was palpable, every fiber of your being focused on the car darting across the asphalt.

One lap left. You watched him intently, noting the six-second lead over second place. Your heart was pounding, probably double its normal rate. Your palms were clammy, your skin too hot, sweat trickling down your back. Anxiety gnawed at you, a wild mix of hope and dread.

On the final turn, he could see the checkered flag waving. The moment seemed to stretch endlessly, every second a universe of possibility and fear.

All the Aston Martin mechanics had rushed to the metal fencing beside the track, cheering and shouting his name. The air vibrated with their excitement.

Your body felt numb.

You didn't initially realize you were moving, guided by Lawrence Stroll towards the parc fermé barriers. Before you knew it, you were at the front, watching as Lance's car pulled into the first-place spot. He jumped out, stood atop the car, basking in the thunderous applause. Not only was this his first win, but it was also a home win. The crowd's roar was a symphony of triumph.

He hopped off the green machine and quickly went to get weighed before spotting you.

As soon as the scales flashed his weight, he dashed toward you, ripping off his helmet and dropping it to the ground without a second thought. He leaped at you, the metal fencing separating your bodies. Tears streamed down his face—you were almost certain—even though you couldn't see his expression clearly. The intensity of the moment, the culmination of all his efforts and dreams, overwhelmed you both.

"You won!" you cheered as he pulled away from the hug. He could only smile and gently pull your face towards his for a kiss.

It wasn't a long kiss, but it was deeply romantic. His lips were a bit dry, and his facial hair scratched your skin, but it was loving and tender. In that moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the joy and intimacy of his incredible victory.

Post-Race Interview

“So Lance, congratulations on your first win, and a home win!” the reporter began. Lance smiled broadly. “Do you have anything you’d like to say to the people to celebrate or to thank?”

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “Erm, yeah, I’d like to thank my the fans, and the team, obviously. Without them, I wouldn’t be in a winning car…” He paused for a moment, glancing down at his feet, then back up. “And my girlfriend, Y/N, for actually believing in me and supporting me… uh, yeah.”

He wasn't used to this much attention. Sure, he got a lot, but never quite like this.

—

“Hello, race winner,” you purred as he walked into the room. He had insisted you go home after the podium ceremony, knowing he’d be a while.

You were wearing thin, lacy lingerie in his favorite color.

He immediately dropped his bag with his race suit and helmet on the floor. “Fucking Christ…” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

He crossed the room in a heartbeat, his hands finding your hips and gently squeezing. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. He was already uncomfortably hard, his desire palpable.

His hands moved slowly, almost reverently, up and down the sides of your body. He carefully unhooked the band of your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms, the delicate fabric cascading to the floor. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of love and longing. Every touch was tender, every movement deliberate, as if he was savoring this intimate moment with you, the culmination of a day filled with triumph and joy.

You took off his shirt, your fingers trailing softly along his skin and faint outline of abs, then unbuckled his belt, his shorts falling to the floor. The moment was quiet, yet sensual. No words needed to be said. You both knew exactly what the other wanted and needed. He undressed completely before guiding you to the bed.

He lay you down on the mattress and settled between your legs, gently pushing the lace aside. His tongue traced a slow, deliberate path up your pussy, drawing a soft sigh of relief from your lips. For nearly ten minutes, his tongue worked magic, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your body until you finally pushed his head away, overwhelmed.

Crawling up your body, he placed tender kisses along the way—your thighs, stomach, chest, neck, and jaw. Each kiss was a promise, a declaration of his love.

“Ready?” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. You hummed with a small nod, and he gently pushed inside you. A moan erupted from both of you—his low and gruff, yours high and breathless.

“I love you,” you confessed, your voice filled with emotion as he moved his hips slowly, rhythmically.

“I love you so much,” he replied, his voice muffled as he buried his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder. His small groans were like sweet nothings whispered into your ears, each movement slow and gentle, savoring the closeness and intimacy of the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a testament to your love, making this moment incredibly sensual, romantic, and deeply personal.

His movements were slow, deliberate, and filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell. Each thrust was a reminder of his love and devotion, a silent communication of the depth of his feelings for you. His hands roamed your body, caressing your skin with a gentle reverence, as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of physical pleasure and emotional connection.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he kissed your neck and whispered sweet nothings against your skin. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine, and you arched into him, seeking even more of his touch. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of you, lost in the euphoria of each other. His lips found yours again, and the kiss was slow, passionate, a melding of souls as much as bodies.

He held you close, his body pressed intimately against yours. His pace remained steady, unhurried, allowing you both to savor every second of the moment. The sounds of your mingled breaths and whispered endearments filled the room, a symphony of love and desire.

As you approached the peak of your pleasure, your grip on him tightened, your nails dragging down his back, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The intensity of your connection grew, and you felt the world around you blur, your senses overwhelmed by the love and passion you shared. His whispered "I love you" echoed in your mind, grounding you even as you felt yourself soaring. The crescendo built, each wave of pleasure bringing you closer to the edge.

When you finally reached your climax, it was like an explosion of light and warmth, filling you with an indescribable sense of bliss. He followed moments later, his groan a deep, satisfying sound that sent aftershocks of pleasure through your body. He held you close, his movements slowing as you both came down from the heights of your shared ecstasy. In the aftermath, he continued to shower you with gentle kisses, whispering his love as you lay entwined, your hearts beating in perfect synchrony.

felt cute x

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fluffy-dixon · 7 months

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The Seasoned Archer - Part 2

WARNINGS: NSFW! Slight hair pulling, no p in v just suggestive, VERY poorly written smut. Read at your own expense.

I don't know what else to add. This is my first sort of NSFW so sorry if i have missed anything.

NSFW - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Part 1 - you don't have to read for this to make sense

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the room. Yet, a slight chill still lingered in the air, rousing you from your deep sleep. You weren’t quite ready to be awake yet. As you shifted, you noticed that both your naked selves were covered in goose bumps. Pulling up the duvet cover from the bottom of the bed, you cocooned yourselves, tucking the covers up to your chin. Settling back down into Daryl’s embrace, you let out a content sigh.

He was still sleeping, and you didn’t want to disturb him. After all, he deserved a day off—especially since he’d essentially worked all night… Daryl rarely rested and if it took a whole night of him fucking you senseless, until he was so exhausted he passed out and got some rest, well…that wasn’t exactly a bad thing.

