#big copper red spot on her side

[romanoffsbish]

I Love You / I Know

Mob Boss!R / Escort! Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: Angst. Forbidden Love. Jealousy.

Smut:Daddy (R), Slut/Whore (N), Rough!!! Oral/Fingering(N), Double Sided Strap, Blood, Bondage, Choking, Degradation.

18+ | Minors DNI | Labeled/Please Don’t Report.

You asked Natasha to come to your place.

She said yes. You sent a driver.

A familiar pattern made for the dead of night.

Natasha got into the matte black SUV, with the rear windows so tinted no one would see her, and so that she couldn’t see out. With a raised partition just as dark, it was like being in a cage. Where you live was not her business.

She was safest that way.

——

When she entered the car all service was lost, and her belongings given over to the driver.

Natasha knew it was safe. Your men knew better than to slight the redheaded beauty.

She leisurely walked into your mansion that you lived in alone, well besides for Rocco, your free range soft brown cat. It was unique.

Mostly modern decor, mixed with rare old timed pieces to create an unsettling vibe. Natasha knew the layout like the back of her hand, and where to find you, but she stalled.

Letting anticipation simmer in her belly for what to expect when she walks beyond the red door. Into the space with red leather couches, with the king size bed in the center of the room besides a chest full of unique toys and gadgets.

Natasha’s thighs clench at the thought of what could be in store for her the closer she gets. There’s a faint metallic scent in the air, only being overpowered by the smell of ammonia.

It must have been a rough day. She’s excited.

Natasha follows the rules, she removed her clothes, folding them and leaving them on a chair near the room. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but she lastly removed her red silky thong, she deposited it into the drawer you made for that.

As soon as she walked into the room she’s slammed back into the door and kissed with a force that made her bite her tongue. The taste of copper caressed her tastebuds before your tongue slid over them. You moaned as you tasted her blood, it was inquisitively sweet.

After your tongue left her mouth you pulled away completely with her lower lip between your teeth. You ground them sideways and she yelped, a slow stream of red dripped down her chin and you moaned, satisfied by the taste and the mess you were making of her pretty face.

You released her lip, and gripped her by the throat. Natasha’s eyes rolled slightly as you cut her breath off in beats of three seconds. On and off. Just as soon as she caught her breath you took it. Then you held her for six, her vision spotting as you drag her over to the mattress.

You tossed her onto it, her body bounced as she gasped for air. Distracted by instinct as you hurriedly went through your chest. You’d already been stripped down to your boxers. Sports bra still on as well. You exchanged the soaked grey for a double sided strap. You slid the significantly smaller end into you, then you fastened the harness and returned to the bed.

Natasha peered up at you as she leaned on her elbows, dried drool mixed with blood holding strands of her hair captive to her face.

“You look so beautiful like this,” you husked, “My perfect little slut, a fuck toy to abuse.”

Natasha bit her lip, wincing at the reminder that you’d marred her. A slight gush of blood rolls down her chin, a rather bright crimson to marvel the darker splotches of a prior stream.

You stalked closer to the mattress, the weight of your strap resting on the end of it and her eyes grew wide as the light cascaded over it. There was an unfamiliar girth to it that both frightened and aroused her. Her mouth went dry as her pussy dripped with arousal.

“You like daddy’s new toy honey?” She gulped before nodding timidly. “I-It’s kinda big.”

You chuckled darkly, “Oh, it is, daddy’s going to stretch you out baby, ruin you for anyone else.” Natasha grimaced, you knew.

The sweet date she went on with a lifelong friend, Wanda. Of course you knew. She couldn’t see you, but you always saw her.

You knew it didn’t mean anything. Just a social obligation to keep up appearances. At the end of the day her heart only beat out of sync.

Love was something she never had much of growing up. Besides with Yelena and Tony. Her family. So now when she found it she clung to it; even if it wasn’t healthy—especially then…

Natasha raised her hands obediently, you tied them together behind her back then laid her down. She frowned as the rope dug into her wrists with the added pressure of her body, but she quickly changed her tune as you nudged the tip of your strap into her clit. She cried out.

You grinned like a devil, eyes locked in on your soon to be corrupted victim. “So reactive…” Natasha fisted the sheets when you lowered to your knees and pulled her closer to the edge by her calves. “Daddy needs a sweet treat first, then I’ll fuck your desperate, whorish pussy.”

The redhead groaned huskily at your promise.

Natasha’s thighs trembled beneath your lips as you moved up them. Biting and sucking on her plush skin, varying shades of red being left behind, darkest in places where teeth imprints could be found. Once you reached her cunt she was whimpering in need. Her entire body flinched when you gave her what she needed.

Your tongue lapped at her folds, nose nudging her clit in a way that had her choking on her breath. Russian curses you’d familiarized yourself with left the redheads parted lips.

Natasha imagined the cocky smirk she could feel pressed against her cunt, her core burned with a need you felt against your lips, heart racing as her hole fluttered around nothing.

After that you gave in, lips moving up to attend to her clit as two of your fingers slid into her molten heat. Natasha shivered and sighed.

You always felt so good inside of her. No one else would ever compare to you, there was a gruffness to you, paired with rare softness.

Like now, you only gave her a second to adjust before you pulled out, just to thrust back in. Setting up a brutal, uneven pace. She went from stuttering to moaning, overwhelmed by your fast pace and slow swirls on your clit.

Then your fingers slowed, she went to cry but as you pulled out they curled, her walls fluttered with appreciation as you pressed into her innermost sensitive spot. Soft lips wrapped around her clit at the same time as you plunged your fingers back in, and as you curled them again, even slower now, you sucked on her clit.

Natasha came hard, pussy sucking your fingers even deeper as her thighs stiffened around you to keep your head locked in place. You swiftly removed your fingers, her whimpers of protest ignored by you as you used this time while stuck in place to clean her up with your tongue.

Without the use of her hands she had to use her shoulders and core to shimmy away. You chuckled against her as she failed to budge. Tongue entering her and swirling around to ensure you’d gotten it all before pulling away.

“You’re pathetic,” you sneered, it was heatless. “You must know I’m far from done with you.”

You untied her wrists, bringing them up to your lips to kiss the raw skin, you swirled your tongue all around, and she hissed in relief. Directly contrasting your previous tone.

“Play with your tits before daddy fucks you.”

Natasha put on a show for you, hands slow as they trailed her fingers across her abdomen. They swept over the swell of her breasts, swirling around her nipples before she pinched them. Mouth falling agape with a dramatic flair as she moaned lowly, your cunt twinged. She continued on, switching up her touches.

Once you were satisfied you stopped her hands forcefully, leaning in you kissed her sloppily. She did her best to keep the pace, but the pain of her hands awkwardly pushed into her chest made it near impossible. You preferred it that way, gave you more control of the pace.

Natasha moaned when the head of your strap slid passed her slicked up entrance, leaving it with a squelching pop that made you shudder.

You pulled away affectedly, holding yourself up by your arms you stared at her while catching your breath. Her smile was too much, far too tender, holding onto a love as toxic as lead.

With strong hands you manhandled her onto her stomach, pushing her knees up and out so you could slam your cock into her. Natasha’s body froze up as you made it a third of the way in, two of your fingers swirled over her clit and she slackened wholly. You continue the pace and soon you were bottomed out. Both of you were panting now, you leaned your forehead against her back for a moment of calm.

The way the redhead looked at you told you what you already knew. Natasha loved you.

You loved her too. But it would never work.

You still felt compelled to hear it. Even if if hurt. The pain reminded you you were alive.

Reluctantly.

“Tell me how much you love me!” You pleaded, tone demanding. “More than anything daddy!”

You thrusted harder. “Say it!” Natasha pushed back into you with a satisfied sigh, “I love you.”

Her voice was timid, emotions reflected clearly.

You tweaked her nipples in retaliation, she choked on a moan. “You love daddy’s money.”

You knew it was deeper, Natasha’s silence was apparent. Even her moans had nearly muted. But you needed her to agree, to take some of the pressure off of your heart. You needed her love, but you also repelled it with precision.

“Admit it slut!” You stilled your hips, she whined in disapproval so you slapped her ass. “Drop the attitude, now!” Natasha breathed out of her nose angrily, but she followed it up with a timid whisper, “I love you for your money.”

“That’s what I thought,” you growled, picking the pace back up, but a tad more brutally. “Sweet girls like you could never love a monster like me, we’re designed to corrupt.”

Natasha’s mind was screaming that wasn’t true, but with your strap hitting her in the spot that makes her brain go fuzzy she couldn’t speak, she could hardly even breathe. Dirty moans were interrupted by a shallow gasp as you swirled a digit around her neglected clit.

Her thighs began to tremble, you fucked her into the mattress with thrusts meant to bruise. Natasha’s thighs burned, her skin numbing as your thrusts never dulled. Both of you were teetering off the edge together. Your grunts having picked up indicating that to her.

Natasha felt you stutter, she faintly heard as you bit back a moan. She closed her eyes and imagined it a few decibels higher. Her entire body warmed as the coil within her burst.

Just the thought of you releasing because of her was all she needed to cum. Your ability to have picked the pace back up in mere seconds helping push her through it and it didn’t stop.

You kept going, increasing your attention on her clit as you thrusted sloppily. Her wetness gushing onto the satin sheets beneath you. Natasha came again with a screech that she’d never released before. Her body convulsed, you continued to thrust slowly, edging yourself because when she whimpered you stopped.

You didn’t want to hurt her that badly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” you did your best to reassure her. Your tone was permanently rough. It had to be if you were gonna survive.

Natasha found your weight atop of hers to be more grounding than your attempted comfort.

She appreciated the effort though.

Her breath began to even out, you were about to pull out but she wrapped her legs around you, loose enough for you to break free, but tight enough to hope you’d stay. You did.

She looked at you with glossy eyes, her hands cupping your cheek. You flinched, but settled into the hold anyways. Fighting your need to run for just this fleeting moment. Her lip trembled, as did her voice. “I love you Y/N.”

You smiled down at her, painfully so, your eyes flashed with a vulnerability before steeling. A heavy sigh fell from your lips as your eyes shut, you were closing off. “I know.”

Your warmth left hers swiftly. You were tender only in the way that you pulled the strap out with consideration to her wellbeing. You moved hastily, breaking her. Why couldn’t she have just one more tender moment with you?

You were dressed. Natasha stared at you from the edge of the bed, sheets haphazardly wrapped around her, but you could see the dark marks you’d left behind. Angry red lines trail down the side of her neck, and hips. They match the way she feels beneath the smile.

You see right through her cordial facade.

To the hurt, and to the doomed hope.

Loving you was pointless; a bittersweet curse.

You couldn’t quit her, so you exploit instead.

You handed her a single black rose, the only part of the routine that stays the same.

A tainted affection.

The wad of cash is similar too, but each time it becomes a harder burden to carry.

She felt used, her mind now fracturing.

You walked away put back together.

Natasha walked away knowing you knew.

You knew that she meant it. That she loves you.

She loved you with adoring eyes and soft lips.

You loved her with black and blue mementos.

Her love was warm; inviting and pure.

Your love was cold; demanding, and desolate.

She loved you —— You knew.

The Han Solo to her Princess Leia. But only ever tragic. The best stories always are.

