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kykyonthemoon · 3 months

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Moonlit

You're on the mission to approach a target at a banquet, and that's all it takes to drive him crazy.

🌻 Rafayel/Xavier/Zayne x F!Reader Tags: R16+, suggestive theme, MDNI, possessive, marking and biting, no established relationship This is a request by Xuanlinhh. A/N: This is my first time trying out something like this for L&D, as I don't usually write fic with suggestive theme. So I'm curious to know how I've done with this fic. Feedbacks are always appreciated. After so many titles, I decided to choose "Moonlit", since the moon represents illusion, fear, hidden things. These are the scenarios where he shows another color of his to you. Thus, in all three scenes, there are moonlight all over the place.

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𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

Your eyes widened when you saw the dress draped over your cotton blanket. It was long past the ankles, the shoulders were slightly bulging and hanging down to reveal the collarbone. The dress consisted of many layers of pastel pink and purple. In the afternoon sunlight, the sequins and pearls attached to it seemed to shine.

“Does he really want me to wear this?” It was a murmur to yourself. The dress was too exquisite, too expensive, too... much at least in comparison to what you would often put in your wardrobe. You did not need to become a princess, just a normal evening dress to blend in and complete the task assigned to you.

Being ignorant about high society or lavish balls, you had asked Rafayel for help. You never expected him to send you such a gorgeous dress.

Indeed, as he predicted, you became the focus of the party as soon as you arrived there.

Each party guest had a mask. Yours arrived in the same color scheme as the dress and was encrusted with opulent pearls and jewels. You wondered why Rafayel was making you look quite distinct. However, you shouldn't have had any reason to doubt him at all when your target moved toward you on his own initiative.

The target of this mission was a high-class profile from another city. Even though you tried your best to focus on the mission, you still wondered if Rafayel came here, or just his work.

The banquet area was adorned with paintings by Rafayel, so it was hard to look at them and not think about him. Had he made it in yet? Would he abandon you here, trapped in a conversation with a stranger?

Using the skill of pretended intimacy in order to obtain information was something you had learned from your training courses. You put a hand on the target's, smiling and talking as if you were fascinated by him. After getting the information you needed, you made an excuse to leave, but it did not appear like things would finish so simply.

He grabbed your wrist and roughly pulled you back to your seat. You shouted, but the music and laughter drowned you out. You aimed at the middle of his face and was about to throw a punch, only to have an arm wrapped over your shoulder and holding your back.

“It seems like this lady doesn't want to be here anymore.”

You knew right away that voice, and that scent were as familiar as a field of wild roses. You turned around and saw Rafayel standing next to you. His hand held your shoulder to help you stand up. Suddenly your heart was filled with joy to see him.

Your target still refused to let go, but when he realized Rafayel's face was not covered by the mask, he knew that was someone he could not meddle with.

He said something to Rafayel in a foreign language and then walked away. You looked at Rafayel, grateful:

“Rafayel…”

Before you finished speaking, you were tugged out of the banquet room by him.

The quiet garden was awakened by the footsteps of two people. From behind, you couldn't see Rafayel's face, only his broad shoulders covered in a dark-colored tuxedo with sequins. You had the strange impression that he was furious. Perhaps it was his pressure that caused your wrist to get crimson. He guided you through a labyrinth of plants and stone sculptures.

“Rafayel.”

He only stopped when you called his name, but still did not turn to look at you. You stepped forward to observe him. You took a step forward to study him. A frown could be seen plainly on his forehead as his face pouted.

“Rafayel? What's the matter?"

His gaze grew gloomy. His hand holding yours tightened even more as he pulled it up to touch his cheek.

“…”

His abrupt movement confused you. He buried his face in your palm, took in a deep breath and gave you a bite.

“Rafayel!”

You let out a cry of surprise instead of agony since the bite was rather faint. He took advantage of your vulnerability to wrap his arms around you, forcing your body to touch his.

His lips placed on your palm a kiss where it had just been bitten, then slid down to your wrist. You made an unsuccessful attempt to flee. He gave you another glance, or rather studied every strand of lace and fabric of the garment that embraced your upper body.

“I made a terrible mistake sending this dress to you. Too graceful. Too desirable…”

The moon, round like a silver disk overhead, provided the sole light in the labyrinth. Rafayel continued to rub his face on your hand, his face appearing and disappearing in an instant.

“He touched you here…” Rafayel whispered. He kissed your wrist and palm again, fiercely like a storm.

“You… What are you doing?…”

Your heart beat was so incessant. It might have been an overdose of alcohol that caused your arms and legs to feel so weak. Rafayel let go of your hand, just to rub his head on your shoulder. His fingers sank into your hair, causing your mask to fall off. You caught his heavy breathing close to your ear, his breath caressing your uncovered neck and collarbone.

“What about here?”

Rafayel asked, then he bit your neck, causing your body to squirm in agony.

“N-No! Rafayel!”

You tried to push him away, but the more you resisted, the more Rafayel tightened his hold on you. His lips sucked into your ear.

"Here?"

“I… I was just talking to him… That's all!”

"Good." He said, leaving your neck covered in crimson kiss marks. Moist. Burning. Exposed under the moonlight. "You won't be touched by that filthy hand ever again. Not in the slightest... I promise it."

A crazy thought suddenly crossed your mind. You had never seen this side of Rafayel. It frightened you, and also invited you to explore further.

“What... are you going to do?…” You asked in a daze. With your head whirling, you sought to Rafayel's powerful arms for support.

“With him? You shouldn't be worried about that guy. What you should be worried about is the things that will happen to you right now.”

“Rafayel, you—!”

He nipped you on the neck, then planted another kiss where he could hear your nearly deranged heartbeat—deeper beneath your collarbone.

You took deep breaths. Rafayel straightened up and gazed down at you, euphoric in his arms. The bite marks and kiss marks were intertwined like a work of art he had left on you. Similar to the garment you were donning, they served as a reminder to others that you belonged to no one, but him.

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

The melodious music led the couples back and forth according to a set pattern. Every step, every movement was perfectly planned. Only eyes were not so easily controlled.

Yes, you had been looking at that man in the white attire ever since the music started and you were escorted to the center. His hair as bright as starlight at night stood out in the ballroom. And no matter where he was, you would find him in a blink. Even with the silver mask covering half of his face.

And, he also looked at you. There was a hint of sorrow and a tinge of rage in his eyes. Did you delude yourself like that? Or was he really looking at you and wishing that the person each of you were guiding through music was the other?

Carelessly, your heel stepped on your partner's foot. You said in embarrassment:

“My apologies… How clumsy I am.”

The man said there was no problem, and you continued dancing. This was the target you must approach for the day's mission. You turned back to face Xavier. He was also leading another person in the dance. Another target.

Due to the importance of this mission, neither you nor Xavier must show any negligence. But in the midst of this lavish masquerade, what you wanted the most was to leap into Xavier's arms. You could dance until dawn, if it was with him.

You forced the stray ideas out of your mind. You needed to focus. Extremely. You turned back to your dance partner, who did not seem to notice anything unusual. You pulled him closer and your hand on his shoulder slid down slightly.

A grin came across his grim mask to greet you. You caught a glimpse of the other side, Xavier's face tightening. Almost at once, his dance partner intentionally fell into his arms.

Fortunately, you had a mask on as well. Otherwise, your unpleasant glance would be visible to everyone in this room, including him.

You leaned your head slightly on your partner's shoulder. But you still kept an eye on Xavier. He was also observing your every move. Every time the other girl became close to Xavier, you did the same thing to your dance partner. This was supposed to be a mission, but it ended up being such a ridiculous competition.

One more dance and you got what you needed from the target. You made up an excuse and sneaked out onto the balcony alone. The starry sky loomed above you, and the aroma of flowers and grass bathed in night dew calmed you down. You removed your mask and set it on the railing. At that moment, a powerful hand was wrapped around your waist and gently squeezed.

You were startled. But immediately, you realized that the hand belonged to Xavier. He was approaching you from behind. He approached you from behind. His breath, which carried the delicate aroma of wine and cinnamon, breathed into your hair, before gradually sliding down the back of your neck, sending you slight trembles.

“Xavier?…What are you doing?…”

The mask he was still wearing tapped against your bare back exposed to the moonlight, causing you to shiver. Gently, Xavier laid kisses on it.

“Xavier!…” Your body was slightly bent, but his hand on your abdomen held you up. His other hand was around your neck, stabilizing you in that posture. A series of hasty kisses covered your back and shoulders. You bit your lip, waiting for him to speak while silently relishing the heated sensation radiating from the places where his lips met.

A little later, the hand holding you eased somewhat. You took that opportunity to turn around to face Xavier.

You could tell, even through the mask, he was hurt. He did not say a word, just looked at you like a puppy abandoned in the rain. You let out a soft sigh, wrapped your arms over his head to remove the mask. You pressed your palm against his cheek.

“Why did you do what you just did…” Your cheeks flushed, and you were certain that your back was now coated with traces of his. Xavier drew you back into his arms, grasping your hips once more.

“This mission…” He paused for a moment. “It's really too much for me.”

“Don't you like it, dancing intimately with such a beautiful girl?”

The scene of him holding someone else in his arms was enough to upset you. But it went both ways to Xavier, who was not able to hold his feelings any longer. To your surprise, he lifted you up and placed you on the railing. You felt guilty for unintentionally triggering Xavier's fury.

"I don't enjoy it one bit." Xavier replied bluntly. “Because, there is only one girl I have my eyes on in this universe and she is right in front of me.” His chilly fingers moved from your hip to your shoulder, then your neck. “I don't want anyone else to touch her.”

Before you could say anything, Xavier clasped your lips in a passionate kiss, sending your head spinning.

“No one else… but me…” Xavier whispered in very short pauses, then buried himself again in your embrace and scorching kisses.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

The high society banquet in Linkon City was truly a remarkable event. You also prepared meticulously for that day, as your latest mission needed you to meet a target at that party.

You had done quite well during the first two hours of the event. You looked graceful in a luxurious, tight-fitting black velvet dress, with long sleeves and a thigh-high slit. You spoke, laughed, drank, and danced with your target, and everything went perfectly until you noticed a familiar figure standing in the corner of the room, observing.

The guests were all wearing masks, and from such a distance, you wondered whether you were wrong. He would dislike such events. But you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched, attentively, by someone you knew well.

After completing the mission, you sneaked out through the path least noticed. Your feet hurt from dancing too much in high heels. So you pulled them off and wandered barefoot across the calm garden at night. The dew-soaked grass made your feet chilly, but it also provided a soothing and delightful feeling.

You sat and settled by the fountain. You removed your mask and threw it on the grass next to the shoes. Your feet had begun to swell. You stretched them out, placed your hands on the fountain, and elevated your face, allowing the silver moonlight to beam down on you as you felt relaxed and relieved after finishing your work for the day.

The sound of shoes treading on the grass jolted you awake. When you opened your eyes, you saw a figure standing between you and the moonlight, clothed in a flawlessly fitting black tuxedo. That was who you had suspected all along.

“Zayne?”

You called his name, and he took off his mask.

“It's really you!” You exclaimed, happy and astonished. "I didn't think you would attend events like this."

Zayne's face hardened, indicating seriousness. He examined you thoroughly, from your somewhat unkempt hair to the garment that clung to your body, displaying your curves and the bare thigh beneath it. He gently leaned down, one knee resting on the grass. His chilly palm touched your ankle, startling you.

“Z-Zayne!”

He gave you a glance, implying that you should remain still. His large thumb brushed over the irritated skin on your leg. Cool and comfy, as if being iced. You knew it was Zayne using his Evol.

“Seeing me here, are you surprised?”

You nodded; all words had vanished once Zayne touched you.

“I was invited. If I hadn't come, I probably wouldn't have caught you doing—"

He left the sentence incomplete without glancing at you.

"Caught me doing what?"

"…Nothing."

He tilted down and focused on rubbing your feet with all the gentleness that made you feel both comfortable and tickled.

“I think… my foot is fine now.”

Despite the fact that Zayne's Evol should have kept you cold, your body began to heat up. You were about to alter your posture to sit up straight, but he grabbed your ankle.It appeared so little in his massive, covered in scars hands.

"Be still." He whispered quietly. "Where do you want to go with feet like this?"

"I… have to go back to HQs to report for today's mission…" You made up an excuse. As soon as you left the banquet room, you sent all of the information to the headquarters.

"Mission? Is that the reason why you were intimate with that guy?”

Zayne gazed into your eyes. His face did not exhibit much expression, but his eyes were perplexing. Could it be that he was uncomfortable when he noticed you being close to someone else at the party?

Having hit the nail on the head, you pushed forward. You slipped your bare foot forward until it reached his chest.

"Maybe. But that man was really interesting. He's a doctor, too. Strangely, I was more interested in speaking with him than with some other doctors I knew."

Zayne's expression worsened. His hand shifted from your ankle to your foot, gripping firmly.

"Don't mess with me."

A giggle escaped your so red lips. “Or else? What would Dr. Zayne do to me?”

Zayne frowned. He gazed at your foot, which was still on his body. He softly stroked it and said:

"You're drunk."

"It seems so." You laughed again. Your toes started moving purposely against Zayne's chest. He grabbed them and to your surprise, he placed a kiss on the middle of your feet.

“Zayne!?”

You were so bewildered that you almost fell into the fountain. Zayne grabbed your leg and swiftly positioned his other hand behind you to support your back. Suddenly being so close to each other sent you a panic attack. You sensed a fresh scent like snow and wood emanating from his body. The sound of your heart beating was so loud that he could hear it clearly without a stethoscope.

He glanced at you for a minute before carefully returning to his former posture. His hand left your body, leaving you a little dissatisfied. As if reading you, he leaned forward again. One hand clutched the base of the fountain, exactly near to your hip, and almost immediately, you heard the sound of the water freezing, followed by silence. His other hand kept your leg tight to his torso. Long fingers caressed your calf and thigh. You trembled at the cold he delivered, but it was promptly followed by a tingling sensation throughout your body.

"Do you really like talking to him more than me?"

Zayne asked quietly. The hand that was sliding down your thigh came to a halt at the end of the dress's slit and then tightened, prompting you to cry out unintentionally.

Seeing your helpless reaction and crimson cheeks, a satisfied smile appeared from the corner of Zayne's mouth.

“I guess what you mean to say is, no.”

"You…"

You could feel Zayne's heat wrapping around your legs, in the place where your skin was exposed to the moonlight, then running all over your body. You sat still so he could continue to draw close, his lips gently brushing the corner of your lips provocatively.

“Now you will have to bear the consequences for teasing me.”

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moonlitdesertdreams · 12 days

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Of Ghouls and Drugs

Request: "ok so I'm absolutely obsessed with that coop fic you did where reader helps him when he's injured and it's super domestic and fluffy....could you maybe do something where the roles are reversed and he helps the reader who's injured? maybe she's a little shaken up over it too and he calms her down and it's just very sweet and soft. thank you i adore your writing so much 💖" A/N: First of all, the reception of my Fallout content has been amazing. If you're one of the people who have liked/reblogged/replied/shared/saved/etc, I am eternally grateful to you. Second, thank you once again to the anon who sent this request! It's a bit of a switcharoo from Stuck Like Glue, so if you need some more Cooper content, check that out or take a peek at my Fallout Masterlist! Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence Summary: Injured and scared, you can always count on your Cowboy to save the day.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(Gif Credit to @victoryrifle)

You don’t know why you’re hyperventilating.

Sure, you’d been in countless fights and been scared more times than you can remember. In the Wasteland, if you’re not scared every now and again, you’re dead. But today, cornered in a decrepit open-air shopping mall store while a hoard of feral ghouls claw at the rusty security gate, you’re frozen with fear.

It was an old clothing store, picked apart by scavengers and ravaged by time. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of dust, from the old checkout counter to the racks of high heels that sit untouched. Unfortunately for you, it hadn’t been a department store you ducked into where there could be some hope of escape. This one was a small boutique-type outlet with one way in and one impassable way out. Furthermore, the roll-down security door currently saving your life had been pure luck on your part. The lever for it was broken off and mounted on the side of the entrance; you’d only found it after the damn thing had torn your upper arm to shreds in your haste to get away.

And now you’re ducked behind the checkout counter, old patterned men’s tie wrapped tightly around your bicep in a poor excuse of a tourniquet. You were out of ammo, banking on the security gate holding until the ghouls got bored or forgot about you. But there was something about today, about how they’d come charging from the darkness the second Cooper had left to turn in your latest bounty, that terrified you. Feral ghouls were shells of people with no logic or sense left in them, but the attack had felt calculated, planned. You argued with yourself, knowing they had basic instinct and probably just singled you out after another of their kind left.

Then again, maybe you’re conflating your fear of Cooper becoming one of them one day with the looming fear of death.

Unable to do anything about it, you sit behind the counter and shake. Your breath comes in quick punches, inhales cutting off the exhales and vice versa. The iron smell of your own blood is overwhelming. Despite the tourniquet, warm liquid leaks down your arm and drips into a thick crimson puddle beneath you. Your backpack, full of stimpaks and every chem known to man, is abandoned just outside the gate. The damn thing had been torn away when you’d got caught on the jagged lever, beyond your reach and unable to be saved.

The ghouls wail and groan while clawing at the gate, the sound of rattling metal echoing around the store’s walls. It’s deafening to the point where you cover your ears, accepting the fact that you’re screwed either way. Blood loss or ghoul attack, it doesn’t matter. Cooper’s long gone towards the last town, and you’re cursing the apparently lackluster job the two of you did making sure your camp was secure.

“Take a look around.” He’d told you, “Getch’yu some new clothes if you need ‘em.”

Cooper’s voice and kiss goodbye lingers in your thoughts as you hold your hands over your ears. It’s a more pleasant thought than the ghouls outside. Your ghoul always keeps you safe.

“Darlin’.”

You almost smile to yourself, probably delusional from blood loss.

“Hey!”

Your name slipping out of Cooper’s mouth dances across your foggy mind.

“Goddamn it woman, open your eyes.”

Something shakes your whole body, and your eyes snap open.

At first it’s too dark for you to recognize any solid features, and you scramble away. The missing nose and scarred flesh blend together in your mind. You swing your injured arm in blind panic, which has the tourniquet breaking loose and bright arterial blood spattering the floor.

But you hear a voice calling through the haze. Soft and slow, like it’s calling to a wounded animal. “Ay, ay ay. Calm down now, sweetheart.”

You squint through the darkness, fighting dizziness. A familiar silhouette makes itself apparent.

“Cooper?”

His face, weathered by radiation and pain, is usually twisted into a dramatic scowl. But right now it’s concerned, brow furrowed into worry that you’d never seen. The sounds of ghouls and impending doom have vanished.

“It’s me, babydoll.” He almost coos at you, reaching out a hand. “C’mere.”

Your emotions rage, and tears burn at your eyes. You reach out a hand and brush the one he’s holding out, but your fingertips barely catch on the seam of his gloves. You squeeze to make sure he’s real. He wraps strong fingers around your wrist and pulls you in.

It’s easy to give in as his familiar scent and feel washes over you. Gunpowder and smoke are the main notes, but you catch the leather of his duster and the unavoidable grime provided by the Wasteland. The tears flow easily out the corner of your eyes and drip down your cheek.

“I-I don’t know where they came from.” You clutch at his coat, “Scared the hell out of me.”

Cooper is still moving despite you being all but wrapped around him where he’s knelt down. You feel his hands near your injured arm and instinctively cower.

“Came from somewhere in that back parking lot, it looks like.” Cooper grits in his usual gruff tone, “Must’a got ‘em goin’ when they heard us. Waited ‘til you were alone.”

You sniffle pathetically into his coat, and it morphs into a strangled cry as he wraps the tie back around your arm. His other hand holds a broken piece of wood that he uses to knot into the fabric and twist.

“Ah! Fucking hell, Coop!” Your protest is little more than a whine as your arm starts to go numb.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs, tipping his head back so he’s able to look in your eyes. “Don’t want ya to bleed out here.”

You hold his gaze for a moment. “Why’d you come back?”

He helps you stand, giving you a moment to lean back against the counter and acclimate to the dizziness. Your eyes hold steady on him, watching lashless eyelids blink above gaunt cheeks.

“Vials.” He hooks an arm around your shoulders and the other behind your knees and lifts you up, “I wanted to have enough in case I got caught up.”

The slow cadence of Cooper’s walk almost lulls you into closing your eyes and he trudges silently to the shop’s entrance. You see gore splattered on the walls and floor, headless ghouls lying motionless at his feet. The top handle of your backpack is sticking out of the mess, and Cooper snatches it up.

He walks for some distance, away from the pile of dispatched ghouls. He doesn’t stop until you come up on a store a ways away, advertising furniture and televisions. It seemed relatively untouched considering an atomic war and a two-hundred year wait. The Ghoul moves near the door, and you hear him clanking about with the lock. It takes a few tries and muttered curses, but Cooper jimmies it enough so he can get a toe nudged in the door. You attempt to help by grabbing the door, but he moves your hand back to his shoulder and pushes in on his own.

Cooper sets you gently on a shockingly clean and padded couch. The Ghoul is quiet, but gets to work cleaning the long gash in your arm. He gives you his inhaler, but there’s a strange canister clicked into the mechanism rather than his vial. You take a huff, and gag at the strong taste.

“H-Holy Shit.” You cough, and it almost distracts you from the pain of a stimpak being stabbed into your wound. “What is that?”

Cooper unties the tourniquet when he’s satisfied, and sets the stimpak off to the side. “Med-X. Inhalin' it works faster.”

You nod and huff on his inhaler again. The Med-X is potent as all hell, and it feels like it’s shooting straight to your brain. You’re more willing, desperate for more as the effects set in. Cooper settles himself on the cushions beside you, watching carefully and taking away the inhaler before you overdose yourself.

“I’m sorry for bein’ stupid.” You murmur. “I shoulda ran anywhere but there.”

Cooper leans in, ungloved hand cupping the side of your neck and tilting back. “Never apologize for survivin’, sugar.”

The drugs swirling about in your brain make it hard to form normal sentences. “I wouldn’t have without you… I hurt my arm and lost my cool.”

He tries to talk, but you shush him.

“I couldn’t quit thinkin’ about those ghouls… about you.”

Cooper sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He pulls you in close and shushes the soft cries that creep up your throat, fueled by a drug-induced haze.

“Y’know… There’s always somethin’ that’s gonna make us lose it.” Cooper drums his fingers on your forearms. “No matter how tough we might be.”

You feel his lips in your hair and lean into it. “Guess I gotta trust that, ‘cause you’re pretty tough.”