You’d spent the night entangled in each other’s passion, bodies weaving together in the aftermath. The ache within you was a reminder of the multiple times he’d had ploughed into you. Normally Daryl would make love to you, sweetly but there were some nights where you were both so hungry for each other, the intensity overflowed…that was last night.

Multiple times.

And then some.

You couldn’t sleep when you first entered his room, you tried but Daryl had other ideas in mind.

Not that you were complaining. Revisiting the nights events in your head replaced the throbbing in your core with new wetness and a burning desire for Daryl to be deep inside you again.

Turning on your side, pressing your breasts into his back, now hardened nipples poking into his skin, your mouth found the crook of his neck, gently pressing kisses from his shoulder up and along the side to his jaw, gently tracing your tongue as you move, you could still taste a slight salty-ness to his skin from last night’s antics. Your free hand reached for Daryl’s length, stroking softly up to the tip, you could already feel his arousal growing beneath your touch.

Suddenly, the distant sound of someone banging around outside was enough to snap you out of your haven. It was probably Carol or Michone, one of the girls, you all preferred to stay under the same roof, it felt safer and so it wasn’t out of the ordinary to hear movement or noises, there was always one person awake and pottering. The noise subsided and some soft thudding moved down the hallway away from you.

You hadn’t realised that Daryl was awake until his calloused hand, rough from countless battles, cups your cheek, thumb grazing your skin. The scent of sweat, leather, and pine clings to him, a heavy mix that intoxicates your senses. His other hand finds its way into your hair gently tugging at the bottom of your neck, pulling your head back slightly.

His lips meet yours, the kiss, fierce, consuming, as if he’s trying to imprint himself upon you, leaving no room for doubt, His mouth moves against yours, tongue exploring all the contours of your mouth and you couldn’t help but let out a little moan, causing him to buck into you.

Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. His stubble grazes your skin, igniting sparks of sensation causing you to shiver all over. The taste of him—smoke, salt, and something primal—lingers on your lips. Daryl’s grip tightens around your waist, pulling you onto his lap, now straddling him, you could feel how hard he was between your legs and taking full advantage of that, you teased him, gliding your wet core against his hardness, back and forth, slowly.

“I need you”. He pulls away, breath ragged, eyes searching yours.

You were both distracted by Daryl’s door flying open, slamming against the wall, you were both so caught up in that moment that you hadn’t heard Carol knocking on the door, her footsteps faltered as she pushed open the bedroom door, her knuckles grazing the wooden frame,

“Daryl, are you okay? You never sleep this la….” Looking up from the pile of washing she was carrying.

Daryl, his usually stoic face now a mask of disbelief, sat up abruptly throwing you off of his lap, pulling the sheets around him as if they could shield him from the sudden intrusion. You swiftly moved behind Daryl, wide-eyed bedsheet clutched to your chest and your cheeks flushed crimson.

Carol’s own face mirrored the hue of a ripe tomato. She stammered an apology, her voice barely audible. “I—I’m so sorry,” she managed, her eyes darting between the two figures frozen in their vulnerability. “I didn’t mean to—”

But the words hung in the air. The room seemed to shrink around you both in complete embarrassment, mortified and stuck like rabbits in the headlights, unable to move - hoping this whole situation wasn’t real.

But Carol? Face no longer like a ripe tomato was now beaming when she realised that it was you Daryl was in bed with, her grin stretching from ear to ear,

“Congratulations Pookie!” she blurted out, her voice too loud for the small room. “So, the rumours were true! I’m so happy for you both!” She clapped her hands together, the sound echoing off the walls. “This is wonderful!”

Daryl’s shock remained etched on his face. He blinked at Carol, rendered momentarily speechless. Wrapped in the bedsheet, you managed a feeble smile—a blend of embarrassment and amusement—but words eluded you.

“Sorry,” Carol stammered, her realization dawning. “I’ll, uh, leave you two alone.” She retreated from the room, closing the door more delicately this time. Yet, before disappearing completely, she popped her head back around the door, her grin still wide.

“So that’s what all the banging has been at night—makes sense…” Carol began, but her sentence was abruptly cut short. Daryl, swift and mortified, snatched up a pillow and hurled it in her direction, the door slamming shut behind her.

In the aftermath, Daryl groaned, collapsing back onto the bed in disbelief. You, still sitting there, felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Contemplating escape through the window or how you’d ever face Carol again.

This is my first every teeny bit of NSFW/SMUT.

Please be nice, I'm just dipping my toes in.

If you have requests for some smut, please tell me <3

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #norman reedus #twd #daryl x reader #daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x female reader #daryl smut #twd smut

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cherridiamonds · 2 months

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god i love the concept of living air tanks. taking this girl and puffing her up with helium until she's blimp-sized, and she's more helium than girl at this point. soft gurgling creaks and groans as her body struggles to contain it all. but of course, it can't on its own, and so it finds little hissing leaks here and there.

namely, through that cute little cock of hers.

before she became like... this, she used to crank it like everyone else., and like everyone else, she fuckin' enjoyed it. she loved reaching the point where you feel the internal pressure spreading all over your body like you're fit to burst, and then... pop! A little stream of thick off-white mucus, gushing from her like some sort of tiny geyser. That little bit of pressure's always been the best part, though. Feeling tighter and tighter, warmer and warmer, until you finally get your release and cum your goddamn brains out. it's the best thing about jacking off, really.

But now? She can't even reach it anymore. She probably can't even see any part of herself anymore, being tied down and tugged around like a living parade float. But there's still a small little hisss hisss down there, no matter how much she tries to hold it.

This makes it all the more adorably pathetic when someone takes pity on her and decides to give this poor girl such a badly needed release. Oh, what's that? You're so puffed up you can't touch yourself anymore? But you're so pent up! I can see it twitching. It's so sad! You're just stuck at the apex of that feeling of intense pressure and pleasure, without any way to relieve it!

Oh, you're just so cute~! You're so fucking cute~! You're squirming and twitching like you're about to burst from pleasure just from gently running my fingers across your cute little shaft! You're so sensitive all over, aren'tcha? I could drag my fingers all over that taut, rubbery body of yours, and you'd practically cum your brains out from the sensations. I'm not even rubbing your little hog yet, so why are you whimpering already? It's like you know what'll happen when I keep doing it, right? You'll get a little release, but not the type you thought. After all, you're not a regular girl anymore. You're an air tank now. You're going to cum puff after puff of helium, twitching and burping and giggling all the way through. Isn't that funny? You're so different now, you can't even cum normally anymore! I bet you don't even remember what cumming's supposed to feel like anymore! You're more tank than girl at this point! In fact, you're more like if an air tank was a girl! God, you're such a cute "little" air tank, and that little twitchy "nozzle" of yours is even cuter.

