#but i figured out how to fill in with the single needle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

politemenacephd · 1 month

Text

Arachnophilia: (Part Twenty-Seven)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Warning for description of needles/syringes. Get ready for angst yall. Word count: 5109

‘Gabriel?’

Mig and Miguel spoke it at nearly the same time, their voices betraying different levels of panic. The two men were utterly fixated on the screen before them, watching that little figure in the orange jacket moving through the thicket towards their nest.

‘Gabriel…’ Mig breathed. His eyes were flashing with a million feelings, but one stood out above the rest: fear.

You, in contrast, were left totally on the dark on the sudden change. You were desperately jumping to try and see over Miguel’s giant abdomen. ‘Mig—Mig! Babe, what is it?’ you called. The two of them ignored you, too shocked to even realize anyone else was in the room.

As you took a step back to breathe you noticed Mig’s abdomen was bristled and shaking, a clear sign he was extremely upset. You felt your heart starting to race faster.

‘Mig, you—’

‘Your Gabriel is still alive?!’ Miguel suddenly snapped, his tone quickly turning aggressive as he turned on the larger, mortified-looking man. Mig raised his hands as if in surrender to some higher power.

‘He—he is’ he murmured back, his voice cracking as he spoke. ‘I… I thought, he was… He was… ahh…’

You realized quite quickly Mig wasn’t in a good headspace right now, and you finally barged your way forward to stand between the two variants.

‘Hey! Hey, Mig, it’s okay—’

‘YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?!’

You spun around only to see Miguel visibly shaking, and you realized that both men had been deeply impacted by this revelation. As Miguel began to pace Mig collapsed, his legs folding in as he wrapped his arms around his upper torso for comfort. You went straight to Mig as Miguel continued hissing under his breath.

‘Miggy?’ you whispered, gently stroking his arms. You could feel just how tense he was, like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes were glassy and hazy, darting about the room as his lips mumbled silent words.

‘Miggy? Sweetheart? He—’ You paused and turned to Miguel again. ‘Miguel, who is this guy? Is he a danger?’ you blurted.

Miguel turned on you with those cold, red eyes, finally drawn to your voice. At first, you assumed he was just angry, but as he drew nearer you saw the truth. The single blue light from above illuminated the rigid sheen of fear over his eyes, highlighting the shadows in his knotted brows.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

‘He… Gabriel, is—’

‘He’s my brother.’

Mig’s words were just barely muffled by his hands, but they hung heavily in the air. You slowly turned your eyes away from Miguel and back to the trembling ball of navy red fluff, his shoulders hunched and strained as he cradled his own head.

‘Miggy?’ you whispered. You heard him make a sound like he was being strangled. ‘He… He’s my brother’ he repeated, his voice cracking. You caught just a glimpse of his eyes then, and your stomach tightened; they were pure red, bloodshot from salty tears filling them and falling into his palms.

‘He’s my brother’ he croaked again.

‘He— Miggy’ you whispered again, your voice dipping as you moved in to hold him. Mig had never mentioned his family, or really anything about his past life beyond the death of Dana, so the sudden emergence of a brother was a lot to take in. You’d been certain Mig was simply alone, but now--

‘He doesn’t know what happened to you, does he?’ Miguel snapped, his voice echoing around the office. You spun back around and glared him down as he spoke.

‘He doesn’t know, does he?’ Miguel repeated, his voice growing louder. Did he sound almost, betrayed? But why?

‘Miguel, don’t yell at him—’

‘Does he know?!’

‘Miguel--!’

‘DOES HE KNOW—’

‘He- When, Dana died, the agreement was that I left’ Mig stammered. His thick, clawed hands were shaking with guilt. ‘I couldn’t- after all I’d done, I couldn’t… I couldn’t, bear to tell him that I killed her, that I killed—’

‘Hey, hey, Miggy, it's okay’ you insisted, immediately turning your back on Miguel’s anger so you could comfort Mig. You crawled closer, running your fingers through his thick hair as his eyes darted around in a panic.

‘I… I couldn’t stand him seeing what I became’ he croaked. ‘If… If Dana, tried to kill me, he… What if I—’ he paused and his face contorted, his brows knotting tight as if suppressing something painful. ‘What if I- what if I killed him too? What if I had to kill him too? I’d rather die, arañita, I couldn’t, I couldn’t—’

‘Shh, shh.’ You repeated those gentle sounds as you nestled against his forehead, struggling to balance the sudden chaos occurring. ‘Shh….’

Miguel looked away and began pacing, his eyes still fixed on the monitors.

‘He… Someone has to go see him’ Miguel blurted. ‘He’s going to get hurt if he goes near your nest, or- he’s going to know something is up! We can’t just leave him out there!’

‘W-Why is he even here?!’ Mig blurted back, moving between fear and confusion at speeds his brain was struggling to keep up with.

‘Does it matter?!’ Miguel snapped.

At this point, while you were primarily focused on keeping Mig comforted and stable, Miguel’s anger was starting to spark a different, nagging concern in your mind. Miguel clearly wasn’t acting with reason. You’d seen the way he acted on emotion; you’d seen him when calm, when detached, and you’d seen him when something hit too close to home. This was the latter.

‘Miguel, why is this your problem at all?’ you called back, trying your best not to yell. ‘YOU set the rule that Mig isolate, and it’s his brother, why are you so mad about how he handled it?’

Your question was met with silence. Miguel had turned to face away from you, so you couldn’t get a reading on his expression or his thoughts, but when he yelled for Lyla you did notice something: His voice cracked. His voice broke. Your eyes slowly narrowed.

That wasn’t anger, that was…. Jealousy.

‘LYLA! I want an explanation, now!’

‘Alright, alright. I think I found what’s going on boss’ Lyla said, her voice filling the messy cacophony of pants, sobs and whimpers that occupied the otherwise tense silence. ‘Looks like, from his web history… Hmm…’

Lyla paused and gently pursed her lips, pouting curiously at her own phone. ‘Mm.. Hey uh, big fluffy boy, do you remember, by chance, accidentally eating someone in front of some hikers?’

Mig sniffed and slowly raised his head. He was panting as he tried to recall anything of the sort. ‘Ah- what? No! I-I’ve never eaten a human being before, it—’

‘We- had sex, accidentally, in front of some hikers’ you said, gently and shamefully cutting Mig off before he could continue. The slow, dawning realization on his face was a perfect contrast to the look of abject disgust on Miguel’s.

‘You… Ay Dios Mio, these two’ Miguel hissed to himself. You stepped up to try and explain.

‘NO, it- we were in heat, we didn’t realize they were there, they found us and—’

‘Thought you were being eaten?’ Lyla interrupted, casually waving her phone in your face. Again, you nodded shamefully.

‘Y-Yes, probably… maybe, it—yes. Yes.’

‘Okay. Well, that solves it then. Your brother Gabriel watched a podcast a few days ago, some tiny nobody show about cryptid sightings, which did an episode with two hikers who claimed to have seen a giant spider hybrid eating someone in the woods. It’s only got like… what, 200 views? So he’s clearly searching for this specific topic. He’s also been googling… ah, Nueva York cryptid sightings, giant spider cryptid, man spider cryptid, Alchemax disaster, Alchemax coverup… This is all pretty damning. Let’s hope Gabriel never kills anyone or his search history is gonna be a dead giveaway’ she said, ending with a soft, snide comment to try and ease the tension.

It didn’t help.

‘Ay chingada—You, ARGH—’

Miguel involuntarily swung his claws, destroying a nearby monitor in the process. You ducked to avoid the sparks.

‘LOOK! For god's sake, calm down Miguel!’ you snapped back.

‘Someone needs to go see him’ Miguel murmured back, not even really looking at you. He was pacing violently. ‘Someone has to go make sure he’s okay. He’s looking for—he wants to, see his brother—’

You noticed quite clearly the way Miguel said ‘brother’ and not just ‘Mig’, but you pushed it aside as you tried to bring the tension down. ‘Nobody needs to go and see him’ you said, ‘if Mig isn’t ready we can just- wait. He’ll leave eventually!’

You said the words with mock confidence because you knew it wasn’t really true. Your nest was so obvious and the moment Gabriel stumbled into it he was sure to stay behind. You’d left it with plates on the floor, warm sheets, and signs of life. He’d know it was being lived in, and if he was really here looking for Miguel, he wouldn’t leave.

‘We just need to go talk to him’ Miguel insisted.

‘I can’t’ Mig wailed. ‘I can’t—face him—’

‘We don’t know what his intentions are’ you added on, your hands now cradling Mig’s upper torso. ‘We can’t just run out there. We need to find a way to draw him away—’

‘What do you mean, his intentions?’ Miguel said, his voice lowering again as he raised a claw towards your face. ‘What are you implying, exactly?’

‘He—I don’t know who this guy is, Miguel!’ you cried in exasperation. ‘All I know is he’s looking for Mig, he somehow found our home, he showed up with no warning, he’s just—’

‘He’s our brother!’ Miguel snapped back, his patience clearly waning as something tore at his chest. He was trying to keep it under control, but his emotions were clearly all over the place. He started pacing again.

‘All I know, Miguel, is that people from Mig’s life who he trusted have tried to hurt him before’ you said slowly. You were trying your best to manage your breathing as Mig continued to gasp and pant. ‘I can’t- I can’t just, go out there trusting someone else.’

‘Then you don’t know enough!’ he snapped defensively, his hands clasped to his chest as he turned. His attempts to speak rationally were failing. Nobody was listening, why didn’t they understand what he knew, what he felt?

For a few minutes, a painfully heavy silence fell. You continued stroking Mig’s head as Miguel paced and Lyla monitored Gabriel’s movements as he approached the nest, taking pictures and scanning the ground with something nobody could make out. He clearly wasn’t leaving.

‘I can’t…’ Mig whimpered, his body too stiff to face his past. ‘I can’t…’

You shushed him tenderly as he curled in, his spider legs tucked tight to his belly, but Miguel didn’t say a word. He remained standing with his fists at his side, his face twitching as he struggled to remain calm.

‘Fine.’

Miguel’s words echoed in a way that made the hair on your neck stand up. You turned, slowly, dreading what you would see, only to be blinded by a burst of light.

Miguel formed a portal right in front of you, one that cast deep, dark, jagged shadows across his contorted features.

‘Fine’ he repeated in a breath. ‘Fine.’

‘Miguel, this is a bad idea’ Lyla said, but he ignored her monotone pleas.

‘If you won’t go see him’ Miguel spat, ‘I will.’

‘Miguel, MIGUEL—MIGUEL HE’S NOT YOUR GABRIEL—’

Lyla’s voice was drowned out as he stepped through the portal and shot out the other side, his feet thudding as he landed on the cold, wet grass. He took a moment in the silence to catch his breath.

He was hit with the sounds of birds tweeting overhead, and the rustling of ancient pine needles in a pleasant autumn breeze. He was hit with the smell of lush green, of clear air and wood smoke, and a voice he hadn’t heard in so, so long.

‘Miguelito?’

That nickname. It was the same nickname Miguel had heard for almost all of his childhood. God, his brother had thought it was so funny to call him that when Miguel had gone through his first growth spurt, when he’d outgrown his younger brother by a good 6 inches.

It wasn’t even a funny joke. Miguel hated it. But hearing it then…

Miguel laughed. He laughed, softly, before shakily rising to his feet.

With the light of the portal at his back, he saw him. Gabriel, in his stupid blue jumper with his stupid scarf. He wasn’t wearing his goggles, instead gripping those in his hands. The brushed-back hair, the big brown eyes, it was all there. His stupid, goody-two-shoes brother.

It looked just like him. He looked just like him. He was here, alive. He was real.

Miguel felt everything in his body settle all at once as if he’d been sedated. His heart slowed and his body slumped, all tension slowly easing from his muscles. His lips curled up into a half smile.

‘¡Ey, Mano!’ he croaked, words he never thought he’d say again.

‘Miguel? Is that- Is that you?’ Gabriel called back, his hand flying to his eyes as he tried to make out the figure moving towards him. Miguel approached with his hands at his sides.

‘It’s me’ he said, his voice going low and steady. ‘It’s me. I miss—’

Miguel froze as something crackled in the air, his body instinctively drawing back.

Gabriel was facing him, but now he had some kind of taser in his hand. It looked like something he’d made himself, and it was sparking with electricity. ‘Stay back’ he hissed, his teeth gritted and his eyes fearful. Miguel felt his whole world melting.

‘No—No, no, Gabriel, it’s me—’

‘Who are you?!’

Miguel felt his heart starting to speed up. Sweat was beading on his brow, his mind unable to process what was happening. ‘Gabriel, it’s me, it’s—’

‘You’re not my brother.’

Those words hung heavy in the air, punctuated by a flock of crows rising from the trees and filling the tense silence with their squawks. An omen of death, a reminder of the truth, like a cold hand from god come to remind Miguel of the truth. He didn’t belong here.

His hands began to tremble as he raised them. He wouldn’t accept it. He couldn’t.

He knew it was true. He knew it wasn’t him. But—maybe—

‘Gabriel, it’s me’ he repeated, his voice breaking a little. ‘It is. It- this might, be hard to explain, but I am your brother. I am. I’m just—’

‘GET BACK! What have you done with him?’

Miguel took a step back as bid by this variant of his younger brother, as he was too afraid he might accidentally hurt him. He continued to back up as Gabriel fixed him with those eyes, the eyes of a man seeing a monster. There was no recognition in those eyes. He saw right through him.

Miguel choked.

‘Gabriel—’

On the other side of the universe, you and Mig were left to watch this fiasco play out on the monitors while Lyla tried to plan for what to do.

‘Arrghhh, Miguel, you make my job so much HARDER—’ the AI hissed to herself.

‘What’s he doing?’ you asked right back, struggling to make out what was happening. Mig remained curled up with his head in his hands, shaking from the strain of this whole event. ‘Gabito’ he panted to himself, barely a whisper. ‘¡Gabito, Para…!’

‘He, uhh… God- okay, look. Listen to me.’ Lyla paused in her panic and materialized in front of your face, her expression unusually stern and serious. ‘His Gabriel, you know, Miguel’s? He’s gone. He’s not- with us anymore’ she explained slowly.

