#been playing this for about a month and still goin strong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

Note

congrats on 1k, angel!!! 💙 so soo proud of you!

whew okay, so the way i debated between wayyy too many things for your celebration because options 😵‍💫 but we're goin with mirror sex and breath play, ily ty

Bea, I love you. Thank you so much for your kind words - I'm grateful to call you a friend! And thank you so much for your request - mirror sex and breath play with Joel Miller coming right up. I hope you love it - it's a little different to what I'd normally go for, so I'm nervous to share it, but here we go!

Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count | 2k

Warnings | Explicit. 18+, Minors DNI. So, obviously we have breath play and mirror sex, there's some dirty talk, soft!Joel, some body insecurity from reader too.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I’m accepting requests through July 15th.

You sigh as you take in your appearance in the bedroom mirror. There was no shying away from the fact that these past months in Jackson had changed your body. No longer scrounging for twenty-year-old cans of food or going days without eating just to make sure Ellie had enough. Here there was an abundance of everything. The warm stews from the mess hall, the fresh produce you cooked in your home, the barbecue food that would sometimes appear at The Tipsy Bison, it was all having an effect.

You’d tried to ignore the pinching of your waistband all day, had even popped the button at lunchtime and not bothered to do it back up until you have to walk back home, but as you lifted the hem of your shirt, Joel’s shirt, you could see the red lines the material had made on your skin. Doubt started to fill your mind. He’d stuck around through thick and thin with you, been there on your darkest days, and you on his, had seen your body go through far more than gaining a little weight, and still never left, but this place was different.

You couldn’t help but think about all the women here, captivated by the broad, mysterious new man who kept to himself. You heard them whispering in the bar about everything they’d like to do to him if only he’d give them a chance. Whether they noticed you listening in or not, it didn’t matter, you knew if Joel ever tired of you, he’d have the pick of the bunch.

You can feel the tears building behind your eyes, willing yourself to swallow them down before you lose control, when you feel that familiar, strong pair of arms encircle your waist. Automatically you mold into his frame, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, he’s an observant man though, he knows something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” You’ll never tire of that Southern drawl in your ear.

“It’s stupid.” You mumble, trying to turn in his arms, he’s keeping you exactly where you are though.

“Ain’t stupid if you’re upset,” He presses the softest of kisses to your cheek, “Tell me.”

“Jeans don’t fit.” You murmur, hoping that he won’t force you to repeat it, forgetting that he is actually pretty deaf these days.

“Huh?” Yep. Deaf as a doornail.

“I said,” You clear your throat, tears threatening to spill again, “My jeans don’t fit anymore.”

You can feel his breath exhaling deeply through his nostrils once he hears you, his arms bringing you closer, fitting tighter around your middle.

“That ain’t a bad thing, baby,” He muses, kissing the soft skin behind your ear, “Mean’s you’re alive, mean’s we’re livin’, properly now.”

“I know,” You whine, wriggling your body to try and get him to change the subject, “I just….”

“Just what?” He’s kissing down your neck now, “You gotta tell me what’s wrong, baby, else I can’t help.”

“Worried,” You sigh, mainly from frustration, but also from the sensation of his hot mouth on your skin, “Worried you won’t like me anymore.”

He movement of his mouth stops dead, pulling away from you, but keeping his arm tight around your middle, “Did I just hear you right, baby?” He asks, “Worried I won’t like you anymore?”

You nod silently, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He’s watching you intently in the reflection, taking one of his big palms from your middle to take your chin in his grip, “Look at yourself,” He commands, “You don’t see what I see?”

“I guess not?” You shrug, not being able to shake your head through his grip on your chin.

“Sugar,” He breathes, “I could never not want this face,” He’s let go of your chin and is instead trailing his fingers lightly over your cheeks, “The way your cheeks have gone plump, and that little dimple you get here,” He presses his finger right where he’s talking about, “Whenever you smile, you drive me crazy baby.”

Then he’s letting his other arm drop from your middle, placing a hand on either of your shoulders, teasing his fingers lightly down the skin of your arms until your flesh is erupting in goosebumps, even through the material of his flannel that you’re wearing. Once he’s trailed his hands back up to your shoulders, he’s unbuttoning the shirt, slowly but surely, and then dragging it off your frame, leaving you in just your bra and jeans.

This is the sight you hate. The way your tummy spills over the top of the waistband, the way the bra is definitely too small to comfortably do up in the back, causing little rolls of skin to spear, bunching around the material.

“Stop thinkin’ and listen to me,” He murmurs, back at your ear now, hands reaching around you to cup your breasts through your bra, “Always loved these,” His hot mouth is back to pressing kisses on the skin behind your ear, “Ain’t ever gonna complain about them getting bigger.” He’s firm in his squeeze which has you tipping your head back, pushing your chest further into his palms, but he’s already moving on.

His fingertips are gently running down your sides and over the curve of your waist, your body jolting when his touch borders on tickling, until he’s reaching around and undoing the button of your jeans and pulling the zipper down. There’s an instant relief, but you can see those damn red marks again.

“You see this?” He’s looking at you in the mirror again, urging your eyes to look at his hands where they are on your hips, “My favourite place to rest my hands, when I’m grabbin’ you in the kitchen to move you outta the way, or helpin’ you bounce on my cock.”

The utter filth mixed with the sweet sentiment have arousal pooling between your legs, you can already feel the need to rub your thighs together for a second of relief. You always wonders how he does this – takes the things you think are your biggest flaws and makes them seem so insignificant, but in the best way possible.

His hands skin the waistband of your jeans, hands slipping beneath the denim to grip the globes of your ass, “Do I need to say anythin’ about this, baby?” He asks, “Think you know exactly what I think about this peach.”

He’s right. You know it’s always been one of his favourite parts of you. The way his eyes would trail over you when you bent over when you were out on the road. The way he pulled at your hips to pull you closer into his body whenever he slept behind you. The way he would bring a hard palm down on the skin when he was fucking into you from behind or give it a playful swat whenever he walked past. The way he would grip onto it, much like he was now, when he would kiss you. He needn’t elaborate this time.

He shucks your jeans and underwear down to your ankles, guiding you to step out of them, before he makes quick work of unclipping your bra. You’re fully naked now, a sight you don’t think you’ve seen from yourself in many years. You want to shy away from it, want to pick apart the scars across your body, the added weight to your thighs and stomach. But when Joel is stood behind you, looking into your eyes in the mirror like he just won the lottery, it all inconsequential. None of it matters anymore. Because he was right. This means you’re alive, and you’re happy. You’ve got the man you always wanted to worship the ground you walk on. So what if you needed to go to the outfitters tomorrow for a new pair of jeans?

You meet Joel’s eyes in the reflection, noticing how your own eyes darken with lust at the same time his do, “You’re wearing far too many clothes, Joel Miller.” You whisper, voice low and husky.

You place a palm on the glass, leaning yourself forward. Your ass presses only momentarily into his crotch, before he’s pulling away and practically ripping his own clothes off. He’s naked and behind you in what feels like seconds. His calloused fingers are reaching around and slipping through your folds, dipping down to your entrance, where he finds you slick.

“Mama…..” He breathes, the term of endearment making you blush, “So wet and ready for me.”

“Always Joel.” You breathe as he brings those soaked fingers up to play with your clit.

You push yourself back into him, chasing his thick cock. You’re aching for him, always are.

“Look at yourself,” He’s saying, “Watch yourself when I give you my cock.”

You do exactly as he says, eyes on your own in the reflection as you feel him line himself up with your slick sex.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life tellin’ you just how beautiful I think you are, sugar,” He says, hand resting at your throat as he slides his cock into your aching cunt, “Gonna love you regardless of how many new pairs of jeans you might need, you hear me?”

You don’t answer straight away, overwhelmed as always by the way he’s stretching you open as he works himself into your pussy to the hilt. You’d never watched yourself like this and it’s almost like you’re having an out of body experience. You know the girl in front of you, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes glazed over is you and you know the man grunting behind you with his cock finally sheathed in your cunt is Joel, but it doesn’t seem real somehow.

“Gotta answer me baby,” He speaks as he draws his cock from you almost all the way, “Only gonna give it to you if you answer.”

“Yes Joel…” You whine, and you’re rewarded with his cock slamming back into you.

He sets that pace, one hand pressed firmly at your pussy, working at your clit, the other at the base of your throat where he squeezes every now and then. You’ve seen Joel in a thousand circumstances where he’s had his hand around someone’s throat before. None of them have ever ended well for the other party. He could snap you in half like a twig if he wanted, but the way he rests his hand, squeezing just enough to cut your air for seconds before he releases, does nothing but thrill you. It sends shocks down your spine, straight to your pussy. You can feel how wet you are, you can hear it as he stuffs you with his length.

You can see him in the mirror, and the visual is obscene. His teeth sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, the way his eyes are focused on the place where you’re joined together. You’re reveling in watching his fingers work your clit and you can feel that telltale coil in your belly start to unravel.

“Joel – fuck – don’t stop, I’m gonna….”

“Watch yourself,” He demands again, squeezing the hand at your throat, tilting your chin ever-so-slightly so you’re watching, his fingers rub a few more times over your clit before you’re letting go, “See how fucking pretty you look when I make you come, baby?”

There are no words at this point. Your legs are threatening to fail you, all you can feel is the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, repeatedly. All you can hear is his skin slapping against yours, your moans and groans combining. Then, just like he always does in this position, he’s pulling himself from your clenching walls and fisting his own cock. You hear him first, the low growl you’ve come to know and love, then you feel it, the warm ropes of cum spilling over the cheeks of your ass and dripping down your thighs.

You’re both quiet for a moment, respectively trying to catch your breath, before he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you backwards to the bed. He throws you down on the sheets, a surprise yelp leaving your mouth.

“Joel, the sheets!” You exclaim, “We just changed them, now they’re going to be covered.”

“Don’t care,” He grumbles, dropping to his knees in front of you, dragging you forward by an ankle, “Wanna eat this perfect pussy, make you forget everything, so all you’ll know is my name and what this mouth feels like.”

309 notes · View notes

punemy-spotted · 10 months

Text

Sixteen Tons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Muscle and Blood

Pairing: Miner!Curtis Everett x Witch!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS A HORROR FIC, Discussion of death, graphic depiction of someone bleeding out, 1890s coal mining town aesthetic in the modern day, strong pro-union opinions, Pentecostal Christianity, Appalachian Gothic Horror, Cosmic Horror, See future chapter warnings for additional tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: The world melts away, rots into dirt and decay, and as a garden grows untended, you find your gifts crowding out the rest of your life.

We all know that the only light in the deep dark is a paycheck. So hush. Count your blessings, boy. Roof over your head, food on the table, diesel and grease, work boots on the porch, crippled back, crumbling joints, and silence. Company and even union, tuck you in, shut you up, and leave you to rot. And God damn it, you’d better be grateful. - Old Gods of Appalachia Episode 3: The Covenant

Notes: This fic also serves as a sort of direct sequel to Glory, Amen, in that the reader is technically the daughter of Pastor and Ma Rogers, but uses a pseudonym outside of the home she grew up in. The song referenced in this chapter is No Glory, by The Eagle Rock Gospel Singers. They're wonderful, so check them out!

At the time of publishing this chapter, the Family Sleepover, Down in the Valley is still ongoing! Please come by and check it out as we celebrate spooky season all year ‘round!

Also, in this house we support Unions.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

‘Course, everything dies, eventually. Much as you loathed sittin’ through your daddy’s sermons, you knew the truth in ‘em — death is a prize every livin’ being, regardless of sapience or the desire to be, ought to aspire for.

Death is the gift of all gifts, your daddy would proclaim from his bone-and-antler pulpit, the final gesture of our loving Lord and Savior — an’ of course, you, your sisters, your momma, your daddy and a few others your daddy claimed were kinfolk on his side were just… all the guides meant to introduce all manner of worldly beings too blind t’understand just how precious that kind of oblivion was to the glory of that final, permanent end.

Still.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Curtis Everett is going to die in your kitchen, his own pickaxe embedded in his chest, the final desperate pumps of his pierced heart pouring blood all over that pretty linoleum you didn’t actually like keepin’ in your kitchen an’ probably would tear up after you came to terms with never feelin’ like you could scrub away the remnants of him.

You watch it play out before you like you’ve done plenty of times before, the course of Curtis Everett’s life written in scars yet t’be earned, bruises waitin’ to bloom on flesh that has known little more than the danger an’ dread of coal dust for as long as you have known him.

You also watch him sittin’ in your clinic, for once not complainin’ as you finish cleaning and re-wrappin’ the thankfully not festering burn he’d been dutifully lettin’ you treat — per your own professional orders — for the past week-and-a-half, Looks like it’s healin’ nicely, but it’ll probably scar.

It’s not the first scar he’s earned in Snowpiercer, but it’s certainly not goin’ to be the last. You’ve been countin’ down the months — and injuries — to that particular worry for a while. The ones you can help him avoid — the ones he listens to you about — you warn against, and the ones he can’t escape, you patch up. The same as you would anyone in Snowpiercer, bein’ the company’s own doctor as you are.

Your momma’d scold you up, down an’ sideways if she knew what you were doin’, interferin’ with the predestined path of men as you watched ‘em struggle, suffer, an’ eventually succumb. But your momma wasn’t here to know, an’ ever if she was, your momma’d never be able to understand just what sorta poison of a gift it was she’d saddled you with.

Death is a Rogers daughter’s birthright, even if they themselves were more often than not denied the majesty of its truest gift. You were not born into this life to die, but to be a guardian of it, to guide the walkin’ dead makin’ their way beyond the borders of that ol’Holler you’d been born in through the trials of judgment an’ that precious, ultimate verdict.

You were not, your momma woulda reminded, voice sharp as the trowel she always kept at her side, garden bloomin’ by her stern hand, meant to shield ‘em from the pains of life — an’ the lessons to be gleaned from ‘em!

Anythin’ you want me to do with it? Curtis Everett’s question breaks you out of your bitterness, reminds you of the more pressin’ responsibilities you chose. You turn to watch him, lookin’ at him as if you might just need a moment to remember the exact instructions you ought to give for his wound care.

Except that’s not what you give, is it?

‘Stead, you look over Curtis Everett’s work-weary expression, the quest dread in his eyes at the prospect of needin’ to manage yet one more thing, one more purchase at the Company Store, one more burden to bear, Just come by every evenin’. I’ll keep the coal dust outta them wrappin’s for you.

You know full well you’ll need to work late t’take care of it — an’ t’clean the coal dust outta your clinic — but it’s better you than him.

Least, that’s what you tell yourself, as Curtis Everett’s shoulder relax, relief floodin’ those work-weathered features you’ve almost started memorizing by this time, makin’ the sleep you will almost certainly lose tomorrow and the remainder of this week worth it.

It must always be worth it.

By the time you leave your clinic, barrin’ the doors for the night, even the moon’s started its settin’, leaving the town in near-pitch darkness. You might’ve — if you were young an’ naïve enough — equated the darkness around you to a mineshaft, if mineshafts still had the privilege of fresh air to reward you for breathin’.

Not on Company Time.

Wiser folk than you might’ve considered stayin’ indoors ‘til sunup. Maybe even considered the merits of puttin’ a cot in your office to avoid havin’ to brave the deep woods durin’ the Witchin’ Hour, everyone more than aware of what sorta shadows lurked beyond the borders of a sad little minin’ town — an’ what sorta shadows would encroach upon those borders the moment they got the chance.

You… ain’t got much time t’think about that now though, not when you catch sight of the figure lurkin’ by the road, the only path there is t’ween your two worlds — the Clinic and the House. Everett?

There he is, hands jammed into the pockets of his overcoat, lurkin’ by the lone streetlamp Pierce an’ Rumlow’d finally seen fit to install in this part of town, after you’d spent about four years complainin’. Too late to be walkin’ back alone, Doctor, he tells you, almost sheepishly, expression invisible in the darkness — and yet you know exactly how his lips have curved into a half-smile you might’ve been quick to return had you seen it in the daytime, Figured I’d walk you back up as thanks for stayin’ late for me.

You can’t help yourself, really — you smile at him right back, the corners of your mouth tickin’ up despite the cruelty playin’ out before your eyes, at least until you remember yourself an’ blink away the vision, If I kept the same hours as you pit boys, nobody’d be gettin’ patched up. Now you best not be tellin’ me you were lurkin’ out here in the pitch dark an’ cold waitin’ for me t’finish my notes and close up, Curtis Everett.

Maybe you ought not have put words in his mouth — or taken ‘em out, as the case may be — as he shrugs at you and flashes you a grin you cannot see but are certain of, Then I won’t, Doctor.

An’ with that, he starts off back down the road, towards the lights still spillin’ from the windows of your boarding house, hummin’ some ol’ work song you only halfway knew the words too. An’ you watch him go on for longer than you should, takin’ in the sight of his silhouette slowly becomin’ part of the gloom.

You catch up soon enough, keepin’ up with his long, languid strides as if by some miracle, your own steps quick and harried. There are moments you wonder how a man like Curtis Everett — always managin’ to tower over everyone in the room, includin’ Superintendent Wilford an’ that lady Minister Mason he’d installed over at the Tabernacle of the Iron Gospel — ever really managed to fit in the mines this whole sad sack of a town was built around.

Shouldn’t have stayed out waitin’ for me, you scold with a good-natured ribbin’, not really meaning to chastise… but worry instead, You’ll’ve missed dinner call, Everett.

So’ve you, Doctor, he counters, the burr of laughter in his voice makin’ you roll your eyes an’ put on a scowl you barely mean — mostly cuz you hate feelin’ so outwitted, but no one dare make you admit it.

I’m allowed to be late, I own the place, you argue right back, a rebuttal that earns you another low chuckle, a sound you’re only used to hearin’ from Curtis on rare occasion — earnin’ you a burn of pride in your chest at hearing it now.

You really ought not do this, you know. But here you are, comfortable in the cold silence of the deep night, hands jammed into your coat pockets, walkin’ alongside Curtis Everett with all the calm an’ ease of dear friends.

Glancing at him. Looking without lookin’, pretendin’ you don’t know what you’ll see when you—

You know better, is the bottom line. You know you ought to know better — hell, you know your momma taught you better.

In the corner of your vision, Curtis Everett bleeds his last on your linoleum floor.