Unbeknownst to you, your words are already comically slurred. Cooper chuckles into the bird’s nest on your head.

“Feelin’ that Med-X, honey?”

You swear to god, it’s gotta be that drawl that’s honey, not the drugs.

“Jus-Just a little.” You slump further into his side, head dropping onto his chest. He uses the tip of his boot to drag a nearby footrest closer and prop his feet up.

“Good. Time for a nap.” Cooper tilts his hat down over his eyes.

You hum, unable to argue. A nap sounds rather splendid, especially with the amount of drugs circulating your body. You glance up just as the Ghouls huffs down the rest of the Med-X himself.

“Coop!” You try to chastise him, but it comes out as more of a laugh. “That’s not safe. You don’t need that right now.”

The Ghoul grumbles something that sure sounds like ‘goody two-shoes’, but reigns in the hostility,

“Sure I do.” His hand rubs up and down your arm before finding its way to your waist. “I’m an old fuckin’ man. Joint pain.”

“Joint pain, schmoint pain.” You mock, eyes falling shut and staying that way. “Fuckin’ old man.”

Cooper actually chuffs at your remark and ducks to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s unexpected and sweet to feel such affection from him, and combines with the euphoric feeling of opioids pulsing through your brain.

“Go to bed, darlin’. Before I knock you out myself.”

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

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sanguineterrain · 6 months

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savior | jason todd

Summary: Red Hood is the stuff of nightmares. Red Hood is no hero. Red Hood is your best friend.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings/tags: angsttt, reader is afraid of red hood and they discover that he's jason, injured and kidnapped reader, emotional hurt no comfort.

A/N: hey guys! i didn't know what the hell to write so. this is what i came up with. hope ya like it :) if you like this fic, lmk through comments and reblogs!

the divider

“You fucked up!”

You wince at the shouting and the ringing in your ears. You try to sit up but that makes things hurt, so you lie still and listen.

"What? You said pick a civilian!”

"I don't give a fuck what I said; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"

You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag.

Batman? Batman isn't coming?

No, that can't be. Batman knows everything that happens in his city. He wouldn't abandon a civilian in need.

You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead. Jason's probably tearing his hair out if he's home from work. He always stresses safety, to the point of paranoia.

Lock your doors. Don't walk down this street. Did you get home okay? Text me when you get home.

You hope Batman's out there, somewhere. Or any of the Bats. You don't want to die. You really, really don't want to die.

Thump!

Something hits the ground. There's a shout.

“You fucking shitheads! You were supposed to check the—”

Gunfire erupts suddenly, and you tuck your head between your knees as best as you can, with your hands and ankles bound.

Thump! Thump!

More bodies hit the ground. But Batman doesn't do guns.

"What the fuck is this?" comes a distorted voice.

Your blood chills.

"H-Hood!” one of the kidnappers squeaks. “Sh-shit. What’re you doin’ here?”

“Protecting Gotham,” Hood says. “What’re you doing, McKelly? Thought you were on the straight and narrow. Thought the Bats taught you what happens to people who lose their way. Did the lesson not stick?”

“It’s not what it looks like, Hood! We just needed some extra cash and Black Mask—I swear, we weren’t gonna do anything to—”

“Was it worth it? He’s got my attention now.”

“It was meant to draw out Batman! Not you, honest! Aw, Hood, please. I’ll be good after this, I swear!”

“You assholes just don’t learn your lesson, do you?”

He turns and locks in on you. You freeze, tensing up.

“You hurt them," he says, voice like steel. "You hurt them. And you would've hurt them more, wouldn't you?"

“Hood—”

"I’ll kill you all.”

He shoots McKelly in the chest. You scream through the gag. Red Hood looks at you, and it seems to rekindle his anger tenfold.

He shoots the two remaining guys in the head. McKelly writhes, screaming. You shut your eyes and turn away from the bloodshed, stomach rolling. The crunch of bone and muscle makes you sick.

"Hood, please! This ain’t your s—”

The next shot silences the room. Your heart rate skyrockets; is this a rescue or a massacre?

As the footsteps get closer, you press yourself into the wall and quiver. Red Hood is terrifying. He's merciless, bloodthirsty. You know the stories. You don't even know why he's here in the first place. This isn't his territory; you live far from Crime Alley. What is he doing all the way out here?

You peek one eye open. Red Hood freezes. He's about two feet away from you. His jacket and helmet are splattered with dark blood. Tears prick your eyes.

"Hey," he says roughly, like he’s not fully present. "’S okay. Y’alright?”

You nod rapidly. In reality, your ankle throbs, you might be concussed, and you’re sick with fear. And you don't want Red Hood anywhere near you.

"Okay. I'm gonna remove the gag."

You can't really protest; Red Hood's a big guy, and he has a lot of weapons on his body. All you can hope is that he won't decide to pick up where your kidnapper left off.

He removes the gag. Then he pulls out a blade.

"Please don't hurt me," you say.

Red Hood stills. His voice is thick when he speaks again. The modulator doesn't soften his words.

"I would—I would never hurt you. I don't hurt innocents. I... I came here to save you.”

It still doesn’t make sense in your mind, Red Hood being so far from the Bowery. You press your cracked lips together. You don't want to throw up. If you throw up in front of Hood, he might change his mind about saving you.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s alright. I’m gonna remove the zip ties now, okay?”

You don't have a choice, so you watch the blade whisper past your skin. It would be so easy for Hood to cut more than the restraints. It's all you can think about, frankly.

He makes quick work of the binds. His hand lingers on your wrist. There’s blood on his sleeve. Your heart pounds in your chest.

He finally lets go and you pull away, scooting to the side. That puts pressure on your ankle, though, and you can't hide your wince.

"Your ankle," he says. "Let me see.”

You shake your head. "No, I'm f-fine. I just want to go home. It'll heal.”

Hood seems to make a decision then. He reaches for his helmet. It clicks and he pulls it off.

No. No, it can’t be. It can’t.

“Hey,” Jason says, smiling a little. “‘S just me. Just Jay. You’re safe.”

Your eyes dart between Jason and the bodies. This time, you can’t swallow your nausea; you throw up. There’s tears in your eyes. Your face is hot and sweaty.

“You–you killed them,” you whisper.

Jason’s smile fades. “They hurt you. I… I saved you. It’s okay. ‘S just me.”

You clench your hands, willing them to stop shaking. He watches you for a long moment. Then he puts his hand out. You flinch.

Silence stretches. Then Hood—Jason speaks.

"You're scared of me.”

You shake your head. "Please, I just want to go home—”

"You want Batman instead?" He sounds choked. “You want Batman to come save you? Or Nightwing? Or Robin? You want a good guy?”

This feels like a trap. You know better than to fall into it. This is the Red Hood.

"No! No, I-I don't have any problem with you, Hood, really, I'm just—"

“It’s Jason!” he shouts. “You’ve known me for three years! Jason! You know me!”

The night is catching up to you; tears begin to spill from how overwhelmed you are. You wipe at your cheeks quickly, trying to calm down, but it's too much.

Jason creeps forward like he wants to touch you. You press against the wall without thinking about it.

“Fuck, you’re—you’re terrified of me,” he rasps. “You think I’m a monster.”

Your panic has reached a peak now; you lose track of time and space, hyperventilating through your cries. Jason shoves himself backwards, tearing a hand through his hair.

“I’m good, I’m a good guy. You know me, you know me. I would never hurt you!”

You could've died tonight. The Red Hood is Jason. The Red Hood is no hero.

You don’t look at him, curled up and cradling your ankle. You’re afraid you’ll get sick again if you open your eyes.

Then someone's hand holds your shoulder. You flinch hard, expecting cold, glowing eyes in a red helmet.

Instead, you see white lenses. Nightwing smiles sadly at you, squatting to your level.

"Hey, there," he says. “I’m—”

"Hood’s here," you blurt. "Watch your back."

Nightwing glances behind him; Jason is across the warehouse, as much distance between you as possible. He has his knees to his chest. The corpses lie between you. Your eyes widen and you turn into Nightwing’s shoulder. He rubs your back.

"It’s okay. I know him. He works with us a lot these days."

“I would never hurt you,” Jason says quietly, voice cracking. “Never.” He doesn’t try to approach you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Please don't make me go with him,” you whisper. “Please, please…”

It hurts to breathe. Nightwing puts your hand on his chest and tells you to follow his breathing. It lasts a lifetime, it seems: Nightwing crouched to your level, exaggerating his breaths until you're no longer gasping for air.

"Alright, it's alright. I'll take you home," he says. "It's okay. You're safe. I won’t make you go with him.”

Nightwing helps you stand, and when you stumble through your injured ankle, he catches you, bracing you with his arm around your back.

"Let's wrap your ankle first, okay?”

Nightwing guides you to a lone chair so he can tend to your injury. When you look up again, the Red Hood is gone.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #angst

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bigassmoonchild · 6 months

Text

Nothing

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Simon claims nothing would've taken him away from you, but it's clearly a lie. You feel nothing, nothing at all, until you are filled with the worst pain of your life.

Content Tags: Hurt/Minimal Comfort, Abandonment, Original Characters (no name, no gender, just a person), Pregnancy, Slight shit-talk of Simon, Even more Hurt/Minimal to No Comfort (more tags will spoil this, but if anything is triggering please let me know and I'll add tags), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, Omega! Reader, No Use of Y/N

A/N: surprise!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

There's nothing. Nothing in your room- yours and Simons- when you return back to it. Rephrasing it a little better, a majority of his stuff is gone when you finally drag yourself back to the room after spending hours crying. Some paperwork between rounds of crying, but mostly crying.

There's nothing there. His scent is slightly fading, but when you look around you can see the drawers of the dresser left open, clothes half dragged out. The closet is left alone, your nest sitting there all pretty and proper. Maybe a few things shifted from pulling something out.

There is nothing of Simon's left in your room and you are panicking. The room is partially destroyed and you are adding to the damage, throwing other drawers open and tossing blankets around, trying to find something to reason through what's happening.

You feel nothing. Sure, you can feel your heart pounding in your chest and your head, you can feel the cold prickle of fear riding through your body but you truly can't feel anything. Your vision is tunneled and suddenly you can't feel anything.

Dropping to your knees, you can feel the hot tears pouring down your face but you can't feel anything. Nothing feels real. You can feel the pup, kicking angrily, but can you really feel it? Sure, the sensation is there but you aren't able to fully process it.

Your vision is blurry and there is really nothing that you can see but your blinking aggressively. The tears are still pouring but they aren't clouding your vision as much when you're blinking, and now you're seeing the little speck of white buried under a few blankets in the nest you'd destroyed.

Struggling up, you stumble to the nest and drop yourself in. There's a paper there, crinkling under your knees before you're pulling it out and looking at it. It's folded and wrinkly, slightly torn in one place but your opening it up and looking at it.

Mission called. I would have come seen you, but it's an emergency. I shouldn't be going, the pups due far too soon but they won't be able to do much without me.

I love you. I truly, truly do. I'm sorry I can't be all that you need, but I will try and be back as quick as possible.

The paper is suddenly in your face, the scent of him is just barely washing over you. It's faint, but it's there and it's all you need. It's there until it isn't, and suddenly you can't smell anything on the paper anymore.

There's nothing left of Simon, and you are sitting in your nest, weeks, maybe a month from giving birth to his pup. Alone. Alpha has left you alone and now you're so, so scared.

But you feel nothing. There is nothing there and you are suddenly back to yourself, staring at the wall. Thoughts aren't processing, it's all empty but there's so much in your head that you are completely unsure of everything.

A knock is what brings you out of your stupor. Your head turns slowly to look at the door, blinking carefully as you stand. One foot in front of the other and now you're opening the door.

John's Omega.

They smile, eyes crinkling just a little from it, but there's worry in their eyes. "Hi, honey," they whisper, pressing you back into your room and closing the door behind them. "John told me they left suddenly, wanted me to check in on you," and they wipe your tears from your cheeks.

You give a weak smile, trying to push out a short thanks but they're pushing you into your nest and you can feel the exhaustion settling over your body. Your eyes are blinking shut, and suddenly there's nothing.

They hadn't seen anything like this in a while. Sure, John had mentioned how destroyed your relationship with Simon was, but seeing how destroyed the room was? It scared them. Horribly.

Maybe Simon was hurting you, but they couldn't really tell. There weren't marks, but you were so destroyed over something like this that they were so, so worried. Had it been emotional abuse this whole time? Simon hadn't ever seen like the type of person to do that, but maybe they'd read him wrong.

Maybe it was all a ruse. Just make him look good until you gave birth and he could kick you to the curb, pull the 'baby trapping' bullshit a lot of other Alphas often did. They hoped, for the sake of John and their relationship, that Simon didn't do that. That he wasn't that type of person because John would be getting hurt if he knew.

They decide to clean up the room. There's clothes hanging out of the dresser drawers, the blankets are tossed from the bed and the blinds are shut tightly. The first thing they do is go to open the blinds, but glance down at you sleeping.

It could wait, so they decided to go on and start cleaning up the clothes laying about. Folding them, figuring out if something was actually dirty and tossing them into the hamper, putting them away.

They drag the hamper to the laundry room, tossing everything in and going back to your room. It looks a little better, it's a little dusty but there's enough stuff there that it would make sense. They could tell what was mostly yours, and what was Simons contributions. Your stuff might not have been overly large or colorful, but just from interacting with you a few times they could sense your style.

It was alright, John wasn't too dissimilar to Simon in that way. He didn't like having things to clutter everything up, he was more of a person that found use in the items he kept around. He didn't want something pretty to look at, or something that just brought happiness.

Christ, you needed all the happiness that these little items could offer. The room was dark and dingy, rather small considering you were a mated pair. Maybe they should mention it to John when he returns.

Get you a better room, especially once the pup is around. But maybe there was an apartment, a home where yourself and Simon lived that held the things you needed. Gave you the room that you would need with a pup.

Everything was cleaned up, all they were waiting for was the laundry to finish. Sitting on the freshly made bed felt wrong, but it was that or the desk.

The desk. It had a paper on it, and they felt bad but they grabbed the paper anyways. And they blinked. And blinked. And blinked once more as they read through it, seeing the bland words and shit handwriting.

Simon was a shell, they decided. A shell of a person, nothing inside of him. Truly, a person who mated an Omega needed to care for them, did they not? That was what they grew up knowing, grew up understanding. There is little else that was needed for a mated pair, other than the love of the other half.

That's what mated pairs were. Two halves of a whole, trying to become closer and, hopefully, become one. Maybe their mating to John was lucky, maybe it was something that very few were lucky to get.

And over the next few days, they had time to investigate a little further. Speaking with you was interesting, something they hadn't had much time to be able to do during the few times they were with you. You're personality was slowly coming through, your humor finally being unveiled.

You cracked little jokes here and there, humoring both them and yourself while sitting in your little office filling out more paperwork. You had to hand off the duties, you'd explained.

"Once I'm out, they don't really have a 'doctor' on duty left," they nodded with your words. "They need me to sign off somebody to have the same abilities I have, someone I trust to be able to run this place in my absence," it was interesting. A job where there wasn't just somebody available to fill your spot in place of emergencies.

How had they been able to fill your role when you'd gotten hurt? John had come home short with everyone and they'd been able to get it out that Simon was sulking about you getting hurt.

Boo-fucking-hoo, they thought. Simon was an adult, and so were you. You could make your own decisions. He seemed more and more like a controlling freak with everything they'd learned.

"I love him so much," you whispered during dinner once.

"Huh?"

"This whole... thing," you started, pushing food around on your plate, "was entirely an accident. I don't know how much Price has told you, but it was a huge accident," they nodded with you. "I was assigned with them on a mission, trying to find an extremely dangerous aphrodisiac. It sounds like one of those weird fanfictions, but I mean it genuinely," they snorted at your comment.

"We all have to enjoy the occasional fanfiction," you laughed, head tossed back and mouth open. A little grunt stopped your laugh, hand clasping over your belly.

Clearing your throat, brows still furrowed, you continued. "It was Soap and Gaz, I think, who were clearing the way. Simon was supposed to guide me, body guard me so I'd be able to get a safe enough sample of it, but shit went downhill. We were getting shot at, Simon took a tranq to the shoulder so I just... jumped into action," your eyes were glazed over with tears, looking off into nowhere.

"Jumped into the hall and got a tranq myself, woke up somewhere hot. Everything was so hot and my mouth tasted sweet. They dosed me and Simon, we'd have died if we didn't fuck. He marked me, and now we're here," you whispered. They looked at you, eyes wide and shock filling their features.

Christ, you really were in a shitty situation. Everything seemed to be getting worse and worse the more they learned. "Are you serious?" You nodded, hand grasping at your stomach once more.

They looked down to your belly. "I'm fine, pups just been moving a lot more," you looked away, eyes once more cast over with a glaze and seemingly just gone from the world.

It was quiet, for some time, and in that moment they wanted nothing more than to beat Johns ass for not telling them the whole truth. Lies are shitty, but half-truths are even worse. For some time after that, when they laid in bed, all they could do was think.

Were you happy? Were you just stuck in a shitty situation that became shittier each day? Maybe it was nothing, but with the way your eyes glazed over when you spoke on stories about Simon, they doubted there was much wrong.

Just two people, stuck in a situation that was made worse and worse but the two of you were trying to make everything better.

It's late, very fucking late and you are exhausted. Laying in bed had been incredibly uncomfortable, but laying in your nest was worse. Your back was spasming, you assumed from bending over to pick something up a few hours ago, but you could feel the pup settling down for what felt like the first time in ages.

The pain from the pup moving was now coated in the general pain of your stomach. You thought everything was just fine, even if you were even more tired and you just wanted to curl up in your nest.

You had a few more things to do before going on maternity leave, and god be damned you were going to get it done. Even if you didn't sleep all night, even if you were in your office at 6 in the morning.

And you were. Signing a few more documents, just confirming everything. The pain wasn't all consuming, but it was getting there. The pup wasn't moving at all, and maybe that should be worrying you. Maybe it was nothing, but the knock on your door brought your attention from staring at the same document you signed some twenty odd minutes ago.

Johns Omega was back, and they were smiling widely at you. Their phone was held to their chest, covering the microphone and shuffling over to you.

Your name came over the speaker, Simon.

"Hi, Si," you whispered, staring down at the phone screen. It was quiet, for some time.

"I don't know when I'll be back," he whispered, gunshots echoing around him. "We've got some leads, but a lot of the people we've got aren't working with us. We're in Mexico, but that's all I can tell you," he whispered.

"Mexico?" He hummed. "Is it someone you're looking for?"

"You know I can't really tell you much more," and you winced, a little groan falling from your lips. "What was that?"

"Nothing, 'm alright," you whispered, eyes falling shut as you rubbed at your belly. "I just miss you," you added.

He hums, a few more gunshots echoing around him. "I miss you too, lovie, but I should be returning within two or three weeks," you made no noise.

"That's about the time I'm due," you whispered and he sighed audibly. The gunshots sounded louder, much closer, and you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck rising. You could feel the innate fear that came with these situations.

"I've got to go. I love you, Omega, through and through," and you returned it, feeling tears pricking at your waterline. Handing the phone back, you winced once more. A little groan fell from your lips, the pain wracking up before slowly drifting off.

John's Omega disappeared, looking at you carefully as they walked out of the office. You needed to get one more document signed, and you could go back to your room and sleep for a week.

The pen felt heavier and your hands felt shakier. The signature was a little off from what you were normally able to do, but if it was what got everything done, you were more than happy.

Dropping the papers into the slots outside of your office, you shut and locked the door. The walk back to your room was horrible, you had to stop every few moments to breathe. Just breathing was a little painful.

You want to crawl into your nest as soon as the door shuts behind you, but the bathroom door that's cracked open calls to you. A hot bath is all you want, and your shed your clothes as you nearly stumble to the tub.

Carefully settling yourself down into the tub, you shift around to get comfortable enough to and plug the drain. The water that starts isn't the warmest, but it seems to quickly heat up.

You aren't entirely sure where the time has gone and suddenly the tub is just a few inches short of the top and you're struggling to turn the water off.

You're in so much pain and all you can do is rock yourself in the water. You can feel your eyes shut tight, the pain just a little bother compared to what you're feeling.

Time is incomprehensible. One moment, you're alone and crying out in pain what feels like every few seconds, and the next you have John's Omega and a few doctors surrounding you.

Things are stuck against you, something is stuffed inside of you and you nearly bite the person.

"...looks good..." you're only grasping little bits and pieces. "...little early... looks safe..." and you can feel a hand slip into yours before your ears are ringing and Christ is that you screaming?

It burns. You can feel your body lunge forward nearly over the side of the tub as you shout, fingers digging into skin and tub. It seems to be lasting forever, but your head is a little fuzzy and all you can see are little dots littering your vision.

There are voices, now, filtering into your mind as the cool of the tiles underneath you bring your focus back. You're still naked, but you can't feel most of the parts under your waist. There's a weight on your chest, and you can hear someone shouting about 'getting that god damned Alpha back now, his pup is here' but your head is a little fuzzy.

With a dry mouth, you lift your head up a little and look down, seeing something laying on your chest before your hands rise and cup it. Oh. The pup.

But you can still feel cramping pains stabbing through your stomach and the pain of your head dropping onto the tile does nothing to you. Your vision is suddenly black, when had your eyes squeezed shut? Your body is cramping down and all you can do is scream.

Once more, your vision is a little hazy but you've been moved again. You can feel soft things underneath you, and when you looked down you've got two pups lying across your chest.

They're wrapped tight in blankets and all you can do is just blink down at them. Little, tiny creatures. Things that were once nothing are now something.

You can faintly feel some stabbing pains in your lower body, but you're blinking blearily at the pups. They're so beautiful, and you think you can feel tears falling from your eyes but there's no way you are moving your arms when they're sleeping so cozily in them.

Suddenly, you can hear Simons voice and it's crackling and breaking but you still feel adrift. Like you're floating, nothing left in your body as you watch from a distance. John's Omega is holding a phone close to you but you're just blinking, maybe you were looking over your own body at one point.

And suddenly the weight over your arms are disappearing and you can feel your mouth pull back in a snarl. The sound comes from low in your chest, something you'd never heard from yourself, and it's what brings you out.

They're standing there, pulling the pup from you. "I'm just going to go clean the pups up, they're still gross from the labor," they whisper and press a hand against you, the phone dropping into your lap.

"Lovie, please, are you there? What's happened?"

"Simon," you giggle, head falling back. "Simon, Simon, Simon," you whisper. "Pretty name, what should we name them?" He's whispering something, maybe actually saying something but the pup is wailing suddenly and your first instinct is to press them against your breast.

