Text
Leftovers
Cw: Yandere, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Spanking, Dumbification, Degrading, Sadism, Fingering, Oral (giving and it's forced), Trey forces you to call him big brother, Nasty, Spitting, Picture-Taking, etc. .. . (please let me know if I missed anything!)
Fandom: Twisted Wonderland
Character: Trey Clover X GN! Reader
Word Count: 5.2K
A/N: This is an attempt to explore darker kinks and darker content than I usually write! The tags are listed above, so if this makes you uncomfortable, please skip them! I promise not all my content is like this but I just want to show that I CAN write nasty horny and fucked up shit like this, okay thank you enjoy!! :3
The cries of a child echoed through the small meadow and the rapid steps of another, to the source of the crying.
“Gosh, it’s not like you fell that hard!”
There in the meadow, were three children. One child had [color] and was sitting in the meadow, bawling their eyes out. Their knees were exposed, scraped, and bleeding. A child with short purple hair, all different shades, and choppy bangs. He was standing in the middle of the meadow; his eyes were staring at the crying child with annoyance. The last kid had short green hair, ruffled at the top, and wore glasses. He crouched down to the crying child shushing them in a soft caring tone.
“There [Reader], it’s okay. Here, let me help you up.”
“O-Ok. . .”
[Reader] took the hand, stifling their cries with sniffles and hiccups.
“It’s what you get for being clumsy, we told you not to run down the meadow, stupid.”
“Chenya! You’re not helping. Don’t listen to him, [Reader]. Let's get you cleaned up when we get to my house.”
“Thank you. . .Trey.”
“Of course, [Reader]. I’m always here for you. . .”
Chenya rolled his eyes and continued walking,
“Ugh, Trey is in love~! Whatever, I will leave you two if you don’t hurry up.”
Trey’s ears turned bright red and so did his cheeks,
“N-No I am not! I’m just a good friend, unlike you.”
He huffed out that last comment and turned to face [Reader]. His thumb went to the corner of their eyes, and he wiped their remaining tears.
“There, ready to head out?”
[Reader] nodded, they smiled and took his hand in theirs.
“Thank you, Trey.”
All three continued to their friend's house, Riddle Rosenhearts. Chenya walked ahead leaving Trey and [Reader] alone, hand in hand. Later that day, after playing with their friend, Chenya bid Trey and [Reader] a good night. Before leaving, he stuck out his tongue at [Reader] who returned the favor.
“You two, stop fighting. Anyways, see you tomorrow, Chenya.”
“Night Trey, night [Reader]. Don’t fall in your dreams either, [Reader].”
“Oh, shut up!”
Chenya left shortly after his small encounter, leaving Trey and [Reader] alone. Trey adverted his gaze and from the corner of his eye, saw [Reader] looking intensely at Chenya.
“[Reader], let’s go back to my house.”
“What for?”
“We still haven’t cleaned your wounds yet, remember?”
A scab had already formed on their knee, but he was right. They couldn’t disinfect it and after hearing Riddle’s talk about it getting infected and Chenya’s teasing about having to cut their leg off, [Reader] didn’t want to take any chances.
“Oh okay, let’s go!”
Trey led them to his home and his mother greeted them at the door, they had noticed the wounds and expressed concern,
“Oh dear, here sit on the couch and I’ll be right back with the first aid kit.”
[Reader] did as they were told, and Trey’s mother returned shortly after with the kit. They grabbed the rubbing alcohol and cotton pads to disinfect.
“This might sting, Trey, hold their hand.”
Trey did that exactly and his mother applied alcohol, cleaning the wound. Once the pad made contact with their skin, [Reader] let out a hiss, and tears welled in their eyes. Trey quickly took notice and wiped them away with his free hand while squeezing the hand they were holding.
“There, all done.”
His mom said and made sure the band-aid was placed correctly with no lumps.
“You did good [Reader]. Trey, you’ve been looking after them, right?”
“Of course I have!”
“That’s good, would you like to stay for dinner, [Reader]?”
“Yes please!”
His family had gathered around the table to have dinner with [Reader]. After dinner, Trey, [Reader], and his siblings played for a while before getting ready for bed. Trey’s mother had called [Reader’s] parents and asked them if it was alright for them to spend the night at their house, which they agreed was fine. Since it was short notice, they couldn’t prepare a spare bed but were quick to accommodate.
“[Reader], do you mind sleeping in Trey’s bed?”
[Reader] shook their head. They did not mind sleeping in his bed, much less sharing it.
“W-well where would I sleep?”
Trey had turned to ask his mom who gave him a confused look.
“In your bed as well, Trey. Do you mind sharing a bed with [Reader]?”
Trey’s cheeks flushed pink, but he knew it was nothing different than sharing a bed with his siblings or friends, so he quickly got over his embarrassment.
“Then it’s settled, that is of course if it’s okay with you, [Reader]?”
“Of course! I don’t mind sleeping with Trey!”
Sleeping arrangements were finalized and the couple tucked both kids in, bidding them a pleasant night. [Reader] was sleeping on one side of the bed and Trey on the other, reminiscing about their day.
“I had so much fun today, Trey! I can’t wait to play with Riddle and Chenya again tomorrow! Even if he is a little mean. . .”
Trey’s expression softened at them and he turned his body sideways to face them.
“I’m excited to play with everyone again tomorrow but you know it’s not nice to fight with others, [Reader].”
“He started it! I didn’t do anything, Chenya is just a big old mean bully!”
[Reader] huffed in frustration, thinking back to the boy with the smug grin and his witty comments. Trey merely laughed at their cute, annoyed expression,
“Alright, if Chenya is a bully to you tomorrow I will say something but don’t fight with him anymore, okay?”
With a heavy sigh, [Reader] agreed.
“You’re very nice to me Trey, that’s why I love you a lot! Unlike Chenya, so that’s why I love spending time with you.”
Trey’s eyes widened at the confession and his cheeks flushed, staring at them in awe.
“Y-you love me. . .?”
“Of course, I do! You’re like my older brother, you’re nice and take care of me.”
Trey’s expression fell for a second before he chuckled and placed his hand on their head, ruffling their hair.
“I love you too, [Reader]. You’re like a younger sibling to me too. . .”
With that, the two fell asleep into a deep slumber where his parents would come to find them holding hands in their sleep.
~~
Following the years to come, Trey and [Reader] had remained as close as can be. Both attended the same middle school and frequently had sleepovers, playdates, and events together. Everything was the same even when Trey and [Reader] got the letter of acceptance from Night Raven College. Both were excited to attend NRC and even more excited when they were both assigned to the same dorm, Heartslaybul. It was the beginning of their high school life, but there was only one problem. Cater Diamond. During their time at NRC, they met Cater Diamond who became best friends with them. Trey thought he was an interesting fellow who certainly was hiding something, but [Reader] was different. Instead, they were enamored with him. Cater was the responsible upperclassman who wasn’t afraid to loosen up a bit. It had been a small crush that wasn’t noticeable to the naked eye, but someone like Trey who had practically lived with [Reader] all their life knew something was off. [Reader]’s crush was harmless because he knew Cater wouldn’t like them romantically. It still hurt to see [Reader] love him after all these years. It was okay though because Cater would never love them. . or so he thought.
They were in their third year and discussing the internships that they would be undergoing during their fourth year,
“So what did you pick Cater?”
“Nothing yet, I’m not sure what to do and now I’m even more confused after hearing everyone else. I guess everyone has their life planned out. . .”
Trey nodded but the two remained silent. The silence was cut short when Cater spoke up,
“I wonder what [Reader] is going to do. Maybe I’ll go to the one they pick, who knows.”
Trey perked up at the comment,
“Oh, why do you say that?”
Cater lazily turned to look at Trey and gave out a sigh,
“I know you’re very close to them Trey, but do me a favor. Don’t tell them what I’m going to tell you but I care for them. I think I like them.”
Trey’s breath hitched,
“O-oh really? What makes you say that. . .Cater?”
“They’re always near me and while that can be a bore to some it’s nice to know that there's someone in my corner. They’re honest and they’re not trying to suck up to me because they voice their feelings and aren’t afraid to call me out. I don’t need to keep up appearances or a persona with them. I can be genuine and I like that.”
Trey kept a stoic face, then awkwardly smiled. Hands scratching behind his head,
“I see. . .your secret is safe with me Cater. I will say this much, I’ve grown up with [Reader] and I swear if you hurt them-”
“I won’t. I would never dream of it and I certainly wouldn’t want to incur your wrath, Trey. So scary!”
Cater made a face before the two shared a small laugh. If only Cater knew that Trey wasn’t joking and was plotting against him at the very moment.
~
Trey aimed to prevent [Reader] and Cater from being alone. Cater wouldn’t confess his feelings towards [Reader] if others were looking. Despite being flashy and always posting, Cater valued his privacy. Right now [Reader] was missing but Trey was certain where to find them. Cater had his music club right about now and knowing [Reader], they were probably in the clubroom with him. Trey made it to the room only to see Lilia and Kalim talking.
“Trey!”
“Oh, good afternoon Trey. Are you looking for Cater?”
“Kalim, Lilia, you could say that. Is Cater around? Looks like Riddle wants us back to dorm stat.”
A white lie, that was all.
“Oh, well you’re just in luck! They’re already heading back to the dorms!”
Kalim voiced, making Trey question his verbiage.
“They?”
“Oh! [Reader] was here too, they both just left. They looked happy and were chatting about something.”
Lilia clarified for Trey.
Kalim smiled and turned to Trey,
“I’m so happy for Cater. Make sure to say congratulations Trey!”
“Congratulations. . .?”
Lilia sighed,
“Kalim, not yet. He hasn’t asked!”
Trey felt a sigh of relief wave over him, but he had to intervene one way or another.
“ Oh, I see! Sorry, but I must get going before Riddle has my head. See you guys around.”
Trey bid his farewells and walked back to the hall of mirrors, Kalim and Lilia both bid him a farewell. At this point, Trey was running, if they had just left then they might still be at the hall of mirrors that was filled with students returning from their clubs like them. If that was the case, there was still time! Once he got to the hall of mirrors, he panicked as they were nowhere to be seen. He immediately rushed to his dorm and thought, if Cater were to confess, where would he go? Luckily he didn’t need to rack his brain for long, as Ace and Deuce were lounging about.
“Ace, Deuce! Sorry, but have you guys seen Cater? I need to speak to him.”
“Oh, hey Trey! Yeah, we saw him not too long ago. He was talking to [Reader] and they were heading to the dorm rooms. They left the lounge area like about. . .3 minutes ago?”
Deuce answered his question, but his response did not soothe Trey.
“I see, well thanks! I’ll be heading out now, if you see him or [Reader], could you shoot me a text?”
“Yeah, we got it.”
Ace and Deuce nodded, turning back to what they were doing initially. Trey began to head to the dorm rooms and once he reached their area, he saw Cater and [Reader] standing in front of Cater’s dorm room.
“I recommend checking out this artist, all their music is super good and I’ve been trying to get Lilia and Kalim to do something similar with me but it’s no use. Those two just don’t get it.”
Cater sighed and held a face of disappointment, but perked up when he heard [Reader] chuckle.
“Well, Lilia likes metal and wants to add screams to everything and Kalim just loves music that he wants to add every kind of beat and instrument. I’m sure you guys could make your own version, but I’ll check out their music!”
Cater smiled and turned to them,
“[Reader] I-”
“Cater! There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Trey arrived at the right time, cutting Cater off and from making a mistake.
“Oh, Trey. . how can I help?
Cater’s gentle smile that for [Reader] turned forced and strained, like a ‘hey can’t you see I’m doing something, the hell do you need’. Cater had told Trey his plans to confess soon, but he figured he would be able to read the room to see what he was planning on doing.
“Hey, [Reader]. . .sorry Cater I didn’t want to bother you but Riddle wants to speak to you. Says it’s an emergency.”
At the mention of their housewarden, Cater sighed and gave an anxious smile.
“Well, if Riddle wants to speak to me who am I to say no? Sorry, [Reader] but I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
“Mhm, I’ll be waiting Cater!”
Cater waved them goodbye and turned to walk towards Riddle’s dorm room. The moment Cater was out of sight, Trey turned to [Reader].
“Are you going back to your room? I can walk you.”
“Oh, yes I was, and sure, I’ll take you up on it.”
Trey walked [Reader] to their room and made light conversation on the way. Once they arrived, [Reader] thanked Trey and then asked for help on a subject.
“You want me to tutor you?”
“Yes, please! If Riddle were to see my last potion’s exam score he would surely have my head! Professor Crewel is letting me retake it and I can go in on Friday, but I need help!”
Trey thought back to all the time he spent tutoring [Reader] and hanging out with them after school, how could he say no?
“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with. I’ll help. Let’s go to my room though, I think I have some old workbooks in there.”
“Thank you, Trey! I’ll make it up to you!”
[Reader] went inside their room to collect their materials and then headed over with Trey to his dorm room. He invited them in and sat on a desk chair while he walked around to find his study materials. Curiosity got the better of him despite already knowing the answer,
“So, what did Cater want to talk to you about? You guys seemed. . .close.”
“O-oh, nothing important. Just some club stuff, they’re planning on performing at a school event but aren’t sure what to play so he just wanted a second opinion.”
“I see. . Well here are the books. What do you say we get to studying?”
After a while, 48 minutes to be exact, [Reader] was still struggling.
“So, when these two mix they don’t cause a reaction?”
“No, because if you see here in this example-”
After explaining it for a minute, [Reader] still looked at Trey in confusion, who just sighed a their expression.
“Okay, we can review again. I don’t want to overwhelm you with information when it seems you’re deep in thought. Anything you want to talk about it?”
Trey offered an ear to what he assumed was a problem.
“Hey Trey, can I be honest?”
“ Of course, what’s on your mind?”
“Well. . .I’ve had a crush on Cater for a while and sometimes, I feel like he knows or feels the same way. He sometimes says things where they could be meant for friends but they linger in my thoughts and I think maybe he likes me. He’s your best friend, has he ever mentioned anything about me?”
“Well-”
Trey tried to respond but was cut off by [Reader].
“It's just, I like Cater. I think he’s an amazing person who listens to others around him and he is always there to help! He is super easy to talk to and wants to make the most of his school life you know? He is like a safe space where I can talk about things I feel embarrassed to confess to another, I know that deep down he won’t open up as fast as another and he’s hiding behind something. Some might think it’s annoying, being friends for three years but still not knowing how the other truly feels or thinks. I trust Cater will open up when he wants, and I’m okay with that. I want to support him like he supports me. Sometimes I feel like, I found my soulmate here!”
Trey adverted his eyes and his once expressive face turned stoic. He was angry and tired,
“Shut the fuck up.”
“W-what?”
“I said, shut the fuck up! I’m tired of listening to you talk endlessly about Cater and how much you love him. It’s pathetic, you fell in love with someone who probably doesn’t know what they want or who they are. This whole time I. . .I’ve been here. I love you, [Reader]. What does Cater have that I don’t have?”
[Reader] stared at Trey with wide eyes and swallowed thickly.
“T-Trey. . .it’s not that Cater has something that you lack. It’s more like. . .oh how do I explain this, Trey, I don’t like you like that. To me, you’re more of an older brother, y’know? Someone I can depend on and ask for help; I don’t see you as a romantic partner.”
Trey just stared at [Reader] with serious eyes. His expression was stoic and gave off an eerie vibe. [Reader] adverted their gaze from his eyes, but what’s done is done. [Reader] was honest with their feelings and though it was awkward, they were sure that with time they could get back to what they had originally.
“Listen Trey, I’m sorry but I also didn’t want you to think differently, okay? I’ll go ahead and leave, feel free to reach out if you want.”
With that, [Reader] made their way to the door to his room. Trey remained silent but slowly moved his body to face [Reader’s]. He reached out and right before [Reader] opened the door, he slammed their head into the door. They were knocked out briefly, turning to look at Trey with fear written on their face.
“Trey. . .w-what are you. .?”
“I’m like an older brother, right? Well then, it’s my job to protect and prepare you for the real world ahead.”
