#the sky is getting light please kill me

[myname-isnia]

My sleep schedule's a bit messed up after a week of holiday and I can't fall asleep at a reasonable time while at my grandma's, so obviously I'm once again being plagued by my favourite kind of brain rot

Currently thinking about how there must have been a small moment of peace, a few weeks maybe, before Zaheer's breakout starts having major consequences but after Kuviren figure their shit out and everyone warms up to each other, where the Kids can relax and take a breather and act like the teenagers they never got to be

Because yes, I'm standing by what I said, none of the kids ever got to be actual teenagers:

Suiren had to grow up quickly after the loss of her parents. Her whole childhood was spent taking the brunt of Haya's violence, always aching, always hungry, with no one to turn to. The world's not fair, she learned quickly. You've got to help yourself because no one else will. You have to get Midori out of here. She trained herself not to cry, not to need as much food, not to require comfort. As she entered her teens, her childhood self had already starved to death. By the time she turned 13, she was already weary and burdened and exhausted, with no hopes for the future. By 15 she dropped out of school, and her only friends all that time were her sister and her moose lion. She can't think of anything but protecting Midori. No job in Gaoling will take her, deterred by her lack of schooling, her swamp heritage and what Haya had said about her. But money has to be earned somehow. Most girls like her end up in brothels, but she knows her prodigious waterbending skills could be put to a different use. By 17 she's an assassin, spending hours in the shower trying to scrub away the blood that is no longer there, focusing on nothing but the next mission, slicing the throats of those young girls with sparkling golden brown eyes that sometimes show up in the corners of her vision. The supposed carefree teenage years that she was owed are now way beyond her understanding.

Midori is not as weighed down with the weight of the world as Suiren, but she had her youth stolen as a consequence of what happened at the South Pole all those years ago too. Her trauma – Haya yelling at her for the slightest mistake, always calling her a useless child, calling her weak and a whiny brat for showing emotions natural to any child in her situation – left her extremely anxious, so quiet it's very easy to forget she's even there. Children are meant to be seen and not heard. And then there's the guilt, knowing full well her sister skips meals for her, takes punishments for her, endures beatings for her, no matter how hard Suiren tries to hide it. Midori hit puberty already wishing she was never born, maybe then Suiren's burden would have been alleviated. All of that in turn made it impossible for her to make friends, not to mention everyone knowing that her sister is the swamp freak, and their aunt's endless list of chores practically kept her chained at the house so she couldn't go out even if she had the chance to. She spent her 17th birthday fully aware her parents are out there, and allowed herself a childish hope that they'll be reunited, just like she always wished for thirteen long, horrible years. But her parents were killed within weeks afterwards. The day they got the news of their demise was the day she knew there was no going back. The day she knew that she was now an adult.

Bolin was protected by Mako for most of his life, ever since his parents were murdered when he was six, but even with his brother always looking out for him, what kind of childhood is living on the streets, running errands for triads? Still, out of the hundreds of homeless children in Republic City, he and Mako are the lucky ones, they were discovered and taken in by that probending trainer. But nothing in Republic City comes for free, and the two of them just so happen to make up two thirds of a team. His early teenage years were, he realises now, wasted, training in probending all day, every day. They go out on the field in every match they can but are still barely getting enough in earnings to scrape by, and life is only bearable because they can stay unconditionally in that room above the arena. He adores probending, the love and attention from his fans, but more often than not wishes he was part of the groups of friends that come to watch the games instead. He meets Korra at 16 and within the year has to witness her almost die three times, and despite all that training he was near powerless to stop it. After that was all over, he enlisted in Kuvira's army at 17, trying to get rid of that feeling of helplessness by deciding to help fix the mess created in the world during that year. But a soldier cannot be a child, and a child cannot be a soldier.

Kuvira's childhood ended the day her parents abandoned her at Suyin's front gate and never looked back, leaving her with nothing but the clothes on her back and a small sack of belongings. All for sometimes acting out, a result of them never paying her any attention as well as her possessing stronger bending than she could handle. It was easier to label her a problem child and get rid of her than to realise the cause of the issue. Suyin was different from her parents, extremely impressed by Kuvira's bending skills, to the point she made her her protege, and Kuvira, so unused to the praise, threw herself headfirst into making Suyin proud. Bending, dancing, training... It took up all of her free time, but as long as she gained Suyin's approval, she found that she didn't care. What use would she have for that much free time anyway? She's 17 and already made captain of the Zaofu guard as well as named the best dancer in the troupe. Some say it's because she's Suyin's prized pupil, but no one can deny that her metalbending is outstanding. But she never has time to hang out with the girls from the dance team or her comrades from the guard, and she pretends it doesn't matter to her, but she secretly yearns for that feeling of belonging. She sacrificed her teenagehood to make Suyin proud, and after all of that, despite everything Kuvira did, Suyin still doesn't consider her a daughter.

Opal is easily the most privileged of the five, being born into one of the wealthiest Earth Kingdom families does come with its perks, after all. But those grand metal domes of her home city that opened like flowers every morning were nothing more than gilded cages to her. Once it became obvious she wasn't a bender, her mother lost interest, happy to let her do as she pleased as long as she upheld the family image. It doesn't matter what hobby she chooses, nothing she achieves will be enough to rectify that her lack of bending brought an end to the rather short-lived Beifong dynasty of strong earthbending women. But she has to focus on something. Baatar shares their father's love for engineering, Huan has his art, the twins are total momma's boys with their metalbending games, Opal has nothing and no one. Somehow, even while distracted, her mother managed to keep her close enough that Opal could never meet someone without their first impression of her being through her mother's lens. She turned to books to cope with the loneliness, always dreaming of a life away from Zaofu. She's freshly 17 when she got it, but what started as a dream come true quickly turned into a nightmare once the northern air temple was attacked by the Red Lotus. Her childhood innocence and belief in the good of the world died somewhere within that cave.

My point is, the five of them deserve to act like teenagers, to gain back what they lost. Let Suiren rebel, let Midori make friends, let Bolin have fun, let Kuvira relax, let Opal express herself, LET THEM BE KIDS

And I just love to imagine what they'd get up to in that moment of peace. Maybe they gather together, a bit away from the RL, and play dumb games like Fuck Marry Kill. Playing with Kuvira is always a challenge because she knows exactly which buttons to push, which is how she got Suiren to say, through gritted teeth and lots of cursing, that she'd marry Mako, because the other two options were Suyin and Unalaq and she's a distinguished lesbian and not fucking a man thank you very much.

Maybe they go out in the early hours of the morning and climb to the top of the rocks hiding the cabin from view to watch the sun rise over Republic City. Maybe their games of truth or dare get so intense you wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of one. Maybe while on supply runs one of them sneaks some alcohol, and they proceed to nearly kill Bolin when he suggests playing spin the bottle. Maybe they go skinny dipping in the lake. Maybe they find secluded spots to practice and figure out how their bending all works together. Maybe they try to figure out ways to hide the hickeys Suiren leaves on Kuvira. Maybe they make fun of how Green Opal become blushy messes near each other. Maybe if preserving secrecy and anonymity wasn't such a big concern they'd sneak off to attend festivals in small surrounding towns. Maybe after long days they collapse and sleep in one big pile together. And maybe the RL know full well what the five of them are doing, but given that they're anarchists and naturally lax with rules, they decide to just let them do what they want, all the while reminiscing on everything they got up to as teenagers.

The five of them are in their early to mid twenties and about to become the third generation of the Red Lotus setting out to try and change the world, hopefully with more success than their predecessors. But maybe, before they do, they'll get to act like dumb, careless teenagers like they were always meant to, just one last time.

[deformedcat]

the fake princess

pairing: reincarnated male reader x yandere prince oc

fic includes: arranged marriage, cross dressing, reader's death (briefly mentioned), Dom to sub bottom male reader, rough sex, rimming 2x, gruwhdbwb will add more in the morning

note: THIS IS NOT FINISHED!! tumblr is rlly messing me up by posting my work earlier whenever i save my draft lol. feel free to read as i write the ending. reader is male! a male!! a certain character will be calling him "lady" for the plot!! i wont spoil much but please keep that in mind ;; this is messy lmao

poor you were just on the way back to your apartment after a barbeque party with your friends— until a drunk man grabbed you from the dark alley way and stabbed you in the stomach and pussied out after he realized what he did.

is this how you die? fuck, he couldve do you a favour by taking you out in one go and not run away?? loser behaviour.

you laid down in your own blood in the dimly lit alley way, your vision slowly getting blurry as your surrounding turns into a blur of colours and into nothing.

before slipping into darkness, you heard a loud voice shouting out your name. its too late, bootlicking shitfuck.

you opened your eyes by the sound of bird chipping, you stared up at the bright blue sky accompanied by someone with dark brown hair and green eyes staring back at you.

"Lady Amador.. it's time to go back to the palace. the prince is looking foward for you during lunch time."

who the fuck is lady amador, and why are they wearing a maid outfit?

sitting up, you take note of the grass underneath you instead of the rough concrete floor from earlier- are you hallucinating to the point youre in this nice garden..? huh, why are you wearing a dress, did a creep kidnapped you and dress you in one of their grandma's dresses?!

panicking, you got up towards the pond and looked into your own reflection. you still looked the same as before, you cant say the same since your hair looked much longer and the light makeup on your face.

lady amador.. prince?? garden.. holy- is that a palace behind you?! whats going on?!

before you could brainstorm any longer, the person from earlier waved their hand in front of you, catching your attention. "lady amador, its time to go. prince sebastian is looking for you."

prince sebastian? sebastian..

slowly, everything clicked to you, did you really reincarnated as one of the characters in the novel "The Villainess's Ultimate Plan!" holy shit.

you touched your face, and then looked into the pond again, that face..

the villainess younger brother?!

the one who disguised as the protagonist.. the one that planned the entire scheme to assassinate the crown prince but end up getting beheaded one day after the wedding night?!

with that information, your vision fade into black once again.

"My lady?!"

jerking awake, you hunched over, clasping a hand against your face. you slowly takes a few deep breathe, you slowly brought your hand away.

you looked to your side, the same person from earlier is standing next to you with a worried expression. not only them, a man with bright gold hair is sitting on a chair nearby reading a book.

prince fucking sebastian. the man that you're supposed to kill during you and the prince's wedding night.

he looked up from his book and walked up to you, you flinched away when he raised his hand, he stopped his action before he promptly caressing your face.

"you, please step out of Lady Penelope's room." he ordered the person (the maid maybe?), and they complied.

there was an awkward silence in the room, he was still holding your face, you looked at the side, scared to hold any eye contact with the man in front of you.

"look at me." he said in a stern voice, like a mom scolding her child.

so you did, afraid of any consequences. (since he was the same man that's willing to destroy the kingdom for your supposed sister.)

he let go of your face before sitting onto the side of the bed, his face is blank,, as if he dont care about you, but the worried tone in his voice said otherwise.

"y/n." you jumped at the name, how did he know your name- wasnt he supposed to call you by your sister's name ?! before you can say amything, he cut you off.

"..i was waiting for you at the dining table, but i got the news of you fainting in the garden right after waking up from your nap."

"..i apologize."

he leans in towards you, settling his hands onto your face once again as if to inspect for any injuries, he lets go once again when he saw no visible injuries.

"i know you prefer to be called lady amador when it comes to appearing as your sister, but a maid was here, and i have to convince people we have a medium love with each other.

especially when our wedding night is two days from now on."

what. the story already started?! no- screw that, how did he know you were pretending to be penelope?!

"how did you know im not lady penelope?" you kissed your teeth, gripping onto the comforter, subtly slapping the prince's hand away when he tried to reach for yours.

"lady penelope had sent a letter to me, personally stating about her plan, and we agreed on one term: i keep you safe and she sends me information of the war, simple.

though, i shall say, youre quite the beauty."

you were about to curse at penelope but your ears becoming warm after he said that, he chuckled before getting up of the bed.

"most married or engaged couples have monthly night together, and ours is two night from now on. we wont do anything sensual, do not worry."

"what-"

"see you tomorrow at lunch, dear." he kissed you on the forehead before walking out of your room.

for the next two days, you learnt the person at the garden is your personal maid, Andrea. apparently she found you laying on the ground at the garden (that sebastian built for you.) after you stated you were gonna take a stroll.

you also met your personal knight, William, Penelope's second love interest but was sadly killed when he defended you during your trail.

the three of you got along well, often seen having conversation near the garden or having tea party together. sebastian watched from his office and smiled at the sight of you chatting with Andrea.

william on the other hand,, have been too close to you for his liking. he nearly ripped an important paper when he saw william wiping off some biscuit crumbs from your face- why is he so touchy? Andrea couldve done that using a napkin.

he broke his pen, the black ink soaked his hand and his paper work. did you like damian better than him? why did you become flustered when the knight spoke about something?

should he get rid of him?

how troublesome.

he remembered when a butler and notify him what happened to you. he nearly tear down the entire palace when you didnt wake up for two hours he almost frown when you flinched and move away from him when he reach out to you. the way you were nervous around him,,

he slowly calmed down, reminding himself that you and his night together is tonight. he sighed, he should finish his work first then meet you tonight.

back in your chamber, Andrea and a few other maids helped you to get ready, even helping you to take a bath. you enjoyed the smell of lavender from the soapy water, an old maid massaged your body when you're just soaking inside the bathtub.

the old lady was kind enough to even offer you a drink as she tells you stories of her youth.

after that and when Andrea deemed you 'clean', began to dress you into a white night gown made with the finest silk, the strap of the grown barely hanging on your shoulder. the maid had explained that you have to wear this because 'the prince gave the gown as a gift.'

was he not shameless when his gift includes a set of lingerie?!

you fidget around with the ring, Andrea styled your hair into a loose braid, making sure you look presentable before leading you to the prince's chamber. you insisted that you walked by yourself, so she went back to the maid headquarter.

walking down the dimly lit hallway, no one is wandering except for a few knight patrolling. you soon arrived in front of his room, knocking a few time to make your presence known "sir sebastian-"

before you could finish, sebastian opened the door and grab you by the waist, dragging you into the room.

he lifts you up and carries you to the spacious bed, he gently laid you down and take a whiff of your scent before mumbled out a "you smells nice.."

you looked at him with wide eyes, he was only wearing a robe- your eyes wonders down and sees his toned body that he had clearly worked on. he noticed you and grinned, taking your hand and putting it on his chest

"like what you see?"

if you could kill him right now you would.

instead, you pushed him down the bed, him lying down on the bed and you on top.