In front of you? Curtis Everett hums a work song an’ walks with you through the gloom, right up to the gold-light gleam of your doorstep an’ into your kitchen, the ghosts of the future fadin’ into an approaching dawn.

An’ maybe that’s enough.

Company House — its true name barely in use by you or your boarders, halfway for your own protection an’ halfways cuz it’s just easier — is a handsome-enough structure, nothin’ like that ramblin’ greenhouse you’d sprouted in, a bloom in your momma’s garden.

No. Company House — name lost an’ purpose found — on the other hand, is yours. All yours.

A loomin’ thing, the house cuts through the nighttime gloom like a lighthouse, every window on its main story burstin’ with light. Built on a hill overlookin’ the town proper, it served as home an’ hearth for any miner ineligible for the pretty pre-built housin’ developments south of the mine, where Pierce & Rumlow… rewarded those willin’ to produce more bodies to throw into that gapin’ wound the combine’d carved into the mountainside with such luxuries as driveways, fences, mortgages, an’ obligations.

It was just the way you liked it. Home for the lonely an’ the friendless — least that’s how it sounded in town, if someone dared ask Minister Mason about the mountain fortress an’ the ‘Godless Heathens’ inhabitin’ it. The Iron Gospel she preached ran on the blood an’ bones of its congregation, on family an’ obligation, on ties that bind whole generations to the mine.

A Gospel that had no room for the wholly different kinda worship that comes from strangers sittin’ round a table breakin’ bread an’ formin’ bonds. On brotherhood an’ union, on wantin’ somethin’ better that the paltry concessions afforded by minders with plenty of money t’provide more. You knew it then from your daddy’s own congregation an’ those Sunday suppers your momma arranged each week. You know it now from the warm surety of Curtis Everett’s hand on your arm, keepin’ you from losin’ your footing on that trick step you ain’t had time to fix — I can get Ed to take care of that tomorrow — and the sound of hurried conversation bubbling outta your front parlor, house still buzzin’ with life.

Shit, Curtis’s swearing nearly startles you outta your skin all over again as you both stand on the front porch, stompin’ the day’s coal dust off your shoes, forgot there was meeting tonight. Foreman’s gonna have words for me, no doubt.

You’re allowed t’be late, for walkin’ me home, you tell him, letting the light of the house illuminate your smile as you open the front door.

Meeting is a cute word for it — s’the way things go, get the lonely and the friendless to start airin’ grievances an’ suddenly they ain’t so lonely nor so friendless anymore. A man with a wife and children might think twice about givin’ the company a reason to tear away the roof over his family’s head, divin’ into his future tomb day after day, respirator an’ headlamp in hand, but a man with nothin’ to lose is a man with a bone to pick with the only industry in town capable of puttin’ food in his belly on a daily basis — so long as he survived to see his next meal. Unions, you got used to hearin’ back in your own holler, are the Lord’s way of puttin’ His protection back into a man’s own hands.

Too bad them folks at P&R’d forgotten that sorta conventional wisdom.

Tonight’s union meeting is just about comin’ to a close when you and Curtis walk in, a cracked joke derailing whatever Gilliam’s supposed agenda had left to cover. You’re late, the old man half-scolds, room hushed by his disappointment as all eyes turn to you and the union leader you know you’re already being accused of distracting.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Ignoring the raised voices that begin in your wake — and unwilling to get between two men in the middle of a union dispute — you make yourself proper scarce, disappearing into the kitchen. Between running the clinic and the house, you’re run halfway ragged, but you do cheer quietly upon seeing two foil-covered plates sitting in the fridge — Yona keeps true to her eternal word, making sure nobody goes hungry if she’s got the time and the ingredients.

The sound of someone entering the kitchen while you’re putting plates in the warmer don’t surprise you much — someone was bound to follow you into this place eventually — but you don’t turn around, not immediately.

Not ‘til Curtis Everett clears his throat, Thought I smelled food.

You sure you ain’t part bloodhound, smellin’ it all the way out there?

There. Another burr of laughter, low in his throat, and another burn of pride.

They calm down out there? You wave your hand toward the general direction of the parlor, noting the distinct lack of raised voices now that the warmer’s stopped beepin’ at you.

It’s my fault — should’ve told ‘em I’d be late.

They worried?

He’s quiet at that, the silence sittin’ heavy on both your shoulders while you move around the kitchen some more, collectin’ utensils and glancin’ back at him occasionally, waiting.

Finally — Gilliam’s steppin’ down. Nobody wants the job — company’s made sure of that.

You set the platter in front of him, to quiet thanks, He still want you to take over?

He don’t need to answer. You see it again, written all over his face — someone’s gotta do it.

The rest of the meal is… quiet. Heavy. Uncomfortable. A silence neither of you are willin’ to break, coupled with glances neither of you are willin’ to admit to, brows furrowed and thoughts elsewhere. Barely tasting the food, just glad to have something to busy your mouths with, ‘stead of trying to hold a conversation neither party wants t’have or worse — trying to change the fuckin’ subject, with both your minds trapped on the things you’d rather not think about.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Everything dies, eventually. You rationalize it between bites, teeth on tongue to keep the scream of it all held in your chest. Everything dies, including Curtis Everett. Including Gilliam — whose death you’ve pre-emptively forgiven certain parties for. Including Yona — whose hands will evidence endless adventures before she lays down for that final rest, satisfied an’ satisfying. Everything dies. Includin’ Curtis Everett.

Curtis Everett, who will take on the work. Who, in three weeks’ time, will be back in your clinic, bullet in his shoulder an’ strike unbroken. Company infuriated.

One injury closer.

You open your mouth, about to do the unthinkable, disappointment and poisoned bloom — everythin’ dies, but Curtis Everett deserves to choose — when the music finally registers with you both.

Music. And singing. And laughter.

The kitchen door slams open hard enough to rattle the plates in the cupboard, Yona’s wild presence in the doorway, Come on!

No explanation. No answers. You’ll have t’see it to know it.

Curtis glances back at you, brow raised an’ hackles too. Better make sure they’re behavin’ out there, is all you give in response to it, on your feet in a flash, empty dishes in hand.

He lingers, eyes on you. Imposes his will with his presence, You need help with the dishes?

Let him stay.

You don’t.

S’two plates an’ a couple mugs. I’ll be fine — you go, keep an eye on ‘em for me.

He’s so fast — behind you in a flash. How does a man so tall an’ so full of presence move so fast?

Got no time for answering that, not when his hand’s on your shoulder and you’re glancin’ back at him without thinkin’, waiting. Come out there when you’re done or Yona’ll never let either of us hear the end of it.

An’ neither will I, is what he doesn’t say. Not aloud, at least, stepping back only when you nod.

It don’t stop you from hearin’ it though, playin’ on loop in your mind all the way through dishes, through cleanin’ up your kitchen, through makin’ good on your word an’ takin’ that cautious walk to your parlor, where the sound of stompin’ boots joins in with the chorus of voices pouring outta your record player, blessedly drownin’ out all manner of conscious thought.

Take me down to that red dirt road Where all them white tails, white tails roam

The parlor is abuzz with life, a hive of movement as you take in rearranged furniture an’ the slowly climbin’ beat of stomping boots coupled with clapping hands, ring of bodies circlin’ the room, all watching Tanya — up from the General Store like always, on behalf of the widows this town left behind — in her valiant attempt to tutor Edgar in the complexities an’ social conventions of a good ol’ fashioned barn dance.

I don’t belong in a big coal town Can’t hear my Lord in all that sound

You almost manage t’become part of that ring of onlookers, slippin’ past the disapproval ruining Gilliam’s face, but turns out no one escapes Curtis Everet, work-hardened fingers winding around your wrist an’ pulling you back, Thought I was gonna have t’come rescue you from the sink, and now there’s no getting away, nor are you feelin’ quite so keen on it anymore.

Not when he looks at you like that.

Wanna show ‘em how it’s done, Doctor?

You dance, Everett? Since when? And since when did Curtis Everett become capable of smiling so sweet he just might fool you into saying yes?

Hell — what gave him the right?

Well I’ve had my fill, of concrete floor Where all them highways, them highways grow

You don’t get a chance to ask too many questions of him, not when he’s pullin’ your fool self right into the center of that cleared floor, sayin’ somethin’ about secrets you barely catch before he’s turnin’ you about an’ you gotta start paying some fucking attention.

There ain’t no glory None that I see None to compare Your love for me

‘Course, you’ve danced before — your daddy might’ve been a fire an’ brimstone preacher up at that bone an’ antler pulpit but he wasn’t a fool — but barn dances an’ church revivals don’t do shit t’prepare you for the rush, for the easy pressure of Curtis Everett’s hands on you, for the peal of laughter that pours outta your throat before you get a chance to think about it the moment he spins you out an’ catches you back with entirely too much ease.

He surprises you and doesn’t at the same time, sure hands and steady feet, both of you catching on to the rhythm quickly as the rest of the room drums the beat, a cacophony of work boots strikin’ the floor in a steady pattern, You gonna answer my question properly, Everett, you accuse him and he pulls you closer, smile on your face betrayin’ any anger you might be feigning.

I’m full of surprises, Doctor.

My days are few, my time is near But I know God will take my fear

He keeps his hands respectful, holdin’ one of your high and keepin’ the other at the small of your back, but there’s nothin’ either of you can — or want to, you’re startin’ to realize — do about the closeness, about the way you can’t stop looking up at him and the stormclouds in his eyes, like you’re seeing them for the first time. Really seeing them, that is.

It’s somethin’. Hypnotic.

The chorus turns into a loop, a rising swell of voices joinin’ your thudding heartbeat, lips parting to ask another question, make another joke, feel that burr of laughter against your chest, feel hands fallin’ from the glory of God to meet a different kinda worship, feel fingers curl into his coat like a lifeline.

He holds your cheek. He draws you in.

His mouth slides over yours like an invitation, your lips parting like an acceptance, like forgetting, like surrender. The music does not slow, but you do, fallin’ into the languid ease of hungry breathlessness, like you could find answers in the sweep of a tongue against yours, in the tightening of his grip on your back, in the wall of him around you.

Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x fem!reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine #fanfiction #writing #in which tessa finally writes something #series: down here in this valley

61 notes · View notes

avatarl0v3r · 6 months

Text

Pink + White | Part Four

warnings/notes: strong language, italics with "quotes" = your video log of your time studying the fauna and flora of pandora/narration

bold = song lyrics

side notes: each phase will be associated with a song, phase ones song is Pink + White by frank ocean, these last two chapter's of this phase might be shorter by A LOT

pink + white master list.

part three

part five

taglist: @itscheybaby @brookesbizzareadvendture @jakesully-sbabygirl @myheartfollower @inlovewithpandora

Thats the same way you showed me, showed me

that night you went to the sully's home for dinner with your family's recipe of fried chicken. upon entering the home you were bombarded with hugs from the kids. “i missed you too” you said laughing at their reactions, finding the nearest table you sat the food down before hugging them back. after the interaction jake watched you have with his children he watched as you picked up the food and sat it down at the table.

the kids hurriedly ran to the table as if they’d been starved and grabbed away at the chicken you had brought “slow down so you don’t choke, i don’t need any of you dying over food” jake said in a joking yet serious tone causing you to laugh. finally, after eating your food, the kids wanted you to stay longer which you agreed to even though you didn’t have time-jake watched as you played with the kids with a sad smile on his face.

he wished neytiri was here to see how big the kids had gotten in such a short amount of time, watching you bringing life into them again made him feel happy. he had found his new source of happiness.

You showed me love

a month or so later your time spent with the sully’s mainly jake became a daily habit, even amanté noticed and brought it up himself. “y/n/n, so whats goin on with you and jake?” you looked up at him from your chair confused “what about me and jake?” you said sarcastically. amanté rolled his eyes “first you're a shitty liar and you dare to attempt to lie to me! of all people your twin brother,” he put a fist over his heart like it was in pain “i’m hurt, but no real shit you two are always seen together whether it be alone or with the kids.”

you sighed and stood up putting your sample back into its container “i don’t know, maybe i’m looking too deep into it, you know?” he stared at you like you were the dumbest person on earth-well pandora-“are you crazy, of course, your not looking to deep into it have you seen the way he looks at you.” you looked at him hopefully.

“i’ve been here since tuks birth and neytiris death, trust me y/n…you given him his spark back.”

Glory from above

Regard my dear

—

meanwhile jake was talking to norm about his newfound feelings “norm, i don’t know what to do” jake said into his hands while talking to norm. “you have feelings correct?” he said looking at his friend, he was met with silence.

jake was fighting a battle in his mind, if he was to try again with you it would feel like throwing away his love for neytiri, he was scared because he knew the long-gone na'vi still watched over their families and loved ones. he also knew the feelings he has for you weren't an illusion as he tried to make it out to seem. everyone knew it was clear as day that he wanted to be more with you than just "friends."

he sighed before looking at norm "i have to go," he said rapidly standing up-norm following suit-"thanks for the advice" norm stood there as jake jogged away. he yelled back to him "wha- what advice!" but once again jake didn't seem to hear him.

jake jogged back to camp and grabbed his ikran and took off. since the tree of voices was destroyed years ago, there was only one place jake could talk to neytiri the tree of souls.

when jake arrived at the tree of souls he looked around. the feeling of sorrow crashed into him like a tsunami, all the memories here in one spot with neytiri. he stopped walking when he was met with a vine, he inhaled shakily before connecting his kuru and closing his eyes. he knew who he wanted to talk to.

"ma jake" jake opened his eyes to see neytiri standing there with her arms open, look just as heavenly as she did the day he met her. "neytiri," he said staring at her his voice barely above a whisper. his eyes wide and his heart beating erratically as he ran towards her engulfing her in a hug. "why have you come here?" she said pulling away he only looked away not wanting to meet her eyes, but she patiently waited for him to respond "I've met someone..." he waited for her to give him a angry response over him finding someone else, but it never came.

he was met with a soft smile instead "is she good with the children?" he smiled at the thought of you taking the responsibility to help raise the children even without him asking "yes" she kept asking him more questions, and with every answer her smile grew "your eyes glow when you talk about her this makes me happy to see you in such a state, do you love her?" he searched her eyes to find anything in them, but failed to find anything.

"i do" neytiri's smile grew even wider to see her jake in love and happy again since her passing, she cupped his face "just because you now love another doesn't mean you've replaced me, nor does it replace my love for you," she backed away "you know what you must do ma jake."

he opened his eyes and was back at the tree of souls a large smile had found its way upon his face as he ran to his ikran and headed back to high camp.

It's all downhill from here

24 notes · View notes

outpost51 · 9 months

Text

— The Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself (18+)

To the web, to the flame, to the zapper.

Chapter WC: 6,974

Warning(s): bullying, mild body horror

{READ HERE ON AO3} or below the cut ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

9 months, 10 days remaining

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Ow!” Dillon hissed as she missed her next catch and the rubber ball she’d been throwing against the ceiling whacked her right in the nose. She rolled onto her side, clutching her nose to ease the eye-watering throb. A week had passed since the revelation that Daisy was dying. Again. She still hadn’t done anything about her lack of training, choosing instead to drift aimlessly around the house and her part-time night job like she was dead herself. They had time. They didn’t have time. She was being pulled back and forth between assurance and urgency, and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Moira picked up before Dillon even realized she’d called her. “Lunch,” she barked into the phone.

“Sandwich,” came the wry response. “But I’m guessing you didn’t call to play the word association game after goin’ ghost for a week, and you’re trying to ask me to meet you like a normal human being.”

Dillon groaned into her hands. “Fuck, sorry. Can we do the team meeting thing? I guess I need to apologize to everybody for wallowing in my own bullshit so much.”

“Maxine’s?”

“Yeah.” Maxine’s Roadhouse was their usual spot for any meal; the booths were comfortable, the food was good-for-your-soul greasy, and Maxine made the coffee strong enough to blow somebody’s eyebrows off. “Can you come get me?”

“Mom got the car?”

Dillon shook her head, then quickly added a vocal negative upon remembering Moira couldn’t see her. “I just don’t want to drive.” They both knew it wasn’t the truth, and that she just didn’t want to be alone and needed her best friend, but neither would speak it into existence. Moira had some tact; as much as she called Dillon on her shit, she knew what shit needed to shovel itself, and Dillon appreciated that.

She had time to wash off the previous night’s nightmares and grab an outfit off the floor that still smelled moderately clean before the familiar jeep horn blasted an impatient cadence outside. It was about time, what the hell had taken Moira so long? She only lived ten minutes away — six, at the speed Moira usually drove. “Going to lunch!” she yelled on her way out the door. That's how they announced their comings and goings in the Monroe house. Nobody ever checked their phones, and Cheryl liked having the verbal confirmation it was really her daughters and not some impostor with their phones.

The reason for Moira’s delay was made apparent as Dillon bounded across the yard: she’d picked up the other three first. “Get in loser!” Moira shouted over her blaring stereo. “We’re rekindling our friendship!” Dillon rolled her eyes even as she dove through the open passenger side window.

“You know there’s a door, right?” Bonnie huffed.

Dillon swore while she tried to right herself with the additional challenge of loose pants and her best friend’s insistence that speed limit signs were simply a challenge. “Yeah, but I fit through the window,” she scoffed, finally seated properly and buckling in. She leaned around the back of the seat to acknowledge the group in the back. “Sorry I was an asshole.”

“I’d say you’re actually handling all this better than I would if it was Faith,” Rosie assured, Faith nodding along next to her. “We knew you would come back in your own time.”

“Personally, I thought it would take a lot longer for you to bounce back,” Bonnie added. She spat a nasty swear as Moira slammed the jeep into a parking spot. The car they’d stolen it from blasted their horn; Moira blasted hers back.

Their usual booth was occupied by a group of high schoolers. Dillon sighed, knowing what was coming next. Bonnie didn’t give a fuck where they sat, and the twins were adamant that they not cause a fuss, because they had church in the morning, and they really didn’t feel like listening to the lecture from their dad.

“And they’re just teenagers, Moira, they’re not hurting anybody,” Rosie insisted. “It’s fine, look — there’s another booth over there on the other side.”

