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letorip · 2 months

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somethin' stupid [ii]

"and though it's just a line to you, for me it's true and never felt so right before"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: it's all her fault, and wednesday can't help but feel it in her bones.

warnings: mentions of blood, the police (gross), hospitalisation, crying

word count: 4.8k

A/N: thank you all for the love and support you have given to this silly little story of mine. it is absolutely insane. red font denotes the thoughts of those around you. kind of worried i may have rushed the ending, but i hope you like it anyhow. right, anyways...

===+++===

It took an additional thirty four minutes and twenty eight seconds after the beast sunk its claws into your chest, for Wednesday to come wandering out of the line of trees stretching to the cloudy sky and onto the nearby mountain street, still wearing your bright yellow raincoat bunched around her wrists.

Finding the cave had not turned out to be entirely as difficult as she had expected, and she managed to find its charred remains just as Eugene had said. There was no evidence to gather, really, and there never had been to begin with.

In the far away distance, only lightly covered by the rain, it sounded as if a flock of birds were screaming at each other and fighting, and the noise rang throughout the forest before settling in Wednesday’s ears. She had already been annoyed and frustrated enough tonight. The extra noise just set her even more on edge than before.

It took another sixteen seconds and a few steps closer then, for Wednesday to realise the noise bleeding from around the bend in the road wasn’t in fact, a group of birds. Instead, it was the worst sound Wednesday could ever want to hear.

Within an instant, Wednesday took off running, every sickening realisation clicking at once. The vision that had been plaguing her nightmares and every interaction with you came back in full force. Her stomach began to churn as she went, heart burning and ears ringing. She knew.

When Wednesday rounded the curve, she saw the cars and their sirens.

The red and blue lights bounced off of the dirt and pavement even from far away, reflecting in the rain water as it pummelled to the ground. Five police cruisers sat strewn every which way along the shoulder of the road, headlights on and pointed into the underbrush. Officers wandered the clearing, pointing their flashlights into the dark and yelling loudly to each other in an attempt to overcome the rain.

As Wednesday rushed towards the vehicles, a man stepped out of the closest car to her, wearing a plastic blue poncho that did mostly nothing to stop the merciless pounding of the furious rain. He spoke into a little radio on his shoulder, staring out into woods at his men while they searched.

Wednesday’s loud steps from her thick shoes warned him of her nearing, and the man turned, hand dropping from his radio. She was immediately displeased, greatly so; the man was Sheriff Galpin. He looked just as unhappy to see her, frown drooping into a wry glower.

“Addams what are you doing out here??!” He shouted at her over the storm, hands placing themselves on his hips. “It’s sure as hell past your curfew, now go back to Nevermore, dammit!“

Wednesday walked right up to him then, tugging him roughly by the poncho and his collar, which she balled up dangerously in her fist. It was a warning, and she meant it. Potentially, she meant it more than any threat she had previously given. “Who did you find.”

Sheriff Galpin’s eyebrows lowered, a line appearing in his forehead as he stared her down. “That’s official Jericho Police Department business, missy. You need to-“

Her grip on his clothing tightened. “Now.” Her voice shook a little. “Who did you find.”

He looked at her for a moment in the flickering blue and red of the dark, examining the look on her face. Her eyes were shining, though she would never admit to it. The old sheriff sighed. “Some kid from Nevermore was attacked. You might have known ‘em. Name was like, (Y/n) or something.”

Wednesday’s hand went slack, dropping back down to her side. “Were…,” she swallowed, attempting to cool the heat rushing to her face. It felt as if the Earth had just broken away from its orbit, to float off directionless into space. “Were they killed?”

For the first time, Sheriff Galpin seemed almost soft. He bent down to her a bit, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly as if to say ‘there, there.’ He had never liked the Addams girl much, though that seemed highly irrelevant in the moment.

“Uh, luckily no, though the camper who found them said they were awful close. The EMTs got here just in time. They’re headed to the hospital.”

Wednesday pulled back, tensing at his hand. “Give me a ride to the hospital,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. The sheriff shook his head.

“Nuh uh, no way. You’re going back to school, kid. It’s too late for you to be out here anyways, and I’m sure Weems would like to know why the hell you were out past curfew in the first place.”

She glared. “I need to be at that hospital.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes at her, any moment of softness gone upon remembering why he disliked her and her family so much. “Like hell I’m going to take you there.”

Wednesday blinked at him.

===+++===

The night was still dark but no longer raining, when Sheriff Galpin speedily dropped Wednesday off with her bloody fist at the front step of the hospital.

Punching the tree again and again had hurt, the sharp bark slicing through the skin of her knuckles, but it also meant she needed a nurse and potentially stitches, and there was only one place capable of offering such services. Suffice to say, the sheriff wouldn’t become her fan any time soon.

The clock had slowly crawled to four in the morning, and though Wednesday was exhausted, and Enid and Thing were potentially freaking out back at the school as to where the hell either of you were, Wednesday was a bit more concerned with figuring out where in the hospital your room was. Oh, and maybe aiding her fist, which was now dripping blood onto the patterned green carpeting as she went.

Upon entering and striding right up to the front counter, Wednesday had gotten straight to business. She held up her bloody fist, placing it with a 'thud' on top of an infographic that sat on the reception desk. The previously sleepy-looking teenage receptionist stared at Wednesday with a look of wide awake, abject horror. “Tell me where the ER is,” she said.

"Uh...over there?” said the girl, raising a weak finger towards the doors in the far left and unable to pry her eyes away from Wednesday’s hand.

Wednesday nodded a single time before walking off, leaving the receptionist to lean over the counter and watch her go. The sign over the door was marked 'ER,' and Wednesday followed down the brightly lit hall until she arrived at a new waiting area. The people in there looked much worse for wear than the empty entrance at the front.

Nervous parents sat cradling their obviously sick children, a construction worker was repeatedly coughing in the corner with his head propped up, trying to stay awake, and a woman in a pantsuit was cradling her foot in a cast and wincing. If this was an omen to who was in your company, it was certainly a bad one.

Wednesday did just as she had before, walking right up to the desk with her hand and showing it to the nurse at the front. Only this time, the woman gave her a worried look, picking up the black phone to her right immediately and dialling a few numbers into the keypad.

“Uh, stay right there, ma’am,” the woman said. Wednesday nodded. She didn’t intend to go anywhere anyways.

The nurse who had come to find her was an older woman, with smile lines crinkling around her mouth and winging off the corners of her eyes. She looked almost like a grandmother, except the electric pink afro she had curled off of her head in coils that spoke of youth and vitality and fun. Enid would have liked her, and Wednesday knew you would have too, but she hated the colour pink just as she (mostly) disliked fun people.

The woman had gotten straight down to business, pulling Wednesday into a room with a metal tray of supplies already picked out and holding up her hand.

Even being someone who enjoyed pain as she did, the antiseptic stung when it was placed over the scratches on her fingers. She hissed a bit, and the nurse glanced up at her with pitying eyes, grabbing the supplies for her stitches off of a metal tray.

"You said you punched a tree?"

Wednesday was suspicious of the woman's sudden interest, but nodded. The nurse could probably tell her where you were anyhow. She didn't like making friends, but she could at least make allies. She had called you one of her allies when you had asked. Remembering that hurt now.

"Yes,” she replied, a bit annoyed with the question.

"Why'd you do that, then?"

"I needed to come here. It's important." The nurse began to stitch her up, and Wednesday flinched at the sudden contact.

"What’s important about here?"

Wednesday glanced down at her soaked, dirty shoes. "There's someone staying here I need to see." The nurse looked up at her then, studying her carefully.

"You're here for that kid that came in after being attacked." Wednesday swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. The nurse sighed, wrinkles filling her forehead as she finished up Wednesday's middle finger and moving to her ring finger, holding up the pad to the light. "They were rushed into emergency surgery about twenty minutes ago. You'll have to wait here a while, and just to warn you: it isn’t pretty." Wednesday sent a small glance to her, one that spoke of a timidness the situation had drawn out of her that wasn't previously there.

“Why don't you go home for the night? Get yourself cleaned off and dry."

She shook her head at the woman, frown deep and telling. "I need to be here when they wake up. They don't have anyone else. Both of their parents are deceased, and I need to be there for them."

"I'm sure they would appreciate you coming this far, honey. They're very lucky to have someone who cares for them as much as you do. I've been a nurse for a loooong time, and trust me when I say you've done plenty."

She certainly had not. Wednesday was not immune to the morbid irony of the situation at hand. In reality, she had cared all too much, pretended that she cared not at all, and tricked you for the longest time into thinking she cared too little. Caring had gotten her nowhere- worse, it had gotten you into an ambulance.

"I'm...worried," she struggled to spit the word out at the nurse, who looked at her with soft eyes of encouragement. "I've said some things, that I don’t think I’ll be able to apologise for."

"Shhh," the nurse hummed, finishing Wednesday's final knuckle and taking out some bandages to wrap around the raw skin. "You'll get the chance."

“I’m not sure I will,” Wednesday's frowned deepened. Her lip threatened to quiver a bit, but it was true. She had been so foolish to bring you along- so selfish to allow you to push the bounds of your own safety. It sat lodged in her stomach like a tumour, growing and growing.

If this is what it meant to love you, Wednesday wasn't sure she was ready.

The older woman gave her a sad smile. "Look, there's no shame in making mistakes. The shame is in being too proud to ask for forgiveness for them," she said, standing up from her chair. "They'll be in room 304, I think. Should be out of surgery in a couple hours, in case you want to…”

“I’m not leaving,” Wednesday insisted. And she didn’t, for a while.

Very little could spook an Addams, especially one such as Wednesday, but she had decided it was all too much, seeing you after surgery. It was an utterly horrific sight. Had it been anyone else, Wednesday would be staring at the intricacies of the scars waiting patiently to form, marvelling at the magic of twisted skin and scabs. But no, it was you in that bed, wheeled right in, and she felt the rare urge to vomit.

You were hooked up to so many machines. Buzzing, whirring, and beeping were the only things keeping you alive, and it served as a painful reminder for everything that could have been lost.

A ventilator sat over your mouth, covering your soft lips and strapped to your jaw. Live, it said, as did the several needles and monitors that were hooked into the skin of your hands and arms. There was too much surface area covered. Wednesday, even if she had wanted to, couldn't have held your hand.

Blood was still very much crusted to the planes of your skin in parts, or at least what was visible of it behind your bandages. The white cotton sat in squares and rectangles, taped to your chest and along the stretch of your cheeks and face. You would never be the same, and Wednesday knew it then.

Always, you would bear the evidence of the attack when someone saw you for the first time and winced a bit, and Wednesday held herself as partially responsible. Her love was too thick to sit in. Wednesday Addams swallowed the tears she would deny crying.

She sat with you an hour, then she walked down to the payphone on the corner and called Enid as the sun finally settled for the morning sky.

===+++===

In the three weeks since your attack, you had yet to wake up. The doctors said it was a coma, and that they had no idea when you would wake, if at all, and that only made Wednesday feel worse. She had gone to visit you before, after, and sometimes even during class. Her own hand had healed nicely, though there would be a permanent scar over the knuckle of her index finger from a particularly nasty cut,

On one visit, Enid had said it was as if you "were sleeping," but Wednesday couldn't disagree more. When you slept, it was on your side with your mouth, open, snoring softly. No, instead, you looked like a dead body. Even after acquainted with the room, Wednesday still felt a great pain in her chest upon seeing you every day like that.

Principal Weems had been more than angry, discovering another student had been hospitalised as a result of Wednesday's actions. She was also worried, and annoyingly tried to sign Wednesday up for more sessions with Kinbott.

That wasn't what Wednesday needed, and she shrugged it off as such, every time Kinbott tried to bring up what happened to you, like she was waiting for her to burst into tears. An Addams didn’t cry. Instead Wednesday let the guilt eat her alive.

She also hungered for vengeance. Strewn across her floor was a giant mental map of everything involved in the case, from photos of the bodies (Enid had fainted twice) to crime scenes, and even potential suspects, all laid out accordingly.

As soon as visiting hours were over, she bid you adieu and threw on your yellow raincoat that still smelled like you, before heading out into the dark to solve the mystery. Maybe it was a way to say she was sorry, maybe it was a manifestation of you potentially never waking up- Wednesday didn't know.

What was even more frustrating was how she knew you held the final puzzle piece. She wasn't a fool- your ability to see into the thoughts of those around you was probably what had caused the attempt on your life in the first place. You had intentionally placed yourself in harms way, then, turning off your abilities for her.

You were incredibly powerful for one so laissez-faire about life- a fact that only offended Wednesday more, as you had been the target and not her, or someone else. You, who had just worn your heart on your sleeve to her, listened to her throw it away, and then immediately gotten attacked. You didn't deserve that, just as much as Wednesday didn't deserve you.

Then came the question of what you did deserve to hear when you awoke. If she was such an excellent writer, why couldn't she think of what to say to you if that ever happened? It still didn't feel good enough, no matter how many times she rewrote the letters or changed the order of the sentences. Nothing seemed to feel good enough.

===+++===

Around the fourth week, Wednesday began to leave you long thoughts, like diary entries. She didn't even know if you could hear her, from in there. You had been taken off a ventilator and it looked as if you were finally starting to level out a bit. Wednesday didn't know why, but she suspected you could hear her thoughts.

So she started thinking to you.

It had started small, at first. 'Today is the twenty-sixth day of you being asleep, you know. If you don't wake up, I swear I'll kill you.' She didn't even know if you could actually hear her, or if you'd want to, considering your last interaction. Wednesday itched to talk to you again, and her recounts grew longer and longer.

'Today is the twenty-eighth day of you still not waking up. Mayor Walker passed, yesterday. I have my suspicions of Xavier. He seems to meet with Dr. Kinbott frequently, and it's possible she's Laurel Gates. I'm not sure if I told you about this yesterday, but I summoned my ancestor a few days ago, Goody Addams, and she warned me of the Gates Mansion.'

'Today marks an official month, 31 days, of you not being awake yet. My Uncle Fester is in town. He sends his regards, by the way. He's the bald one I spoke of before, and he was eager to meet you... Enid and I visited the Gates' Mansion with Tyler. We were attacked and Tyler was injured. I know that may alarm you, but I assure you, I'm fine... If you don't wake up... I'll curse you forever.'

She didn't mean it.

‘Today is day thirty six and you’re still not awake. Enid will be waiting with you while I go confront Xavier and have him arrested. You must forget this when you wake, but I miss you… I’m not proud of it but I do. I said I wouldn’t care for you this way but look at me now. You didn’t spoil anything, (Y/n). If you said you loved me now, I would say it back. Give me the chance to say it then, or else.’

Wednesday waited patiently for another minute, hoping even a little bit that her mind would spark you to life. When nothing happened she sighed just as she had every previous day. Enid gave her a sad smile.

“Go get him, Wends. We’ll both be here when you get back,” she said. Wednesday glared at the use of the nickname, but grabbed your yellow raincoat off the back of her chair, shrugging the oversized jacket on and heading out the door. If there was one thing she thought would make amends, it would be catching your attacker and achieving revenge all on her own.

Of course, thirty seconds later, when Wednesday was long gone, you shot up right like a rocket, and Enid let out a scream.

