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darknight3904 · 4 months

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See You in the Morning, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ. ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ. ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇxʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ.

The first time you met him you were 12. It was only your fourth day at the Capitol's Academy and you wished you could go home and bury yourself in your bed and never return. You had yet to meet anyone interested in being friends with you, the homeschooled freak who started oh so late compared to her peers. Sure, you had met Arachne and Festus at big lavish parties your parents threw but that didn't mean they liked you.

And then, on your fourth day of school, everything changes. Big blue eyes are fixated on the overly large sandwich and fruit bowl that had been in your lunch bag. A soft gurgle of a hungry stomach fills your ears and you turn to see a boy with the prettiest blonde curls atop his head staring at you.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." You ask, picking up a strawberry and holding it out to him.

He hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out and takes a small bite.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

"I already ate it." He said

Something inside you said he was lying and so you offered the rest of the fruit to him. Your sandwich would be enough for today, after all, no one should go hungry if another had something else to give.

You chat with the boy with blue eyes and pretty blonde curls. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he lives with his Grandma'am and his cousin. You smile at him as he eats the fruit, savoring the taste of the grapes that were mixed in. As you sit beside your new friend, you smile to yourself and hope he'll be your friend tomorrow too.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Coriolanus knows how bad it sounds. He knows you're angry when you go to step around him and he blocks your path. Your engagement ring feels like a brick as it sits in his shirt pocket.

"Coryo. Move. I'm going home." You say, determined to get away from him.

Where do you think you're running off to? You have no place in society besides your spot next to him.

"You can't. You have to stay here. With me." He insists, hoping his softer tone will change your silly little mind.

"Please, Coriolanus. Just let me go home for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." You whisper.

He hates that. Coriolanus. Why are you calling him that? He's always been Coryo to you why are you changing it now? The way his full name lingers in the air makes his blood boil.

Rage is something that's hard to control. Coriolanus has seen it first hand when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol all those years ago. He saw it Dr. Gaul when Lucy Gray survived her snakes thanks to him. He sees it now, in you as you give him a hard shove to his shoulders and begin moving toward the door.

Rage. That's why he does it. It's something he and so many others can't control. Rage. What a funny concept it is, how it causes someone to think so irrationally.

Truly though, you are to blame for it all. If only you had just talked to him rationally. taking off your ring and throwing a fit, demanding to go home like you're some petulant child who needs a nap.

Perhaps this will change your attitude, after all, you couldn't just run off, he needed you.

There's an ache in the back of your skull when you finally open your eyes. A soft blanket is covering you and the soft scent of apples and cinnamon is wafting through the air.

"This is your favorite, right?"

A voice that used to bring a smile to your face now sends a jolt of fear down your spine as you quickly sit up.

Coriolanus is sitting in a plush-looking chair, with your favorite candle burning on a little side table next to him.

What the hell had he done to you?

"You sat up too quickly. There's some painkillers on the nightstand if you want them." He says

His voice is so calm as you gradually take in your new surroundings.

"Where am I?" You croak, your voice sounds terrible.

"You're still in our mansion. This is the basement. Part of it anyway. Over the past two weeks, I got them to transform a section of it into a room perfect for you." He says, closing the book in his lap.

Weeks? How long had it been since that dinner when you tried to leave? What the hell had even happened? The last thing you clearly remember was shoving Coriolanus and beginning to walk away. Had he hit you with something? But then how did he keep you down for two weeks so he could bring you here?

"You're wondering what happened. I'm not proud of it but I hit you with a serving tray before you could leave."

Your mind briefly conjures up the silver trays that the food you often enjoyed was served on.

"I had a doctor give you injections to keep you asleep until this room was ready. The headache you feel is the hangover from the drugs, not a concussion. I made sure he gave you an exam and he's cleared you from any injuries."

Corionus' explanation is making your brain ache. What the fuck was happening? Why are you in a basement bedroom instead of your normal one? When was he going to let you out? Would he ever let you out?

Your stomach gurgles and you just barely make it to the small garbage can that's sitting on the ground next to the bed.

"Ah, the doctor said vomiting was another side effect. I'm sure it will pass soon." Coriolanus says, unbothered as you heave up whatever gunk he had gotten the doctor to pump into your stomach.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, wishing for something to take away the burning at the back of your throat.

"Alright. Since you're awake now, I'll be leaving. Lots of meetings today and the arena is nearly ready I just have to approve a few more things." Coriolanus says, standing up and fixing his tie as he begins to walk away.

"Wait." You groan, trying to reach out to him

"I'll be back for dinner. I know how much you love to listen to me talk about my day."

Two months later

There's been a certain warmness about you recently. Perhaps it's the flowers he brought you your maybe the fact that he takes the heavy chain off your ankle when he visits you. He decides it's the latter as he watches thumb through the new books he handed you.

"Do you like them?" He asks

"Yes." You smile as you gently place them on your shelf.

You're so effortlessly pretty, even here, locked away from the sunlight and every inch of society. Here, you're all his, every bit of you hinges on him opening the heavy metal door that keeps you here. It's been so long since you had even tried to argue or fight back against him. Sure, the beginning had been rough, you had thrown things at him and had at one point threatened him with a butter knife but now you we so docile. Almost like he had domesticated a wild animal and now it was trained perfectly.

"Could you bring the little cakes tonight?" You ask

"The ones with the powdered sugar on top?"

You nod as you sit on your bed, stretching out your right ankle which is marked with a heavy bruise from the chain he had to put on you. It wasn't what he wanted but after you tried attacking him when he entered the room on the second day of your enclosure, he knew it was a necessity.

"I'll have the chef make extra. We can eat as many as you like and get fat." He teases

You smile at him but he can see something else behind your eyes.

Sadness.

You remind him of a bird with clipped wings. Freedom so effortlessly in reach but unable to fly to reach it.

If only he could trust you enough to let you back into the main floors of the mansion.

Time passes slowly whenever Coriolanus is gone and it gives you time to think. You were going mad, chained up all day, waiting for him to bring you your meals and sit with you at night. So in an effort to chase your impending insanity away, you thought. You thought about your childhood and if things would be different had you never given Coriolanus that stupid bowl of fruit. Perhaps you'd be head of your father's company now, or maybe you'd be married to some elite capitol man.

Your mind was always racing, overanalyzing every little thing and every little mistake you had ever made.

Perhaps you should've never confronted him about those pictures. If you had just slipped out of the mansion one day what would had happened? Maybe he would've caught you or perhaps you would've made it back to your parents, back to your old life and self.

How naive you had been at that gala years ago, thinking that you didn't need anything but Coriolanus. What a stupid girl you had grown up to be.

The past few weeks had been rough. You had been sucking up to Coriolanus to be let back into the main part of the mansion. You claimed to just want to feel sunlight again. Of course, you also planned on running the moment you had an opening but he didn't need to know that half.

Coriolanus was simply insane, it was a conclusion you had come to after all these long days. Maybe he had always been like this but you were just too blind to see it. Maybe his nice gestures and honey-coated words had disguised the monster that lurked behind those eyes. All you knew was that he was the worst man in all of Panem and here you sat, suffering all because you were his favorite.

"My heart burns for you."

What a load of bullshit.

He stays true to his word and arrives that night for dinner, cakes in hand. Silenced Avoxes serve you your food and Coriolanus sits across from you at the table that had mysteriously appeared one night when you were asleep. The chain on your ankle made an unpleasant sound as you shifted in your seat.

"The salmon is nice, isn't it?" Coriolanus asks as he eats

"Yes, it's wonderful. Very buttery." You say, struggling to find exactly what was good about it.

You didn't want salmon, you didn't really want anything anymore, perhaps you were finally giving into whatever game he was playing by keeping you here.

"I've decided to replace the curtains throughout the mansion. I've found the blue to be a bit ugly. Tomorrow there will be beautiful maroon ones hung." He informs you

You had hand-picked the blue ones, years ago.

"I'm sure they will be beautiful." You say looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus stops chewing and sets his silverware down.

"If you're going to mock me, you shouldn't even open your mouth. You know I hate it when you're full of attitude so why do you still try?" He says

It's a warning. You know it, he knows it.

"I know. I was being serious." You say, "I hope I get to see the maroon curtains soon, Coriolanus."

"Coryo." He corrects, placing a bite of food in his mouth

"Coryo." You parrot.

He smiles, pleased with you.

"You will, soon."

Dinner passes slowly as you finish your salmon to the tune of Coriolanus' talking. Something about the latest games being a wonderful success and that the big finale would be either tomorrow or the next. He suggests you watch on the little TV that sits in the corner, untouched, it was something that was added a week ago, specifically so you could watch the games. You promise to watch and he smiles at you again.

Coriolanus bids you goodnight after dessert. He double-checks your chain before straightening up and gently kissing your forehead.

"Goodnight, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Coryo."

The past week had been going nearly perfectly for Coriolanus. Not only had the games been perfect, but you had been impressing him. Sure, a few days ago at dinner you had called him Coriolanus and he nearly lost his cool after he thought you insulted the curtains but that was behind him now.

He had finally concluded that he'd release you from the basement. He missed your presence in the mansion and at the normal dinner table. He wasn't quite sure about letting you have full roam yet, perhaps he'd sedate you during the days and let you walk around at night, when he could personally keep an eye on you before bedtime. The idea of one of the Axoxes watching you didn't sit right, after all, if you ran what would they do? They couldn't even shout for help to bring you back inside.

He was positively giddy as he walked down the many flights of steps that led to where you were. He wanted to show you the greenhouse first. Sure, you had seen it before but the way the roses were blooming recently was simply too good to pass up. He had planted new ones recently too, blushing pink ones that reminded him of you and your warmness to him.

The metal door was cool against his palm as he opened it to reveal your darkened room. The door let out a heavy groan as it shut behind him.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be sleeping when he entered, he often visited during the night and would watch you, as if you were going to disappear. However, this time the darkness confused him. It was the middle of the day, surely you weren't still asleep?

The soft clink of that ridiculous chain filled his ears as he stepped towards the lamp that sat on your shelf.

"Are you hiding from me, darling?" He asked into the darkness, ready to scoop you up and hold you close.

Silence answered his question as his eyes tried to focus on anything.

The softest rustle of fabric fills his ears as he quickly turns to his right. The slightest shimmer of color reaches his eyes, illuminated by what little light wormed its way under the door. It's you, in that sweater you often wore.

"I see you." He says reaching out to what he thinks might be your arm. "What a pretty shade of blue that is. I'll have a designer make a dress in that color for you."

He swears he hears you whisper his name but perhaps it was just in his head as he steps forward.

Coriolanus feels the smile that was on his face drop into his stomach when he hears it again, the rustle of fabric. You were behind him now.

His hands twitch one, then twice, and before he can react, you're there, in front of him again, anger polluting your pretty face.

His lips form your name but it never leaves his mouth. Instead, the cool metal of that chain he had intended on removing was cutting his vocal cords off.

The chain he hated putting on you, the chain you had desperately tried to claw off many times as he watched through a grainy video feed was rapidly wrapping its way around his neck, ready to destroy him.

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thebowieconstricker · 3 months

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Hello! I saw you wanted requests for Lucifer, and I would love any sort of angst where Lucifer ends up comforting the reader, like maybe something happened to the reader, or the reader is just really stressed and just breaks down

Ease My Mind

(Lucifer Morningstar x reader)

AN: To this request: yes yes yes yes YES I just KNOW that he gives the best hugs and is so ready to comfort the people he loves. For this fic, I decided the angst is a little of everything, job struggles, moral dilemmas, and some self-doubt, so I hope I delivered. This isn’t proofread so please alert me to any errors! Thank you for your request! <333

Summary: You have a bad day at work and it triggers a breakdown. Luckily, your big bad boyfriend is here to help.

Tags: Gender neutral reader, could be read as platonic if you reeeeally squint but it’s implied romantic, heavy on the angst, a dash of fluff, Lucifer is trying his best, you guys are precious.

Warnings: Reader is afraid they’re being used by the people around them and they have lots of thoughts about being useless and others not liking them.

Also, the title is inspired by the song “Ease My Mind” by Ben Platt, go listen to it! Enjoy ya heathens!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been used by others for your entire life.

And now you were stuck in that same cycle in death.

As a young, naive, alive-person, you were desperate for some one to love you. Growing up in an environment where compassion was scare, you decided that the only way to get people to notice you was by offering to help them in some way. A favor, a ride, somewhere to crash, and, for one specific person, a place to hide the bodies. In life, you had gotten so deep into your desire to please others that you had latched onto the first person to give you the time of day. Unfortunately for you, that individual happened to have a thing for serial killing.

Looking back on it now as you miserably walked back to the hotel, tears threatening to fall down your face, you couldn’t think about anything other than how stupid and useless you were. It was your fault that they were found out, your fault that the innocents were dead in the first place, your fault you were stuck in hell and that fucker was still out there.

How much time had passed on Earth? How many more had they killed?

On most days, you could compartmentalize, putting the bad thoughts in a little box and shoving it in the back of your brain, but work had broken you today. You worked for the Vees, specifically Velvette, and it was no secret how they overworked and abused their staff. You were stuck picking up Velvette’s leftover energy drinks for as long as she had control of your soul.

And yet. You thought maybe someday, someday you might make a connection. You might impress her, or surprise her, or something, and maybe she would give you a break.

But no. Today you had been an hour late for the first time and Velvette had screeched at you, calling out all of your flaws and insecurities and bringing all of the horrible memories that you had oh-so-carefully stowed away to light. But you held back tears and did your fucking job, the emotions boiling all day and the hectic office space doing nothing to calm it.

You had needed this cry for a long time, and now there was no stopping it.

Walking along the brimstone pathways, you finally made your way to the rickety Hazbin Hotel. Its incomprehensible height only worsened your now growing headache as you walked up to the doors, grabbing the handles and swinging the heavy iron frame and red-stained glass open.

You immediately started towards your room, but you were blocked by the obnoxiously cheery Princess of Hell herself, Charlie.

Charlie’s not obnoxious, you’re so vile for thinking that.

Shit, the thoughts were getting worse and you could not do this right now.

Charlie, oblivious to your mood, smiled brightly. “There you are! How was work? I’ve got someone here who’s been waiting-“

You shoved past her, bumping her harshly.

“Not in the mood.”

Charlie frowned in confusion behind you.

“But, wait, hey-“ You ignored her pleas and- ah shit, now Angel’s in front of you.

“Hey, babe, you might wanna hang around for a sec-“

You shut your eyes tightly and moved your hands towards his chest, your fight or flight kicking in as you pushed him.

“ANGEL, leave me alone.”

Why would you yell at Angel like that? He’s just being nice.

Shut up shut up SHUT UP

Everything was only getting worse. You bolted to the grand staircase and raced up the steps. As you sped down the seemingly infinite hallways, the tears you had been fighting back for the last millennia finally fell. With a choked sob, you finally spotted your bedroom and lurched for the doorknob, swinging the door open and slamming it behind you as you bursted into your room. You ran to your bed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly as you loudly cried.

Charlie only keeps you here because she needs the guests, you know. She hates you. They all hate you. They wish you weren’t here. You’re just lying there, crying, why would they want you?

The hateful thoughts were all you could hear in your mind. As you pulled your knees to your arms holding your pillow, you wanted nothing more than to disappear. To just pop out of existence and finally be free of the burden of yourself.

Then, suddenly, three knocks at the door.

“GO AWAY.” You screamed, throat on fire from your sobbing.

A voice came from outside. A smooth, relaxed, kind male voice.

“It’s me, hon.”

You froze, terrified. Quickly you climbed to the floor on the left side of your bed, blocking your body from the view of the door. You took several deep breaths, trying to steady your nerves.

“Come in.” You said shakily.

You heard the door creek open, then footsteps.

“Where ya hiding these days?” He awkwardly chuckled, clearly trying to lighten up the mood you were in.

“Just- stay over there.” You were still holding your pillow, and you gave it an extra squeeze.

“I’m a mess right now.” You sniffled.

He paused, like he was thinking. “Well, if that’s what you want, but I hope you know by now that I’m always happy to see you. Even when you’re a mess.”

You felt the bed shift. He was sitting on the opposite side.

Like a child looking for a secret, you turned around to look at the back of his head. His hat was gone, probably left downstairs, and all you saw was his sweep of blond hair.

He made a ‘hm’ sound. “Bad day?”

You nodded. Then, realizing he couldn’t see you. “Y-yeah.”

You watched him nod. “I’m sorry about that.” He fiddled with his cane, his hands tightening and loosening around it. “Would you… like to talk about it?”

You paused.

Lucifer had been a confidant of yours since you first arrived in Hell. He was the one to tell you what was going on right after you died, calming you down and offering you a place to stay. Sure, you didn’t know that he was literally the Devil, but everything about him made you feel at peace. Like you could deal with the hand you were dealt.

Secretly, though, you were waiting.

Waiting for the moment when he would reveal that he only kept you around because he needed you to do something for him.

No one was that kind, or caring, or wonderful.

He wants something from you. Why else would he keep coming back?

You had yet to answer his question. Lucifer sighed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay?”

The voices were still wringing in your head, you were still crying, and you felt pathetic.

“I- I don’t- fuck, would you please stop acting like you care?” You knew your words were harsh but they were begging to be said.

His posture straightened in surprise.

“I do care! What makes you think I don’t care?” He sounded hurt.

Nice going, you hurt his feelings.

You bent forward, hands covering your face in frustration. A fresh wave of tears rises through your body and you loudly cried out, too scared and angry and sad to hide it anymore.

“Woah, woah, hey, it’s okay, hon.” Lucifer’s voice was nearing your form on the ground, and he was quickly at your side. You could feel his presence beside you.

He sighed in exhaustion. “Listen, I’m not- I’m not the greatest at this, but I’m gonna ask so I don’t upset you. Do you want a hug? Or a hand on your shoulder-“

Your arms were wrapped around him before he could finish his question, clinging to his waist and biting your face in his neck.

“WOAH there- well hey, sweetheart, there you are.” You could hear him smiling as he gently brought his hand to rub your back.

“I’m sorry. I- I’ve just had a shitty day at work and I’m worried about a lot of things and- I don’t want to take it out on you.” You were shaking, but he held you steadily.

“What kinda things are worrying you?” He asked.

And so you told him. In the comfort of his embrace you were able to somewhat coherently explain all the things that had been freaking you out. Velvette’s torture at work, your own moral dilemmas about your life on Earth, and you were just getting into your feelings about others using you when you felt Lucifer’s breath hitch.

He leaned away from you to look you in the eyes and gently put a finger to your chin.

“Honey, I want you to know that I know for a fact that the people here really care about you. Not because you’re an extra pair of hands, but because you’re you. You’re wonderful to be around. People like you.”

He looked at you with a warm smile and leaned towards you, giving you a small kiss on the forehead.

“I like you. I care about you because you’re worth caring about.”

You stared at him in awe, your mind finally at ease after such a chaotic day. Smiling, you leaned back into him to rest your head on his chest.

“Thank you, Luci.” You reached out and took one of his hands, holding it tightly in an effort to show him how grateful you truly were for his words of assurance.

He tightened his fingers around yours and grinned down at you.

“Always, love. Now, let’s get you on the bed, okay?”

You nodded and he gracefully picked you up, gently placing you on the bed. With a snap, you were in comfortable clothing with a warm blanket around you and plenty of soft pillows.

“You want me to hang out for a bit?” He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, clearly sleepy.

“If you don’t have anything else going on…” You offered, already half dozing off.

“Even if I did, I would love nothing more.” With an affectionate grin he curled up beside you, and you immediately went to lay your head back on his chest. As you drifted away, listening to the King of Hell’s heartbeat, you took a deep breath.

He was right. Things were gonna be okay.

You had friends.