They didn’t know Moira. “They’re not just fucking teenagers, Rosie,” she grumbled under her breath. She was right, they weren’t; they were this year’s top dogs at Oak Hills High, led by none other than Troy Lawson, Brett’s younger brother and the current heir to Charles Lawson’s equine empire. The Lawsons bred champions, both horse and human offspring, and for a Lawson to not hold the throne at their respective schools was unacceptable, so it came as no surprise.

Though it spoke volumes to their confidence in their sons to lead that they stuck them in public school with the plebeians, rather than sending them to Heritage Academy or any of the other six private schools within rich-people-transportation range.

Moira was already mid-confrontation-march by the time Dillon formed half a half-assed argument on her tongue. Oh well, I tried, she thought. Hopefully the sneer stayed in her head this time.

“Oi, Lawson, fuck off,” Moira barked. She had such an elegant way with words.

“Or what, freak? You gonna hex me?” Troy made a dismissive gesture. “Go back to your coffin, the sun’s still out.”

Dillon could almost hear the creak of Moira’s jaw as she clenched it. The pentacle necklace that never left her neck rose and fell with every angry breath, flashing a warning in the afternoon sun. Dillon stepped up behind her best friend. Her belly button barely cleared the top of the table, but she could still mean mug the shit out of them. Moira didn’t need help taking on six high schoolers, it was the thought that counted.

“Oh look, it’s the littlest Monroe, too,” Troy’s best friend, Conner Stevens, drawled. He didn’t move from his relaxed drape against the back of the booth. “What’re you gonna do, cut yourself at us?”

The bar for being the bigger person suddenly got a lot lower. Moira snarled over the table. Dillon put a gentle hand on her bicep. “No, Troy,” she chuffed. “I’m not. But you wanna know what I can do?” She hopped up on the table, jostling his drink with the jolt and wobble of the table. “You remember what happened to Brett?”

That got Troy’s attention. “What, you gonna pull a bear outta your ass? Wouldn’t surprise me, if you’re as big of a whore as your s—” His voice was suddenly cut off with a wet choke.

“Dill—”

“He brought Daisy into it, Moira,” she spat. “His ass is fair game now.” Her head hurt and her chest tightened as her emotions rose higher, but this time she was ready for it, and greeted the pain like an old friend. Passing out would so be worth making that little worm regret even thinking Daisy’s name.

Conner shook Troy’s shoulder, but it was no use. He was fully choking on a massive lump lodged firmly in his esophagus. His blond girlfriend-of-the-week pulled him into a Heimlich position — she was a lifeguard at the community pool, Dillon thought — and on the fourth violent thrust of her hands against his diaphragm, the foreign object in his throat finally dislodged itself.

A clump of daisies the size of her fist slopped wetly onto his half-finished burger.

Dillon felt something wet trickle from her nose. Worth it. “Now get the fuck away from our table before I pick something with thorns.”

As the teenagers scrambled away, and she and her friends helped the bus boy get the table cleared and cleaned, she couldn’t help the spark of hope igniting in her heart; if she could grow a ham-fisted metaphor in Troy Lawson’s throat from nothing but a morsel of food and her own spite, she could perform a ritual in a book that she’d technically already done before.

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her and Moira barely managed to shove her in the direction of the booth so she’d have a soft place to land. Still worth it, although the seats were much less comfortable when bouncing one’s head off them at terminal velocity.

Maybe she needed a little training.

Dillon gagged at the sudden acrid tang assaulting her senses and sat up with a start. “Fuck, how long was I out?”

“Long enough for me to make Maxine think you had a killer hangover so she wouldn’t call an ambulance,” Moira replied, sounding quite proud of herself. She slid a cup of coffee in front of Dillon. “And for this to cool down to a chuggable temperature. So, fifteen minutes, give or take.”

That was acceptable. Dillon could accept fifteen minutes. She was worried it had been days; she sure as hell felt like it, anyway. She didn’t want to waste any more time. “Did anybody figure anything out while I was doing my best Aurora impression?” she asked over her coffee.

“That Moira knows entirely too much about you,” Bonnie said wryly over the rim of her own mug. “Hope you’re feeling up to the Batter's Box Special.”

Dillon slid her eyes to her best friend. “No hashbrowns?”

Grinning triumphantly, Moira nodded. “Sub grits, add Swiss and cheddar.”

Dillon could have cried. Maybe she was still emotional over her sister, or maybe the adrenaline of ruining Troy Lawson’s day was wearing off, but it tugged her heartstrings extra hard that Moira had her usual memorized.

“Arright, arright, you can propose to me later,” Moira chuffed, tossing a handful of napkins at Dillon. “We got a zombie to charge up.” Her drawn-on eyebrows lifted nearly to her hairline as she sipped her soda. “And clearly you don’t have an issue with the power part of the equation, just needs some refinement.”

“And about fifty percent less nosebleeds,” Rosie chirped.

Faith added, “Staying conscious would be a plus, too.”

Everyone looked at Bonnie. She sighed, already tapping out a message to her cousin. The reply came through almost immediately. “Eugene’s on his way.” She stretched up and shouted to Maxine for another cup of coffee and an order of fries. When she turned back, she met Moira’s raised eyebrow with an incredulous look of her own. “What? Your goth isn’t the only creature of habits around here. He’s weird, but he’s at least consistent about it.”

‘Weird’ was an understatement. They felt Damien’s — Eugene, according to Bonnie, but saying it behind his back and saying it to his face were entirely different things — arrival before they saw the pale, duster-clad stringbean bluster through the diner doors like a storm made of angst and too much patchouli.

Despite Maxine’s being one of the few restaurants in town that still allowed smoking indoors, Dillon tried not to light up indoors, on principle. She had her vape, but it was somehow more frowned upon than regular cigarettes.

But as Damien swept across the diner, stringy hair clinging to his face and floor-length leather duster billowing behind him on an unseen breeze, she popped a cigarette between her lips, flicking her lighter over the end with a resigned sigh. It was about to be a long fucking meeting, she thought, exhaling a cloud of spicy clove-scented smoke.

Bonnie slid over to make room on her side of the round bench seat, knowing damn well no one else wanted to catch whatever vibes he was giving off and be cursed to write bad poetry about unrequited love and bloody roses for the rest of eternity. Rather than sliding in like they expected, however, Damien placed his hands on the table and the back of the booth, then vaulted into a squat onto the seat.

“Your shoes better be clean,” Maxine huffed as she arrived with his coffee and everyone’s food.

“If you’re referring to the ectoplasmic residue of lost souls soaked into the leather of my boots, then no, they aren’t, but I washed them of hallowed mud last night and the soul residue won’t transfer onto polyester,” he drawled, more focused on shaking salt and dumping sugar into his coffee than carrying on the conversation further.

“Thanks, Maxine,” Moira offered with a wince. Dillon held out her pack of smokes without looking up from her plate, one cigarette sticking out in a silent offer.

Damien didn’t look up from digging in his beat-up canvas bag, but assumed the offer pertained to the whole table. “No thank you, Miss Monroe, I have my own hand-rolled blend that assists my focus, but I appreciate the generous offer.”

Moira took the fucking cigarette.

“So,” Damien said finally, dropping a heavy stack of stained notebooks on the table, “you’re the girl… who…” He squinted at Dillon, at her ravenous attack on her eggs, at the cigarette in her hand. His eyes widened like he was seeing her for the first time and he plucked the cigarette from her hand, holding it above his head like she’d lunge for it.

She did, but her arms were too short and she didn’t feel like becoming personally acquainted with whatever the fuck lurked beyond Damien’s fly when she inevitably fell face first over the table.

“What kind of establishment is this,” he hissed. “Who lets a child—”

“I’m twenty, Bela Ludouchey, give me my fucking potpourri cancer stick back,” Dillon snapped, pointedly ignoring the chorus of stifled giggles and the obnoxious snort Moira couldn’t hide behind an eighteen-wheeler.

Damien sucked his lips into a thin line in shock and delicately handed the cigarette back. “Well, then. That’s a little more feasible than a twelve year-old raising the dead with no prior training or practice.”

“I was eighteen.”

“I stand corrected, and my career offer stands.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dillon grunted, blowing smoke over his plate. Sure, she should probably be playing nice, but she deserved a little vindication for the twelve year-old comment. “I have piercings.”

Damien flipped open one of the notebooks without breaking his deadpan eye contact. “I’ve seen preteens forge signatures to apply at Fithum, Zegan, Stazor & Smith, a few facial piercings are nothing in comparison.”

Faith cocked her head, raising her hand as if they were in class. “Smith?”

“Tom’s human and he didn’t take the standard route of changing his name to something more esoteric to fit the profile our clientele is expecting when hiring a resurrectionist or other magically-inclined individual. I need to feel your energy, Miss Monroe.” He reached across the table and barely dodged Dillon’s fork. Had he not flinched, she would have stuck it right through his forearm.

“You gonna buy me dinner first, Discount Eric Draven?”

“Funny, Dillon, I see we’re not making this a professional affair,” Damien sighed. “I’m not doing anything untoward, I won’t even make direct contact. I just have to know what I’m working with before I give you any advice.”

“She made Troy Lawson choke on a garden about twenty minutes ago,” Bonnie drawled.

Damien blinked slowly. “Well, that’s an interesting development, isn’t it?” He reached for Dillon again, but at half the recommended speed for approaching a wounded wild animal, just in case she got spooked and aimed for his face next. True to his word, he didn’t touch her — not directly, at least; she felt the heat from his hands hovering an inch from both of her temples, and then a slight pressure and an icy tingle speared directly into her brain.

Oh, and she went blind temporarily. When her vision returned, she wasn’t in the diner. She and Damien were standing across from each other in a dark forest. The coppery miasma of heavy bloodshed made the air around them thick and heady. “Where… what the fuck did you do?”

“I’m looking at the last time you used your abilities to their upper limits,” Damien explained, already walking towards the faint voices.

Her stomach sank. Oh no. This was bad, nobody knew about—

“I already know about Brett, Dillon, I got here before you.” He turned, furrowing his brows. “You aren’t even supposed to be here, not like this. That alone is… unique.”

“God, don’t tell me you’re about to give me some spiel about being the Chosen One or some shit,” she groaned.

A rough snort shook his shoulders. “No, it just means you have somebody really badass perching somewhere in your family tree. It’s genetic sometimes.” He stopped just on the edge of the grizzly scene from two years prior. “Wow, Cheryl really did a number on him.”

“Yeah, she was out for blood,” Dillon remarked. It was so surreal looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, it almost didn’t seem real. “What do you mean sometimes? What is it every other time?”

He winced when her echo stomped her heel down between Brett’s legs. “I’m betting your dad’s a regular human too, but sometimes things from across the Veil canoodle with us.”

“My mom didn’t cheat on Darren,” she snapped defensively.

Damien carried on, knowing the show of teeth for what it was. “You’re not a Changeling, so that’s not the case either.”

“How do you know?”

“You’re not pureblooded Fae. They’re pretty easy to spot, and you wouldn’t just be using energy, you’d be creating it.” His hand went to his chest in an automatic reaction and it was her turn to wince; she knew exactly what had happened without looking. “I’ve seen enough to make an assessment.”

Dillon felt like she was being simultaneously ripped out of one reality and stuffed into a much smaller one, and when she blinked, they were back in the diner, and Damien was dunking his fries in mayonnaise as if he hadn’t just witnessed one of the darkest moments in her life. She, on the other hand, was shivering slightly, shaken to her core.

“What the fuck just happened?” Moira snapped. “Pugsley’s eyes went all horror movie for a couple seconds, it was really freaky, and why the hell does it smell like wet leaves now?”

Dillon lowered her brows. “How long were we gone?”

Moira gaped at her. “Gone? Gone? What the fuck did you—”

“We just took a little trip into her psyche, it’s no big deal, nothing happened.” Damien popped a few more fries into his mouth. “It was a few seconds at most, Dillon. Time passes differently when you’re in somebody’s memories. Anyway, you don’t need training.”

The twins sat forward in unison. “What do you mean?” they asked.

“That she doesn’t need training. The ability is there, but there’s a block on it, so there’s nothing to train, exactly. She just needs a Conduit to wake it up so she can strengthen it.” He tossed back a few more fries, then washed them down with his salty-sweet coffee monstrosity. “And therapy. A lot of therapy.”

“And a Conduit is…?” Dillon opted to ignore the therapy comment. She was fine. She didn’t need therapy, she needed her sister to be okay.

“Something Veilborne that will create energy you can use. They’re called Familiars a lot, but that’s an entirely different thing. You don’t need one for the usual reasons, considering how developed your abilities are already, but having the extra boost should help you figure out what that mental block is and how to get around it.” Damien dug through his bag again for more books. “Has to be Veilborne, though, not Veilmade, so you couldn’t use your mother. Angel, Fae, or demon, those are your choices and they all come with different prices.”

“We can put together a crowdfunding thing, I’m sure our mom wouldn’t mind telling the congregation your sister is sick,” Faith offered brightly. “How much do we need?”

Damien gave her a look like she’d just admitted she was from another planet and had, in fact, come to earth to steal all the women and cows. His left eye twitched. “N-no, Miss Wheeler, that’s. That’s not the kind of—” He paused to eat a few more fries for energy, then recited: “While the price of a single, one-time loan of energy might be something as trivial as a given amount of hours in servitude to a demon, or something less-so and steeped in trickery if one were dealing with Fae, or perhaps an amount of time or money given to more philanthropic causes with an angel, a long-term agreement could mean the forfeiture of one’s own soul.”

When he was met with even more confused stares, he continued, “A soul owned by another cannot be retrieved for reanimation, nor can it be reincarnated, unless the owner of that soul releases the contract or dies of natural causes. Should the owner of the soul be killed, the contract transfers to the being that killed the previous owner. Across the Veil, souls become tangible things; should one find oneself in such a predicament, one’s soul can think and feel pain just as their physical body once could, and as that soul is bound to the owner’s will, it is subject to anything the owner desires to do to it or for it to do.”

The table was silent until Moira, as usual, broke it with all the tact of a brick thrown through a window. “Did you just recite the fucking Conduit terms of service from memory?”

Damien sniffed, leveling her with an unamused glare.

“So… it’s a battery,” Dillon hazarded.

“… Yes,” Damien reluctantly agreed, dragging the word out. “It’s a battery that thinks and feels and sometimes has very dangerous ulterior motives.”

“And I need one to… wake my abilities back up?”

“More or less. It’s not just a simple repetition of the first ritual, you’ll have to channel more energy, it’s why we rarely bring someone back with the intention of keeping them alive indefinitely. It’s a lot of upkeep for even a firm of our size, and the fact you’re taking it on yourself is… admirable.” His face softened briefly, like he saw a reflection in her of someone he’d loved and lost. “Here, I have a few tomes for you,” he said, pushing a few books from the stack he’d put on the table and ignoring Moira as she dramatically mouthed tomes at Dillon. “There’s also a map of ley lines here — energy is more concentrated in those areas, so you might find it easier to channel power from these until you get stronger and can channel it on your own — and one of my notebooks detailing various alliances my colleagues and I have made over the years so you can get a feel for the cost.”

He held onto the stack as Dillon grabbed for it, adding, “Read it all carefully. I mean it. This isn’t just like calling a cousin to help you out of a bind, this can get you seriously hurt, and if something takes your soul, Mother help you, because I can’t bring you back.” He held her eyes in his gaze for a while, and that’s when she noticed his eyes were ringed with black. Stained. She wondered if the magic tainted him on such a deep level, everyone else around him could see and feel it, and if the same would happen to her.

When she nodded, he let go, gathered the rest of his things, and stood. “Good luck, Miss Monroe. Give my regards to your sister.” A sad smile flickered across his face. “She was always kind to me in school.”

“So,” Moira huffed, breaking Dillon from her trance as she watched him go, “what do we do now? Where do we go from here?”

“What about a slumber party?” Rosie suggested. “We’ve never been to one before, but they look really fun in the movies, and the good-guy girls always come up with their best plots during sleepovers.”

“Might I remind you we’re in our twenties?” Bonnie rolled her eyes. “We’re not preteens anymore, we’re perfectly capable of conducting business in a library or—” She paused at the twins’ teary, wobbly pouts. They had been homeschooled, Dillon didn’t imagine they had many opportunities to have friends stay overnight. “Or we can have a… slumber party,” she concluded, albeit reluctantly, with a grimace like the words tasted sour.

They found themselves at Sprawlmart for snacks and drinks, with the additional ulterior motive of getting Dillon out of her shifts for the rest of the week. “I’ll be right back, don’t go too crazy,” she tossed over her shoulder as she dashed off towards the back offices. Lucky for her, Arlene was still on shift, and even luckier, collided with her before she made it four steps.

“Well, damn, girl, didn’t think I’d ever see you so excited to come to work,” Arlene teased, brushing off Dillon’s shoulders and helping her straighten her clothes.

“Well, that’s actually why I’m here.” Dillon offered a sheepish smile. “There’s some stuff going on with Daisy—”

“Say no more.” Arlene held up a hand and Dillon shut her mouth, feeling oddly like it hadn’t been entirely voluntary. “I’ve got a few new hires that need the training, what do you need?”

“Rest of the week?”

“Done.”

Dillon liked Arlene. Her previous manager wasn’t particularly awful, but Travis wasn’t particularly great either. He put the schedules out last minute, was slow to respond to issues, and sometimes didn’t bother showing up for shifts. Arlene showed up out of nowhere a few months prior in her tattooed-makeup bottle-blond glory with a cigarette in one hand and no bra in sight, claiming she was sent by corporate to take over Travis’s position. Dillon didn’t know if it was the truth or if Arlene was just that charismatic, but the regional manager accepted it without so much as checking her resume. So far, the change had been nothing but good, and Dillon wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth, because quite frankly, she liked being able to ask off whenever she needed to for family issues and having a manager that understood her employees were people.

As they left with two bags full of candy, popcorn, and sodas, Faith piped up, “Arlene’s Fae.”

Dillon stopped dead in her tracks, a chill running up her spine. “What?”

Faith nodded. “Her back’s hollow, I read in one of the books last week that High Fae have hollow backs if you look at them out of the corner of your eye.”

Dillon’s brows sank in confusion. “How could you tell under her uniform shirt? And what would a powerful creature like that want with a Sprawlmart? Can’t they literally make actual magic?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking Faith as if she was suddenly a Veilborne expert.