Now...

...Let's see how well you fill balloons.

#cherry.txt #text #tubular #neat and tidy #dogpark #(i think)

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jessieren · 5 days

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Here In America

I managed to go and see Here In America last night and, as promised, here's my (fairly brief) review. If you're going to see it and don't want to know anything in advance then don't read any further - although I've tried hard not to include any spoilers.

Firstly the theatre is tiny... and I mean really really tiny! When they said in the promo video 'you're going to be up close and personal with the audience' they weren't kidding. The stage area is incredibly tight and all the audience are within a few feet of the actors.

The scale of the theatre really gives the sense that you're 'in the room' with what's happening and adds to the sense of tension as the play builds. It also means that you can see the actors every expression and movement and they don't need to project/act up in the same way as you would in a large normal layout theatre. My personal view is that this suited Shaun's more minimal nuanced acting style really well - it was almost like acting for the camera.

The play is just under 90 minutes and is intense, quite complex, and dialogue heavy but the pacing is incredible and the 90 minutes disappeared in a flash. Shaun is on stage for pretty much all of that time and much of the dialogue and interaction happens between Kazan and Miller. The set, props and lighting are very minimal but work well and support the interactions (the scrabble scene near the beginning is great and sets the play up really well).

All four actors are absolutely brilliant but Shaun and Michael Aloni's performances are truly stunning. Shaun really does hold the entire piece together but without overwhelming or detracting from any of the other performances. Whilst it is intense there are some small moments of comedy and Shaun, in particular, plays those really well.

I enjoy plays with small casts as I think you get far more from the relationships and interactions and this is an absolute case in point. The details and nuance of the way the characters interact build a picture of their relationships that support and help move the play along and I think also build a genuine sense of empathy with the conflicts at the heart of the play. I went into it with a clear view of what/who I thought was right and wrong but the script and performances really made me reconsider my views throughout - and I'm still questioning how I feel about it 24 hours later.

Whilst Shaun doesn't look like Kazan (Aloni truly becomes Miller in an uncanny way, and similarly Jasmine is compelling as Monroe - not an easy ask), he is really convincing and plays him with a charm and charisma that gives a fully rounded view of him as a man and the choices he made, where it could have been easy to play him as a more two dimensional 'bad guy'.

I absolutely loved it and really hope it gets the praise and attention it deserves. Its one of the best pieces of theatre I've seen - and I go to a lot!

I'd highly recommend getting to see it - or paying to stream when its available.

Just as a side note: The play covers a lot of ground and refers to quite a lot of detail of Miller and Kazan's lives in particular. My personal view is that you get more from it if you already know the overall chronology of what happened in that period and also understand the basics of Kazan and Miller. I'm sure its still very watchable without the background but personally I felt I got a lot more from it from knowing something about the key characters, events and timeline.

#shaun evans #itv endeavour #endeavour morse #here in america #orange tree theatre #shaun does theatre #my review #no spoilers #but go watch it if you can

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deception-united · 5 months

Note

Hello hello! I love your blog and its really helping me get back into writing after an uncomfortably long burnout break. My question is how would you write a character slowly going insane because of their circumstances and the things they are forced to endure to go through them? Thank you so much in advance?

Hi, I'm so glad you've been finding it helpful! I went over some of this in a bit more detail in my previous post answering a similar question (how to write a character slowly going insane from their world going out of their control), but it won't hurt to address it again.

Have a Baseline:

When writing a character who is slowly going insane due to external factors and challenges, it's important to start by introducing your character at a point where they're relatively stable mentally, showing their personality, goals, and relationships to give a general idea of how their life normally was before the deterioration of their mental stability. This will allow the readers to see for themselves what changes and shifts occurred, as well as their consequences.

Stressors:

Identify the key events or circumstances that will gradually wear down your character's sanity—whether it be external factors (intense stress, a traumatic experience, isolation, facing a series of challenges they aren't equipped or prepared to handle), internal, or both. In any case, it's important to have a clear reason in place.

Internal Struggle:

As the character starts to feel more and more pressure and stress, the initial signs of distress will start to show, both in their thoughts and behaviour. Using internal monologue or stream-of-consciousness narration to show their mental state. It may start with the character questioning themselves and behaving irrationally, then change to risky or self-destructive behaviour as their perceptions become increasingly distorted.

Thanks for asking! Happy writing ❤

Previous | Next

#ask #writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #creative writing #character writing #character development #writing characters #deception-united

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everythingpeaches · 3 months

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In which Sirius is distracted by green apples.

Lily, despite the past five years of intense dislike, has grown rather fond of James in the past year. But Lily is also a human being with a finite amount of patience and James on his own is very different to James and Sirius together.

'What have you done?'

It's a pointless question, she can see what they've done. What they've done is spilling like rapids down the fourth floor corridor and staining the hardwood green.

'It was an experiment,' Sirius says with a reckless amount of nonchalance.

'It was an accident,' James corrects with a more appropriate degree of chagrin.

'What exactly were you trying to do?' Asks Remus, looking far more amused than Lily who has turned a rather lovely shade of plum.

Lily took her role as a prefect a lot more seriously than Remus, who had thought it a joke when his shiny gold badge had first arrived in the mail. The other marauders had certainly found it hilarious. It had turned out not to be a joke, though, but rather some harebrained plan by Dumbledore to instill a level of control over the unruly marauders. So far, the plan had been unsuccessful, mostly because Remus ignored his prefect duties on every occasion presented to him. Still, the private bathroom had its perks and he didn't mind patrolling when it was with Lily. That was until they stumbled upon James and Sirius in the middle of a slime filled corridor.

'Well James bet me five sickles that I couldn't transfigure the water in the taps to firewhisky-'

'A bet I won, by the way,' James interrupts.

'Well anyway, I got a bit distracted while I was casting and I think I got my ahs and oohs mixed up, and well...' he trails off, gesturing to the mess around them.

It's a wonder no professors have emerged to investigate the sound of rushing water or the cries of alarm coming from some of the lower hanging paintings.

'It actually smells rather lovely,' Remus says.

'Green apple,' Sirius confirms with a nod and a slight blush.

It was the smell of Remus’ shampoo.

'Oh,' Remus says, his own cheeks flushing.

Oblivious, Lily throws her arms in the air and lets out a huff of annoyance.