You felt your heart drop like a stone. You could do nothing but move your lips and turn your eyes back to the screen, where Mig’s Gabriel continued to approach Miguel with the taser. ‘Shhiittt, shit, no, no….’

‘He was killed by Alchemax when they came to raid Miguel’s apartment, after he changed. He was the first person Miguel went to for help, and—’

As Lyla spoke, Mig slowly began to raise his head. He stared at the screen as he watched Miguel backing up. His mind kept flashing back, back to his own apartment, back to Dana, and back to Miguel finding him there.

‘He blames himself. Obviously’ Lyla finished, his body glitching in and out of view.

You returned your eyes to the screens with this new, horrible knowledge.

‘Mano, please—’

Miguel continued to take slow steps back, trying his best to placate the frightened younger man before him. He was running out of ideas though, and more than that, his heart was breaking all over again. It was his brother, alive, in front of him. Why didn’t he understand?

‘I want to see, my brother’ Gabriel repeated a little louder. He raised the taser higher. ‘If you don’t tell me where he is, I will use this! I don’t know why you’re- wearing his skin like that, or- if he’s even alive, but I WILL FIND OUT!’

Miguel’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

‘I just… I just…’

Everything Miguel had ever wanted to say ran through his mind as he looked at that carbon copy of his brother. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry, Gabriel. I’m sorry. I missed you. I missed you. I’m sorry—

The taser went off, only to be thrown from Gabriel’s hand in a flash. The young man was thrown to the floor by a blinding light that erupted out of thin air around Miguel’s back.

A portal opened and through it came Mig, his hands outstretched to grab Miguel and pull him back in.

‘NO! NO, WAIT—I CAN’T LEAVE HIM HERE’ Miguel instinctively cried, his body trying desperately to fight the larger version of himself. Unfortunately, Mig remained the stronger of the two.

‘COME HERE!’ he snapped. ‘I WON’T LET YOU DAMAGE YOURSELF, ESTUPIDO—’

‘Miguel?’

The three men froze.

Mig froze halfway through the portal with Miguel’s limp, heartbroken body in his hands, and he made eye contact with Gabriel for the first time. It was almost instantaneous, an almost supernatural reaction, as the young man looked up at his older brother.

This monstrosity, 9ft tall and bare-chested, his lower half crawling and shuddering and twitching, his abdominal fur bristling in the cold, stood before his brother for the first time since the change, and all Gabriel could say was:

‘Mano?’

Mig felt his face sink. His brows went up, his red eyes filled with tears, and his lips parted to reveal his thick, pearly fangs as he choked.

He knew it was him. Instantly, no matter what had happened, he knew. He saw him.

‘You’re… You are alive’ Gabriel croaked. Mig felt tears streaming down his face, but he could do nothing but stare, letting the salt sting his eyes.

‘Mano—’

‘You’re alive’ Gabriel repeated, a little louder this time. He began scrambling to his feet.

Mig couldn’t take it. He was flashing back over a hundred memories; Gabriel as a baby, Gabriel and him playfighting on the couch, Gabriel crying after falling off his bike in the woods and Miguel carrying him home, the two of them huddling in their room as their parents screamed at each other one night, and then—

Dana. Her smiling face gone limp, frozen in terror in her last moments.

All Mig could see was his family in her place. His mother, dead by his hand. Gabriel, dead by his hand. You, dead by his hand. Everyone he could kill. He regressed so quickly.

In another universe, he’d called Gabriel first, and he’d killed him instead. He couldn’t take it.

‘I’m sorry’ he wailed, before dragging himself back through the portal with Miguel’s limp and lifeless form. ‘You have to go!’

The giant spider didn’t hear what Gabriel said as he fell back into Miguel’s office. He didn’t hear you as you came to comfort him, cradling his head in your lap, nor what Lyla said as she tried to get Miguel to respond.

Miguel went straight into sitting limply on the floor, his eyes seeing nothing, as Mig stared at the wall and ignored your attempts to get his attention.

The two men looked broken, just for different reasons.

‘Ah- shit, shit- Mig? Mig, sweetheart, hey!’ You continued gently stroking and cradling Mig’s large head, stroking over every fine feature. You touched his lips as he breathed, feeling them shudder. You pursed your own lips as you realized just how bad this was.

‘Mig… Mig... I—’

INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! UNAUTHORISED USE OF A PORTAL!

The sudden blaring of an alarm caused you to flinch and turn, your mind rushing to compensate for the two men’s inability to move. Intruder? Who? Where? How had someone gotten through, had someone made another portal? Was this a totally different attack? Was this—

You spun back to where the portal was, the one Miguel and Mig had just come through, and found that something was blocking the light. A dark silhouette stood in its center, with its arms out and its shoulders hunched.

It was Gabriel.

The man was panting hard, clearly slightly queasy from going through a portal for the first time, his eyes a little dazed and misty. You felt your gut sink into the floor.

‘Oh, Gabriel, no’ you murmured.

‘Ah… oh, that, was...’

He stumbled back a step only to also jump as the alarm began blaring, with red light filling the office.

INTRUDER ALERT! UNAUTHROISED USE OF A PORTAL!

As the walls of the office began to shift and ripple like waves Gabriel turned in a defensive circle, his own finger dumbly pointed at his face. ‘Wait, what? Me? Does it mean me?’

You both watched helplessly as something began to emerge from the thick, black metal walls of the office. There were automated guns on the wall, ones filled with small syringes of something thick and green.

They moved, honing in on Gabriel’s body, and they fired. His hands flew to his face.

‘SHIT—’

Right as the shot was about to hit the unarmed man, something altered its trajectory. An arm moving at inhuman speed smashed the glass syringe and splattered it across the floor, allowing you just a second to see what it was.

It was Miguel’s venom. The system was set up to paralyze anyone who got in without permission. You spun back to see who’d stopped it.

Miguel was back up on his feet, and his arms were spread to shield Gabriel’s body as the guns tried to home in on him again. He was strategically moving to keep him covered, struggling to mask every inch of his form.

‘GO BACK THROUGH THE PORTAL!’ Miguel cried, quickly cracking another syringe with his bare fist as it tried to get through his defenses. ‘LYLA, SHUT IT DOWN!’

‘I'M TRYING!’

The AI had made almost ten copies of herself at this point, and every one of them was trying to shut down the system to no avail.

‘LYLA—’ Miguel snapped her name again as he smashed another syringe, this time only just stopping it before it hit Gabriel’s body. ‘HURRY UP!’

‘You put in a hard code to stop it from being turned off, MIGUEL!’ Lyla snapped back in a drawl. ‘I’m doing the best I can, MIGUEL!’

‘What do you mean it's hard coded?!’ you yelled.

‘Miguel designed the system to RUTHLESSLY go after ANYONE who got in through a portal into the HQ without verification!’ Lyla rapidly explained, tumbling and glitching her words as she zipped back and forth. ‘Until the target is paralyzed, it won’t stop, not even for him!’

‘It’s supposed to be unbiased!’ Miguel snapped, struggling even now to not get defensive.

‘WELL, ITS GOING TO STAB SOMEONE SO THINK OF SOMETHING QUICK!’ Lyla screeched back, her body physically tearing itself apart from the stress.

‘GABRIEL, GO—THROUGH THE PORTAL!’ Miguel cried. He grunted as he just barely missed another syringe flying at him from the right, allowing the needle to sink deep into his muscle. Luckily it was his own venom, so it didn’t do any damage, but the pain on his face was clear.

At his back Gabriel looked confused, terrified but determined still as his eyes scanned for Mig. ‘I need to see him!’ Gabriel called back. ‘I need to see him, please!’

‘GABRIEL, TU ESTUPIDO- haz lo que te digo—!’

As Miguel yelled at him the gun started moving, breaking apart into smaller pieces which formed a circle around the group. Lyla was now at twenty versions of herself trying to unblock Miguel’s no-kill code.

‘No, no, no…’ Miguel spread his arms wide as he tried to cover Gabriel fully, unable to accept that he was too small.

‘I can’t stop it!’ Lyla cried. ‘I gotta—’ In a flash too fast to make out she vanished, disappearing in a last-ditch effort to find some way to override the lock.

As the guns began to shift and click, you felt a cold chill up your spine. You glanced at the exit door, too far away for you to reach even at your fastest. Bit by bit, the world slowed down, and you began to back up into nothing.

There were too many of them now. Their coding had one job: stop any intruder from getting to Miguel’s files, or getting deeper into the HQ, at any cost. If they fired at random, they could hit you too, and with that much venom? Who knows what it would do to your body.

‘Get behind me’ Miguel rasped, even though he knew his body wasn’t big enough to shield you both. His clawed hands grasped at your nape to pull you back against Gabriel. ‘GET BEHIND ME!’

‘Miguel—’

You fell in at his back alongside Gabriel as a sharp, droning whistling noise filled the office, its pitch gradually getting louder and louder. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, thundering away like a rabbit, as you frantically covered your face with your hands.

The guns went off. Miguel spread himself thin, straining himself to cover you and Gabriel, his eyes wide and horrified.

‘No, no—’

‘MI AMOR!’

The wind was abruptly knocked from your lungs as something huge and amorphous descended onto your body. You were knocked to the ground, surrounded by darkness and fur and heat, with Miguel at your side and Gabriel underneath you. You all cried out at the same time.

The deafening whistles of every gun in the room went off, and you heard the soft, wet, fleshy thud of the needles sinking into something, but the chaos was over unnervingly quickly. You heard rather than saw the alarm being switched off as the guns slowly retreated back into their holsters within the wall, slinking away like nothing had happened.

Even as you caught your breath, you knew what had happened. Even in the grips of shock you knew what had happened. You’d know that fur, that heavy breathing, that sweet smell covering your body right now.

Mig had broken out of his trance in time to cover all three of you from the attack. You shakily raised your head and found Mig’s directly above your own, leaving you locked on his gaze. He stared into your eyes, and he muttered two simple words.

‘Mi… mi amor?’ he muttered, before going totally limp. The paralysis had taken its toll.

‘MIG!’

You screamed and immediately kicked your way out from underneath him, clawing up at his fur to try and see what had happened. It was awful. His poor, giant abdomen was covered in syringes, sticking out of his flesh like a hedgehog.

You didn’t notice Lyla popping back into the room looking pleased with herself. ‘There we go, managed to hack that nicely with Spider Byte. Was I quick enou—oh.’

The AI zipped out of the way as she spotted the state the room had been left in, and most importantly the state Mig had been left in. He let out a low, mumbled groan as his face slowly slid down onto the cold floor.

‘MIG! MIG?!’

‘It’s okay, it's okay!’ Miguel frantically began removing needles as you sank to your knees in abject horror. ‘It’s okay! He’s not dead. My venom won’t kill him.’

‘Are you sure?!’ you blurted. Your hands were instinctively stroking his face, cupping his cheek, feeling all of his warmth around you. ‘Oh Miggy, Miggy, my Mig—’

‘I’m sure! His venom didn’t kill me, it- we’re different enough genetically that our venom can impact the other, but it's not deadly unless taken in severe doses. His- body is so big, this was akin to just a regular dose for him’ Miguel explained as he continued yanking needles out, grunting with each pull.

You felt your body slowly sinking with relief. ‘Oh, thank god, thank god’ you whimpered, your head burying itself into his neck as you curled into the fetal position. ‘Oh Miggy, Miggy…’

‘Just- give him some time’ Miguel murmured as he yanked the last of the syringes out. He did pause to secretly feel Mig’s abdomen, ensuring that he was breathing, and only then did he put his stoic face back on. ‘He’ll wake back up soon, in a few hours. It’s just—’

‘W-What is going on here?’

That voice drew Miguel to a halt. He almost didn’t want to turn. Part of him wanted to run, to hide, but he couldn’t. He remained simply rooted to the spot as someone’s footsteps filled the office, gradually getting louder and louder as they approached Mig’s downed body.

‘He… Oh, Miguel…’

Gabriel sank down to his knees beside the paralyzed Mig, his eyes wide and unblinking. He was wracked with confusion, almost like he was in a dream, and yet he acted with only sympathy. ‘What did they do to you, Miguelito?’

You watched him approach with equally teary eyes, unsure what to say or do. You simply shared a glance without words, and both returned to soothing the enormous, sleeping Mig. His breathing filled the room like a sleeping giant, so deep that it vibrated against the cool, metal floor.

‘Gabriel.’

The man looked up from tenderly brushing Mig’s body to see Miguel standing over him. The instinctive fear he had in his eyes was now gone, replaced by a morbid curiosity as to who this clone of his brother was, but that only seemed to make it harder on Miguel. He stared down at the variant of his brother with folded arms, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

‘We probably… have some explaining to do." Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #arachnophilia #miguel o'hara smut #drider #drider miguel o'hara #monster human relationship #archnophilia

70 notes · View notes

suguru-getos · 11 months

Text

| bad day? | hawks x reader | fluff/smut/comfort |

-> summary: returning home feeling shitty could only last so long in the presence of takami keigo | warnings: oral (f-receiving), fluff, soft kei 🪽🥰

ever since the clock ticked 5 pm for you, every single cell in your body ranted & whined about being at home. the idol chit-chat, the not-do-idol tasks in hand. people at work who you called your friends, people at work who you’d rather stab yourself than associate with; both, equally… were getting insufferable. it wasn’t anybody’s fault really. that you were getting annoyed by someone’s pace of walking… then again, it was not your fault either.

there are certain times your brain hits the ‘fuck this’ mark. where nothing could subdue the feeling of being broken apart by nothing & everything at once. today was one of those dreading times. your senses were dancing on the brink of actual craze, your head haywired from the information overload. nothing could soothe you.

still… you persisted, waited for your working hours which lasted longer than the most boring conundrum ever.

the icing on the cake was the heavy traffic on your way home. you could swear after taking a painkiller for your migraine that greeted you spitefully, you’d be better. nope — the buzz of the city followed with how claustrophobic and sensitive you felt were only exaggerating the pain in your skull & eyeballs. the pain of a thousand needles piercing your skin.

