#IF ANYONE NEEDS ME I HAVE GONE OUTSIDE TO SCREAM INTO THE NIGHT
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BEDROOM HYMNS BY PROSEOVER-BROS
FANDOM: The Walking Dead
TITLE: Bedroom Hymns
STATUS: Complete
ERA: Season 7
PAIRING: Negan Smith x Female Reader (No Use of “Y/N”)
WORD COUNT: 4.6k
SUMMARY: On the night of the lineup, Negan took one look at you and knew that he had to have you. What you never anticipated was just how desperately you would end up wanting him back.
RATING: Mature (Minors DNI)
WARNINGS: Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Language, Sexual Situations, Dirty Talk, Begging, Praising, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Teeny Bit of Fluff
A/N: I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone that I love Negan just as much as I love Daryl. Needless to say, seeing JDM’s sexy ass on my screen again every week was just the inspiration I needed for this smut-fest. Hope you enjoy! If so, comments/likes/reblogs would mean the world!
What the fuck am I doing here?
The same question had been repeating itself in your head as your reluctant footsteps brought you to the outside of Negan’s apartment. All of your instincts were screaming at you to get far away, but before you could so much as knock, the door swung open to reveal that smug, irritatingly beautiful face.
You knew he’d been waiting for you. When Simon had made a beeline for the truck the moment you returned from that afternoon’s run, it was a dead giveaway. Not to mention the fact that Negan had you hauled back the second he realized you’d snuck off in the first place.
Earlier that morning, you’d heard a group of the Sanctuary’s scavengers talking over breakfast. Today’s run was supposed to be through a neighborhood ten miles west of Alexandria. This was your chance. Your plan was to return, but only long enough to pack your things and get gone before anyone knew the wiser. The last thing you wanted was to create any more trouble for Rick and the others when all they’d ever done was help you.
Unfortunately, your entire plan went to shit when Negan had gotten in touch with Mike, the Savior who was leading the expedition. You’d overheard their conversation on the radio, listening as Negan ordered Mike to bring you back to the Sanctuary if he wanted to keep his balls attached to his dick. If Mike had been anyone else you might’ve felt bad for getting him into trouble, but he wasn’t. Mike was a Savior, and therefore not worth one damn bit of your sympathy.
He drove you back to the Sanctuary, bitching about the waste of fuel and resources the entire way, and when his truck pulled up right outside of the towering building, you turned to face him.
“If you were stupid enough to believe that he’d let me go in the first place, you deserve whatever you have coming.”
Mike snarled, opening his mouth to no doubt call you a bitch or a whore, but by the time the insult traveled from his pea brain to his mouth, you’d already opened the door to the passenger side and jumped down from the truck to an awaiting Simon.
“What is it about you?” Simon asked by way of greeting. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot as hell, but there are loads of hot women for him to choose from — women whose job it is to please him. Why’s he so enamored with you?”
“Oh, enamored!” You exclaimed sarcastically, earning a glare from the man who had the bushiest mustache you’d ever had the displeasure of seeing. “Someone’s been brushing up on their vocabulary.”
When Negan’s right-hand man crossed his arms and raised an equally bushy eyebrow as he awaited your answer, you rolled your eyes and strode past him. “Just lucky, I guess.”
The truth was, you didn’t understand Negan’s obsession with you either, but it went all the way back to the night of the lineup. That night and the fear you’d felt as you anxiously awaited his arrival with the rest of Rick’s group would stay with you forever. You’d all heard plenty about the Saviors’ infamous leader, but none had ever crossed him. Once the group had honored their agreement with Hilltop and attacked what they’d thought was the Saviors’ only compound, you’d assumed Negan had been included in the body count.
That assumption had cost Glenn and Abraham their lives.
You would never admit it, not to Negan, not to yourself — not to anyone — but the moment that the door to the RV swung open, you were just as attracted to him as he was to you. He may have been the man that both Hilltop and the Kingdom had warned your group about, but even you couldn’t deny that he was beautiful — psychotic or not.
As hard as you tried to fight it, your attraction to him had only grown since that horrible night, and after finally succumbing to it when you’d shared a kiss with him just yesterday, you’d gone out of your way to put some distance between the two of you. Until now, when you knew that continuing to avoid him could result in something horrible for Alexandria.
“Well, look who it is!” Negan exclaimed as he appeared in the doorway, opening his arms wide. He was attempting to hide his anger at finding his bed empty that morning with his typical show of bravado, but deep within his hazel eyes, you knew that the anger was laced with something else.
Hurt?
No, it wasn’t possible.
No fucking way.
This was Negan. He wasn’t capable of that emotion.
You brushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, finding it very easy to act as if it hadn’t happened when he continued with his usual theatrics. After allowing him to lure you to his apartment with dinner and drinks the previous evening, Negan had convinced you to stay the night, and you’d agreed, mostly because you didn’t want anyone to catch you leaving his bedroom so late. The entire evening had been established as a way to pay him back after he’d agreed to let Dr. Carson go to Alexandria to treat Carl, who had developed pneumonia after going on a run in the rain with Daryl and Sasha.
When you woke up that morning, it was in Negan’s bed, but he’d at least played the part of the perfect gentleman and taken the couch, which made it easy for you to slip out just as the sun was rising, completely unnoticed.
“What do you want?” You snapped, annoyed.
Stepping back, Negan opened his door wider to let you in, the flash of emotion you’d just seen on his face quickly forgotten as his signature grin replaced it, stretching wide across his handsome face. Foolishly ignoring your conscience for the second time that day, you stepped forward, entering his apartment.
“Pretty sure you know the answer to that question.” He grinned.
“And you chose me rather than forcing yourself on one of your ‘wives’?” An exaggerated gasp left your lips as you placed a hand to your chest with mock pride. “I’m honored.”
Negan shut the door behind you and within seconds you could feel him on your heels, his warm breath ghosting the back of your neck. “You really think I need to ‘force myself’ on anyone, darlin’?”
Ignoring his proximity, you moved away, stepping over to the kitchenette and mindlessly running your hand over the counter. Turning to face him now that you’d put some distance between the two of you, you crossed your arms over your chest and narrowed your eyes at him.
While Negan may not have noticed you leaving his bedroom that morning, someone else had. Sherry. The two of you had walked back to the cafeteria where she’d filled you in on how she had become Negan’s wife just a few weeks ago. It was an ultimatum that she’d agreed to in order to keep her real husband from receiving a worse punishment than the iron.
“I am not a rapist.” Negan continued defensively. “Every one of those women have come to me, willingly.”
“Willingly?” You scoffed, glaring at him in disbelief as your anger began to mount. “When you threaten to kill someone’s husband unless they agree to be your whore, that isn’t willingness, that’s desperation — and you fucking know it!”
Negan rubbed a hand down his jaw as he stared at you, but for once he didn’t have a witty comeback to toss your way. If the circumstances had been different, you would’ve celebrated such a victory. The man who never shut up, finally silenced? It certainly was a sight to see. As it was, you weren’t exactly in the mood for celebrating.
“That’s right, I talked to Sherry. Try again, asshole.”
For a moment he remained silent, tapping two fingers against his bottom lip as he appeared to be deep in thought. But when he met your eyes again and you watched as that wicked grin returned to his features, you knew that he felt no sense of shame, and your victory over him was short-lived.
“Ah, I know what this is . . .” He began, his deep, gravelly voice practically purring as he sauntered closer and lowered his hands to your hips. “You jealous, baby?”
Rolling your eyes in pure disgust, you covered your face with your hands, groaning loudly. “Oh, I fucking hate you!”
Negan’s grip moved from your hips to your forearms, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “We both know that’s not true.”
“Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe for a brief, absurd, fleeting moment I didn’t absolutely despise you last night — but that’s over. Done. I want to go home. I want to go back to Alexandria.”
For a moment, nothing was said. He worked his jaw as he took in your words, but refused to believe in them. “Not happening.”
“Why?” You hissed, pushing his hands away when he attempted to return them to your waist.
Negan frowned but didn’t reply.
You couldn’t believe that you’d managed to stump him twice in one night.
“I asked you a fucking question.”
“Take it easy.” He warned you.
“‘Take it easy?’” You laughed, outraged by how nonchalant he was being. Negan, who could put your potty mouth to shame, even on an off day. Nowhere near in the mood for this, you slammed your hands up against his chest, throwing all your weight forward and shoving him as hard as you could.
“Why the fuck not, Negan? Rick and the others have been killing themselves getting you everything you’ve asked for. They haven’t let you down once!”
Before you could fully remove your hands from his chest, he grabbed you by the wrists and pressed you to the wall, crowding your body with his.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You absolutely hated yourself for the abrupt feeling of desire warming in the pit of your stomach as he closed in on you, those dark eyes staring you down in a way that made your heart race.
“Because I’m not letting you go. Because it’s different with you. I felt it — you felt it. I fucking know that you felt it.” Raising his hand, he moved it forward to cup your chin, his thumb and forefinger dipping down to graze the sides of your neck. “And I haven’t fucked any of those women, not since you got here.”
“And what do you want for that? A prize?” You hissed, desperately trying to keep your train of thought on what was important. “This isn’t me being jealous of your harem, this is me being disgusted with you for taking advantage of these women in the first place.”
“Didn’t seem to bother you last night when you kissed me.” He murmured, his eyes darting down to your lips.
“You kissed me.” You corrected him.
“And you kissed me back.” He smirked.
Lowering his hands from your face, he placed them over your hips once more and pulled you flush against him, letting you feel what thoughts of the previous night were doing to him. You closed your eyes at the sensation as he molded your body to the erect outline of his cock, your resolve weakening.
“That was a mistake.” You whispered, hating the pathetic sound of your voice.
“You don’t believe that.” He argued.
Biting into your bottom lip, you swallowed hard but said no more, not sure that you could trust what might come out of your mouth next.
Suddenly, Negan scoffed. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
Finally opening your eyes to look at him, you narrowed them into a glare, daring him to elaborate.
“I let you pick the job you wanted, excluded you from the point system. Hell, I even let you take that hick piece of trash’s place—“
At the mention of Daryl, you swung your hand out and slapped him across the face so hard that it left your palm numb and stinging. Negan’s head whipped to the side from the impact, and when he looked back at you, that smug smile was finally gone from his lips.
“Don’t you fucking call him that.”
Negan growled and in the blink of an eye, pressed you back once more, slamming his free hand against the space beside your head. Your back connected with the dry wall, a startled gasp leaving your lips as you stared up at him, wondering if you’d finally gone too far. Moving his hand to your throat, he gave it a gentle squeeze but even as you felt your heartbeat quicken from the contact, you weren't scared of him. This wasn't fear you felt, this was something else entirely, and when his eyes darkened and he lunged forward to roughly press his lips to yours, you kissed him back rather than allow yourself time to think about what that feeling was.
Negan’s kiss was hungry; his mouth devouring your lips, tongue, and every single moan that escaped you while his strong hands held your face far more gently than you’d ever thought him capable of. Opening and closing your mouth against his, you returned each of his kisses with equal fervor; a mixture of passion, anger, lust, hatred — every single emotion you’d ever felt for him, merging into one — your hands clutching his shoulders as he moved you from the wall and carefully backed you over towards his bed.
Gently breaking the kiss, Negan stared down the several inches he had on you, the look on his face very much resembling a starved man. With your eyes on his, you opened your mouth to speak when a sharp gasp left your mouth instead, his hands having found your ass and lifted you into the air against him before gently setting you down on his bed. Over the next moment or two he took his time removing your button-up flannel, tank top and jeans, his lips tenderly kissing every new inch of skin that became exposed to him.
Moving his hands to unclasp your bra, he let it drop to the side before lowering his body over yours. Negan had always considered himself an ass man, but with you he didn’t want to graze over a single body part. Pressing his lips to your neck, he used both hands to cup your beautiful breasts to his face, and you welcomed the rough feel of his calloused hands and warm tongue as his mouth lowered to each smooth mound long enough to tongue both of your nipples into stiff peaks. His hands continued their descent to your hips, your thighs, your ass, until finally he hooked his thumbs beneath your underwear and pulled it off.
Quickly removing his own shirt, Negan loomed over you, his eyes greedily taking in every inch of your body with a groan that let you know he was loving what he saw. Wasting absolutely no time, he grabbed you beneath your knees and dragged your ass to the center of the bed as he kneeled, pulling you close to his face and dipping his mouth between your legs. Breathing heavily as you allowed your body to recline against the pillows, you tilted your chin, watching as he skimmed the soft skin of your inner thighs, the scratch of his beard and feel of his lips teasing you mercilessly.
“Look at my beautiful girl,” He grunted in awe, groaning at the sight of you completely spread before him, pink and smooth and glistening with your slick arousal. You’d been wet from the moment you saw his face and heard his voice when he’d first opened that door, and if he’d given you any time to think it through you’d probably be a little embarrassed, but then he leaned forward to lay a sloppy kiss over your wet heat and all those thoughts of shame faded away.
“Fuck—" You cursed, tossing your head back as his mouth found your clit with ease, his tongue darting forward to caress the tiny bundle of nerves as he used his lips to suck it further into his mouth. Instinctively, your back arched and your hips lifted off the mattress to be closer to his skilled mouth as he feasted on you. Anticipating your response, Negan slid his hands beneath you to grip your perfect ass, anchoring your body to him with his hands and mouth as his eyes traveled up to your face. He’d waited far too long to see you at his mercy, and he wasn’t going to miss a goddamn second of it.
After a few more moments spent skillfully eating your pussy and learning just what you liked, one of the strong hands clutching your ass slid from beneath you and returned a second later when he thrust two of his long fingers inside of your tight cunt, stretching you. Negan lifted his head for a breath and groaned against you as he felt resistance meeting his knuckles.
“So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you, darlin’?”
Staring down at his beautiful face nestled between your thighs, you nodded eagerly, jerking your hips to the rhythm of his fingers as you shamelessly began to fuck yourself up and down on top of them. You wanted more — you wanted him — and anything less wasn’t going to satisfy you for long. Snaking a hand along your abdomen, you slid it up between your breasts and shoved a closed fist against your lips, biting the skin of your knuckle.
“Fuck,” He hissed, his eyes hooded with pleasure as he watched you move your beautiful body in sync with his fingers, your breasts bouncing with each movement as he curled his fingers inside you to graze that tightness within that left you writhing with pleasure. You were a goddamn treasure, and he was loving every second of this. “And so fuckin’ wet for me, too.”
Lowering his head once more, Negan lashed his tongue over your clit again and again, slowly but insistently while he continued thrusting his long fingers in and out. He could do this all goddamn night if that’s what it took, but with the way your body was starting to shake against his mouth and fingers, he knew you were close.
“Come for me, baby.” He breathed against you, twisting his fingers deep inside as he hummed over your clit. “Let go.”
“Oh, fuck — Negan!” You cried out, feeling that beautiful heat building up in your stomach and licking down to your core, your toes curling as your body began to jerk and spasm with the most intense pleasure you’d felt in years — maybe ever. Negan lapped up every bit of your release, taking his time as he cleaned you up, his graying beard and chin glistening as he climbed back up your body.
Your breathing was beginning to slow back down, but before you could get it back to normal you caught sight of his face and lifted your hips to pull him forward. Grasping his chin, you pulled him into a heated, messy kiss that he all too happily returned.
“You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy now?” Negan murmured against your lips before leaning forward to give you another soft, languid kiss. Hearing your eager moan of approval, he grinned onto your lips as he slid his tongue forward, letting you taste yourself. Tucking his hand behind your head, he threaded his fingers through your hair and gently tugged back so that your eyes were level with his.
“Then you’re gonna be a good girl and look at me while I do it.”
Negan watched as you processed his words and as your expression went from aroused, to pissed, then back to aroused again. But he knew that he had you. Of course, it was a risk, and if it hadn’t paid off he wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough not to beg for your forgiveness. Not allowing you any time to change your mind, he slipped his middle and index fingers forward to spread your slick folds, pressing his forehead to yours as he felt you shudder beneath him.
Not letting up, he found and stroked your swollen clit, rubbing torturous circles around it with the pad of his thumb and eliciting a sharp gasp from you. A beautiful, overwhelming shock went straight back to your core; your nerves still heightened and sensitive after everything he’d just done to you with his mouth.
“You want it?” Negan repeated himself, though his tone didn’t sound the least bit impatient. He was enjoying this far too much. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to the smooth flesh of your breasts, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses across your taut, pink nipples.
“Negan . . .” You whined.
How had you become so desperate for this man? Your enemy? How could you let him touch you with hands that had murdered your friends? Kiss you with the same mouth that had humiliated Rick, time and time again? You hated begging, and you hated the idea of begging him of all people, but in that moment you needed him to fuck you more than you needed air to breathe.
“Not good enough, baby.” He murmured. “Let me hear you say it.”
Fucking prick.
Kicking your pride to the curb, you stared up at him and nodded quickly as your teeth found your bottom lip, your gaze going from his face to the erection in his pants, then back to his dark, hazel eyes.
“I need you, Negan.” You begged, practically whimpering as your hand splayed out against his chest to grip the dark, coarse hair that grew there. “Now.”
“That’s my good girl.” Negan praised you, another smirk taking over his features.
The floor creaked beneath his weight as he stepped down from the bed to unbuckle his belt, his jeans and boxers soon joining the pile of clothes on the floor. Spitting onto his palm, he took his massive cock into his hand and gave it a few leisurely strokes as he stared down at you. Jesus. He was just as huge as he’d always assured you, and part of you fucking hated him for that.
Climbing back over you, Negan captured your lips in another kiss as he slid between your thighs, slapping the thick tip of his cock over your clit a few times before inching himself inside of you, his eyes watching as your mouth fell open in a gasp; completely overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. Meeting each other’s gaze, you both slowed to stare at one another, clearly overwhelmed by just how fucking incredible it felt to finally be joined.
When you thought back to your fantasies of fucking Negan, you’d always wanted him to take you from behind, but it was clear that he wasn’t going for that. He absolutely would not provide you with any opportunity where you could pretend this wasn’t happening. The knowledge that he would only fuck you on his terms aggravated you to no end, but if you were being honest with yourself, you loved watching his reactions to the things your bodies did together. The way his brow furrowed as he thrust forward; the way his lips parted to elicit a husky groan of bliss when he finally buried his cock deep within you. And that smile. That insufferable, shit-eating grin that spread over his face, dimples shining through his scruff, all while his eyes stayed locked on yours. You wanted to slap it off and kiss it all at the very same time.
“Jesus-fuckin’-Christ,” Negan hissed, thrusting his narrow hips forward and burying his cock deep inside what had to be the sweetest, tightest heaven he’d ever had the pleasure of fucking. He looked down, mesmerized as he watched your tight cunt swallow him whole, in and out, over and over, delighting in the sounds you made as he stretched you inch by inch and you lifted your legs to wrap around the back of his thighs and ass.
“Uhh, Negan! Mmm . . .”