“It’s a Glamour. An illusion.” Faith shrugged. “Not sure what she wants with a Sprawlmart, but she seems really nice. Maybe you can ask her for an alliance?”

“Hard no on that one, Faith,” Dillon said quickly. “I’m not mixing work and personal life like that. Besides, I’m already beholden to Sprawlmart enough as it is — I have to cover shifts and do a bunch of extra work all the time anyway, I’m not binding myself to that company further, cool ass manager or not.”

They had one more stop to make at the Wheelers’ so the twins could pack overnight bags and let their parents know where they would be; Bonnie already had clothes in her backpack due to her paranoid nature constantly putting her on high alert for bugging out at a moment’s notice, and Moira had half her wardrobe in the back of her jeep at any given time. Dillon loved her best friend, but fuck, if her car wasn’t a rolling bachelorette pad.

Daisy wasn’t home when they arrived, and Dillon didn’t know if she was more upset she hadn’t gotten to see her sister off on her weekend trip with McKinleigh or relieved that she wouldn’t be there to overhear them discussing literally summoning an otherworldly creature to help Dillon perform the ritual. The needle on Dillon’s mood-o-meter shifted heavily towards upset when her mom trotted downstairs in full makeup and heels. “Where are you off to all tarted up?” she teased.

“I’m heading up to the pack’s hunting grounds for a few days as a bonding activity, but a few of us girls are stopping somewhere nice for dinner on the way, since it’ll be our last people-food for a while,” Cheryl explained, already opening her arms for her daughter to fling herself into the hug. “Will you girls be alright tonight without me here?”

A chorus of affirmatives went up as the group set up their sleeping bags and laid out the refreshments, but Cheryl wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Will you be okay for a few days with the house empty?” she asked Dillon, quieter. “I can ask someone to stay here, I’m sure Heather wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll be fine, Cheryl, I don’t need a babysitter.” Dillon looked up at her mom so she could see the sincerity in her eyes. Maybe it was a good thing for the house to be empty anyway, if she decided to go through with the summoning. “I promise. Just text me every day and send pictures, please,” she added, just so Cheryl wouldn’t think she wouldn’t miss her.

Her mother gave her a dubious look, but shoved a wad of cash in her hand as she pulled away. “That should be enough for pizza tonight and takeout tomorrow. Daisy will be home on Monday and I’ll be home the day after, okay?”

Dillon nodded again and Moira helped her shoo her mother out the door.

“At least we don’t have to worry about watching movies too loud, right?” Moira chuffed, punching Dillon’s bicep to intercept the tears she knew were coming. Dillon almost got a thank-you out, but her best friend had already started back to their nest on the floor, cordless phone in hand.

Once the pizza was ordered and the movies were queued up, they settled in with Dillon and Eugene’s books to study. Every so often someone would point out something important and they added it to the communal notebook they were passing around. The sun set early in the evening, as it was wont to do in the fall, and as soon as it was dark outside, Rosie pulled a spirit board out of her bag.

“Why do two little church girls have one of those?” Moira sputtered.

Faith raised an incredulous eyebrow. “In case we ever got invited to a sleepover,” she huffed, like it was common sense. “We thought we could put out a general call with it and see if there’s anything nearby. Ghosts tattle.”

“You remember what Eugene said, right? That souls are tangible in the afterlife, and I’m pretty sure ‘snitches get stitches’ doesn’t stop at—” Moira’s head shot up, her eyes suddenly going to the uncovered window.

“What is it?” Dillon rested her chin on Moira’s shoulder in an attempt to follow her eyes, but all she saw were their reflections and the darkness of night beyond the glass. “What’s wrong?”

Moira squinted as if she’d see something with a little more focus, then frowned. “I dunno, Dill,” she whispered. “I thought I felt something… there, y’know? Watching us. But I don’t see anything.”

After shaking off the shudder of that particular idea, Dillon got up and checked herself. It was her house, she was in charge in the absence of her mother and sister, so it was her duty to secure the perimeter. She braced herself for a monster to slam into the window, but just like Moira, she saw nothing outside, and slammed the curtains shut with as much force as one could muster against fabric.

Little did she know that outside, pressed against the clapboard siding so hard it pinched his wings in an effort to be as flat as possible, a demon lurked just out of view.

Freaking the fuck out.

Had Pinkie Seen him? She looked right at him, right into his eyes — two of them, anyway — and for half a second, it felt like she Saw right through his Glamour, but then the little one shut the curtains and teased him with a sliver of soft, bare flesh as her shirt lifted ever so slightly. That, at least, had distracted him enough to calm his breathing and cease both of his hearts from trying to beat right out of his chest.

She had a line of bats inked over her hip, which was the hottest thing in the room — he’d spied on a few college-aged sleepovers before, and there was at least one hundred percent more pillow fighting and fifty percent less clothing.

Not that they were dressed for his benefit; he’d just gotten his hopes up for something slightly more titillating than sweatpants, flannels, and socks, for fuck’s sake. Who the hell wore socks to bed?

Brunette did, apparently, and it was no small wonder no one had called her on it yet considering the permanent scowl on her face that very much matched his own when the little one had robbed him of the show.

Something oily slithered out of the basement and he remembered why he’d come here in the first place; the werewolf that lived in the house had a real hard-on for vigilante justice, and she’d unwittingly created a buffet of evil souls he was surprised no one else had claimed. He intended to find a seldom-used pocket of the house to nest in and reap the benefits of free meals and decent wifi. If he was lucky, they’d all have jobs outside the home around the same time frame and he could take over the television for a few hours, too.

Now he had yet another ulterior motive in the form of that soft preview he wanted to bare to the world and rub his face over like a cat.

The demon grabbed the oily thing by the head as it tried to slip past, dragging it around the perimeter of the house while he looked for a way in; he hated eating in the open, there were bugs and other Veilborne skulking about, and there was a high risk that the scent of the cursed thing would alert them to his new nest. It was no use, the whole place was sealed up tight, no one was stupid enough to leave any doors or windows unlocked, and while he could just Flash inside, there was the risk he’d get stuck in a wall again or worse, make another human explode. They made such a mess.

He tried to duck into a bush when a set of headlights turned into the drive, forgetting in his jumpy state of mind that unless the pizza delivery boy had the Sight, he was effectively invisible to him. As if things couldn’t get any better, he’d somehow tangled his tail around his ankles and the fucking soul wouldn’t stop screaming, so he was forced to rip its head off and scarf it down before it spoiled. He couldn’t even savor it.

Wait. Pizza delivery meant a door needed to be opened to complete the transaction, giving him a way inside. The wiry teen was already ringing the bell, which eliminated the possibility of possessing him, then jumping to whoever opened the door and melting out before they knew what happened, but if he was quick —

The demon sublimated into shadow, tearing across the yard, through the door, and up the stairs where he hid around another corner until the girls had once more let their guard down.

And then he was getting the fucking pizza he was owed for the spoilage of a perfectly good soul.

His hiding spot had a nice view of the goings-on in the den, and as soon as comments were made about the wind picking up and checking the floor for leaves, he felt safe enough to explore the upstairs rooms. The largest smelled strongly of werewolf and suburban-mom perfume, and the one next to it… something floral, bright, and a few notes of death. The elder daughter’s room, then, he’d seen her milling about in the yard, her soul bright and cheery as she was, but starting to peel away from its vessel.

There was a small bathroom to the other side of the mother’s room, then a room that appeared to be utilized for storage. There was extra bedding in that one, and he gladly helped himself to a comforter and a few pillows. Whether the girls downstairs knew it or not, he’d invited himself to their little slumber party, and he intended to be as comfortable as they were. He would not, however, be wearing socks like some sort of heathen.

At the far end of the hall sat a door covered in odd drawings, band stickers — the little one lived there, no doubt. Pinkie didn’t live here and she was the only other inhabitant that fit the profile of someone who would decorate their door in such a fashion. Just when he turned the knob, however, the girls started chanting something… utterly ineffective at summoning spirits. He snorted to himself. This will be fun.

The demon gathered his borrowed bedding in his arms so he wouldn’t trip again and tiptoed back to his vantage point on the stairs. Sure enough, the group was all gathered around the coffee table, pushing a planchette around a spirit board. Once he was comfortable, he placed his palm on the wall, feeling for the steady hum of energy through the veins of the house, and waited patiently for their first question ‘to the spirits.’

“Is anyone with us?” Pinkie asked, projecting her voice in case the spirits were, what, deaf?

He sent a pulse of energy through the wires. The lights flickered. The girls screamed. Jolly good fun.

They were determined little buggers, though, and kept going despite the initial scare. At their next question, he sent a gust of air through the living room to rattle the pictures on the walls and make the curtains flutter. They asked another, he moved something else.

It seemed, however, that the unflappable Brunette wasn’t quite the impenetrable tower she made herself out to be; he didn’t get the chance to mess with anything, because she gave the table a subtle little shake herself. He made the lights flicker again, unprompted, but before the others could decide themselves that they were too scared to play anymore, he watched as the planchette slid over Goodbye and she tossed her hands up, proclaiming the spirits were clearly done speaking to them.

That was no fun.

He cut the power entirely, and while utter bedlam broke out with a racket of panicking girls, he snuck down the stairs to swipe a few slices of pizza. Someone almost tripped over his tail twice, and in an effort not to get kicked out, he whisked away to the kitchen to devour his spoils, eating over the sink to catch any wayward crumbs. He didn’t want to leave evidence, and besides, he was a guest, albeit an uninvited one, and to mess up their home would just be rude.

The too-bright beam of a flashlight waved near his head. He took that as his cue to move his ass, and right when he’d just gotten comfortable on the stairs again, there came a wary chorus agreeing that maybe they should all just go to bed. Dammit. He peeled his weary bones off the ground and trudged back to the storage room to make his nest again. He was in the middle of setting his deflection ward so no one would come in before he’d returned the bedding to its proper place when the sound of light footsteps coming up the stairs gave him pause. Were they not all sleeping downstairs?

The door at the end of the hall opened and shut. Forget the fucking wards. The demon slipped quietly out of the storage room, sublimating again to slip under the little one’s door. Once more, his excitement for the evening was dashed — Pinkie and the little one were still fully clothed, the former pulling a trundle out from under the bed, and neither made any indication anything further would happen. Boring.

After an uninterrupted night’s sleep in his nest, he awoke to the smell of bacon and the sounds of bags zipping up. He couldn’t risk leaving the room until Pinkie and her cursed Sight were gone. By the time he’d made it through two episodes of a random drama he picked on a whim, he finally heard the front door shut and silence washed over the house.

He barely managed to get the storage room door shut behind him when the little one came trudging up the stairs, passing within a hair’s breadth of him, but if she felt the little shock of his power jumping to her, she didn’t react. Odd, and odder still it happened in the first place. Was she the one that raised her sister from the grave? Couldn’t be, she was so… small, soft, almost frail. He considered following her into her room again to snoop around for any confirmation of his theory, but she turned the opposite way down the hall and went into her sister’s room. Was she snooping, as younger siblings often did?

The door was open when he approached. He wished it wasn’t. The little one curled into a ball on her sister’s bed and sobbed into her pillow. He’d seen a lot in his eleven-hundred-and-change years, but for once, the voyeurism felt wrong; it was too private, too intimate, too vulnerable of a moment for a stranger to witness. The tightness in his chest compelled him to quietly wave the door shut and give her the privacy she needed. He could pester her some other time, but for now, he had a basement to explore.

Arsonist Chronicles Taglist: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @writernopal @tabswrites @starknstarwars @asher-orion-writes @captain-kraken @teamdilf

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, inbox, or HERE!

#the arsonist chronicles #unlikely adventures #my fic #paranormal romance #chapter update #this is highkey one of my favorite covers ever

15 notes · View notes

princeminnow · 1 month

Text

hiii realized i should tell u guys cuz u might think its interesting cuz i told some ppl in private but is not a secret, putting a cut cuz its post-covid recovery and disability stuff 🫰 just a health update

so it looks like covid hurt my brain um. physically some. like brain damage. and its gonna take a while to fix itself, at least a couple months hopefully, and i noticed that bc it hurt me cognitively ive been rarely my oldest? or at least rarely only my oldest... which is kinda scary for a couple reasons but especially cuz my neurological disability's the big reason why im high risk and is too soon to tell but getting sick mightve taken a couple years of how it was affecting me that level of not-that-bad from me cuz its progressive which means is gets worst with time (is benign tho, not dangerous just.... disabling. the symptom is the disease.) so idk if it seeming worse is just cuz im not as strong or if is sticking around. too soon to tell. thats just... reality of this kinda thing. sucks! but not world-ending, just kinda sad. but the good news is um. randomly dropping like this usully means i just wanna cuddle and play and be social, cuz my capacity drops especially halfway through the day and i get fuzzy and silly instead of there being a trigger good or bad... so is not painful waiting, just til then not feeling as grown up or even smart as much as i did a lot

shrug! it is what it is. guess im picking sudoku back up

anyway ily guys i been running on a queue (which i usually do but i usually also am more active active) but yea if u reach out to me i love to talk!! but might not be all there or at least not all big. super fluid, super super fluid. also sometimes im full big (i think) and still fuzzy so ya, just some weird stuff goin on with minnow i wanted to share to keep u in the know and also cuz i think disability and esp disabled folk that survived but got hurt by covid needs to get talked about more bc i dont want how i live and am to be moralized or used to scare able bodied ppl into behaving, is just a fact that needs compassion but not mythologizing the way ppl do

#txt #started rambling but ya #i do wonder if anyone elses going thru this who DIDNT regress before so they dont recognize it

6 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 2 years

Text

It was just the two of them in the bar. Most of the patrons, and even Penny had left, but not before telling her to lock up when she left. It was odd that Penny trusted her so much but considering their fathers had once known each other and had a mutual respect, it made sense. The mission had been completed, Maverick had gone back to the scramjet program, taking Rooster with him, of course, her uncle had made sure to check in with her family before he left, making her promise to call once a month to check in; she couldn’t say she was upset about it—she missed her father, and Maverick was the closest to the next thing.

Still, it had been quite a surprise to be offered a job teaching from Cyclone, even more of a surprise when he’d offered one to Hangman, and certainly a helluva surprise when the pilot had accepted. She’d taken the job, accepting the two weeks leave Command had given them post mission. There were a lot of things they should’ve talked about. The relationship between them, mainly, but they’d left it unexplained like most of their relationship.

She toyed with the beer bottle, the last of the liquid gone sips ago, and he sat beside her in the same silence. It was the night before leave ended and here they were in a bar, sitting in silence.

“There’s better things we could be doing.”

He snorted. “Like what? Skinny dipping?”

“Anything’s better than sitting here moping into my beer,” she retorted, glancing at him as he shifted off the stool. “Where are you going?”

“Do me a favor and mind the business that pays you, Ice-Queen.”

“I’m your CO. Your business does pay me.”

“Yeah, and you’ve gotta be the nosiest fucking CO I’ve ever had.”

“Asshat,” she griped and the strumming of a guitar filled her ears before a voice filtered through the speakers of the bar. “Is this fucking country music?”

“Yep,” he answered, tugging her off the stool to twirl her in his arms. “And don’t act like I’m playing that stupid country pop shit. I’m playing the good country. The music I grew up listening to.”

“I forgot you were a good ole country boy before you decided to chase better things, Hangman.”

He gazed down at her. “I’m always chasing better things, pretty girl.”

“Skirts, usually.”

“Only yours,” he answered. “I’ve sworn off other skirts for the rest of my life.”

That made her suspicious and she pulled back to stare. “What are you up to, Jake?”

“Nothin’,” he muttered before pulling her close, resting his chin against her temple. “Just enjoying my time with you before I have to hide it…like we always have to.” She didn’t say anything, merely listening to the music playing around them as they danced in the darkened bar.

Well, you can’t help but wonder why you can’t help but love her. But you can’t help but love her. And all that hurtin’ was more than worth it. It’s written all over your face.

His chest began to rumble with the vibration of his quiet singing. “At first she’s gonna come on strong. Like she’ll love you all night long. Like it’s goin’ out of style. Then she’ll leave you with a smile. Oh, she’s gonna love you.”

“Jake…” she whispered when his hands tightened around her.

Hangman shifted his head, lips brushing her ear as he sang softly, “Oh, she’s gonna leave you with a smile.”

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader imagines #jake seresin x reader imagine #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x reader imagines #hangman x reader imagine #hangman imagines #hangman imagine #hangman #top gun imagines #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun maverick

77 notes · View notes

mxstball · 4 months

Text

[FINAL HOLIDAY] Zinnia and Meredith

Zinnia and Shiro helped Heidi, Melony, and Tor move the furniture and setup decorations. Sure, several of them were strong enough to move them on their own, but the more hands that were assisting the better. Zinnia enjoyed every moment of it. It reminded her of the days before Heidi became Arceus -- how she would find the opportunity to do projects or spend time with the trio. If only Leifi were here, then everything would be perfect.

Once everything was prepared, Zinnia relaxed in the kitchen while she was having lunch. Her Reshiram, however, went downstairs with Melony to train in the battlefield. While Zinnia would have joined them, she needed some time to relax for once. Then, she can bring Salamence and the rest of her friends to play. So, Zinnia spent her time chowing down for now.

"...Do you mind if I join you?" Someone peeked in the kitchen before sitting down.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure." Zinnia looked up and nodded. She's seen this woman before. This was the ghost that accompanied Izanami to tell her Ghostly tale months ago. "You must be Lacey's mom, huh?"

"That's me, yes." The woman smiled at the Lorekeeper. "I assume that you must be Zinnia? Heidi has told me much about you."

"Good things, I hope~" Zinnia chuckled and took a sip of her juice. "Don't need her goin' around makin' me look bad."

Meredith laughed. "No need to worry. She and the others speak very highly of you and of Rayquaza. I'm just happy to meet you."

"Oh, well, I'm happy to meet you too, Meredith." Zinnia laughed in return. "So, how does it feel? How is it to roam around in the world of the living again?"

"Oh, it's lovely." Meredith's smile widened. "It's been so long since I've been like this that I nearly forgot how wonderful it feels. Not to mention to finally see others like you, Tor, and Nergal in person! When the day finally comes where I can roam as myself without being tethered to Heidi, I know that I will never want to go back~"

Zinnia closed her eyes and smiled. She took a bite of her lunch and nodded.