“fucking hell when will this bloody end god damn it!” you muttered to yourself, waiting impatiently with your index finger tapping on the steering wheel as the atmosphere overwhelmed you even further.

there was however… only one thought that your mind held, which was soothing. a stark contrast with the day you’ve had so damn far. takami keigo. you can’t wait to see him, your mind wants the imagination of you being couped up in his wings to be real — asap!

your reflexes, your body, your soul knew he is your reset. you know keigo would make it better. the perks of it were — he’d actually make everything better without even trying. it’s just his presence that pets you into a solemn place.

after zoning out several times, you managed to reach your shared apartment. hands shivering with gathered tiredness as you unlocked the door and let yourself inside. your bag dropping as your familiar feline companion, keigo’s and yours not so menacing & astoundingly mannerful cat came and greeted you.

unlike your normal, after-work interactions, you couldn’t make a conversation with him just yet, petting him & cooing at him before leaving to the kitchen for something — anything to fill your devilishly hungry stomach with.

without wasting much time, you took out the perfectly sliced fruits from the fridge, forking their way into your empty stomach when you heard the balcony door open. your autopilot mode turning off immediately as you perked up.

“kei? that’s you?”

a familiar, baritone voice echoed from your bedroom. “who else has the balls to enter our bedroom sweetheart,”

you smiled, humming & indulging in your so called dinner. before you heard another question from your man. “y’er okay?”

you blinked, doubtfulness and curiosity as to how keigo can figure you out just like that— immediately quenched when you saw a stray red plume caress your jaw.

“m’ not okay, i had a shitty day & it’s nobody’s fault.” you answered, “i’ve got a headache and i just feel very overstimulated & sensory overloaded y’know?”

ironically, the only thing you heard next was the sound of keigo’s boots approaching you to the drawing room couch. gloved hands tilting your chin up to make eye-contact with his golden pupils, a soft, friendly & familiar smile greeting you. “is that so, baby?”

you looked up, doe-eyed and awestruck at your man. you could never, ever get used to him. him in his hero costume— him as hawks~ then again, you still can’t get used to him as keigo either. he’s just so amazing…

“yeah” being daring enough, you leaned against his chest, feeling the lub-dub of his heartbeat while he tugged one of his gloves off with his teeth, visor neatly pulled up on his blonde waves, taking the other glove off and letting his wings falter to the ground like drapes. “aww — c’mere pretty.”

keigo hugged you, running his hands through your hair and kissing the crown of your head.

“the world’s being especially annoying and a pain in the ass to my girl huh?”

you could sense by the tone of his voice that he was slowly letting his familiarity sink into you. as if he was slowly calling you back from the hell you’ve resided in today.

“mm~ yeah,” you managed to reply, curtly. only because — your mind had already started fading off into bliss the moment you saw your mate, your lover around you.

“i know what could help-” keigo suggested, sounding ultra sincere & exceptionally sure of the sudden idea which had plagued his mind. you gazed back at him with eyes which were complying already.

“let me tend to my girl.” keigo announced, kneeling in front of you, two of his feathers doing the quick work of spreading your legs after keigo quickly tugged your shorts and panties off.

it’s an abomination how flushed you become — being with him since three years, whenever keigo gets his way with you. a deep exhale you didn’t know you held, left frantically from your heaving chest when you saw him pay no mind to any teasing & latch his lips directly at your clit, kissing it softly.

“fuck-” you gasped, looking down at keigo who’s eyes were stern in their determination to prolong their stare with yours.

“yeah, fuck, you’re so delicious baby—” keigo copied your tone, leaning in and swirling his tongue around your clit, spreading your pussy lips apart with his thumbs & latching onto your cunt hungrily. keigo loves to play with his food — normally, he’d tease you by kissing around your cunt, giving hickeys all over your inner thighs, have you soaking wet & desperate for him. not today.

your pleasure was starting to build, it felt like all your emotions though bad, were aiding into it tremendously, melting away, withering away until all that remained was a coil in your pelvis eager to snap.

“fuck— keigo- baby, ah! wanna-” you managed to contort broken sentences, writhing beneath the vigor of keigo’s love, keigo’s torture on you.

“y’ wanna cum baby? my pretty girl wants to cum f’ me?” keigo asked you back, smirking at how frantic & impatiently you bobbed your head in a nod.

“go ahead, i’ve got you sweetie — cum for me.”

as if the gates to a dam had opened, you screamed out, letting go for keigo and spasming beneath him, whining for him. the emotions you held within fading off, releasing into the prickling tears that made your cheek dewy.

soon — your moans turned into quiet sniffles as keigo continued to ride out your orgasm, extending it until your hands meekly pushed him away by the shoulders, indicating your overstimulation.

“i love you, gonna give me another one baby?” keigo asked tenderly, kissing your knuckles.

“mm~ on your cock kei,”

“i gotchu~ baby.”

359 notes · View notes

acutiewithagun · 6 months

Text

A lovely day for rain

Tw: kidnapping, paranoia, drained reader, mention of needles once, police, forced affection

Taglist: @oleander-nin @itsyagurlchip @radicallxser

“You know… you can leave at any time.”

He whispered soft venomous words into your ear as he held you in his lap. Hugging his arms around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“None of the doors are locked… I even told the others it was fine.” Your shoulders slightly perked up with hope. Feeling the sun on your face without being monitored... Getting to see your loved ones again… it felt like a fever dream hearing those words full of faux comfort.

“Not that you'd last long out there…” The blue banded terrapin chuckled dryly as he nuzzled his snout against your neck. “... You'd soon see how much better it is here and come running back.”

Your heart held a stoney doubt from his words as he churred and hugged you tightly. “But if you just ask you can leave at any time.” With bated breath you fiddled your fingers. “Could I leave now?”

He hummed and leaned back, releasing you from his embrace, fingers twitching to hug you again. Sprinting from the train car, you snatched the opportunity. Not minding the others as they watched you run through the abandoned subway station, jetting to the surface.

Unfortunately you were met with pouring rain instead of the free sunshine you longed to feel. That didn't deter you however as you ran. There was no trust of knowing what he'd do next, all you had to do is run.

Your legs burned as you stumbled into your apartment. You were lucky that your bank account auto paid rent and that you kept the spare key just under the door. You flopped on your bed, tired from all the running you did. But you still had to contact your loved ones.

Everything was in the same place as when he kidnapped you months ago. Blankets and pillows filled the small apartment from the events of that night. Picking up your very dead phone, you slipped it onto the charger, praying it still worked.

As you waited you got a cup of water and downed it quickly. Still very on edge, every creak and honking of horns outside had your skin crawl. You nursed the cup in your hand before getting more, feeling extremely dehydrated.

Suddenly you heard the sound of your phone coming back to life and all but stumbled to unlock it. After waiting an excruciating amount of seconds you unlocked it, messing up the password a few times from nerves. Once unlocked your heart fluttered as you opened your contacts. Only for it to drop like a weight in a pool. Everyone was gone…

You opened your apps frantically just to see you were logged out of every single one. And the password had changed. It had been so long that you couldn't remember anyone's number, so you couldn't contact them.

That Jupiter Jim loving-

You took a shaking breath as your hands covered your mouth and nose. Calm down, think this through… You could figure this out. After a few strained breaths you dropped your tired hands and sat back, emotionally and physically exhausted.

It was freedom, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it. And if it was this was, it was a messed up freedom.

Your eyes widened as you scrambled up, remembering one form of communication he could digitally erase. Frantically searching, you shoved things around your counters as you pulled out a box. Letters!

Biting the inside of your cheek, you looked through the envelopes that were held inside. However all the return addresses were crossed out. Having never shown him this box, you check again. Still the same marked out return addresses.

You groaned in defeat and slumped to the floor as tears filled your eyes. You did everything you could think of. Another envelope caught your eye as you tried sucking in what felt like a trapped fate.

Begrudgingly you left your disappointed stupor on the frigid floor. Reaching out you tiredly caught the envelope and opened it, not bothering to check the return address, knowing it would be crossed out. Inside was a paper letting you know of your termination from your job. Eyes widening at the news brought the tears finally flooding down.

How- How had he planned this!? When!?

Glancing over the letter again an epiphany grabbed your attention. The police… No matter how much they might not do, you could at least get in contact with your loved ones. At least that was the hope.

You slammed the letter down onto the counter and rushed out of your dinky apartment. Despite what a short rest you had, desperation clinged to anything that would get you away from that mutant.

Tears continued to pour down as you sprinted to the police station. You knew you looked like a mess and you didn't care. Anything to finally connect with the people you love, to have that freedom you craved.

Stumbling through the door a few people inside stared in surprise, others in disgust. You shook it off, wiping away the streaming liquid. You walked to the front desk, the person there giving you a judgemental look. You took in a deep breath before stuttering out your name and asking for someone to help you contact friends or family.

The person only nodded and called to another worker, motioning them over. Faith fluttered in your heart again as they covertly conversed with one another. This was your last effort, you had to hope as much as possible.

Disappointment reared its head as the second person walked away. But you clung to the plea of freedom as the first person you talked to motioned you to sit down. So you awkwardly sat down in the waiting room.

Rubbing your tear stained cheek, you watched the bustling city outside with growing paranoia. You were searching the crowds for that signature lime green skin, that stupid blue bandana, those eyes that told of obsession. Every second felt like little needles piercing your head as you nervously waited.

Your name was called as gravity pulled on your entire world. Snapping your head to the voice, you saw the one person you didn't want to see more than anything, waving to you with a bright smile.

Leonardo Hamato

All you could feel was defeat and exhaustion in every sense of the word as he helped you up. He waved to the officers with thanks as you both started walking towards your prison.

“So… did we have fun on our little adventure?” He leaned beside you to whisper softly as his arm reached around your back, landing his hand on your waist. You looked at him with a tired glare, earning a chuckle from him as he squeezed you against his side. “Oh don't give me that! I said you could leave where you wanted. I never said anything about having something to come back to.”

You wanted nothing more than to just fall over or punch him in the face. He only took notice of your near fainting, picking you up without a fight. Everything was a haze as he nuzzled your neck once more. “I told you how you'd be running back…”

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt self insert #a cutie with a gun writes #yandere rottmnt

89 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Special Interest 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Saturday morning has you in a fog as you awake from a long night of vivid but forgotten dreams. You can't recall a single detail but you're thoroughly irritated by your nocturnal alternate reality. As you go down to claim your morning coffee and bid away the headache looming behind your brow, you're greeted by your parents' voices.

"Hmm, it's still doing that thing," your dad huffs, "strange."

"I told you, hon," your mom hums, "that nice man says it's um, you know, this U part... well... I can't remember exactly what he said."

You drag your feet into the kitchen and squint, "call a plumber, please. I'm done getting sprayed in the face."

"You got plumber money?" Your dad snips, "look, I can figure it out. I'll check the Facebook group."

"I'm sure all the boomers on their will know exactly how to lift the sink up by its bootstraps," you chuckle.

"Honey," your mother warns as your dad fumbles with his phone, jabbing at the screen with his index finger.

"I'm not a boomer," he grumbles as he shakes his head.

"Kidding," you fill the coffee carafe from the fridge filter to avoid further breaking the sink, "you know I'm teasing."

"Huh, says here I got the wrong part," your dad scratches his chin, "s'alright, I gotta grab a few things down at the depot anyway."

"How much are you going to spend before you get a professional in here?" Your mother challenges.

"It's eleven bucks, honey," your dad retorts with a sickly sweetness in his tone, "you wanna come with me?"

"Ugh, no, I'm making lemon meringue."

"Lemon mer-- why on earth are you going to all that trouble?"

"Because, Wilson, is it's a nice day and I want pie--"

Right, you're going to let the coffee brew as their marital discord does the same. Your parents tend to swing between head over heels and to the point of throwing hands on any day. A stormy but efficient relationship. It hardly lends credence to your mother's desperate pleas for you to snag a husband.

You go back upstairs and sit down at your work table. You open your planner and review your tasks for the day. Print some stickers, get some more work down on that infinity scarf, and maybe a nap if you make good progress. First, some music to drown out your parents as they go back and forth. Oh marriage does seem like a fairytale.

🧶

Your day wanes away to afternoon as you furrow your brow at your needles. You slouch uncomfortable against a pile of pillows against the corner of the wall. Your legs are bent atop the bed as a Youtube video plays on your phone and fills the void. The ombre effect looks good but this is sure tedious.

The fall grays to a winterly malaise. The only good thing about this time of year is the opportunity to wear turtlenecks and drown in hot drinks. Thinking of, you could use another. Maybe not coffee, but hot chocolate could scratch your itch. You loop the scarf over your neck as you jostle off the bed and keep up your looping.

You drift out of your room, crocheting and peeking up every few steps. You make a lazy descent and as you come to the first floor, you hear a commotion in the kitchen. Is your dad still at it? At this rate, you may as well just toss the sink out.

You enter, hoping that a hot chocolate isn't too much to ask. You stop short as you see two legs sticking out from beneath the sink. Those are not your father's boots. Did he really cave and hire a plumber?

Your mother hovers over the man, watching him as she leans on the open cupboard door.

"Thank you so much for doing this," she preens, "so lucky you could make it over. I swear, Wilson was going to drive himself to an aneurysm," she babbles. That's the thing, even service workers are a target for her ramblings. You pity the man stuck beneath the pipes, trapped with her yammering.

"Yeah, no problem, beats the troughs at the farm," the man responds lightly.

Suddenly you don't feel so bad for him as you recognise his voice. Your mother sure is an idiot. She invited this weirdo into her home? Your home? You can't say you're surprised, only deeply disappointed.

Before you can flee, your mother's attention is drawn by the unintentional click of your needles as they hit each other. Fuck.

"There you are, sweetie. Look who came to fix the sink," she chimes.

"Ugh," is all you give her as you commit to your mission. You poke the needles into the yarn and let them hang. You grab a packet of chocolate powder and mug. You keep your back to the duo as you flip on the kettle to boil.

"Hey," Cole says, his voice no longer muffled beneath the counter.

You don't acknowledge him. You mom harrumphs.

"Honey, don't be like that. He's a guest," she tuts, "oh, Cole," she continues on her tittering, "I made some pie, do you want to stay for dinner?"

You growl. This isn't going to work. You think you'll just starve in your room. You narrow your eyes at the kettle, willing the water to boil telepathically. It doesn't work.