Trey’s hands went to their neck, and they wrapped around tightly. Their back was still against his chest while their hands were trying to pry off his solid grip from their throat.
“T-Trey. . h-hurts-!?”
He led them to the bed, where he threw them without any remorse and immediately crawled above them. Now [Reader] was lying on the bed, his grip returning to their throat with his legs in between theirs. With their legs spread, his hands traveled to their crotch and began to touch, trailing his finger up and down. He leaned into their neck and his lips got closer to their ear.
“Does it feel good? Do you want more? Do you want you ‘big brother’ to make you feel good?”
His tone was condescending and playful, no doubt he took pleasure in causing them fear. [Reader] shook their head at his suggestion, but his hands were already wandering and slipped inside their bottoms. His fingers found themselves inside, touching their sex and rubbing their sensitive bits.
“No? You seem like you want it. . .you seem aroused.”
[Reader] squirmed at the feeling of his hot breath on their ear but also at the feeling of his fingers playing with their sex.
“T-Trey. . .stop! I don’t w-want this. . .”
“Are you sure?”
He let out a light scoff, staring at their struggling form. He continued touching them but also tightened his grip on their neck. [Reader] was desperately flinging their arms around to try to hit him or make him loosen his grip, but to no avail. Trey was relentless.
“Look, can you feel my finger inside you?”
Trey’s finger pumped in and out of their hole, reaching deeper and deeper with each thrust. He struggled to thrust at a consistent speed as their hole clenched around his finger, no doubt trying to stop it from entering.
“You should really try to loosen up, [Reader]. It’ll hurt less, after all, ‘big brother’ doesn’t want to see you in so much pain.”
“T-trey get off me-!”
[Reader] yelled out, their hands slapping his face and arms to get him to release his hold. Trey did not show any remorse or intent on letting go, but he did. He let go of their neck and sex, before grabbing their face and shoving his fingers in their mouth. He made sure to reach the back of their throat to make them gag. After a while, his hand returned to their throat. Trey’s hands went to his own pants, and he undid the buttons and zipper. His hands reached into boxers, pulling out his cock. With the same hand, he gave it a couple pumps and smeared the pre-cum around the tip.
“You should really shut the fuck up, [Reader].”
Both hands returned to their face, thumbs prying their mouth open before he scooted closer to them, sitting on their chest. He made sure his crotch was near their face and his cock close to their mouth.
“I don’t think I have to warn you on what’ll happen if you bite, right?”
He glared down at them before shoving his whole dick inside. His hold on their head never loosened, but rather got tighter which was also helping with prying their mouth open. Trey didn’t have to worry about [Reader] biting, his grip had made it impossible for them to even attempt to close their mouth.
“A-ah. . .f-fuck! Your mouth feels so g-good. . .God, imagine how your insides would feel.”
Trey held no remorse; he thrusted inside their mouth at a brutal fast paced and hitting the back of their throat. Their tongue was unintentionally licking the vein running down the side of his dick and their throat was watering up, lubricating it as well. Drool ran down the sides of their mouth and their hands at this pelvis area trying to push him out of their mouth, but how could they when his whole-body weight was on them.
“I’m fucking close, gonna cum in your mouth. Don’t you want big brother’s milk inside of your mouth, huh [Reader]?”
Grunts and soft light moans left his mouth as he continued to thrust. Tears welled in [Reader]’s eyes and their hands bawled into fists, hitting his pelvic area.
“F-fuck c-coming-!”
Trey hit the back of their throat, spilling his cum inside. He pulled out to see the line of drool connecting their mouth and his dick, but also the cum that was spilling from the sides of their mouth. The sides of their mouth and cheeks were turning red, no doubt bruising from how hard he was gripping.
“God, just look at how hot you look. Cater doesn’t deserve to see this. . .only I get to see you like this.”
There was a flash that awoke [Reader] from their state of shock. Turning to see Trey grinning while holding their phone.
“Say cheese~”
He tossed his phone to the side and his hand went to their face, gripping their cheeks together and puckering their lips out. He gave their lips a kiss, even as far as opening their mouth and sticking his tongue inside. His tongue went over their tongue, licking up his own cum and their saliva. While he was making out with them, his free hand went back to their bottoms and tired prying them off. Removing their bottoms and undergarments, revealing only their naked bottom half and exposed sex.
Releasing them from the kiss,
“I would love to see your face as I fuck you, but I think for today, I’m fine without seeing it. Besides, your big brother has plenty of time to see your fucked out face. Now, let’s get you on all fours, [Reader].”
His tone was that of the Trey everyone knows, kind and gentle, but his words were laced with venom and ill intention.
“W-what n-no, let me go Trey!”
[Reader] scrambled to find an opening, anything to get them out of his grip. They began to crawl towards the edge of the bed, but Trey was quick to grab their torso and drag them back to the center. His hands went underneath and propped them up, head down ass up. His hands were digging into their hips, and he leaned to give their back small light kisses.
“Can’t you see how good ‘big brother’ has treated you all this time? How nice he’s been?”
“Trey! S-Stop this, w-why are you acting like this! Fuck, I just d-don’t like you like that-ha!”
‘SMACK’
Trey had smacked their ass cheek and visible irritation was starting to form.
“Don’t make me gag you, I want to hear you after all.”
Another smack was heard. Trey alternated sides, but still smacked their ass. A light sob could be heard from [Reader] with light moans and groans from the pain slipped out. Trey stopped for a moment, [Reader] momentarily thought he may have been done before feeling a painful stretch.
“Fuck. . .you’re fucking tight.”
“F-fuck!?”
[Reader] let out a pained curse and tried to regain their breath. Trey started off with a light thrust before increasing his speed. He was stretching their hole and fucking them at a brutal pace with no regard for their feelings. [Reader] had yet to adjust to his length and was clutching the sheets in his bed for some sort of distraction and relief. As he was thrusting into them, he was also spanking them as well, causing twice the pain.
“Ha, you think I like being the nice guy, huh [Reader]?”
They leaned their head towards the pillows on the bed to try to get relief, focusing on his words instead of his actions.
“F-fuck, h-ha. . .think I like being the one everyone looks up to? They’re so annoying, always fucking complaining about every little fucking thing. Cater, don’t get me started on him!”
‘SMACK’
“How did he ever get your fucking love? He’s always lying and adapting to everyone because he doesn’t even know who he is. He’s so fucking two faced, but what have I done? I’ve taken care of you and looked after you. When you had a problem who solved it? Huh, [Reader]!?”
‘SMACK’
When Trey did not hear a response, he spanked [Reader] harder and inched his hand closer to their neck, adding light pressure as a warning.
“I fucking said, who solved it!?”
“Y-you, Trey. . .”
“Yeah? Me? Just Trey? Ha. . .or was it your ‘big brother Trey’? Say it, bitch.”
“Y-you, ngh-! I-it was you, b-big brother Trey-ha fuck!”
‘SMACK’
“That’s right, it was me. . .’big brother Trey’. Want ‘big brother Trey’ to make you feel better, [Reader]? I’m only using you as my toy, my cumslut but I know you want to feel good too huh. . ?”
Whines and soft moans left [Reader’s] mouth as they adjusted to his length. His pace had slowed down a bit but was constant, hitting all the right places and angles.
“Y-yes. . .”
“Yes, what?”
They felt so disgusting and dirty having to say what he wanted them to say, but if they complied with him would he let them go?
“Y-yes, ‘big brother Trey’ m-make me f-feel g-good. . .”
Trey scoffed at them and let out a laugh,
“Did I break you already? No matter, sure, “big brother Trey” will make you feel so good [Reader]. . .”
Trey began to thrust deeper and harder into them, he had arranged the position of his hands for one to hold their neck in place and the other free hand wandering to their genitilia. Trey began to rub slowly; unlike the first time he touched them. Stroking and rubbing slowly, creating a slow pace but one that pleasure their most sensitive points the best. After the pain subsided, [Reader] began to feel pleasure, which did not go unnoticed by Trey. He quickens the pace in with his fingers, rubbing, stroking, and pinching their sex.
“You’re twitching. . .are you going to come, [Reader]?”
His tone was still condescending and filled with fake worry.
[Reader] nodded but whimpered when his grip tightened on their neck.
“Y-yes “b-big brother T-Trey’, c-coming!”
As they said that, they came, but Trey did not come.
“G-good, did that feel good? See how good ‘big brother Trey’ can make you feel?”
[Reader] nodded, they thought this was the end until Trey continued to thrust inside them still.
“W-wait-”
“I didn’t come yet, [Reader]. Don’t you want ‘big brother Trey to come inside you? To fill your insides up?”
Seeing as they already came, Trey removed his hand from their sex but neck, but positioned his hand back at their hip, with his free hand holding his phone and recording.
“Come on, say it, say you want ‘big brother Trey’ to fill your insides~”
Trey’s phone was pointed at [Reader’s] back, but also managed to get his cock mercilessly pounding into [Reader]. Their moans filled the room as well as the sound of flesh hitting each other. Overstimulated from their first release,
“W-want ‘b-big brother Trey t-to fill my insides, to c-come inside f-fuck! Ha! F-feel s-so good. . .”
With that, Trey gave one last final thrust before coming inside them. His cum filling them up and leaking from their plugged hole. He pulled out and angled his phone’s camera to their lower half, taping their exposed body and their cum filled hole. He stopped filming and leaned over their shoulder,
“Do you still consider me like your big brother, eh [Reader]?”
~~
Cater was scrolling through Magicam tirelessly but then he got a message from Trey.
Trey: Hey Cater, are you hungry? Looks like I have some leftovers you can have.
Cater pondered for a bit, what could Trey possibly have made or ordered, but he stopped when he saw a video attached to another message.
“A video. . ?’
Cater clicked on it, curious at what the video was about since the surrounding background was dark in the video.
“Come on, say it, say you want ‘big brother Trey’ to fill your insides~”
#yandere#yandere x y/n#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere trey x reader#yandere trey clover#yandere heartslabyul#yandere headcannons#yandere headcanons#yandere smut#dark content
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Hello and congrats 🎊 2k followers, that’s quite a milestone 💖
I’m big in the fallout brain rot right now and yes I know, Squire Thaddeus is not on your list of characters you write for, but I really like your style and thought I’d ask nonetheless 😅
So a Thaddeus x Reader, after he’s running from the brotherhood. like reader is down bad for him, but he doesn’t get it until reader basically strips down in front of him 😅
Also if this isn’t your type of thing or character to write, I just wanted to thank you for your stories 💖
Thaddeus x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.2k aaaaaah!! thank you!! you're so kind ;-; i am obsessed with johnny pemberton, he's such a weird lil guy , so i am projecting that heavily onto thaddeus who is also a weird little guy at least from what we see of him lol 🧡 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: cmnf, oblivious thaddeus, flirting, nudity, suggestive stuff, blood (from a nose bleed)
You watched across the small fire as Thaddeus picked at the tin of beans in his lap. Finally settled for the night in an abandoned cabin, another day of journeying far from the Brotherhood, you decided it would be the perfect time to lay it on thick for him. You'd been flirting, charming, letting your touches linger, but nothing yet had been enough to get a reaction from him, and you were getting desperate.
So you opted to give it one last big effort, deciding that if it wasn't enough to get him interested in you, that you could officially give up on any hopes of being with him.
Since settling in for the evening, you'd swept up the floor, laid out bed rolls, and started a fire to cook the tins of food you found in one of the cupboards. You'd even let Thaddeus pick which one he'd rather eat. Nothing made you giddier than seeing him smile, his lip curling up, patchy moustache disappearing under his nose as his two, large, gapped front teeth became visible.
He was so cute. And you couldn't wait any longer.
"You know, Thaddeus. I think you're brave. I think you're so brave."
He looked up at you, surprise on his face, a questioning eyebrow raised into his forehead. With his mouth full of beans he tried to speak.
"mmmph-Really?"
You nodded your head, making sure to look up at him through your eyelashes, half-lidded eyes offering a sultry gaze in his direction.
"I really do. I wouldn't feel half as safe out here if it wasn't for you. You're like my protector. My knight."
"Your knight?"
He scrunched his nose up in disbelief, resting his features only when your hand reached out and stroked his arm.
"Oh yeah, you're so big... and strong..."
Thaddeus tilted his head, more confusion covering his puppy-dog features as he tried to take your compliments.
"Strong... really?"
"Mhm, and so handsome too. Like super handsome. Sexy even."
"Huh... Well, thanks I guess!"
He stood up form the fire with his empty can and spoon and you joined him, following close behind, not wanting to the opportunity to pass by you despite how difficult he was making things. You were so close to him, in face, that you have him a shock when he turned back from the sink where out of habit he'd placed the spoon.
"Oh! Almost knocked you over there, ha."
You laughed hard, a forced and exaggerated chuckle, and placed your hand on his chest. You let your fingers stroke up and down against him as you spoke.
"Thaddeus, you are so funny. You're just perfect!"
With a slight blush on his cheeks, he tried to offer some false modesty in response.
"I do try."
"Gosh, is there anything you can't do?"
The question flustered him a little, since there was actually plenty he couldn't do, and you were well aware of that, but he didn't know how to express it all.
"I guess... I guess maybe?"
Sensing that the question might have been a little too difficult, a little too tender for someone who had just been kicked out of the Brotherhood of Steel for failing to kill a target, lying on behalf of another brother, and injecting himself with an unknown substance which was slowly turning him into an unknown abomination, you changed tactics.
"Well... Is there anything else you're particularly good at?"
HIs lips were the focus of your attention, the seemingly universal sign that you were determined to kiss him, if he'd let you. You licked your own, a tempting tongue sliding over them. But Thaddeus, yet again, missed the signal.
"Uh, I don't know really."
Still focused, although speaking through slightly gritted teeth, you stepped a little closer to him.
"Your lips look soft. Are you any good at kissing?"
He took a moment to think, and you felt the weight on your chest lighten, believing that maybe, finally, you'd gotten through to him.
"I haven't actually kissed anyone, so I have no idea."
Thaddeus shrugged as he spoke, and then walked right past you, completely oblivious to any of your efforts, your flirting, your obvious compliments. And you'd finally had it. In a fit of sheer rage, you yelled out loud.
"Oh my god, Thaddeus! How much more obvious to I need to be!?"
He looked at you with wide, empty eyes, confusion written all over his sweet face and his mouth fell open, but no words came out. As far as he was concerned, you were suddenly yelling at him for no reason at all, at least not one he could figure out.
"I mean, what will it take, huh? Do I have to get down on one knee for you? Spell it out in the bones of my enemies? Write it on every bullet for your stupid gun? Strip down completely and offer myself up? Hm? Is that what it would take? Well..."
You pulled at the zip of your jumpsuit, tearing it down in one swift movement, exposing your underwear and bare skin to him. It slid down your waist and you shimmied out of it, kicking it aggressively to one side before moving to your underwear, pulling it off your body ferociously until you were completely naked in front of him. Laid bare, panting furiously.
"There. Now do you get it? I want you Thaddeus. You can have me."
He was completely still, eyes wide, pupils huge, intensely focused on your breasts which moved slightly with every heaving breath you took. As he opened his mouth to try and say something, anything, he was interrupted by a sudden taste of metal against his tongue.
"Oh my god, Thaddeus? Are you ok?"
Blood spilled from his nose, fast and thick, and you rushed to him, kneeling beside him and holding his cheeks between your hands.
"Aw, you poor thing. What happened?"
With a stutter he spoke, closing his eyes to avoid the embarrassment of admitting the truth, though his cheeks were flushing a bright pink that gave his shame away.
"It's... I've never seen... that- those- before... not in person."
You stifled a giggle, knowing it would likely only make him more embarrassed. He really was oblivious, but so inexperienced that you could forgive him.
"Oh, Thaddy..."
You stroked his hair, leaning into him, bringing his head to rest on your chest. he gasped softly, mouth trembling as he felt the soft cushion of your breasts against his cheek.
"How about once it stops, we see if we can get another few firsts in for you, then?"
Thaddeus swallowed loud, an almost comical gulp that pushed away his nerves long enough for him to get out a complete sentence.