——

2,348 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 💔

——

(Not a Star Wars fan myself, but please do enjoy the reference)

Picture from Pinterest

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

[s-4pphics]

the ballerina reader amd tattooist ellie is scrumptious 😩 while i do want to see ellie test out reader's flexibility, i kind of need to see ballerina reader be the dominant one based on what she said last time 😳

hi baby :D we’re having a scheduled power outage today so i’m prob gonna spend the whole day writing the next outline for the new sotp part hehe!! but i didn’t wanna leave yall hanging so heres somthing quickk everybody clap for my mania and insomnia!!! woooo!

wc;cw: 750 oooweee, MDNI, reader turning ellie out someone stop her😳, choking, dirty talk, mult. orgasms, slight exhibitionism🤭

nooooooo because…… ballerina!oc is genuinely such a sweetheart and every1 that you ever came in contact w has immediately fallen in love w you. 

but no one would’ve ever expected the academy’s princess to have the intimidating, quiet tattooist with her head dangling off the side of her cozy, pink and white striped sheets with her pretty, green eyes(that’d been tinted red due to you both emptying the bud-filled baggie earlier), rolled all the way back and one of her legs being held down by your strong ones. *melts* 

you had already made the flushed, freckled girl cum on your face twice in a fucking row(even though she made an attempt to run after her first big one, you pulled her back down— manicured nails dug into her thighs—with a mean i’m not fuckin’ done, stop moving), tongue shoved as far as it could go into one of the prettiest fucking cunts you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. 

so when you used all your strength to lay her nearly slumped body onto your plush mattress, hand around her throat as you moved down her still-trembling body—not before kissing both her nipples because you’re such a sweetie— and before you could suck her swollen clit back in your mouth, she grabbed your wrist tight with a shaky baby, baby i cant take it, fuck! 

“you okay? want me to stop?” you’d checked in sweetly, and she could’ve cum again from the concerned expression on your face when she picked her head up to meet your(just as red) eyes.

“no, ‘m so fuckin’ good, just sensitive,” she’d replied hazily before both sides of her mouth rose in a dazed grin, “you’re crazy, holy fuck.” 

you’d let out a cute giggle before releasing her throat and moving up to straddle her, bringing your face down to plant a gentle kiss to her lips. 

you pulled away, but she quickly followed your mouth with a rise of her head. 

you were quicker though, you little fox! you moved your head back so she would be forced to chase your mouth before you teasingly licked her bottom lip only to pull away swiftly after. 

and now here y’all were. her head hanging off the bed with your tight grip around her neck. you’re straddling her waist with your arm behind your back, middle and ring finger shoved deep inside her soft, slippery walls and punching that fucking spot unrelentingly. she could feel her juices slide down to her ass and onto your fresh linen. your thigh was pressing her leg up so she couldn’t wiggle away from your harsh fucking and holy fuck you were gonna make her scream— 

she couldn’t think as she gripped your wrist that was gripping her throat with her tatted hand, whining out a baby, fuck, can’t take it like that! before you harshly whispered out a yeah you can, be quiet. you were slutting her the fuck out out and she couldn’t stop you! 

“‘m gonna make noise, i cant—fuckfuckfuck,” the volume of her whines increased as she rode the fuck out of that edge and she swore her fucking brain started melting—

“yeah, baby? yeah? gonna give me a big one?” 

“yesyesyesyes— ‘s gonna be so—good, fuuuuck me!” 

you quickly released your grip on her neck and shoved your painted fingers in her mouth, which she sloppily sucked on with a delighted hum, and before she could even comprehend what was happening, she caught a glimpse of your small pile of your dead, copper pointe shoes in the corner of your room and her soul left her fucking body. 

she let out a scream that shook the fingers in her mouth as her pussy squeezed and squelched around your fingers as you silently prayed to god that your roommate took her sleeping medication because you couldn’t stop the noises from leaving her mouth even if you tried. 

“doing so good baby, want all of it, that’s it,” you huskily talked her through it and you could hardly move your fingers due to how hard she was gripping them with her cunt. 

she slowly came back down to earth and opened her eyes to meet your gentle, encouraging eyes and she was so close to slipping up and saying she was in love with you—

but you, being the fucking deviant you are, pulled your fingers out to rub her juices on your own clit with a small whine, biting your lip and her core squeezed so fucking hard and you were going to fucking kill her holy fuck—

marrymemarrymarryme— was the only thing plaguing your mind.

:)

#ballerina!reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams x you #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #nonnies ✄┈┈ ˚ #tattooist!ellie ✎ ᝰ #works 𖧧࣪

[mad-raptorzzz]

[ID: A headshot drawing of two SandWing dragons from Wings of Fire. It is Sunny and Thorn, who are embracing each other for the first time. Thorn is larger and in back of the image, her head is gently holding Sunny's head close to her neck. She is looking slightly downwards at her daughter with tears of joy in her eyes and a soft smile on her face. She has warm brown eyes with dark sclera. She is tan with dark brown freckles throughout her face and neck. Her horns are dark grey. She has a few scars on the left side of her muzzle and along her neck. She wars a lot of jewelry: a red nasal piercing in the right nostril, two gold eyebrow rings on the left side, two gold clips with one red clip in the middle on the top of her left ear, gold hoop with a dangling orange stone in the left ear, a dark blue scorpion hanging earring in the left ear, and a copper chain with moonstones around her neck. She appears slightly scruffy. Sunny is a bright yellow dragon with a pale yellow belly. She has an orange frill with brighter streaks and some spikes sticking out. Her muzzle fades into a dark brown color. She also has happy tears in her bright green eye with pale sclera and a soft smile on her face. The lighting is very warm and calming. The background is a simple yellow gradient that is brighter in the top left and darker in the bottom right with some yellow spots here and there. /.End ID]

"Oh my little Beetle, I've searched every sand dune in the desert for you"

Probably the best mom in the whole series, well definitely the first arc. My favorite scene in book 5 is when Sunny and Thorn are reunited. It's adorable and it's nice to have a good parent for once. I also really can't figure out how I want SandWings to look. I know big ears for sure. But I can't figure out anything else. I've seen some camel-faced SandWings which are really cool, but I've also seen some with like leopard gecko tails to store water/food. And I've seen some really cool face/horn shapes. I am going to keep reworking them I think. Also, going to keep reworking my Sunny design because she's the dod I draw the least. I know I want a color point Sunny but not exactly how to do that.

#wings of fire #sandwing wof #sunny wof #thorn wof #they are very cute and thorn for sure calls her beetle still #thorn is also one of the best queens #i bet her and moorhen hang out sometimes #thorn also wears a lot of makeup and has like 2-3 tattoos #queen thorn #sandwing hybrid

[rukia-writes]

Aries nation rise up 🗣️ 🔥

Plot: Ares finds out about astrology and when his sign can propose the big question. 💍

Warnings: none.

Ares x (GN) reader

“So. Everyone is celebrating me?”

Ares.God of war. Sixth of the twelve Olympian gods.

Currently, having tea with his beloved (Name) who seemed rather happy about their new interest.

Astrology.

“Well, yes. And no. See, humans believe that the stars can have divine relegations and divine psychic powers that can help them in their every day lives. This season, is all about Ares the ram-“

“They are comparing me to a goat?”

“No, no and no. The ram represents the golden wooled, winged ram Chrysomallos-“

Ares was a bit lost on this astrology business, nonetheless he listened while drinking his tea. Listening to his beloved go on and on about astrology.

Something to do with fire signs. Leo and Sagittarius. Then something to do with Aries being one of the four modality cardinal of the zodiac.

It was all abit confusing to Ares, but he wasn’t going to let his beloved know that.

“What’s your sign? Are the stars saying we aren’t compatible?”

Leaning over (Name)’s shoulder he looked at the book his beloved was reading, in hopes the stars were happy their union. Taking the book, so Ares could get a closer look he saw all the compatible with.

But something else caught his eye.

“(Name), look at this. It says we should get married late-March to mid-April. A Tuesday or a Thursday.”

“Let me see that-“

Gently taking back her book (Name) saw what Ares was talking about as the book listed the months and days when each sign should marry.

Aries was, as Ares pointed out, late-March to mid-April.

“Spring weather huh? Okay, I can get that.”

“I would have preferred June, but getting married in the spring would be nice.”

“Yeah, it would.”

The two looked at each other with a loving expression with a bashful smile, the two being in their own world.

Love birds for sure.

“Theme colors of the wedding — red, orange, brown, and copper hues are recommended-These colors are so last year. You need white and gold for sure.”

Apollo had made his way into Ares home without him knowing, scaring both (Name) and Ares. Holding the book up Apollo mentioned how he would love to be the decorator, Ares objected but (Name) happily agreed.

“So, late March we should have the wedding. Everyone isn’t busy that time.”

“Hey.”

“You don’t think mid April would work, Apollo?”

“Hey.”

“No way, the sooner the better (Name).”

Apollo and (Name) were completely in their own little world, picking out colors for the wedding to how big the wedding cake should be, a small or big wedding as Ares tried to get a word in.

“Hey! Hey! I haven’t proposed yet!”

The two, Apollo and (Name), went quiet.

Until another voice chimed in.

“Well, go ahead and propose.”

Hermes came from seemingly out of nowhere with a smile, this time Apollo, Ares and (Name) were the ones surprised. Taking the book Hermes quickly read the book and nodded his head.

“Gemini wedding would be most fitting for late June and early July…I agree with these dates for my wedding. So, have your wedding before then.”

“You’re getting married?!”

Apollo, Ares, and (Name) spoke in unison.

“No, I’m simply saying I don’t want two wedding back to back. It would be too much.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

The three spoke again in unison as well as nodding their heads in unison.

“So, go ahead and propose. Ares.”

“What?! So soon?! I will propose. Just not now!”

Ares face was hot and red, as he waved his arms side to side obviously flustered at being put on the spot about such a big decision. (Name) could tell and found Ares being flustered adorable of course. Holding Ares kindly large hands (Name) smiled at the tall, muscular, handsome, and flustered god.

“Propose to me when you are ready. But don’t keep me waiting forever.”

Apollo made a “aw” sound as he smiled at (Name) comforting words as Hermes watched how the scene would unfold. Ares cleared his throat and simple responded with four words.

“I won’t, my love.”

🎀Rukia-Writes🎀

#Ares season 🔥 #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #ares x reader

[multiversed-daydreamer]

Pet Chapter 2 - Nick

WC: ~ 3k

Summary: You get more comfortable in the QZ. You have a friend in Nick. And you think Tess might also be a friend too. Joel and Tess do their best to be patient while they try to figure out how to get you up in their apartment.

A/N: Here is chapter 2! I hope you guys enjoy it! No beta on this so all of my mistakes are my own. Check out my Masterlist for more!

Tags: MDNI, Manipulation, Grooming, Weed, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Reader is disabled but can work. Dark!Joel and Dark!Tess.

The next morning dawns bright and early. You wish like hell you could get two days in a row off, but that is unfortunately not a thing in the QZ. So you force yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair, throwing the latter into a bun before going to cook some eggs. You miss coffee. 

After scarfing down some eggs and toast, you put on your worn hiking boots, throw on your favorite red hoodie, and head out into the dirty streets of Boston. You’re painting today, thank god. It’s mindless work, but it’s fairly easy, and you can mostly tune the world around you out. Besides, there is a cute boy who signs up once a week, and you two talk on occasion. Nick is about your age and is friendly enough to get you to relax a little around him. Maybe you can convince him to do a burning shift with you to pass the time a little better. You head for the FEDRA check-in table, signing your name and snagging a roller brush and a half-empty bucket of paint. 

As you make your way to the wall, setting the paint can down and looking around for your partner, you notice a few people glancing at you before skirting away. You look around and spot Nick heading your way with a roller brush of his own and a pan to pour the paint into. He bumps your brush with his as he joins you on the sidewalk, setting the pan down and snagging the paint to pour into it. “Morning, you’re stuck with me today.” You joke as he stands back up and glances over at you. 