'Well, as lovely as it smells it can't stay here. It's going to start running down the stairs. Can't you stop it?'

'Ah well, in theory yes!' Sirius says, pulling his gaze from the other prefect to smile brightly at the angry red head.

'But in the very practical sense,' James says, attempting seriousness, 'no.'

'I've never been as good at the counter charms, my attention span doesn't usually last that long. I like making messes, not cleaning them up.' Sirius explains, leaning casually against the wall and twirling a piece of hair around his finger. 'That's normally Moony's job, but you've stolen him from us.'

'Well I am sorry, Black, but I should think you ought to learn to clean up after yourself, don't you? Remus isn't your maid.'

Remus thinks that role describes him rather perfectly, but the look in Sirius eyes tells him he's one comment away from making a joke about Remus in a frilly white apron so he shuts up and leaves Lily to the admonishing.

He instead turns his focus to the ever flowing stream of green. It looks very much like the same spell they had used to flood the dungeons in third year, with a few tweaks Remus is sure he can work out.

He loves undoing magic. It is like untangling threads, picking pieces apart until the knot comes loose and order is restored. He especially enjoys undoing Sirius' spells, who casts magic with such careless ease it leaves Remus both incredibly envious and full of awe.

Remus begins muttering incantations under his breath, twiddling his wand around and feeling the flow of liquid begin to slow and then, eventually, receed back up the corridor and into the taps of the fourth floor bathroom.

Lily, James and Sirius stop their bickering to watch with equal expressions of shock.

'Moony, you're a genius!' James shouts appreciatively.

'Shush!' Lily hisses, flapping her hands at James before turning to Remus, 'Wow, nice work, Remus.'

'Told you,' Sirius says with a smirk.

Remus makes his usual show of modesty, although he is secretly quite pleased with all the praise.

'It was nothing, really, pretty simple. Although I'm not sure what to do about the smell.'

The hallway, now clear of liquid, still smells overwhelmingly of green apples.

'Well it could be worse, at least it's not dungbombs. It is rather lovely,' Lily says, causing Remus to blush again.

'We should probably get away from here before Filch turns up and makes us scrub the teachers' toilets again,' James says and then, hopefully, 'Coming Lily?'

'We should really finish patrolling,' Lily begins but Remus can tell her hearts not in it.

'Oh come on, Lil, it's pretty late already and it's Hogsmede tomorrow, I thought you wanted to get up early to beat the breakfast rush,' he says, glancing at where Sirius is still leaning against the wall. He would very much like to cut his patrol short and head back to Gryffindor tower.

'I suppose...' she starts, and James takes that as all the encouragement he needs.

'Come on, then, I'll walk you back!'

Together, the pair start off down the corridor leaving Remus and Sirius to follow several paces behind.

'So,' Remus asks, watching his two friends in front of them, rather than the boy beside him, 'What was it you were thinking about that distracted you so badly you flooded the corridor?'

'Well,' Sirius replies slowly, fingers brushing against the back of Remus' hand as they walk, 'let's get back to the dormitory and I'll show you.'

'Oi Black,' James calls over his shoulder, making both boys jump suddenly.

'What do you want, Potter?' Sirius hisses back.

'You owe me five sickles.'

#wolfstar #marauders #jily #wolfstar fic #harry potter #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #james potter #remus x sirius #james x lily

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starglitterz · 24 days

Text

serendipity. (x)

─── chapter 10 ! ~ a normal day at komore (until it wasn’t)

summary; when you, a waitress at the local coffee shop, are paired up with the new recruit scaramouche, you’re pretty sure both of you are going to get fired within a week. he’s just quit being a social media influencer and after being forced to work here to make ends meet, he’s ready to let everyone there know how much he hates it. the worst part? you can’t shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere. but as he slowly warms up to you, scaramouche realises that having a fresh start isn’t that bad after all, and perhaps the two of you meeting like this was pure serendipity.

a/n; new arc!! also i've been gone for a million years sorry 😭 life is just always on my ass for no reason, but hopefully i'll be able to finish this series soon hehehe, i wanna start a new one.

warning(s); none but i feel like the flow of the irl part is so abysmal it deserves its own warning LMFAO

previous.┃masterlist.┃next.

please reblog + comment ! it helps a lot :)

twitter #1 !

irl !

everything’s been going well today. the milkman delivered a couple extra bottles for free, a customer left an incredibly generous tip, and thoma perfected a new dessert. the day’s been going almost a little too well, but you don’t want to say it out loud for fear of jinxing it. it’s almost closing time, so thoma and yoimiya have already gone home too. maybe this could be the first time komore teahouse has an entirely uneventful day?! unfortunately for that dream, a second later you hear an easily recognisable shattering sound from where you’re cleaning out the storeroom – someone’s dropped a plate. sighing internally, you plaster on your best customer-service smile and grab the broom and dustpan before heading back out to sort out the mess.

the sight that greets you isn’t what you expected at all. scaramouche is standing opposite a tall, elegant woman dressed in a suit with neatly plaited purple hair, and the shards of the plate are scattered on the floor between them, almost like a line he’s daring her to cross. the woman’s eyes flicker with a myriad of emotions and she reaches out a hand, seemingly to cup his cheek, but scaramouche instantly slaps it away, fury evident in his gaze. hurt flashes across her face, and her voice trembles as she murmurs, “kuni-”. but before she can finish her sentence, scaramouche snarls, “fuck off.” “please, just hear me out,” she pleads, her indigo irises that look strangely familiar threatening to brim over with unshed tears. anger is practically radiating off of scaramouche, you’ve never seen him this upset – you’ve only seen his usual aloof facade. his fists are clenched, and his glare is so intense you swear it’s like he’s trying to strike lightning into the heart of the unknown woman as he spits, “you don’t get to just waltz back into my life after-”

a piece of ceramic from the broken plate cracks under your foot as you step backwards, the sound almost deafening amidst the tension, and scaramouche’s head snaps to face you. for a moment, he looks so devastated that a strange urge to rush forward and comfort him almost overwhelms you, but then he conceals it behind a cold stare as he turns back to the woman, “i can’t do this right now.” with that, he walks out of the cafe, ignoring the way she winces as the door slams shut. with scaramouche gone, tears start to stream down the woman’s cheeks, and she buries her face in her palms as her shoulders shake with quiet sobs. tentatively stepping forward, you pat her back, “ma’am, are you alright?” as soon as the words slip out of your mouth you’re scolding yourself for asking such a stupid question – she obviously isn’t fine! thankfully, she inhales deeply before sighing, “no. but that isn’t your burden to carry.” unsure of what to do next, you settle for giving her an awkward smile before starting to sweep up the pieces of the plate. “i’ll compensate you for the plate, of course,” she says, placing a wad of cash on the counter, “i hope that makes up for the scene i caused.” “thank you…” you murmur, staring at the money and wondering how much this lady thinks plates cost, “and don’t worry, it was half scara’s fault too.”