Your body reacted instantly to everything he did, your hands clutching his chest as you rolled your hips against his again and again, giving as good as you got. This man might be a monster, but he knew exactly what your body needed, and for right now that was enough to help you temporarily forget all the things that he’d done to the people you loved.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” Negan hummed, digging his fingers into your hips as he steadied himself, pulling them just how he needed as he set up a steady rhythm. The sounds of his grunts and the wet, obscene noise of his cock going in and out of your pussy as it impaled you at such a delicious angle grew louder, and you could only pray that no one was loitering around in the hallway when you cried out his name while he fucked you harder, deeper, and better than anyone else ever had or could.
“Say it again,” Negan grunted, leaning over your body to gently palm your throat, pinning you in place as he used his other hand to swipe his thumb over your clit. “Fuckin’ say my name, baby. ”
“Negan,” You cried, not even ashamed as you felt him circling hard at your clit. “Fuck, Negan, fuck!”
Every time your hips rose to meet his — your movements, your expressions, your cries, his name on your lips, everything you were, everything you did — it all pushed him further to the edge. Anticipating that you were close, he quickened his pace, knowing that he wouldn’t be far behind.
“Look at me while you come all over my cock, pretty girl.” He demanded as he moved his hand from your throat to your mouth to trace your plush, swollen lips.
As if out of instinct, you flicked your tongue forward, lashing over the pad of his thumb and earning a low growl from him when you did exactly as he said, holding his gaze as he teased your climax from you, that delicious warmth fluttering through your stomach, then down further as your cunt pulsated and throbbed over his cock through every wave of your pleasure.
Gripping your hips, Negan moaned with you, lost entirely in your gaze as he chased his own release. Lowering his head, he met your lips once more in a bruising kiss as his cock swelled inside of your cunt and he spilled himself deep inside of you with several, brutal strokes.
Finally spent, Negan rolled to the side, reclining against the mattress and breathing deeply as he rested his hand over his abdomen. For a moment the two of you laid in peaceful silence, but only for a moment. Finally coming down from your high, you moved your palms to the mattress, about to push yourself up when Negan grabbed your right hand.
“Stay.” He said softly.
Quickly looking over at him, you frowned, about to shake your head no when he gripped you harder.
“Look, you can go back to goddamn hating me tomorrow. Just . . . just give me tonight first.” He pleaded.
Watching closely as he held your gaze, you found yourself at a loss for words. In that moment, Negan was being completely vulnerable, and he was letting you see that — more than that, he was begging you to stay. After a few seconds, he looked down, assuming you were going to deny him anyway, when you suddenly squeezed his hand back.
Rather than answer right away, you took his face in your hands and leaned forward to press a slow, tender kiss to his lips. When you broke it a few seconds later, you opened your eyes to find him staring at you searchingly.
“Tonight," You promised. “You can have tonight.
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Castaways (Part 1)
AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox.
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)
Warnings; C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.
Word count; 13k 😅
reblogs are appreciated
Masterlist
The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell.
A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm.
Unacceptable.
An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer.
—
He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-
“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head.
“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”
“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face.
“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work.
“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise.
“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him.
“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”
“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him.
“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.
He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down.
“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.
“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”
-
He was covered in grease.
You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.
He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail.
“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you.
It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.
“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck.
Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray.
“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter.
“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance.
“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.
It all happened so fast.
Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering.
“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black.
-
Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.
The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad.
Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent.
Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.
He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up.
I could kill you right now.
He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke.
“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.
“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.
She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing
“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“
“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.
Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?
“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”
“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself.
“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed.
He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter.
“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.
“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin.
“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.”
-
This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!
Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.
Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use.
You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.
What the fuck am I going to do-
The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.
“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”
“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.
“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”
“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off.
The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by.
The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco.
“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.
He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse.
“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.
“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.
“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.
“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.
“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you.
“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student.
It helps.
You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants.
He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.
A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.
“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.
“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.
-
All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly.
He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon.
“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.”
“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again.
“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort.
“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there.
“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up.
She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed.
“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach.
-
He works fast - you have to give him that.
As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it.
“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower.
“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly.
“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep.
“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.
“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable.
—
The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest.
“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you.
You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.
You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.
“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink.
“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look.
“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it.
Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed.
Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan.
“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap.
Nothing had ever tasted so good.
“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first.
“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.”
-
Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you.
Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here.
I probably would have died by now.
It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.
“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.
“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed.
“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.”
Quietly, you got back to work.
-
In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without.
He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface.
I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.
He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him.
He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away.
She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.
“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.
“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.
She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand.
He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.
All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter.
His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.
-
Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough.
“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.
“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun.
You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good.
He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth.
“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.
“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.
It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten.
“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish.
“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.
It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word.
The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up.
Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.
—
He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.
He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull.
Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.
He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.
-
Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.
His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest.
He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away.
“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.” When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation.
“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”
“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.
The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you.
“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush.
“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.
“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.
“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin.
“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.
“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.
“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip.
I wonder if he is worried about me?
“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.
“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?
“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.
“Well no-“
“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him.
-
You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.
“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.
“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.
“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”
“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.
“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.
“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.
—
The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.
Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.
She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long.
Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.
He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself.
A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings.
-
A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home.
For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention.
“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he?
Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?
He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him.
“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”
“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face.
“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you.
“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him.
“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory.
Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.
Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored.
-
Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved.
It was high up, but it was definitely a plane.
“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams.
“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name.
“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.
“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.
“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”
“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off.
“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.
“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again.
You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult.
You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.
-
When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood.
He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different.
After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging.
This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back.
You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face.
“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him.
“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned.
“No, I thought we could share them-”
“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins.
“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face.
“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face.
“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”
“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth.
“What?”
“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts.
“I don’t think you told me-”
“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before.
“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back.
“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.
“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond.
He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration.
“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up.
“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.
-
They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.
For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.
He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.
Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock.
His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water.
—
Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence.
“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry.
“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.
“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.
“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair.
Get a hold of yourself.
“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”
He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.
“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.”
He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man.
“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly.
“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him.
“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion.
-
He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure.
She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse.
Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop.
-
Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling.
Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden.
-
It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before.
He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water.
“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand.
“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.”
“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome.
“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him.
“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him.
You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body.
“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.
“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated.
“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen.
“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.
“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.
“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed.
“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours.
“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”
You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter.
It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings.
-
Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth.
She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy.
“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway.
“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him.
“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless.
“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.
“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.
“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own.
“Night, Frankie.”
—
The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you.
It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning.
Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored?
-
The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with.
“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.
A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness.
The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face.
“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.
“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back.
“Are you… angry at me?”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes.
“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.”
“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”
“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.
“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.”
Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.
“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.
“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.
“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you.
“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you.
There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most.
The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple.
It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger.
“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip.
“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly.
“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside.
“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.
He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed.
“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up.
“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.
“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.”
One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit.
The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.
-
You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core.
“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.
“I know, it just startled me.”
“Force of habit.”
“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.
“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.
“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through.
“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”
“You weren’t that bad.”
“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”
“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.”
His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.
“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.
“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time.
“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.
“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.”
“I could have said no.”
“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”
“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.
-----
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#francisco morales#frankie morales#triple frontier au#frankie x reader#frankie morales x you#francisco morales x reader#francisco catfish morales#frankie catfish morales
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The Blitz, Part 3 Theory: The clues that suggest what it might be about & how it's affected what's come after it
I rewatched 2.04/The Blitz, Part 2 last night and a moment stood out to me that made me think I have an idea of what might happen in the flashback we all seem to have collectively agreed is almost certainly in S3-- The Blitz, Part 3.
When Crowley & Aziraphale are in the magic shop and Glozier is there in the background, the camera jumps to a pretty significant reaction shot for Glozier when Aziraphale tells Crowley that he has a Derringer hidden in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop. I think everyone sees that bit as important-- it's a literal Chekhov's gun sitting out there for the future story, after all-- but I was thinking about why it matters that one of the Zombie Nazis overheard this when they're... ya know... zombies. Their methods of murder tend to be a little more direct, yeah? lol What do they need a gun for when they eat people to death? But then it hit me why it will matter that Glozier heard this... it's not about the Zombie Nazis, exactly. It's about Furfur.
When we leave Furfur in 1941, he's just been embarrassed in front of The Dark Council by Aziraphale, who has swapped out the picture of him and Crowley for a flyer for the Ladies of Camelot, right? They literally laugh in Furfur's face. Furfur's entire plot in 1941 is about how he's been stuck in processing for millennia and he's trying to get out of it-- about how he's jealous of Crowley and the few others who get to go to Earth. He's dealt slight after slight after slight during this night in 1941. He fails to get proof against Crowley, who doesn't even remember him. He gets shamed and embarrassed in front of the higher-ups and his peers. His fledging... whatever it is exactly lol... with Shax-- who is the closest thing he has to a friend-- is damaged as she's gone out on a limb for him and he hasn't delivered. Most terrible, he's sure he's never going to get out of his miserable eternity of grunt work. He's *very, very, very* unhappy and boxed into a corner, right? So what does Furfur want, now that he's stuck in Hell forever and all of it is laughing at him?
Revenge. He wants revenge.
In the short term, he also wants someone to scream at, so he goes back up to Earth and finds the Zombie Nazis, who are roaming around London eating people. They can't go very quickly so they haven't gotten far and aren't hard to find lol. Furfur knows it's not exactly their fault that he was tricked by the angel as, technically, they completed the tasks they were given, but he's furious and he needs to vent it, so he starts yelling that he's going to revoke their zombie-life-on-earth clauses. (Even *the Nazi zombies* get to be on Earth and Furfur does not? Yeah, he's not going to be able to handle that...)
The Zombie Nazis, understandably after seeing that video he showed them in Part 2, start freaking out because they don't want that whole fly fate for all of eternity and they don't know how to reach anyone beyond Furfur so they'll do anything to keep Furfur from taking out his humiliation on them. Upon hearing that this is all about how Aziraphale tricked Furfur and got him humiliated by Hell, the Zombie Nazis start desperately suggesting that it's not too late! They can help Furfur still get Crowley and Aziraphale! Even if Hell thinks Furfur is a joke and won't listen to him about the angel and demon being involved, they can still help Furfur get revenge!
They bring Furfur to outside the bookshop to find Crowley and Aziraphale because that's where the Zombie Nazis say they saw them together earlier & they know Aziraphale lives there. Furfur's in a rage because through a side window, he's observing Crowley and Aziraphale drinking wine together by candlelight in what is the "I know you'd come through for me" scene from Part 2-- and Aziraphale even has the photo Furfur took of them earlier in his hand. (Insert here more of the recurring gag about Harmony lip-reading as now he's also looking through the window and probably gets a line like "he is saying it again! 'banana fish go-RILL-ah...'").
So Furfur is in a fur-furious rage here and is ready to murder these two but... there's just one *slight* problem...
He's a demon.
He can't get into the bookshop.
Aziraphale would have to invite him in and he's certainly not going to after their meeting earlier. But! This is when Furfur and the Nazis realize that there is someone in their group who *can* get in the bookshop...
....our fave fascist, Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt.
As "Rose", Greta recruited Aziraphale-- entering his bookshop when she was a human, invited in by Aziraphale. She can still get into the bookshop. (It's also a parallel to Shax tricking Aziraphale into letting her into The Bentley in S2.)
Once Furfur and the Nazis realize this, the question then becomes: okay, so if Greta can get into the shop, how is she then going to kill Aziraphale and Crowley? (*Especially* Aziraphale, whom Furfur really, really, really loathes at this point lol.)
This is when we go back to the scene that triggered this meta, which is that this is when Glozier then volunteers the information he overheard in the magic shop-- that there's a Chekhov's gun in the bookshop.
The Derringer works as a weapon here to do that because, as Furfur himself pointed out during the magic show earlier, if Crowley had shot Aziraphale in the face, it wouldn't just be paperwork but it might not be possible for them to "put him back together again"-- indicating that there are some things that can happen to angels and demons that are irreversible and can effectively kill them, more or less-- and a gunshot to the head is one of them.
(I'm also realizing as I'm writing this that that Glozier's *ear* falling off in the magic shop is another nod to him having *heard* important information and so far, we've only seen half of what he heard pay off-- the time and location of Aziraphale's performance in the West End. We're still awaiting pay off of the gun bit.)
My bet is that Aziraphale's Derringer in a hollowed out book is something he actually *showed "Rose" like the cinnamon roll idiot that he is* lol... so once Glozier brings it up, Greta remembers and she knows what book it's in and exactly where it is in the shop.
So Furfur still cannot get in but Greta can get in... which means Greta is now the most powerful character here. If Furfur wants Aziraphale dead, Greta can make that happen... *if* they cut a deal. What kind of deal? Well, the only thing Greta is going to want that she thinks that Furfur could give her is to not be a zombie, right? To be alive again? Reverse the clause in the paperwork and give her her life back. Whether or not Furfur can actually do this (and I'm not sure if he can or not, really, but I'd wager probably not), Furfur tells Greta that he can and she and the other Nazis believe him.
The plan is that the four of them go to the bookshop, where Furfur activates a miracle blocker card for a few hours surrounding the shop in an effort to limit Crowley and Aziraphale's powers and give the Zombie Nazis the advantage. Once the miracle blocker is in place, Greta goes inside while Harmony and Glozier make noise outside, in an effort to separate Crowley and Aziraphale to make it easier to kill them by attempting to lure one of them outside. Greta is to kill the one that stays inside the bookshop while Harmony and Glozier are supposed to kill the one that goes outside. (This will not happen according to plan at all, whatsoever, but it does seem like the most likely plan these four characters could form where they all have a role in it.)
So because Greta is the only one who can get inside, she has go to into the bookshop and be the one who can kill, most likely in their mind, Aziraphale. She'll still be a staggering zombie when the extremely bright Furfur sends her in there to obtain and fire a gun at a pair of supernatural beings lol but she manages to sneak in the back door without Crowley and Aziraphale really hearing the breaking & entering... or whatever noises the other two are making outside... as Crowley and Aziraphale are a little busy gazing at one another.
It would actually be a really funny, very Good Omens-y gag IMHO, if Greta is colossally unsubtle in entering the other side of the shop from where Crowley & Aziraphale are and is banging into stuff while Harmony and Glozier keep coming up with more and more insane noises outside... but Crowley and Aziraphale are too busy making heart eyes at one another to care or do anything about it. A very "did you... hear that?"/"oh, must be the war, let's go back to gazing" type of attitude with a steadily increasing series of sounds that are harder and harder to dismiss but they are trying, ok? lol. (This would also parallel Aziraphale ignoring the demons outside for as long as he could during The Ball in S2, until the bookshop begins literally breaking around them.)
So while we watch scenes of Furfur and The Zombie Nazis Hatch A Plot, the relationship tension between Crowley & Aziraphale is building as much as the plot tension. They intercut Furfur & the Nazis scenes with Crowley & Aziraphale having quiet, romantic, candlelit glasses of wine after their very intense and illuminating evening together. Each time we go back to Crowley & Aziraphale... they seem to be getting increasingly cozier. They sit a little closer, they get a little looser around one another. Crowley's glasses might come off. We get the sense that this is all Going Somewhere and it's somewhere they've never let themselves go before but after the events of Blitz 1 & 2 tonight? It's becoming increasingly clear to them that they will. There's virtual certainty that if *nothing else happens* to these two tonight and they're just left alone for once, they're at least going to kiss and what we're watching is them slowly enjoying the path there and them enjoying silently knowing that they're going to.
At some point, we hop from the Nazis back over to Aziraphale asking Crowley if he'd like a little music... Aziraphale might even have something *modern* kicking around, he's excited to tell Crowley (like he might have been totally not at all fantasizing about this exact Crowley-dashing-in-his-suit-with-a-glass-of-wine-smoldering-in-the-bookshop scenario when he bought this record from Maggie's grandfather recently lol)... and he goes over to the gramophone to put it on and now we've got Crowley and Aziraphale with candlelight and wine and music and they're each just taking step after slow little step that slowly acknowledges the romance at play here. Aziraphale's record is probably Glenn Miller. We know he likes big band and The Bentley played him "Moonlight Serenade" in S2 and Glenn Miller also recorded "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", so it's one record where "Moonlight" could play and then, eventually, so too could "Nightingale" without Aziraphale getting up and moving away from Crowley... and you better believe that when we get to "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" playing that Crowley and Aziraphale are a literal breath away from kissing.
It'd be completely perfect to them, right? Very romantic. They're there together, alone, they've survived the Nazis and Mrs. H and threats of Hell and have spent the night gazing at one another and now they're here and it's quiet and there's candlelight and it's the familiar, comforting bookshop that is home for both of them... the same place, ironically, that they will drink wine together and make eyes at one another *for decades* after this night-- without Aziraphale putting on The Song, of course-- and you know they will think about 1941 every. single. time. while never actually recreating it.
(It's also why, when they're both wasted in the bookshop in S1's "Eleven Years Ago", Crowley is rambling on about bananas and gorillas and bouillabaisse/fish stew-- ya know, "banana fish gorilla..."-- and they're both so drunk and thinking about how they're almost out of time... and so they're both thinking of 1941 and wind up making those hilarious kissy faces at one another because they both obviously still want to actually kiss some 80 years after the night they almost did. Crowley also calls Aziraphale "baby" in the middle of his ramble. He might have called Aziraphale that in 1941, when they weren't drunk and were on their way to kissing. He also might have just wanted to, so it turned up in "Eleven Years Later" and might come up again later on in the present of S3, whenever they inevitably get to finally have a decent, uninterrupted, not painful kiss.)
Back in 1941, as we flip between Furfur/The Nazis and our heroes, maybe Crowley's even gotten comfortable enough to lose the glasses (though he can leave them on if he still has the hat on when they go to kiss so that he can take the hat off like a gentleman to kiss Aziraphale *swoon* and actually that's how Aziraphale died everyone surprise twist he's been dead since 1941 an a ghost this whole time lol)... and there's romantic big band on the record player and there was magic in the air and angels were dining at the Ritz when a nightingale sang in Bahhhrrrrk. Leeeeee. Square... and they're *almost* there, right? They're basically kissing. There is no way for either of them to ever legitimately pretend that was not was going to happen (even if they will try in the future lol) as their lips were a millimeter away and both of them want it and just like this and it's been six thousand years of pining and so, of course, that is when...
...Greta zombie-crashes into the room with Aziraphale's once-hidden Derringer aimed at them.
(Aziraphale's probably furiously muttering "oh good Lord" under his breath with a very different tone than in 1793 lol. That is his attitude, at least, if not the dialogue.)
So then they have to try to protect one another right and it's mild chaos for a moment as like Crowley starts looking out the window at Furfur and the rest of the Zombie Nazi Trio (paralleling his demons-outside-the-bookshop paranoia in S2) and realizes they were the noise while Greta is all "pity you both must die" again with a little smirk and Aziraphale is trying to calm her down and reason with her while also subtly trying to get close enough to get the gun and she probably fires but she's a zombie so she misses lol and he's like glancing over for Crowley and Crowley seems to disappear for a moment while Aziraphale stalls Greta and just when we think where the hell did Crowley go?! Aziraphale is about to be shot in the face!...
...Greta is shot in the face instead.
By Crowley.
With The Bullet Catcher.