===+++===

You were climbing, it felt like. You weren’t sure what, but you were pulling yourself up and out of something, pads of your fingers gripping the surface and lifting. It was one clutch after the other, and you had no idea how long or where you could possibly be climbing to.

Were you dead? That was entirely possible. You had blacked out with Tyler’s claws ripping and tearing at your chest and come-to in the back of the ambulance as it sped towards the hospital. A nervous-looking paramedic stood over you, casting a shadow over your eyes, and from there you had passed out again. Maybe you had died then.

Of course, it was a possibility. Not a welcome one, but it was still a possibility. Either way, you had to figure out a way to warn Wednesday about Tyler. Maybe if you just kept climbing. Time seemed to slow down, and it was one hand after another.

There was definitely sound coming from the outside world, and it wrapped around your head in mumbly nonsensical jargon. You recognised the voice, that was definitely Wednesday, and she was definitely close. Every now and again small words like 'Xavier,' or 'Kinbott,' would peek through the mist and you were left to wonder as to why they were relevant.

You climbed a bit harder. The voice would come in and then out again, and you were left wondering if days were passing or maybe it had just been an hour. All you knew was to keep climbing. Your fingers felt raw, your arms ached to stop, but you kept going to keep Wednesday safe, wether she wanted you to or not.

Before you knew it, a hand came forward for the last time, and it was like a button had been pressed. Suddenly, you weren't in any void, or any back of an ambulance, you were in a bland hospital room, sitting straight up and looking right at a mortified Enid.

"Oh my god!" She yelled out, pointing at you in surprise. "OH MY GOD!!!" 'WHAT THE FUCK!!!!'

"TYLER!" You yelled back.

"WHAT?!" Enid yelled.

"IT'S TYLER! And hi!"

Enid fainted again, just in time for a nurse to rush in upon noticing you were awake.

===+++===

One thing you had missed dearly whilst in a coma were fruit cups. You sat rather contentedly, eating a mango fruit cup in your soft hospital bedsheets and leaning back against a checkered pillow. From around you in the hospital, noise buzzed in your mind. It felt good to have your blinders off for once, even if it meant you had to focus in on Enid and the noise directly in the room with you.

"Thirty six days???" you asked. Enid nodded.

"Wednesday- I mean all of us 'But mostly Wednesday', were worried sick that you wouldn't wake up. Are you okay? What was it like in there?" 'How the hell are you still alive???'

You shrugged. "Not really sure. I just remember my arms hurt and I was in this void-thing, trying to pull myself out..." You grew serious. "I need to speak to Wednesday."

Enid leaned forward. "And you're sure it was Tyler? He doesn't seem like he could hurt a fly."

"I saw him, Enid. He was covered in blood and he was in his own head thinking about the attack and how pleased Laurel would be for him to succeed. It's him."

"Wednesday thinks it's Xavier," she said. You shook your head.

"She's wrong. I know she's sweet on Tyler, but-"

"-She's not sweet on Tyler, (Y/n). 'You CANNOT still believe that after all of this...though I guess you were comatose' I've said this since the beginning of the year, you bozo. She's sweet on you, and you two are such idiots running around and pretending like you don't know."

The painful memory of your final interaction before the attack came back in waves, pulling you under and tugging you into the deep. You cleared your scratchy throat, still sore from its lack of use. "Enid, Wednesday made it perfectly clear how she felt about me."

Enid rolled her eyes. "You two, I swear you're going give me grey hair. Oh! Speaking of appearances," she sat up. "You haven't seen how you look yet!"

You frowned, not entirely sure you wanted to. You knew you had facial scars- the sharp slashes to your nose and cheeks were enough to know that now, but you weren't sure how much you wanted to see them. Enid pulled out her phone camera, flipping it around to selfie mode.

It wasn't as bad as you thought- a giant twist of a scar curved around the apple of your cheek before reaching up through the lateral third of your eyebrow and stopping shortly after. Another crisscrossed over the bridge of your nose. Still bad, though. They were noticeable, and those were only the ones on your face. You frowned, and Enid seemed to regret asking to show you them. 'I just messed up, didn't I.'

'Oh my, cara mia' said someone's noise in the doorway. You looked up, hearing her arrive, and there she was. Wednesday stood looking almost nervous, hands crossed over her chest awkwardly, like she was uncertain if she was welcome. You tensed. "You're awake," she said.

You nodded. Then you did Wednesday a favour and turned your own noise off to give her the privacy she coveted. Wednesday sent a look over at Enid who just stared. When the werewolf didn't take the hint, Wednesday cleared her throat.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry," said Enid, standing sheepishly. "I guess I'll just go get some food from the cantina...even though I already ate and want to see how this happens," she muttered. Wednesday sent her a much sharper glare, and Enid scurried out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Wednesday spun to you. "If you died, I would have killed you."

"I know," you nodded. "Enid told me you were here all the time." She frowned.

"Never speak of that again," Wednesday said, seeming almost embarrassed. "Enid wasn't supposed to tell you that."

"She's not really good at keeping secrets. You probably shouldn't have told her anything if-"

"-Did you hear them, when you were in there?" She asked, cutting you off mid-sentence with what she had really been wondering the entire time, but too nervous to ask. You blinked.

"Hear what?" If she had been saying important things to you whilst you were under, you didn't know what she was referring to. The look on Wednesday's face was unintelligible.

"I said some important things, (Y/n)," she said, fidgeting with her fingers. "I sent them through my thoughts."

"You also said some important things before I was attacked, Wednesday. You called me a lost puppy."

"I know," she replied. "I was worried this very thing would happen if I didn't."

You snorted cynically. "Looks like it happened when you did, actually." She looked wounded by that, and now you felt bad. "I didn't mean it that way, Wends, I'm just trying to warn you-"

"I love you too," she said.

Any thoughts or words you potentially could have come back with were lost, slipping through your fingers and tumbling to the floor. Wednesday took a step closer, placing her hand on the bed next to you, flipping it over to show you her knuckles. A few small pink scars littered the skin there. You picked it up in your own, brushing over them with your thumb.

"I meant it. I love you too. Even with your scars- which are magnificent." Wednesday thought for a moment, then looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you with a love that is more than love."

"That's Edgar Allan Poe," you whispered. She nodded, then she swallowed, forcing the words out.

"I see now, that I was...wrong. I have been deceitful, and I have been unkind. I pushed you away when you deserve much more than that- likely much more than me. I cannot express how earnest my regret is, and just how much I want your forgiveness-"

"Yeah yeah, stop talking like an old English guy," you said with a laugh, pulling her scarred hand to your lips. You sat up a little bit more, and though it hurt, you pressed your lips to her palm. When you pulled away a moment later, she kissed you full-force. Her hand moved to your neck, playing with the hair there and delivering the perfect amount of gentle longing that made you fall back against the pillow.

She pulled away all too soon again, but the small smile that teased the corner of her mouth spoke of future ones to come. "You said you were going to warn me of something?" She said in between attempts to catch your breath. You raised your eyebrows, remembering the dire information at hand.

"Oh, yeah, Tyler attacked me," you said, leaning your neck back against the pillow.

"What?!" Wednesday said, pulling away with her eyes as angry as ever. "Why didn't you lead with that??" She didn't want to believe it, but she knew you wouldn't lie.

"I got there eventually, and you needed to apologise!"

Wednesday sighed, shaking her head. Though she would never admit it, she did truly miss your ridiculousness. "Anything else?"

"The master of the creature-"

"-It's called a Hyde," Wednesday corrected you.

"Yeah, that. The master of the creature wears red boots. I saw it in Tyler's vision."

The girl in black stood up, heading for the door. "Thank you, cara mia. I'll be back when this is over."

"Go get 'em tiger." She turned to you, unimpressed.

"Shut up."

"Yeah yeah, love you."

After a moment she sighed. "I love you too."

thank you all so much for your support on this story! i absolutely will be writing again, and am here to stay. i cannot thank you all enough, and as always, PLEASE tell me or message me about any typos as i will fix them ASAP. i'll definitely come back and change this later if i feel like it. i tried not to rush the ending but was also majorly conflicted as to where i should leave it off. so if it bugs me later down the line, i'll change it.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine

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hearts4hughes · 6 months

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LOOKING AT THE STARS, ADMIRING FROM AFAR | JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: did you ever look up at the stars and think of him? did he ever look up at the stars and think of you?

note: i actually love this so much. idec that it’s rushed towards the end because this is a writing i’m so proud of! hopefully you can enjoy it as much as i do!!

the night sky stretched out above you, an endless blanket of twinkling lights and cool-toned colors. you pointed up to the sky, tracing the constellations.

“what are you pointing at?” the brunette next to you inquired. jack was so close to you that you could feel warmth radiating off of him. you turned your head, dropping your hand to your chest.

“the stars and constellations.” you smiled and he blushed. he wished he could’ve related to you, or even tried to understand what you were showing him as you described the different patterns of stars and what each one was. but he couldn’t, so he just nodded and listened.

you had first met him at an outdoor skating rink on a chilly winter morning. you’d been attempting to learn how to skate when you collided into the tall boy, knocking both of you on your butt. your cheeks flushed as you apologized, only now noticing how cute he was.

the way he laughed at your corny joke, his eyes twinkling with warmth, had left a heart-shaped mark on your brain. it was as if the stars themselves had aligned to bring you two together. he was the sun, and you were the moon, destined to orbit around him.

as days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, your friendship deepened. you shared secrets, dreams, and laughter, but your heart ached with the knowledge that your feelings for him were anything but platonic. you found yourself falling in love with him as time went on, a type of love that was written in the stars.

“huh, i never knew that.” jack said, subconsciously scooting his body closer to you— if that was even possible. your face flushed such a deep shade of maroon that you were happy for the nighttime darkness.

if only he knew what he was doing to you.

you giggled, “yeah, because every time i show them to you, you forget a second later.”

he sat up, turning his body to face you as his legs sat crisscrossed. his brows were furrowed and his mouth was open in an offended way. “i do not!” he retorted in a playful manner.

“ok, then what is that constellation called?” you asked, quirking a brow. your finger pointed straight to virgo (which you had just shown him minutes before). he looked up at the sky, eyes squinted and head tilted.

“uh, well, that’s obviously the big flipper.” his answer sounded more like a question. you let out a huge snort, throwing your hand over your mouth to conceal your laughter. “what are you laughing at missy?” his eyes twinkled with mischief under the moonlit night. before you could open your mouth to answer, jack’s hands were attached to your sides, his fingers tickling the sensitive area.

your abdomen tightens as his fingers continue to brush across the bare skin on your stomach. through hiccuped breaths and laughs, you yelled out, “stop- it!” your hand came up to slap him away, but his own caught it, pinning it above your head and moving himself on top of you. your laughs halted, becoming a silent echo in the darkness of the summer night.

silence consumed the two of you. you memorized the way the moonlight complemented his blue eyes and how his plump lips were parted, breathing out heavily. his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes, your irises mirroring his. ever so slightly, jack leaned closer, his lips inching towards yours.

yes!

but just as he was closing the space between the two of you, the porch door swung open. the hockey player jolted back off of your body, sloppily positioning himself besides you.

“jack,” trevor called out, brows furrowing as he scanned the current scene. the heavy breaths, jack’s messy hair, and your pink cheeks, everything led to one conclusion. “were you both just making out?”

“no!” you and jack yelled in unison, heads whipping to look at each other. he wore confusion on his face, wondering why you were so desperate to dismiss that idea.

“jeez, calm down, love birds.” trevor chuckled, but you and jack only deadpanned him.

“did you need something, trevor?” your tone was sharp— almost sharp enough to slice through the tension hanging in the air.

“yes, i did.” he smirks as a feeling of satisfaction washes over him. you squint your eyes, now glaring at the taller boy. “jack and i have some unfinished business, and that business is nhl 23.” jack hears him but doesn’t dare to move away from you. “oh, unless you’d rather finish your makeout session?”

trevor's teasing remark lingers in the air, a subtle reminder of the stolen moment that almost was. you shoot him a withering look, and jack, still situated next to you, shifts uncomfortably, his cheeks tinted with a shade deeper than the summer night.

"we weren’t making out," you retort, the words tumbling out in defense, but the residual tension from the interrupted closeness between you and jack is tangible.

trevor, unfazed by your sharp response, grins mischievously. "sure, sure. well, we'll see about that." he gestures for jack to join him, a sly twinkle in his eye. "the game awaits, hughes."

jack glances at you apologetically before reluctantly detaching himself from your side. as he follows trevor inside, he shoots you a reassuring smile, silently promising to return.

left alone on the porch, you take a deep breath, the cool night air soothing the heat that still lingers on your cheeks. with a wistful smile, you lean back, gazing up at the stars that witnessed the almost-kiss. the night sky, a canvas of twinkling constellations, seems to hold its breath, similar to you.

what has jack hughes done to you?

—

the boat gently rocks as you dock it, and you cast a sidelong glance at jack, his silhouette bathed in moonlight. a mischievous smile plays on your lips as you break the hushed atmosphere.

"you know," you begin, your voice low and playful, "there's something about being out here under the stars that makes me want to confess all my secrets."

jack turns to you, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "oh, really? any secrets you want to share?"

you meet his gaze, and a flirtatious smirk graces your lips. "maybe. but only if you promise not to tell anyone."

his fingers tighten around yours, the connection between you growing more pronounced. "i'm good at keeping secrets."

your laughter echoes across the lake, blending with the soft lapping of the water against the boat. "well, mr. hughes, i might just hold you to that."

the air thickens with anticipation as you lean in, the magnetic pull between you undeniable. jack's eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

"jack, i," you continue, but as your gaze meets his own, insecurity washes over you. "i’m," you continue, but as your gaze meets his own, insecurity washes over you. "i’m, i’m tired.”

a playful glint lights up jack's eyes, and he inches closer. "that’s your big secret?” he questioned, his thumb running circles over your knuckles.

you meet his gaze, the moonlight casting a subtle glow on your features. "perhaps," you reply, your words a delicate dance on the edge of something more.

his smile softens imperceptibly, a subtle dance visible only to someone as attuned as you. you've always been tuned into the nuances of jack's demeanor, studying him like one of your textbooks.

"well," he confesses, "i've got a secret too. i'm tired, just like you!" his words evoke a genuine laugh from you. your head nestles naturally against his strong shoulder, a perfect alignment that defies the need for words. it's a silent understanding, a connection that words can only attempt to describe.

in response, he wraps you in the security of his embrace. time seems to stretch into a suspended moment, where seconds meander into minutes and minutes unfold. together, you find comfort in the quiet, creating a safe space within the gentle presence of one another.

breaking the cherished silence, he whispers tenderly, "let's head home, sleepy."

—

“i’m moving to california.” you announced, your voice firm, but laced with a hint of vulnerability. the words hang in the air, a heavy truth neither of you expected.

jack's eyes widened in surprise, the shock registering like a sudden storm on a calm sea. "california? why?" his voice, normally steady, betrayed a hint of concern.