You were loved.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer Morningstar my beloved

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infamous-if · 5 months

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Dec ✮ 12 ✮ 2024 – update

Part of me hates doing these mostly because it's a whole lotta nothing and me just repeating everything I said the last update (lol) but I do like doing it because I like keeping people updated, even if it's a non-update. I may sound like a broken record (pun not intended) but I know a lot of people don't catch my updates every time so it's nice to just keep people informed yk yk

✮ — Part 2 + rewrite

Fun fact: I had written an entire essay about my excitement for the rewrite and chapter 3 and beyond but it got too long!

It boiled down to me wondering why I'm so excited for this rewrite and realizing it's because I feel comfortable enough to approach it with complete creative freedom. I wrote the first iteration of the demo with the constant worries swimming in my head like "I hope people understand what I'm trying to say here" and "I hope this situation is being read the way I intended for it to be read." And I think I sort of had those thoughts tenfold while writing Part 2. If you paid attention, you can probably see where I was trying to shut down certain discussions in the narrative lmao

Recently I had a tiny epiphany and reminded myself that it's not always about what I intend to write, but what is being understood by each reader. And yes this is basic writing 101 but let me have this moment of clarity okay. Embracing that means I can proceed with Infamous without holding back and sticking to my guns in regards to what I want for this story aka I'm just going to write what I write and like....not worry about the rest you feel (while of course integrating the common critiques and suggestions and improving on the things Infamous falls short in—I am not Shakespeare lmao)

ANYWAY my point is that I'm excited to fix up the demo !!! and just go back to it with complete confidence in myself and write whatever the heck feels right to me (and write the rest of the story lolol) and return with a better story than I have now for everyone!!

✮ — December will be for

planning what I'm going to improve and squeezing that in a reworked outline so it can flow much better narratively.

Outlining Chapter 3 and hopefully have the bare bones first draft drafted up which is mostly just be writing blocks of descriptions

I'm not sure I'll have anything substantial to justify looking for beta testers so soon yet but maybe!

work on my spice writing babey writing/reading spice makes me actually physically recoil but im determined to get better! which reminds me to finish the 6k follower gifts!

And also take a small breather because I am moving!

✮ — Patreon

I've already mentioned this on Patreon and a few times on here, but I do want to reiterate that Patreon content is coming out in bulk this month, in case anyone was wondering why I'm not posting as frequently. The content is still the same in terms of the quantity, it just won't be released every few days! thank you guys for being understanding of that <3

✮ —

My activity has is decreasing little by little due to my move but I do read every question and try to at least answer one question a day. I get quite a few mentions lately so I have to sort through those since I do get tagged in things, but I miss them due to my notifications. Usually I hope for the best and hope tracking the tag puts it on my dashboard <3 im not ignoring anyone!

That's all for now! Hope everyone has a happy December and Happy Holidays!

#update #December update #Amy the chatterbox

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olderthannetfic · 1 month

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/746553097204203521/the-fandom-hates-women-response-to-lack-of-ff

The "fandom hates women" part of it comes from the fact that fandom as an entity just doesn't watch the kind of media that draws femslash, even if it ticks all of the boxes of things those very same people say they like. There are so many times I've watched a show that I've seen mega-popular Tumblr posts wishing existed, and then the fandom is so, so small comparatively and often in general. There have been superheroes, vampire/supernatural shows, fantasy shows, movies, books, the list goes on, that feel like they were generated out of Tumblr's desires for ideal fandom media, and everyone knows they're never going to attract anywhere near the same attention for fandom and fanworks because the common denominator just tends to be that if there isn't a full ensemble of attractive men to ship either with each other or with the women, fandom's not interested.

So it's not about prioritizing women in that sense, it's about people witnessing hypocrisy over and over again the second a show doesn't have a mostly-male ensemble. The people who are in these fandoms are frustrated that good faith attempts to get people interested are met with every excuse in the book that all eventually boils down to "I don't like watching stuff with women in it as much as I like watching stuff with men in it." And if that's how people feel about it... sometimes the conclusions are going to turn into the more uncharitable take of "fandom hates women."

Maybe, but whenever I see a "fandom hates women" reblog of my stuff, one or two reblogs further down the chain I get an overt TERF. I just had to go block several people today, in fact.

The first person to reblog with a comment like that is usually subtle, but their friends and friends of friends are not. The rhetoric that very quickly starts is the fandom equivalent of that "All the butches are becoming trans men! We're losing lesbians!" stuff.

Here's the thing: I've been in ten billion fandoms that were so awesome and fit fandom's supposed tastes to a T and yet no amount of promoting them could get anyone to try the canon. This goes for canons that are all men or all white men or all majority ethnicity men or whatever else.

The default state of media is to not engender a big fic fandom.

I agree that the rare outliers mostly follow certain patterns, but we extrapolate too far when we say that a lack of those patterns is why a fandom is small.

A fandom is small because that's the near-universal default.

Yes, a small slice of fandom consists of guilt-ridden queer fujoshi who say they want more f/f but don't make much of a move to make that happen. I tend to run into that a lot because of my own tastes and having friends who share those tastes.

Far more of fandom is people talking generally about how representation matters without saying they would personally join these fandoms if they existed.

Neither group is large enough to be the real reason some woman-heavy canon fails to take off to HP levels.

The real reason is not hypocrisy but the fact that most things don't take off like that. Most things without massive, massive audiences especially don't take off like that. And the very few things that do are flukes and don't actually predict that another similar thing will take off in the future.

Go to AO3's tag search. Search for all canonical fandom tags. Sort by uses and descending order.

Right now, I get 64,390 tags.

The first page, 50 tags, goes from HP with 497,845 works to the Thor movies with 59,266 works. By page 6, we're below 10 thousand works.

By the end of page 10, we're down to Labyrinth with 3,906.

Somewhere in the top 500 AO3 fandom tags (many of which are just franchise metatags for each other), we go all the way from megafandoms to medium size and down to relatively modest ones.

That's not a lot of room for a big f/f-heavy fandom given the trends in mainstream media and that mainstream media is where most really big fandoms come from.

I also notice that you're conflating a lack of desire to watch something that's primarily about women with a lack of desire to watch something that includes women.

There are tons of fans who want something more like The Mummy with a leading man and leading woman they love.

Granted, that's not me and that's not a lot of my fujoshi/slasher audience, but it's extraordinarily common. I know plenty of people who don't like canons that are only dudes, but since they also don't like canons that are only ladies and they don't ship f/f, this gets spun into "fandom hates women".

Let me be clear:

Conflating "lesbians" and "women" is a radfem position.

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prying-pandora666 · 4 days

Text

Azula Respected Mai The Most

I just saw another Reddit comment saying Azula wasn’t friends with Mai and mostly only cared about Ty Lee. And I just gotta say…

I respectfully disagree.

The Boiling Rock proves Mai meant a lot to Azula.

First, Mai publicly commits treason and betrays the Fire Nation and Azula.

What does Azula do? Order the guards away and gives Mai a chance to explain herself. She even says “I never expected this from you” and “you of all people know the consequences”. Put a pin in that for a moment.

Giving a traitor who just publicly and flagrantly betrayed you and your nation to help an even worse traitor to your nation (Zuko, who on a personal level hurt both Mai and Azula by doing so) a chance to explain themselves is already significant. But even moreso is the fact that Azula doesn’t make a single move to harm Mai until Mai purposely and effectively hits Azula’s trauma weak point like the master marksman she is.

When Mai says “I guess you don’t know people as well as you think you do” this is already an insult. She’s putting down Azula’s intelligence and manipulation skills, things Azula clearly takes pride in. And yet despite how insulting that is, Azula still waits for Mai to explain herself. Even as Mai throws that barb at her, Azula wants to hear her out. Until Mai throws the even worse insult right at Azula’s weak point.

“I love Zuko more than I fear you” isn’t a statement of Mai being afraid really. It’s Mai throwing a powerful dig at Azula’s biggest fear and trauma, the one Azula tried to dismiss during The Beach with a joke to avoid showing her own vulnerability: Azula fears that Ursa hated and feared her but loved Zuko. It’s why during the mirror scene, a grief stricken and emotionally volatile Azula bitterly says to the hallucination of Ursa “even you fear me”.

Only then does Azula get triggered enough to lash out in return. Mai was only capable of hurting her so much precisely because Azula loves and trusts Mai so much, and precisely because Mai knew what to say to hurt her.

Even so, Azula does the forms for fire, not lightning. And after she is chi-blocked, Azula orders both Ty Lee and Mai jailed, not executed or banished despite having every right to do so since they just publicly committed treason against the Fire Nation.

See the quick strike? It’s more like when she attacks Iroh in The Chase with blue fire:

Lightning, by comparison, always has a wind up for her. Even when comet-boosted or otherwise.

Remember Azula’s line we put a pin in? Let’s go back to it now. Why does Azula say “I never expected this from you” and “you of all people”. What is the significance here?

We know Azula is a perfectionist. She can’t stand a single hair out of place. This informs her frustration with Zuko and Ty Lee, both whom she adores, but whom are constantly failing to stay in their place and play their role. Zuko messes up, gets himself banished. Ty Lee runs away and joins the circus. What does Azula do? Endeavor to use any means necessary to bring them back into the fold. It sounds crazy, but from her perspective, she’s helping them shape up.

But Mai? She’s different. Mai knows her place. She knows what’s expected of her. She says herself that she learned to be quiet and still so as not to risk her dad’s political career. She hates it and searches for any excuse to leave her stifling expectations at home, but she only does this in an acceptable way: when ordered by the princess to join her on a mission for the Fire Nation.

This is why Azula is especially shocked. Because of all people, Azula thought Mai was the only one of her friends who understood their duty to the nation and wasn’t a colossal fuck up.

Azula may be more affectionate with Ty Lee, but she definitely respected Mai more.

And I think the fandom doesn’t give their fascinating relationship or how it breaks down enough credit.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #azula #mai

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heliads · 1 year

Text

You Agreed to This

Pierre Gasly has a reputation for flirting with anything that breathes. You have a reputation for being scarily focused on racing. When Charles, Lando, and Esteban get it into their heads to dare Pierre to get you to fall in love with him, the results can only be tragic.

a/n: i was frustrated when i couldn't find fics with this vague plotline like two months ago and then i remembered that i can simply make them myself. anyway this is my longest fic to date (6k+ words), enjoy!

masterlist

The whole affair started in the recesses of the Alpine motorhome, too far from prying eyes and chances to stop before it got bad. Miami is boiling hot as per usual, it gets to Pierre just like it always does. He’s trying to fend off the heat by hiding somewhere deep within his team’s complex, team jacket stripped off somewhere on a nearby sofa and fans cranked on high.

It was just Pierre at the beginning, but drivers tend to flock together in times of heat related stress, and now there are four of them sprawled across floors and furniture in an attempt to alleviate their suffering. Charles found Pierre first, just like he usually does, then Lando followed after media duties were over, and Esteban was last, claiming that if this many rival drivers were there he had a right to die in his own motorhome too, god damn it.

Pierre has mixed thoughts on that. He has mixed thoughts on quite a lot, actually– the blistering temperatures are getting to him, swirling memories into fact into fiction. He’ll get his head in order when it comes time to race, but that won’t happen until tomorrow, once qualis are in order and they’ve all been shunted around for the grid lineup.

Across the room, Lando groans from the shadows of a functionally decorated armchair. “This is miserable.”

Pierre gives him a look. “Your complaining is miserable.”

Undeterred, Lando keeps up his protests. “We should do something fun. Pierre, don’t you know like a thousand people here? Invite someone over.”

Pierre snorts. “I don’t know all of Miami, Lando. Go to sleep or something.”

Esteban chuckles. “Could have fooled me. Didn’t you tag, like, a hundred people in your latest Instagram story?”

Pierre turns his head to glare at his teammate. They’re still supposed to be friends as of three or so months of being racing partners, but apparently that association doesn’t go so far as requiring Esteban to defend him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Charles shakes his head, grinning. “It’s the truth, let him speak. You have connections.”

Lando flings a dramatic arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight pouring in through the windows. They’ve all been shut with the blinds pulled down, of course, but some warmth has a way of coming in regardless of what anyone wants. “Pierre’s just sociable like that. He could win over anybody. Or flirt with anybody.”

Pierre rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Norris.”

Charles arches a brow. “What would he be jealous of, your losing streak? I saw you strike out trying to talk up Margot Robbie last time we were in Monaco, don’t lie to me.”

“That was different,” Pierre protests, “she’se literally married, what did you expect?”

Charles coughs pointedly. “Yet you flirted with her anyway. Anyways, don’t argue. You can’t flirt with everybody. Not successfully, at least.”

Pierre leans forward cautiously. “What does that mean?”

Charles laughs. “There’s one person you could never charm in a thousand years.”

Pierre sighs, answers Charles’ unspoken question in time with his friend. “Y/N L/N?”

“Y/N L/N,” Charles confirms, and the other three drivers break into identical grins.

Pierre can accept defeat on that front. Y/N L/N is the only female driver on the grid at the moment, and anyone can tell why she made it despite the odds mere moments after meeting her. She’s crazy intense, more dedicated to racing than even Max or Lewis. Pierre wouldn’t be surprised if she could win a driver’s championship in the next year or two. Talk to her once and you’ll be stunned that she hasn’t done it yet.

Every time Pierre, or any other driver or spectator for that matter, has tried to chat her up, they always end up shut down faster than you can spin out on a slick track with the wrong tires. She doesn’t have time for any of them. The girl lives and breathes and dies for racing, she’s not going to let something like a boy get in her way.

This only makes Pierre more tempted to keep up with her, of course, but he learned a long time ago that was a lost cause. The only reason Y/N would ever look twice at him is if he was a place ahead of her during a race, and given her knack for overtakes, that doesn’t happen all that often.

Lando sits forward, and Pierre decides that he doesn’t like the gleam in the younger boy’s eyes. “Say, I’ve got a great idea to stave off boredom. Pierre, go date Y/N.”

Pierre almost chokes. “Are you insane? Just like that, go date her? How would that help you in any way?”

Lando spreads his hands. “If it would be so easy for you to flirt with anybody, how about you prove it? Surely Y/N isn’t so far out of your league. You’re both in the same line of work, at least you’ve got that going for you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to fight this. He may have a bit of a cocky streak, sure, but he’s a driver, who amongst them doesn’t? Just as he starts to get himself out of this, though, Esteban speaks up instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pierre couldn’t even come close. None of us can.” Esteban says it like a fact, and that’s all it takes for Pierre to change his tune.

“You know what?” He says, feeling his adrenaline start to kick in, “Sure I can.”

Charles’ eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious about girls,” Pierre says, causing a ripple of groans to cascade around the room, “This time I am, at least. I’ll win her over, no problem.”

Lando sits up. “If you’re really doing this, we’ve got to set some rules.”

“Such as?” Pierre dares him to continue.

Charles taps a thoughtful hand on his leg. “It has to be more than a one time thing. Just a single conversation could be a fluke or her feeling bad for you.”

Outraged, Pierre starts to fight that, but Lando picks up the thread of the conversation before he can cut it short. “That makes sense. We have to be sure that she’s actually in love with you. Like, get her to kiss you or something? And pics or it didn’t happen. We need proof.”

Pierre snickers, trying not to feel like control is slipping out of his hands with each passing second. “Anything else? Want me to name our firstborn child after you?”

That makes Esteban crack up. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? We’ll settle for being named godfather. All three of us collectively.”

Pierre shakes his head incredulously. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Charles slaps him on the back. “You have to believe in yourself, Pierre. If you don’t, she’ll never fall for it.”

And so Pierre Gasly gets himself stuck in the con of a lifetime. Is it going to work? The odds are abysmal. Will he make it, though? Well, Pierre never likes to back down from a challenge. He’s not going to let this one get away from him so easily.

The sun is bright and the morning is tense in the paddock. You arrived early, earlier than most of the drivers, all so you could get a taste of what the track was like without anyone breathing down your neck. Some would call you a little too eager, others would say you’re plain stressed out and nothing more to it.

You’d give yourself a little more credit than that, though. You know exactly who you are and what you have to prove. The more time you give yourself to plan and acclimate, the less time there is for mistakes.

That isn’t to say that you ignore all the comments on your pre-race habits. You are well aware of your reputation, even proud of it. You wear it as a second skin, a racing suit, a livery specially designed to flaunt your own achievement. The whispers of those out and about in the world of motorsport follow you wherever you go, dogging your footsteps until you half expect to leave streams of words behind you instead of burned rubber.

That’s Y/N L/N. The one who only cares about the track? The one who lives and dies for racing? That’s the one. That’s the one.

There’s not much else to it. So what if you tend to be a little more intense than most? Being serious is the only method of survival available to you. You can be sweet and fun, play yourself off as the ditzy girl who only got in so her team could capitalize on brand deals, or you can be a woman without a feminine bone in her body, so far from girlish she chokes whenever she sees the color pink. Both are awful alternatives, so you choose the only one you can: ignore every box they try to push you in until everyone else gives up. Let them whisper. At least they aren’t trying to change you anymore.

That’s how you’ve navigated the paddock up until now, the entirety of racing life as you know it. It’s worked out in your favor, or so you’d say, at least. You push yourself on and off track. You answer the unfair questions they throw at you. You solve the mysteries of why someone is taking an involvement in your affairs and come out on top of any possible rumors.

There are mysteries, though, and then there’s the latest one, which is why on Earth Pierre Gasly has taken to following you around the paddock. They all did, at the start; the drivers, the fans, the interviewers, even the team bosses, all staring at you like you were in a circus exhibition. A girl in motorsport? Couldn’t be. Yet it is.

That’s mostly drifted off, though, the attention gone once they realized you weren’t interested in belonging to any of them. Most of them did it unintentionally, of course, and the few who got too close on purpose quickly learned they would get nothing from you. Pierre learned that himself, or so you thought. That doesn’t stop his attention from surging up again all of a sudden.

It’s been a solid few weeks of this behavior, and you’re still no closer to understanding it than you were at the start. If you were to put an initial date on this whole affair, you’d maybe say everything began back in Miami. All of a sudden, Pierre, who up until now had accepted that you weren’t interested in him even if he didn’t like that all too much, had decided to renew his affections once more.

Where you had been content to walk briskly through the paddock by yourself, Pierre is suddenly a few feet behind you, always ready to offer a bottle of water when you need it or issue a joking comment when you seem in need of a laugh. He’s playing his cards carefully, always disappearing the moment you start to take his presence for granted, but why, you cannot tell. Everyone here has a motive. Surely Pierre Gasly has one as well.

You weren’t willing to trust him at first, ignoring him throughout the Miami race and all sessions at Imola. The only angle worth your while is your own, and maybe your constructor’s, too. Still, he stayed. That has to count for something.

And, when the end of a race finds you absolutely desolate after an engine failure, that starts to count a little more than it would have before. This race is early enough in the year that the DNF doesn’t have to sting too much, but all you can think about is how you just gave Max, Charles, and the rest of the title competitors the leg up they need to beat you out.

It’s not a good feeling, to say the least. You find some empty corner of the paddock where you can be alone and let your emptiness consume you. That was your plan, at least, but you’ve only been able to wallow in your own misery for about ten minutes or so before someone else joins you. The only other driver to fail to complete the necessary laps: Pierre.

Pierre may not have had engine problems like you, but that doesn’t make him any luckier. George Russell spun wide on a turn and took out Pierre before righting himself again. George got off relatively easy for a crash, only needed to swap out some tires and his front wing, but Pierre took the brunt of it and ended up in the barriers. You heard him swearing, frustrated, on the radio after the race; the commentators loved that one, even if he didn’t.

That leaves both of you in the same undesirable position. Pierre arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you: legs pulled up to your chest where you sit slumped against the wall, expression hopeless and all ambition gone for the moment.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, “I’m trying to hide from Sky Sports.”