"I don't think it's going to stop until I'm not touching a part of your naked body."
"Huh... better just power through then."
You kicked a leg over him, straddling his body, a twitch stirring in the front of his pants as he let his eyes linger over your breasts, his nose still dripping, cheeks bright red, and eyes going hazy as he waited, still looking for more confirmation that this was really happening.
#fallout#fallout amazon#finnie writes#fallout fic#fallout tv#fallout tv series#x reader#fallout thaddeus#squire thaddeus#thaddeus fallout
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Stray ❝part four❞
♡ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader/The Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader
♡ Summary: It’s the next day and both you and Bucky don’t want things to change. He doesn’t want to leave, and you don’t want him to.
♡ Warnings: angst, fluff, hints to child abuse, hints to character death, hints to PTSD, hallucinations, self hate
Italics are flashbacks
Part 5
You tapped your fingers against the stone, trying to create a melody. Your vision blurred, the hit to the back of your head continuing to bleed. Wincing from a particularly harsh throb, you started to tap harder against the stone, dust floating around the air.
“Tom—” Your throat was raw from screaming, sending you into a coughing fit, “Tommy… What’s your color?”
You forced yourself to speak, your throat irritated from overuse. Your little brother Tommy was unfortunately trapped into another room, unlucky in avoiding Mom and Dads rage. The wall closer to the ceiling was made of a different material, it was thinner. It was the only way of communication you had with him. You’d check up on him occasionally if you weren’t unconscious, asking him for a color.
Green was fine. Yellow was hanging in there, but hurting. Red was bad.
You halted your tapping, listening for Tommy’s voice. A cry, cough, anything. The sound of your painful breaths were the only thing that could be heard, leaving you to think of the worst. Your nose burned at the thought of your baby brother beaten and left alone on the floor of his room. You were his big sister, and you failed at the one thing you were meant to do as his sister. Protect him.
“Tommy?” You called out again, “You awake? Please Tom, answer me!”
Your attempts continued for hours, sobbing, screaming, despite your throats irritation. You continued to receive no response, no sign of life. You felt defeated, empty of life the longer you sat down here. Your heart felt it was gone, ripped from your frail body as you let your mind fall into the abyss.
You could faintly hear the sound of the door opening from your brothers room, having you perk up at the sound.
Your body jumped as your Mothers screaming filled the two rooms, bouncing and echoing through the small space.
“My baby boy! No please come back!” Your Mother cried.
Your Mother might as well stomped on your heart, crushing it before your eyes. Your eyes filled with tears that you feared would be never ending, and you begun to wail along with your Mothers cries.
It was sick really, listening to a person grieve so violently. Even sicker when it was by their own doings.
☾
You sat on the front porch, waiting patiently for the sun to rise. Your hand holding a picture so tightly, it threatened to fold. Your body shivered from the cool dawn air, your blouse and dress not warming you enough. You found the cold to be refreshing after a sleepless night, waking in a pool of your own sweat.
Staring down at the picture, your eyes watered at the sweet smiling boy, face full of innocence.
With the sadness came anger that he was taken away far too young. Having missed out on his whole life, robbed of memories, experiences, everything.
Sometimes you would catch a whiff of the decomposing stench randomly in the air. Despite being free of that hell, you’d be sent back into that room. Body going into full blown panic, clawing at the air as if the walls were closing in, scratching up your arms in attempt to grab ahold of something. Then in a blink, you’d be standing in the open fields, hand full of crumpled up flowers.
Time would heal. Maybe that was true for some, but it was different when you were alone. Your thoughts seemed louder, with no outside input to interfere. You felt like you were still trapped in that room.
You felt like the same scared little girl from the first day it happened, confused, bleeding, betrayed. You trusted your parents, you loved them. Even now, you wanted to love them because you just didn’t want to believe that your parents would do such a thing.
A hazy figure to your right from your peripheral vision snapped you back to reality, causing you to flinch back from the intrusion.
Your head whipped to the figure, focusing your gaze suddenly on nothing. The figure was gone, the empty front porch the only thing filling your view. You blinked rapidly, glancing around in paranoia, wondering if what you had seen was real. If someone was lurking, watching you from afar.
The creaking of footsteps suddenly sounded from behind you, causing you to jump up from your spot, whipping around to see. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes going wide, darting around when you were met with… Nothing.
Freaking out you were whipping your head around in paranoia again, breathing heavy from feeling terrified. You turned towards the house and ran inside, not risking another glance back at the door, in fear you’d find the figures following you inside. Shaking your head, you attempted to clear the fog that filled your brain.
Is it possible for an insane person to know they are insane?
Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can just stop. The battle wasn’t about reality. It was within your own mind. You had been molded by bloodied hands, raised to be imperfect, taught to do sinful acts. Though, you had a strong conscience, and you weren’t physically capable to follow in your parents path.
Yes, you were insane. But you were also a person who struggled to remain calm, clinging desperately to the general flow of life, without ever actually being included. You were aware that things didn’t make sense, the illusions of ghosts seeming to be impossible. But there was an overwhelming lack of control, horrifying thoughts overriding your clear ones.
Maybe you were getting used to it, or maybe this was just how things were gonna be for you.
That was the only explanation of how calm you could feel, only moments after dealing with an episode. But it didn’t matter how much you were used to it, you would always feel afraid.
Coming closer to the kitchen, you slowed your footsteps at the sound of loud chewing. It almost sounded like someone was scarfing down food. Tip toeing to the doorway, you peaked your head in, your heart warming at the sight of Bucky indulging in the breakfast you made.
You had assumed he wasn’t going to attempt to touch anything you had made, but you had hoped in the back of your mind that he’d help himself.
You had caught yourself frozen in a memory, losing yourself to your mind when you had accidentally made enough food for a family of four. The innocent looking gesture was all it took for you to excuse yourself, heading outside to the front porch. That’s how you ended up clinging onto Tommy’s picture in a fraught grip.
Your chest was warm in satisfaction at the sight of Bucky enjoying himself. Happy that at least someone was having a good day. You allowed your mind to fill with Bucky, your mind feeling more at ease with just him wandering your thoughts.
He was mysterious and broken, but behind what appeared to be a soldier, was someone gentle. You didn’t know what he’d been through, and you didn’t know if you’d ever find out, but you still couldn’t believe his words that he’s a monster.
You knew what the real monsters were like, having been stuck for twenty something years trapped with them. You knew what a monster was like, and he wasn’t one of them.
You couldn’t stop yourself from letting a giggle bubble up, the soft sound alerting Bucky of your presence. The sight of this fairly large man hunched over at the island, munching on waffles like he was in love with them, entertaining you.
Bucky on the other hand was slightly embarrassed at you catching him ravaging your homemade waffles. But he found it easy to ignore the awkwardness, from the shock that your sweet laugh had given him. It was the lightest sound he’d ever heard, igniting an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. But the feeling wasn’t unpleasant.
You watched his face go through too many emotions to depict and you couldn’t help the concern you felt for him.
“I’m guessing you like my waffles.” You stated, giving him a gentle smile. Walking further into the room, standing behind the island facing him.
His cheeks flamed with red, using his right hand to wipe the syrup from his lips.
“Yes, they taste really good.” He told you, starting to push his plate away, though he was still hungry. He felt awkward to eat in front of someone.
“Well, don’t stop eating on my account.” You spoke, noticing his discomfort suddenly. “I accidentally made too much food, so there’s plenty for you to eat.”
He nodded, wondering why there was so much food to begin with. With just the two of them, it wasn’t necessary. He still had doubts whether you were being truthful the night before, about your family. He hadn’t wanted to snoop around the house, but your suspicious behavior made him want to. He didn’t sense any other heartbeat, or any other being causing noises besides you. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him, maybe you were just a little odd.
“I was thinking… About uh— Making you some lunch before you go. For the road, I suppose.” You offered, fiddling with your fingers nervously.
Bucky stayed silent while listening, greatly appreciating the gesture. But he couldn’t help the frown that settled on his face, the thought of leaving— scaring him. But the thought that maybe you wanted him to leave, made him feel miserable.
Despite still having just met you days ago, you were starting not to feel like a stranger to him.
“I can make some sandwiches, or I can chop up some fresh fruit, veggies… Well, I gotta go pick some from the fields— But that’s no issue really.” You rambled on, Bucky continuing to watch you with an unreadable expression.
“That’s really not necessary, I have to be going.” Bucky mumbled, scratching the back of his neck with his left arm, exposing the flash of silver.
“Wait— what is—”
Bucky followed your gaze, and realized you had seen his arm. He’d totally forgotten you hadn’t seen it yet.
“Uhh… This— Uh…”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I just— I’ve never seen a prosthetic arm look like… Well, look so cool.” You rushed out, obviously staring at his arm, taking in all the intricate ridges, the bright red star.
Bucky cringed from your compliment, he didn’t believe it should be given. This arm was stained with the lives of so many innocents, it was tainted by the souls he had taken. It was a weapon, not a limb.
“Are you okay?” You snapped him out of his degrading thoughts, making him realize you’d been calling his name.
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
You watched with worried eyes and made another note to yourself.
Prosthetic arm: Sensitive topic
You would never truly understand for yourself how losing a limb could be taxing, and you’d respect him by not bringing it up. You’d felt guilty for mentioning it in the first place, the shock of seeing it had caught you off guard.
“So um… Lunch? What would you like?” You offered again, not minding to change the subject. His strange behavior was starting not to phase you.
Maybe it did, but you felt like you shouldn’t ask. You had your fair share of secrets, weird quirks that you were sure he noticed. A huge part of you appreciated that he didn’t seem to mind yours.
Bucky found you refreshing, you never pried. The second he was uncomfortable, you’d back off. It was odd to be so respected, especially after seventy years of being treated the opposite. Though he appreciated it, he felt he didn’t deserve it.
“I really shouldn’t stay any longer.” He told you with a frown.
“You running from someone or something?” You asked playfully, but your smile disappeared when you met his serious expression.
“Kind of, yeah.” He confessed shamefully, lowering his gaze to the leftover waffles.
“You’re very mysterious.” You thought out loud.
“It’s not safe for me to be here. It’s not safe for you.” He told you so suddenly, causing you to frown.
“I’m… not safe here?”
“You’re at risk with me around.” He informed you, watching your face scrunch with confusion.
“Why?”
“There are people looking for me. Bad people.” He said, his gaze intense.
“The bad people is who you’re running from, right?” You asked, trying to connect the dots on your own. You didn’t want to pry, but his words that you were in danger had given you the right to investigate.
Bucky on the other hand had felt surprisingly relived talking to you. Despite you not fully understanding how bad of a situation he was in, he was able to let someone else know what was happening. He felt less alone.
“Yes.” He whispered, his flesh hand closing into a fist.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, I kinda live in the middle of nowhere.” You started, coming up with an idea.
You had obviously enjoyed having someone else around, the company being something you had missed.
Bucky furrowed his brows, a part of him had wanted you to ask him to stay, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. But deep down he knew he shouldn’t.
He nodded for you to continue, seeing as he didn’t have anything to say.
“Nobody ever comes up here— I don’t even think anybody knows there’s a house this way.” You stated, “As for the cemetery… It’s an old one, it’s been years since someone’s been buried here. So… No visitors.”
He listened intently, waiting to see where you were going with this. Again, he didn’t want to assume anything.
“You could stay. Here… With me.” You whispered, anxious that he’d reject your offer, leaving you here alone.
Bucky was taken aback, he was hoping you’d say just that, but to actually hear you say those words was almost unbelievable. Nothing ever worked to his favor. The never ending view of the fields, fenced by walls of towering trees had become something of comfort to him. It was peaceful and private, a place he could hide away.
You weren’t wrong— Yes, he had stumbled upon this place. Merely because he didn’t have a destination, the further the better. But this place was practically invisible, the grass looking untouched by anyone other than you.
He couldn’t help but want to trust you, you haven’t given him a reason not to trust you. He found it slightly terrifying that he was so willing to, but he had been trying to get a read on you the second he saw you. He didn’t come up with anything that might pose as a threat, instead he wondered if you were broken like him?
“You want me to stay?” He asked in disbelief, still thinking he imagined you saying those words.
You walked up, leaning against the island, holding his hesitant stare in a soft gaze.
“You can if you want.” You told him, wanting him to stay because he wanted to.
He had gone awhile without ever wanting anything, he was taught not to want, only to obey. But he didn’t want to obey anymore, he wanted to live how he wanted.
“Yes, I want to stay.” He confessed, the words feeling sour on his tongue. But the relief felt too good to focus on the anxiety. It was an overwhelming feeling of control he suddenly felt he had. He almost didn’t welcome it.
You smiled, watching his tense posture relax.
“Well, I’m gonna go pick some fresh fruit and veggies. I still wanna make you some lunch— And if you liked my waffles, just you wait.” You teased, “Be back in an hour.”
You reached under the sink, grabbing some old grocery bags, and headed towards the door. Beginning your adventure to gather food for lunch. You had a skip in your step, happy that Bucky had chosen to stay.
Meanwhile, Bucky watched your skipping form bounce out the door, and for the first time it felt like in forever… He genuinely smiled.
A/N: ahhh im overwhelmed with the support for this mini series, im so happy y’all like it🥹 let me know what you think of this part🤍
TAGLIST: @delicatecapnerd @buckybarnesandmarvel @viperchick47 @hunitweet @vixi-3303 @mirtaqueen @buckyb-stan @happinessinthebeing
#reader insert#light angst#fluff#oneshot#buckybarnes#imagine#marvel cinematic universe#marvel imagines#the winter soldier#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#dark themes#torture#imprisonment#bucky barnes fanfiction#the winter soldier fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n
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𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘
~ Vash the Stampede ; Trigun Stampede
✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : in the aftermath of Knives stealing another plant, you run after broken-hearted Vash to let him know you’ll always be by his side
‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : vash x gn!reader, angst, very vague mentions of corpses, blood, and injuries
‧₊˚ a / n : currently fighting a writers block so i’ll offer you this old drabble 🙇🏼♀️ also yes i’m obsessed with comparing vash to the sun and sky let me be )’:
You and your thomas had barely been able to leave the crumbling town. You were on your knees, hands grasping the sand underneath and your lungs trying their best to go back into healthy shape. When your eyes finally dared to reach out to the night sky, the first thing they spotted was a blond man. He was muscular, and was wearing a strange suit that looked like it could’ve been his second skin, white and with strange blue patterns. Thousands of blades emerged from his back like tentacles, some were struck directly into the sand, lifting him up from the floor, and others went up into the sky, wrapping around the city’s plant.
Your mind had gone blank, and only two words were in it, repeating themselves endlessly while you stared directly at the man. Millions Knives.
He wore Vash’s face, but still he looked so different. His hair wasn’t bright like the sun, it was a lighter, dead shade yellow. And his eyes weren’t like a cloudless day, they were a cold ice desert, ruthless and merciless. He landed carefully on top of a big car that rushed away from the town, some of the blades retracting back into a hooded typed of clothing. He didn’t see you, and neither did the people that were with him driving. They just went away.
“Vash” your voice whispered, breathless as your mind went back to the blonde who had tried with all his might to stop his brother and failed “I need to find Vash.”
Your body acted on its own. You ignored your aching limbs and the bleeding cuts in your skin, running across the debris. It didn’t take much time to find a group of survivors. The sound of crying, coughing and panting hit your ears like a sandstorm. You almost tripped when you reached them, searching frantically for the blond, but when he was nowhere to be seen you searched for the town’s mayor instead. Making your way through the group of wailing people and dragging your feet towards the person furthest away, you panted desperately.
“Paul” your voice raised, but he didn’t turn around “Paul!”
Your throat gave out in protest, making you cough.
“What” he replied hastily.
“Wh… Where’s Vash?!” again, he didn’t reply, but patience wasn’t exactly your strongest suit “where is he?!”
“I sent him away. He’s the reason this whole thing happened to us. He’s the reason.”
“W-what?” you blinked in confusion, your thomas’ steps caught up to your side.