"change of scenery? need to get away?" jack's laughter, tinged with sarcasm, sliced through the air like a bitter wind. "from what? michigan or from me?"

your confession hung in the silence, a whispered secret. "i don't know," you confessed. the room, once filled with easy banter, now felt like any other room, except for the echoes of a shared history that couldn’t be shrugged away.

neither of you responded. silence filled the once joyful room. tears silently slipping from each other’s eyes. as jack choked out sobs, you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him like he had done to you that night on the boat. you both began to break down, falling to your knees and entangling your limbs together. every cry was another crack in your heart. your once icy demeanor melted away like snow in his arms.

the night before you left, you both sat on the rooftop, looking at the stars, your fingers intertwined with hers. the air was heavy with unsaid goodbyes, and the tears you had been holding back threatened to spill.

“promise me you’ll keep looking at the stars,” you whispered, your voice quivering. “promise me you won’t forget.”

he nodded, unable to speak as the lump in his throat grew. the stars above seemed to shimmer with a poignant beauty, as if they too were saying their farewells.

the next morning, he watched you drive away, a bittersweet smile on his face. the love you shared was a constant, a guiding star in your life, even though you were now separated by miles and cities.

—

3 years later

the night sky stretched out above jack, an endless blanket of twinkling lights and cool-toned colors. he sat on the same lawn where you both had once traced constellations, where laughter and shared secrets had woven a tapestry of memories.

his gaze was fixed on the stars, his mind wandering through the vast expanse of the universe, seeking a connection he had lost. he often found himself lost in the night, wondering where you were and if you, too, were looking at the same sky.

california felt like a world away, a distance measured not just in miles but in the ache of a heart missing its counterpart. jack couldn't escape the feeling that a part of him remained suspended in the constellation of shared moments, lost in the void between stars.

the sound of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves provided a haunting soundtrack to his contemplation. he thought of the promises made under the night sky, vows to keep looking up, to remember. but as time passed, the stars became witnesses to his silent longing.

no matter how many new constellations he discovered or how many cities he traveled to, the celestial map of his heart always led back to that rooftop and the warmth of your fingers entwined with his.

years passed, and jack never truly moved on. he found success in his career, experienced victories on the ice, but the emptiness lingered beneath the surface. the stars were a constant reminder of the love written in their cosmic arrangement—a love that remained etched in his heart.

he often wondered if you ever looked at the stars and thought of him. the pain of not knowing, of living with the unresolved, cast a shadow over the brilliance of his achievements. the promise to keep looking at the stars became a silent pact with an absent partner, a promise he intended to keep even if it meant holding onto a ghost of what once was.

if only you knew what you did to him.

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#jack hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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starneteyam · 1 year

Text

THE BLAME ★

🖇️ char. Neteyam x fem! reader

🖇️ warn. Mention of death, fluff, very long

🎥 You are a member of the Lyre’oaran clan, a species that live in a tundra environment, closest to Eywa. Your clan is of legends and myths, but after the sky people attacked and forced you out, you urge to find Jake Sully — to save your clan.

A/N Lyre’oare is a clan that I’ve made up! It is a mixture of the words “Frozen” and “Moon”.

You wailed, tears spilling from your eyes as an avatar of the sky people held you by your braid, a knife to your neck, forcing you to watch as your mother was murdered in front of you. “You monster!” You screamed, trying to bare your teeth, but grief winning over and a sob leaving your throat. Colonel Quaritch only chuckled, dropping your mother’s dead body, her body laying against your dead siblings and father. Everybody was dead, the homes your clan has built all burning to the ground. He sheathed his knife, walking closer to you and squatting down to get to your eye level.

“Now, you listen here, missy.” He spat. You could barely hear his voice, overlapped with the sound of your sobs and the burning wood around you. Your heart physically hurt, everything you were spiritually connected with, all dead or burning. Your connection with Eywa was stronger than any other clan in Pandora. “You fly off with your little pet, and you find Jake Sully. Now, you tell him that Colonel Quaritch is coming for him—that he’s next.” He said through gritted teeth, angered by the thought of the man you’ve never heard of. “I do not know who Jake’Suli is.” You spoke the truth, your words barely making it through your cries.

“He’s Toruk Makto.” He said in his American accent, “The leader of the Omiticaya.” Your eyes flickered to his, recognizing the Omiticayans, and he didn’t fail to notice. They were the forest people, a clan that lived below, towards the south in a warm environment. He smiled. “Good, so you know them.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes and tears gliding down your cheeks. “Please, I beg of you. Let me join my family.” You begged quietly, raising your chin and showing him your neck, hoping he would slice it. He looked around at his military group, before bursting out into laughter like a hyena. “Spare you? Now, I can’t do that. After all, dead men tell no tales.” He stabbed his knife through your right hand, and you screamed in pain. “This wound on your hand can be your proof.”

You rode your ikran, wailing as you rode through the skies. Your heart was in anguish and you had no time to grieve as you flew towards the caves of the Omiticaya. You were covered in the blood of your family, staining your pale blue skin. Lyre’oaran people’s skin color was baby blue, their hair being white to blend in with the snow. After days of flying, you reached the Omiticaya with a heavy heart, your face stone cold.

You let out a cry to let them know of your presence, landing your ikran. Upon seeing you, the Omiticayans hissed, some drawing their weapons, others turning their heads in curiosity. You stepped on the ground, holding your chin up high. “Take me to Jake’Suli, Toruk Makto.” You said, your voice full of authority. The crowd mumbled amongst themselves, and a boy your age emerged from the crowd. “Who are you?” He asked, voice loud and stern, as if he were challenging you. You placed your fingers on your forehead. “Oel ngati kameie.” The tension around you seemed to lessen.

He didn’t do it back, still cautious, and you couldn’t blame him. You were covered in dried blood, and you looked like a Na’vi that had never been seen before. “Please, I beg of you. Take me to Toruk Makto.” You pleaded, your voice caught in your throat as the images flashed your mind. He frowned, and complied. The people watched you with judging eyes as you walked towards the home of Jake Sully.

“Father!” He had said, making your eyes widen. You stood in anticipation as a man, who you assumed was Jake Sully, showed himself. Behind him stood a woman, who you thought was his mate, and his children. Jake’s ears flickered as he looked at you. “What the…” He whispered out, stepping closer. “She arrived unpronounced, and wished to speak to you.” The boy told his father. You let out a shaky breath, looking up at Jake Sully. Who was this man?

“I am the eldest daughter of Olo’eyktan, of the Lyre’oaran clan.” You spoke, glaring up at him as he looked down at you with confusion. You voice was wavering, tears welling your eyes as you tried to contain your anger. ‘This is the man that got my clan killed.’ You thought. “My clan is dead.” You said through gritted teeth, baring your teeth at him. “Lyre’oaran?” He mumbled, and his mate stood forward. “You are the people of the frozen moon?” She said. Your breath hitched, and you nodded.

“My people are dead.” You rephrased, stepping forward. “The Sky People came to our village, and killed everybody. They destroyed our most sacred place, and burned the houses, and killed the people! Because of you!” You yelled, though ending with a sob. Neytiri held her hands in front of her mouth, feeling your pain. You showed your wounded hand. “He is coming, for you.” You balled up your wounded hand into your fist.

“It is all your fault!” You screamed, and he stepped forward, a look of guilt on his face. You hit your fist against his chest. “It is your fault! My people! My home!” You sobbed, anger winning over you as you repeatedly hit his chest. He didn’t fight back, nor did his family stop you. They only watched in sympathy and pity. “My family.” You sobbed, and enveloped you in a hug, and you gave in, feeling warmth for the first time in days. You sobbed in his chest, your cries loud.

As daughter of Olo’eyktan, you were always taught to be noble, elegant, and graceful. You never had an emotional outburst before, but your feelings flowed out of you. “I’m sorry.” Jake apologized in your ear, and you couldn’t help but cry harder. “I’m sorry.”

You sat silently in their home, feeling like an outcast. You sat with your knees against your chest, hugging your legs. “You must eat.” Neytiri said softly, placing a bowl next to you. You ignored her. She sighed. “I understand.” She said. Your ears twitched, signaling that you were listening. “My father was killed by the Sky People. My people, our home tree, our forest — all because of them.” She sneered. You looked at her, slowly loosening. “Jake and my children are all half breeds, but they are one of the people. He helped us win against the devils.” She explained, looking at Jake, who sat across the room, with Tuktirey in his lap.

“Tomorrow, we move. We fly for Metkayina, for our safety. You must come with us.” She urged, and you turned your body towards her. Even you knew that you weren’t safe here. “You are fleeing? Instead of fighting?” You asked, judgement in your voice. She sighed. “For the children, we are fleeing.” You bit your lip, and couldn’t argue. Your parents would have done the same thing, and you knew that. “Then I will come with you.” Neytiri smiled at this. “But before we go, I ask to visit your sacred place — the spirit tree. I must feel Eywa.” She stared at you, silent, as if she were hesitant, then nodded.

“Ey, Neteyam!” She called over, to which the boy who you met first came over. “Take her to the spirit tree.” She ordered, and Neteyam said nothing and nodded. “Come.” He ushered. You stood, following him outside. As he led you towards the ikran, he stayed quiet for a while, before he spoke. “I have never heard of the Lyre’oare clan.” He told you, his voice startling you. You cleared your throat. “We are a clan only spoken in legends and myths, so it is expected.” You said, each word of your heavy and holding meaning.

“We are the clan closest to Eywa; each of us have a personal connection with the great mother. We live where the sun hides behind the moon, so our land is cold. That is why we are called the people of the frozen moon.” You explained, never thinking you would explain yourself to an outsider. Your clan was forbidden to interact with other clans, as your clan’s job was to maintain the balance of Eywa. “I see.” He said quietly, letting your words sink into his heart. Silence followed as you reached your ikrans, and began to set flight.

He didn’t speak after that, so you had decided to make conversation. “Your mother is lovely.” You had said, surprising him. He looked at you with wide eyes. “I can feel her love for Eywa, and her connection.” You looked at him. “And I can feel yours.” You said in a hushed tone. He shyly looked away. Your aura was that of a goddess’, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous around you. Yes, that had to be the reason he was nervous—no other reason.

You arrived at the sacred tree, and you gasped at the beauty of it. Eywa will always win your heart. Almost immediately, the seeds of the spirit tree started floating towards you. You laughed in joy, reaching your hands out to them. Neteyam watched in awe. So this is what being part of the most spiritual clan was like. You stepped towards the tree, brushing your hands against the stems, the nature around you whispering. He followed after you, entranced with curiosity.

You sat at the foot of the tree, on your knees. You reached out and grabbed a stem, sliding it towards yourself as you brought your braid towards the stem. You breathed in through your mouth as you connected and made your bond, before smiling. The grass below you began to illuminate brighter, and Neteyam stepped back. You raised your arms, placing your hands against the bark of the tree. “What the…” He mumbled as he watched the wound on your hand slowly heal. “Shh.” You hushed him.

He did so, watching as your hand was now left with nothing but a scar. You then leaned forward, pressing your forehead against the tree, eyes closed. “I see you, Eywa.” You whispered. You stood up quickly, causing Neteyam to flinch. You unbounded yourself from the spirit tree, and turned to him. “Thank you for bringing me here.” Neteyam couldn’t speak, the words getting caught in his throat. ‘Beautiful.’ He wanted to say.

The next day, you headed out to Awa’atlu with the Suli family, riding with Neteyam as you had to leave your ikran behind. Your ikran was used to colder temperatures, and bringing him to such a warm place like Pandora’s reefs would be too harsh for your ikran. You, on the other hand, would be able to adapt—hopefully. You took note of Kiri, feeling a strong connection of her and Eywa, but you decided not to say anything. She was child of an Avatar and alien. Being mature as a child of Eywa, you made sure not to discriminate, but you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable around her. She probably noticed.

“You must be careful. The chief’s wife is wise, but strict. She will not be so welcoming.” You told them, and Jake turned to you. “How do you know?” He asked, loud enough for you to hear. You let out a laugh. “I am connected with Eywa, I know everything!” You told him, gripping on tighter to Neteyam. His breath hitched. You ignored it.

“You didn’t know of me, though?” Jake said with obvious conclusion. You stayed silent for a few heartbeats, before speaking again. “I knew of you. I knew of Toruk Makto, and of how you led your people to victory against the Sky People. Though, Eywa did not reveal your name. She does not tell me anybody’s name.” You explained.

“The people of Awa’atlu are strong respecters of my clan, the Lyre’oare. Their spirit tree is under water, and without the cold of the water that is- was maintained by my people, their tree would have not been strong. They respect me and my people, though they’ve never seen us. But I can not say the same for you. They will be cautious of you.” You warned them, your words full of intelligence. “Well, let’s just hope they like us.” Jake mumbled.

You and the Suli family arrived, and you got off first, not afraid. The people crowded you and the family, murmuring amongst themselves. You felt someone touch your tail, and you hissed. You understood their curiosity, but you were one of the Lyre’oaran people, they should respect you. Your ears were rounder, like a polar bear’s, and your skin was much lighter, like ice.

You stood by Neteyam and Lo’ak, watching as two boys walked closer to you, then behind. “Look at their tails!” Rotxo laughed, touching Neteyam’s tail. “How are they supposed to swim?” Added Au’nong, laughing along. You stepped forward towards Au’nong, and he stopped laughing as he looked at you. You scanned him with judging eyes, circling around him. You gently kicked his tail with your foot, then ran your fingers along his arm. “Hey!” He hissed. “You are built for swimming.” You commented the obvious, looking at his arm.

You pushed his arm back to him. “But that is all you are good for.” He bared his teeth at your comment, and before you could bare your teeth back, Neteyam stopped you. “Just be cool, guys.” Said Jake, and you stepped away from Au’nong, showing some class. You were a lady, and that of a higher class. He was nothing but a childish teen. The chief made his presence, and you watched silently as he negotiated with Jake.

Then, his wife, Ronal appeared. She walked between the Suli family slowly, before setting eyes upon you. “You.” She said, head turning to her. “Where do you come from?” She asked, voice deep and strong. You didn’t cower. “I am daughter of Olo’eyktan, of the Lyre’oaran clan.” You said loudly. Some people gasped, some people stepped forward to get a better look at you.

“Why do you come here?” She asked. You huffed through your nose. “My clan is no longer. I am the only survivor. The Sky People have attacked my home. The Suli family and I come here to seek shelter.” You told her sternly, not wavering once. Her stare on you lingered, before she turned away. She touched Kiri’s tail. “Their tails are too thin, and their arms are too small.” She said. She then grabbed Lo’ak’s hand, showing them for everybody to see.

“They are not even real Na’vi!” The crowd gasped. “They have demon blood!” The crowd hissed and mumbled, and Jake sighed. Tuning Ronal and Jake out, you grabbed Neteyam’s hand, his hand flat against yours. He was surprised, and you hummed. “You do not have five fingers.” You said, smiling as you looked up at him. You didn’t know why, but you felt like comforting him. He let out a shaky breath, before clearing his throat. “I- Yeah.” He laughed nervously.

Lo’ak elbowed his side teasingly, and Neteyam only hissed back. You grinned, looking at Neteyam, before looking at his brother. “The daughter of the chief is looking this way.” You whispered. “What?” Lo’ak asked, head snapping up as he looked for Tsireya. “Just kidding.” You and Neteyam laughed, while Lo’ak groaned. “Not funny.”