“scara?” her voice sounds strange when she utters his name, as if she’s testing how the name feels on her tongue, “is that what he goes by?” “yeah,” you look up at her as you finish sweeping, “he’s our newest barista.” “oh… good for him, then.” you can’t tell if she means it or not. “i’ll be taking my leave now, but i’ll be back soon. thank you for being so accommodating.” she continues, and you don’t dare look up until you hear the sound of the bell above the door signaling her exit. now what on earth was that about?

twitter #2 !

#[☕] ━━━ serendipity !#scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche fluff #genshin smau #genshin impact smau #scaramouche smau #scaramouche

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foern · 7 months

Note

hii!! how are you doing?? this is my first time so i applogize if i lack of details/u have a hard time understanding this. May i request for Tokyo Revengers (Mitsuya, Draken, Rindou) where they compliment or just appreciates s/o but she just cries when she heard ut? she kinda barely got attention and praises like that so it kind of melts her heart

they can be like normally say "im so grateful for you" "ur so pretty", but s/o just cries as a response HAHDHSJA I wanna know what theyd do or react, if thats okay ofc! i apologize if im dosturbing your time, i hope u have a great day!

~😻

Anon tysm for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it! I haven’t really read the Manga, so I don’t think I know enough about Rindou to write for him. I replaced him with Mikey, I hope that's okay!

Sorry this id kind of short and took forever, ive been super busy (literally moved to another continent). Anyway, hope you like it!

———————————————————————

Mikey

Mikey’s eyes followed you as you busied yourself in the kitchen, grabbing ingredients to prepare breakfast for the two of you—bacon and eggs. Distracted, you cracked an egg into the hot pan, oblivious to Mikey’s intense gaze. The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a radiant glow on everything it touched, including you. With messy hair from sleep, clad in Mikey’s sweatshirt, and a bare face, you looked absolutely stunning.

“You’re so pretty.” Your gaze swiftly met the blonde-haired boy's; his eyes sparkled, and a warm, admiring smile graced his lips. There was no doubt in the world that he was anything but sincere.

“Don’t be stupid.” You mumble, an obvious blush creeping its way onto your cheeks. Truth be told, you felt completely hideous that day. Your hair was an unbrushed mess, you had no makeup on, and you were still in your pajamas. A wave of insecurity washed over you; a heavy weight settled itself on your chest. As tears welled up in your eyes you turned back to the eggs, unwilling to let Mikey see you cry.

“Hey, hey, hey, why the tears?” Mikey stands up from his chair and steps in front of me. He rests his hand on my waist, rubbing soothing circles into my skin. The words catch in my throat, making it impossible to articulate the emotions flooding over me. Truth be told, I don't even know why I'm crying. His free hand gently lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"You're beautiful," he reassures, his thumb moving from my chin to caress my lip, "Especially when you're making me breakfast."

——————————————————————

Mitsuya

I delicately run my fingers across the luxurious texture of my dress, savoring the sensation of the soft fabric across my skin. My gaze takes in every detail of the meticulously crafted garment—each stitch, every contour, a testament to its thoughtful design. A nervous smile graces my lips as I turn to meet Takashi’s gaze.

“What do you think?” I ask, my voice carrying a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. A faint blush creeps over my face as I catch him admiring my silhouette. His response, a simple yet sincere "You look absolutely stunning," sends a rush of warmth through me.

His bluntness catches me off guard for a moment. I never really grew up receiving compliments, so even now, they have the power to surprise me. A warm weight settles into my chest as an unexpected wave of emotion washes over me. The confident smile I wore earlier fades, replaced by a genuine, slightly flustered one. Rising from his chair, he makes his way towards me.

As he stands before me, placing a hand gently on my hip and the other softly on my cheek, I can't help but marvel at the tenderness in his touch. I hadn't realized a tear was rolling down my face until he wiped it away with his thumb. My heart melts at this action, his eyes never leaving mine. His unwavering, concerned gaze causes my tears to flow more steadily.

“You mean it?” I manage to utter, my voice carrying a mix of disbelief and gratitude. I honestly don’t know why I’m crying, but in this moment, none of that matters. He shakes his head with a reassuring nod. His hand guides me into a comforting hug, the type you never want to leave. “Of course, but I don’t know why you’re crying though. I think it means I should just compliment you more often.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev x reader #manjiro sano x reader #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #tokyo revengers fluff

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snapscube · 1 year

Note

hey big fan of your channel and art!! was wondering if for the midnight snap series what kind of sound design you were doing it rlly sounds nice!! (also smth that could be nice with it is maybe a little bit of like tape saturation or something might be able to make the audio sound "warmer" if youre like not already doing something like that already, but you probably know better than me!!) feel free to ignore that, but wanted to say in general its so well done and sounds so good!!! its really cozy and nice!!

hey thank you!!! yeah i'd.... genuinely LOVE to talk about my thinking and approach behind the sound design, i'm actually so happy you asked me this LOL this is the kind of shit i live for.

you might assume that it's just me recording the game audio and talking quietly with my normal stream settings, and that is kinda how it STARTS, but there's actually a bit more i've been doing behind the scenes :) nothing too crazy just yet but a little goes a long way when it comes to sound! i'm hoping to really nail down the soundscape and increase the quality over time and specifically up the soothing vibes by a lot. as well as get a little better about mic etiquette and my style of speech. BUT in terms of what i'm doing in post:

the first piece of the puzzle and definitely one of the most important sauces in the whole mix is the Hard Limiter. it does what you might imagine it does, basically just places a hard barrier and says "any sounds that exceed this volume.... no you don't", sort of like a much more intense compressor. currently i have a Hard Limiter on both my commentary AND the game audio, commentary i have set to peak at around -15 to -12 db, whereas game audio is more around the -23 to -20 range. in my more polished audio from later in the AC episode it's enough difference that one doesn't drown the other out in most cases, but not a wide enough gulf that people are struggling to pay attention to one in particular or have to frequently change volume (preferably they don't have to change it at all!). i took this screenshot of the episode's complete waveform when rendering out the audio-only version of AC part 1 and it was super satisfying cause like.... yeah. this is exactly the kind of waveform read i was going for. just super even and smooth across the board, save for a couple anomalies i'll buff out over time.