And the bullet that was in Aziraphale's teeth a couple of hours ago.
Crowley has not so much has blown the fluff off a dandelion since he arrived on Earth six thousand years ago but you interrupt his first kiss with the angel and you. are. dead, you Nazi bitch...
I don't have a theory as to what happens after this beyond that we already know that Furfur is in Requisitions in the present now so he's going places lol. Also worth mentioning that Crowley or Aziraphale (I'd lean towards Crowley) could get shot by Greta's wild aim when they are trying to protect one another but it would be more of a graze that one could write a hundred h/c fics over than anything worth actually worrying about lol. It could be something like Crowley gets nicked but goes down as dramatically as he does in the paintball scene in S1 and Aziraphale is horrified but also fighting for his own life so he winds up focused on Greta and neither of them see Crowley slip away to come back with The Bullet Catcher... something like that. I'm just pretty sure that the fact that there are really *two* Chekhov's guns in the bookshop and that Greta is the only 1941 antagonist who can get inside it maths out to Crowley-- shooting her with The Bullet Catcher.
I'm not sure what happens to Harmony and Glozier. Aziraphale says in S1 that he's never killed anything so he can't kill anyone here and while I'm fine with Crowley mowing down Nazis with every Chekhov's gun left in the plot lol, I don't know that that's what happened or if, honestly, the two of them and Furfur just see Greta die through the window and run off. Maybe Aziraphale miracles the Nazis to Siberia. Who knows. But the main gist of it, I think, is that Crowley kills Greta when the Zombie Nazis and Furfur try to exact revenge on Crowley & Aziraphale and, in doing so, interrupt what would have been their first kiss and it's while "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is on in the background so that every time the song comes up in the future, it's a reference to this near-kiss in 1941, adding layers to scenes from Soho 1967 to the end of S1 to the end of S2, etc...
Kind of makes Crowley desperately kissing Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop while a vengeful Heaven, this time, is trying to separate them, even more aldkjlkfjlewje, yeah?
I'd also like to just throw in here that it's actually possible that all of this is the same but they *did* kiss... that they were kissing when Greta burst in. Part of me really wants that to be the case. That maybe they did get to have this kiss, if only because even if only a tenth of what I've said above is anywhere close to right, it's still pretty romantic and it would be nice if they got to have that, especially then, even if it was ultimately interrupted. It's Soho 1967, though, that convinced me that they came *very* close but ultimately didn't (and honestly, the only way they don't in 1941 if they get that close is if they're interrupted and an armed Zombie Nazi crashing through the bookshop feels about right lol.) It's this bit from Aziraphale to me that says they almost kissed but didn't:
The picnic was likely Crowley's 1827 date in Edinburgh. The Gabriel statue was there for amusement but you know Crowley had a picnic set up nearby. (It's not that weird-- people used to picnic in graveyards in the 1800s & the only time Crowley & Aziraphale would be able to together would be under the cover of darkness.) Then, they ran into Elspeth and the night took a turn. (Elspeth was also digging up bodies from graves, which is a parallel to zombies, hooking 1827 to 1941.) Dining at the Ritz-- literally going to The Ritz and eating together, which they do twice in S1-- is something Aziraphale would literally like to go do as a date as but it's also code in the 1967 scene for "perhaps, one day, we could finish 1941." He's telling Crowley in 1967 that he would still very much like to kiss him one day.
The near-kiss in 1941 would then also be what gives Aziraphale the motivation to eventually give Crowley the holy water in 1967. Back in 1863, Aziraphale didn't totally see that Crowley wanted holy water to protect them. By 1941, when they're staring at the corpse of a once-Zombie Nazi on the floor of the bookshop that Crowley just killed with the gun that's in his hands, it's a different sort of proof. 1941 becomes the era of 'here is proof that Crowley will literally kill to protect Aziraphale' and maybe it freaks Aziraphale out a little (as well as also turning him on a lot lol). Maybe that's why they spend the next years after that until the '60s together but not really together. Maybe that's why they don't have another chance at the kiss after 1941-- why they don't just try again-- because Aziraphale slows down a bit after it, afraid that Crowley could get hurt and that this is too dangerous, but he also understands now that Crowley is in love with him and when he hears in 1967 that Crowley is going after Holy Water, Aziraphale just gives him some, as a way of saying that he knows they're in love but this is impossible and they need to not pursue this in a way that will get them killed because he can't lose him.
A near-kiss in 1941 adds layers to 1967 Soho by adding an additional meaning of 'physical intimacy' to "dining at the Ritz". It adds even more weight to the end of S2 and the kiss and the "no nightingales" through to the Tori Amos angsty cover of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in The Bentley. There are other scenes (the end of S1 and others) that it touches as well, if indirectly, but maybe my favorite is this scene, which has already been given extra layers of meaning since The Blitz, Part 2 and The Bullet Catcher plot but lol now add in the idea that the rest of the story is that Crowley and Aziraphale were going to kiss and they were interrupted in the moment, shot at with at least one of them probably getting nicked, and then Crowley killed someone with The Bullet Catcher and tell me it doesn't make this already amazing sequence even more amazing:
#ineffable husbands#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#good omens theory#good omens 1941#good omens meta#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale
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AITA for making a "Hate Club" for my sister?
My sister (13) and I (16) have never been close. She is very loud and energetic whereas I am not. She always has been a bit of a jerk sometimes, but recently she has been unbearable to be around. She has been outright mean to our parents, calling them names, screaming at them, throwing things, and doing so every morning when she gets up for school, and every evening when she has to go to sleep. Because of her "screaming schedule", my already bad sleep schedule has been ruined, and I need multiple naps to make it through my day properly because she wakes us up so early.
I talked about this to some of my friends who know her, and we decided to make a group chat called "(Sister's name) Hate Club" where we could vent about how she has affected us personally. Sometimes our vents would devolve into mean comments or theorizing about why she's like this, but we never said any of this to her in person, or to anyone outside of our group of 8.
However, one night when my mom (63) and I were coming home from a play we had gone to see, she saw a notification for (Sister's name) Hate Club. I had my phone connected to the car's display to play music, so she saw the notification, clear as day. I lied to her at the time, and told her that it was a group chat for stuff in our scout troop, as I didn't feel like explaining what it was on the way home. I thought that she would be mad at me. After I told her, she didn't talk much for the rest of the night.
The next day, she confronted me as I was leaving for a doctor's appointment. She said "I don't know if you can tell, but I'm pretty angry at you right now." When I asked her why, she told me the group chat. She started saying how I was a bully, and how I was acting just like my sister does when she's mad. She wouldn't let me get a word in, so I rolled my eyes and left in the middle of her sentence (which I understand was not a good move, but I was already running late and I was angry now too).
When I was done at the doctor's appointment, I decided to text her that it was actually a vent group about my sister to try and explain why the group wasn't actually a hate group. When I got home and into my room, she confronted me and we had a big argument. She kept on saying how I was bullying my sister, and apparently she talked to 2 of my friend's moms, saying "If your child made a hate group about someone, would you be mad?". They both responded with some form of "I'd be livid". One of those people got in trouble with their mom and had to write an apology letter to mine once their mom found out what my mom was talking about.
In the argument, I told her that "I need a space to vent" and she said "The venting is not the problem, the name is". When I told her "It's just a joke name, because I obviously don't legitimately hate her", she said I was still bullying her. After that I got very defensive and started swearing (not directly at her, but for word emphasis), and she started saying I was disrespecting her now too. At that point I said I would change the name, because I know she's a hard-head and would rather die than admit that she's wrong in any given situation.
I've changed the group chat name twice, and now were acting like nothing ever happened. I've talked to my friends that were in the group, and they've said that I'm NTA, but I'm still not sure if they are right or just biased because I'm their friend and they were hearing everything from my perspective. So AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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I'm sorry
~ gif not mine credit to owner ~
I’m sorry.
Summary: Readers the daughter of Tony Stark.
Word count: 1091
Warning: Angst, I’m sorry. Tony’s not a good dad – again im sorry. Death.
Masterlist
Being the product of a one night stand was something I was always embarrassed about. It was one night, one night he spent with a woman he barely knew or remembered the name of and nine months later I was born. When I was 6 my mum married a man who after a year gave her the ultimatum, me or him. She chose him so I had to go and live with a man I met a couple of times. I loved it at first but slowly became numb to living with him. Being the daughter of Tony Starks greatest mistake was bittersweet.
~~~
“For God sake Y/N stop asking! You know I won’t be able to. I’m busy”
“I-Im sor-“
“Get out!”
“Tony don’t shout please I’ve got a headache”
“Sorry Pep”
I ran back to my room with tears rolling down my cheeks. All I wanted was him to come to my school to watch the play I was in.
~~~
“Dad can-“
“Not now pumpkin I’m busy with Pepper”
“Bu-“
“No Y/N this is important. Go and bother Nat or Wanda”
Dejected I went back to my room to blow out the candles neatly placed on my own birthday cake I had made.
~~~
“H-hi dad I was wondering if you could come to my class to tal-?”
“I can’t pumpkin I’m going to be busy”
“O-oh okay”
~~~
“Dad can you come to my lacrosse game next week? I’ll be starting”
“Of course pumpkin, wouldn’t miss it”
“R-r-really?”
“Umhuh”
The night of the game I was ecstatic, at the start of the game he hadn’t arrived but put it down to him finding somewhere to park. I’d won the final goal, I wasn’t even bothered by my teams’ reactions, I just wanted to see my dad’s. Turns out he was busy having dinner with the team.
I gave up trying to get my dads attention after that.
~~~
Pacing the hallway of his office I gathered all the courage I could muster to raise my hand and knock on the door.
“Come in”
“Hi dad I was just wondering if me and you could go to this new restaurant in town, and well you see I need to talk to you about something important” I rushed out before he could interrupt which is something he loves to do with me.
“Slow down pumpkin, when?” He chuckles.
“Tonight, if possible?”
“Of course darling”
“O-oh okay meet you outside common room at 6?”
“I’ll be there”
For the rest of the day I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I cleaned my room, showed and got dressed. I made my way to the common room where I came to a halt.
“Going out with the family to have a lovely dinner at the new restaurant in town” Tony’s face was bright as he looked at Pepper, Peter and Morgan.
I was standing there watching them go into the elevator, frozen. I could feel eyes on me and that’s when I looked to see the Avengers looking at me with pity in their eyes. Before anyone could say anything, I turned on my heels and walked back to my room. I’m ashamed to admit I cried.
Months had gone by with little to no interaction with my father, the times we did talk it was awkward and uncomfortable for the both of us.
~~~
“-I’m really sorry Miss Stark-“ the doctors lips continued to move but it felt like I was under water and his words were muffled, I simply nodded along. Scrambling out of the chair I made a beeline towards the entrance of the hospital desperately needing fresh air. I tried ringing my dad but to no surprise he didn’t answer.
Numbly walking back to the tower, the realisation of how alone I truly was hit hard. And with the truth swarming around my head, I just couldn’t hold the tears at bay anymore. Maybe an hour had past when I finally wiped my tears and continued the walk back home.
There were screams of joy and excitement when I arrived, ‘happy birthday’ banners and balloons surrounded every corner of the place. Since I hasn’t even been invited to Morgan’s birthday party I headed straight to my room as soon as I hit the bed I was out like a light.
The following week past in a blur but for everyone around me they didn’t see anything different about me. Surprisingly it was Tony that realised something wasn’t quite right.
“What’s going on with you Y/N? You’ve been walking around this place like a zombie”
“Why do you care?”
“What do you mean? I’m your dad”
I couldn’t help the roll my eyes did. “Sure”
“Don’t talk to me like tha-“
“I’m dying dad, got a few weeks left in me so just please continue to leave me alone.” The whole room had fallen silence at my confession. I couldn’t stand looking at my dad opening and closing his mouth like a goddam fish, so I turned around and walked straight out.
~~~
“Tony, Tony we found her! Hurry up” Steve was panting whilst trying to get Tony off the floor.
The jet hovered just inches off the moss-covered ground when Tony opened the door and leapt out. He ran straight to the cabin that once belonged to his father. Knocking the door down he searched the small home for his daughter, when he came to the closed bedroom door his heart hammering in his chest, his hands trembled with every breath. The team stood behind slightly to the right of him all wearing the same expression. Nervous with a slight look of hope.
The creak of the hinges revealed his oldest daughter laying in the bed. Tony was never a religious man but in that moment, he was begging to God that his baby girl was just asleep as he took tiny steps towards the bed.
The team waited with bated breath for Tony and you to emerge from the room. That was until they heard the heartbreaking cries and pleading from a broken man. They bowed their heads and wept.
It had been hours since Tony had found you, he held you close to his chest crying and begging you to wake up. “I’m so sorry I f-failed you my pump-pkin, please come back! I’m sorry. Please. I love you. I’m sorry I let you down time and time again my pumpkin”
Tony’s life was never the same after the loss of his greatest accomplishment.
~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~
#marvel fanfiction#tony stark#marvel#tony stark fic#tony stark x daughter#tony stark angst#avengers x y/n#the avengers#bucky barnes#steve rogers#tony stark x stark!reader#tony stark x y/n#Avengers#tony stark daughter#tony stark x fem!reader#tony stark x female reader#avengers x fem!reader#tony stark x you#avengers x reader#avengers angst
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Wolf and bear
Halsin x shapeshifter!reader
Warnings: sexual, adult content, eventual smut, light swearing, mentions of dog fighting, first times.
Again! I don’t know Halsins character very well, nor have a played the game still lmao (3rd of the 9th ) well 5th cause that’s when I get paid lol.
Angry little wolf with her future bear husband lol
Kinda questionable xD
I cannot find Halsin smut and I need it
Also need Astarion smut
Challenging a bear probably wasn’t the smartest idea you had, but he was too close to your home. He smelt different though, not like normal wild bears that sometimes roam through. There was a scar down his eyes and his one of his lip. He was bigger than a normal bear also, then again you were a bigger than a normal wolf. Was he a shifter? He didn’t seem fazed by your warning growls and snaps, if a bear could looked amused he looked it. You huffed through your teeth and hoped he’d disappear. You headed back to your cottage, shifting back into your human form with a pained groan.
“Why’re you in pain?” you screamed at the deep voice behind you, body instantly going back into a wolf form due to reflexes. You smacked the ground with a groan before shifting back. Your body extra aching now, of course it bloody hurt your body literally changed into an animal! stupid idiot. You grabbed your robe quickly and covered yourself, you turned seeing an overly naked large man.
“Gods!” you covered your eyes praying he’d just leave.
“Do you have clothes?!” You yelled.
“I rather enjoy changing without them on, more comfortable” he said and you couldn’t argue with logic, but still. Sure if you were skilled enough in magic you’d keep your clothes on and not ruin them, every time you changed though they’d be torn and ruined.
“Why’re you here?” You asked keeping your hand over your eyes.
“It’s been a long time since I met another shifter, I was curious I suppose” he said and you sighed.
“Well I shift, the end, please leave” you probably sounded like a bitch, but you hadn’t had anyone here in years, people weren’t to found on a wolf in their villages, and life with other shifters was weird, constant need to bond with nature and a lot of nudity.
“Why have you not joined others?” He asked and you sighed.
“Because they are too much for me I like my quietness!” You pressed hoping he’d get the hint.
“You are against bonding with nature and being yourself?” He added and you groaned.
“Listen man, I don’t want your company or questions please leave!” You finally moved your hand to look at him, geez he was big. Big broad shoulders and wide torso, strong legs- oh gods. You flushed and looked back to his eyes seeing a small smirk. He had the same three scars over his eyes and the one on his lip, tribal markings down the right side of his face. Pointed ears and long brown hair half tied back.
“You didn’t answer my question” he stated and your mouth hung open slightly, did he not get a word you just said.
“I’m Halsin” he said.
“I don’t care!” You groaned getting up and going inside, slamming the door behind you.
You awoke the next morning ignoring the scenes
of last night, hopefully he’s gone back to his little nature loving pack. You went outside to tend to your garden only to freeze when you sensed someone to your left. You stared at the large man sitting by your table chewing on what looked like dried fruit. Is he serious? You walked back inside surely this was a dream, or an illusion.
“I’m real” he called and you walked back outside.
“What in the hell are you doing here?!” You snapped and he just smiled. He was clothed thankfully as he stood, woah he was much bigger than you.
“You intrigue me” he said.
“I don’t care, get off my property or-“ you stuttered what could you really do to a giant bear man? He smirked head tilted he knew you couldn’t do anything.
You ignored him as you went about your gardening. He didn’t say anything which annoyed you more, what did he want somewhere to hibernate?! Certainly wasn’t going to be in your comfortable bed.
“Excuse us” you frowned at the approaching men. The bear man stood on edge a frown on his face. You walked to them and wiped your hands.
“What is it?” You asked seeing a note in their hands.
“Have you seen or heard any bears around?” He asked and you froze.
“One with a scar on his face!” The man behind him piped up.
“No?” You said questioning.
“We believe it’s a demon” he said and you raised a slight eyebrow.
“Bear shifter” he added, so this man was a shifter hater.
“He caused a rampage in a dog fight arena” your stomach churned at the words, people still did that? Horrible beings.
“Was anyone hurt?” You asked trying to not sound suspicious.
“Just the owners, not dead, but all the dogs were let free” he answered and you felt relief flood you.
“This your husband?” He nodded to the bear man behind you.
“Uh-“ you faltered as he stood and came over with a smile.
“I am” he said and you froze as a hand went around your waist. You wanted to punch that smile off his face.
“Ah, have you heard or seen anything?” The man asked and your supposed husband shook his head.
“Can’t say I have” he said.
“Kinda got scars like you” the one behind said studying.
“Oh these I was attacked by a bear actually, got its head in our living room” he chuckled, but you felt how rigid his body went.
“Awesome!” The man behind said and you sighed.
“Well if you see or hear anything let us know, oh and if you see a dog or dogs let us know, we’re at the village council” the man said and left. The bear man growled and you tensed feeling the anger rolling off him. You rested a hand on his chest feeling his urge to murder those men.
“Killing them won’t solve anything” you said hushed and he stared down at you with big eyes. Now that he was close, you could feel his warmth, feel the muscles beneath your hand, smell his scent.
You closed your eyes for a moment taking him in before you realised what you were doing and stormed away embarrassed.
“What about those dogs?” You asked.
“They’re with good people now, away from that horrible place” he growled the last part and you couldn’t ignore the shivers and unwanted arousal it gave you.
“Good” you whispered as you went back to gardening.