“Come, follow.” You laughed, urging Neteyam quietly as he ran at after you. It was late at night, and the two of you were sneaking out. Neteyam knew that if his father found out, he would have surely gotten in trouble — but the excitement of it all was something he loved. You reached a dock, sitting down and reaching into the water. “Look.” You swerved your fingers around the water, the water around your hands turning light blue, illuminated. He stared in wonder.

He reached down into the water, doing the same, but the sea didn’t change. He looked at you in confusion. “My body is cold, because I am from a colder place. The water freezes as I touch.” You explained, eyes on him with a wide grin the whole time. He couldn’t help but grin back. “Your body is cold?” He asked. You nodded to confirm, holding your hand out. He hesitated, eyes glancing between you and your hand.

He placed his hand into yours, his larger. You gripped his hand, a chill being sent up your spine from his warmth. He let out a laugh. “You are freezing!” He exclaimed, and you giggled. “And you are warm.” Slowly, you brought his hand up to your face, and he subconsciously cupped it. His smile died down, his breath hitching. You stared up at him with doe eyes, and he almost leaned in, but he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re cold.” He mumbled, and your eyelids fluttered. “You are too cold.” He said, finally realizing something was wrong as your eyes fluttered shut, your body limp as you fell into his arms, unconscious. “Shit!” He scooped you up in his arms, your breaths fast and rapid. Your body was not adapting to the warm weather well. You were most likely having a heatstroke. He ran towards his home, hoping to find his father.

“Dad! Dad!” He yelled, Jake immediately standing up and looking at his son with wide eyes. “Something’s- Something is wrong with her.” He said, breaths fast as his eyes scanned her body with fear. “It is too warm here.” Neteyam explained, obvious distress in his tone. Neytiri acted first, ushering him to place her on the floor. “Hurry, call Ronal.” She told Kiri.

“What the hell were you doing, boy?” Asked Jake through gritted teeth, kneeling down next to his son. Neteyam tried to speak through his patterned breaths, obviously panicking. Jake quickly noticed, letting out a sigh before bringing his son’s head to his chest in comfort. “It’s going to be okay, Neteyam. She’ll be fine.”

You awoke the next day with a headache, but feeling much better. You rose up fast, looking around and noticing how you were back home. You looked to your sides, also noting how you were alone. “Neteyam? Lo’ak?” You called, hoping someone would show. You heard scurried footsteps, before you saw Neteyam. He let out a relieved sigh, immediately rushing in front of you and dropping to his kneels, arms wrapped around your neck as he hugged you tightly.

“You are okay.” He whispered, and you hesitantly hugged back, letting out a laugh. “Calm, Neteyam. I only fainted.” You joked, hoping to lighten the mood. Neteyam didn’t agree. He grabbed you by your shoulders, looking at you with stern eyes. “You only fainted? You gave me a heart attack! You are not taking care of yourself!” He said, angry. Your smile faded, and you frowned. You didn’t like that he was upset with you—at all.

“I am sorry, Neteyam. I did not mean to burden you.” You spoke in a hushed tone, your ears flickering back in guilt. His expression relaxed upon seeing yours. He cupped the side of your face so you would look at him. “You never burdened me. I care for you.” He said, his words holding deep meaning and placing a weight on your heart. You leaned into his hand, closing your eyes. “I am-” He cut you off, your eyes snapping open as his lips connected to yours with urgency.

It was a quick, but deep kiss, and you sat dumbfounded. You recollected yourself, breath shaky. “Neteyam.” You whispered, eyes wide. “I see you.” He told you, scooting closer to you as his eyes searched your face. Your confused expression morphed into a joyed one, your hand covering your mouth as a laugh slipped out your throat. “Neteyam!” You jumped on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, the sudden weight knocking you to over, laughter filling the open room.

He laid below you, and you supported yourself off the floor with your elbows, looking into his eyes. “I see you.” You told him back, leaning in for a second kiss.

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hdiabolical · 3 months

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I don't know your rules so I hope this is ok.

Homelander being bored one day and finding boxes full of your old things that your parents kept and he can't pass up on an opportunity to learn more snoop about you. He finds old teddy bears/ drawings/ pictures. Ya know, the typical nick knacks that a proud parent thinks they might be useful someday. It mads him a bit sad that he missed out on so many 'just being a kid' moments but he is enjoying the glimpses that he finds when he sees you in your little league uniform or you soaking wet with a big grin on your face at some waterpark.

You eventually find him all surrounded by memories and see the glassy look in his eyes, you just can't help but crawl in his lap and comfort him. You talk about some of the stuff you guys find, laughing at some. You tell him you promise to make as many happy memories for Ryan and by extension him in the future.

Again, sorry if this is not what you were looking for. Please ignore this or DM me if you want something specific. My brain worms are always a wigglin'.

You finally agreed to move in with Homelander a few months ago. More of a formality, since you already lived in his penthouse most of the time. Yet your parents were so delighted—it was funny, actually, how enchanted they were with him. Their baby girl with America's hero! And he was a charmer too!

Though you lacked for nothing in his house, your parents kept sending housewarming gifts; just trinkets, silly things. Two pairs of white slippers with red stars in them—that one had warranted a full-blown laugh from both of you.

A blue blanket your father had knitted—that one left Homelander at a loss of words. He stared at it for a moment, then silently put it in the bed.

And the boxes! Four boxes filled with knick-knacks; mementos from your childhood and teenage years you were unsure if it'd make Homelander uncomfortable, so… It's not like you hid them (as if you could hide anything from him, anyway), more put them in the very back of your closet and chose not to speak much of it, only mentioned in passing.

“My parents sent even more stuff! Can you believe it?”

The next day, as you left for work, Homelander decided to snoop. It wasn't even snooping, really. You lived with him, you shared it all. And, c’mon, you were an open book. He could read you in a second, knew each flicker of your eyes, every change of breath, the way you scrunched up your nose unconsciously.

He opened every box, sitting on the floor, surrounded by glimpses of your childhood. A picture of you, in your little league uniform, all smiley and proud. A kind of an ugly drawing of what he supposed was meant to be you and your parents. An enormous, threadbare shark plushie you once said was your favorite thing when you were seven.

It was all so mundane—yet his eyes prickled. This was something he'd never be able to share with you.

So lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice you'd already come back, and was walking toward the bedroom.

“Hey, you,” you whispered softly. Your chest contracted painfully when you noticed his glassy eyes. It was an effort not to cry too.

“Hey, babe.” He laughed, but it felt hollow. “Juuuust checking some things you tried hiding from me, missy.” He wiggled his finger in your direction in faux annoyance, but you saw it for what it was.

“Baby…” You crawled towards him, sitting in his lap, touching his cheek. “I didn't want to hide it, I just didn't want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?” He snorted, now holding a picture of you when you were thirteen.

You groaned.

“Please laser this right now.”

“Why? You look so… cute.” You tried to snatch it from him, but he wouldn't let it. “Awnnn, look at those buck teeth. You look like a rabbit.” He snickered.

“You mean, mean man!” But you giggled too.

As you found more pictures and drawings, and even one Homelander plushie—that he'd never let you live it down—the mood slowly lightened, and you both laughed as you told him all your embarrassing childhood stories. You knew your parents would tell him all anyway.

After a while, you were just laying down in each other's arms, sharing languid kisses in peaceful quietness.

“You know,” you murmured, fingers caressing his hair. “One day, you'll have all of this too. With me, with Ryan, with our future babies. We'll be the happiest family in the entire world.”

He then held your face so tenderly, eyes glassy again—but those were happy tears, a gentle smile on his face.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you more.”

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys x reader #asks #slasher-smasher #requests #i loveeed this request!#i really hope you like it #and it's what you had in mind #my first hl request fic im so nervous lol #my writing

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lunarw0rks · 7 months

Note

I’m a bit hooked on the 141 guys as fathers.Can you write what the boys would be like if they tracked their daughter's location and found out she was in a random parking lot?

synopsis: it's thirty-past-ten; she's late.

maybe it's traffic, or maybe it's a late bus. then, why the hell is she in a parking lot?

PRICE

they were supposed to watch a movie together when she got home, so at first, he felt disappointed.

not upset with her, but the circumstances. checking his watch, price knew two things; she was late, and if she showed up now, he'd be too exhausted to finish a two-hour film.

but after checking the tracker, all fatigue practically left his body. he expected to find her sitting in traffic but instead spotted her in a shady lot on the mini-map.

drove over there, eyes constantly flickering over at the screen as he traveled with purpose.

anger wasn't what he felt yet, despite how stern he could be at times. what if something was wrong? who was she with? what if she was taken, and it was only her phone left in the car?

his years of captures and hostages and loss were truly infecting his mind, but it wasn't an outrageous fear to have concerning a teen daughter.

point-blank, she shouldn't be out here at night. and if he had it his way — not out at all past eight. but she was growing up, capable of free will, and price could never deny her that.

as he drove, he left her voicemails, urging her to call him back. though he wanted to scream, his voice remained an eerie calm. "call me, sweetheart. 'm on my way to you now. please."

SIMON

the quickest acting of all of them, and definitely the most enraged.

his mind is already in the worst of places when she's out — so having a genuine reason to be worried; he's losing his mind.

without texting or calling her, he's speeding down the road before he knows it, already having the location memorized from his short glance.

simon pulls into the lot and spots her. no, them. a small group of teens huddled under a streetlight.

"goddammit." he hisses under his breath, torn between relief and paternal fury. some of them scatter at the sight of a dark vehicle, thinking it's the police, others look up with curiosity. his daughter only sighs, recognizing the car.

he walks with purpose, fists clenched at his sides. "all of you, go home." it's a simple order, and the rest of them are too intimidated to argue.

grabs his daughter's bag and walks back to the car, hearing her follow him without bickering.

she knows better than that, at least.

before he opens the passenger door for her, he looms over her, "are you outta your mind? you were supposed to be home an hour ago. just get in the bloody car, kid."

simon never yelled at her; the sternness was enough.

SOAP

completely livid, purely because it wasn't her he didn't trust — it was the world she lived in.

it's no secret, soap can be a bit of a hothead. especially involving those he loves. with children, it's a whole other level.

similar to simon, he drove there as quickly as the law would allow — and then some. his tires screeched when he pulled in, finding her sitting in her car.

assessing the situation, he found nothing abnormal or dangerous, and that pissed him off.

startling her, he knocked on the window, "open the door, missy. 'm in no mood for games." she does, hesitantly, because his daughter knows that she's in the wrong.

there was no real reason to be skipping out on her father, other than a streak of teenage edginess. and unfortunately for johnny, he had a bout of that himself.

she fumbles her way through an explanation but does little to ease soap's distress. anything could have been wrong, let alone the fact that she was sitting alone in a parking lot. "tell you wha' — you can follow me home. probably yer last time driving for a while."

he preached independence for his kids yet loathed not having them in his sight all hours of the day.

GAZ

wasn't in a perfect spot with his daughter when it happened.

it wasn't a complete shock to find her skipping out on him, especially after all the bickering.

the arguments weren't serious — until they were.

gaz is a stricter parent than he appears, especially with his daughters and especially as they get older.

luckily, the lot is within walking distance of their home, so he wasn't completely distraught.

finds her on the ground against the building, knees to her chest and sulking over the spat.

kyle is very blunt when he approaches her. "we can do this here all night, or we can argue at home. tell me your answer now so i don't waste my time."

"sure, dad, that's what i need; to be micro-managed some more." his daughter huffs, rising to her feet. she surely got his attitude. it was like arguing with a mirror, and he loved/hated it.

his eyes roll, and he isn't in any mood to actually argue with her, let alone in the middle of a dim lot. "i'd rather you hate my guts safe in your room. now let's go."

—

༉‧₊˚. divider cred. - cafekitsune ⊹。

#rachel speaks #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #141 headcanons #141 hcs #cod headcanons #cod hcs #mw2 hcs #mw2 headcanons #task force 141 x reader #141 task force #tf 141 #mw2 fanfic

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heejayy · 1 year

Text

Shuri U. || A+ pt2

Warning • swearing, fingering, cunnilingus, praising, switch Shuri, switch reader, overstimulation

Genre • smut, fluff in the end ?

Pairing • Professor! Shuri x student! Black Reader

Wc: 2.4K

A/n: ignore any mistakes I’m sick and don’t feel like fixing them 😭

Dinner with your professor? In public? Has she lost her ever loving mind? If you two get recognized it’s over, you’re getting expelled and she’s getting fired. You sighed shaking your head, this better be worth it.

You grabbed your fur coat and hand bag making your way outside, she stood against her car already waiting for you.

You give her an apologetic smile “Sorry if I kept you waiting” she shook her head waving you off.

“No it’s fine I got here not too long ago” she smiles as she takes in your appearance, she must’ve liked it, her eyes continued to linger on your cleavage area. She knew you noticed because of the way you smirked “let’s save that for tonight, shall we?” She reciprocated your smirk leaning off the car, she held her hand out and you took it.

She led you to the passenger side opening the door for you “get in pretty girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek as you feeling your stomach flutter.

The car ride wasn’t so chatty, but filled with tension. You two usually don’t have to hold a conversation because it jumps right to the sex part. To pass time you watched the street lights outside pass, listening to slow Afro beats play low on the radio. You felt her hand creep up your thigh as she began massaging your it, she sent you a slight smirk before putting her focus back on the road. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little wet right now.

When you both arrived to the restaurant she hopped out the car and ran over to your side to open your door.

“That’s sweet of you but you don’t have to open my door for me Shuri I’m very much capable of doing it myself” she shook her head chucking.

“Nonsense, I asked you out so I’ll treat you” she held her hand out for you to grab, heat rushed to your cheeks as you grabbed it.

She led you to the restaurant door and opened it for you, the restaurant was gorgeous. Dim lightening with a classical music playing low off in the background. You were greeted by a hostess with a big smile who led you to your seats

“You like it so far?” Shuri asked as she peeked at you through her lashes all while trying to read the menu, you nodded with a smile. You couldn’t deny you were feeling some sort of nervousness sitting across from your very attractive professor. As your eyes nervously glossed over the food options, you could feel Shuri’s eyes flicker from her menu back up at you.

“You find something yet?” You pursed your lips sitting down the menu, “yeah.”

Shuri hummed.

“Why are you so suddenly quiet, normally you have more to say.”

“I don’t know, just a little awkward I guess.” Shuri chuckled.

“Don’t be nkosazana.”

Some time passed and you ordered your food, the longer you talked the more comfortable you got. Disregarding her being a strict professor she actually had a really warm personality. She’s funny, a bit sarcastic and very flirtatious.

“So what do you plan on doing after dinner?” She asked wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin. You shrugged taking a sip of your drink.

“I’m not sure, what are your plans?”

As if a switch flipped she gave you a sly smirk, “well I wanted to know if you would like to come back to my place, have a little wine, maybe talk a bit?” You chuckled at her trying to be discreet, while simultaneously implying something else.

“Baby if you wanna fuck just say that” She chuckled putting down her glass.

She laughed “Well that too.”

“Well then, we should get going” you smiled flirtatiously caressing her hand across the table. Shuri wasted no time calling the waitress over, paying for the bill then rushed you outside to her car. It was almost comical how eager she was to get you home.

