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grapementos · 11 months

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walk away as the door slams

aged up bakugo x reader

cw: heavily! toxic relationships, emotionally abusive (gaslighting, etc.), angst.

pt 2 here.

bakugo isn't the same person he was in high school. he grew into a top five hero and opened his own agency, only to be brutally torn apart by the tabloids.

scandal after scandal, you watched him crack. like glass, he grew more and more fragile each time he was made out to be a monster, an asshole, a douchebag--whatever other name was thrown out there.

each time, you were there to comfort him and stand by his side against every rumor and generalization. still, it scared you as you watched his resolve weaken. it was as if he didn't see the point in being a hero anymore.

then came the headline, the article that had him hanging up his gauntlets in exchange for civilian life. the article had an incriminating photo of him holding up his hand to a child. of course, it was taken out of context; bakugo had merely been guiding the child away from the rubble of the building near them.

however, the media ate it up, and bakugo decided that being a hero wasn't worth the false allegations. he announced his resignation the same day and rid the entire house of hero news.

it broke your heart to see him give up his dream, so you'd tried and failed time and time again to talk him out of it. you even invited midoriya and kirishima to persuade him to become a hero again, but his mind was made.

he'd since picked up a new, low-brow job that kept him out of the public eye. with that, unfortunately, came stress regarding bills, grocery shopping, and necessary budget cuts. it was a huge adjustment, one that led to frequent arguments.

you worked from home, so you were able to keep it clean and cook meals for the most part. you tried so hard to keep your home a place where the two of you could coexist happily, but he always came home with an unfulfilled look in his eyes.

truth be told, you were exhausted, but bringing it up just made bakugo frustrated, so you avoided the subject. instead, you'd ask him about work, only to be brushed off.

it hurt.

"katsuki," you called from your spot at the table, finishing up some work, "what do you want to eat tonight?"

"dunno." he grunted, walking out of your shared bedroom.

"right. so helpful." you sighed, looking at your laptop once more, "do you have a general idea? or do you want to cook?"

"i just got home from an 8-hour shift." he looked at you like you were dumb, eyes narrowed, "can you lay off with the million questions?"

"it's a simple question. i need to know if i have to defrost anything." you shut your laptop a little harder than necessary, "i work too, you know."

he laughed bitterly but didn't say anything.

"what?" you demanded, hands on your hips.

"oh, nothing. just thought it was funny, is all."

"what's so damn funny?"

"you, sitting on a laptop all day. 'working'," he used air-quotes, opening the cupboards.

"really? you wanna go there?" you closed the cupboard he was looking in, cheeks flushed with frustration.

he stared at you, jaw clenched, "can you move?"

"can you stop being so damn mean?"

"god, i'm not being mean." he shook his head and opted for digging through the fridge instead, "y'just being too damn sensitive."

you took in a deep breath, red hot anger beginning to boil up in your gut and through your hands all the way down to your fingers.

"stop digging through the fridge when i'm trying to talk to you, please."

he didn't even spare you a glance, pulling out the last cold water bottle.

"katuski." you demanded, louder.

"my god, what?" he slammed the fridge closed, leaning back on the counter, "as if i don't get nagged enough by my boss."

"i'm not nagging you. i'm," you stammered, trying not to escalate the situation into an argument, "i'm trying to see what you want for dinner. that's all."

"just make whatever. i'm not hungry anyways." he tossed the plastic bottle into the trash, plopping down at the table.

you rubbed your temples, trying so hard to maintain your calm, "okay."

the two of you were sat across each other at the kitchen table. you ate something quick you'd whipped up, finally breaking the silence, "they're considering me for a promotion. it's a pretty significant payraise, and i think i--"

"god, are you fuckin' kidding me?" he interrupted, eyes suddenly aflame.

"what?" you cocked your head, confused at his sudden irritation.

"you just love rubbing that shit in my face, huh? you're always talking about how you get paid more than i do, how work is so great, and now this? great job, breadwinner."

"katsuki, we're partners, we both contribute to this household no matter what. i'm not the... breadwinner." you insisted, pain blooming in your chest, "i thought you'd be happy for me."

"like you were so happy for me to quit that hero gig? so you can get all the glory of supporting us?"

"is that really what you think?" you stood, not able to control the flames of anger licking at your chest, "katsuki, you know damn well i gave my all trying to talk you into staying a hero."

"bullshit. you just wanted it to look that way." he stood too, hands planted firmly on the table, "because that's what you do. you pretend you care, and then just soak up all the glory for it."

you clenched your jaw, "not everyone cares for glory as much as you do. i don't know why you think that, but i know you loved being a hero, and i supported that because i love you."

"do you? or did you only get with me to be the partner of a hero?" he spat, eyes narrow and downright venomous, "poor partner of dynamight, they must go through so much to endure his anger issues. poor fuckin' you, right? poor y/n."

your lower lip quivered, the back of your eyes burning, and he laughed. he laughed.

"what? you're gonna cry, really?" he scoffed, shaking his head, "fine, fuckin' cry. that's all you seem to know how to do."

you inhaled sharply through your nose, eyes trained steadily on him, "fuck you." you whispered, hands balled into fists by your side.

"say it louder." he challenged, "maybe it'll actually do something."

"fuck you, bakugo katsuki." tears fell freely down your cheeks, but you weren't sad. you were pissed.

you walked around the table and jabbed your finger in his chest, "i have done so much for you. so goddamn much. i have stood by you, i have disproved every bad thing the media had to say, i've supported you, and-" your voice wobbled, "it's never fucking enough. nothing is ever enough for you. someone is always after you, someone is always praying on your downfall, because everything's about katsuki, right?"

he was stunned silent, leaning back away from you. his face was conflicted, eyes wide with surprise.

"well news-fucking-flash, the world doesn't revolve around you. and neither do i," you dropped your hand, wiping at your cheeks, "so i'm done. i'm done fighting for us, because you have never once tried for me."

"y/n--"

"y'know, katsuki." you paused on your way to the bedroom, "i think they were right about you. you are a douchebag. an asshole. a monster."

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f1byjessie · 3 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part two.

Friday evenings are typically spent in the comfort of your flat. Normally, you’re half paying attention to reruns of whatever shitty reality TV happens to be on and half scrolling through social media to keep up with the ever-fluctuating trends of content as per your job requirements, all the while eating your body’s weight in takeaway. It’s not the dream, but it’s certainly a dream.

Tonight, you plan on amending things to include going through the pictures of Bali’s stunning beaches that Lando’s been spamming you with throughout the day, but beyond that, you have no intentions of deviating further from your norm.

You’re actually really looking forward to it. Though you’d rather cut off your own hand than admit it to his face and give him new ammunitions to tease you with, you miss Lando during the winter breaks. So much of your year is spent having him nearby━ a near-constant presence buzzing with the inability to slow down let alone stop━ and when he isn’t around, the silence seems louder. There’s no one else who manages to annoy you the way he does, and it’s just not the same without him.

To make matters worse, between your new job, Lando’s travels, and the scheduling conflicts that have arisen in turn, you haven’t had a chance to catch up with him beyond a few back-and-forth messages about his current escapades. So you really, genuinely, truly are looking forward to it.

Garrett Ward throws a wrench into things.

You have mixed opinions of Garrett. He can be very sweet, and he’s gone out of his way to make you feel incredibly welcome in your first week with the Manchester City team. He makes good conversation and seems genuinely interested in what it is you’re doing, often asking questions about your equipment and process, which is a nice change of pace from most other clients you’ve worked with in the past who rarely give two shits about anything beyond the final product. But his reputation is… concerning.

Garrett Ward is infamous in English tabloids for being a notorious womanizer.

There are several articles that come to mind, but the most damning of which is from 2019, before his trade to Manchester City, detailing with very incriminating photos how he’d been seen entering a club with two women and then leaving just a few hours later with a completely different pair. You don’t want to assume he’s the same man now as he was back then, nearly a full five years ago, but you’ve been working in the sports industry long enough to know that athletes can have anyone and if they want then they will have anyone━ there is no shortage of temptation.

And you are not arrogant enough to assume you would be the outlier.

Which makes his interest in you feel less like friendly curiosity and more like something you need to be wary of.

It’s also why━ as you make the trek through the Etihad Campus car park━ you feel dread begin to pool in your stomach as you answer your ringing phone. “Hi, Garrett.”

“Y/N!” He exclaims excitedly, sounding like he hadn’t just seen you barely ten minutes ago in the weight room. “I meant to catch you before you left, but you were outta there so fast I wasn’t able to.”

And there’s probably a reason for that, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “Yeah, I usually try to be pretty quick about it.”

There’s an awkward pause left open as if he expects you to say more, and when you don’t he clears his throat. “Erm, well, I was actually just calling to see if, perhaps, you would like to grab dinner with me this evening.”

You don’t. At all. It’s one of the last things you would like to do. There are plenty of other hellish things you would willingly rather subject yourself to before sitting down and sharing a private meal with this man━ jumping into the Thames is one of them, and letting Lando drive you around on the autobahn in his Spider is another. Both could very easily result in death, permanent disfigurement, or any other number of horrible outcomes, but neither includes Garrett.

Your hesitating silence must be an answer enough for him, because he chuckles again and adds on quickly, “No strings attached, I promise. It’ll just be two friends getting dinner.”

All you want to do is get cozy on your couch in your pajamas with a kebab from the place down the street and watch pretty people deal with their pretty people problems on TV. You don’t think that’s too much to ask for, but apparently, some higher power does.

“I suppose that’d be alright then,” you agree tentatively, speeding through the stages of grief as you mourn the initial plans of your Friday evening━ the easy, simple, comfortable plans. “Shoot me a message with the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”

“Awesome!” Garrett cheers. “See you later then.”

The peaceful silence that awaits you after you hang up feels like it’s mocking you. Too bad you can’t flip off silence.

“Look, the truth is, City is looking at trading me at the end of the season if I can’t clean my act up.” Garrett’s voice is quiet as he admits the reality of his future to you, but it breaks the silence of the world around you like a gunshot. “And not just loaning me out━” he adds, a twinge of something akin to anger noting his tone, “━but fully trading me. They’re saying that my image makes things too hard for them and the only way they’ll consider re-signing me is if I can either keep my name out of the tabloids or try to clean myself up.”

In Garrett’s defense, he technically did hold true to his promise of just two friends getting dinner. Things were actually going quite well, too. The restaurant was a little more high profile than you would’ve expected for a casual meal, but that can easily be passed off as the luxurious lifestyle and expensive tastes of a pro athlete who can certainly afford it. Expenses of your meal aside, he’d been good company, asking after the ways of working in Formula One and then finding similarities in his football career that made it easy to chat about the struggles and stressors of professional sports.

But you can recognize that this is where it’s all beginning to go downhill.

He’s announced it completely out of the blue as you’re walking back to the garage where you’ve both parked your cars. On top of that, his pace slows and you’re forced to slow down as well to match it until you both eventually come to a halt in the middle of the pavement.

You feel for him, in all honesty. You understand the difficulties of contract negotiations and how easily they can fall apart. The fragility of Formula One contracts is its own special brand of tricky and you’ve seen many friends move on to other teams in the blink of an eye just as they’ve begun to settle down and make their mark where they are. You can’t say for certainty that you understand the mechanics of football contracts to the same degree, but you can imagine they have their own fragile fine print.

But the chill of a January night in Manchester is brutal, and you’ll be the first to admit that your outfit does not protect against it. You don’t really want to be having this conversation in general, because you’ve known Garrett for all of a week which makes you acquaintances at best, but you especially don’t want to be having it now, out here in the cold when all you want to do━ all you’ve wanted to do since this afternoon━ is curl up in something warm and comfortable and pretend the world outside your flat doesn’t exist for a few days.

“I’m not sure what this has to do with me if I’m being honest, Garrett.”

He shrugs. “I just thought you might be able to help.”

You shove your hands in your pockets in a desperate attempt to keep your fingers from going more numb than they already are and shake your head at him. “I don’t know how exactly you think I can help you with that. I’m a photographer, not a PR officer.”

“My agent thinks it would be a good idea if I showed the media that I could hold down a steady relationship. Prove to them that I’ve changed my ways, and have matured.” He shrugs again, nonchalant despite being the one to bring this up in the first place.

“Have you?”

He makes a face, something between a flirty smirk and a suggestive wink, “Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Garrett.”

“Look,” he crosses his arms and levels you with a look that fills you simultaneously with more rage and annoyance than a single person has ever made you feel before. “It would just be for a couple of months, and then we could stage an amicable breakup and that would be that! It just has to be long enough to show everyone that I’m not the same as I used to be.”

You give him a look right back, hoping it conveys how appalled you are by his audacity. “Okay, but why me of all people? Christ knows you probably have a list of women in your contacts who would jump at the chance to pretend to date you for a few months.”

His face pinches up in disgust. “Yeah, but they’re all former hookups, and I mean, they’re kinda psycho about me to be fair. If I tried to end things, they’d probably go to the tabloids themselves and smear my name with the worst things they could come up with.” He shrugs again, and you’re starting to find that you hate it when he does so. “I need someone willing to just play along for the time being and who will be discreet when things are over.”

“And you think I’m that person?” You scoff. “You’ve known me for a week!”

Your voice echoes and it reminds you once again that you’re having this conversation in the middle of a random street in Manchester. It’s cold and dark, and you’ve been attempting to bite back your frustration since the moment Garrett called you. You’ve been as nice as you possibly can be for this man, shy of bending over backward to worship the very ground he walks on, and you’re so close to your limit that you think if he shrugs one more fucking time━

He shrugs. “Well, yeah, but you know how this industry works. So I know you can be trusted.”

You take a deep breath to try and retain what’s left of your quickly slipping composure, before you say, “Garrett, this goes beyond unprofessional. I could potentially get into a lot of trouble for this. You’re technically my co-worker, if not my client by proxy. It’s not a good look for me to be getting with the athletes I work with, considering my entire career is based on working with athletes.”

He makes a befuddled face as if asking what that has to do with anything. It occurs to you that he’s probably never had to worry about the ethics of hooking up with someone when most of the women who are interested in him would do everything in their power to spend a night by his side whether it’s morally just━ or legal, for that matter━ or not.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from being all cozy with that Nor-whatever guy,” he grumbles.

“What?”

“That driver,” he repeats. “You post him all over your socials, like, all the time.”

You tear your hands from your pockets and throw them up in the air, “Because that’s my job?!” The stupidity of the man before you is genuinely baffling. He’s been asking about your job all week long but the way he’s talking now makes it seem like he didn’t catch onto the fact that your entire career is centered around media and the creation of content made with the explicit intention of being shared.

“I am quite literally paid to take and post pictures of him per my contract with McLaren,” you continue. “And even if I wasn’t, he’s my best friend?! I’ve been working and traveling and spending the majority of my time with Lando since 2019 so of course I’m going to be close with him. Do you not post your mates every once in a while?”

“Yeah, but it’s different. All my mates are guys, so nobody thinks I’m dating any of them when I do it.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I cannot believe this right now. You know, for a moment, I briefly considered helping you. But you’re actually exactly the type of prick the tabloids say you are.”

He takes an intimidating step closer, and his voice drops an octave lower. “I would reconsider if I was you.” You’re not short, but Garrett isn’t either. He’s one of the tallest players on the Manchester City team, and the way you feel now with him staring you down makes you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his opponent on the pitch.

It’s fucking terrifying.

But you’re fucking livid, too.

Your jaw clenches and you bite out sharply, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he starts, “is that if you don’t help me, maybe I slip a word about something or other to my boss who slips a word to his boss who is, also, your boss, and suddenly, whoops!” He gives you a cocky smirk, so sure of himself that it makes you feel like your blood is literally boiling. “He’s not your boss anymore. In fact, nobody is your boss anymore, because your ‘slip in conduct’ was very inappropriate and made several players uncomfortable, which doesn’t look very good when trying to get jobs elsewhere in the industry.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well,” he fucking shrugs. “When you say it like that, yeah. I guess I am.”

You cross your arms, your hands clenched into fists so tightly that you can feel your nails digging painfully into the flesh of your palms. “You’re a real bastard, you know.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, love.”

If only it were legal to kill a man━ Garrett Ward would be six feet under and picking worms from between his teeth.

You weigh your options, though. You’re not sure how much weight his word actually carries. For all you know, he could tell his boss, they could bring you in to discuss things, and then you could explain it all from your point of view. Garrett is a notorious flirt and you doubt it’s the first time he’s tried to pursue someone who isn’t interested in him. You doubt it happens very often, but it has to have happened at some point. Not to mention, his reputation regarding women is bad enough that Manchester City is already giving him an ultimatum, so you probably have a chance, and the worst-case scenario is that you amicably part ways with the team and that’s that.

But realistically there is a worse worst-case scenario, and it’s pretty damn close to what Garrett is threatening. Losing this side gig wouldn’t really be too much trouble. It would put a dent in your savings, and you’d have to be a bit better about how you ration out your groceries and other necessities around the flat, but losing your job at McLaren? Being blacklisted from the industry entirely? That’s life-destroying. You would lose everything━ all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to get where you are would be for nothing.

All because of a prick in sky blue.

“Fine,” you utter from between gritted teeth. “I’ll help you. But I won’t post you on my account. I won’t bring you home to my parents. I won’t go round to your flat and I certainly will not have you round to mind. You get one kiss to make it official to the paps, and then nothing more.” You take your own threatening step toward him, and a vindictive part inside you shines with malicious glee when he shifts ever so slightly backward. “If you try anything else, I will run to the papers and drag you through the mud worse than any of your little psycho groupies ever could.”