"What about you? How have things been with you and Rayquaza?"

Zinnia sat back and relaxed a little. "Eh, alright, I guess. I assume you heard about the fight that broke out between Rachel and Jeanne when Rachel and Leah were returning home? Jeanne wanted to stay and was going to fight her mother for it. Well, after that was sorted out and Jeanne was allowed to stay, things have been pretty peaceful. Rayquaza and Rachel consider themselves still together despite being entire dimensions apart, but as long as they're happy like that, you know?" Zinnia shrugged.

"I see... and what about yourself specifically? How have you been?"

"Me?" She looked up for a moment. "Well, I'm holding up fine, really. Been a while since I've seen Leaf and I kinda miss her, but considering that I'm staying for the party, that looks like that's about to change. Other than that, well, I'm the same that I've always been, really. Just doing my part to keep this world safe."

Meredith nodded. "And you're doing a wonderful job at it, too."

"Thanks."

The two of them continued to talk throughout Zinnia's lunch, about themselves, their hobbies, the world, and other things. It seemed that they really enjoyed each other's company.

#muse zinnia #meredith #plot: final holiday

0 notes

d3vin94 · 2 years

Text

Can we just talk…….. for a second?

I just want to express some shit that I’ve had inside for a while…

Don’t really have a strong support system, not that I need it. I am more than enough mental support than i need.

Or so i thought. Literally i don’t know what to do or even what to say really. So i figured lets just go on ahead and type it out.

Making a long story short, I’ve recently had an experience with a close friend. I was approached and offered certain things and i kinda died inside a little in that moment. We agreed to certain set things regarding a sexual nature and I thought we were on the same page. The friendship i had with said individual was growing to new heights even I didn’t think were possible. We stared to explore and feel a new love for each other, all with the no strings attached agreement in play still. So month pass and things are good in my opinion and we start to spend more and more time together. We have the same friend group so no one knew what was going on. Seriously when i say i was completely fine not being out it was a different feeling bcuz me as an individual I’m out and proud and unapologetically me. On the other hand this individual was refined yet goofy and smart and witty! I don’t know where things started to get serious or “reality set in” for him but i mean this individual would send messages about waiting for me to get off, or he would say he wants to wake up next to me, and or he started planning trips for us.all the while I’m still just under there impression we are just enjoying each others company.

I i wondered was i the problem. Was my lack of emotion for the situation bcuz it was agreed upon that wed have no feeling. Was that my down fall? I have thought about countless times of what I could have done differently and there’s really nothing I could have done differently. I allowed myself to fall victim to a narcissists game.

I tried to give someone i though was true, the benefit of the doubt. I’m still just in shock i don’t like being a victim. This whole time i was under the belief that this individual that i trusted (and never had a reason to lie or not be upfront) would be sleeping with his ex planning to move her in and get back into a relationship this entire time. 9 months this had gone on and the switch up didn’t happen until month 7. Might i add the switch up happened on his side. Our mutual best friends boyfriends birthday had came and the night of his party we are all sitting around smoking. This asshole openly makes a joke about me taking dick and let me just start by saying my soul sank to my toes. I never had a moment like this before where I’m completely speechless. He had me in such a state of shock i got up removed myself from the area and i sat by the fire by myself. When in my mind I’m thinking like dude how i take your dick!! Like the feeling of sheer defeat will never leave my mind thinking about that moment.

I’ve considered every relationship in my life. I don’t really have a my mother and I’ve never had my father so i feel like a lot of the life situations that children experience from their parents I didn’t have. I also wasn’t really loved like shown affecting and how to process my emotions. I know there are some things i have to work on. Never did i think that would be an open invitation for someone to take advantage of me for their own personal gain.

Whilst I’m over here consumed in my own thoughts, i feel like i have secluded myself from everyone around me. I’m just trying to figure something’s out whilst also trying to not self explode. It’s a fucking struggle, but I’ll eat over it.

I thank you for reading and trying to process all that is my fucking shit but yeah that it and I’ve been goin through it for the last 3 month. Since I’ve been blocked on every thing mind you we’ve been friends for almost 15 years. I guess that doesn’t mean anything and ppl that have had trash for even 3 years throw that shit out as soon as they find it so I guess thats what i can take from this. (Not even to mention the manipulation and the self harm texts I received from him) it was literally enough to send me to an asylum. Yet all i want is my mom to talk to or something. Guess I’ll just pay for that therapy session.

0 notes

say-al0e · 2 years

Text

Sit Tight

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: You’re not feeling your best and all you want is to be closer to Ben. You ask to try something new. | Cockwarming with Benny. That’s it. That’s the plot.

Pairing: Benny x fem!Reader (I think it could be GN!Reader but fem, just in case!)

Warnings: PWP, unprotected P in V, a few mentions of feeling ‘blah,’ some general tomfoolery, mentions of ADHD. That’s about it.

Word Count: 3.2k (I did Not intend for this to happen)

Masterlist | Taglist

The house was quiet, lacking the usual post-work sounds of Ben wandering around in search of something to occupy his attention until you made it home, and you frowned as you kicked off your shoes near the front door. You knew that he was home; his car was outside and his sneakers had been kicked off haphazardly near the door, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Babe?”

You searched for a sign of his presence - a beer on the coffee table or a takeout menu left lying open - but found nothing as you wandered deeper into the house, dropping your work bag as you went. You called his name, a little louder this time, and heard a thud from the back of the house.

The sound, accompanied by what you guessed was his headphones hitting the nightstand, was followed by a curse and an answering, “Bedroom!”

You shook your head fondly, a small smile lifting the corners of your mouth, as you trudged through the house to the bedroom. You shouldn’t have been surprised to find him there. He’d been waiting months for a new video game release - one he and Will had played as teenagers and, from the looks of it, were still playing as adults - and had taken to playing it in the evenings as he waited for you to get off work.

He sat with his back against the headboard and all of your pillows surrounding him, controller you’d gifted him with the game clutched in his hands as his eyes flickered between the television and the bedroom door. When you stepped in, his smile softened.

You felt his eyes on you as you crossed the room, his stare heavy against your skin when you stopped in front of the dresser and tugged out an old t-shirt that had undoubtedly seen better days, but paid it little mind as you dropped your work clothes into the hamper. You draped the fabric over your body, pausing for a moment to consider tugging on a pair of shorts, before you thought better of it and turned to the bed.

“Rough day?”

You hummed thoughtfully as you climbed onto the bed beside Ben and shook your head slightly. “Not really,” you settled on, shrugging as you reached for a pillow to cling to. “Just… Feeling off today, I guess. I feel kind of ‘blah’. One of those days, you know?”

He pressed pause, readily dropping the controller as he turned to face you, and frowned as he took in the sight of you. You knew that he understood, likely better than anyone, when he nodded. “D’you wanna be alone or do you want company? I can take this to the living room,” he offered with a nod in the direction of the television.

“You can stay, keep playing. I just wanna be with you, if that’s alright.” Ben smiled at your answer, always glad that you felt comfortable enough to find some semblance of peace in his presence, and reached out to squeeze your thigh.

He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, and nodded. “Always.” His voice, strong and steady, reminded you just how much he meant that sentiment as he eyed your exposed legs. “I’m digging the Winnie the Pooh vibe you’ve got goin’ on,” he teased, attempting to lighten the mood. “I swear I put up the laundry, though.”

“I know, I saw,” you returned, smiling slightly as you shuffled closer to him, eager to feel the heat that always seemed to roll off him in waves. “Pants just seem like too much work right now.”

Ben made a noise of understanding as he shifted his arm to wrap it around you. “Pants are too much work all the time,” he countered, grinning when you laughed quietly. “Clothes, in general, are too much work.” He paused, tilting his head to meet your eyes, and grinned at you as he squeezed your shoulder. You could see the mischief in the bright blue that you’d grown to love so dearly and laughed quietly when he suggested, “We should be nudists, honey.”

“No, thank you, you exhibitionist.”

Ben laughed quietly, a puff of air escaping his nose, as you pressed yourself impossibly closer. “Suit yourself. I think the world would be better off if we were naked all the time but, you know, it’s up to you.”

“I think we wouldn’t leave this house if we were naked all the time,” you teased as you rested your head on his shoulder and glanced at the television. You watched the loading screen graphics move as his fingers dipped beneath the sleeve of your t-shirt to brush your bare skin. “You’re insatiable.”

“Mm, only for you, honey.” You snorted, undignified but honest, and shook your head slightly as his free hand drifted to your thigh. He shifted you, draped your leg over his own to tuck you into his side, and hummed thoughtfully as he picked up the abandoned controller. “You want anything in particular or just to cuddle? I could fuck the sad away,” he offered, only half-joking.

You’d sought comfort in him physically before, as he had with you, but that wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. “I don’t want sex,” you confided, lips curving into a thoughtful frown as you tilted your head to glance up at him. “I do want to be closer, though. I just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Just say words,” he suggested, shrugging as best as he could with you pressed against him. “I’ll figure it out.”

He spared you a sideways glance and returned the fond smile you wore. It was so easy to forget the mood you’d been in when he was so close, so understanding, and you appreciated his willingness to attempt to decipher your indescribable emotions.

You kept your eyes on the side of his face, gaze sliding over the slope of his nose and the scruff lining his cheeks. You eyed the few strands of hair falling into his eyes, dry and untamed by any product after his post-work shower, and you were struck with how beautiful he was. An ache, warm and desperate to feel him overwhelming every one of your senses, filled your chest.

“I like being close,” you began slowly, keenly aware that Ben was listening intently despite the way his eyes focused on the television. “I want… You know when I’m riding you and I sit and adjust for a minute, just totally settled on you and you have your arms around me and kind of squeeze me closer?”

Ben scoffed, as if to say, ‘Like I could forget,’ and nodded. “Yeah, I’m familiar with the scenario.” A puff of breath that passed for a laugh escaped as you shifted a little in his grasp to glance at the television screen when his eyes slid to your face. “What about it?”

“I want that,” you admitted quietly, no longer ashamed or afraid to ask for what you wanted but uncertain if your request made sense.

Ben’s brows furrowed and his head tilted slightly as he asked, “But not actually sex?” You nodded and he copied the gesture. You could practically hear the gears turning as he pressed another button on his controller. “So, basically, what you want is to sit on my dick?”

You flustered slightly but nodded your confirmation as you turned your head and buried your face in the fabric of his t-shirt. “Basically,” you agreed, voice muffled. “You could play your game and I could just, well, sit? If you’re not into it, that’s fine. I just… it’s the closest we can get and that’s all I want right now. I’m totally okay with just cuddling, though.”

Ben shifted his leg to jostle you slightly and rolled his eyes when you met his gaze. “Honey,” he began, blue eyes burning into yours as he spoke with a conviction you hadn’t realized you’d needed from him, “it’s rare that I will say no to being inside you. I’m down to give it a try.” He paused before he tilted his head fully to look at you. “What do you need from me?”

“Patience?” He made a noise, an allusion to your usual teasing about his lack of patience, but nodded, anyway. “D’you have lube in your nightstand or is it in mine?”

He thought about it for a moment as he started a new game. “Uh, check yours. I think we used the last of the bottle on my side last week.”

As unwilling to move from his grasp as you were, you twisted your body to reach the nightstand drawer. You shuffled blindly through the drawer, grasping at the various objects that filled it, before your fingers closed around a small bottle. You plucked it from the depths and made a triumphant noise when you brought it into your field of vision to inspect.

“Do we have too much lube when we can’t remember whose drawer it’s in?” You posed the question as you shifted back into his side and dropped the bottle onto his lap.

“No such thing as too much lube. ‘Sides, we’re prepared for whatever this way,” he defended, eyes darting from the battle happening on the screen to your legs as you tossed your underwear to the floor.

“Mm, true. I think there’s some in that drawer in the kitchen, too,” you murmured, thoughtful as you reached for the bottle and bit back a grin at the puff of air Ben released when your fingers brushed the half-hard outline of him hidden beneath his sweatpants.

“And a bottle in the living room,” he continued as he let his eyes linger for a moment too long. He swore as his controller vibrated, signifying a hit, and returned his attention to the screen as you huffed a quiet laugh.

You parted your thighs, draped one leg over Ben’s knees, and uncapped the bottle. “Is that because we’re prepared or because we both forget what we have and buy more if it’s disappeared from our sight?”

Ben glanced at your hands as you poured a bit of lube and swallowed as he quickly refocused on the game in front of him. “Look, you gotta stop with the TikToks, honey. We’re both gonna be convinced we have ADHD.”

You laughed, a sound cut by the quiet sigh as you brought your fingers to your center, and shrugged. “They have valid points. Plus, spamming you with TikToks is a love language in and of itself, babe,” you teased as you rested your head on his shoulder and pressed a finger to your entrance. “‘Sides, you love the TikToks. I’ve seen you sharing some of them with the guys.”

Ben hummed, a noise of acknowledgement, but otherwise kept quiet as his gaze flickered between you and the screen. He tilted his head slightly, just enough to see your hand out of the corner of his eye, and groaned when you exhaled sharply. You could tell that he wanted to speak but he bit his tongue and attempted to focus on the game at hand as you worked to prepare yourself.

You weren’t seeking to get yourself off - an orgasm wasn’t what you were looking for in this moment - so you tried your hardest to relax against Ben’s side as you examined his side profile. You could see the slight flush to his cheeks, letting you know that he was just as affected as you, and the way his jaw clenched slightly as he attempted to shift his focus and smiled slightly.

“You thinkin’ about me over there?” The question was teasing, meant in jest to lighten the air in the room, but you could hear the thin layer of tension in his voice and nodded, anyway.

“Always,” you answered sincerely, voice soft as you slipped a second finger into your heat. “You’ve ruined me, Miller. Can’t think of anything but you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, honey,” he assured you easily. He glanced over again, this time meeting your eyes, and you barely suppressed another sigh at the warmth you saw reflected in them. The heat was there, a lust that you were expecting, but it was nearly smothered by an affection that you only saw leveled at you. You could see the fondness in his eyes, a love that you no longer remembered a life without, and felt the ache in your chest intensify.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Ben smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I know. I love you, too.”

You let the conversation die there. You focused on preparing yourself, two fingers pressed into your heat, while Ben attempted to focus on the television. You gave yourself another moment before nudging his side. “Are you… can I?"

Ben snorted lightly and gestured to the obvious tent in his sweatpants. “I’m ready whenever you are, honey,” he assured you as he pressed pause. “You good?” You nodded and laughed quietly as Ben dropped the controller onto the nightstand and shifted to tug his sweatpants down just enough to free himself. You rolled your eyes when you noticed his lack of underwear and he shrugged. “Easy access,” he teased, tossing a wink your way as he watched you shift onto your knees to climb onto his lap.

“I really appreciate you,” you admitted quietly, voice soft as you watched him pour a bit of lube into his hand. “Not just for this, just in general.”

“But this is a plus, right?” You laughed, shaking your head fondly as you watched him coat his length, before you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I know, honey. I appreciate you, too. Even though I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me here.”

Ben shifted one hand to your hip, dipping beneath the hem of your t-shirt, while the other held the base of his cock for you to settle onto him. You watched his face intently as he notched his cock at your entrance and you began to sink down. You bit back a moan as he exhaled sharply and tried to focus on keeping your breathing even.

Even with the preparation, you still felt a slight pinch as you lowered yourself but as quickly as it caught your attention, it seemed to dissipate. You let your eyes slip shut as you lowered yourself entirely onto his cock and allowed yourself a moment to catalogue your feelings. The heat of his palm pressed to your hip, the other pressed to your thigh. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he took a few calming breaths, the slight uptick in his heartbeat as your hand pressed to his chest to keep yourself upright. The scent of his shampoo and body wash, filling your nose as you pressed your forehead to his.

You shifted slightly, seeking a comfortable position, and sighed quietly at the feeling of him filling you. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock, buried as deep as you could take him, and you fought to keep from clenching around him as you swallowed the emotion swirling in the pit of your stomach. He filled you perfectly, fit like you were made for one another, and you knew he was feeling nearly as overwhelmed as you as he gently squeezed your hip.

“You alright, honey?”

Though he was trying, you could hear the slight strain in his voice. He wanted to move, you knew that, but he was doing his best to remain still and allow you the closeness you desired. “Good,” you confirmed, shifting forward slightly to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Really good. Thank you, babe.”

You felt his chest rise and fall just a bit faster, just for a moment, before he pulled in a deep breath. He gave you a few moments of silence, his fingers stroking your skin, and when your breathing had evened, he leaned over and grabbed the controller from the nightstand. He pressed a hand to your lower back to keep you steady and laughed quietly at the soft moan that escaped when he shifted.

“Sorry, honey. Promise I’m not gonna move. You gonna fall asleep on me?” The tension had melted slightly - or he’d gained enough of a hold on himself to hide it - and you smiled slightly as you pressed a soft kiss to his neck.

“Maybe. That okay?”

“Fine by me.”

The conversation trailed off again. This time, the silence was filled with the low sound of Ben’s game. You let it distract you from the nearly overwhelming thoughts that had plagued you all day and pressed yourself closer to him by wrapping your arms around his middle. You heard the sharp intake of breath but paid it no mind as you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling of Ben’s presence.

His breathing remained even, only shifting when you did, but his heart continued to thunder in his chest as he tried to focus on the task at hand. He swore every now and then, quietly but reverberating in his chest, and you smiled as he huffed at a particularly rough hit from the boss.

You remained in his grasp for far longer than you imagined he’d allow you and felt your eyes grow heavier as the weariness of the day started to fade. Your heart calmed, as did your breathing, but Ben seemed to be having a harder time.

“Honey,” he breathed after what sounded like a particularly rough loss, “you gotta stop squeezing me. I’m dying over here.” You could feel his heart thundering beneath your finger tips as he pressed you impossibly tighter to his chest.

You laughed quietly, a barely there huff of breath. “Mm, sorry,” you mumbled, voice muffled by his skin. You could hear the exhaustion in your tone, the slight roughness as you’d nearly fallen asleep, and it pulled a quiet groan from Ben. “You’re moving. I can’t help it. Always feel so good inside.” It wasn’t said with the intention of asking for more, he knew that - he could hear it in the sleepy drawl - but it still pulled a groan from him as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“I know, honey, but, shit. You’re gonna be the death of me. Didn’t think I’d be so close to losing it when all you’re doing is sitting on me.” He laughed quietly and you smiled slightly as he started another game.