The ride to Shuri’s place went smoother than expected. You opened up and talked more, come to find out you and Shuri have more in common than just, using each other for good grades and pleasure.

“Well that’s the end of the tour, do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it your home it’s beautiful, it screams regal but yet humble” she let out a small chuckle at your compliment.

“Thank you, usana.”

She pulled out a chair near her island and you took a seat, “would you like a glass of wine?” You nodded watching unlock her wine cabinet, of course she had her own wine cabinet.

“Here,” you two migrated from her kitchen to her couch, sipping on wine, cup after cup. Talking, flirting, and feeling on each other. Your legs were draped over her lap as she caressed your thighs. The way she was looking at you made your body shiver, and to make things worse the wine was starting to get to you.

Shuri bit her bottom lip raking her eyes over your body, her eyes kept flickering back to your exposed breast, “have I told you you looked nice tonight?” You smiled looking away feeling heat creep up to your cheeks.

“Don’t get shy now usana, I’ve seen how you act when we’re alone.”

“Mmm I only act like that for you” you whispered on her ear as you played with her curls. Shuri’s body slightly flinched from the feeling of your breath tickling her ear, it sent shivers down her spine and she liked it.

“Listen Shuri you don’t have to wine and dine me to get what you want I know why you brought me home so let’s cut the middle school shit and get to it” Shuri let out a chuckle as she rubbed her chin.

“Well damn I was trying to make you feel comfortable but alright let’s head to my room.”

Well now you felt bad.

“I didn’t mean to sound rude I just- I just don’t want to get all attached and shit, we ain’t never done this before so why now?” Her expression changed to an unreadable cold one.

“Not sure” was all she said, she slid your legs off of hers so she could stand, she grabbed your hand lifting you off the couch with ease “let’s go, now.”

You listened to her without question following her to her luxurious bedroom she showed you mere hours ago. Her aggressive grip on your wrist sent you into a frenzy, your pussy began to throb imagining her grip on your hips as she pounded into you.

“Get on your knees now.” She demanded closing the door.

“Yes ma’am” you lowered yourself to your knees and began tying your braids in a ponytail, you knew the routine.

“Good girl” she smiled caressing your chin before taking a seat on her bed, she unbuckled her pants pulling them off along with her boxers and threw them to the floor.

Her eyes hung low as they lingered on you “Come here sithandwa sam” you innocently looked up at her through your false lashes, she was leaning back on her elbows wearing a smug grin.

“Go ahead, I thought you weren’t shy” now annoyed with her you rolled your eyes and spread her pretty pecan brown thighs. To your surprise she was soaked, basically dripping. Her pussy was glistening in the dim light that lit her room. You gently ran your thumb over her clit, you watched her hips bucked wanting more.

“Do you see what you do to me usana?” This feeling was unfamiliar, this sense of control made you giddy. Normally when you eat her out she controls it, but now it’s like she’s giving herself to you. She looked so vulnerable laying there waiting for you to taste her. Not wasting anymore time you dove in, you gently kissed each of her thighs spending a little more time on one making sure to leave a mark. Hearing a soft moan come from above you made you smile.

“That feel nice baby?” Shuri nodded with a slight whimper. You parted her lips leaving a kiss on her clit, before sucking on it.

“O-oh shit baby!” Hearing her so pleased made you eager to continue. You snuck two fingers in and her hips bucked up aggressively. You slowly pumped in and out of her wet pussy feeling her slick walls against your fingers.

“Bast!” She moaned arching her back.

She moved her hips against your tongue wanting more. You picked up your pace not wanting to deny her anymore pleasure, “am I doing well?” You asked looking up.

“Y-yes baby, you’re doing good keep g-going.” God her fucked out voice made you insanely wet, you had to clench your own thighs to stop the throbbing sensation.

You slid out your fingers and gripped her hips to hold them down, “baby you have to be still” she just whined in response, she was close and you could tell. To calm her you caressed her hips in a circular motion with your thumbs but the more you did that the squirmier she became and the louder her moans got.

“My baby’s close?”

“Nnghhh fuck!”

“I take that as a yes” you giggle, wanting her to reach her high fast you sucked and licked on her clit, abusing it as if it was your last meal. Before you knew it she was cumming, no matter how fast you tried to lick up her juices she kept cumming. “Oh shit!” her hands gripped your braids as a wave of pleasure went through her. You gave her pussy one last kiss before coming up from between her thighs. You licked your fingers clean of her cum smiling, she tasted good.

“Damn,” she huffed trying to level her breathing. You giggle feeling an instantly shy afterwards.

She sat up with a look in her eye, “come here” you knew what she wanted. She grabbed the back of your neck pulling you in to kiss you, she had a thing for tasting her cum on your lips.

She pulled back with a smirk, you know that look. She was about to fuck your shit up.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” You did as she asked slipping your bodycon dress off letting it pool down to your ankles. Her eyes watched your figure up and down as if she was ready to devour you, a smile appeared on her lips.

“You look good in white” she complimented referring to your lingerie, you smiled feeling your cheeks become warm. While you crawled on the bed she hopped off walking to her nightstand, you knew what she was getting.

She came back to your side of the bed holding a harness “strap on or no?” You took a second to think.

“No strap on” she smiled unhooking the dildo from the harness.

She climbed on top of you lowering herself to kiss you, she kissed down your jaw, neck and back up to your lips. She was eager and wanted you bad.

“Baby don’t tease me please” wanting to give you what you want she lowered her self near your hips taking your panties between her teeth. She slowly pulled them down discarding them on floor with the rest of your clothes, she then reached her tatted hand up your back to unclip your bra throwing that too.

“Usana spread those pretty legs for me” you did as asked.

She smiled gliding the tip of the dildo between your wet folds, you let out a small whimper immediately wanting more “behave now I haven’t even started yet.”

She slid her dildo in, not even giving you and chance to adjust to it she started pumping it in. The deeper she went the father your back arched, she knew exactly where your spot was to send you over the edge instantly. While she occupied your pussy she crept her other hand up your body to tease your nipples, pinching and turning them just how you liked. Your

“S-slow down baby I don’t wanna cum j-just yet” did she listen? No. She kept going at that steady but rapid pace. Your whines echoed off the walls as you began to clench around her dildo. Your eyes were screwed shut so tight you were seeing dots, when you tried to clench your thighs she immediately grabbed one holding them open.

“F-fuck Shuri I’m close, I’m close! Please!” Shuri stayed silent enjoying your body unraveling under her touch. She watched the dildo appear and disappear out of your pussy as a white ring started to form at the base, she wanted to lick the cream off so bad.

A few more pumps and you were cumming all over her, “oh fuck!” She hummed in satisfaction watching you fall apart as cum slid down your thighs. Shuri then slid out her dildo and before you could protest she replaced it with her mouth. Licking and sucking up you juices, she hummed against your clit with her eyes focused on you. Your eyes were glossy as a single tear slid down your cheek.

“Fuck Shuri! Don’t stop d-don’t stop!” She slipped two fingers in pushing up against that one spot, fucking you with her fingers until she felt warm liquid against her tongue.

When she thought you’ve had enough came up from between your legs and softly kissed you on the lips, she stroked your braids giving you another kiss on your forehead.

“Good girl, you did so well” you whined still feeling hazy and sensitive. Shuri got up to get a warm rag cleaning you and herself up. Feeling a little weak herself she got back in bed pulling the covers up wrapping you both in them.

“Shouldn’t we shower?” You mumbled laying against her chest.

“Shh we’ll clean up later” she hummed softy as her accent smoothly rolled off her tongue.

Shuri knew she was making a mistake. She was going against her rules but she couldn’t help it with you, she was more than attracted to you, she genuinely liked you and that was dangerous on its own. She sighed watching you lay on her chest drifting off to sleep, you looked so pretty and peaceful. So peaceful that she might even give this so called situationship a chance.

“Goodnight y/n.”

“Mmm night Shuri.”

Taglist 💌 : @abenomeiiii , @lustfulbarbie , @locoforshuri , @6-noir , @saintwrld , @zayswriting , @vampzxi, @ihearttish, @cafehyunji, @ccharrrr, @sapphicvqmpires

#Spotify #shuri x black!fem reader #Shuri smut #shuri x black!reader #Shuri x reader #lesbian #x black reader #letitia wright #shuri udaku #18+#mdni

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mrprettywhenhecries · 5 months

Text

don't waste your time (on me) [g.t]

01. | Please, Deputy?

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 1.6k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, dubcon/coercion (somewhat, if you squint), pervy!gator, inexperienced virgin!gator ⇾ a/n: Gator's got me in a chokehold, so here we go and I've got plenty more ideas where this came from.

Win gets caught speeding. One more ticket and her license is suspended, and she can’t have that. When she offers to do anything to get out of getting a ticket, the good Deputy takes her up on her offer.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

“Shit shit shit,” Win hissed under her breath as blue and reds appeared in her rearview mirror. By the time she’d flown past the sheriff’s car parked at the corner, she knew it was too late. “Fuck!” she growled, smacking her hand on the steering wheel as she reluctantly slowed and pulled off the road. She’d already had three tickets in the past six months, with this one her license would be good as suspended.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she reached in her glove compartment for her registration and insurance card, waiting for the telltale crunch of boots on gravel, signaling the officer’s approach.

“Goin’ a little fast there, ey Lewis?”

Win winced at the familiar voice. Of course it had to be Gator Tillman.

“Deputy,” she greeted flatly, staring straight ahead, already holding out her license to him.

“How fast you think you were going there?” he repeated, plucking the card from her fingers, and Win shrugged noncommittally.

“Dunno, maybe sixty, sixty five,” she lied, knowing full well it was far more than that.

“Try close on eighty,” Gator snorted, turning his head and spitting on the ground before leaning against the side of her Chevelle with one arm. “I’m afraid I’m gunna need to see your registration and proof of insurance,” he prompted, not sounding very sorry at all. “Really?” Win sighed, finally turning to look at him. “C’mon, Gator, can’t you just let this one slide? Please? I can’t afford to lose my license,” she pleaded, her voice cracking.

“I dunno…” Gator mused, peering at her from under the bill of his Stark County Sheriff cap with those big brown eyes of his. “Seems like you haven’t learned your lesson yet, missy. I’m just doin’ my job, you know?” he drawled, his lips curling into a smirk.

“C’mon, Gator, don’t make me beg,” Win whined, scowling at the smug look on his face before taking a deep breath, hating how low she was about to stoop. “Isn’t there anything I can do to change your mind?” she asked pointedly, hoping this was an offer a little perv like him wouldn’t be able to pass up.

Gator wet his lips, the gears turning as he stared at her, her words sinking in.

“Anything?” he asked, a hopeful look flickering in his eyes. “Just for the record, what exactly are you offerin’, Winnie?”

Win rolled her eyes, ignoring the overly familiar nickname and the way it sounded on his lips. “Do I gotta spell it out for you, Deputy? I’ll suck your cock if you forget how fast I was goin',” she huffed impatiently.

“Really?” Gator yelped, hastily clearing his throat and straightening, adjusting his camo cargo pants against the growing bulge beneath the fabric. “I mean, alright, since you insisted,” he said, rubbing his nose and shrugging, trying not to appear too eager.

“You’re clean, right?” Win asked, looking him up and down doubtfully as she pushed her door open and stepped out onto the pavement.

“Whaddaya mean? I showered this mornin’,” he answered with a frown, lifting an arm and discreetly smelling himself.

Win rolled her eyes, stepping closer. “I mean, you don’t have any STI’s or anything like that, right?”

“Oh! Uh, no,” Gator exclaimed, nervously adjusting his ball cap, as if unsure what exactly to do with his gloved hands.

“You sure?” Win pressed, suspicious of the way he dodged her gaze.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he muttered defensively. “I’ve never, uh–” his words trailed off as a dark flush rose up his neck.

“Never fucked anyone?” Win snorted and his expression darkened.

“You gunna suck my dick or not?” Gator snapped, palming himself impatiently.

Win glanced toward his cruiser. “Yeah, just– your dash cam’s not on, right? I don’t want footage of this floating around,” she murmured and Gator followed her gaze.

“It’s off,” he assured her, a little too quickly. “I swear,” he insisted when she looked doubtful. “C’mon, would I lie to you?” he asked, spreading his hands and offering her a lopsided grin that made her pulse quicken traitorously and heat rise to her face, her own body betraying her.

“Probably,” she muttered, but didn’t argue further, pushing him back against the side of her car and holding his gaze as she lowered herself to her knees before him.

“Oh fuck–” Gator breathed, his voice hoarse, and he quickly fumbled at his belt, easing his pants down enough to free his throbbing cock from his boxers.

When it sprung free, Win unconsciously licked her lips, admiring him discreetly, his mushroom head a pretty pink, pre cum already glistening at his slit. Closing her eyes, she wrapped a hand around his base, steadying herself as she opened her mouth, her tongue swiping a long slow stripe up the bottom of his length before swirling agilely around his pulsing head.

Gator let out a whimper that melted to a loud groan as his head fell back, resting against the top of the car behind him with a soft thunk, his mouth falling open. One of his hands slipped behind Win’s head, his gloved fingers tangling in her hair.

“Shit, your mouth feels so good,” he breathed, his hips bucking involuntarily as she swallowed more of him, gagging as he hit the back of her throat suddenly, her nose buried in his dark thatch of hair at his base.

“Sorry,” he grunted, fighting to still himself as Win’s head began to bob, picking up pace.

“Oh shitshitshit, goddamn baby, your mouth feels so good,” he repeated, Win’s saliva rolling down her chin and his balls. “God, you’re so good at this,” he hissed, his grip on her head tightening, hips jerking forward again.

Win breathed through her nose, humming in response, her body flushing hotly at his praise despite the disgust that followed. Opening her jaw wider, she gave in to letting him fuck her face, letting him use her for his pleasure.

The sounds he made were almost sinful and Win squeezed his thigh with her other hand, fighting not to touch herself to relieve the aching heat building between her own thighs and pooling in her panties.

“Shit, I’m close,” Gator whined breathlessly, his cock swelling in her throat. “Gunna cum all over your pretty mouth, Winnie. You’re such a good little slut for me,” he babbled, growing more confident as his thrusts turned sloppy.

Tears pricked the corners of Win’s eyes, catching in her lashes as her jaw began to ache and Gator hissed sharply as her teeth grazed him, but he was already cumming, shooting white ropes down her throat, flooding her mouth with his salty essence, a guttural string of curses leaving his lips as he emptied himself, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.

Finally stilling, his cock going soft, the Deputy fought to catch his breath, watching greedily as Win pulled back, some of his seed rolling down her chin and glistening on her pink lips.

“Wait—“ he said, grabbing her by the chin to hold her in place. “Open,” he instructed, wanting to see the mess he’d made and Win obeyed, opening her mouth for him before swallowing, her eyes flicking up to his.

“Good girl,” he murmured, releasing her, and Win quickly wiped her chin with the back of her hand before getting unsteadily to her feet, Gator tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up his pants.

“Careful,” he said, reaching out to steady her and noticing the tears glistening in her lashes. “You okay?” he asked, suddenly worried he’d hurt her.

“Never better,” Win huffed, her voice dripping sarcasm, but she didn’t pull away from him, trying to ignore the heat pulsing between her legs and the intrusive thought that accompanied it—wondering how pretty Gator’d look between her thighs, those big brown eyes looking up at her eagerly as he made her cum on his mouth.