“He’s the reason!!” he yelled at you now in frustrated desperation, despite him being turned away and hiding his face it was clear he was now sobbing “if he hadn’t set foot in the town none of this would’ve happened.”
“What are you taking about?!“
“He's the Humanoid Typhoon after all, isn’t he? Everywhere he goes he brings chaos and destruction.”
“He saved your life! Multiple times!”
“And he destroyed the town!”
You gulped, staring at him as if burning him alive with your pupils only was possible.
“You’re an asshole”
“What?”
“You’re an asshole! Millions Knives destroyed your town, not Vash!”
“They’re the same.”
“You are the same!” you screamed at him this time, thinking about how Vash must have felt when he sent him away and blamed him for everything “you are the same as everyone else, this is why Knives hates us.”
You turned around and mounted your thomas and patted its side.
“Find him.”
Without a seconds hesitation, your thomas started running away from the now ruined town, corpses, cries and the lingering sand still dancing in the wind.
Humans are the scum of the planet. Knives words echoed through your mind. They’re all the same.
For a second you thought maybe he was right. Everyone blamed Vash, even when he tried his hardest to help. Even when they knew about Knives, apparently. Tears fought to make their way out, but they stopped when your heart did too. A figure appeared in front of your eyes against the breaking down in the horizon.
“Vash!” jumping off back into the ground, you ran towards him.
“Stay away, please.”
“What?” you almost muttered the question, he stopped walking and you caught up to him quickly.
“Stay away. If you follow me you’ll end up dead.”
You choked up on the words you wanted to let out, he tried to keep walking away.
“Wait, please.”
His shoes stopped over the sand yet again, but it was clear he was conflicted about moving on.
“Please listen to me, Vash” he didn’t make a move, and you took it as a good sign, walking up to him “even when the people in the town blamed you, I defended you.”
He was still silent, your fingers then grabbed his red coat and forced him to turn around and look at you. When his sad eyes finally met yours you couldn’t stop all of the thoughts from falling off your mouth.
“Even if they did, I didn’t. I’m on your side, I’ll always be. Even if whole world turned against you, I will be beside you, I will defend you” you grasped the lapels of his red coat, watching as his eyes widened and his lips partly opened in surprise “I will defend you with my life if i have to.”
He shook his head lightly.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Blinking slowly, he bit his lip.
“Why?”
Your heart started to beat faster, tears prickled the corners of your eyes yet again. The words that burned your throat refused to get out, you couldn’t say them yet.
Cupping his face in your hands, a painful smile made it’s way to your lips.
Because I love you.
“Maybe some day, you’ll find out.”
#; belles angst#trigun stampede#trigun#vash the stampede#vash x you#vash x reader#vash x y/n#vash imagines#vash the stampede x reader#tristamp#vash the stampede x you#trigun stampede imagine#gn!reader
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Play the Song: Chapter 12: As we Breathe
Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.
Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, choking, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV
A/N: I know what you all want and I am here to give it to you. Enjoy my two, severely emotionally underdeveloped loves interacting in (somewhat) non-deadly scenarios.
Words: 6.7k
Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12
Tag list: @urfavsunkissedleo @butskii @abbiesxox @itsasecrets-things @thatonewriterthatnooneknows @copiasratscheese @Sheviro-blog
★Flash
“Will you just take the fucking applesauce?” Gaz’s voice is bordering a whine and Flash doesn’t feel the least bit guilty when she declines again. She is hungry, but her hunger doesn’t outweigh her need for entertainment. For something other than the dusty novel she’d snatched from Price weeks ago and the small window to her left.
For the last three days, she’s been stuck in her bed. Her only solace being short trips to the bathroom and the horrible nurse service being provided in shifts by Soap and Gaz. Both arrive either so guilt ridden or angry that their conversations are reduced to mumbled words.
After she’d passed out in the truck- passed out, not died, (a correction she’s had to make every time Soap decides to give her another rundown of what he likes to call her ‘Rick Grimes’ moment) the team was able to stop enough of the bleeding and get her to the nearest med bay before her heart stopped pumping.
She’d been kept sedated for the next four days, lulled into a hazy half conscious state by a concoction of epinephrine, morphine, and god knows what else. The magic drug- a more advanced and highly addictive form of a stim shot, had practically healed everything. By the third night, she’d been able to lay on her back without pain, and by the fourth, her injuries were reduced to bruising and two half healed and itching cuts on her shoulder blades and forehead. When the doctors had given her the order to ‘take it easy’ and ‘stay in bed for a few more days’ she’d nearly laughed in their faces. But after an awkward ride back to the base with Price, it was made clear that she’d be on her ass until the doctors cleared her.
Since then, she’s been rotting away in bed. With the fog of a rather severe concussion gone and only a slight wobble in her step, Flash felt confident enough to get back into training. Others, not so much.
“Stop coddling me and I just might.” Her words, although bitter, are spoken through a half smile. The joints of her legs ache with the need to move. She can’t remember the last time she’d gone longer than a day without some sort of physical exercise.
“Oh for fucks sake. Just take it.” Gaz lets out a frustrated groan and tosses the container and spoon at her blanketed legs. They land just shy of the unread paperback by her shin. A copy of ‘True Grit’ that Price had silently handed to her after she’d begged him to let her join their next raid. “Maybe Ghost will spoon feed it to you if you ask nicely enough.”
His hand freezes against the door handle and Flash’s eyes widen. That was the first Ghost had been mentioned since the incident. After his freak out. No one had spoken to her about it, so she didn’t bring it up. Other than foggy memories of him sleeping in a chair next to her bed at the med bay- his head lolled to the side in a way that made her knees weak. Ghost had been absent.
“Just eat the food.” Gaz says nothing more before slipping from her room and shutting the door gently behind him.
Guilt coils her stomach into a tight knot and the game that she’d been playing for the last few days loses its appeal.
The applesauce is dull and pasty, and when she swallows, it sticks in her throat like mud. The first night she’d woken up from her drugged sleep, she willed her memory to clear, to give her a picture of Ghost’s face that wasn’t blurred with tears and blood loss. But it was useless. After that, avoiding thinking about the last few moments in the truck had been easy. Until now.
Although every sense of hers had been compromised, her brain had no problem recalling every point of contact that Ghost had made. As if her body remembering the gentle way he held her hand against his cheek was more important than remembering to breathe. As if it still is. The healing drugs didn’t touch the burns left by his desperate hands.
The scraping of her spoon against the nearly empty plastic cup does nothing to drown out the now crashing waves of memories. Him grasping at her legs and shoulders to haul her to the truck, begging her to keep her eyes open, removing his mask. The last bite of her applesauce tastes of brine and copper and it gags her. When she coughs the skin of her hand comes back splattered with shining red. Stumbling to the bathroom, Flash drops to the blessedly cool tile in front of the toilet but the food weighs heavily in her stomach, refusing to move despite the foul taste in her mouth. When she looks down there’s a splatter of pureed apple across her right hand where the blood stained just moments ago.
Avoiding her two mirrors, Flash rinses her hands, ties her hair back, and changes her clothes for the first time in three days. She needs out, and god help anyone who tries to stop her.
_____
The hot Las Almas sun burns the sensitive skin of Flash’s scabbed and stitched shoulders and sends a steady stream of sweat gliding down her spine that drops to the dusty dirt road just a few minutes from their base. She’d found it while stalking Ghost on one of his runs after a dull morning of training. Now it serves as the perfect place for her to slip away unnoticed and run until her feet bleed.
She’d been going for about an hour already, entranced by the steady thump of her braid against her back as she let the hot afternoon sun dry the waves that so violently threatened to pull her under. An angry, clouding storm of failure covers every expanse of her mind. She’d failed the one chance she’d been given. Price had finally given her an in, a way to prove what she’d so desperately been trying to show them, and she’d blown it in less than an hour.
A familiar crunch of tires sounds from behind her and she moves to the edge of the rough dirt road, giving the truck room to pass, but it slows to match her pace. When she glances over, she nearly stumbles on a loose stone. Ghost is sat in the driver's seat, one arm steering at the base of the wheel and the other holding a bottle of water out the window.
“You don’t have to say anything, just take the water and I’ll leave.” His voice is withdrawn, quiet in a way that tells Flash that he understands her need for silence. And when she takes the bottle from his bare hand, the faded scars only prove her right.
He watches her drink and she pretends not to notice as the water wets her parched mouth and throat. When she finishes that one, he gently pulls it from her grasp and another is pressed into her empty hand. Flash sips this time, breathing deeply between swallows, catching the breath she hadn’t noticed she’d lost. His gaze falls to her shaking knees and the shivering of her strained thighs and she waits for him to admonish her, to order her back to the base and put a padlock on the door this time, but he only turns away to set the empty bottle somewhere in the back seat.
“Do you want to drive with me?”
The question catches her off guard. The softness with which its spoken, still detached and hesitant but sentimental nonetheless. She opens her mouth to deny, admit that she’s ran this far to be alone, but the aching in her chest tugs towards him like a magnet.
Silently, she rounds the car, slides into the passenger seat, and Ghost continues driving wordlessly down the path, at a leisurely unhurried speed. With the windows down, the hair that had fallen from her braid flutters around her face in the light wind, tickling the bare and damp skin of her neck. She licks the dry skin of her lips and tastes the salt beaded at the bow of her mouth.
The slow roll of sand dunes calms the racing of her heart and she syncs her breathing to their soft shapes, in with the incline and out with the descent. Her sweat slick legs stick uncomfortably to the warm leather seat but the relief of resting her strained muscles surpasses the discomfort.
Flash closes her eyes against the bright setting sun, oranges and yellows shine brightly in the sudden darkness and the knot in her stomach loosens enough that she can fill her lungs completely. Fresh air, spun with the sappy golden light spilling across the desert blows across her face and cools the twin trails trickling over the curves of her cheeks. Salt spreads across her tongue, but this time it carries something much heavier. They come faster now, rivulets running and turning into streams that course over her chin and down her neck, bleeding into the sweat soaked collar of her shirt. She doesn’t open her eyes as the crushing weight of the fear she’d felt sets in. So she cries. She cries for what could have happened, what would have happened if she hadn’t pulled herself from the water, and hates every second of it.
Then a warm hand is nudging her own. Ghost, in a silent mimic of her gesture from days before, wraps his smallest finger around her own and squeezes. The fear lessens, pulling back to a dull throb against her ribcage. She doesn’t open her eyes as she unwraps their pinkies and slides her hand into his to lock their fingers in a tight hold. His hand envelops her own, warm and comforting, and she fastens herself to him like a tether to a dock. Afraid that if she lets go she just might drift out of reach.
They say nothing as they cling to each other, and Flash doesn’t dare turn her now open eyes to Ghost, afraid that she’ll snap their tether by acknowledging it. So she keeps her gaze on the pinks and purples sprawled across the dimming sky and tries to ignore the burning disappointment when one final turn brings the familiar concrete building into view.
“Can we do one more loop, I can’t- I-” She begins to ask, faltering when Ghost obliges without hesitation. And a burning sense of endearment spreads so quickly through her that the stinging behind her eyes recedes. Blinking away the thick tears still lining her lids, Flash sniffs once and then sags further into her seat.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
His question is a formal invitation, an obligated question. One she’s been asked on multiple occasions and refused each time. She could ignore it now and it wouldn’t be brought back up, she knows that for a fact. But whether it's the burning need to confess or the lack of social interaction, Flash feels the confession loose from her mouth in a stream that she can’t seem to stop.
“I killed him with a rock.” Even though the words are spoken by her, the depravity of the statement makes her heart stutter. “When I missed with my knife I just smashed his head in with a rock.” The memory flashes through her mind, a stunted and bloody reel of pictures. “It was too easy.”
A long stretch of silence fills the space between them and Flash can’t help but worry he’ll slam on the breaks and shove her out, tell her just how damaged she must be to resort to something so animalistic, so beyond human norm. The weight of his hand in hers grows cold and she has the sudden urge to tuck herself into the small space at her feet, away from the heavy words floating between them and the piercing blue eyes at her side.
“When you know someone coming to kill you Flash, everything turns primal. It’s not something you learn through lectures. I’m sorry you had to learn so quickly.” His words are like a balm to her nerves. Petting back the raised hackles of her mind. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to stop it.”
“It’s the SAS Ghost. Things happen. I won't always have someone there to save the day.” She speaks firmly but turns to Ghost with a sad smile, the action has the dried tracks of her tears itching. When she brings her empty hand up to wipe her cheeks, the dirt lining her fingers has her squeezing it back under her thigh.
He lapses back into his familiar silence and Flash tries not to think about the dirt wiping from her hand onto his own clean skin where their palms meet. Then becomes increasingly aware of the dust clinging to her thighs and arms and how it rubs off onto the dark surfaces of the truck. Ghost doesn’t say anything. His unoccupied hand taps lightly against the steering wheel, another quirk that Flash quickly learned meant he was picking his words carefully.
“Knowing something is going to happen doesn’t make it any easier to cope with.” The tires crunch as dirt turns into gravel, they’re just minutes away from the base now.
His words, although validating in their own way, crack open a spot in her steeled mind that she is nowhere near ready to unravel. So instead of responding, she closes her eyes and lays back against the seat, focusing on holding the now cool night air in her lungs. She grips Ghost’s hand steadfastly. When they pull into the lot this time, her mind feels clearer and when she releases his hand to go inside, she feels a little less broken.
_____
★Ghost
Although her eyes are focused on Price, taking in every word he speaks with an endearing efficiency, Ghost still watches them. Searching for the voided, lost look that most recruits adopted after their first incident. The look that he’d seen hints of while driving with her hours before. But the blue remains sharp as they scan the layout of the next warehouse they’d be raiding. A dilapidated barn just a few miles from Alejandro’s ranch. They would leave tomorrow to spend the next two days planning their approach with Alejandro and his team. His bag, packed the moment he got back from their drive, waits next to his door. It was his desperate attempt to keep himself in his room. To keep himself busy so he didn’t cross through the bathroom and to Flash’s door to press his ear against the wood. Just to make sure she was still there, still breathing.
It was easy to brush off at first. The shaking was from strained muscles and elevated heart rate from his morning jog. But that day, when she’d come over the hill looking half dead, still clutching a bloodied rock, the fear, and dread that gagged him was undeniable. The anxiety that shook his experienced hands as he attempted to wrap unwilling bandages over a seemingly unending expanse of flowing blood was beyond uncharacteristic. Soap had taken the gauze from his hands and shoved him to the side, working with Gaz to stop the bleeding. Her clouded, half-lidded gaze had sent him into a shaking, gasping sort of fit and it was Soap who had ripped the pill bottle from Ghost’s pocket and shoved two of the pills into his palm with shaking, bloodied hands before returning to monitoring Flash’s heart rate.
After getting her to the med bay and stabilized, he’d remained at her side for the entire stay. The gentle flutter of her eyelashes was his only respite as she drifted in and out of a drugged sleep. The only time he left her side was to slip into the staff bathroom and to down another cup of the never-ending supply of dirt instant coffee the front office kept. Price had ordered him back to the base hours before she was to be taken off the sedative. It was a short exchange over the phone, gruff, tired, and ending in a snapped command.
When Price returned with her that night, Ghost had been waiting in the window. He wasn’t sure what his plan was, but when he saw the way Price had to practically lift her from the passenger seat and brace her as she limped to the door, he’d retreated back to his room, unable to look at the bandages at her temple, ones he wasn’t capable of tying. Instead choosing to curl against his headboard and choke on uneven breaths until a drug haze pulled him under.
Looking at her now, nothing like the small girl, pale skinned and drowned in hospital blankets, the beating of his heart doesn’t slow. Soap, next to him, is doodling small flowers on the mission summary and Gaz sitting beside Flash, is tugging at her sleeve. After one particularly harsh tug, she whips around in her chair and levels him with a harsh glare, when she goes to turn back, her eyes catch his. The irritation melts from her brow and Ghost struggles to keep his breath steady when his gaze drops to the blue-green bruise that still curves along her cheekbone. Flash catches his line of sight and lets the hair tucked behind her ear fall into her face, covering the bruising entirely when she turns back to Price. But the image remains, permanently branded against the large corner of his mind she’s always occupying.