the next thing i do to both my own commentary and the game audio is actually just cutting down on harsher, higher frequencies with an EQ and just upping the bassier, warmer tones. i started with something super small in the first couple of episodes, i'm probably gonna go a bit harder on it for future stuff though. i wanna find a balance that doesn't make the game sound unrecognizable or anything but is noticeably easier on the ears and sounds more like a nice rolling wave rather than beep boop pac-man time.

past this i have a couple more things added to the commentary track:

to intensify the previous effect mentioned and cut down on harsh frequencies in my speech, i actually have a dedicated de-esser on my voice as well as my usual warmer EQ. i have the de-esser going pretty hard too, you might hear the difference from my usual stream commentary if you were to listen closely. really just taking those harsh t's and s's in my speech and making them sound more like a nice "shhhh", this one is super important i think

last thing i have to speak on otherwise is actually a plugin i found and bought specifically for this show and ends up being subtle but i think SUUUPER helpful in the long run, and that's this plugin called "spiff". spiff is a plugin by oeksound and i guess it's referred to as like, a transient editor? i'm actually not sure how it works at all on the nitty gritty level BUT the important thing is that they have a very important preset in the software, and that is a preset specifically designed to lessen and/or remove like... mouth sounds. yknow like lip smacks and the like. just kinda the gross smacks and clicks you don't hear as much in normal speech but can come through really intensely on a recording and kinda make ya uncomfortable. it obviously doesn't remove a lot of the more intense stuff, it's not a magic wand in my experience. but listening to the output of what it's removing on its own makes it REALLY clear there's a lot of little things it picks up and just kinda makes speech more soothing to listen to. not something i'm racing to apply to my normal streams, BUT for a sleep aid series where good audio is key????? 100% worth it, i like it a lot.

anyway yeah that's about it for now! a lot of it is pretty simple in and of itself but it's stuff i've been working at and experimenting with since i first started doing tests for the show and it's gonna be real nice to keep honing this stuff in. also cool suggestion with the tape saturation idea, i might look into something like that! once i nail stuff like leveling and frequency tuning for this show, i wanna look into some fancier ways of making the soundscape unique to this show compared to my normal streams so ideas like that are super helpful!

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Text

Cant Live This Life Without You

Prompt: YN runs into a rogue wolf in the woods

Warnings: violence, blood, abo!

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

If you want my work two weeks earlier, plus polls to vote for content, plus exclusive blurbs and tropes - please consider joining my patreon for $3 ❤️

YN knew despite how much Harry acted like he hated it, she enjoyed hiding in the woods and having him hunt her down.

His scenting skills, hunting skills were impeccable as the alpha of his pack, especially when it came to finding his mate who radiated honey and berries.

He was in town for a meeting with the mayor, it was not anything out of the usual but Harry offered their small city security from other packs.

YN knew he would be on his way home soon and she hasn’t pissed him off in a few days and that was just downright unacceptable.

She knew if she told Niall or Liam that she was going into the woods, they would have prohibited it and told Harry on her - so she manages to sneak out the back door when they’re distracted.

It was cool, middle of fall, and she was dressed in just a sweatshirt, leggings, and sneakers as she enters into the forest surrounding their estate.

She enjoyed to read by a stream about half a mile in, there were usually little animals like squirrels and chipmunks scurrying around to keep her company.

YN also had a book tucked under her arm, half of this was playing keep away from her mate but the other was she actually enjoyed reading in the woods.

Harry would find her quickly, maybe if she was lucky he wouldn’t be against having some fun while they’re out there either.

She gets engrossed quickly in her book, sitting in the grass near the trickling water - it was nice to be in nature away from the sound of cars and people.

Until YN hears footfall behind her, leaves crunching under the weight of a body, and a deep growl that was low and vibrating.

That didn’t take long, she thinks.

When YN closes her book and turns to look over her shoulder, she isn’t met with the wolf she was expecting.

Harry was massive in were form, his fur was chestnut brown, shiny, and curled at the ends - he had ears that stood straight up in alert and forest green eyes.

This wasn’t him.

And it wasn’t a wolf from their pack.

It was scraggly but still bigger than an an average human, skinny and their fur looked matted - like they didn’t take care of themselves or that they were sick.

It’s eyes were yellowish-grey, fur colored a dirty tan, and it’s rotting teeth were bared at her in threat because this wasn’t a member of their family.

There shouldn’t be any other wolves for hundreds of miles, for that matter, that weren’t part of The Styles’ Tribe, and for the animal to be in such close contact to the leader’s omega was horrifying.

YN’s frozen in fear for a moment, she doesn’t know whether she should scream or stay quiet to not upset the beast further.

Her heartbeat has risen above anything normal for her, Harry should be able to detect it for miles, along with the anxious scent she’s surely given off and that’s all reliant on whether he’s home yet.

The creature begins to stalk forward, drool hanging from their canines, and tongue lolling out to the side of its filthy mouth.

She reaches for her heavy book, chucking it at the wolf’s head in hopes to get a head start as she scrambles from the forest floor, and starts sprinting in the direction of their home.

YN isn’t fast enough and the distraction doesn’t work because she feels teeth sink into her calf - shooting, intense pain making her tumble to the ground with a loud cry.

She knew she was hurt and that this wasn’t looking good as the tan wolf let’s out howl that rocks the trees - it was going to go in for the kill.

It’s only a moment after that, that there’s a stampede through the forest and the ever familiar brown wolf is tackling the rouge one to the ground.

YN has to look away as her mate bites into the wolf’s neck and tears out his jugular vein, obliterating the creature quickly before he’s ripping the rest of his throat and chest to shreds.

She squeezes her eyes shut as she hears the tan wolf’s squeals and yelps for mercy as Harry’s roars override and he continues until there’s no more noise coming from the rouge enemy.

Niall, Liam, Mitch, and Zayn are surrounding YN as the others disperse into the forest to make sure there aren’t any others.

YN’s leg is on fire, she knows she’s bleeding and that there’s a lot it because she’s starting to feel woozy and like she may pass out.

As they circle her, Harry must have finished with the outsider, he has blood dripping from his jaws and it’s matting his fur with red.

He’s furious but so fucking worried - more so than ever before, YN can physically feel it through their bond as he nudges harshly at her with his snout to display her wound, a rumble steady in his chest.