"what if i do?

also.. i will be the one in charge tonight."

you leaned down, opening his robe hastily and take one nipple into your lips.

sebastian nearly flipped you over, but he held himself back. he moaned when you grinned onto his crotch, he lightly tugged your hair, leaning in as if asking for a kiss.

you gave him what he wanted, he softly moaned into the kiss, slowly his hand make its way towards your shorts, pulling it down your ankle before he pulls away from the kiss.

he sat up against the bed frame and settled you on his lap, he took in the sight of you wearing his gift- that he had commissioned for it to fit you, and god.

you are so pretty.

hair messy from the kissing session, the collar of the gown was low enough for him to see the lacey bra, a garter designed with silver lining tightly wrapped around your thigh and the underwear that only covered your erected cock-

he want to eat you up,,

so he did.

Sebastian was known to be a beast in bed as he was known in the battlefield,, was what the novel described him.

Unfortunately they were true to their words, his thrust was harsh and deep, creating impacts thats enough to make you cry out.

so much of being gentle?! he even ripped off your outfit, leaving you naked!

he was nice enough to eat you out earlier, even giving you to opportunity to ride his face.

sebastian continue with this harsh pace, holding one of your leg onto his shoulder while another holds your hand. his apologized multiple times while grunting, saying things likes

"im sorry- ah! youre so tight!"

"mm- if you keep moaning like that- hng! i wont be able to slow down-"

"dear.. mmh.. im sorry.. i'll take care of you later-!" im gonna kill you, you handsome bastard!!

you clung onto him on each thrust, it just feel so-! sebastian suddenly changed the position, pushing you on your knees while holding your arms at the back,

"se-sebasti- ah! wait-! mngh!" he holds your hand behind you back tightly to ground you, the position didnt help at all, you couldnt muffle your moans and his dick reach deeper than it did in the previous position.

he panted, letting go of your arms fearing that your arm is sore. he gave an apologetic kiss on your forehead before continuing .

he grunted when you tighten around him, he tried to sooth you by giving stroking your cock, but that only add to the pleasure as you cried out of overstimulation.

you felt like you were melting.

you had climax into sebastian's hand, fuck- why isnt he stopping-?! you continued to cry out before he stuff his finger with your cum into your mouth, you immediately bit onto his fingers to muffle your moans.

his climax came sooner than you expected, he twitched and came inside. he slowed down his thrust, riding out his climax before pulling out.

you panted, thinking its over,, until sebastian gripped your aas and spread them apart revealing your winking hole, dripping out his children batter.

without hesitation, he dive in as if its his last meal, slurping and eating his own cum. you moaned at this, trying to push him away but he stayed still.

"what are you-"

"round 2? gotta have heirs for the future y'know.." he said with a toothy grin, flipping you over your back and pressing you thigh until your ankle reach your chest.

"ah?!"

the knights guarding outside sebastian's chamber looked at each other then looked down, the two of them had an erection from your moaning- tone it down sometimes!

a/n: not proud with this one, will check and edit it in the morning (its 3.56 am right now) goodnight ^_^

[judasofsuburbia]

“what? hello?” steve mumbled sleepily into the phone.

“i’m going insane,” eddie nearly shouts.

steve sits up in his bed and scrubs his hand over his face. “woah woah, eds, what’s goin on?”

a high pitched wail is heard in the background and eddie is immediately cooing and shushing. steve presses the phone tighter to his ear.

“eds. eds, can you hear me?”

“i’m going insane i’m going insane i’m going insane,” eddie breathes. “she won’t stop crying steve she’s been crying for two hours—fuck, three hours. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know what to do steve.”

“who’s crying?” steve asks.

“my cousin. or my niece, maybe? i don’t know how it works. my cousin’s baby is here and she won’t stop crying.”

more crying and wailing is heard. steve has to hold the phone away from his ear when eddie gets closer to her. he can hear eddie pleading with her, trying to comfort her, to no avail.

“i need help,” eddie says. “i need help, please.”

“uh, okay. okay,” steve replies as he rolls out of bed and stumbles around his room in the dark to find some pants and shoes. “i can be there in ten.”

“make it five,” eddie nearly whines, anxiety pouring through the receiver.

“got it.”

steve’s tires screech into eddie’s driveway. his trailer is the only one with the lights still on and he could hear the baby crying from outside. he’s surprised no one has called to complain to the police station. though he’s sure callahan or hopper would simply hang up.

steve barrels up the steps and opens the door to utter chaos. toys and books scatter the ground, there are blankets and bottles strewn over surfaces (some definitely knocked over and spilling onto the floor), and baby clothes and diapers in the leftover spaces. and of course, a screaming infant.

eddie pops out of his room with said infant trashing in his arms. eddie has tears streaming down his fact too and steve’s heart just cracks.

“help me,” eddie mouths.

“uh, okay, okay,” steve is wracking his brain for any tips he learned in home economics about taking care of a baby. “what have you tried? i presume she’s in a clean diaper and…” god it was hard to think with the noise screeching in his ears. “fed her?” steve asks louder.

“yes fuck, i keep changing her and trying to feed her. i read her stories and rocked her and tried to put her in her crib. she’s so upset i don’t know why,” eddie’s voice cracks on the last word and suddenly, steve’s across the room. ready to comfort him.

“give her here,” steve says.

eddie’s eyes are panicky and wide but eventually, he hands steve the child. she continues to cry and thrash in steve’s arms so it takes a second for him to hold her properly.

“what’s her name?” steve asks.

“cheyenne” eddie responds, arms wrapped around himself like a hug. his whole body is bouncing and steve feels the urge to reach out and bring him in too but the more pressing matter is currently occupying those arms.

“hi cheyenne,” steve says gently. “seems like you’re mighty upset.”

she yanks at steve’s shirt with her little baby fists, definitely grabbing some chest hair underneath and ripping it. steve winces but recovers quickly.

“would your neighbors kill me if i take her outside?”

“probably,” eddie mutters.

“i’m going to anyway.”

steve heads for the front door and eddie goes to follow him but steve holds out a patient hand. “stay here, take a breath,” steve instructs.

eddie’s eyes well up with more tears. “but what if something—“

“then we’ll do something. right now, being around her isn’t good for you. let me take a crack at this, alright?”

eddie nods solemnly and backs away so steve can open the door.

cheyenne’s cries echo out into the night sky as steve starts to pace around the porch. steve starts to feel a little scared being alone with her but he’s more scared of what the stress has done to eddie.

so he decides to do it scared.

the baby starts to have this hiccuping breaths that pull steve out of his thought spiral. steve shushes her and props her up so her head is on his shoulder. he rubs her back with his hand, which takes up her entire back, and tries to stay calm when her cries are right next to his ear.

“you like music? 'course you do, everyone does.i don’t know how many lullabies eddie knows. his taste is a little more intense,” steve says conversationally as he continues to pace. “i don’t even think i know any lullabies. um…”

cheyenne cries with new fervor right into his neck and steve just panic sings the first song that comes to mind, “shake it up is all we know. using bodies up as we go. i’m waking up a fantasy. the shades are all the colors we used to see.”

cheyenne’s cries go down a peg, still loud but less wailing and more whimpering. steve’s heart is racing as he slowly continues the song.

“broken ice still melts in the sun. and ties that are broken can be one again. we’re soul alone and soul really matters to me.”

cheyenne keeps crying but it's getting softer by the second. steve rearranges her so she's cradled in his arms. he's blown away by how small she is. how helpless. everything must be so scary for her.

“i'm out of touch,” steve sings softly. “you're out of time. but i'm out of my head when you're not around. oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh.“

cheyenne's eyes open up and they're this big beautiful brown, just like eddie's. his breath is taken away as he keeps singing weakly. he doesn't even realize that she stops crying entirely and is just blinking at him, dazed.

it takes eddie slowly opening the front door for him to recognize the silence. he sits on the couch and bounces her gently in his arms, still humming and singing the occasional "oh's". eddie very slowly and quietly sits beside him.

steve looks up at eddie who is staring at him in awe. the same beautiful brown eyes are puffy and swollen, just like cheyenne's.

“c'mon eds, sing it with me,” steve jokes quietly.

eddie shakes his head. “i can't believe she's a hall and oates fan.”

“everyone is,” steve says simply and sings, “i'm out of touch.” he gestures to eddie to continue.

“i'm out of time,” eddie sings, looking incredibly pained to do so.

“but i'm out of my head,” steve leans his ear to the side.

“when you're not around,” eddie says flat, voice raspy from his exhaustion. it makes steve's stomach flip so he returns his attention to the near asleep girl in his arms.

they keep humming until she's fully asleep. steve leans back into the couch with a long exhale, his shoulders rubbing up against eddie's.

“you're magical,” eddie whispers.

“please,” steve scoffs.

“i'm serious,” eddie replies. steve turns his head to face him and nearly chokes from how close their faces are.

”i don't know how you do it,“ eddie mumbles.

”do what?“

”make everyone around you so calm. i feel like all i can do is make everyone stressed out,” eddie laughs weakly.

steve shakes his head. ”not true. just ask buckley, i stress her out on a daily basis.“

eddie chuckles and sniffles. steve sees his lips stretch over his teeth in a smile.

”thank you for coming over. i didn't know who else to call.“

”how did you end up with your baby cousin anyway?“ steve asks.

eddie sighs, tilting his head back into the cushion. if he leaned his head closer, he'd be on steve's shoulder. steve wishes he would.

”her mom is taking a much needed vacation and i promised wayne that he didn't need to take time off work to take care of her. that was a huge mistake.“

”you did your best,“ steve argues quietly.

”maybe but it wasn't enough.“

”hey, c'mon. don't beat yourself up. you did what you could and found help when you couldn't. it's not your fault this is her only form of communication.“

eddie smiles again and yawns. ”you wouldn't happen to have this album on cassette would you?“

steve beams at him. ”in my car, actually.“

”i'm getting it.“

they put cheyenne to bed with the big bam boom album playing softly on eddie's stereo. they stare at her peaceful form snoozing away and seem to forget how she looked not even a half hour ago.

”you should get some sleep,” steve whispers, nudging eddie with his shoulder.

“you're right, you're right,” eddie sighs. he gestures that he's gonna walk steve to the door. steve grabs his keys and turns before opening the door.

“thank you again,” eddie whispers.

“anytime. hall and oates always heals,” steve smiles.

eddie rolls his eyes fondly and shoves steve's shoulder. only, his hand doesn't move away. it splays out over steve's beating heart which is rapidly picking up speed. eddie's eyes slowly drift up to catch steve's.

“i was listening to that song yesterday,” steve whispers. “over and over and over again.”

“you must really like it,“ eddie says, a little confused.

”no. i mean, i do but…“ steve whispers. ”i was listening to it because... i start to go a little insane when i'm not around you.“

eddie's brows furrow. ”w-what do you mean?“

”can't keep you out of here,“ steve explains, tapping his temple. ”i don't know what to do. this is where i need help, eds.”

eddie's lips part in a silent gasp. he takes a step closer and rubs his thumb over steve's shirt. steve's hand comes up and covers his.

“i can help,” eddie whispers, tilting his head up so their noses brush.

that's how steve and eddie share their first kiss in eddie's living room, sleep deprived and unhurried. just four lips gently sliding over one another.

when they pull away with tired smiles, eddie murmurs, “in case she wakes up, you should probably sleep over.”

(inspired by @gothbat99 's wonderful steve harrington playlist)

[littlenightma]

Run, Rabbit, Run | Thomas Hewitt x Female!Reader (NSFW)

Author’s Note: *slams post button* Here you go, sluts *evil cackle*

Warning tags: Primal kink, chase kink, breeding kink, lots o’ smut.

The Texas sun kissed your sweat-soaked skin with a harsh pressure of a thousand blow torches. His heavy breathing and roaring of his chainsaw pushed you forward, to keep going no matter what stood before you, but the persistent throbbing between your legs teased the resilience of your rapidly depleting willpower.

Miles separated you from the farm house and separated you from the rest of civilization. Oceans upon oceans of rocky dirt, dying grass, and the occasional road kill were all that could be seen.

The radiating sun, which had been sitting proudly in the sky to the East, now sat lamely in the West beginning to hide beyond the horizon. The ivory moon would force away its suffocating heat, providing the barest of illumination, increasing your chances at escaping.

A small part of you wished the sun would stay out and light up the world just a little while longer.

“You’re so polite for someone your age. You remind me so much of my boy Thomas.”

“If he’s anything like you, ma’am, he has to be the sweetest boy around.”

He was a six foot tall mountain of muscle and power, running with the determination of a blood hound tracking the scent of a wounded animal. When you thought you had successfully outsmarted him by suddenly changing directions within the tall, golden thickets at the last second, he’d still be barreling after you, unphased, no further than he was before.

There were moments, fleeting as they were, but impressionable nonetheless, where he had been so close to getting a hold of you. So close, the slight breeze from his hand attempting to grab your hair raised your skin, sucking the breath from your chest as you narrowly dodge him.

And that made things even more thrilling.

His grunts of frustration were muffled by his mask and the tight curve of his bottom lip. The lip jutted out awkwardly and looked as if it had been stung by a bee the way it was swollen.

Deformed.

And this deformed man was coming after you.

To him you were an outsider. A pest that needed eradicating. Even though his Mama willingly invited you into their home, he made you feel as if you were trespassing anyway. He wanted to kill you then and you were sure as shit he wanted to now, probably more than ever seeing how you keep escaping him.