They go on like that for the rest of the meeting. Eyes occasionally meeting only to hover for a moment before flitting away. Acting like he hadn’t just watched her shatter in the small cab of his truck an hour before. He knew better than to push though, the need to just forget was more familiar to him than it should be. So he watches her take notes instead, careful little words in the spaces between paragraphs with a pencil he now recognizes as his own. Stolen from the space next to his paper, he hadn’t even noticed. And despite everything, amusement flickers in his chest, and a familiar warmth tightens his ribs. Ghost dips his head down to level his eyes with Flash, glancing at the pencil in her hands and up to her waiting gaze. She smiles at him. It’s half done, morphed into a slight grimace from the split in her lip, but it still carries her usual air of mischief. And he thinks that maybe, things might be okay.
_____
★Flash
Flash is brushing her teeth when she sees Ghost again. Her hair still damp and curling from the shower she’d taken to scrub the dried sweat and dust from her skin. She’d also braved a look in the mirror. A small blue-purple bruise curves along her skin between her cheekbone and eye, a half healed split at her lower lip, and a stitched line at her temple were all that remained of her encounter. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but better than she’d been expecting. Her shower though, had run out of her allotted bathroom time and into Ghosts. It wasn’t the first time it happened, but when it did, he would politely apologize and leave her to finish.
But now, dressed in joggers and a delightfully worn shirt, he hovers in the open doorway. She wonders if he feels it. The pull.
He’s about to turn and leave when Flash finds herself mumbling through a mouthful of toothpaste, “Don’t leave I’m almost done.” She’s not quite sure why she asks him to stay, but she does.
Flash can’t help but smile at the way his socked feet shuffle awkwardly against the tile, not sure where to stand. It’s incredibly sweet, and the softness of the action only strengthens the pull that begs her to step forward and into him.
“So,” Flash starts, spitting her toothpaste into the sink before continuing to lazily brush in half circles, “do I get to see your face now? Or is that something you reserve for people who are near death?” In one smooth movement, she’s resting on the counter in front of him, hoping the toothbrush hanging from her lips hides the wince as her sore muscles strain. “Ya know, like a ‘I can show you but then I’d have to kill you’ type a’ situation?”
Ghost is silent, unresponsive to her prodding. Any other night he would have told her to drop it and go to bed. Maybe give her a snarky response if she’s lucky. But tonight he’s quiet, just as before. And then she sees it. The way his shoulders curve inward and the flickering of his eyes as they move to look at anything that isn’t her.
“You know it's not your fault right?” Flash’s voice is soft, the same one she’d use to coax a scared dog from a corner.
“What?” A whisper.
“It’s not your fault.” She slides from the counter, leaving her toothbrush next to the basin, she walks quietly towards him. Cautious, slow enough for him to back away, she reaches up to brush a hand against his face. It’s a daring move but he doesn’t pull away.
The cotton of the mask is warm from being so close to the heated skin of his cheeks. Golden lashes brush against them and their freckled surface as his lids shutter closed. Flash drinks in the rare moment of softness. Her mind drifts back to her last few moments in the truck, how warm the skin of his face had been and suddenly, she’s never wanted anything more in her life.
“Can I touch-” Her words breathe out into the empty space between them and Ghost’s eyes fly open, wide and searching her own.
“Blindfold, I - can you wear a blindfold?” His words are stuttered and rushed with a desperation she can’t even begin to understand. Flash offers him a silent nod and then the space in front of her is empty.
She lifts herself back onto the counter, just to busy herself as she listens to the opening of a drawer and the quiet whisper of him digging through clothes in his room. He returns with a beautifully patterned terracotta scarf. Like the one’s she’d seen at the market. He sets it gently in her lap but she pushes it back into his hands.
“Here, you can tie it. So you know I’m not peeking.”
He nods once before taking the brown fabric with shaking hands and folding it into a neat strip and leaning in close to wrap it gently around her eyes. Flash senses his hesitation as he pauses before tying the knot. Wary of the bruise beneath her eye. She gives her best reassuring smile and it seems to do the trick.
“Is that too tight?” He whispers and Flash shivers as his breath fans across her ear, light and warm.
“No. It’s perfect.”
There’s a gentle rustle of fabric and then his mask is resting on her lap. Nerves beat her heart up into her throat.
“Are you scared?” Her whisper is careful, spoken into the quiet space between them. A question spoken to him but a silent admission of her own.
“Yes.”
“It's only me.” She can’t help but smile at his honesty.
“That’s what I’m scared of.”
“Can I touch you?” She murmurs, and he hums a confirmation. It’s a quiet, broken noise.
A soft sigh breaks the silence when the pads of her searching fingers meet his cheek and draw upwards to a rather prominent cheekbone. She can’t help but smile at the heat she feels beneath her fingers, he’s blushing.
Quick breaths come from his nose, followed by two long exhales. Subtle enough that if she weren’t inches from his face would have gone unnoticed, but his warm breath falls against the small strip of her cheeks left uncovered by the scarf. Her heart swells in her chest when she realizes he’s attempting to calm himself.
“Why do you keep trying?”
His words catch her off guard and her exploring fingers come to a halt at his browbone. A displeased huff urges them on and to a soft brow. Flash takes a moment to think, but it doesn’t take her long to find a response.
“Because you deserve to heal.” Ghost turns his head into her hand, muffling a groan. It’s a noise unlike anything she’s ever heard before. An amalgamation of sadness and desperation that makes the blood in her veins slow to listen.
“Has no one ever told you that?”
“No.” He speaks into her palm, hiding his face as if she could see him through the scarf.
“Well, you do.” She smiles softly and flinches in surprise when his thumb brushes against the soft skin of her lower lip. He pulls back quickly,
“Sorry, I-”
“No, you’re fine.” Flash reaches down and grabs for his hand, bringing his thumb up to her lips again when she finds it. He takes a shuddering breath and she wishes for just a moment that she could pull the blindfold up from her eyes and look at him, see the way his body is reacting to her touch, rather than feeling, and hearing it.
“Your smile.” His thumb parts the plush of her lips, so gently she almost doesn’t feel it.
“What about it?” She can’t help but laugh at his odd remark.
His face under her hand moves, and a familiar divot forms under her ring finger.
“Oh good lord you have dimples?” She breathes against his hand.
“Just on the left.” His words are murmured, shy if she thought he was capable of such an innocent emotion. And in the warm darkness of the bathroom, without seeing the scars on his hands or the dazed look his eyes so often held, she realizes just how innocent he is. The boyish way he holds her face, similar to the way a child learning to write struggles to grip a pencil. Like the concept of touching someone without the intent of harm is as foreign to him as a new language. And the realization absolutely crushes her.
“Freckles, dimples, blue eyes. You must be a real stunner.” She teases, an awful attempt to fight the burning behind her eyes. The skin beneath her hand warms again and the overwhelming urge to throw herself into him is consuming, to wrap herself so tightly around him that their skin fuses and they become one. The thought is as terrifying as it is tempting.
“Far from it.”
She frowns at his words but the hand on her face smooths her brow in a gentle caress. Her next exhale comes shakily through her nose.
Braving the waters, Flash traces up the soft curve of his cheek and her fingers catch on slightly raised skin, silkier than the rest, a scar. It travels from his left cheekbone to his hairline just above his eyebrow.
“How did this happen?” Her imploring question is light and spoken without pressure. He could leave it unanswered if he wished.
“My father.” His response is quiet but it’s a scream to her ears. Images of him as a child, a defenseless teen screaming as he clutched his head in pain fill her mind in a rush. She quickly moves on. Feeling for more, battle-oriented scars, but she feels none.
“Do you have any more?”
A rumbling laugh vibrates down her arm and warms her chest.
“Plenty. Although the reconstructive surgeries helped, there’s always going to be a mark.”
“Where?”
A gentle hand reaches for hers and guides her fingers in an arc from the corner of his mouth to a point near his hairline. She traces the spot over on her own until she feels the slight change in texture, the jagged shape that whatever had cut him left behind. She didn’t dare ask its origin.
“Your scars make mine seem like papercuts.” A nervous laugh blows past her lips.
“And I hope it stays that way.” He glides warm fingers just inches from the stitches on her temple. “You already have enough.”
“Nothing near as cool as yours.” She protests, tracing his cheek once more to emphasize her point.
The room is silent, and for just a moment, she thinks she's ruined it and then he’s laughing again. Stuttered like he hasn’t had enough practice, and Flash wishes he’d never stop.
“What?” She asks, incredulous.
“I’ve never had someone call my scars cool.” The stuttered laughs come through his nose now, in gentle breaths of air that warm her own cheeks.
Another mostly nervous laugh looses from her parted lips at the absurdity of their situation. If someone told her a year ago, as she unabashedly stared at Ghost giving his lecture, that she’d be on the counter of their shared bathroom, blindfolded and committing his face to memory with her hands she’d probably laugh. And then file a report.
Flash smiles shyly before bringing her other hand up to gently cup his face, eager to change the topic. “Is this normal?” She breathes as he leans further into her, now pressing against the counter space between her legs. Heat radiates from him, warming her in a way she’s never felt before.
“Is what normal?”
“Wanting to touch you so badly my chest aches.” The admission makes her heart stutter in embarrassment and something warm and syrupy slows the muscles of her mouth.
“I don’t think so.” His answer is mumbled, and before she can feel the sting of rejection, he’s pressing his forehead to hers in an almost feline gesture.
Their lips are just inches away, all she’d have to do is tilt her head up and they’d be kissing. The thought sends her heart thumping so painfully that her stomach rolls with nerves. Enough that she just savors the closeness they have already.
“I feel like I’m going to puke.” She whispers to him with a nervous smile and instantly regrets it. There’s just something about his presence that loosens her tongue in ways it shouldn’t.
But then Ghost is laughing again and pressing his forehead harder against her own. “Me too.”
And the confession is orchestral.
Her arms reach from where they’re pinned between them and up into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. A muffled moan is pressed into the skin of her neck so she does it again, a gentle scrape through his hair. Tremors wrack his body in waves. Then he’s pulling away and her hands are slipping from his shoulders too soon.
“Off the counter, face the mirror.” Although his voice is still soft and shaken, it’s demanding enough that Flash doesn’t protest. She feels him reach around her for something on the counter, muscled chest pressing close to her shoulder.
“I’m getting some deja vu.” Ghost’s murmur is quiet and entirely self-indulgent.
“To what?” Flash’s brows furrow in confusion under the soft silk.
“Well uh-” His words stumble out, unprepared. “That night you took that pill?”
Flash’s stomach sinks and her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth when she responds. “Uh-huh.”
“You were struggling a bit with cleaning the scratches. You couldn’t even hold the cloth.”
“Oh god.” Even with the scarf on her face, Flash still has to drop her head in her hands. “I didn’t do anything weird? Did I?” She thinks back to the table that morning, Soap's laughing and Ghost's not so subtle smile.
“No.” Ghost runs a finger slick with a paste that she quickly recognizes as the salve the doctor had given her for sore joints over her skin. Far from the scratches and cuts on her shoulders. She practically purrs at his touch combined with the cooling effect of the paste. “But you’re very touchy.”
Embarrassment floods hot through her chest and she starts to apologize but Ghost interrupts her again.
“Don’t apologize.” Those fingers drift up and to an unblemished space just past her shoulder. “Just be quiet and let me make up for my mistake.”
“You don’t have to-” Her words end in a sharp moan when his fingers dig into a tender spot against her neck. “Holy shit.” His fingers fumble a bit but he regains his composure quickly, returning back to the spot and rubbing delightful small circles against the knot. “Jesus-” Her mumbling is cut off with a soft hush and she finally gives in, dropping her chin to the heated skin of her chest as he loosens the muscles that had grown stiff after days in bed. When he reaches a spot along the arch of her spine, smoothing deep half circles into the muscle there, a broken whine falls involuntarily from her mouth. It’s entirely pathetic but she’s too far gone to care. This last sound seems to signal him though and he’s stepping back, dropping those magic hands from her lower back.
“Okay.” His voice is breathy ghost of a whisper and despite never seeing his face, Flash knows that if she were to pull the blindfold from her eyes, he’d be shaking and casting his eyes to the floor, those precious strawberry blonde curls falling across his forehead, and cheeks ruddy with the warm blush she’d felt just minutes before. But she leaves it tied neatly against her damp hair, even though her fingers itch to slide the soft fabric from her eyes.
There’s a rustling, Ghost is reaching past her to grab something from the counter and she can practically smell the anxiety leaking from his skin, along with something else she hadn’t noticed until now.
“Is that citrus?” She tries not to sound too surprised, she shouldn’t be. It had been one of the first things she’d noticed when flopping herself onto his bedding. Something she did not want to think about.
“It’s uh- oranges?” He sounds unsure, Flash is about to point this out but he continues. “My mum wore it.” There’s another brief pause. She can practically hear his internal debate over whether or not he should continue. “It’s- It helps with- anxiety.”
“Oh.” She stands there for another moment, not wanting to leave quite yet, but not having anything to say. He doesn’t move either, just stands quietly in front of her. “I like it.”
“Me too.”
Gentle fingers slide the scarf from her eyes, the light of the bathroom is blinding and she has to blink several times to clear the dots from her vision. When her eyes finally focus, she cranes her head upward from the soft cotton of his chest. Ghost’s eyes are staring into the mirror above her, at himself. There’s a small strip of exposed skin between his shirt and balaclava. She can see the collarbone that she’d whispered to so many nights ago.
“I’m going to bed.” She says to the strip, and without looking back at his face, turns and walks as calmly as she can to her room. Even though the racing of her heart screams at her to run, to hide, to grab him by his stupid masked face and kiss him.
The last thought scares her enough that she shuts the bathroom door with a bit too much force. The sound makes her jump. It’s entirely pathetic but the creeping sickness from this morning is gone, replaced with something much much worse. Something deadly, something terrifying, something that makes her want to laugh and cry. So she does both.
It doesn’t help.
_____
Flash can’t wipe the love-sick smile off her face as she walks to their small kitchen. Her water bottle swinging in time with her steps.
“He won’t always be like that.”
The metal bottle clangs loudly against the concrete when her hand slackens in surprise.
“What?” She breathes, heart beating wildly in her chest.
“I said, he won't always be like that.” Soap says from the small couch in the ‘living room’. He’s draped himself lazily over the arm and is flicking through an old copy of the ‘New Yorker’. A cartoonish drawing of pointing Uncle Sam is printed on the front under bold red letters reading ‘I WANT YOU’.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says calmly, swiping her bottle from the floor and continuing towards the sink, averting her eyes from the dramatic cartoon.
“Oh don’t play coy. You’re smiling like a fuckin’ teenager in love Lass. I know.” His tone isn’t accusing, if anything it's bored. Like he couldn’t be bothered to finish the conversation he’d started. “He’s true to his name. He’ll be kissing you like he needs you to breathe, and then the next mornin’ float right by you. Stings like a bitch. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“How do you know?” She asks over the flowing tap. “Did you two...” Her half question drifts, waiting for him to pick up. It takes the metal burning into her palm for Flash to realize the water is steaming, she tips the bottle over and starts again.
“Were we together?” He flips another page, casual, like he’s not admitting to fucking his best friend. “I guess you could call it that.”
“He wasn’t interested in that... stuff?” She thinks back to the way his hands trembled the first time he’d touched her, and the way he practically vibrates when their bodies come within inches of each other.
“No,” a devilish chuckle comes from behind the paper “we didn’t have trouble in that department.”
“So you were a thing?” She asks and is blindsided by a sudden burning in her chest. It curls around to tense the line of her shoulders, bringing them closer to her ears like raised hackles.
He finally lowers the magazine and shakes his head at her reaction. “No need to get possessive. It lasted about two months before he realized that fucking every ten minutes wouldn’t fix his shit load of issues.” His words immediately drench her in a cool wave, and an embarrassing guilt flushes high in her cheeks, along with a biting sympathy at his confession. “My feelings were unrequited, unfortunately.” He gives her a sad smile. “He needs someone who isn’t broken. He needs someone who can guide him out of the shit storm he’s been led into.” The magazine is flipped back open and brought back up, his tone turns curious. “Someone like you.”