There's more voices coming from the phone but the wailing is no longer there, and you can faintly feel the pup latch. "What's happened? Is that a pup? Please, lovie, did you have the pup?"

You giggled again. "Had two of them, popped them both out but I don't remember it. Can't feel half my body, lil things are feisty," and you can hear a few other voices from Simons end of the phone.

"Two?" You can almost hear a whine in his voice, some more jeering from the background but suddenly John's Omega is there and you have no idea how long it's even been until they're pulling the pup from your chest and plop the one they'd been cleaning onto the other breast.

It feels like hours before you finally have both pups back on you, watching as they sleep quietly. You'd love to sleep like a baby. Just like them. Not a care in the world, but Simons talking again and you can't really understand what he's saying for a few moments.

Things seems to come back to you, feeling the other Omega curl up beside you in your nest. "What're their names?" You shrug, looking down at the pretty little pups.

"I dunno," and you're giggling again. Whatever the hell they gave you, it was amazing. It's quiet for some time, you're just watching the pups. Maybe it was only a few minutes, maybe it was a few hours, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back. It is a slow realization, and you can feel the tears filling your eyes. "You weren't here," you whispered, and now there's another whine coming from him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to be there with you, but I can't," and you can almost hear a sob or two come from him but you're trying not to wake the pups.

Nothing. You almost feel nothing, but there's the little prickle of love filling you as one of the pups shift in your hold and you're brought back to the present. With your little family. Alone.

Taglist: (Please send an ask/DM to be added)

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To my favorite people: This is not the end. I want to clarify, if you'd like to finish reading here, that is perfectly fine. I have not intended this to be the end, I may have one or two more chapters left, but there will not be much more. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to a general tag, or if you'd like to be fully removed from my future taglists.

If I have missed you and you wish to be added, I apologize. Please send me another request, and I can add you!

Thank you for your patience. I can go in depth with my disappearance, but I will leave this here.

Much love :)

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gyllenhaalstories · 23 days

Text

WE'RE NOT COWBOYS — DANNY SHARP

summary: danny likes his banks robberies short and sweet. he avoids collateral damage at all costs... most of the time.

warnings: reader is gender neutral! bank robbery, weapons, injury, blood, some sort of comfort/fluff mix? your guess is as good as mine. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2515

gif credits: @/stephendorff (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i watched ambulance again and i could not resist writing whatever this is. 💵 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"Why is it taking so fucking long?" A man shouted from God knew where. "Where's Mel? Has anybody seen Mel Gibson?" More men answered 'no sir' in sync.

You sobbed, the pain stung so bad that even crying hurt. You were stuck in a cycle. The more you cried, the more it hurt and the more it made you want to cry.

A tall, bearded man stared down at you. He rubbed his knuckles, soothing the pain he caused himself by punching you in the face. You had taken him by surprise, squealing of fear while he hurried out of the vault with the last of the money and valued goods he stole. He took a better hold of his rifle, he tried to assess if your life was worth wasting a bullet on.

"I swear to God, I'm gonna kill that guy!" The first person spoke again and marked a pause before continuing, he chuckled while he specified his wish. "I won't! Okay? I won't. Not until today's precious cargo is safe and sound."

Nope, you were not worth it. He abandoned you by the bank tellers' desks, shaking like a palm tree in a storm.

"There you fucking are! Thought you got lost, that's not very Braveheart of you." You heard some mumbling you assumed came from the man who punched you. He received more reprimands and threats in exchange for his tardiness. "Do I have to tie you to one of those kiddy leashes so you don't run away? I saw some parents walk their child with that shit last week. Los Angeles, man... It'll drive you crazy!"

You heard instructions being given, the men were wrapping up and leaving the building. All men except for the one who's footsteps echoed louder and louder. You covered your mouth with your free hand, trying to be as quiet as you possibly could in this moment. You closed your eyes too, maybe if you could not see him then he would not see you. Wrong.

"Hi."

You ignored him, rocking yourself back and forth until another wave of pain made you wail.

"Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me. You're okay, you're fine."

You made the mistake of looking up and locked eyes with this man dressed in fancy attire. He looked like a manager with his tailored suit and dress pants, he even got a shiny name tag to go with it. You failed to read what the tag said.

"My name's Daniel," he offered you a smile you could barely decipher with your vision, blurry from the tears. "Everyone calls me Danny."

You did not budge, bloodshot eyes staring at his foggy figure.

"You're hurt." He noticed a drop or two of blood on your brow bone. "Who hurt you? Was it Mel Gibson?"

You nodded frantically, but stopped. It hurt too much.

"That fucker." He said under his breath, but covered it up with another disingenuous smile. "You stay there, okay? I'll be right back. Don't move."

He ordered you to stay immobile and you listened. Where would you go anyway? Maybe he had an army of Mel Gibsons out there. All you knew was that they swarmed in the bank, you froze in place and, because of your reaction (or lack thereof), you failed to follow the other workers and visitors when they were bunched up in a corner of the facility.

Danny speed-walked his way back to where he came from, instructing his men to leave without him. He'd be fine, there was just a small inconvenience he had to deal with.

The next thing you heard was his familiar footsteps hurrying back to you.

"Good job! You listened." His tone was somewhere in the middle of patronizing and comforting, but at this very moment you preferred to cling to his words and to do as he said. "I'll take a look, okay? Let me look at you." He crouched down.

You pulled your hand slowly away from the left side of your face, where you were punched. You flinched when Danny approached you.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. And I'm gonna make sure the guy who did this..." He looked at your wound then back into your eyes. "Pays for it. Got it?"

You nodded, slower this time than before. You figured out what he meant by that and the thought was sinister.

"Oh, poor little thing." He grinned, his facial expression softening when he assessed the gravity of your state. "It's just a black eye. You'll be fine."

You were starting to wonder what being fine meant to him.

"It won't hurt for long, trust me. I've gotten my fair share of those. I'm a little bit of a troublemaker." He winked at you and giggled.

The adrenaline rush started to drop, leaving you shivering.

Danny quickly noticed. He kept an eye on you, noticing how much you flinched and tensed up when he moved, while he took off his jacket and the black cashmere sweater he wore underneath. "Can ya feel that? It's soft. It's cashmere. I love cashmere." He draped the sweater over your body, hoping that it would stop you from shaking like a leaf. "I'll get you something for the pain."

Your mind began an epic race. If this guy was anything like the villains you saw in movies, he'd probably drug you or kill you the second he earned your trust. Oh God. He was earning it already! You were doomed, this was how it ended for you... Sitting on the dusty floor of the bank and being sweet talked towards your demise.

While your mind spiralled endlessly, Danny had searched the place around. He located a vending machine, probably destined for employees for their lunch break. Now, all he needed was a handful of coins. Lucky him, banks were full of coins. He scavenged through messy desks and even messier drawers until he found what he wanted. He headed towards the machine and, while waiting to select his desired item, he made a quick phone call to Castro.

"Mister Sharp, I can't do this right now! No, I'm not watching the soccer game. I'm just busy, the guys are arriving! What am I supposed to do? Okay, got it. I'll go! I'm coming! Yeah, I'll get a car! I'm running! Are you good? You seem stressed again. Stress is bad. I heard tea helped, have you tried to drink tea? Wait, how am I gonna make it back here? Mister Sharp? Do you need flamingos this time?"

You caught no word of that, despite how his employee was shouting through the phone, too busy listening to your own thoughts. Only Danny's silhouette walking towards you pulled you out of this misery.

He pressed a cold can of soda on the corner of your eye. "It will soothe the pain and you won't swell as much. First time getting punched, huh?" You shrugged, he took that as a yes. "I remember my first time... It was with my brother."

You frowned, the phrasing could not have been worse.

"No!" He yelled, clearing everything up. "I mean the first punch. He punched me. We were playing cowboys and he just popped one right in my face. He said it was an accident. I believe him. He became a Marine, maybe that moment inspired him."

You were not in the right state, both physical and psychological, to unpack what you just heard. Instead, you focused on the cold aluminum of the can and how it numbed the stinging pain.

"There's gonna be a car waiting for us soon. I'll take you back home? You can take something for the pain, lay down and sleep it off. It will turn different colours while it heals, but you'll look as pretty as ever in no time."

You swallowed the lump in your throat that was telling you to not trust him. He was a stranger. A dangerous stranger, at that. Your gut feeling rang all sorts of alarms, but still... You wanted to believe him.

"If anyone asks, you can tell them you were clumsy. Hit yourself while opening the cupboards. They'll buy it, people are so gullible."

The flag could not have been more red than that.

Speaking of red, there was a red reflection coming from the windows.

"There he fucking is, took him long enough." Danny sighed with a roll of his eyes. His demeanour changed radically when he aimed his attention back to you. "Think you can stand up? Here, let me help you." He offered you strong hands to pull you up.

Your legs were shaky, your knees barely held you up on your feet but you managed.

"I gotcha." Danny wrapped a solid arm around your waist, silently encouraging you to lean on him while he guided you towards the exit.

You held the soda can tightly, subconsciously preparing yourself to use it as a weapon if needed.

Danny's employee, Castro, held the door open for you. He drowned the both of you in a river of excuses before his boss could even speak a word. "T'was the only set of keys I found, sir! I made it as fast as I can like you told me to! I always listen so well, maybe not about the flamingos though... But you know, maybe one day you'll think of paying me more. I'm kinda like the employee of the month."

"Employees of the month wouldn't forget the first fucking rule! What is it Castro? We don't touch these cars." The two men repeated this last sentence together like a parent lecturing his child.

You looked around. Your gut was telling you to run while they were arguing, to run and save your life.

Danny's grip tightened around your waist, as if he guessed what went through your mind. He discarded of Castro, sending him off to God knew where again. He opened the door of the luxury car for you.

You sat down, let him buckle your seat belt. It oddly felt like you were a hostage he tied up to prevent you from running away. Perhaps because that was exactly what you were.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Where do you live? I'm taking you for a ride. How romantic!"

*~*~*

Danny sang along, badly if you dared to admit it, to the songs on the radio while he drove you back to your place. He parked the car and walked around to the passenger side. He most definitely overcompensated his insanity with chivalry.

You got out of the car and sighed of relief. He was right, people were gullible and you were the best example of it. "Hey, Danny." You handed him his sweater. "Thank you."

"You can keep it. As a souvenir." You sure would remember this terrifying day and you did not need an expensive cashmere sweater to remind you of it.

The two of you walked until you reached the front door. "Can you promise me something?" Danny hooked a finger under your chin and made you look in his direction. "You can keep a secret, can you?"

You nodded.

"Good. You seem like a trustworthy person."

You smiled faintly.

"Got a beautiful smile too." This hint of praise was not manipulative, well not intentionally. "Listen. We're not cowboys. Well... I'm not. I'm not a cowboy. I do things right. Nobody else got hurt today, you know? You shouldn't have gotten hurt." Danny brushed his finger gently over the bruise. "But you gotta promise me to keep this between you and I."

He felt you tense up, a breath getting caught in your throat.

"You have to. I know you can. I told you how to cover it up." It referring to the black eye, to the context and reason behind it, to this day that was taken straight out of some of your worst nightmares. "This is a day just like any other day for you."

You opened your mouth to disagree. All you wanted was to take some money out of your bank account and go about your day. You did not even get to do any of that and you got a nasty bruise as a bonus.

"By keeping this a secret, you're saving a life." He nodded slowly with a grin on his thin lips. "Yours." His eyes darkened and his smile faded. "We're not cowboys," he repeated. "I only wanted the money and I got it." He shrugged it off like it was nothing. "You don't want to become collateral damage, do you?"

You hoped there would be no other day like today.

"And you won't." He swayed between threatening you one second and, on the next, he was reassuring you. "As long as you promise me." Danny's hands, that were resting on your shoulders, dragged down your arms.

He held your hands in his, it stopped you from shaking. What was it about this man that felt so soothing? You had heard him scream at his legion of bad guys. Yet, with you, he was rather calm and composed. Almost caring.

"We got a deal? Ah, fuck, wait." He rolled his eyes, faking to have forgotten something. His other hand disappeared behind his back and, for one second yet again, you regretted not having trusted your gut feeling. You stared at a stack of cash, fresh out of the bank that he robbed not that long ago, that he pulled out from under the back of his belt. "Now. Do we have a deal?" He presented his pinkie finger to you, waiting for you to seal this promise.

You glanced at the money, then at his face. You were met with eyes as blue as the sky behind him. You locked your finger with his and took the money with you. "Deal."

He started to walk away, turning his back at you. You were left with an immense promise to keep, enough money to take your mind off it for a while... And a cashmere sweater that smelled of his cologne. "Danny!" You called out his name.

He turned to face you, too quickly to have time to put on a fake smile. Danny started to second guess if this whole thing... If you were a good idea. But you cut him short.

"Will I see you around?"

The smile that started to spread from ear to ear was anything but fake. "Fuck yeah, you will. On TV. they'll be talking about it on the news. Impressive, huh? I never get tired of that shit." He took a deep breath, his chest swollen with pride. It took him a moment to register the intention behind your question. He arched his brow, amused. "Oh, you want more of this?" He gestured towards himself.

You agreed to meet again.

He told you he'd pick you up in this same car, so you knew what to expect. It was fine when Danny broke the rules. He could break all the rules he wanted. He was not a cowboy, but he sure was an outlaw.

#jake gyllenhaal #danny sharp #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #danny sharp imagine #danny sharp fanfic

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nsharks · 1 year

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a dark world (an ache to live) | simon "ghost" riley

summary: ghost fears death (because he has you). soap is there to make him a promise. tags: *ghost d words*, pregnant!reader/fem!reader, death, blood, gunshot wound, just angst a/n: this is very dramatic I'm sorry and it has nothing to do with my other fics. dad ghost is alive and well in those.

Ghost is quiet.

The Sergeant is not.

In middle-of-nowhere Russia, two souls trudge through the sleet. One leaning into the other. One talking to keep the other awake. With each step, their boots drag with more resistance. With each step, it becomes more of an impossible task for Soap to keep the weight of his comrade up.

Red footsteps follow.

Shimmering red. It catches the sunlight behind the clouds. It’s a crimson shade they are both all too familiar with.

Ghost, never one to accept help, now digs his gloved fingers into the Sergeant's shoulder for support. The heel of his other hand presses into the dressed wound at his torso, applying as much pressure as he can with his fading strength. Ghost’s deific strength— always a staple they could rely on, even at the worst of times.

But now—

His strength doesn’t seem to be quite enough. Not when the gauze has already been soaked through without mercy.

“Keep your eyes open, Lt.”

A grunt.

“Don’t think that’ll help.”

There’s something etched into the gravel of his voice that frightens Soap; a lilt of panic that he’s never heard from Ghost. Because Ghost doesn’t bloody panic, ever. Soap’s eyes flicker to the wound on his partner and he comes to a quick halt when he sees the growing stain on his uniform. He hisses a swear under his breath that pools smoke into the air.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Lt.”

Skeletal fingers pull back from the gore for inspection. They’re soaked and stained. Ghost is used to that— the red bones on his glove. Though, usually, it’s the blood of others.

“Gotta keep in every drop, ‘member?” Soap urges, and reaches over to press the wound for him. “Let me fix it up again. C’mon, hold yourself up for a sec.”

But Ghost only leans into a deeper slouch. The Sergeant stumbles from the immense weight of it.

“Would if I… could, Johnny.”

Soap doesn’t like that answer.

He keeps one hand on Ghost’s shoulder and abandons the wound with the other hand, only so he can dig through his med pack. Before he can grab the gauze, his Lieutenant is collapsing to the icy ground.

There’s nothing Soap can do to stop it.

“Alright, fuck,” the Sergeant hisses. He bends down. Ghost has slumped into a haphazard pile of muscled limbs and weighted tactical gear. “I’ll just take care of ya down here, Ghost. Stay with me, yeah?”

Frantic, urgent denial.

Soap drags the man’s legs out. Tries to get him more on his back so the wounded region is flat. He pushes up the bloodied shirt of Ghost’s uniform and swallows a lump in his throat when he sees the reality of it. So much blood— too much. He fumbles with the gauze but a lazy hand grabs his wrist.

“Don’t waste…” slurred breaths, “…my time with that, Johnny.”

“What do you—“

A tired scoff.

“M’dead weight. M’not… gettin’ back up.”

“We have to fuckin’ try.”

“Can’t… feel anything.”

“Jesus, think of Y/N. Think of your kid, Ghost,” Soap finally sputters out. He’s been trying his damned hardest not to think of you, nor the swell of your stomach that he noticed the last time he saw you. He worried he might fall apart if he did; he couldn't get them to help if he was broken.

“Tha’ is what… I want,” Ghost’s eyes dig shut. “To think of ‘em. So… don’t waste my time.”

A final order from his superior. One that travels through broken glass and shuddering ribs. The sunlight dips behind a grey cloud and they’re left together in this moment of gloom where time seems to slow down, two souls stuck in tar, and all Soap can do is obey his partner’s wishes.

Because he knows; they both know.

“Alright,” Soap mutters with a swallow of acceptance. He drops the roll of gauze. Moves a hand back to the bullet wound, presses it in vain, and nods his head. “Talk to me ‘bout them, Simon.”

Simon.

Ghost hears it. His real name.

A weak hand tugs off his mask. Underneath lays a face that his comrade has only seen once or twice before. Somehow, this face looks more like a ghost than the skull he'd ridden himself behind. A face with eyes that open in hollow, uncharacteristic fear. A face with pale lips that can move only enough to let out slurs.

"M'gonna have a son," Simon says quietly. Soap sees it now— the dribble of blood at his mouth. "She's... givin' me a son and I won't meet him."

"Jesus, Simon," Soap croaks. He reaches for his hand— holds it as a friend. A forlorn grip that Soap keeps close to his chest. "He's gonna be a good lad, alright?"

“I hope he... stays in school."

"Course, he’s gonna be smart.”

A weak smirk.

"Hope he gets... her looks. Not mine."

"I'm sure he will. She's beautiful, Lt."

"I know. Miss... her." His smirk fades. The notch in his throat trembles and bobs. Fear shakes out a whimper from him. "Wanna see her again, Johhny."

It seems only fitting, with his blood dripping onto the sleet, that the truth of him would drip out, too. A man rumored to be a beast lays here, whittled down to the version of himself only you ever got to see.

A version of himself that was afraid to die.

After years of aching for death's company, it has finally arrived. A reaper coming to collect him only after he'd changed his mind. For Simon ached for something else now: for you, for his family. He ached to come home and bury his face in your hair. He ached to touch his hands to your stomach and feel the fluttering kicks of life.

He ached to live.

And his comrade, with drying lips and salt in his eyes, could see this ache in each of his struggled breaths.

"Talk to me 'bout her, Simon," he begs, gripping his drenched shirt. "Somethin' good. Somethin' you love."

"Everythin'," his Lieutenant shudders. He doesn’t feel the pain or the cold. He just feels lingering adrenaline push out his throat in quiet spurts: “Her hair, her laugh... Fuckin'... hell. Love everythin'. Tell... her fo' me."

"I will."

"Tell her... Johnny. Don't want some," Simon softly wheezes and closes his eyes again. "...some random fuck doin' it."

"Fuck, I will," a wet promise. Soap wipes the salinity on his cheeks. "I'll tell her, Simon."

And soon a dark world begins to breathe into Simon's vision. He used to hang out in the darkness. Your light had gripped him by the shoulders and tugged him out. Now—

It finds him again. Old friends.

-----

A promise arrives at your door.

A solemn, dignified promise arrives with a folded flag, a sealed envelope, and a chain with two metal pendants: a dog tag and a ring. They clank together in his hand. And here, at the doorstep of his Lieutenant's home, a beautiful woman steps out with an unassuming smile and a hand rested atop the curve of her belly, and Soap doesn't even have the chance to say anything before your eyes gather the information you need, and the smile chips away into something horrific.

All you know how to do is scream.

And all Soap knows how to do is grab your hand, like he did for your husband.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost #call of duty #fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #angst #tw death #tw blood #fem!reader

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mono-dot-jpeg · 10 months

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child support - kafka & himeko

summary; you miss your parents but it's okay, you got new ones now.

genre/extra tags; fluff, found family, himeko & kafka give me divorced couple energy but in a good way, possibly ooc kafhime, almost mute! reader, kafka pays the child support, comfort vibes only, slight angst ig????

[gender neutral reader] [platonic] [7-8 yrs old! reader]

[warnings; implied child abandonment, describing hypothermia symptoms (in the first-ish half)]

word count; 1.1k

a/n; you know it took me a solid few moments and a google search to figure what kafhime was bc i forgot that shipping exists for a moment. i don't really engage in shipping especially when i know that some people,,, transfer over to games from the same company they like and those people can be... weird or in my face about shipping. but who am i to judge. also kaf and hime can be interpreted as just two rude besties or just platonic (/hj) this fic is more long winded than i expected. idk, it was a little bit difficult to figure out. but hope you enjoy!

cold. everything was so cold.

how have you even managed for so long? you thought you were a goner. the people who first found you almost thought you were a goner with how despondent you were stuck in the old rickety house you once lived in. you were so tired, so gone in your mind, you couldn't feel anything. you were lucky to live, that's what you heard from the doctors.

why did fate leave you like this?

"hello dear. are you feeling any better?" a gentle motherly voice rings in the warm room. the room was a bit warmer than the rest, maybe it was just for your sake or this was just a normal thing. you weren't sure. you lived out in belobog after all. a palace of ice and a hundred winters. but it's not like you remember much of what even got you out in the dangerous cold in the first place.

you feel a hand press against your forehead. "colder than winter itself. poor kid." the same voice speaks again. "perhaps she can help me out for this." the hand moves away from you, making a weak cry leave your lips. "sorry. sorry. i guess it isn't warm enough for you in here." she apologized. "perhaps pompom can find some more fluffy blankets."

you twist and turn as her open thought chatter starts to wake you up more. you turn to rest on your side and find an unfamiliar woman as you're in an unfamiliar room. you choke up in fear as you struggle to get up and keep yourself far away from her.

"dear, you're barely even recovered! don't move too quickly!" it's too late for her words and you can't even get that far away. your tiny body is heavy and you only manage to move not even 2 inches away. the red head doesn't make any move to startle you. "i know you must be scared. i'm here to help you." she lowers herself to face eye level with you. "do you remember anything?"

you don't say a word and stare.

"we don't have to talk about it. you don't need to say anything. just nod or shake your head, does that sound okay?" she smiles gently, hoping to appear as not as scary to you.

you hesitantly nod.