He scoffs, “You’d ruin your career.”

“But I’d tear you down with me,” you reply.

He takes a moment to think, staring into your eyes and weighing how serious you are. Whatever he sees staring back at him must be convincing enough because he sniffs, nods, and smirks.

“Deal.” He leans down, “I think I’ll be taking that kiss now. Make sure to really sell it, yeah?”

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre

━━ a/n: i feel like i say this every time, but i am seriously blown away by how well the first part of this was received! like, seriously, thank you so much for the kind words everyone said about it! hopefully this second part lives up to the hype of the first, it's a little denser, but the events are important to establish for the rest of the story so it needed to happen!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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youraverageaemondsimp · 7 months

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“You belong to me and me only.” // Aemond Targaryen x Aunt!Hightower!Reader

MDNI

WARNINGS: dubcon, p in v sex, canon typical incest, breeding kink, noncon voyeurism, jealous!aemond, kinda toxic, tiddy sucking, degradation, humiliation, dacryphilia(?), rough sex, choking, reader's age is left up to interpretation. + not proofread // based on this request.

WC: 2k

You were reading a book in allotted chambers when you felt the noise of a stone slide, you sighed already knowing who it was before you got up and turned to face the intruder, arms crossed. Aemond was in your room before he came close to you and embraced you, “Aunt.” he whispers, nose buried at the top of your head before he takes in the scent of you, hair smelling like roses.

You push him away and put your book down on the table before putting some distance between you and Aemond, “You should leave.” you say and he furrowed his eyebrows, “What the fuck do you mean by that?” he grits his teeth and you sigh. “Aemond, I am to be married soon, I cannot continue this….whatever this is, with you.” you speak, “But I love you.” he replies.

“I know, and I love you too, but my sister has declined our betrothal.” you try to speak some sense into him.

“I do not give a shit about my mother's opinion on this matter, I want you. I want to have you, your body and soul.” Aemond says and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at that but you quickly push them away before you shake your head.

“It is useless.” you reply.

“I would rather burn this keep to the ground with vhagar than watch you marry someone that isn't me, aunt.” he grits his teeth as he proclaims angrily.

“My dear, I know it is upsetting, but we cannot do anything about this-” you try convincing him but he lets out a sound similar to a growl before storming off.

Just then a guard informs you of the dinner you were supposed to have with all of the family, yes that included Rhaenyra and her family.

Your maids quickly get you ready for the dinner, donning you in a beautiful green down, with a squared neck cut and slightly puffed sleeves, gold lacing incriminated into the cloth, not extravagant, simple enough dress which was suitable for dinner.

You wore your hair loose, except the two strands that were braided and put together at the back of your head, and then you wore your most valuable gift of all, a valyrian steel necklace, thin braided, with a sapphire drooping down the middle, small and heart shaped.

It was a gift from Aemond, it's not he hadn't gifted you other things, it's just that this necklace was something that you liked the most and the one which held meaning to you, after all it was the necklace you had received after Aemond had confessed his feelings for you.

And just like that, you were ready for dinner.

You sat down on your chair and watched as Aemond talked to Aegon, Aemond had switched places and sat right next to you, which earned a look from Alicent who Aemond paid no mind to.

Dinner was going well, everyone seemed to be getting along, Luke and Jace were on their best behaviour today, it seems their mother had finally reprimanded them.

That was what you thought until you caught Daemon Targaryen staring at you, at first you thought it was a mistake, but he for sure was staring at you, or rather at your cleavage.

You watched as he took a sip of his wine, eyes flickering down to your breasts before up to your face, he gave you a small smirk before drinking.

You noticed how visibly uncomfortable Rhaenyra was and you felt so bad for her, you shrugged off and pretended nothing ever happened, until you heard your sister bring up the topic of Aemond's betrothal.

What shocked you most was that she had said that Aemond was the one who proposed it.

A marriage alliance to the Baratheon House.

Floris Baratheon.

You clenched your jaw in jealousy and anger, you knew you were both meant to part ways, in fact you were the one who bought it up in the first place anyways but that didn't matter, you were angry, at both him and yourself for feeling like this.

You simply gave him a glare from your side, before turning your attention to the man who was sitting across, he still shamelessly checked you out. And then you got an idea.

You leaned in front of the table, pretending as though you were fetching something, causing the flesh of your breasts to almost spill out, giving Daemon the time of the day, his face flickered over to your face and you gave him an innocent smile before sitting back, nobody seemed to have noticed except for Aemond at what you had done.

Then you felt something trail up the front of your leg and you looked at Daemon who now had a relaxed expression as his boot made its way upwards your skirts, trailing a path, and you pulled your legs back, and shot him a smirk, basically inviting him in.

Aemond had begun to notice all this, the way when your hands would linger longer whenever you would pass something to his uncle, the way he stared at your chest, it made him mad.

He proposed this marriage so that you would break and create a scene and get you and him married. But this isn't what he had expected.

He finally snapped when he heard your sweet laugh, which was drawn by daemon's joke, he slammed his fists on the table and before anyone can process it he's pushing the food off and slams you by your head on the table kicking your chair off forcing your legs straight. You were extremely taken aback by this.

“Since you want to parade yourself like a whore, I will treat you like one.” he growls before he hikes your skirts up and you panic, struggling and Alicent looks at this in horror, everyone looks as if they're scared.

“Aemond! Stop this right now!” Alicent tries to come over to help you but he shoots her a look and she backs down, scared that her son might hurt her as well.

He quickly undoes his breeches, he didn't care if everyone was watching him, that's exactly what he wanted, he slipped into your folds with such brutality that made you moan loudly and claw at the table, you tried fighting him off but he held your hands together at your back and let go of your neck, spanking your ass.

“Look at this, already so fucking wet.” he collects the wetness yout produced and smears it across your skin, and just then you were able to feel how wet you were.

“Fucking whore.” he says as he starts snapping his hips at a brutal pace causing you to moan, it was so humiliating, to have everyone watch you while he fucks you, they're too scared to interefere, Alicent closes her eyes at this act of depravity being displayed, and everyone seems to be looking anywhere but whatever was being displayed, and Aemond was visibly annoyed, he wanted everyone to look, to see how much of a whore you were, he wanted to humiliate you.

“Look at this uncle, wasn't this bitch just flirting with you moments ago? Watch how she is moaning underneath me now.” he grunts, thrusting, making your body jolt up the table, and Daemon stares at you, unashamed.

You burst into tears, feeling insulted and humiliated, “Dear aunt, are you crying right now? Don't, you were the one who wanted to act like a whore from the silk streets.” he coos mockingly and you sniff, his thrusts become sloppy before he pushes him to the hilt and finishes inside you, before pulling out and wearing his breeches, before smoothly walking his way out, leaving you unsatisfied and on the table, a mess.

Alicent comes towards you and pulls your skirts down, she seems to be at the verge of crying as well, fixing you up and giving you a hug and you just looked at everything in a daze, mad and humiliated.

But most of all unsatisfied.

Aemond didn't let you finish, but sought out his own pleasure like a cunt.

That's what made you mad.

“Let's pretend nothing happened here, and Aemond.. That mangrown… ” Alicent sighs and everyone nods, looking at you in pity and you just feel tears streaming down your face, and your sister wipes them away.

You left the scene, going back to your chambers, and the sight in front of you made you mad.

Aemond was in your chambers.

“What the fuck are you doing here, get out.” You say sternly and he turns to look at you, you close the door behind you before lunging at him, and he seems taken aback by this but he dodges, and grabs you by your neck before applying pressure, causing you to see stars as the oxygen was so slowly deprived from you.

He pushes you onto the bed, hand leaving your neck as he rips your gown apart, the material tearing, causing your breasts to spill out, he grips them tightly, nails biting into your skin causing sparks of pain, you gripped his hands trying to pull them off but he only held on tighter, “He was staring at these,” he growls, “But he doesn't know that they belong to me.” he takes your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple, causing you whine before he bites down harshly, making you arch your back and grip his hair.

He pulls away and trails kisses down your body, stopping at your cunt, he pulls your legs apart, revealing your folds to him, he moans at the sight, his previously stuff spend leaking outside, and coating your thighs, he licks at of it up before his lips descend onto your pearl, he sucks on it, tongue flicking up and down your bud, you throw your hand back and moan, hands coming up to grip his hair as you rut against his face, he moans into your cunt, relishing in the combined taste of you and him, he pushes his finger inside your hole as he kisses your bud, thrusting in and out, fingers curling upwards to hit your spot.

And soon, you come all over his hands and he moans at the way your cunt clenches around his digits, “Fuck- need to be inside you once again.” he pulls his fingers out and replaces it with his cock, pushing past your folds and sitting all snuggly inside.

He leans down to kiss your neck, biting at it to leave marks, he fucks you at a brutal pace, making your body jolt, and the bed creak against the floor.

He pulls away from your neck to watch your fucked out expression, drool dripping from the side of your mouth, which he leans in and licks it up before kissing you, your moans are muffled by it.

He felt himself near once again, “I can't wait to fill you up, maybe at the earlier display, and my son growing in your womb, she might wed us.” he tells you his plan easily and you nod.

“You'd be so pretty, all full and round of my child, trying to waddle around, trying to keep up with my pace— ah! fuck!” he moans as he spills himself inside you, all the thoughts only spurring him on further.

And you feel your band snap at the same time, cumming along with him, moaning extremely loudly, chanting his name like a prayer.

He pulls out and watches his cum drip out of you, he scoops it up and shoves it back inside, and you wince from the overstimulation.

“You belong to me, and me only, do you understand?” he growls and you nod.

“I want to hear it.”

“Yes, Aemond, I understand.” you say.

And soon, Alicent weds you both, the entire family was quiet during the celebration, knowing the reason why, yet they all congratulated you.

Aemond finally got what he wanted at the end.

———

GENERAL TAGLIST ;

@watercolorskyy @cl-0-vr @chompchompluke @namelesslosers @snowystark @spookyaemond @sweethoneyblossom1 @this-isnt-madness @persephonerinyes @eltherevir @sidni3003 @aleidag1rly @cryingforlife @fan-goddess @hannaeditzs @grungegrrrl @thekinslayersswordhand @aemondsbabygirl

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #x reader #x reader smut #reader insert

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s1ater · 8 months

Text

lorenzo’s luck.

pairings. mobster!slytherin boys x fem!reader

about. in which it’s been a rough couple of weeks and lorenzo is facing the heat of it all.

warnings. swearing, a beating,

ricky rocks. okay, new idea sense i’ve been watching the sopranos lately and writing generic slytherin boys is getting boring for me rn… also i’ve been seeing some stuff abt lorenzo on tiktok and even something on here and i think i characterized him totally wrong? but also not because i read the book (but not really) he originally came from and he didn’t seem as sweet and innocent as people play him as. idk, i’ll stick to what i have now but lmk what y’all think ig

everything and everyone was on edge.

for the past two weeks the feds had been down your neck, jeopardizing your whole lifestyle and way of work.

everyone was in a pissy mood because of it—because when the feds were on your ass, that meant having to be careful, and your job was hard thing to be careful about when every move you made was highly incriminating. so when being careful, you barely got to work, and no work meant no profit.

it was hard to specify exactly what you did.

you were a mobster.

there it is, in the simplest form.

there was a lot of pressure in being one, especially when law enforcement was there to make things ten times harder.

and it wasn’t only affecting you, but entirety of your group;

“you’re a fuckin’ idiot, lorenzo, you realize that? take a fuckin’ look at yourself in the mirror and stare at something that isn’t just your face and realize you’re a fool,” mattheo’s voice erupts so suddenly through the air, startling all of you. “get your shit together.”

it was already starting. you, theodore, blaise, lorenzo, and mattheo had just barely taken a step into one of the many backrooms of the businesses mattheo’s father owned when the composure came fumbling down.

lorenzo had just barely sat his ass in one of the leather seats when the attention was pinned to him, “jesus, what’s up you’re ass m?” he laughs, but you can tell it’s a nervous one. “jesus.”

you glance to theodore who winces at the response like it was his own. that was the worst possible thing to say, especially to mattheo, especially right now where his anger and frustration was at an all time high.

you can see that anger pulse through his skin in a spike as he finally seems to processes lorenzo’s antagonizing words.

oh boy.

“fuckin’ saved your ass, enzo. you know what my fathers saying? that you’re a loose fucking cannon and i need to let you go,” he has his hand raised, shaking it in his face. “and you know what? we don’t let people go. there’s no such thing as letting someone go in our business. that’s a rare ever occurrence.”

letting someone go is disposing them. taking them out to the back and putting them down like a dog.

“get your head on straight and don’t you forget that you wouldn’t be here without me, because you’d be dead.”

“you act like you’re so fucking clear minded,” he huffs, leaning his head against the palm of hand.

that was enough.

mattheo swings himself around, throwing his fist into the face of enzo as hard as he can. you flinch at the sound of enzo’s nose cracking beneath the contact of mattheo's knuckles. you feel yourself tense up at the noise not letting up, but rather playing over and over, filling the room with ugly sounds of punches fill the room.

“mattheo-“

your call out is cut off as theodore takes your shoulder, pulling you back, “don’t.”

“he’s going to kill him.”

“he won’t,” he pulls you even closer and further away from the violent scene unfolding before you all, tightening his grip. “lorenzo’s too viable.”

he was right. even as enzo was a loose canon, he brought in a lot of profit and kept his end clean… for the most part.

lo was too salient for mattheo to kill, but his loud mouth was enough to tip mattheo over the edge.

it was a perfect way for him to blow off steam; beating in the face of his friend.

***

“don’t you look like a dime.”

it’s been a week since mattheo went on his little rampage, and you were now just seeing lorenzo in his healing state.

you’re smiling up at him, pinching his cheek as he rolls his eyes to your attention, “yeah, yeah, get off my back.”

he looked far from a dime; his nose was broken causing both his eyes to sport dark rings of bruising around them while the lining of his jaw was turning a dark purple and yellow.

“you and mattheo civil now?”

“define your idea of civil.”

“well, you’re not dead, so I assume you two are as civil as civil gets in mattheo’s terms.”

he scoffs, “yeah, well, let’s hope mattheo and his father are on the same page and I don’t end up dead in the next week.”

over a month ago, some of lorenzo’s boys hijacked a truck everyone was told specifically not to mess with despite the fair amount of profit that could come from it. and unfortunately, they dug themselves an already deep hole, deeper by obtaining the truck through a casualty.

lorenzo had received the blame, despite it having nothing to do with him other than the men being under his supervision and responsibility. he had to pay for it, and he did…

“you’re on the higher end of things, he won’t kill you.”

“that’d be the exact reason for him to kill me,” lorenzo corrects you. “I’m on the higher end for a reason, i can’t fuck up.”

you press your lips into a thin line at the thought of his words. mattheo’s beating must’ve really enlightened lorenzo because there was rarely ever a moment you caught him in such a grave mood where he was so in touch with reality.

his attitude on life was light and so unserious; you were unsure on how mattheo even recruited him when that was the exact opposite that this job sought out for. but then again, the boy recruited all of you.

“then don’t fuck up,” he laughs lightly, but it’s caught in the back of his throat. “again.”

“great advice, y/l/n,” he glances at you, “really got that one on the nose.”

“don’t be a douche,” you slap him lightly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, lo. you’re alive, you’ll stay that way too as long as you don’t press your luck.”

“hard to press my luck when I don’t have any in the first place.”

you gaze at the side of his face, attempting to gage the general emotion or even thought process going through his head, but there was nothing. not even his usual perma-smile could be found.

***

“someone approached me awhile ago-“

“who?”

“doesn’t matter who—a clients girlfriend,” lorenzo is anxious, pacing back and forth before all of you in the backyard of mattheo’s home. “i was offered a deal.”

you wince immediately.

lorenzo had collected the whole lot of you; everyone except mattheo. you all sat on his back deck, fixating between the full beautiful greenery backyard of the riddle home and lorenzo, who hadn't spoken till now.

a deal.

he should’ve stopped there.

“a deal?” blaise arched a brow, now leaning on his forearms that rest on his knees. “what kind of deal?”

you all knew exactly what type of deal it was.

enzo’s eyes don’t reach any yours, but he’s stopped pacing, wondering whether he should really speak it now.

don’t say it.

“immunity,” he says it flat out, bringing truth to all of your thoughts. but he doesn’t seem ashamed to this with the way he looks at each and every one of you in the eye finally. “she said once we all get impounded, there’s a way out for me.”

once. not if.

“i tell them everything. i rat every single one of you out and i’m given immunity.”

you all look up at him like he’s crazy. and he is; to be speaking like this to a bunch of mobsters—threatening the entirety of their life and business is crazy.

“we get thirty years plus. there’s no doubt. they get us and we’re already laid in our graves before trial because what we’ve done is absurd-“

“are you saying you’re a rat, berkshire?”

“no,” he shakes his head fast. “no, not at all.”

“that’s not what i’m hearing,” draco shakes his head. “i’m hearing you’re getting nervous with all this recent snooping of the feds and you’re fuckin’ rat.”

“fuck off, malfoy. i’m just telling you what i was told. i’m not a goddamn rat. i’d have to be mental to give up all we’ve done-“ his hand finds his forehead and he’s pacing again. “fuck if i even remember half of it.”

you’re all back to silence, thinking about this. rat or not, this did not look good for him.

your eyes suddenly settle on the light and distant bruising under enzo’s eyes; finally healing. you think about mattheo beating in his face over and over, and then you think about what he’d do if he ever found out about lorenzo’s offer.