"Well, I'd hate to impose," he says, grunting as he sets his feet and stands, his shadow rising over your shoulder. "Alright, so this is what we're going to do, start the dishwasher. It should create enough pressure to clear the block."

“Oh, you're so clever,” your mother praises. “And it's no problem, we have more than enough. It must be such a far way, I couldn't send you off just like that.”

“He probably has work to do on his farm. His home. Hanging out with the pigs or whatever,” you chirp.

“We don't have pigs. Got some chickens though. Oh, you should try some of the eggs,” Cole brushes by your insult, “maybe I could bring you some–”

“Probably not necessary, they sell eggs at the 7 Eleven.”

“Don't be so rude,” your mother snaps, “you're embarrassing yourself and me. If you're going to keep this up, you won't have any pie.”

“Fine with me,” you stick your tongue out.

“Look, hey,” Cole injects with his palms out, “I guess… I guess it's time to come clean. Camila, your daughter, she has a good reason to hate me. We've met before and I put my foot in my mouth and I think I embarrassed her so for that I apologise. I feel awful about it and I should've brought it up sooner.”

“Oh, wow, you–” your mom reels at the revelation, “well, I think then it's meant to be. The universe brought you back so you can apologise. Honey,” she turns to you, “can't you forgive him?”

You blink. The kettle clicks off as it boils. You glance between them. You turn your back to the kitchen and fill your mug, stirring with a spoon before tramping off without a word.

His act might work on her but you know he didn't find you to say sorry. He's too old to be wasting his time on you. He's pathetic.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #special interest #drabble #series #au #bookstore au #ghosted

101 notes · View notes

dead-dove-yandere · 2 months

Note

seeing that Laura drabble post made me imagine stuff, like- darling wakes up tied up only to find laura getting all flustered and blushy as soon as they do, she probably will just ramble about how she loves them and how they were meant to be together but it was almost inaudible for darling to hear what she's saying.

and to be honest, that one dude does have a lot of friends in his workplace, they're all really close too, but he's a lot closer to this brunette girl who's his childhood best friend xd (welp, looks like their time hanging out together will be gone, and it'll just go to him hanging out with chase instead if he has free-time)

— 👾

Somehow I have a feeling that Chase would ensure that one dude doesn’t spend much time with his childhood friend much more - if at all 😬 Chase would definitely get a little jealous that she gets his attention, although he’d never willingly admit he was jealous.

As for Laura, that’s exactly what she’d do - she’d have the guts to kidnap her darling with expertise but then still somehow be too shy to talk directly to them lol.

TW: Stalking, obsession, kidnapping, drugging, restraint, unhealthy parasocial relationship

You wake up slowly, groggily. Every single one of your senses returns one by one as you struggle out of your stupor. First, it’s your hearing - you hear some shuffling, as if someone is moving stuff around, accompanied by a quiet whimper or squeal of excitement. Then your feeling and smell return, and you become aware you’re on a cold, hard laminate floor, but it seems that blankets and cushions have been placed around you in an attempt to make you more comfortable. Your wrists ache and chafe against some kind of restraint that’s slightly too tight around them. A slightly musty scent hangs in the air, but it’s overpowered by some sort of cheap, chemically air freshener that gave you a headache - or perhaps it was the drugs you were recovering from that caused that? You weren’t sure. Finally, you managed to peel your eyes open, blinking away stale tears that blurred your vision. You hear another excited giggle and you try to hold your head up.

As your vision comes into focus, the room becomes clearer. It seems as though you’re in the bedroom of some small apartment. There’s barely enough room, and what room is there is cluttered by furniture and merch. Plastered on every wall you see posters of your idol band, your bandmates and yourself smiling back at you in glossy photos. There are shelves filled with your albums, and photocards dotted everywhere, stuck to any surface where there was room. You can faintly hear some music playing, and you glance over to see a PC on a desk, youtube open on the music video for a song you wrote. It seems like insult to injury - you weren’t particularly proud of that song and knew you could have written it better, yet here it was, another piece of this strange shrine to you, and in the middle of it all, sat on the floor in front of you, was Laura.

She was grinning, her face flushed bright red and she used the sleeve of her jumper to hide her face. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you. As she notices your gaze finally falling upon her, she mumbles something, but you can’t hear it.

“What?” You croak, your throat sore and dry.

“I s-said I… I can’t believe that you are- that you really are…” She stuttered on for a while, trying to get the sentence out but still making little sense, and while perhaps you could have figured it out, your mind was still too sluggish. She continues on regardless of your confused expression.

“I really, really liked - no, loved - no I do love you. Love. I love you. Like, a l-lot. I did, I always did.” You stare at her, your confusion overpowering the instinct for fear. You try to raise your hands, feeling pins and needles from the restraints.

“Oh, erm, yes, I know, it’s uh… they’re uh…” She went back to mumbling incoherently.

“What?” You repeat. The grogginess is quickly turning to nausea.

“I…” Laura takes a shaky breath, fidgeting and clearly getting agitated by her own inability to get over her anxiety, although how someone that anxious could go through with something as risky as kidnap, you weren’t sure.

“We are meant to be together!” She blurts out suddenly, and you only look at her with more bewilderment, feeling uneasy about her clear obsession as well as unsure about what that statement had to do with anything she was trying to say before. You flex your hands, focusing on getting feeling back into them. Laura’s face drops in disappointment when she didn’t get the reaction she wanted from you. Her face grows redder as her brow furrows in frustration and she babbles some more, all of it sounding like gibberish or a string of words fragments. Eventually she gives up mid sentence and roars in frustration, picking up a pillow and throwing it at the wall with a heavy thud. Then, she stands up and runs to the door where she pauses for a second.

“Ineedaminutetocalmdown,” she mutters, before slamming the door, leaving you trapped alone inside her bedroom.

Divider’s Credit: See Pinned Post

50 notes · View notes

volpe-kitsune-red · 6 days

Text

A taste of you～(Part 2)

Part 1

Lynx Andromeda (Yandere OC) x reader

TW. general yandere behavior, possessive behavior, vampires, blood-drinking, kidnapping, manipulative behaviour

"Finally! I was starting to worry that I might have gone too far...haha"

You barely understood what the voice had said, your ears were ringing, and when you tried opening your eyes, it looked like everything around you was spinning. Hesitantly, you raised your hands to confirm your head was still there by how light it felt. "How are you feeling, love?" This time the voice felt clearer, it was low, sweet, and feminine. Your vision stopped spinning as much and you finally managed to make out the figure sitting next to you...it was Lynx, and you were in her room, in her bed. It would have been embarrassing and panic-inducing if it was anyone else's bedroom you had woken up in. However, you guys had regularly watched tons of movies, played games, and talked about life cozied together up on that bed, mostly when you were younger and had far more free time on your hands. The only thing bothering you was that you couldn't recall how you got there; you were at that party, then you were talking to that woman, and then...

"Here love, drink this, it will make you feel better." Lynx grabbed a glass filled with some red liquid and held it out for you to take. "Lynx, no offense dear, but how is wine supposed to help me recover from a hangover?" She giggled in response. "You really think I'm that stupid? I might have failed my chemistry exam last year, but that was just one time!" She said, faking a frown. "Ok then, enlighten me, what is it?" "It's obviously watermelon juice." You raised an eyebrow, couldn't she have just given you water instead? You knew she had an obsession with that drink, she brought a bottle of it to school every single day since you had known her; for some reason she never let you take even a little sip when you asked to try it. Too nauseous to question her choice any more than that, you took the glass from her hands and carefully brought it to your lips. "Oh, what the fuck, it tastes nothing like watermelon" "I forgot to mention I added some ibuprofen, I figured you would need it." You weren't too convinced, it wasn't just the taste, the consistency didn't add up. A part of you was telling you that something was wrong, making you nervous. Either way, despite your skepticism, you kept feeling a deep desire, a primal craving for that drink since you first smelled it. So you chugged it down, licking your lips afterward. You almost instantly regained your focus, nothing hurt anymore. Actually, you could distinctly tell apart the chirping of the birds flying outside, their wings flapping, and their hearts pumping blood through their bodies. Blood... why were you so fixated on that now?

Then memories hit you like a ton of bricks. Lynx dragging you away, kissing you, and... biting your neck?? Instinctively, your hand shot to where you recalled the sharp pain you felt last night originated, and there it was. Under your fingers, two small holes were present, they hadn't closed, and yet no blood was seeping out despite how deep into your flesh her teeth had dug into you. Her teeth, her long, needle-like sharp teeth. You looked at your best friend in horror and were met with an apologetic expression, which you didn't take too well. "You have been a fucking vampire this whole time and you never told me bitch??" She wasn't too shocked by your reaction. "Excuse me if I didn't want to scare you away, also I promised my father to never tell a human my secret so-" "But we have known each other for our entire lives! You know you can trust me with anything, you could have told me-" "I tried to drop hints but your dumbass somehow ignored all of them! Nobody fucking likes watermelon juice!" You stopped yourself from throwing a few insults at her and continuing the screaming match that would have lasted forever otherwise, knowing your best friend's temper. After taking a big, long breath, you speak again. "Ok ok, whatever, we'll talk about this later. Now to my next issue...what the hell was that? You kissed me, but also bit and sucked all my blood out right after that. You are kind of bipolar but this is too much hypocrisy even for you."

She avoided looking you in the eyes, seemingly embarrassed. "Yeah, about that. I was actually pretty drunk and I wasn't able to think straight...that horribly worsened after I saw you with her." The irritation in her voice when she mentioned the woman at the bar was difficult to ignore. "That wasn't something I had planned to happen this soon. I had a whole ceremony in mind for the day I would have finally turned you into a vampire: a creepy abandoned church, the moon high in the sky, a camera recording the moment so I could watch it later, our servants playing the violin in the background for a solemn atmospheric feel... all that just went out of the window because of a stupid party night." Her cheery voice and dreamy eyes, as she spoke about the ceremony, dipped back down and lost their spark at the last sentence. "Huh, wait. Does that mean I'm a vampire now?? Why didn't you tell me that from the start!" She stared at you with a deadpanned, slightly concerned face. "Darling, sweety, love of my life, I assumed you had already figured that out. I find your human stupidity cute but this kind of concerns me."

Overall, she was glad you had taken the whole vampire thing well. She had prepared a whole speech to ease you into accepting the idea but it revealed itself unnecessary. Unfortunately, she did have some other news she knew you wouldn't appreciate. "So, how am I supposed to walk to school now? Do you have to wear special sunscreen every day or is the whole burning under the sun thing a myth?" Her reaction perplexed you, she looked very much amused by your question, but your now heightened senses helped you easily pick up on other things you were unaware of before such as the aura of malice surrounding her and...something else you couldn't make out. "Oh no no dear, you won't be going anywhere for quite a while. You see, I'm still unsure if I can trust you keeping shut about this, what if I lose sight of you again? You're such a precious thing, you could get hurt out here if you don't know how to navigate with your new body." It always creeped you out how she would so easily subtly switch her tone in the middle of a conversation, she went from sweet to threatening to lock you up in an instant. "But I still need to go to college, I have an exam next week and..." "Love, I don't think you fully understand the situation you are in. Do you know how the spread of the vampirism curse works?" You shook your head. "Since I was the one that turned you, you are under my control, I am basically your master. If I wanted I could turn you into one of my family's many servants, use you as a maid, and you wouldn't even get a say in the matter. You are bound to follow every command I give you from now on." The situation took a dark turn really fast, but you couldn't understand why, why was she talking to you like this? "But you would never do something like that to me...right? Lynx?"

"It all depends on the answer to my next question. Do you love me?" Well, that was easy, you thought.

Unfortunately for you, no matter what your answer was going to be, she didn't need to restrain herself anymore now that you had no way to run. Why would she let you roam around free when you could sit obediently in her lap, where no one would ever dare harm you? Why go to school and distract yourself with others when she was all you needed from now on? You didn't need a degree or a job, she was basically royalty amongst vampires, money was never going to be an issue. Of course, she wouldn't actually turn you into a maid, she had decided on a far better fate for you.

You were destined to be her spouse, you were going to be tied to her for the rest of your eternal lives. Refusal wasn't an option, a no wouldn't be accepted, you are her most prized possession and resistance is futile.

#yandere blog #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #lynx oc #yandere vampire x reader #yandere female #yandere vampire #vampire x reader #vampire #vampire x human #vampire x vampire

21 notes · View notes

writtenbyaris · 4 months

Text

my creative writing process as a planner 🌟

the idea:

story ideas come to me at the most random and inconvenient of times. right before i fall asleep, when i'm in the shower, during my classes, etcetera. my main rule is to always write them down, whether it's in my notes app or a slip of paper or a journal... i'll forget it if i don't.

i try keeping it simple at this stage and not thinking too deeply about it, otherwise it becomes quite overwhelming. sometimes ¡'ll make a pinterest board depending on what the idea is. if it's more of an aesthetic, then i can make a moodboard out of it to help inspire me more. however, if the idea is a plot of some sort, that can be a bit more difficult.

character and world building:

this is my favorite part. once i have an idea set in stone and i'm ready to work on it, i begin building the characters and the world around it. i figure out the mechanics of the idea and how it can relate to characters and the world they're in.

at this point, i'm definitely making pinterest boards, playlists, and picrews to feel more immersed in the skeleton of the story.

i still keep it as simple as possible, and try to enjoy it. when i try juggling too many things at once, i end up wanting to abandon the project. slow and steady is the key for me :)

creating the story:

now we get down to what being a writer actually is.. transforming the idea into a story. i have to at least come up with one major plotline to start. i usually write in my journal during this stage, but sometimes i'll use notion to organize everything and keep track of it all.

oftentimes, the main plot will come to me when i'm working on character and world building. sometimes it's even the idea that first popped into my head. the story is usually influenced by dreams i've had, my own every day experiences, and other media i consume.

arcs, subplots, themes, etc:

this stage is for the smaller details that are vital for the story to flow and actually work. it's like a puzzle that's finally coming together.

for me, a story isn't a good one without arcs and themes, so those are of utmost importance. subplots are necessary to make the world more immersive, give readers insight on the characters, and keep the story naturally flowing. everything has to be woven back in to the main plot or idea, though.

i will say, this is the stage that tends to give me the biggest headache :P

zero draft:

jumping into a first draft as a heavy planner is too scary for me. so i came up with the idea of a zero draft. basically- zero expectations.

this is the backbone of my story. in this stage, i'm basically just taking myself through the steps of the story. i organize the plot and subplots into chapters, and with each chapter i go through all the beats of each scene. literally every. single. thing. that happens.

i don't usually include dialogue in this phase, but i do mention when a character will be in a conversation. all the focus should be on putting a needle and thread through the story and tying it all together.

first draft:

the first draft is somewhat easier for me because i do a zero draft. so, i know everything that will happen in a chapter and just have to utilize my writing abilities to make it rhythmic.

this is the first stage where i write dialogue, so it tends to be corny. a lot of my writing can be cliche and basic as well. that's what editing is for though!

i usually stress the most when writing my first draft, because it's the first time the story is actually being written in the format of a novel. by the end, it's not always very good either. but i do not look back at all, which means absolutely no editing until the first draft is finished.

and so on…

once the first draft is finished, then comes draft two. it's enjoyable to be able to read your own work all over again, though it's sometimes embarrassing as writing does improve with practice.

i focus on one chapter at a time-reading slowly, editing, filling in plot holes, fixing anything that changed later in the story. i try to catch as many details as i can.

usually, after as many rounds of editing one likes, the draft would be sent to an editor and beta readers. then i'd look into publishing companies (can you tell i haven't gotten to that point yet? lol)

are you a planner or a pantser?

#writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #writers and poets #literature #writerscommunity #storytelling #planner #pantser #writing process #my writing process #zero draft #first draft #writing tips #writing advice #author

43 notes · View notes

nicksbestie · 8 months

Note

hii!! i was wondering if you could write a luke fic idea i had :))

sooo i have a tally tat and i was thinking about what it would be like if you took luke with you to get a tattoo but you won't tell him what it is until you're getting it done and it happens to be the tatty tattoo (kinda the same style as his but on the side of your hip) ORRR maybe you already have one and it's his reaction to seeing it for the first time. either way i just knowwwww he would lose it in the best way if he found out you had a piece of him become a piece of you

thank u bff!!

Tally Tattoo

word count : 1713

warnings : general tattoo stuff, discussion of needles

enjoy!

Tattoos were a big piece of your life, loving to get important things inked onto you so that you could remember it forever.

The question of “you know that’s permanent, right?” or “what if you stop liking them or that thing and then it’s stuck on you forever?” never really bothered you, because you knew that if something was a big enough deal for you to get a tattoo of it, that you could always look back on it and remember just how much it meant to you at the time, fond memories would fill your mind.

So, if there was something that meant enough to you, you would get it tattooed. You’d gotten music artists, movie characters, flowers, things related to concerts, and more. There was next to nothing that you wouldn’t get if you had a special enough connection to it, and that’s what led you to your current tattoo appointment, the one you were getting ready for now. Your boyfriend was part of a band, and you had been with him for multiple years. You’d been a fan before even getting lucky enough to meet him, and then to end up dating him was a dream come true for you. You’d always wanted their original band logo tattooed, and now that you were dating their lead singer, it felt like the perfect time to get it done.

So you had booked the appointment, told Luke you had the appointment, but conveniently kept what exactly you were getting a secret, dodging the question every time he asked. He had eventually dropped the subject, realizing that he wasn’t going to get it out of you, and accepting the fact that he was just going to have to wait and find out what it was when you finally had it done. You had told him he wasn’t allowed to go to the appointment with you, not wanting it to be spoiled by him peeking over your’s or the artist’s shoulder, and he had pouted about it before finally giving in and agreeing to stay home.

The appointment wasn’t until around four in the afternoon, leaving you with a lot of time, and giving Luke a lot more time to try and figure out the design without making it obvious. However, he wasn’t very good at that, and you shut him down every single time until he fake-pouted and sulked on the couch for twenty minutes. He was lucky you loved him so much or his dramatics would be entirely ignored. You laughed for a few seconds before going to sit next to him, moving until his arm was around your shoulders, kissing away the obviously false pout. He broke into a high pitched laugh, turning on some random show to pass time before you two ordered delivery for lunch. Neither of you wanted to get up and make anything.

As two in the afternoon rolled around, Luke had finally given up on begging you to tell him what it was, pretending that he didn’t care instead. He was the most dramatic partner you’d ever had, but it was all lighthearted and there was no cruelty behind it. He was truly fine with not knowing, he just loved to tease and see if you would break and tell him early. However, you stood strong and kept your secrets close to your chest. You were excited to see his reaction once it was done, and you know it would be much better and much more worth it if you waited until after.

Just an hour later, you got something else to eat and drink, and were on the way to the shop. Michael had recommended it to you when you told him you were looking to get a new tattoo, but it was quite far away compared to some of the other shops. But, you trusted Michael’s judgment, and booked the appointment with the same artist that had done Michael’s bands and symbol on his right forearm. When you eventually got there, you were just a few minutes early, which was perfect so that you could go over what you wanted, make sure you had the placement you wanted, and get everything absolutely perfect and sanitized before you started the actual tattoo process.

You decided you wanted it placed on your wrist, on just the outside edge of it. It wasn’t thick lines, thin ones that wouldn’t take very long to get done. It however did take a bit of time to get the stencil placed perfectly, because of where it was, it was kind of awkward to do. However, your artist was patient, and didn’t complain about adjusting it so many times. Obviously, you’re paying for their work, which would be permanently on your skin, so you shouldn’t have to deal with an artist being rude about it, but it was still nice that they were so patient. A lot of artists in the industry weren’t as kind, so you understood why Michael considered this shop and artist worth the drive. You hoped that you could say the same by the end of your trip here, and you were sure you’d be able to.

The initial sting of the tattoo artist beginning their work sent you a few waves of shock, having been quite distracted on your phone, glancing at Luke’s texts asking how it was going. Getting used to the feeling, having gotten quite a few tattoos before, you sent a few replies before setting your phone down to watch the satisfying appearance of black ink dotting your skin. Only a line or two was done before Luke texted back, you instantly picking it up to see his message asking for a photo of the progress with that begging emoji that only he could send without it being cringy. You fought the urge to laugh and jostle your arm, texting back a “no, nice try, give it up.” Getting a tattoo wasn’t your favorite feeling in the world, it was needles sinking into your skin, of course, but it wasn’t as terrible as it could’ve been, especially with the small design only calling for a singular needle, instead of like Michael’s bands, being a thirty two point.

Halfway through the design, your artist paused to check in on you. It was a tiny design compared to some, but she still took the time to make sure that you weren’t more affected than usual or needed anything. You took a small water break, not a long one, just enough to move your body a bit so your arms or legs didn’t fall asleep. The rest of the design went by in a flash, and you were ecstatic to get to see it. She took her time, gently cleaning it off, making sure that none of the soap or ink that wasn’t supposed to be there stayed on your skin, examining carefully to check that everything looked right and there were no immediate red flags, before letting you see it in the mirror. You loved it, and immediately told her so. The smile on her face as she was also proud of her work was worth everything. You held as still as possible, partially out of anxiety, as she wrapped it.

You couldn’t wait to see Luke’s reaction, but still patiently sat through the aftercare rules that you’d heard time and time again, making sure to thank the artist profusely before paying, and leaving a generous tip before you left the shop. You would definitely be coming back to this shop, it was absolutely worth the drive, and the artist you had worked with was one of the best you had ever gone to. You texted Michael informing him so, and he replied with nothing less than an “I told you so.” His ego was truly something to be studied in a lab one day. You headed home, knowing that when you got there you’d be unable to avoid Luke and would have to show him immediately, but you still attempted to stall him for as long as you could. It didn’t work, of course. He immediately demanded to see it, and if it had been lower on your wrist, he probably would’ve grabbed it in excitement, but he didn’t, knowing the area was probably still very sensitive.

You laughed, knowing you couldn’t stall him any longer. With traffic, and since you left the shop, it had been closer to an hour and a half since you got it wrapped, so you removed it, very, very, carefully, before angling your wrist so that he could see it. You wished that you had a third hand to record his reaction, or that you had thought about recording it, because his face was absolutely priceless. There were not many things that made him speechless, but he was fish mouthing, seemingly unable to find anything coherent to say, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the stunned expression on his face. You stopped your laughter when you saw tears building on his lash line, ever the emotional one.

“Lu, are you crying?”

Your tone was lighthearted, no anger or meanness behind it, and he smiled and tried to wipe away any evidence of it.

“I, we, mean that much to you?”

Avoiding the area that had just been tattooed, you immediately wrapped him in a hug.

“You knew I was a fan before you decided you wanted me as a partner, of course you do! Besides, now we match!”

It was his turn to laugh, hugging you back as he stared at the tally on the outside of his own wrist.

“No wonder you didn’t let me see it beforehand.”

“That would have ruined the surprise. Don’t you agree that it was better to wait?”

“Fine, but if I’d known I might not have reacted like this!”

You still hadn’t let go of him, enjoying the hug.

“I have no idea why you think that’s better, the whole purpose of waiting was to see this reaction!” Luke spent the next few days absolutely obsessed with the tattoo, always managing to somehow have his matching one pushed up against yours. You two now had matching tattoos, if in slightly different styles, he was certain you weren’t going anywhere now.

#5sos fic #5sos fluff #5sos angst #5sos #5sos x reader #5sosfam #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings angst #luke hemmings #luke hemmings 5sos #luke hemmings tattoos #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings 5 seconds of summer

63 notes · View notes

nescaveckwriter · 4 months

Text

Paintbrushes And Romance 🥰🐞 - Part 10

Dean x Fem/Reader

Part 10🥰🐞

A/N: Are we getting closer to the grand finale?! - Also side note - I've made a Spotify playlist, with all the songs of this series, I'll add the link... Much love, my bugsies 🥰🐞... Also can I just give thanks too my brother for helping me remember about 'Bobby' 😋

Warnings: violence, horror, cold, swearing, gore, blood,🙈

...

The raindrops is glistening against the window, cathing the street lights and throwing a rainbow of colours against the dark wall. Reaching over, searching, for your body, to pull you closer, hold you tightly, you get cold so easily, trying to reach a little further, a intense shooting pain in his chest, eyes flying open, confused and in a daze he looks around, its not your bedroom its a hospital room. What the hell! Dean look's to his upper torso, remembering, the look in Jack's face when he pulled the trigger. All of the sudden this amount of fear rushes over him, the message, you! He recites your name like its a prayer. Pulling the blankets off of him, he swung he's legs of the bed, standing up, just to crash down to the ground.

Frustration clear on his face, pulling out the IV out of his arm, and tugging at the other cables. The sound of the monitors flatlining is enough to alarm the night shift staff that, there's a code blue.

He pushes, himself up, steadying himself with one hand on the bedrail, walking towards the bedside table, he needs to get out of this hospital gown. He's legs feels heavy, and his chest tight, his breath a little restricted as he's ribcage feels like its been cracked. He pushes through the pain, almost there, he bite's his lower lip.

The staff comes running in, ready to resuscitate him again. To their surprise the large man with his broad shoulders is standing. The one nurse, tells the other one, go get his brother. She comes closer towards him, speaking in a calm voice she tells him to get back in bed.

He's emerald green eyes, turning a darker shade, almost hazel like. When he says , the hell I am! His voice filled with pain and more gruffy than usual. Being the stubborn man he is, opening the drawer, searching for clothing, noticing the chain with the diamond ring, taking it out, and sliding it over his head, so that it can be close to his heart again.

Sam run's towards his brother, man your awake he says, hugging him tightly. Dean now only balancing himself in this brotherly hug, he starts to speak, in a low voice, have you found her, where is she?

Sam's voice filled with regret and sadness. Not yet!

Dean's voice breaking, all he can get out is a heartbreaking no! While his legs gives in.

Sam's holding his brother up, his body feeling heavy, Sam, sits Dean down on the bed, gesturing him to take a few moments. You need to build up your strength man, Sam says with a concerned voice.

The hell she must be going through, Sam, Dean's voice is filled with pain and exhaustion. How long, has it been he asks, not really wanting to hear the reply, he looks at Sam searching his eyes.

Biting his lip, its been seven man, we haven't found any evidence, of where she could be, the deputy's took a look at the butcheries that you guys raided the last time, but not a single trace!

Anger and concern flashes in those green eyes, useless bastard's, he shouts.

Sam just looks at Dean, not really knowing what to say, just saying in a low voice, we'll get her, but first you need to get your rest, seeing Dean's about to resist his suggestion, he says even if its just for tonight, we can figure something out in the morning.

Seeing Sam's nodding for the nurse, and feeling the pinch of the needle prickling his skin, hearing her say, there you go, you'll start to feel calmer in a few minutes.

Sam, helps the nurse, to adjust Dean onto the hospital bed. Dean's eyes started to feel heavy, whispering your name, over and over again, till he's eyes are shut completely.

...

The last thing Luke said, was look what you made me do, while dragging you into the middle of the cage, you heard the steel door close.

Excruciating pain, that pulses through your upper thigh, awakens you abruptly. What, the hell? You see, Luke hunching over another man, in the cage, fix her, he shouted angrily.

The voice of the old man, sounded tired but familiar, when he said se needs a doctor. You open your eyes wider, you gasped for air, when you see its Bobby, you'll recognise that ball cap anywhere, the fire in your voice makes, both men turn around and look at you, leave him alone Luke!

Ha! Fix her! This isn't over. He shoves the old man closer to your side. I'll get the supplies, don't try shit! Or I will start taking her limbs apart right now, he says while looking at Bobby.

Bobby, shuffle's closer to you, he's voice breaking, my sweet girl, I'm so sorry, I didn't know he had you too.

Your eyes as big as sources, me too? He had you all this time aswell? Bobby just nods, the damn bastard took me by surprise.

He came to the scrapyard, looking for parts, when I turned the, damn idjit hit me behind the head, I were tied up in a cage like this one, for about eight days. When he came rushing in, claiming you needed help.

You look at him, the old man's face a bloodied mess, I'm so sorry, your voice revealing the pain your in.

He's eyes filled with concern when he said we have to stop the bleeding aswell as the infection but its going to hurt babygirl.