She’d had asked him to keep you alive so assuming that he’d follow through with her request, your life would be spared, but for what sick reason? Would death be more lenient than what they had planned for you?

Of all days for your tire to blow out…

“Here he comes now,” said the woman, smiling expectantly as the basement door opened and out from the darkened staircase came Thomas.

The boy, no man, stood protectively behind the older woman. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching you with narrowed eyes that were partially covered by a curtain of black, curly hair. To you, they looked like snakes ready to strike, and so did he.

His nose and lower half of his face was covered by a worn, leather mask that wrapped around the base of his head with thick straps. It looked uncomfortable to wear as it was was to look at.

He was not pleased to see a stranger sitting in his living room and you wanted to sink deeper into the faded couch and disappear. Maybe if you pushed against the cushions hard enough.

A muffled scream came from the basement. Luda Mae glanced up at her son then back to you. Your back straightened.

“What was that?”

She smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing, dear.”

Again, the basement door opened, and out came a man in a Sheriff’s uniform. Fresh blood splattered across his chest and arms, trickling down as he sauntered his way into the room.

“Who in the hell is this pretty thing?”

Time slowed down and so did your breathing. All three had you pinned with various stares ranging from curiosity, understanding, and searing contempt. You weren’t going to risk it. You jumped from the couch and hauled ass out the door, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“Son of a bitch,” said Hoyt. “Boy, go get her before she causes us any trouble.”

Luda Mae grabbed Thomas’ hand. “Keep this one alive, baby. She’ll be good one to have around.”

Thomas wanted to argue his Mama’s odd request, but the sweet smile she gave him and the gentle way she held his hand made him reconsider. He didn’t want her, that’s for damn sure, but whatever his Mama wanted, she’d get.

In the midst of your recollection you realized it was ominously quiet behind you. Peering back, he was no longer running after you. I’m fact, he wasn’t there at all.

You spun around, eyes frantically searching the desolate landscape. He didn’t just vanish into thin air, not a man of his size, yet he had. The weeds danced and suddenly parted, revealing him on all fours as he pushed himself off the ground, propelling into you with a gut-wrenching force, knocking you onto your back.

His full body weight had you pinned, flattening the dry brush beneath you. His barrel-chest heaved and his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing. As frightened as you were, a strange sense of relief washed over and the instinct to raise your hips overtook you.

He tried moving away, but your legs locked him in. You awkwardly shimmied your shorts down and he watched you. His anger dissipated, replaced by hunger the more of your thighs he saw.

You captured his curious gaze, “Look how wet you made me.”

Your hand reached down and massaged your aching pussy through your sodden underwear. You were a mess, physically and mentally, and if you didn’t get fucked soon you were going to go rabid.

“Thomas, please. Don’t make me beg for it. You know what I want.”

Hearing his name revved him up like an engine. He could practically smell you through his mask. Your pussy glistened beneath the moonlight and he was more than willing to comply. With one hand still around your throat, he used the other to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

He roughly pushed your soaked panties aside and thrusted roughly inside you with a loud grunt. It was swift and had you not been as wet as you were you knew it would have hurt more than it did. You gasped and cried out, pounding your fist to the ground. He fucked you like an animal. It was exactly what you’d been yearning for and if felt so fucking good to finally get it.

His hips bucked with a mighty strength, sending you backwards every time. It made it hard for him to keep himself inside you without having to adjust his position. He scooped you up like a rag doll and pinned you against a tree, folding you between it and his body. The change in position was too much as the angle allowed him to reach new depths inside you, hitting spots you never knew you had, sending you over the edge.

Your climax arrived so suddenly that it left you silently shaking and clinging to Thomas. Your pussy clamped down like the jaws of a lion and he growled, spilling his seed inside you from the tightness.

He laid you both down on the ground with your back to him. You took the time to catch your breath and settle down, but Thomas had other plans. He raised your top leg in the air, spreading you wide and began pumping again.

“Slow, Thomas. I’m really sore.”

Not thinking he’d actually do as you asked, you were surprised at the gradual way he eased his thick cock back into your pussy, keeping a close eye on your face. Although you were too spent to cum again, you nestled back against his chest and idly enjoyed his thrusts.

“Just like that, Thomas. Oh…”

His head was right there and the temptation to kiss him was too good to pass up. Soft lips met his through the mask and he jerked back, stopping his movements altogether.

“God, don’t you stop, Thomas. Your cock is too good. Come back here.”

You wrapped an arm around his head and he let you bring him back down. This time he kissed back, licking and sucking your lips like they were made of chocolate. You were in absolute bliss, not thinking clearly, lost in a haze of euphoria.

With his mouth full of you and you full of him, he groaned a guttural sound that didn’t sound quite human. Your pussy took his second load with open arms, milking every last bit of him he had left to offer. You broke the sloppy kiss to watch his cock pulse and his balls twitch, finding it super erotic.

His cock left you open and wide. You clenched your walls and streams of his fresh cum gushed out. You swiped some and brought it to your lips with Thomas watching in clear fascination. You then offered your finger to him.

He titled his head and inspected the leftover fluid. After some time of pondering his tongue tentatively flicked out, considering the taste, then placed your entire finger in his mouth. He sucked until there was nothing left to suck except the saltiness of your skin.

Using the tree as a support, you carefully maneuvered up. Everything was sore, from your head down to your hips and the simple task of bending down seemed impossible. In an oddly sweet gesture, Thomas gathered your shorts and helped you put them back on.

“You know,” you began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “It’s a long way back to the house. Who knows what could happen on the way there.”

Thomas made a sound caught between a chuckle and a scuff. He watched you strut away, eyes glued to your bouncing ass.

His Mama was right. You were worth keeping around.

[miley1442111]

saving me- s.reid

-------------------------------

-------------------------------

a/n: fem reader, but as always imagine what you like :)

summary: spencer has to save you before it's too late.

pairing: spencer reid x fem bau! reader

warnings: general cm topics, sexual assault, hostage situation, drugging, the team don't know about you and spencer, injuries, reader gets injured, reader is allergic to opioids, drugs, alergic reaction, knives, guns, reader begs to be killed, spencer shoots someone. (i think that's it, tell me if i missed anything :))

-------------------------------

Another migraine. Another fucking migraine. 

Your life was truly a joke. 

You sat beside Emily in the car, eyes heavy with pain as you profusely rubbed them, the sunlight from the sky beside you far too bright. 

“Y/l/n? Any ideas?” Morgan asked, kicking you softly under the table.

“The unsub will probably be extremely interested in the investigation but they probably won’t bring themselves into it. We’ll end up seeking them out,” you rattled off. 

“Are you alright?” Prentiss whispered. 

“Fine,” you lied. “Just tired eyes.” 

-------------------------------

Spencer’s eyes were on you from the second you’d spoken about your ‘tired eyes’. He was meant to be working up a geological profile, but his focus was completely on you. ‘Tired eyes’, you’d been wearing glasses or contacts all week, you’d been drinking enough liquids, you’d been eating, he assumed you’d slept, you'd been busy most of the week and sleeping at your own apartment instead of his. 

What could cause ‘tired eyes’?

“Reid!” Seaver all but shouted in his ear. 

“Y-yeah? Yes?” He answered, eyes focusing on the map again. 

“Is Y/l/n here?” Rossi asked. 

“W-what? No. I thought she went with Hotch and Prentiss,” he hesitated. 

“She told them she was with us,” Rossi sighed. “So then where is she?”

“I-I don’t know,” Spencer admitted. “I’ll call her.”

Rossi held up your cell phone and Spencer’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” he cursed.

“Shit is right,” Rossi nodded. 

-------------------------------

It had been 24 hours, you were officially a missing person. You had no idea where you were, someone must’ve drugged you. That hadn’t been a regular migraine. Your head thumped with pain as you struggled against the duct tape around your hands and feet. 

“You’re one beautiful girl, aren’t you?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, feel the way he was watching you. 

You tried to scream but the duct tape around your mouth made it difficult.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he came closer, into the light. You could see his face. He was a white male, between the ages of 35-40, dad-build, and a sick smirk. 

You didn’t fight back, you couldn’t. You didn’t even notice the camera in the corner. You didn’t know that this was being recorded, or live-streamed directly to Penelope. Penelope, who showed it to the team. To your boyfriend. 

They were watching the worst moment of your life unfold. 

And you had no idea. 

-------------------------------

“Guys,” Penelope squeaked. “This j-just came through,” she showed them her laptop and looked away, tears clouding her vision. 

“Is that-” Derek started

“Y/n,” Aaron finished for him. 

“What about her? Did you find her?” Spencer asked, staring at the group from behind Penelope. “Is she ok?”

The team’s eyes were glued to the screen as Spencer stood there, demanding an answer. 

“Guys what?!” he shouted. “Someone answer me!”

“Come here,” Seaver sighed. Spencer stood beside her and watched in horror as the unsub hurt you. 

“We have to find her,” he stated. “Now.”

-------------------------------

“Please, please just kill me,” you begged. He’d taken the tape off a while ago. “Please kill me.”

“I’m not a necrophiliac,” he laughed in your face. “I like my girls alive.”

“Fuck you,” you sobbed. Blood, dirt, tears, and sweat coating your skin. “Fuck you!”

“I’m actively trying to fuck you,” he laughed again. You hated him. You hated this. You hated everything.  

“Just kill me,” you sobbed. “Please!”

He hit you on the head and you went out again. 

-------------------------------

“FBI!” Morgan’s voice rang out through the warehouse. Spencer was hot on his heels, walking ahead of him and ignoring proper protocol. “Reid!” He ran after him. 

“FBI! Put the knife down!” Spencer shouted at the unsub holding a knife to your throat. Something had gone wrong. He scanned the room quickly. 

“I-I didn’t mean to- I was just-” The unsub stepped away, dropping the knife. “She wasn’t meant to die.”

Die. Dead. You were dead.

Spencer fired his gun without a second thought. He ran over to you and checked your pulse, there but barely. 

“Hotch I need an ambulance!” He shouted. “Y/n, baby, I need you to wake up,” he begged. “Please, please, wake up, I need you Y/n. Please.” 

“Spencer-” Prentiss started but Spencer silenced her with his own words. 

“We’re dating. We have been for a year and a half, don’t you dare tell me to ‘step away’,” he sighed. 

The paramedics rushed in, starting you on an IV. 

“She’s allergic to opioids,” Spencer rattled off. “She can’t have any opioids.”

“Spencer,” Hotch sighed. “She’s had some already,” Hotch pointed to the vials in the corner of the room and the rusty needle beside them. 

Fuck. 

-------------------------------

“So when were you planning on telling us?” Derek sighed as they all sat in the waiting room.

“I don’t know, soon-maybe?”

“A year and a half is a long time,” Emily smiled. “Congratulations.”

Spencer nodded.

“Dr. Reid?” The nurse asked. Spencer shot up and out of his seat. 

“Yes?” 

“Ms. Y/l/n is stable but she is severely hurt. Physically and... mentally. She endured hours of sexual assault and her body and mind reflect that. I suggest someone non-threatening to see her first. Maybe a woman?”

Spencer gulped and nodded. “Emily?”

“Yeah of course,” she nodded, walking behind the nurse as he led her to your room.

-------------------------------

You wanted Spencer. You needed him.

Emily walked in and tears filled your eyes. “Where’s Spencer? Is he ok?”

“He’s fine, they just thought that you’d want someone non-threatening to come in and see you first-” Emily explained. 

“Can you go grab Spencer please?” you sniffled. She smiled and nodded, then left the room. 

-------------------------------

“Spencer?” Emily called into the hall. “She wants you.”

Spencer had never walked faster in his life. 

There you were. Bruises and scratches littering your body and face. Your beautiful face. Your beautiful smile and teary eyes.

“Come here, please,” you whispered. Spencer sat at your side, your hand in his. “Thank you.”

He chuckled sadly. “For what?”

“Saving me. All the time,” you smiled softly.

-------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[studioghibelli]

leather & lace- a joel miller x reader series

chapter one: the silver stallion.

summary: an untamed cowboy and the sheriff's daughter. an outlaw and a goodie two shoes. a hardened piece of leather and a perfect cut of lace. at first glance, you and joel miller are polar opposites, yet somehow fate has managed to tangle you both up in the same spool of yarn.

“You're saying I'm fragile, I try not to be. I search only for something I can't see. I have my own life, and I am stronger than you know.”

warnings: violence (guns, blood, death.) enemies to lovers, an unspoken companionship of convenience, this is sort of a soulmate au? in a very thematic and metaphorical sense, age gap (50’s Joel, 20s reader), themes of guilt and betrayal, domestic abuse. if i missed any, please kindly let me know. thank you!

A silver stallion was galloping across the vast canopy of the dusty sky, illuminating the distant mountains with a sheen of gentle moonlight. It had been a harsh, dry summer, followed by an uninspired autumn, but soon the loving hand of winter would blanket the land in her snowy glory.

The town of Ruby Springs stood glimmering at the base of a mountain, the golden light of dingy hotels and busy saloons flickering in the darkening air.

It was warm, inviting-and there was nothing he wanted more than a pint of beer and a place to rest his aching feet.

How long had it been? Days? Weeks?

The time didn’t matter when his back ached like this. His crooked spine had not felt the plush feathers of a pillow in many moons, his lips had gone too long without a tender kiss from a pretty stranger.

Every inch, every bone, every breath of Joel Miller hurt.

He was getting too old for this, too lousy, too grumpy, too much of everything to keep up with it all. The train robberies, the kidnapping, the late night bank runs. If it were up to him, he would have stopped years ago.

But he was an indebted man, and Joel knew he’d have to sleep with one eye open if he tried to run away from it all. He was reminded constantly of his duties, of the promise he swore to her years ago.

Tess.

His boss, his warden, his burden. She saved a life for him, and in turn, he owed his entire world to her. Every penny, every breath, every move- Joel did so to appease Tess.