“they have a lot of shit on mattheo.”

you all look back up to lorenzo now, a certain interest now crossing each of you again.

“what type of shit exactly?”

“type of shit you don’t get parole with… or out of jail for that matter,” he looks even more stressed than before. “she said the rest of you could have chances of a life after serving. not him.”

this wasn’t a surprise. mattheo always had a quality that none of you did when it came to getting things done; something sociopathic. he always took risk without question of consequence. he moved in silence, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t think, he always got things done faster than all of you combined.

so if mattheo did something beyond all of your usual tasks, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“i mean that makes sense, matty’s been at this longer than the rest of us,” you reasoned it out, only to be stopped immediately.

“no, you don’t understand,” enzo shook his head.

“what exactly are we not understanding here, enzo? you seem to know something, so why don’t you just spit it out,” theodore sits up, speaking for once. there’s obvious annoyance and distaste in his mouth as he stares at the boy before you with a narrowed look.

lorenzo pauses, looking back at him with the same look. you can tell there’s a thought process behind his eyes, and his anxiousness is slowly melting away.

“you know, where do you guys think this is all going? genuinely. you think we’re going to spend the next couple of months running clubs, collecting money, and beating up the occasional person that’s late on their payments for fun?” lorenzo has turned sour, looking at each of you almost as if he hates you all for your ignorance. “this is for life, and we’re only at the beginning point.”

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wild-flowerhoney · 3 months

Text

okay well. here's my version of the percico hunger games au:

nico's meant to be part of the careers, being reaped in district one (luxury) when he's sixteen/seventeen - except, well, he didn't actually receive training. bianca had and tried to pass on what she knew but it was clear which child hades was interested in keeping alive (or is it). she died in an accident exactly a week before the reaping. and it was decidedly too late to fix his mistake and teach nico what he'd passed onto bianca. the other careers know this and to be frank, nico's just been abandoned and considered useless by pretty much everyone, mentor included. (the di angelo aren't even from district one. hades and maria met during his victory tour - and the capitol turned a blind eye when he kept visiting district twelve and eventually brought the kids back with him after her death.)

percy's the one to volunteer from district twelve, in his last year being reaped too (eighteen), in place of estelle (12, in her first year being reaped) - and he knows he's doing everything to get home. he has a sister and a mother and paul, the only father he's ever known. percy has something to go back to (in the same way nico doesn't), he has no training but he's strong enough from physical work that it's not impossible and that's what matters (percy would be from district four, conceived from poseidon's own victory tour. except he'd really had no interest in the child, not like hades had).

here's how it starts:

day one: nico, the supposed career, is shunned by his group. percy hears them say it'd be mercy, to send him back to his sister and mother (he doesn't like it. not a bit. percy's an older brother, values his family more than anything. they couldn't have said anything worse than that in his mind) and witnesses the fight that ensues - nico is fast, skilled enough with knives but not nearly on their level. it's the anger that fuels him enough to come out of it bruised but whole (after that, they get even more ruthless). the anger and percy, who's quite eager to put them in their places too (if he breaks one of their arms, will the capitol be able to heal it before they get into the arena? he's more than willing to find out). that's their first real interaction - and nico comes out of it angry at percy for getting involved, asking if he really thought nico was this defenceless. percy's just as mad and yells back that they both are, when everyone thinks they're easy pickings.

day two: day after, nico doesn't apologize but he trains near percy and gives him what little information he has on the other careers and from what bianca taught him. they're not friends, they bicker and pretty much bring out each other's most sarcastic self (and maybe that's the closest thing to friendship they've got so. you know).

day two, evening: training scores - percy gets an 8, incredibly high for someone with this little training but not overly so ("don't become a priority for them"). nico gets the full 11, to percy's concern. when asked how he achieved that score and if he knows that he just put a massive target on his back, nico seems decidedly unbothered.

day three: the interviews. they're both dressed up obviously but they joke (kind of) backstage about missing the cuts and bruises they'd given each other ("oh, you don't have my gift anymore? well that's ungrateful of you."). and here's the moment we've been waiting for: nico is asked about girlfriends and shrugs it off, it moves onto boyfriends. other tributes are mentioned, nico looks uncomfortable and blushes but doesn't reveal anything. at this point the interviewer is convinced it's another tribute, though, and brings it up with every other male in the other districts. it gets to percy who, having been "taught" to keep the public's attention by his mentor, runs with it (the blush is real, it's embarrassing, but he spins his little alliance with nico into a full blown friendship, not revealing anything truly incriminating but giving them hints of what they want). nico's mad, again. percy is also mad at him for reacting with anger - didn't percy just ensure them a better shot at victory? what exactly has him so pissed off?

night before the games start: percy doesn't want to go into the arena mad at his only ally, nico agrees. percy tells him about his family, his reasons to go home - when asked about his own, nico says he has nothing (hades and his stepmother didn't even visit after the reaping). percy is uncomfortable, asks him what he means by that, surely there must be a single reason. nico doesn't answer. percy understands what he's not saying, nico has no intention of going home and he never did. probably got an 11 just to make it easier and got mad when percy ensured them at least a couple sponsors for the same reason. nico leaves, giving him a last goodbye. this is when his safety becomes another priority for percy (mirroring canon percy with his search for nico), if percy himself can't win he wants it to be nico - he'll drag him kicking and screaming to the end if he has to. when the thought of having to kill nico pops up he pushes it down, unwilling to entertain it. no need to be worried about it, just yet (literally going "that's future percy's problem").

stopping here bc i might actually write this and im not giving the whole plot JUST YET (suggest mentors/tributes btw just be aware most of them WILL die, the only ones that are 100% going to live are percico).

#pjo #hoo #nico di angelo #percico #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #pernico #nicercy #hunger games au #pjo fic #pjo huger games au #percico hunger games au

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Text

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (PART EIGHTEEN)

previous: seventeen

next: nineteen

notes: very short, i’m so sorry! i’m trying to get through the next few chapters fast 😭 pictures 4-6 are from @edjtsbytrin because she’s been a godsend and been texting screenshots for me to use!

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, pally_18, and 197,150 others

y/ndevils00 happy happy HAPPY game day to every devils fan!! our boys got their THIRD STRAIGHT WIN TONIGHT!!

CAN I GET AN OH YEAH?!

tonight my second favorite team won in a 4-0 SHUTOUT against the rangers! which gave schmido the torpedo his FIRST playoff shutout! WHAT A GAME!

uncle pally got the first goal THIRTY-NINE seconds into the game! I AM SO UNBELIEVABLY PROUD OF HIM!!

u-haula got TWO goals tonight! i know i’m shocked too.

and of course, my best friend number one (yeah, he’s back to number one!) got a goal tonight! GO BESTIE!

i’m so incredibly proud of (most of) this team and i can’t wait to see them win this series! LET’S GO, BABIES!!

i’m tagged pally_18, ehaula, dawson1417, jackhughes, nicohischier, john.marino97, and akiraschmid93

user65 that pic of nico hugging jack 😭 PLATONIC SOULMATES

jackhughes why that picture? what have i done to piss you off?

y/ndevils00 so much

jackhughes like what?!

y/ndevils00 well it wasn’t cutting your hair, that’s for sure

jackhughes AFTER PLAYOFFS

y/ndevils00 okay. then you can sleep on the couch until AFTER PLAYOFFS

pally_18 thank you y/n! love having you there with us!

y/ndevils00 thank you! it is my job 🫡

ehaula you’re shocked i scored??

y/ndevils00 i feel like this is a trick question

dawson1417 I’M BFF NUMBER 1 AGAIN!! YAY!!

y/ndevils00 you deserve it!!

john.marino97 watch your back

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 play nice off the ice!

john.marino97 @/y/ndevils00 no.

user27 the schmid head bumps…. excuse me while i cry

y/ndevils00 no shame in crying! i did!

nicohischier “most of”? who are you not proud of?

y/ndevils00 nice try! i’m not about to incriminate myself!

trevorzegras it’s smith and wood. she’s been complaining to me all series.

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras THIS IS WHY MOM DOESNT FREAKING LOVE YOU

nicohischier @/y/ndevils00 well that’s not nice. @/trevorzegras i’m sure your mom does love you

akiraschmid93 thank you y/n! brooke told me to remind you about lunch tomorrow?

y/ndevils00 you’re so welcome, shakira! tell brooke to text me!

lhughes_06 LET’S GO!! 🔥

y/ndevils00 i will get you on that ice, smush! mark my goddamn words!

trevorzegras they’re your second favorite because we all know ducks are your first!

y/ndevils00 wrong.

jamie.drysdale @/y/ndevils00 we’re not?

y/ndevils00 @/jamie.drysdale i’m so sorry princess, you’re not :( but you’re my favorite ducks player, don’t you worry!

_quinnhughes it’s the canucks

y/ndevils00 @/_quinnhughes correct!

trevorzegras @/y/ndevils00 YOU LIKE THE CANUCKS OVER THE DUCKS?!

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras of course! the canucks have my favorite hughes!

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 babe, i play for the devils

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes i know <3

lhughes_06 @/y/ndevils00 i play for the devils too?

y/ndevils00 @/lhughes_06 well this is awkward….

#media management series <3 #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl blurb #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3 #faithlynn’s insta edits <3

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tragicxensemble · 3 months

Text

» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── «

One More Chance (At Love) (Pt.1/?)

Slowburn Mark Sloan x Reader x George O'Malley

TW/CW: Mentions of medical terms and just overall Grey's anatomy gore, social anxiety/ anxiousness, Christina being passive-aggressive to the reader of you squint, Love triangle, jump cuts

Disclaimer/Summary:

‼️ SEASON 2 SPOILERS!! ‼️

AJ's a new intern at Seattle Grace Hospital and the niece of Miranda Bailey. She has an average reputation and never heard of 'McSteamy' a.k.a Mark Sloan upon moving to Seattle and working at Seattle Grace. Not understanding the hype around him nor falling for his charm, he ends up falling first and hard because he thinks she's "hard to get". He tries his best to flirt with her but to no avail, because she never picks up on any of those social cues to realize that he has been flirting with her the entire time because of her being neurodivergent (specifically AuDHD). Besides Mark, there's also someone else who has been eyeing AJ since they met.

Ps: This is mostly a self-insert but you can still read and enjoy this!! It's been a while since I've made a fic and I think it's time for a fresh start :). This takes place in mid-season 2 (specifically episode 9, a month before the Thanksgiving part of the episode starts then jumpcuts to the events of the Thanksgiving episode) to around the end of season 3. There are a lot of jump cuts in this fic and rhe reader is black

Wc: 3.4k

» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── «

@spexialvixtimxunit @verytalented

Seattle Grace Hospital. A hospital filled with opportunities and so much drama that it could be a full-course meal. That is, of course, if you're interested in having surgeries and nonstop sleepless nights on the menu. If so, then sign me up. Having the opportunity to work in the same hospital as my Aunt was a blessing and a curse. She knew that I was studying to become a surgeon, but what she didn't know was that I would be working in the same hospital as her. The other interns around me called her 'The Nazi' but I simply called her Auntie Mandy.

No one knew that she was my aunt so they had no room to treat me differently because of my association with her. I deserved to be in that surgical program just as much as they did. I worked my ass off to become a well-respected doctor, not a punching bag for bottomless insults. So, my strategy to survive the internship came in 3 easy rules. A guide that I follow every day.

1. Befriend the Nurses.

This step was relatively easy. I'm always kind to everyone I meet unless they give me a reason to be mean. Plus, I would hate to get stuck on doing rectal exams or sutures for hours on end just because I pissed a nurse off. They're human beings just like me and deserve equal respect because it took them years of med school to get to where they are.

2. Keep to myself and only speak when spoken to (a.k.a practically become invisible to almost everyone unless I'm given instructions to complete a task.)

Now, this step is a relatively difficult one to follow. I have no clue who I will encounter upon being on Auntie Mandy's service and they would make my experience at SG unpredictable. I won't let them get to know me upon surface-level things about me. It's too risky for them to find out even the smallest incriminating detail about me. I'll just have to wait for the right moment to tell anyone that Bailey is my Aunt.

And lastly, my most hated rule.

3. NEVER unmask, unless necessary.

Masking in itself is extremely difficult. If I show any sign of my neurodivergence to neurotypicals who don't understand what it's like to hide parts of yourself every day 24/7, I'm looking at weeks of being a laughing stock and judged by everyone. Even though this is a possibility, the road to being a surgeon is never easy for anyone.

So, with that being said you would say that I have 3 impossible rules to follow. I would have to try my absolute hardest to not expose myself but also to be on top of my game in this program if I want to make it in the real surgical world.

-------

My alarm rings at the ripe time of 5 am. I had to be at the hospital by 7:00 am before 7:30 am rounds started and before I could officially be assigned to my resident. I knew before today that I was going to be assigned to Auntie Mandy because of the letter in the mail a few weeks ago declaring my official internship and transfer to Seattle Grace. As well as what day I would start working. Transferring hospitals is like transferring schools, you have to start all over again in a new place. New environment. With completely new people. People who are already used to each other and probably friends with each other. Whereas I'm the new kid, the outcast. The kid that sits alone during lunch while everyone has already created their cliques.

I took a few deep breaths before getting out of bed to stop myself from becoming anxious at the thought of all the wrong outcomes that could happen. I made sure to pack comfort snacks the night before and an emergency meltdown/overstimulation bag that consisted of earplugs, a few small but effective fidget toys, compactable noise-canceling headphones, and an mp3 player that has my comfort songs on speed dial. I made my bed, as I usually do to start my morning. Following up on that, I meditated and did yoga for an hour and a half. It's a way to calm and ground myself before I tackle whatever the day brings me.

I did my morning routine and skin care before heading back to my room, to change into my outfit.

By this time it was already 6:40 am. I had enough time to spare to moisturize my locs and bring a scrunchie with me so that I could put my hair up when needed at work. I made sure to grab my messenger bag and my snacks for the long shift and promptly left my apartment at 6:50 am. The drive to work was roughly 15 minutes but ended up being 20 minutes with traffic. I didn't live far away from the hospital, which was alright in my opinion. I arrived there at 7:05 am and began to park. After I parked and got out of the car, a motorcyclist drove up loud and parked 2 spots away from me.

Right in the middle of my car and the motorcycle came another car with 2 women and a guy who I'd assume knew the female motorcyclist because the group of 4 joined each other and I began walking into the building behind them. Mid-walk, another guy joins the group after what I'd assume was his morning jog. He was huffing and saying something I couldn't make out because of me keeping my distance from them so that they wouldn't assume that I was following them even though I was. I had no freaking clue on where anything in this ginormous hospital was. Sure I had a tour of the hospital but it's so easy to forget the layout when I've only been in it once.

While we waited for the elevator I quietly said, "Excuse me," as I tapped the shoulder of a brown-haired guy with cute doe eyes. He stopped talking with the blonde-haired woman and turned to face me. "I'm sorry, but could you help direct me to the surgical locker room? I'm not entirely sure where it is." As I was speaking the rest of the group turned to look at me, which was not intimidating in any way. (Yes it was.) "Yeah sure, We're actually on our way there." says the doe-eyed guy. "I'm George O'Malley by the way, that's Izzie Stevens, Alex Karev, Meredith Grey, and Christina Yang. We're all surgical interns." George introduced the names to the faces of everyone and I hoped for the best that I could remember their names.

"Oh, I'm AJ. AJ Brown. I'm also an intern here. It's my first day." I spoke. "What! That's cool, we could show you around sometime!" Izzie said as the elevator dinged. I nodded and followed their lead and got on the elevator with them, standing near the back of it. I listened as they talked about how their mornings went. The elevator stopped at the second floor. After making a few turns into the corridors, we finally made it to the locker room.

"What's your locker number?" Meredith asked as she began to walk to her locker. "Uh, it's G - 23," I responded as I looked around at my surroundings. Everyone was already getting changed. "Oh, nice you have a locker next to me!" Izzie smiled. The digital clock on the wall read 7:15 am, there was enough time to change into my scrubs and have my pager and stethoscope ready. As I was putting my shoes on Meredith spoke to me, "So, AJ, where are you from?" She asked as she closed her locker door. "Oh, I'm from a small town in Illinois," I answered. "What's a city girl like you doing all the way here in rainy ol' Seattle? Besides to work here?" Alex chimed in, "Family, stuff." I spoke shortly, in hopes of ending the conversation.

"That's nice that you can be near family here. Also, who's service are you on?" Izzie asked. "I have Dr. Bailey," I spoke as I stood up while closing my locker. "Awesome, she has the Nazi too." Christina deadpanned as they all began to finish up. "Christina, be nice!" Meredith nudged Christina's arm and tried her best to whisper that to her but failed. "We can show you where she is today." The group leaves the locker room and I trail behind them to find my Aunt.

We head to the elevator and we make it to the third floor, where we come to a spacious waiting area and a front desk that I'd assume contained charts and other important patient information. Among the crowd of people walking around stood Auntie Mandy, writing in a chart binder at the front desk. "Good morning Dr. Bailey." They all said one by one, before George spoke, "I think we have a new intern with us that's on your service." That sparked her to look up from the chart. "New intern? What new intern?" She said almost with an attitude. They all miraculously parted like the Red Sea to reveal my presence to her.