You gesture vaguely at the open floor next to you. “Feel free. I'm not too thrilled about hearing from them, either.”

Pierre collapses in an untidy heap of limbs by your side, pulling at the collar of his race suit so he can unzip it down to his waist, leaving only the long sleeved shirt clinging to his skin. “At least engine failure is something you can’t control. Everyone’s been all over me trying to get me to admit that I should have seen George coming.”

You wrinkle your brow. “That wasn’t your fault. He braked late, it was obvious.”

Pierre glances over at you, clearly fighting a laugh. “Obvious, huh?”

You look away, wondering why you feel embarrassed all of a sudden. You don’t lie when it comes to racing, why bother? Thanks to the vast supplies of driver cameras and radio clips, there’s no point in glossing over what everyone knows to be true. Still, Pierre has a way of making that feel like something you should think twice about, like maybe not all of your attitudes towards drivers and their habits are things you should speak freely on. Maybe some things can be kept just to yourself. Maybe some drivers are beginning to verge beyond mere functionality as competitors.

“Everyone saw it,” you justify, “bad timing, that’s all. Not something you could control no matter how much space you gave him.”

Pierre nods solemnly. “The engine wasn’t your fault either, by the way. There was nothing you could have done to make it work again. You can’t limp through a problem like that.”

You tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling above you. “I tried, though.”

“I know,” Pierre says. They’re only two words, but for some reason they make you feel better than any of the minutes spent listening to your engineers’ speeches on how they would fix that issue by the next race.

Judging by the slight smile on Pierre’s face, he must know that too. When the seconds stretch into minutes and you never tell Pierre to go, that smile only deepens. The conversation leaves the race eventually, and you end up talking about silly things like movies you’d like to see or places you want to go but never have. You don’t know that you’ve ever spoken to another driver like this before. You don’t know that you could with anyone else.

You have to leave that corner eventually, called away by a team principal with apologies in order. Pierre departs around the same time, claiming that he can’t run from the interviewers forever. You steal one last glance at him over your shoulder as you go, and can’t help but notice the grin on his face. It’s broader than before, proud of something; what, you can’t tell. Despite the fact that both of you have failed out of the race, you still get the feeling that Pierre has won at something more than you today.

Charles releases an Instagram post later that day of him, Pierre, and a few other drivers out at a club. You see it, and spend too much time wondering how long you have to wait after a photo is posted to like it so it’s not weird. What you don’t see is the conversation that happened later, how Pierre triumphantly told the rest that he was closer than they’d ever believe. You don’t see it, and the next time you see him, you stop to talk with a ready smile.

So it goes the next race, and the next one, and the next. Pierre is there. So are you. You end up finding him eventually; as time goes on, it’s not just Pierre seeking you out but the other way around, too. It’s even, both of you wanting each other just as often as the other. Eventually, you have to admit defeat to the voice in the back of your head telling you that you might have misread Pierre after all. Maybe he’s not just a horrific flirt. Maybe he can be a friend.

And, leaning over the railing of Pierre’s room in the Alpine motorhome so you can feel the gentle wind on your face while you stare out at the paddock, you think you would be alright if there was something more, too. You swore to yourself you’d never even think about another driver in that way, too scared of all your efforts to distinguish yourself from everyone’s expectations for female drivers being for naught, but it might be okay if it was Pierre. Pierre is different, nothing like the rest. It would be alright if it was him.

Pierre stands by your side, back straight and posture perfect as he surveys the mess of people milling about some floors below. “Nervous for the race?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering the question. “As much as anyone, I guess. I like this track, though. Should be good.”

Pierre nods, smiling at that. “And what about me? Am I going to be good, too?”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”

He doesn’t; this is one of Pierre’s best tracks. He should be up for a podium or at least high in the points if everything goes according to plan.

He just grins. “Indulge me.”

You give him a pointed stare, then head back into the room. “You’re an ass.”

Pierre follows. “You love me, though.”

A pause. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He asks, unable to disguise a slight shine of surprise from entering his eyes, like despite all the luck he’d had recently, Pierre still didn’t think he would get this far.

You lift your shoulder in a half-shrug, unwilling to commit to anything further. You feel as if you’re standing on a lake frozen over, aware that any wrong move could shatter the ice beneath your feet.

Pierre moves towards the door, and for one horrified moment you think he’s actually going to leave right then and there before you realize he’s closing it instead. He turns back once he’s sure no passersby can see you, and then he’s kissing you and you can’t worry about anything else. Not even the race. Not even the threat that this might send you spiraling until you’re so lost on him that you won’t be able to think straight for the rest of your life.

He leans back at last, smiling at you with the same smile you think you saw on a podium on Monza when he first won a race in F1. “We could have done that earlier,” he whispers, not daring to disturb the quiet victory of the room.

“We could have,” you answer him. Every driver hates losing time. This is no exception.

Your head is light with the most wonderful feeling, and then over Pierre’s shoulder you see something strange. He left the door open. Cracked halfway, even though this door is notorious for never staying open right. He would have had to try to keep it like this. He would have wanted it to be that way for a reason.

Pierre’s phone vibrates and he grimaces, murmuring something about having to talk to one of his engineers before slipping out of the room. He kisses you one last time before he leaves, a quiet touch pressed to your cheek. He takes great care to ensure that you do not see the message blinking up from his screen, and when he goes, you notice that he does not have to turn the knob, only pull open an already ajar door.

Something is wrong. The longer you stand there, alone in Pierre’s room, the more you start to think, and what you think about is not good at all. The timing of the text message. The look on his face when he left. Nothing is adding up.

Voices drift to you down the hall as you stand there wondering, Pierre’s among them. You walk slowly forward, unable to fight a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach like something is about to go very, very poorly. You usually trust your instincts. As it turns out, they won’t be wrong now.

Pierre is standing in a meeting room down the hall, talking in hushed voices to a few other drivers. As you draw closer, you recognize them. Charles, closest; Lando, eyes wide; Esteban, even, staring in disbelief. All three are telling Pierre replications of the same sentiment, which is that they cannot believe he actually managed to do it.

Get you to fall in love with him, they mean. Fulfill the dare, they explain. Like they all agreed a few months ago. Back in Miami, the three of them dared Pierre to get you to fall for him, and like the overconfident, thrill seeking diehard flirt that he is, Pierre agreed.

Worse: he did it successfully. You know, you had been wondering if this was too good to be true. Looks like it was. All that time you were letting Pierre into your heart, and he was manipulating you into falling in love. How pathetic. How incredibly soul-destroying.

The four drivers look up when you shut the door to the meeting room behind you. Pierre is the first one to notice it’s you, and you don’t ever think you’ll forget the look on his face when he realizes that you know the truth. His entire expression contorts with horror and his hands rise by his sides, trying to force your heart to stay unbroken. Pity it’s too late for that.

“Y/N–” he begins, a little too loud, a little too desperate, “wait– it’s not what it sounds like–”

“Actually,” you say coolly, “I believe that it is. You three dared Pierre to get me to fall in love with him? That’s exactly what it is, right?”

It’s not a question. Charles, Lando, and Esteban have realized you’re here, too, and they wear similar shades of Pierre’s alarm. Charles opens his mouth to say something, perhaps to explain himself, but you cut him off.

“Don’t even try. I know what you did, I don’t want to hear your terrible reasoning for why you thought this was okay. I’m going to go back to my motorhome and we are never going to speak of this again. Don’t talk to me in the paddock. Don’t talk to me at all unless we’re in a media event and you have to. I never want to speak to any of you.”

Lando interrupts, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Y/N, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? It was just a prank, that’s all. Just a laugh.”

Pierre looks like he’s fighting back deep irritation at that. You just arch one brow. “Just a prank to humiliate me? You disgust me. All of you.”

You let that silence their arguments and leave the room. You think Pierre might have tried to follow you out, but Charles blocks him. You hear the Monegasque’s voice spilling out into the hall as you leave, telling Pierre not to try it. She obviously doesn’t want to see any of us anymore, mate. Best to leave it be.

You wish it was that easy for you. It takes everything in you to make it to your private room in your team’s motorhome and lock the door behind you before the tears finally come flooding out. You’d like nothing more than to fly home and spend the next several days and nights comatose in your bed, but, as if things weren’t bad as is, there’s still a race tomorrow, so you won’t be able to go anywhere for at least twenty-four hours.

The lights go out, the chequered flag waves some time later. You’re not entirely aware of what happened in that race, nor of how you were able to drag yourself out of your room and back to the starting grid, but you blink once and you’re on the podium, so evidently everything worked out. You watch the clips later, the commentators are all in shock. They haven’t seen you race so aggressively in years. It bordered on cruelty.

Pierre, by contrast, had his worst race in months. It seemed like he was hardly in charge at all, more like the car was controlling him. He wasn’t even in the points. No one can understand it. You refuse to think about it any longer.

Another race weekend comes and goes. The interviewers are confused– wasn’t it just last week that you seemed so much happier than you are now? You’re surly in press conferences, answering questions in a clipped and emotionless tone. They’d say you were totally checked out were it not for the fact that you’re still getting good results.

They don’t know everything, of course, but some of the more eagle-eyed reporters are starting to put the pieces together. What’s up with you and Pierre Gasly? Someone asks one day, Weren’t you two good friends recently?

We’re drivers, you reply, Aren’t we all used to pretending things are better than they are?

When you see Pierre after that press conference, he looks dizzy, totally unsteady on his own feet. You don’t meet his eyes. You’re not sure that it’s guilt, but it feels something like that anyway. Everything is wrong.

Pierre is asked about it later, of course, and he’s a little more candid than you were. He never names names, just says that things happen sometimes, things he wishes he could take back. Pierre has to take a moment to get himself together after that to answer the next question, a fantastic display of emotion. How charming of him to wear his heart on his sleeve when he’s just ripped yours out of your chest.

The pattern repeats the next few weeks. Pierre, Charles, Lando, and Esteban try to talk to you on multiple occasions, but you brush them off with nothing more than a well-placed glare and some good avoidance tactics. Even then, you should have known that your cold shoulder couldn’t last forever.

Of course it would be Charles who gets you at last– if there’s anyone on this entire damned grid who could get why you are the way you are, it would be him. Il Predestinato knows what it’s like to have the entire world expecting something of you, and he doesn’t lie easy because of it. Charles finds you late as the sun is setting and won’t let you avoid him forever, even though you try.

At last, you give up and stop making him chase you around the paddock. You’re sitting at a table outside your motorhome, shaded by a sunbleached umbrella and sipping at a bottle of ice water long since turned lukewarm.

“He regrets it, you know,” Charles says by way of introduction.

You refuse to raise your eyes from your intense study of the bottle’s printed plastic label. “He’s going to have to do a lot better than sending his best friend to talk for him, then.”

Charles scoffs. “Oh, come on. You know you haven’t let him get close enough for that.”

Your water bottle receives a very irate glare. “Wonder why that would be.”

Charles sighs. “We were wrong, we all know that. It was a stupid thing to suggest and even more stupid to keep it up that long.”

You look at him at last, anger gone and replaced by mere disappointment. From the way Charles shifts in his seat opposite you, you think that might be an even worse threat for him to face. “Then why did you keep it going? If you knew it was so wrong? Pierre was committed to your prank for weeks. Why didn’t any of you call it quits?”

“He didn’t want to,” Charles admits, “not because of the dare, because he liked being around you. Did you know he was mad at us the day you caught us? He didn’t want us anywhere near that room. Told me privately it’s because he wanted the first kiss for himself, not for anything related to the dare.”

That makes you go silent. The fan whirs overhead, pushing your thoughts around in slow circles somewhere above you. “That makes no sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Charles grumbles, “Happened, though. Regardless of what he thought at the start, Pierre doesn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.”

You turn towards him. “Is that supposed to make how he felt at the start okay somehow?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, but it makes the ending better, I think.”

He’s right. You lean back against your seat, contemplative. Charles takes this as his cue to leave. He pauses once before he’s out of range, then calls something else back to you. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I told you that, by the way.”

You can’t fight a laugh. “I won’t tell a soul you’re on my side.”

He smiles at that. You’ve missed him, you realize, him and the rest. You thought distance would save you from feeling quite so badly about all of this, but it just cut you off from your best support. Charles disappears into the crowd, a bright flare of red in a multitude of shifting shades, and for the first time since that treacherous discovery, you start to wonder what it would feel like to forgive.

Pierre is in an awful state. So Esteban has told him about a thousand and one times, at least, each utterance delivered with the same derisive snort. Pierre knows he’s supposed to bounce back from this, pretend it was all just a prank, but he’s known better for months now. It might have been a prank the first day, even the first week, but not after that.

Here is the problem: Pierre, in all his cocky eagerness to show his friends up, failed to consider that Y/N might be able to charm him as well. He might have gone a little overboard in his attempts to make her fall in love with him, perhaps even to the point where he fell in love instead. He isn’t sure when he first realized he had feelings for her, but Pierre is more than certain it was before Y/N discovered she felt the same way.

What a ruin to his reputation. Pierre hadn’t minded, though, not when they were still on speaking terms. He liked the way they could talk for hours, how Y/N’s guard slipped when she started to trust him. She had a way of smiling when she was sure no one was about to stab her in the back. Pierre misses that. He’s sure he’ll never see it again.

Unable to stand Esteban’s dismissive attitude anymore, Pierre picks himself up from where he’d been wallowing in misery on the floor of the Alpine motorhome. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, only that it needs to be somewhere without a single soul in sight. Still, when he passes aimlessly through the halls and almost runs into another driver, he supposes he should take it as a testament to his distracted mind that he doesn’t realize it’s Y/N until they’re already standing still and staring at each other.

Too late, Pierre remembers she hates him. His eyes drop to the floor and he mumbles an apology, ready to keep moving. She told him not to speak to her anymore; Pierre can hardly fault her for that, and he won’t use his presence as a weapon if that’s the one that will cut her the deepest.

He is surprised, then, when Y/N reaches out to stop him before he can get too much farther. Pierre looks at her hand locked around his, then back up at her.

“Wait,” she says, “I want to talk to you.”

“I thought that wasn’t happening anymore,” Pierre says. It occurs to him that it probably sounds cold, but she speaks before he can try to explain what he meant.

“Things have changed,” she says.

That’s enough to convince him to stay, if not for the feeling of her fingers still on his than anything else. He doesn’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting from him to the occasional Alpine aide walking down the halls, and to save her, Pierre jerks his head towards a door down the hall.

“There’s an empty room to the left, we can talk there.”

A brief flash of relief crosses her face, and Y/N lets Pierre lead her over to the room. He leaves the door open to give her an easy escape, but she closes it after her anyway. No onlookers. Maybe that’s for the best.

Y/N sits down in one of the chairs, legs crossed, arms folded. She may be here with him after so long, but that doesn’t stop her from throwing up all her walls, even the physical ones. It hurts to remember how easy it had been to be with her that last day. Pierre plays those moments on repeat in his head– the balcony, the breeze, the words, the kiss. He can never stop the later scene from following, how her demeanor had changed when she realized the truth. He didn’t think he could hurt one person that badly. He was wrong.

She’s still silent, so Pierre assumes it’s on him to start talking. “I’m sorry,” he begins, “I know that’s not enough, but it’s true. I was stupid. I should have told you before–”

Regret clogs up his throat and he can’t choke out a single syllable more. Y/N looks suspicious. “Before the kiss?”

“Before anything,” Pierre clarifies, “when we were talking at the beginning. I never should have let it get so far. Doesn’t mean I minded when it did,” he remarks half to himself, “but I should have done it on my own terms.”

When he dares look up at Y/N again, he swears she seems slightly more open, but that could just be his wishful thinking. “Do you mean what you said in the interview?” She asks suddenly, “Do you wish you could take it back?”

“Yes,” Pierre says in a rush, “I want a do over. I want to do it right. I would have done all of it without ever talking to Lando or Esteban or Charles first. I would have done it for me.” His voice is quiet. “I would have loved you without making it a lie.”

Y/N’s eyes are wide, but she isn’t afraid or angry. “Second chances come around more often than you’d think,” she whispers.

“Even for me?” Pierre asks.

She nods once. “Even for you.”

They’re both on the podium that day. His race engineers can’t explain why Pierre’s luck has suddenly had this tremendous turnaround. He can. She can, too. Sometimes your heart likes getting in the way if it knows you’re doing something wrong. It’s a good thing, then, that he’s finally doing something right.

She’s waiting for him once the interviews are over. They’re both exhausted, half drunk on the champagne in the air and wholly pleased with themselves. The sun goes down, and Pierre is happy. It is just as easy as that.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagines #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #f1 pierre #f1 pierre imagines #f1 pierre x reader #f1 pierre oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot

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python333 · 9 months

Note

hi! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but if you aren’t feel free to ignore this!

anyways, i was thinking what would it be like if you were back on base and did something nice for everyone and made their fave coffee/tea while you’re all relaxing after a long mission? like how would the 141 react and what would you make for them?

that’s all but i hope you have a great day and i absolutely love your writings!! they seriously are so detailed and amazing, you do a beautiful job w each one💌

unwind — python333

— — — —

synopsis the 141 + you are back from a super long mission and u make them their fave coffee/tea!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

word count 3.6k

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], gaz being a little shit.

note thank you so much for the req!! i am taking them right now, but apologies if i post them 2+ days after i get them, my writers block is slowly creeping back into my mind and im fighting it off the best i can! also, thank you for the compliments :3 ilysm youre too nice!! i saw ur reblog of bedbound too and i was so sjdfksdfks!! hope u have a good day too and hope you enjoy this fic, it's all fluff and way too in depth descriptions of making tea/coffee!!

As soon as the electric kettle clicks, signaling to you that the water inside of it has been boiled, you unplug it and pour the water into a mug you’d pulled from the cabinets. It still surprised you that there were any mugs left, with how many people kept stealing to put on their desk to hold pencils—by people, you mean Soap, and only Soap—but you weren’t complaining.

You set the kettle back down once the mug is filled up just an inch below the brim and grab the tea bag you’d grabbed earlier, wrapping the string around the handle of the mug a few times before putting the bag itself into the water. Almost immediately, you see small tendrils of dark brown flow out from the drowned tea bag into the originally clear water.

As that happens, you walk the small few steps over to the small fridge from the kettle and open it, grabbing the small carton of cream and closing the fridge shut. You walk back over to the mug and unscrew the cap of the carton, pouring some cream into the mug, adding a half inch of height to the liquid already in the mug before screwing the cap back on and setting the carton down.

You don’t bother to grab a spoon and mix anything yet, instead reaching over to the small terracotta container beside the coffee machine that contained sugar, and taking off the lid.

You think for a moment if you should grab a spoon for this, but ultimately decide against it, instead just tipping the container over the mug and letting what you hope is two teaspoons of sugar spill over into the mug.

Afterwards, you put the lid back on the container holding the sugar and set it back next to the coffee machine, and grab the cream to put back into the fridge.

Once the cream’s been put back, you open the drawers in the counter and grab a small spoon, one that’s just tall enough that it won’t be fully submerged in the tea, and put it into the mug.

You close the drawer and give the tea a few stirs before picking up the mug, being careful of the scalding heat and holding it solely by its handle. You carefully walk out of the snack bar extension of the kitchen and head towards Price’s office.

After a year or two of working with him, you’ve learned a lot about his tea preferences—he likes Yorkshire tea, the original one, not the gold. He only likes cream and sugar in his coffee, just to make it smoother and make it a bit sweeter, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

You vaguely remember him telling you he’d never had honey or any other sweeteners besides a bit of sugar in his tea, and remember more vividly you thinking, God, that’s such an old person thing to say, but not saying it out loud.