“You want me to get off? Think I’ll be fine with just cuddles now,” you offered, words slurred slightly as you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“Nah, I’m okay. Stay, get some sleep. It’s hard as fuck to concentrate,” he admitted, voice evening out as the click of buttons filled your ears. “But I like this.”

“Yeah?” When he hummed, you grinned and pressed another soft kiss to his neck. “Me, too. Love you, Benny.”

“Love you, too.”

It wasn’t how either of you intended to spend your night, that much was for certain, but it was a new experience and that was part of what you loved most about Ben. Trying new things, seeing what you liked and what you didn’t, and knowing that at the end of the day, you could always share whatever you were thinking with your partner. It was a beautiful relationship and you were grateful that he was yours.

____________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I swear I never mean for this to happen. Benny just has this... hold on me. I also swear I never mean to make him so horny on main. Maybe it’s just me. I’m in love with him, it’s fine.

Tag List: @peoniarose, @karie-me-home, @rachelwritestuff, @stardust-galaxies, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @a-louise-juliane, @ben-is-a-hoe, @weasleywinchester, @crowfootwrites, @winchestershiresauce, @kesskirata, @lyr1ssa, @viyasstuff, @negansnympho89, @im-just-a-mississippi-girl, @kirsteng42, @balekanemohafe, @avengers-fixation, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @nintendhoe8, @luciferiorbxtch, @jettia, @xoxabs88xox

#benny miller imagine #benny miller smut #triple frontier smut #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier x reader #benny miller x reader #benny miller fic #ben miller x reader #ben miller x you #v’s fics

642 notes · View notes

mysticalrambling · 3 years

Text

Ending It All Part 2 (C.E)

A/N: Here you go guys. Much awaited part 2 is here. I am so in love with this particular fan fiction and hope you guys like it. If you want me to write any blurbs related to this series, do let me know.I am open to requests.

._._._._._.

Part 1

Chris Evans Fan fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)

Summary: Chris regrets divorcing you and he tries to mend the relationship. However, you have already moved on with Tom Hiddleston and are quite happy. He has to just stand back while you and your children become closer to Tom and it is all his fault.

Warnings: Angst all the way.

._._._._._.

“Coming in?” Chris turned his face towards you with a questioning look in his eyes.

“No, I have some work. Just wanted to drop the kids off myself.” Your ex husband’s house was on your way so you just saved him a trip.

“Not even for coffee, darling?”

“Sorry but I will have to say no.” You still got flustered when he called you with nicknames. You had once decided to tell him to stop calling you with all these terms of endearment but you couldn’t build up the courage to do it.

It has been over a year since your divorce and the moment you think you are over him, he is right there to bring those feelings back. You were a mess when he moved out and you had to see him on the weekends for the kids. It looked like you were drowning and you couldn’t come up for fresh air. It was exhausting but after several months, it didn’t hurt that much. It didn’t feel like your heart was tearing into shreds. You felt numb but that was better than feeling like your heart was being ripped out of your chest.

“That’s fine. See you Sunday?”

These were the only few sentences that were spoken between the two of you since the divorce. This was your new normal and you were starting to adjust to it. “Yeah, bye.”

“Who wants pancakes?” Sighing, he turned around and asked in a fake, cheerful voice. He didn’t get to be disappointed. These were the the seeds that he sow and he had to reap the results.

“I do.” A collective chorus came from the living room as they had already started to play with Dodger. Dodger was adopted from a shelter home about two weeks into the divorce. Loneliness was a destructive force and Chris hadn’t come to that realization until he was sitting in his home at eight, all alone. No laughter, no mess, no companionship. He went out that day and got a new dog. The apartment was eating him alive because it was a reminder of his ‘new life’. More like his ruined life.

“Daddy, you goin’ to be there for my match?” Jace looked up at his father and hoped that he wasn’t going to say no. There have been too many occasions this past year where he was not there for his children like Easter or Mia’s first day of school. He was either too busy with his career or he couldn’t bear to be with his family knowing that he wouldn’t be going home with them. He wasn’t strong enough to handle that truth.

“I’ll be there but I have work afterwards so I can only be there for half time.” The apologetic tone was all too familiar to the kids now so they just stayed quiet.

Chris noticed their disappointed look and continued, “When I get back, we’ll go to Disneyland for the whole weekend.”

“Mommy and Tommy will be going as well?”

Stopping in between making the pancakes, he asked with a venom laced tone, “Tommy who, Jace?”

“Mommy’s new friend. We like him.” Your son continued petting the dog without realizing the damage he is doing to his father. “New friend” was always a code for boyfriend and Chris didn’t know what to do with that information.

He knew that you had gone on a few dates with Tom Hiddleston because of the paparazzi. But he didn’t know that you both were serious. Your kids knew about him so it was pretty damn serious.

“He won’t be going with us.” Speaking with finality, he resumed cooking. You were his and that was not going to change. He knew he was being unfair but when it came to you, he lost all rationality.

“But he is our new dad.” Mia whined from her place and Chris just looked at her with a wounded look. His babygirl was putting someone else in his place.

His voice boomed throughout the house and both the kids looked at him with tears in their widened eyes, “I’m your only dad. Don’t you ever say that.”

“‘m sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you mad.” Her chin wobbled and Chris was quick to realize his mistake. It was not your children’s fault. It was not your fault. It was his fault.

“Not your fault, baby. But you only have one daddy and that’s me.” Kissing her forehead, he wiped the single tear that managed to escape her blue eyes.

“’kay.” The kids got distracted again but Chris did not forget. He was still seething from the inside because Tom may have taken you away from him but he damn well couldn’t take his children.

They all get ice cream afterwards and the kids fall asleep in their rooms that Chris built from scratch. It was a lengthy process because he just kept remembering the times when he decorated their nursery with you. Such a beautiful memory and he was ruining it. The guilt ate him up inside when he realized that he may not get to ever decorate a nursery for your children again. He may not get to expand his family with you again. Again, it was his fault.

“Sorry, ‘m late. Work was hectic today.” Everything was so busy today because your boss signed up a new contract and he has been impossible to work with. You just wanted to go home and sleep for the whole week.

“It’s okay. They’re sleepin’ upstairs. Listen, we need to talk.” He was too consumed by anger and hurt to notice that you were too exhausted for everything.

“Go on.” You urged him, figuring that he might say that he won’t be able to make it to your son’s match. This was what most of your conversations were based on; him saying that he is too busy to be present at occasions related to your children.

“Why are my children referring to your boyfriend as dad?” He nothing but spat that sentence.

“I- I didn’t know about any of this. I’ll talk to them.” Stuttering, you tried to mediate the situation but nothing seemed to get through to him at the moment.

“No need. I already did that but for next time, keep your boyfriends away from my children.”

“Our children and I don’t let anyone near my children. We are serious.” You were offended by his crude tone and you weren’t just going to let him walk all over you.

“You can’t be serious with him. As a matter of fact, you can’t be serious with anyone.” Your ex husband declared it like it was a law. He didn’t know how to react to what you said. All the pain was converted into anger because that was his current form of expression.

“Are you serious?” This was all too much for you to handle. How could he say that?

“Yes. You only belong with me. I regret it so much (Y/N).” Chris’s expressions told you where he was going.

“Oh, stop. You can’t just do that. Can’t come bargin’ in my life and mess it all up again. I am happy.”

Chris reached out his hand but you took a step back. He was not allowed to touch you anymore. “I was mistaken. My career is not above you, darlin’. Never was.”

“You made me feel worthless. You made me feel as if I was the reason our marriage ended. Won’t allow myself to get sucked back into this relationship.”

“I know I broke our family. I tore us apart and didn’t even apologize for it properly. I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” There was a stream of tears running down his face and you wanted to wipe them away but you resisted.

There were still times when you wished that you were still happily married to Chris. That you still had your perfect, little family. The divorce made you feel worthless and lonely. There were times when you couldn’t even look at your children because they were the exact replica of your ex husband. You once adored the fact that they were his carbon copy. However, now you couldn’t help but get angry. How could he leave little pieces of himself behind and think that you could move on with your life.

It was all because you were with another man. He never said all these things when you were alone and you suffered from depression. There were days when you couldn’t get out of bed to get your kids ready for school. You knew that Jace had informed him because he was really worried about you and he always shared his troubling thoughts with Chris. But he didn’t do anything about it. He stayed quiet and you had to pull all the pieces back together yourself. It was all tape and glue. Your ex husband didn’t get to come back and dismantle your progress. You wouldn’t let him.

“You can’t do this. Can’t come back. I am with Tom now so stop trying to fix things that you already broke.” Your face was red with anger and all the energy was drained out of your body.

“Please, just give me a chance.”

“No!” You couldn’t choose Chris again. You had to choose yourself. You chose to think about your needs and your feelings for the first time in seven years. That’s why you agreed to go on a date with Tom. He surpassed your expectations the first time and you knew that he could be your partner. No one could compare to Chris but Tom made his own place in your heart and you were glad about it. You continued on, “Tom is good for me so please don’t ruin my happiness again.”

Tom was great. He was good with the kids and he was slowly becoming an integral part of your life. You still missed Chris because that man was the love of your life for seven years and those feelings can’t just disappear with a single piece of paper. You were glad to have Tom in your life and you knew that as time would pass, you will love him with your whole heart. However, a small part of you would never forget Chris and would always wonder about the what ifs. What if you were still together? What if you had more children? What it you got to grow old together? Broken dreams are what hurts the most.

“I don’t want to be a cause of that. Not again. But I want to make things right.” He unintentionally came closer to you, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Sorry I wasn’t there for our kids. Sorry that I broke you, baby.”

“A sorry doesn’t fix anything.” His chest was hallowing from inside out but he didn’t want to back down. Not now. Not ever.

“Just answer one question for me. Are you truly happy?” A tremble was prominent in his voice but you tried to ignore it.

“I-I am. For a long time, I wasn’t but I am now.” You spoke with such conviction that he knew you were over him.

You would always love Chris but now it was time for you to move on with your life. It was time to leave the past and delve into the future. Chris would always own a piece of your heart but you are going to allow Tom to have an opportunity as well. You will open your heart again to love. You were sure now.

“Okay. I will get the kids for you.” He backed off like he promised he would. You knew at that moment that it was all over.

Watching you drive away with his kids was heart breaking for him and he just watched helplessly. Chris still wanted to cry, beg and apologize. He wanted you to take him back but it was all his fault. He ruined you once, he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t interrupt your new life. It doesn’t all revolve around him but he was okay to remain on the sidelines while you enjoy your life. He will be there for you if you needed him.

You are happy and that should be enough for him but he wants to be selfish again. He wants to fight for you but it’s all too late. You were with someone else. He lost his chance.

Wednesday rolled in pretty quickly and Chris dreaded going to the match. You were going to be there with your new boyfriend but he didn’t want to miss his son’s game. He could only be there till half time already so it wouldn’t be that awkward.

“I just wanted to be here for Jace. Won’t cause any problems.” Chris took a seat beside Mia when he saw you shifting uncomfortably. The seat that should have belonged to him was currently being occupied by your boyfriend but Chris just bottled up all his feelings. It was not right to still think of you as his wife.

“It’s okay. Let’s just forget about everything.” You wanted to move on and did not want anything to hold you back.

“Okay. Mia, you want Kit Kat?” Offering her a large chocolate bar, he started talking with his daughter so that he could distract himself from you and Tom.

“What is happening, love?” Tom questioned when he saw that his former co-star did not even glance at him properly.

Chris and Tom were not the best of buds but they were still good acquaintances. He thought that dating you wouldn’t be a problem because Scarlett had informed him that Chris was the one who asked for divorce. However, this situation made him realize that Chris was jealous. He still had feelings for you and Tom didn’t know how to react to that.

“Nothing of importance. Let’s just focus on my baby boy.” Saying that, you cheered for Jace as he made his first goal. He was an exceptional player like his father and you knew that he would pursue football as his career. Jace was really passionate about football. If Chris didn’t become an actor then he would have definitely tried out for football.

There were times when he used to take you to the park so you would play with him. It was your thing. Maybe he had replaced you with someone by now as well but what you didn’t know was that Chris had stopped playing football altogether. Like many things in his life, it reminded him of you and it was just too much to bear.

“You are doing great, buddy.”Jace immediately asked Chris to pick him up as you gave him his Captain America water bottle. It was half time and Chris had to leave for shooting. He was getting late but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Thank you, mommy. Ollie doesn’t listen to me that much so coach is angry at him.” Babbling on, he rested his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Okay, buddy. I have to leave now but I will call you when your game is finished.”

“Won’t be going with us to Chick-fil-A?”

“Uhh-” He cluelessly glanced at you because he didn’t know what his son was talking about.

“I wanted to give him a treat after the match.” Tom butted into the conversation to prove that he was a part of the kid’s lives as well.

Chris could have actually made it to the restaurant because he would be free in an hour tops. However, he decided against it. He had to take a step back for you. Of course, he would be there for his children but Tom should be given a fair chance as well.

“I won’t be able to make it buddy. You enjoy with Mommy and Tom. I’ll take you and Mia to Disneyland this weekend as I promised.”

“Okay, daddy. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.” Giving him to you, he turned to leave. It was hard for him to do this but it had to be done. Chris wiped his eyes discreetly as he saw you all laughing together. This was his fault and he would have to bear the consequences.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._._.

A/N: This story had me in tears from the very start. I cried when I was writing it. Again, I am open to blurbs for this series and other requests. Tell me if you want to be added to my tag list.

Tag list: @peculiarpenman, @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile, @iguessweallcrazyithinktho, @jessyballet, @caanyoonmoon, @coldmuffinpartycloud, @marvelfansworld, @agnesk, @lauracontisstuff, @deepintothenature, @xcaptain-winterx, @nostxlgia18, @sophiaedits , @luckyladycreator2, @mrspeacem1nusone

Like, comment and reblog.

P.S. If you want blurbs and epilogue related to this series, please send in requests. I will need some ideas.

._._._._._.

630 notes · View notes

authornina · 3 years

Text

I don’t have a title for this one. It’s simply a mess...

***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***

Sav and Dem were on their way to pick Savannah up from Anne. Chi was still in bed sleep when he left. They partied until four in the morning and didn’t stop once they got home. It was almost three in the afternoon now. Sav was the happiest he’d ever been, and Chi seemed like it too. At the beginning of their marriage, he didn’t think they would make it. There was a lot of arguing and past mistakes being thrown towards each other. They went to therapy for a short while and it helped a lot. Mostly Chi, because Sav had done things to her that he knew fucked her up emotionally and some mentally. Her forgiveness was vital for their relationship to succeed. Dr. Pie continually told Sav he needed to stop dismissing his wife’s feelings and own up to all of his mistakes.

Over time her advice proved true. Sav realized when he held himself accountable then apologized, Chi would almost immediately become more submissive. That was a big problem in their relationship too. She didn’t want to let him lead the household and responded to him aggressively all the time. However, after talking to Lake, his brother gave him so great insight as well. Do you ever see Avery talking to me like she a nigga? She’s submissive because I give her the space to be a woman, without making her feel less than in her moments. Chi get extra masculine when you not doing what she need or talkin’ down to her. They nigga mentality kick in and it’s versus you instead of y’all verse the problem. Stop trying to put her beneath you. That ain’t no bitch you fuckin’, it’s your wife.

Lake and Avery set the tone for what Sav thought husband and wife should be because they were just so in sync with one another. They did their own thing, in their own little world. In the first half of marriage, every time him and Chi did something the other didn’t like, they compared. Sav wanted what his big brother had, and Chi wanted what she saw Avery fall in love with over and over again. Avery and Lake told them both to find their own couple style and stop jacking their shit.

“Remind me to go get Poppy some more of them surprise egg jawns.”

“Them things ain’t nothing but expensive easter eggs filled with dollar store shit, bro.”

“I know but my princess love them. She be so surprised when she opening them, happy about all the bullshit inside.”

“How Melody?”

“She ard,” Dem shrugged. “Nicole back on her bullshit…but I’m movin’ on it different this time. Something in my spirit just not sittin’ right no more.”

“For real?”

“Mhm, I need to see what I’m missin’. I can’t be everywhere no more. Got all these fuckin’ kids.”

“I ain’t wanna say nothing but you is wylin bro,” Sav laughed. “You a good dad though, Dem. Can’t nobody take that from you, Ion care what your past look like.”

“Seem like everybody else do,” Dem mumbled but Sav heard him clearly.

“Who? Fuck them! Ain’t nobody perfect out this bitch. I still don’t believe what that hoe sayin’. A muhfucka gon’ have to come with video evidence on you to convince me and even then, I be like ehhh, that ain’t my brother.”

“Sound like Lake when he clearly seen Wreck on tape and told the cops, nah, that ain’t my brother. I don’t know who that crazy nigga is.” Dem couldn’t even get it all out fully before cracking up right along with Sav.

“That’s how you stand with your family. Fuck what anybody else say and I’ma keep it a bean with you, even if it was what it was…” Sav shrugged. Nobody should’ve expected anything else when it came to Dem.

For the past year, Sav and Dem did their best to focus on what they had going on individually instead of turning back to the world they liked to live in with just the two of them. It had to change for the sake of Dem’s mental health and who Sav needed to be as his own man. They leaned on each other way too much. Lake was proud of them for doing their best at putting other things than each other first. Sav however still didn’t give anyone else room to say shit on Dem and he didn’t want to hear anything either. He and Chi had it out one good time, he even let her express some foul shit she felt about his brother then they put Dem as an issue in their relationship to rest.

“Why Wreck car here?” Dem pointed to their brother parked in the driveway with no shame.

“This nigga been shackin’ up with Anne, bro. I ain’t say shit cause he tryna be quiet about it. Ion know what this nigga got goin’ on with her ass.”

“Bro, he really into it with this old ass lady?” Dem laughed, getting out the car.

“He was here the last few times I came, like real lovey dovey.”

“Lovey dovey?” Dem scrunched his face up. “Nah, not my brother.”

“See for yourself.” Sav used his key unlock the door and Savannah was in her walker moving a mile a minute. That gave him hope she’d eventually walk on her own. “Look at my Banana! Go momma, go!”