She starts to deny, to tell him that she is far from unbroken, but Soap waves another hand at her.
“Don’t bother, I don’t care.” A plain lie. “I just wanted to warn you. He can be-” a pregnant pause splits his words, “he can be challenging. He’s got a cargo container of shit that he hasn’t even begun to unpack. It can lead to some pretty rough mood swings.” Soap puts the magazine back down. “What I’m trying to say is he’s a real piece of work, but if anyone deserves the help, it’s him. I just hope you’re the right person.”
Flash can hear the unspoken words ring through the air between them.
‘Because I wasn’t’
When Flash reaches Ghost’s door in the bathroom, away from the prying eyes still pretending to read the old magazine, she knocks softly, waits a few moments, and then knocks again. There’s no response.
He’s blocked himself off again.
Disappointed and trying not to think of Soap’s words, Flash slinks dejectedly back to lie in her bed. Her IPod still lay on her nightstand, nestled in the center of a neatly swirled nest of wires. Right where Ghost had put it her first night there.
Then for some reason, imagining him taking the time to do something so unimportant with so much care, for her no less, sends a wave of something nearing homesickness through her. A brittle sort of feeling. And for the first time in over five years, Flash has the urge to call her sister.
“This is not good.”
A/N: AHHH MY AWKWARD LITTLE BABIES. I hoped you loved this as much as I loved writing it. God I love unhinged relationships, they’re just *chefs kiss*.
#Ghost x reader#Ghost x female oc#SImon riley#Cod fic#Simon Ghost Riley#Alejandro Vargas#Valeria#Modern Warfare 2#Ghost stories#Headcannons#John soap mactavish#John Price#MW2#Gaz Garrick
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☕️ on tankhun if it hasn’t been asked before or anything else in general.
ooooohhh my beloved Khun 👀 tbh not much immediately comes to mind? Khun doesn't usually get much focus in fic and while i might be hoping for some specific Khun headcanons or characterizations, it's easier to read around characterizations i disagree with for secondary character. the only hand and fast 'no' i have for Khun takes are any where Khun picks Chay over Kim, but i don't see that as much anymore. dunno if that's because it has truly died down or if i just have most of it muted, but either way i'm v grateful 😂 but everyone already knows that one, so a Khun characterization i don't much agree with:
very ""motherly"" (ie, soft) Khun
this seems to stem mostly from Khun saying he raised his brothers? ft a heavy dose of fanon characterization. but Khun having been a big part in his brothers growing up doesn't mean he'd be soft and/or necessarily a caretaker. Khun's still very sharp. i see his touches with Kinn and Kim being of the sort like, briskly yanking their clothes into order before they go out, doling out snark just as good as he gets from two moody teenagers, smacking them upside the head if they say something disrespectful, etc. Khun's still Khun. he's very impatient, intense, and brash, and he's still working through a lot of trauma that sometimes has him lashing out at others. he's not really a tender person, as much as i love tender moments with him--tenderness especially is dangerous in their life, and Khun was raised as the heir to their world first.
this is more vague vibes than anything else? it's not anything that will immediately have me backing out, esp because i love little moments where Khun can be softer with his loved ones, but Kinn is the bleeding heart of the family and i disagree with any fic that puts Khun as the heart instead.
[ send a ☕, get a bitchy* fic opinion ] *personal preference related, we’re not here to be mean
#kinnporsche#tea asks#sorry for the delay it was HARD to put this one into words 😂#watch me remember too late something that properly annoys me right after i post lol
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ok!!!!!!!! i am!!!!!!! going to just say it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! long long post ahead!!!!!!!!!
yes i look like an out of touch stan with a victim complex for one character when i draw no one but bentham in my fanart and completely ignore everyone else to feel sorry for him and yes i am aware and no i dont know if anyone else sees this in me or im just paranoid but bro i am annoyed with myself !!! i hate how stannish i am sometimes because yes bentham had every reason to be called evil but yeah i had a good few reasons to have a complete breakdown when i read that in the book !!!!!!!1 too much writing under the cut about a lot of stuff that is in my head and needs to get out for better or for worse idk
i have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgement and i do not expect to be forgiven but genuinely the way me being a stupid shameless stan can come off to others even subconsciously is actually important because it makes me look like someone who would see a situation like the bentham siblings' in real life and side with the STRAIGHT WHITE MALE who has made more than mistakes and hurt people in moments of heightened emotion (end of library of souls)- but like not in defense of bentham for ONCE IN MY LIFE everyone feels emotions everyone gets hurt and he had a right to not be perfect after everything he went through but that doesnt mean hurting people is the course of action and bro i have completely ignored that and skirted around it for two years and IM NOT GONNA KEEP APOLOGISING FOR MAKING THIS TOO LONG BECAUSE IT BLEEDS INTO REAL LIFE AND I REALISE HOW MUCH OF A STUCK UP DICK I COULD BE NOT ONLY ABOUT THIS BUT IN GENERAL LIFE AFTER I READ THE BOOKS AND GAINED AN ATTACHMENT TO BENTHAM
the stuff im talking about is honestly mainly between me myself and i and most of the art i post is him either chilling or feeling a bit sad but the way i completely ignore miss peregrine's issues and betrayal to focus on how oh so hurt and betrayed myron was like there was no reason he was exiled
like yes years in a big mansion with three people to keep him company in the middle of devils acre with no way to resolve his trauma can do shit to someone but what about years feeling his sisters guilt, BASIL????? what about how she mustve felt after both her brothers DIED due to their own hubris???????????? what about how she felt she was a bad sister when she literally had to be like their mother with all the baggage she had then actually mother children while thinking her slightly better brother might have been getting better with him saying he was gonna give them info on caul only to see him SIDE WITH CAUL when he had just done something that COULD HAVE HELPED HIS CAUSE and then spitefully capture her and lead them into the mouth of hell OH MY GOD
and how jacob and emma had to deal with his bullshit being all "lets talk over tea!" and waiting for when it was right in the exposition to tell them who he fucking was, then telling them he BASICALLY KILLED JACOBS GRANDPA while giving excuses and them finding out later on that hE KEPT THE SUUL FOR HIMSELF?????? i made some bullshit reason up why he did that for my headcannons but lets be real the only reason they could have at least imagined was that he was planning on using it in the library. the information betrayed them either way and to alma again it was only a stab in the gut because he hurt a guy who was basically her son
overall hes not some aesthetic victimised pookie bear hes a more than flawed man who only did some things to mend his image and cant be excused for what he did and this whole post was basically me shouting at myself
#which is on brand because#theres two sides of the argument living in my brain#and more than one me#mphfpc#now time to listen to music and ignore the fact i posted this#myron bentham
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Nothing Else Matters (a Triple Frontier shifters AU)
Title: Nothing Else Matters Fandom: Triple Frontier Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Reader x Triple Frontier Boys reverse harem style Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Your faves are werewolves and you get to pork them. And you are also a werewolf. Yeah. That's pretty much it. Beta-read by the incomparable @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six
Content Notes: No sexy times in this chapter, but issuing a content warning for some medical drama, my total lack of understanding of the Spanish language, and completely made up shifter nonsense.
Chapter One
Three weeks ago you were convinced Santiago was dead. And now you were holed up in his safehouse in St. John while he led the rest of your pack on a suicide mission through the Columbian jungle. You hadn’t been keen on being left alone with the baby in unfamiliar territory, but you didn’t dare complain. You might have been able to convince Frankie to sit this one out–he had a good heart and he was fiercely protective of baby Luna–but you couldn’t ask that of him. Not after landing the both of you in hot water for getting pregnant against your Alpha’s wishes.
You tried not to wonder why the trip that was supposed to last 5 days had stretched out to two weeks, but it was hard not to imagine all the things that could have gone wrong. Some nights you woke alone in a strange bed so frightened it was all you could do to wake Luna and encourage her to nurse until you could barely keep your eyes open.
You were relieved when the boys’ boat finally pulled into the dock, until you saw the state that Will was in–bleeding from his stomach, barely able to stand on his own.
You searched their faces for clues to what had happened: Will pale and in pain, Benny agitated and fretting over his brother, Santiago was stern, nearly impossible to read, and Frankie just seemed sad. You counted them again: four.
“Where’s Tom?”
Santiago pointed to a human-sized bundle of canvas tied with rope at the back of the boat. A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over you as the realization set in. You leaned on one of the dock’s pylons to support yourself.
You felt your wolf, Ginger, raging inside you. You took deep breaths to calm her, knowing that Ironhead was more than likely scratching at Will’s nervous system, eager to be free. Seeing Ginger, smelling her, feeling her anguish would certainly push him over the edge. But letting Ironhead out now would do more harm than good.
“Get him up to the house and get my kit,” you instructed. Your anxiety dissipated as your whole world narrowed to a single purpose: taking care of your pack.
Benny set Will down on the chair in the main room and helped to remove his shirt. You grimaced, peeling back the hemostatic dressing to find a bullet hole still seeping blood and pus. You poured wound wash over the damaged skin and pressed fresh gauze against the wound. Ironhead growled and snapped at you–fangs and claws bared–before Will could get him back under control.
“I know,” you said as calmly as you could manage. “I know it hurts. Stay with me.”
In the tiny nursery–the outdated butler’s pantry, just big enough for a bassinet and your nursing chair–Luna woke and began to cry. The sound made Will lurch with the effort of keeping Ironhead contained.
“Frankie,” you called. “Get the baby. Frankie, the baby!”
From across the room, Frankie stared at you blankly, still deep in shock. You instructed Benny to keep the pressure on the wound and went to the nursery to fetch Luna. Seeing you, she stopped crying in earnest, but still fussed for comfort and attention.
“Francisco!” you snapped, carrying the baby out to her father. “Escúchame!”
Frankie’s eyes finally focused on you as you handed Luna off to him. He clutched her to his chest, cradling her head in his hand and breathing in the familiar smell of her–like fresh powder and breast milk. His breathing and pulse began to slow. Catfish grounded and soothed by being reunited with his beloved pup.
“Take her,” you instructed. “I need to stitch Will up and get him regulated. If he shifts now, he will tear that wound wide open. You understand?”
“No,” Frankie protested, trying to hand her back to you. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can,” you said. “You are her father. I need you to do this.”
Frankie nodded, rallying himself to take Luna to the kitchen so you could stitch Will’s wound.
Stomach wounds were so complex, without imaging or exploratory surgery it was impossible to know the full extent of the damage. But the truth was, even with a shifter’s regenerative capabilities, if the kidneys or bladder were involved Will would be dead already. He was feverish, so you gave him an injection of acetaminophen to try to bring down his temperature and help with the pain. An IV would be better, but you weren’t set up for that here.
“Can you swallow?” you asked, opening a bottle of antibiotics to show him the size of the pills.
“Don’t worry, man,” Benny said, trying to soothe himself with humor. “If you can't, we'll give you the suppository.”
Will rolled his eyes, accepting the pills with a glass of water. “I can swallow.”
“Benny, can you get him out of these wet clothes and into bed?” you asked. “I’ll be right in, I’m just going to put on a pot of tea.”
“You got it,” Benny agreed, snapping to attention, happy to be given a task.
As the youngest member of your pack–before Luna came along–he could be irresponsible, impulsive, and self-indulgent, but he always knew when to buckle down and get things done.
“Come here,” you urged. “Give me a kiss. You’re doing a good job. You’re a good brother. I’m proud of you.”
Benny stooped to place a kiss at the corner of your mouth and you helped him lift Will out of the chair. As they hobbled to the bedroom you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle.
“How is he?” Frankie asked, bouncing Luna on his knee as she fussed and reached for you.
A shifter’s wolf was a natural part of their sympathetic nervous system, but like an elevated heartbeat or increased blood pressure, it could also be maladaptive. The change took years to master without losing yourself to the animal and even then required an incredible amount of energy, energy that Will needed to heal.
“Bleeding’s stopped,” you explained. “But he’s not out of the woods yet. Fighting one hell of an infection. May need stronger antibiotics than what I have to give him. If it goes septic we’ll have a feverish, pissed off Ironhead on our hands.”
“Tell me what you need,” Santiago said–the first words he had spoken to you in over three years. “I’ll get it.”
You turned away from him, returning your attention to warming up a bottle for Luna as you waited for the kettle. You would be the first to admit, you hadn’t gone out of your way to bridge the gap between you after he had essentially waltzed back into your lives with a hand grenade after years off the grid. But if this was his feeble attempt at repairing what he had broken, he would have to do better than that.
“I’m going to stay with Will tonight,” you explained. “I need you to look after Luna.”
“Can’t Benny watch him?” Frankie pleaded, rising from the table as he shushed Luna anxiously. “She wants you.”
“Benny has never calmed anyone in his life,” you said. “And we need Will calm, Frankie. You will be fine. She’s just hungry. Give her a bottle and rock her, play with her for a bit and put her to bed. There’s toys and clean nappies in the nursery. It will be good for you both.”
You went to Frankie, holding Luna between you, wondering what the hell had gone on out there that had him so on edge.
“I love you. I trust you.” You held Frankie’s scruffy, bearded face and kissed him. His lips tasted like salt and copper pennies.
You poured the tea and checked the temperature of Luna’s bottle before handing it off to Frankie. You went back to the bedroom, thankful you had missed the ordeal of getting Will undressed and settled into bed.
“Thank you, Benny,” you said. “I can take over; you need your rest.”
“Are you sure?” Benny asked, adding soto voce, “He’s pretty agitated.”
“I can still hear you, Benny,” Will snapped.
“I can handle your brother,” you assured him, giving the taut muscle of his arm as squeeze with your free hand. “Eat something, try to get some sleep.”
Will growled and shifted uncomfortably in bed as his brother left.
“Where’s Luna?”
“She’s with her father,” you said, taking a careful seat beside him on the bed, holding the back of your hand against his face.
“Frankie doesn’t know shit about taking care of a kid,” Will protested.
"He'll be fine,” you insisted, taking a cold compress from your bag and holding it to the pulse point on his throat. “You're the one I'm worried about. You want something else for the pain?"
Will shook his head. ""M fine."
You sighed in frustration at Will’s pigheadedness. Toughing out the pain made Ironhead that much harder to soothe. You undressed and slid under the covers beside him, pressing yourself against his side. His bare skin was hot and clammy.
"How's that?"
"Better," he nodded, putting an arm around you.
"I should put you on NPO," you warned, handing him the cup of tea from the bedside table. "But as it stands you need the fluids. You lost quite a bit of blood."
"I'll make more," Will said, sipping the bitter tea.
"At least you haven't lost your sense of humor,” you said. “Tell me what happened.”
Will related the whole mess to you: how they all got greedy at the sight of all that money, but Redfly most of all. That Frankie blamed himself for the helicopter crash, for the deaths of the cocaine farmers, for not putting his foot down when the load was too heavy for the chopper. That the son of one of the murdered farmers had followed them to seek revenge against Tom. That they had to cross the Andes on foot and fight their way through an army of child soldiers to get to their boat. That at the time, being shot in the altercation with Lorea was the least of their worries.
“Is that so,” you sighed. Having gone through all that it was a wonder he hadn’t thrown a clot, or worse. “Any other symptoms? Headache? Chest Pain? Nausea?”
Will shook his head, taking another gulp of tea.
“Dare I ask when was the last time you took a shit?”
Will chuckled, just a little. "You don't want to know."
“You have to tell me if the pain gets worse,” you warned. “You understand?”
The bullet had gone straight through him, so at least it wasn’t tearing him apart on the inside while they were traipsing through the Andes.
“All those speeches you give to new recruits, do you ever tell them about this part?”
Of course everyone loved hearing the story about assaulting a man into pissing himself at the Piggly Wiggly. It made them feel powerful, cool even, paradoxically in control. They were far less interested in the very real possibility of watching their friends die.
“About beautiful women asking about their bowel movements?” Will scoffed. “No. Definitely not.”
“I thought the whole point was to keep it real,” you carefully leaned your head on his chest. You could feel his heart pounding
“Nobody wants it kept that real.”