“Howdy.” He gives you a tired smile as he drops his brush into the pan, dipping it into the paint and rolling it out before lifting it to the far side of the wall. You follow suit, starting on the opposite side. “Heard you made a new friend yesterday.” He says it casually but the fact that he knew at all had you lifting an eyebrow. 

“Met someone, wouldn’t call her a friend. She mostly just showed me around the market.” You hesitate for a moment before turning to focus solely on your work. 

Nick eyes you worriedly. “I don’t mean to freak you out or anything, but Tess doesn’t just show people around the market.” 

You frown at him, your brows furrowing. “Yeah. I figured. We got a lot of looks yesterday. Who is she?”

“How’d you two even start talking?” He asks. His lack of answer irks you. But you sigh and launch into a quiet recap of the hour you spent with Tess yesterday. 

“She seemed shocked that she didn’t know me. I just told her it was a big QZ and planned on leaving it at that, but she walked out of the booth we were in and introduced herself. I didn’t want to be rude so I let her walk with me. She seems friendly.” You shrug, not mentioning to Nick that you thought she was really pretty too. “She told me a little about what to stock up on and what’s usually always at the market. You know, that kind of thing.”

If Nick’s eyebrows raised any higher, they’d get lost in his copper-colored hair.  “Dude, what the fuck?” 

“Who is she?” You ask again, a little frustrated this time. “Should I be worried or something?”  You glance over at him, your brush falling still on the wall. 

He opens his mouth and thinks about something for a minute before closing it again. “Tess runs the underground smuggling operation in the QZ. People don’t fuck with her, and unless you’re in on her shit, she doesn’t typically fuck with you either. Sticks with her smuggling buddies.” 

You blink at him for a second. “Oh.” You turn back and start a fresh coat over where you just were. You’re pretty sure you work with a smuggler on your burning shift. Miller. “Think I work with one of those guys. Miller, right?” Again Nick gives you a concerned look. 

“When do you work with Miller?” He asked curiously. 

“Burning shifts. About twice a week. We’ve never interacted or anything, but I’ve heard whispers about him. He kinda scares me.”

Nick nods in agreement. “He’s scary as fuck. He wasn’t with Tess yesterday?” 

You shrug. “He might’ve been around, I didn’t see him though. I was a little occupied.” 

Nick nods. “Odd. Joel and Tess are always together. Pretty sure they live together too.” 

“So they’re a couple?”

Nick nods. “Scariest couple in the QZ. Seriously, don’t fuck around too much with Tess. They’re…” He trails off for a moment, searching for the right words. “Dangerous. I don’t care how nice she was to you yesterday. She’s not someone to get close to.”

You nod. “Is that why people were looking at me yesterday?” You glance around the crowded sidewalk, relieved to see most people minding their own business. You raised your eyes to look at the walkway across the street. There, on the corner of the sidewalk stood Tess, with her was a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders. Miller from burning detail. Or Joel is what Nick called him. For a split second, you swear he raises his dark eyes to your own. You whip back around and focus on the job at hand. You get an inkling that they’re there for you, and it makes you grit your teeth. “Fuck.”

Nick huffs, glancing back at them before dropping his brush to the pan to get fresh paint on his brush. “Maybe you made an impression.” He jokes. 

You shake your head. “I don’t even think we talked for an hour. And I didn’t answer like half of the questions she asked me.” 

“Maybe you not answering her is what caught her attention. Tess isn’t one to be ignored.” 

You’re not sure why that sends a chill down your spine, but it does. You can feel goosebumps rise on your arms under your hoodie.

~

Joel and Tess were just coming back from an early morning deal when Joel spotted a familiar red hoodie across the street. He nudges Tess and nods in your direction. A small smile twitches on her lips for the briefest moment when she spots you. They shuffle themselves out of the way of human traffic and rest against the corner of a building. No one would think to bother them anyway. “Well, at least it’s only painting.” She offers, already sensing that Joel isn’t pleased to see you working. With a boy too.

Neither one of them where known for their patience. After spending a lot of the night going over a plan for how to get you and what to do once you were with them, they’d both agree that it’ll take some time to prepare, and likely even longer to get you to trust Tess enough to come up to their apartment. Even so, it was like agreeing to keep you had flipped a switch in both their brains. You were theirs already, and it’s going to be torture to watch you interact with anybody without their interference. 

“Who the fuck is he?” Joel grouses as he watches you talk to some kid from afar. He’s never seen you talk much to others, a few of the other women in their detail, but mostly just ask work-related questions. 

Tess gives him an amused glance. “Relax. They’re just talking.” But she makes a mental note to figure out who’s interacting with their pet. Not just the boy, but everybody you’re friendly with is now their business. Joel scoffs and looks over at Tess. She’s always been able to hide her emotions better than him, specifically the negative ones, but he knows her. He knows Tess is just as possessive as he is, if not more so. It bugs her to see you talk to someone just as much as it does him. 

Tess meets his gaze head-on. Raising an eyebrow. Joels sighs and looks back at you. His breath hitches in his chest when he sees you already looking at him. You whip back around faster than he can do anything else, though. The boy also glances at them before saying something to you with a slight smirk on his face. Joel nearly sees red when you shake your head and respond. Whatever he says next has you freezing in your work for a moment. You look very much on edge. 

They stay for about another ten minutes before Tess mutters about a meeting they need to go to for their next street run. You don’t turn around again and Joel wonders if it’s intentional. “I think she just figured out who we are.” 

Tess glances your way with pursed lips as she guides Joel into motion with a hand on his arm. “She was bound to find out at some point.” 

~

Weeks went by, it’s been two months since you’ve arrived at the QZ and you’re exhausted every day. Cordyceps may be the cause of the real-life zombies in the world, but FEDRA has its own zombies here in the QZ, overworked, underfed, underpaid, and every little thing that goes through the market tents is overpriced. 

This is the third time you’ve been back here and every single time Tess has managed to find you. You two walk along together, buying different items you both need. You try to find some sort of red flag, some kind of hint that she’s setting you up in some way, but you’ve got zilch on her. She’s kind, offers good advice, and there’s no alarms ringing in your head. She doesn’t touch you, or treat you like you’re some kind of baby who needs help. It seems like she just sees you at the market and chooses to walk with you for an hour or two before you head your separate ways afterward. She’ll walk with you to your building, tell you to have a good one, and watch you climb the steps to get inside. Then she turns and disappears onto her own way home, or wherever. 

~ 

“I’m just saying it’s weird,” Nick mutters for the millionth time. You shrug. He’s really the only person you’ve gotten close to. He worries about you talking with Tess, which you get, but it's starting to irritate you. 

“It’s not like I tell her personal shit. Hell, I’m not even the one talking most of the time. I look for something off with her every time she approaches me. I got nada. She’s normal as fuck.” You explain. Nick’s frown only gets deeper with your words. You two are starting to hang out outside of shifts now and the little attraction you had towards him a month ago has turned into a full-blown crush. But the issue with your thing for Nick is that you’re also secretly fighting to not have a thing for Tess. You’re not sure if it’s actual attraction or she’s just everything you wish you were. Strong, confident, smart, perceptive, able to read others easily. Seems to have most of the answers, and when she doesn’t, she’s not afraid to tell you she doesn’t know. She’s wonderful, and it sucks that Nick doesn’t think you should trust her. Hell, you’ve gotten around a little more and have heard all kinds of rumors about Joel and Tess, but while she seems completely terrifying to others, she’s so fucking normal around you that she almost bores you sometimes.

“Maybe she’s trying to lure you into a false sense of security.” 

“Why though?” You ask exasperated. “I’m not interesting enough to draw her attention. I’m not looking for drugs, I definitely not the type they’d want for a raid, and I’m not interested in breaking rules. I’m too boring to ever get Tess’ attention.”

“What about Joel?” 

You shrug. “What about him? He’s never at the market with us. I’ve talked to him one time and it was to ask him to help me with a team lift of shift. I’m pretty sure he only speaks in grunts. I’ve never heard him say a single word.” 

“That sounds pretty normal for him, actually.” 

You chuckle. “His speech is worse than mine.” Nick chuckles with you. You two are getting far closer lately and you think he just might feel the same way you do. 

~ Two weeks later ~

You wipe sweat from your brow as you step away from the FEDRA check-in stand. You tuck the ration cards you earned from today's shift into your pocket as you head toward the main street. You look around for Nick, sometimes he comes to meet you on the shifts you two don’t share together, but he’s nowhere to be found today. You find it a little disappointing.

“He’s not very good news, ya know.” You whip around at the voice, finding Joel Miller looking down at you. 

“Uh… Sorry?" You frown, you had no clue Miller could actually talk. 

“That Nick kid you run around with all the time. He’s trouble.” 

How does Joel Miller know you run with Nick? And why would he care if Nick is trouble? “How would you know?” The question is out of your mouth before you can think of how safe it might be to challenge someone like Miller. His eyebrow raises in surprise. 

“Ya know what I do for a side gig?” He asked back as he nodded towards the sidewalk, walking next to you. You nod silently, knowing he sells illegal items to civilians and FEDRA officers alike. He nods to himself as if making some kind of note about you. “I’ve seen him around in the underground part of the QZ. He buys from other smugglers. You seem like a good kid. Don’t get mixed up in shit like that. Stay away from him.” 

You stop, turning to Joel on the sidewalk, part of you wants to defend your friend, besides, what does Miller know? He’s never spoken to you and here he is telling you who to stay away from. You debate on telling him to fuck off flat to his face, but he walks right by you, not giving you time to come up with a response. You watch his back until the crowd swallows him. You can’t help but be a little pissed that he got the last word, and it was in the form of a command nonetheless. 

~ 

“Why did Joel Miller tell me to stay away from you yesterday?” 

Nick blinked in surprise. It was the first day off you both had had together in a while and you were spending it in Nick’s living room. Normally you’d be at the market with Tess right about now, but the encounter you had with Joel yesterday had spooked you enough to keep your distance from Tess at least for the next few weeks. 

“Since when do you talk to Joel Miller?” 

“I don’t. He approached me after shift yesterday. Told me you occasionally buy from smugglers and that you were bad news. Told me to stay away from you and walked off.” Nick laughs at that. 

He gets up and reaches into a drawer for a few items before returning to you. “I buy weed from some guys sometimes.” He shows you a joint and a lighter. You raise your eyebrow and smirk at him. 

“Is that shit even real?” You joke “Bet it’s cut with crack or something.” 

“Nah. It’s real and pure. Shitty, don’t get you too high, but it’s real.” He sticks one end in his mouth and lights it. He takes two hits before handing it out to you, raising an eyebrow. 

You hesitate. “You sure it’s not cut with anything?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, I ain’t into that shit, and I sure as shit wouldn’t offer it to you if I thought it was. 

You believe him. You take the joint and take a hit, trying not to cough at how it catches in your throat sharply. You exhale shakily and hand it back, coughing a little at the end. It’d been years since you’d smoked weed. You two spend the afternoon talking and passing the joint between yourselves. By the time it’s finished, your mind feels emptier than it has in months and you’re giggling at everything Nick is saying. His smile is even prettier when you’re both high. You glance at the clock and realize curfew is in half an hour.

“Shit, I gotta go. I work tomorrow.” Another burning shift. Another shift with Joel Miller. 

“Can I walk you home?” 

You grin at him. “I’d like that.” He grins back. 