It's okay, you said, trying to put up a brave face. I.. uhmm... Do you know about Dean?

Bobby let's out a sigh, I do, with sadness in his deep voice.

They get interrupted by Luke handing Bobby a lighter and a open bullet casing filled with gun powder.

Luke comes closer to you, knife in his hand, distorted look in his eyes, he takes ahold of your pants cutting the fabric exposing the open wound. Taking off he's belt, saying with a emotionless voice, you're going have to bite down on that. Ready old man? Bobby's eyes shoots up at you, with concern.

You just nod trying to make your voice stronger than you feel, I'll be alright you say, not fully grapshing the pain your about to experience.

You bite down on the belt, Bobby's one hand on your leg holding it in place, and the free hand tapping the powder over the open wound, you hear Bobby telling Luke to hold you still.

Luke takes ahold of your shoulders pushing you firmly against the bars. You moan a bit, it stings you think.

You hear the flicking of the lighter switch, Bobby bringing it closer to the open wound.

It sounded sort of, like the 4th of July fireworks that got lit up.

Your screams bouncing off the factory walls, between the screams and shaking, you can hear Bobby saying something, but nothing makes sense, it burns like hell! You feel the pain immersing throughout your body, and then complete darkness.

....

Morning came and Sam walked in with coffee, only to see Dean already dressed, Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean put a stop to it, saying I don't want to hear it, the way I see it is you've got two choices, either you help me, or leave me the hell alone, but I'm walking out of hear today, and I don't have the freaking energy to fight you too. Sam handed him his coffee without saying a word, he just nodded, they proceeded to get everything, packed. Walking towards the exit, Dean glimpses over his shoulder, back to the hospital hallway, thanking whoever is above for waking him up, so that he can save the one, he loves more than life itself.

.....

Your eyes starts to slowly open, the rays of the sun, and the birds chirping let you know its morning. The moaning sounds that escapes your lips, when you try to sit in an upright position, let's Bobby know your awake.

"Hey sweetheart, here, have some water, are you okay? How do you feel?"

You take the bottle of water, taking a few sips and quenching the thirst you had. Thank you, Bobby, saying while smiling, still tired and groggy.

"Your going to feel like shit for a while, you lost a lot of blood, and your body suffered a big trauma, his face with concern, his voice low and deep with outlined exhaustion.

Hey, Bobby, Don't look so worried, your girl's though, a little laugh escaping your lips.

I know sweetie, but, I'm tired, he runs his hand over he's face.

I know, me too, but we are two against one, we can overpower him and run, saying with hopefulness in your voice.

Bobby gets up form his sitting position, how? You can barely stand, and as for me , I don't have the strength in me anymore.

Don't say that Bobby! Your voice sounded more angry than you anticipated! We have eachother and we will get through this together.

Walking towards you, sitting down next to you, your right sweetheart, I'm sorry, I'm just exhausted.

I know, I understand, but I won't stop fighting till my last breath. While lying your head on his chest, you saying in a low, painful voice, Bobby, I'll keep fighting, but I'm scarred... Scarred where not going to make it out of here, Scarred that he would win, silently sobbing now, I'm just scared.

"I know sweetie, he says, with despair. The two of you, just sit there, holding on to eachother for dear life.

....

Its been three days since Dean started his search, but still nothing, where the hell did the bastard take her, and where the hell is Bobby? Damnit! He hits the table, the papers getting tossed up in the air, he moans a little, when he feels the sting of the not fully recovered wound in his chest.

That's it! I'm going to see Jack! He says to no one really. Taking his keys, and jacket he walks out of his house, whispering underneath his breath if only you could return to me darling.

"Sam made sure, Jack would be locked up for what he's done. Jack's sitting in the cold room with only a table, and a one way mirror, knowing someone is probably behind it watching him, his face fills with surprise, shock and guilt, when he sees the large man enters through the door. Sheriff he exclaimed! I'm... He strutters.

Dean's voice sounded urgent and heavy. Stop! I know why you did what you did, hell maybe I would've done the same, but I'm not here for that! I need to know, have you seen the bastard, can you describe him, do you know anything damnit?

Jack flinching at the anger in his voice, yes he says, with regret visible. When I handed him the file, we met up at an abandoned road, outside of town, he drove a yellow car, almost like a cab!

What the hell! Dean basically screaming now, and you didn't think of telling anyone, what file damnit, speak up!

"I.. um.., Jack stutters" Dean looking him dead in the eyes, he's voice loud and full of anger speak damnit. "It's the file of the kidnapped girl, of ten years ago, Jack's says shakily.

Dean kicks the chair, it's all connected somehow, he's anger rolls over his lips. Looking at Jack, describe him now!

"He's in his late 30's maybe early 40's ordinary looking, I'm so sorry I was worried about Julie, I didn't really take everything in, he says apologetically.

Damnit Jack! Dean says running his hand over his face. Moving the chair away from the door, walking through it, he can hear Jack's mumbling something, but he doesn't care for the first damn time he's gotten some hope that, he could find the bastard.

After searching through the database, for what felt like hours, Dean had it figured out, Luke Fisher, is a registered cab driver, and the brother of the late Mike Fisher. This is all about revenge Sammy he says, while leaving a voicemail, he must be in court.

The black chevy impala, is parked a little across the street, he checked with the taxi services, Luke is working today, Dean just sat there waiting for him to clock out for the day, knowing he'd go right back to were he kept you, he waited patiently.

There he is, Luke gets out of the cab, walking towards the office, after a while he comes back, that's when he saw it, Luke's face was bruised, a little smile tugging at Dean's lips my girls a fighter he thinks. He starts the impala, when he sees Luke driving off, tailing him, saying "I'm coming baby, hold on, I'm coming...

#spotify #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jared padalecki #jensen ackles x reader #sam and dean #benny lafitte #castiel spn #dean winchester imagine #eileen leahy

30 notes · View notes

shywhumpauthor · 1 year

Text

Whumpuary Day 8

Burns |"Don't move" | Running out of air

Prev. | Masterlist

I should really think about giving these bitches names. The main idea for this chapter inspired heavily by @sparrowsage ‘s ask. The bamboo cane seemed like so much fun but I couldn’t really figure out how to make it fit the prompts, burning was a lot easier in that sense lol

Cw: burning, torture, captivity, restraints, self sacrifice for a cause, thoughts of death, drowning, interrogation setting, noncon stripping/partial nudity (not sexual, nothing major is exposed, but there’s some stuff left open to interpretation), Whumper is kinda creepy here, bruises, blood, slight strangulation/asphyxiation. It’s kind of a heavy piece, just be warned.

The air was like needles against their skin, cold, stinging needles as the scrappy remains of their shirt was cut away. Whumpee tried to kick them, which only prompted Whumper to slash the blade against their shins before returning to sawing away the thick material of Whumpee’s cargo pants. The fabric fell, leaving Whumpee nearly bare, save for their boxers and the array of bruises that acted almost as a sweater, tendrils of purpling red blotches wrapping around their torso and limbs. Goosebumps raised along their exposed skin, damp and beaded with water, the sudden vulnerability making them fight back both a flushed humiliation and a shiver. Regretfully, the sudden fire sparking in their chest, heat creeping up their neck did nothing to warm them from the physical cold enveloping their body whole.

“Don’t worry, my friend, I won’t leave you shivering for too long now,” Whumper snickered, taking a small step back to grab something off a nearby surface. Whumpee grit their teeth, their legs trembling with both cold and exhaustion, exertion built up in just the few moments of being forced to bear their weight. They could feel their knees beginning to buckle, but the rope pressing tight to their throat provided enough motivation for them to continue standing, at least for the time being. Their balance wouldn’t last forever, energy was already dwindling. They wondered faintly if a heavy collapse would be enough to snap their neck, or if they’d only be left to strangle, without the energy to stand. They doubted Whumper would let them die that easily.

Whumper held their hand out in front of them, smirking. Whumpee’s vision still swimming with the headache that assaulted the inside of their skull, they could just barely make out the twist in Whumper’s lips. They heard a sharp, quick sound, a burst of light seemingly exploding in Whumper’s palm, but when they blinked a few times, the image of a lighter became just clear enough for them to make out.

Whumpee almost wished they’d return to the ice water.

Whumper didn’t make any witty comments as they approached, stepping on both of Whumpee’s feet with a single fine shoe, the brown leather speckled with something darker. They put enough pressure to pin their legs in place, enough to draw a stifled gasp of pain from Whumpee’s clamped lips, but not enough to truly crush the fragile bones. They kept eye contact for a moment longer, the triumphant power visible in the flicker of fire reflecting off their eyes, before they broke the connection, eyes lowering to roam Whumpee’s body, looking for the perfect place to lay their first mark.

“I only want a name right now, Whumpee,” Whumper reminded slowly, their thumb keeping the little red switch pressed firmly as they brought the flame dangerously close to Whumpee’s face, before retreating their hand slightly. “Just tell me who you work for, and this will end.”

Though they didn’t say it, the “for now” lingered heavily off the end of their sentence, unspoken but clearly heard.

Whumpee set their expression and drew in a short breath, letting the air fill their aching lungs. Pressed their tongue to the roof of their mouth, tightened their hands into fists where they were cuffed behind their back. Breathe. They can handle this.

Breathe. You can handle this. You’re fine. It’s just pain, so what? Breathe. You’re fine. It’s just pain.

The words repeated in their mind, a mantra, chanting over and over through their thoughts. Boss? What boss? They didn’t work for anyone. Except Whumper, but that contract was clearly over. Breathe.

Little fires burnt across their skin, first held at a short distance where the heat from the flame only singed their skin, then increased until the yellow flickers were touching their flesh. Burning, the stench of burning skin clouded the air. Could Whumper smell it? They didn’t seem bothered. Whumpee tried to mimic their utter indifference, but their eyes still welled with tears. They swallowed back the sounds of pain that threatened to escape their clenched jaw, choosing to focus on anything other than the short flame eating away at their muscle.

With Whumper pressed nearly flush against them, the worry of collapsing had faded to a mild concern, one that wasn’t pressing in the moment. Pressing like the hot metal against their ribs, adding a third splotchy burn to the line Whumper appeared to be creating. This time, they couldn’t help the gasp, a small choke of air catching in their lungs as the lighter seared their torso, already tender and bruised from the day’s abuse. Shit.

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut. A stupid decision, but the natural reaction as the fire returned, lengthening the stretch. Their nails bit into their palms, bloody, bruising crescents welling where they pressed in, but the pain was nothing as Whumper brought the small flame to their abdomen, burning just above their left hip.

Down and down the trail of scorches continued, pressing to their thighs, leaving awful, blistering welts that felt the heat burning them down to the bone. Whumpee wasn’t sure when the tears first fell, but they wouldn’t stop, unable to do anything to clear the humiliating evidence of weakness from their face. Once they did, they just grinned, pulling the lighter away from Whumpee’s leg and letting the flame go out.

“Oh, Whumpee, don’t tell me this is too much for you? Just a few little burns? Come on, that’s just pathetic,” Whumper’s voice got quiet as they raised the lighter to Whumpee’s face, using the still hot metal rim to smear away one of their tears.

“Go to hell,” Whumpee gasped, trying to wrench their head away from the burning touch, but Whumper’s hand shot forwards and grabbed them by the jaw, twisting their face back and forcing their eyes to meet.

“I’m sure I’ll meet you there, my friend,” Whumper smirked, and flicked the lighter back to life.

•••

Whumpee lay curled on the bed, their arms clutched against their chest, shielding their bruised torso with their equally marred forearms. The blanket lay tucked between their knees, in such a manner it allowed their legs to be propped apart to spare the welting burns from rubbing irritated against each other. Their back faced the door, what they once would have never done, fear of being caught blindsided driving them to keep their eyes pinned on the metal, but now they were too tired to move. so they stayed put, exactly where Whumper’s guard had dropped them, only adjusting once to situate their legs into a less painful position, a movement that did not come without its own induction of agony.

It was amazing how much damage such a small thing could cause. A lighter, no bigger than the size of Whumpee’s palm, a flame barely the size of a coin, able to inflict so much hurt to a single body. Each breath didn’t come without a wheeze, each twitch drawing a hitch in their breath. Silent streaks of tears ran down their nose, their temple, dribbling softly and soaking a small spot onto the flat white pillow propped beneath their head.

They didn’t look over as the door clicked, a small slot in the bottom unlocking and swinging inside as something was pushed through the gap. It took them a while to work up the will to move, even the simple task of rolling onto their opposite side sending a blinding pain shooting through each nerve. Breath hitching like they had just run a mile, it took a minute before their vision straightened out enough for them to see what was on the tray.

A bowl, small and plastic like the type found in the cafeteria, with a simple spoon next to it and an empty cup.

And in the bowl, though they were far Whumpee could see quite clearly what meal they had been served. Beef stew.

They turned their head into the pillow, burying their face into the scratchy linen and they cried.

…[this next part was taken from the beginning of the next chapter and added here so I can do a coherent timeskip and add drabbles later]…

New day, new me.

That’s how the saying went, right? As if with every break of dawn, you could expect another fragment of personality to surface and assume the sole facet of one’s being, over and over again without any ever being recycled. With each new sunrise, another aspect of self was brought to being, forever and yet briefly changing them, only to be shadowed the following day.

A beautiful theory, and in the moment Noah couldn’t help but agree.

They weren’t sure it had been a day, but it certainly felt like it had. Funny, it was, how time warped whenever one was alone, without the means to tell the hour. Counting the seconds, counting their breaths, a superficial manner at best. Their mind would roam and their counting would stall, attention drawn away to whatever illusions the grey walled silence would conjure. They must have stalled to sleep, though, realizing once they opened their eyes the dull ache that met them with the picture of light. The pain in their limbs had faded from a burning terror to a slow trickle of fire, only kindling to life whenever they were foolish enough to move.

They were laying on their back on the thin, stiff mattress, the cold of the room numbed their fingers. Their first blanket lay tangled around their legs, kicked away and discarded with their unconscious struggles. That wasn’t what their thoughts caught on, though, not the way the fabric irritated the burns along their shins. Another thin blanket, a sheet, more so, was draped over nearly their entire body, covering everything just up to their neck. That brought a tirade of mixed emotions bubbling through their mind, heat raising in their chest. Someone had been in there, in the room with them while they were unconscious. Noah was pretty sure they knew who it was.