And now this.

He had done many things in his life. Cruel, unspeakable things. He had watched skin turn purple and eyes roll blank. He had watched men hang for their crimes and horses die for their loyalty. War, famine, anger, cruelty- Joel had seen his share of the world, of the vast and indescribable horrors of man.

But this. Something about this made his stomach churn. Something deep, intrinsic, something that had been determined by fate many moons before. Something he didn’t quite understand.

The letter detailing his current orders were in the pocket of his worn coat, burning a hole straight through the leather and deep in to his chest.

Joel,

The girl. The boy. Their father. In that order. This sheriff’s been sniffing out our plans for too long, and we can’t have him ringing any alarm bells. Get it done and dusted, and report back to me in Jackson.

T.

He could turn his strawberry roan mustang right around and run off, far into the desert. Where he would go, what exactly he would do- well, he wasn’t quite sure.

But he had ideas. Options. Dreams.

He could ride alongside the screaming eagles through the valleys of mesa rock, make camp beside a Montana stream rich with salmon. He could trade meat with the Apache down in New Mexico and drink moonshine beneath the stars.

He could choose to do anything but that.

No.

He couldn’t, could he?

What was more innocent blood on his hands? Joel had killed before, and he knew he would kill again.

Patting the ivory handled Colt that sat glued to his holster, he guided his steed towards Ruby Springs, stomach tight with the promise of what he was about to do.

The powder room was the color of eggshells with pink satin pillows thrown about, piles of gowns that needed to be washed and trays of powder that were fading had been littered throughout various places. It was pretty. Delicate. Feminine. A room fit for a city girl who had never known a days work. A city girl who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

A city girl Joel felt inextricably fond of, without ever knowing intimately.

The room he had found himself camped in smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and framed photos of a pretty thing and her loyal steed were hung about the walls.

You.

The woman he was sent to kill.

Joel sat behind the bed, careful not to lean back on any loose floor boards. If he made any noise, he know he was screwed. In his gloved hands was a small, circular photo frame, a photo of your face beaming up at him, his target, staring back. Your eyes were full of light, face full of promise. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone so beautiful, someone so fragile.

He wondered what you smelled like. He wondered what your voice sounded like, if you snorted when you laughed. When he looked at your photo, he saw hope. He saw a shadow of someone he once was.

An outline of a little boy with a heart, with a soul, with a dream. A little boy who prayed and laughed and played outside beneath the heat of the sun. A boy who kissed his mamma and brushed his dog and shook the sand from his boots before walking inside the house.

Where had he gone? What had he turned in to?

Down the hall, he could hear footsteps. Heavy and booted, hushed whispers accompanying them.

“Shit.” He muttered, grabbing his pistol and peering over the meticulously made bed.

The doorknob was rattling.

Joel glanced down at the fading picture. He really did think you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A confident smile, pretty hair, dazzling eyes- you were so young, you looked so pure.

And your blood was about to be all over the palms of his hands.

His ribcage felt as though it was going to break, his whole body full of the whistling pressure of what must be done. Before he could even think or mourn, he heard a hiss of pain.

“Get off me, Wyatt!”

Wyatt. Your brother. The boy he was meant to kill.

“You gon’ tell daddy? Betcha’ not gonna do shit about it.” There was venom in his words, it dripped from each syllable.

Joel sat quiet. His curiosity outweighed his allegiance to Tess, and he wanted to see where this was headed.

“You killed him, Wyatt.” Your voice was hushed on that forbidden middle word, killed sounded so foreign when it came out of your mouth. It was as though your tongue wouldn’t dare hold on to the verb anymore than it had to.

“So? Don’t matter. When you’re the sheriff’s kid, you can do anythin’ you want. You should try it sometime.”

“No. I won’t. I’m going to tell him.”

“You wouldn’t.” A challenge. There was the ruffling of a leather strap, followed by the clicking of a gun. Not only a challenge, a death sentence.

Although Joel couldn’t see, the air grew thick with tension, like a beach before a storm. He could hear your little breath of air, he could smell your annoyance. Quietly, Joel peered over the mattress.

Something stirred deep within him. He wanted to protect you, and the thought made him angry.

Wyatt stood tall and dumb, buck toothed and freckled like a growling hound dog. His pistol was pointed right at you, and he wore a mask of pure anger. That’s all he was. An angry little boy with no real reason to be.

And Joel knew how to deal with angry little boys.

You couldn’t remember when it started.

The rage.

It ran unbridled through you, like a stream trickling downwards towards the edge of a mountain. You could feel it in your veins, like the stinger of a wasp, stuck with nowhere left to go.

You knew, ever since you were a young child, that one day the band that held it all together was going to snap. And one day, sweet, innocent, “Oh no sir, I could never!” little old you would snap. You would sink your teeth in the neck of a handsy man, or drive a bullet straight through a gossipy woman’s stomach.

One day that band would break. And one day your perfect socialite image would come crashing down.

Today, spoiler alert, was that day.

That morning, when you had awoken, your thighs were sticky with your own blood, and your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. Winter was approaching, but the wooden walls of your family home held in the heat from the furnace like no other.

You were hot. You were angry. You were a woman on the edge, standing at the precipice of a ravine full of hatred and violence. One little gust of wind, and you’d be pushed over the edge.

Enter: Wyatt.

Your big brother. Nasty, incompetent, spoiled rotten by your overly doting mother who never, over her now dead body, treated you the same.

Wyatt could get away with whatever he wanted. Why? He was daddy’s favorite. The crown jewel of Ruby Springs. Next in line to be the town’s newest, gluttonous, and corrupt Sheriff.

Wyatt was a pig. A fucking pig you would send to the slaughterhouse if you could. You could do a lot of damage with a nail gun to his forehead, you thought.

When he had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you in to your room to snarl his line of profanities, you were already knee deep in the rotted mud of a shitty day.

One little gust of wind.

“-You wouldn’t.” Wyatt’s tone was full of that disgusting self-righteous attitude he always carried around with him, full of the thought that nothing could ever harm him, full of the thought that there was no one who could put him in his place. When he pulled his pistol out on you, no fear coursed through you.

Why would it?

You had been spanked as a child, damn near shot by your own father when you were twelve and accidentally dropped a bucket of hot water on his feet. When he grabbed you by the throat and threatened to spill your life blood, you felt it for the first time.

That rage. That deep, bitter, heavy rage.

One little gust of wind.

“What are you doing, Wyatt?” You asked nonchalantly, eyes flickering down to his gun.

“Protectin’ myself.”

“From what?”

“You.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You’re such a fucking coward. You know that?”

Wyatt held the barrel of his gun against your chin. It was cold. It was… inviting, like a hug from a distant family member. There was a feeling to that frigid metal against your skin that felt familiar, a yearning deep within you that had always been there but never awoken.

Not until now.

“Don’t test me, girl.”

“No, Wyatt.” Your voice was low, like the growl of a cougar. Your dumb brother didn’t notice you reaching towards your vanity, to the pointed hair pic resting gently on the edge. It wasn’t a knife, but it would do.

They say poison was the weapon of women, but you figured anything could work if you gritted your teeth hard enough.

So grit your teeth you did. So hard you could hear them heaving and grinding against another, like the metal cogs of a train engine.

“You don’t test me.”

Wyatt took a step back. A floorboard creaked, from what- or who- you weren’t sure. All you knew was your red tinted vision, the thrumming pound drumming at the back of your head, was filling your mind with the promise of a fight.

“I have put up with you for so long. Your incessant bitching, your stupid fucking crocodile tears. I’ve put up with the abuse- from you and papa- and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you. You know what doctor’s do when a sickness starts spreading? They get rid of it. And I’m going to get rid of you. You’re a fucking pain in my ass. A disease.”

You had never seen Wyatt go so wide eyed before, like a doe stuck at the end of a bowie knife, a rabbit lost in the woods. There was a bead of sweat forming at his temple, crinkles scrunching at the side of his dark eyes as he squinted, trying to make sense of what was going on in the world around him.

“You-….” He stood up straighter, cleared his throat louder. Wyatt’s eyebrows knitted tightly together as he gained his arrogance back again. “You on your period or something?” The chiding tone of his voice was enough to break that band.

One little gust of wind.

“That’s it!” You screamed out as your legs carried you, your mind completely on auto-pilot as your instincts guided you. In a matter of seconds Wyatt was on the floor, and the hair pic was lodged deep into the flesh of his cheek.

He cried out, a string of curses soon following. “You crazy bitch! You fuckin’ stabbed me!” He spit, a loose molar tumbling to the floor.

“I said don’t mess with me!”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” Wyatt easily wrestled you to the ground, shuffling around for his pistol as you struggled against his grasp. Unfortunately he was much stronger, and you held no power over him while he had the high ground.

You felt the cold barrel of his Colt on the temple of your eye, and for a moment you accepted your fate. At least you went out with a bang.

And there was indeed a bang, followed by a thud, and before you knew it, you were being suffocated with the body of your lifeless brother, your neck and face painted with the crimson of his blood.

Joel had no clue what had come over him.

He hadn’t felt protective like this for a very long time.

Not since her.

As he perched behind the cushy mattress, listening to you two bicker like a pair of angry birds, a wave of emotion rushed over him. A bit of fear, an unforeseen amount of admiration, and a twinge of…. well, something he didn’t really know the word for. Interest?

Interest? Joel shook his head to himself quietly. He wouldn’t. And even worse than that- he couldn’t.

Interest. In his line of work? Not a safe option, not a safe feeling.

Joel held his gun steady, ears perked like an alert dog, waiting for an opportunity. An opportunity for what exactly, well, he wasn’t quite sure.

When he heard your bodies tackle to the ground, he knew he had to do something about it. Before he could think about his next move, his mind shut off, and his gun was pointed right at Wyatt’s head.

Something within him could hardly stand it, seeing you there, wide eyed and covered in blood. His ears were ringing, the echo of the shot bouncing off the wooden walls of the house. It had been drowned out by the old church bells right across the street, signaling the turn of midnight, the noisy commotion of the late night saloon bustling about outside the frosted windows.

“Up.” Was all he could manage to get out, extending a gloved hand your way.

Fuck Tess. Fuck it all. He wasn’t going to kill you.

Because God above, were you even more breathtaking in person. He felt his stomach twist and knot around itself, his organs rearranging themselves at the mere sight of you. His palms grew sweaty behind his gloves, his heart slammed against his ribcage, begging for a prison escape.

He didn’t know what to do with all the emotion fluttering about behind his skin.

It was in that moment that Joel Miller decided he hated you.

The weight of a dead body was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Your mouth was full with the taste of metal and gunpowder, your eyelashes cracking with drying viscera. It smelled like searing flesh, and your nostrils flared at the intrusion.

The strange man stood towering above you. Strong, capable, eyes hidden behind the brim of his dark Stetson.

“Up.”

It was a simple command. Covered in the previous life of your brother who easily wrestled you in to submission, you decided to take both his hand and his offer. It was one of the kinder interaction you had had today.

While rising to your feet, your eyes caught his own.

His eyes.

You had never seen a shade of umber so alluring before. Honeyed spheres full of coffee tinted orbs, his pupils wide and dilated with the rush of taking another man’s life. There was something dangerous about his eyes, something dark and distant, as though he had seen and partaken in unspeakable horrors, as though he had carried the entire weight of the world on his shoulders and survived to tell the tale.

He was a broken man, you knew it right off the bat. A broken man with nowhere else to go, or nothing else to do, except shoot people with bounties on their head.

Oh, you weren’t naive. It wasn’t the first time a man had been found hiding in your room, ready to take you. Why, kidnapping the Sheriff’s daughter for ransom would give them a pretty penny, wouldn’t it? But you have a murderous brother- correction, had- who didn’t mind hunting men down and killing them. Not because he cared about you, of course not, but because he loved the feeling of murder, he danced with the illustrious shadow of death.

That shadow came back to bite him in the ass, and you relished in watching him die.

Fuck Wyatt. Fuck that tool. He had tormented you your entire life and now he was gone.

You shook those thoughts away, returning to the gaze of the man before you. Something rumbled deep in your soul, something you had never felt before. A tug, a pull, towards the person who stood tall in front of you. You had never felt something so intense, so deep, in all your life. It’s like you were stuck in the waves of a tempestuous ocean, with no escape in sight and a mouthful of sea water clawing at the back of your throat.

You were drowning in those honeyed orbs, a gust of wind pulled you back down to reality.

Finally, you could speak. “I’m-”

“I know who you are.” His voice was raw and deep. You watched him wipe his bloodied gloves off on the denim of his pants, and you winced.

“Are you taking me somewhere?”

“Yes.”

For a moment you stopped. You could run out the door, it was three feet away. You could also pounce and grab Wyatt’s gun, it was right at your feet.

Or…. you could go with him. You could run away from the abuse, the suffocating town, the disgusting standards, the burden of having a social life in the public eye. You could prove a point to your father.

You could be your own person.

In that moment you decided that this man was going to be your ticket out of Ruby Springs.

“Can I change?”

“What?” Joel looked at you like you were crazy, a thick eyebrow raising with incredulousness at the sound of your statement.

“Can I change? I’m covered in blood. I want to put on a clean dress, it reeks of Wyatt.”

The unnamed cowboy sighed. “Fine. But be quick.”

You began the tedious process of stripping out of your layers, starting with the buttons on your sleeves. “And don’t think about looking.”

“I ain’t lookin’.” His voice was tired with annoyance, an echo of the man he once was. He turned around on his heel, staying true to his word with his broad back turned to you.

“What’s your name anyways, mister?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“I reckon you and I are going to be spending a bit of time together.”

He snorted, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “Miller. Joel Miller.”

Your fingers stopped in their tracks, your body short circuiting as the name replayed in your mind, again and again.

Joel Miller.

The Joel Miller.

He was as famous as Billy the Kid, as notorious as Jesse James- he was an outlaw that everyone, even those fancy pants on the East Coast, knew of. And he was standing in your room.