"thank you for answering. you must still be feeling cold, right?"

nod.

she grabbed a nearby blanket, "is it okay if i drape this over you? won't touch you or anything." she glances at you, making sure you either nod or shake your head.

you slowly nod, remembering how cold you are.

she doesn't make any fast movements, noting your flinchy behavior. she wraps the blanket around your shoulders gently but you still flinch when it touches you.

"now what's this about a little child?" you flinch at a new voice. another feminine voice that you find a bit more melodic than the warm tones of the other. then another lady enters. you inch towards the farthest corner of the bed.

"kafka, you're going to scare them."

"aw, don't be so mean." she pretends to sound hurt but her voice is teasing. "where did you find the kid?"

"in belobog. outside of the city. well, trailblazer, march and dan heng found them. they were stuck in the freezing snow." kafka's face grimaces at the thought of seeing you stuck in the snow helpless without anyone able to find you. "but anyways, you should head out, lest the others know about you being here so suddenly."

"i paid for the items you're giving to the little star, at least let me stay for a little while longer." himeko sighs before realizing.

"i forgot to introduce myself-" the red head looks over at you who is covered in blanket, attempting to hide yourself. "see, you did scare them!" she muttered to the other. "i'm sorry about her, dear. my name is himeko. this is kafka."

"sorry for scaring you, little one. i tend to do that." kafka hummed. "well, that aside, miss himeko over here and i, we want to take care of you. but we can't be doing that when you're stuck in your little cocoon." she gently chuckled. you slowly get out of the blankets, head peeking out to look up at the lady. "well, that's a start. have you eaten yet?" she asked.

you don't say anything but your belly grumbles.

"i know what would take care of that." himeko smiled. you hear the knocks at the door but no figure enters but you hear shuffling. "pompom got some food for you, himeko!" and you find yourself face to face with a cute living rabbit in a conductor's outfit. himeko gets up opening the door and grabbing the plate of food.

"thank you pompom." himeko hummed as she closes the door. kafka soon moves to sit by the bed. you still stay head peeked with the blankets as you stare at the plate of food and then himeko. himeko walked over. "this is for you, dear. you can stay on the bed if you want. me and kafka will be right back." the redhead places a hand on kafka's shoulder, slowly pushing her as they both leave into what you assume is a bathroom. once they do, you can hear them talking but you're too focused on eating to care about the conversation.

you finish eating and you're feeling much better than before but it doesn't stop you from keeping away from himeko and kafka. it makes them a little sad but they're so patient as they converse with you as if nothing's wrong.

you don't really answer or say anything really. you just nod or shake your head depending on what they ask you. and they seem satisfied with that.

"can you give us your name? unless you're still uncomfortable."

you tell them your name weakly.

"what a lovely name. now. i'm sorry that we have to get a little heavy but, have you always been living out of the city in your home?"

you give a small nod.

"what about your parents?" himeko speaks softly and carefully. she watches as your eyes water and you shake your head. "oh, sorry, sorry. let it out." she moves to sit by you in the bed. kafka sighs.

"of course we couldn't have known about that but would you like to stay with me and himeko? i know himeko wouldn't want to leave you in a state like this."

you think for a moment, well.. there's nowhere else to really go. you nodded. and you watch as two gentle smiles grow. you feel a bit calmer and you can feel some reassurance that you have a chance to continue your life.

#honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr kafka #kafka honkai star rail #kafka x reader #himeko x reader #hsr himeko #himeko honkai star rail #himeko hsr

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cafeinthemoon · 3 months

Text

Ruins - Part XXII

Chapter 22/?

Wordcount 4,1k

Title Part XXII

Fandom Shummatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14 . 15 . 16 . 17 . 18 . 19 . 20 . 21

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warnings: Mentions of nudity, undressing; non explicit sex

Tagging @holdyourwine @lilacshouko @shirayuki-ayumi @telvess @alecfromsaturn (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: I don't even know what to say after so long, except that I'm happy to finally come back and put this chapter out 😭🙏 I've been thinking of it for ages and questioning myself whether I'd be able to give these two a proper honeymoon or not, but this is an issue that haunts me every time I sit to write a honeymoon/intimate scene. The potion stuff was something I wanted to include back in the wedding chapter, but it's end up too long so I abandoned the idea. Now I had the chance to use it, and to try to bring some comedy vibes to soothe things a bit 😅

Anyways, hope you have fun! Missed you all 💜🥰

For you were too tired to stay awake after your brother-in-law left, you never saw the moment your husband came back to the private sections of your chambers, as much as when the rays of sunshine first entered the room. When you opened your eyes, the ceiling and the walls were already touched by the warm light, and the people in the tapestry over your head were as joyful as ever.

You tried to move the sheets from upon you and found out you could do it with no problems. You looked around and sensed the room was too quiet. You were also alone in the bed.

You frowned.

Where did he go?

You took a deep breath and, after some effort, you sat on the bed. You felt a strange, but complete relief with that gesture: your strength came back to you, there were no shivers spreading through your skin and no fear making your heart heavy. Was the transformation finished? You couldn’t believe it’d happen so fast, but maybe the hardest part of the process was over and you’d be able to carry on with your activities while it came to its end. Whatever the case, you were content to see you were yourself again.

You left the bed and headed to the bathroom. You closed the door, turned on the lights around the mirror to wash your face… and were static with what you saw there.

It was still you in the reflection, the same eyes, nose, lips and all, but at the same time it wasn’t. You saw a refreshed, cleaner version of you, with an inhuman glow in the lilac of your eyes and a flawless skin to cover each spot. Yes, you were sure it was still you, but more beautiful, more gracious, even without a layer of makeup and a disheveled hair to frame your expression.

So… this is how being a goddess feels like.

You smiled to yourself.

It’s not that bad.

You brushed your hair (which, understandably, took you more time than you were used) and finished your personal care session without taking your eyes off the mirror. You were a bit ashamed for being so vain, but after all the agonizing hours you had to endure to reach those looks, you couldn’t deny yourself such contentment.

You left the bathroom and searched for your robe. You found it on the same chair Hades left his own the night before. You dressed it and looked around, still finding his absence strange. It was when a soft, rhythmic sound reached your ears – his voice, brought by the breeze entering through the balcony, came to you in the form of a song, but you couldn’t recognize the words at first; you frowned and listened for a while, until you realized he was singing in Ancient Greek.

You smiled. You’ve already heard him sing before, but it was never that sweet. From what you’ve learned during his lessons, you were able to understand some verses, which, in the modern language, was something like this:

Under the red skies

Of the first day of Winter

I saw you

Your tiny feet running upon the ruins

Of the Temple of Love

Where after your touch

White flowers would grow

Would you mind

If I took you away with me?

Would you mind

If I hid you away?

As we built our secret place

Out of your flowers

And out of my song...

You followed his voice to the outside and found him sitting on the small table at the balcony, having a filled cup in front of him. He seemed relaxed, in peace with himself like you’ve never seen him before, especially when you remembered the events of the previous night, with his legs crossed and his eyes lost in the landscape.

You sighed at the scene.

Like a King who has his domains assured.

Change came when you took the first step toward him: the ecstatic glow in his eyes appeared and expanded as he turned to you, swallowing your whole form; he raised an unconscious hand and you accepted it, letting him take you to his lap.

You touched his cheek.

– Hi.

– Hi – Hades took your hand on his and led it to his lips – Young goddess.

A heat came up to your face when you heard that treatment. As much as it was flattering, you couldn’t shake the sensation that you were meeting him as if you were a different person now, and it still too soon to know if you enjoyed it. But you wouldn’t ruin the moment with sad deliberations, so you quickly redirected the conversation through sweeter paths.

– Were you singing about a young goddess as well?

– Yes – he curled a strand of your hair between his fingers – One that would touch the ruins of a dark world with her pretty feet, with the sweetness of a damsel and the courage of a warrior.

– And does she reach her fate with such sweetness and courage?

– Her fate, and much more – he approached and kissed your forehead.

You giggled and turned to the table, taking an empty cup and filling it with the same liquid as his cup, which consistence reminded you of milk, but with the color of caramel.

– What song was that? – you put the recipient of the caramel back on the table and grabbed your little cup – You never sang it before.

– It’s a love song in Ancient Greek. The author is unknown, but it was popular among travelers – Hades explained – It’s much longer than this, but this is my favorite part.

– We should learn the complete lyrics, then – you turned to him with tenderness – Then we will sing the whole song together.

– And we can do that during our travels.

– An excellent idea.

The rest of the breakfast went in silence, but after it you two went to the garden at the upper floor. You were were able to walk through it and that made you happy, still Hades didn’t let go of your arm until you decided to sit on a bench. There were some small trees around it, and you saw butterflies and birds sharing their branches peacefully; a couple of birds arrived, persecuting each other, then leaving as fast as they came, their wings making a rustling noise between the leaves, their little voices at their peak. You laughed at this, which reminded Hades of something.

– So how are your ears going? – he brushed your hair behind the left one – You’ve been complaining about the nature noises.

– They’re getting better. I mean, I don’t think I’d stand a lion’s roar right now, but the birds are completely bearable – you smiled.

– That’s good to hear.

You took some time to silently appreciate your surroundings as they displayed what would be a pleasing Spring morning in Midgard. You thought of this for a moment: the plants, the creatures and that whole environment were those of from Midgard, just everything you saw along your stay in the areas reserved to humans in those blessed lands – and all of them were designed by your husband. You felt your respect and admiration for him grow the same way it did when you took your first walk in the Gardens, when you ate pomegranates.

– You thought of all of this before we got married – you said suddenly; and, turning to him, – You thought of everything.

Hades replied with the same modest smile he gave you when you asked if he was there during the planting of the pomegranate tree.

– I wouldn’t say that. I’d say I’ve work with every necessary resource and with the best people I could find, so everything you’ve seen around would have the power of bringing smiles to the young humans’ faces – he raised his fingers to brush your hair – And, as a payment for all this work, yours will be forever on my sight.

Your smile widened at those words before you could notice. You were really content that, more than wishing to see your smile often, he was also creating reasons for you to show it: not so long after that conversation, he took you to take a walk through the depths of the garden, where exotic plants were hidden, and you spent the next hour talking about them and planning how to include your creations at the Greenhouse in the collection.

When you finally went back to the chambers’ interior, you decided you wanted to spend some time in bed, for your legs were a bit heavy. Meanwhile, Hades went to the kitchen to prepare tea. When he came back, you brought out a subject that has been on your mind for days: the travel to Hellheim.

– I’ve been worried about this for a while, but haven’t had the chance to speak until now – you said while accepting a cup of tea from his hands – Is it too long? Is it a difficult path, or an easy one? How does it look like?

He sat by your side with his own tea.

– It’s certainly a long way, especially for the ones who aren’t used to it – and, smiling at your widened eyes, – But I’m not saying this to discourage you, given that the travels between this realm and that one are far from tedious.

You turned on your side to hear more. Now you were completely interested.

– Really? And what kind of things we find through it?

Your husband started describing those strange lands as if narrating an epic story, going from dark skies, menacing rocks, abysses and terrifying natural phenomenons to powerful creatures, brave, minor deities occupied with their work and suspicious wanderers. You learned to love his ability of explaining concepts and depicting scenarios in a way that the images formed in your mind as vivid as if you were inside them; in that particular case, you also appreciated his power of calming your fears, assuring you that the travel was safe despite the things you were going to find.

After the tea, you told him you were sleepy, even though you’ve slept the entire night.

– I’m sorry for this, because I wanted to spend this day out with you – you told him, giving him back the cup – But I’m too tired, though I did nothing that justifies this tiredness.

– This isn’t but expected, little one – he replied before taking the cups to the kitchen – The transformation isn’t complete yet, and it takes an enormous amount of vital energy. You’ll still need some time to regain it, and an even longer period to manage it when your powers start manifesting.

– I see – you slowly laid down on your pillow, feeling both the sleep and the weight of your future responsibilities pulling you to it.

As if sensing your anxiety, Hades offered you some solace.

– But for now you don’t have to think too much about these things – he walked to the kitchen’s door – Th time to take care of them is yet to come.

You accepted those words and closed your eyes, letting the sleep take over your body, which didn’t take long that time.

***

You thought you were going to feel better the next day, and you weren’t entirely wrong in your expectations, but you in fact needed at least three or four days to feel able to walk, stand and do any other activity without a subsequent fatigue, neither the need of sleeping in the middle of the day. During that period, you were visited by Aesclepius twice, and he was content with your progress, something that made both you and Hades relieved: now, as he explained, your body’s tendency would be gathering energy instead of spending it, so that soon you would be as physically and mentally capable as any other god, and the travel to Hellheim wouldn’t be a problem.

On the other hand, Hades, having diligence as his second name, didn’t stay idle: while you recovered, he divided his time in taking care of you, solving small matters with his brother Zeus, checking on your family through Hermes, talking to Aesclepius about your condition and organizing your travel to the Underworld; he exchanged messages with Adamas at least once in a day, to make sure everything was alright in his domains. You, on your part, spent your time alternating between resting and being worried, despite his advice: at the same time you wanted to tell him to take some rest – after all, it was his honeymoon – you couldn’t do much to help him in this sense, neither in any other.

I’ve been increasing his burden since the beginning. He will deny it if I speak to him about it, but I know I’m not helping in anything; even my preoccupation might become an issue. I can’t wait for this to end.

That was why you received the first sign of a complete recovery with great contentment. You noticed it right after you left the bed that day and, taking a chance when your husband wasn’t in the chambers, you went to the arc where you kept your gifts from the ceremony. You’ve searched inside it with nervous hands and took a small bottle from it.

Your cheeks heated up at the sight of the object, its delicate shape involving a rosy potion which perfume was described as having “its own soul, so once it is used, it will always be recognizable by the ones who first sensed it”.

The gift of Aphrodite-sama. I’ve been so curious about its effects, but her explanations were so mysterious, and I was too ashamed to ask enough questions.

You still remembered how she took the chance to approach you while Hades wasn’t around. She passed by your side and stopped before you with such grace, yet so suddenly that you couldn’t help startling.

She giggled, enjoying your reaction.

– You were already a beauty, dear Y/n, but now – the goddess brushed your hair and cupped your face with tenderness – Now you’re the perfect being…

Aphrodite spent a moment in silence, just appreciating what she had in front of her. Then, as suddenly as her arrival, she moved her hands away and took a small object from inside her dress: a bottle that reminded you of the ones in which people sold expensive fragrances in Midgard, filled with some glistening fluid.

She put it in your hands and warned you to not let your husband see it before you had the opportunity to use it.

– Just one drop or two in the sheets, right before you lie down, must be enough – and, surrounding her mouth with her hands, as to whisper a secret – But it wouldn’t be bad if you used a few more.

You stared at the bottle, barely reaching the size of your palm, thinking of those words.

– Aphrodite-sama, I’m very thankful for your gift – you raised your eyes to her – But I’m a bit confused about it. Is it some sort of remedy, or blessing?

She observed you with a mixture of condescension and diversion.

– Most of the times, if used wisely, it will be a blessing, but in other times it will be a powerful remedy – she blinked her right eye.

It was when finally started to understand.

– Oh, this is a love potion, my Lady – you smiled, then frowned – But Hades and I… We’re already in love with each other…

The Goddess of Love laughed.

– I know, my dear. But the purpose of this potion is not making you fall in love… – and lowering her tone – But falling harder.

She approached you one last time and, with a kiss on your forehead, she left you with the potion and a lot of things to think about.

And now you were there, alone with her gift for the second time, and wondering if that was the moment to use it.

I’m torn between the fear of the effects and the curiosity about them.

After minutes of painful deliberation, you decided to open it and smell its perfume… which filled both your nostrils and your soul, drowning you in a wave of powerful sensations: your feelings, thoughts and memories about Hades were all stirred and turned into one, expanding until you had the urge to pour it out; your eyes were filled with tears, and your breath became difficult as your chest would go up and down in ache as you craved his presence. Even as a young goddess, you could tell that the substance held a terrific power.

Now I understand why she told me to use just a few drops.

You adjusted the sheets upon the bed and knelt over them, stretching for the potion to be poured in the center. You slowly turned the bottle to the side, in your best efforts to control your trembling hand, and observed as the first drop fell on the fabric, disappearing so fast that it was hard to tell it has ever been there. More drops followed it in other spots and over the pillows…

When the sudden crack of the room’s door opening made you scream and drop the bottle on the bed, turning the next drops into a whole puddle.

You sat on the sheets, hiding the bottle behind you as you had a confused Hades standing at the door, staring at you without understanding why his arrival got you so scared.

– Is there something wrong, little one? You look a bit nervous.

You were quick to deny it.

– No… No, of course not! I’m perfectly fine! – you shook your hands around yourself as to reaffirm what you were saying – It’s just the noise of these hinges! I can’t get used to it…

With your face on fire, you fell silent after that, praying that your husband would just accept the explanation and change the subject… but, unfortunately, your pairs weren’t willing to grant you this small wish: Hades closed the door behind him and approached the bed, suspicion filling each of his gestures. At the same time, the perfume made its presence stronger than never as the bottle’s whole content leaked to the sheets on your back, turning any attempt of keeping it a secret unnecessary.

– Y/n, what is it? – he looked around the bed – Are you spreading perfume on the sheets?

You shrugged.

– Ah… Sort of.

– What kind of perfume? – he raised an eyebrow – This one seems to possess some sort of spell. Is it one of your wedding gifts?

You shook your head in a positive gesture and slowly brought the bottle to your front, giving it to him with a shy hand.

Once his eyes laid on the object, Hades turned to you with a strange expression, one that you haven’t seen before, and about which you weren’t sure how to feel; your fingers gripped on the sheets: that was the first time you didn’t know what to expect from him.

But you didn’t need to wait too long to figure that out.

You observed as he held the bottle with an attentive gaze, a smile started forming on his lips: he already recognized the nature of the potion. However, it wasn’t shyness or shame that took over your feelings with the understanding: around him and around yourself, you sensed a quiet, yet steady change that grew as the smell spread through the room; you had the sensation that your sight turned a bit blurry, except for your husband’s figure, and that everything was somewhat covered with a rosy light that reminded you of the liquid’s shade. Maybe Hades was under the same impression, for he stood still, staring at you with a glimmer of hunger in his eyes that scared and interested you at the same time. The temperature seemed to elevate in the surroundings even though the balcony’s door was wide open, so you started taking off your robe and moving your hair away from you neck.

The first words said between you after this were his.

– So… Our friend Aphrodite has her own gift for us – he made this observation with a vague, low voice – So clever of her to handle it to you while I was away…

Without taking his eyes off you, he dropped the bottle on the carpet. You didn’t know if it was anger or diversion you sensed in his tone, so you rushed to justify yourself.

– I really wanted to tell you about it, but I couldn’t disobey her instructions – your voice sounded lower than you remembered it, but you kept going – It’s just that, now that I’m recovered… I wanted to do something special… – the air swirled and heated up around you; the left strap of your gown slipped to the side, but you didn’t mind adjusting it – I wanted to have a proper honeymoon…

And that was the instant that changed everything.

Once those words escaped your lips, the blurry wave of sensations poured out of you at last, reaching for your lover and tangling with his own feelings, pulling him ahead, straight to you: without wasting time, Hades got rid of his coat and shoes, throwing himself over the bed as if afraid that you would disappear if he lingered in his place. You were a bit scared by this new impulsivity, but you wouldn’t push him away: the heat that has been increasing since you first smelled the potion, pulsating all over your body, only calmed own when your husband wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his lap, your legs spreading and burying in the sheets on each side, his mouth reaching for yours as you helped him take off his blouse with your little hands.

You moved away for a moment to see the results of your work, and the vision left you marveled: yes, you’ve already seen him undressed once, when he stood with you during the worst point of your fever, but you barely gave his figure the attention it deserved; now, with your strength restored and your sight in perfect conditions, you wouldn’t make the same mistake: from his face, your hands slipped over his skin, across his neck and over his chest, your thumbs drawing circles around his nipples; you smiled when a sigh left his lips. You noticed the vine he had tattooed on his left arm, the same pattern of the one on his forehead.

He is perfect.

– You’re so beautiful… – you murmured to him, your fingers brushing over the tattoo – I’m so sorry for making you wait... I promise I’ll make up for it…

You felt his hands going to your hips and tightening around them, bringing you closer. Your gown slipped, exposing your thighs as your knees were buried on the soft mattress.

– I’ll make sure you will – his lips brushed and smiled over yours – But for you, the wait is always worthy…

You felt his hands caressing your thighs, slipping under your gown and pulling it up. Your heart skipped a bit: that was going to be the first time you’d expose yourself for your husband, so that everything had to be in place: you were now a goddess with a well-built, flawless body, but were you feeling that beautiful now? Were you good enough to appear before him with only your skin to cover you?

Heavens, I’ve been waiting for this for so long, but who would say it’d be so scary?

Still, you didn’t stop him, and when the gown was finally taken off, every inch of yourself under his sight, you remembered the conversation you had weeks ago, in that balcony beside the room, and the confidence in it soothed your nervousness, as much as his hands exploring your figure: his right thumb caressed your lower lip, going down to your chin and your neck, where you noticed his hand was able to surround most of it; both his hands went through your shoulders, your collarbones and, finally, your breasts, where he his thumbs caressed you the same way you did to him. A loud moan escaped your mouth before you could stop yourself, and you put your hand over it, your cheeks burning with shame: apparently, erasing one’s shyness wasn’t among the properties of Aphrodite’s potion; Hades laughed, enjoying your spontaneity, and moved your hand away from your lips, putting it around is neck.

– So shy, aren’t we? – and, letting it clear that he had the same conversation in mind as well, – Let’s take care of this together…

He then suffocated any word or moan that might’ve come out from your mouth with a deep kiss, pulling you tighter against himself as your hands tangled in his hair.

Outtake

Part XXIII

#snv x reader #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie hades #snv hades x reader #ror hades x reader #record of ragnarok hades #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader

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sailor-aviator · 8 months

Text

Fool's Fare: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol, Jake Seresin, suggestive language, fear of abandonment. I think that's it?

Word Count: 2.87k

A/N: Wasn't sure I was going to post again tonight, but here we are! Not sure I'm going to post a fic update tomorrow, but I might work on some drabbles and post some of the asks sitting in my inbox. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The cool, night breeze twisted its way through the door of the crowded pub as a group of patrons exited, offering the briefest relief to your clammy skin as you busied yourself behind the bar. Patrons crowded around the various tables, some laughing in the open while others crowded in the dark shadows of the corners. Your regulars were easy to spot, most of them fishermen. Their carefree attitudes set them apart from the strangers passing through who kept themselves closed off and guarded in an unfamiliar places.