"Here," you said, taking his hand and placing it on your chest so he could feel your heartbeat. "Does that feel like the heartbeat of someone in danger? We're safe now; you can rest. You brought them home."
"Not all of them," Will said with a pained grimace.
"I know. I could kill Santiago for putting you through that."
"Go easy on him," Will pleaded. "He's hard enough on himself for all of us."
"Well it certainly doesn't show," you said. "He's cold to me. Won’t even look me in the eye."
"Don't take it personal. It's just--" Will’s eyes flitted away from you like he didn't want to say.
"Spit it out."
"There was a woman. In Columbia--"
"He can fuck who he wants," you scoffed. “You know I don’t care about that.”
"A human woman."
A growl formed deep in your chest, but you swallowed it down, mindful of controlling your temper, but you were sure the momentary lapse in judgment wasn’t lost on Will or Ironhead.
"He said it was nothing,” Will said. “But he cared for her. He had to send her away to keep her safe."
“Then it doesn’t matter anyway,” you said in a careful, measured tone as you took the empty mug from Will’s hands.
You both knew that with Tom gone the pack was vulnerable. You needed Santiago now, as much as you hated to admit it. If his loyalties were divided it would be disastrous for all of you.
You laid your head on Will’s chest, carefully snaking your arms around him to soothe yourself with his solidness.
“Close your eyes now,” you said. “You need sleep.”
#triple frontier fic#shifters au#reverse harem#reader x frankie 'catfish' morales#reader x santiago 'pope' garcia#reader x will 'ironhead' miller#reader x benny miller#pedro pascal#oscar isaac#charlie hunnam#garrett hedlund
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okok I had a dream that this super wealthy aristocratic family was throwing some big party. The family had three adult sons, two were married, and one was single, and the single one invited me to pretend to be his date, but I was really there to help him investigate the family and uncover the shady things he suspected the rest of them were doing
Party/event goes on, we keep sneaking off and looking for things, I think eventually I found an incriminating journal? I don't remember what the details were but there was a lot of corruption (and murder)
Well, we got found out by the other brothers just when we were on the verge of proof, and ended up cornered on the steps outside the manor.
The guy I'm with tries to get them to talk it out, and removes a pistol he was carrying and sets it on the ground behind him. His brothers do likewise, but just when I think we might be fine, one of their wives comes out with a gun and fires at both of us, giving the brothers time to grab their own weapons.
Me and the guy hit the ground, and I can see blood on my shirt but can't even feel if I've been shot or not, but the guy definitely takes a few hits. I end up just playing dead, which is actually very hard because the brothers then proceed to throw us both down the stairs. One of them pries up a fancy storm drain cover and the other just drops us in.
So it's super dimly lit and very muddy, and as soon as the brothers leave, I hurry to find the brother I'm with. He's still alive, but not very conscious at this point, and is definitely bleeding from somewhere, but since the current conditions are sub-optimal, I just slap him awake and half-drag him through the storm drain.
We come up at the next drain cover, now faced with the very fun task of finding somewhere in the manor where we won't be murdered or ratted out so I can get a look at him. This ends up being a janitor's closet in the basement, where I literally just hose him down over the mop-washing drain.
He'd been shot in the side, leg, and upper back, and two of those still had bullets lodged inside, so I had to dig those out. Luckily there were plenty of clean cloths and stuff in the closet that I could use for bandages. The wound I got was just a graze, so I was mostly fine. From there, we started making a plan of what to do next, but that's about when I woke up.
#fun stuff#the manor was in the middle of nowhere and i told him we should get the family doctor in secret to treat him#but the guy was like 'no way. he'd just kill me.'#so field surgery time! closet surgery?#whump dream#dream log#I can't remember my dream tag#whump#tw gun#gunshot wound
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I love your ruination au! I have so many questions like when will it be posted? How many chapters? Will Otto and Chrispin get turn into dragon feed? What are everyone's reaction like? And most importantly, does Lucemond get married?
Everyone talks about wanting to see Daemon and Rhaenyra’s reactions to Lucemond but what about Jace or Aegon's reactions? It'll be hilarious. Them two older brothers bonding over their younger idiot clueless brothers.
I kinda want Luke to have a lock of white hair maybe caused by the storm's lighting or something cooler. Makes him look like he was touched not just by The Stranger but by the gods of Old Valyria themselves.
And since Luke likes to bite, Daemon will definitely teach him to include that into his combat fighting as well. Like just imagine doe-eye smol Luke just ripping a man's throat out with his teeth? His bottom face painted with blood? Cannibal will probably roar with proud victory. And Aemond doesn't know if he should be scared or turn on by that.
Don't mind me but just picturing:
When Rhaenyra’s soldiers found out Lucerys will be leading them into battle as commander, a lot of them are irritated and some even scoffed openly at how obvious the nepotism was. A young boy barely 15 years old has no place being in that position of power.
Until he silently lands with Cannibal to meet his skeptical fleet of soldiers. Cannibal doesn't roar, breathe flames or even land heavily to immediately command their attention. The silence in the courtyard was deafening. How could a creature so big be so utterly quiet?
But he draws himself up to his full height so every man can see the multitude of scars that adorned his body and be reminded exactly why he is called Cannibal. This was a dragon even before House Targaryen and lived through archaic times. And who feeds on other dragons.
Lucerys then emerge out of nowhere and the men are confused. There are no signs of a harness on Cannibal, surely the young prince did not rode his dragon without any equipment?
But they see his thicker leathers, the silver lock standing out in his brown hair, the dark unsettling look in his stone cold eyes, and realise he did. Lucerys quietly took in the faces of the men he will lead, nodded once and strode off to his tent without a word. When they looked back to where his dragon was, Cannibal had disappeared. What?
The uneasiness prevented even the most loud-mouthers from voicing their doubts though. The stupid ones who did went missing but emerged days later, shaking and a shell of their former selves.
Then, in their first battle against Green troops, Lucerys led them to victory and went and ripped an enemy's throat out with his bare teeth.
No one questioned his leadership since then.
Thank you! To answer the first few: not sure when I'll post but hopefully soon, not sure on chapter count but I'll tentatively aim for twenty as a max, I shan't reveal what will happen to Otto and Cole but I am critical of their characters so that might bleed through in my writing, there are too many people to list what all their reactions will be but I hope to do them all justice when the time comes, and as for marriage...perhaps.
I think Jace's reaction to Aemond would be an immediate and stern 'no'. He does not want his baby brother with their psycho uncle that almost killed him - but he also knows that Lucerys has become a bit unhinged and so he's pitting his need to protect him against the knowledge that Lucerys is now fully capable of tearing Aemond apart if he hurts him.
With Aegon, I'm currently writing him as a bit of an asshole. He definitely had an inkling that Aemond was more than interested in Lucerys since basically forever. So he's less surprised and more cynically amused by the hole his brother has dug himself into.
And lmao Aemond's wires are crossed because he gets uncomfortably hot whenever Lucerys bares his teeth at him. Everyone side-eyes him because he's really not subtle.
Also, I love the little scene! The unease and disbelief from people, seeing Lucerys rock up without harnesses or saddle or even bloody rope to keep himself in place; and them all knowing the rumours around Cannibal - it just builds a magnificent picture. His reputation would be so goddamn scary once he takes to the battlefield.
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Ok, serious question time gang
Sean is the youngest of the circle members right?
I mean Auntie Bee is the oldest of them that's a fact. And at first I though that maybe Nathaniel was second when it came to age because he was a lieutenant but then I remembered that because he came from money it's pretty certain that he had this position bought so it doesn't mean necessary that he'd be old or older.
However, I cannot imagine putting an somewhat barely an adult in charge, back in the day of the beginnings of the war. Or during the war. I think that when he enlisted he was an adult at least meaning he was over 18.
It is possible that Dr Jean is second in age since she is a doctor and I imagine she graduated university and her studies and if the wold of Newfaire is at least a little like the 1900 then she must have been 18 when she graduated if not older and then she had some practice. She did mention that she either learned or rather put her learned skills to use during the war in the trenches.
Those facts would put both Nathaniel and Jean in their early 30 I'd say? Or just turned 30? Also, their character are just much more authoritative which may came from their position in society and profession but it just fits that sort of age. We know that Nathaniel was younger sibling but we do not know how much younger he was from his brother that drowned so that doesn't give us much perspective.
Then Marion. He said that he tagged along with Sean and his brothers Tony and Jimmy all the time. That would put them similar in age. That being said through I'm almost certain that Sean was the youngest of the siblings and we know for a fact that he enlisted illegally when he was 16. I'm assuming and knowing his character he did so because his brothers also enlisted. Which leads me to think that maybe Marion was closer in age to Sean's siblings even if it were by 2 or 3 years because he just doesn't strike me as a person that would enlisted illegally. Unless if course he saw Sean doing a big stupid and decided that someone has to keep an eye on him.
But even if they all (except for Auntie Bee) were of similar age there could be 2-3 or more age gaps between them. And we know, we KNOW for a fact that Sean enlisted ILLEGALLY.
Also, this is a shot in the dark but notice how Auntie Bee sort of feels like a motherly figure to Sean. She said that she promised his mother to keep an eye on him. If Sean and Marion has been friends from young age and if Auntie Bee knew Sean from way before the Candela can means two things. One, which is quite reasonable, that she doesn't feel that Marion needs as much protection and attention because he's more reasonable of the two (although very protective of Auntie Bee, the amount of bleed he took for her and she does treat him almost like a son) or TWO, she did made a promise to Sean's mother to keep an eye on him not only because he's a impulsive idiot but also he is simply young.
Brennan said that Sean is in his mid twenties, we don't know how long was the war but if it is based on Great War that means it lasted 4 years (at least!) I'm saying at least because if Sean enlisted at the beginning that would put him at 20 and if he enlisted later he'd be even younger.
Now come to think of it I might be stupid but I though I remembered that in Chapter 1 it was said that the war lasted a decade? I'm not sure, someone let me know so I can fix it but either way that would put Sean at 26.
So yeah, unless we know more in my mind Sean is the youngest of the Needle and the Thread.
#candela obscura#candela spoilers#critical role#sean finnerty#circle of the needle and the thread#needle and thread#chapter 2#i swear im being normal about this circle#i am
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For @wntrsnat - prompt: "How long have you been sleeping with him?" Turned it into a Cop AU.
Chapter 2 on AO3
He should have come earlier. But he didn't want to ask and she didn't ask herself and there was Barney and everything at work and all he's been doing is texting her every few weeks How are you and she always texted back okay. Nothing more. Coulson had to press on him pretty hard before he realized he really should go visit his former colleague, his former partner. After two years.
"How is your new one?" Natasha asks, arms crossed, feet on the table, coffee mug clutched to her chest. She took well to New York. Well, she also took well to Chicago, before everything went to hell.
"Wanda?" Clint shrugs, playing with a pen. "Dunno. She's, like, 20 at best. Talks about her true crime podcasts all day."
Natasha's lips curl into a smile. "Sounds fun."
He snorts. "She did a tarot reading for me last week."
Natasha tilts her head. "What did it say?"
"Just the usual bullshit," he lies. He's not going to tell her he came here because of some stupid cards. "Can mean everything and its opposite, too."
"Mhm." Natasha puts her mug down and pulls her feet off the table, still wincing slightly. "Hold on, I have to read that."
It almost felt like the old days until she winced. Now it's all flooding back in, the pain, the fear, the guilt. She's frowning at some mail or the other, scrolling through quickly, efficient as always. She looks older. "I should have looked after you better," Clint says.
Natasha rubs the scar on her abdomen absent-mindedly. "Nothing you could have done, really."
It feels like there should have been something. He should have been able to prevent his partner from being abducted, from being shot, from bleeding out within an inch of her life. Should have been with her, should have found her sooner, should have - It's too late for all of that. "Fury misses you."
She grins, clicking on something. "Did he say that?"
"No. Of course not."
She nods absent-mindedly. "I miss you, too. All of you."
She could have come back. After the hospital, rehab, therapy - But she didn't want to, understandably. Too many memories. Instead, she chose New York. Not a quiet small town posting, New York. She was always a big city girl. "You can visit sometime."
She rubs her nose, as always when she's scared but doesn't want to show it. "Yeah. Might just do that."
He sighs. "I think she has potential. Wanda. She sees things other people don't see."
"Let me guess," Natasha remarks. "She's also terrible at filling out forms?"
"Horrible."
She smiles, satisfied with her guess. "Sounds like you fit together perfectly."
Not like with Natasha. It was never the same, the work, the late evenings, the horrible lunch choices, coming in in the morning and seeing this other girl at her desk - He swallows. "I finally got a place for Barney. Assisted living."
She looks up. "Really? That's great."
"Yeah, it's in Ohio, but whatever, I guess." He rubs his old wrist injury. "Moved him last week. He seemed happier without me, too."
"I'm sure that's not true, Clint," she chides.
He breathes out. They were never on good terms, him and his brother, and then that idiot had to wrap his car around a tree, couldn't even die in the crash, too, the only living relative - "It's for the best, in any case."
"Yeah," she agrees. "Happy for you."
He breathes in. "You know, I -"
The door opens without warning and in walks the guy at whose desk Clint's sitting, Barnes, Natasha's new partner. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes. Broody type. "I sent you the witness statements from the 26th. Don't think there's anything helpful in there."
"Thanks, I saw it," she replies. "I didn't notice anything either but we can go over it later in more detail."
Barnes nods, fishing some menu from his desk. "Sounds good. I'll go get Chinese, you want anything?"
"The usual," she replies, folding her forearms on the desk. "Sesame noodles with chicken for Clint."
"I'll see whether they have that," Barnes says, already pulling the door shut behind him. "Okay. See you."
He doesn't know when the uneasy feeling in his stomach started but it gets so much worse when he sees how she looks after Barnes. "He seems alright."
"Yeah," Natasha agrees absentmindedly. "He is."
Better rip the bandaid off. "How long have you been sleeping with him?"
She sighs. "Clint -"
"It's fine," he replies. "You can just tell me."
She bites her lip stubbornly, some older trauma coming through. "I'm not."
"Tasha. Come on."
She sighs again, pushing some file to the side. "Three months."
Three months. If he had just gotten over himself five, four months ago - Too late for that. "Well, I'm happy for you."
"Not telling anyone," she mutters, plucking invisible lint off her desk. "Or they won't let him take the Sergeant's exam."
Of course he's taking the Sergeant's exam. "Don't worry, I don't even work here."
She smiles weakly. "Sorry."
This wouldn't have happened if she hadn't gotten shot. Who knows what they would have become if she had stayed in Chicago, where people assumed they were either siblings or married for a decade, where everything was perfect until everything went wrong - Too late. "Nothing to be sorry for."
She swallows. "You wanted to say something, right?"
He's not going to tell her now, not about the request to be transferred that he has at home all filled out, just waiting for an envelope and a stamp, New York - Too late. "Oh, don't remember. Can't have been important."
Her eyes narrow, exactly like the old Tasha, the one who always saw through his crap. "If you're sure about that."
"You should visit sometime," he says instead. "Coulson asked. If you're ready for that, of course."
"Mhm." She shakes her head. "You know what, I think I might be. You still do the Thanksgiving party?"
He snorts, ignoring the cold hand squeezing his heart. "Of course we still do the Thanksgiving party."
Chapter 2 on AO3
#BNC2023#natasha romanoff#clint barton#bucky barnes#buckynat#clintasha#black widow#hawkeye#winter soldier#fanfic#my writing
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A bit of a thing I’m working on, aka First Son Dean Winchester, the story no one has asked for but you’re gonna get.
The first thing Dean thought, when the rage cleared enough for him to unclench his jaw and sit back, was that they were going to have to call his parents.
The second was that he just broke the cardinal rule of being a president’s kid: don’t be the story.
“Dean, come on—Dean,” Sam said, pulling him off of Robbie Walters. Robbie scrambled back fast, cupping a hand under his bleeding nose. He seemed like maybe it was hurting to breathe through it. Good, Dean thought savagely.