"Well, I'll be damned! If it isn't AJ!" Bailey replied with a smile before running up to hug me, which shocked the group as if they had never seen her act sweet towards anyone. She released me from her grasp and said, "I had no idea they were assigning you to my service! How's your mom? I know everyone must miss me back there in Illinois." Bailey chirped. I hesitated and replied shortly, "Everyone's fine and they do." I laughed awkwardly. "Wait? How do you know Dr. Bailey and how does she know you?" Christina asked, answering the burning question that was floating around in everyone's head.

"She's-" Before Dr. Bailey could finish her sentence our pagers went off. Talk about being saved by the bell. Or beep in this case. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in as we all began to follow Bailey's orders on where to be assigned. George ended up being the one to be my guide for the day as I helped him with patients and got used to doing checkups and filling out charts for a few hours. After that, Bailey assigned George to teach me how to run labs and work on sutures in the pit, as well as prescribing actual medicine to the patients. Before I knew it, it was lunchtime.

"Hey, would you like to have lunch with me? I'm usually with everyone because we all eat together sometimes." George asked softly as we headed to the cafeteria I assumed. "Uh, sure." I agreed. I brought a simple lunch with me, a turkey sandwich, apple slices, and carrots. While George offered to buy me apple juice. As I began to sit down next to George, Christina let out a loud groan and said lowly to herself, "Why did George invite someone we barely know to lunch, it's like she's his pet or something." This time Merideth kicked Christina's leg under the table, which caused her to verbally say 'ow' in response.

Upon hearing that comment, before I could start eating I got up and excused myself by saying, "I think left my pager in my locker. I'm gonna go get it." I grabbed all of my things and left immediately, what did I expect from a bunch of strangers? I found an empty hallway with abandoned beds and I ate in silence.

George's POV

AJ grabbed her things and speed walked away. Christina scoffed and spoke, "Looks like she ran off to go find her mommy, Dr. Bailey," Everyone let out laughs at Christina's 'joke' if you even call it that. "Enough!" I yelled as I slammed my hands on the table, "She has been nothing but nice to you guys and this is how you treat her on her first day? People deserve chances and you guys never even gave her that option to one." I grabbed the rest of my lunch and stormed off in hopes of finding AJ, before hearing out what everyone was going to say to my brief speech.

AJ's POV

I was almost done eating my lunch when I heard a familiar voice say, "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" It was George. What a relief. "You have?" I said as I finished the last of my apple slices before I threw away the remaining trash. "Look, I'm sorry that they were mean to you, they don't like new people coming into their space." George apologized before he sat somewhat next to me. "You don't have to apologize for them George, it's not your place to apologize for them." I feigned a smile to try to reassure him.

"Sometimes they make fun of me too. And I wonder if they're my friends or if I'm convincing myself that they are," George confessed. "Well, can you be yourself when you're around them?" I questioned. George didn't answer. "If you have to think about it for a long time then maybe you should reconsider if they are your friends. Real friends don't make fun of you for being you. They appreciate your uniqueness and don't judge you." I declared. "It seems like you're a friend expert." I laughed a little at his comment. "I've had a lot of friends but never kept any of them so I know what it's like." I spoke truthfully, "Thanks for the lunch, George." I thanked him before I walked away once again.

-----

By that evening, my hands and feet were tired from walking and constantly talking to all the people. I desperately needed time to recharge my social battery because I could feel myself starting to get overstimulated. The lights were starting to get too bright and the bustling noise could make anyone go insane. I had a few minutes to myself in the on-call room so I spent it playing with my Tangle fidget toy and listening to a playlist of my favorite Michael Jackson songs in the dark while lying down on one of the beds on the bottom bunk. Needless to say, I ended up falling asleep for a good hour before I faintly heard the door open.

"AJ, wake up, Dr. Bailey needed me to find you," George said as he tapped my shoulder in an attempt to wake me. I groaned before sitting up on my elbows and glaring at him for waking me up, "I'm sorry to wake you but she needs more hands in the pit." He confessed which caused me to roll my eyes. I nodded before shoving my MP3 player and fidget toy down in my lab coat pocket. I put my shoes back on while George watched and we both headed out to the pit together.

Only a few more hours to go.

------

My first 12-hour shift was finally over. The aching in my feet was beyond compare even though I had comfortable shoes on made for walking. I went back to the locker room to change and I found myself left with a few people and George changing near me. "Are you autistic? I mean, if you are that's okay with me. I won't tell the others if you don't want to tell them so that they don't make fun of you. I'm not saying that they will but they can be mean sometimes. Well, not Izzie. Wait no, Izzie can be mean sometimes but not in-" I just stared at him until he finished rambling.

"Sorry, that was rude. I didn't mean to assume or anything. It's just that I-" George began again before I stopped him. This must have been on his mind all day. "Yes, I'm autistic and I have Adhd as well. And I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone because I don't want any attention on me about it. People will treat me differently." I shrugged it off to George as I grabbed my bag. "Can I ask why?" George said as he sat down on the bench. "Why what?" I replied, not looking at him. "Why don't you want to tell anyone?" I let out a huff and closed the locker before I faced him.

"This is breaking my rules," I mumbled, "Rules? What do you mean?" There was confusion in his voice but I could hear that he wanted to understand. "Ever since I was a kid, I always knew that I was different. I never had a lot of friends growing up and I never was invited to birthday parties because of how people treated me for being different. I don't normally spill my life to people I just met but I feel like I can trust you. I've been judged about my diagnosis of AuDHD. There's no point in trying to be myself when I can be what people expect me to be."

"But doesn't that get tiring? Having to mask all the time?" He asked and I nodded quickly. "It's hard to get a break and for people to not stare at me when I stim and fidget," I said disappointingly, "But what do I expect?" I shrugged it off and began to make my way to the door. "It's hard being myself in a room full of people who don't get you, but thanks anyway for trying to understand George, have a good night."

And with that, I once again walked away. It's becoming a habit now.

------

(A month later, at the start of episode 9)

------

Izzie had invited me over to help cook and decorate the house for Thanksgiving. I wore a simple outfit, a black long sleeve with denim jeans and black Converse. My favorite brand of shoes.

When I arrived I was greeted by Izzie rushing to get me inside. "I need you to get George for me, he's upstairs and he's supposed to be helping me cook but he hasn't left his room yet," Izzie said frantically. "Oh, okay. Um. Where exactly is his room? I've never been here before." I said while taking off my leather jacket and Izzie hanging it up for me.

"It's up the stairs, down the hall, and to the right." I listened to her directions and I reached George's room. I gently knocked on the door and waited for a reply. "Come in!" George said from the other side. I carefully opened it and saw him fully clothed on his bed with his eyes shut. "Why are you just lying on your bed?" I spoke as I closed his door behind me. He quickly opened his eyes, not knowing it was me.

"AJ! I- when did you get here?" He hurried and sat up to look at me. "I got here just now, not too long ago. You know Izzie wants you downstairs to help right?" I sat down on the end of his bed before he plopped back down with a huff. "I know but I'm afraid to go out there." I quirked a brow, "Afraid? Why would you be afraid?" As I said that he held his hands up and began counting down from 10. A thunderous noise arose from downstairs, and just when he reached zero, 3 men barged into his and screamed, "O'Malley!!"

Startled by the sudden noise, I looked at George for an answer. "Because of that." George huffed again. "Georgie, since when did you have a girlfriend? And she's hot too." I was taken aback at the man's comment. "C'mon, you know Georgie never gets laid," George rolled his eyes before getting up, trying to hide his embarrassment from me. "Please ignore my idiotic brothers," He began to go to his closet and grab camo wear. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to help Izzie?" There was desperation in those chocolate-brown eyes of his, and just when he was about to explain himself the older man chimed in and said, "Our Georgie is gonna kill his first turkey this year, I can feel it!"

"Dad you know Georgie isn't gonna kill a turkey, he never does." His eldest brother spoke, "No, he's gonna chicken out like how he usually does-" "Shut up!" George says while his brothers laugh, his face turning as red as a tomato now. "I'll be back as soon as I can to help. I promise I won't miss dinner." George tells me as he puts on his beanie and I thought he couldn't look any cuter. "Well, you better tell Izzie that," I scoffed as his family began to drag him out of the room chanting 'O'Malley' over and over again until they were down the stairs and out of the door.

"I don't think they're coming back any time soon." Izzie whined, "I hope he doesn't actually kill a bird."

---

#greys abc #greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy #meredith grey #alex karev #george o’malley x reader #george o'malley imagine #george o'malley #izzie stevens #christina yang #slow burn #love triangle #angst to fluff #fluff to smut

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sourstroll · 9 months

Text

Summer Of Cum 2023

Day 13 - Moneyshot

Pairing: Daniel/Oscar

WC: 1284

❀❀❀❀

“Are you sure?”

Daniel feels like he’s asked Oscar that question about a hundred times now, but he had to be sure. The last thing he wanted was to cross a boundary Oscar didn’t even know he had.

Oscar found it funny, how concerned Daniel was. Oscar laughed softly, going to take a sip from the rapidly cooling cappuccino he’d gotten earlier, before the topic of filming each other during sex popped into their conversation. “You know I’ve done that before, right?” Oscar said instead of assuring Daniel that it was completely fine.

Daniel’s eyes widened a bit cartoonishly, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He can’t, really, because Oscar was only 22 and had apparently already filmed himself during sex, something Daniel hadn’t done even once. “Please tell me you still have that video,” Daniel said, voice pleading. Nothing could stop him from imagining what exactly Oscar filmed himself doing, imagining trembling hands and weird angles, unskilled flicks of his wrist and shotty camera work. They were in the most unsexiest of places, a restaurant near Daniel’s that he swore tasted just like his mom’s cooking, fit with tacky wallpaper and booths that had to be older than Oscar, and yet, Daniel could still feel the very beginnings of his arousal pooling in his stomach.

“I might be able to dig it up,” Oscar said playfully, eyeing the potatoes on Daniel’s plate before stealing some with his fork. “I think I was 18, about to be 19. It’s an old one,” he hummed, said through his mouthful of food.

“Jesus Christ,” Daniel sighed, having to rest his face in his hands for a moment, not sure what to do with the knowledge that a video of Oscar like that existed already. “Are you, like, purposely trying to jailbait me, or?” Daniel huffed out, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he heard Oscar laugh again.

“I mean, I’m not the one dating someone 10 years younger than me,” Oscar quipped, affectionate with his delivery. He never minded their difference in age, though he knew sometimes Daniel worried he was moving too fast or somehow forcing Oscar to do things, which wasn’t the case. “Does that turn you on? Thinking about me when I was 18?” Oscar asked softly, out of pure curiosity and just to bust Daniel’s balls.

Daniel looked up from his hands and gave him a look, brows furrowed and lips thinned into a tight line, like he was trying to hold something back. “I’m not going to answer that,” he finally spoke, thinking it might incriminate him much less if he didn’t express any of his thoughts about a teenage Oscar.

“It does. I knew it would,” Oscar hummed contentedly. Daniel was so easy to read sometimes.

Daniel rolled his eyes and went back to staring down at his plate of breakfast food, poking his fork into his eggs, planning on eating them at some point. “What if someone hacks into my iCloud?” It’s ridiculous, and he knows that, but he had to cover all his bases, or else he’d be left with more anxiety than he started with.

“Daniel. Stop it,” Oscar chuckled, reaching to place his hand on top of Daniel’s, gently sliding his fingers up his arm, slow and gentle. “Live a little, will you?”

———

Daniel can’t remember why he was so worried about this in the first place. It’s much different, he realized, when he’s got Oscar on his hands and knees, pounding into the younger man from behind, his phone set up so you could see the length of Oscar’s body, including his face. That part was non-negotiable, being able to see exactly how Oscar reacted to him. Daniel’s body was cut off from the waist up, but he didn’t mind; all he wanted was to see Oscar fall apart beneath him.

Daniel’s breaths were harsh and shaky, staring down at where he was repeatedly splitting Oscar open. It’s almost too much, the thought that they were immortalizing this moment forever, for Daniel to watch whenever he wanted and get himself off to.

Oscar was pliant as usual, face pushed into the pillows, trying not to come too fast before they got a good video. He pushed his hips back against Daniel with every forward thrust, sweet whimpers escaping his lips. “Harder, Danny,” he whined and gripped the pillow a little tighter, turning his head to look at the phone, face scrunched up in pleasure.

Daniel let out a strained moan and also glanced at his phone, hands itching to grab it, to get even closer. “Such a fuckin’ slut,” he groaned, reaching down to grab a fistful of Oscar’s hair, pushing him harder into the pillows. “Only good for taking my cock, huh?” Daniel growled. The older man was quick to grab the phone from its perch on the nightstand, still pistoning into him as he pointed it at Oscar’s face. It was the perfect view, Oscar practically drooling all over himself over how good he felt.

Oscar couldn’t say anything for a moment, his body wound up and ready to release. The feeling of Daniel’s hand tangled in his hair made his toes curl, in love with how strong he was, how he could easily manhandle him and take what he wanted. “Yeah, that’s all I wanna do,” Oscar squeaked out between moans. “Just wanna be good for you.”

Daniel never let up, even as he pointed the phone down between them, getting the perfect shot of himself ruining Oscar. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, so good for me, baby,” he sighed.

Daniel’s words of encouragement always did it for him, always filled him with a sweetness and adoration that Oscar only ever felt with him. It was only moments later that Oscar came, hard, all over the bed below them. He let out something close to a scream, the full force of his orgasm surprising him with its intensity.

“That’s it,” Daniel praised, using his last bit of stamina to get himself over the edge, too. Daniel pulled out seconds before he came, his cock resting over the curve of Oscar’s ass and shooting thick ropes of come up his back. He nearly didn’t catch it on camera with the way his orgasm swirled around him, wrapping around his limbs and making him feel hot all over.

Oscar collapsed underneath him, nothing but whiny breaths coming out of him, his skin flushed and his limbs useless.

Daniel hadn’t stopped the video just yet, feeling greedy as he reached down to spread Oscar’s cheeks apart with one hand, filming the way his entrance gaped slightly, how it fluttered around nothing, silently begging to be filled again.

“I can feel you staring,” Oscar muttered, looking over his shoulder with a breathless laugh, catching the lens of the phone one last time before he saw Daniel press a button and throw it aside.

Daniel gave him a tired little smile and leaned down to kiss up his spine, a silent apology for being so indulgent. “I like looking at you, baby,” Daniel offered as an excuse, speaking against his skin.

———

1:38 AM

Oscar: its ur lucky day

Oscar: [Video Attachment]

Oscar: enjoy my love

Daniel stared in surprise at the text he’d just received, bleary-eyed and groggy still. He was halfway across the world from Oscar, back in Australia while Oscar’s season started up again. Daniel couldn’t help but laugh, thinking it was ridiculous that Oscar had managed to find the alleged video he’d taken of himself.

1:42 AM

Daniel: How much of your camera roll did you have to dig through to find that??

Daniel: I’ll watch it later :P

Daniel: Good luck today ❤️

❀❀❀ Previous Days ❀❀❀

#I still don’t know what to call this ship lol #also can’t stop writing them having toe curling gut rearranging nasty ass sex #summerofcum2023 #sourwrites #Daniel Ricciardo/Oscar Piastri #381 #Riccastri #Danscar

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hellfirecvnt · 9 months

Text

Y'know, I Knew a Guy Like You.

Pt. 1: "Meeting"

Eddie x Y/N (but Y/N talks like Theo Von)

Author's note: I have no idea where this will go. I don't plan on making it smutty, but I've never been opposed to it. I'm going to reference Theo Von's stand up and also just general odd goings ons I've witnessed, caused, or been a part of as a borderline-trailer-trash woman of the deep south. Not everything I mention is true, but most of it is. 💀

I kinda want this story to be interactive, so feel free to submit suggestions and shit for them to get into.

Trigger Warnings: Drug Use!!! Drinking, General Bafoonery, Crime!

(The thing about Tom Cruise and the crack is true. I was in 5th grade with her, but it wasn't Tom Cruise, it was the Jonas Brothers. 💀)

It's been about a week since you up and left your small hometown in the furthest corner of the bible belt you could stand to live in. You weren't really made for big cities, so you decide to cut halfway across the country and plant some new roots in Indiana.

You're not some fuckin' high roller, you didn't come out here with a job, let alone the ability to live somewhere by yourself. You met your now-roommate over two years ago at a Heart concert. Her name is Robin. The two of you made plans to move in together last spring and after a few failed attempts, Robin finally found a small house off to itself with two large bedrooms. She's been giving you time to get settled in, but now she's starting to pester you about coming out with her friends.

"Come on, you have to meet Steve at least," she clings to your arm, ever-comfortable after the years of sending letters back and forth as often as possible.

"Steve the one with the hair like a uh, like a fuckin' mess?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I don't about, Rob. It sounds like I might bully him probably." You shrug as if you feel genuinely sympathetic at the fact that you'll be mean to this person you've never met.

"That's all I do. Come out with us tonight, pleaseeeee!" Robin releases a pleading wail and much to her satisfaction, it works.

"Oh my god, fine! Lower your voice, dude. You're gonna get up both killed."

"What?" Robin furrows her brow.

"The not deer."

"Okay, I'm not doing this with you again." She stands and makes her way over to her room. "I'm gonna shower and get ready, don't bail on me."

"Like you bailed on me when I sent that turtle in the mail?"

"Y/N, it did not arrive alive. It was dead and wet." Robin's eyebrows upturn as she recalls opening the rancid package.