Apparently this was his daily ritual, to greet you in the morning, ask some questions and just be around you. You really couldn’t deny how comforting it was to have his presence, but you also couldn’t ignore how weird it was. After a few days of not shifting your body began to ache, you hated it, hated having to change and run in the forest despite the freedom it gave you. You waited till night, waited till Halsin was gone. You went outside in a robe, shrugged it off and shifted. You took a moment to gather yourself before you took off into the woods. You rested by a lake and looked at the moon reflection rippling in the water. You heard heavy steps and stood, hackles up before you recognised the scent and scar on the big bear. You sat back down listening to him saunter over and sit by you. You enjoyed the cool breeze and took in a breath to smell the forest around you. Halsin bumped you suddenly and you looked to him seeing the bear smile. You huffed at him and looked away feeling him doing it again. You gave him a narrowed look feeling his playfulness. You pushed him back with your body watching him stumble. He roared playfully and you stood up tail wagging slightly. You bowed down slightly in a playful dog stance as he roared softly and began play fighting with you. If someone was to walk by the would be weirded out, but for some reason this felt natural. If you could laugh you would, it just came out a strange grunts and growls as you nipped playfully at Halsins paws. He was stronger though and knocked you into the water. You froze standing up quickly and shivering. You growled charging at him and trying tackle him into the water only to fail. You were pinned under him, paws in the air and you gave a huff. He shifted above you and you tilted your head.
“Shift” he said smiling and you did expecting pain. You frowned though as he waved his hand, yellow light coming from his hand.
“Was that better?” He asked softly and you nodded surprised.
“I’m a Druid” he said.
“Oh” you said glancing at your nakedness and his. You covered your breasts and looked away with cheeks flushed.
“Why do you hide?” He asked and you glanced to him, biting the inside of your cheek.
“This is- intimate” you muttered.
“I’ve never been intimate, nor has anyone seen me like this” you added embarrassed, you glanced to his face seeing his eyes darken slightly but remaining soft.
“May I kiss you?” He asked softly and you froze, but felt yourself nod. He smiled as he leant down, you closed your eyes as you felt him press his lips to yours. You made an embarrassing noise, but he just deepened the kiss. Your arms left covering your breasts and you gripped his forearms instead as he began to kiss down your jaw and to your neck. You felt him press his lower half to you, hips meeting yours, you gasped hand slapping over your mouth. You heard him chuckle lightly, his breath tickling your neck.
“I want to worship you” he said softly and heat ran straight through your body.
“I want to taste you” he pressed a kiss to a sensitive spot on your neck that made you squirm.
“Feel you” he muttered and you sealed your eyes close. You felt his hand rest on your ribs before sliding up your side and over your hip, before gripping your thigh. He gripped the flesh pulling it gently so your knee bent. He stopped kissing your neck and chuckled again as you opened your eyes and flushed, you moved your hand and he kissed you again.
“You’re not so feisty when you’re flustered” he grinned and you glared.
“I was wrong” he chuckled and you hated how you loved the sound. Hated how you loved the feeling of him against you. You were battling with yourself, you didn’t even realise he had slid down your body till lips pressed against your inner thigh. Your eyes went down to his, he smirked pushing your legs further apart before you felt his breath against your folds. Your breath hitched when a tongue darted out and ran through them, a groan leaving his lips as he began to lick. Your body squirmed and you closed your eyes leaning your head back fully. You had one hand on your stomach in a fist, the other at your side, he was skilful, gods you felt like you were in heaven, or hell. You felt his hand snake up your stomach and you opened your hand to hold it, which he gladly accepted. You moaned as he began to suck and prod his tongue against your entrance. You gripped his hand harshly but he didn’t seem to care, too busy working you up with his tongue. You felt fingers though, joining his tongue and sliding in heat. You moaned back arching as he began to slowly thrust his finger in and out. His fingers were much bigger than yours and much more delightful, you kept clenching his hand as you felt your stomach tighten with need and release. You moaned brokenly when he added a second finger, working you open for what was hopefully to come. His mouth paid extra attention to your clit while his fingers scissored and beckoned. You whined lowly muttering a please that you barely managed to get out. You felt him grin and wanted to slap the cockiness off his face, but was too caught in the pressure building. You felt the knot in your stomach come undone as you came with a moan. Your legs shuddered and you panted loudly as he continued riding out your high slowly. He sat back up, and crawled up your body again smiling down at you.
“Beautiful” he whispered and you flushed looking away. You waited for him to move, but he didn’t and you looked back ready to huff at him. He had a playful look and you groaned quietly with a huff, why was he teasing?
“Why’re you teasing?” You asked.
“Because it gets you worked up” he smirked and you glared with a huff, you crossed your arms over your chest too, looking away till he kissed down your neck and you felt his hips shift. You tensed a bit as you felt the tip of his cock resting by your entrance. He grabbed one of your hands and pressed it above your head, clenching it before he thrusted in. You moaned while he groaned in your ear, you held your breath before panting. You clenched his hand, gods you felt full. He let you adjust before slowly skipping out and back in, your eyes slipped shut as you felt the sting.
“Gods” you muttered.
“I’ve got you” he whispered giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You whined in response as he set a slow pace, the sting slowly fading. His hand left yours as he rested on it instead and you wrapped your arms around him. His pace quickened slowly and you were struggling to keep in your moans.
“Only I can hear you” he whispered lifting his head which made you open your eyes. He kissed you gently and you moaned into his mouth as he began to quicken again. He was getting close, his pants became uneven and his hips were moving more desperately. You closed your eyes tightly again, back arching as he sped up to chase his release. You gripped his arms in your hands as his hips stuttered and he came with a groan. His head was in your neck panting harshly as you lifted your hands to run them up and down his back.
“I’m sorry” he suddenly said and you frowned.
“Why?” You asked as he lifted his head.
“I didn’t bring you to your release again” he said looking guilty and you smiled shaking your head pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Another time” you whispered and his eyes widened slightly but smiled as he kissed you once more.
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𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — for better or for worse + kbkg.
૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — hurt comfort, angst, happy ending, newlyweds, misunderstandings, bkg implies reader cheats but they don’t, gn!reader, husband!bakugou. 4 @bfbkg who wanted some hurt comfort!!
“you weren’t there for me when i needed you.”your voice trembles, even when you shout the volume wracks your entire body— has you shaking and even you stumble back from the power behind your voice. “you’re never here when i need you.”
bakugou’s red eyes flame up with fury, and he crossed the room within quick and simple strides. he’d never hurt you, never touch you in a way you wouldn’t like— you know that, he knows that but it doesn’t mean it stings any less when you flinch away from him. “‘nd what? you think that’s an excuse to call him up? fuck off with—“ he starts, but you’re quick to match your husband’s energy.
toe for toe, beat for beat you go through your arguments— emotions clawing at one another through the crisp night air, leaving battle scars, making one another bleed.
“who izuku?” you ask exasperatedly, cutting the blonde off with narrowed eyes. “i needed a ride home and he’s my friend. our friend! how many times do i have to tell you he’s not a problem for you!?” you add when bakugou gives you a curt nod, throwing your hands up in the air. “he’s the only fucking person i know in this city aside from you.”
“not this shit again—“ he walks away from you now, eyes rolling and heart pumping wildly in his chest.
following katsuki, you go on. “you left me alone tonight, at a restaurant you were supposed to meet me at. for a date you planned!” you’re pouring your heart and soul out like it’s blood from an open wound. begging him to see the pain that’s been there all along. “i don’t know anyone here, i moved to this city for you and time and time again i’m just the afterthought to you katsuki. i’m not doing this anymore.”
“then don’t? why the fuck do you stick around if that piece of shit nerd is so much better?” bakugou’s screaming and he tells you like it’s obvious, like he’s giving you an easy out to the relationship you’ve built over the years. cutting down the flower before it’s bloomed, offering its sweet scent to the world. “‘cause you love him, right? he’s oh so fuckin’ good to you. you can always count on good ol’ deku.”
so you scream right back, until your throat is raw and your eyes burn with tears. “i love you, not him,” you sniff. “because i’d do anything for you and for once i want you to do the same. to show up to dates on time and to treat me like a priority. like your partner!”
“maybe you ain’t a priority to me.”
no matter how angry he gets, bakugou would never hurt you, never touch you in a way that you wouldn’t like— but in that moment, he knows he’s gone against all of those rules. he regrets the words the instant he says them— he sees it on your face, the flash of pain, the sparkle of tears in your eyes and the room is rendered silent, quiet except for the rain outside and the occasional clap of thunder.
you don’t say anything when you turn on your heel, footsteps light as you tread to the bedroom and bakugou follows suit— bumbling apologies, feeling like he can’t breathe, feeling like he might die when you pull out a small bag already packed with everything that you need. he didn’t mean it, he doesn’t want you to go, why the fuck would he say that?
“where are you going?” the blonde is desperate now, gripping onto your wrist and when you flinch again he lets go like he’s touched something hot. “s’late ,you can’t go anywhere.”
you look up at him like he’s burned you too. “i booked a car to my mother’s, she’s the next town over and clearly this isn’t working out—“
“you can’t go anywhere.” bakugou repeats, quieter now, wavering with gravel etched into his tone. “you can’t—“
“bakugou. let go of me. i need to go.” you push at his chest as he corners you in.”
“katsuki. you can’t—“
“bakugou—“
“katsuki!” you’re facing one another now, chest heaving and his cheeks red from exertion. he’s tired of running from this and from you, bakugou knows you are too, so he hangs his head and says. “for better or for worse.”
“what?”
“for better or for worse, you remember when we took those vows?” of course you do, it’s been but a year since you stood up in front of a crowd of your closest family and friends and told katsuki bakugou you’d go through whatever forever with him. so you give him a nod, lips wobbling and body shaking as katsuki wraps his arms around you. “we’re in our worst right now…i’ve been bad to you, sweetheart. but i swear, fuckin’ promise you…i’ll be better. i’ll do better. for you.”
your fingers sink into the cable knit sweater katsuki wears, you touch him like he’s warm and not something that burns you, and even though silent tears slip down your cheeks, you manage a quiet response. “for me?”
“always for you.”
the bag you’d packed slips from your grip and you can hear your ride pull up on the wet gravel outside— but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up, pick yourself up from katsuki’s grip as you break out into small sobs, slinking deeper into his arms while he brings you into him, pressing his chin to your head.
“promise me katsuki.” the rain beats down on the car parked outside, the horn honking through your worst moments, through your silence.
“i promise, i’ll show you better days.” bakugou swears by it, sealing the deal with a kiss to your hairline.
for better or for worse, he promises you, it’ll be better from now on.
#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou drabble#bakugou angst#bakugou imagine#tteokdoroki#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted
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Eywa blessed child (2)
sully family x reader
It always seems like the great mother has plans for all her children, even due they might not know what she has planed for them it always seem to lead them down a path. Right now your path was forming, and this path might not be the same as her family. The eldest sully daughter always thought she didn't have any place in the clan or her family, when she thought she was down on her luck it seems like she was wrong. As her dynasty seem to be coming to light slowly and soon enough her life may never be the same.
y/n " ......" the sunlight had hit your face and the sounds of the forest had help you awake up, soon each you got up from slumber. It was morning time and you had spend the whole night outside and away from village.
y/n " well I should be getting some" you soon climbed down from where you were resting and sneaking shelter for the night, your feet soon touch the ground.
y/n " time to head home and let hope I'm not in that much trouble, but seeing as no one came after me I'm good" You soon made your ways back to the village but on your way home, you were being followed by wood spirts they had brought a smile to your face. Your soon found some fruit and pick it for your breakfast, you were walking and eating your breakfast. You soon made your way home knowing if either of your parents know you are missing you will be grounded, until you are an adult and have a mate of your own.
y/n " made it home on time safe and sound"
????? " y/n" you soon heard your fathers voice calling out your name, you soon looked up and saw him. You are praying to the great mother for miracle to save you from whatever was going to happen.
y/n " hey dad"
Jake " where have you been young lady when I woke up and I check on your sibling your bed was emptied"
y/n " oh well I woke up early today I had some stuff to do"
Jake " are you sure honey"
y/n " yes I'm sure"
Jake " about yesterday I wish to have some words with you about the events, that unfold yesterday and so does your mother on her own time"
y/n " you can save the speech dad I know you have disappointed you and mom once again for not being the perfect daughter, but I will make sure to make you both proud" it seems like Jake had been taken aback by your words.
Jake " there is so much I ..."
tsutey " brother the morning meeting is starting ... oh good morning y/n you are up early"
y/n " hello uncle well I leave you for now father"
Jake " no I wish to ...."
y/n " it okay dad the council needs you more right now we can speak later" you soon walked passed Jake and tsu'tey quickly without saying anything else to them. You did not even head home as you soon made your way through the village, hoping you will not get the attention of anyone else.
y/n " good I'm safe now" you had started walking to caught up with the many thoughts that are running in your head. You didn't bother to try to go back to the village or even go home right now, because now it seems like it was hard to tell if your parents are mad at you are not.
y/n " well it good to know that least they knew I was gone at some point" you didn't know to feel good or bad that your mom and dad finally notice you were gone in the morning, and that you didnt even come home that night. You were sitting on a rock watching the ikran fly over and other creatures roam, you were mediating and it felt like you were one of the world.
????? " y/n" you soon heard someone screaming your name snapping you out of your traces, you soon turned your head around and saw your siblings and spider.
y/n " hey guys"
lo'ak " there you are we been looking for you when we woke up this morning you were gone"
y/n " oh"
kiri " we heard you were speaking with father early this morning, and soon took off"
y/n " oh yes I had some stuff I need to deal with sorry for not being there for morning meal"
lo'ak " it was okay we had your breakfast" lo'ak was soon smack on the shoulder by kiri.
lo'ak " oh sorry mom made you some breakfast it still ...."
y/n " it okay"
spider " good job dude"
lo'ak " I was playing around I didn't mean to make you feel excluded"
y/n " it okay lo'ak I understand mom and dad are already busy, and sometime mom forgets stuff I had my own breakfast so I'm good"
tuk " well can you hangout with us today"
y/n " are you sure the events are yesterday"
neteyam " nope you are coming with us" there was no fighting your sibling as they soon dragged you off with them, heading towards a waterfall all of them were having fun. You were making flowers crowns with tuk, as she asked you to help her make them and you said yes.
tuk " wow y/n you have some talent you are use some beautiful flowers, and weaving them well together"
y/n " thank you tuk ... look this one is done now" you soon placed the flower crown on tuk head and she soon smile toward you.
tuk " it so beautiful"
y/n " thank you tuk"
kiri " wow that amazing sister you have used wonderful flowers and you made them into a beautiful crown"
y/n " thank you .... umm were you all able to fix the gift for father I ruined"
kiri " you didn't ruin it sister it was accident"
y/n " accident or not I ruined you and mom hard work and she was so mad"
kiri " well it okay and you did nothing wrong yesterday ..... coming from what you made today you have wonderful talent"
y/n " thank you" you were spending time with your sibling and spider as they were telling you of the events that had taken place, last night were not your fault.
????? " children" it was your mother voice calling out she soon showed herself. tuk had gotten up and ran to greet her.
tuk " mama look what y/n made for me"
neytiri " it beautiful I have come to see how you all are doing"
neteyam " we are doing well mother and making sure to stay out of trouble"
neytiri " good y/n may I have some words with you"
y/n " yes mother"
neytiri " alone" you soon nodded your head and get up from the ground, as neytiri soon guided you away from everyone else. You are preparing yourself from the scolding that will be coming from your mother, about your behavior from yesterday.
y/n " mother I wish to apologize for my behavior and actions from yesterday I'm sorry I should of done better"
neytiri " my daughter I have come here to talk with you I had heard from my father he spotted you, and we were wondering where you went this morning as you were gone and you didn't come join us for morning meal"
y/n " oh I'm sorry mother I had woke up to start the day early and soon went off to deal with the task and other stuff"
neytiri " what were these task that called you to be gone so early without saying a good"
y/n " I was doing some ...."
????? " she was doing some task for me" you and neytiri soon spotted mo'at as she made her way towards the mother and daughter.
neytiri " mother"
mo'at " yes she was doing some task for me I had mentioned I need help on and other matters we disced , I'm sorry I didn't tell you my daughter but it seems like my granddaughter was perfect for the job"
neytiri " oh"
mo'at " yes it something related to great mother and tshaik responsibility, now my granddaughter come with me"
y/n " yes grandmother ... mom can I go"
neytiri " yes listen to your grandmother and good job on this task, I hope to learn more about it when you grandmother thinks it right"
y/n " yes mother" you soon nodded your head as you walked off with your grandmother. After some walking the two of your soon reached the spirt tree.
mo'at " had a dream last night"
y/n " a dream grandmother"
mo'at " yes a dream about you my granddaughter and tell by your facial expression you already know"
y/n " yes and no"
mo'at " come closer" you soon stepped closer to your grandmother as she place a finger under your chin, and soon lift but your head making you look at her in the eyes.
mo'at " you have been blessed by the great mother herself my child ....that rarely comes I have always knew you will be special one day but never knew it will come so soon"
y/n "........"
mo'at " you will become my tsakarem my child you have been blessed by eywa to be seen right for the position, and I had always wished to make you take over after me"
y/n " thank you grandmother but what will my father and mother have to say, and the clan will not love the idea as everyone rather have kiri or tuk maybe even neteyam future mate as tshaik over me"
mo'at " what words are the law in the clan everyone most obey what I say my child .... this is right position for you and don't worry about your sister they will learn as well, but your path will be different from them"
y/n " yes grandmother"
mo'at " I know life hasn't been perfect for you my granddaughter and I'm sorry but now it seems like you will, be able to discover what you are meant to do in this world"
y/n " thank you grandmother I will take all the help I can get from you and other tshaik but I feel like, there are some stuff I most learn on my own"
mo'at " you will do well" your granddaughter words made you feel happy, as your always wished for an adult to tell you these words. As your had rarely heard them from your parents and now hearing them from her, made you feel happy and loved. mo'at had left you as she was called away by some healers, as you stayed by the tree looking as it glows while humming a song. You had stayed there for a while enjoying everything that was happening around you, feeling at peace with the world. Knowing your life this peace and happiness was something that was not going to last forever, and soon enough you will be facing the hardships once again and everything else that comes with them.
#avatar x reader#avatar 2#atwow#avatar#avatar x y/n#sully family x reader#avatar the way of water#jake x reader#jake sully x daughter!reader#neytiri x daughter!reader#neteyam x sister!reader#lo'ak x sister!reader#kiri x sister!reader#tuk x sister!reader#sully reader#sully family x y/n#sully family#sully siblings#sully kids#avatar 2009#avatar fanfiction#avatar 2022#avatar twow#avatar way of water#jake sully#jake sully x y/n#neytiri x y/n#loak x sister!reader#kiri te suli kìreysì'ite#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan
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Confessions
summary: You and Logan open up after some alcohol.
pairing: logan sargeant x reader
warnings: alcohol consumption, none
LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO
It was well known that you and Logan liked each other, at least it was well known between your friend group.
The longing glances in crowded rooms, shy smiles being shared, always ending up besides one another, always being fidgety around each other, truly the list goes on.
You didn’t pick up on any of it, mostly focused on the fact that “he’s a Formula One driver, why would he ever be interested in me”.
“You know that’s bullshit right?” Your friend Stella says, moving around the bathroom as she adjusts her hair and makeup.
“Well I think it’s perfectly reasonable and logical..” You grumble out, rolling your eyes at her.
It was summer break, your friends and you free from University, and Logan free from Formula One for a tiny while, and with that your friend group decided why not rent out a cabin in the woods with a pool. Wanting to relax and party, let loose as some would say.