Once you’ve reached his office, you knock a few times and Price’s tired voice calls out, “Come in!”

You open the door, careful to keep the mug from spilling in your hands, and walk in, closing the door behind you. Price looks up from his computer, presumably writing a report on the mission you’d all just come back from an hour or two ago, and offers a small smile when he sees you. He’s about to say something before he catches sight of the mug in your hands.

“Did you…” He doesn’t finish his question, but you know what he was about to ask, and you nod in response.

“If it’s too sugary let me know,” You tell him, setting the mug down a safe distance away from his computer, “I can remake it.”

“I won’t make you remake it,” Price looks at you, almost offended, “You didn’t have to make me anything in the first place, but thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” You hum, walking away, saying over your shoulder, “Hope you like it.”

You open the door without another word and walk out, closing it behind you, heading right back to the snack bar. Now for Soap.

Soap typically preferred coffee to tea, despite tea’s popularity in Scotland. He’d told you that he really couldn’t taste the difference between different coffee blends, but upon hearing that there was a Scottish blend, he declared he’d only drink that one, because of course he did.

He pretended he could tell if the coffee he was drinking was of that Scottish blend, but you knew he couldn’t. How did you know? You’d only ever given him Scottish roast once. Every other time since then, it’s been French roast.

He’s never really used a coffee machine for himself, going to cafes or coffee shops most of the time for coffee, keeping his usual coffee order written in his notes app because he couldn’t remember it for the life of him.

He’d sometimes modify his order if certain coffee shops didn’t do certain things that he usually got, but his order stays mostly the same every time he gets coffee. Medium (or grande, if he’s at Starbucks) latte with a double shot of espresso.

Typically, he’d get some shortbread too, but you didn’t really have any in the base, so he’d have to do without it today.

Once you enter the snack bar, you grab another mug from the cabinets above the counter and place it under the coffee machine. You open the cabinets right by the ones that contained the mugs and grab a bag of ground French roast, pulling it out and putting it on the counter.

You open it up and find that there’s conveniently already a small cup in there to scoop the coffee grounds up, and use your free hand to grab a new coffee filter from the same cabinets you got the coffee grounds from, swiftly putting it into the machine.

You use your other hand to scoop up some coffee grounds and put them into the filter, closing the top of the coffee machine afterwards and turning on the machine. You’re grateful there’s more options listed on the small digital screen that lights up on the machine than just plain black coffee, not really in the mood to try and steam milk right now.

You tap on the ‘latte’ option and watch as the screen changes and hear the coffee machine start to whir.

As it does that, you put away the coffee grounds and open up the cabinets that contained mugs once again, pulling out a small espresso glass and setting it onto the counter.

You wait patiently for the coffee to brew, and once you hear the small beep sound from the machine that signals that it’s done, you pull away the steaming hot coffee and set it down right next to the coffee machine.

You quickly put the espresso glass under the machine and start it up again, this time tapping the ‘espresso shot’ option—surprised that’s even an option, honestly—and hearing the familiar whirring noise start up again. It doesn’t take nearly as long as brewing the latte did, the small beep coming much sooner than it did just a minute or two earlier, and you pull away the small espresso glass from the machine almost immediately after you hear it.

You pause for a moment, looking at how much the latte part had filled up the mug, and look around for a moment before opening up the same drawer that contains the eating utensils and grabbing a straw, putting the straw in the still hot latte—is that a good idea? No. Did you do it anyway because you physically can’t think before you act? Absolutely—and taking a long sip of it.

You pull the straw out once the liquid in the mug is at a good inch below the brim and then pour in the espresso shot, setting the glass down after you do so.

You look around for a second for a trash bin and find one just a few steps away from you, quickly throwing out the straw you’d used and then walking back over to the empty espresso glass, picking it up and setting it down by the sink. God forbid we get a dishwasher in here or something, You think absentmindedly as you pick up the mug and carefully walk out of the snack bar with it, Would it hurt to at least get some dish soap in here or something?

You make it out of the snack bar without burning your fingers and start the much longer walk to Soap’s sleeping quarters. You’d caught him walking out of his office in that direction earlier, so you can only assume that he’d gone there.

Once you make it there, you knock on the door a few times and wait for Soap to call out to you and allow you to come in before twisting the door knob and opening the door. He’s laying on his back on his bed, thumb paused on his phone screen as he looks over at you as you enter. He notices the coffee and sits up a bit, grunting as he does.

He wasn’t really as talkative after long missions like the one you’d all been on earlier—usually it took him a day or two to be more social and back to himself, so you didn’t take much offense to him not greeting you as loudly as he usually did.

He nods at the coffee, “Is that for me?”

“Mhm,” You hum, handing him the mug, “Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Got it,” Soap carefully takes the mug into his hands, and softly blows on it before looking at you again and grinning at you, “Weel, thank ye for this. Ye really didnae hae tae.”

“Price actually said the same thing,” You muse, almost to yourself, before speaking a little louder, “No problem.”

“Oh did he?” Soap asks, raising an eyebrow, before his expression shifts and he feigns confusion, “Wait, how come he got a drink afore me?”

“Because his office was closer to the snack bar,” You explain, crossing your arms.

“… Nae, it’s definitely ‘cause ye hate me,” Soap disagrees, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “And tae think I thought we were friends.”

“It is no— you know what?” You begin to argue, before sighing and rolling your eyes, “I do hate you, and we were never friends, you ungrateful piece of shit.”

Soap laughs, quieter than he usually does but it’s still a genuine laugh. He looks down at the coffee again and back at you, before saying, “Thank ye. Again.”

“No problem,” You replied, walking back towards the door and opening it, walking out of Soap’s sleeping quarters and closing the door behind you. Now for Ghost.

Ghost typically liked tea more than coffee, but you think that’s just the British in him talking. Realistically, you could give him either or, and he’d say a polite ‘thank you’ and move on.

From years of being apart of the 141, any preferences or additives he liked to put in his tea or coffee slowly dissipated and instead he just drank either one plain. Which should make the tasks you’ve forced yourself to do today easier, but knowing you, you just couldn’t take the easy route with this.

You remember a conversation with him that happened several months ago where you had been talking about your own tea and coffee preferences. Ghost had commented that he didn’t often put any additives in his own hot drinks anymore, but back before he’d joined the military, he liked to drink keemun tea occasionally with nutmeg in it.

Keemun tea—which was fucking expensive by the way, costing around sixteen pounds for twenty tea bags in every store you could find them in—wasn’t too hard to find, so the next time you went on leave after that conversation, you’d bought a box of bags of keemun tea leaves and some ground nutmeg.

You didn’t let Ghost know about it, and kind of forgot about it just a week after you bought it, but now the memory of you buying it and storing it in the snack bar behind a few other boxes of tea bags has resurfaced and it’s the only thing you think is appropriate to give Ghost at a time like this.

You get back to the snack bar and almost robotically you pull a mug out from the cabinets above the counter and set it down on said counter, deciding to grab another one just so that you wouldn’t have to do it later, and setting that one down right next to the other. You open the cabinet beside that and move some of the boxes out of the way to find the keemun tea box in the very back, right where you last left it.

You snatch it out of the cabinet and open it, pulling out a small packet and opening it up to pull out the tea bag inside. You go ahead and put the tea bag inside of the mug and put the tea box back in the cabinet, closing the small cabinet door afterwards.

You then grab the electric kettle that’s right by the sink and pop open the lid, putting it under the faucet and turning said faucet on, waiting until the water fills a quarter of the kettle. Once it does, you turn off the faucet and put the kettle down right by the outlet on the wall.

You put the lid down and wait for it to click into place before you plug the kettle into the outlet and press the small button below the handle to turn it on, and listen as it starts to make a small whirring noise. You don’t waste too much time just standing there, waiting for the water to finish boiling, instead putting the other mug you’d pulled out from the cabinets under the coffee machine and turning it on.

You tap on the ‘decaf flat white’ option and watch the digital screen change and another whirring sound starts up, now coming from the coffee machine.

You were starting to make Gaz’s while making Ghost’s drink because Gaz often made the mistake of drinking his coffee before it was cool enough to not burn his tongue, so if you made it earlier, it’d have more time to cool, and Gaz wouldn’t have to wait as long before drinking it, therefore solving the whole ‘burning-his-tongue-because-he’s-impatient’ problem he has.

Gaz liked simple flat whites, and sure, he liked tea too, but nothing could top a good flat white for him. He’d get them anywhere and everywhere he can, and you honestly admire his dedication to getting a flat white everywhere he goes.

The coffee machine finished up quickly, a small beep sounding from the machine as it stopped its whirring and a few more drops of coffee made it into the mug before it completely stopped. You pull the mug out from under the machine and set it aside for now, just waiting for the water to finish boiling in the kettle.

Once the kettle clicks and the whirring from that machine stops, you unplug it and pour some water into the empty mug you’d picked out for Ghost, waiting until it’s filled up about a half inch below the brim of the mug before taking the kettle away from the mug and pouring the rest of the unused water into the sink.

You set the kettle down beside the coffee machine where it belongs and check the drawer below the one that held the eating utensils, looking through some of the spices and drink additives in it before finally finding the ground nutmeg you needed.

You unscrew the cap and tilt the small spice jar over the mug, letting some of the powder spill into the mug before tilting it back and screwing the cap back on. You put it back in its spot and close that drawer, now opening the drawer above it and grabbing a small spoon, closing that one after you’ve grabbed the spoon and putting the spoon into the mug to mix the spices in it around a bit.

You leave Gaz’s mug on the counter, hoping that nobody steals it while you’re away, and instead pick up the mug meant for Ghost, carefully walking out of the snack bar with it.

Ghost’s office is fairly far away, but you still manage to get there without burning your fingers or anything on the mug. You knock on the door a few times and wait for Ghost to call out permission for you to come in before you open the door and walk in.

Ghost immediately looks over at you and spots the mug in your hand, but ignores it for now, instead opting to ask, “Did you need something, [c/n]?”

“Not really,” You shrugged the best you could while holding scalding hot tea, “Just needed to give you this.”

You set the mug down on Ghost’s desk before he can say another word, and watch as he eyes the mug with curiosity and confusion.

“What’s this?” He asks, carefully picking up the mug, holding the top up to his nose to smell it. Before you can answer his question, you see his eyes widen and he questions a little louder, “Is this… keemun? With nutmeg?”

“You can tell just from the smell?” You ask, mildly impressed, watching as Ghost’s gaze turns into one more in awe of the mug.

“Yes, I can,” He mumbles, smelling the brim of the mug again, before looking over at you, “How did you know I liked keemun with nutmeg in it?”

“You told me about it, like, a few months ago. Six months ago, maybe? I dunno.”

“How do you remember a conversation from six months ago?”

“It was an important conversation, I guess?” You shrug, crossing your arms.

You watch in silence as Ghost eyes the tea and you take that as your sign to leave, walking towards the door, stopping right in front of it to twist the knob to open it before you’re interrupted by Ghost.

“Wait—” You turn your head and look at him over your shoulder, and immediately upon seeing his face, you think, oh my God is he tearing up? “Thank you, [c/n]. I really appreciate it.”

You offer a small smile and reply, “Yeah, no problem. Enjoy your tea.”

You open the door without another word and close it behind you, taking a deep breath before continuing down the hall back to the snack bar.

You’re relieved when you get there and see the mug, still steaming a bit, still on the counter. You quickly walk over to it and pick it up, walking right back out the door with it and heading straight for Gaz’s sleeping quarters. You remember him being so tired from the mission—you don’t know whether to hope he’s asleep and getting some rest, or to hope that he’s awake so you can properly hand him his coffee.

Once you make it to his sleeping quarters, you knock on the door, and there’s no response for a few moments, making you think he might actually be asleep, but then you hear Gaz’s drowsy voice call out, “You can come in!”

You open the door and see him rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up on his bed, looking over at you. His lips twitch up into a small smile once he sees you and he lets his hand drop into his lap.

“Hey, [c/n].” He looks over at the mug you’ve brought with you, before raising an eyebrow, “You brought something for me?”

“Very bold of you to assume it’s for you,” You close the door behind you and walk closer to him, “But yes, it is.”

Gaz perks up a bit at that and happily takes the mug off of your hands once you hand it to him, and his smile grows significantly bigger once he sees you’ve brought him a flat white.

“It’s decaf, don’t worry,” You say, as if reading his mind, “I figured you’d still want some sleep after drinking it.”

“Always so considerate,” Gaz sighs teasingly, raising the mug to his lips like you’d thought he would. Thankfully, his tongue doesn’t burn this time after he sips the coffee, and you let out a small sigh of relief at the fact.

“You know me,” You respond dryly, crossing your arms as you watch Gaz take a few more sips of the coffee.

“Thank you for this, by the way,” Gaz thanks you, taking another sip of the coffee before stating, “I hope you know you’re my favorite now.”

“Your favorite what?”

“Just my favorite, in general,” Gaz hums, “This is the best flat white I’ve ever drunk. Ten out of ten.”

“Thanks,” You thank him flatly, “It was made with love and a coffee machine I learned how to use yesterday.”

“I can just taste the love in it.”

“Not the coffee machine?”

“Well, it’s a bit concerning if someone can taste the coffee machine in their coffee, innit?” Gaz raises an eyebrow at you before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Not if it’s the one I used.”

“Whatever you say,” Gaz mutters, taking yet another sip of his coffee, making you huff out a small laugh.

“You enjoy your coffee,” You say before walking back over to the door, closing the door behind you as you walk out and letting out a tired breath, starting to head back to your own sleeping quarters.

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slayfics · 4 months

Text

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fanfic about the reader developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter ten: Pixiebob catches you looking at Katsuki.

Chapter links

Mandelei and Pixiebob had said the forest was only going to take your class over two hours, but it ended up taking the whole day. The whole class including yourself was exhausted.

The Pussycats cooked for everyone today but made it clear for the rest of the trip your class would have to cook for itself. Dinner and washing up felt like a blur with how tired you were from making it through the forest.

The next morning started way too early with training beginning at 5:30 am. You didn't think you'd ever felt so tired in your whole life. Aizawa and The Pussycats had set up special training for everyone to push their quirks past their limits including you.

You couldn't remember a time you had used your quirk so intensely and it was beginning to make you dizzy. Using your quirk to your limits, making your own food, and staying up exceptionally late for your extra classes were beginning to take a toll on you by the third day.

You pressed on doing your best to continue using your quirk even though you felt lightheaded and ready to pass out.

"Damn it!" You heard followed by a loud explosion.

Katsuki was as noisy as ever in training today. He repeatedly placed his hands in boiling water and then released a strong blast into the sky for his training. You started to block it out but every now and then his blasts gave you a startle. You turned to watch him for a moment when Ragdoll jumped in front of you blocking your view of him.

"Hi there! Not getting distracted from your training are you?" She said with a giggle.

"What? No, of course not." You said and began to pick up your training again. What the hell, you thought. This was some of the strictest training you had done yet. You only paused for a mere second. Couldn't she at least give you a break?

"You know my quirk is the ability to look at someone and know everything about them right?" She said with another giggle.

"Yeah, I know. What are you trying to say?" You asked defensively, trying to keep focused on training in hopes she'd leave.

"Oh, just making sure that you stay focused," Ragdoll said, eyeing you and then looking over at Katsuki with another giggle.

You rolled your eyes, "I am, I don't know what you're being so weird about."

"Sure you don't. I'll be keeping an eye on you," She said playfully, giving you a wink and walking away.

You kept yourself focused, refusing to look anywhere else in fear of Ragdoll coming back around to bother you. You shivered thinking of her quirk. Some quirks were really invasive.

Finally, it was time for the class to cook dinner. Tonight they had all the ingredients to make stew. You were beside yourself at how much energy some of your classmates still had. Didn't they ever just want to complete tasks in peace and quiet?

"Hey, need some help with those?" You asked, walking over to Katsuki.

"Nah," He said, not looking up from cutting carrots.

"Ugh- come on don't make me go ask someone else. They have too much energy right now." You complained. Katsuki looked up and noticed how exhausted you looked.

"Fine here," He pushed half the pile of carrots over to you. "Those extra classes taking it out of you?" He asked.

"Yeah," You answered as you started to chop the carrots.

"You're doing that wrong," He said.

"There's no wrong way to cut carrots," You said annoyed.

"Yes there is, you're doing it," He stated simply. "Here, it's like this," He said, grabbing your hand and guiding it to cut evenly. You felt yourself tense up and your face heated up just a bit. Katsuki, noticing your reaction, pulled away, misunderstanding your response.

"Tch- I know it's not ideal but- you don't have to make that face about it," he grumbled.

"What?" You asked but refused to look at him and continued cutting the way he showed you.

"My hands, because of my quirk- they are always sweaty," He clarified.

"Oh! That," you exclaimed understanding. You were thankful that he didn't understand your reaction was actually from being flustered at his touch. "It's fine. you shouldn't be embarrassed about it."

"I'm not embarrassed!" He yelled. "I just- I know it's not... pleasant" He responded.

"I honestly didn't even notice. You uh... did you have a girlfriend that gave you a hard time about it or something?" You asked, still refusing to look up at him and remaining focused on the carrots.

"HA- no," he chuckled at your question. "Trying to sit next to me on the bus and now asking about my personal life hu?" He teased you.

"Shut up- I was just trying to start a conversation."

"What about you?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

Katsuki let out an annoyed huff. "You with somebody dumb ass?"

"Oh, no...not anymore." You responded.

"Sounds like it was a good time," He said sarcastically.

You shrugged, "It's whatever, you know how it is."

"Nah," he grumbled as he almost finished cutting through his pile of carrots.

"Nah? You mean you've like never been uh- in a relationship?" You asked surprised.

"Don't sound so damn surprised..." He said and paused a bit as he placed the cut carrots into a bowl. "I'm not fucking dumb you know. I know I'm not a pretty boy like Icy Hot and... I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with," he said, grabbing some of the carrots from your pile to help cut. "Besides, I don't waste my time with that crap anyway. Being the future number-one hero is all that's important to me."

You stayed silent for a moment thinking over what Katsuki said. It surprised you to hear him not be so arrogant for once. When it came to his quirk or anything to do with being a hero Katsuki had no problem boasting that he was the best, but he seemed to have a much more humble view about his relationship appeal.

"I uh- I don't think that you are unattrac-" You began to say but looked up to see Ragdoll staring at you from across the yard causing you to freeze. She shot you another wink and you dropped your knife.

"You good?' Katsuki looked at you confused.

"Yeah, I uh- I just think you got the rest from here." You said and hurried off. You ran and hid next to Mina who was setting the plates out.

"Need some help? Here-" You said hurriedly and began to set the table with her.

Mina eyed you suspiciously, "What were you talking to Bakugo about?" she asked.

"Nothing important," You said not making eye contact with her and placing down plates.

"Oh yeah?" She said and looked around to make sure no one was around before saying, "Then why are your cheeks so bright red?"

"They aren't! It's just warm out here with all the boiling water," You said, rubbing your cheeks.

"Ok fine I won't keep pushing you, but when you're ready to admit it you better tell me!"

Shortly after, Aizawa had come to fetch those of you who had failed the exams to do more training and remedial classes.

Groaning the five of you followed him back leaving behind any hopes of relaxation.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle

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punishereditz · 11 months

Text

You're Mine

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Little bit of fighting. Bar fight (not that bad). Jealously. Smut. Smut and absolutely no plot. Unprotected sex. Car sex. Fingering. Riding. Overstimulation. Praise kink. Marking kink. Cockwarming.

AN: Nickelback + Dean Winchester spicy story = chefs kisses.

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Your boyfriend Dean gets jealous when a guy flirts with you while you work.