That only made them feel worse.

New them. New didn’t always mean for the better. Noah felt new, different. They were new in a manner that they had never been this weak before. Absolutely powerless, without the resolve to do much as turn their head. Exhaustion tethered their limbs, a chain locked around their consciousness dragging them down. There was no more adrenaline to hide the extent of their pain.

Breathe. All they had to do was breathe, and it would subside. They forced their mind to leave the cell. To stretch far past the concrete walls and the electric fence, past the compound they worked at before. They never wanted to do this with their life. They were perfectly content going to college, getting a regular degree in forensics and taking on a normal job. They didn’t want this, they never wanted this. But they were young, and they were foolish, fresh out of school with thousands in debt. They jumped on the first offer extended, and then they were in too deep to ever think about turning back.

They pushed that out of their mind, fingertips digging against the stiff, plastic mattress cover. Breathe. It’ll pass.

———————————

Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @enigmawritesstuff

I really am having a lot of trouble writing day 9. Like, whenever I go to work on it, it just feels all stiff and unnatural. The words don’t want to word right. Ugh

63 notes · View notes

it-happened-one-fic · 2 years

Text

Hours in the Moonlight: Fairest Midnight - Vampires Don't Eat Potatoes - Vil

Author's Notes: This is the Vil Halloween fic I mentioned in my previous Jade fic. This one is actually from an AU type thingie that may or may not get more stuff added to it. It'll depend on if I stay interested in it and if you guys like it. Thus far the AU is unnamed to.... Anyway, reader is gender-neutral as per usual and Vil is a vampire.

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Fluff / Vampire AU/ romantic

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1500

EDIT: So, this fic is officially the first part of "Fairest Midnight" which is first section of my new vampires series: "Hours in the Moonlight." I hope everyone enjoys this new work that I'm very excited to be sharing!

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

Knit, purl, purl. Knit, purl, purl. Knit, purl, purl. The almost rhythmic clicking of my needles paired with the classical music from the only station my radio was currently picking up did make for an odd soundtrack. But then my life had become quite odd ever since last Halloween….

The sounds of stringed instruments playing in harmony filled my room as I continued to knit, idly thinking about how strange my life had gotten for absolutely no good reason. But then… Beggars can’t be choosers.

As if the world sensed my thoughts, my night took a turn from a peaceful, if dull, evening to vaguely chaotic.

The window I was sitting next to burst open, causing me to all but fall out of my chair in surprise as cold wind poured into my previously warm apartment. The curtains that usually hung most of the way to the floor were whipped into a frenzy as the wind stirred them.

Amid the fluttering fabric, I could see something that caused my whole body to tense and my pulse to quicken. There, slightly obstructed from my view by the fabric, stood a tall caped figure that loomed over me.

My body reacted faster than my mind as my hand clamped down on my single loose knitting needle and plunged it forward. I stood, pushing myself upwards towards the man that leaned over me as I shoved the needle towards his unprotected chest.

It entered his body in utter silence with little resistance. I panted, adrenaline still coursing through my veins as I watched the man stumble, silently, backwards. He curled forward and around the make-shift weapon that now stuck out of his chest. Time seemed to slow as I watched the man’s form and slowly backed away.

The wind died down and my curtains fell back to a resting position, revealing the intruder and I felt my eyes widen. I knew that ombre hair.

“Ow.” Vil’s voice was deadpan when he spoke and his irritation was obvious. Not that I could entirely blame him. He met my wide-eyed gaze with flashing amethyst eyes, “That hurt.”

I let out a huff, covering my earlier panic with feigned annoyance as my adrenaline died down and my hands began to tremble from excess energy, “Oh please. It didn’t hurt that bad. You aren’t even crying.”

He snorted, unimpressed.

“Tears or not,” His slender, gloved fingers wrapped around my knitting utensil and, with his eyes never leaving mine, yanked it out of his chest without even a grunt of discomfort, “It still hurts.”

He glanced down at the needle in his hand, a frown still on his face, “It's not even wood…. And you didn’t hit where my heart is.”

His eyes met mine once more as he let the notably metal needle roll out of his hand and clatter sadly to the floor, “If it hadn’t been me then you would be in big trouble. If you weren’t already dead. What were you thinking?”

I crossed my arms and frowned at both him and his scolding tone. As if he had the right to chastise me when he was the one breaking and entering, “I could say the same to you. Of course I’m going to panic if you come through my 2nd story window like some sort of gravity-immune creep.”

To be fair he wasn’t gravity-immune or a creep. He was just unnaturally strong due to being a vampire of unknown age since he refused to date himself. He also might be able to fly or jump really far, but I wasn’t entirely sure about either of those things and now didn’t seem like the time to ask.

Vil rolled his eyes, “Potato….”

I cut him off and continued, talking had now become a way to get rid of this excess energy in hopes of keeping the imminent adrenaline crash at bay, “You know I'm on high alert this time of year. I could have really hurt you.” Despite my annoyance, concern leaked into my tone and he stilled.

After the briefest of moments Vil crossed his arms and gave me a pointed look and I knew I’d treaded on unsafe ground, “Not on high-enough alert if you’re sitting by your window in plain sight at this time of night.”

I sighed but remained silent because, unfortunately, he was right. As the resident hot commodity for vampires I should’ve known better.

And yet, I still felt the need to defend myself and my actions, “I wouldn’t have allowed any other vampire entrance. The only reason you got in is because you have a standing invitation.”

He quirked an eyebrow, eyeing me with a slight frown, “Because you have no sense of danger. Letting a vampire into your home….”

Again, he wasn’t entirely wrong. A little over a year ago I would’ve completely agreed with him.

Last Halloween, when vampires had first taken a shine to me for reasons unknown, my room was always locked up tight and I was nowhere near any windows or openings they might be able to see me through.

It was nothing short of a miracle that I’d even met Vil. When he’d come in that evening as ‘someone my friend wanted me to meet’ and I’d seen his lack of reflection I’d gone into full panic mode. Now that I was thinking about it, it was also nothing short of a miracle that my friend was Rook and that he hadn’t reacted because he thought I’d been excited about how pretty Vil was.

Nonetheless, why I’d spoken to Vil remained one of the many mysteries in my life. The fact I’d befriended him was even stranger.

The only reason he got a free pass was he’d proven, numerous times, that he wasn’t going to hunt or hurt me in any way. Well, except for maybe scaring me into falling out of my chair and busting my butt.

“I suppose you’re planning on going out on Halloween night?” I grinned slightly at his question and he shook his head with sigh.

At his frown I leapt into action. This, I had been prepared for, “Oh come on, Vil! It’s one of the few times we can hang out in public with no one questioning your fangs and that cape you refuse to lose.”

He cast a glance my way. His frown deepening when I brought up his cape, but he said nothing. Instead opting to stare at me silently with his arms crossed.

When he didn’t respond I stepped over to him and pulled his cape to either side of him, revealing its full expanse as I grinned up at him, “Besides, this thing is big enough that I can hide under it even if some vampire shows up to bother me.”

Vil’s patience with my antics had its limit and, as I abruptly realized when I was tugged forward, I'd reached its end with my teasing.

Vil looked down at me, a single arm wrapped around my shoulders that trapped me between him and his cape. A smile tugged at his lips, a sign of his amusement, “That will just trap you with another vampire.”

My surprise disappeared and I felt a new grin slip onto my face as I looked up at him, “As if I would be afraid of you. Weren’t you the one who said: ‘Vampires don’t eat potatoes’?”

He smiled openly, fangs glinting slightly in the light as I reminded him of his words from a year ago, back before I’d trusted him, “They don't. At least not self-respecting ones.”

“Good thing you have loads of that then,” He snorted at my light-hearted jab, but was evidently enough prepared with a comeback.

“Unfortunately, not all vampires are as discerning as I though. You,” He lifted one eyebrow to emphasize his words, “Need to be more careful.”

I leaned back, fully trusting him to support me as I grinned up at him, “Why bother when I’ve got you to watch out for me? Didn’t you say that you had stated that this area was your territory or whatever?”

He all but scowled at my teasing, “That’s no excuse. I can think of a great many vampires who would invade even my territory for that chance of catching a tater-tot like you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

His left eyeball twitched, “It’s a warning.”

I snickered at his annoyed tone, but at last conceded. Patting him affectionately on the side of his face, “Alright, alright. I’ll be more careful.”

He stared at me pointedly and I sighed, “I promise.”

He let out a slight huff and I eyed him carefully, gauging his reaction before a small hopeful smile appeared on my face, “So can we go out on Halloween or….?”

He sighed at my tone, eyeing me with a thoughtful look, “I suppose I can hide you if any scary ghosts come by….”

I wrinkled my nose at his teasing and he grinned outright at me, “Very well, we’ll go out then.”

If you would like to read more:

129 notes · View notes

totowlff · 1 year

Text

extra — who do you keep in your head

➝ while cassie was doing her part of the process, it fell to toto to do his part. however, he couldn't help but feel guilty about it

➝ word count: 2,9k

➝ warnings: smut

Standing beside the gurney, Toto watched the movement in the room intently while he held her hand. The doctor was washing his hands, while two nurses were looking at some documents on the computer in the room, pointing to something on the screen. In a corner, a woman was arranging some syringes with what he assumed was the anesthesia medication that would be administered to Cassie, who was lying on an exam table, her legs in stirrups and covered in a surgical drape, holding his hand tightly.

Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her red hair covered by a surgical cap. She didn't want him to see it, but the way she pursed her lips and took a deep breath was a clear indication that she was nervous.

Who wouldn't be in this situation?

She was about to be sedated, with her legs spread, so a doctor she’d only met a few times could collect her eggs. The procedure involved passing a needle and catheter through her vaginal wall, into her ovaries, and taking out her eggs one by one, with light suction. If the description of the procedure sounded scary to Toto, he couldn't imagine how it sounded to Cassie.

“She's very brave”, he thought, moving his thumb over her skin, trying to offer some comfort. It was the only thing he could do at the moment.

— Toto? — he heard her say, softly.

— Yes?

She hesitated for a few seconds.

— Will you be here when I wake up?

— Yes, Cassie. I'm not going anywhere. Do not worry.

A small smile played on her lips. It was a shy smile, but it was enough to make him smile, too, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

Toto knew he would never be able to show how grateful he was that Cassie had accepted his offer to be the father of her child. Fatherhood was one of his most earnest desires. However, due to his chaotic routine, the search for a companion became too difficult. It had even been suggested to him that he try to join a dating app, but his lack of affinity with electronics made him dismiss the possibility.

Having a child seemed like an almost impossible dream, until Cassie showed up.

Discovering her idea of carrying and raising a child alone made his heart sink. Toto knew exactly what it was like to not have a father figure. It might be different, because he had a father that he lost, but it didn’t matter to Toto. He knew how much it hurt when, on Father's Day, he needed to deliver the drawing he had made in school to his mother, who offered a sad smile and a kiss on his forehead, her eyes filled with tears as she put the drawing in a drawer with so many others, which was dedicated to Dad and not to her.

Hearing Cassie describe how she envisioned her life as a single mother reminded him of his mother. Joanna had worked hard trying to keep him and his sister fed, clothed, and in school. This cost her a lot of her presence in their children's lives, permanently affecting their relationship.

He couldn't allow another child to go through that, not if he could stop it.

Offering to participate in the proceedings had been a bold move on his part. Toto and Cassie were close friends, even confidants, but they weren't intimate enough for raising a child together. But when she asked for time to think, a spark of hope remained in his chest.

She needed something else, one more reason.

And then came the idea of sending the pictures of him when he was little. He didn't have many at home, most were with his mother in Vienna. Cassie's reply came hours later, a simple request that they meet at a coffee shop in central Oxford.

And there they were, about to perform the first part of the procedure that would bind them forever.

— Is everything okay, Cassandra? — the woman he thought was the anesthetist asked.

— Yes, I’m all right — Cassie replied.

— I'll perform your sedation now. It is a light, short-term anesthesia, only for the procedure. Just relax.

She nodded as the woman placed the syringe in the IV line and injected the medication. Cassie stared at the ceiling in silence. A few seconds later, her eyes met Toto’s. With a little smile on her lips, she fell asleep.

The anesthesiologist walked away, taking her position at the equipment that was monitoring Cassie's vital signs, while the doctor who would be performing the egg retrieval got ready between her legs, making sure all of the instruments were in order. Toto felt a certain relief that Cassie was sedated and not able to see what was happening, which already seemed scary enough to him, and he was just watching.

— Mr. Wolff? — a female voice said from behind him. When he turned his face, he realized that it was one of the nurses who was in the room, examining Cassie's chart — Would you come with me, please?

It took him a few seconds to process her request before he nodded. He carefully set down Cassie’s hand and followed the woman out of the room, down a long corridor lined with white doors. Then the nurse stopped in front of a door with a sign indicating that this was Sample Room 3. She opened the door and waved him inside.

The environment was unique as far as exam rooms went. While there was a normal exam table against the wall, there was also an armchair near a window with closed shutters. Next to it was a small corner table with a tablet, a magazine rack lined with publications, and a container with something transparent in it.

The nurse closed the door and turned to him, looking at the forms that were on her clipboard.

— Could you confirm your name and date of birth?

— Uh, Torger Christian Wolff, January 12th, 1972.

— Great — the woman said, smiling — Could you confirm how long you have been abstinent?

— Abstinent?

— How long has it been since you last ejaculated?

He blinked.

— Well…

— For the success rate of the procedure to be higher, you must have abstained from any act involving ejaculation for more than two days. You were informed of this during your initial physical exam, correct?

— Yes, right. It’s been… Four days.

— Okay — she said, taking one last look at the form before looking up at Toto — So, this is our sample room, where you'll have the privacy you need to collect semen for the procedure. You are welcome to settle down where you feel most comfortable. Next to the armchair, there are magazines for some inspiration. On the table, there is some lubricant and a tablet where you can access more materials that can help you.

He pressed his lips together, a little nervous.

— Before you start and after you finish, I will need you to wash your hands and your genitals in the washroom here — she said, pointing to a door in the corner of the room.

— Right.