~

You’re still high as you make it you’re building, you and Nick are holding hands like it’s the easiest thing in the world and you’re both laughing at each other's every word. Damn he’s cute. You nod to your building. “This is me.” You grin. He chuckles, he’s been to your place plenty of times, he knows this is you. “I’ll walk you to your-” 

He’s cut off by somebody calling your name. You both turn to see Tess walking up to you. “Oh, Hello.” You respond with a small smile. You like Tess, but you don’t know her very well yet. 

“I missed you today.” She says. “Got worried.” 

“Oh sorry. I didn’t go to the market today. I was with Nick.” You gesture to him and he gives her a polite nod and a tight smile. She barely spares him a glance, her eyes scrutinizing your face for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she turns to Nick and gives him a small smile. 

“It’s getting late, why don’t you head home.” Nick seems just as stunned as you are before he nods. 

“Oh, of-of course.” He stutters a little before turning to give you a side hug. “See you later.” 

You fight to hide your ridiculous grin as you hug him back. "Thanks for getting me home.” You look up at him, searching for that easy camaraderie you two have been sharing all day, but his body is tense and he only gives you the same tight-lipped smile he gave Tess before turning and disappearing. 

You try not to be dejected by the behavior. He’s always been uneasy about your odd friendship with Tess. You’re sure actually seeing you interact with her throws him off a little. You turn back to Tess, who’s simply watching you curiously. “Did you need something?” You ask. It was getting close to curfew and you’re positive Tess had a further walk than Nick. 

“Like I said, I was worried about you.” She says lowly. 

Something about her tone raises your hackles a little bit. Her voice to low, like she was forcing herself to be calm with you. Maybe it’s because you’re high, but it’s the first time you got an underlying sense of danger around her. 

“I’m sorry. Didn’t need to buy anything this week.” That was true enough. You and Nick had started having dinner together and that leaves you with more food than usual after two weeks. “But I’ll probably be there next week. I’m starving!”

She watches you closely for a moment, eyes narrowing. “Are you high?” 

You let out a nervous chuckle at her question, your heart rate spiking. You’re not even sure why you’re scared, Tess literally sells and smuggles drugs. It really shouldn’t bother her at all. “Er… yeah. Nick had a joint.” You turn and step up a stair before turning back to her. 

She doesn’t say anything but you get the impression that she doesn’t like the idea of you getting high. Pffft. It’s fucking weed, who cares? “Hey, do you want to have dinner at my place tomorrow?” Her question takes you entirely off guard. 

“What?” 

“Joel’s bailing on me for the next few days. Since you bailed on me today, do you want to come have dinner with me tomorrow night?” 

You stand there for a moment, completely stunned. “Uh… I mean I work tomorrow but I could come over for a little bit afterward I suppose.” 

She gives you a smile. “I look forward to it.” She turns to walk away but you call out to her. 

“Tess! I don’t know where you live.” You give her a sheepish grin. 

“I’ll pick you up at four, that should give you enough time to shower and change beforehand.” She turns away and walks off. 

You get upstairs and land facefirst into your bed. The first thing you think is that Nick is never going to let you hear the end of the fact that you agreed to have dinner with Tess. The second thing you think about is that you never told Tess what time you get off. You guess Joel takes the burning shift enough for her to know when you get off, but you never told Tess you took the burning shift for tomorrow. 

~

Tess closes the door behind her. It’s the first time since they’ve decided on you that you’ve done something she’s had to hold herself back from wanting to berate you or even wanting to punish you. 

Joel raises an eyebrow from where he's sitting at the table looking over the plans for the upcoming raid. They weren’t going, but they’re still coordinating with the team that is. “What’s up?” 

“She didn’t show at the market.” Joel immediately sits up straighter. Tess holds up a hand to stop his immediate infuriated worry. “She’s fine. Was high when she showed up home though.” 

“High?” Joel’s lip curled into a snarl. “Who the fuck- Nick? Don’t tell me that fucker was with her today.” 

She nods. “He walked her home. She said she was with him today instead of going to the market. Saw them holding hands and giggling the whole way up the street.” 

Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists. “I told her to stay the fuck away from him.”

Tess raises a surprised eyebrow. “You did? When?” 

“Yesterday after shift. Saw her looking for him when she got off. I told her I’d seen him around the smugglers. Told her he was bad news and to stay away.” 

Part of Tess wants to be mad at Joel for approaching you. But she agrees with him. So she nods. “She agreed to have dinner with me tomorrow.” 

“What? Like to come over to have food with us tomorrow?” Joel's pulse spikes with anticipation. 

“Not us. I told her you were out tomorrow. I want you to disappear for a few hours. You can come home near curfew, maybe we can ambush her.” She looks at him. “Tomorrow, Joel. We get our pet tomorrow.” Finally, after months of planning, you’d be theirs.

~

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#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #tess servopoulos #joel miller x reader #tess x joel x reader #tess x reader #dark fic #halloween

[syddsatyrn]

Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤Chapter 3 ⛤Chapter 4 ⛤ Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Metal!FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug use, reader gets stoned, fluff

⛤Words: 3.7k

⛤Song: "Heaven" by The Cure

⛤Series Playlist

⛤Summary: With no one left in Hawkins to tend to your little cousin, you step up and rise to the challenge. Time for a new start and a chance to prove to yourself you can be a responsible adult. But Robin left out one little detail, the hot metal head that lives two doors down.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. I'm glad you guys enjoyed chapter one! Thank you for all the compliments and notes, once again I'm tagging @hellfiremunsonn for assisting me as my beta reader. Go check out her stuff, she's a lovely writer. If you would like to be on my tag list, let me know!

⛤Tag list: @sidthedollface2 @shinical @totallynotkaibiased @bibieddiesgf @brittanyyydamnit @smileygoth @tayhar811 @groupie-love-71 @haylaansmi @josephquinussy

Chapter 2⛤ Pretty Boy

It was getting late in the evening and the sun had set. You grabbed your leather jacket, keys, smokes, and wallet, stuffing each item into various pockets. Max grabs her backpack and skateboard and you both take off to the car. Max was the navigator, confidently showing you the way to Mike's place. She talked about her friends the whole way there, telling you various stories and describing their traits. You were honestly so relieved she had good friends to rely on, her previous school was a lot harder on her. She was kind of a loner and seemed to get into trouble much more frequently back then. When you pulled up to the Wheeler household, Max grabbed her stuff and said goodbye. 

“Don't forget to pick me up.”

“How could I forget?” You laugh and wave as she walks up the driveway. 

You pulled into the parking lot next to the bar, parked, and made your way inside. It was a pretty standard bar. Various pool tables, low lighting, a stage in the back, and dark brown ashtrays on every table. Robin spots you and rushes to pull you into a hug. “Hey! I didn't know you would be here!"

“Eddie invited me this morning, thought I’d check it out.” You shrug, trying not to make a big deal about it.

“Oh really?” She teases and you roll your eyes in response. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I just call it like I see it.” Robin links her arm with yours and leads you to the bar. You both order a drink and take a seat. She asks for rum and Coke and you order a vodka soda.

"Sorry I didn't tell you Eddie lives in the same apartment complex. That was not very 'girl code' of me." Robin says with a sincere tone. 

You laugh and take a sip of your drink. "It's totally fine, I was just…very surprised." An unexpected hand lands on your shoulder and slightly startles you. 

"Hey! Y/N, Robin! Glad you guys could make it." Eddie gave Robin a small side hug. When he wrapped his arms around you, you didn't know what to do with yourself. You managed to let out a muffled hello. You can't say you weren't bummed when he pulled away. His cologne smells like cedar and citrus, mixed with cigarettes and a hint of copper. Your face turns a few shades of red from the sudden contact and Eddie notices.

"This place is packed, are you nervous?" Robin asks and takes another sip on her drink

"Nah, this place is like home. Playing here is a breeze." 

The first band approaches the front of the stage and opens their set. Eddie plucks your drink off the counter and takes a little sip. He cocks his head and gives you a playful wink.

"That's my cue, see you guys in a bit, yeah?" Eddie smiles and disappears into the crowd before you can form any kind of response. If your face wasn't red before, it sure is now. Robin covers her mouth and looks at you with wide eyes.

"Did he just–" 

"Okay, okay, he's into me, you're right. Happy now?" You admit trying to hold back the dumb smile forming on your face. 

"Toldja so." Robin continues to poke fun at the whole situation. You're starting to think she enjoys how flustered you are.

The first band was actually pretty good. You and Robin clapped and cheered. When you both hear Eddie's voice ring through the PA, Robin grabs your hand and leads you to the stage. You weave through the groups of people until you're front and center. Eddie glances at you while he introduces his band, you can tell he seems a little nervous despite his previous statement.

"Hello, again Hawkins! We are Corroded Coffin, are you ready to get loud?!" Eddie shouts and the crowd hollers. Eddie quickly counts down from 4, and they all start to play in unison. Watching Eddie play was a show in itself. The way his curls fell from his shoulders as he moved to the rhythm, his ring-clad fingers dancing up and down the neck of his guitar gracefully. He's even more stunning when he plays. You look up at him with almost a star-struck look in your eyes, frozen, surprised, amazed. So many feelings running through your head all at once.

After each song, you and Robin cheer, whistle, and yell. Eddie's heart is pounding, but he keeps his composure. He's done well at catching your attention so far, he's actually rather impressed with himself. Eddie keeps sneaking glances at you both having a good time. Your smile is so bright, that it makes his stomach do backflips.

The metal head is so captivating you almost didn't feel Robin's arm wrap around your shoulder, encouraging you to head bang with her. Eddie keeps sneaking glances at you both having a good time.

They announce their last song. This one was a bit more intense, which makes sense to play it last if you want to leave an impression. His music was fierce and intricate, he puts such passion behind it. Eddie suddenly drops to his knees to finish out the song with a complex solo. Your eyes are fixed on his fingers and how close he was to you while kneeling down. The stage lights highlight his wavy brown hair with an amber hue, he just looked so pretty up there.

"Thank you, Hawkins! We are Corroded Coffin!" Eddie shouts into the mic then promptly unplugs his guitar and slings it over his shoulder. He gives you a small smile before exiting stage left with his bandmates. Robin waves her hand in front of your face as your mind drifts away.

“Hellooo, Earth to Y/N?”

“Shit, sorry!” You say as Robin links her arm with yours once again and steers you outside. The crisp air nips at your nose, Robin pulls her gloves from her pocket and slips them on. Its getting colder as the winter months set it.

"Okay…I admit, he's pretty good." You confess and pull a cigarette front he box stashed in your jacket pocket.

"Right?!" Robin says as she sees Eddie turn the corner, "I'm gonna go pay the tab!" and before you could protest, she had disappeared back inside.

"Enjoy the show?" 

"Oh, you were fantastic." You didn't mean to say it with such enthusiasm and your cheeks flush.

"Got one of those I can bum?" He asks and you fumble to get your smokes out of your pocket and hand him one. He places it between his lips and leans forward, eyes locked on yours. His eyes are like black pools, so alluring you could fall in at any minute. You flick the lighter and simultaneously light your cigarette and his. 

"Thanks, babe."

"I never got a chance to say but I think it's pretty cool what you're doing for Max. She could really use someone in her corner." He admits and takes a long drag. 

"Oh! Shit, yeah, well I love the little brat y'know?" You rub the back of your head, why does he make you so nervous? 

"Do you need a lift?" Eddie offers and takes a long drag. How very sweet of him. You're sure there are plenty of girls he could be driving home, but here he is, making sure you're taken care of.

"Oh! No thank you, I brought my car. I gotta go pick up Max. I assume I'm also driving Robin home."