"Yeah, I didn't uh, didn't think of that..." Your voice trails off as you remember the day you placed a turtle into a box and mailed it to Robin. It was never alive, you found it dead. It never occurred to you that she believed it was supposed to be alive. "They told us in grade school that the police had to open incriminating packages and to not try to send our parent's methamphetamines in the mail to Tom Cruise because a girl in my town did that and her dad went to jail."

She stares at you in silence for a second.

"You thought the cops were gonna intercept your turtle?" Robin sighs.

"Yeah, thought the pigs would have to deal with it." You still don't plan to explain the full story to her.

Robin disappears to get ready and you finally decide to rise from the couch and get dressed. A few moments of staring into the mirror and you finally start to feel like your face belongs there. A new place and such a big move seem to have you a bit more on edge than usual. You make your way back to the living room you share with your friend and she emerges from her room just seconds later.

"You look great!" She beams.

"I fixed the stains in this shirt with a tie dye." You point to the spots that now blend into the grey and black dyes swirling your shirt.

"You fixed the stains with more stains."

"You're a smart lady, Rob. I like it." Your words make Robin blush. Though her feelings for you are platonic, she had a pretty big crush on you when you first met. The distance and meeting Vickie simmered it down into a casual friendship.

The two of you get into your car and she gives you directions to Steve's parent's house. Robin tells you about the pool and the huge living room. She mentions some friends from California are coming to visit and how you'll really like them.

"You said it was just the whore."

"He is not- well... okay, look. Please don't say that when we get here."

"It's not a bad thing to be a whore. Everybody got something, he got that."

"I think I regret doing this," She jokes.

"Me too," you smirk as you swing the door open and step out of the car.

The two of you walk into the large, well-kept abode and Steve meets you both in the foyer.

"Y/N, Steve." Robin introduces the two of you before running off to find the others.

"Hey! You're Robin's friend from-"

"Yeah, that one." You cut him off in the name of regional ambiguity.

"Well, everyone's this way." Steve starts through the foyer and into the living room that connects to the backyard via two large sliding glass doors. You look around for a moment, taking in the luxurious home. You're more used to a double wide on a dirt road at a dead end, but this was nice.

You become distracted by something hanging on the wall. Nancy and Robin are deep in conversation while Steve disappears into the kitchen. There are people outside, but you're not sure who they are, so you don't go exploring. You continue to stare intently at the frame on the wall.

"They're my grandad's war medals." Steve appears behind you suddenly, causing you to jump.

"I knew a guy back home that had some of these all over his wife beater. He'd pick up, like with his arms, any kid he could catch and threaten to chew on 'em."

"What?" Steve looks down at the beer in his hand he brought to offer you and wonders if you even need it.

"It was fine, he didn't have teeth anyway. Dunno what the fucker was on about, most days."

"What are you saying?" Steve squints his eyes as if it'll help him hear or understand you better.

"You promised you wouldn't do this!" Robin scolds you playfully from the couch. Nancy, who has yet to speak to you at all, stares with a certain hint of distaste.

"His name was Clayman. You think we'd call him Clay, but we all called him Man." You finish your story quickly and turn to face Robin. You notice a new person standing in the sliding doorway, though you aren't sure how long he's been there.

"Uh, Rob, are you smoking with us?" The curly-haired man gestures over his shoulder to the other strangers outside. Robin springs up from the couch, but quickly turns an apologetic look to Nancy.

"I'm sorry, Nance. Give me 20 minutes," she grins stupidly and turns to you. "Y/N, come on!" You don't hesitate to go where the drugs go, a gift and a curse. Or whatever.

"Whoa, man. Who's this?" A brightly dressed man with long, straight hair smiles and waves at you after asking.

"Guys, this is Y/N. We met at that concert in-"

"It was a good show- a really good one. A feature, if you will." You smile brightly, interrupting for continuity's sake. Hey, that's just the same joke as last time. You nod as you're listening to them introduce themselves. The brightly dressed man is Argyle, Johnathan is the quiet one, and the curly-haired guy is Eddie.

"We were just talking about if Bigfoot is real or not. What do you two think?" Argyle, less awkward than Johnathan and louder than Eddie, takes the floor.

"I'm not convinced." Robin states, flat out.

"Hell yeah, he's real. I knew a guy back home that used to disappear for weeks on end and when he came back he had an entire Hefty bag of hair. It was all the same hair. It all came from one guy."

"What if it came from a bunch of the same kind of animal?" Johnathan promptly pokes a hole in the theory.

"Man, you find an alpaca with that curl pattern, you call me."

"Well, what about when everyone was claiming they saw the ghost of that kid that god stomped to death by a deer?" Eddie asks, a little too casually.

"Hey dude, what the fuck?" You ask with a shocked smile, in disbelief at the blase manner he's mentioning this grisly death.

"He really did. They kept telling him to leave it alone," he explains.

"That definitely was not a deer." You straighten your posture as if something is about to happen.

"No!" Robin demands, but her yells fall on deaf ears.

"Then what was it?"

"A not deer."

"Don't get her started!" Robin.

"What's a 'not deer'?" Eddie squints.

"It's not a fuckin' deer, I'll tell you that right now."

"You are. You are telling us right now." Argyle nods as if he's taking in important information.

The group takes turns hitting and passing the large, skillfully rolled joint. You notice that the only person with a tolerance like yours is Eddie. Even Argyle and Johnathan tap out before it's over. Robin had gone back to chat with Nancy a while ago.

You and Eddie are so deep in conversation, you don't notice Argyle and Johnathan wander inside to take shots with Steve.

"I had a grandma once that did a whole spoonful of heroin and then backflipped in place. God rest her soul." You recall the events like it was yesterday. "Yeah, she died like, an hour later."

"Oh." Eddie is stunned silent by the last sentence.

"Happens to everybody, I guess." You say, causing Eddie to think you mean doing heroin and a back flip. "But it's fine because the trash fire that afternoon turned blue for five whole minutes and uncle David swore it was Granny. Y'know? And that's God."

"You don't really strike me as the religious type." Eddie's struggling with the urge to laugh and genuine concern for where you came from.

"Oh, buddy. I'm not. It's just ingrained in my mannerisms now. You don't hold that many rattle snakes and deny Christ. Except I do because I got bit several times. They swore I was the Devil, but I think I just shook them snakes too hard."

Eddie, though wildly confused by you and this "culture" you seem to be from, is infatuated. Every story, every anecdote. He likes to try to imagine where the story is going before you finish, because anything he imagines couldn't ever be off the wall enough to compare to what you actually say.

"Y/N, you ready to head out?" Robin appears in the sliding glass doorway and smiles. It's only now that you and Eddie realize you've been sitting here talking for a few hours. You say your goodbyes, careful to linger a little longer on Eddie as you walk out with Robin. The moment you're both in the car, she glances at you knowingly.

"Eddie looks like he enjoyed getting to know you." She smirks.

"Yeah, I like him. You're friends are really nice. He didn't even flinch when I told him about Granny."

"... You should.... You should stop telling people about your Granny."

"Nope."

"So, the whole metal head thing is doing it for ya, huh?" Robin beams as she returns the conversation to Eddie.

"Yeah, I like my men kinda ugly. Like I like a dude that looks like a balled up napkin. I want the skrunkliest motherfucker I can find."

"Wow, incredible. And Eddie reads that way to you?" Robin can't wait to relay your description back to Steve and Eddie.

"A real dime, I thought." You smile pleasantly. "When are we all getting together again?"

"As soon as you stop telling people about 'not deer.'"

"You have got to stop dimming my light, Robin. I swear to God."

#stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n but y/n talks like theo von #comedy #comedy fanfiction #an idiots ramblings #appalachia #southern #the south #appalachian

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 month

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Chapter 1: Fingolfin x Maglor

Ah, one pairing that was actually on the Bingo sheet (not cheating 100% here)

Pairing: Eönwë x Gothmog, Fingolfin x Maglor

Prompt: Business Rivals

Words: 1865

Warnings: Details of Fëanor's death, @cilil cameo, incestuous relationship referenced, uncle-nephew incest, no explicit interactions...

Nobody would readily have claimed that Gothmog was a coward, but the company lawyer—a ruthless demon in the guise of a young woman—made him nervous, nevertheless.

Cílil, who had studied under Námo, the most infamously merciless lawyer of his time, scowled at the interruption, and Gothmog nearly shuffled his feet like a naughty schoolboy.

“I am not asking for your sources,” he opened without even bothering to rattle off the usual formalities. “I’d merely like to see your results.”

“Who are you to question my findings?” she inquired in the dispassionate yet cutting tone for which the so-called Doomsman was both feared and renowned—she evidently had been an exceptionally gifted student.

“I…no…I need to know what intel you have on Fëanor. Who might have wanted to kill him?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Her grin was so sharp that he knew that she was not joking in the least.

“I need a list.”

“I need a sandwich. Maybe we can come to an understanding?”

An agonisingly tense hour later, Gothmog was in possession of enough gossip and incriminating evidence to bury Fëanor twice.

As for Eönwë, he felt much less elated. Fëanor, he was informed, had been stabbed and burned, and it had been only thanks to his overabundance of jewellery and his dental records that a positive identification had been made.

“I do not expect much to come from this,” Manwë had sighed, looking out of the window pensively as if he had already given up on the case.

“I do have a few leads,” Eönwë had exclaimed, dismayed by his superior’s uncharacteristic and highly worrisome despondency.

The astonishment painted on Manwë’s face had been outright insulting, and this hurtful lack of faith made Eönwë all the more determined to actually solve this case.

He was unusually grim as he burst into the deserted pub, looking even more desolate and decrepit in the bleak daylight, but seeing Gothmog devouring his club sandwich with visible gusto instantly lifted his spirits.

“Here,” the hulking henchman mumbled around his lunch as he shoved over a neatly typed-up page of paper. “I thought we’d start with the brother. He might give us some insight into who else would have benefited from Fëanor’s sudden demise!”

After having been forced to order and eat a surprisingly delicious lunch, Eönwë found himself in a sleek, slate-grey SUV, speeding out of the most disreputable part of town.

The file on Fëanor’s half-brother in his lap was discouragingly thin—Fingolfin was, as far as the official accounts went, a regular goodie-two-shoes.

Their father, Finwë, had perished under suspicious circumstances, and Fingolfin had managed his part of the estate that had been left to Finwë’s children much more conservatively than his famous older sibling.

Of course, people chalked this up to the notable difference in nature and temperament between their respective mothers, but Eönwë was curious to discover if there wasn’t more to the story than met the eye.

He had slept very little the previous night, trying instead to memorise all the members of Fëanor’s extensive family as well as the numerous feuds and sources of resentment that might well muddy the waters before they got very far in their investigation.

The man who opened the door of the sober, clean-cut mansion was not Indis’s firstborn, though—young and alarmingly pale, he had flashing eyes that reminded Eönwë of the ocean and a soft, sensual mouth that was presently downturned in deep sadness.

More unusual and suspicious yet, he was wearing a thin camisole and the kind of comfortable trousers people usually only ever donned in the privacy of their own home.

“Who is it?” A moment later, Fingolfin—the top buttons of his creased formal shirt undone—appeared in the marble foyer.

“Police,” Eönwë said in a calm, professional tone.

“Bodyguard,” Gothmog growled unnecessarily.

With a flabbergasted side glance at his companion, Eönwë cleared his throat. “I would like to ask you a few questions about your brother.”

“Which one? Oh, Fëanor, of course…” Fingolfin blushed. “I am sorry—my nephew, Maglor, has just come by to inform me of the tragedy. As you may understand, I am utterly distraught.” Rubbing his face as if to dispel the treacherous bloom of blood mounting into his hollow, pale cheeks, Fingolfin made a jerky, only vaguely inviting gesture with his left hand. “Come in—I’ll answer any query you might have!”

“No ring,” Gothmog hissed as he ambled into the house behind Eönwë.

“I thought you and your half-brother had not been on the best of terms,” the detective commented, trying hard not to be distracted by the looming presence of the thug by his side. “You were business rivals, weren’t you?”

“Hardly,” Fingolfin replied with a brittle chuckle. “I focus mainly on the preservation and steady growth of our assets, while my brother was always more interested in innovation.”

“If that is so,” Gothmog intervened sharply. “Why would your nephew seek you out—in the most informal, cosy outfit I’ve ever seen—so soon after the news broke?”

“Ah…Well…As I just said, I am good at dealing with eventual crises. I will advise him and my other nephews on what comes next—is this really necessary? I did not kill my brother if that is what you’re trying to get at. I loved Fëanor.”

Letting his gaze sweep across the room ostentatiously, Gothmog pursed his lips.

“The boy has been here before…often,” he whispered into Eönwë’s ear as he watched Maglor flit through the room with such self-assured grace that it was evident to him that—in his evident state of distress—he could not have feigned his intimate familiarity with the layout of the house.

Eönwë blinked owlishly; he had expected hostility and barely concealed resentment in this cool, clean abode.

Instead, he’d found a man who seemed earnestly devastated by the loss of someone he’d reportedly never considered a detested rival at all. Moreover, Gothmog seemed to insinuate that Fingolfin, pretending to be much more forgiving than was credible, was entertaining a morally questionable relationship with his nephew.

Of course, he had also noticed the way Maglor’s hand lingered just a little too long on the shoulder of his uncle, and the subsequent grateful smile had not struck him as entirely appropriate, but he had been ready to give them the benefit of the doubt.

After all, grief did strange and terrible things to people, and he was not there to judge the ways in which they dealt with so unspeakable a loss.

“We’ve got to ferret out the other sons,” Gothmog remarked sotto voce. “There is something fishy here, to say the least. Even if that fool means it when he says that he’s not seen his brother as a foe, Fëanor would surely not have welcomed whatever little imbroglio is taking place here!”

Fingolfin, Eönwë decided as he opened his trusty notebook, was at the same time much more and much less suspicious than he had anticipated, and this was due to totally unforeseen developments and revelations.

“Loved him?” he asked pensively, forcing his mind back to the actual statements of their suspect rather than Gothmog’s outlandish speculations. “He did not seem the kind of man who was loved. Revered, admired, and envied, yes, but cherished? Hard to believe!”

“I cannot think of a single person who’d want to harm Fëanor,” Fingolfin insisted, looking up with wide, honest eyes that gleamed feverishly. “Why don’t you visit my brother’s ex-wife? She might have a better overview of any potential enemies.”

Nerdanel—famous sculptress, headstrong businesswoman, and winner of a short but vicious divorce—had been the next person on Eönwë’s list to interrogate anyway.

Nonetheless, the detective, dizzy with all the discoveries he had made during this first foray, schooled his face into a grateful smile.

“What happened?” Fingolfin asked suddenly, lifting his doleful gaze pleadingly to their stern faces. “Can you tell me?”

“I’d also love to hear that,” Gothmog agreed quietly.

“He’s been poked viciously by a pointy object—probably in one of a downtrodden, insalubrious apartment complex uni—and thrown from a considerable height before being set aflame. I am sure you can appreciate now why we’re looking for someone who hated the man enough to try and murder him thrice over,” Eönwë reported in a detached, professional voice.

He’d had very little time thus far to come to grips with the gruesome nature of the crime he was investigating, and he preferred to keep his profound incomprehension and instinctive pity in check in front of his suspects.

“Unimaginable,” Fingolfin cried out and slung his arm around Maglor who buried his face against his chest with a piercing cry of inarticulate, raw despair.

Gothmog’s jaw tightened—while he was more convinced than ever that Melkor was not guilty, another nagging doubt started to take root in his heart.

Even though his boss was usually not the kind of person for such long, convoluted sequences of deliberate, calculated violence, his second-in-command would undeniably have delighted in so elaborate a staging.

Seeing the picture of heartbroken desolation before him, Eönwë realised that he should have minced his words and softened the blow of the truth—he felt terrible for having misread the situation once again and was suddenly very eager to get out of this hopeless situation, fraught with unspoken truths and involuntarily revealed secret affections.

“Neither one of you is to leave the city while we’re investigating,” he informed the two mourners who seemed to have forgotten about the rivalry between their family branches, good manners, and common decency, as well as the rest of the world in general. “Thank you for your insights—I will probably circle back to the both of you in due time.”

Gothmog merely tapped his finger to the side of his nose and winked. “Good luck comforting one another,” he hummed provocatively and was promptly bodily shoved out of the room by an endearingly flustered Eönwë.

“When we get to the wife, please keep your impertinent comments to yourself!”

“Whatever you say, guvnor,” Gothmog chortled cheerily. “They are more than workplace rivals or distant relatives; this I’d bet my head on. Let’s see what Maglor’s mum has to say to that!”

“Tomorrow same place? I must go write up what we’ve found out so far,” Eönwë mumbled, strangely reluctant to part from the uncouth giant ambling up the elegant driveway.

“Same place, same time. Can I drop you off somewhere?” Gothmog asked amiably, apparently also not eager to let their collaborative moment end.

“I’ll walk,” Eönwë said waveringly. “I need to clear my head and go over the facts…Thank you! See you tomorrow!”

The clumsy lie tasted like stale coffee and cheap lemonade on his tongue, but he couldn’t bear to be observed—and potentially mocked cruelly—while he tried to work through their discoveries.

Eönwë had ever been slightly squeamish when it came to romantic and sexual innuendos—despite superficial appearances, he was not a prude so much as a woefully inexperienced, lonely soul, though.

He might not have known much, but he was certain that he’d better keep that little, inconsequential truth about himself under wraps for the time being.

So, @tolkienpinupcalendar here's another pairing!