Harry only evaluates it for a moment before he’s making eye contact with his subordinates- speaking between themselves before Niall is stepping forward and picking YN with his teeth by her sweater.

YN begins to protest, her leg was in such pain right now she didn’t want to move but Harry barks at her to settle down which she follows her alpha’s command.

Niall uses the grip on her to set her atop Harry’s back, where she nestled her fists tightly in the fur as he takes off back towards the estate - galloping faster than any animal in the wild.

When they’re in front of the mansion, Niall steps in to once again - take her by her sweater and help her off of Harry’s back.

The moment that’s happens, Harry is shifting back into human form, bare but unbothered because it’s their normal as the others will wait until YN leaves to shift back.

“I cannot fuckin’ belief this,” Is the first thing out of his mouth as he scoops her up off the grass and storms into the house, up the stairs towards their room, “Do you not realize you could have gotten fucking killed?”

YN couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t scare right now, he’d never ever raised his voice at her like this, especially when using his alpha tone - it was echoing through the halls and his eyes were nearly black.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” She tries in her softest tone, she was looking up at him but he wouldn’t meet her gaze as he snarled at her words.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Harry bites back angrily as he kicks open their door and doesn’t acknowledge when it nearly splinters because of it, “Not when I nearly almost just lost my mate. It’s not fuckin’ good enough.”

There’s silent tears streaming down her cheeks at this point, Harry was rarely truly angry at her - he was always in a state of grumpiness but never true rage like this.

Harry moves past their bed into the bathroom to set her down on the countertop before he’s rummaging through their linens closet until he pulls out a first aid kit.

His facial expression is stone as he demands, “Lift your hips,” so he can shimmy off her torn up leggings after taking off her shoes.

Then he’s kneeling down, turning her leg to view the damage, it wasn’t bleeding as furiously now but it was still on his hands.

“You’re lucky he didn’t rip off your fuckin’ leg,” Harry tells her through a continuous unhappy growl, he wipes the bite down with an antiseptic, “He got you good.”

“It hurts,” YN mumbles as the wipe stings, she knows Harry’s going to clean it then heal it himself but the bite has been deep.

“It wouldn’t have happened if you just listen to me,” Harry’s voice is raised again and his hands are actually shaking with his emotion, “Do you not realize that you were almost fucking killed? Do you? What would have happened if I wasn’t pulling in the driveway when I scented you - three miles into the god damn woods.”

YN honestly hadn’t realized she had went three miles deep into forest to that stream - she always got distracted by flowers, animals, anything really.

“Get out of my car to hear you yelp like an injured pup,” Harry’s gravely voice cracks on the word injured as he scrubs at her wound - the teeth marks were like many different punctures into her skin.

“H,” YN tries because she doesn’t really know what to do in this situation as his breathes come out in agitated pants - like he’s trying not to shift out of pure rage.

“Stop. Stop talking,” He dismisses with a shake of his head, making YN startle when he throws the kit across the room - all the items scattering every which way.

YN doesn’t think she’s ever listen as quickly as she did know, his scent was radiating pure anxiety and irritation.

He’s then tugging the sweatshirt over her head, then her sports bra, and underwear until she’s bare because her clothes smell like that tan wolf.

Harry doesn’t even gaze over her body, instead he’s kneeling back down, gripping her leg, and begins to lick at the wound.

Werewolf’s have healing properties in their saliva but it’s only compatible to heal their mates and their pups, it protects against infections or disease.

It’s painful, despite it healing her, it burns as her body accommodates her mate’s efforts to close the wounds.

He doesn’t try to soothe her when she wriggles but instead huffs out, “Be still, for Christ’s sake. I need to take care of this.”

YN holds her body stiff for the rest of the time, worried about making him angrier as he continues fo radiate negativity.

As the skin starts to regenerate, he’s covered every surface of the abrasion, he pulls back to check his work before he’s also starting to undress.

It’s methodically as he moves her to their shower, shuffling her under the hot water to wash every trace of the incident away.

He scrubs her harshly with the washcloth, every bit of her body before he’s throughly washing her hair too.

Harry’s completely in alpha mode, take care of his omega, do what he needs to do to make sure she is taken care of.

He’s cleaned her, bathed her, and then when they’re done he’s dressing her in his clothes of a cotton tee and soft joggers before navigating her to the bed.

All of this done without even a word spoken.

It takes her back to a time when they were younger, fifteen to be exact.

“You should have listen to me!” Harry scolds angrily as he rips one of the sleeves off his shirt and begins to wrap it around her forearm where is bleeding.

YN’s eyes are watering from the pain, it wasn’t a bad cut or anything, she just messed up a skateboard trip and her forearm caught her fall against the asphalt.

Harry had been at football practice, on their school’s field while YN and their friends bikes and skateboard in the parking lot.

When YN had fallen, she must have helped because Harry was automatically pulling out of the drill that he was doing despite the coach yelling at him to charge off the field towards the parking lot.

Her friends scattered away from pure fear of the alpha as he made his way over to where YN was on the ground.

His telltale sign of anger - his clenched jaw and the stoney stare as he puffed up his chest and straighten his shoulders.

“This is why I said not to ride these bloody things,” Harry hisses as he yanks her up, examine her arm before ripping his undershirt to bandage it.

“It was accident, I’m fine,” YN mumbles back annoyed but she doesn’t move as he aides to her wound.

“You’re bleeding. You’re not fine,” He raises his voice, he was coming into his alpha voice - deep and sharp, making anyone know he’s in charge.

YN can’t be too mad because she knows her grumpy best friend means well and he only acts like this with her.

“I’m sorry,” YN says when the shirt is secured and he steps back, he takes a step towards her - leaning in to brush his nose against her neck before he dies actually step back.

It was a claim, it was possessive, no other kids at the school did it but him.

But no one was going to chastise him because after his father, he’s next in line to lead, and not even an adult will challenge the teen.

YN flicks his ear to make his growl, it works, and then he orders her to sit on the bleachers for the rest of practice so he can make sure she’s safe.

After she’s dressed, he flips down their comforter, ushers her into their plush bed, and pulls the covers up around her.

It’s dark by now, Harry flicks on a lamp, and stands up straight again - his shoulders still tensed and his back ramrod straight.

“Sleep,” He tells her but it’s bordering on a snarl because of his heightened senses - he was never this short with her.

“I want to you to lay with me,” YN requests quietly, her fingers anxiously messing with a loose string in their duvet, “Please.”