Savannah smiled big crashing into them, reversing into the dining room, going around the table and then back to her daddy and uncle at high speed.

“I keep tellin’ you, y’all be worried for nothing,” Dem said, picking his niece up, kissing her chubby cheeks making her blush. “Just gotta be patient, she perfect, bro.”

“Mm…it’s just you,” Anne said, coming out of the kitchen with a robe on looking freshly fucked. “Hey Dem baby, how are you?”

“I’m good, wassup?”

“Nothing, making your crazy brother some lunch,” Anne responded sounding like a proud girlfriend. Sav turned to Dem with the I told you so face.

“She thick as fuck though,” Dem took another glance when she walked back to the kitchen. “For a hoe her age, you gotta give her points for the body alone. Damn!”

Sav went up the steps flagging Dem to follow him. They held in their laughter, creeping towards Anne’s bedroom. Savannah was right along with them not knowing what the heck going on. Sav opened the door to find Wreck sleep, stretched out like he lived there. He had an empty breakfast tray next to him and everything.

“Bro…” Dem whispered. “This nigga not serious. Here, hold Banny.” He gave his niece to Sav then hopped on top of their brother. Sav was hyperventilating.

“What the fuck!” Wreck started whooping his ass. He didn’t know what was going on, his first reflex was to fight. Dem was windmilling to get free. His brother was strong as shit.

“So you wasn’t you gon’ help me?” Dem finally got away, staring at Sav’s dumbass holding onto the wall with Savannah on his side silently dying.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe yo,” Sav had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. “Bro, why the fuck you jump on him? He fucked you up.”

“Y’all niggas play too much!” Wreck said, getting up in the nude. “What the fuck if I woulda shot your stupid ass?!”

“Aye nigga!” “Sav covered Savannah eyes. “You don’t see my baby?”

“Oh shit, my fault Banny.” Wreck put the cover over him. “Go take her to her room.”

“Look at you sounding like her uncle step grandpop,” Sav said loud as hell and Dem hollered. “Wreck what the fuck is you doin’ my nigga? Why are you up in here like you pay the bills?”

“I’m mindin’ my fuckin’ business that’s what I’m doin’.”

“He’s pays for more than my bills. Why are y’all in my bedroom?” Anne appeared at the door with her arms crossed.

“Because our brother in here. What you doin’ to him? Ain’t no way that pussy…Daddy sorry baby,” Sav kissed his Banana’s forehead. “It ain’t still juicy like it was in seventies to have him like this. She puttin’ period blood in your food, bro.”

“Sav, what?” Dem ain’t never heard nothing like that before.

“Yea, I know all the bitch tricks. You had spaghetti in the last few months Wreck? That’s usually how they disguise it.”

“Nigga you trippin’,” Wreck laughed. “For real, get the fuck out.”

“So this your house now too? You gon’ let him put me and your granddaughter out Anne?” Sav would not stop and Dem was cracking up.

“Why don’t you just tell them?” Anne directed towards Wreck. “It’s not like it can be hidden forever.”

“Tell us what?” Dem asked, looking between his brother and Anne.

“I’m pregnant.”

“See…” Sav pointed at Dem then Wreck. “See! What the fuck I say?! I been tellin’ you!”

“Nigga, you ain’t tellin’ me shit! Both y’all get the fuck out!”

“Come on, Sav,” Dem pulled him out the room. He could tell their brother wasn’t happy about that news at all and Sav would’ve kept on going.

They both sat downstairs dumbfounded. Wreck didn’t move like this or hadn’t in a very long time, so it was surprising.

“You think Lake know?” Dem turned to Sav.

“I got a better question, why would Wreck get her old ass pregnant?”

“The fuck do we really care for though? I can’t say shit in the matter, I’m fucked up too. If he like it, I love it.”

Anne and Wreck’s arguing could be heard clear as day. She was yelling at him about always trying to hide their relationship while Wreck kept saying it wasn’t one.

“But you always the fuck up in my house when it’s convenient for you!”

“I ain’t gotta be in this shit! Who be callin’ who?”

“You are not going to stress this baby out of me! I know that’s what you want!”

“That’s some fucked up some shit to say!”

“Banana,” Sav turned his daughter around facing him. “They always be arguing like this when you here?” he asked her, and Savannah just stared at her dad.

“Now y’all got this bitch started,” Wreck said coming down the steps. “You think I wanna hear this shit?”

“Well you gonna hear it!” Anne shouted from upstairs. “Call me a bitch again!”

“Bitch!” Wreck tried his luck. Dem and Sav were inconsolable. “See, I’m that type of nigga, you sure you wanna have a baby with me?”

“I don’t need you for shit! Thank you for my miracle baby, you can go! If you think I’ma put up with the bullshit at my big age you are sadly mistaken!”

“Yea, ard, say that now then be sending me thousands of texts and crying on my voicemail like you always do.”

They continued going back and forth which told Dem and Sav one thing. No man stayed, continuing to argue with a woman they were only fucking. This obviously wasn’t the first time either.

“But you come running, don’t you? Please stop acting like this is one way!”

“Anne, get the fuck out my face with this stupid shit.”

“Come upstairs, Wreck, you showing off in front of your lil brothers like this shit cute! I’m not no young bitch you gon’ do anything with!”

“What? Ain’t nobody gotta put on for them but you! You gon’ use this muhfuckin baby to make you think you more than what you are to me.”

“What am I then?”

“My lil mature ass freak.”

“Fuck you, Wreck! Disrespecting me like this while my grandbaby is here!” Anne’s voice cracked a little. “Get the fuck out my house!”

Sav and Dem waited for what they knew was coming. Wreck looked at them then blew his breath going back upstairs.

“I knew it, I knew it.” Sav shook his head getting up. “Let’s go nigga.”

By the time Sav strapped Savannah in the car and prepared to leave, Wreck was coming out the house followed by Anne who stopped at the door. She said something to him, and he had the ard, shut the fuck up now look. When they watched him kiss her, they knew their brother was about to have a baby with his niece’s grandmother.

#on us #authornina #nina

157 notes · View notes

buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

who the hell is mark hamill?

bucky barnes x fem!reader. ⎢ masterlist.

wrong date finishing with a good night.

word count: 776.

warnings: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader's body descriptions to be inclusive. feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it and/or reblog it.

tag list: join the tag list.

The date had turned out to be a horrible night. You had been exchanging texts with David since a month ago. He seemed like a good guy, interesting, empathic, and a little hilarious. You weren't thinking about having a relationship with him, it was too soon for that, but at least you thought you could have some fun. Until he started to talk about his ex-girlfriend. Five years of relationship, a dog, a house. His life was perfect, but hers wasn't and she left him. Taking advantage that David needed to go to the bathroom, the bartender —a man who could be your father— walked straight to your table.

“Tell you what, you're going to leave and I will tell him you had an emergency”.

Pressing your lips in a smile to contain a laugh, because it was very obvious you weren't having a good time, he pointed to the main entrance with his head.

“I've heard too many times my daughter complaining about these online dates... C'mon, kid, go home”.

“Thank you”. You snickered at his words, sounding exactly like your dad.

Not needing him to tell you twice, you made a run for it wearing your jacket and your purse with the strap crossing your chest. You never raced so fast, not looking back when you turned to the left at the closest corner, once outside of the restaurant. You didn't stop until you were far enough. You took your phone from a pocket to block him from any social media, texting afterward your friends waiting for some news from your new crush.

you: can u fcking believe he almost CRIED for his ex ????? i ran away helped by the damn bartender

you: may god cut ma fcking fingers next time i log on tinder

anna banana: wut?

izzy cheesy: sorry ??

lucky luke: girl, you're fucking kidding me

anna banana: for real?

baby jack: run bitch run

izzy cheesy: come home loser therapy time

you: later, i need a damn drink, i'm too sober for this shit

You locked your phone, puffing a little, and walked into the first bar you found opened. Not caring about the people there, nor the music, nor the strong smell of alcohol. It was a place somewhat dark, with dim lights and rock playing from the ceiling. Your device rang and vibrated in your hand, raising it to read the failed-date's name on it. “Fuck no”, you thought to yourself hanging the call. It was too late for you and too late for the guy you crashed with to avoid the beer he was holding to stain his black sweater.

“Oh, shit! I'm so, so sorry”. You apologized covering your mouth with both hands, laying your eyes on the others squinting at you. The most beautiful ones you had seen in your life.

“It's, uh… It's okay. It… It doesn't matter”. He excused himself trying to clean it with his gloved free hand.

The man within a short distance from you beamed with a very cute gesture, feeling out of place for a split second when you didn't reciprocate the gesture. The clearing of his throat returned you to the real world, having been lost in the barely appreciable grey and green specks in the pale blue eyes in front of you. Probably, you also made him feel uncomfortable.

“Anyone ever told you that you look li…”

“The Winter Soldier?” He mocked sipping from his drink, putting his gaze to somewhere at his left.

“I was goin' to say Mark Hamill's younger version”. You seemed confused by the name he gave you, not sure about the soldier he was referring to. You had pending too many shows on Netflix to watch.

“Who the hell is Mark Hamill?”

“Who the hell is the Winter Soldier?”

Neither of you couldn't help but laugh, shaking your heads in complete sync. The man changed his drink from hand to offer you his right. You took it with a firm squeeze. “Barnes. Bucky Barnes”.

“Shit! Of course you are that Winter Soldier!” You feigned to finally have an idea, watching his grimace suddenly turning to an exhausted one. “I'm kiddin', man, relax. Still not knowing who the hell he is. I'm (Y/N)”.

Bucky giggled breathing again, pointing at you with his trigger finger. You caught him.

“Can I… buy you a drink?”

“I'm the one who threw yours, it wouldn't be fair. First is on me, so you can tell me about that soldier who likes the snow”.

“Deal if you tell me who Mark Hamill is”.

“Can't believe you haven't watched Star Wars. Which century are you living in, uh?”

#james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes imagine #marvel x reader #the avengers x reader

626 notes · View notes

drakenology · 3 years

Text

boyfriend number 2

- hinata shoyo x fem!reader x miya osamu

minors dni.

warnings: 18+ content, smut, infidelity, exhibitionism (yall already know lol), degradation, dumbification/incoherence, cussing, raw sex, mentions of cum, raunchy hook up, poor unsuspecting boyfriend

Every day of the week you’re subjected to a routine. The same routine you’d been living since high school. With the same boy since high school.

Sure, Hinata was quite possibly the perfect boyfriend. He was sensitive and attentive, so sweet you almost felt sick. But in bed.. well he did his best. Always cumming a bit too quickly, nearly finishing you off or not even driving you close to an orgasm. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’ve faked it with him and with him being as sweet as he is Hinata didn’t suspect a thing. But you loved him, really you did. Hopefully, eventually, you could teach him how to please you.

But every so often, every now and again you found yourself with someone else. Sure it was wrong, but it was just different with him. With Osamu. Osamu was the hot volleyball player from out of town you had met one foggy night at the bar. It was supposed to be a one time thing, you swore to yourself.

But with the way he fucked you that night, you found yourself coming back for more everytime. You swore with every orgasm came a high you could never get with Shoyo. When you felt that ache of need, that dull feeling in your dissatisfied cunt when Shoyo went home for the night, you knew exactly who to call. And Osamu always answered, always so ready and willing to give you a filling the right way.

Not to mention he was insatiable, every spot left untouched and wavering would then be caressed, licked, sucked on, fucked. You’ll never forget the times he made you cum so hard, the cops were called from the concerning sound of your high pitched whines and sobs.

Eventually, his neighbors stopped calling when you came over, knowing that when you come over in your pajamas and an over night bag hanging over your shoulder as you happily knock on his door meant you’d be getting your insides flipped about 7 different ways in about a half hour.

Just like usual, Hinata flops next to you in bed. His chest heaves after another “wild” night with his pretty girlfriend who seemed to enjoy herself too. He peppered kisses along your shoulders and up to your ear and whispered a sweet I love you. You smile and close your eyes, sleeping in your boyfriends arms as he followed right behind you.

-bzzzt bzzzt-

Who could be texting you at this hour? You sit up groggily, squinting your eyes at the bright screen of your phone as you pick it up. It was Osamu.

“Be ready in 30, tell your boyfriend you’re goin out ;).” The text read, a familiar feeling in your chest starting to brew as you bit your lip. You slowly slip out of Hinata’s grasp and kiss his forehead, tip toeing around his room to find your clothes and all your belongings.

Just as promised, Osamu arrived in 30 minutes, honking his horn ignorantly as if it wasn’t about 12 o’clock in the fucking morning. You rushed downstairs about as quietly as you could and practically ran towards his car, jumping inside to escape the cold rain.

He drives back to his place with his hand on your inner thigh, his thumb caressing the flesh as his other hand turned the steering wheel. You knew running off with another guy behind your boyfriend’s back was wrong, but why did it feel so right every time you did it? Osamu had everything Hinata didn’t; passion with an attentive and doting nature.

Besides the bedroom, he made you feel like you were the sexiest thing walking. He was exciting and wild and unpredictable. Everything you didn’t know you needed until you started fucking him a month ago.

Even as you kiss Osamu’s lips pinned up against his apartment door, even as your clothes are casted aside all throughout modest space, you still think of Hinata and how much this would crush him if he ever found out. But when Osamu was inside you, shit, who the hell was Hinata? Osamu hoists you over his shoulder, walking into his bedroom with a firm smack on your ass before laying you down on the bed.

“Mm, I missed you, Osamu.” You purr, arching into his body as he kissed and sucked on your neck.

“Ditto.” He mumbled, pulling your panties off when you lift your ass to help him take them off. His hands make their way to your already dripping cunt, clit swollen from the denied orgasm you were forced to endure just moments before coming here.

“What is that motherfucker doing to you, huh?” He asks, apologetically rubbing tender circles on the puffy bud. You yelp, so sensitive your thighs start shaking a little. “Bet he doesn’t even know what this is, does he baby?” You mewl in response, the pleasure going straight to your brain.

Osamu smirks at you, rubbing his fingers along your slit to relish in your wetness, your aching pussy practically gushing for him to do anything to you.

“You get so wet for me, princess. You get this wet for your little boyfriend?” He questions, hooking his fingers inside you to prod at your softest spots. You attempt to answer, shaking your head and letting out a shaky “uh-uh” as he fucks you with his fingers. Osamu kissed you sloppily, moaning into your mouth as his fingers moved faster, the sound of your pussy sucking in his fingers causing his cock to make less room for him in his pants.

Your back arched off the bed, panting as his tongue lapped up your clit, his fingers hooking deliciously against your spongiest spots. His name was written on your lips, the only thing you can say before your stomach is in knots, pathetic moans leaving the pit of your chest as you feel yourself getting oh so close to cumming all over Osamu’s handsome face.

“I-I’m cumming, hnnnn fuck!” You scream, your slick dripping all over Osamu’s hand. He moans against you, pulling you closer as he suckled on your puffy clit. With a high pitched squeal, your coming undone, your thighs closing around his head as you pant heavily.

Osamu’s smirking against your skin before pulling away, wrapping his big hand around your throat and kissing you hotly. Your tongues swirl, moaning against each other as Osamu pulls out his heavy length.

Another thing Hinata lacks. Osamu’s cock always had you feeling so full, the perfect size to get you drooling. His girth alone was impressive, thick veins, the cherry on top. Don’t even get me started on those heavy balls, the ones that swing and slap at your already aching clit with every thrust of his hips. He ran his length along your dripping folds, tapping his perfect head against your clit as your hiss and writhe underneath him, desperate to feel full.

“Want it baby?” He asks, prodding himself at your desperate hole. You nod feverishly, rambling on about how badly you wanted to feel full, how much you wanted to feel him throbbing inside you. Of course your dirty mouth grants you your wish, Osamu’s cock stretching you with a slow motion.

“‘S so fuckin’ tight, baby. Gimme that pussy.” He moans, rutting his hips into yours, hands holding up your thighs to reach deep. You’re sobbing, tears falling onto the pillow beneath you as you let out breathy moans. Osamu’s mouth stop ghosting over yours to sit on his haunches, reaching over and grabbing something.

“Phone for you.” Osamu whispers, handing it to you, not halting his hips for no one. You grab it, darting your eyes at him as his dick kissed your cervix.

“H-Hello?” You croon, trying to sound like you’re half asleep.

“Y/N? Did you go home? Where’d you go?” You hear Hinata ask, unable to answer right away as your mouth hangs open at the searing hot pleasure Osamu’s cock brought you.

“I-I.. Yes. Sorry I didn’t wake you. I just- ah.. didn’t feel well.” You lie, biting your lip and rubbing soft circles on your sensitive clit as Osamu fucks your harder.

“Well, you coulda stayed over. I would have taken care of you.” Shoyo lectured, your mind not even fixated on what he’s saying to you.

You nod as if he could see you, looking up at Osamu with pleading eyes, his thumb replacing your fingers as he played with your clit.

“Go on, baby. Tell ‘em you’re about to cream all over my fuckin’ dick.” Osamu huffs, almost loud enough for Hinata to hear. You chew at your bottom lip, eyes rolling back as Osamu works you open with his cock, hearing Hinata say something hoping you feel better.

The pleasure was too much, your mouth drooling as your lips formed an o-shape. Osamu laughs, realizing you’re way too dumb to rush Hinata off the phone. So he does it for you, like the nice guy he is.

“She’ll call back later. She’s too busy taking my cock to talk right now.” He says before hanging up, turning off your ringer and returning to his work on your cervix.

You blink away tears, throat hurting from all the screaming and whimpering as you approach another mind blowing orgasm.

“Hnnn, fuck, Osamu yes. Your cock’s so fucking big. Need it to make me cum, fuck! Hah shit!” You mewl, wrapping your legs around his strong waist.

“Yeah? Ooo that little fucker has no idea what this feels like, huh princess? Give it to me baby. Fuckin give it to me.” Osamu urged, eager to feel your gummy walls clamp down around him and milk him for every ounce of his cum as he brutally slammed his hips down into you.

“You’re my little whore, yeah? Like it when another man fucks your greedy pussy? Such a dirty slut. Say you’re a dirty slut.”