“Listen to yourself Y/n! You are completely delusional!” Your other friend, Morgan says, leaning against the door frame to the bathroom. “If I had those situations with a guy you’d be screaming at me to wake up and realize we’re perfect together..” She adds on.
After a moment of silence you finally reply, “Fair point..” You say with a small sight, touching up your own hair and makeup.
“Well I think we look hot so let’s go out and drink!” Stella says with a cheer, ushering you and Morgan outside and to the fire pit, where the other guys were waiting, beers and seltzers at the ready.
Chairs were situated around the fire pit, obviously, you take a seat next to Logan, gratefully accepting the seltzer he handed you.
“So how do you think this night will end?” He asks with a grin, glancing at you then back to the flaming fire, taking a drink of his beer.
“Hmm, Morgan and Dalton will end up hooking up again and…” You say pausing, looking around at your friends laughing and drinking around the fire, “Stella will end up relentlessly flirting with Oliver..” You finish with a grin.
“Honestly..not a bad guess..” He says with a grin and chuckle, eyes twinkling as he looks at you. Now of course you didn’t realize the way he looked at you, “So..how’s the racing life treating you?” You ask, as if you hadn’t been invited and gone to some Grand Prixs and didn’t stalk his social media.
“To be honest, this break is welcomed, and just needed.” He replies, sipping on his beer and looking at you. You give him a soft smile, knowing the truth behind his words. “It’ll let up, I know it will..” You say softly, “Anyway- let’s talk about something fun!” You add on.
“Like what? You know there isn’t much other than racing and cars to me.” He grins.
“You’re boring..” You grumble out jokingly, “Any girls in your life now that you’re a hot shot in F1?” You ask teasingly, truly just wanting to know.
Even if you asked your friends many times, and they’ve said he isn’t seeing anyone, you still needed to hear it from him. “Well..” He pauses for a moment, deciding to make you sweat just a bit. “Not currently..but there’s potential in someone, I think.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“Well I won’t grill you for any more information then..” You say with a smile, drinking your seltzer.
———
Hours have passed now, you and Logan are the only two out in front of the fire now, alcohol flowing through your veins as you and Logan giggle and laugh, sharing stories back from high school.
“You know, you’re beautiful when you laugh.” The comment slips out so easy it surprises even Logan. “Damn it..I mean..” He pauses for a moment before chuckling.
You could notice his face flushing up, dimples on show as he awkwardly smiles and chuckles. “Well- you’re pretty handsome when you laugh..” You say drunkenly with a grin.
“Wait- do you remember when we were younger and- and we were having a sleep over- which why did our parents let us do that? Anyway! During that night you had fallen asleep on my shoulder- you looked so cute like that..” You mumble out, slurring your words as you smile thinking back on that memory.
“Are you saying I can still be cute..?” He asks teasingly, smirk on his lips as his cheeks are turning a soft pink. “Well yes of course that’s a stupid question..” You say, rolling your eyes.
There was a beat of silence, you could only make out the crackling fire, crickets and owls in the background. “Can I kiss you?” Logan asks hurriedly, with not much thought behind his words.
Although it was a simple question, it had left you stunned. Eyes wide and lips parted. You could make out the instant regret on his face, “Shit- I’m sorry Y/n..pretend I didn’t say that” He rushes out, regret and disappointment clear in his eyes.
“Yes..yes you can kiss me..” You speak up finally, shock and surprise wearing off.
Logan didn’t have time to think because he leans forward rapidly, his fingertips touching your cheeks and his other hand making its way to the back of your head as his lips press up against yours. He kisses you gently, wanting to take you up in his arms right now but he knows that would be going too far.
“Sorry I took so long to do that..” He murmurs between kisses, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close.
“It’s okay..you’re doing it now..” You whisper out, moving to a more comfortable position, and tangling your fingers into his blonde hair.
Logan lets out a moan of content, placing his forehead against yours and letting himself be lost in the moment.
“Mhmm..” He whispers softly, his hands roaming along your back and down to your waist. “I have wanted to do this for so long....”
“Why didn’t you do it sooner?” You ask, eyes sparkling with admiration as you look at him.
The words are still slurred due to the alcohol and it’s effects are strong right now. “I wanted to, trust me.” He responds, eyes never leaving yours. “But I was worried your would have laughed at me and rejected me..” He replies, a small smirk playing on his lips. It was a valid reason, yet you would have never rejected him.
“Logan I’ve liked you since grade school..I wouldn’t have rejected you..” You say with a soft smile. “You liked me back..?” He asks with a shocked tone to his voice, his smile widening. “I guess I missed all of the signs you threw at me.” Logan laughs, kissing you again then resting his forehead against yours, you could feel his heat radiating against your skin.
“We both definitely missed the signs..” You say with a giggle, your body warm and tingling, not just because of the alcohol.
“Maybe we’re both just idiots.” He says laughing, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you as close as he can. Logan is enjoying this moment, and it is obvious that you are as well. You could feel his breath against your skin, his fingers tracing along your back ever so gently.
“Definitely..” You murmur out in content, happy the pieces finally came together.
“Let’s go Logan! Woo!!” You could hear Dalton cheer from the cabin. You and Logan look at each other with sheepish grins and flushed faces.
Logan gives you a grin, taking your hand and standing up with you. “Oh god that idiot..” He shrugs it off as he pulls you along to the cabin.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
radio 🪩: A little Logan fic for you guys! Send in any requests or comments! 💙
#formula one#formula 1#forumla 1#logan sargeant#formula 1 x reader#f1#williams f1#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#logan sargeant x reader#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#formula one fic#williams formula 1#logan sargeant x fem!reader#logan sargeant x y/n#logan sargeant x you#logie sarge#williams racing#f1 wags#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#gently weeps fics#gently weeps
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Lost (22) - So Far Away
Tara Carpenter x female Reader
Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.
Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics
Word count: 3.8k
Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part
-I have so much to say but you're so far away-
The room he sat in was the last place he’d associate with the woman who owned this apartment. The walls were hidden behind shelves, filled to the brim with books. Books in English, Russian and German, he guessed, ranging from classics to modern literature, from massive encyclopedia to magazines, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere near them. The last time he saw the woman she was fifteen and so stuck in her martial arts training he doubted she ever touched a book. Perhaps he was, as a twelve-year-old in awe of her, simply mistaken. The room had a vintage feel to it, with heavy table in the middle of it, and two tall armchairs on each side. The chandelier above him didn’t seem like it was often used, instead it was there more for aesthetics, instead, he believed the lamp on the table was used for reading during the nights.
There weren’t many people who intimidated him. Sidney Prescott did, with her refusal to be defeated by one of the Ghostfaces despite already being past her prime. Samantha Carpenter did as well, her brutality against Richie Kirsch and his father a year later was frightening. His cousin frightened him even more.
Anya Golubeva lost her title when she fought against you, but she regained it right away and considering you were forced to retire, she reigned supreme for the next three years, until she went and retired, now, at thirty-four, she was still a formidable fighter. She would be the counter to you, a fighter that spent even more time training, a fighter that nearly defeated you, because that match could have gone either way. Thomas made a mistake, he made you angry, he got cocky, she wouldn’t, because she knew exactly what you were capable of.
“So, cousin, what brings you to me?” Anya walked through the door, holding a tray with two cups of coffee. “This far from home?” she sat down, at ease in her home, at ease because there truly wasn’t much that could hurt her.
Cousins… Yet he was nothing like her. Despite his admiration for her, Igor wasn’t a good fighter, he had no talent for martial arts, or sports in general, he didn’t have the dedication needed to overcome the lack of talent either. No, he wasn’t the best fighter, but he had other skills, he was a good hunter, resilient, good with knife and various guns, and, if he could say so himself, he was conventionally good looking, dark hair and blue eyes, in good shape.
“I,” he hunched a bit, making himself seem smaller, trying to remind Anya of how he was as a child. “got into trouble,” he spoke slowly, regretfully, just for a moment glancing up to meet her eyes and then immediately looking down. “With a cult, and now I don’t know how to get out,” there, he said it.
He heard Anya lowering her cup and leaning forward. “What cult?” she sounded more concerned than anything.
Instead of telling her anything, he pulled out the mask with a bear painted on the side. His Ghostface mask.
“Ghostface?” her eyes widened as she watched the mask. “Why? You’re neither young nor stupid?” she demanded, so forcefully he genuinely flinched at her tone.
“I didn’t realize they were serious, I swear! I thought they’d stop after Richie and Amber got killed, but they didn’t! At that point it was too late to back out, they knew me, they’d kill me!” he exclaimed, frantically grabbing the mask and shoving it back into his bag.
“Fine, fine, settle down,” Anya calmed down first, and now she looked more concerned than anything else. “What changed now?”
“If you can help me get rid of one person I can walk away,” knowing how it sounded he quickly raised his hands. “No one will know it was us! Please, it’s either her or me!”
She remained silent, and he just hoped this would work out, that Anya would be willing to hold you back enough for someone to finish you off.
“Who is it?” she asked after several long, dreadful minutes.
“Y/N L/N,” Igor said and her eyes narrowed. For a moment he feared she’d reject him, but instead, she nodded. Perhaps the sting of loss caused resentment toward you.
~X~
No one knew where you were.
No one knew where you were.
No one knew where you were.
Those words repeated in Tara’s mind as she stared at the wall in front of her. She didn’t say a single word since Danny gave in and told her what he knew.
You were gone. No one knew if you were alive, or if you were hurt, or who had you. No… that was obvious. Ghostface had you. She barely registered a glass of milk and a plate filled with pancakes being set down on the coffee table next to her.
“Tara, you need to eat, for your baby if not for yourself,” Danny crouched next to her, likely trying to get her to look at him.
Pancakes. Of course he went with that. It didn’t take long for anyone to find out how often you made them for Tara. They were your comfort meal, a meal she didn’t feel bad to ask for while you were kids, the first meal you made after you two got together, and then again and again, every time exactly how Tara loved them.
Danny knew how to cook, definitely better than Sam, but not as well as you did. She still nodded, picking up the plate and eating more out of obligation to your child than anything else. She barely ate two pancakes when her phone buzzed, signaling she got a message.
Tara frowned and saw it was a photo, and then her eyes widened and she dropped her fork. “Danny!” she yelled, making him run back into the living room.
“What?!” he frantically looked around for an intruder, but Tara just got up and showed him the message she got. It was a photo, of a muscular woman whose face was covered by a Ghostface mask tied to a chair. “Is that Y/N?” his voice wavered a bit, as he spoke what went through Tara’s head when she saw the photo.
A moment later an address popped up and Tara nearly grabbed her jacket right then and there.
“Wait, we need to call Kirby,” Danny grasped Tara’s forearm just firmly enough to keep her from leaving.
“I need to get to Y/N!” she shouted, yanking her arm away from him.
“We don’t know when the photo was taken! It’s an obvious trap, Tara!” he argued back, this time choosing to step between her and the doors.
“I don’t care, she might be there!” she knew she was being unreasonable, that you’d berate her if you knew she was willing to just walk into such an obvious trap, but she knew you’d do the exact same thing.
Luckily, Danny understood her by now. “We’ll go, okay? But we need to call Kirby first, in case we need a back-up,” she could work with that.
So, she sent the photo to Kirby as Danny set up a Zoom call and while they waited for Kirby to join it, Tara just looked at the photo.
Finally, Kirby joined them. “Hey, Tara, Danny. Tara, I’m sorry we kept these things from you,” Kirby opened with that, but Tara shook her head, there’d be time for that conversation later.
“Can you do anything?” Danny asked.
“Not much, but the address does match a warehouse near the harbor,” she said.
“It’s not Y/N,” Tara suddenly declared. “It’s not her, I know it isn’t her,” she knew it, even if three weeks passed, this wasn’t you. Ghostface would taunt her with your face, or at least show a scar so she wouldn’t have any way to doubt it was you. And the woman wasn’t as muscular as you, she was muscular, no doubt about that, but not as much as you. So, no, it wasn’t you.
She was still going to walk right into that warehouse, because there was a chance someone there knew where you were, and she’d never forgive herself if she let this opportunity go. If she had to go alone, she would,
“Tara, listen to me, you’re pregnant, don’t get both of you killed by being reckless,” Kirby told her, but Tara was already getting up.
“Either come and help, or don’t do anything, but I’m not waiting here for someone to tell me what’s going on. You’ve already proven you won’t tell me anything anyway,” she snapped, glaring back at the screen before putting her jacket on and grabbing the biggest knife Danny had.
“Shit! Tara, wait!” she heard Danny running after her, but she didn’t slow down, she just glanced back, saw that he also had a knife and smiled appreciatively at him. “Well,” he shrugged. “I can’t let you go alone,” he said.
~X~
The warehouse was abandoned a long time ago, the windows were broken, glass was everywhere, and there was a lot of dust. So much, in fact, that Tara coughed a few times when they stepped inside. There were a few exits, through the windows, though that would likely be very painful unless they could open the window before jumping through. The doors they just came through and there were two sets of stairs leading to the first floor, that might give them a chance to maneuver if needed.
“There’s nothing here,” Danny said as the two of them looked around, for clues, for any sign of presence, for anything really. All they saw was the chair the person on the photo was tied to. The fact that the chair was whole was just another proof to Tara that you weren’t on the photo. If you were, and if you were untied, you would have fought back, and that chair would have been at least damaged.
They heard them before they saw them. The boots stepping on the shattered glass, steps indicating there were at least two people with them. Tara pulled her knife out and turned around, pointing it toward Ghostfaces.
“Where is Y/N?” she demanded, for the first time coming face to face with the redesigned Ghostface, the robes were the same, the mask was almost the same. These two had animals painted on the side of the mask. One had a bull, the other and elephant. A way to differentiate each other now that there were so many of them. At least the entire cult didn’t come to greet her.
The one with a bull just tilted his head to the side, as if feigning confusion. The two remained silent, slowly approaching her and Danny.
“We’d rather avoid a fight, just tell the lady what she wants to know,” Danny warned them, stepping in front of Tara and she had to admit, he did look imposing, even with two Ghostfaces coming closer and closer.
One of them lunged forward, aiming to stab Danny, but he clashed his own knife against the Ghostface’s blade and closed the distance to land a good punch to the side of Ghostface’s head. Tara’s eyes widened slightly, she knew you and Danny often sparred, but she didn’t realize Danny could hold his own outside of sparring. And he was proving he could hold his own, as he went for the neck with his knife, after all, they needed just one Ghostface alive.
But he stopped, his hand shaking as if he just realized what he was about to do. Tara jumped in, ready to finish the job he clearly couldn’t while the Ghostface was still dazed from the punch. She managed to stab the Ghostface’s chest and stomach, before the other could step in. She pulled away, knowing better than to stay in one place for long as the other Ghostface, the one with the bull painted on the mask pulled his partner back and engaged Danny in combat.
Danny deflected and dodged several stabs, but he struggled to find another opening to land a hit himself. Finally, he got an opportunity to kick the Ghostface away just as the one Tara stabbed was getting ready to jump back in.
“Run!” Danny exclaimed, ushering Tara toward the stairs. They were out in the open, and there was a good chance someone else was in the building with them, so staying in the middle of an open space wasn’t the best option for them. Not right now. And… a small part of both of them, hoped that maybe, just maybe you were held here despite not being on the photo.
Tara took off, running for the stairs with Danny right behind her as the Ghostface duo chased after them. Though risky, the moment Ghostface duo began climbing up the stairs, Danny abruptly stopped and slammed body first into one of them, sending them down the stairs and just barely managing to stay on his feet. He grunted though, and Tara could see the handle of the knife sticking from his side.
“Shit!” she exclaimed and stopped, ready to go back down for him.
“Keep going!” he began running again, pushing through the pain and Tara could see the determination in his eyes. “I’m going to yell at Sam when she comes back. If she was here we could have easily taken these two,” he complained jokingly, mostly to reassure Tara.
Tara nodded, seeing through him, but still appreciating the gesture.
They reached the top of the stairs and realized every door was locked. The only way out was back down, and the Ghostface duo split to cover each side of the stairs.
Tara looked at Danny and then looked toward the Ghostface she stabbed. She’d handle that one. So, they waited as the Ghostface duo began slowly climbing toward them, they stood, back to back, ready to fight the two.
And it ended so quickly Tara barely registered what was happening. Danny took initiative, attacking the one with bull on the mask. He ducked under the blade, grabbed the Ghostface’s leg and pushed him down to the ground, grappling the way you usually did when you were in a rush. This time he didn’t hesitate, and stabbed his knife through the Ghostface’s chest several times.
Tara on the other hand clashed her knife against Ghostface’s, she stepped to the side, slicing quickly and managing to cut through the robe, but not through the flesh of Ghostface’s arm. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Ghostface swinging his arm toward her head and just barely managed to grab and stop it from hitting her. Thinking fast she lifted her leg, kicking Ghostface between the legs. Ghostface grunted, but didn’t fall to his knees, instead he tried to stab her again.
Tara dodged the blade, but hit the wall and in her daze she couldn’t move out of the way. She could only put her arms between her attacker and her stomach. The knife never came though, as a gasp came from Ghostface in front of her. She opened her eyes and saw a knife sticking out of the Ghostface’s neck, courtesy of Danny. Both Ghostfaces were dead, both killed by Danny.
“Damn,” he took a step back, letting the dead Ghostface fall to the ground. “Guess we’ll have to find clues some other way,” he said making Tara nod.
“Thanks, let’s get out of here,” she wasn’t any closer to finding you, but two enemies were dead.
Danny nodded and the two of them began walking to the doors, carefully watching for any movement.
A loud sound pierced the silence, pierced right through the illusion of safety and Tara’s eyes widened when she saw blood staining Danny’s shirt. She watched in horror as he looked down, shakily touching the red spot just below his chest that was growing larger with every second. “Danny!” Tara cried out, somehow managing to catch him before he fell to the ground. There was too much blood, as hard as she tried, as much as she pressed her palms against the wound she couldn’t stop the bleeding and his breathing was getting shallow. “Stay awake, you hear me! Come on, you need to yell at Sam for leaving, remember?”
He chuckled a bit at that. “I’ll leave that to you,” he said and moved her hands away. “They hit my liver,” the blood, the bullet going through it, the stab wound, Tara just sat back, tears streaming down her face. There was nothing she could do. Even if she could call an ambulance they likely wouldn’t make it in time.
Not that it mattered. Footsteps came from behind her and she turned around just in time to see three Ghostfaces approaching her. Three marks, bear, fish, and monkey, and the one with bear on the mask was carrying the gun.
“Don’t resist, or else,” that voice, the same voice she heard when Amber first attacked her, the same voice that so often haunted her nightmares, she heard it again and this time… instead of pointing a knife at her, the monster pointed a gun at her stomach. “I heard you played a game like this once, only there isn’t an MMA fighter to save you,” Tara narrowed her eyes, but didn’t move.
The Ghostface holding the gun motioned toward her and Danny.
“Let her leave,” Danny demanded with what little strength her had left as he tried to sit up.