“No,” Harry replies bluntly, “I have to go make sure there’s not anymore of those nasty cunts in the woods lurking, with the pack. For the love of god, don’t move from this fuckin’ bed until I get back.”

And with that, he’s out of the room.

Niall frowns when he sees Harry stalking towards where they’re standing at the edge of the forest, he’s already tearing off his shirt to shift.

“Alpha, I told you we got this,” Liam shakes his head, the whole pack can feel the negative, unsettling emotions swirling around their leader and it makes them just as uncomfortable.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job, beta,” Harry roars with an emphasis on the last word, “I’m your alpha and all of you will shut the fuck up and do as I say. Am I clear?”

The all nods with their heads bowed in submission as Harry’s body contorts into wolf form and he’s loping into the woods with all the others on his flank.

Harry forces the pack out for hours, scouring every inch of the acreage for even a scent of a rouge wolf - miles and miles from the estate.

It’s nearly midnight when Harry calls it off, they’re all exhausted and ready to pass out by the time they make it back to their property.

Niall, who arguably has the best rapport with the alpha pulls him aside after they’re back in their human form.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Niall murmurs with a sincere look as Harry glowers nastily at him, teeth bared, “She wasn’t trying to get herself hurt and you know that.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Harry growls stubbornly, “She nearly got herself killed. My mate. What would I do without her? She’s been mine since we were children. I can’t live without her.”

“For being literally the biggest prick of earth, it’s sickening how gone you are for that mouthy omega,” Niall chuckles, “Go see her. I know she’s missing you.”

YN couldn’t sleep, she didn’t even bother to turn off the light, she was a crying mess with her face messy from tears as she sat up waiting for her alpha to come back to her.

When the door finally opens, at nearly quarter to one, Harry is surprised to see his mate still sitting up in bed where he’d left her.

“Let-Let me dra-draw you a bath,” YN sniffles, wiping her eyes and trying to get out of bed, whimpering when she puts pressure on her injured leg.

“Whoa, puppy,” Harry rushes over to her side, pushing her back onto the bed until she’s sitting in the edge, “Be careful.”

“I need to take care of you. I’ve been such a bad omega and I can b-be better please,” YN cries softly as she grasp at his shirt, burying her face in his hard stomach.

He felt like shit because he shouldn’t have left her like this, vulnerable and still shaken from her near death experience.

Harry pulls back until she’s blinking up at him tearfully, he doesn’t know how to express himself, and so he leans down, biting her hard on their bond scar.

She squeaks in the sharp pain that melds into connection as all of his emotions flow into her and assure her that she is perfect for him.

When he’s done, staring down at her, his voice is still harsher than he’d like as he says, “What would I do without you? I cannot live in a world that you’re not. I am sorry I was sharp with you. I-I love you with whole being and my only job is to keep you safe.”

YN tugs him down to kiss him, their lips parting as he gives into her warm, sugary aroma - she was so sweet but so fucking feisty.

“I’m sorry, baby,” YN speaks against his lips as he presses his forehead to hers, his eyes dark and moody as he looks at her - anyone else would have to gaze down from the pure power he held, not her, never her.

“I’m not just going to bow down to you, you big stupid alpha!” Seventeen year old YN shouts at him, chucking her high heel in his direction, “You just ruined my night!”

Harry is following behind her, on the dimly lit sidewalk toward their houses, away from the school, keeping his distance.

“I didn’t ruin anything,” He growls in frustration, “He was trying to touch you and make you uncomfortable so I stepped in!”

“But you caused a whole scene and no boys like me in this school because of the way you claim me!” YN wails dramatically, making Harry roll his eyes, holding both of her heels now that have been thrown at him.

Harry’s alpha preens at the comment, good - he thinks possessively but keeps that thought to himself.

“It’s not my fault they’re intimidated,” Harry shrugs casually which he knows will make her even more irate.

YN spins around, stomping up to him, and poking her finger in his chest, “It’s because you’re a Styles’. Everyone knows you’re the next leader of this community. Everyone fears you and you don’t try to make it better by growling at every boy who glances my way!”

“It’s my job to protect you. You can get mad all you want,” Harry tells her with no negotiation in his tone, his nostrils flaring as her sweet honeyed scent radiates off her warm body.

“Fuck you,” YN snarls as she turns to walk away once again with him on her tail, stomping away like a spoiled princess.

“You want me to find another omega to protect? Leave you alone then?” He challenges because he’s know the answer, he knows if a low blow, and he it’s not even true.

Biologically, she’s it for him. It’s how he’s programmed, there is no other option for him but she didn’t necessarily know that.

YN’s body freezes at that, like the thought was physically painful to her to think about and it pains her.

“I know the answer,” Harry murmurs more carefully walking up and gripping her neck gently, “So lose the attitude and let’s go back to my place and watch that dumbass show you like.”

“Grey’s Anatomy is not dumb,” YN grumbles but her hand intertwines with his and lets him to pull her along.

“I give you orders to keep you safe. Never to restrict or control you,” He reminds her, his throat not feeling as tight anymore - he can breathe better again.

“I know,” She replies as she nudges up his shirt and noses at the sharp cut of his hip where his ferns are inked, “Just like riling you up so you get all angry and turned on.”

“Don’t have to risk you life for that,” He scolds, willing himself not to get hard as she nips at the thin skin of his hipbone, “I’ve never ever refused you anything you’ve wanted from me. I’ve never not given you my knot.”

A zip of arousal floods through her at the mere mention, especially because he smells so good right now - the adrenaline only making his cinnamon scent even more tangible and spiced on her tongue.

When she doesn’t respond instantly, he tilts her chin up, “Right, puppy?”

“Mm,” She agrees, licking a trail to the thin line of hair leading into his jeans, watching the wet path it leaves behind, “Alpha.”

It makes Harry’s jaw clench when she uses that needy, reproachful tone with him - she’s so fucking spoiled.

“Absolutely not, you need to rest,” Harry replies firmly, stepping away before her mouth moves any lower.

“You just said you never turn me down,” YN huffs rudely as Harry rearranged her gingerly on the bed back into her spot.

“Tomorrow. You need time to heal this wound, it takes time,” He thumbs at her lip, he knows she’s tired, “You need sleep.”

“Don’t,” She pouts just to argue but Harry listens to her heartbeat the whole time he’s in the shower, not even five minutes after going into the bathroom - he can hear the slowed, steady pace of his omega’s sleeping heart.

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