Joel let out a sigh. “Your silence is loud, girl.”

“I just…” You paused for a moment as you flicked through your wardrobe. “I just…. my dad used to tell us stories about you when we were kids. He…. well-”

“Hates me?”

“Damn straight. Made it his life mission to hunt you down.”

“Well he ain’t that good at it. Considering I walked right in to his town.”

You laughed, slipping in to a chemise. “He’s gotten a bit stupid in his old age. Should I go and tell him you’re here? Give him a head start?”

You could have sworn you heard Joel chuckle, but a quick clearing of the throat masked whatever sound of amusement he could have made.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know? That’s not how ransoms work, you know. This isn’t my first time being snatched up.” You held your head up high, buttoning up the front of your blouse.

“Doesn’t surprise me. Lot’s of hunters like your type.”

“My type?”

“Naive little girls with rich daddies. The kind that pay well.”

“Naive? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. You’re definitely not naive. You put up a good fight with your brother.”

You had to learn to defend yourself at an early age. You had to hold your own. There were days you would walk back home from school with swollen eyes and cracked knuckles. By the time you hit puberty, your mother started dressing you up in the attire that good little girls from rich little families inside snooty little social circles wore. Dresses the color of poppies, shoes made from silk- it was all lovely, and you grew to love it all, but deep down you knew it wasn’t where you belonged.

You didn’t respond to Joel. You threw on your overskirt, slipping on your tired leather boots. “Ready.” You chirped.

Joel turned around on his heel, looking at you through his eyelashes. There was a short moment of silence before he picked your brother up and tossed him on your bed.

You winced. “Come on. Those sheets were clean.”

He ignored you, patting through his pockets. A few stray bullets and some loose change later, and you were sneaking out the back of your house.

“Can I go grab my horse?”

“That would defeat the purpose of a kidnappin’, girl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please? I don’t want to leave Fritz here.”

“Fritz?” Joel scoffed at the name, staring you down.

“Please?”

Joel gritted his teeth, hissing out a shot of hot air. “Fine. But be quick or I’m shootin’ you too.”

You smiled a toothy grin, running off to the stables. You had appeared just as quick as you left, an all black stallion standing tall and proud. His mane was braided, and his soft nose was pink. He was a handsome specimen, standing out like a sore thumb beside the strawberry coated mustang.

“What’s her name?” You asked, following him closely on the path that lead out of the town. You noticed you were headed for the mountains.

“My horse?”

You nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Uh, yeah.”

Joel sniffed a bit. “She doesn’t have one.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s just a damn horse.”

You rolled your eyes, running your fingers down Fritz’s soft neck. “She’s your companion. She trusts you more than anything, you know. She’s bonded to you, completely at your service, and you can’t even give her a name?”

“Will you just shut up? You’re yapping my ear off, woman. Kidnapee’s ain’t supposed to talk this damn much.”

“Well you ain’t never kidnapped someone like me, Joel Miller.”

As you rode in silence, the early morning thickness hanging in the air, the sound of cicadas lulled you deeper in to your thoughts. Thoughts of Wyatt, thoughts of the strange man riding in front of you.

The strange man who seemed so cold, so mean. And what kind of dick didn’t name their horse?

It was in that moment that you decided you hated Joel Miller.

tag list: @loliwrites @persephone-girl @ilovepedro @noisynightmarepoetry @moel-jiller @bensonispunk @obvitsclaire @redb1cpen @paanchusblog @joelalorian @dragonsanddragons @ashleyfilm @kungfucapslock @cumberpegg @cupidguider @sunandmuun

[radioactive-mouse]

i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me

3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.

Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.

Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—

Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.

Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can i get an immortal villain×mortal hero please please please🥺

I'll give you my croissants 🥐🥐🥐

"How would you like to die?" the villain asked. Their eyes were closed where they sat upon a park bench, head tipped back to the cool breeze and the clear blue sky.

The hero stopped, a little uncertain, but not exactly startled.

"I've tried every kind of death," the villain said. "I can make a recommendation if you prefer."

"I'm not going to die."

The villain's lips twisted - a smile, of sorts. "All mortals die. It is the linchpin of their condition."

"I won't die because of you."

The villain's smile broadened. "Drowning, perhaps. Or maybe suffocation. I don't want to disturb the ducks."

"Why those in particular?"

The villain finally deigned to open their eyes at the question, considering the hero where they stood. The hero couldn't quite read the villain's expression, but their voice remained casual. "Everyone always thinks they can survive those ones. If they just thrash, just fight, hard enough. Then they go very still and very quiet when they realise they can't. You have time to realise what's going to happen to you, see."

"Nice to see you at least put thought into your craft."

"What can I say, I'm a sweetheart. You only get one death."

"But you don't."

"You've done some research. Not enough," the villain added, tipping their head, "seeing as you're still standing there talking to me. But some. Kudos. I guess we'll see if you're brave or stupid."

"I'm not trying to kill you."

"Contain me. Incapacitate me." The villain waved a dismissive hand. "You might save your generation, perhaps, if you get lucky. Are you feeling lucky?"

"I'm not trying to do that either."

"Oh?" The villain sat up a little, finally tuning in properly to the conversation. "Are you not a hero? You dress like one."

"I'm hoping to find a more peaceful, effective solution."

The villain slumped, bored, again. "Mm. This should be good."

"Because I have done my research," the hero said, taking another step closer. "You're immortal. You only kill people when they attack you or are in the way of you wanting something."

"As I said, I'm a sweetheart and a saint."

The hero's jaw tightened. The villain had slaughtered thousands across the decades after all. They were many things, and had lived many lives, but in none of them had they ever been a sweetheart or a saint.

"And what you want most," the hero ploughed on, "other than your comfortable life, is not to be bored. There's no end, after all. So you need distraction. Diversion. Something to make time a little less of of a prison."

The villain was silent for a long moment, watching the hero. "I take it back," they said, finally. "I'm going to drive a knife through your ribs. Nice and slow. You know it's much harder to die from a stab wound than people think? Often it's the blood loss that gets ya."

"And then what?"

The villain shrugged. "Feed the ducks. Go back to my book. Make Christmas lights out of your bones. The possibilities are endless!"

"Sounds lonely."

"You think you're the first to try this, don't you?"

"I think you haven't met me before."

"Maybe I will entertain myself with you," the villain said. "Maybe I'll destroy your life and the live of everyone you talk to from now on. That could be fun. It's been a while since I've been so personal a devil."

Despite themselves, the hero swallowed. Despite their resolve, they considered walking away. Just for a moment.

The villain pushed to their feet, tossing their paperback carelessly aside.

The hero squared their shoulders. They felt their suddenly-fragile feeling heart begin to race. They let the villain stop in front of them, they tried not to let out a desperate shudder as the villain's fingers wrapped around their throat.

"Pick an option," the villain said, caressing their pulse. "Lose air. Lose blood. Or lose everything, but get a few more years before you go. If you ask really nicely, I might even make it quick. "

The hero shifted. They passed through the villain's fingers as if it were nothing, as if the villain were nothing. A ghost. Untouchable.

When the villain turned, the hero sat on the bench the villain had vacated. They made a show of picking up the villain's book, willing their once-more solid fingers not to tremble.

The villain raised an eyebrow. "Phasing. Cute."

"I don't age when I'm in ghost mode. Any injuries I have heal. If someone kills me, I stay dead, presumably. I'm mortal, as you say, but..."

"Hard to kill."

"Hardest you'll find. Or does the challenge scare you?"

"Determined little martyr, aren't you?"

"Not like you have anything to lose experimenting. You have all the time in the world."

"You realise I don't have to honour any deal now that you've revealed your hand? I could just hunt you and continue hurting other people, especially now I know how much it bothers me."

"I'll disappear."

"I have all the time in the world. I'd find you eventually."

"I guess then I'd just vanish again, if you don't want to play ball."

"You really are just the cutest, aren't you?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Maybe." The villain held out a hand for their book. "I haven't decided. Buy me lunch. See if you can keep my interest for more than five minutes."

"Lunch."

"There's a new cafe I haven't tried. Apparently they make their own croissants."

"You want to go to lunch with me?"

"No, I want to go to lunch. All this talk of bloodshed is giving me the munchies! But I'm assuming you're currently planning to haunt me, so you may as well pay. Unless you want me to just...kill anyone who tries to charge me."

"No! No."

"That's what I thought. Great minds."

The hero pushed to their feet, as the villain had, tentatively offering them their book back. They weren't entirely sure if that encounter had gone well or not.

The villain smiled, full of teeth, eyes gleaming.

"For your sake, little hero, do try not to be boring."

And, so, they went for lunch.

[wintfleur]

🌱 052 and 🪷 2 with luke hughes (for the 1k celly) pls! romantic pairing, luke doing the 🪷2 action!

౨ৎ enchanted by the beauty of you

°. — pairings ( Luke Hughes x female! reader )

°. — summary ( despite his girlfriends worry, Luke decides to sneak them into the hotel pool )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; none that I know of. wc; 1.2k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ a closed pool after everyone had left & pulling you by your waist.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( MY FIRST LUKE FIC WHOOO !!! I LOVE LUKEY SM I LOVE WRITING THIS !!! I do hope that you enjoy it, it’s a little short but I think i captured the sweet moment well. Please don’t be a silent reader I’d love to hear your guys thoughts <333 )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

“Luke i swear if we get caught my brother is going to kill us ⸺ kill you” you quietly hissed as you tightly held your boyfriend's hand as he used the other to press a few buttons of the elevator the two of you and the rest of his team were staying at for an away game. You were the team's main photographer, so you had the pleasure of joining them to all of their games. 

It was late and you were peacefully catching up on your favorite show when you heard a familiar knock on your door, opening the door and coming face to face with your grinning boyfriend who was wearing his swim trunks and a random t-shirt. Before you could say anything, he invited himself in and started going through your luggage and pulling out your bathing suit that you always packed, just in case you had the chance of using the pool or hot tub. 

“We could get caught by hotel security and arrested and yet you're worried about your brother?” Luke chuckled as he pulled you close, your back to his chest and his arm around your waist, his fingers dipping into your (his) shirt that you had over your swimsuit, caressing the skin of your hip. “Luke, seriously this isn't funny” you whined as you leaned back against your boyfriend. Before Luke could respond a ding was heard and the doors of the elevators opened. 

“Whoa” you whispered to yourself, but Luke heard you perfectly, smile on his lips as he looked down at you and watched as you took in the sight in front of you. The sky was filled with stars, the ones you could see at least from all the lights coming from the surrounding buildings. The pool was lit a pretty blue, it was dark on the rooftop pool . . . but beautiful, nonetheless. 

“C’mon” Luke muttered as he gently pulled you out of the elevator before the doors closed, you let him pull you to the closest sun lounger as you continued to take in the sight around you. Luke drops the towels on the chair along with your small bag that held his wallet and the keycard to both of your rooms, both of you deciding to leave your phones in your room; not wanting to be bothered by anything. 

You tear your eyes away from the sky and to your boyfriend when he lets go of your hand, you watch as he pulls his t-shirt off and tosses it on the chair before sliding off his slides. He didn't waste a second before running and jumping into the pool. The loud splash of water hid the shocked giggle you let out at your boyfriend's actions; he was such a child sometimes. 

Luke popped up out of the water and stood on his feet, shaking his head like a dog and pushing his wet hair out of his face. The water went up to his midsection and his body seemed to be glowing from the blue light of the pool. Your eyes lingered on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but take the opportunity to tease you with a smirk “You gonna keep gawking or join me?” 

You look around at your surroundings one more time before looking back at your smirking boyfriend who was enjoying his time in the water. You but your lip softly before letting out a small “fuck it” Luke grins and watches as you pull off your shirt and slip out of your shorts and sandals that's my girl he thinks, not hiding the fact that he was admiring every inch of your body. 

You decided to take a much less chaotic route into the pool, dipping your toe into the water, happily surprised that the pool was heated. You took your time going down the steps of the pool, while Luke dunks his head under the water. When he came up you were in front of him, you brought your hands up and moved Luke’s wet curls out of his face.

 Luke smiles and grabs you by the waist and pulls you to his chest, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms wrap around his muscular shoulders. Luke moved closer to the edge of the pool, giving you both a better look at the view. Luke kept his gaze on you as he watched your eyes widen in awe as you looked up at the stars. You were enchanted by the beauty of the stars while he was enchanted by the beauty of you. 

“Thank you” you whispered after a few minutes of silence, the two of you just enjoying the moment of being so close. Luke tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and gave you a confused smile “For what?” 

“For bringing me here . . . even though you kidnapped me from my room” you smile as you rested both of your hands on his name, absentmindedly playing with the curls at his neck. Luke’s shoulder shake as he laughs, his fingers toying with the strings of your bikini bottoms “I did not kidnap you.” 

“Can I tell you a secret” luke whispered and you looked up at him “Of course” 

“One of the people at the front desk is a fan of the devils, i gave them a signed puck and they said i could have the pool to myself tonight” Luke confessed his actions from earlier when they got back to the hotel from the game. You moved closer to your boyfriend, your chests almost touching. You raised your eyebrow as you asked him “So you're telling me I've been stressed about nothing?” 

“I just wanted to see you squirm a little” Luke smirked teasingly and it's true, he did. Yes, you were worried about being caught, but he could see the look of excitement in your eyes as he led you down the hallways. The smile you let out when you got into the pool was something he wouldn't forget, it was with it. You smirked and slid your hands down from his nape and to his shoulders “Oh you wanted to see me squirm huh?” 

Before your boyfriend could answer, you used your strength and pushed down on his shoulder, causing him to go under the water. You laughed loudly at the sight of your boyfriend, he was quick to get up and shake his hair out of your face, a giggle escaping your lips as you were quick to cover your face from Luke's quick splash attack on you. 