“I don’t think so,” one of the other two Ghostfaces said as one grabbed Tara’s arms and pulled them behind her back. She heard the click of handcuffs, felt the cold metal around her wrists and knew there was absolutely nothing she could do.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she knew it was over, she knew exactly what would happen next, she still flinched when she heard Danny yelping as he was slammed back onto the ground and then she heard the knife slicing through his neck.
“There, just like Samantha cut Richie’s throat,” one of them said and Tara dared to look at him, dead, with blood pooling around his body.
~X~
She knew she should have assigned someone to watch over Tara, and now she was gone and Danny was dead. Kirby sat with her head between her hands and photos laid on her table. The Ghostface she was sure was Sam, the tied-up woman she was sure was you, even if Tara denied it, and painted masks, and other photos she had painted a picture she couldn’t understand.
“Tara is right, this isn’t Y/N,” Gale Weathers being there definitely wasn’t helping.
“How are you so sure?” Kirby demanded. They couldn’t see any scars to confirm if it was really you, but there weren’t as many women as muscular as you.
“It’s not her style. If she even suspected this photo would reach Tara she would have given them hell,” Gale gave her a cheeky, though small smile. “Besides, if someone can recognize Y/N underneath all this it would be Tara.”
Kirby had to agree with that. While she wasn’t there when Richie and Amber did their killings, she was very much aware of what you did for Tara, and while she never got to see you actually hurting someone, she did get to see how protective of the younger Carpenter you were. She had the front seats experience when you came into a bar her and Sam were at once to confront Sam. It was civil, but she could feel the tension, the barely restrained anger on both sides.
It was baffling, really, watching you and Sam argue, after years of seeing the two of you getting along. Sam was never as happy as she was at your and Tara’s wedding, and she more than once expressed how much she appreciated your protectiveness over Tara. And then it was like someone snapped their fingers and the relationship fell apart along with Sam.
And now no one knew where you were, Tara was captured, Danny was dead, Chad, Mindy and Anika couldn’t come, or they would not only be in danger but would be able to kiss their careers goodbye and Sam was… likely a Ghostface. How did it all fall apart like this?
Knocking on the door brought her out of her thoughts and she looked up just as Sidney walked in. “Since when does Ghostface try to blow up cars?” she demanded, distraught, filled with panic and almost desperately looking for answers.
“What?” Gale asked, as puzzled by the question as Kirby.
Sidney slumped into one of the chairs and leaned her head back as she dug her fingers into her hair. “He called me, said I’ll never see my family again. I managed to call Mark and get him and my children get out of the car. Less then a minute later the car exploded,” she explained, fury burning in her eyes. “I need to get this fucker before he harms my family.”
Gale approached her and placed a hand on Sidney’s shoulder. “We’ll get them Sid,” she promised and caught Sidney up with the situation. From suspecting Sam, to your situation, to Tara being captured and Danny being killed.
“I want Tara alive as much as you two, but how do we know she was just kidnapped? Why would they keep her alive?” Sidney asked.
Kirby sighed, frankly, she wasn’t entirely sure what the actual reason was, but she had her suspicions. “It’s either Y/N, or Sam that they are afraid of,” that was the core reason.
“If Tara is alive, they can blackmail one or both of them, if they kill Tara, those two won’t let that go,” Gale agreed and took the photo of Ghostface with dog mark. “Guard dog,” how ironic.
“Even if Sam joined them, she’d turn on them if they hurt Tara,” Sidney agreed, now seeing the logic. “We need to find Y/N.”
And that was the plan, because even if they couldn’t count on Sam being sane enough to help them, they could count on you. Especially when you learn that Tara was captured.
Kirby’s phone rang and all three of them nearly jumped out of their skin, but Kirby relaxed when she saw the name of one of her colleagues. “Yes?”
“Special Agent Reed, we identified the number the message came from. It belongs to Samantha Carpenter,” there was no doubt anymore.
Sam was Ghostface.
A/N: Well… people are dying, I wonder who is next… Anyway, recently someone suggested a tag list for Woe out the Storm, so I figured, If I'm making it for that story, I guess I could make it for Lost as well. So, if you want to be on the tag list either send a message, an ask (though I won't answer it if it's just that you want to be on the tag list) or tell me in a reply. (Note that tag list is story specific, so specify which story you want, and yeah, that's about it)
#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x female reader#scream#jenna ortega x reader
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Eddie’s trying not to beg Steve to stay. Harrington’s already gone above and beyond for him, he deserves a night to sleep in his own bed. But God, does it have to be now? No one will talk about it except to pat his hand and tell him with tight lipped smiles that there’s nothing to worry about- legally the mob can’t do anything. Eddie’s been declared innocent, a tragic victim of the copycat killer.
It doesn’t change the fact that there’s been a group of people standing vigil outside the hospital since he got there. It doesn’t change the fact that the group has been growing in numbers until all of Hawkins seems to either be fleeing in desperation or taking up camp four floors below the room where Eddie lies unable to walk as far as the bathroom without help. It doesn’t change the energy of the mob, steadily humming louder, faster, with the intensity of a hive about to swarm.
“Should have known he’d be hightailing it when trouble came,” Wayne tells him. He’s furious on Eddie’s behalf that Steve would leave now, when the police protection detail has been declared no longer necessary. When the mob below is bigger than ever and angry enough that Eddie can feel it all the way up here.
“He didn’t want to go, he needs to sleep.” Eddie saw how badly Steve wanted to stay, how he was sweating and jaundiced and worse looking than he had since that first fight with the demobats. Steve needed to go home, deserved to go home. But part of Eddie, most of Eddie, wails inside for Steve not to leave him. Not tonight, please not tonight. He’d tried not to let Steve see it, doubted how well his subterfuge had worked.
“I wish I could stay but I just can’t, not tonight. I’m so sorry. But I promise- Anything goes wrong Eds, I’ll be here. I have to go now but if anyone needs me, if you need me, I’ll be here, I swear it.” He’d done a strange thing then, pressing Eddie’s hand to his brow before kissing the back of it like something out of one of the tales of courtly love Eddie had devoured as an Arthurian-legend obsessed kid. And then Steve was leaving. It was almost nightfall. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Eddie, his face anguished.
True to form, Eddie rallied. “Go on, and don’t worry about lil’ old me. I’ll be fine.”
The mob waits until just after midnight, then comes for him. They drag him from his bed, and Eddie has an insane thought apt to this insane situation that he’s glad he wore sweatpants under his hospital johnny so at least he’s not going to die bare-assed in front of the remaining population of Hawkins. Or maybe he jinxed himself by assuming the worst when he decided to wear them that night.
He sees the kids being held back by their parents, screaming for him as he’s hauled to the elevator, hopes desperately that Claudia and Karen and Sue and Charles will be strong enough to restrain them. The kids aren’t babies anymore; they’re tough and too used to fighting to protect their own. But this isn’t a fight they can win and he prays that parent-adrenaline will be enough let them wrangle his stupid, brave friends away from his side. He couldn’t keep Wayne away, they’d shouted at each other, all terrified love, him trying to make Wayne go, until the moment the door broke down and he was being dragged, his uncle’s grip still white-knuckled on Eddie’s wrist hard enough to bruise.
Everyone is shouting, himself included. He’s pleading his innocence, swearing he never hurt Chrissy. Until he sees the pyre and all the words evaporate inside him and he’s just screaming. They’re jeering at his tears, his terror. Calling him killer, devil-worshipper, Satan himself and worse. And then- something in the atmosphere shifts.
Eddie doesn’t see why the mob’s screaming changes, he’s hypnotized by the pyre. Do I weigh more than a duck? He thinks. You can’t burn me if I weigh more than a duck and then oh I’m hysterical.
“Get away! Get away from it!” They sound higher pitched now, a note of vibrato in the clamor. The shift in his captors’ tenor finally seeps in and Eddie looks around. The number of people buffeting him to a hideous end is shrinking, people peeling off and running. He can hear gunshots and then-
Snarling. Crunching sounds. Someone- something roaring into the night. It’s just the men holding Eddie now, Carver’s crew mostly. Wayne’s run up beside them and they don’t spare him a glance as he wrenches Eddie away from them. There’s a wolf. Massive, tawny, scarred, absolutely furious- lunging for them, slashing them with razor sharp claws until none of them are left standing. When the last of the mob is gone the wolf pads close and presses against Eddie’s side with a whine.
The kids come sprinting to him. “Jesus Christ, Steve! Well now they’re definitely going to think Eddie’s the lord of evil!” says Mike.
Eddie looks down at the wolf. He still feels like he might have a heart attack any minute, but the warm, soft fur is grounding. Steve Harrington looks up at him under the light of the full moon and wags his tail.
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#stranger things hc#stranger things au#werewolf steve harrington#mob violence#violence cw#steve/eddie#st steddie
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Need You (18+)
I honestly cannot believe how much the last three have taken off, it's actually fucking mindblowing. Thank you guys so much!!!!!!!
Warnings: Fluff and smut, blood drinking, we love Astarion in this household, mentions of Cazador
He loves her. After everything that’s happened and everything they’ve done, he loves her. They held each other all the way from the cemetery back to the camp. It was truly the best night since being back in Baldur’s Gate for her. They could forget that the outside world existed and just focus on each other. They could forget about her parents or Cazador. There was a peace to the night. There was a peace to them. She had loved him for a while. She had loved him since the first night. And she was content to have him however he would let her. She was ecstatic when he told her he wanted them to be something real. She had always been more than patient with him. She had cried when he said he loved her.
It was a deeply emotional night. They held each other, they cried. Astarion knew he had feelings for her at Moonrise. He knew he loved her when she faced down an Orthon in his name. But he was terrified. And then they stood in Cazador’s palace. She hadn’t hesitated to say he would have killed her if they had met under different circumstances. She hadn't hesitated to shove Cazador off a cliff. He had never known her to be malicious. But he could see the look in her eyes as she went toe to toe with a vampire lord. It was certainty. It was defiance. It was breathtaking.
This was real. He had to remind himself of that more often than not. Tav could have had Gale or Halsin. Mizora or Shadowheart. Wyll or Lae’zel. Anyone. But she chose him. And as she laid before him, her once pale skin now a deep golden and most of the softness in her body gone, he couldn’t help the feeling but to own the rest of her. Something about her made him want to be possessive. Sure, they were in the far corner of the rooms they had rented and had more privacy than normal. But he wanted to make her scream.
He sat on his knees, hands gently stroking her thighs. They hadn’t slept yet and the sun was creeping through the windows. They hadn’t even moved past kissing. Everything felt different now. It felt all the more important. She had the same look in her eyes from the first night. Except there was no hesitation. She loves him. Astarion leaned towards her, hovering over her. Piercing red eyes met blue ones. He didn’t kiss her. Instead he kissed her cheek. And then the other one. And then just below her ear, slowly making his way to the bite scars that finally formed on her neck.
He could feel her thighs tremble just from the brief contact. And the way she bared her neck to him was more than heavenly. But he didn’t bite her. Not yet. This was going to last as long as he pleased. She whined when he only sucked the skin around the scars. “Do you trust me?”
His breath was warm against her skin. She wanted him to take her so desperately and he was only taking his time. It was such a simple question but she couldn’t form the words. She nodded vigorously.
“Use your words, pet.”
She whined again but could barely whisper her answer. “I do.”
He smiled against her neck before taking her hands and putting them above her head. “That’s my girl.” He moved quickly, making her grip the bed frame. “Do not move your hands until I say so, understood?”
Her body shook. He had her pinned underneath him and her clit throbbed. She nodded again.
“Try again, my dear.”
“I-I understand.” He had barely touched her and she already knew that the second he did, she was done for.
He sat back and watched the elf squirm under his gaze. “Gods, you’re beautiful.” His voice always did something to her. But a reverent whisper was more than her body could handle already. Her skin was flushed and her chest was heaving. He trailed his hands from her arms to her waist, fingers barely ghosting her skin.
“Atsarion, please!” Tav could see the hunger in his eyes. It made her weak that she couldn’t tell if it was for her or her blood. She’d give him either.
He smiled at her. There was so much emotion in his eyes that neither of them were afraid to put a name to now. They would never be afraid again. He kissed her. A slow, powerful kiss. He kissed her like he needed her. He kissed her like he couldn’t live without her anymore.
He made his way down her body, peppering light kisses along her neck. It took him ages to get to her breasts. He swirled his tongue around her nipples before biting each one. Not hard enough to break skin but hard enough for her to know he could. Her gasps quickly turned into moans as she wriggled against him. And he just kept going lower, every kiss a small worship of her. Her legs had been spread to fit him between them. He started with her thighs, small gentle kisses while his other hand rubbed circles into the other. First the right one then the left.
She was shaking. A slave to his touch and his touch alone. And she cried out his name as he sunk his fangs into her thigh. He felt her muscles tighten as he drank. He knew this wasn’t supposed to be a pleasurable experience. And yet she seemed to almost crave it. It was intimate and held the building blocks for everything they’ve become. He drank slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. Her grip on the headboard was slipping but she was trying so hard to keep her hands there.
Once he stopped, he let blood trickle out of the wound. Quietly enjoying how easily she had given herself to him. He used his fingers to spread her cunt and watched her squirm even more. She knew he’d give her what she craved but she had been waiting for so long now.
“Eyes on me, pet. I want to see those pretty eyes.” Was the only thing he said before buried his face in her cunt. He's found it hard to have any amount of restraint when it comes to her.
"Gods, Astarion," was all she could moan. Her eyes were half hooded but she tried to keep them on the piercing red eyes staring back at her. She would never understand how he could be that amazing with his tongue and able to focus on her at the same time.
Tav was better prepared for him now. She didn't need nearly as much prep as she used to. But her finishing on his tongue? On his fingers? Almost nothing compared to that. Almost. Seeing his cum dripped out of her after he's reduced her to nothing more than a babbling mess? That was truly heaven. And it was Astarion's sole goal right now.
She tried so hard to keep her eyes trained on him. She could barely keep her eyes open as he gave her clit a harsh suck. She cried out for him. Instead of using his fingers to stretch her out, he took a hand and smeared the blood on her thigh around her skin. He made sure to leave his handprint on her stomach. Something about that shoved Tav over the edge. She came with a scream, her body finally finding the release she had so desperately needed. "Astarion!"
He took his hand away, sucking the blood off it. "You taste delectable, pet." He purred before sinking his teeth into her other thigh. She cried out again, her body reveling in the pain. He didn't drink as much, but he wanted to see her bleed. He wanted Tav to know who she belonged to. And she was all too eager.
"Atsarion, I need to touch you." She begged and he was very tempted to refuse her. To make her keep her arms there while he had total control and full reign of her body. But even he couldn't deny how much he loved having her hold him. To feel her wrap herself in him.
"Alright, but I expect you to behave, love." He hadn't moved. Her hands tangled themselves in his curls as he dived back to her cunt. This time, he teased her hole with the tips of his fingers. Her legs wrapped around his shoulders and her back arched as he slipped two fingers inside. The grip she had on his hair was rough. It hurt. And yet, it just made him go harder. She was always so tender with him. Always so careful, almost like he was made of glass. It drove him wild when she lost control and let her body make the rules.
"You're so-Gods-you're perfect." She gasped out and he hooked his fingers inside of her. It wasn't long before he was pumping his fingers in and out of her while tracing shapes on her clit.
She gave his hair a harsh tug, pulling him towards her. She pulled until he was face to face with her again, his fingers still working on her cunt. Now his palm was grinding against her clit. There was a mix of blood and slick on his face. She pulled him in for a hungry kiss. The taste of copper and her on his lips caused her cunt to clench around his hand. She arched towards him, crying out his name yet again.
“Astarion,” she held his face in her hands, “I need you. I can’t wait any longer.”
“After all this time, I thought I would have taught you what patience was.” His forehead rested against hers.
“Stop teasing, please!” She gasped, her body desperately trying to find any source of friction against him.
“Then use your words, pet.”
It wasn’t the first time he had used those exact words. But it was the first time she hadn’t answered. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist and managed to flip him onto his back. “I could show you.”
He grinned at her, “By all means,” he slipped an arm underneath his head. He watched Tav realize her position. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she tried to piece together what to do next. If she wanted control, he was more than happy to let her have it. Even if she had no idea what to do with it.
She straddled him, her cunt just a motion away from his cock. Her brain was reeling, was he really just letting her take over? What should she do now? She could take the easy way and impale herself on him. But he had spent so much time teasing her and making her crave him. Maybe she could do the same. She fit his cock between her cunt, not inside. She braced her hands on his chest and started to grind her clit against him.
Needless to say, Astarion was caught off guard. It was finally his turn to start writhing underneath her. It didn’t take long for him to throw his head back. Tav always thought he looked so pretty with his chest heaving and his skin flushed. And he was even prettier covered in blood. The blood from her thighs was a stark contrast on his pale skin. She didn’t consider herself a dark person or someone that enjoyed the darker parts of pleasure. Yet, when it came to him, she craved it.
His hands flew to her thighs to stop her ministrations. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “That’s not what I thought you asked for, pet.”
She moaned as he pushed the tip of his cock inside her. “I-I wanted to-Gods above, Asatrion!” She cried out as he pushed the rest of the way inside her.
“Shh, pet. I’ve got you.” He pulled her head on his shoulder and gently stroked her hair. She wrapped her arms around him, for once not being cautious of the scars on his back. “I’ll take care of you.” His thrusts were slow and deep. He was just enjoying her cries of pleasure and how her body trembled. Suddenly, there was no outside world. No Illithids, no gods. No Tieflings or goblins. It was just them, wrapped in each other like it could be the last time. It was simply Astarion’s quiet worship and Tav’s love for him.
“I love you,” she whimpered into his shoulder. “Gods, I love you.”
His thrusts faltered for only a moment, “Say that again.”
She pulled her head up to look him in the eyes, “I love you.”
Something snapped inside him. He kissed her, gentle at first. Then suddenly rabid. He threw her on her back so fast she thought she imagined it. The slow thrusts suddenly turned into an almost bruising pace. He had never fucked her like that before. Every thrust knocked the wind out of her. His hand grasped around her throat as she came with a silent scream. She dug her nails into his back almost hard enough to draw blood.
It was hard to think, it was hard to register anything but the feeling of him hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. She could barely make out his whispered groans of “I love you.”
The grip around her neck tightened. She couldn’t breathe but she couldn’t find it in her to care. Her eyes closed as she came yet again on his cock. “Such a good pet,” was all he could manage before his hips lost their rhythm. He couldn’t help but cum inside of her. It was his turn to shake, to tremble in her arms. He didn’t pull out, he wasn’t ready to lose that warmth.
But Tav? Tav saw opportunity. She rolled him over once again. His cock never once leaving her. He was still so impossibly hard and she wasn’t one to let an opportunity like that slide. She remembered riding him for the first time and tried to mimic those movements.
And the vampire spawn was too far gone to do anything but try and meet her hips. His hair was stuck to his forehead and his skin was as flushed as it possibly could be. His nails dug into her thighs. “Shit.” It didn’t take long for him to finish yet again. And she wasn’t too far behind him. Eventually, she rolled off onto the other side of the bed. They laid there, their hands intertwined until the dried blood and cum became far too uncomfortable for either of them.