He probably wouldn’t even be able to find my clit, she reminded herself. So why was the idea of her helping him learn so appealing?

“You sure you’re good, Win? Your face is really red,” he pointed out. “Need me to escort you home, make sure you get there alright?”

Gator’s words pulled her from her thoughts and she cleared her throat, swallowing sorely.

“I’m sure,” she replied quickly and he finally released her arm. “Wouldn’t be in this predicament if not for you,” she muttered, though she found it strangely sweet of him to offer.

Gator nodded, adjusting his cap. “Right then, guess I’ll be seein’ ya,” he murmured. “Oh—your license,” he remembered, handing it back to her. “Night, Lewis,” he said, looping his thumbs in his belt as he ambled back to his cruiser.

“Yeah, night Deputy,” Win murmured, watching him walk away before shaking herself and pulling her car door open. She had to get home to take care of something, her panties practically soaked through, though the last thing she wanted was for Gator to know that, to know the effect he’d had on her.

“Oh, and take it easy on the road, ey? Would hate to have to pull you over again,” Gator called, a shit eating grin pulling at his lips.

Win rolled her eyes, sticking her hand out the window to flip him off before driving away.

Back in his cruiser, Gator watched her peel out, chuckling to himself before opening the laptop mounted to his console. Biting his lip, he checked the dash cam recording, heat flooding him afresh as he watched her get to her knees. Saving the video, he made a copy, backing it up on a thumb drive he slipped into his pocket before deleting the footage from record and pulling back out onto the road, his stomach growling loudly. After that, he really needed a snack.

⇾ taglist. @b1tchy3lf @heartbreak-sandwich

#gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #gator tillman fanfiction #fargo #fargo fx #fargo s5 #oc: win lewis #joz.fic #fic: don’t waste your time on me #otp: wingator

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ponyosmom35 · 5 months

Text

history repeats itself

Simon ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter sixteen!

summary: reader is back with 141, this time finding herself in Los Almas, Mexico. She is excited to reunite with Simon and Johnny, until a familiar masked man yells at her.

Liability masterlist

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Six months later, she returned to the familiar grounds of the military base, now serving as the on-base medical assistant for Task Force 141. The journey back had not been swift; months were spent navigating the bureaucratic maze of background checks and official procedures. As she settled into her new role, the echoes of the past lingered in her mind.

In the quiet moments between medical duties, her thoughts often drifted to him. The absence he left behind during her departure had created a void that time and distance had failed to fill. She found herself longing for a connection that she once took for granted, a connection she now regretted not vocalizing.

Despite the passage of time and the fact that he never bothered to reach out, the prospect of seeing Simon again excited her. The anticipation of encountering him once more stirred a mix of emotions—hope, nervousness, and an undeniable longing.

The moment finally arrived when she saw him again after six long months. As her eyes caught sight of Simon amidst the surroundings of the military base, a rush of emotions swept over her.

For a brief moment, time seemed to slow as she took in the sight of him. The magnetic pull she had always felt was undeniable, and her heart skipped a beat as if echoing the rhythm of unspoken emotions. It was a familiar feeling, yet tinged with the anticipation of a new beginning.

As she observed him from a distance, her eyes traced the contours of his features, rediscovering the details that had etched themselves into her memory. The way he moved, the intensity in his gaze—every nuance resonated with a familiarity that felt like coming home. She couldn't help but marvel at how he seemed to carry both strength and power in his presence.

However, her enchantment was abruptly disrupted when she noticed the telltale signs of a storm brewing within him. His walk, once confident and steady, now carried an unmistakable edge of anger. It was a jarring contrast to the Simon she had known, and the realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind.

As he approached, the air crackled with tension, and the once-anticipated reunion took an unexpected turn. His angry demeanor left her momentarily stunned, a sharp contrast to the romanticized version of their encounter that had played out in her mind. The distance he maintained, both physical and emotional, became palpable, causing the spark of rekindled love to flicker uncertainly.

The atmosphere became charged with unspoken words and a turbulent energy that threatened to reshape the narrative of their reunion. The journey from the elation of seeing him again to the harsh reality of his angered approach was a rollercoaster of emotions, leaving her grappling with the complexity of their connection.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he demands

She looks up at him in horror “what's with the hostility?”

“You shouldn’t be here”

“I've heard that one before, we've been over this already!” she attmpets to joke

“Unfucking believable” he curses

“Simon why are you saying this?”

“Because it's true!”

“what changed? you don't see me for months and now you treat me like I'm nothing?”

“You're a liability! We are in Mexico! Las Almas is ran by a cartel, and you think your presence here will do us any good? What has Price got to say about this?”

“Simon-”

“You will refer to me as Ghost from here on out, do you understand?”

“Okay fine, fuck you Ghost!” she argues

“What was that?”

“you heard me”

“You-”

“why are you so intent on replaying history Simon? I thought we were friends, I see now that I was wrong” she snaps as she picks up her luggage once more

“we're here for a mission, our past has nothing to do with it. go put your stuff away and acquaint yourself with the other medics”

She does not say a word as she leaves him alone at the door. Tears well in her eyes and she attempts to avoid the stares she received from the people around her. It felt like she was starting over again. Reminders of how awful her first month back in the UK were flash through her mind. Somehow she’d managed to turn the only person she’d ever loved against her. After making it to her room she sets her things down, shocked as she spots another cot in the corner of the room. She as hoping she’d be alone. She picks through the person’s belongings until she spots a pair of skeleton gloves. Her breath hitches and she sits down on the bed. Tears sting in her eyes, feeling more alone than ever.

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bun-z-bakery · 11 days

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A/N: sorry for the super late repost 💀 but hey better late than never! If the format is weird on this post or the others, no it isn't it's just you (yes it is and my notes app is about to explode atp)

Deeper And Darker (5)

You peek out of the safe room you were resting in, making sure it's safe for you to press on without having to put up a fight. Not a single soul in sight but yours. the echo of your footsteps and your shaky breath served as a reminder you were truly alone.

You played almost all of her little games.

As much as you regret your decisions leading up to this point, you wonder if pressing was worth it.

There's no prize for this and you knew that.

Placed ever so conveniently was a gate with a lever behind it.

"Greatttt..."

Now you're even more frustrated, trying to reach the lever to pull it as useless, you've tried almost everything to get to it.

The sound of a siren blaring stops you, making you quickly move away from the gate.

A pink creature you've seen before reveals itself behind the rising gate, you instantly recognize her, kissy missy. She was adorable in the drawings and cardboard cutouts, but seeing her in person... And alive terrified you, especially after seeing what these monsters could do.

"Y-yes yes!"

You plead as she looks over to the lever, now inches away from you, you didn't exactly think this through, you almost didn't outrun Huggy, and this area didn't have many hiding spots either.

"O-open it please, I-I have to go over there"

She fumbles trying to pull the lever, and finally, the gate opens. She turns around and gives you a lingering look

Oh god she's gonna kill me

You give her a thumbs-up before she walks off.

You enter what you hope is the final game area. It's dimly lit just like the others, but this one wasn't exactly one you were too excited about.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

"What the hell is a pug-a-pillar?"

You whisper, raising your eyebrows.

"It was always so sad to see the kids go... They called me "Mommy" because I was the closest thing they ever had to one."

She startles you, making you jump.

"But they'd come for games, and never come back. They left Mommy to die alone."

She paused.

"Mommy didn't deserve that! But you? You're here, with no one to call for help. So if anyone deserves to die alone, it's you."

You paled.

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts once you heard the sound of hundreds of little legs crawling right behind you.

You hated this game, and you hated that thing! The game was dragging on way too much. The office behind the glass glowed in the darkness.

That's when an idea struck. The lights flickered back on; there were only a few seconds before they'd dim again. You decide to take your chance and use your grab pack to swing from a pipe, crashing into the glass and falling onto the office floor.

"Ah!"

The pain rushing through your arm forces you to look down, and you notice blood;

A shard of glass had sliced you through your jacket.

"Where did you go? The game is over, you won!" Her voice echoes through the intercom. You quickly pick yourself up and rush down a hole, which leads under the office. "You won! Come back and Mommy will give you the code. Pinky promise!"

You swing to the other side of the room with your grab pack. "Mommy knows the game is really hard, but Mommy just decided you won!" She let out a terrifying, high-pitched laugh.

"Come back!"

Her facade finally broke once she realized you weren't coming back; now you had to run.

Your arm is still bleeding; the gash wasn't too deep, but it was enough for blood to continue running.

You gasp, remembering you have something that would now be useful.

"Switchblade!"

Quickly, you took it out of your pocket, noting you had to work fast. You cut away at the bottom of your pants, making a makeshift bandage as you mentally thanked Ethan. The deeper you go, the more you wonder if this is worth all the trouble. The sounds of dripping water and your footsteps echo through the halls.

"Oh crap!" You quickly turn and bolt the other way as Mommy starts chasing you from above. The number of sharp turns, jumps, and close calls was starting to take a toll on your body.

"Come on come on!!" The panic started to set in as the gate you accessed was rising a bit too slowly; she was gaining on you. Finally opening enough, you quickly slip into the room. A machine with sharp spikes catches your eye, and you quickly pull the lever. She rushes into the room, making you back into a corner.

Abruptly, her leg is caught in the machine, and her screams fill the room as she fails to escape the spikes. You quickly cover your ears and close your eyes, turning away from the scene unfolding in front of you.

Finally, her screams of agony stop.

hesitantly, you open your eyes as you uncover your ears.

You tremble as you fall to your knees; the victory was yours once again

"Good riddance!"

You laugh as you weakly try to stand. But, the sound of metal moving makes you freeze in place. A metal hand reveals itself, feeling around and finally taking hold of the dead spider toy, dragging her remains into the darkness.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

Silence followed you once again, but this time it was a welcome silence. With all these twists and turns, you wondered how anyone managed to get around.

Maybe they had shortcuts.

You dismissed your thoughts upon finding yourself in front of a control panel. Taking a step towards the controls, a familiar voice makes itself known.

"Did you kill her?"

"Poppy!" Relief washed over you once you realized she was safe.

"Yeah, she's um... Dead"

"Good, I'll board the train"

she says, making her way into a small vent.

"We need to leave."

The excitement rushes through your body upon hearing those last words, and tears swell in your eyes.

"I'm going home."

Your voice breaks as the memories of home rush through your head.

Taking a seat on the train, you pull out the train codes you fought so hard for; victory never tasted better. However you look around, the silence on the train is odd then you realize

"Poppy? Are you in here?"

The train moves slowly now, picking up momentum, you continue to look around, trying to find any small spots she might be hiding in.

"I was so scared she'd put me back in that case."

Poppy's soft voice came from the speakers.

"But you saved me... You're perfect!"

You smile at the odd compliment.

"Too perfect to lose. I'm sorry. I can't let you leave."

She goes on with her speech until she's randomly cut off, and the train starts to speed up a bit too fast for comfort.

A red light flashes as you frantically try pulling the brake lever.

"Poppy what the hell?! This isn't funny!"

Your screams were probably heard by the whole factory as you shut your eyes, preparing for the worst.

You feel helpless as sit there, bracing yourself for your inevitable death as the train finally derails, crashing into the darkness.

Pain courses through your body as you fade in and out of consciousness. Your body is fighting against you as you attempt to crawl away from the wreckage. For a split second, you could have sworn you saw a creature staring at you from a distance.

"N-no... Please"

Was all you were able to muster out as your body became weaker until your vision was entrapped by darkness

#bun z writes #dogday x y/n #sunnyangel #dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader

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thefiresofpompeii · 3 months

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well that was good. creative and original and weird and psychedelic. i don’t have much to say about it honestly apart from one aspect i’d have changed: i’d have had the solitract start malfunctioning a little bit in a body horror/psychological horror way as it tries to display its consciousness in the form of a person the doctor has lost to lure her in. problem: the doctor has lost so many people that it just keeps fluctuating wildly between them, unable to pause at just one image. just imagine, a flickering 3-d projection that’s river one second, missy the next, bill another; amy morphing into donna, voice cracking and glitching as it tries to find the one person the doctor misses most and failing because she misses them all equally in their own special way, and eventually having to settle on the frog as an absurd enough avatar to be able to face the doctor head-on, without the frills and simulations: a sentient universe speaking to a sentient universe, an exiled lonely god making friends with an exiled lonely god. but apart from that, this episode was nearly perfect, the first of thirteen’s to make me tear up, and the first time akinola’s score ever managed to be touching emotionally in the way gold’s music so frequently was. 9/10

r/gallifrey has the right idea:

#jamie catches up #it takes you away #dw #doctor who #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #jodie whittaker #jamie.txt #doctor who series 11

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sisterspooky1013 · 5 months

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Gaslight, Chapter 30/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

All three men join them on the drive back to the safehouse so they can bring the files up in one trip. They’ve been careful, moving only between the Gunmen’s house and their secret apartment, diligently watching for recurring vehicles and changing their route at random. The purported Jehovah’s Witnesses have not knocked on the Gunmen’s door again, however they’ve seen a utility worker checking gas meters as well as an unfamiliar mail carrier on the street, so they are operating under the assumption that the house is being monitored to some degree.

Scully is too emotionally exhausted to summon the energy for paranoia, so she keeps her head down and allows her male companions to watch for anyone nefarious who might be following them. After all five boxes of files are deposited on the kitchen counter in the safehouse, the Gunmen wish them a good night and remind them to set the alarm, and once again she and Mulder are alone.

Alone. She still feels so alone, now maybe more than ever. She can’t stop thinking about Missy bleeding out in her entryway, about the vacancies in her ovaries where her future children should be. Mulder is standing in the living room window, hands in his pockets, staring blankly at the gray walls of the surrounding buildings. The memories stored in the very cells of her body are begging her to go to him, to seek comfort in his touch and the smell of his skin. But while he does seem to believe that she is who she says she is, he doesn’t remember her. The question of why is too painful to consider.

She slumps onto the couch with a weary sigh and he turns around, then carefully makes his way over and sits on the other end, as far away from her as possible.

“I’m sorry about your sister,” he says, and she looks at him, desperate to find some flicker of recognition. It’s Mulder’s face, Mulder’s eyes, Mulder’s voice. It’s him, but there’s something missing. The part that knows her. That loves her.

“I’m sorry about yours as well,” she says quietly, and his expression falls. She looks at her feet, feeling maudlin and guilty. This isn’t his fault; they’re both victims here. “Are you afraid of what you’ll find? Is that it?” she asks, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

He’s quiet for a long time, but she can sense the buzzing of his thoughts, and waits patiently for his answer.

“If I read those files, and what I learn is that everyone I know is lying to me…” his voice catches and he stops. Again, she waits. “Won’t that be even worse? To have nothing, and no one?”

She considers her words carefully. It feels incredibly profound to have the opportunity to tell someone who they are. What they believe. What they would want for themselves. She shifts so that her back is against the arm rest, her legs folded up on the cushion in front of her. Mulder pivots his body towards hers as well, his expression expectant.