“I’m a dirty slut, Ah! I-I’m your dirty slut, ‘Samu. Uhhnnn!” The last thing you say before clenching around Osamu’s size, his cock throbbing furiously before erupting in white hot globs of his cum.

It was all so filthy, so raunchy and so wrong. Guilt was the furthest thing from your conscience though, laying limp and half asleep as Osamu pulled out and went to grab a towel to clean up. How could something so erotic be wrong.

You’d call Hinata tomorrow, try and explain everything when the time was right. But for now, you’d just lay there in your stupor, high off the euphoric orgasms you’ve experienced just then.

Tomorrow you’d make it right, even though it probably never could be.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu osamu #osamu smut #haikyuu hinata #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #haikyuu hinata shoyo #haikyuu osamu miya #haikyuu osamu x reader

470 notes · View notes

monstas1ut2 · 3 years

Text

(3/3) Eren Yeager

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Send a DM just to trap me (damn)

Threw your bitch in a taxi (taxi)

Wanna get drunk and nasty? (Nasty)

It was inevitable, of course he was going to find out.. Now here you are, sitting in your mothers house trying to figure out what you could've done differently. It's not only embarrassing but it sucks because that's your father, he's your everything , he's the man who adopted you. All you had to do was stay away from Eren.. though you couldn't even do that..

"Cheer up, here.. I got watermelon and pineapples.. I know it's your favorite.."

The woman with glasses, your mother handed you the soft bowl that held your favorite fruit. Her eyes staring at you softly as you were sitting on the floor. It was like you felt like you didn't deserve a bed right now.. In all honesty though, it wasn't fully your fault.

The soft, warmth that you had from the strong arms that touched you in ways... that night had kept you asleep. His hair fit his face so well and he said so many things that night that was hard to pass by. It wasn't a joke, Eren knew what he wanted.. and that was you.. and still is.

The many missed calls from him was ridiculous and the texts were everlasting. He figured he'd messed up, that or you were maybe drunk last night..? You didn't seem drunk.. that's just because you weren't.

"I should've stayed away from him..."

"Cupcake, you can't keep blaming yourself. Shorty-pants tends to be that way with Eren because of their past. There's nothing wrong with Eren technically, he lost his parents at a young age, in front of his eyes.. so he's a bit mental from that.." the words came out of Hange's throat and you nodded slowly. The thought still edged you on though, why did Levi want you away from him..?

Just because he has mommy AND daddy issues? That is a bad sign for sure, but at the same time.. Eren has done nothing but shown you his kind side. As well as his sexual side but we ain't gonna talk about that.

"So why... did dad kick me out... because of that..? Or cuz of their background together..? Eren is nothin but nice to me.. I would've backed off otherwise I ain't stupid to stay wit a nigga that beats on me.."

These words spat out in direction of no one in particular since nobody is here.. but it hurt. You wanted to scream so badly but what good would it do anyways.. Slowly slipping a pineapple chunk in your mouth. You watched as Hange was conflicted on what to say.. which is odd.

She has known Levi longer than anyone.. but Levi is still a mystery. So all she could do was direct this somewhere else...

"He'll be fine later okay? Don't worry... just.. eat your fruit, someone's comin to see ya in a little bit.. mkay?"

It's almost been a month.. and you didn't see Levi becoming fine any day now.. from what you could see, you were abandoned just like whoever your real parents were..

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Standing outside to get some nice air, your eyes watched the car in the driveway pull off. It was Hange's bmw. Her mission was to get Levi to straighten up and fly right, but you told her there wasn't any need. The damage was done already.. right?

Hange does tend to make things right though, she's just that lovable of a person..

Letting out a sigh, you'd decided to finally turn your back and try to go back into the house but your ears were kinda deceiving you. Your head whipping back towards the driveway as you saw the car that was there. It wasn't Hange for sure, though that black, porche was nobody's but..

Eren's...

His taller form immediately moving from that car and eventually coming to face you.. in all honesty he wanted to yell and scream and do everything in the book.. but seeing your pretty eyes tear up was enough for him.

After a few silent minutes passed, the two of you were now wrapped up in each other. As close as you two possibly could be on the comfy couch. Just bathing in each other's scent and aura. It was a nice feeling nonetheless, but at the same time, Eren was confused as to why you were so quiet. Why didn't you answer his messages or his calls...

"I'm sorry... I ain't mean to ghost you like that... but, he uhm..."

Swallowing down the tears that were edging to release again. Eren's green eyes stared into yours, his ears ready to hear everything you had to say to him. He wasn't going to ignore these feelings you had.. why would he?

"He found out... and he didn't like it.. obviously. He kicked me out...so I live here now..." your words spilling out of your throat, it sounded like you were in pain. Your glossy eyes staring up at Eren, who happened to be a bit more annoyed than anything. The past was the past... he didn't understand why Levi was so strung up on him. The two never had good relations, they always hated each other... Maybe in a past life too..

"I'll talk to him.."

"N-No, do you have a death wish..?"

"For you... I'll do anything you want.. if you wanna come live with me that's aight with me..." Eren offered up everything he could think of. There's just this feeling, he didn't want to leave you... but he also didn't want you to be abandoned by your father...

Eren knows that technically, that's already happened to you.. but you grew up with Levi and Hange..

"We gonna talk to him together... he ain't gon kill you if I'm there.. even if he hates me.."

"He Doesn't hate you... not him... he just pissed right now." Eren was correct, Levi was simply annoyed at the fact that you decided to spend the night without his knowing... and at EREN's house nonetheless. Levi already could think about what happened in that bedroom... though if you played your cards right, you could probably make it seem like it didn't happen...

Probably...

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

The paperwork continued to pile over, Hange's steps being big as she stepped over the books and papers. Honestly, this has to be the first time she's seen Levi like this. His house was a mess.

And that's something you don't hear everyday.

"Shorty! Shorty mc shorty pants...? Ah!" Hange was obviously teasing the male but she ended up tripping on one of his shoes that was in his office, man was he living in this one room?

Her glasses were put back on her face as she looked up at the desk. Seeing Levi tapping on his keyboard quickly. He himself probably didn't notice the way he was living at the moment... when he does he'll probably scold himself.

"You sir, need to get it together!" Hange spoke as she stood back up, and she earned a loud and annoyed sigh from the male.

"Look, shitty-glasses I don't have time for it right now!"

"Don't yell at me! This is about your kid wanting to isolate herself from the world because you can't stop being an asshole!" Hange quickly spoke as she then moved back from Levi, making sure her distance was far... still managing to joke in instances like this.

"Stop trying to pry them apart! I've seen Eren! He treats her like a Queen and he even gives her these looks that makes it known... he's not going to hurt her... not to mention she might hurt him first.. physically.. I've seen her throw a shoe at him once.." Hange chuckled out at her last sentence but Levi didn't seem like he was in a laughing mood.. nor was he ever...

"Fine" Hange huffed, her cheeks reddened at the fact that she couldn't persuade Levi-that's what she thought-and she immediately left his office, though came back and kicked one of the books over...

The two slender fingers he had was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to surpass the headache that already arrived.

"Get out.."

"Daddy I ain't do nothin wit him, I just fell asleep I swear..-"

"I don't care!"

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

"I'm tired.. I'm goin to sleep Ight..? Pick me up tomorrow..." your words softly sliding out as Eren stared at your soft lips. This however made you smile and wrap your arms around him. Pulling him down to your height to kiss him gently. His lips still tasting like sugar...

Today, Eren kept you company and he even offered to take you out tomorrow... so all wasn't lost..

Eventually you'd closed your bedroom door and decided to get ready for bed. Gently laying in your bed after putting a scarf and bonnet on your head. The soft pillow was cold and that only made you a tiny bit more happier...

Knock knock

As you were about to close your eyes, the sound of knocking was on your door. That could be nobody but Hange... right? Considering this is her house but normally she just opens the door... without knocking..

"Come in...?" In a bit of a confused tone, you'd propped yourself up so you could get a better look at the door.

"Why say 'come in' if you're unsure... you're going to get yourself killed.."

"Daddy!" Your voice shrilled with happiness... and all Levi could feel was that same energy.. he may not like your little... boyfriend.. but he loves you.. his beautiful daughter...

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Masterlist 2

#black reader #poc reader #eren x black reader #eren x poc!reader #aot x black reader #aot imagines

118 notes · View notes

mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

Ey, could you make food source reactions for Mammon & Levi like you did with the others?

I've read it like 3 times now, they're all so sweet and believable you did a great job!

You got it Fam! Glad you like them so much lol. (I got a lot more angsty with Mammon than I thought I would but I love him sooooo)

Mammon

This poor man. He gets to spend so little time alone with you. He has to make every second count. Between the hustling, modeling, and running from Lucifer, he’s a pretty busy guy.

So he plans date nights. Just you, him, and his leather couch. Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear? He looks forward to this every month. He pins it on his calendar too just so he doesn’t double book himself.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Just cause he plans this doesn’t mean he necessarily has a plan. Not that you care. Most of his activities turn into trouble anyway, even when he is not trying.

Sometimes he teaches you how to play cards (also shows you human ways to cheat-just in case you need it). The hours are spent pleasantly sitting in his lap while he teaches you how to count cards.

But, most nights, he just wants to talk. He enjoys his time with you. You and him cuddling and chatting away the hours before passing out for the night.

He has a lot of things he wants to know about you. To him, he feels like if he knows you better than the other brothers he’s won.

Won what? Idk, your affection? Approval? He already has it, but he is insecure about his place in your heart regardless.

This evening starts out like any other. Mammon dashing to the kitchens to pilfer some snacks and drinks before Beel can steal them all, and you bring your cute self over to his room.

You two toss back a few drinks and spend some time looking over his latest photo shoots before going on to the main event. Tonight you brought one of your favorite human card games. It was like 20 questions, but some questions were more risque than others. Was it meant for more than two players? Yes, but whatever- Mammon wants to play it so you are.

You both are relaxed and drowsy by the time you start playing. Your stomachs are full of junk, and the morning moons are just on the horizon. It’s the perfect mixture for loose lips and secrets, before falling asleep in each other's arms.

You pick easy cards first, jumping from silly innocent questions to one that made him blush from ear to ear. The hours pass quickly and Mammon’s answers become more slurred and accented as he tires out.

He was on the verge of sleep when you ask, “What’s your favorite dish?”

It was a slip of the tongue, a long-lost memory pulled up from the dregs of his exhausted mind. He remembers a savory dish Barbatos use to make way back when. He can still smell the savory smoky spices mixing with the fresh vegetables and meat- Oh shit.

He feels you stiffen and he ain’t sleepy anymore, that’s for sure. Immediately up and apologizes. He stumbles over himself in his haste to explain himself.

You spend the rest of the evening with him in your arms trying to comfort him as he tearfully swears he hasn’t eaten a person in a couple of hundred years.

Mini Fic

He regrets it the moment the words slip out. His sleepy remark hangs out in the chilly air of his room. He feels you jerk in his arms as if punched. “Shit! I-I didn’t mean.” Mouth agape, he backtracks, tongue working faster than his overtaxed brain. He looks down at your head on his chest.

Your eyes are wide. Their surprise reflected in the bright blue moonlight. His heart sinks to his stomach. Gods, he ruined it. “I’m sorry- I.” Pushing you off of his chest he goes to grab his shirt and redress, ignoring the prickling heat growing at the corner of his eyes. He could sleep somewhere else tonight. You could have the room if you wanted, or at least give you a minute to flee in terror from the demon that masqueraded as your friend. He can’t look at you. Hells, he was too ashamed to even glance in your direction. What kind of idiot let’s slip that? They even had a council meeting about this very thing before you arrived.

So lost in his panic he doesn’t notice you trying to get his attention. It wasn’t until you forcefully grab his arm did he hear you. “It’s ok Mammon.” You engulf him in your warm and comforting scent. Strong arms dragging him back to the crumpled sheets of his bed. Your soft fingers wipe at the silent tears streaking down his cheeks.

He dislodges himself from your light grasp to rub at his own eyes. “How can ya’ say that?” Where was your sense of self-preservation? Ain’t humans supposed to be aware of such dangers? The irony wasn’t lost on him though. Being your ‘protector’ and all.

You shuffle closer, hellbent on comforting. His pack mark hums gently on his chest when you touch it. As much as his body wanted to run, your pact mark cemented him to his seat. He sits while you fuss over him slowly breathing through his mouth to calm his racing heart. He can’t help but drift closer to you when he feels your hand on the top of his head. When had he become so weak for you?

“Well-How can I not?” You shrug. He closes his eyes when you start ruffling his fringe. “You’ve been nothing but sweet to me. Yes, you have,” You cut him off firmly before he can object. “Always my number one anyway.” That pulls a wet chuckle from your demon. His eyes clear up at your admission. “I trust you Mammon, honestly. I mean, I kinda knew that you’ve probably eaten a human or two in your life. Knowing, and knowing are more different than I thought.”

Mammon cages you in his arms, his nose brushing along your neck and jawline. “Damn-.” He huffs covering you in his warm body, arms tight around your sides. “I’m sorry. I ruined tonight.” Mammon sighs into your skin.

You hug him back. “Nonsense, if you want to get technical I think you won this game. I can’t top that answer.” You push away with a wide yawn. “Now can we go back to bed?” With a nod, he flops over pulling you down with him. You bully your way into his arms again. Sighing constantly you snuggle in for the night, ready to drift off. His eyelids began to feel heavy again too. Your soft weight on him like a security blanket. He listens to your slowly beating heart, matching his breathing to yours. The rhythmic thumps working to calm him better than his noise machine. He basks in your presence, rubbing his broad hand down your back for a moment before you speak again.

“Hey, Mammon.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I would taste good?”

Leviathan

Awkward boy. Of course, he has had his fair share of humans. Not particularly his favorite through. A lot of the time it wasn’t on purpose. His demon form is big and sometimes more than just fish and other demons get swallowed up. Course when that happened, they weren’t exactly fresh either. Bleh-just thinking about it makes his stomach turn.

No, he never got a taste for it, even when it was served in the royal palace. The memories of the sea are still pretty vivid. It never really crosses his mind anymore. Till you bring it up.

He invites you over for a game night. A new VR game he had been saving up for just dropped and he had to play it with you.

It was a horror stealth game. Heavy on critical thinking and solving puzzles in real-time.

Your two characters were on a race against time against a flesh eating cult that had invaded a small village. He thought it was a fun concept and you both liked horror games. He didn’t notice how quiet you had gotten until you had set your controller down.

You ask during a loading screen after a pretty graphic cut scene of a npc getting caught. How realistic was that cut scene? Had he ever eaten a human before?

Boy is a brighter pink than Ruri-chan’s signature outfit (and twice as cute lbr)

He gets so flustered that he misses the start of the next round and gets you both eaten.

He doesn’t take conflict well. Like at all. He much rather slink off into his fish tank and hide than answer you. In fact, that sounds like an excellent idea.

He slithers back out of his tank hours later thinking you had left or found a better brother to hang out with. Yucky people eaters like him aren’t good company for humans.

You jump him the minute his feet are back on solid ground. Have an answer now you must! Yrssss.

Mini Fic

“L-Let go!” Levi shrieks, caught in your sneak attack. He locks up when you jump him, all four of your limbs wrapping around his soaking body like an octopus.

“No!” You squeeze him harder taking full advantage of the fact that he won’t remove you himself. You feel the heat of his blush through his soaked clothes as you cling closer. If he could blush any harder you were pretty sure steam would be wafting off of him.

“Why do you want to know anyway?” He wiggles gently, trying to loosen your tight grip.

“Morbid curiosity.” Well, at least you were honest. He was still going to say no, you didn’t need to know that about him. He opens his mouth to shut you down but makes the mistake of looking at you. The words die when he catches the pout growing on your face. Oh no- his one weakness. Your way your lower lip pops out adorably, accompanied by slightly puffed-out cheeks. It was a one-two punch to his defenses.

“I-they weren’t on purpose.” He pleads. Nevermore in his life did he wish he could turn into a mist-like his brother. He feels you slip off of him. Your bare feet don’t make a sound on his carpeted floor. “It just happened sometimes.” He admits. You accept it for a few seconds before his words fully hit you.

“Wait? How do you accidentally eat someone?” You ask incredulously. “All though- that’s something Beel might do.” You ponder the logistics and step back to give him some space.

He rights himself, wicking the moisture from his coat and pants with magic until he is completely dry again. You start asking a dozen more questions in rapid fire. It was enough to make his head spin. You were too curious for your own good. “Ever heard of basking whales?”

You blink.

Levi sighs and waves a hand to himself. “When I lived in the ocean… I’m big ya know. I kinda would just open my mouth and swallow. Whatever I caught I ate.” He waits for you to get the jest. Most of the time it was smaller fish and aquatic mammals. When a demon encroached on his territory he would eat them too. The dead were meant for his army, but sometimes they got sucked into.

Instead of nodding in understatement, you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand and snort. His eyes grow big and his blush turns brighter. You were spending way too much time with Asmo. “No-Not like that!” His flailing only makes you laugh harder. Great, as if he didn’t want to die of embarrassment already.

“Well word it better, nerd.” You laugh retreating back to the mound of pillows you claimed for gaming, VR headset in hand. “Come on, we have to start over now- thanks to someone.”

“You started it!” Levi shoots back grabbing up his gear as well. He fiddles with it for a moment before glancing back at you. You were oblivious to inner turmoil over this admission. A naval admiral was one thing. Humans had them too, that wasn’t too much for you to comprehend. Being a devil was easy enough to understand too, at least in his mind. But eating people? Shouldn’t you be more concerned? “So-that’s it?”

You look up questioningly. “What’s it?”

He raises a purple brow. “You have nothing else to say? I just admitted to eating people!”

“Not really.” You shrug. “I can’t get too pressed about it. It’s not like you are human. I’m like what-at the bottom of the food chain to you, right?” Levi nods. “See! So no point stressing over it. ‘Sides, you haven’t munched on me yet.” You turn your attention back to the screen, flicking your controller to wake his flat-screen back up. “Unless~” He gulps at the sly eyebrow wiggle you throw at him, the shit eating grin that accompanied it only made him worry. “Perhaps you just have an appetite for seamen.”

Your peals of laughter mix with his shrill yelps of objection, as he tackles you. His previous worries were completely forgotten by your teasing.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan

171 notes · View notes