"I'll see you around, drive safe, okay?" He says while taking your hand and giving it a soft squeeze. His rings chilled your palm and you almost didn't want him to let go. Robin returns and he releases your hand,

"You ready to go, Y/N?" She asks, trying to contain her mischievous smile. You nod and Robin compliments Eddie's show and says her goodbyes. You walk Robin to your car, the second she was out of earshot she almost burst. "Were you just holding his hand?!" Robin asks, opening the car door and settling inside.

You hop in and roll your eyes at her behavior, she seems really invested. "No, I don't know. He's just really nice." You remark and put the car in drive.

"Trust me, I know Eddie. He's nice to you because he wants to–" You cut her off before she could say anything further.

"Robin. Please!" You beg her not to finish that sentence.

"What?! I'm just saying!"

You drop off your nosey friend at her place and wave goodbye. Despite Robin casting herself as your wingman, you are thankful. She has this ability to make everyone around her feel better about themselves. You are almost at the Wheeler residence. You can't stop thinking about the way Eddie behaves toward you. He looked nervous and the way he hugged you and grabbed your hand made you feel something. Something you haven't felt in a long time. 

You pull into the driveway and park. You get out of the car halfway and Max hurries down the driveway. You see Mrs. Wheeler in the window and give her a wave. She waves back and smiles, Max tosses her bag and skateboard in the back seat and settles into the passenger side. You get back in the car and put it in reverse.

"Hey! Did you have fun?" 

"Yeah! I made Dustin laugh so hard that milk came out of his nose."

"Gross, but funny." You laugh as you pull onto the main road. 

"My new board is great, I tested it out. It's way better than my last one." 

"Glad to hear it, you deserve it."

You finally pull into the apartment complex and park next to Eddie's black van. You try to brush off any more thoughts about the earlier interactions. It started to rain so you and Max rushed inside. You can tell she's pretty tired, it's almost midnight. After slipping off your boots and jacket, you make your way to your room to change.

"I'm gonna shower and hit the sack if that's cool?" She calls from her room.

"Totally cool. Goodnight Max."

This leaves you all by yourself. You slip on a pair of black, cotton shorts. You ditch the bra and pull an oversized "Megadeth" hoodie over your head. The apartment complex is quiet, Max takes her shower and turns in for the night. The only sound you could hear was the rain hitting your bedroom window. 

You're not exactly tired, your mind keeps roaming from thought to thought. You head to the kitchen and grab a beer. You haven't bought a bottle opener yet so you pop the top off with a lighter. It's a trick your dad taught you when you turned 21. The action makes you feel a little homesick, even though you know you're doing right by Max. You can only hope you don't screw it up.

You grab your jacket and take your beer outside. You quietly shut the door behind you and pull a cigarette from the box in your pocket. You light it and take another swig of your beer. The rain splashes against the concrete, pooling into small puddles along the pathway. You lean up against the wall to avoid the wind. It's a bit colder than you expected and you wonder if a storm is moving in.

An earthy smell abruptly catches your attention. You look around to find the source, but no one was outside. Despite the cold concrete, you walk barefoot down the path to Eddie's apartment. The smell gets stronger and you can see a small light shine through the front window.

The door swings open, you step back and gasp, then cover your mouth. Eddie gives you a confused look, holding a joint between his fingers. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt. You probably look like a raccoon that's been caught stealing from a trash can. 

"Oh, uh shit. Hey Y/N, what are you doing out here?"

"I was uhhh…" You stumble on your words, "I couldn't sleep so I came out here but I smelled your uhm–"

Eddie chuckles, "I'm sorry, I can put it out?"

"No!" You almost choke, "I was honestly wondering if I could buy some. I just haven't found the time to track any down."

A small smirk forms on the corner of Eddie's lips.

"Yeah, I think I could hook you up, sweetheart." Eddie takes the cigarette from between your fingers and hands you his joint. He looks you up and down, immediately noticing your bare legs. "It’s kinda cold out here. Wanna come inside?" You take a hit of the joint and nod. Eddie opens his front door and motions for you to enter.

Eddie's place was exactly how you imagined. The low yellow light from a single lamp just barely lights up the room. Band posters and fliers are all over the walls. His guitar sits in a corner on a stand. There's a large "Corroded Coffin" tapestry hanging on the living room wall behind the TV. You recognize the Def Leppard album softly playing on his stereo. Eddie sits on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. 

You sit next to him and he opens a metal box on the table and pulls out a small plastic bag full of marijuana. "Don't worry about it, it's on me. Think of it like a housewarming gift."

"Shit, thanks, Eddie." You take the bag and inspect it. "You're definitely becoming my favorite real quick." Eddie starts rolling a second joint and smiles.

"I thought Robin was your favorite." He jests and playfully bumps his shoulder with yours. You return the light shove and giggle. 

"Well, she's not a hot guy who offers me weed and coffee." When you realize what you just said you cover your mouth. You must be stoned or something because your filter is no longer with you. He turns his head and locks eyes with you. 

"You think I'm hot?" Eddie raises his eyebrows and chuckles.

"I mean, yeah. Have you seen yourself?" 

"You're uh…pretty hot too." He admits. “I honestly thought you were out of my league.”

“Everyone else seems to think you're my type.” You counter, and you could visually see Eddie’s mind malfunctioning. He fell silent for a moment, took a deep breathe and turned to meet your gaze.

“Could I…Maybe take you out sometime?” Eddie places the joint between your lips, which could be his own version of a love note. He lit it for you but the smoke in the air barely covered his blushing face.

Your face feels extra warm and you can't think of anything smart to say. You swallow thickly, and your thigh and shoulder are pressed up against his. You didn't expect to have any feelings for anyone after moving to Hawkins. Especially after the way your ex acted, you almost swore off men for good. You're supposed to be focusing on Max and being an adult. But his lips look so soft and the way his hair cascades around his face is just right. 

“I’d Like that, pretty boy.” Your words are sticky and sweet like honey. His face is so much closer than you realized. Eddie knew that if he kissed you he’d be a goner. He’s no longer thinking any coherent thoughts, it’s like you’ve infected him with some kind of virus. He leans in slowly, cupping your cheek gently, his silver rings are cool against your skin. Eddie brushes his lips against yours, tentatively, for the first time. His lips are just as soft as you imagined. Eddie tastes like whiskey, mixed with the earthy taste of marijuana with a dash of bad decisions.

“I’m sorry if that was–”

“No, don't be sorry. I like you a lot more than you think.” You can’t help but smile at how flustered he is. 

You both continue to pass the joint back and forth, the weed is making you extra touchy and you know it. Eddie doesn't seem to mind the attention. He asked you how you and Max are settling in, you talked for hours about music, Hawkins, and your family. 

Your eyes start to flutter as your body sinks into the couch cushions, you lean your head on Eddie’s shoulder and rest your eyes for just a moment. You often struggle with sleep, and this stuff always does the trick. It's been a few weeks since the last time you smoked and it may have hit you harder than you expected. You haven't been this content and comfortable in a long time. 

You are not entirely sure when but at some point, Eddie laid back on the arm of the couch and you crawled into his arms. Your head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You twirled his hair around your fingers and eventually fell asleep. Eddie kept wondering if this was all just a dream he was having. He didn't want to wake you, you looked so soft and peaceful. You said you couldn’t sleep, after all, he's just glad to be of assistance. Eventually, Eddie dozes off, his cheek pressed against your hair. His chest softly rises and falls, if this is a dream, he doesn't want to wake up anytime soon.

---------⛤

Your eyes flutter open to see the early morning sunshine seep through the blinds in the window. You quickly realize you are practically on top of a snoozing Eddie. His arm is wrapped around your waist, his other arm tucked behind his head. He’s even prettier when he’s asleep.

It dawns on you Max is probably still in the apartment, you carefully lift yourself off of Eddie. He groans and pulls you back down and slightly tightens his grip on your waist. “Eddie, baby, I gotta go check on Max.” He huffs and slowly opens his eyes. It takes him a moment to register exactly what happened and why you’re on top of him.

“Take me with you?” He pleads, his voice is deep and gravelly. You couldn't help but move a few stray hairs away from his face and brush your thumb against his jawline. 

“Yeah, I owe you a cup of coffee, right?” You can’t help but giggle. He's so clingy right now and It’s adorable. You get up off the couch and extend your arm to help Eddie do the same. You grab your smokes and stuff the plastic bag full of pot in your hoodie pocket. Eddie props the door open and you both exit his place. You walk up to your front door and push it open.

Max is on the couch listening to some tapes and reading a comic book. She locks eyes with you and throws her head back with a loud groan. 

“Shit.” You say under your breath. “Hey, Max.” Eddie gives her a small wave.

“I knew you were over at Eddie’s being gross.” Max sneers.

“I was uhhh…” You couldn't think of a good enough excuse. "Alright, you got me, we were being gross.”

“Knew it.” Max retorts. You drag Eddie inside and shut the door. 

“How are you doing? Need anything?” You quickly change the subject.

“Nah, I’m okay. But I was wondering if I could stop by the library?” Max requests.

“Totally okay. Just be careful.”

The coffee drips into the pot slowly. You make your way to your bedroom and leave Eddie with Max. You put away your weed in a small wooden box in your closet.

Eddie looked a little lost, he glanced around your apartment aimlessly. "You can sit, you know." 

Eddie chuckles and takes a seat on the other end of the couch. "How ya been, Red?"

"Good, I'm almost done unpacking." She says while flipping the page.

"Glad you're settling in. Really beats that shitty trailer park, right?" He grins and Max looks up from her comic book. Eddie was afraid he might have said the wrong thing, so he spun his rings around his fingers.

"I hated that shitty trailer park. The neighbors never took care of their dog and well…y'know. The whole upside down bit." Max explains.

"It's over and that's what matters." Eddie shrugs.

"Did your scars heal up okay?"

"Yeah, actually." He places his hand on his side where the worst of his wounds used to be. "I think we are both in better places now." 

Eddie smiles and Max smiles back at him.

You open the door and walk though the living room and into the kitchen, the coffee is almost done brewing. It fills the house with a comfortable bitter smell. "What were you two talking about?" You inquire from behind the counter, they both look at each other and then back at you.

"Just reminiscing about the days we spent at Forest Hills." Eddie answers. Despite Max's distaste for most people, it seemed like she and Eddie had a special bond. Seeing her smile at Eddie tugged at your heartstrings a little too hard. You grabbed two mugs and filled them both with coffee. 

Eddie leans over to get a peek at what she's reading. "Wonder woman, huh?" Max nods and flashes the cover in his direction. "She's pretty badass." Eddie remarks.

"Oh, totally. She's one of my favorites." Max says proudly.

You walk over and hand Eddie his cup. You lack furniture in your living room so Eddie pats his thigh, offering you a seat. You carefully settle into his lap.

"I'm gonna get ready to go," Max says, getting up from the couch. "Don't be gross until I'm gone." She sneers and shuts her bedroom door behind her. Eddie can't help but laugh, you almost choke on your coffee.

"So, what are your plans for tomorrow?" Eddie inquires and cocks his head to the side.

"For you, my schedule is wide open." You reply and lean into his chest just a little more.

Eddie smiles and squeezes your thigh. "Can I take you out? 7pm okay?" Eddie asks, his hand now playing with the hem of your shorts.

"Sounds fun. What do you have planned?"

"It's a surprise." He answers with a playful smile plastered across his face. 

#eddie fic #eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie fanfic #eddie fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #You're just like a dream #YJLAD

[englishstrawbie]

#kacytober: OCT01. dress

The gala is in full swing, its guests in high spirits as they sip champagne and place their bids on the silent auction. On any other night, the NCIS team would be enjoying themselves too, but their investigation into the death of a Navy SEAL has led them here. What has been promoted as a fundraiser is actually a smokescreen for a money laundering operation, an elaborate network of companies and not-for-profit organisations hiding the true beneficiary from public view.