“Y/n!” Called Tom, one of your regulars. He had been a good friend to your father, having known him from his early fishing days. Tom had done well for himself, having been able to put enough money away to buy his own ship - the Iceman. “How’s about another ale!”

“Coming, Captain!” you hollered over at him jovially, already moving to grab a fresh glass. You had always liked the old captain, and had considered him to be a part of your family growing up. When your parents had died, he had seen to it personally that you were taken care of and that Bradley was able to secure steady work on the various shipping vessels that docked on your shores. “Where’s Rooster?”

“Should be coming along soon, I suspect,” Tom smiled warmly. Bradley had been picking up different odd jobs as of late, his latest one being aboard the Iceman loading and unloading cargo. He had been dodging your questions about it as of late, and you had started to wonder if he was up to something.

“He’s going to work himself into an early grave,” you grumbled, sliding the glass of ale down to the captain who caught it easily. “He won’t even tell me what he’s doing all of these jobs for.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” mused Tom, lifting the glass up to his lips to take a swig. “He probably doesn’t want you to worry.”

“He’s worrying me by not saying anything,” you countered, leaning against the bar. At that moment, the pub door swung open, and an exhausted looking Bradley stumbled through. You rounded the bar to help him sit down as he staggered onto a stool. “Bradley, for heaven’s sake!”

“Think you can get me an ale, Guppy?” he asked, rubbing at the bags under his eyes. The tips of his ears and nose were seared pink from hours spent in the intense sun, and you frowned at him.

“What you need is sleep,” you countered, but Bradley shook his head, fixing you with tired, pleading eyes.

“Please?” he asked again, softer this time. You sighed, moving back behind the bar and pouring him a draft before sliding it over to him. He grabbed it, raising it up in a silent cheers before tossing his head back with a long swig.

“Easy, lad,” Tom frowned, watching the young man as he took another long pull from his glass. Bradley set his drink down, absentmindedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Another,” he told you, but you shook your head.

“No, absolutely not,” you scowled as the furrow between his eyes deepened. “You need to go home and rest, Bradley.”

“She’s right, lad,” Tom started, twisting in his seat to face the younger man. “You’ll work yourself into an early grave if you’re not careful.”

“I’m fine,” Bradley muttered, resting his head against the palm of his hand. Tom gave him a wry smile before clapping his hand on the other man’s shoulder. He shot you a wink before getting up to join his crew that was gathered on the opposite side of the room. You watched him go before turning back to look at Bradley with a frown.

“C’mon, Roos,” you prodded, leaning your head down so you could meet his gaze that was fixed on the bartop. “Tell me what you’re up to.”

“Nothin’” he grumbled unconvincingly. You rolled your eyes with a purse of your lips.

“I’m having a hard time believing you,” you sniped, snatching the glass away from him. Without another word to him, you poured another ale and offered it to him. He took it, offering a small smile. He met your even gaze just long enough for you to see the flash of guilt that flitted in his eyes. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked, taking a small sip from his glass.

“Why do you look guilty?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you hissed, eyes blazing, “I have known you for twenty years now. Either you tell me what you’re up to right now, or I will personally see to it that you won’t be able to get another job for a month.”

“Alright,” he winced, setting the glass down and finally meeting your stare. “You have to promise me you won’t yell.”

You scoffed. “Are you twelve?”

“Guppy, promise me,” he insisted, hazel eyes pleading with you. You studied him another moment before sighing.

“Alright, fine.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re what?” you shrieked, causing some of the patrons to turn to the two of you as Bradley hissed at you to be quiet.

“You promised you wouldn’t be mad.”

“That was before you told me you were leaving,” you snapped. “Where are you even going to go?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted, leaning back. “Still need to find a crew that will take me on long-term.”

You stayed silent, watching him with furious eyes. After a couple of beats, you turned to walk back around the bar. “Caroline, I’m leaving.”

She waved after you, moving to tend to some patrons on the opposite end of the bar. Bradley watched you walk away with wide eyes before getting up to stumble after you. You flung the door of the pub open before setting off with a brisk pace down the road.

“Guppy!”

You ignored the man behind you, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

“Guppy?”

The tears began to fall, the trails they left behind on your cheeks turning to ice in the cool, night air. You turned to walk down to the beach past the docks. How could he drop that bomb shell on you? How could he keep that hidden from you in the first place? Your anger only served to cover up the true emotion you tried your hardest to ignore. Betrayal.

“Y/n, please,” Bradley begged, his long legs having helped him catch up to you by now. You stopped in your tracks, feet sliding into the sand beneath you as you whirled around. You shoved Bradley with all of your strength, shock at the unexpected movement being the only reason stumbled back at all.

“How could you?” you cried, tears falling quicker and your breath coming out shallower as you fought to keep your composure. “How could you just plan to leave me?”

“It’s not like that,” he started, but you shook your head.

“Don’t lie to me, Bradley,” you seethed, hands now clenched at your sides. “Don’t. I deserve the truth. Were you even going to say goodbye to me, or were you just going to vanish one day?”

“Of course not,” he murmured, staring at you with eyes once again pleading with you. “I would never do that to you. You know that.”

“I thought I knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t leave,” you shot back, causing Bradley to wince. “Guess I don’t know as much as I thought I did.”

“Y/n,” he sighed, running a hand over his face and looking out at the ocean. He seemed to be mulling over his words. “It wouldn’t be forever.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” you laughed humorlessly.

“It wouldn’t be forever,” he continued, giving you a pointed look. “It would only be until I earned enough to buy my own ship.”

“You can do that here,” you argued, but Bradley shook his head with a small, empty laugh.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’ve barely earned enough these past weeks to live off of for a month out at sea. I’d be buried in the ground before I earned enough to buy a ship, and you know that.”

You couldn’t argue. You knew he was right, and you knew that this was not the life he had dreamed of. He had dreamed of going off with your father on one of his many voyages before the sea had claimed him. It had been years, but the pain of his and your mother’s passing still felt fresh in your heart.

You saw how Bradley looked longingly out at the sea when he thought you weren’t looking, or how he always looked happiest standing on the deck of a boat. No, Bradley was meant for a life at sea, and you knew it. You just never thought he would leave you behind.

“It won’t be forever,” he says again, moving to put his hands on your shoulders, bending down so he was eye level with you. “And when I earn enough money to buy my own ship, I’ll come back for you.”

“That could be years,” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper. Bradley sucks in a breath before slowly nodding.

“You’re right,” he conceded, wiping the tears from your cheek.

“What if you forget about me?”

Bradley huffed out a laugh before drawing you into his arms. He hugged you tightly, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “How could I forget my baby sister? Besides, I think you’d swim across the ocean to find me if I ever forgot about you.”

You huffed a laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re probably right.”

“‘Course I am,” he chuckled, pulling away from you. “Now, c’mon. It’s freezin’ out here, and I’m exhausted.”

You allowed him to lead you up the hill to your shared home. He left a chaste kiss to the top of your head before wishing you goodnight. As you lay in bed that night, you obsessed over the one question you had refused to allow yourself to ask him down at the beach. What if the sea claimed him too?

The following night, you found yourself back behind the bar of the pub. You had heard snippets of chatter amongst the locals about an unknown ship that had docked on your shores.

“I don’t like the look of’em,” Tom had told you and Bradley as he sat at the bar. A lull in the crowd had granted you a moment to stop and talk with the two of them.

“Why’s that?” you asked. He frowned.

“When you get to be my age,” he grumbled, “you can start to pick out the rotten sorts from just a glance.”

Before you could respond, the pub door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud. All three of you turned to see a large group step through the doorway and into the warm glow of the lantern filled room. A blond man stood at the front of the group, lips curled into a confident smirk. You noted the handsome features of him and his companions, and you knew the other women in the room had as well due to the scattered giggles from around the room.

“That’s them,” Tom mumbled, taking another sip of his ale.

The blond scanned his eyes across the room before catching sight of you at the bar. A twinkle of intrigue shone in his eyes as he began to saunter over to you, his crew dispersing to find a table to sit at. You shot a weary glance at Tom before moving to meet the tall stranger on the opposite side of where Bradley sat.

“Evenin’” you greeted with a polite smile. “What can I get you?”

The man looked you over with lick of his lips. “An ale, and your company if you’re offerin’ that too.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm. It wasn’t the first time a patron had made a pass at you, but it was the first time a patron was that devilishly handsome. “The ale, I can get you, but I’m not in the habit of entertaining sailors.”

“Shame,” the stranger grins, watching as you pour his drink. You hand it to him, and you feel a shiver run up your spine as his fingers graze yours. “Would have been nice to have someone as pretty as you in my bed tonight.”

You saw Bradley’s jaw tick from the corner of your eye, and you shot him a warning glance. This part of your job wasn’t new, and you had long since learned how to handle yourself in these situations.

“I believe there are more than a couple of girls over there who would be willing to warm your bed tonight, Mr…?”

“Seresin,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Jake Seresin. And I’m not interested in having anyone but you, pretty girl.”

“Well, then it looks like your bed will go cold tonight after all,” you said to him. Bradley snorted, trying to cover it with a cough, but Jake ignored him.

“Seresin,” Tom grunted, causing all three of you to look at him. He shook his head, and turned to glare at Jake. “I’ve heard of you. You’re a pirate.”

The conversation died in the pub as everyone turned to look at your little group by the bar. Jake’s easy grin never faltered as he stared back at Tom.

“Pirate is such a nasty word,” he drawled, taking a sip of his ale. “I prefer the term…liberator.”

“Whatever you call it, you have no business here,” Tom snapped.

“I beg to differ, my friend,” Jake countered, moving to stand. Turning to the rest of the room, he stated, “I’m looking for men to join my crew. You keep what you can carry with you. If you’re interested, come see me.”

And with one final glance at you, he sauntered off towards the back of the room where his crew had taken up purchase.

“Pirates?” you asked, looking at Tom hesitantly. He shook his head and got up to go join his own crew in the corner. You peered at Bradley from the corner of your eye. He studied the rim of his glass as he stroked it thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him. He jumped as your words pulled him from his train of thought.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, refusing to meet your gaze. You studied him him for a moment until you saw the quick glance he threw towards the back of the room.

“No,” you snapped, causing him to finally meet your gaze. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” he scowled, but you fixed him with a glare and a finger pointed into his chest.

“Don’t even think about it,” you hissed in warning. Bradley glared right back at you before hopping off his stool and strutting towards the crew at the back. You scrambled around the bar after him. You closed the distance just as he stopped in front of Jake.

“I want to join your crew,” he stated. Jake looked at him with an amused look, eyes flickering to you as you pulled on Bradley’s arm so that he faced you.

“Bradley, don’t,” you begged.

“Y/n, enough,” he snapped down at you, taking you aback. His eyes softened as you looked up at his broad frame with hurt bewilderment. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his sandy brown locks. He looked back at you before continuing. “Don’t you see, Guppy? This is my chance. If I don’t go now, who knows when I’ll get another opportunity to leave and make my fortune.”

“Roo, you’re my brother. I can’t let you do this,” you pleaded, taking his hand in yours. You willed him to listen to you, but it was no use.

“I’ve made my decision, Guppy,” he said. You couldn’t stop the flash of hurt you knew passed over your face as Bradley turned back to the captain. You looked around at the other patrons desperately before settling your eyes on Tom. He was already looking at you with a solemn expression, shaking his head.

“Sign here,” Jake instructed, pointing to the piece of parchment he had rolled out onto the table. Bradley obeyed, scratching his name in quick strokes to the bottom. You felt the tears start to run down your face before you could stop them. You couldn’t stop anything, it seemed. Bradley straightened and turned to look at you. The two of you stared at one another for several moments before you turned on your heel and stormed away from him.

That night, as you lay in bed, you dreamed of the sea. You dreamed of blue and green swirling around you as you struggled to breath. You dreamed of splintering wood and echoed shrieks that were drowned out by thundering waves. You dreamed of strange creatures that lurked the deep as they waited for their next meal. You dreamed of golden hair and cocky smirks as they taunted you beneath the waves. You dreamt of a cold, calloused hand that pulled you under until the surface was nothing but a distant memory.

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #hangman top gun #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin imagine #hangman imagine #hangman #hangman x you #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #fool's fare

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bossbtch1 · 6 months

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HI! I just wanna say I lovee ur stories, but I was wondering if you could do a Loki x reader shadow play smut, with content.

I loved the other one u did... but I'm a sucker for smut 😭😌

Hey there! So, in the previous story, there's smut involved (dark story). But maybe the shadow play in the last scene isn't cutting it. No worries, here's another scenario for you! Thanks for the request, it's been a blast to write. It's weirdly amusing, I don't know why, but I hope you enjoy it! 😄

Summary : Loki sought revenge after you left him in prison, tormenting you with shadows and magic. Strangely, you found yourself caught between arousal and fear, oblivious to the fact that it was him all along.

Pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

General tags : SMUT, 18+, Dark Fic

Trigger Warnings: Masturbating, Fingering, Dubious Consent, Magic

Words : 3.2k (shortest fic I've ever written lol)

A/N : Well, that shadow scene had us all on a chokehold, and, of course, I couldn't resist writing another one for it. Thank you @holabicth for the request once again!

The door closed behind Loki with a quiet thud. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Loki said, stepping towards the cell that was holding you. "A little mortal, lost in a big, bad world."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, not bothering to move from where you were sitting, cross-legged, against the wall. "You're one to talk." You retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "Considering you're in the exact same predicament."

"Am I now?" Loki asked, raising his own eyebrow in response. He took another step closer to your cell, looking down at you. You were still sitting there, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. "Because it seems to me, that if I wanted to, I could easily just-" Loki paused as he suddenly appeared inside of your cell, standing in front of you. "Leave."

You rolled your eyes again. "Yeah, yeah. Big deal. You can teleport. Congrats." You muttered, moving to stand up.

Loki put his foot out and kicked your shoulder, forcing you to stay sitting on the floor. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" Loki asked, bending over slightly to look at you.

You turned your head to the side to glare up at him, and then brought your fist forward to hit him right in the groin. Loki gasped, taking a step back, and then groaned in pain, leaning forward slightly. You were surprised he didn’t see that coming or it was really him instead of some kind of projection.

"Yeah, I said you're a fucking dickhead." You snapped, using the wall to help you stand. Loki groaned in response, still doubled over in pain. You walked around him and stepped out of the cell, turning around to face him. "Have fun rotting away in there." You smirked, waving at him as the cell's walls started to close in around him.

Loki's head shot up as the walls moved closer. "No! Wait!" He shouted, but it was too late. The walls closed in on him, making him press up against the glass.

You sighed and shook your head, turning around to head for the elevator. "Y/N!" Loki shouted, his voice slightly muffled by the cell walls. "You can't leave me like this!"

"And why not?" You asked, not even bothering to turn around. You reached the elevator and stepped inside, pushing the button for the lobby.

"Because, if you leave me here, I'll die!" Loki shouted, his hands and face pressing against the glass.

"And why should that concern me?" You asked, pausing the doors from closing.

Loki groaned and banged on the glass, "You will pay for this!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "Bye! Have fun rotting away, dickhead!" With an almost nonchalant wave, you watched as the elevator doors slowly closed, leaving him alone in the dimly lit cell.

The dull hum of the descending elevator mingled with Loki's muffled protests, creating a haunting symphony of abandonment as you left him behind.

You were heading towards the door, ready to get out of this place, when you stopped. 'Should I really just leave him here?' You thought to yourself, sighing as you turned around. 'Oh, fuck it. Might as well make the most of this.'

Years after what happened you managed to escape from that prison, you were a free woman and no one could hold you back, even though they were trying. You had your freedom, and no one could take it away. You moved to a new country, changed your identity to make you unrecognizable and it worked. No one had recognized you.

Life was good, and started your life anew, forgetting all about your past. You were finally happy, and everything was going great.

But it felt surreal, you still could feel his hands on your body. You were starting to panic, wondering what was happening, you couldn't understand it. You didn't drink tonight, and you were sure you were sober when you went to bed, so this didn't make any sense.

One night when you were sleeping, you were dreaming of making out with a guy, his face was blurry so you didn't know who it was. His hands were touching all the right places, and you were getting into the moment, his lips felt amazing against yours. But then he was kissing your neck and you realized you could feel everything, the warmth of his tongue, the roughness of his stubble, the tickle of his breath.

His hand moved lower to your collarbone and down to your breast, and you were enjoying it. The guy seemed to know what he was doing, when suddenly, he squeezed a little harder, causing you to moan in surprise. It felt so real, that you were starting to think that you weren't dreaming, and that someone was in your room, touching you.

"Do you like that, Y/N?" The guy whispered and bit your earlobe making you shiver.

That made your eyes shot open and you sat up in shock. Looking around, you saw no one there. Your room was pitch black, except for a small ray of light coming from under the door. You must have been dreaming. But it felt so real. "Did I dream it or someone is really here?" You wondered, but couldn't find anything.

You looked down and saw that you were sweating and you could see your hardened nipples poking through your tank top. You saw your tank top was ridden up just like the guy did in your dream.

You pulled your shirt back down, and laid down again. The whole time you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was touching you. It felt surreal, you still could feel his hands on your body. You were starting to panic, wondering what was happening, you couldn't understand it. You didn't drink tonight, and you were sure you were sober when you went to bed, so this didn't make any sense.

Even though, you were panicking, your mind drifted to the man in your dream. How he knew your name, and how hot he sounded. You didn't understand how a dream could be so vivid and detailed.

You were getting turned on, the feeling of his lips on yours, and the way his hands were on your body. You didn't even know who this guy was, and you were already starting to masturbate. you felt embarrassed thinking about what you were dreaming about, and how wet you were. You didn't even know what time it was, but you felt like you needed to take care of yourself before you went back to sleep.

You started to slide your hands up and down your body, the feeling of his lips and stubble still lingering on your neck. You were so wet, the only thing that could satisfy right now was your fingers.

"Mmmm..." You moaned, as you imagined his face looking down at you, while his hands were touching you.

You were close to an orgasm, and you felt like you were going crazy. The pleasure felt unreal.

"Ohhhh... fuck," You whispered as you came.

You laid there for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath. You felt exhausted, but you couldn’t go back to sleep. You felt weird and confused, wondering what the hell was wrong with you. You shrugged it off, maybe it was nothing, and just got up from the bed, ready to start the day.

You didn't realize that this was only the beginning of the things that will happen, and that everything was only getting started.

"What a fucking asshole!" You grumbled angrily, kicking a trashcan, which sent the garbage flying. It didn't help that a group of kids were watching you and laughing at your anger.

"What did the trashcan ever do to you?" One kid asked, his friends giggling in the background. You turned your glare towards them, and the kids stopped laughing. They slowly backed away and ran off, not wanting to face your wrath.

You sighed and shook your head, turning back to the sidewalk. You were supposed to be at work, but you were late and had a pretty good excuse, a.k.a. the fact that some asshole had decided to break into your house and steal your car.

"Stupid car. Stupid, fucking asshole." You muttered, continuing to walk down the street. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." You groaned and shook your head, running your hands through your hair.

You stopped and looked at the building across the street. 'Maybe I can call someone to pick me up? Like my parents?' You thought to yourself, shaking your head and laughing. "They probably won't answer anyway. Because I’m dead to them.’ You muttered, sighing as you crossed the street, heading for the building.

At work, you were still mad about your car being stolen, and were wondering how long it would take for the police to notice and return it to you. You couldn’t focus on your job. "Y/N, get back to work!" Mr. D's stern voice cut through your thoughts, and you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the cereal box in your hands. Sighing heavily, you nodded in acknowledgment.

"Sorry, Mr. D. Won't happen again," you mumbled, mustering a forced smile.

It had been couple of days since your car got stolen and you hadn’t received any information from the police, making you taking the bus from getting and going off from work. You were always late because of the traffic and your boss wasn't happy that you were late, and even threatened to fire you if you were late again. It wasn't your fault though, but no one would listen. You were pissed off and wanted to punch someone.

Days had passed since the incident, and the absence of any information from the police gnawed at your patience. Forced to rely on buses to commute, you found yourself consistently late due to the unpredictability of traffic. Your boss, oblivious to your tardiness, had threatened to fire you if you were late again.

It wasn't your fault, you were a victim of circumstances beyond your control. The injustice of it all made your blood boil, and the temptation to vent your frustration physically lingered at the edges of your consciousness. Yet, you held back, knowing that punching someone wouldn't solve anything.

As you continued stacking cans on the shelves, the rhythm of your movements betrayed the underlying tension. Each clink of metal against metal mirrored the ticking clock, a constant reminder of the stolen moments and the stolen car that dangled over your daily existence.

Suddenly, you slammed a can onto the shelf, drawing the attention of everyone around. Some flinched, eyes turning towards you. "Sorry, sorry. Just having a rough day. No need to look at me like that." you apologized, and the customers resumed their activities.

Your daily routine had become a struggle since the loss of your car. Apologies became a routine, just like the late hours you now kept. Affording a new vehicle was out of the question. The bus stop was distant from your apartment, pushing you to discover a shortcut through a creepy alley a couple of days ago. You didn't trust the alley, but you had no choice, you a quicker route home.

So, there you were, standing outside the alley, contemplating if it was a good idea or not. It was scary and dark, and you didn't know what was in there. You gulped and stepped into the alley, deciding to just suck it up and go through. You didn't want to walk all the way to your apartment building, and this was faster.

"Fuck it" you muttered to yourself, you prepared taser gun and pepper spray, and slowly walked into the alley. You were tense, and felt your heart beat faster, but you told yourself that everything would be alright. The alley wasn't very long, so you were relieved, but that feeling quickly left when you heard a sound behind you.

Turning around, you saw only homeless people, nothing out of the ordinary. "Probably just rats or something," you thought, attempting to calm your nerves. The rest of the walk remained uneventful. As you exited the alley, you sighed in relief, continuing your journey towards the apartment building.

You walked through that alley a couple more times since that day, and nothing unusual ever happened, but today, you felt as if someone was watching you, so you decided to look behind you.

But no one was in sight, not even the homeless people. You found it a bit odd but decided to ignore it and focusing on getting home. "Probably imagining it, it's nothing." You muttered to yourself, as you kept walking faster. You clenched your taser gun tightly, ready to use it in case something did happen.

You heard footsteps approaching but when you turned around there was no one. You froze, your breath caught in your throat. You clenched your taser gun, the only weapon you had with you, and quickened your pace.