The next few minutes were filled with laughter and the sound of water splashing, a squeal of surprise leaving your lips when Luke playfully tackles you into the water. “Luke” you whined as you moved your wet hair out of your face and wiped your nose where water was coming out of it.

 Luke chuckles at the cute pout on your lips, he moves to stand in front of you, his hands moving to his hips and pulling you close to him as he gently pushes you back against the edge of the pool, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Sorry baby” Luke whispered before he leaned down and kissed you softly. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer to you, your chests touching as the water around you calmed down. 

Your lips molded perfectly together in the slow but passionate kiss that took both of your breath away, Luke's hold on your hips tightens when you softly tug on the wet curls tickling his nape. Luke let out a mixture of groan and a whine when you pulled away from the kiss. You smirked and swiped your thumb across his bottom lip.

 “Don't worry we have all night.” 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I feel like something is missing from this, I just don’t know what it is . . . hope you guys enjoyed it !!! )

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

[faetreides]

🪺 - # WINTERGREEN CANDY CANE !!

cw: canon typical mind games, baby trapping/pregnancy, manipulation, reader’s emotionally constipated, tashi’s injury, cunnilingus, cockwarming, tit fucking, established tashi & patrick (there’s no feelings between them but they stay together for reader in the beginning), lactation, not rlly smut focused despite the tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, ambiguous baby daddy (even though the ending can be read a certain way), one mention of patrick x art, afab reader, there’s a thought about you being injured but it’s not serious, small time skip (?) type thing and implied future pregnancies, purposefully vague/unreliable narrator vibes

patrick and art’s descriptions are heavily insp. by these posts

consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip if you enjoyed!

They never tell you that Tashi got injured on purpose. She’s too good to fall victim to what plagues so many athletes, but you don’t know that. You, her assumed rival and yet also the poster child of sportsmanship. Rivalry can bring out affection in people, it can highlight the need for someone who can understand you better than anyone else possibly could. You’ve never been anything but soft and sweet, but you can still summon the lightning streaking across the sky in your eyes when the game begins. There’s a glow around you that Tashi craves like a moth craves the shadow behind the light they fly into.

Tashi’s fall from her pedestal was painful and the hardest decision she’s ever made, but for the first time she made it for love. The set up was the easiest part, but now she has to actually make the serve. And she can’t do it alone, she’d be stupid to be blind to how her boyfriend and his best friend’s stares linger. What she and Patrick shared fizzled out a while ago, but if she lets him go, then that signs her up for a battle she’d rather avoid. Sometimes pleasure can be derived from depriving an animal of the chance to kill rather than setting it free and giving it an opportunity to go after you first.

Who knows, maybe someday you and her can share matching injuries.

Luckily, Patrick shares the same sentiment, quickly agreeing to the arrangement and plan when he visited prior to the injury. Art’s good at downplaying his toxicity, so Tashi wasn’t concerned about if he could play the part of a “worried friend”. You’ll bust into the office while she’s getting checked out to see Art there, and the infatuation you've been harboring for him will keep you in place. The queen on the chessboard who can’t really move however they please at all. Patrick will return in a “rush to see his girlfriend”, and you’ll be too intrinscingly intertwined in their web to cut yourself loose.

You weren’t the one she was playing against, but because of your “friendship” you’re there in the audience when it all goes down. The shock of something career ending happening to someone who had the most potential of anyone you’d ever seen is staggering.

You practically run to see if Tashi’s okay, and the disappointment that you might never play with her again is palpable. But she’ll be fine, you tell yourself, she has to be.

Art has already left by the time you get to the room she’s in, doing one of his parts of the plan and allowing Tashi to put everything into motion. He’s waiting nearby, running his hands through his hair as he imagines all the ways he can comfort you. Because you will need comforting later, and your future husband knows the best remedies for your incoming sadness.

You’re standing gobsmacked in front of her bandaged knee, a confirmation that this is really it. You shrug off your bag and let it slide down your arm to the cold floor. Your mouth opens but the words don’t come out. You struggle to know what to say as Tashi’s eyes meet yours.

“What am I supposed to do now, huh? My top competitors gone up and left me hanging.” You sigh, trying to keep the kicked puppy look out of your eyes.

She’s in pain and you’re making this about you. But if you and Tashi aren’t bound by Tennis, then what are you bound by. Your friendship doesn’t go beyond the court, so what do you even share now?

There’s no big declarations, no babbling where you word vomit about glad you are that she’s okay. Neither of you are those kinds of people. The energy in the air is dead, but the situation is too serious for awkward small talk. All you two can focus on is what’s ruined, but only one of you can also acknowledge what stands to be gained.

“Take a break, then.” She says plainly, a touch too proud to beg. “For me, I mean who else am I gonna let see me like this?”

That last is an attempt to lighten the mood, to use humor to point out how you’re truly the only person she’d let see her in tatters. Your eyes widen and you freeze, but then you take a seat next to the cot and take her hand. Your smile could destroy the sun, she thinks, and even if the earth was plunged into darkness you’d make it feel like there was nothing to be worried about at all.

“Okay, just for a little bit.” You chuckle and rub her shoulder delicately.

You don’t know what on earth possesses you to say it, but you realize that the absence of a challenge would drive you insane. There’s other reasons for it, ones you’re aware and ones you’re not. But you and Tashi have a way of saying just enough without ever needing to be raw and reveal what you really mean. If there’s a coherent meaning to be found.

“A little bit” ends up being forever, your pregnancies see to that.

Tashi makes Patrick and Art hinge a match solely on who’d get first crack at it; they play so savagely that you’d think they were stray dogs fighting over moldy scraps of food. She’s there when you get morning sickness and she sends the boys out with a list of what you’re currently craving at that moment. She’ll brush your hair and do your skincare for you, rubbing your belly while everyone’s asleep and telling you’re baby that she’d better be their favorite (after you of course).

Tashi takes pride in how she pleases your pussy when you’re too swollen to put in any of the work. She licks broad stripes up your soaked cunt, nipping at your clit and getting you to cream into her mouth in no time at all. She presses sweet little kisses up and down your folds, wishing you could see her love on your pussy properly. They’ve had competitions on who can make you squirt the fastest, and Tashi will never fail to mention that she’s never lost once.

Patrick gets really into cockwarming, getting you nice and settled in his lap. He has to take deep breaths so he doesn’t immediately start thrusting, he knows he has to think about the baby. But the pregnancy has made you impossibly tight, and your hormones make you go crazy for his sweat and natural musk. You’ll whine at him to hover over your head so you suck on his heavy balls. You nag about how he needs to take better care of himself, but you’ve grown to love swallowing his tangy load while you’re suffocating in his pubes.

When that happens depends on how long either of you can hold out, Patrick will tease you about how slutty you’ve been lately and squeeze your face with one hand. His cock will twitch inside of you, snug and strangled. He'll suck Art off till both of their lips are bleeding and you’ll motorboat Tashi’s tits to pass the time. You’ll start swiveling your hips somewhere along the way and his resolve will crumble like it never existed in the first place.

That’s for later though. He fastens the ugly neon cartoonish headphones over your belly and turns on the attached mic, doing storytime with the softest grin on his face.

Art on other hand likes fucking your leaking tits, he loves when drops of milk lube up the slide of his dick in the valley between them. He’ll thumb at your sensitive nipples and flick them, cooing at you when you moan and lap at his cockhead during the split second it reaches your mouths. He’ll look after your breasts outside of the bedroom. He’ll massage them and drain them for you if they’re feeling particularly sore, two of them will be latching on either tit while the third will be sucking on your tongue. His pecs bounce with every languid roll of his hips through the pocket his hands create, and he brings your hands up to them so you’ll grab on and leave scratches.

Art gives you more cum, his literal breeder balls are too big and full, and he’ll bet that he’ll give you more children. His thrusts have a certain punchy rhyme and rhythm to them while Patrick’s are sloppily enthusiastic and feral.

Art picks out supplies for the nursery with you, supporting your vision wholeheartedly and agreeing with every color and stuffed animal you choose. He and Patrick continue with their careers, and Tashi finds a way to coach them both, they need to support you and the new member of their slightly dysfunctional family. Tashi writes up the speech you give when you announce your early and extremely unexpected retirement, and she massages your feet when you collapse on the couch from the sheer emotional exhaustion. Art pecks each of your toes as she does so. Patrick plays tic tac toe against himself in the hollow of your throat.

And when the baby’s born and they can finally see who actually got you knocked up, Tashi says that maybe Patrick will get to be happy that he’s finally won something.

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or give my works to ai

[katiexpunk]

Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that. 

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two. 

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet. 

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office. 

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists. 

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.” 

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits. 

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid. 

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month. 

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts. 

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old. 

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time. 

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++ 

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30. 

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits. 

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you. 

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand. 

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty. 

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking. 

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse. 

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep. 

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place. 

 "Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table. 

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked. 

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.” 

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself. 

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake. 

He’s just another customer. 

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy. 

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible. 

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it. 

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back. 

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it. 

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it. 

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night. 

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it. 

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented. 

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell. 

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright. 

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you. 

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer. 

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it.  Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot. 

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You. 

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore. 

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip. 

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello. 

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is. 

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know. 

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that? 

Jesus. 

No. 

He’s just a customer. 

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything. 

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back. 

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan. 

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet. 

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever. 

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone. 

But you don’t call or text. 

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager. 

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type. 

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock. 

Fuck. 

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except – 

Somethings wrong. 

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off. 

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense. 

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight. 

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that. 

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now. 

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.  

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect. 

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two. 

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern. 

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside. 

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened. 

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal. 

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you. 

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind. 

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you. 

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one. 

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need. 

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her. 

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response. 

Rip off the fucking bandaid man. 

“Why didn’t you call?” 

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.  

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye. 

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?  

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things. 

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him. 

But no. 

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his. 

“Ki–” 

Fuck it. 

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more. 

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more. 

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral. 

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.  

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal. 

Fuck. Yes. 

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more. 

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs. 

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots. 

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body. 

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now. 

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby. 

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you. 

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you. 

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More. 

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you. 

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line. 

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away. 

Please, he pleads to himself silently. 

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan. 

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale. 

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you. 

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. 

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing. 

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. 

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core. 

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him. 

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle. 

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again. 

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more – 

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height. 

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste. 

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor. 

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now. 

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.  

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now. 

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life. 

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

 “Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him. 

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare. 

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind. 

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time. 

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him. 

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin. 

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless. 

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep. 

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.  

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second. 

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him. 

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you. 

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it. 

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up. 

“Wanna smoke?” 

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own. 

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both. 

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day. 

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with. 

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept. 

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat. 

He wants more. 

And something tells him you do, too. 

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

[chaussetteblanche]

Okay I’m obsessed with your Luke castellan stuff! Is there anyway I could request one where Luke and reader are a couple but get into a huge fight right before a quest? Something goes seriously wrong on the quest but they make back in in the end? Sorry if that makes no sense 😭

omg thank you !! and thanks so much for requesting ! this turned out a little dark, I hope you don't mind !

deception

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : you and luke have a fight before leaving on a quest, but after something goes very wrong, you make up word count : 3.5k warnings : a little dark, violence, fighting (verbal and physical), swear words, killing of another camper, depiction of death

"Where were you?" The words were out of your mouth as soon as you saw the dark figure walking towards you. You needed no light to recognise him. You knew him by his walk, the way his shoulders swayed slightly and the unrecognisable limp in his left leg from an old injury. You knew the shape of his shoulders, for you had cried on them many times. You knew the swing of his hands, for they had held yours for countless hours. You knew the way he hung his head meant he was tired. But so were you. So, so tired. "We leave tomorrow, Luke. For a quest that could change all of our lives. Do you truly care so little?" You stood up from where you had been sitting down for the better part of an hour in front of your cabin. "Baby, I really don't want to do this now," he all but pleaded. You could hear it in his voice. The fatigue, the worry, the sadness. He stepped closer to you and took your hand in his, lovingly brushing your knuckles with his thumb.

You pulled your hand out of his grip, even though it physically hurt you to do so. You felt him flinch. "No, Luke, you do this every time! It's always the same with you!" You knew your voice was starting to rise but you couldn't help it. "You go out, won't tell me where you're going, won't let me come with you, come back hours later, looking like you've been holding up the sky for seventeen hours, still won't tell me where you've been, and ask me to-" "Baby, can you please drop it?" His voice was incredibly quiet in the dead of the night. You could see his brows furrow in the faint glow of the torch on the side of your cabin. "-drop it," you finish with a sigh, dropping your hands by your sides.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright?" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I just- I'm sorry." You could see his chest deflate like a balloon and felt tears well up in your eyes. You shook your head. You couldn't keep up with his lies. "No." His head snapped up and you felt his intense gaze on your face within seconds. "No, don't apologise for shit you're just going to keep doing. Apologise when you're actually going to change something, because I can't keep doing this." You willed your voice not to shake too much. You ran a hand over your face, sighing shakily.

"What do you mean you 'can't keep doing this'?" he asked softly, stepping closer to you and taking both your hands in his. You tucked your chin, not wanting him to see the tears slowly running down your cheeks. He lowered his head to look at you. "I mean I can't keep," your voice broke, "doing this. Us, Luke. It's not healthy." "No, no, no, what do you mean it's 'not healthy'? Baby, we're okay. You're okay, alright? Nothing has to change, we're good!" The urge in his voice broke your heart. He leaned down to look into your eyes as he cupped your face and wiped your tears away with his thumbs. "It's okay, baby, we're okay, I promise. I- I can change, we can work through this. Together."