The man in charge of this evening, Jonathan Foster, was quick to confess his part in it all when he was under Tennant’s interrogation, except he is merely a pawn in someone else’s game and has no idea who is pulling the strings. Now with a target on his back, the team have been sent undercover to make sure he is not the next victim, while hoping to draw the mastermind out of the shadows.

Foster is near the stage, entertaining a small group of people which includes Jesse and Kai. They look smart in their tuxedos. Lucy sticks to the other side of the room, moving slowly amongst the guests as she keeps an eye out for anyone looking suspicious.

“Anything?” Jane asks under her breath as they pass each other.

“Not yet,” Lucy says.

“Whistler?”

Kate had agreed to join them undercover, another set of eyes useful in such a big crowd. She had been caught up in another case but had promised to meet them there. Her last message had been a little over thirty minutes ago, letting Lucy know that she had left the FBI’s island headquarters.

“On her way,” Lucy says.

It is then that she sees her stepping into the room. Kate wears a deep blue dress, long and elegant to the floor, the tips of her pointed white shoes just peeking out under its hem. It has an off-shoulder neckline, teasing her collarbone that Lucy so loves to pepper with kisses. Her blonde hair is curled at the ends and swept back over her shoulder, exposing her neck that Lucy so loves to suck. Her eyes are a smoky copper colour, her lips a bright red that Lucy so loves pressed against her own.

She feels a shiver down her spine as she licks her lips instinctively. If she was a cartoon, she is pretty sure her jaw would have hit the floor by now. Her mouth hangs open and she feels an elbow in her ribs, prompting her to close it, pursing her lips together.  

“Uh, Agent Tara?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring.”

There is a hint of amusement in Jane’s voice.

Forgetting about the job in hand for a moment, Lucy makes her way across the room to where Kate stands, having just accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Kate spots her coming, her eyes unceremoniously sweeping her up and down as she approaches, appreciating the way the black cocktail dress she wears accentuates all the curves her hands love to explore.

“Hey, sorry I’m late, I got stuck in a meeting,” Kate says with a small roll of her eyes. “What did I miss?”

Her face is serious as she looks around the room, immediately going into work mode.

“You look amazing,” Lucy gushes, ignoring her question. “Like, really, really amazing.”

She might as well be drooling.

Kate’s lips twitch as she tries to conceal her smile. “Agent Tara, you’re at work,” she reminds her, although her eyes twinkle. “Let’s focus on catching the bad guys.”

Lucy twists her lips playfully and steps towards her. “Okay, but later? You and me are gonna have some fun with that dress.”

Kate lets the smile spread across her face. “Oh, you can count on it.”

kacytober prompts

#kacytober #ncis hawai'i #ncis hawaii #kate whistler #lucy tara #kacy #ncis hawai’i fanfiction #my fanfiction

[lunarfeat21]

Sparkling Shakedown

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Chapter three: The Sparkling Palooza

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“Awww, she’s so cute!” Slipstream whispered as he quietly slid next to his companion holding the sparkling as ‘she’ cooed.

“It really brings tears to my eyes.” Denny sniffed as Russell patted his father’s back, but was also in tears at this special moment.

Others approached Bumblebee and Drift, met with the same, joyous reaction as Slipstream did, and one by one picked a sparkling out of the pod. 

A grand total of six sparklings are put in a very spacious bathtub as a temporary crib, and each is more diverse than the other.

One is a smaller and younger version of a Chompazoid, the main color is a dusty light blue with a darker color variation in certain platings, a grayish bright throat and also with a teal color optics. 

Next to the Chompazoid as its companions are snoozing, three little bots are confirmed to be car alts due to their small doorwings and are different from one to another. 

The first is a sleek lambo sunning herself, her warm cream orange paint job against the sunlight added wonder to it before yawning and rolling front side. It turns out, it’s a femme as well with little lashes on each optic, on top of the helm sports out the common headpiece of a pair of horns. The underparts and sides are a subtle dark purple and indigo, on top of that, the biolight of the sparkling is a strong turquoise.

“Look at her!” Sideswipe whispered excitedly as he pointed at the snoozer, which made Strongarm rolled her optics “She’s gonna be an awesome speedster under my wing!”

The rest couldn’t help but chuckle at Sideswipe’s little rambling, Strongarm noticed the second sleeping sparkling next to the femme.

Next to her, a little mech with seafoam green and a deep shade of periwinkle blue, shuffled a bit before settling back down again. His horns are a fuchsia red color along with other parts, plus a similar shade of indigo in the underparts as the femme. Biolights are also turquoise.

Strongarm couldn’t help but smile, the little mech vaguely resembled her, not only faded facial features, but also the alt as it turns out the little mech is going to be a pickup truck. 

Once the sparklings wake up, she’s immediately naming that mech ‘Nightro’. A mocking version of Nightra, her ex friend’s name. 

‘Is this out of sheer pettiness?’ Strongarm thought as she walked away to somewhere, probably thinking to herself if this even moral to begin with and the team will not stop her.

Bumblebee giggled when Fixit told him a cheesy, but hilarious joke as he and Bumblebee laughed. The laughter, though not quite loud, but was enough to cause the last sparkling to slightly stirred and started to fuss over the noise.

The two noticed and abruptly stopped, Bumblebee proceeded to walk over and picked the sparkling up as he swayed the fusser. 

The third sparkling is a copper rose mech, with matte accents of the same color in the underparts, shining bronze at the tip of the doorwings, edges of the helm, and the tips of his tiny servos. The helm is smooth and round, counting for two pieces of the helm shot out from the back with a split middle that formed in the shape of a smooth diamond. It had no horns or any other helm accessories, with the exception of a small row of three-to-ten diamond shapes repeating from big to small on the two helm pieces.

On the grayish faceplace, with a weird dark marking on the corner of the upper left faceplate, almost like a small heart shaped smudge. Bumblebee lightly traced the outline of the mark.

The fussing lessened and Bumblebee put the sparkling back to its spot, the tyke was content and went back to whatever pleasant dreamland.

After setting the copper rose sparkling down, the Minicon sparkling from earlier was sat beside another sparkling. 

To the team’s bewildered surprise, mainly Bumblebee’s, is that the last sparkling is a Wolficon pup. A much smaller, younger version of a certain grown silver tongued Wolficon.

Except for the bluish tones and yellow optics, this pup had a reddish buff color as the main. On top of that, from helm to tail, there some grayish faded patches with two different spots. One are tiny dark brown dots scattering across the hide with white tear like dots.

The upper calves, torso, ears, and faceplate had an almost pure white with a mixed light cream. Some had the little brown spots, but a very few.

 A noticeable feature on the faceplate, specifically the left side on the corner of the orange optic, is a black dot, like one of the white dots inverted and fell to the spot.

They initially thought the youngster was infected with cosmic rust, due to the rustic coloring and grayish patch. Fixit later examines the youngling and turns out he’s not.

In fact, Fixit checked all the sparklings and they’re healthy.

That brought a huge comfort for Bumblebee, the sparklings are healthy and are no way damaged or harmed from whatever they came.

However, there is a little dread in his processor as he sought the sleeping sparklings. He doesn't know what it is, but he had a hunch that something terrible is brewing out there, watching them probably as everyone else is in their own worlds.

—------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wolficon froze with ears still, grinning from the intel he gathered. This would be excellent, he didn’t care if the others couldn’t agree and nag at him.

“Fellas,” the leader began as he walked away from their spot, which made the other members follow suit,  and headed towards the opposite direction to the wilderness “let’s return and rest.”

“Well finally!” Underbite exclaimed then yawned. As tired as he was, nor the type asking questions, Uderbite couldn’t help but ask what Steeljaw heard, since he became quiet after the weird beam died down. “Wait, what did you hear in that junky slagged place, Steeljaw?”

The rest shifted their gaze at Steeljaw as he transformed into his car alt mode, which the rest did as well. That’s a really good question, as it excited Steeljaw.

“That is something that you had to see for yourself tomorrow, brother.”

Is the last word before he drives off with others in tow, back to their hideout to rest.

‘And,’ his processor whispered, ‘This is what I need for my Empire; the youth is the lifeblood of every group, nation, and world; large or small. These sparklings, under my care, are the future, and heirs of my dream. My dream of a Decepticon homeworld.’

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[The Beginning] | [Chapter four]

#rid2015 #sparklings #sparkling shakedown #tf rid 2015 #tf rid15 #rid bumblebee #rid strongarm #rid fixit #rid slipstream #rid underbite #rid steeljaw #russell clay #denny clay #rid sideswipe #rid drift

[imjustabeanie]

Hello hello it's me for the matchup trade 🌹Thank you for messaging me and please take all the time you need.

Female, she/her, INFJ, Gemini. Personality wise, I got two sides (stereotypical ik).

Most of the times, I'm really affectionate, warm, calm but I can also get really serious and slightly intimidating in a blink of an eye if it's needed, thing that surprises some. I'm basically that meme: I can be your angel or your devil (lol). Resting bitch face until you talk to me and I'm smiling at you. Extremely ambitious when I want something. Really protective and caring to my dear ones (I'd do anything for them). Unfortunately, I tend to overwork myself and won't say a word to others about it even though I know it's not good. I just don't want to bother anyone so I keep going. We all have problems in our lives, why should I add mine to anyone else's? However, I crave a break from it all so bad, from time to time...

I work in the medical field and love it, it was my dream and still is. I always make sure to put patients at ease and help them get through their condition mentally first. I'm interested in how people feel and think. I want to specialize myself in neuropshychology or medical recovery.

I'm the mom friend of the group, always the mature and responsible one.

Aesthetically wise I go for slight dark feminine and romantic. Colour palette: red, black, white, silver. I'm all about casual dresses, skirts, white shirts.

Appearance: Curvy, copper brown hair now, hazel eyes, a lot of beauty spots and subtle freckles on my face. I also have a tattoo (hint: it's a crescent moon on my thigh lol)

When I'm not studying, my hobbies are: Aikido and bokken training, dancing, oh and I also have a big thing for learning about perfumes, wine, and tea.

Likes: flowers, deep conversations, classic literature, meditation.

Deal breakers: cheating, indifference.

I'm attracted to both wild individuals and calm and serious ones. No in-between.

What I'm like as a lover: Soft (almost fragile) but really playful, teasing even. That's when I shed all the layers. My love language is physical touch and gift giving. I really like to help my partner relax and break free from all daily restraints.

Hope this is alright for you and not too long or confusing. Thank you so much for your time. Take care, dear, have a wonderful day!

Helloooo! Here's your match hehe

For JJK it's....Yuuta!

Okay so your jjk match is Yuuta. The reason I gave him to you is because he is also mature, caring and responsible plus he’s a romantic. Yuuta is understanding and sees beyond what you appear like (ngl you remind me of maki based on your description). So once he gets to know you more, I am sure there’s a blossoming romance coming (be careful of rika. She is y all number 1 problem lol). Your aesthetic also compliments his very well and he lets you know!

At first Yuuta will be too intimidated to speak to you since you have an rbf. But when you two got paired up for a mission and he saw you being all smiles and joking with him he let his guard down and started talking to you more. He notices his feelings when he found himself thinking more about you and being all red when you patch him up after a mission. Also you two work very well together because you know when to get serious.