— Here's the sample cup you should put the semen in — the nurse said, handing him a small plastic container with a white screw cap — Once you're done, the cup goes into that cabinet and turn the handle to the right. After that, you can leave this room and head back to the room where Miss Aldersey is. Any questions?

— How much time do I have to… Um, collect?

— As long as you need, Mr. Wolff.

— Okay — he said, sighing. His discomfort must have been visible, judging by the way the woman looked at him.

— Mr. Wolff, I know that the environment is not ideal, and the situation itself is not the most comfortable, but if I can give you one bit of advice to make you feel more at ease, I would tell you to think about your partner. I think, at times like this, there's no better inspiration than the person you’re doing this for — she said, smiling, before turning toward the door — Good luck, Mr. Wolff.

The nurse left the room, leaving Toto alone.

“Okay… Let’s do this”, he thought, dropping the cup on the table next to the armchair and going to the bathroom to wash up as instructed. Then he settled back in the armchair, his pants unzipped. There was no sign of arousal. Taking a deep breath, Toto tried to calm down and clear his mind. At that moment, he had to focus on just one thing. One single thing. The most important thing.

— Cassie — he murmured.

The sound of his own voice pronouncing her name startled him a little. Toto had always tried to keep a certain distance from Cassie. After all, he had always seen her completely innocently, first as a co-worker and employee, then as a friend. Of course, the fact they had decided to have a baby together would imply a greater proximity, as well as the development of some intimacy.

But he had never wanted to cross this line with her.

Ever since the first time he'd seen Cassie at the factory, something about her caught his eye. Toto couldn't tell if it was the fiery red hair that fell in graceful waves around her shoulders, her confidence, her accent that was so crisp and polished he was surprised he couldn’t see his reflection, or her charming smile, but there was something about her that attracted him. There was something about her that made him drop whatever he was doing to talk to her, to try and understand her. She was like an enigma, a puzzle to solve. The clues she gave him, the things they talked about in their weekly coffee conversations made him ponder long hours into the night.

His body's reaction to the image he was envisioning in his head surprised him. He pictured Cassie's face, her gentle smile as she explained the IVF process to him and updated him on the steps she'd taken to that day, the look of anticipation she gave him as she held up her shirt and talked him through giving her the trigger injection 36 hours earlier.

He had never allowed himself to want her until then, when he took himself in hand.

He closed his eyes and began to imagine a scenario. In his fantasy, they were having dinner together, exchanging stories, laughter, and sultry glances, along with a few glasses of wine. Cassie was wearing an emerald green dress, the same one she'd worn to the team's end-of-year dinner a few months ago. Toto remembered thinking about telling her how beautiful she looked that night, but ended up not getting the chance to talk to her, with all the confusion that surrounded Nico's sudden departure from the team.

After dinner, he imagined the two of them sitting in his living room, talking about trivial things and drinking more wine, until the alcohol gave Toto the courage to bring his face close to hers, taking Cassie's lips in a delicate, wine-flavored kiss. Her hands slid up his arms to his face, warm and soft, holding him in place.

Not that he was going to leave. There was nowhere else he would rather be.

It wouldn't take long for their desire to spill over, their proceedings becoming more desperate, along with the movements of their hands, clinging to each other’s clothes in a silent request to get rid of them.

Pulling his face away from hers, Toto would whisper a word, completely out of breath.

— Bedroom.

They would get up from the couch and walk hand in hand to the most intimate place in the house. No other woman had been there, he’d been saving it, it was reserved. His bed, with its white sheets, would only be occupied by him and the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. The mother of his children.

— Cassie — he murmured.

Kissing her again, Toto would bring his hand to her back, pulling the zipper of her dress down, exposing her soft skin, dotted with freckles — the result of several days in the sun on the French Riviera, she’d told him. Sliding the fabric down Cassie's body, he would undress her slowly, leaving her completely naked.

Toto didn't expect any hint of shyness from her. She was outspoken, bold. Cassie was always ready to take the first step in anything, taking on any responsibility and facing any challenge. He couldn't help but be seduced by the confidence she exuded so naturally.

After kissing him again, Cassie would place a hand on his chest, pushing lightly until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. In her dark eyes, only desire.

— Sit down.

She would take her time undressing him, her hand deliberately brushing the bulge in his pants, a kind of teasing. Cassie could torture him all she liked. Toto was hers to do with as she pleased.

When he was finally naked, Cassie would bring her hand to his cock, already hard and oozing pre-cum, and would start moving her hand slowly up and down the shaft, as if testing the waters, a mischievous smile on her face.

— All this for me? Do you want me that much? — she would ask, tilting her head slightly as her hand continued to move up and down.

— Yes, Cassie — Toto murmured — I want you so much.

After kissing him again, she would straddle his lap, a smirk on her face as she lined her entrance up with the tip of his cock. Then, slowly, Cassie would move her hips down, causing him to penetrate her fully. A deliciously long moan would escape her lips as she became fully seated. Her head would fall back, her body trying to acclimate to the feeling of having Toto completely inside her.

A few seconds later, she would start moving her hips, looking for the perfect rhythm.

— Fuck, Cassie — he growled, the grip of her pussy making him roll his eyes. She would drive him crazy. And Toto would allow it, without so much as a protest. She could do whatever she wanted to him and he wouldn't complain. He just wanted to make her feel good, exactly like she deserved.

Finding a comfortable position, she would accelerate the movement of her hips, her hands resting on his shoulders, her hair falling in front of her face, forming a copper curtain. Toto would lift his hand to move the bright red strands aside. Toto wanted to see her expression, wanted to see the way she squinted her eyes and bit her bottom lip, the impending sensation of orgasm being almost unbearable for her.

Then she would move faster still, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone. The sound of their bodies colliding, and their moans, would be the only sounds that would be heard in that room. The way she sounded would only make him even more excited.

— I… I will…

— You're going to come, aren't you? — her voice would ask, a hint of teasing in it.

— Yes, I'm going to come… God, you’re so tight… Cassie…

— Open your eyes, darling...

— No… I can’t…

— Open your eyes, Toto...

— Cassandra…

— Come for me — she whispered — Give me a child. Let me make you a father.

Imagining Cassie saying such things was the key for him to open his eyes in time for him to position himself to release into the sample cup, a strangled moan leaving his throat.

However, something was bothering him, like an itch in the back of his mind as his fantasy dissipated and his mind returned to the bright, sterile sample room. He screwed the cap on the sample cup and looked at the side of it, making sure his name and the date was correct on the label. When he was done, Toto got up from his armchair and went back to the washroom to clean himself up. He took a deep breath and placed the cup in the small metal cabinet the nurse had pointed out. He sighed, and opened the door and walked back down the hall, back to the room where Cassie was still being attended to.

When he reached the door, the nurse who had taken him to the sample room smiled, walking towards him.

— Did everything work out all right, Mr. Wolff?

— Yes, fine — he replied softly — And here? How did it go with Cassie?

— So far, very well. She had quite a few mature follicles. They have already been extracted and the doctor is doing a last check before releasing her to the recovery room.

Toto let out a sigh of relief.

— If you wish, you may stay with her.

— Thanks — he replied. He approached the bed where Cassie was lying, still unconscious. Her expression was serene. Toto imagined what it would be like to wake up next to her every day. A few strands of her hair had escaped the surgical cap, which Toto felt like trying to fix, for some reason. He made a clumsy attempt at it.

A few minutes later, the doctor walked away, telling a nurse that the procedure was a success and that Cassie could be taken to the recovery ward. Toto stepped aside to give the clinic staff the necessary space, watching as they wheeled Cassie’s bed into another room, where another couple, as well as an unaccompanied woman, were recovering from their procedures.

Settling into the chair next to Cassie’s bed, Toto took her hand gently as something roiled in his stomach.

Guilt.

He shouldn't want her. He shouldn't even consider it. The document they had signed at the lawyer’s office was clear, their relationship is purely for the purpose of co-parenting. They would have a child together, through a procedure, without any carnal conjunction. Toto would never touch her the way he had imagined. He would never know what her expression looked like when she climaxed or the way she sounded when she was pushed to the edge.

Cassie was intangible. She was off limits.

She was his friend, and the future mother of his child, but she could be no more than that.

Still holding her hand, his thumb was tracing circles on her skin when Toto felt her fingers squeeze his. Looking up, he found her dark eyes looking at him, a small smile on her lips.

— You're here.

— Of course. I always will be.

#toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff x oc #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x oc #wlffog #collab #etlwlff

50 notes · View notes

maria-rayro · 1 year

Text

Charlie x Reader, Du'Met x Reader. I guess...

You study Granthem's notes about you and your team. It's already been the worst night you've ever had, and now you find out that Du'Met has studied everything about each of his victims, compiling a psychological profile on each of them. Your gaze is drawn to the pages on you and Charles. Expectedly, the "additional information" column is filled with clumsy handwriting about you being raised by a deaf and mute single father. Domestic violence, father's suicide, guilt is pointed out… This asshole has studied the material very well, it seems. From the picture of you on the page there is an arrow drawn to the picture of Charlie, and above it is written, "daddy issues?" and from below the arrow from the picture of Charles to yours another one says, "harassment?" You snorted. Your relationship with the director seems to have confused the maniac.

Suddenly you hear a loud noise: the door on the floor opens and Du'Met walks inside. He immediately notices you. Everyone freezes for excruciatingly long moments, and then you rush to the door, trying in vain to open it for a couple of seconds and when you are already about to run in despair to the other side, the maniac, quietly and unhurriedly approaching in your direction, presses one of the buttons, after which the door immediately swings open itself.

You all understand: it is an obvious trap, but there is no other way. You run outside, trying to get away as quickly as possible, to figure out how to outsmart the maniac… In your haste you don't notice how you get separated again.

You run into one of the rooms in a panic, closing the door behind you, and lurk, trying to hear if there are footsteps behind it. Silence. You can only hope that Du'Met has lost sight of you and not gone around to grab you behind the next corner.

You look around the dark room and flinch when you see a pair of mannequins. One of them is standing at the window with a cigarette in his hands, and the other is sitting on the window sill looking at the first one. You curse mentally.

How long has Du'Met been watching you? How did he even manage to set all this up?

If he had directed his abilities in a productive way, he could have been a wonderful detective.

"Would you?"Charlie asked then, handing you a cigarette. You wrinkled your nose:

"Ugh, no."

Charlie smiled a little. "Good girl".

"You know, this stuff will get you killed someday," you hummed, watching the man take a drag and exhale a pale gray smoke.

"Don't worry about that, darling. I'll be fine".

Suddenly a strange crackling sound reaches you, catching your attention. You turn around and see the vinil record player, apparently loaded with automation. The needle drops to the record, and after a few moments of rustling, the familiar song begins to be heard:

"baby, I'm yours (baby, I'm yours)..."

"Oh, don't you dare…" you say, but the music continues to play:

"and I'll be yours (yours) until the stars fall from the sky yours (yours) until the rivers all run dry in other words, until I die"

"Fuck," you exhale, rubbing your face with your palms, "asshole". The doorknob suddenly lowers, making you pull away from the window in fright, covering your mouth with your hand to avoid screaming. Du'Met enters the room. Your gaze runs panickedly from corner to corner, you try to figure out what to do, where to run… looking out of the window, you see only the bars of the fence, on which it would be madness to fall. The door behind Du'Met's back is also not an option, for obvious reasons. All that remains is another door, which you haven't checked yet, or… try to use the surprise effect and attack?

Em. Nope. You are not that stupid.

You flinch and rush to the door, trying to open it, but it won't budge, no matter how hard you yank the handle or try to push it open.

"Shit," you scold, looking back at Du'Met, realizing that you're trapped and need to think of something new.

The maniac takes a couple of steps toward you, and then suddenly stops in the middle of the room and looks at you through the slits in his mask. You freeze, like a frightened deer.

Du'Met holds out his hand to you. It's like he's asking you to dance. The record keeps spinning, filling the room with soft music - your and Charlie's song, the one you listened to on one of your dates in Lonnit's apartment. He, of course, had a record player and records, you noticed it during your first visit, and eventually decided to give the man a record of one of your favorite songs - you listened to it then, and it is playing now, and the man in a H. H. Holmes mask offers you to dance to it.

You stand in total confusion for a couple of seconds. A pleasant man's voice keeps singing the lines of the song.

You mentally convince yourself to calm down. This is a maniac, and you have already got into their head so many times, you know so much about them. You know that you have to go along with them, try to placate them, try to trick them…

You hesitantly take a couple of steps toward him. When you get close enough, Du'Met immediately pulls you closer to him. He stands up, holding your hand in his and wrapping the other around your waist, and almost immediately begins to sway barely to the music, keeping his icy, lifeless eyes on your tense face.

"i'm gonna stay right here by your side and do my best to keep you satisfied nothing in the world could drive me away every day, you'll hear me say

baby, I'm yours (baby, I'm yours) and I'll be yours (yours) until two and two is three yours (yours) until the mountain crumbles to the sea in other words, until eternity"

The painfully unpleasant, suffocating tension on your side was met with a block of icy calm on his. Sociopaths have no empathy, but they have a treasure trove of knowledge about people and the ability to analyze everything with a cool head - knowing this, you realize that Du'Met is mentally dissecting you right now, studying your reactions. Unlike other kinds of maniacs, he takes no pleasure in this dance, in interacting with a good-looking person - and so you have no opportunity to play on his feelings, to placate him… at least you think so. You can only hope that you can make yourself interesting enough for him to keep observing, and not stop the experiment at its peak.

The lyrics of the song come to an end, the record begins to crackle a little in the silence. Du'Met suddenly stops and lets you go. He stares silently, as if waiting for something. You only instinctively take a step back, keeping your eyes on the man, trying to figure out what to do next.

Noticing your confusion, he lifts his hand wordlessly. Bends one finger. Bends a second.

You finally realize - he's giving you a chance to escape. Turning around, you run out the door and rush through the dark corridors away.

You keep feeling the warmth of his hands on you, and you start to wonder what's going on with Charlie right now. You really hope that you'll meet him soon and get out of this nightmare together.

You can only hope that the maniac won't do anything worse to Charles than what he did to you.

#granthem du'met #charlie lonnit #the reader

22 notes · View notes