Lots of love from me!

-> Masterlist

#og post #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #Masterlist #NSFT #NSFT rarepair bingo #rare pairs #Chapter 1 #Eönwë x Gothmog #Firebird #Eönwë #Gothmog #Fingolfin x Maglor #Fingolfin #Maglor #Business rivals

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bestfriend491 · 1 year

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Kill Okoye

Okoye x Yandere Reader

Summary: If you can't have her, no one can. Kill Bill mixed with Acrimony

Requested by Anonymous

Angst, Hurt No Comfort

Warnings: 5.k words, Murder, No happy ending, Referenced Past Sexual Conduct ( not smut), Mentally Unstable Reader, Violence, for mature audiences

Inspired by Kill Bill by SZA

(Lyrics in the story are in orange)

I'm still a fan even though I was salty

You sat in the palace common room, staring into the eyes of your ex. Okoye sat with her elders from the Border Tribe. This was different to the usual standing stance she normally took next to the king and his throne.

You smirked at her, eyeing her from across the room where you sat next to the throne. Your Aunt, Ramonda, and your cousin King T' Challa sat beside you, as the meeting that you considered ridiculous took place.

You were being reprimanded for something so miniscule, and you thought that it was a bit unreasonable for Okoye to listen to her new side piece and tell the council about what you had done. You knew that you hated that girl the moment Okoye told you that she was dating again.

All you were doing was marking your territory.

"We understand that Y/n is of royal blood, and therefore there are certain rules that must be abided by that regular civilians would not have to conform to but even with that being taken into consideration, what Y/n has been doing to General Okoye and her partner ,Emwe, is completely unacceptable and needs to be punished."a Border Tribe elder spoke on Okoye's behalf.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but T' Challa was quick to stop you from incriminating yourself more than you already had over the past hour.

"I understand that this matter needs to be addressed and prosecuted accordingly but the punishment that you are insisting on is far too harsh. Y/n is going through a lot right now and it has always been our way to hear people out and allow them to heal. I think that making sure that she no longer has contact with the general is essential but too much after that coul-" T'Challa said before being interrupted by you.

"No longer has contact? I didn't even do anything. Last time I checked, wanting to speak with your ex has never been illegal!" You stood up to argue quite loudly. There was no way you were cutting off contact with the one person that you truly loved.

Ramonda pushed you back down, giving you a stern, "Not now." Before one of the other elders pitched in.

"That is true Y/n but we are concerned that you don't really understand the true extent of your communication with her. Okoye has stated on numerous occasions that she is uncomfortable with the amount of 'talking' you want to do with her."

"Has she said that this is what she wants? For me to never talk to her again? Or is it just you all making decisions without her input?"

This started some chatter, with some unpleasant Wakandan words being spoken by a few people, while Ramonda and T'Challa defended you.

People were talking over each other so you couldn't fully make out every single word said but for the most part it was a lot of "Strange Girl," "Crazy." "evil" coming from the border and mining Tribe's representatives.

"ENOUGH." said T'Challa, causing everyone to stay still, no longer talking.

"As King, and as somebody who can attest to Y/n's character, I am not going to allow her to be punished in the ways that you all want her to be. Unless Okoye states otherwise,no contact and a new assignment is all I am willing to give her." You smiled at the king's words, appreciating him using his status as king to defend you. He rarely ever used it. He did not reciprocate that smile though, looking at you in disappointment.

"Thank you." You mouthed.

The king card didn't fully work though, so you were still required to be a certain distance away from Okoye at all times, but it was better than the jail cell that they threatened you with.

"Y/n, do you agree to these terms?" T' Challa asked, as everyone stared at you. You didn't agree to these terms, as you'd need to move your work to cater to some of the rules stated, but your cousin looked tired and so did your aunt.

You nodded begrudgingly.

"Then let it be so." Ramonda said and the meeting was adjourned.

You stood up, ready to approach Okoye, to speak with her alone, and explain your side of the story. But there was no chance, you were blocked by an entire line of people, and your aunt pulled you towards her immediately.

"Y/n, please. Behave yourself. My son has just put his title on the line for you. At least act like you're going to listen." She said coldly. You didn't want to make her more angry, as you had seen her when she was really angry. It was not a pretty sight. So you took a deep breath, and walked towards the doors of the room to leave and go to your own house.

Hate to see you with some other broad, know you happy

It was only when that girlfriend stealer walked in, that you cracked a bit. You saw her entering the room that Okoye was still in, going towards her to hug her and kiss her, as if you weren't still in the area.

This woman clearly didn't know who you were, if she had the nerve to do all of this in front of you.

The only thing more infuriating about the entire ordeal was seeing Okoye's face light up at the sight of her. Seeing the smile that she only used to give to you, being given to her.

You were angry, that was for sure. How dare she?

Hate to see you happy if I'm not the one driving

You were going to turn, to go and confront the issue head on. For her to not smile even once during that entire meeting in a room with you but to smile as soon as she saw Emwe was unacceptable.

You would have done something about it then and there if it weren't for T'Challa instinctively blocking your view of the two and pulling the arm that his mother wasn't holding, directing you to move away from them. You didn't even realise that you were trying to approach them.

"Y/n, stand down!" He whisper-shouted, not wanting to bring attention to himself.

So you stood down, as T'Challa told his mother to allow the two of you to be alone in a different room so that he could talk to you.

You were taken to your old headquarters. The ones that you used when you were still living at the palace.

You had been forced to leave whenever Okoye was working there a few months ago but that was quite literally everyday so you had gotten your own place and moved out completely.

It was completely empty now, more like a guest room. You sat down on your bed as T'Challa closed and locked the door.

"Why have you locked the door?" You asked.

"I have a feeling you are not about to like what I have to tell you, and it is best that you can not leave and attempt to attack Okoye or Emwe when I am finished." He said, sitting down next to you.

"Don't say that name in front of me." You winced referring to the girl you nearly attacked.

"Y/n. Although what I said there was partially true, you still need to realise that I am just as concerned if not more about your recent behaviour. It has been a year and you are still like this. I think that in addition to the terms agreed upon, I have no choice but to send you to be based in another country. It is what is best right now." He tried to put his hand on your shoulder, to reassure you, but you shrugged it off.

"Best for me or best for you and your royal position?" You scoffed at him.

"Y/n I risked it all out there today! I am not banishing you or anything similar to that. I am merely telling you that you are not going to heal from this situation here in Wakanda where Okoye is. You need to leave. I'll give you your new work assignment and where you will be stationed, tomorrow morning and by afternoon you will be on the next quinjet there. I won't argue with you about this."

He stood now, again putting his hand on your shoulder.

"You have to get yourself together. This will be good for you. I really believe so."

You sucked your teeth but didn't force his touch away.

The next morning, you didn't argue when he told you that you'd be going to California to work at its outreach centre ,and you didn't even flinch when you were indeed flown off that afternoon.

You weren't pleased with the new route that your life was being forced to take but your anger was not towards your cousin.

It was to the person who kept denying you love.

As you sat in the quinjet, you smiled thinking about the one thing you were able to do before leaving.

In Wakanda, Okoye was just getting back to her home, where she saw an envelope on her doorstep.

She opened it to see your handwriting on a small sheet of paper.

She read:

My love,

I'm going to America for a while, King's orders. I want you to know that I love you, and I am willing to forgive you for telling your mistress about me.

I.Am.Your.Number.One.

ALWAYS.

Remember that.

I love you, and I will be thinking about you.

Your love, Y/n

You laughed to yourself thinking about the last words you left her.

I'm so mature, I'm so mature, I'm so mature

Got me a therapist to tell me there's other women

I don't want none, I just want you

"Y/n. You haven't talked about anything in 6 sessions. At some point I will have to report this to the King and tell him that you have not been progressing." Zakolee Maku, your recommended therapist spoke to you as you sat in her patient chair, angrily staring straight ahead.

You turned your head towards her and looked her up and down.

"I'm good, Mrs. Zakolee Maku. I do not need a therapist to help me solve my problems. I don't even have any." You spat out at her, much like you had been for the past half hour.

"I've already stated that just calling me Zakolee is fine and additionally, I am not a therapist, Y/n." She responded, still as calm as ever.

"Except you are a therapist, Mrs. Zakolee Maku." You smiled, enjoying the back and forth between the two of you.

She put her notepad down, something she hadn't done in the 6 different days you'd been forced to travel to this weird loft of an office to have a 'healing session' with her.

They wanted you to believe that this entire thing was just her being a fellow Wakandan in America, helping newcomers cope with this new culture.

You didn't believe a single word of that crap. You knew a therapist when you saw one, and she definitely was one.

You didn't do therapists. As in ever.

"I'm only here on Royal orders, or I will never be allowed back in Wakanda. I am forced to go to your office and talk about how I feel for 2 hours every 5 days. Wouldn't you describe that as someone going to a therapist by the order of the law?" You asked, wanting to see what she could say to defend that.

"Well, yes. But I am not only here to talk about your feelings. I want to know about you."

"What about me?" You asked sceptically.

"I want to know your story? Why are you here? What are the events that led you to being in this place that you seem to hate so much?" She asked , leaning forward to show you her sincere emotion.

You laughed, taking the glass of water that was placed for you, taking a sip through your chuckles.

"Doesn't all of that information come in a file?" You asked. She shook her head.

"I want to hear it from you. The person who can tell me the entire thing from their perspective." She answered.

"Where would we even start? There is so much to tell."

"How much do you remember?" She asked, looking at you curiously.

"I remember it all. I remember every single day since my life started crumbling. So where do you want to start?" You asked.

"How about the beginning." She said,

"Okay." You cleared your throat, willing to share your story.

You told Zakolee about how you had met Okoye, at Wakanda University, when she was dropping her friend off before the school year started.

She had tripped on your luggage, saying a few curse words as she got back up.

You apologised repeatedly for hurting her, seeing that she had scraped her knee quite badly from the fall. You offered some help cleaning it, having a first aid kit in your room. So she followed you there, and by the end of the hour, the two of you were in your bed naked next to each other.

It didn't take long for the two of you to become a thing, her asking you out a few days later right before leaving for Dora Milaje training.

The two of you travelled to each other's respective places, Okoye constantly complaining about the trip that it took to get to you.

You were so in love, and her love was so good. You thought that you'd be together forever, so what was postponing your tertiary studies for a few years? Just until Okoye was of higher ranking and her life was settled.

She needed your support and school was consuming most of your time, preventing you from giving it to her.

So you dropped out of school, and spent all of your time revolving around her.

You were there to heal her, talk to her, please her.

It was more worth it when she proposed 6 months into the relationship. You were so happy that you finally grew the guts to go back home and announce everything to your family.

Unfortunately, nobody else shared your same enthusiasm, and your family shunned, forbidding you from communicating with them ever again. Saying that they didn't want your delusions of love to affect them.

You ran crying to Okoye that same night, where she comforted you and held you.

She sold you a dream that night to make you feel better.

She told you that as soon as things settled down, she would help you fix things with your family, and you'd be able to go to school again, and get the degree that you really wanted.

She told you stories of your future, and how she'd have so much time for you. How she would give you all the love and affection that you craved from her.

You didn't realise that this was not realistic at the time, so you let yourself ease into her and had a great night with her.

Years went by, Okoye officially becoming the general, and still, you hadn't even gotten married yet.

You'd confront her about it time and time again, demanding to know why she had proposed so soon if she wasn't going to marry you even years after.

She would dismiss you, and tell you that you needed to be patient. So you'd keep quiet for a few more months.

You never got back on good terms with your family, only seeing them when they came to the palace to see Ramonda and her kids. You didn't even go back to school.

Soon, 7 years had passed and there was still nothing.

Your last straw was her telling you that she wasn't sure about the two of you anymore in the heat of an argument.

After 7 years, she had the nerve to tell you that she wasn't sure about you.

You were so mad that you broke it off at that exact moment.

Further on, you loved seeing her beg for you to take her back, receiving gifts from her almost everyday.

That stuck for about 2 years, until it all stopped, and you were left to wonder what in Bast's name was going on.

To your horror, it was another woman. That's when you'd actually started losing it. Sending some rather unsavoury messages and sometimes threats to the both of them.

As you finished telling her the entire thing, all she did was look at you. Trying to hide her clear shock, but not doing a very good job.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" You asked.

"No, I just have a few questions."

"Go ahead."

She looked down at her notepad, because she had picked it back up halfway through the story.

"So you sacrificed your education for her, and got shunned by your family because of it."

You nodded.

"But your file says that you've had a university degree for almost a year now"

You shrugged. "I have, but that's not the point of it all. Were you even listening? It was the 7 years where I couldn't get that degree that still has me upset. It's the years of not talking to my family besides my aunt and her kids that makes me upset. It's the empty promises that never got fulfilled that make me angry."

"So you don't want her back, you just want an apology."

"I've already gotten countless apologies. It hasn't changed my rage. Seeing her with someone just makes me angry."

"But it's been 3 years now. Don't you think that's long enough for her and you to start exploring the dating world again. Especially if you feel like she has paid for her actions. There are many people that could fill the void that she might have left in you, Y/n."

"No! I can't have anyone else. I've tried to date around, but I physically cannot do it. And she does it so effortlessly. Like I was just nothing."

"So you want her back, even though you broke up with her?"

You rolled your eyes at the woman, who clearly wasn't understanding a word that you were saying. So you stood up ready to leave her fancy place. She rushed to stop you,

"Okay, I seem to have made an assumption that has triggered you. I'm sorry. Please just don't go. I think we can work with this. You've been here for a month, and you haven't had any of your past incidents happen so that's a start." She started to flatter you.

"Thank you." You said stubbornly as you went to go and sit back down.

For the rest of the session, you and the 'not therapist' actually started to break a few walls.

You were finally talking, and unlike before, she was listening to you.

3 months later, you were doing extremely well, and you'd finally found the courage to go on a date for the first time in nearly 3 years.

You dressed in your best clothes and drove to the restaurant, but the moment you sat down, there was a growing feeling of unease in your stomach.

This person that sat in front of you, although very beautiful, wasn't Okoye, and that was just something you couldn't handle.

The more you tried to get through the dinner, the more you needed to leave.

"I'm sorry but I can't do this." You said to the woman as you rushed out of there and drove back to your apartment in a complete daze.

You didn't know what was happening until you had already packed your bags, booked a plane ticket back to Wakanda, gone to the airport, and gotten on the plane.

All you could think of the entire journey there was, What were you doing?

Everything was going so good, you had settled into work and you hadn't attempted a stunt like this in months. You were finally starting to feel like you were in control, but suddenly all of that control was given to that one side of you. The one that was so lonely without Okoye.

You got to the border of your home country, the furthest a plane was allowed to enter, and quickly took your bags and left. You were wearing a black cloak that you'd gotten years ago, so that and the night sky prevented the enter village from seeing you.

For the first 15 minutes, you were sure that you were going to go to Okoye's house, maybe to try and do something reckless.

Luckily, your legs led you back to your own home, where you breathed a sigh of relief.

The next day, you stayed in your house, feeling overwhelmed by the thoughts of the previous day.

You weren't sure what you wanted to do. You had no business even being back in Wakanda, and T'Challa would not be pleased.

As midday kicked in, and you were sharpening some blunt and old weapons, your mind again got the better of you. And the irrational ideas started to form.

If I can't have you, no one should

I might

I might kill my ex

Not the best idea

Her new girlfriend's next

How'd I get here?

How did you get here is what you really wanted to know.

You weren't the murderous type. But the thoughts kept coming.

I might kill my ex

I still love her though

You loved Okoye. You couldn't kill her. But your thoughts and feelings were becoming quite convincing.

Rather be in jail than alone.

It was with this that you decided that you needed to let loose. Grabbing some wine out of a cabinet, you drank straight from the bottle trying to ration with yourself.

It wouldn't be worth it.

I get the sense that it's a lost cause

I get the sense that you might really love her

You thought back to the many times that you'd seen Okoye and Emwe together. How happy she seemed with her there. You could tell that there was real love there.

Would she take you back even if Emwe wasn't in the picture?

What if you weren't good enough for her anymore?

You needed to calm yourself down. So you went on a chat log on your Kimoyo Beads to read a chat that you'd had with her a year ago, when these same thoughts had been looming in your head.

YOU: Okoye. Please stop ignoring me.

OKOYE: Y/n you threatened to kill me! I'd prefer to not speak to you while you are in this scary state.

YOU: I didn't mean it like that. I just want you back, sthandwa.

OKOYE: I'm in a healthy relationship, and I no longer have feelings for you anymore.

YOU: Could you at least pretend that you do. Just until I am over you?

OKOYE: NO. Y/n. Don't ever contact me again.

She had blocked you immediately after this.

These messages calmed you in a sense, because that was proof that you tried.

You had tried to stop, she just needed to play along and you would have been fine. But she wouldn't, so whose fault was it really?

The text gon' be evidence, this text is evidence

I tried to ration with you, no murders or crime of passion

With this, somehow your mind was able to defend wanting to do it. After all, Okoye was living a happy life, without you while you sat at home lonely. So you let your thoughts do as they pleased.

But damn, you was out of reach

You was at the farmers market with your perfect peach

Now I'm in amazement, planning home invasion

Now you laying facedown

Got me saying over a beat

That night, you had a dream. You were at Okoye's house, and she was on the ground, looking up, while you held her spear next to you, listening to the sound of someone else approaching the house.

I'm so mature, I'm so mature, I'm so mature

After that uneventful night, you ended up going back to California the next day.