Yuuta is very shy when you get all affectionate, if you’re in public he will take some time to respond lol. Bur it’s only a question of habit, he will even start initiating himself with time! He loves and craves your warmth, especially after a long mission where he only wants to find you and enjoy your presence. He is rather nervous but your calm personality helps him get grounded, you’re his reference if we can say that. That’s why he also got into meditation with you, it’s just so soothing! Now, both of you overwork yourselves and are hypocrites about it. What I mean is that you both scold the other for overworking themselves lol. That’s why you came to an understanding that you both have the right to just…get the other away from their work if it gets too much as well as a mandatory 2 hours together each night.

Now I think that Yuuta will notice how you don’t share your problems but he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He will probably ask Maki and gojo for advices (wrong people. Yuuta you should know better..) And in the end it’s Toge who gives him good advices to give you space at first and then confront you about it. He’s a little hurt that you won’t confide in him because to him, your problems are his problems. What kind of lover is he if he just abandoned you to your demons? Yuuta is very determined about this too lol so try to rely on him more.

Concerning your aikido and bonkken training, he is your guy. He was formed by maki and gojo so yeah he’s good. He loves sparing with you because you both learn from each other. I think he sucks at dancing and he’s too shy so good luck making him participate lmao. I headcannon that he is a bookworm and probably has some knowledge on teas, it’s not uncommon for you two to surprise the other with a new tea flavor (he will even do the 4 hours tea ceremony for you and with you). He also reads all your recommendations and brings you gifts (often books) each time he is in a solo mission or makes you worry. He doesn’t spoil you with gifts and touch as much as you do but Yuuta is someone whose love language is words and acts of service. He always tries to make your life easier like you made his easier. The biggest issue is probably him accepting the fact that he loves someone else after the whole rika fiasco. He doesn’t want to endanger you!

Your runner up is nanami

For BNHA it's...aizawa!

Aizawa!

This one effing bothers me cuz you predicted it! Urgh….but at the same time he fits you so well! Aizawa is a no bs guy who despite his rude and lazy exterior cares a lot about his entourage so there’s a lot of common points here if you see.

You two definitely started as work besties and none can convince me otherwise. You’re his favorite medic as he always feels calm and soothed around you. Heck if you accepted he’d take a subscription cuz due to his quirk he does need regular consultations. At the start he’d be annoyed at how you respond to his indifferent behavior but then he understands that you’re just mirroring his bitchiness so he starts acting more friendly and all. I think he’d be the one to propose training with you when he can and that’s due to the rising villains in the bnha universe so he worries about you. He finds you to be a nice sparring partner.

Now, how Aizawa falls in love is a mystery but the person who pointed that out to him is definitely Mic (who may or may not have been the one to convince students to address you both as mum and dad for teasing). After you two got together, Aizawa definitely started showing more warmth and love in private. He doesn’t mind your physical touch but he probably initiates a lot of cuddling when you two are home resulting in you two being always late. He is also the type of partner who teases you at home and none can convince me otherwise but him and the author.

I also believe that Aizawa is the type of dude who are into meditation, yoga and all activities that help him be more at ease. He is so happy to do them with you! He also find your work ethic and ambitions so motivating that even his colleagues noticed changes in him since he got with you. He is…*gasp* livelier! Congrats on this new achievement. But your colleagues also noticed you being less of a work alcoholic because Aizawa is a calm voice of reason who can somehow always convince you to stop when you’re ruining yourself. I believe him to be quite emotionally intelligent and when he notices you having internal problems he doesn’t confront you directly. No he hints at it softly and then when you’re in private he asks you what’s wrong during your daily cuddling session. You’re not a bother to anyone and if someone says so then they’re not worth befriending. That’s his moto to you.

Aizawa loves your passion for perfumes, wines and teas. I can see him subscribing you both to a tea tasting thing each month and marking down your favorites. And he also loves bringing you two a rare bottle of wine each month to enjoy it. For perfumes, students noticed their sensei smelling differently ever since you two started dating…yeah he is spraying your perfume on his pillow to be with you when you’re away. He is also into classic literature when he has time but, due to his eyes he prefers to listen to audio books.

The biggest issues with aizawa is that he seems aloof and indifferent but he is not. You just have to get through that barrier.

I hope you like it!

#matchups #match ups #jujutsu kaisen #bnha #mha

[docalu]

Monsters

Prompt: Supernatural

Ship: Nagano Trio

The room he was led into was tidy and bright. Lanterns lit the walls made of silk paper and the cushion of red brocade. Everything looked wealthy and expensive. Even the bamboo mats on the ground felt soft to walk on.

Kneeling down he sat on the ground, putting the sword from his side in front of his knees. Then he waited. Hands resting on his upper legs, he held his head low, as was expected. That was until it started to hurt. He didn't move. He stayed as he was but the wait got longer and finally, he slipped to the side, releasing his bad leg of the pressure.

A quiet rustling made him look up and the boy peeking into the room from behind one of the sliding doors flinched. He couldn't be older than maybe five or six. His hair was short and his eyes big, filled to the brim with fear but also fascination. Scared he vanished behind the door, just to peak in once more at the waiting man.

"What's your name, boy?" The stranger's voice was rough but not unfriendly. It made the child flinch once more and bite his lip.

"... Ryu", he mumbled, after hesitating.

"Ryu-kun, eh? Good name. Means dragon. Right?"

The boy smiled shyly just before he nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Ryu-kun. My name's Kansuke."

"Kansuke-dono."

At the bow from the boy Kansuke laughed quietly.

"No need for that. Come over here, would you?"

Glancing around, the boy hesitated, before he shoved himself into the room. He came closer with a limp, sitting down next to the swordsman with a bit of difficulty. When he was done he shyly smiled up at the stranger and the stranger smiled back.

"Ryu-kun, can I ask you something?"

Curiously the boy tilted his head.

"The village outside. How long does it look this... ragged already?"

"Ragged...?"

"I've seen many houses with broken roofs and missing doors. Everything looks like it's not cared for, but there are people around."

Hungry-looking people in badly repaired clothes. Poor people.

The boy glanced down at the Kansuke's outstretched leg, thinking. Scars were peeking out from under his wide trousers. Pale scars on dark skin.

"I don't know. It always looks like this."

"Hm... so it's been a while."

"How did you get the scars?"

Blinking Kansuke looked down at the boy who pointed at his face with big, curious eyes. The man reached up and touched the cross across his missing eye.

"You see, I once fought with a Tengu and almost lost."

If it was possible the boy's eyes grew even wider.

"RYU!"

The sharp voice made the boy flinch. Hastily he got up and limped away, as fast as he could, vanishing behind the paper walls.

"Useless brat..."

Grumbling under his breath a fat man entered the room. He pulled the silken hems of expensive robes behind himself as he walked up to the cushion and sat down. The woman following him, immediately put a small tray with tea down next to him. She didn't look up, nor did she show any sign that she had noticed the stranger. She just stood there, head lowered and hands crossed in front of her, hiding bandaged fingers in the folds of her yukata.

"So you're the sword to hire?", the lord of the house snared.

"That I am." Shifting a bit Kansuke got back on his knees. "I heard you need help."

"Indeed. A dreaded monster settled in my forest. It eats my peasants and makes working impossible. For months we can't get wood out and losing on our income."

"I see. So you want me to chase that monster away?"

"No. Kill it! Kill it and bring me its pelt! It's living on my property, so it's mine."

Kansuke nodded slowly.

"If you say so. What's my payment?"

"Ten copper."

A think dark eyebrow wandered up.

"I get that much for a half day of weeding someone's garden."

The fat man grumbled. "Didn't you listen? We've no income for months now! We're practically starving!"

Sighing Kansuke got up, leaned on the sheet of his sword. While he did, his glance found the small boy again behind the doorframe and the spotted cat rubbing against his legs. For a moment he thought there were two tails wrapping around the boy's ankle, but maybe it was just a reflection in the lantern light.

"Fine then. If you're starving..."

"Good." A grin spread on the fat man's face and he reached for the steaming teacup in the tray. However, when he took a sip he made a face, throwing the cup in the direction of the woman next to him.

"What's that?! Can't you even cook proper tea, you useless wench?!" The tray followed the teacup, hitting the woman against the shoulder, but she didn't even flinch. Instead, she endured the curses and insults, kneeling down, in the end, in the end to pick up the broken porcelain.

Kansuke watched everything with lips pressed to a thin line but didn't say anything.

"I need someone to show me the way", he said when the lord of the house had calmed down enough.

"Huh? Oh, yes. My wife will lead you there." A grin spread on his face as the woman looked up, fear clear in her eyes. It looked like she wanted to protest, but in the end, she just lowered her gaze again, nodding.

It was half an hour later when the swordsman followed the light from the lantern in the woman's hand. She led him through the dark village and out of it, towards a forest behind a field of softly swaying rice plants.

Chopped trees had been left behind at the edge of that forest, seemingly forgotten in a hurried escape. The woman walked past them and into the darkness underneath the trees.

"Is he following us?" The quiet voice coming from her lips was deep and silky.

"Yeah, he does. Probably making sure I'm not running off with his wife."

"Or", the woman said without looking back at Kansuke. "he wants to blame you for her death. He's plotting an accident for a while now to get his hands on her heritage."

"For a while?" Catching up to her Kansuke glanced at the pale face, cast in shadows and light from the lantern. There was the hint of a mustache on her upperlip just to be gone the next moment. "Say... how long have you played this role now?"

A thin eyebrow wandered upwards, while dark blue eyes found the swordsman.

"I took her form yesterday. What do you want to imply, Kansuke-kun?"

"Oh, nothing. Just making sure that idiot didn't get his hands on my property."

The hand suddenly squeezing the woman's bum made her almost jump.

"Kansuke-kun."

"What?"

"Hands off."

But the other just laughed, pulling her closer to his side.

"Nah. It's rare I get to see you like this. Gotta take the chance while it lasts."

"Kansuke-kun..." The low growl was a warning he ignored with a smile and a kiss on a pale cheek.

"You're pretty when you're angry."

Pushing him away the woman put the lantern down, before she faced him. Eyebrows knitted she glared and a gust of wind made her yukata and hair fly. Dry leaves danced around her form that grew in size within a blink. Hands and feet turned to claws, white fur grew everywhere and the once small mouth turned into the snout of a giant fox.

Kansuke didn't have time to react before the white beast ripped him to the ground, five bushy tails whiping the air, while sharp teeth hovered dangerously above his face.

"A-A monster!" The scream was high-pitched and panicked. Stumbling over undergrowth and dead branches the fat man, who had followed them in a distance, fleed the forest.

"Koumei..." Kansuke huffed annoyed. "Now you scared him away."

"That wasn't my intention, however I'm not tolerating you groping me, Kansuke", the fox gave back. "What has gotten into you, I wonder."

Lying on his back with the fox having him pinned to the ground the swordsman sighed softly. The teasing grin had long vanished and turned into the hint of a smile as he reached up to run his fingers tenderly along the silky snout.

"I just missed you. It's been... what now? Three weeks? Three weeks since I saw you two."

Dark blue eyes above him narrowed before the fox got off him and sat neatly on its hind legs. "That was still uncalled for."

"Heh, sorry." Sitting up Kansuke rubbed his leg, grabbing the slender hand that reached out for him. With the help he got back up on his feet, smiling at who stood before him now. It wasn't the woman anymore and the fox was gone as well. Just the tails, dissolving into thin air the next moment, indicated that this man with the pointy mustache and the neatly combed hair had been anything else than what he was now. And what he was now, was the exact opposite to the rough looking and unshaved swordsman.

"You're forgiven, but I advise you not to greet Yui-kun that way."