"Hey, sweetheart, can I get one more?" A man spoke to you. His words were slurred, and he could barely stand. He was drunk. You gave him a nod and started to fix his drink. You looked up and noticed that Dean was staring at him as he sat there. He kept his stare on the man. His jaw clenching as he saw the man's eyes slowly ghost over your body. Dean didn't say anything though. Not yet anyway.

He took a sip of his beer and kept his eyes locked on him, making sure he won't do anything stupid. You gave the man his drink and went to walk away, but his words stopped you. "Woah, woah, where you going? Have a drink with me." He slurred. Tilting his head down and staring at you.

"Thanks, but I don't drink." You said potentially. Putting on a smile. You tried to be nice about the situation and handle it calmly. But Dean on the other hand never took his eyes off of the guy and he was ready to pounce at any second at the slightest wrong move or word.

"Oh, come on. Have a drink. On me. Then maybe... I could show you a good time when you get off work." He had a smirk, and you were uncomfortable. You literally cringed and you never could understand why a man simply won't take no for an answer.

"No thanks man." Your voice was a little bit firmer than it was before. You noticed someone gesture for you. Wanting more drinks. You fixed the drinks and walked out from the counter. The man tilted his head as his eyes went down to your ass. He then slapped your ass when you walked by and that was Dean's final straw. He shoved the man. Making him tumble back. He stood up from his seat, looking down at the man. His anger was finally boiling over.

The guy quickly stood up. Brushing himself off. He was shocked, but then he quickly had that confident, smug look on his face again. He went to throw a punch, but Dean quickly blocked it, and he slammed his fist into his nose. Making blood pour from it and he fell to the ground unconscious. Knocked out cold. As Dean looked down at the guy, he felt a little bit better. But he was still high on the adrenaline.

You went back to work, shaking your head. You're not surprised at all by this or even fazed. It's not the first time he has done that. But what you couldn't understand was why he came to work with you every weekend if he knew he was going to get jealous. Maybe he just enjoyed a fight. Maybe he liked showing that no one could touch you. You didn't know and you weren't going to worry about that right now. You still had a good hour or so of work to do before you could clock out.

The security guard came and got the unconscious guy. Glaring at Dean as he carried him out. Dean shrugged, brushing it off and he sat back down. His eyes going to you. He watched you work, and he started to get lost in his thoughts.

He hated that other guys were looking at you. Touching you. You were his and he made sure to let everyone know that. He wanted to be the only one that could look at you like that. He is the only one that can touch you. That can have you bed. The only one to make you come. He wished that you would take off of work so he didn't have to fight every guy off. But there was a part of him deep down that loved to watch the man's eyes grow with fear, watching them limp out of the place if they weren't having to be carried out. He knew he was overprotective of you, and he didn't care.

He had already let everyone else know that you were his, but he didn't let you know that yet. That's why now that your off of work, getting into the Impala to go home, he plans to show you. "That's the fifth week in a row you've done that." You said, looking over at him as he pulled out into the road. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, then he pulled over into a parking lot. Cutting the car off, he turned to you. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he pulled you to him and he smashed his lips onto yours. Kissing you deeply. He caught you off guard, but you started to relax to his touch. Trying to keep up with his lips.

He pulled away, grabbing your hips, he tossed you to the backseat, then he quickly joined you. He laid you down, then he got on top of you. Pinning your hands down above your head. He leaned down and kissed you deeply again. His tongue brushing against your bottom lip before he pushed it in. One hand holding yours down and his other hand moved over your side. He pushed his hand up your shirt. Cupping your breast in his hand, lightly squeezing it and starting to massage it. Making you moan into his mouth. Your heart was pounding now. The heat in between your legs growing in a matter of seconds just by the very little touching he has been doing.

He let go of your hands, pulling away from the heated kiss and leaning back to look at you. He pulled your jeans and panties down. Throwing them down to the floor. You gasped when the cold air hit your core. He chuckled at that. A grin tugging at his lips. He brushed his fingers up your leg slowly. Making a chill run down your spin. Goosebumps tickling at your skin. He watched as his hand moved from your knee and up to your thigh. He moved his hand around your leg so that his fingers were closer to your cunt. You let out a shaky breath. Feeling as if your heart was going to pound out of your chest. You arched your back up slightly, grinding your hips up. So desperate for his touch, but he didn't give it to you. He didn't even look at you yet. He was still watching his movement as he rubbed the back of his finger up and down your thigh right by your core.

He was enjoying teasing you for a moment. He liked seeing you get all flustered and desperate. He pushed your shirt up, bunching it up under your chin. He leaned down and started to leave warm wet kisses along your skin. He was devouring you like a wild animal as he kissed you and rubbed your thigh. He was taking his time with it. He was enjoying it. He loved every second of it. Every heavy breath, every grind, kiss, and movement. He loved how you reacted to his touch, and he was only getting started.

He leaned back up. Looking down at you with a smirk and a mischievous glow in his eyes. He moved the hand that was on your thigh down to your core. Running his finger between your lips. He groaned when he felt how wet you were. He pushed his finger down to your entrance. Slowly pushing it in, curling his finger up, a moan leaving your lips and your eyes rolling back in your head. He pushed his finger deeper in, slowly pumping it in and out, he added another finger and you gasped, your back arching. While his fingers pumped into you, he moved his thumb up, putting it to your clit, adding just a little pressure as he circled it and you moaned, reaching down and gripping his thighs tightly. Overwhelmed with pleasure. It was almost too much.

He leaned down, his lips hovering over your ear. "Your mine." He almost growled. His tone low and laced with mischief. He started to speed his pace up just a little bit and you moaned. Closing your eyes shut, your jaw clenched. Your legs starting to shake. It was all starting to get to you, your climax building.

He slowed his fingers back down and you groaned in frustration. He kissed up your neck. Biting at the spot under your ear. He then whispered to you again. "You belong to me. No one else. Your mine. Let me hear you say it." He said between kisses. His breath heavy and hot against your skin. "I'm yours. I'm... only yours." You said breathless. Looking up into his eyes.

"That's my good girl." He praised and he speeded his fingers up again. You gasped. Letting your head fall back. You clenched your walls around his fingers and arched your back. Your hold on his thighs getting even tighter as you felt your climax getting dangerously close. "Cum for me." He whispered and his words were just the little push you needed. Your climax hit you hard and you moaned loudly as you came on his hand. He helped you come down from your high. His fingers slowing until they came to a stop once you started to calm down a little.

He leaned down, kissing you passionately, when he leaned up, he put his fingers in his mouth. Licking the cum off of them. "That's my good girl. Did so well for me." He whispered. His hands going to his shirt, he took it off in one swift motion and he unbuttoned his jeans. Pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He wrapped his arm around your waist, he laid back, pulling you on top of him. Settling you on his lap. He gave you no time to think or do anything. His lips crashing on yours as he kissed you desperately. He took his cock in his hand and gave it a few strokes before he moved it along your lips, the head that was leaking with pre-cum brushing against your clit. He slowly pushed his cock in. Filling you up in a matter of a few seconds.

His hands went to your hips. Slowly guiding you down so you would fully take his cock. Once he was bottomed out in you, you rested your hands on his shoulders. Holding yourself up. You felt your heart pounding again, your breath heavy and climax building again. You took a few seconds before you moved, trying to adjust to his size. No matter how many times you had sex, you still had to get used to his size. With your walls fluttering around him, you lifted your hips. Then slowly grinding them back down. Then you did it again. Slowly grinding your hips back and forth on his cock.

He grunted as he looked down. Watching you ride him, his cock throbbed at the sight. He started to understand how you felt. He was starting to get overwhelmed with pleasure. You were so tight around him, so wet, and the prettiest sight he has ever seen. He moved his hands from your hips and up your shirt. Holding your breast in his hands. Squeezing and toying with them. His thumb rubbing circles around your nipples. A chill running down your spine at his touch. Your walls squeezing around him again and you started to grind your hips faster. Starting to get more needy.

He raised up. Tilting his head, he took your nipple into his mouth. Sucking on it, his tongue circling it. He grunted against you when you clenched around him and moaned his name. His cock throbbing and twitching inside of you. He kept kissing and sucking at your breast, one of his hands went to the small of your back and he started to thrust his hips up. Meeting your movement and that was when you had to use all your strength to keep from coming. You were so close to your second climax already and he knew it. He was close to.

The windows were steamed. The car was hot and the only sound there was, was the sound of your skin clapping together and both of your moans. You both were desperate and wild. His kisses on your skin started to get a little rougher, leaving marks on you and you started to move your hips faster. He slid his hand from your back and between your bodies. His finger going to your clit and rapidly circling it. Making you scream, your legs shaking. That was your breaking point, and you came all over his cock. Soaking him. He thrusted up into you harshly. Chasing his own climax, with a few hard thrust, he was filling your cunt to the brim with his hot cum.

He started to slow down. His hands falling to his side. Resting them on your hips. You both took a moment to try and catch your breath. Trying to get it under control. Your heart was still pounding as you came down from your high. The two of you just sat there for a moment. Looking at each other. He brought his hand up, pushing your hair back behind your ear. He gave you a gentle smile and kissed your forehead. When he pulled away, that gentle smile turned into a mischievous grin. You knew by the look on his face that he was up to something.

He slowly lifted you off of him. Pulling out of you, he got back into the front, and he helped you get into the front. That was when he pulled you back onto his lap, having you face him. He pushed his cock back inside of you. Wanting you to keep his cock warm, you chuckled, shaking your head and smiling. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

He had a playful grin, and he gave your ass a little slap before he started the car and drive home. There were no words that needed to be said. You both already knew what was the other was thinking, so there was comfortable silence between you two.

#Spotify #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester one shot #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural smut #jensen ackles

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lale-txt · 7 months

Text

❈ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐰/ 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 & 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐠𝐧)

@bas-writes asked: That was supposed to be a joke but I can't get it out of my mind after our extra conversation 😭😂 Could I request Gojo or Geto (still can't decide sorry aklskdd) taking bath or shower with their tall afab s/o - or rather, attempting to because when the average height is like 185cm nothing possibly can be easy 🤭 Thank you! ❤

a/n: ngl this drabble sent me into a deep dive of how certain parts of a shower are called because somehow i forgot them in all three languages LMAO it ended up being a short drabble and only slightly suggestive at the end, but the scenario was just too funny for me to take the full blown nsfw route asdfhjks but i hope you'll enjoy it anyway! thank you for your request, Bas! you're always giving me such fun prompts to work with, hehe.

word count: 637

“Uhm, excuse me, personal space?”

You let out a small huff when someone squeezes into the shower with you, basically cornering you with his tall frame. It’s not like you were small to begin with, and yet Gojo still could rest his chin on top of your head if he wanted to–and right now there was almost no other choice than to do so. This shower wasn’t built for a person above average height, even less for two of your kind.

“You didn’t seem to mind me in your personal space last ni–OI!”

Note to yourself: Shower head aimed directly at his face can make Gojo shut up for an approximate span of two seconds. He’ll never get rid of the house cat accusations, huh?

Gojo grabs your hand that’s holding the cursed tool and gently nibs at your neck (again with the cat behavior…) before he puts the shower head back where it belongs. He’s not bothered by your protests and reaches to adjust the temperature of the water from a pleasant medium high to something that could best be described as close to boiling, filling the already too small shower with so much steam you practically go blind. Not much of a problem for the Six Eyes though.

“You could have just waited till I got out of the shower, you know?”, you grumble, trying to find your shampoo bottle but continue to grab anything but said bottle, maybe because Gojo is everywhere your hands reach out to in this cramped space. He hums, a deep sound in his chest that was close to purring, his big hands running over your body playfully with his chest pressed against your back.

“But Ichiji texted me that he’s already waiting for us outside, even before I got into the shower. I’m just being time-efficient here”, Gojo coos and presses a kiss on the back of your neck. His wet hair tickles your skin while his hands sneak around your waist—a moment of defenselessness, leaving him unprepared for you abruptly bending over to grab your shampoo from the ground and pummeling your boyfriend out of the shower with the sheer force of your arched back.

Freedom never tasted sweeter than in this moment; to finally move around somewhat freely in your shower again without bumping into this brick of a man. Sure, you still had to duck slightly to stand under the shower head, but at least it wasn’t getting blocked by another giant. You love Gojo, with all your heart, but you learned very early on in your relationship that showering together wasn’t this romantic and cute scenario for you two to enjoy–it was war.

“Oi!”

The shower curtain gets dramatically pulled aside and once the hot water steam sets slightly, you see your butt-naked lover with his hands on his hips, bright blue eyes on you, probably thinking of a hundred creative ways to make you pay for your crime. You would be intimidated if he didn’t look like a soggy wet Norwegian cat which makes you bite back a laughter forming in your throat.

“Don’t come back in here, I swear, this shower is too small for–”, you threaten him with a laugh, already reaching for your weapon–the shower head–again.

With one big step Gojo is back in the shower with you, cornering you once more, his mouth finding your neck and trailing kisses up to your ear before he bites it gently. He chuckles quietly at the small noise you let out and you know he won’t stop until he charms out many, many other sounds. Something tells you that you won’t be getting out of this shower anytime soon and you make a mental note to send Ichiji a gift basket for putting up with your demeanors. It probably won’t be the last time.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk scenarios #jjk x you

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waywardxwords · 1 month

Text

Chapter 6 - Demons, Spirits and Angels, Oh My! (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Some angst, language,

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

[1][2][3][4][5]

Whiplash. It was the only way you knew how to describe going from having (what you would describe) as the best night of your life, to spiraling down to the worst feeling you had ever felt.

Jen was the only person you knew to call—she knew you and knew how boring your life was (and how long it had been since you had even looked at a man, let alone slept with one).

“This feels really, really dangerous,” you could tell by her tone that she really didn’t know what to say.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you wanted to cry but you couldn’t even get tears to fall. You had never been in shock before, but you assumed it might feel something like this. “What do I do? Call one of those police departments? The FBI? …Homeland Security?” The thoughts were racing.

“Take a breath,” you heard her take one at the same time, and you followed suit. “He didn’t hurt you, right? Force you to sleep with him?”

“God, no,” you plopped down on the uncomfortable mattress and rubbed your temple. “I practically threw myself at him. It was…” your mouth couldn’t say what you felt. It had been amazing, ‘best night of your life’ material. But you couldn’t say that now. Not after what you had read.

“Maybe the articles are wrong? Maybe there’s more to it than what you’re reading. Oh! Maybe he’s in the witness protection program?” She tried to rationalize. But you had already done that before you called her.

“He wouldn’t have used his old name, Jen,” your words were so soft, you weren’t sure if she heard them.

“Shit, you’re right,” she took a sip of her coffee. “Listen. Just go to the airport, block his number and fly home. We will work through this together. Don’t call anyone yet. This sounds like something you don’t want to get mixed up in, babe.”

You nodded at her words and felt the first wrench of emotion in the back of your throat. “I’m worried I already have.”

Three days had passed since you flew home from Kansas. You had blocked Dean’s number, but you had gotten calls from other numbers you hadn’t recognized with all different area codes. You didn’t answer. It was then that you remembered Dean’s voicemail when you had called previously: “This is Dean’s other, other cell…”. Your stomach dropped when you connected the dots.

The next step you took was removing yourself from the project that took you to Kansas. Your boss had warned you that you were making a terrible mistake, and you probably were (from a career standpoint, anyway). But it didn’t matter. You never wanted to step foot anywhere near Kansas again.

Even knowing what you knew from the articles (which you had barely read; Jen did most of the reading and kept you informed on a need-to-know basis. Which was basically Jen just saying: “You’re gonna have to forget this one, friend.”)—your heart hurt. You felt immense pain being away from Dean, and trying to shove the memories from that night out. You Googled how to disassociate, or how to build walls around memories. But so far, nothing had worked.

Jen encouraged you to do the most normal thing you could on a Friday night—have a dinner and movie night with her. So now, you stood in your kitchen over a pot of spaghetti watching the water boil. Normal, boring life.

You couldn’t help yourself, though. On your kitchen island, your laptop sat opened up to one of the Google searches. Your excuse was that you wanted to run through it all with Jen when she arrived, but in actuality, you were hoping there would be something to prove all of this was a lie, and maybe you (and the police, and the detectives and the FBI) had gotten it all wrong.

As you watched the water bubble in hopes of creating some kind of distraction, there was a loud knock at your front door. Jen wasn’t supposed to be there for another twenty minutes or so, but she also knew you were having a hard time with all of this. As you made your way to the front door, you assumed she wanted to come over and take your mind off of the man you were trying desperately to forget.

A quick swipe of your hands on your dish rag, you pulled the front door wide open in one swoop.

“You’re…early,” your voice trailed off and you thought your eyes might roll out of your head with how wide they were. It wasn’t Jen. It was Dean.

Your brain told you to slam the door and call 911. But Dean was quicker than that. He walked in through the open door in one stride, his brows knitted together as his green eyes searched you. You tried to figure out what he was looking for.

“Are you alright?” His eyes moved as his hands gripped just above your elbows. You completely froze.

“Dean, what are you…how did you find me?” A million questions ran through you as you tried to process. And determine what your next step would be. Could you defend yourself against him? Would you even try?

As much as you knew, seeing him again flooded you with every ounce of feeling you felt while you were with him in Kansas. The smell of his cologne made you shiver.

“I couldn’t get ahold of you,” he removed his hands from you and began to walk around. He was searching your home—window sills, primarily. But what was he looking for? He ran his finger along them and checked. Dust? Something else? He couldn’t be crazy…right? Your internal dialogue mixed with this man you thought you knew even just after a few nights pacing in front of you made your head spin.

From your kitchen island, he turned back towards you. His movements had slowed now and you placed his expression as one of being confused.

“You’re…fine?” He asked slowly.

You tried not to look at the island where your laptop sat opened to images of Dean’s (multiple) mug shots and news articles. You decided to try to reason with him.

“Dean, if you’re worried I’m going to call the police or the FBI, I’m not,” you moved slowly from your spot in the doorway but made a mental note to leave the door open. It was your only immediate escape. You also noted how strange it was that Dean let you leave the door open. Wouldn’t some psycho murderer cover all of his bases? Nothing made sense, and you felt frustrated tears sting in your eyes.

“The what?” He looked completely perplexed now. “I think I missed a chapter here, sweetheart.” His eyes stayed on you until your gaze moved to the island. Shit. His eyes followed and his face fell. “Oh.” ‘Oh’? That’s it? At that moment, you felt like the articles were true. “Listen, I can explain…”

“There’s nothing to explain, Dean!” You said a little too excitedly. “No harm, no foul, right?” You tried to force a chuckle as you slowly side-stepped to keep distance between you.

Even though you thought you knew better, you swore you saw a wave of hurt pass over his face.

“You haven’t committed any crimes here, Dean,” you said slowly. “You can just go and no one needs to know you were here.” You were almost to your kitchen island by now, and your goal was to put it between you and Dean. In your gut, you still found it impossible to believe Dean would lay a hand on you (well, in a negative way). But your head reminded you of the articles.

“Sweetheart, I promise you,” he emphasized as he put his hands up in front of him in a way of showing he meant you no harm. “None of this is what it looks like. And I realize people who commit crimes say that every day…” he trailed off as he tried to get the words out that would show you. “My brother and I, our job is a little bit different.”

Against your better judgment, you continued the conversation with him. “You said you were exterminators…” your words fell off as you processed. “Oh, God. Do you mean exterminating people?!” You hadn’t meant to squeal but you couldn’t help the inflection in your voice. “Are you like Dexter?!” Your eyes widened at the thought.

“What? No! We don’t kill people,” Dean was exasperated as he tried to explain all of this to you. “Dammit, this is not how I wanted to tell you this.” Those words were almost muttered under his breath as he ran the palm of his hand over his mouth. “Listen to me, I know this is going to sound crazy…” literally everything you’ve learned in the last three days has sounded crazy, you thought. You nodded him on to continue, again against any judgment you had. “Just give me a few minutes to explain. We kill monsters.”