You heard it again, it sounded closer, but still far away. You slowly turned around, trying to keep calm, but you couldn't. The noise started again, this time closer, and louder. You spun around, holding the gun up and ready to fire. But no one was there.

Suddenly you were being pulled back and slammed into the wall behind you, and then you were being choked. Your eyes widened as you struggled against the grip, your hands pulling at the hand around your neck.

Your hands were suddenly being stretched apart, the gun falling out of your grip and clattering to the ground. Your legs flailed, your lungs desperate for air, but the hand stayed firm. No one was there, you didn't know what was happening. You were scared, no one was there, you didn’t know who or what attacked you.

Your vision started to fade, and everything was starting to get darker and darker. Right before everything faded away, the grip on your throat was released. You were coughing and gasping for air. You were still bound against the wall, not knowing what was going on. You looked around, and saw no one, no one except shadows on the wall.

"Who are you?" You asked, your voice hoarse from the lack of air. There was no response, and you felt like someone was there, but you didn't see anyone. "This isn't funny!" You spoke to whoever or something. You didn't believe in ghost, never did. You didn't think you were going crazy. You just assumed it was just your mind playing tricks on you, making you hallucinate.

"Show yourself!" You growled, trying to act tough. Still no response. "Fuck off. Leave me alone!" You grumbled, and kicked the wall behind you, but your legs hit nothing. Your brows furrowed, and you were confused. But you could feel something restraining you, and it was solid. You tried moving again, but the invisible force held you tightly.

As realization dawned, you discerned the silhouette of a shadow adorned with menacing horns that clung to you. "What the fuck!" you exclaimed.

"To make you mine." A deep voice spoke, echoing throughout the alley. You felt shivers down your spine, and fear creeped its way inside of you. You didn't understand what was happening. Your breathing was ragged, and you felt yourself become panicked.

Then you felt something caressing your legs as if a hand was slowly travelling up the length of them. You tried to struggle but the bounds held you tight, you were completely powerless. Your breath hitched when you felt fingers brush against the skin between your thighs and up.

Your legs were being forced open, "Ah! What are you doing!?" You shouted, not knowing what was happening as a finger slowly rubbed against your pussy.

"Stop!" You shouted, still struggling against the binds. But the thing didn't listen and was suddenly rubbed your clit, your hips involuntarily jerked at the sensation, and a small moan escaped your mouth.

"W-What is happening?" You whimpered, the fear mixed with pleasure was overwhelming. Your head fell back against the wall and a louder moan left your lips, you wanted to stop it, but you couldn't, and it felt too good.

You tried to focus on anything but the sensations, and you heard someone whisper something, but you couldn't understand what was being said. You tried to listen, but it was useless. The hand between your legs slipped into your panties and started to rub at your folds. The pleasure was too intense, and you cried out, your whole body trembling.

"Fuck." You breathed, and tried to control your breathing, but it was hard. Your whole body was shaking, and your mind was blank. You couldn't believe you were getting turned on by being assaulted by an unknown entity, but you were. "No! Stop it!" You struggled, the thing didn't stop.

You felt the shadow enter you as if a finger inserted itself into you, "Ah!" You moaned, you could feel the finger moving inside you, thrusting in and out of you. "N-no, stop."

The finger kept going in and out of you, then another joined it, making you moan and gasp. Your moans filled the empty alley, the sound of your moans echoed off the walls, but the pleasure you were feeling was great.

Then the fingers were removed, and then a hand was wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. You gasped and tried to pull the hand away, but the hand was unmovable. The finger kept going in and out of you, then another joined it, making you moan and gasp.

Fuck, why did a shadow could make you feel so good? The fingers kept moving in and out of you and a third joined, stretching you further. You were feeling too good, too aroused. You didn't even try to get away from it anymore. You couldn't believe you were turned on by a ghost or whatever this shadow-like creature.

"Yes! Yes! Ah!" You moaned. Your body felt hot, really hot. Your heart was racing, pounding against your chest, it was a good thing that no one could see you like this, getting fingered by a ghost.

You moaned again as the fingers thrusting in and out of you increased in speed, they were going fast. You wanted to scream, shout, moan, but you were only able to do one of them. "Yes! Ah! YES!" You screamed as your climax neared, "F-faster! Fuck me faster! Make me come!"

The fingers kept moving in and out of your dripping entrance and they increased their pace, fucking you faster and faster, your screams were louder.

"Yes! I'm cumming!" You screamed and arched your back as your orgasm hit, your juices ran down to your thighs, the fingers slowed down, letting you ride out your orgasm.

Then the fingers were gone, the sensation disappeared. The shadow finally released its grip, and you collapsed to the ground. You were left there, breathing hard, and confused. “What the fuck was that?” You talked to yourself.

While still trying to make sense of what just happened, you noticed two feet in front of you. Looking up, your eyes met Loki's. Suddenly, he seized your hair, compelling you to stand. "You!" you hissed, but he remained silent, his grip tightening.

A smirk played on his lips, and his eyes glowed with an unsettling green hue. Frustration and anger welled up within you as you attempted to retaliate, yet his hand held you firmly. "All this time, it was you, wasn't it? You were the one who assaulted me while I was sleeping, weren’t you?" you spat, your glare fixed on him.

He offered no response, only a sinister smirk, and then everything went black.

#loki laufesyon x reader #loki x reader smut #loki x reader fic #loki x y/n #loki x you #marvel fic #shadow play #loki season 2

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merbear25 · 30 days

Note

Love your writing!!

Can I request Doflamingo for prompt 19 : "Rules are made to be broken." For a F!reader and NSFW is fine for me if you feel like it (I love NSFW but whatever you'll want will be fine!)

Thank you for sharing your work with us!

Hello, hello! Thank you for your kind words, lovely! I had a lot of fun writing this for you, so I hope you enjoy it 💜💜

A taste of what you've been missing

CW: NSFW!!!! MDNI!!! fem!reader, slightly rough sex, public sex, vaginal penetration, cream pie

Forming alliances had never been your style; they eventually crumbled from your "partners" getting too arrogant and making a sad attempt at stabbing you in the back. With that being said, the Strawhats earned your trust and you theirs. You'd been tagging along with them for a few months and over that time developed mutual respect. There were, however, significant differences that they'd yet to discover.

Despite your loyalty, your moral compass was in need of some fine tuning: drawn in by promises that were seldom kept being the most common to spin the needle. Was it the mystery of what they had in mind that seemed to do the trick? You couldn't quite pinpoint the reason.

Seeing hell freeze over in Punk Hazard together, it was a given that you'd work with them to free Dressrosa from the iron grip of the tyrannical King. However, even with discussing the groups and the overall plan, the overlap in ideas made the whole thing convoluded: the spats between Law and Luffy only continued, leaving threads of ideas unwoven.

Even if a plan had been agreed upon, you'd been with them long enough to realize that relying on such was all too wishful. With that in mind, getting separated from them was inevitable. No matter―you were well aware of the end game, so there was no use in worrying. There was a clear vision to accomplish, and you were eager to make it a reality.

Going off on your own was its own challenge―a true test to your agility, your keen eye, and power that you yielded. However, such excitement for what was to come gave you tunnel vision, which subjected you to negligence. Hurtling towards the palace, being under a watchful eye flew under the radar.

Upon finding a sure way to sneak in, you were abruptly cut off by a large figure plummeting inches infront of you. The crazed mass of pink feathers swayed as a guttural laugh seeped from under it. You backed away to distance yourself between whatever had just crashed landed infront of you. The staggering motions ignited a spark of fear in you, as you came face-to-face with the King of this ill-fated country himself―Doflamingo.

Refusing to die like a coward, you were well-equiped with a warrior spirit. Chuckling at your brave face, he made his observations known, "You don't quite fit in with the Strawhats, do you?"

Taken aback by this, you immediately denied it and add a spiteful, "And what would you know?"

"It's written all over your face," he took a step closer, "it's screamed through your movements." With him gaining ground on you, you made a meek attempt at keeping him away.

Your true desires being apparent in you eyes, you realized you had to justify why you were still hanging around the Strawhats. But, nothing came out. It was as if your soul was being torn between following the safe path and taking the one less known.

He sensed your heart swaying towards the former, and being the opportunist that he was, he wasn't going to allow you to slip through his fingers. Leaning in, he informed you, "Rules are made to be broken. Follow me and I'll show you a world beyond your wildest dreams."

The slick, venomous words coiled around your heart before sinking their fangs in, when it dawned on you―perhaps this was the thing to quench your thirst.

The needle on your, now abandoned, compass spun uncontrollably as you took him up on his offer. "Show me what I'm missing," you say in a hushed voice.

A devilish grin crept on his expression, as he took you by the hand and pulled you close to him, "Of course, my dear." With his fingers gathering the fabric at the bottom of your dress, they clenched into a fist, sending butterflies which could be felt fluttering throughout your person.

Slightly fearing the man who was branded a devil, you couldn't ignore the fire building within you: a dangerous move such as giving into his lust, wouldn't be for the faint-hearted. And you were feeling especially daring today.

The sultry flutter of your lashes was the only lead he needed. Yanking you further into cool opening of the underpass, he shoved your front against the stone wall, leaving a chilled touch to your cleavage.

You felt him pressing himself against you, his breath hot on your ear, "Then let me give you a taste."

Feeling his long tongue trail up the side of your face sent shivers down your spine. Your fingers made a desperate attempt at clinging to the stone as you felt his hands glide under your delicates and promptly tug them down.

Your body tensed as soon as you felt him tease the tip of his cock against your pursed lips. Not even bothering to wait till you relaxed, he pushed in, greedily claiming as much of you as he could. Unable to contain the pained moans, they echoed around you.

Smirking down at you, he was generous enough to allow your body to adjust to his girth, but as his hunger for you increased so did his speed. Quickening his pace, each assult to your g-spot further sent you into a downward spiral of insanity.

Having you unravel on him was one of the greatest pleasures that day had to offer. The delectable sounds of your wet folds slapping aginst his pelvis were too perfect of an opportunity to pass up spanking your ass. Those mewls and yelps seeping out of your lovely mouth were hitting all the right spots.

As your walls clenched around his length in preperation of your approaching climax, his appetite had been satiated enough to give into tempation in unison. With one final buck and growl, you were roughly forced against the unforgiving cold, branding you with a scratch against your chin.

Trembling from the lingering trauma biting at your lower half, the dribble of his lust trickled between your thighs. The flush on your face was prominent while you shakily fastened your panties back around your hips. The reality of what you'd just done was setting in and the dread of not being able to take it back was casting itself over you.

When you turned to look at the man you'd signed your soul over to, doubt as to whether or not this was the thrill you'd been searching for was becoming more and more gnawing.

#follower event #one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x you #op #one piece smut #one piece doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo smut #op doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #doffy #doffy x reader #doflamingo #doffy one piece

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

Note

Fic request!: Dean and Reader have been engaged for a long time and are waiting for the perfect time to finally get married. On what should have been an easy hunt with the brothers and Cas, reader is mortally wounded and in their last moments together, Cas marries them (I mean, angels should have that authority right? lol) as Reader dies in Dean's arms?

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: slight violence, dying!reader, blood, slight gore, angst

Dean X FemReader

We round the corner of an abandoned building, and not even this fierce wind could break the dark, thick fog of tension that sits among the three of us. Neither I nor the Winchesters have a clue what we're up against, or if they do, they haven't filled me in. I just know it's demonic and killing innocent people.

We haven't exactly been getting along lately, and if not for the danger that constantly looms around us, I'd have made a joke to Dean about acting like a married couple before we could even tie the knot. But the worst part about the frustration that we feel is the impulsivity that comes with it. The pissing contest of heading into hunts we know we're not prepared for, but are too damn prideful to say so. And somehow the anger leads us to believe we're stronger than we actually are.

I want to convince them to turn around and leave, but I realize that it's too late when Dean kicks down the door, his gun aiming every which way before his foot could even land back on the ground. Leaves rustle under Sam's quick steps as he follows behind Dean like a dutiful soldier. I'm told to stay close, but I'm immediately distracted by the smell of something rotting and the graffiti on the wilting walls. There are words like 'kill', 'die' and 'run' written in red and the hair on the back of my neck stands.

“Y/N!" Dean quietly shouts.

I jolt to look in his direction. He motions with furrowed brows and two fingers for me to move in, and I reflexively roll my eyes. I realize I'd been absentmindedly twisting my engagement ring around my finger.

We shouldn't be here. I know it, so why don't they? Or do they and they just don't care? I stare at Sam internally begging him to turn my way, for him to see the fear in my eyes and help me convince Dean that we should leave, tell him that something just doesn't feel right, but when he does look my way he only shoots a sympathetic smile. I roll my eyes again.

Anxiety clouds me. My chest feels tight, and air feels thin. My vision gets blurry, and I can feel the anger inside of me trying to claw it's way to the top, but all the while I can feel myself weaken, my guard down. I carry on, walking towards where the brothers are and I can smell my threat before I see it. Sulfur. I quickly turn to attack, but feel a piercingly sharp pain in my side.

With a yelp, I instinctively place my hand over the area that burns to hold pressure on it, but it scares me how wet my hand feels, and when I pull my it up I can see that it's drenched in blood.

I manage to croak out Dean's name before I fall to my knees, collapsing on the ground. The last thing I see before my world goes black is Dean kneeling down next to me, repeatedly and terrifyingly shouting my name as Sam fights off whatever it was that attacked me.

Laughter echoed in the halls of the bunker as Dean chased after me. We ended the game in our room, and trapped between Dean and the wall I had no choice but to succumb to him. Roping me in his arms, he tickled me until I begged through tears and a smile to be let go.

When I could catch my breath, my eyes met his gaze, and the whole world stopped around me. I took a few steps back to drop onto the bed, watching Dean as he plopped down next to me. I felt warmth throughout my entire body as he leaned to kiss me.

I could just explode I was so overwhelmed with love for him and for this moment, that when he pulled away I couldn't control my voice. "Marry me, Winchester." And my eyes widened when he quickly sat up.

He propped himself up on his arm, "what?" he said with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm serious, Dean," I chuckled, sitting up to turn my body towards him. I placed my hand on his leg, feeling him relax under it, "I have never felt the way that I do about you, for anyone. We have no idea when our last days are going to be, and in this line of work it could be tomorrow for all we know. I can't bear the thought of dying without you as my husband."

---

I hear my name in Dean's voice from a distance, but I'm surrounded by total darkness. I try so hard with all of my might to tell him I'm here, that it's okay, but the words don't come. It takes all of my strength to open my eyes, but they burn. Everything burns. I don't even try to suppress the scream that bellows out of me.

Taking as deep of a breath as I can, I'm scared for myself when it sounds and feels like I'm breathing a water and air mixture. "What's happening?" I manage to say, but Dean puts a finger to my lips.

"No, no," he soothes, "no, don't talk. It's okay," he says so gently, and as he maneuvers me into his lap I cry out in agonizing pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, then his voice switches into a shaky, fear filled command at Sam to call 911 followed by a yell for Castiel that hurts my heart almost as much as my wound hurts.

I feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness, but I'm brought back every time by Dean shaking my body in his arms, "hey, no! Stay with me, Y/N!" I feel his arms twitch around me, and I know he's frantically trying to figure out his next move. "Hey, stay with me," he pleads.

"Maybe we should get her talking," Sam's voice suggests from the other side of me. I keep my eyes shut. "So we know she's still here," he says.

Dean's hot breath hits my face as he lets out a heavy sigh, and I sway with him in his arms as he shakes his head no.

"Cas! Finally," Dean's voice is excited, but hesitant as Cas remains quiet. "Cas! Heal her!" Dean grunts, and what follows is more silence. "Cas!"

"Dean, you know I can't do that," Cas says somberly, a cold brush of air hitting me as Cas walks over to our side.

"Why the hell not?" Dean shouts with enough force to rattle me in his arms. I grunt from the jolt of pain it sends through my body, but he ignores me.

"I'm limited on my powers," Cas whispers. “Heaven, they-“ but he’s cut off by a scoff from Dean.

I feel myself weaken more and more with every second that they bicker around me, and I don't even have the strength to contest it. They're voices grow distant, and my muscles relax as I'm brought back to unconsciousness.

"I know you're not the marrying type, Dean, but-" I said, losing confidence in myself, and as if he realized this, Dean quickly straightened himself out to hold his palms up at me.

"No, no, it's not that. I'm just... I'm just a little surprised is all." Without letting me respond, he walks to his dresser and the drawer creaks as he opens it, the smell of old wood filled my nose as he rummaged around in it.

He turned to face me, and in his hands was a small, black box. His eyes softened, and he knelt down to one knee, "Y/N, I have been wanting to ask you this, maybe since the day we met," he chuckled. "And I had a whole speech prepared, but I think you got me beat," he laughed again, "and left me nearly speechless. So, Y/N, yes, I will marry you," he said.

The terrified shouts of the men around me brings me back to them, and thank God for that. My eyes still burn, and I clench them even tighter, forcing a tear I didn't know was there down and over the bridge of my nose.

I try to clear my throat to speak, but it's like it gets caught on something, and I cough to get it out. Dean quickly raises me up to a sitting position, which is excruciatingly painful.

"Y/N," Dean's voice shakes.

I take a few deep breaths in to clear my airway, and fight to open my eyes. They only open to a squint, but I take what I can get. I glance at Sam, then Cas who keep their eyes on the floor in front of them. My head tilts back as I look up at Dean. His eyes are trained to mine, his eyebrows pressed tightly together, as are his lips.

"Marry me, Winchester," I squeak, and I can see his face instantly relax.

"What?" he says, then the corners of his lips curl down. He nods gently and the tears he had been holding back come pouring down. He looks up at Cas, who immediately understand and kneels down next to us.

"Allow me," he offers, placing his hand under my cold fingers, and his other on Dean's shoulder. "Y/N, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony," Cas begins, and my lips quiver at the words 'live together' because it finally hits me that this is the end of that.

Cas continues, voice a little louder to overshadow the sobs that break through Dean's chest. "To love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"And even longer," I say, my eyes, even blurry, moving to Dean's in time to see tears slip down his cheek.

Cas turns his attention to my other half, "Dean, do you take-"

"I do," Dean eagerly states when he notices my breathing has slowed exponentially. "Skip to the end," Dean pleads.

"By the virtue of the authority vested in me under the laws of the Lord, I now pronounce you husband and wife". Cas sucks in a breath, and lets it out slowly. "You may kiss the bride."

Dean brings me closer to him, and his lips are hot and quivering against mine. I pucker to kiss him, but I know my lips don't move by the way his press deeper into mine to accommodate it. My breaths are even slower now, and I can feel myself slipping away again, no matter how hard I try to fight it.

I draw in a long, cold breath, trying to hold on as long as I can. "I love you, Dean," I say and as the breath escapes me, so does my light.

"I love you, t-"

----

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hexonthepeach · 7 months

Text

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 18: care

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [17: chivalry]

wc: 5k

chapter warnings: smut with a little angst - oral (fem receiving), use of pet names (kit) - aka life-altering head from a man you can't stand the sight of

recommended listening: hmm stream fact check but maybe add back 2 u (AM 01:27) - nct 127 because that's about the time this takes place and the sentiment is the same (in the words of mark lee "damn, they're really not going back"

You're on fire when you wake up, burning hot, unable to think straight for how your vision swims with fever.

It's excruciating to be alone in this wide bed, empty, whimpering as your fingers reach for the bedside table and the glass of now-oxidized water on it, fumbling enough you hear the shatter as it hits the floor.

You cringe back into the bed, too tired to get up and take care of it, or even to roll out the other side to get a drink, lines of radiating cold keep you bed bound.

Something heavy sinks the mattress beside you.

"___," someone says, distantly, pulling your clenched fist from your face to place a cold metal cup against it. When you can't lift your head you're gently lifted up by a hard set of arms, your head tipped back just so to accept the drink pressed to your lips.

You drink, and taste him. Your eyes fly open, brow knitted.

You'd fight it if you could, would wrestle free of his hold so you couldn't have to accept it, but there's no battle left in you.

Johnny keeps you upright until you're finished, laying you down on the bed as softly as if you were made of gossamer when he moves to clean up the mess, leaving you with your heart racing in your chest as you watch his sloped back bend over his work.

"What are you doing here?" you mumble, finally, after he's returned with a towel to finish mopping up the puddle from the floor.

You can see the muscles in his shoulders tense, hair brushing against them as he shakes his head.

"You're not meant to be alone," he says, softly. "Don't get mad. I gave my word to Doyoung I'd just take care of you while you were sleeping. I'll go get him–."

Take care of you. How ridiculous, you think, turning over to twitch and shiver. You hear him move to leave, cursing yourself for the jolt of fear that runs through you at the thought of being abandoned again.

"Stay," you say aloud.

Johnny doesn't leave but he doesn’t move towards you. You feel your hackles raising defensively as his gaze burns into you from across the room.

"I'm not going to try to mate you," you spit out. Not even if you were the last person on earth, you think, though it's as much a lie in your mind as it would be on your tongue. "Just stay, you don't need to disturb them this late."

"Alright," he says, moving to the door a little more lightly. When he comes back he falls back into his routine of dropping to the floor beside your bed. You knew cats had a stupid habit of establishing or conceding dominance through relative height but it's absurd having him sit on the floor when the bed is big enough for you both.

You roll over to glare at his wide shoulders.

"What are you doing, exactly?"

"I know you don’t feel safe," Johnny answers, resigned. "I haven't . . . I can stay like that, if you want me to."

Your heat-dazed mind still knows what he means, having seen his ears just as black as before–tail curling around his feet. He'd spent more time in his shift than out of it the past 24 hours, and you'd done nothing to stop him.

"If that’s what gets you to shut up, by all means," you say.

Strange how the beast was so much easier to be around than the man, how you can't stomach the sight of the face you'd longed for since you'd first learned to put a name to your desire.

But it's undeniable that having him at your side is already diminishing some of the worst aches and chills, feeling like when your mother used to rub a remedy of menthol on your chest when you were sick as a child.

"And get off the floor," you add, turning so you can't fixate on how beautiful he looks to you, how much you want to wrap your arms around that neck and hold him tight. The sound of him undressing makes your body incandescent with shameful arousal, at least saved from embarrassment by the fact that it can't be helped, and you aren't doing anything about it.

You don't even sneak a look. The air goes frigid as he changes, the scent of juniper stinging your nostrils.

Within a few seconds the bed dips deep beside you, paws the size of your head sinking into the mattress. And then a whuff as he settles, knobby spine beneath the fur and muscle digging into your own.