You had work, and your head was no longer fully consumed in homicidal thoughts and for a full 3 months, it all went back to normal.

Your routine was work, healing sessions, sleep, repeat.

You still had some crazy thoughts, but you were able to handle them with more rationality.

Got me a therapist to tell me there's other women

I don't want none, I just want you

If I can't have you, no one will, oh

I might kill my ex

Not the best idea

Her new girlfriend's next

How'd I get here?

I might kill my ex

I still love her though

Rather be in jail than alone

From the outside, you actually seemed quite back to normal. And that was exactly what got you an invite back to Wakanda.

After much consideration, the council had decided to give you the choice to come back to Wakanda since you had seemed to have made some tremendous progress.

You accepted, and said a few goodbyes to the people that had been there for you in the States.

As you once again came into Wakanda, now in a quinjet rather than a regular plane, you couldn't help but think of the fact that you had somehow fooled everyone.

You were nowhere near as progressed as they thought you were, even sitting there you were plotting and planning your final masterpiece of destruction.

You had relented to the voice in your head that wanted to go out for blood, and now it had control of the steering wheel of your actions.

You acted normal as people welcomed you back, excited for your arrival, not knowing why you had even been gone.

A dinner for your return was to be held, and there is where you knew you would execute your plan.

Putting on a classy outfit, and following your aunt as she walked you into the event, you smiled and laughed when needed, scoping out the area for the person you really wanted to see.

Off in the distance you saw her, with Emwe, as they chatted happily to each other.

You rolled your eyes at this, not believing that she was still with the one woman you seemed to hate the most.

"Y/n! It's not nice to stare." You turned to see your cousin coming to talk to you again. You tried to act natural, not wanting to make him suspect anything.

"T'Challa! I did not expect to see you tonight. Being the king takes up a lot of your time." You said, going in for a hug, just to keep your nice persona up. As you hugged him he whispered in your ear.

"I always know when you're up to something. I'm just here to stop you from doing it here, Y/n."

And that he did. For the entire night, he watched you with sharp eyes, making it impossible to pull any stunts.

You went through the entire event, never getting the chance to talk to Okoye, but you were completely fine with this, because you had no intention of stopping purely because of your cousin.

You waited until everybody had left, and slowly, you started to follow Okoye back to her house.

You kept a large distance, knowing that her Dora Milaje training would make it easy for her to hear you if you walked too close. Behind you was a dagger that you thought you could use.

When she reached her house, you waited for a few minutes before going to knock on her door.

She opened the door, very surprised to see you.

"Y/n."

"Okoye."

"What are you doing here?" She asked you, hesitating as you pushed yourself into her house.

"I'm here to take what is mine." You declared, closing your eyes to gain the courage to do what you deemed necessary.

As you threw the first dagger right through her torso without warning, she fell to the ground.

But that wasn't enough. You took her spear from her tunic, expanding it and pointing it towards her, as she looked at you, with pleading eyes.

"Y/n are you on something? Why are you doing this?" She asked, barely able to stay conscious. You laughed, smiling at her.

" I did it all for love. I did it all on no drugs. I did all of this sober. I did it all for us, oh. I did it all for love. I did all of this on no drugs. I did all of this sober. Don't you know I did it all for us? " you said as you lodged the spear through her heart.

Connecting your bracelet to hers to see hers turn red, her heart rate took only 2 minutes to completely drop to nothing, as you pulled the spear out of the now dead body.

You had finally done it.

I just killed my ex

You stood up, going to the door, to wait for the person you truly hated

Emwe.

She was on her way, you knew that because she was always nearby.

Not the best idea (idea)

Much like before, you were right. She arrived and you did the same thing to her.

Killed her girlfriend next

Now you had two dead bodies on the ground, staring into the sky.

How'd I get here?

You sat down as you had in your dream, Okoye's spear next to you, as you waited for the voices to show up.

You were definitely screwed, but you had not even one single regret.

T'Challa couldn't fight to fix this, this time. Now it was just your fate, to suffer the consequences of your actions.

You let out one more laugh, slashing and slitting your throat as somebody opened the door.

I just killed my ex

I still love her though (I do)

Rather be in hell than alone

"I love you, Okoye." You croaked, the world turning black.

The End

Author's Note: I finally got my act together and finished this work. It was quite a crazy story but I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. (I'm not crazy I swear)

I'm going to hopefully post one more time before the new year, then I'll be posting as much as I can before I get busy with life again.

Requests are open for both Ramonda and Okoye. Nakia, Aneka and Ayo works will start next year, but you can also request for them too.

I have big plans for the new year. 🤭

I love you all. 💜💖

Have a good last couple of days of 2022.

#Spotify #okoye x reader #black panther #okoye one shot #general okoye #okoye #okoye x fem reader #x reader insert #x female reader #x reader #yandere reader

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trashscenariihxh · 1 year

Text

Pariston x Reader x Wing part 10

I bet you all thought you’d seen the last of me, huh?

You ignored Wing’s texts for two weeks, and they were the longest two weeks of your life. Every message he sent made your stomach grow heavy, and your chest grow tight.

“Can I see you again?”

“Are you all right?”

“Can you please let me know if you’re okay?”

You knew that the wisest, kindest thing to do would be to respond to him. To tell him that you didn’t think seeing him again was a good idea. That you wished him the best, and that you were sorry. And yet, you couldn’t. Despite knowing that you didn’t have it in you to leave your husband, and that the double life you were leading was unsustainable, you couldn’t. Wing had opened a window to happiness and warmth, and you couldn’t bring yourself to close it.

As the days passed, his texts dwindled, becoming less and less frequent until they finally stopped altogether. It was a heartbreaking relief.

If Pariston had noticed any change in your demeanor, he didn’t let on. He didn’t pay you any special attention, good or otherwise. He stayed out late at the office most nights, and came home smelling faintly of expensive perfume more often than not. Once, you’d noticed a smudge of red lipstick on his collar. It was so glaringly obvious, so very cliche, that you were sure that he’d done it on purpose. That he wanted you to see.

The calm, almost smug look that he gave you when your eyes rested on the incriminating red smudge that night almost seemed like a taunt. A challenge. Like Pariston was daring you to say something. You refused to give him the satisfaction. Refused to let on just how much it hurt. Despite everything Pariston had done, despite the gleeful sadism he injected into your marriage every day, you still loved him far more than he’d ever loved you. And Pariston knew it.

Your resolve not to contact Wing cracked a few nights afterwards. As you composed a text to him, guilt flooded your chest; you were lonely, hurting, and desperately in need of affection. Wing could give you that and more, and yet you knew that you could only offer him part of yourself. Wing deserved better.

Still, your guilt wasn’t strong enough to stop you from sending him an apologetic message and a request to meet again. Nor was it enough to make you feel any remorse when he responded less than five minutes later, suggesting you go over to his place when he got off work. You knew that what you were doing, meeting him without making any plans to leave your husband, was utterly unfair to him. And yet, when you thought about the way Wing looked at you, the way his dark eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled, the gentle way in which he touched you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

***

You hadn’t intended to be overly emotional when you showed up at Wing’s apartment, but the second he opened the door to let you in, you flung yourself into his arms and buried your face in his chest, mumbling a series of muffled apologies into the rumpled fabric of his shirt.

Wing stiffened at first contact, but soon enough relaxed and wrapped his arms around you, placing a soft, tender kiss to the top of your head. He held you like that, softly, securely, for a few minutes, neither pushing you away nor bringing you closer. When you finally pulled back, you fixed him with an apologetic stare.

“Wing, I’m so sorry, I owe you an explanation.”

He shook his head, his dark eyes gentle. “No, you don’t. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” You sighed. “I- I couldn’t… I thought if I…” Your voice stopped working when you found that you were unable to turn the jumble of words and thoughts swirling through your head into coherent sentences.

And Wing, sweet, kind, patient Wing understood. He sighed softly, ran his fingers through his messy hair and gave you one of his gentle half-smiles. “___, it’s okay. Really. I get it. You don’t have to-”

You cut him off with a kiss. It wasn’t intentional. You had wanted to talk more, to make him listen, to somehow convince him that you weren’t worth his time. But instead, you kissed him, and he reciprocated.

No words were exchanged as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. Wing’s lips were on you most of the way, his hands firmly on your hips as he guided you. You undressed yourselves quickly without shyness or reverence; the two of you had your minds set on being in bed, joined together, your bodies pressed close without any barriers.

As soon as he undressed himself, Wing was on you again, his hands running up your sides, over your breasts, his mouth on your neck. You allowed him to back you towards the bed, falling backwards when the backs of your legs hit the mattress. Wing went with you, pulling back just enough to let you reposition yourself amongst the blankets and pillows. Once you were situated, he crawled back on top of you, caging you in with his arms as he lavished you with kisses, soft, gentle, with just a hint of a bite.

You ran your fingers through his hair, biting your lip when he nipped at your collarbone before moving lower towards your breasts. When he ran his tongue over a nipple, you let out a soft whine. Your eyes fluttered shut as he began to suck, his hand moving up your body to cup and knead your other breast.

When he pulled away, you expected him to settle between your thighs, but instead he pressed a kiss to your sternum and worked his way down, between your breasts, over your soft stomach, towards your sex. You let out a choked gasp when you felt his tongue, warm and wet, swipe over your folds and swirl around your clit.

Wing was a clumsy man, but there was nothing clumsy or sloppy about the way he lapped at you, the way his tongue ran over every sensitive inch of skin. When you felt him begin to work you open with his long, tapered fingers, you ran your hand over his scalp, your fingers raking through his hair.

All too soon, he withdrew his fingers, kissed his way back up your body, and slotted himself neatly between your spread legs. You spread your legs a bit more to better accommodate him, and grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself. When he kissed you as he pushed inside, you tasted yourself on his tongue.

Wing paused for a moment, breathing heavily, his cock buried inside you. The two of you exchanged lazy kisses; you could feel his cock twitch deep in your heat. Finally, he began to move, taking you with deep, lazy thrusts.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, eager to keep him close. As Wing continued to move against you, you felt that deep, hot tautness in your abdomen taking shape, and clung to him even more desperately. You were sure that if you didn’t, you would fall apart.

“___, you feel… you feel…” Wing’s words were interrupted by a throaty groan as his hips snapped forward to bury himself in you again. He shifted his weight for a moment, reaching up to grab your hand and pin it to the bed, his fingers interlacing with yours. His lips pressed against your neck, his teeth grazing softly along your jugular, careful not to leave a mark.

You did not have any such reservations, and when his cock bumped against a particularly sensitive spot, you gasped and bit his shoulder. The action spurred him on, and he increased the pace, fucking into you earnestly with hints of desperation. His breaths had begun to grow ragged and uneven, and a series of deep, masculine groans emanated from his chest as he moved.

You soon found yourself on the precipice of release, the tautness between your legs reaching a dizzying intensity. When Wing moaned out your name and nipped at your ear it became too much, and your world fell away. The clenching of your muscles proved too much for Wing to withstand for long, and he reached his own peak just moments later, slamming into you and finishing with a deep groan of your name.

He remained atop you for a few minutes after, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and mouth. When he finally rolled off, he immediately gathered you into his arms.

“Was that okay?” He kissed your shoulder and sighed contentedly.

“More than okay.” You smiled at him. “Perfect.”

He laughed sheepishly, and reached over to the bedside table to retrieve his glasses. “I want to be able to actually see you,” he explained, somewhat shyly as he put them on.

“I hope it was okay, that I uh… finished. Inside. I’m sorry, I should have asked.” He cleared his throat, his hand running over the swell of your hips.

“It’s fine. I’m on the pill. Nothing to worry about.”

“Still. I should have asked.” He lapsed into thoughtful silence, which he broke a few minutes later.

“___… do you want to leave him?”

The question caught you off guard. “Hm?”

“Your husband. Are you happy with him? Do you want to stay with him?”

You sighed. “Wing…”

“You should leave him, you know. Not necessarily for me. But just, in general.”

You glanced at him. He was staring at the ceiling, brow slightly furrowed.

“I know. You’re right, it’s just-”

“Complicated. I know.”

You sighed and nodded. You hoped it would be the end of the matter, but Wing had other ideas.

“Do you love him?”

You stiffened in Wing’s arms, unsure of what to say exactly.

“I… I think I’m just… I don’t know. Maybe I do. Maybe I love who he used to be.”

Who he pretended to be.

Wing nodded, eyes still thoughtful. “Look, I can’t force you to do anything. This is ultimately up to you. But for what it’s worth, I think you should leave him. For your own sake.”

There was nothing forceful or insistent about his words; Wing was being sweet and reasonable, his voice as kind and patient as always. Yet, you felt a surge of irritation at his words.

“I’ll handle it, okay? Can we just… drop it? Please?” You immediately regretted your sharp tone of voice. “I’m sorry. It’s just been rough. And confusing. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah… I know. I’ll let it be.” Wing gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. “What time do you have to go back?”

“I don’t know…” You thought about it. About returning home to wait for Pariston to return, dick still wet from his latest infidelity. About the saccharine way he’d ask you about your day. Anger flared in you, and you came to a decision.

“You know what? Who cares?”

“___…”

“No, really.” You turned in Wing’s arms to face him. “Why should I hurry home to greet the man who is probably fucking his secretary as we speak?”

Wing sighed. “He’ll suspect something. You know he will.”

“Let him. He’s taken enough from me. I don’t care what he thinks.”

As you snuggled against Wing, resting your head on his chest, you found that for the first time in a very long time, you truly didn’t.

***

You ended up staying with Wing until the early hours of the morning. When you saw your husband’s car in the driveway, you ignored the nagging nervousness that tugged at your chest. Pariston didn’t have a leg to stand on, after all. He’d been having affairs for years, and put very little effort into hiding it. Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for the barrage of questions that were sure to be thrown your way when you went to bed.

To your surprise, however, Pariston didn’t stir when you entered the bedroom. When you showered, dried off, and got into bed next to him, he didn’t move either. This was odd, because Pariston had always been a very light sleeper, but you figured that he must have tired himself out.

As you felt yourself drift off to sleep, you allowed yourself to relive what had transpired at Wing’s apartment, and to revel in the warmth that such thoughts provided you.

#pariston hill #wing hxh #smuttastic

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q-gorgeous · 8 months

Text

What Will It Be? Chapter 7

ao3

fanfiction

@kinglazrus

more fic wooooo

Dash was ready for the school day to be over. He couldn’t remember most of it anyways so he might as well have been at home all day. Why didn’t he stay home? That probably would’ve been smart.

He was trying to walk out the front doors of the school without Kwan seeing him but being a big guy and wearing a letterman jacket pretty much singled him out.

“Dash!”

He tried ignoring him but Kwan eventually caught up.

“Dude, didn’t you hear me?”

“What? Haha, no sorry.” Dash stuttered out. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you again if everything was okay.” Kwan frowned at him. “Obviously something happened that freaked you out. Do you want to talk about it?”

Dash choked out a laugh. “What? Nothing happened. Everything is fine.”

“Dash-”

Dash stopped listening to Kwan when he saw who was headed straight for him.

Sam and Tucker.

There was nowhere for him to go. Sam already had her eyes locked on him and there was no deterring her, not when she could run faster than him. He already knew what she was going to ask him about.

“Hey, Dash, have you seen Danny at all today? He wasn’t in any of our classes.”

“What? Danny?” Dash’s voice raised an octave and he could feel Kwan staring at him. “No, I haven’t seen Danny at all! Not since we left the Nasty Burger yesterday.”

“Yeah, that was the last time we saw him too.” Tucker said. “He hasn’t answered any of our calls or texts.”

“Maybe he decided to skip school today.” Dash laughed nervously again. “He skips classes all the time. Maybe he wanted the whole day off today?”

Sam stared up at him, studying him. He didn’t think he said anything incriminating. He didn’t know what she was looking for.

“Danny wouldn’t-”

She got cut off by someone cackling in the air above them. Dash looked up and saw Technus again.

“That was fast.” He took a step back.

“It is, I, Technus, and I am here to spread fake propaganda about world war three! I will send the world into war and despair and enslave every technological item and create an army!”

Gasps and screams sounded around them as students watched and started running away.

“I think Phantom’s new rule about not saying anything around Technus was a good one.” Kwan said. “He’s really running with your suggestion.”

“He won’t actually do it.” Dash said. “Phantom will stop him.”

“Shit.” Sam whispered.

Dash looked at Sam. Her and Tucker had moved into defensive stances, almost like they were putting themselves in between Dash and Kwan and Technus.

“What?” Dash asked. “It’s just Technus. Phantom can stop him no problem.”

Sam pulled a wrist blaster out of her bag and Tucker pulled out… A tube of lipstick?

“He’s not here yet though. I don’t think he’s coming this time.” Sam said.

Phantom’s… Not coming?

“Phantom always shows up for ghost fights though.” Kwan said.

“He’s probably busy or in some other part of town.” Tucker looked at Sam as he pulled a Fenton thermos out of his backpack. “Distract him so I can soup him up?”

Sam nodded and they separated.

“Hey, Technus!” She shouted up at him and waved her hands in the air. Dash stared at her horrified. Why would she announce herself if she’s gonna start shooting at him?

“Ah! Chaos! Where’s your boyfriend? Perhaps getting skinned by mine?”

“Not my boyfriend!” Sam yelled at him. “He’s around. He’s just busy.” She pointed her blaster at him.

“Why’d he call her Chaos?” Dash whispered to Kwan. Kwan only shrugged.