Come again? You didn’t have the courage to ask. But Dean just stared at you, waiting for some kind of reaction.

“Monsters? What does that even mean?” You folded your arms across your chest protectively.

“Like spirits and demons. That,” he pointed to the screen of your laptop. “Isn’t me.” There was a CCTV still shot of Dean with a gun aimed at people in a bank robbery turned hostage situation turned murder. Jen hadn’t given you the details on that one; you had to find it for yourself. “That’s a shapeshifter.”

Your mouth ran dry. You couldn’t even swallow if you wanted to. “Jesus, you actually believe that’s real,” you muttered as you ran your fingers through your hair. You realized at that point you were shaking. You focused on just trying to breathe.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he spoke again. “I swear to you, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth.”

“Dean, if you truly mean me no harm, please leave,” you had never felt so conflicted before in your lifetime. The frustrated tears were back. You had truly thought Dean was different—amazing, even. But now you were second-guessing everything, your judgment included.

It looked like Dean wanted to say something, but he stopped himself with a single nod. He put his head down and stared at the tile below his feet for a moment before he looked up again. “I’m really, truly, sorry,” he said, and it felt like he meant it. “I respect that. I’ll leave you alone.”

After one more glance at you, he moved to where the front door was still ajar and walked through, closing it behind him.

Your eyes stayed glued on the door for a few moments in bewilderment. He had left easier than you thought he would. But your brain reminded you to move after a few seconds. You hurried to the door and bolted it, and locked the door knob. Your fingers still trembled as you touched the metal.

About ten minutes later, Jen arrived. The knock at the door made your heart stumble a bit. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. This time, you checked the peephole on your door before opening it.

“Jen,” you sighed in relief when you pulled the door open. “God, am I glad to see you.” You had gone back and forth on whether or not to tell Jen that Dean had come to see you. He had left without incident, and you really didn’t understand how you were feeling at that moment. You knew he was crazy; demons? Spirits? And what the hell was a shapeshifter? But at the same time, he didn’t try to hurt you. And it seemed as though he wouldn’t even think of hurting you.

“Have you heard from Dean lately?” Jen’s question hung in the air as you poured each of you a glass of wine. Something about her seemed a little off tonight, but it had been a long week and you hadn’t really gotten the chance to connect with her as often lately.

“Nope,” you popped the sound of the ‘p’ as you slid her glass over to her and ignored her gaze. You could feel her staring as you turned so she was at your back and you scooped pasta onto a plate. “I mean, I’ve gotten some random numbers again, but that’s about it.”

As you scooped, you heard Jen ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’. “I didn’t think you were a liar. Especially to the person you call your best friend.”

It seemed a little bit odd, so you turned to face her with your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you being a liar,” her words nipped as her eyes bore into yours. And then, they flashed black—complete, solid black. Your eyes widened and you backed up so you were pressed up against the oven.

“What the hell?” Your gaze moved back and forth between her eyes as you tried to figure out what was happening.

“We aren’t there yet, hun,” her eyes returned to normal and a twisted smirk pulled up a corner of her lips. She took slow steps as she moved towards the end of the island. For every step she took, you took one as well. You still weren’t sure what was happening, but as it was with Dean, you wanted to keep this island between you. “I’m gonna need you to call your friend Dean and ask him to come back, sound good?”

“Jen, what are you talking about?” At this point, your brain was swimming.

“Jen’s not here right now, but you can leave a message if you’d like,” her eyes flashed black again and the palm of her hand outstretched to you. Suddenly, you were moving backwards rapidly. Your toes barely scraped the ground and as hard as you tried to push back against whatever force was moving you, you couldn’t.

“The name’s Meg, nice to meet ya,” Jen/Meg pushed herself up onto the island so her feet dangled as she continued to just smirk at you. Your back was pressed against the wall of your kitchen, you couldn’t even lift your head if you tried. You were about a foot off of the ground and it felt difficult to breathe. “Your friend Dean and I, we go way back. But lately, he hasn’t wanted to talk to me on my terms. He can be a real pain in the ass, can’t he?”

The force that held you to the wall had constricted your throat. It took everything in you to mutter, “Dean’s not my friend.”

“Does he know that?” she laughed as she hopped down off of the island and sauntered over to where your cell phone was placed on the counter top. While her back was to you, you tried to push against the invisible weight that held you. Still nothing. Your mind tried to think of every rational explanation, but there were none. “Something tells me if you give him a call and tell him I’ve stopped by, he may change his tune on having a little chat."

Suddenly, the hold she had over you was gone and you clambered to the floor. You weren’t expecting it, so you landed on your hands and knees, knowing well that it was going to leave a bruise. As you stood back up and rubbed your palms, you eyed the block of steak knives on the counter top. She followed your gaze.

“Now, now,” she hummed. “I know you’re new to this whole demon thing, so I’ll throw you a bone. Anything you do to this body,” she waved her hands around Jen’s body. “Can and will hurt your bff, got it?”

You nodded once and reached out to take your cell phone from her. Your fingers were trembling again. You tried to brush it off as you hurriedly clicked through to unblock Dean’s number. Once it was unblocked, you pressed his name and hit ‘Call’.

After just two rings, you heard his voice say your name. Even after everything you had learned of Dean Winchester after the last few days, there was a flutter of relief in the pit of your stomach when you heard his voice.

“Dean, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you,” you wished your voice sounded stronger, but it didn’t. Your hands shook as you handed the phone over to the woman (thing? Demon?) who looked like your friend.

She took the phone with an accomplished smile that made you taste bile. All you could think about was what you had gotten yourself into.

“Hi-ya, Dean-o, it’s Meg,” she continued to grin into the phone. Her eyes found yours as she sucked on her teeth. “Up for a chat?”

Dean hadn’t gone far after he left your house, unbeknownst to you. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach he couldn’t shake and he just felt like he shouldn't leave. But also, he couldn’t. He had thought things with you could be so different.

“We should go, Dean,” Sam had said once you had welcomed your friend in and closed the door. Dean couldn’t shake the feeling of seeing your face contort when you saw him. You were afraid of him.

“I can’t,” Dean muttered as his eyes stayed fixated on the front of your home.

Sam didn’t say anything in response to that. Dean was just thankful his brother was there. When he couldn’t reach you from his phone over the last few days, his heart sank. And then when he realized his number had been blocked, he was confused. But now it all made sense.

“I should’ve just told her,” he cursed under his breath, his knuckles whitened as they tightened against the steering wheel of his rental car. “I shouldn’t have let it go this far without telling her.”

“Dean, she would’ve reacted the exact same way,” Sam tried to reassure him. “It’s why we’ve never been able to have a relationship with someone who isn’t a hunter or who hasn’t seen this stuff for themselves.”

He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make Dean feel any better.

But then his phone started to vibrate, and it was you. He hit the button to answer and pulled it to his ear, relieved that maybe you had changed your mind.

But you hadn’t, and you were in trouble. “Goddammit, Meg.” He practically growled into the receiver of the phone as he shoved open the driver’s side door. Sam followed suit, and Dean filled him in as they jogged the few yards to your home.

A/N - Do you hate me yet? (Please don't hate me lol). So many of you asked for me to fix it after the last chapter. While we aren't quite there yet, we're getting there!! So sorry for another cliffhanger-ish (BUT I feel like it's not as bad as the last chapter's cliffhanger? lol).

Thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, or commenting (or all of the above!). I appreciate you all and hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Chapter 7 may be posted early, but no promises! If not, it'll post on Thursday, 4/11!

Chapter 7 Preview:

Moments after Meg hung up the phone, your front door swung open. He looks pissed, and a little bit concerned, as his eyes move over you.

“You alright?” He asks gruffly as his eyes do a sweep down your body, subsequently looking for any injuries. You nod, unable to speak out loud from the confusion and terror coursing through you. His eyes return to yours with a look that reads as sympathetic, like he’s sorry.

Before he can move again, Meg returns her hold on you with a nod of her head. Your feet leave the ground once more, and you can’t stop the scream that comes up from your belly as you’re pressed against the wall once more.

“Dammit, Meg!” Dean cursed. He took a step towards you and Meg stopped him in his tracks.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she wagged her finger. “Not another step, Dean.”

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dreamingofep · 2 months

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Sinned Awakening pt. 23 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing, spanking, SMUT, oral, fingering, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: Hello everyone! I was missing writing some smutty scenes for these two but oof🫣 This is just pure filth. Please enjoy😉

Please comment, message, and reblog if you feel so inclined.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3 ! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

You felt your anger boil over at Elvis’ behavior. This wasn’t new, he always played with you and teased you to no end, but this was unbearable. You were just trying to gain your bearings as a vampire and he just had to get you all riled up. He won, yet again, so it shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does.

You slam the empty blood bag on the table and storm out of the room. You can hear Elvis’ pompous little laugh ring out as you leave and it only pisses you off more. He thought it was funny teasing you like that! Watching you beg and whimper in agony for him. You can’t get a grip on any of your emotions right now and everything feels out of hand. All you want to do is scream and shout at him for being so difficult and then the next, you want to tease him back, making him beg for you in so many different ways. But your anger got the best of you for some reason and that thought had to be put on hold. You’ve never felt so upset about something as trivial as wanting blood, but everything was different now. The need for it was overwhelming and you couldn’t help but be a little scared by these feelings.

You pull the robe off of you and go into the closet to find something else to put on. You put on some panties and slip on a light flowy dress to go on the balcony and cool down.

Opening the sliding door, you step outside and the ocean breeze hits you. All these overwhelming sensations hit you at once; it was way too bright out here, the smells you were breathing in were all too strong and powerful, and the noise of the city below you was ear-shatteringly loud.

You cover your ears with your hands in the hope that can block out some noise but it’s no use. Your nose burned with aromas of food and the sea salt of the ocean and….blood. Oh shit, you smell it everywhere. You can smell all kinds of different traces of blood coming from below you and it makes you hungry all over again even though your thirst subsided not two minutes ago. You look down over the balcony and see people walking from the beach and the more you focus on them, the stronger the scent of blood swirled in your head.

Oh shit, this isn’t good… oh God what do I do…

You can’t help but panic a bit, not being able to get a grasp on your new heightened senses. Your body jumps when you feel Elvis grab your arm.

“Honey?” He says quietly.

You turn around quickly and look up at him frazzled.

“It’s okay honey, just calm down,” he says placidly. You yank your arm away from him and scowl.

“Do you think I’m going to listen to you now? After treating me like that? No, just go away,” you snap at him, pushing past him to go back into the bedroom. The loud commotion outside still rings in your head and you can’t get it to be any quieter. You grumble frustrated, not knowing what to do or how to calm yourself down.

You feel Elvis grab your arm once more and he squeezes it tighter to keep you still.

“No, I’m not goin’ away. You need to listen to me or do you want to hear every last sound on Earth until it drives you crazy hmm?” He asks calmly, but his eyes look at you intensely.

“I can figure it out by myself! Stop smothering me,” you snap.

He gives you a crooked little smile and lets out a low growl. He picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You scream in protest, “Let me down! Right now Elvis! This isn’t funny!” You try to wiggle out of his grasp but he’s still stronger than you making it all pointless in fighting him. You feel a hard spank land on your ass making you yelp by the contact of his hand.

“That’s enough from you,” he snaps. You hadn’t been spanked by him in so long that it surprised you the way it felt.

He sets you down firmly on the bed and holds your arms down by your side. His eyes are blazing but his overall demeanor is calm and collected.

“You don’t wanna listen? That’s fine, don’t listen to me. But I know how to make you listen so just keep that in mind. I’ll get no pleasure out of it trust me,” he growls. You feel your heart pound away and you challenge him by looking straight into those intense golden eyes.

“Yeah I’m sure you won’t,” you say smartly, grumbling under your breath. You get hit by this wave of anger coming off of him that makes you freeze. He wasn’t joking anymore and was dead serious about your attitude.

“Woman I swear to Christ,” he says through his teeth, turning you around quickly, and making you face down on the bed. You grunt and try to squirm out of his grasp. He holds your wrists crossed together with one of his hands and puts them at the small of your back.

“Elvis!” you warn. He doesn’t listen as he proceeds to pull your dress up and rip off your panties in one quick motion.

He leans down and growls in your ear, “Don’t you Elvis me, you lay there and take your punishment,” he says shortly. That’s when you feel him spank you on the ass, hard, the sting of his hand leaving your backside hot.

“Shit,” you yelp.

You keep trying to get your hands free, thinking with this new strength you possess, maybe you can wiggle your way out of this. Even with just one hand keeping you still, he’s much more powerful than you and all your fighting strength is useless in trying to get yourself free.

He gives you another hard swat and you gasp out in shock.

“Elvis don’t you-,” you yelp as you feel his hand spank you again.

“I turned my wife into an immortal brat haven’t I?” He growls, swatting you again. “I thought you loved me enough to listen to me,” he grumbles.

You feel the anger inside you hit the brink and you can feel your fangs descend out of anger. You twist your head over your shoulder and bare your teeth at him. He laughs amused at you and gives you another spank, fire roaring inside you. The stinging left on your skin makes your eyes water and gasp for breath. He pushes your head down back on the bed, leaning down once more to make you listen.

“Oh honey you did not just hiss at me… are you really going to make me spank you harder,” He hisses back at you. He gives you one more hard spank and your body betrays you and a moan comes out of you. He snickers at this reaction and gives you one more for good measure, making you moan again.

“Sucha bad, bad girl. I can’t believe my own wife is acting this way,” he hisses, squeezing a handful of your ass in his hand. You groan at the added pressure and feel his thumb graze your entrance.

“Honey please, stop teasing,” you whimper, feeling your arousal pool inside you.

“Are you ready to listen or do you want me to keep spanking you,” He asks devilishly, his fingertips grazing your folds more as he runs his hand back up to your ass. You can’t help but moan again when he does that. You wanted him more than anything and all he’s done is tease you to death.

“Goddamn it you’re impossible,” you groan, “stop teasing me and do something good with those hands for once,” you say over your shoulder and give him a sly smirk.

“You are the impossible one!” He growls, flipping you over on your back and going straight in for your neck and nipping there. It wasn’t a playful bite, it served as a warning. You both growl as he does this and he looks down into your fiery eyes.

“Listen to me, please,” he says low, making you sit up and focus on him. You take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. He kneels down and takes your hands in his but you try to get free from his grasp.

“Enough please, I’m trying to help you,” he says.

“You have a weird way of doing it,” you huff.

“Y/n! No more! You can’t deal with this all on your own. I’m trying to help you in the best way that I can!”

“You know I had to figure all my abilities out on my own and do you know where that got me? It turned me into an unrestrained, blood-obsessed vampire that wreaked havoc on any human I came into contact with. One that couldn’t stop feeding even when I was full. I will not have you develop the same habits as me. I couldn’t block out any of my other senses and the only way I knew how to was to feed and feed til I didn’t feel anything more. That’s what will happen if you don’t learn how to control yourself,” he growls.

The air felt thick with tension and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was right. You should be thankful you had him trying to help you in any way he could even if you didn’t want him to.

“I umm.. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know how hard it was on you. I honestly didn’t know how hard all of this would be,” you confess, looking away from him.

“I know, you just need to trust me that what I’m trying to teach you is going to help in the long run. I know how overwhelming this all is and think it’s unfair, but I wish I had someone telling me no and showing me how to live with these powers properly,” he says pausing, “It probably would have saved me a lot of self-loathing that you love so much,” he teases.

“I get it, I’m listening,” you say low, throwing daggers back at him.

“Okay, good. First thing, that temper of yours is going to get you in trouble if you don’t learn to control it.” He quips. You roll your eyes at him and he lifts your chin to look at him. His silent warning comes off like a siren and you divert your eyes away.

You try to recollect yourself. “I’m listening, I swear,” you tell him.

“With our abilities, every emotion’s heightened, so when you feel anger, it's like a radioactive bomb just went off inside of you. It doesn’t need to be that way, or actually, it shouldn’t be that way. There’s no need to get that upset about anything in this world when everything comes to us so easily. So when you get upset, you don’t need to let the whole world know. It's best to learn how to let things go because a human will always be in the path of your anger. Also because I can feel your emotions now tenfold, it would be nice to not feel so angry too. I thought I had my temper under control before I met you,” he winks.

“Yeah… that’s going to need some getting used to. I’m sorry I was so angry. All of this is frustrating and I don’t know why I feel so emotional in not getting my way but it just overtook me.”

“That’s normally what happens, honey. When I woke up for the first time as a vampire, I couldn’t get a grip on anything whether it was my emotions or my thirst. It was all really bad and the damage I caused could have been a lot worse, but it was still awful. I looked for Raphael everywhere, demanding an answer to what he had done to me. To no avail, I never found him obviously, and went off on a spree. I guess in a way I was in denial and couldn’t fathom what I had been turned into. Like you, vampires were just stories, myths that you’d tell kids to scare them and make them think twice about going out at night. But it was all very real and I’d lock myself in the bathroom, trying to get a hold of this all. I felt everything you’re feeling now, the hunger, the intense emotions, the heightened senses, I was helpless.”

“I won’t let it be like that for you. No matter how many times you tell me to go away or you don’t want my help, I will not do that to you. I love you too damn much to watch you struggle. Feeling that would kill me inside,” you say looking into your eyes.

You nod in agreement, understanding that you need to think about both of you when something happens since this bond so tightly attaches you to one another. Just sitting here you can feel the worry run off of him and you feel bad for giving him such a hard time about all of this.

An ambulance’s siren wails off in the distance and you grimace over the obnoxious sound ringing in your ears.

“Ahh shit! How do I make it stop being so loud!” You grunt, covering your ears with your palms.

“It’s going to be okay honey, take a deep breath. A lot of this power we have needs a focus point, just like feeding. You can’t just let all your senses go free and not hone in on what you want or what you want to feel. Having to hear everything all at once is awful, trust me. Or having to smell so much blood is agonizing.”

“I know you might not like it when I say this, but I need you to focus on me. Only me. Focus on my voice and block out the rest of the noise outside. Only let yourself hear what you want. Focus on my scent,” he explains.

You compose yourself and try to do just that, focusing on Elvis’ energy and nothing else outside. It was hard, you never noticed how loud everything really was when you were human. He squeezes your hands in assurance, trying to get you to focus.

“You can do this, just focus on one thing at a time and it won’t feel as overwhelming,” he instructs. You take a few deep breaths, collect your thoughts, and focus on Elvis. You try to center your thoughts on the sound of his heartbeat. You hear it, and it sounds much different than the other times you’ve laid on his chest and heard almost nothing. It was now much stronger, almost normal sounding, and you put your hand on his chest. You can feel it almost flutter by your touch and that sound fills your ears like a harmonious orchestra.

The rumble of cars on the street started to fade and the sound of the wind was minimal.

You take a deep breath in and wafts of scents fill your nose. Mainly blood but also food and the saltiness of the sea. You keep focusing on him and try to get that beautiful smell in your mind.

It hits you and you feel your mouth water. You look up at him and see a cute little smile on his face.

“There you go. See, I knew you could do it. It just takes practice, darling that’s all,” he coos.

You nod your head, even though you know he’s right, you hate how difficult he had to be. He looks at you in awe, memorizing all the smallest details on your face. He kisses the back of your hand then puts his hands on your smooth thighs. Electric sparks consume you and you hold your breath as his hands trail to your back and then up to your face.

“I just can’t believe you’re a vampire. I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he says softly.

“I know,” you whisper back.

“I can’t get over it, honey. I know it’s our bond and everything, but I just can’t stop touchin’ ya.” He says as his hand rakes down your back.

“It’s not like you kept your hands off of me before…” you say smugly.