“I knew you were a fag!” Robbie’s friend, Teddy Sharpe sneered. He was gathering Robbie close with what Dean felt was some truly homosexual tenderness. Dean took one single step towards them before he suddenly had Sammy in full octopus mode all over him.
“Dean Winchester!” Mr. Trafton yelled.
“It wasn’t Dean’s fault!” Sam yelled back, which was a great sentiment but not screamed right into Dean's ear. At the same time Teddy leapt up to shout,
“Well it wasn’t Robbie’s! Dean just came at him.”
“He called Sam a fag,” Dean argued. “And then threw a punch.”
“Mr. Winchester, language,” Mr. Trafton said, because teachers were good at sorting out the important shit.
Everyone, all 1103 students at Sidwell Friends, knew that Robbie Walters thought he was hot shit because his dad was House Minority Whip, and despite the school’s oft-repeated and avowed anti-bullying stance, well. There were things that slipped through the cracks.
“All four of you, come with me,” Mr. Trafton said, gesturing for Robbie to stand up. He made a big show of how painful it was to even stand, and Dean rolled his eyes because he hadn’t even broken anything, but next time he might so Robbie had a real point of comparison. Dean was a giver like that.
The principal sent Teddy away since he clearly had nothing to do with it except trying to score points with Robbie, and then he called Mary Winchester and Cindy Walters. Dean dutifully told his side, and Robbie told his, and then Sammy shouted his, righteous fury pinking his cheeks, and Dean was too far away to kick him to sit down and shut up.
Mary Winchester was a tall woman, with honey blonde hair that she usually tucked up, and Dean was still convinced there was nobody more beautiful in the world. She came into the room and shook the the principal’s hand, looked at Sam and Dean and Robbie and said, “I think they can wait outside, don’t you?”
Which was how they ended up sitting across the hall from Robbie, Sam kicking his feet and Dean slouching, ignoring his sweaty palms and the weird twisting in his gut.
“Mom’s not gonna be mad,” Sam said, trying to peek past the blinds. “Robbie’s a jerk, she’s not gonna be mad at you.”
Which was true, but two years as the president’s son, and eight years as the Governor of Kansas’s son before that have taught Dean that his actions have consequences that are far-reaching and often unintended.
Dean knew how this was going to go, anyway. Robbie would be spoken to about his trend of bullying behavior, and how it was unacceptable, as was his use of hate speech. Robbie would then come back on Monday morning and call the first kid he saw a cocksucker. It was a well-established pattern, the only deviation this time was that the kid Robbie’d picked on had been Dean’s little brother. Dean would get in-school detention and a verbal warning, and Sam would get off scott free, which Dean was fine with.
Anyway, that was best case scenario. Worst case scenario, Representative Edward “Stretch” Walters would go on Fox and Friends to talk about how the President’s son was one of those violent, dangerous homosexuals. About how it was John Winchester eroding family morals right out from underneath them. God, Dean hadn’t even told his parents. Hard to sit down with anyone when your dad is running the free world.
Dean pulled out his phone. Eighteen missed texts, all of them from Charlie Bradbury.
Charlie: DID YOU REALLY BEAT ROBBIE WALTERS TO SHIT Charlie: I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT YOUR PRETTY FACE SERIOUSLY DID YOU KILL HIM Charlie: I’LL HELP YOU HIDE THE BODY I KNOW SOME PEOPLE. Charlie: by which obviously i mean that i have the internet Charlie: how much trouble are you in be straight with me Charlie: i’m taking this silence as proof of your death Charlie: omg will your dad send you to gitmo Charlie: so i don’t want to alarm you but apparently you’ve been outed Charlie: Sunita told me. so you know everyone knows Charlie: dean Charlie: dean Charlie: shit are you in serious trouble Charlie: look if your dads a dick you can stay with me Charlie: my parents are obviously chill but there will be a lot of veganism involved and i know how you feel about meat Charlie: omg that wasn’t even a joke but Charlie: HOW WILL YOU LIVE WITHOUT SAUSAGE Charlie: seriously assface don’t make me call you that is not what god wanted from phones. Dean snorted and texted back: calm down i’m not dead and not disowned, outside principal’s Charlie: say the word and we attack at dawn Dean: is it everywhere? Charlie: Drudge has it. Not perez though, which is Charlie: idk is that good or bad? Charlie: he’s probably just pissed you’re underaged and he can’t draw jizz on your face Dean: awesome Charlie: :( Charlie: :(((((( Charlie: I could buy you a dragon dick dildo to celebrate
Dean put his phone back in his pocket, because it was only going to escalate from there.
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Two new runs and I actually did more terrible than ever, but lessons learned. This is what I get for not paying enough attention to my own accomplishments and instead asking to be aided constantly.
Traps from Trap Masters do not, in fact, 'see' there are enemies coming and let them just walk through. Maybe I shouldn't have pi ked the option that gives me random chips for operators when I cant even plan ahead on the ones I pick myself.
Same goes for the Sobbing Doggo...
Just what I needed, Jessica bleeds out profusely like a pricked water baloon.
Well, I died in the second floor...
New run!
I know it will be better because Ebenholz is with me in spirit.
Well now I know I'm being set up too, this is rediculous. I got the other mini boss map 4 times in a row and now you decided 'Haha, Eve got used to it, might as well spice it up!'
I forgot they need to be killed at the same time to die.
THAT'S SO FUNNY SJSKSJZISK
We're taking it with us.
This is where I die. The wrath of Siracusans got to me.
But hey, at least I finally got enough materials to M3S3 my fav little Aegir so he could become viable in the upcoming events. Can't believe the skip between lvl60 and lvl80 was of significance, leveling up 6 stars I dont actually consider husbands feels like a waste, like E2ing 5 stars.
But then again my first lvl90 M9 was Ebenholz maybe 4 or 5 months ago and now it's Chongyue's turn... Right after I finish Ling. Who is Lvl 60 and I'm just waiting for that sweet trust 100 to be able to get her Module so the dragons don't cost 24DP
And because farming today was good, Ifrit is gonna be the next target for E2, just in case.
Hope Dr. Pinkie doesn't yell at me to level her up. Shining is doing such a good job at E2 lvl1 you can't possibly blame me for doubting.
And speaking of doubt,
I have this very fun story from yesterday. You see, Dr. Kryo is a very intelligent and good friend. We've spent a lot of time together and we learn from each other. A lot of definitely good things have been learned yesterday.
I learn he is too lucky for his own good and might be mooching out of our collective luck bucket because this is rediculous.
He learns that I am a whiny little apricot.
Because I had a dream that same evening I got Silverash from now here. I adore Silverash and he was definitely on the priority list of people I want rewlly really badly. Something something big brother sindrome happening in my head.
Anyways, I wake up and Im sad it's not a reality. I tell the chat, then bring it up again with Kryo. I really want Silverash, Gnosis, Stainless. I think these are the ones I don't have yet from the 6-stars.
He falls silent.
I hear the sound: tintintintintinting!
I fall silent.
Me: "Who is that, Kryo?"
Kryo: "Eve..."
Me, voice cracking: "Go on. Which 6 star is that?"
It was GNOSIS.
What a premonition.
We hope I lose the rolls on the Monster Hunter banner though and I get one of the husbands + Noir Cornealter since that is the one I'm rooting for.
I think the next banner is Guiding ahead so I have time to save up some more. Get the medals, get a little spike on the originium crystals because I have plans for skins and only 14 of those golden boys in my pocket.
...
Lumen Module time!
His story is so adorable actually. As adorable as it can be with the reminder at the end that Iberia is not having a fun time. Why do the worst cataclysms always happen to the most advanced counties? Reminds me of that one meme of a poster that said: 'Don' t eat in the library, it attracts ants. And if they are in the library they will learn to read, become smart and take over the world.'
#arknights lumen#lumen arknights#doctor arknights#ifrit arknights#thorns arknights#Iberia#Arknights IS3#Story time#Gnosis arknights#silverash arknights#doctor of ri shenanigans#Crying profusely#I'm going to eat all the aegir
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Knd x AWISC au part 2.
(Monty and Benedict enter the school grounds and see Carter run up to them.)
Carter: Monty, Benedict, what's up!?
Monty: Carter, how's my favorite mouse!?
Carter: I'm doing great, how about you?
Monty: I'm doing great as well.
Carter: And how are you doing, Benedict?
Benedict: I'm doing just fine.
Carter: I'm glad to hear that.
(The three enter the school and part ways because Benedict goes to a different class than Monty and Carter, Benedict then comes across his childhood best friend, Linda.)
Linda: Ben!
Benedict: Linda?
(Linda gives Benedict a nice big hug.)
Linda: I'm so happy that you came to school today, and might I say you look very nice.
Benedict: Thank you, I put in a little effort in getting ready today.
Linda: It sure paid off because I love how you look today.
Benedict: You really flatter me, Linda.
(Benedict notices that Linda has a bloody nose.)
Benedict: Is that blood on your nose?
Linda: Oh, crap!
Benedict: Did someone hurt you, because I will do anything to keep you safe.
Linda: No one hurt me, you know how I would bleed from where my antlers were when I was still transitioning?
Benedict: Yeah, wasn't that the side effect of the hormone pills you were taking though?
Linda: Well it was...but after I fully transitioned I kept having annual bleeding, it just migrated to my nose.
Benedict: Really?
Linda: Yep, it's fine through. It's just really scary, bleeding infront of predators sometimes...
Benedict: Why's that?
Linda: Aren't you scared of predators?
Benedict: Well, I was raised by one alongside my brother.
Linda: Oh... right... sorry...
Benedict: You're fine, Linda. Predators stop being as scary when you grow up with a black wolf.
Linda: Yeah, I'm so glad you two were only adopted, I can't imagine how scary you would look if you were actually part wolf.
(There was a moment of silence until Benedict mustered up the courage to talk.)
Benedict: Yeah, Mom's very scary, at least she's not a dangerous as she looks.
(Helen enters the scene.)
Helen: Linda, you're bleeding again!
Linda: Yeah, I was just talking to Ben about it.
Helen: I felt like I could smell your blood a mile away.
Benedict: Can raccoons actually smell that well?
Helen: Maybe, blood has a pretty strong smell, don't you think?
Benedict: It certainly does...(gives Helen a bit of a glare.)
Helen: Okay, Ben. Anyway, do you want me to take you the the infimary, Linda?
Linda: Sure thing, Helen.
Benedict: Wait, wouldn't it be safer for a prey animal to tag along Linda instead?
Linda: Benedict, no need to be so paranoid, Helen may be a predator, but she would never hurt me.
Helen: No, Benedict is right, it would be safer for him to take you to the infirmary... Plus I promised Rachel I'd hang out with her.
Benedict: Who's Rachel?
Helen: Oh, I forgot you went to a different school for a year.
Benedict: Yeah, I did, but I didn't like being away from Linda, so I switched back to this school.
Helen: There are a few new students here and Rachel's one of them.
Linda: Rachel's a little intimidating.
Helen: Oh, come on, Linda. Rachel may be a large predator who doesn't talk much, but she's not that bad.
Linda: I just get a bad feeling from her...
Benedict: Anyways, I think Linda and I should be going now.
Helen: Alright, have fun you two, I'll see you both in class.
The end of part 2
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My Mate - Chapter 3 - Part 1
*Warning Adult Content*
The window rolled down slowly before a smiling face came into view.
I instantly recognized the male and my eyes narrowed.
His smile only seemed to widen at my annoyance.
"Torin Frey."
I've always hated how deep and smooth his voice is.
"Need help?"
"No," I bit out quickly, only making him chuckle.
The rumbling engine died and he stepped out of the car, walking around it to me.
I had to look up to see his face.
It seemed he'd gotten taller.
He wore his regular white t-shirt and black jeans.
His combat boots were different but looked worn.
"Miss me?" Robert Killian asked, removing his aviator glasses so I could see his dark brown eyes.
"Can't say I did, Robert."
I grinned evilly when his jaw ticked at the use of his full name.
The big male looked me over and I held my shirt tighter against my chest.
It did no good when Robert pulled it away and tsked at the bloody cuts.
He held up a large hand with platinum rings on each tattooed finger.
I gulped when his claws extended.
"Might hurts a little but it'll heal after," he warned absentmindedly before holding my arm to keep me still and digging his claw into the small cuts to dig out the shards of glass.
I cried out, stumbling back from the pain.
"Why did you do that?"
I knew he did it to help in the only kind of way Robert would, a way that made you regret looking to him for help.
Not that I did.
He could of at least used the first-aid kit.
"It's healing."
He pointed out, grabbing my arm again and pulling me closer so he could use my shirt to wipe away the blood.
"So, how'd you do this?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
I looked up to see if he'd add more but that wasn't Robert Killian.
Robert Killian gave enough to make you interested and enough to keep himself a mystery to everyone but himself.
"I tripped," I said, shifting my weight to my left leg.
"What happened to your bike?" I asked, remembering he left on his beloved motorcycle.
"That's a long story," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement and always that hint of mischief.
"So, you're back."
"I'm back," he repeated, stepping aside so I could get a clean shirt from the trunk that was still open.
The cuts on my side had already stopped bleeding.
"Did you find them?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Nope," he tried for nonchalant but I could hear the strain in his voice.
I bit my lip, wanting to say something more but I was coming up blank.
'What could I say? Sorry? I wasn't.'
"Calvin's going to be happy to see you," I decided to get off that subject.
"And everyone else, of course," I added.
"I texted him earlier, he knows I'm coming."
My face scrunched up as I pulled on my shirt, unable to get my head through the hole.
Robert unbuttoned it and helped me get it on.
"Oh..."
I closed the trunk before looking up and meeting his brown eyes.
"You should probably park."
"Right, get in."
Robert opened the passenger door and I raised a brow.
Sighing, I did as he said and got in.
He just smirked and shut the door after I was in the car.
The interior was all black leather and even I could tell it was well taken care of.
"What is this?" I asked once he slid in behind the wheel.
I was a little surprised he didn't look uncomfortable being as tall as he is.
"This here is my baby," he spoke, rubbing the steering wheel lovingly.
I rolled my eyes making him laugh.
The car rumbled back to life and I couldn't help but feel excited.
"She's a nineteen sixty nine Chevy Camaro."
Yeah, I had no idea what that was. I just knew it was shiny black and had two white lines down the front hood.
Unsurprisingly, it looked like a car fit for Robert.
I'd known the male forever.
Robert Killian wasn't only my brother's best friend but my future Alpha.
He's also my future brother in law if things go as planned.
Unlike my brother who didn't seem worried about still being mate-less, once Robby realized no one in the pack was his Mate, he left not long after his eighteenth birthday.
If he was still close to home, he'd come back for holidays but for the last three years he's been gone.
Not that I was counting the days or anything, it's just a known fact.
Robert parked away from any other cars so his 'baby' wouldn't get scratched, I couldn't help but to roll my eyes again.
He reached into the back for his black leather jacket, completing his bad boy look.
He was the complete opposite of Jasper who never wore the color black and who's clothes were always clean and ironed.
Where Jasper's hair was styled to perfection, Robby's looked like he'd ran his fingers through it about a dozen times.
The few black strands that fell over his brow were aggravating me but I chose not to say anything.
"You've gotten taller," he commented as we walked back towards the pack house.
I looked down at myself and snorted.
I haven't grown an inch since I was like thirteen.
"I'm serious, your head use to barely reach my chest. You're almost at my collarbone now," he chuckled.
I pushed him which just made me stumble while he laughed at my failed attempt.
I huffed, wishing I was strong enough to push him over.
Robert put his glasses back on before we reached the house.
He seemed to become more serious too and I guess he had to, he's our future Alpha returning home after three years.
Five years if you don't count coming home for holidays.
Once he entered the house and others started recognizing him, they crowded him excitedly, all talking over each other.
I slipped away unnoticed and went to the den where I found Calvin in the same place.
The room had cleared out except for old Mr. Wallis who had fallen asleep watching the game, his head back and mouth open.
Calvin didn't show any signs of acknowledging me so I just sat on the couch with Mr. Wallis and stared at the T.V.
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