You bit your lip to keep it from wobbling too much. You shook your head. "No, Luke. We- we can't. I can't keep doing this to myself, it hurts too much. And I can't change that I worry and get worked up, but you can't change whatever it is you won't tell me. So this needs to stop." Luke shook his head franticly and started pulling you towards his cabin by the hands. "No, baby, all you need is a good night's sleep, okay? In the morning, when you'll have a clear head, we'll talk about it again, okay? I promise we'll work it out, all-" "No, Luke!" You pulled your hands out of his, tightly crossing your arms over your chest. You didn't know when you'd started being cold, but you suddenly realised you were shivering violently. "I have a clear head right now! We don't need to talk about it in the morning! The situation will still be the same! And neither of us will have changed a thing! We're just pushing this back to later!" Your voice rang out into the night and it angered you even more to know that many campers were probably listening in on your exchange with Luke at the very moment.

"Wow. I can't believe this." Luke shook his head. You felt a few raindrops land on your face and arms before it started raining. "I can't believe you're willing to just give up on our relationship like this, Y/N." "I'm not giving up on anything! There just isn't anything left to-" "Maybe if you minded your own business more, and stopped worrying and fretting so much-" You scoffed loudly. "That's who I am, Luke! That's my personality! And I love you! So, excuse me for caring and worrying about you when you disappear for literal hours and won't tell me where you've been!" "Well maybe if you-" He cut himself off and raised a hand, shaking his head. Through the raindrops, you could see tears running down his cheeks. It shredded your heart to pieces knowing you were the cause of his pain. "Look, Y/N, I care about you, I admire you and I love you. So do this, go ahead, but remember that, and remember that it will have been your fault."

You had what was probably the worst night in the history of all worst nights. You hadn't slept a wink, had cried out all the water in your body and had second-doubted every choice you'd ever made in your entire life that had led you up to this moment. When you looked at yourself in the mirror the next morning at the crack of dawn, you grimaced. One good thing came out of having to meet so early, you wouldn't have to face the other campers who you knew were listening in on you and Luke last night. You would have to answer no questions and would have to ignore no strange looks.

Everything was still damp from the storm during the night. You hated the feeling of the cold humidity making its way through your clothes and sticking to your skin. You met with Chiron, Luke and the third member of your quest, a girl named Natasha, at sun rise near the border. You didn't meet Luke's eye as Chiron spoke before sending you off. You didn't even speak until Natasha brought up the tense silence.

"Look, I don't mean to pry," she spoke as she pushed her way through tall grass with you and Luke in tow, "but I'm not digging the vibe you both have going on right now." Luke inhaled before speaking, but he was interrupted by Natasha. "Just to be clear, I don't care what happened, just don't let it get in the way of the quest." "It won't." You answered without even glancing at Luke. You heard him exhale sharply. Natasha nodded curtly.

Even though the tension had been palpable since the start, within seven days you had managed to retrieve the artefact you had been sent to fetch and had started making your way home. Natasha most certainly had a concussion, but other than that, none of you bore any serious injuries. Still, you felt restless and anxious. The Oracle, though you could not remember her exact words, had mentioned deception. At first, you had thought it would be the monster from whom you had stolen the artefact who would be responsible of this deception, but that had not been the case. So you had been on edge for days. You'd barely slept, as Luke had pointed out many times.

"Do you not trust me anymore? Is that it? Is that why you won't sleep?" He'd asked you one night while he was on watch. You had tried to sleep, you really had, but thoughts of betrayal and deception clouded your mind and kept sleep far away. You shook your head. "That's not it." You couldn't bring yourself to tell the boy you loved that you feared he would turn on you. You leaned your head back against the humid trunk of the tree you were sitting against. A few raindrops landed on your face. You couldn't wait to be back at camp. You couldn't wait for all of this to be over.

"Then what is it? Why won't you sleep?" You shrugged. You wouldn't tell him about the nightmares you kept having. When you did manage to close your eyes for a few minutes, your mind was swarmed with dark sights and horrible fears. You would see Luke drowning, yourself burning, the artefact getting lost. "I guess I'm too nervous. We need to get it back to camp as soon as possible. I'll rest when we get there." "But-" "Please, Luke. Don't."

Despite your nerves, your fatigue finally got the better of you and you fell asleep. You awoke to strange, muffled sounds. Slowly opening your eyes, you squinted and tried to get used to the dim light of the flickering fire. After a second, you saw Natasha digging around in your bag a few meters away from you, one hand tangled in Luke's hair. You frowned. "Shut up," she snapped at Luke. You realised the muffled sounds must have been coming from him. You couldn't see much, as Natasha's body hid most of Luke and your bags. Quietly, you sat up and grabbed your bow and quiver. You slowly stood up, hiding your weapon behind your back.

"What are you doing?" you asked. Natasha whipped around, a scowl on her face. You'd never seen her look like that before. With her body more to the side, you were able to get a better look at Luke. What you saw made your skin crawl. He had a large black eye and a cut on his forehead. A dirty rag tied tightly around the bottom of his face kept him from making too much noise. You guessed from his position on the ground that both his hands and feet were tied up. And judging by the state of his shirt, which was torn and dirty, he'd put up quite the fight. Your blood ran cold but you couldn't help but feel relieved at the same time. Luke had not deceived you. Natasha had.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," she snarled, putting her boot against Luke's face and pushing it hard. He fell to the side with a muffled grunt. You felt your blood boil at the thought of her hurting him even more than she already had. You notched an arrow immediately and aimed it at Natasha's heart. "Natasha," you called icily, "I think you should think twice about this." "No need. I've got someone who will pay me a fortune for this," she held up the artefact in her hand, "and for the knowledge of two half-bloods roaming in the forest near a big town in New Jersey." "You wouldn't." Your blood ran cold. You knew you wouldn't let her get away without a fight, but judging by Luke's state, he had thought the same thing. You cursed yourself for choosing the strongest fighter in camp to accompany you on the quest. "You don't know me well enough, Y/N. I couldn't care less about that shit hole you want to go back to, there's nothing for me back there. So, if you're smart, you'll let me be on my way now."

You set your jaw. "I'm afraid I can't just let you go." She smirked. "I thought you might say that." She reached to the side and grabbed Luke by the hair, violently pulling him to his feet. He winced and you saw his jaw twitch. "Luckily, I have some leverage right here." Your stomach churned at the sight. Luke shook his head at you, but you ignored him. She may have beat him, but she wouldn't get through you. You'd die before you let anything happen to him or the artefact.

You raised your bow, aiming for her leg. You didn't want to kill her because she was a camper. That would be the equivalent of killing a cousin and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you did. Suddenly, you felt your bow get white hot beneath your hands. You shrieked and let go of it nanoseconds before it turned to flames. You heard Luke cry out your name and watched as Natasha kicked him to the ground. You grit your teeth, the fire in your stomach growing bigger by the second. "Mother taught me well." She twirled her fingers and flames danced between them. You cursed under your breath. You'd forgotten she was one of Hestia's children. Not giving yourself the time to mourn your bow, you darted forward, narrowly missing the flames of the fire which followed you closely.

Deciding to let go of dignity and humility, you tackled her to the ground. Surprised, she yelped and let the small turquoise artefact slip through her fingers. You both hit the floor with a thud. Frantically looking around for the artefact, you were relieved to find that Luke had managed to get ahold of it despite his bound hands. He locked eyes with you and started crawling away. Natasha grunted as she tried to push you off her. You resisted and managed to hit her in the face with your elbow. "Fuck you," she growled before punching you in the stomach. She harshly pushed you off her ribcage as you coughed, tears welling in your eyes at the pain.

You realised she was going after Luke when she pulled a knife out of her boot before running off. Terrified, you scrambled to your feet and took off after her. You tripped on vines and stones as you caught up with her. You had no idea how she could see so well in the near darkness of the forest. You abruptly spotted Luke near a tree, rubbing his bindings against the harsh bark. "Fuck, Natasha- Stop!" you yelled. She ignored you. Before she could get to Luke, you threw yourself forward, landing a hard kick to both her knees. She cried out in pain and collapsed in a head to the ground. You scrambled to get on top of her and pressed your knee against the side of her head. "Stop it!" you pleaded. "You don't want to do this! Money won't solve your problems!" "Yes, I do want to do this," she grunted as she struggled against you. She kicked out, knocking you off her. You got to your feet as quickly as you could, standing in between her and Luke. You spared Luke a glance before raising your fists in front of your face. He was frantically trying to get rid of his bindings, desperately tugging at them.

"Just get out of the way, Y/N!" she screamed angrily, spit flying out of her mouth. "Make this easier for all of us, will you?!" "You know I can't do that, Natasha." She let out a frustrated yell before charging at you with her knife. You ducked and hit her in the ribs before catching her by the hair. You pulled her away from Luke with a grunt. She cursed loudly and sliced at you with her knife. You hissed in pain as she nicked your side, letting go of her for a second. You stumbled backwards as you looked down at your right side, where blood was rapidly staining your shirt. Distantly, you heard Luke's muffled yell of your name and a string of curses. You looked back up just in time to see Natasha's face coming at your full speed. She hit you in the cheekbone and you collapsed to your knees, dull pain making your face uncomfortably hot. You were dazed for a second before you shakily got to your feet.

Natasha was trying to pry the artefact out of Luke's hands, her knife much too close to his skin for your liking. Growling, you bolted forward and wrapped your arm around her neck from behind. Choking her with your elbow, you pulled her off Luke with all the strength you could muster. She thrashed wildly against you before reaching back and grabbing on to your upped arm. Before you could comprehend what was happening, she had flung you over her shoulder. You landed on the ground with a thud and your breath knocked out of you. You coughed. Despite the haziness of your vision, you still registered the knife lying on the ground next to you. You reached for it but Natasha was quicker. She kneeled over you, the knife dangling from her fingers.

"I was really hoping I wouldn't have to kill you, you know?" She wiped from blood from her bottom lip. "But I have a feeling I'm not going to be able to get anything done with you in the way, so..." Slowly, she started bringing the blade of her knife down into your abdomen. You pushed at her forearms, trying to stop her, struggling and kicking but it was no use. She was too strong. With horror, you realised that you were going to die. You were going to die. In the middle of a forest, alone-

"Y/N!" Your head snapped to the side at Luke's voice. He was running towards you at full speed, having gotten rid of his bindings. He threw something at you, which you barely caught. A knife. His knife. Without thinking, you drove the knife deep into Natasha's stomach. She cried out in pain and her legs went out, her whole weight now resting on your ribcage. She looked shocked as she looked down at her wound, which was covering both your bodies in blood. You paled at the sight. She tried to speak, but only blood bubbled past her lips. She looked up at the sky before entirely collapsing on top of you.

"LUKE!" you shrieked and kicked her off you, scrambling to get as far away from her as possible. You'd just killed her. Natasha. Another camper. And you'd just killed her. What had you done? Luke threw himself down next to you, immediately gathering you in his arms. You sobbed loudly as you held on to him, surely leaving fingerprints. "I killed her! I killed her, Luke, and she's dead!" you screamed hysterically, your eyes stuck onto her lifeless form, lying just meters away from you. "Baby, are you hurt?" he asked, concerned, as he checked you over. He tilted your head to both sides, his heart breaking at the tears flowing down your face. He was horrified to see your side and immediately put pressure onto it. You hissed in pain. "It doesn't matter if I'm hurt! She's dead!" Your voice broke as you hit Luke's shoulder, sobbing.

"It was you or her, baby. You or her. You did what you had to do," he spoke softly into your ear. He held you closer to him, as if he wanted to squeeze the traumatic event out of you. "She's dead," you sobbed loudly, turning around to bury your face in his chest. "I know, baby. It's okay. You did what you had to do, you had no choice. She turned on us." He soothingly rubbed your back as he spoke. "But- but-" "You saved the quest, darling. You saved your life. And mine." He stroked your hair, trying to calm you down. "There was nothing else you could do." You cried for what felt like hours. He held you the whole time, whispering words of assurance and comfort. By the time you felt ready to go, the sun was almost up.

The trip back to camp was mostly a blur. Luke took care of everything while you followed him around like a phantom. He stitched you up and disinfected your wounds before you got to camp. When you finally reached the border, you were greeted by Chiron, who was chocked to see only two of you come back. He was even more chocked by what had happened when Luke explained everything to him once you'd been taken in by the infirmary.

When you awoke a day later, you had a long talk with Chiron, who reassured you on just about everything that had happened. You would be granted a recovery of undetermined time. You could taker as long as you needed to get over the quest. Feeling a lot better, you'd thanked him and immediately went to find Luke.

You found him near the lake, staring thoughtfully out onto the water. "Hey." He turned around as soon as he heard your voice. "Hey," he spoke softly. He opened his arms once you were closer to him and you didn't think twice before engulfing him in a tight hug. He buried his face in your hair and inhaled deeply. It felt good to feel the familiar weight of his arms around your shoulders again. "I'm so sorry." He sighed into your hair. "For everything." "I know. Me too." "I love you, baby." "I love you too."

[holybibly]

This is a sweet thing for my little March Bunny @wisejudgedragonhairdo

Happy Birthday, darling 💗💗💗 Stay obedient, Bunny, and your mistress will surely spoil you even more.

Hotter, more dangerous and crazier than ever, our gorgeous toxic boyfriends are back!

Sometimes you were afraid of Wooyoung. Not in the way that he frightened you or threatened you; no, Wooyoung loved you like crazy, and it was this craziness that frightened you.

There were days when he would be furious, mocking you in all sorts of ways, only to press you against the bed with his strong and hot body and talk about how much he loved you—so much that he was ready to kill you. Yes. Wooyoung was ready to kill you if it meant that you would be his and his alone.

That's what happened now; he literally dragged you home, hissing like an angry cat, all because you didn't answer when he called you.

His hands were rough as he pushed you onto the bed and immediately got on top of you, wrapped his hand around your throat, and pulled you into an aggressive, carnal kiss. Wooyoung had always loved to kiss passionately and deeply, so deeply that you got the impression that he was trying to drink your very soul through your mouth. His grip on your throat tightened, indicating that if you did not obey, he would simply strangle you until you became the soft and gentle girl that you were meant to be.

"Do you really find obedience so difficult? If you want to act like a bitch, I'll treat you like one, princess." Wooyoung hissed and squeezed your throat a little, causing you to let out a moan of pain.