A sly smirk falls over his face, “yeah, and? Never heard you complain about it once,” he teases.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head at him then let this long silence hang over you two. You can feel the way his heated gaze was looking at every inch of you. It made you flustered, to say the least. You still felt the wetness that had pooled in between your thighs and looked back up at him longingly. You synch your dress up higher, exposing more of your legs to him and you watch as his eyes fall where you wanted them to go.

“So… do you plan on cleaning up the mess you made,” you say, guiding his fingers to your soaked entrance, “or is this another lesson of yours?” You say smartly.

“Oh honey, you know me too well, I can’t surprise you anymore can I?” He says slyly. His finger swipes through your folds and makes you gasp as you feel like your body is on fire with desire. He does it again and makes sure to look at your face as it falls apart by his touch.

“But we have a plane to catch,” he continues, taking you by the hand.

“Where are we going?” You ask surprised.

“Back home, we have more to learn baby. It’ll be better to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city. We can always come back here whenever you want.”

Elvis quickly changed before you both left the hotel to an all-black outfit; looking decadent as ever. You quickly packed all your stuff and shoved it into your suitcases, not worrying about making your clothes neat. He was pulling you out the door before you knew it and covered you in kisses along the way.

You both get to the airport and get on the private jet that’s waiting for you at the end of the tarmac. You were disappointed you were leaving this gorgeous place, but Elvis was right, it would be better to learn more about your abilities in the quiet grounds of Graceland. The sunglasses you wore made it much more tolerable to look outside the window as you drove to the airport. Elvis also wore his signature glasses, shielding his glowing golden eyes away from any humans you might encounter on the way to the airport. Everything was still too loud but you tried to keep your focus on Elvis’ heart and that seemed to make everything a bit better.

You step out of the car and the warm Hawaii sun hits your pale skin. It stings like you have a fresh sunburn after only being out here for a few seconds. It's not too painful, but you can understand why most vampires try to avoid being in the sun for too long. Elvis gets out of the car behind you and takes your hand in his.

“It doesn’t feel too bad but it does feel annoying if you stay out for too long. You’ll get used to it,” he says as you walk to the stairs of the plane.

You nod your head and he leads you up the stairs to the plane. The inside of it had about six seats and a small table with chairs in the back. You decided to sit in the back as Elvis was talking to the pilot before sitting down. The slick between your legs was still there and you cursed under your breath when you sat down. You should have changed your clothes before you left but you were too distracted by the events of the last hour or so. It was going to take a lot of practice to reign in your emotions and not let them take over your entire day because all you wanted to do was drink his blood and fuck him till the sun comes up again.

Yet again, Elvis was right when he said you’d only want him more as a vampire. You knew it was because of your bond and all your new senses, but damn him for being spot-on about it all. You wanted him to be wrong about something for once. The more you thought about having an intimate moment with him, your mind could barely handle it. You had a feeling it was going to be more intense in every way and you didn’t know how you were going to handle that.

There was one flight attendant on the plane and she offered you something to drink and you politely declined. It was going to be strange not drinking or eating anything you realized. You could smell her blood being this close to her and hold your breath so you don’t feel the need to feed. She starts to walk away and you slowly exhale, remaining calm and trying not to freak yourself out. It worked, but you definitely need more practice being around humans.

Elvis was still busy with the pilot so you decide to go to the restroom to have a moment to yourself. You splash some water on your face and try to recollect yourself. Patting your face dry with a towel, you look up at your reflection and are still in shock by the appearance of yourself. You looked like you always have, but there was this immortal aspect to yourself you couldn’t ignore.

You were too prim and proper even though you just rolled out of bed a few hours ago. Your natural waves looked sleek and shiny and even your skin looked flawless like you just did your makeup or something. Your posture was all too perfect and the way your golden eyes glowed made it all much more apparent that you weren’t human anymore.

At least they’re not blood-thirsty red…

It was all so strange. There wasn’t any amount of time that could have prepared you for any of this. You had a few months to mentally get ready and kiss your human life away, but this is all so much more.

You grab some toilet paper and try your best to wipe the wetness off of your dress before stepping out of the bathroom. Elvis is sitting in the back looking in your direction, waiting expectantly for you to come closer.

“Everything okay darlin’?” He asks smoothly.

“Yes I’m fine,” you assure him.

“Come sit down, we’re about to take off any second now,” he says softly, beckoning you to him.

You go to him on the long sofa-like seats that have your back against the windows. Before you can take the seat beside him, he quickly snatches you up and sits you on his lap. You gasp and feel his grip around your waist tighten.

“Thought this would be the safest seat on the plane,” he says cheekily.

You slightly adjust your position on him and feel the slick that’s still stuck on the back of your dress and in between your thighs. You silently grimace at the feeling and look at him with a little smile.

“Oh I don’t know about that… this seat feels a bit… dangerous,” you breathe.

His lips curl into a smirk and pulls you in closer.

“I don’t know what you mean darlin’. I’m not doin’ anything,” he teases patting the side of your ass with his hand, “you on the other hand, you are just crying to be fucked, aren’t you? You never put on another pair of panties before we left?” He grins.

“No, I didn’t. Figured you’d be ripping them off anyway,” you breathe.

He shakes his head at you and you suddenly can hear the roar of the plane’s engines start to rumble. The engine grew louder and louder and you were starting to get drowned by the sound. You look at Elvis not knowing what to do and grip onto his shirt.

“It’s okay baby. Just do what you did last time, block out everything, and focus on what you want to hear. What was it that made you finally feel better in the hotel?” He asks.

“Your heart. I focused on your heart,” you tell him, putting your hand on his chest and smiling. You can slowly feel everything start to fade away and look back into his gorgeous eyes. He smiles at you and rubs your cheek with his thumb.

“It’s so much louder now,” you say low, feeling the warmth of his chest.

“I know, I think that’s all thanks to you. You made me feel… whole again,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

It felt too good for him to kiss you like this. You were love drunk on him and the way he could have you melt into him so easily. You wrap your arms around his neck, trying to get closer to him. Even though you didn’t technically need to breathe like a normal human, he still left you completely breathless. Your head felt like it was in a daze with the way his hands lit your body on fire. Your arousal pooled and you were dying for him to touch you anywhere below the waist.

He breaks the kiss to look at you and you notice in the window behind him you’re high above the clouds now, metaphorically and physically.

“Touch me,” you whimper. His eyes look serious and he caresses your face once more.

“Like this sweetheart?” He says low.

You take a deep breath in and try not to get too flustered.

“No, you know where I want your hands…” you whisper.

He takes his hands slowly down your body til they find your thighs and spread them apart slightly, giving him access to where you need him the most. He runs his fingers up and down over them, slowly kissing your cheek and neck.

“Mmm, so wet for me aren’t you?” He whispers, biting your ear lobe. His deep, gravelly voice makes you tingle to your core. He keeps his fingers inches away from your dripping heat and it leaves you begging for more.

“Honey, please,” you whimper louder.

“Shhh, honey you have to be quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear you begging now do we?” He says motioning to the flight attendant behind the curtain separating the front of the cabin from the rest of it.

You bite the inside of your cheek and quickly look at him. “Okay,” you breathe.

“Good baby. That’s what I like to hear,” he coos. His fingers wander to find your core and you gasp at the sensation.

“Fuck honey, you feel so good. All of this is because I was spanking you hmm?” He says low. Your breathing hitches and you grab on tightly to the back of his shirt.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I liked it too much…I can’t help but want you. You said it yourself, I’m only needier as a vampire,” you tell him, nipping at the crook of his neck. He grunts at the sensation and he finds your sensitive bud.

“Mhmm… I just never thought it was going to be this bad,” he says as he teases your entrance. Your hips can’t help but buck into his hand more and hope he doesn’t tease you for too much longer. He nods his head at you, liking how he’s got you craving more.

“That’s it, baby…You have to promise to be quiet for me okay? And I’ll give you what you want,” he continues.

“Please, I’ll be good I promise,” you whimper.

He nods his head at you and bites his bottom lip as he scrunches your dress up higher to take a look at you.

He places more kisses on your neck and they make you dizzy. You’re so starved for his touch and can’t help but claw at his back. It felt like the first time he touched you, how you instantly needed more attention and couldn’t help but lean into his body. You sigh as you feel him gently rub your clit in concentrated circles. He grunts softly to himself as more slick gathers on his fingertips.

You can feel how much he loves this, how he’s growing more aroused with the longer he touches you. It’s so suffocating the way you can feel his need for you beat out of his chest. This lust he has begins to consume every last thought you have. You need him more than ever and you weren’t ashamed to admit it.

“Oh honey,” you sigh, feeling the throbbing grow worse inside you now. You have to shut your eyes and fight the urge to groan his name.

“Fuck baby I know. You’re driving me insane too. Your pussy just dying for me hmm?” He asks low. You take a sharp breath in and nip at his ear.

“Please, yes I’m dying for you,” you cry softly.

With a soft grunt, he slowly starts to stuff two of his fingers inside you and squeal softly, looking at him wide-eyed. It felt like the first time he ever touched you; overwhelming and intense. Your entrance was too sensitive, too tight, like you haven’t been touched in eons. You quickly put your hand over your mouth to keep any sounds from escaping. He felt so good it made your jaw drop, and if this is how you were feeling with just his fingers, you would not be able to last a second with his cock inside you.

He proceeds to curl his fingers inside you and pulls your hand off your mouth. You look at him with pleading eyes and your breathing continues to hitch.

“I wanna see that pretty face. Looks so good when you’re getting pleasured,” he coos, biting his lip gently, looking up and down at your trembling body.

“Baby, please, this is too much,” you whimper.

“This is too much? Oh, baby what are you going to say when my is cock deep inside you?” He taunts. You growl low, clawing your fingernails down his back. Just the idea of that has you reeling in agony. You try to bury your face in his neck to smell his delicious scent, wanting so badly to take a big bite into it. You could hear his heart hammer away the more he teases you and it fills you more with need.

“Jesus I can’t-, it’s going to be like the first time,” you gasp, seeing flashbacks of your passionate throes of lovemaking in the penthouse as you close your eyes.

“Oh but darlin’, I’ve been daydreaming about the things I’d do to you once you were turned. I’ve had quite some time to think about that,” he teases.

Your stomach flutters at the thought and his fingers twist deeper inside you. His knuckles press up against your folds and you gasp, loving how he’s stuffing you to the brink with his long fingers.

“Oh God… like what?” You ask breathlessly, clutching onto him tighter.

“Make you beg for things… have you beg for my mouth, my fingers… have you begging for my cock to fill this needy pussy. Now that you’re turned, I don’t have to be so afraid of breaking you while I have you,” he snickers softly. He nips at your neck and your eyes roll back, gasping for breath.

Oh, this man was going to ruin you when you got home, no doubt about it. You couldn’t fathom what he had in mind but you already knew you were going to be an absolute mess because of it. The last part of what he said lingered in your mind though and had to ask.

“What do you mean-, you weren’t… you mean to tell me you were holding back essentially?” You pant, his fingers hitting that spot deep inside you that leaves you wanting to cry out to the heavens. Your mouth falls open in shock and he nods his head at you.

“Yeah, baby.” He smirks.

“Every. Single. Time.” You say, groaning through our teeth.

“Mhmm, I had to be nice and gentle with ya. I couldn’t squeeze you the way I really wanted or have you ride me harder. You were so fragile as a human,” he pauses giving you more kisses. You grind your hips into his hand and do everything in your power to not cry out his name.

God, I want that… I want to fuck you so bad, you cry inside your head. More need flows out of him like hot lava and pours onto you, making you want him more.

Elvis shifts his head to the side, examining you with a key-like precision, noticing how you are overcome with feeling all his desire for you. He presses his lips together briefly, “But now, oh honey now, you’re just as strong as me.” He coos with a twist of his fingers, “Now I can ruin that perfect little pussy. I can make love to you nice and slow or fuck you how I really want to. That’s what I’ve been dyin’ to do,” he growls to you.

It’s all too much. To fathom the idea that the intense, wild sex you’ve already had with him was fulfilling enough, you come to find out he’s been barely showing you what he really wants to do to you? Oh God, you’re not going to survive any of this. Immortal or not, you were going to pass out from all of this.

“Elvis, oh God…” you say weakly.

“Mhmm, I can’t wait to show you what I mean,” he growls, tilting your body away from him and nipping at your chest. “I needju so badly,” he slurs, pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. He grunts softly as the sounds of your wetness spills out of you. The coil in your belly tightens exponentially with all this teasing and you begin to feel your body shutter by his touch. He hushes you as you’re beginning to lose your control and he slowly starts to pull his fingers out of you, only teasing your entrance. You take a sharp breath in, not wanting him to stop any time soon. But you suddenly feel eyes looking at the back of your head and Elvis sits up straighter.

“Mr. and Mrs. Presley? Do you need anything? Any refreshments or snacks?” The stewardess says softly. Your whole body goes stiff and you look panicked at Elvis.

His whole demeanor is casual and calm like there isn’t a care in the world right now. Or the fact he has you on the brink of coming undone on his fingers. One move and you won’t be able to hide this facade of just sitting on his lap innocently. You grip tightly onto his forearm and try to get him to stop his teasing.

“No, thank you for asking. Darlin’? You want anything?” He asks you, sarcasm lacing his words. You glare daggers at him and shake your head no.

“What was that honey? I don’t think she heard you,” he taunts. You want to scream at him for being so awful right now. He knows exactly what he’s doing and he’s planning on getting you to crumble in his hands.

You take a slow, deep breath, hoping to God your voice doesn’t sound as pathetic as it probably does, and hope she doesn’t come any closer. You can’t get a single word out. You’re too flustered and your brain screams at him to stop all of this. He quickly curls his fingers inside you, using a come hither motion to push up inside your pussy, rubbing the spot that can send you into the stratosphere. He keeps doing it, over, and over, and over. Pushing at that spot. His spot. All his.

Your nails dig deeper into his forearm and you’re almost sure you’re going to draw blood from it. Your eyes scream at him and press your lips together in agony. He just cocks his head to the side slightly, patiently waiting for your response. You take another deep breath and turn your head to the side slightly.

“No, thank you for asking,” you say sweetly and slowly start to lean back into Elvis's body, trying to make it seem as casual as possible.

“Yes, we appreciate it. We’ll call on you if we need anything for the rest of the flight,” Elvis assured her. You hear her heels thud on the carpet floor as she walks away and the swish of the curtain closing.

You sit back up and grab his jaw in your hand to get him to look at you straight in the eye.

“You’re fucking vile, you know that?” You hiss in his face. He smirks at you and slowly exhales, examining all the frustration slapped across your face.

“I just wanted to see what you’d do,” he jests, continuing to fuck you with his long fingers.

You groan and let go of his face as you look down to see his fingers covered in your slick.

“Fuck you,” you huff.

“You don’t mean that darlin’. Don’t you want me?” He asks low as he takes your hand and leads it to his straining cock in his pants. Heat radiated from it and you whimper at the feeling of him.

“Yes… I do,” you choke out. He hums softly and starts to move his fingers faster. You can’t hold back anymore and feel your coil getting ready to snap.

“Mhmm, good baby. Look what you’ve done to me,” he pauses, making you move your fingers more along his long length. You hiss at the sensation and look at him pleading as he continues, “You like how that feels? You remember how hard it feels inside of you,” he tells you, his sensual voice making your body grow weaker by the second.

“Oh yes,” you cry softly into his neck. You rock your hips into him harder and try to stay silent. Your core aches to have some kind of release.

“That’s it, baby, let me feel you come apart,” he coos in your ear. You don’t need to be told again and your walls flutter and squeeze around his two fingers. Your orgasm rips through you like never before and you feel breathless as your body tries to get a grip on what it’s feeling. You scratch and pull at his hair, everything consuming your body and panting rapidly. Your vision goes blurry and you can’t believe you can feel so good. Your legs begin to shake and you squeeze your thighs around his hand. He groans too, feeling your slick walls respond to him with ease.

“Goddamn baby, so fucking needy,” he groans into your ear, “I wish it was my cock inside you,” he growls.

You can’t take much else or you were going to let out a loud scream so you keep your face buried in his neck to silence you. Your hand keeps rubbing his length, noticing how his body responds to you too so easily. Your fingers find his pants button and zipper and start to unfasten them. He grunts as he watches you try to get into his pants.

“And what do you think you’re doin’ darlin’?” He asks with an amused chuckle.

“I want you. I want to feel you,” you tell him, slowly getting off of him and kneeling in between his open legs. You gasp slightly as he pulls his fingers out of you and gives you a heated gaze. Your hand quickly finds his cock, pulling it out of his pants and groaning at the sight. He felt warm and heavy in your palm, throbbing slightly as you glide your hand up and down on it. There was so much you wanted to do to him but you knew you had plenty of time later to do that. He shifts uncomfortably in the seat and looks at you wide-eyed, not expecting you to do any of this.

“Honey,” he says as a warning, “you trying to get caught,” he hisses, motioning toward the front of the cabin.

“Just stay quiet, then we won’t get seen hmm?” You say smartly, pumping your hand along his shaft and licking your lips as he looks hungrily at you.

He quickly looks back toward the front of the plane, then back to you.

“They’re wondering why we’re so quiet,” he chuckles. You turn your head to the front of the cabin and can hear the pilots too, murmuring to each other how they think your behaviors are strange.

“Well too bad. If you happen to get louder, you’ll just have to compel them to forget the sounds you’ve made,” you snicker.

He doesn’t say anything, he waits for your next move patiently. You pull his pants down more and massage his heavy balls in one hand, and pump his cock with the other. He instantly groans heavily and you smirk at him.

“Shhh honey, be nice and quiet for me, mkay?” You tease, your hand continuing to work on him. He leans his head back and huffs softly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Goddamn it baby,” he whimpers. You don’t listen to any of his protests and keep teasing him, touching him in all the areas that you know can easily make him fall apart.

Your thumb glides down from his peeking tip and runs it all the way down to the base of his dick. He lets out a frustrated groan and pulls his pants down more, freeing him from the constraints of them. He angles himself to face the back of the plane and has you kneel in between his legs. He spreads his legs wider for you once again and smirks at you wickedly.

“Open that pretty mouth for me, baby,” he grunts.

Your body shutters at the sound of his voice and quickly pull your hair to one side of your neck. You pull at one of Elvis’ hands to grab onto your gathered hair and he pulls it tight. You moan at the sensation and his hands twist your hair tighter at the top of your head. You cry out softly, looking up at him with innocent eyes. Your tongue swirls on his tip, making him groan loudly. You repeat it over and over and each time, his hips try to buck up into your mouth. You anticipate this and don’t let him in any more than that. He’s so sensitive, unable to hide his need for you, and can’t sit still.

“Sit still,” you whisper, a devious smirk slapped across your face.

“I can’t,” he growls, “you feel too good.”

You go back to teasing him and put more pressure around his balls. He gasps at the sensation and pulls at your hair hard, making you look at him.

“Fucking hell baby. You’re going to make me come like that,” he hisses. You don’t stop though, and slowly start to suck on him, putting more of his hot length in your mouth.

His hips grind into you, stuffing more of himself into you. He doesn’t hold back the moans he’s making, loving every second of this. You love it too, you want to make him fall apart as quickly as possible. He bucks his hips into you once again and you gag around him, still not used to his long length inside you like this. You quickly take him out of your mouth and try to catch your breath, looking up at him in shock.

He smirks slightly before speaking, “What baby? Is this still too much for you to handle?” He says smartly.

“I can handle it just fine,” you growl. “You are the one who won’t be able to handle much more of this,” you tease.

He brags he knows how to get you unraveled but you know how to do the same to him. You suck and lick on him more, pumping the rest of his length in your hand. He pulls onto your hair tighter and lets out a guttural moan as he pants heavily.