It was the quiet intimacy of climbing into a cool bath together that cemented what happened. Astarion was truly free of Cazador and he had found someone who loved him simply for being him. It may have confused him time and time again. And as small as she felt when she was pressed against him, he knew he was safe with her. Not just his body, but his soul as well. It didn’t hurt that she was moderately terrifying in battle either. For the first time since the nautiloid, they both felt…At peace.
#astarion#astarion smut#astarion x tav#baulders gate 3#bg3 spoilers#fem!tav#not my gif#brainrot#yet another one of my fics with blood drinking#is this becoming a thing?#Maybe
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how would gojo treat his partner/wife?
gojo doesn't really do the whole boyfriend thing very well, not for lack of trying but he's made it very clear. or as clear as "i've never had a girlfriend" can be. which pretty much explains everything.
there are late-night meetups and month-long breaks in between. maybe a gift or two when he's trying to make up for something, it's the only way he knows how to apologize. the latest being cartier bracelets tucked in a red bag, one he holds up to your face eagerly wishing that you'd just forget he's so flawed, in no way ready for commitment, or to talk about it. "i'm sorry, it's just really complicated," he'll sigh. nothing holds gojo down you think. he comes and goes as he pleases. always growing, changing, keeping the end of the world from happening all in plain sight while you move on with a life filled with mundane things he’s probably got no time or reason to care about.
it feels a lot like loving a god sometimes, how he's just that bit out of touch, and...impossible. one who’s desperately trying to be human. with so much fear in his shaking hands and bated breaths, with his lip tucked between teeth, holding back the words he shall never utter, 'don't leave, don't look at me, don't touch me where it hurts.’ gojo treats you—at least initially—like he would anyone else. like he’s learning to love for the first time.
backdraft or whatever they call it. opening a door to a burning house, a fire that bursts and screams at the first rush of oxygen. he wants you to step inside and manage these tempers, seething and roiling resentment, a roof that falls in on itself.
all this and he's yet to tell you how he really feels about you, however, every once in a while, he does make the effort to call.
“hey it's me,” he says the moment you answer because who else would it be at this hour...does that thing with his voice that's so effortless. warm, and inviting. seductive really. ringing through right as the snow outside begins to frost over wilting leaves.
“sorry, don’t think i know who this is,” you reply, adding a playful lilt to the end of it. there’s a low chuckle in return, then the rustling of sheets, it’s enough to paint you a picture of him in bed. a very large bed from what you remembered, but the last time you’d stopped by his place, there'd been no need for accurate measurements, thread counts, and whether or not he’d gone with sustainable options. in fact, there was no need for talking at all, only muffled moans into the crook of your neck, a whining plea here or there. gojo likes to grit through his teeth, pausing before every first thrust, a savourer is he.
speaking of which, he asks, “how’d you like a reminder?”
you weigh things out, tucking your phone between ear and shoulder. "it's a tempting offer...but i'm starting to feel a little used here," you say. this is just a check-in point for him. just so he knows he still can have his fill of you and...whatever it is you bring to the table, he hasn't actually told you.
'it's the sex' your brain reminds you—all the multiple orgasms in under an hour–type sex, in an onsen, over a balcony, backshots and binding you to fancy rig, will accept a blowjob only if you want to, eager to please, so willing to learn—no, that's not true, the both of you are so much more than that. you talk about very important things like the news and whats good on tv right now. just as long as it doesn't have anything to do with his past or his future or what exactly is the state of this relationship...so it's definitely the sex.
"i thought that's what you wanted, weren't you screaming it at the top of your lungs that night?" for effect, he acts it out for you, "oh use me, do whatever you like," he doesn't try to pitch his voice higher, which makes it all the more embarrassing when hearing your own words said back to you with such impassiveness, such tease. who you were during the throes of passion is not the same person outside of it. to think he'd been a virgin when he met you.
"that selective memory of yours never ceases to amaze me," you can't help the smile that widens on your face.
he smiles too, despite not being able to see it, you know it's there. "well im a very selective man, i don't just ask anyone on a date." you roll your eyes at that. oh how you should feel so lucky. most times he chooses the place because gojo likes what he likes and your recommendations end up getting shot down or made fun of anyways.
you'd say the best part is that he shows up every time. something about how he detests people who flake on him. which is surprising because if anyone were to be tardy and forgetful, it'd be the man who's maybe a bit too blase about anything that doesn't hold his interest for long. that includes when and where his missions are, a flailing hand brushing off any bit of urgency or seriousness. picks and chooses the things he finds worthy of his efforts, his overly exaggerated bouts of emotion—"you wanna go sit by a lake and talk?" people often say he talks too much, besides didn't he just get off the phone with you hours ago.
"we're bonding, there's a difference," you defend, putting your foot down on the matter. if it'd been months earlier, you wouldn't have thought to stand your ground, and maybe a part of you would have been anxious over his reaction but gojo only gives you a pout. shiny, moistened lips giving it away, he's not coming out of this one without a fight and he's annoyed about it. reluctant.
so he'll make an exception, "fine, we'll psychoanalyze each other, how exciting—" the sarcasm is slathered and piled on thick. if he weren't masked you'd kick him in the shin for that eye roll he gives you, childlike almost, given the chance he might even stick his tongue out, "—but i get to choose the place, ah, ah, it's about compromise darling."
——————————————————
later on, when he's three parfaits deep into a sugar rush at a maid cafe, he admits, "you scare me sometimes," of course, he understands the importance of communication, and getting to know one another is part of the deal, this is what girlfriends and boyfriends do, but— "how are you still here?" there's something hidden in his question, sometimes it feels almost like he's testing you to see if you'd be offended, taken aback, huffing out indignantly and stomping away, making him watch you leave.
still, your answer remains the same. "i like you," you sigh out into the night, feeling his arms wrapped around your middle. gojo doesn't need worshipping or sacrifices made to please and appease, but he’s feeling ten feet tall in this body, too long and large, housing power he didn’t ask for.
“you really mean that?” he whispers in the crook of your neck, you don’t miss the hint of self-deprecation there, or the uncertainty.
so you reach a hand up, just enough to hold his head full of self-doubt, “yes," is all that's needed for him to crumble. walls coming down.
"you're the only woman i've ever been with," he admits. waiting for the moment you face away from him so it's not as revealing, not as vulnerable, and he can say it with just that little bit of courage because he wouldn't see your reaction, he's escaped death many times, he'd be able to say it now, say it here. "and i intend to keep it that way..." you know he's waiting in anticipation for the final blow, the real death that comes for him is when he loses you because of how unlikely it sounds, gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive, only bedded one woman.
his fingers come up to graze the slope of your shoulder, before he wraps an arm around your chest, pressing his weight into you from behind, wrapping you up, only it's ten times heavier when his admission presses down on your thumping little heart alongside with it.
——————————————————
in the middle of a restaurant in ginza, gojo breaks his chopsticks in half along a deep line with fine precision, before rubbing them back and forth to remove the thin, stray hairs of aspen. there are people who look up when the sound catches their attention, then avert their eyes away. but not before lingering over his striking looks for that split second, blue eyes and white hair, what a combo.
he barely notices at this point, but he does know you’re watching from where you sit. food untouched, like you’re waiting for something to happen. you don’t need his permission he thinks, or at least, no one had ever waited for it. so he explains before you get the chance to ask, getting it out of the way and maybe then you’ll start digging in and he wouldn’t have to sit in this weird, silent tension, “he always did it this way,” gojo shrugs.
you don’t ask who 'he' refers to, “i wasn’t going to say anything,” you reply, nodding along, trying to ease some of the nerves there because this isn't to do with the chopsticks, but that gojo gets like this around christmas. actually, he gets like this almost all the time these days.
“why aren’t you eating? the unagi’s really nice,” he points to the piece of eel that’s cooked to perfection, glazed and sticky. “is it not to your liking?” he looks up quickly, searching your face, looking for any sign of distaste.
“it’s fine,” you stop him from waving down the waiter, knowing he intends to order something else for you. but he never asks, not about what you would prefer or if you had any aversions to seafood. instead, he plays a guessing game, only tries, and tries again. hoping that he’d get it right immediately. just another thing satoru does. that he's way more accommodating than most would give him credit for. so much so you forget that he's barely touched the unagi himself, choosing instead to nudge it closer to you.
and maybe he’d been to used to this, maybe he’d always gotten it right with the one before you, maybe that’s why it hurts so much. and you're too occupied with wiping tears behind a blindfold that night to make sense of it when he can’t stop dreaming about long silken hair tucked into a bun, of a scent that lingers on a street crossing and by a classroom window.
still, he tucks a finger underneath the band. revealing clumped-up strands of white, silver, grey...a storming ocean swirls. a woman finally found, what a sight to behold. who chooses him and cleaves his heart in two every time she so much as smiles, calls him by his name, and touches his skin with her own. gently at first and then in a pressured, firm grip. "i'm not going anywhere," hand wholly encompassing his, fingers entwined, or maybe it's the other way around. gojo's got a wide expanse of palm, life and heart lines spanning across a region of an untouched, unmarred surface, all the power to bend space, time, and an infinity simmering above it.
“it’s gonna be okay,” you say, feeling a minuscule gap close where you finally feel him, really feel him.
#happy belated gojo unsealed day#brought this one out of the drafts and dusted it off#gojo satoru#gojo hcs#gojo headcanons#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo satoru hcs#sunpiece
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hi i absolutely love your writing, like i go through ur page everyday, like i have my notifications on so everytime you post i click so fast 😩🤞like you’re a celebrity in my eyes and i get so giddy when you post.
I think i sent in a req w feysand x reader where they’re on the battlefield. They’re in formation and standing ready to attack. Reader sacrifices herself by using a hidden power that no one knows about, she rivals even rhysands power and no one expected her to have this much power. she winnows closer to their enemies and rhys and feyre screams for her to run back or get away. Reader looks at them with sorrow, love and determination a last time and let’s her power loose, oblitirating all of the enemies before the war even starts. By some miracle she survives but is so close to death and nesta saves her. Reader is unconcious for almost a week before she wakes up and they all talk and reunite, angst to fluff pleaseeeee🧎♀️🧎♀️🧎♀️
i don’t remember if i sent this in or if i’m bugging out but pls ignore if I already did🧎♀️❤️
Sacrifice
Feysand x reader
A/n: thank you anon, ur literally going to make me cry and boost my ego plz 😭🥹 I hope you like the fic
Warnings: angst, near death experience, fluff at the end
You heard Cassian calling for soldiers to fall in formation. Taking a deep breath you exit the tent you share with Feyre and Rhys. Your mates. Tears line your eyes as you think about this morning with them. How you’ll never see them again.
You send a prayer to the Mother, begging her to watch over them when your gone. You thought back to your conversation with Nesta last night.
“If something goes wrong I need you to help contain it.” Nesta shook her head in disbelief at your words. “Why have you never told anyone about your powers?” “I never had it under control. I pushed them down all my life but I think I can take them out.” The look Nesta gave you would send a normal person running. But you knew deep down that look meant she was scared for you.
“Y/n, what do I even tell them if they ask about your powers?” “I don’t know. I won’t ask you to lie for me. Can you tell them I love them, and that I’m sorry.” Nesta flings her arms around your neck, squeezing you to her body. “Just try. Try to live.” “I will.” You whispered against her chest.
You watch the soldiers hurrying to get in line on the ground and in the sky. Cassian’s red siphons glinted in the sunlight as you smiled sadly at him. Besides your mates and Nesta you’d miss Cassian the most. You two always had the best inside jokes.
You kneel on ground outside the tent, unsheathing your sword from your back and unlatch your shield. Lifting your sword you drive it into the hard earth and hang your shield from the hilt. You’re not going to need it. Besides, Rhys and Feyre would want to have it.
Making yourself unseen you weave in and out of the lines of soldiers until you make it to the front where your mates won’t see you. You stare down the line at them. They look so stoic and determined. They’ll get through this, they’ll win this war like they have before.
First is the magic. You let both sides do their thing, watching the world around you rumble with warring powers. The enemy side starts to slowly advance. Now is your opportunity.
You winnow to the middle of the battlefield. Rhys is banging on your mental shields, “What do you think you’re doing!” Slamming your sheilds up you push him out. The opposing side starts to run at you. Feyre let’s out a blood curdling scream and Rhys grabs her by the waist, keeping Feyre from running to you.
Turning to face them you see their distraught faces. You give them one last smile, sending love and adoration down the bond. You turn back to the army now sprinting at you. Digging your feet into the dirt you hold your hands out by your sides.
Closing your eyes you dove deep down into your power. You have been building it up for a year for this exact moment. To wipe what was left of Koschei and Hybern from Prythian. To show General Morgana she has nothing left but a useless cause.
A silvery-purple light flecked with swirls of night shine from your palms, then radiating from your entire body. You didn’t let go until the first soldiers were steps away. Realizing the mistake they made. The ground shook causing the soldiers to collapse but you stayed standing.
Locking eyes with General Morgana you saw her face contorted in shock and panic. You smirked at her. You let your power rip from your body. Violet night consumed the soldiers, ripping them limb from limb until they were nothing but ash on the wind.
You threw your power out as far as you could. Decimating more half of Morgana’s army. Good. Your mates would live.
Your power slowly faded around you. The beautifully grim night falling with you. You couldn’t feel anything. Not even the numbness that you were sure was taking over your limbs. All you knew was that you were falling. The trip to the ground beneath you feeling endless.
As your head bounced the last thing you saw was all out war, then nothing.
—
When the fighting was over Nesta was the first one off the battlefield. She came flying into your tent scaring the shit out of two young healers. They tried to ask Nesta to leave and she responded by basically growling. The poor females backed off letting Nesta kneel by your cot.
Madja’s apprentice, Adria, glared at Nesta over your body. Her signal to let Nesta explain what she was doing in here scaring her healers. “I can help.” Adria nodded.
Nesta laid her hands on your stomach, summoning her silver flames. Days ago the two of you discovered your magics complimented each other. Nesta could balance out your chaos. She felt your magic calming as soon as hers touched it.
Your shallow breaths changed to even one’s as your chest started visibly moving. Nesta let out a sigh of relief as she felt you come back from the brink of death. She slumped back on the floor and Adria announced that you were stable.
Feyre and Rhys shoved the tent flaps open, storming in ready to demand answers. Once they noticed the calm atmosphere Rhys immediately went to Adria asking her what was going on.
“She’s stable but won’t be up for some time. Y/n will need lots of rest given the amount of power she used. And you can thank Nesta, without her it would’ve taken us double the time to save her.” Feyre looked at her sister. Nesta didn’t know if she should be offended or not by the look of shock Feyre gave her.
Within the hour you were moved back to your room in the House of Wind. It was eight days by the time you finally woke up. Rhys and Feyre had tried to stay with you the whole time but they were needed around the city and dragged off to meetings on other courts.
Your eyes slowl6 blinked open as you took in the familiar sun lit room. Nuala entered with a tray in her hand dropping it immediately when she saw you sitting up. Soundlessly she ran off to alert Rhys and Feyre.
Minutes later you heard thundering footsteps racing down the hall. Your mates came to halt in the open doorway, silver lining their eyes. Without thinking Feyre launched herself at you, practically laying on top of you as she embraced you.
“You idiot! You stupid, stupid idiot! I’m so happy you’re awake!” She pulled back from you to look at your face. Hers looked like she hadn’t slept in days, worry lining her beautiful features. “Please never do that again. I don’t want to lose you,” Feyre quietly pleaded with you.
“Never,” you whispered. Rhys came into view, plopping down next to you in bed laying a smacking kiss on your cheek. Exhaustion was clear in his face as well. “Not to dampen the mood but we are going to have to talk about your powers.” Feyre smacked his arm. “Can you not kill the mood for five minutes?”
You giggled at your mates arguing. Using all your strength you snaked your arms around Feyre’s waist. Showing her it was ok to put her weight on you. Rhys ran his fingers through your hair and rested his lips on your forehead. Feyre tucked her face into your neck as you all sat in comfortable silence.
You’d have to thank Nesta when you were eventually allowed out of bed. This is just the start of their doting and mother hening. You didn’t mind though. You were just happy that you could be here to be doted on by your mates.
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader fic#acotar reader imagine#acotar imagine#rhysand angst#Feyre angst#rhysand x reader#rhysand imagine#rhysand acotar#rhysand#feyre archeron#rhys x feyre x reader#feyre x you#feyre x reader#feyre acotar#high lady feyre#feysand#feysand x reader#poly!feysand x you#poly!feysand x reader#poly!feysand
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night love confessions — matty healy
summary: after a night party, matty has the idea (or the need) to confess his love to you.
warnings: some kind of mention about get drunk, alcohol, drugs and substances (but nothing very explicit) nocturnal melancholy, sad atmosphere and some mentions of touches.
wordcounter: 3,4k
a/n: hey everybody! this is my first au and even i'm scary i really hope you enjoy and like the story, maybe then could put this into a general universe, but idk, it depends i think if it works and if the people like it. anyway, thanks for giving the chance to read it. last thing, english is not my first language so if something it's bad i apologize for that too.
hope you enjoy it 🖤
The bottles that are opened, the containers that fall to the ground, the footsteps of shoes, the music that resonates through the speakers and deafens your ears.
The group of guys you're looking at, the smile one of them gives you at the end of the track. The adrenaline when listening to the band's new song composed by your friends, the lights that make you lose, you feel everything in slow motion.
You drum your fingers on the red disposable cup, before pouring the harsh liquid down your throat and feeling the traces of the rest on your tongue. There is a silence on you, but then you return to the ring with a small scream of happiness, which perhaps multiplies the state you are by a third.
You don't know how many glasses you've had, enough so that your sobriety is hanging by a thread and the hangover of the morning with your head exploding is too evident, but you know that this time nothing else has been mixed. Last time the story didn't end too well, jumping over security fences outside an abandoned club to end up with a sprained right foot and several bruises is not something you want to repeat two weeks later.
— Does anyone know where the hell Matty has gone? — George exasperates, raising his voice over the speakers. Everyone looks at each other confused, without having a clear answer. — God, this guy is going to give me a bad headache one day. —Although he is drunk and has red eyes, he is at his most sane. — You are surprised and turn your expression into an "o".
— He was here a few moments ago, I swear. — Ross responds a while later, moving up to follow him into the crowd.
You sigh a little tired, lately it has become the same routine and with regret inside you decide that you should abandon the staring contest with the black-haired man who is a few meters in front of you.
— I'll bring him back in a moment, let me take care of this. — You pronounce with difficulty, slurring the words and pouting.
— Well, if you can't find us we're probably outside. — Brown hair appears behind George, and even though you know you know the girl, you don't remember her name. You just know that from time to time she and your friend go to some bars .
— She's right. I need to sleep right now. —Ross exclaims, running the fold of her fingers over the sockets of his eyes. — Find him and then we'll leave.
You know Matty well enough to know that when he separates from the group, there are three places he can be doing: 1) In the outside or inside courtyard smoking some kind of cigarette, it's always a different edition so you don't know what you'll find. 2) In the nearest bathroom, with a card in hand and light white tints under the nose and nails. 3) Flirt with the first person you meet at the bar, spending the little money on drinks that will later be deposited on his bed.