The minutes drag out as your fox settles, body heat melding with the cool brush of a flicked tail across your thighs twisting in the sheets. His Felid pheromones are laced with a sharp citral, but he's also velvet draped over soft, black leather and warm tea.

You breathe more deeply, body responding to your Alpha like clockwork. The fever making you uncomfortable is also making you feel gooey and pliant with arousal, your hands flexing beside you to keep from reaching for him in the dark.

Minutes pass, an eternity by your own estimation.

Any innocent thoughts of sleeping beside him while he’s in his hybrid form are torn asunder by how far into need you have fallen. Snippets of fantasies play out on loop, intrusively, as the minutes count down.

You try to concentrate on the deep well of hurt inside you but your fox isn't wont to look down into it. She tosses and turns in the sheets, uncomfortable for the fact that she cannot burrow into the side of the thing behind you.

There's a spark of fear inside at what you'll do when you're asleep. Even if you trust him to recognize your boundaries you don't think you can live with the embarrassment of letting the heat overwrite your will to keep him at arm's length.

"I don't think I can do this." You sound so pathetic in your own mind, asking the peaceful night for courage. "Please go.”

A rumble, and then you feel the sweep of his tongue against your neck, the side of your jaw. It's meant to be comforting, a farewell of sorts as the jaguar lifts up off the bed, but you respond without thinking, clinging to his broad neck until he remains.

"Could you . . . Could you do that again?" you ask. You turn away again, convincing yourself there's nothing wrong with this–you need it, can use him while you can.

If Johnny minds, it's not apparent. He licks you in another broad swath, this time across your sensitive neck. You bite back a moan, going limp under his careful grooming.

Your blood should run cold at the memory of the last time an Alpha cleaned you but instead you're dissolving into the healing of it, being rewritten. Salty tears roll from the corners of your eyes as you reach back to twist your claws in his ruff.

It's clearly not an indication for him to stop. You pull his great head forward, raking nails across his thick skin until you hear the distant rattle of his breath and then, finally, what sounds like a purr.

You know his genus can't make the sound–they lack the hyoid bone of smaller cats–but the fact that he's trying makes you only sob harder, curling into him.

You can feel him beneath the form, quiescent and equally as comfortable with you as you are with him this way. Such a sudden change of heart has your own feeling sick; you don't know what it means, don't want to think too deeply into something you still feel like will be snatched away.

Your fingers drift over the back of his massive toes, then curl under them to test the sandpaper pads with your smaller thumb for the prick of claws. You marvel at how he keeps them contained.

"Do you still think of me as a threat?" you ask, as he grooms you. Speaking to him is the only way you think you can stay tethered to reality and the emotions inside you.

There's a careful lick down the back of your neck, dragging your shirt collar.

"Am I still nothing to you?"

You can feel a layer of salt removed along with a few layers of skin by his tongue clearing your wet cheek.

Not nothing, it seems to say.

"Why did you have to be so cruel?" You look at him now, seeing only the slow blink of a relaxed feline. He offers you a place to rest, collapsing onto his side and exposing his belly slightly. You shuffle to lay where his leg meets his broad chest, burying your face into his rich fur.

"I feel like an idiot for letting myself believe, even for an instant, what you said to me." It's a relief to speak without fear of him arguing or shutting you down. "But you wanted me to, didn't you?"

He pauses, pushing into your skull in what feels like reassurance, resting his head above yours with an animal’s sigh.

"And now you want to take responsibility? Only after you feel bad about it? How can I ever trust you again? Why shouldn't I find someone else who appreciated me from the beginning?"

Now you feel the flex of claws from their sheaths, hear the tear in the duvet as a spark of jealousy burns your blank mind.

"You don't want to share me? You should have thought of that before leaving me."

Like dropping a choice cut of meat in front of a starving animal's cage and telling it to wait to consume it. But of course you had also offered yourself willingly.

"I'm yours," you say. "I can't not be yours. If you want me now you have to wait for me. The way I waited for you."

You reach beside you, palm brushing against his slow-breathing side. The power hidden under miles of dark-patched fur is its own kind of aphrodisiac–knowing he could consume you or kill you in an instant, if he wasn't himself.

But he'll never not be himself with you. Though the bond you share is mostly quiet, that connection tells you everything you need to know about his control, and most especially the comfort he has having his omega at his side.

You don't even realize your hand has drifted lower until your knuckles brush against his less-furred belly, startling you both.

You've reached down between your legs to where you're just as saturated with slick as you had been the last time you'd let him touch you. You wait for him to break away or respond cruelly but he only nudges you again with his broad nose, whiskers tickling your eyelashes as you close your eyes.

"Don't stop, please," you murmur, dragging your fingers through your swollen sex. "Keep grooming me, Alpha."

At first you think he won't do it, his chin resting against your head lightly. Then you feel his teeth catch on your hair, as his tongue folds against your ear.

You moan, lightness rolling through your scalp down to your belly with each soft lick. He's being more careful now, probably unsure of how to proceed.

Again, you reach up across the foreign yet familiar shape of him, as you touch yourself to the thought of him going lower. You want that roughness to follow the course of what he's transmitting to you through his care, for him to taste you with that same tongue–

The bed goes hot, as if hell had snapped into existence beside you, and suddenly a male body is pressed dangerously into yours. Within a moment your hand is pinned over your head, his hold loose.

"Look at me, ____."

You look up, whimpering softly, into his stare–dark as honey left to crystallize, darting with concern.

"I'm not trying to mate you," Johnny says, voice rough. He swallows, eyes wandering to your tongue wetting your lips, his own curving in a pained smile. "But I can help you."

You don't want his help. More importantly, you don't want to need it.

"You know you can stop me. Whenever you want, okay?"

It's a statement of fact, not a question. He's ceding control to you, but also you understand the wild orange blossom radiating from him isn't just arousal. He's as terrified as you are of crossing a line–perhaps even erasing it completely with the tension between you.

You can only nod, your tail breaking free of your weight to curl against his bare thigh in invitation. The knowledge that he's naked over you isn't as humbling as the way he looks at you now, eyes half-lidded and gentle. It's as if you're the only thing in the world.

"You can say whatever you want, be as mean to me as you want," He closes his eyes in that same slow blink of a relaxing Felid. "I won't fight you or hurt you. Just please let me take care of you."

As frightened as you feel, you nod, hand under his tightening to let him know you understand.

"You can go back to hating me when the sun rises," he whispers. Then he wrests your hand free of your sex, lifting your glistening fingers to his mouth to gently suck them clean, watching your reaction.

The bed should be on fire for how quickly you've broken out in a tingling sweat, heartbeat stuttering at the feeling of his teeth against your knuckles, nails catching on his full bottom lip.

He leans in to brush against your chin, threading down to your bared throat. He's deliberately running his tongue–much softer now–over the uninjured right side of your neck.

His side.

It makes your fox want to roll over and raise her hips for him immediately but you hold on to the memory of his claws in your throat. Does he still hate you? Is he just using you at your weakest for his own base desires?

"I've never hated you," you say, gasping as he settles into pulling his tongue over your pulse, until the throb matches the one between your legs. "I just . . . I hate what you make me feel."

"Good." He's cleaning you again, hair tickling your jaw as he makes broad swaths on your collarbone. "You should."

You really should, you know. You will, when you can actually form a coherent thought. He's taking advantage of you, exploiting your weakness. Shame should be spiraling you down to a darker place, where you're forced to face what you are.

But he's not touching you or kissing you in a way that implies his need, just grooming you, as you'd asked. The only betrayal here is the fact that it's not your beast but a man–softer and more intimate than you could have ever imagined.

"You taste so good," he murmurs, lifting your loose shirt to access the skin beneath.

"Quiet," you warn. You're already undone by the sight of him lowering his tongue to your breast, lapping the dots of sweat that have collected over your heart.

For a moment your barriers slip and you can taste yourself as he experiences it through the bond.

He won't show you any other affection but the thrum of pleasure inside of him is enough. He's so very pleased to have what little he can of you, each breath chasing his licks marred by the purr he can give you in this form.

You lose yourself in hypersensitivity, legs locked to keep from accidentally brushing against his body. You know even just a taste of contact would have your heat-addled brain demanding he fill you immediately.

His tongue accidentally flicks across your nipple and you seize his skull in your claws so tight he gasps into your skin. You can't tell if it's because of the pain until his tongue wraps around it again, pulling it into hardness as your nails scratch deeper.

"Stop that," you warn.

Johnny murmurs his assent, laving at your underbreast in a manner that is just as maddening. You arch your back, forgetting your grip on his head until he pushes back into it, demanding you pet him.

You have a mind to deny him but it feels so good to have your fingers buried in those soft, thick locks. They've curled under your handling, draped over his jaw and ghosting you every time he dips in to taste you.

The passes of your sharp nails are your way of speaking, of consenting as he drifts lower over the softness of your belly, mouth and breath lighting up your clammy skin. He takes his time in lapping at the salt on your hip bone, earning a smack in the face from your flicking tail.

"Lower," you command, not letting any reason guide you. He glances up, too slow to hide the smug look on his face.

"Clean me, only." You move to remove your loose sleepwear and are unsurprised when he uses brutish force to tear them free of your tail and legs, following them down.

You freeze in anticipation as he pants over your exposed sex, taking you in. His face is hidden but you can feel his smile, hear it in his voice when he speaks.

"Is this your first time?" he asks.

You sigh, staring at the ceiling, hands tightening into fists. You don't have to tell him about Jungwoo burying his face between your legs on his desk, or anything else, really. But you can feel his hesitation and the question is more for your sake than his.

"Yes," you say, unable to make eye contact.

"Good." He settles down over your hips, breathing hot, "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

You kick him a bit in retaliation but he pushes your thighs open and apart, tongue drawing through the dripping folds just as tenderly as he had your neck, your breasts.

You knew this would be different. You don't expect the fox's shriek that rips from your throat, muffled beneath your hand, as his head dips with each long swipe, collecting your slick with curls of his tongue.

His jaw works as he drinks you in, the pleasure from that hot, tender press so unlike anything you've ever experienced.

When he presses his tongue to your hole, sliding into the fluttering heat, you seize him by his ears to pull him back.

You don't remember them being so soft and on his head, but it's not the only thing that's changed by the new scrape against your inner labia, the texture adding a layer of animal need that has your hips moving on their own against his face, wanting him closer.

Lick after lick has you rising from the mattress. When he swirls his tongue into your hidden bud you know it won't be long before that bright wave inside of you begins its descent.

"Please, Alpha, please," you keen, scratching his skull in a way you're sure leaves blood beneath your nails. He's so patient with you, not stopping the steady stimulation you need to build towards bursting, nose pressed to your skin as he takes every drop of slick you can give him, drool mingling to slide hot down to your tail.

It doesn't matter if it's messy, the opposite of grooming, he's taking care of you–bringing you perfect pleasure and humming in reassurance when you press hard against him. The tighter that winding in your belly the more lazy he is, prolonging it until you're whining, your begging inarticulate.

"Come for me, ____." He doesn't need to order, not with that Felid tone and the thunder you feel in it, electric zings beginning where his tongue meets you and spreading down in radiating pulses as far as your curled toes.

You're breaking with nothing inside you this time, and somehow it's more relieving, prolonged by the constant but unpredictable movements of his mouth and tongue.

He finally eases once your legs constrict around him and you squirm away from the overstimulation, flush rolling through you along with the tiny aftershocks of the first orgasm you've received from your Alpha.

Your first real gift.

If you're glowing, he's incandescently self-satisfied. You watch his silhouette lift against the backdrop of the bluish, clouded city behind him, wiping his face clean just to lick the remnants from his fingertips.

"That won't be enough." He laughs a little, lowering his face back to your mess. "Should I clean you again?"

"Alpha," you try to warn him but it sounds more like a plea, legs trembling awaiting the next attack.

"Yes, kit?" The vibration of his voice against your sex is too much already; the endearment makes your fox fully prostrate.

"I want . . ." you admit.

You'd forgotten what you want to say, whining in the back of your throat. The sound is desperate for other reasons, and he seems to recognize it immediately. He lets go of your thighs, hunching over you far enough away in the dark his body isn't pressed to yours–just your foreheads.

You keep your eyes clenched shut to keep from weeping again, scared of how little control you have left within you. It's too soon, too much, and not enough at the same time. And the worst part is how far away you feel from him, as if just relaxing into this new joy would damn you to be written the way he'd already estimated you.

It's just her nature. That thing.

A violent wave of despair and anger courses through you, unearthed by the comedown.

"Shh," he says. "You're safe. I know I haven't been there for you when you needed it. But you've always been safe with me. Everything I've ever done–"

He pauses, biting his own words, pressing closer.

"I just want to take care of you while I can."

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down until your noses bump against each other.

"I'm still mad at you," you say, searching for his eyes. "I may forgive you, but I can't forget."

"I know," he says, shifting in your grasp.

"If I beg, even if I order you . . . please don't mate me yet. Please. Listen to me, if you can."

He nods his head. You feel your own body quaking transferred to him–or maybe he's feeling it just as intensely. Sometimes you think that it's impossible to tell where you end and he begins.

"I want you to earn me, first," you say. "I want you to know me."

You feel he wants to reply but you don't give him the opportunity, pulling yourself up by his shoulders to kiss him for the first time.

His mouth is softer than his fur, or his hair threaded in your fingers, or even him as he holds, not melting into it the way you wish he could.

He's still unsure.

Johnny doesn't push you any further, letting you be the one to explore his swollen lips, finding them parted and still soaked with you. Instead he opens up for you to better taste yourself on him–tart and so much sweeter with his impression.

When his lips move with yours, finally, it's tentatively hopeful, like his exploration of your body. For all his bravado and confidence you never would have imagined him to be just as shy as you stroke his hairline and he trembles deeper at being touched.

It's what makes you want him more than anything you've ever wanted in your entire life. Not for the first time, or the last.

A part of you wants to be bred until you're dripping his hot release for days, making him stay locked in you for hours as you tear the mattress to shreds beneath you coming on his knot. You want him to lose himself in your body, to finally mark you again now that you're both willing and ready to have each other.

But Doyoung was right. You had to know it was your choice. Even if you never had his love, even if you would always question your own heart with the bond unbroken between you, you had to know if he was worthy.

It's only fair. For both of you.

"Get out of my bed," you say, firmly.

That easy smile again, eyes narrowed with confidence. "Don't you want–"

You shut him up with a claw against the dip beneath his nose, shaking your head a little too hard.

"I know what I want," you say. "Be grateful that you got a taste of it."

He's shocked by your response, but there's a flash of thrill. You think maybe he likes being talked down to, his Alpha so ready to be challenged.

"Fine," he says, appropriately dismayed but also a little more himself in the way he stands over you, once he's managed to pull his pants back on. "I'm staying here tonight, though. I'll get you more water and something to clean up with."

You grunt a little, turning away from him so he can’t see how mortified you are at what you’ve just done, as well as how much you wish you could continue.

"If you need anything else, anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Don’t forget I can feel it, too.” He pauses, letting it sink in that of course, he knows you’re still simmering with lust. “I don't mind being used–"

You throw a pillow in his direction to silence him.

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#agtbtb #nct x reader #nct smut #nct 127 fic #nct fic #nct imagines #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct johnny smut #johnny suh smut #nct scenarios #nct 127 omegaverse #nct fanfic #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

Note

Hi there! New follower here, and can I just say I LOVE how you write König? Like seriously, thank you SOOOOO much for not writing him like a soulless monster or something like I normally see when I look in the tags (I kid you not, I saw someone ask for a r@pist König fanfic not too long ago and it put me off him for a short while). Sure you write him crazy but you don't go that far. Thank you for that.

That being said, how would your interpretation of König handle a reader who has a history like that? Like maybe they were abused in that way as a child or a teen? They're in therapy of course and handle the trauma as best they can but they have that sort of fear of intimacy still, if that makes sense? Maybe they're still battling guilt/self blame, and feel like he could do better with someone who isn't "damaged goods" or something?

Sorry if it's bothersome but I'm very curious! Thank you, and I really hope you have a wonderful day! 💙🌹

Hey dear anon, welcome and thank you so much! 🩷💕

I can understand wanting to read dubcon and noncon at times, it’s all good and hey, to each their own! I can also understand the need to steer clear from these kind of fics (please, always take care of yourself and don’t expose yourself to content you don't vibe with 🩷) and I’m so glad to hear you like the way I write for König. I definitely love monsters with souls! Perhaps it tells something that everytime I *really try* to write a dark fic, I usually get comments like “weee so fluffy and cute!” :D Like did we win…?

As to your question on how would König handle reader with background of abuse:

König is not the most nurturing, tactful man but upon hearing about your past, he’d get super caring and tender. He has this fantasy of being a saving/conquering hero so, yeah, you just became his damsel in distress. To him, you're both a strong survivor and a fragile victim, so you gain something of a saint status in his eyes.

And he would never ever think you’re damaged goods, no. To him, you’re the purest of angels whose soul and body has been ravaged. For this alone, he’ll go to war for you, against the whole world if need be.

Violence is his way to deal with life’s big problems, so he’d want to hunt down and kill the perpetrator if they’re still alive, no question about it. He’d be willing to commit a good old murder and risk going to prison because he couldn’t stand it that this human filth is walking around unpunished. That’s his first way of dealing with this thing: eliminate the threat, then come and comfort you.

So… If you don’t want him to do that (either because you don’t agree with him about the measure of punishment, or because you’re afraid he’ll get caught/will face a prison senctence because of it), you’d have to get super crafty with trying to conceal who this person is because König is going to find out who they are whether you want it or not. He’d have such a hard time respecting your boundaries in this because someone has to avenge you. He has contacts and he can and will use them to get to this fucker and end their life.

Homicide aside, he’ll get overprotective of you. Has to have you in his line of sight at all times to make sure you’re safe and happy and ok.

Sex might be a challenge because König has a high sex drive. He adores you and would want nothing more than to be with you – preferably inside you – 24/7. This is how he worships you, shows love & intimacy and releases both of your stress. If sex is off the table sometimes, König would try to show his love for you in other ways such as cuddling you like crazy or accompanying you to the shower etc.

Any issues with intimacy would trigger his anxiety and fear of abandonment, and he’d get even more obsessive and clingy. Not in a whiny, co-dependent way, but in a “Everything alright, Schatz?” repeated 5 times a day type of way. König would nod and look like he understands completely when you tell him that you have these issues, but then proceeds to cuddle and smother you later anyway :/

Somehow thinks it’s his dick that might be a threat so he would try and not to flail it around you unless you specifically ask for it. Respects your boundaries on not having intercourse, but the other stuff, like squishing you against his chest every now and then or trying to please you with his hands or mouth are harder to negotiate.

Because he would try his all to give you mindblowing sex. He wants go give you good experiences, and gets a high out of making you cum multiple times. To him it’s like a hot bath, a three course meal and a year in therapy combined, to watch how you come undone. He's unusually gentle with his aftercare, and drowns you in praise when he holds you close.

Perhaps it’s a bit sick, but the fact that you both have suffered in your own ways makes you his one true love, sort of like a fated companion. In his mind, you’re soulmates who’ve gone through hell. He's also vehement in his belief that only he can love you whole again, only he can treat you right.

So the question then becomes, how do you survive an adoring, obsessive giant who’s made it his life’s purpose to make you happy? ❤️

#könig fluff #murder as love language

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miss-hyoko · 1 year

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I read your fic about the arranged marriage with Floyd and I loved it sm!! I noticed in it that he changed his mind about reader after seeing how small and wary they were of floyd. I was wondering if i could request what would happen if the reader had an intimidating look to them when they first met. Like if they were a mershark. Would he still be the same?

Thank you!!

"Thanks for your patience, dear customer. Your order of [The Eel's Scary Fiancé(e)] gado-gado is now served. I hope you find it delicious."

The Eel's Scary Fiancé(e)

Character(s): Floyd

Summary: Floyd's fiancé(e) is an intimidating person

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff, romantic, reader is NOT Yuu, arranged marriage, Floyd being Floyd, Floyd Leech is his own warning, slightly Yandere!Floyd if you squint hard enough

Note: Another version of this. It took me quite a long time to write because of Floyd's complexity. But, all in all, I'm glad I could write Floyd again. Thank you for the request, anon 🫶

If you appear intimidating and/or have a larger body size compared to other merfolks, then Floyd might be interested in you the first time you meet each other. Instead of feeling scared or threatened by your fierce countenance, he finds your extremely serious expression irresistible, prompting him to continuously tease you to provoke a reaction. If you do respond to his teasing, Floyd will grin widely and continue teasing you. But if you don't, then brace yourself because Floyd won't stop bothering you until you react.

From that point on, you've been frequently seen together with Floyd. He's always the one who comes looking for you, whether because he's bored and wants you to accompany him or merely to amuse himself by teasing you at random times.

When you're not around, Floyd embodies the persona of a fearless and notorious eel, striking fear in the hearts of many nightmares for countless individuals. Yet, when he's by your side, he transforms into nothing but a harmless big eel, seemingly forgetting about his position as one of the ocean's apex predators.

Although it happens rarely, it's not uncommon for Floyd to find himself entangled in intense fights against someone. However, the moment he catches a glimpse of you appearing around the corner, he abruptly ceases the fight and rushes towards you to lament about being relentlessly bullied, all the while revealing the injuries he has sustained. Those he fights with attempt to defend themselves, but facing your intimidating look, which is simply your expression of confusion, they immediately fall silent and retreat without uttering a word. As you stand there, bewildered about what just happened, watching their retreating figures, Floyd bursts into fits of uncontrollable laughter with one arm around your shoulder.

People frequently describe you as scary, and you also agree with their sentiment. However, Floyd agrees to disagree. He firmly believes that your intimidating presence is what makes you shine above others and precisely the one that makes you stand out among the crowd. Should someone has the nerve to speak negatively about your appearance, don't be taken aback if he disappears the following day and is nowhere to be found.

Given that you're not some delicate and weak creature, Floyd never holds back when it comes to squeezing you with all his strength. He's delighted that he doesn't have to restrain himself in expressing his feelings to you through his powerful, bone-crushing hugs. When he's happy, Floyd will let out a hearty laugh while squeezing you tight. And when he's in a bad mood, Floyd will come to you with a face contorted into a pout and hold you firmly without saying anything until his mood gets better. In short, every time he senses your presence, Floyd won't hesitate to abandon whatever he's doing at that moment to give you a nice squeeze.