“Fuckin’ hell mama,” he growls.

You look up at him with your pleading eyes, knowing that he can’t handle you looking at him like this. You feel his body stiffen and he leans his head back, exposing his delicious long neck. He quickly looks back down and looks like he’s in a daze, so heavily drunk on you and your mouth.

You move quicker on him and his mouth falls into a beautiful O shape, his eyebrows furrowed, and his chest heaving.

“Oh baby,” he groans through his teeth, bucking his hips up into you and grunting heavily. His cock twitches and he lets his white, thick release pour into your mouth. You groan too when you feel it, squeezing your thighs together as you feel your arousal pool again. You put more of his hot length inside your mouth as he comes, making him gasp for breath. “Fuck baby, just like that,” he sighs, helping you take more of him. You moan with him inside you and he likes your response.

You slowly start to take him out of your mouth and make sure he’s watching as you swallow his whole load. He bites his lips while watching you, turned on by the sight in front of him. He lets go of your hair and pulls you back onto his lap once more.

“Naughty little vampire you’ve become,” he quips, pulling you by the back of your neck and kissing you with blinding need. You moan into his touch and tangle your fingers into his hair.

“You love it though,” you whimper in his ear. He nods his head and covers your cheek in kisses.

“Mhmm, I do,” he says in between kisses.

“You’re definitely going to have to compel them to forget those sounds you made,” you tease.

“I’ll do it before we land,” he says nonchalantly, reaching to kiss you again. You throw him a confused look and wait for his explanation of why he won’t just do it now.

“This is a long flight back to Memphis darlin’. I think I might need to make you beg for me a little longer. I need watch you come apart more.” He says slyly, flipping you over onto the seats and onto your back as his hands roam up your legs. You’ll always be deprived for this man, never able to get enough and you know he feels the same way with you.

•

Tagging 🖤: @powerofelvis@burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters@flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101@austinsmutler@kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114@raginginkedslut@epthedream69

@mh777ep1938@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #elvis x you #sinned awakening #vampire Elvis #elvis imagine #70s elvis #Elvis

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ghostlythunderbird · 1 year

Text

Alpha!Ghost and how he met his mate

Authors Note: Ok so this might be a bit rushed but I didnt wanna overfill this. Thanks to @l-lend who is now my forced beta reader XD for the ideas.

My work is not to be reposted, translated or used without my permission

Warnings: Drunk men, Fighting, Very uncomfortable situations (Hints of R*pe) dont worry Simon beats them up :)

Now ghost wasn’t one to ever play a hero, being a hero meant your actions are out there for everyone to see. He was never there, not a hero but a ghost that preys on those who try to live in the dark. He preferred it that way as it was something that made him who he was. The darkness was never his enemy to begin with; it was his friend.

But somehow by some miraculous chance he just so happened to be at the right place at the right time. The streets of Manchester were lonely when the sun started to set, only those who lived the night city life were the ones out. Hopping from bar to bar every few hours, all while traveling in well ordered packs; Mixes of Alphas and Betas forming the outer ring while the Omegas were always kept in the center.

He happened to be walking right by the backside of a popular nightclub when he heard it; A faint distressed chirp that echoed through the darkened space. He could have sworn his neck had damn near broken by how fast he had turned, His Alpha snarled; begging to investigate the source of the chirp. He looked all around the streets before entering the darkness, shadows engulfing him almost instantly.

Once he caught sight of the back door light he saw the source of the noise. You were backed into a corner with an alpha leaning over you, his two beta friends had their backs to you standing guard. Ghost could smell the alcohol from where he stood that billowed around the group. As he looked at you in more depth he could tell you were scared, the telltale signs of anxiousness were all there; trembling, elevated breathing, your eyes were wide and brimming with tears.

It broke his heart and made his skin boil with hatred, how dare this Alpha corner you and make you cry, and more importantly how DARE these Betas turn their back to this. It didn’t matter if they were drunk at this point, it was the fact that a drunk person’s words were their sober thoughts. The drunk Alpha leaned into your space even more before speaking “Awe come on now sweetheart, no need to cry right now I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Just that sentence alone made the hair on the back of Ghost’s neck stand up. His Alpha was snapping under the surface of his skin, murder is starting to get better and better for these three. Stepping forward towards the group gave him away “I suggest you leave her alone mate, she doesn’t want you near her.” The words growled out as they left Ghost's chest. Four heads whipped around to look at him. You couldn’t fully within the darkness to completely see the stranger who seemed to answer to your distressed chirp only minutes ago. But what you could see was his build and the menacing glow from the crudely printed skull on his mask. This alpha was easily bigger than the three knotheads put together.

“How about you mind your fucking business then ‘Mate’, come on little omega lets go somewhere where we cant be bothered.” The drunk alpha attempted to grab you, but you had already begun moving towards the shade covered alpha. You had almost reached the alpha before the Betas blocked your path “And where do you think you're going, pretty Omega?” One had slurred out, it made a shiver crawl up your spine. You needed to get out of here. Now.

Seeing the blockade these knotheads put up to try and stop you, Simon stepped forward grabbing one beta and shoved him back. “How bout’ you two take a hint, she doesn't want to be here.”

And well, let's just say after the other beta splashed their drink on him in an attempt to drive him off, it was an all out brawl. The first one down though was the Alpha, after seeing this bastard make you cry and keep you from leaving it's easy to say he was marked. It made Simon’s inner Alpha much happier after knocking a few teeth loose.

The Betas were not much of a fight compared to someone of Simon’s size, It was easy work and it honestly made him thank whatever god that he was born an Alpha just this once. In the end all three were on the ground and Simon got in a decent workout, He was still catching his breath as he looked over to you. In order to not get caught up in the fight you had backed up into the corner he had found you in originally, Your eyes were wide and if you were asked by anyone you'd say your eyes never once left the large Alpha. How would anyone believe you that this mysterious and quite frankly attractive Alpha came to your rescue out of nowhere anyway?

You were only snapped out of your stupor as the Alpha stepped over the groaning bodies on the ground, His already massive frame only continued to grow as he got closer to you. But unlike the Alpha on the ground, this one didn't make you feel uncomfortable even with all the eye makeup and the skull mask. But it did add on to his intimidation factor, and it wasn't all just for show as you had just seen.

“Are you ok?” He finally asked once he got close enough, His deep raspy voice made your knees weak. Looking up at him you were slightly thrown off as his eyes weren't as cold as they were with the Alpha and two Betas. From the black around his eyes you could tell they were a beautiful brown, it made you wonder what they looked like in the light. Realizing you were staring you sheepishly looked away “Y-yeah, thank you for all that.”

Simon looked you over ensuring that there was no damage to your person, it wasn't until he had seen you move away slightly did he realize he might be making you uneasy. Ducking his head to get a better view of your face “Let’s get you outta ‘ere then love, not a good place for someone like you eh?” Holding his hand out, he waited patiently for you to take hold and lead you away from the alley. Looking back Simon could tell all three men were completely out either from their drunkenness or the fact he purposely hit them in the head.

The two of you walked for a bit until he finally stopped you. “Should be easy for you to get home from here.” Slowly releasing your hand from his grip as he turned to face you, It was hard to look anywhere else as your eyes kept drawing him back in. It had him wondering what compelled him to even help you in the first place, something about you just seemed to pull him in.

He couldn’t place if it was just because you were an Omega or if there was something more there but he wasn’t about to complain. “Actually…..would you be able to walk me home?” It was a small request but mostly you wanted him to say yes so you could spend a little bit more time with this mysterious man. He was quiet for a bit before leaning down “Yeah I can do that love.”

You couldn’t help but let out a thrill, the smile you gave him could have rivaled a supernova with how bright it was. It made him feel like a live wire was loose under his skin, a rumble was caught in the back of his throat as he held out his arm for you to loop yours through.

Once you were both connected you couldn’t help yourself as you leaned into him. Reveling in how muscular he was, even if you couldn’t fully see now fit he actually was. “I hope this isn’t awkward but do you have a name?” Your question was a harmless one but it made Simon question what name he should give you. “Just call me Ghost.” His response was curt. Your brows furrowed as you risked a glance at the mask he wore.

“Ghost. Huh, what kind of person are you to get a name like that?” You joked. Simon angled his head a bit, he couldn’t give you the exact reason but he settled for something close to “Guess someone who does good in the dark.”

Your eyes lit up at his response “Well then I guess I can say you're my Saving Spector then!” You giggled. With that he couldn’t help but agree.

After the walk home you definitely gave him your number, the need to learn more about this mysterious Alpha was overwhelming you even over the tipsy feeling that buzzed throughout your body. Luckily you weren’t the only one either. Simon couldn’t help but run his thumb over the ink that spelled out your name and number. While he told himself it wasn’t something he should really push for, it couldn’t hurt to try. Besides who else was supposed to be your saving Spector but the Ghost himself?

Taglist: @kelpiesummer, @grizzersmamma, @fatedeniedhope

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost simpery to the max #omegaverse #Alpha Ghost #simon riley

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emotionallyattachednerd · 6 months

Text

Darkness Lust | IDW Helex x f!robot reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: Cnc, Smut, ( oral, rough interfacing and semi-public ) and size difference. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Order up! So, this took a completely different turn. Unsure if it got weird along the way, but here it is, and I have no regrets. Wanted to move into darker themes with my writing so hope this turned out. Added cnc into the warnings just to be safe. Another thing, know the request states for them to almost get caught but I had to let them get caught. Hope you all enjoy.🥰

Cnc - Consensual non consent

☕ Coffee

Helex saved you, at least this is what you keep telling yourself over again, and you felt you owed him for this. Your escape pod from a ship had crashed onto an unknown planet, and it was by chance that he found you, injured from the crash but alive. You're brought back with him and when you are online again you find yourself in an unknown place and your wounds are patched.

When you first meet Helex he terrifies you. His enormous form is at least three times bigger than your smaller figure, multiple arms latched on his frame, and a cavernous torso where you can feel his internal heating elements boiling even from a distance, his own personal smelting pool.

You knew who he was but only from horrifying stories. A member of the Decepticon Justice Division, a group of torturers employed by Megatron to hunt down and deal with traitors.

You're an autobot though, they were only interested in decepticon traitors, right? You don't want to find out the answer you decided. All you can do is thank him politely and ask for a safe return back home. His answer is what seals your fate.

"You're home."

Helex wouldn't let you leave and the one time you did try to escape you don't get far, and it's his enormous figure, intense gaze, and the threatening glow from his torso that reminds you to not anger him, otherwise things won't end well for you at all. So for now, you stay put, much to your misery.

Now, here you are, trapped in a place you wanted to be far away from. You weren't threatened, you weren't hurt, in fact you were provided with average care, Helex never let you starve and made sure you were comfortable, at least as best as you can be in such a place.

As the days went by they continue to drag out, and you lost track of how long you've been there. A lot of the time you get bored and try to keep yourself busy however you can, but it's a struggle, mentally.

Often you would hear the echoed screams, and that's when you needed to truly escape. You didn't want to hear them, and the only place the screams can be blocked out is in the medic bay. Nickel allows you to clean the bay often, showing some pity you think, and it also keeps you distracted from everything else.

Now, in the medic bay again, you do your best to find even the smallest of things to tidy or clean up. You honestly don't know how long you've been at it, but you feel the thundering quacks slowly increase, and glancing up towards the door you see Helex entering. Nickel must've told him where you are.

He's silent, as you are too, no greetings offered from either of you. You never know what to say to him, and you've unsure what he is thinking either. He moves towards you, causing you to grow nervous as he gets closer before stopping beside you, your optics focused on the bench in front of you where you had just cleaned.

"Are you afraid of me?" His sudden voice cuts through the air.

"Sometimes." You answer through a shaken whisper before meeting his fierce gaze. "Do you want me to be afraid of you?"

"I'm not sure." He sounds confused, and his answer doesn't really help calm you. "You're intriguing."

You're unsure what to say to that, and so you turn your gaze back to the bench just to avoid his piercing gaze. Yeah, you're scared of him, but he hasn't hurt you, not yet at least, and you're fully aware what he was capable of which is why you don't push him.

Helex continues to stare before he moves again, this time moving his large servo towards your face and using the back of his broad digit to caress against your cheek plating. The contact causes your venting to hitch, followed by a soft whimper out of fear. The affection is new and you're unsure how to react.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"What do you want?" You can't help the tremble in your vocals.

"I want you."

You turn your helm at him and he's suddenly on you, firm broad lips latching onto your own fiercely causing you to let out a startled whimper, muffled by his lips as he lifts you up onto the bench and pins you down onto the surface. Your hands push up against his chassis, giving weak attempts to get him off you, but it's pointless. His size and strength prove that, and you feel vulnerable and helpless as he forcefully kisses you.

His second pair of arms suddenly tug your legs apart, giving him the opportunity to press against you more and deepen the kiss. You feel his glossa push between your lips and coil around your own. His glossa isn't like others, much longer and hotter, a magna bitterness lingering as he fills your mouth and explores, causing you to let out a choked wince. Is that energon you taste? Did he just consume energon? Something told you that you don't want to know the answer. He shows no intention of stopping, and in fact he seems to be liking it as he lets out a low moan against your lips, his strong servos pinning you still as his second pair roam across your thighs and waist areas.

Your fighting attempts cease and you're left with no option but to let him, and much to your confusion your entire frame starts warming up from his intense actions. This shouldn't be happening, you shouldn't be enjoying this, yet you find yourself moaning lowly, your mouth full of his extended glossa.

Helex removes himself from the kiss, followed by his glossa that descends out from your mouth covered in saliva. You let out a forced vent and stare at him with wide optics, a bit stunned by his action, and he is only getting started.

He lifts your bottom half up making you gasp out loudly, leaving you to hang upside down just about from the berth you sat upon and you grip your servos across the edges. You feel his hot vents against your legs and panel, servos holding you tightly, right before feeling his snake glossa sliding against your covered valve.

"W-what are you doing?!" You're scared, feeling the hot texture against your closed panel and inner thighs, and much to your shock you're slowly growing more warm, whimpering in pleasure as he holds you hanging there, right before you automatically feel your panel retract on its own due to your growing desire.

He likes that, and takes his chance to latch onto your valve and devour you, thick glossa already sliding in deeply as he lets out a lingering moan tasting your fluid sweetness.

Another startled mewl erupts from you as you feel his glossa reach far deep through your channel, further than any spike before you've had. This shouldn't be real, yet it's happening, and reality sinks in as he starts to frag you with his glossa, sliding back and forth through your depths.

Your body responds through shivers of growing arousal, your valve building with fluids as you can't help but clench around his sliding glossa, letting out lingering soft moans as you crumble under him. Helex enjoys your taste and your reactions, letting out a vibrating satisfied groan against your valve that rocks through your frame.

The angle is strange, being lifted half off the berth leaving your shoulders and helm to barely rest against it while he holds you up by your spread legs and waist to hold you against him.

Constant weak mewls erupt from you over again as his glossa plunges through your channel, thighs spasming violently while you servos grab hold onto the edges as you feel yourself start to roll your hips against his glossa. You can't help yourself, it feels amazing!

This leaves though when you feel him pull away, glossa leaving your valve causing you to whimper in protest lightly. His hold is still tight as he lowers you back down, only for you to realise than that his panel had retracted, revealing his ridiculously large pulsing spike, tapping directly onto your valve, and this is when your fear quickly boils up again.

"W-wait, wait, you're too big-!" You're bluntly cut off when he ignores you and presses his spike against your valve firmly, the fat tip slowly breaching and invading your channel, thickness stretching you widely while he continues to press forward.

Your servos grip at his broad ones firmly latched against your hips while his second pair hold your legs apart, holding you in place, leaving you with nothing but to accept his spike that slowly fills. Letting out a choked sob you feel the burning pleasure build at your valve, every pulsing ridge rubbing forward and creating a bulge that slowly expands against your valve and lower soft armour.

Taking so much of him surprises you, you didn’t think your smaller frame could take so much.

His heated vents hit you, almost a burning sensation, as he firmly presses himself against your valve fully, able to stretch you fully while letting out a deep groan release from his chassis. Your optics shutter close while letting out soft winces followed by moans of desire rushing through you. You feel his entire length pulsing rapidly through your channel, expanding through the bulge created before you manage to online your optics to look at him.

He's staring right back, scorching gaze piercing through your small figure. He's so powerful, dangerous. There's no love or care in his face, only hunger and the growing arousal through him. This is only for pleasure, whether he intended for you to enjoy it you don't know, but you still enjoy it.

Helex gives a blunt thrust, shaking you against the berth as another choked sob leaves you, surprised by his sudden action as you grip your servos into his own even more, digits digging into his soft armour that will leave dents. He does it again, and again, slowly, feeling that broad spike moving through your channel thoroughly, before you feel his movements pick up as he tugs you by your waist against his movements, shaking the berth and yourself while you let out repeated gasps and moans.

Your sensitive node is stimulated against his rough armour while you continue to let out outbursts of desire rocking through your frame, clenching around his thrusting spike and feeling him buried deep within you. Despite your position, who it was, you don't care. You love the pleasure boiling through every inch of you and the tight hold he possessed, claiming and using you for his pleasure which you find oddly arousing.

His movements increase, forcing out stuttered vents from you over again, legs spread wide by his secondary arms and the heat radiating from him clouding your trembling frame. You feel his spike pump into you fully over again, twitching violently, vocal sounds growing louder, and you know he's about to overload, and it's no surprise to you that you feel yourself growing close to crashing through your own.

Moving your servo you rub at your node as you're unsure if he would care if you overload or not. Doing this causes your back to arch and accept every rough thrust against you, mewling loudly as you feel your overload coming crashing through you while clenching around his thickness. Helex lets out a deep groan that erupts from his chassis, feeling you clenching hard, giving a couple more jerky thrusts before spilling his thick trans fluids deep in you.

You feel the warm sticky fluids filling you to the brim, filling your chambers, channel and expanding up with his spike against your lower half. Some leak out with nowhere else to go while you hear it drip onto the floor, only low whimpers as the afterburst of pleasure continues to linger.

Helex keeps himself within as he admires and savours every moment, rubbing his primary servos across the bulge against you. He drew out a lot of your energy, and you silently admit it was a pretty good frag, your overload was quite marvellous. You're both lost the moment you don't hear someone entering the room.

Nickel clears her vocals to get their attention, making you both snap your gazes on her as she tads her peda against the flood with crossed arms, not impressed by the scene.

"Seriously? You two have your own private room to fool around in. I don't understand why you insisted on letting it happen in my medic bay."

All you can do is gasp and look away, feeling horribly embarrassed that you've been caught in such a way. You wince a little as you shift, still feeling him buried deep in you.

"Sorry, Nickel." Helex says softly. Despite her size, she somehow put the other members of DJD in their place, and learned to respect her.

"Well, chop chop, get cleaning. I don't want to be stepping in either of your fluids. Place better be spotless when I return." She turns on her pedas and heads out.

Letting out a low groan you feel his spike start to leave you, and flop out leaving your valve gaping and leaking your mixed fluids. Your optics are fuzzy but you feel his hot frame leaning across and sharing a surprisingly tender kiss with you. He tucks himself away, sharing one more glance with you, before turning and leaving the room.

You're left alone, sitting up against the berth as you give yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. It seems you're left to clean up, of course. Venting out deeply you do your best to clean yourself, close your panels, and start to wipe down the berth and floor.

Helex confused you, but you shouldn't expect too much from the large mech. You don't know what to expect anymore, or if you were ever going to escape. A part of you doesn't want to though, just so you can keep Helex's spike all to yourself.

#transformers #valveplug #helex #idw #mtmte #djd #reader insert #helex x reader #fanfiction #smut #writing #sugarrusheag

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