— And if you don't find it, what? —Adam asks, in a tone of total concern.
— I will do it, I promise.
— Just... let us know when you get home, girl. —George closes the conversation and everyone else nods at his request, shakes their heads in response and greets them with a "yes, goodbye" in the air.
You hate a little, a lot, the rock superstar life that your entire band has led, it has been like this for years, but especially since they managed to make their first album become famous so quickly, and have devastated the sales stands and the lists have them in their heads. In fact, while you're debating where to start looking for it, Girls starts playing through the speakers. Great, the world makes fun of you with good satire.
It doesn't matter that you don't have clarity to think, your body moves for you and makes its way through quite a few people, until you touch a wall that has two exits: the bathroom and the courtyard. You breathe and try to lower your level to one less, until your instinct kicks in and you know you'll find Matty smoking.
Then you go out to the inner courtyard with the frost freezing your back. Adam was right, you needed your jacket that you left at his house a few hours earlier. The wind makes your eyes turn to glass in a sense, but you don't plan on giving up when you know you're committed to finding and bringing it home in the best condition possible.
You find it almost at the end of the place, away from the main entrances, which catches your attention. He has his leather jacket over his knees, which leaves his arms unprotected despite how thin they are. He's frowning, and when you get closer you see that he's exhaling and inhaling with a thoughtful expression, there's something troubling him even though you can't figure it out.
You reach his side of him and look for a small place to sit, he still has n't realized that someone else is with him, he's still absorbed.
— No girl today? What a loser. — You wake him up and make him jump in his place. — The boys are gone.
— Shit, girl. You really scared me.— He puts his hand on his chest, exactly on his heart. He gives you a half-shot of his eyes, they're freshly red, and you grimace silently. — She's gone too.
— Who? — You cross your legs, and your fishnet stockings catch on a tile out of place. — Shit, they were new. — You moan and realize that you are freezing.
— Luckily for you, buying another one is not difficult. —Now you are the one who frowns while exhaling a considerable amount of smoke.
— Are you okay, Matty? — You don't know why you use his name, but sometimes it helps to bring him back to reality. You look at him when he shakes his head and laughs sarcastically, his curls are out of control and half of them are hanging over his forehead, but he has not bothered to fix them, his white t-shirt he has small red wine stains on it. You can't help but worry about him even if you don't know what you're really into, he's one of the people you love the most and seeing him so subdued burns you more than the glass you drank ten minutes ago. He starts to close his eyes and breathe easier, or so you think. — Hey, I'll take you home, come on.
— Honey, look at me. It's a fucking party and I'm smoking alone. — Speak in the deepest voice, seriously about the subject. Well, that hurts. — Come here. — He hits the jacket that falls on her knees so that you can rest your head there.
He knows that you will not refuse, perhaps because the jacket will keep you warm, because you are tired or because you are very busy and worried. About him you will do everything he asks. Then he drops his head there and slowly rests his legs on the pavement.
Matty's head is about to explode, and not necessarily because of the amount of cocaine he has consumed, although a significant part of it is a factor. He's grateful to have his head against the wall, although he doesn't remember how he got to that position. because he knows that otherwise he would do anything that would ruin the whole environment, no matter how small and silly it was. Lately he's screwed up more things than he's done right, but maybe this is what he longs for most in his life, that when all this terror and this endless nightmare is over (he's more convinced that it won't) you'll still be there, close to him, to support his head or lean on him.
Silence becomes your best friend over and over again. All he wants to do now is cross his hands below your waist and hold you for as long as he is allowed. But he doesn't, his hands are dirty and he couldn't afford to dirty his girl like that, he feels in the depths of his being that if he touched you even a millimeter he would ruin you to the core.
Basically the same feeling he had about himself several weeks ago, he couldn't take the responsibility of taking away all of your shine and everything that characterizes you as his favorite person. He is drugged and drunk, perhaps more than ever, but in this same hazy state he has discovered that perhaps the reason why he continues doing things without stopping is because it is a barrier to his feelings, it inhibits him from being able to think rationally and from being able to feel, It makes him believe that everything is possible, except being able to have you.
You remain motionless on his lap when you begin to close your eyes and he takes the opportunity to look at you, giving himself every detail, capturing the scene forever in his memory: look at how your locks fall on your forehead, how your chest rises and falls every time you you breathe, and the subtle smile on your lips that is the product of drunkenness that also causes a satirical laugh and then dies in its own tranquility. He also notices when you open your eyes, noticing his determined look and you raise an eyebrow in question.
— I need to die, now. Can we go now? — You whisper, also struggling to hold the moment for as many minutes as possible.
— One more and we'll leave, love. — The nickname causes a cerebral shock throughout your cortex, but you hide it with the freezing air that runs through there and you pass him the lighter that has fallen on the floor.— I'll wake you up... maybe in seven minutes? I can't count. — The two laugh and for a second they hold each other's gaze, shining and reflecting on each other.
— Promise? — You ask, and you raise your little finger.
— Promise. — He intertwines them and it's convincing enough for you that you soon go back to sleep, leaving your hand outstretched. Matty has no intention of breaking that contact, so he takes it upon himself to enjoy the seven minutes like this, usually blowing out some hair that obstructs her view of him.
When he is halfway through the fateful cigarette, he lets out the longest snort of the day. He feels the same as he did in Robbers' video. No, it's nonsense. That song was never written for you, but maybe he's relating it to others.
Oh, but it's automatic, the scene where he's on her lap in timeout, the thought that he could never let you go even if they were apart, everything he's begged for you to stay and all the times you haven't. was able to turn back. All those times when he was the cause of your suffering, when you ended up in the hospital due to his failure, when he wasn't there the day your father left, and how later you said he was fine and that it didn't matter.
Maybe you'd actually sum it up to something like I love you, don't you mind? Because nothing could happen above that, you loved Matty as if he were your other half and even if he meant suffering more than anything else, you accepted it because you preferred to have him than not. But you knew that those opportunities were nil, nothing more would happen with him and the almost kiss a few weeks ago had made it clear.
On the other hand, Matty had started to cry. The taste of the tobacco was now a mixture of salt water and nicotine.
— Time to leave. — He says it slowly, extinguishing the remains against the cement and drying the trace of his face.
They both get back together after a while with some effort. Then you extend your hand to him so you don't lose him in the crowd when you have to cross it. It takes some effort, but you manage to breathe in the fresh air and see the light from the post outside faster than you thought.
—Can I sleep at your house today? My house is...complicated. — The hands of you two let go as both begin to walk along the brick pavement of Manchester. There's a small ringing in your ears but you nod, he's not in the state to show up at his house.
— Yes. — Your direct word calm him to the point that he adopts a calm that does not allow him to see a loose cable in the street and trip over it. — You can't walk, at least not like this. — You say, reaching out to him with concern. — Here we go, big boy.
You grip his wrist tighter, trying to provide some stability, until he changes his grip and runs his hand around your waist, wrapping it around it and pulling you as close to him as he can, seeking to get you inside of him. When he moves his fingers he notices the temperature of your skin.
— You're cold, put on my jacket, please. — He brakes and looks at you defiantly, without losing that tone of chivalry.
— It's okay, we're close to my house. — You comment without paying attention to his frown. Then you see the light about to be left at the beginning of the block and break your hold under his watchful eye.
You run, always holding on to him until the central point of the park that you are crossing. Since you have his hand in yours, you spin him around a few times while neither of you can stop laughing.
They both feel like they are floating regardless of any other part of the world or any other matter. If they both touched their hearts they would discover that it is stronger than ever.
He caresses your cheek and takes the opportunity to smudge an eyelash. Then they melt into an embrace completely overflowing with desperation, love, affection, and the need to freeze there forever. Eternity in this line sounds incredible.
— I'm very glad to have you. — You murmur in his ear, and then you give his a kiss on the cheek. You don't need and don't want him to answer, so you decide to run to the door of your house and wait for him there.
Tomorrow he won't remember this, so it's okay, you tell yourself.
Tomorrow he'll remember every part of this, living it second by second, then it will all come flooding back to Matty breaking him deeply.
Then he arrives at your front door and between some silly jokes and some tripping objects, like your brother's toys or some discarded slippers, you make it to your room, although you need to use your supporting weight to carry Matty inside.
— I'll bring a glass of water and a hangover pill. — You tell him and disappear from your own room.
You go down the stairs and it seems that you also go down to reality.
What the fuck are you doing? What has happened and why hasn't you stopped sooner? You put your hand to your head in frustration and drink water, then fill another glass and look for the pills. Tomorrow you will not only have discomfort from the drink.
You return to the bedroom, opening and closing the door carefully. The scene petrifies you, he is sitting on the white back of your bed, taking up as much space as he can. Then he looks at you, and smiles at you as if he were a child who had just been caught being mischievous. You feel like you could die of lovey-dovey right now.
— I'm going to the bathroom to put on my pajamas. — You open the closet and take out the largest T-shirt you can find, then the pijamas that are clean. — Use this. — You stretch out your arm and he catches the shirt along with a pair of shorts, internally you wish he would finish before you leave the bathroom.
Being used to the routine, taking off your clothes and removing your makeup doesn't take you more than five minutes, just enough for him to scan every corner of the room after changing with quite some effort. He smiles when he sees the box full of Polaroids of you and the entire band, and then feels like he's dying a little more when he sees the self titled car at the head of your furniture.
You open the bathroom door and he needs to swallow hard to keep from stumbling. Even in your pink heart pijamas you look just as spectacular as you do in your black miniskirt and boots.
—You seem very....funny— You scan it and you laugh when you see how short the clothes you gave him are. Then you realize that the mattress is not here, but you don't want to go out and look for another one. —Does it bother you if we sleep together? —It's nothing you haven't done, but it still requires a certain degree of difficulty to ask.
He denies sweetly and moves away as far as he can when you get on your bed, there is an unbearable barrier between the two of you.
So, he lets it out. Something internally takes over him.
— You are my favorite person in the whole world, my love. — He try to whisper it because you force yourself to believe that he thinks you're sleeping. He doesn't manage to whisper it anyway, and you hear his voice begin to crack and his heart begin to pour out. Your greatest fear comes to light when the way he speaks condemns it, you've seen too many movies to know what's coming.
No. He can't do this to you, you can't bear that tomorrow he will forget about this entire night and you must pretend that for a moment it makes sense that he also loves you the same way you do. You want to believe that he dreams of you too.
— Don't do it, Matty. Please do not do it. — You say to him with all your strength, while a swirl of water begins to grow in the sockets of your eyes. —Just... don't.
— Why? — He whimpers and staggers in his speech, he's taking it all on herself not to show you that he's breaking into miles of pieces.
— Because you're high, very high. Tomorrow you won't remember anything about this night and you won't be able to pretend this never happened. — You turn slowly, and then you wipe away the first tear that runs on his eyelid. — I really wish things could be different and that you would make this confession when you're not high.
For a moment he stops talking and you think you've won the battle and that there is a temperance that calms the threat. But he falls apart.
— I love you. I've always loved you and I can't stand another damn minute without telling you. — Tears simply fall down both of their cheeks and soak the pillowcases. You shake your head non-stop in a negative way.
He can't just let go now, at the moment when you're most emotionally vulnerable, so that tomorrow he can go off with the first girl he finds. In the long run it has always been like this, he gets over it and you are still there with a broken heart and forever devoted to him.
—Go to sleep, Matty. — Your request breaks him a little more, the tone destroys him although it is not very strong. — Do not make it harder.
He shifts uneasily, but he also understands that he can't force you to feel the same way. What he doesn't know is that if he just said he wouldn't leave tomorrow, you would run into his arms.
But he doesn't do it, nor does he close his eyes to fall asleep. He's there, watching your every move still. You sigh, unable to bear it anymore, maybe tomorrow you will suffer from it but maybe if you let go now it will be easier to overcome.
— I love you too. The same way you do it. — You kiss his head one last time and murmur one last goodbye before turning to sleep. — And it's been an ordeal for me all this time, because you feel it more when you're high and I feel it more when I'm sober.
Apparently your brain works fast and allows you to fall into some dream where this whole story is happier before reality can attack you.
And that's how they finally fall asleep, the both with their hearts in each other's palms, with more scars than before.
Finally, everything gets comically better when you wake up a few hours later and there's no sign of Matty in your entire room.
Just make out that the glass of water is empty and the pill is not there. You laugh sadly before going to sleep without letting yourself cry again, he doesn't remember anything from the night before.
i won't apologize for this. however, thanks for reading <3 let me know what you thought or if you liked it.
Etiquetas: @cxcx75
#matty healy#matty x reader#matty healy x reader#matty healy x oc#matty healy x you#matty healy fic#matty healy fanfiction#the 1975#1975 band#I watched robbers video five times to do this#i cried#so much#first writing#first fanfic
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New Roommates
[Poly!Sleep Token x GN!Reader]
Summary: After your old roommate left, you were immediately greeted with four new ones, and the realization that your apartment is not big enough for five people.
A/N: Some suggestive themes at the end! Mostly just fluff.
Word Count: 1,270
A/N: Hi, it's me again, obsessing over some masked men. I saw @faithghoul (hope you don't mind the tag!) had some headcanons for like different powers the guys would have and I was struck with an idea of like mundane life mixed with those! I didn't go too in depth but i would love to if y'all are interested in my take on things!! Also, this is sorta a Part 2 of [this], but can read as a stand alone!
You groaned as you tried to make your way through your tiny flat. You just knew after your roommate moved out that you'd have enough room for yourself. You were mistaken. Horribly.
“Ves!” You yelled out once you finally reached the kitchen. “What the fuck? Don’t you guys have a place to stay?”
Vessel made his way towards you and you crossed your arms at him.
“You were practically begging for them the other night, and now you barely even want me here?”
You blink at him, before finally sighing and putting your hands up in defeat. “Look, you’re right. But, how the fuck am I supposed to watch TV?” You motioned towards the television, which was surrounded by II, III, and IV. “I mean, I love having you all here! But it’s-”
You’re cut off when III turns towards you and his eyes hit yours. He didn’t say anything, as usual. He didn’t have to speak, not aloud anyway. You look at Vessel and furrow your brows.
“He said if you want to watch TV they’ll move for you.” Vessel was grinning.
“But, what’s the condition?” You’re deadpan. Arms cross again. Vessel let out a loud laugh and II, III, and IV are all turned towards you now.
“Why does there have to be a condition?” Vessel cocks his head at you.
“What’s the condition?” You turn towards III. There is no answer. Not verbally. You, for a moment, were sure he wasn’t going to answer, period. Then you felt an intense brain fog. Your mind clouded, all outside noses were gone, until suddenly you heard his voice, “You have to sit in my lap.”
Your hand moved to your head immediately and you let out a soft groan as your eyes shut. A hand grabbed for you, Vessel’s. He steadied you and you looked back up at them. “I’m unsure I’ll ever get over that feeling…” You grumbled to yourself, “Okay. I need to sit in someone's lap after that.”
Vessel released you and you walked back into the living area. You grabbed up the remote for the TV and ushered the guys to the couch. You handed the remote to Vessel and settled yourself in III’s lap. His arms wrapped around you and his head rested on your shoulder.
“What do you want to watch?” Vessel questioned you.
“Whatever you can find,” You leaned back into III’s chest and closed your eyes, “My head hurts now, but I don’t mind sitting in here with you guys.”
III nuzzled into your neck and you heard him huff. And, for the first time in a while, he spoke to you out loud, “Sorry.”
His voice sounded strained and hoarse. It sent chills down your spine. You mumbled back an ‘it’s okay’ and nuzzled yourself back into him.
It wasn’t very hard for you to go to sleep once you got settled in. You knew there was some supernatural help with the resting, as Vessel had turned on some horror movie. No way you would have been able to go to sleep on your own to some loud screams.
You woke up the next morning in your own bed, cuddled up to a pillow and you sighed. Your eyes looked around the room and there were no signs of anyone else in there. You pouted and stood up. You walked towards your bedroom door and began to exit your room. As you were rubbing your eyes, and walking from the room, you bumped into something. Or someone rather.
A scream rips from your mouth and you jump back. Your deep sleep had you forgetting your apartment wasn’t really only yours anymore, you hadn’t expected to bump into someone while leaving your room.
Once your eyes opened all the way and you saw it was only II, you sighed. His hands were up, his eyes were wide, and he looked at you in confusion. You grabbed your chest and sighed out. “I thought you were- I’m so sorry-”
II shakes his head at you, hinting that there was no need to apologize. You nodded back at him and noticed something was in his hand. You cocked your head and motioned towards his closed fist.
“What’s that?” You had an idea it was for you, as II loved bringing you things that reminded him of you. At least that’s what Vessel had told you.
He lit up when you asked about it and was quick to show you what was in his hand. His arm outstretched towards you and his fist faced upwards. He opened his fist to reveal a gold chain, a bracelet by the looks of it.
“II!” You gently grabbed the bracelet from his palm and you could see him light up even more. “I love it!”
You pulled him into a quick hug and placed a kiss on his mask, before pulling away and asking for help to put it on.
“You don’t want to know where it came from?” A voice came from your kitchen.
II, helping you put the bracelet on, did not seem phased by the question. You, however, very much did care that the question was asked. You looked over towards Vessel as he exited your kitchen, your cat in tow.
“One,” You put up your finger, “Why is he letting you hold him? And two,” You put up another finger, “I’ve learned to not ask. It’s better that way.”
Vessel’s head rolled back and he let out a soft laugh, “I see. You’re learning… And your cat loves us. I’m unsure how he acts when he’s around you,” -since he was never around you when they were around- “but he does seem very fond of us.”
You turned your nose up to him, “My cat loves me just as much as he loves you!”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“That would be you,” you gave him zero expression. You could see II tense as you and Vessel begin to bicker and you froze. “Sorry, I’m not mad!” You reassure II, “Just- Just messing around.”
“He said don’t do that.” It’s Vessel’s turn to give you zero expression.
You looked over at II and he shook his head. You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend and nodded. “Okay, sure, if II said that I would never mess around ever again.” You rolled your eyes at Vessel.
He tensed immediately at the defiance, “But not if I said it?”
“II is so lovely, Ves, and I feel like-”
“And we aren’t?” He was quick to come to his and the other’s defense.
You couldn’t help but smile, “Ves, I’m just messing around! Of course you’re all lovely. But you don’t bring me presents like II does.”
“Oh, it’s the presents.”
You couldn’t see it, but you knew II was smiling under his mask. You gently nudge II with your elbow. “Yeah, we have a special bond, he gets me.”
“He doesn’t eat-”
“Okay!” You let out a loud yelp, “That’s enough of that! I’m done messing around! Don’t you, like, have… business you need to tend to or something?”
“I think we all have business that needs tending to.” He took a step forward, a shit eating grin on his face. Your eyes widened as you saw III and IV stood up from the couch and II was bright eyed beside you.
“I said I was done messing around!” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “I just woke up, damn!”
You weren’t sure what was being said between the four of them, but you were sure you were about to find out.
#sleep token#sleep token fanfiction#sleep token vessel#vessel#vessel iii#vessel iv#vessel ii#vessel x reader
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