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), many people said that you and Floyd are a perfect fit for each other. Thanks to the intimidating aura you both possess, you swiftly became known as the 'mafia fish' couple. Every time you come across this peculiar nickname, your forehead creases in confusion, while Floyd finds great amusement seeing your puzzled look. Unbeknownst to you, it was him and Jade who came up with that nickname and spread it around so people would know that the two of you are together.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #gado-gado #🍽️_ordered #👀_anonymous

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maria-scribbles · 1 year

Text

meet me at midnight

summary: new year's eve, 1983. a rooftop, an epiphany, and a kiss that changes everything

wc: 5k

ship: eddie munson x f!henderson!reader

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drugs and smoking, mention of barb's death (rip queen), stancy (eugh), kissing, the reader being jealous and insecure and also kinda stupid.

a/n: writing stancy made me physically ill. i really do love nancy but i'm afraid i wrote her terribly ooc in this ugh. also, do i headcannon eddie as a saxophone player? yes, yes i do. why? no fucking clue. robin's favorite band is named 'blush' after maya hawke's first album.

meet me at midnight

December 31st, 1983

"Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?"

You were inclined to, that's for sure.

Annie Lennox's voice booms throughout the house as you tuck yourself further into the corner you've managed to claim, a lukewarm cup of punch in hand. It feels like the entire student body of Hawkins High is here at Tina's party, bodies jostling each other on the makeshift dance floor and spilling down the hallway like an overflowing sink, even trickling outside onto the deck to smoke despite the frosty air.

You shift your weight from one heeled boot to the other and choke down a sip of your drink, wincing at the alcohol burning its way down your throat. Leave it to some thickheaded jock to make a punch that's almost entirely rum, you think as you abandon the solo cup on the nearest shelf and pull your sweater sleeve down to check the time.

It's not nearly as late as you'd hoped, the glowing green numbers reading ten-thirty, and you drop your arm with a sigh. An hour and a half before midnight and an hour and a half way too long in your opinion.

"Having fun?" Nancy's face is flushed as she squeezes her way through the dancing crowd to you, dragging Steve by the hand.

Absolutely not.

"Oh, totally!" Your smile feels so forced you're sure she'll notice and call you out but it never comes, both to your relief and disappointment; once upon a time you'd been thick as thieves, the best of friends just like your little brother and hers, before she'd ditched you for Barb and left you behind in the dust.

Barb, whose body lies in another dimension, frozen forever at sixteen.

Yeah, you're still processing that last part and you were there, standing beside Dustin as Eleven confirmed Nancy's worst fear, heart breaking for your former best friend as she cried into Jonathan's arms.

(Later that night, when everything was said and done and you were safe in bed with your little brother sleeping soundly across the hall was when you cried for Barb, too, a girl who was kind and innocent and undeserving of her terrible fate.)

Your relationship's been on the mend ever since but as much as it hurts to admit, you'll never be as close as you once were and Nancy's inability -or unwillingness, you think bitterly- to pick up on your unhappiness is only further proof.

"Wanna come dance with us?" She asks, oblivious, and you shake your head, crossing your arms to keep her from grabbing your hand because as bored as you are, being a third wheel would be even worse. You already feel bad for crashing their date by tagging along for the drive here, even though they both insisted on giving you a ride.

"Trust me, that wouldn't be pretty. Dusty says I dance like a school chaperone."

Steve bursts out laughing at that and it makes your heart do a little flip in your chest, even as Nancy fondly shakes her head. "Come on, you're not that bad."

"Oh no, I am." You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as someone opens the front door and lets in a freezing blast of air. "Seriously, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go grab some snacks."

"Try the snickerdoodles! I ate, like ten of them." Steve admits that last part pretty sheepishly and the way Nancy stares up at him with the most adoring look in her eyes makes you feel like you're intruding on something private.

You offer an awkward smile in thanks and with a tiny wave from Nancy, they melt back into the mess of bodies dancing along to Cyndi Lauper, leaving you alone once again.

For no less than the fifth time tonight, you wish Robin was here, not halfway across the state visiting her grandparents. While you might've lost Nancy as your best friend in middle school, you gained another: Robin had also been dropped by Barb and so it was only fitting that the two of you became fast friends, not just acquaintances that sat beside each other in the band's trumpet section.

(You miss Nancy honestly, you really do, but sometimes you think being ditched was one of the best things that's ever happened. You and Robin just click, two peas in a pod, and to you, she feels like the sister you always wish Nancy would've been.)

If Robin was here, she would've already made some quip about Steve and his coiffed hair, or Carol and the permanent expression on her face that made her look like she smelled something bad, or Jason and his attempts to impress Chrissy with his awful dance moves, and it would've had you doubled over in laughter.

She wouldn't let you wallow in the corner by yourself, an outsider looking in, both unwilling and unable to throw caution to the wind and just let go. But she's not here, so wallowing it is.

Being kind to yourself has never been your strong suit.

As if the universe is listening, mocking, a gap in the crowd grows just enough to give you a perfect view of Steve and Nancy swaying in each other's arms and you hate the bitter taste that suddenly floods your mouth.

You have no right to be jealous.

You've never admitted your little crush on Steve to yourself, let alone Nancy: how was she supposed to know? You're not even sure if it's all about him in the first place because sure, you think he's cute -you always have- but you get the same gnawing feeling watching Bradley spin Tina around the room in a playful waltz or Nate stealing a kiss from Georgina under the mistletoe still hanging in the doorway and you can barely tolerate either of those idiots.

It's all so terribly confusing.

Steve twirls Nancy under his arm and then dips her low to the ground, her delighted laughter reaching your ears even over the pounding music and something ugly blooms in your chest. You make your escape before you can do something stupid like cry, weaving your way across the living room and down the hall toward the kitchen with your head down.

…Which is precisely how you end up head butting one of your classmates directly in the chest when you turn the corner.

They give a soft 'oof' of surprise and you're absolutely mortified when you realize it's a boy, not just from the tone of his voice but from the toes of his white Reeboks bumping into your boots.

The same shoes you've heard keeping time in band every day since seventh grade, tapping along to the beat on the riser behind you with the rest of the saxophone players. The same shoes you see at the desk in front of you in third period English, still tapping along to the music that's always running through his mind, accompanied by the furious scribbling of a pencil across paper as he jots down lyrics for a new song.

You wince and keep your head down, hoping he'll just act like nothing happened and go on his merry way and just when you're about to think you're in the clear-

"Ow. You have a hard head, Henderson."

Shit, you think. Of course you had to literally run into the one person you feel like you can't speak two words to without making a complete fool of yourself; something about Eddie just makes you flustered beyond belief and you really wish you knew why 'cause it's, to put it frankly, annoying.

Really fucking annoying.

"Shit." You say out loud, quickly looking up to meet his big brown eyes before glancing away and staring at the zombie adorning the front of his Iron Maiden shirt instead. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

"No shit, Sherlock." He teases but there's no trace of malice in his voice, just amusement, even as his ringed hand comes into view and rubs the spot where your forehead crashed into his chest. "You okay?"

Embarrassment burns your face and you cross your arms defensively, firing back with a weak insult you're sure he can see right through 'cause if there's one thing you're good at, it's looking like an idiot all day, every day.

"I'm fine. You're not looking very festive, Munson."

He snorts in laughter and you finally gather the courage to meet his eyes again, only to find him already looking down at you with something behind his gaze that you can't quite figure out.

"I think you're festive enough for the both of us." He gestures to your deep navy sweater dotted with bursts of silver thread that give the illusion of stars. "You look really pretty, by the way."

Your brain short circuits.

Pretty? You're wearing your mom's sweater and Eddie thinks you look pretty?

You're too busy trying to get your mouth to work as the silence stretches on -you'll take a 'huh?' at this point, or maybe even an unintelligible squeak, just say something, you moron- to notice the pink blooming high in his cheeks and the way he speaks in a rush, the words all jumbling together so fast it's hard for your frazzled mind to understand what he's saying.

"-your help, so keep watch, okay?"

Keep watch?

He turns and strides into the kitchen without another word and you end up following a few seconds later, after you've finally recovered enough to get your legs working, at least.

You find him standing by the big bowl of punch, rummaging around the array of bottles littering the island, every so often picking one up to inspect before putting it back in its place with a shake of his head. To your surprise, it's not more alcohol he finally picks up but a two-liter of Sprite and at last you get your mouth to work as you blurt out, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Fixing this shitty ass punch." He's not even phased by your sudden question, save for the quick smile he sends your way as he pours the entire bottle in. "Have you tried it? Jesus, Jan would be disgusted."

You cross your arms and lean your hip against the counter, keeping an eye on the door just like he'd asked. "I have, unfortunately. Who's Jan?"

"Bartender at the Hideout." Eddie throws a reply over his shoulder as he digs around in the fridge, yelling triumphantly when he finds whatever he's looking for. It turns out to be a can of pineapple juice and he dumps that in, too, turning the blue punch a pretty shade of green. "My band plays there on-"

"-Tuesdays, I know." You interrupt without thinking and rush to explain yourself, almost tripping over your words when he turns his curious gaze on you.

"Um, there's this all-girl band Robin loves, Blush. We go see them sometimes and end up staying to watch you guys, too, because you're really good-" You pause at the smile slowly growing wider on his face and shake your head. "-but you already knew that, didn't you?"

He shrugs, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he stirs some cherries into the punch, then dishes out two cups and pushes one across the island to you.

"Yeah, I see you there a lot. You're kind of hard to miss when the rest of the audience is just five old drunk dudes."

Your laugh rings in the cavernous kitchen as you push off the counter to grab your drink, tapping it against his when he holds it out toward you.

"Cheers."

You're not sure what to expect when you take that tentative first sip but it's definitely not something sweet and smooth with just the right amount of fizz, the burn of the rum still present but not as overpowering as it was before.

"Okay, so I don't know how you managed to make this shit taste good but you did."

Eddie sweeps into a low bow and you hide a smile behind your cup at his theatrics. "Thank you, thank you. I do accept tips, you know, and all proceeds go directly to Jan so she can buy herself a car."

You smile wider and take another sip. "I'd love to donate but I left my purse at home, I'm afraid."

He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment before leaning forward across the island and waving you closer, dropping his voice to such a low whisper you would've had to move in anyway to even hear him.

"How about I make you a deal, Henderson? Come watch us next Tuesday, slip Jan a twenty, and I'll play a song -any song- just for you."

"Ooh, tempting." You whisper back just as quietly, tapping a finger against your chin even as a weird feeling takes hold in your stomach at his offer. "Any song I want? How about-"

"Hold on, I take that back. Any song but 'September.'"

Your jaw drops. "How'd you know-"

"Because I hear you humming it every day in band, that's how."

"Oh." How the hell does he know you hum that song when half the time you don't even realize you're doing it? You've annoyed Dustin enough to know it's true, after he told you in no uncertain words. "How about I make you a deal? I give Jan thirty dollars and Corroded Coffin covers Earth, Wind & Fire."

He stares at you for a beat longer before slowly breaking out into a smile. "…I'll think about it."

You've always know he has a pretty smile, catching glimpses of it across the cafeteria from where you sat with Robin and the rest of the marching band or in crowded hallways as you rushed to make it to your locker in between classes, but having its full force directed right at you knocks the very breath right out of your lungs.

"it's not a no, so…works for me." You say, propping your chin in one hand and swirling your cup in the other, watching the opaque green liquid spin around like the center of a hurricane. "Why'd you have me guard the door, anyway? I wouldn't call making this sludge drinkable very deviant of you."

"Please," Eddie scoffs, mirroring you exactly. "'Resident metalhead spotted adding mixers to the jungle juice?' I can't trash my reputation like that."

"No, never." You huff a laugh under your breath. "You'd be ruined."

He laughs, too, and you're not sure when it became so warm in here but it's making you want to roll your sweater sleeves up to your elbows.

"See! I knew you'd have my back, Henderson."

The more you think about it, the more you realize you always have. Every time the rumor mill paints him in a bad light, you're there to put it all to rest with nothing more than a perfectly directed scowl because you like Dio, too and wear black nail polish and occasionally play DnD with Dustin and his friends when they need a sub and no one's ever accused you of worshiping Satan for fuck's sake.

If any of them would bother to look deeper than the surface, they'll see what you do, that he's kind and sweet and caring and you know because you've seen him prove it with your own eyes: driving the rest of the Hellfire Club home if they didn't have rides, sticking up for the freshmen when the seniors decide to be cruel, and even now, witnessing him first hand try to raise money for a coworker to buy a car (granted that method might be called borderline manipulation but still, at least it's for a good cause).

"'Course I do." It's both too simple a statement and more than you ever wanted to admit and the way he's staring at you feels different, somehow, different and yet not unwelcome as you stare right back…

(Has he always had that dusting of freckles across his nose?)

…which is why you end up putting your foot in your mouth without even realizing it. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right, yeah."

Something flickers behind his brown eyes but it's gone before you can put your finger on it and he's smiling that smile again, pointed canines on full display as he hastily nods and straightens, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

"Do you have the time?" He sheepishly holds up his bare wrist. "Forgot my watch."

"Oh, sure." The sudden change of subject nearly gives you whiplash as you push your sleeve up to check. "Almost eleven fifteen."

"No time to lose, let's go." He grabs a napkin and swipes a few cookies from the counter, tucking them away into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Go where?"

"You'll see." Eddie nods his head toward the doorway and holds out a hand, silver rings catching the harsh kitchen lights. "C'mon, you trust me?"

"Against my better judgement." You tease and his laugh is downright devilish when you take his hand anyway, letting him lead you out into the hall.

You're not prepared for the warmth of his palm or the rough, calloused touch of his fingers or how your hand looks so small in his as he expertly weaves through your classmates milling about until you reach the bottom of the stairs, pausing just long enough to make sure the coast is clear before dashing up to the second floor.

"Are we even allowed up here?" You whisper and while the little conspiratorial grin on his face doesn't do much to ease your mind, the quick squeeze he gives your hand somehow does.

"Nope!" He leads you down the dark hallway with practiced ease, opening the last door on the left before pulling you inside and softly shutting it behind you both.

"I feel like a delinquent." Your quiet voice echoes in the large room, clearly Tina's from the Hawkins High cheer uniform hanging on the closet door and the over abundance of pink, and he snickers as he drops your hand to grab a blanket draped over the desk chair.

"Live a little, Henderson!" He opens another door, this one leading out onto a moonlit balcony -Jesus, you knew Tina's family was rich but come on- and holds it for you as you step outside. It's just beginning to snow, specks of white drifting down silently and forming a barely there dusting on the railing and you hold out your hand to catch one, watching as the tiny flake instantly disappears from the heat of your palm.

"C'mon, I'll give you a boost." Eddie says, tossing the blanket up onto the section of roof that's just a bit lower than the others.

"Don't tell me you shoot webs from your wrists." You joke, warily eyeing the spot even as you step forward and stand in front of him, grabbing the edge with both hands.

"Nah, I couldn't handle the responsibility of being Spider-Man." He moves closer and hovers his hands over your sides. "Still trust me?"

You nod.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is a low whisper in your ear and when a shiver runs down your spine, you blame it on the sudden gust of wind, nothing more.

You nod again.

His hands are big and oh so warm as he places them on your waist and before you know it, you're lifted onto the roof without so much as a warning, the rough shingles cold against your knees even through the thick denim of your jeans.

Holy shit, he's strong.

You don't even get the chance to offer your hand as he pulls himself up with an almost casual grace and spreads the blanket out, each step he takes so confident and sure, like he's done it time and time again.

"So, you sure know your way around Tina Williamson's roof." You carefully crawl closer and take a seat beside him, close enough that the length of your body is pressed right up against his to ward off the cold.

To be fair, you're also the slightest bit terrified of somehow falling right off the edge and it's like he reads your mind when he shuffles even closer and rests his arm along the curve of your back, not quite touching but near enough that you just know he'll catch you.

"Found out I could climb up here two years ago and-" He explains, pointing off somewhere beyond the back yard in the vague direction of town. "-it's got a killer view of the fireworks."

"It's peaceful." The sounds of the festivities have faded to nothing more than a faint thumping of bass and the occasional burst of laughter floating up from the smokers on the back deck. "So for the last two years, every party Tina's thrown, you've just been hiding up here?"

"More like escaping." Eddie shrugs and stares ahead at the snow-covered trees. "I don't even want to come to these things and I'm only invited 'cause I deal. Once these rich kids get their stuff and I get paid…no one really cares where I go so I just do what I want."

You care.

"All by yourself?"

He nudges you with his shoulder and when you turn to face him, that same look from earlier is behind his eyes, the one from the hallway and the kitchen that you still can't quite figure out. "You're the only person I've ever brought up here."

"Really?"

It's cold, the snow starting to fall a little bit heaver now, and yet you're so, so warm under his gaze as he nods, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly in the softest smile you've ever seen from him.

It's like hot chocolate on a snowy day or a cozy blanket on a cold night, safe and warm and feeling more than a little like home.

"I'm trusting you with this, Henderson. Don't abuse your power."

You smile and duck your head, pulling your sweater sleeves down further over your cold fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it, Munson."

You'd nearly forgotten all about the cookies hidden in his jacket pocket until he nudges your arm and hands you two, one of his own hanging out of his mouth and you realize they're the snickerdoodles Steve had told you to try.

For the first time, the thought of him doesn't make your stomach twist or your chest hurt. Honestly? You don't really feel anything in particular, other than the fact that he has damn good taste in desserts as you take a bite of your cookie, perfectly baked and covered in just the right amount of cinnamon and sugar.

No wonder he ate ten of them.

You finish eating in silence but you don't feel the need to fill it with anything other than the sound of your breathing; Eddie doesn't either and for who knows how long you sit side by side, watching tiny snowflakes lazily fall from the sky. They dot his dark hair with spots of white and a laugh slips from your mouth before you can stop it.

"What?" He turns your way and you just shake your head as you reach over and brush some flakes from the ends of his curls.

"The snow in your hair, it kinda looks like powdered sugar."

"Oh, so you think I'm sweet?" He waggles his eyebrows and you laugh so hard you have to lean on his shoulder to keep from falling over. The arm he has resting behind you's now fully pressed against your back and it feels like a live wire running along your spine.

"I never said that!"

"But you implied it." Your breath catches as he gently brushes some snow from your hair as well, the warm, calloused pads of his fingers glancing along your face. "And good thing 'cause I think you're sweet, too."

You suddenly get the feeling you've missed something very very important as you scoot away just far enough to turn and face Eddie fully. Down below, your classmates flood out onto the back deck to wait for the fireworks as the new year approaches but you could care less, all of your focus right in front of you on big brown eyes and tiny freckles and a beautifully devastating smile.

"Me?" You speak quietly into the cold air, the question forming swirling white wisps that float above your heads for a fleeting second before disappearing into the night.

You could elaborate but you don't have to because you know he knows exactly what you mean as his hand hovers in the air between you for a long moment before he finally reaches forward and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I thought I was being obvious." He says, a red hue coloring his cheeks that you know now is definitely not from the cold.

"Why?"

"Why did I think I was being obvious? Henderson, I'm gonna play Earth, Wind & Fire for you!"

"No, why do you…why me?"

It makes him pause, a gentle furrow to his brow, and the way he says your name so softly makes your heart skip a beat.

"Because you're you."

A minute to midnight is a pretty fucking weird time to have an epiphany but you've never had good timing.

"Oh."

It's like something just clicks, the last piece of the puzzle you didn't even know you were trying to solve slotting into place and it all makes such perfect sense you're not sure how you didn't see it before.

"I know you're into Harrington," Eddie says hastily, eyes darting away from yours for just a second before they come right back, wide and honest in the dark. "And I get it if you never want to speak to me again 'cause I just made things super weird but-"

"I'm not into Steve."

You don't know how he makes confusion look so cute but he does, eyebrows knit together and making a little wrinkle in his forehead that's just visible under his bangs. "You're not?"

"I thought I was but…" You trail off as more and more people flood outside, their voices loud and full of excitement as the countdown begins. "Turns out I'm falling for someone else and I finally figured out who."

"Ten, nine, eight."

You scoot closer, sitting on your knees so your face is level with his when you reach out to brush some more snow from his hair, letting your fingers graze over his cheek like the ghost of a kiss. "Sorry it took me so long to catch up."

"Seven, six, five."

"Oh. It's okay." He sputters, a brilliant red flush slowly crawling up his neck like ivy. "I mean, I've liked you for a while now, ever since you joined the band when I was in eighth grade-"

"Four."

"-and you sat in front of me with your trumpet, wearing a Judas Priest shirt and I-"

"Eddie?" You interrupt because as much as you want to hear the rest of his story, you've got a more important thing on your mind.

"Three."

"Yeah?"

"Two."

"Please stop talking."

His jaw snaps shut almost comically and he watches with those wide eyes of his as you slowly cup his face in your hands.

"One."

The clock strikes midnight. The first firework shoots off from downtown and explodes in a brilliant flash of shimmering gold in the inky black sky. And you lean forward and kiss Eddie Munson.

The fireworks overhead are nothing compared to the ones you feel when he responds to your kiss with one of his own, his lips soft and sure under yours as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

He tastes like cinnamon sugar, spicy and sweet, and you can't get enough of him, of his warmth and his fingers sliding into your hair and the noise he makes low in his throat when you part your lips under his.

Kissing him is addicting, intoxicating. It's all you've ever wanted.

He's all you ever wanted.

You were just too blind to see it.

He's all you can see now when you finally part, all swollen lips and flushed cheeks and a smile that would've taken your breath if you had any left to give. The fireworks are long over but you don't even care that you missed the whole show as you lean forward to press your forehead against his.

"So, eighth grade, huh?" You ask and Eddie nods, rolling a strand of your hair between his thumb and pointer finger.

"You were humming 'Highway to Hell' and had holes in your jeans. And when I heard you talking about learning to play DnD for your little brother? That was it for me."

"I was nervous when I first joined band 'cause I had trouble staying on beat. I was so scared they were gonna kick me out." You say and when a snowflake lands on his cheek, you wipe it away with your thumb. "But I heard you tapping your foot behind me and you helped me keep time. Without you, I don't even know if I'd still be playing."

He tucks your hair behind your ear before taking your cold hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, his touch so soft and sweet it makes your head spin.

"Your hands are freezing."

"I don't want to go home yet."

You could stay like this forever with him and when he leans forward to press his lips to yours, you know he feels the same.

"Where to then?"

He's never looked more beautiful to you, his pretty brown eyes blown wide and full of affection and reflecting the shimmer of the stars overhead and a slow smile creeps onto your lips when you weave your fingers between his.

"Surprise me. I'm all yours."

An adorable pink blush sweeps across his nose as he pulls you in for another kiss and you know without a doubt you're speaking the truth.

You know you mean every word.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #my writing #tag check

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