And he meant every word of it as he fucked you like an animal—growling, biting, and clawing at you. His teeth left swollen, angry marks on your soft skin; his fingers dug into your thighs until they bruised; and his hips slammed into your ass with such force that the skin was red and painful.

At one point, as he continued to thrust hard and deep into your sensitive pussy, he pressed his chest against your back.

"I love you so much." Wooyoung's plump, sensual lips left feverish, searing kisses on your neck, and that's when you felt it—he was in tears. "I love you so much. Please, please don't ever leave me. Never." With each word, the speed of his movements seemed to increase. The veins in his forearms bulged and pulsed as one of his arms wrapped around your throat again.

"If you ever leave me, I am going to kill you. You will never belong to anyone else but me. Do you understand what I say?" The threat in his voice was so clear that you cowered in fear, even though his voice was hoarse from crying.

"I belong to you and you alone, Woo, forever."

You could only agree with everything he said because you understood Wooyoung as clearly as you could. Dare to leave him, and you will die.

Getting to know Mingi was like sitting on top of a powder keg. One moment he would be tender with you, a whimpering mess crawling up your legs and drooling on your fingers. The next day, he would literally be raping you, fucking you with such fury and cruelty that you would barely be conscious.

You never thought you'd go out with someone like him—happy, gorgeous, arrogant, rich, and a real bastard at that—but something about him caught your eye, and Mingi, Mingi fell in love with you at first sight.

You were shining, shining like a fucking star in the velvety black sky, and he wanted that light for himself. What you didn't understand at first, and then it was too late, was that Mingi was also incredibly greedy.

He wanted everything from you: attention, obedience, adoration, worship, and love. He wanted your whole damn life.

You didn't plan the evening to end like this; it was just another trendy club you and Mingi went to, and after a few drinks, you went dancing with the other girls while Mingi stayed at the table smoking a joint with other guys. Nothing strange—another evening like the hundreds of others you spent together.

But apparently, Mingi didn't think so. When one of your friends moved too close to you, hugging your waist, he seemed to be wedged. Before you knew it, you'd been torn from another's embrace, your arm already bruised from the tight grip.   "We're leaving." Mingi growled in your ear as he dragged you through the crowd of drunken, excited people. He was filled with anger and jealousy, and he wanted to show you clearly who you belonged to and what was best for you.

And that's how you ended up on your dining room table with Mingi's mouth on your pussy. You had come three times already, but he wasn't going to stop, no matter how sensitive you were.

"Do you think this girl would be better at going down on you? Do you think her tongue would be better than mine? Will you answer me, whore?" His teeth clenched painfully against your thigh and you squealed at the intense sensation. But then you had an understanding of what it was that had him do it, and it was a new one. Mingi was jealous; he had always been jealous, but he had never been jealous of a girl.

His lips wrapped around your sensitive, swollen clit, sucking it aggressively into his mouth, and at the same time, two of his long fingers entered you.

"Mingi, I can't stand it any longer; it's too much." Your hands tried to move his head away from you, but that only made him more angry, and a second later, his palm was slapping you hard across your cheek. The sting was so sharp that your whole body shrank away from the pain, which was strangely mixed with pleasure as he ran his tongue between the folds of your pussy.

"Eyes on me." Mingi ordered in a voice that was dangerously deep. You obeyed immediately, meeting his predatory, narrowed eyes. His make-up was a little smudged, and his eyes were a little out of focus from the joint he'd smoked earlier, but that only made him look even more dangerous.

"Listen, little bitch, that cunt is mine, and I am going to eat it up as much as I want to. Do you understand me or not?" Mingi growled and slapped your pussy once more. You were already collapsing in his arms, and you didn't know how much longer you could stand it, but you knew better than to have an argument with Mingi.

"Yes, Mingi, I understand you."

"That's my doll; now lie down on the table and don't try to distract me." And his mouth was on you again, caressing you with new passion, sweet and painful at the same time.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

May I request a yandere naga x gn reader, [smut can be optional]

I love monster men! Sorry this took so long

Yandere!Naga x GN!Reader

CW: Death, blood, abduction, short drabble

A virgin sacrifice?

1974

The friend group of incredibly drunk college kids stood near the edge of a forest, headed by Nathan who was wielding a ridiculously goofy dagger he had found in a thrift shop, reading an incantation from equally goofy book.

"Oh Fentoo, deity of the Earth, hear our cries!" Nathan waved his dagger. "Behold, our virgin sacrifice!"

(Reader) snorted. "Who's the virgin?"

Nathan glared down at them from the stump he was standing on. "You are, now shoosh."

"But.. I'm not a virgin?" (Reader) rolled their eyes, exhausted from their friend's antics. "Why not use Gayle; he's a virgin."

The awkward nerd beneath Nathan looked up at his leader with wide eyes. "Please don't sacrifice me, Nathan."

Nathan dropped his arms to his sides, sighing, clearly upset over the amount of times his ritual was being interrupted. "Gayle's a virgin because, well.. look at him, no offense Gayle. But you're.. decent looking? Fentoo will be more likely to come if he thinks you're a virgin, right?"

(Reader) rubbed their eyes, exhausted after the amount of beer they had been chugging all night. "Right, and what happens to me when he finds out that I'm not a virgin?"

"I don't know..? He doesn't eat you?" Nathan shrugged. (Reader) couldn't tell if he truly believed in the nonsense he was spewing, but allowed him to continue regardless, ignoring him in favor for another beer.

Gayle shook, unstable on his feet. "So what do you get if Fentoo accepts the sacrifice- (Reader)?"

"Uh.." Nathan flipped through the worn out book. "Fine metals of the earth, which is his domain."

"Damn, you're going to kill me for some gold?" (Reader) playfully asked in an offended tone.

Nathan opened his mouth in a wide smile, ready to respond, but suddenly fell slack jawed, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

A dark shadow rose behind (Reader), engulfing them in an unnaturally coldness.

"No.. you shall receive nothing, but death."

A voice deep and gravely growled so lowly that it rumbled in the drunk adult's chest and made their knees knock together. Very slowly, (Reader) turned, alcohol failing to give them any liquid courage.

Blocking out the light of the moon, a being emerged from the trees and extended up, rising to his full height. With ink black, scaly skin that elongated beyond his waist, a half human half snake monster that was like a living shadow smiled down at the humans beneath him, the only visible feature being his bright white fangs.

His movements were faster than a lion's, launching past (Reader) and striking the two drunk men before they could run.

(Reader) was powerless as they watched their best friends get ripped apart in from of them, torn open by the monster's bare hands. Blood splattered everywhere, even hitting (Reader's) face with splashes of red.

And they could do nothing.

As he moved under the night sky, the moon now illuminated his body, revealing the blue shine to his scales and skin, the strong features of his mostly human, noseless face, and his long locks of black hair cascading freely down his muscular back. His black eyes appeared to be staring at everything and nothing, unblinking as he murdered two innocent humans.

(Reader) was ready to die. Frozen with fear, their drunken mind accepted their fate. Even after watching the god's jaw unhinge to consume the pieces that used the be their friends, (Reader) was still.

But their death never came.

They watched the monster eat until there was nothing left but blood stains, however, when he turned to (Reader), he was nothing but smiles.

"The debt has been paid." He stated while grabbing the ceremonial dagger off the grass.

(Reader's) face must have conveyed their bafflement, because the creature chuckled before explaining; "The sacrifice has been accepted. Now you shall be rewarded."

Liquid gold poured up through the dirt around the horrified young adult's feet, solidifying as it came into contact with the air.

A single tear cleaned away blood from (Reader's) cheek. "I don't want gold."

His smile grew, revealing the inhuman split in his cheeks. "Oh? And what is it that you want?"

He reached out a cold hand, caressing their stained face.

"Jewels?"

".. no."

"Iron? Copper?"

Each time they nervously shook their head 'no' it seemed to please the deity more.

"Would you perhaps.. wish for a long life? One full of joy, and free from pain?" His voice softened as he rubbed his thumb against their trembling bottom lip. They could see the round of Nathan and Gayle as they moved through his body to be digested.

More cries escaped them. "Yes, please."

As soon as the words left their lips, (Reader) was scooped into the creature's strong arms, cradling them to his chest.

"Good."

He carried his newly claimed partner towards his domain, the land of the immortal.

"I am Fe Ntu. And I'd be honored to give you joy and love, for the rest of eternity."

[reticent-writer]

Can I get a follow up on the Adams child ask? Where he takes the little Rockstar for the final battle at the hotel, but when Adam gets killed the kid promises to the cast that theyll be the next exorcist leader when they grow up, they'll learn from their mistakes so it won't happen again and that theyll have their revenge...only its hard to take serious since it's a kid

Let's say reader is around 10

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

You watched from the sky as you dad got punched to the ground by Lucifer and his daughter.

At first you thought it was something he could recover from, which he did, until you saw a small figure running toward him.

"DAD LOOK OUT!" You warned as you flew down to stop niffty from repeatedly stabbing him.

Lute got to him first and with your help, flipped him over so you could see his face.

You watched in horror and disbelief as he smiled and the light left his eyes.

"Sir... Sir...stay with me, sir... ADAM." Lute cried, but your throat felt to tight to even breathe.

"Take your little friends and GO HOME. please." Lucifer demanded.

Lute grabbed Adams halo and called for the exorcists to retreat, as she stood up she grabbed you hand but you yanked it away.

"NO!" You cried, "

"Y/n we lost Adam is d-"

"SO? WE FUCKING EXORCISTS WHAT GIVES SINNERS THE RIGHT TO KILL US. THEY HAD THEIR CHANCE TO LIVE JUSTLY, WE'RE KEEPING THE BALANCE!"

"Fight about it when your older, short stack. Your to young to be involved with war." Lucifer tried to calm you down but it only made it worse.

"Oh fuck you. Your the reason this is happening in the first place."

"That enough y/n." Lute threw you over her shoulder and started to fly through the portal.

"Mark my words, Charlie. I'll finish what my dad started."

As everyone in hell celebrated their victory you sat alone in your room.... Plotting.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

[danikamariewrites]

Pain

Eris x reader

A/n: I’m all moved in and still getting settled so plz enjoy this lil fluffy piece with Eris 🤗

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff

The pain in your back was reaching debilitating heights. Ever since Masha threw you off her back, yours had been strained. You knew you should go see a healer, but you didn’t want Eris to fuss. Or be seen as weak.

You winced adjusting yourself in your seat. Praying to the Mother you hoped went unnoticed. If your mother saw she would tell you to smile through it or that you were being dramatic.

It seemed Lady Autumn noticed. She gave you a quick sympathetic look that no one else saw. “Y/n,” she said softly, “Would you do me a favor dear? Can you run this to Eris for me?” You nod at her. She was giving you an excuse to leave. Cauldron bless this caring, kind female.

Slowly you get up, being careful not to bother your back. You take the paper she held out for you. She nods at you in dismissal. As fast as you could you left her receiving room before your mother could object.

Once out in the hall you unfold the note. All it read was, “Go rest dear.” You smile at her elegant handwriting. Thankful that someone in this house cared for you. Besides Eris of course.

Wanting a quiet place to lay down you head to Eris’s rooms. It would be empty this time of day since he prefers his rooms serviced in the morning. Slowly pushing the door to his rooms open, you poke your head in. Empty and quiet. Just as you hoped.

Weaving through the sitting room furniture you head for the bedroom. You kick off your shoes and pull on the laces of your dress, letting it fall at your feet. Helping yourself to Eris’s clothes you pick out a loose fitting shirt and a pair of his boxer shorts from the closet.

You carefully pull yourself onto Eris’s large bed. It’s always warm under his covers. Maybe some of his warmth was still lingering from this morning. When a healer had initially checked your back after the fall she had told you heat would help. Of course you hadn’t listened, thinking you would be fine just taking an everyday tonic for the pain. You are regretting that decision now.

Laying flat on your back your eyes fluttered shut. It felt nice to be back in bed. Maybe Eris will be back soon. His father kept him busy all day meaning you didn’t get any alone time. As you drifted off you thought about his hands and how he could use them to warm your back. How the pain would melt away with a single touch.

When you woke up the sky was a brilliant orange-yellow from the sun setting. The room was no longer dark, a small fire burning in the hearth, and the fae lights set to dim. Turning your head you find Eris sitting against the headboard. A book in his hands. He looked peaceful. “Hey,” you say tiredly.

Eris smiles down at you, closing his book and placing it on his bedside table. “Hi wildfire,” he coos, brushing loose strands of hair away from your face. “My mother told me I’d find you here. She said your back was hurting, do you need anything?” Something about Eris’s mother knowing you’d go to his room warmed your heart.

You could lie and say no. But you weren’t interested in denying yourself the comfort of Eris’s warm hands. “I was wondering if you could do something for me?” Eris nods, “Anything you need.” “The healer said heat would help the pain. Can you use your powers to help?” He gave you a sympathetic look. The fact that you were silently suffering for so long killed him.

Silver lined your eyes as you pouted up at him. “Please.” Eris leans down to give you a soft kiss. “Let’s get you comfy, yeah,” he murmurs against your lips. Snaking an arm under your back Eris pulls you against his chest. He gently moves you to lay on top of him, legs tangled together, and your head on his chest.

Leaving the blankets at your waist Eris starts to slowly run his hands up and down your spine. On the last pass he pulls the hem of your shirt up, his fingers causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

“Where does it hurt most?” You let out a small hum, snuggling closer into his chest. “Between my shoulder blades and lower back.” Eris places a large hand on each spot, warming his hands to comfortable temperature. You sigh at the relief. The heat felt wonderful. You could feel your muscles loosening as the minutes passed. Eris checks in with you, making sure the heat was enough or if he needed to move around. If the two of you could stay like this forever life would be perfect.

As your breathing evens out, signaling you’ve drifted off, Eris kisses the top of your head. “Sleep well, wildfire.” He whispered. You leave a quick peck to his chest right above his heart.