“There is still so much that I don’t remember,” she tells him, “but I know you. And there is nothing that is more important to you than the truth. Even if it’s painful. Even if it’s inconvenient.” She points to the row of boxes lined up on the counter, and his eyes follow her finger. “The Mulder that I know would have torn through every single one of those documents the second we walked through the Gunmen’s door.” Her voice begins to quaver and she clears her throat. “And I believe that if you will please just read those files, you might remember that.”

Despite her best efforts, a tear springs free and runs down to the corner of her mouth. Mulder watches it fall, and then looks at the floor. His chest rises and falls heavily, and after a few moments, he stands. He stalks toward the back of the apartment, disappearing through the bathroom door, and her heart sinks. Minutes pass. Horrible, desperate minutes in which she has horrible, desperate thoughts about how she can possibly extricate herself from this torment. The toilet flushes, the bathroom door opens, and he appears back in the doorway.

“Okay,” he says with an air of finality, his shoulders squared. “Let’s get this over with.”

She expects that the information regarding Samantha’s abduction will be the most difficult for him to accept. She can recall the way it consumed him, the way it defined the edges of both their lives. She expects it to be just as big, just as prominent, just as important. She is wrong.

His mother and father, both liars. That fact gives him pause, makes him stop and walk out onto the balcony to collect his thoughts. The idea that his parents are unkind to him feels familiar, and it makes her so indescribably sad. But he moves past it, keeps reading page after page with a set jaw and a blank expression. When it comes to Samantha, he tells her he’s had dreams. He says that it makes sense, in a way, like the final piece of a puzzle. He keeps reading, and she wonders if he will truly find himself again.

It isn’t until he gets to the parts of the file regarding his life with Diana that he starts to lose control. Starts clenching and unclenching his fists, heaving frustrated sighs and chewing on his bottom lip. She wants to ask him what he’s reading, what he is learning that has him so agitated, but it feels like information that she isn’t entitled to. There was a time that she suspected Cal of being in on it, of lying to her, and she feels a great deal of empathy for Mulder that her worst unfounded fear is his reality. He turns a page over and taps his index finger rapidly against the back of it, his nostrils flaring.

“Are you okay?” she asks from her spot curled up on one end of the couch.

She watches the flex of his jaw as his eyes scan wildly over the documents on top of the coffee table. He seems to calm suddenly, running the tips of his fingers under the lip of the tabletop thoughtfully.

“Mulder—”

He stands with an agonized shout, grabbing the edge of the table and flipping it over. It crashes against a shelf and papers go flying, fluttering through the air like falling snow. Scully’s heart leaps and begins to race, but she stays calm and waits to see what he does next.

“Did you know?” he asks angrily, spinning to look at her. She’s too stunned to speak, so she just shakes her head, not understanding the question. “Did you know that she did this?!” he asks again, taking two steps toward her and pointing at the mess on the floor.

“I don’t know anything, Mulder,” she says softly, pressing herself into the corner of the couch.

“I need to get out of here,” he says, stalking toward the door.

Scully leaps up and rushes past him, putting herself between him and the door just as he’s reaching for the knob.

“You can’t leave, Mulder, it’s not safe,” she pleads.

“Get out of my way, Scully,” he growls, not looking at her. “I can’t be here, I just need…I need to go. Please.” Now it is he who is begging.

“No,” she says resolutely, straightening up to make herself as large as possible. “I’m not going to let you do that.”

He slowly lifts his eyes to hers, and there is so much pain there it nearly takes her breath away.

“She lied to me,” he croaks. “About everything. We’re not married, I never left the FBI, she’s not a fucking lawyer.”

His chin puckers and he looks at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Scully whispers, though she knows that she is not the one he needs an apology from.

When he looks back at her, his eyes are wet.

“She let me believe that I cheated on her. She made me believe it. She held it over me, Scully, she—”

She reaches for him then, and he accepts her embrace. He collapses slowly toward the floor in increments, a sinking ship, and she escorts him down to the bottom. To the depths of his loss, his pain, his betrayal. He leans heavily into her and she strokes his hair, rubs his back, tells him how sorry she is that this happened to him. To them. She thinks again about Missy, about Emily, about the terrors that her body has gone through. While she is technically the one providing comfort, she allows herself to take it as well. From the feeling of his muscles flexing under her palm with his shuddering breaths, the weight of his head on her shoulder, the smell of his breath—something she didn’t realize she knew so intimately. They sit there like that, feet from the doorway, until the room starts to grow dim with the setting sun.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” she says sweetly, the way his mother should have, but never did. “I think that’s enough reading for today.”

She helps him into the bedroom and out of his clothes, not allowing her eyes to linger on his chest and belly, not allowing herself to remember how they feel pressed against her bare skin. She tucks him in, but when she moves to leave he grabs her hand.

“Do you need something?” she asks, searching his face and raking her fingers through his hair.

“Could you sleep in here? Is that…would that be okay?” he asks, so vulnerable it makes her chest ache. “You don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable,” he adds, breaking eye contact.

“Sure,” she says lightly, as though her heart isn’t about to burst at the idea of being so near to him, of sharing a bed—even if chastely. “I need to go get ready for bed, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

She smiles at him, and he attempts a smile back. In the bathroom, she changes into her pajamas, washes her face, and brushes her teeth. By the time she arrives back in the bedroom Mulder is quiet and still, and she can tell by his even breathing that he’s fallen asleep. She considers going back to the couch, given that he seems to be sleeping just fine without her, but she told him she would sleep in the bedroom with him and she won’t allow herself to be added to his list of broken promises and lies.

Carefully, she draws the covers back and slips underneath them. Mulder is lying on his back right in the center of the mattress, so she lays on her side as close to the edge as she can get, both to avoid waking him and to reduce the possibility that she’ll gravitate toward him in her sleep and potentially make him uncomfortable. She feels concurrently exhausted and wired, and she focuses on the steady hush of Mulder’s breaths in and out, synching her own breathing to his. There’s something familiar about this—lying beside him, keeping her distance while craving closeness. She allows her mind to wander, and her eyes to fall closed.

“What are you thinking about?”

She blushes, even though she knows that he cannot see her face in the murky dark of his motel room. Truthfully, she was thinking about his half-naked body, dappled with drops of water from his shower. She was thinking about the towel slung low on his hips, and the trail of hair below his belly button that disappeared beneath that towel.

“Nothing, just can’t sleep,” she lies, and he hums. A beat passes, and the air feels thick with anticipation, setting the hairs on her arms on end. “What are you thinking about?” she asks him, sensing that he has something to say.

She hears the wet sounds of his lips and tongue forming words that don’t make their way out of his mouth. Her heart starts to pound, though she can’t rightly say why.

“I’m afraid to tell you what I’m thinking about,” he finally admits. “I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

She has never wanted to know anything more in her entire life. Are her instincts correct? Is he thinking about what she thinks he is? What she hopes he is?

“Is it bad?” she asks, testing the waters.

A pause. He clears his throat.

“That’s fairly subjective. I’m not sure if you’ll think it’s bad, and I suppose that’s what I’m worried about.”

“Please tell me,” she says, not even caring that the desperation she feels can easily be heard in her voice.

She feels the mattress dip and hears the rustle of the blankets as he rolls to his side. They are now face to face, the minty heat of his breath warming her cheeks. She can’t see him nearly at all, save for a vague outline, and for that she is grateful.

“You know how important you are to me,” he says softly, and she nods, even though he didn’t ask a question, and he can’t see her. “I can’t risk the possibility of losing you.”

“You won’t, Mulder,” she tells him. Inside, she’s screaming for him to come out with it, to be brave enough for them both.

She feels the tips of his fingers bump up against her elbow, and he follows her arm up to her shoulder, then her neck, finally cradling her jaw in his palm. He runs the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, and she closes her eyes. Please, please, please, she begs.

He begins to pull his hand away and she grabs it, holding it against her chest.

“Please tell me,” she says again, giving his hand a squeeze.

He shifts, moving closer, returning his hand to her jaw. She tilts her chin up, letting her lips fall open, and when she feels the brush of his breath against her mouth, she arches up, meeting him halfway. Her whole body relaxes, and he pulls her close as he kisses her again. And again. And again.

She shoots up in the bed, disoriented and panicked. Mulder is thrashing beside her, kicking at the sheets and shouting half-deciperable gibberish.

“No! She…she…leave her alone!” he wails, swiping at nothing in the air in front of him.

Muscle memory kicks in. She’s done this before.

“Mulder, it’s okay,” she says, touching his shoulder. “You’re dreaming. You’re safe.”

“Don’t touch me!” he barks, throwing an elbow that collides with her cheek bone.

She cries out and scoots away from him, one hand cradling her throbbing face. She reaches for the bedside lamp and switches it on, squinting and blinking as her eyes attempt to adjust. Mulder shields his eyes with his forearms.

“Samantha!” he keens, and her stomach drops as she remembers that light does not help. Bright lights are a trigger.

She switches the lamp back off, trying to remember how she used to calm him down in these moments. Pressure. Weight. That’s what he needs. To feel grounded, to find himself in place and time.

She pitches herself onto him, shielding her face from his flailing arms with her own. She moves quickly, not giving him a chance to throw her before she sits on his chest, her knees tucked into his armpits. She folds her body in half, bringing her mouth as close to his ear as she can get it, and shouts, “Mulder, stop!”

He startles, and his arms and legs freeze before they slowly drop down to the mattress. Now that he’s quiet, she can hear his ragged breaths and feel the hummingbird beat of his heart against her thighs.

“You’re okay,” she says gently. “You’re safe. It was just a dream. You’re safe.”

His heart slows. He doesn’t speak. There is a shuddering breath, and then the bark of a sob. He brings his hand up and covers his mouth, but his chest lurches beneath her and gives him away. She attempts to move off of him, but he grips her upper arms urgently so she stays close, tucking her body against his flank and laying her head on his chest. He holds her so tightly it hurts, his fingers twisted up in her pajama top and his face buried in her hair. And she feels awful, so incredibly awful, because it feels so, so good. To be held by him, to be wanted, and needed. She breathes him in deep, holds him right back, cries her own tears of relief. This isn’t how she wanted it to happen, but if it’s all she can get, she will happily take it. Just to be near him.

It will have to be enough for now.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #x files #xf fanfic #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

Angel by the Wing - FIVE

Chapter Warnings: canon cancer of a character

Series Masterlist

Hiking your bag higher up on your shoulder, you rang the doorbell attached to the neoclassical colonial-style home. You stepped back and waited for the door to swing open, which was only a few seconds after you rang. She always knew when you were coming and practically waited by the door.

“Oh, sweetie!” Sarah Kazansky cried when she saw you. Her arms wrapped around you and she pulled you into a hug that was suffused with warmth. You melted into her touch and welcomed the affection. Sarah was practically the closest thing you could call a mother and you were so, so grateful she welcomed you into her family.

“I know I only saw you a week ago, but oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you murmured as she pulled away. “Are Lisa and her husband coming by tonight? I brought some toys for the girls.”

Sarah beamed and she clasped your hand in hers. Something in her eyes sparkled and she squeezed your hand before tugging you towards the kitchen.

“You’re too kind, sweetie. They’ll be here at four and then we’re having Italian for dinner. I hope you like lasagna because you’re staying.” The older woman babbled excitedly as she led you further into the house. You knew better than to argue with her and you had picked a day when you didn’t have to work precisely for this reason. Most people assumed that the Admiral held the power over people, but it was Sarah Kazansky’s wide, innocent gaze and amazing cooking that kept dragging you back into the fold.

“How have you been since I last saw you?” Sarah motioned for you to sit at the large island in the middle of the spacious kitchen as she bustled around, preparing a tray of tea. You absentmindedly pushed some stray pens around and shrugged.

“Same old, same old. Can’t complain. Work has been good. Busy. Hangman and Phoenix are back and a few other aviators are back at Top Gun too.” The comment was searching, but Sarah was too smart for you. She whacked you with a dish towel.

“You know that Tom can’t tell me anything and even if he did, I wouldn’t tell you, missy. Nice try, though.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot. How about you? Those hags at the rotary club giving you any more trouble?”

The older woman sniffed delicately as she adjusted the saucers on the tray. “Anne-Marie Deveneux might be a three generation Navy brat and old money, but she’s a bitch who can’t bake a decent pan of blondies to save her life.”

You raised an imaginary glass in her direction and let out a “hear hear!” Sarah huffed out a quiet laugh and then pushed the tray towards you.

“Dinner will be ready in two hours so that should give you plenty of time,” she explained. “But…sweetheart.”

Something flickered across her normally pleasant face and your heart sank. No. In the past few months, everything had been fine. What changed? And so suddenly?

“He went in for a routine scan two days ago and it’s back. The treatments aren’t working that well.”

Tears gathered at the edge of her lashes, tears that you were sure had been shed plenty since the diagnosis was first revealed. You surged out of the chair and wrapped her in a tight hug. Sarah and Tom have been so kind to you, like the parents you needed so desperately in your life. Their kids and grandkids accepted their new family member in stride and you were even part of a group chat with them. How could these kind, loving people be dealt such a devastating blow?

“He doesn’t want to discuss it, of course.” Sarah’s voice trembled, but there was that constant underlying current of strength that ran through her. You clung to that little bit of control she held and let it wash over you.

“I’ll be sure to act like everything is normal,” you assured her. She pulled back and patted your cheek.

“Thank you.”

Grabbing your purse and hefting the tray in your arms, you made your way up the stairs to the study that resided on the second floor. You knocked twice on the door, waited a beat, and then pushed it open. Soft classical music met your ears and you rolled your eyes as you approached the man seated behind the desk.

“Good afternoon, Admiral. Are you ready to get your ass handed to you?”

Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky raised his eyes from the computer screen he was staring at and leveled you with the most unimpressed glare known to man. You offered him a sweet smile and placed the tray down on the small coffee table that rested between two couches in the middle of the room.

“Why yes, I can’t wait to lose to the multi-time checkers champion who keeps coming to my house and beating me.” You lowered your voice in an attempt to imitate him and he sighed, his frustration betrayed by the smile playing on his face.

Admiral Kazansky pushed away from his desk and carefully walked over to join you at the table where a small checkers board was already laid out. You were laying out pieces, already planning out your first few moves, as he settled down on the couch in front of you.

When you first accepted Sarah’s dinner offer, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. Meeting a naval aviator turned admiral was nowhere near where you thought you would end up. Admiral Kazansky still had some usage of his voice back then, but he limited it to a few words. He was content to just listen, especially as Sarah badgered you with a million questions about your life.

After you regaled them with the tale of how you and your childhood friend would bike to the local ice cream shop and play checkers, the Admiral appeared interested in your rudimentary skills in the tabletop game. He invited you to play a game with him after dinner and so it began.

Every week, maybe twice a week, you found yourself at the Kazansky’s for dinner and just to hang out. Before dinner, you would bring some warm tea up to the Admiral, battle it out for a couple of checkers matches, and then you would read aloud whatever book you two were working on until Sarah called you both for dinner.

As time passed, speaking grew harder for him, but you simply picked up the slack. He had a program where he could type on the computer and it would read his sentences aloud, Despite all the stories Sarah told you about his energetic youth, the Admiral seemed content to sit back and let you do the talking for both of you.

“A bunch of Top Gun graduates are back in town. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

His face remained impassive and he slid his piece across the board. You narrowed your eyes and studied the playing field before pushing your own piece into action. The battle waged on and even with his military training in all, you trounced him again.