Technus cackled. “What do you think you’re going to do with that, girl? I control everything technological! I can fry it in less than a second!”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!”

“Then try it.”

“I will! Then you will forever know the name Nicolai Technus! I will-“

Tucker jumped out from behind a tree that was across the school yard.

“Get souped!” He shouted.

A beam shot out from the thermos Tucker was holding and caught Technus in it.

“No! I, Technus, will come back again! I will enact my plans! I-“

Technus was cut off as he entered the thermos and Tucker capped it.

“Guy needs a timeout this time.” Tucker said, shaking his head.

“How often do you guys do that?” Kwan asked, gaping at them.

“Ah, not super often.” Sam said. “We’re really close with Danny’s parents so we’ve had the unfortunate opportunity to learn a lot about their weapons and everything, haha.”

“Damn. Remind me not to get on your bad side. You’re a lot more terrifying now.”

Sam looked at him. “Do you have a reason to be on my bad side?”

“What?” Dash nervously scoffed at her. “Why would I be on your bad side? I haven’t done anything.”

Sam kept staring at him, neither of them breaking eye contact. Tucker cleared his throat.

“Okay… Sam, maybe we should head to Danny’s house and see if he’s home sick, or if he got stuck helping his parents down in the lab.”

Sam kept staring at Dash as she nodded. “Yeah. Let’s start there.”

They walked away from Dash and Kwan. Kwan looked at him with another concerned expression on his face.

“What was that about?”

Dash shrugged. “How would I know? I haven’t even seen Danny since yesterday.”

“Aren’t you concerned though? They’re never concerned when Danny misses class normally. What if somethings wrong this-“

“Danny will be fine.” Dash ground out. “He’s always fine. Now come on. Let’s go on our run right away. You missed out on it yesterday so you’ve gotta make it up today.”

Kwan smiled. “Sure! I’ll head home to change and meet you at our usual place?”

“Sure!” Dash waved at him and walked away. “I’ll see you in a little bit!”

Dash gripped the straps on his backpack tightly. Why was Sam already grilling him so hard? Danny’s only been missing for a day. What could she be worried about?

Dash took a deep breath. He knew exactly what she could be worried about. It’s not like she would ever think that the GIW took Danny. She could never find out either.

Dash hoped she didn’t try too hard to find out the truth.

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #invisobang 2023 #dash baxter #kwan #sam manson #tucker foley #technus #swagger bishie #fanfiction #fanfic #phic

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unusual-raccoon · 1 year

Note

Hi! It’s me 🌚 I had a thought I just had to share. I just finished zooming through all your Frank and Billy stuff (fantastic work as per usual) and my mind decided to work over time to produce this: modern JaceLuke but they have to do a mandatory military service as part of inheriting their titles. They’re supposed to be kept out of danger, but Otto has friends in high places and they get posted to some pretty fucked up missions. Cue them developing the same kind of codependency we see with Frank and Billy. Like can you imagine the angsty power of Jace killing Otto or Aemond the same way Frank does to Rawlins with Billy (Luke) observing? “God damn, Jace. I love to watch you work.” I’m sorry, I love DJ Jace and soft fanboy Luke, but I also gotta feed my need for angst. I know the Frank and Billy dynamic/history doesn’t really match, but I love the idea of modern JaceLuke going feral for each other. They def have the same “us against world” energy that Frank and Billy have. Thoughts??

My lovely 🌚 anon, ur actually so brilliant! JaceLuke, but like a Brank AU??? Genius. Even if we’re just stripping the dynamic down to ‘us against the world’. Certified killers JaceLuke is very funny, but also plausible? Luke already got that dawg in him, Aemond can testify.

I’ve had an idea that’s not necessarily a modern AU, but like a ‘on the run’ vibe, in which the King (Aegon or Aemond take your pick) has placed bounties on the heads of former princes. Aegon III and Viserys II (and possibly even Visenya?) have already been given asylum and secreted elsewhere as legitimate full-blooded children. However, the Strong boys are targets that receive little kindness. Cue them being forced to live on the run and killing whoever tries to stop them, concocting a backstory à la Rickard Thorne and Maelor in the books.

Their simple story (A/B/O time?) for Joffrey’s sake. Jace is his father and Luke is his mother, and should anyone ask, his father is a BETA. Wanted posters would include the fact that Jace is an Alpha.

At first they wander the roads and are easily mistaken for no more than bandits, especially Jace. He is the eldest, and by rights as defended his brothers the most.

On the road, before settling in a small fishing village so Joff can rest a bit easier and Jace can find a job to bring a little money in that doesn’t involve selling stashed (and rather incriminating) family jewelry.

Their saving grace actually is their “common looks” their dark hair and dark eyes make their seemingly unremarkable. Three bits of hay in a haystack.

Small ficlet under the cut

Jacaerys can feel his brother’s eyes on him as he cleans the blood from his seax, a stolen seax, one that Luke had lifted off a hunter that had happened upon him bathing.

His shoulders ache, he’d moved the body. There was no moving the pile of blood that had since soaked into the soil. Another sellsword looking for wealth with the heads of three little princelings.

Lucerys scoots closer, a hand falling easily upon Jace’s knee. Joffrey was sleeping. They’d given him the last of a the roasted hare that Luke had caught a few days prior.

Jace and Luke had found some dried salmon on the sellsword, amongst other things. His brother pushes another salted strip of fish into his hand.

“You need your strength.” He says with earnest brown eyes, teeth catching up his lower lip, “We, need your strength.”

This made the seventh man he’d killed for them. A dagger through the throat. The second one in a sennight.

Luke’s fingers curls into the filthy fabric of Jace’s trousers, ragged nails prickling against his knee in desperation.

Jace nods and takes the fish, tears the leathery meat between pointed teeth - teeth he’d soon need to file if he ever hoped to pass for a beta.

They settle down beside the fire, beside Joff. Their little brother whined in his sleep, instinctively nuzzling towards Luke. Their brother hushes him, rocking Joffrey gently in his arms

“Jace,” Lucerys calls gently, barely a whisper above the small starving fire that subsists on twigs and damp leaves.

“The next one that comes after us - I want do it.”

He sighs against his brothers nape, as he cradles Luke to his chest, and Luke cradles Joff.

“Mother would’ve killed for us,” he says gently, “I should be able to do it too.”

He cannot fault his brother’s thinking. It is true, regardless of how unsavory. Princes resorted to being common cutthroat’s.

“The next one,” Jace agrees, breath visible in the night air. Feeling as Luke shifts gently closer.

Lucerys could have the next mercenary that came their way, it would be his brother’s first kill. Their last kill, however, would be the miserable uncle that had made criminals of them.

#answered asks #anon <3 #🌚 anon #jaceluke #jaceluke agenda #sorry this ended taking off from your initial idea!!

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bluebellhairpin · 2 years

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Zeke Jaeger X Wife!Reader

A/N: My hate and disgust for Zeke has all balled up into this mess of blood, death, and underlying thirst. Call it enemies to reluctant lovers on my part. - Nemo

Summary: You and your husband find out each others darkest secrets.

Warnings: Dark Content. 18+ Only, MINORS/AGLESS BLOGS DNI. Gore and Blood. Graphic Death of minor characters. Smoking. Language.

Listening to: 'Me and My Husband' by Mitski - "At least in this lifetime... Me and my husband, we're sticking together."

Masterlist || Ko-fi || Event Masterlist

You first killed someone when you were in your last year of high school.

You’d been best friends for years, and it had always been just the three of you. But then they started leaving you out. Ditching you at lunch. Not inviting you out anymore. You confronted him first, and it ended badly. Mostly for him, since he died, but a little for you, since you had to burn your Doc Martens.

To you, the shocking part wasn’t that you did it, no - it was the fact that you didn’t get caught. You were a suspect for two days, and then dropped as a dead end.

Your other best - ex-best - friend, was the one put on trial. Sent to juvie for as long as she was allowed due to a set of incriminating texts sent between her and him on the days prior to his disappearance and ultimate death.

That one worked out quite nicely in your favor.

But you see, when you do something like that once, and get away with it, it’s easy to think you can do it again. And you have, since then, killed more people.

Your second kill was the most brutal, violent. You were in college, and one of those manky frat bro’s had decided he needed to stick his hands all over you. Luring him away from people was the easy part, sawing off his hands so he could get a nice feel of himself, that was the hard part. Muscles and tendons caught on the blade, and the bone was just an utter nightmare to get through.

The guy passed out pretty quickly, weak stomach, so you just left him. Not your best idea ever, but if a skank like him lived long enough to get you thrown in jail then you did think you deserved it. Cutting his hands off wasn’t nice, you knew that. But where you took him was abandoned. If the rats hadn't found him first, he’d have gotten an infection or bled out, you were sure of it. The rats did get to him though.

Rumor on campus says he was hardly recognizable when his friends went to the morgue. But it was those friends that let you off the hook again.

After all, thoughtless comments and college parties where most people there were blackout drunk before 11pm - something bad was bound to happen to someone anyway.

There’d been others since then, but you’d gotten away with them too. No one’s ever really noticed you, and you’ve never been suspected long enough to be interviewed once or twice. You could count them all without having to take your socks off, but man, there was a thrill to it.

It wasn’t until many years after college that you were found out at all. By your own husband no less.

You’d been through two boyfriends (still alive), and had settled with your third, a pretty red rock sitting on your ring finger just to prove how serious it was to anyone who asked. You’d contemplated kids, and decided no, you’d rather not have to deal with any of those. Moved out to a part of town where the streets were quiet, but so spaced out that you could fit a Walmart parking lot between each plot of land that had a house on it.

Yours was a modest place, in comparison to the rest. While you had no swimming pool or tennis court, you did have enough space for you to have a study in the basement, and your husband to have a bungalow down the back of the house near the river. On the days he wasn’t at work, or choosing to spend with you, he’d been out there. You’d visit him twice throughout the day, to bring him lunch, and then again at afternoon tea time, and then he’d come back to the main house at dinner.

You respected his space, just as he did yours. When you were in the basement, he’d never come down the stairs, choosing rather to talk to you from the open door - just like how you’d never go past the small foyer area in his bungalow.

However, if either of you did, you would’ve found out a few things much earlier.

No one would even have guessed that Mr and Mrs Zeke Jaeger were so messed up.

Your neighborhood was full of rich pricks. Husbands who spend their time at the office while their wives dote on children and sleep with the pool boys. Elderly couples who go for weekends at the golf club. And dinner parties.

You had nothing wrong with Erwin, neither did Zeke. He was a nice guy, important, charismatic, but he did hold social gatherings once every other week that you were always invited to, which you didn’t like. No, you had nothing wrong with Erwin, but you did have a problem with some of his socialite guests.

Yelena was someone you’d met before, once or twice at other dinners like this one, and just like all those other times, her looks towards Zeke weren’t appreciated by you, nor really recuperated by him.

You let it go the first time, you were more behaved nowadays - more or less, but it kept happening. More frequently too - and you were not going to deal with that any longer. You weren’t going to have some other woman make persistent sex eyes at your husband.

That night when you went home, a little earlier than usual due to a non-existent headache, you started scheming. Zeke, as much as he persisted with you resting in bed, eventually gave in to letting you retreat to the basement with meds and a hot drink.

The plan you made up was a good one - foolproof, supposedly, but when you kill, you can never be too cautious - but the only problem was getting to Yelena. And if she had a strong immune system.

Drugging her, bashing her head in, and then making it look like she crashed her car - you’d definitely need all night to make sure everything played out perfectly. That it all looked right. That it looked like enough of an accident for no one to be too hasty about getting blood-toxin reports too quickly.

One thing you liked about your basement was that it had a door that led right outside. You knew you could use the walk in the fresh night air and rain, so the trip over to her house was spent listening to your own thoughts.

Zeke was a smart man, cunning if there were a lack of a better word, and that's one of the reasons you loved him. A perfect man, not so much, but there had always been something extra about him that you couldn’t place that you just liked. You only hoped he wasn’t so smart as to start piecing things together. After all, Yelena wouldn’t exactly be the first person you helped pass on to the other side of life because of him.

It’s almost comedic, really, how you both had unknowingly chosen to kill the other’s admirers on the same night.

Zeke was almost thrilled when you approached him, sliding one hand up his back while the other rested on his stomach, muttering about how your head was throbbing and how the bright lights were doing nothing to help your eyes stay open.

Naturally he made sure you were okay before he really started formulating anything. He would’ve given you a briefcase packed full of cold hard cash if it meant you stayed safely tucked out of the way in bed with some Netflix show you liked playing while you fell asleep, but he also knew that once you were in ‘your basement’, you’d have a tough time coming back out again until you felt better.

So he pressed a kiss to your cheekbone, and watched from the top of the stairs as you made a home for yourself on a couch, before shutting the door and making his way through the house to outside.

He lit a cigarette before disposing of the match in the mud, unlocked his bungalow, and then pulled out his phone. He looked out over the bay window at the river, watching as it started to rain outside in the dark, and poured himself a tumbler of spirits.

He needed to give his little brother a call.

Eren was a good kid. Or at least that’s what Zeke’s father and wife believed. Zeke though knew the guy had his shady side - and coming from someone with one hell of a dark side, he knew what he was talking about.

It didn’t take many drinks to get Eren all riled up and talking his mind. Zeke had already seen what he was like at Erwin’s earlier - hence the situation they found themselves in now - and he wasn’t going to let anyone think, or talk, about his wife like that.

Not even his precious little brother.

Eren was sitting at the window, pressing his forehead to the glass while nursing his own empty tumbler. His words were slurred, and Zeke heard him screech something about a pretty woman across the river. Zeke took in a deep breath as he reached the door, grabbing the axe that had been sitting there idly by the indoor woodpile.

“There’s been a million beautiful women in history, baby brother, you’re going to be one very lucky man to get to meet them all so soon.” He said.

“Yeah well they’re all dead, so how pretty can they be?” Eren slurred, fogging the glass with his breath and drawing a smiley face in it. Zeke stood behind him, pulling his arms back and up.

“When I next see you, tell me for yourself,” he said. Eren turned in time to see his brother's axe being brought down between his eyes.

Yelena was tall, yes, however she was still slim. On all accounts she should not be this heavy to drag. Either that or you needed to start getting into shape again.

Drugging her hadn’t been hard, you still had that sneak factor on you, which you would’ve proudly bragged about if it weren’t for the situation, and that made getting into her house and chloroforming her the easiest part of killing her so far.

Having to pull her across the hall and into the bathtub was harder. Choosing what to bash her head in with, that was harder.

If only you didn’t have to make it look like an accident.

You’d plugged up the tub, making sure to have a way to keep her blood in one place so you could collect it for later, and then went on a venture outside, stealing her keys so you could crash her car later. You had only just come back inside when you heard a groan from the bathroom you had Yelena in.

You stopped walking, stuck to the wall, and re-routed into the kitchen. She was fumbling, slipping out of the bathtub and onto the floor. She sounded like a baby animal trying to walk for the first time.

Pathetic.

You spotted a pen holder on the counter, and smiled to yourself. If she was awake and wanting to make a challenge of herself, then you were going to play along. You swept over the kitchen, grabbing a bread knife before returning to your spot near the counter to knock the pen holder over.

“Whosethere?” she said, knocking the door open and throwing herself across the hallway, “I’ll kick your a-” She was cut short when you grabbed the back on her neck and pushed her head down, knocking her left temple into the corner of the countertop with a smack that cracked her skull open.

She fell to the floor, grabbing your ankle and weakly trying to produce more threats despite the fact she was bleeding out. You knelt over her, grabbing a fist of her bloodied hair, and pressed the serrated edge of the knife to her neck.

“You should never have lusted after my husband.” Then you drew your hand across her throat.

He couldn’t say he didn’t feel a little bad - Eren was still young, with a lot of his life ahead of him. But Zeke wasn’t sorry either. Not really.

He’d made a mess of his brother, blood was covering the floor and splattered on the windows, even his shirt was soaked through in places, causing him to unbutton it to try and deter it from sticking to his skin. Pouring another drink, he took a sip and leaned on his desk, casting a glance out the window.

His back straightened, posture fixing, at the sight before him.

Across the river was a figure staring into the scene before him in the bungalow. They were clothed almost completely, from head to toe, standing in the drizzling rain, but two things stuck out most - the fact that the person was his wife, and that his wife was covered in blood too.

He couldn’t help but think you’d never looked more attractive.

Now you know why you never went inside your husband's bungalow. Or why he’d never let you in. His gaze lingered on you, and yours did the same. He brought his drink to his lips, sipping, and that was enough for you to decide to cross the river.

The water was chillingly cold, and only went up to your thighs, parting in your stride as you trudged through onto the bank of your backyard. You kept your eyes on Zeke, slowing your walk but never stopping, breaking away to look down at the bloody mess on the floor.

That would be a bitch to clean up.

Then you turned and went up to your house. You had already opened the backdoor when you heard the door to the bungalow open, and slam close. Ignoring it - whether a good choice or bad - you went inside out of the rain, carelessly disposing of your jacket and shoes, and then went to the kitchen to dump Yelena’s knife in the sink.

Not long after, you heard the backdoor open and shut again, and Zeke’s footsteps came to a stop at the kitchen doorway. You turned to him, leaning back against the sink as he did the same on the door frame.

“Who was that you mutilated, honey?” you asked, tiling your head.

“Whose blood is on that knife, sweetcheeks?” He replied with a smile.

#zeke x reader #zeke jeager x reader #zeke yeager x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader

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