Twice.

“I can’t help being so good,” you crowed. He shook his head but extended his hand nevertheless. You shook it in earnest and started to collect the pieces again. Exhaustion lined his eyes, but you knew better than to ask if he wanted a break. Instead, you poured some more of the cooling tea into his cup and settled back against the cushions.

“Alright, let’s quit now before you get lucky and break my win streak,” you teased. Rifling through your bag, you found the book you were looking for and extracted it with a flourish.

“Murder on the Orient Express which I still can’t believe you’ve never read and haven’t been spoiled by it yet. The book has been out for most of your life. It’s a classic.”

He shrugged at your accusing tone and settled back against the pillows, sipping his tea and clearing his throat occasionally. The words spilled out of you as you read, a tale of intrigue and mystery and drama. You were so lost in the world Agatha Christie created that you belatedly realized that Sarah was calling for you both.

You raised your head and met the Admiral’s kind gaze. You stuck the bookmark between the pages and closed the book up, placing it in your purse. Standing, you offered your arm to him and headed towards the stairs.

“Tom,” he whispered, strain evident in his voice. “Call me Tom, kiddo.”

You wondered what it must be like, to be referred to by a title for your entire life. You had no ties to the Navy. You were impartial to the history, the whims, and the honorifics of the military. You only called him the Admiral because that’s what you heard others call him. That or Iceman.

But here, now, hearing him ask you to call him his name made your chest tighten with the weight of the information Sarah had told you earlier today. You looked at him, at the pallor in his face and the bags under his eyes and the tired lines around his sagging mouth and you were overcome with a devotion that a child feels for a parent.

“Of course,” you murmured in reply and then the two of you descended the stairs.

Tag List: @mizzzpink @xoxabs88xox @dreaminglandsworld @khaylin27 @loveforaugust @phoenixssugarbaby @atarmychick007 @mak-32 @itsmytimetoodream

#abtw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin #bradley bradshaw imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #rooster x reader #rooster imagine

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witchofthemidlands · 11 months

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i'm writing doctorjackrose angst currently in my recent fanfic chapter so you guys can have my brain rot as a result, i apologise in advance.

the fact that the two people eleven mentions by name is rose & jack as people he would want to spend time with to avoid his trip to lake is such a throwaway line but it makes me absolutely insane regardless because i can just imagine jack&rose being with any of the modern doctors & it still being as electric & beautiful as it was when they were travelling with nine (before satellite 5 obviously) because you cannot tell me that there were not polycule vibes between the three of them.

i mean, i can imagine that they would have so much fun with eleven. he's a near feral energy goblin & weirdly smooth in his own way so i feel like elevenjackrose would go on some incredible adventures. they would ALWAYS be touching one another in some way, there would probably be the most physical contact from this version of them & they would scare the locals of every planet they go to. eleven strikes me as the doctor who would attempt to be the big spoon & then decide that he'd rather enjoy being the little spoon between the three of them. ACTUALLY i can also imagine eleven innocently putting the three of them in bunk beds & being so elated about it that neither rose nor jack want to say anything but they nearly have & all three of them have somehow ended up in the same bunk before. I can picture them just being practically joint at the hip & just about get stuff done because they're always having a great time with one another & need to remember to stop being near indecent to save the world.

twelve, there would be ✨tenderness✨ (especially with rose, similarly to how the moment is with the war doctor) not as much physical contact as the previous regenerations but he'd probably link arms with rose & jack in an old fashioned manner as they’d walk around together. i think rose would adore twelve (both she & jack would tease him for the attack eyebrows though) & wouldn't even really take much notice that he looked a lot older than the previous regenerations because he’s got his usual big doctor personality, even more so as twelve & slightly more ✨unhinged✨ mean personally, i doubt jack would even speak to twelve at points due to the decisions he made concerning missy but despite all that, i think those three would have a wonderful time together. i can just imagine twelvejackrose all trying to fit in one big chair in the tardis library together to sleep whilst twelve rambles on about something. twelve would be the big spoon & would have his arms resting around both of them.

with thirteen i think thirteenjackrose would be similar to eleven where they’d have so much blissful fun together & be practically joint at the hip. her northern accent would be so nostalgic to both rose & jack. there would also be so much flirting between thirteenjackrose that the rest of the companions are nearly always facepalming (cue jack telling them that any of them are open to join in) i can also picture thirteen basically banishing jack to the tardis at first because she is sick of people assuming that he's the doctor & rose always finds that hilarious. people might disagree with me here but i think thirteen would be the big spoon between the three & would hold them both so close. i also think if rose&jack encountered the hologram that they would see thirteen as she is but it would occasionally flicker to other doctors probably both nine&ten.

#rose my love my everything🌹#rose tyler #captain jack harkness #✨javic piotr thane✨#eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor #doctorjackrose #ninejackrose #doctor who #whoniverse #kat’s thoughts 🍄

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little-diable · 1 year

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I'll be Home for Christmas - Dean Winchester (smut)

This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa fic for @katbratsupernaturalwhore - I hope you'll enjoy this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader have always hated one another, a natural instinct they've run with. Now, on Christmas Eve, both cross paths once again, forced to endure one another's closeness.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), enemies to lovers

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.2k words)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The bar was crowded, packed with drunkards, lone people and those that got into the Christmas spirit a bit too late. Her tired eyes took in her surroundings, the decorations hung up on the walls, trying to drown out the sound of the Christmas playlist ringing in her ears. She was fostering another drink, hoping to pass the time till the road would be opened up again.

“I’ll be home for Christmas, fuck, I will be.” (Y/n) murmured the words before she took another sip, eyes taking in the faces of those near and far. And yet her gaze got stuck on a face she had seen one too many times before, the freckled cheeks, the plush lips and the forest green eyes that were staring right back at her. Fuck, if there was one thing she had wanted to avoid it was running into Dean Winchester, especially on Christmas Eve.

The hunter pushed himself through the crowd, eyes not leaving her frame once - stuck on the prey he was about to tear to shreds, at least he’d try to. Anger thumped through her veins, an emotion so biting, (y/n) feared she’d pass out any moment now, too caught up on the hatred she felt, forgetting how to suck in the sharp breaths. Dean’s smirk began to widen with every step he took, coming to a halt in front of her table, seemingly allowing himself to take in her frame.

“Well, would you look at that. Seems like Santa finally got my wishlist, and yet, even on Christmas Eve missy can’t seem to smile at me.” Dean’s teasing forced her to bite down on her tongue, not wanting to start another fight with the older Winchester brother, at least not in a crowded bar filled with nosy bystanders. With another eye-roll sent his way, (y/n) drowned her drink, trying to run from the man before she could snap.

“Have a good evening, Dean.” And yet, before she could even try to push past his broad frame, Sam entered her vision, smiling at her. A wave of relief flushed through (y/n) as she met the eyes of the younger Winchester brother, opening her arms to properly greet the one she had always enjoyed being around. Sam murmured his greeting against her forehead, relishing in her touch, “What are you doing here on Christmas, (y/n)? Why aren’t you back home?”

“The road is blocked, I was forced to stop here in hopes that they’ll solve it overnight, but it seems like today isn’t my lucky day.” She couldn’t help but let her gaze flicker towards Dean, adding more spite to the words she spoke.

(Y/n) barely remembered the first time she met the brothers, the hunters she had always admired, at least till she got to know them. From the first moment on she and Dean had hated one another, trying to take out one another’s ideas, hoping to push them into waves of misery they’d drown in. It had always been different with Sam though, a bond had instantly formed between her and him, allowing (y/n) to stay with the two of them every now and then, even joining the brothers on hunts whenever she got bored of being on her own.

“Well, we’ve got to make the most out of it. Do you want another drink?” Sam squeezed her hand before he took a step back, not waiting for her reply, assuming that she’d want to spend some more time with them. All (y/n) could do was watch the tall man move towards the bar, leaving her alone with Dean once again.

“It’s pathetic how much you adore him.” Dean’s voice dripped with something she couldn’t pinpoint, it wasn’t anger, he wasn’t even teasing her. For just a moment (y/n) wondered if he was jealous, driven by the green emotion she detested more than the supernatural creatures she’d cross paths with. Her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of Dean feeling more for her than anger, a thought (y/n) tried to push away as soon as she noticed what her beating muscle was doing. There had always been some tension between the two of them that rooted far deeper than their hate, a tension that drove her to imagining her body pressed against his; a tension that left her wondering how his lips would feel pushed against hers.

“No need to be jealous, Dean.” The angry huff of air that clawed through him did its job to satisfy (y/n), allowing a grin to widen on her lips. “We both know you think of me when you’re lonely.”

Before she could even process what was going on, Dean had grasped her forearm, pulling her closer till she felt his breath fanning over her skin. His green eyes were twinkling, projecting the emotions he was dealing with, a mixture so confusing Dean would lose his way in the storm he was fighting through, left to survive the cold whispers wrapping themselves around him, harder to endure than any creature taunting his restless nights.

“I hoped that you’ve grow out of your bratty phase, but it seems like somebody should teach you a lesson, sweetheart.” He spat the last word, adding more strength to every vowel rolling off his tongue like a spell he’d speak to damn the ones wanting to hurt him. With her breath hitched in her chest, her gaze flickered down to his lips, just for a second, though a second too long, so Dean could easily follow her line of sight. “There’s no need for me to be jealous when I know you are the one begging for my attention.”

Dean let go of her seconds before Sam reappeared with another beer for them, oblivious to the spiteful words the two have just shared. The tall brother started asking (y/n) about her past months, wanting to hear every detail of the hunts she went on alone, the creatures she had been going against and the people she crossed paths with. And yet (y/n) barely focused her attention onto Sam, speaking to him without overthinking the details she was sharing, still hooked on the thought of Dean being jealous. Perhaps he was struggling with the same inner fight, torn between hate and attraction, unsure how to go about the emotions directing his every move.

“I think I’ll call it a night, it was good to see you, Sammy.” (Y/n) gave into the need to rip herself free, no longer able to stick around, not with Dean’s gaze burning into her skin, leaving its invisible marks. She needed to run before she would do something she’d regret in the morning, having to focus on her way home, the goal of spending Christmas with the loved ones waiting for her arrival. With one last hug shared with him, (y/n) made her way out into the cold night, instantly wrapping her arms around herself.

Fuck, why did Dean have to be such an asshole? Their life together could have been perfect, worthy of the fights they’d push through, something both could cherish, and yet the chance of turning their feelings into something good had been ripped from their hands by their anger, their anxiety and their confusion. Life with Dean Winchester by her side could have been perfect, a mere dream she drowned in late at night when she felt lonelier than in the past months.

“Why do you always have to run from me?” His gruff voice forced her to a halt, front turned from him as she was staring ahead. Heat rose in her system, threatening to burn her surroundings to the ground with its strength, unsure how she should react to Dean’s words. “And don’t you dare lie to me.”

“I,” (y/n) turned towards him, taking in his tall frame, how he pressed his arms to his sides as if he was holding himself back from reaching for her. “What are you doing, Dean? Just leave me alone.”

She tried to walk away once again, and yet she didn’t get far, stopped by the hand reaching for her wrist, “You always run from me as if you can’t even stand to be in the same room as me. But we both know that you don’t hate me.”

Their eyes met like magnets forced to unite, getting lost in the strength keeping them bound together. Dean’s free hand cupped her cheek, not giving her a chance to look away, hoping that their bond wouldn’t snap like a threat about to wear thin, “If I didn’t know it any better, I may actually think that you are in love with me.”

Her mouth felt too dry to speak, to reply to his whispers with spiteful words burning on the tip of her tongue - an instinct rather than truthful words she wanted to speak. She felt her heart beating faster and faster, accelerating the speed of its beats as if she was running from the darkness threatening to pull her in. But there was no need to run, not from Dean Winchester, the man she had sworn to hate and yet simply couldn’t.

“What do you want from me, Dean? Whatever you want me to say, it wouldn’t change a thing.” It felt as if her words gave him the push he had been desperately waiting for, lips meeting (y/n)’s with more force than she had anticipated. For a second she stumbled backwards, pulled closer by his strong grasp, not daring to let her part from him. The kiss was anything but slow, anything but loving, and yet it was full of emotions, a mixture so lethal (y/n) could only hope she’d survive this very night.

“It changes everything.” Dean murmured his reply against her lips, forehead pressed against hers to allow themselves to keep on breathing. “Give me this night, just this one night.” He didn’t wait for her reply as Dean pushed himself away from her, he interlaced their fingers and kept pulling her ahead, eyes set on Baby.

No words were spoken as he started driving, eyes finding hers every now and then, caught in the lust pumping through their veins, heightening their senses. His knuckles grew white, trying to keep his focus on the road as he felt (y/n)’s hand finding his knee, wandering up his thigh. Their eyes met, allowing Dean to focus on the smirk tugging on her lips, widening with every shaking inhale of breath Dean sucked into his lungs.

This was a clear act of payback, set on making Dean suffer.

“Sweetheart,” he was shushed by the “Let me” rolling off her tongue, trying to stare ahead. With quick moves she undid his trousers, pulling his hardening cock free. Dean had lived many lives, had survived a few death calls, and yet, he knew that whatever was about to happen could send him to grave, an end he’d welcome with open arms. Heat flushed through his body, filling every pore like lava threatening to burn his skin.

“Are you that desperate? Can’t even sit still and wait till, fuck,” once again his rambling was cut short by her movements, she leaned over the console, steadying herself as she parted her lips. She greedily swallowed his cock, sucking on his tip as if she perfectly knew how to please the hunter. His moans filled the Impala, followed by the sounds rumbling through (y/n), sounds so sinful Dean couldn’t help but thank his lucky stars for the thick darkness surrounding him and the never ending lone road ahead.

“Who’s the desperate one of us?” She teased Dean as she kept pumping his cock, wanting to rile him up, very well aware that her night wouldn’t end without at least three orgasms rocking through her system. Dean’s eyes flickered down to meet hers, an icy glance that made her chuckle, mouth finding its way back to his cock.

(Y/n) hummed around him, sending vibrations through his body, teasing him closer and closer to his release. One of his hands found their way to her scalp, pressing her head down further, making her choke around him. He supported the bobbing movement, very well set on the fact that he’d cum any moment now.

(Y/n) tightened her grip on his cock, speeding up the movements of her mouth. His moans urged her on, hoping that she’d never stop touching him, already addicted after the first taste of the forbidden fruit. She was the one for him, Dean was convinced of it, praying to whoever was listening that the endless back and forth between them would finally find its end.

“I’m close.” Dean warned her, eyes struggling to focus as he moaned her name. She greedily swallowed every drop of his release, kept pumping him through his high till he grew soft in her grasp. And for a moment no words were shared between them, allowing (y/n) and Dean to sort through their thoughts.

“Are we really doing this?” It was just above a whisper, and yet Dean picked up on every syllable. He needed a few seconds to reply, but the second their eyes met, Baby coming to a halt in front of the motel, Dean smirked at her, pulling (y/n) in for a bruising kiss.

“I’ll never let you go again, sweetheart.”

#Dean Winchester smut #secret santa fic exchange #Dean Winchester imagine

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