"Oh, I'd never", Kansuke laughed. "I know she'd bite my head off, if I called her my property. That's pretty rude after all."

"Excuse me?" The mouth under the other man's mustache twitched dangerously.

"If you're aware of how rude you've been, then why did you say it to me in the first place?"

There was the grin on the swordman's face again and an arm around the other man's waist, pulling him close.

"Because you're pretty when you're angry. I like that~"

Any protest was cut short with a passionate kiss and for a moment the man called Koumei seemed to melt into it, before he put his hand into Kansuke's face and pushed him away at arm's length. Straightening his ruffled mustache with his fingertips he cleared his throat and turned to walk away.

"Hurry, Kansuke-kun. We have things to finish."

"True that."

Side by side they walked out of the forest and over the rice field, along the path through the village, back to the mansion. It was quiet, not just in the village but in the mansion as well.

The guards, which had eyed Kansuke just a while ago as he had entered the house, were sleeping now, leaned against the walls. Both men passed them and a few sleeping servants, making their way back to the lantern lit room with the glamorous walls and the brocade cushion.

As they entered the woman sitting on that very cushion looked up with a smile. On her lap rested the boy named Ryu, sleeping peacefully and with a small smile on his lips. Behind them a sleeping woman had curled up on a blanket.

"There you are. I was a little worried already."

Letting the child very carefully slip from her lap she got up and stretched, two white cat tails with black and red spots curling lazily behind her.

"Kansuke-kun decided to fool around", Koumei explained coolly and walked up to the woman to give her a kiss on the cheek. It made her chuckle. "I should have known."

Tilting her head she waited for Kansuke to come closer just to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him tenderly.

"I told you not to tease Taka'aki-kun too much. One day he'll bite your head off for sure~"

"He almost did", Kansuke laughed. "You should have seen how he lost his composure, Yui. He must have really missed me."

"We both did", Yui added and caressed his cheek with a smile. "Hm... gone for a few days and you're even more prickly than usual. You need a shave, Kan-chan."

"Could we care about Kansuke-kun's lack of personal hygiene, once we're done here?", Koumei asked.

"Oi!", Kansuke growled but Koumei just looked at him with a straight face, his five tails wiping slowly over the bamboo mats.

"What is it, Kansuke-kun? You're the one who wanted to teach this greedy human a lesson."

"Yes. Let's do this." Putting her hand on Kansuke's arm, Yui nodded. "He's hiding in the shed in the garden. The rest of the village is asleep. I made sure everyone will have nice dreams."

"Except for the landlord." Pulling his sword from its sheet Kansuke smiled grim. "Will his wife manage?"

"She will. Yuriko-dono is a very intelligent and empathic woman", Koumei said, stepping next to him.

"And Ryu-kun is a kind-hearted boy. He will be a good successor to this vile man once he gets older", Yui added, taking the place on Kansuke's other side.

"Good."

Large black wings spread behind him, hovering protective over the five-tailed fox and the two-tailed cat at his sides.

"Then let's free this place of its monster."

=======

Type of Yokai

Tengu - "heavenly dog" / raven

Nekotama - two tailed cat

Kitsune - many tailed fox

#multiamorymarch2023 #dcmk #yamato kansuke #uehara yui #morofushi taka'aki #nagano trio #Alu writes

[marvelettesassemblenow]

New in Town - Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky x F Reader

Series Summary: Being new in town isn’t always easy. Being new in a small town is worse and the first thing you heard is to beware of a biker gang. And suddenly you befriend the gang – which isn’t really a gang but a group of friends that are more than welcoming to you. And next to new friends you might also find love.

Chapter Warnings: swearing, flirty Bucky and Brock Rumlow (who is a warning himself)

Chapter Wordcount: ~2.4k

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Chapter One - Meeting the Gang

You felt the gazes on you when you opened the door to the diner and the bell above you announced your arrival. Deciding not to be bothered by it you walked to the counter and took a look at the laminated menu on the counter.

“How can I help you,” an older lady greeted you. She wasn’t overly friendly but also not unwelcoming. It wasn’t really a surprise in such a small town. People were weary of new arrivals and they liked to talk.

“Can I get the sandwiches to go?” you asked and got a yes as a reply. You told her which one you wanted and paid for it. The woman told you it would take a few minutes and asked you why you were in town. She was slightly nicer when you told her you had just moved here and she introduced herself as Margery. She gave you some tips where you should buy your groceries to get the fresher ones and after you got your sandwich and a lot of unwanted information, she stopped you from leaving. “Oh, and watch out for the gang. Troublesome people they are and never up to any good,” she said and you wished her a nice day as you made you way towards the door. It opened just before you could pull the handle and a big man walked in, who looked at you before he finally moved away so you could step out. You felt that him watching you as you crossed the street and walked towards your new home.

“Oh hey, you must be my new neighbor,” you were greeted when you stepped into the hallway of your building. You turned around and spotted a rather young-looking woman who had stunning red copper hair. “I’m Wanda and I saw you moving in yesterday. I would have offered my help, but I had to go to work so sorry for that,” she said and you were surprised. It didn’t sound like an excuse but rather honest.

“It’s no problem, it wasn’t much. But thanks for the thought, I guess.” You were awkward as you weren’t used to so much kindness from a stranger. Was this the small-town charm? She invited you to come over to the local bar where she was working and told you her friends would be also there. Your response was that you’d think about it and then you parted ways to enjoy your sandwich. You still had some time before you had to go over to your new work. So far you had only talked on the phone so it was time for a personal check in before you’d start on Monday.

The shop wasn’t far from your apartment and you decided to walk there. “Hey, can I help you?” a man yelled when you stepped on the yard of the mechanic shop.

“Yeah, I’m actually looking for George,” you yelled back as he was on the other side of the ground. The man only made a sign with his head towards a small a door with the words office on it. You nodded in thanks but he had already walked towards the car where he was working on.

You knocked on the door and heard a gruff voice telling you to come in. Once the old man saw you and recognized you from the photo that had been on your application his whole demander changed. He greeted you like you were old friends and told you over and over again how glad he was that you had decided to work for him. “Natasha is a damn good mechanic, one of the best, but she’s shit in the office. Doesn’t matter that you don’t know much about cars, you’ll learn the basics, but we really need someone to clean this mess,” he said without forewarning and pointed to the stacks and stacks of paper that were in the office. From the table to the board where a coffee machine stood that had seen better years with mugs next to it and papers with coffee stains on them. Yeah, they really needed your help. He promised to introduce you to his workers when you started on Monday and after assuring you he was so excited for you to start here you left the shop.

On the way back you stopped at the supermarket to get some groceries and when you sat on your couch after a dinner you had prepared and stared at the blank TV, because it wasn’t working just yet and your internet wasn’t also available, you decided you’d follow Wanda’s invitation. Your wardrobe didn’t have many options to dress up and you also didn’t feel like it, so you decided on something simple, grabbed your phone, keys and a purse and followed Wandas direction.

It wasn’t hard to find the bar, but the walk was longer than you had expected. You took a deep breath before entering after walking past a few bikes on the side. You walked straight to the counter as you saw Wanda chatting with another customer and decided to wait for her.

“Hey, I heard you’re new in town, sweet cheeks,” someone suddenly said from your right. You turned around, not really impressed. The first thing this guy said to you is a stupid pet name? So you offered him your name instead.

“Oh, I already know your name. Margery told me, news spread fast around here. But I don’t know,” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he was interrupted by Wanda calling your name and you were more than happy to turn around and face her instead of the guy next to you. It wasn’t that he was bad looking or anything like that, but he just gave you weird vibes.

“I’ve seen you met Brock. Tell me what you want to drink and then I’ll introduce you to my friends, like I promised,” she said. You’d gone with a beer and instead of putting it in front of you Wanda held it in her hand, came around the counter and took your arm and steered you in the direction where a few people were sitting.

“When you realize what losers these are you can come over to sit at the grown-up table,” you heard Brock's voice behind you, but didn’t feel the need to turn around. There was no way that you would sit down at that table.

“Guys, this is my new neighbor I’ve been telling you about,” she started but was interrupted by a guy on the table.

“You were at the shop today.” You nodded as you recognized the guy that had greeted you. “I’m Clint,” he offered his name.

“And I guess we’re going to be colleagues then. I’ll start there on Monday,” you offered your name in return.

“Make some room for her, I just rescued her from Brock. And then you can introduce yourself,” Wanda said before she kind of pushed you towards the booth and left you alone.

“I’m Nat, I work at the shop too. So glad I don’t have to do anything in the office anymore except for getting coffee,” she offered as an introduction and had a smile on her face that just screamed honest. Later on you’d learn that she wasn’t as open to strangers as she was to you but as Wanda had greeted you with open arms, she was more welcome towards you. Wanda had a good way to judge people and as she introduced you to her friends that means you had to be a good addition to the group of outsiders.

Next up Sam introduced himself and then a blonde guy, Steve. “So, is it normal for such a small town to get warned off? I mean you just told me you saved me from that guy and when I arrived I was warned to stay away from a gang?”

It was quiet for a few seconds until Clint started to laugh and was soon joined by the others. The most surprised you were with Steve who laughed so hard he hit his own chest with his hand and the noise startled you. “Did I miss something?” you asked finally, turning yourself towards Sam who was the first one to stop laughing.

“Baby, we’re the gang,” he said and started to laugh again. When Brock had called you a stupid pet name it left a bad taste in your mouth, but from Sam it didn’t feel like he implied something. You decided to wait until they all calmed down and ask again, but Natasha filled you in before you could ask.

“You talked to Margery, right?” You nodded. “We’re not a gang. We’re just a group of friends who doesn’t fit in with anyone else. I grew up here with Clint, Steve and Bucky. Wanda joined town when we were teens, although she was younger we decided to let her into our group. Sam moved into town a few years back and because we’re a tight group of friends and we noticed we all like bikes people say we’re a gang. Here’s a few words of advice: People are going to talk. It’s your decision if you want to live how others expect you to or if you just do what makes you happy. We decided to doesn’t give a fuck what others think so they tend to talk,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“So these are your bikes outside?” you asked.

“Hell yeah, they are. You like bikes?” Sam asked.

“I can’t drive one, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ve been on a bike before and made a few trips,” you replied and took a sip from your bottle. You spent a few hours with the people on the table offering pieces and information of your life in exchange for some of theirs. You learned that they had another friend, Bucky, that was missing today. Wanda joined you when most of the customers were provided with drinks. You also didn’t miss that the gang stuck to non-alcoholic drinks as they all arrived with their bikes.

After a while they all said their goodbyes until it was only Steve and you. He told you he was waiting for Wanda to get her home and as you were living in the same building you decided to wait too. “Thank you for tonight, it was nice of you to allow me to your table,” you said when you saw Wanda counting the register.

“Are you thanking me for being civil? Wow your standards must be low,” he chuckled.

“You didn’t tell me what you do for a living. If you don’t mind me asking, that is,” you said after noticing how rude it could be.

“Not at all. I’m a tattoo artist, I own a small studio here,” he said and took in your wide eyes. “What? Expected a tattoo artist to be covered in tattoos? Don’t worry I have a few myself but I prefer to cover other people in ink.”

“Do you have a lot of customers here? I don’t mean to offend, but most of it seem... Not as open minded,” you struggled for the right words.

“Oh my best customers are my friends. But don’t worry, I’m rather good at what I’m doing and people drive for a while to come here and get inked. And who knows, maybe you want to check out the studio yourself,” he smirked not at all offended.

“You guys ready to go?” Wanda asked when she stopped by your table. The both of you agreed and the three of you made your way to your apartment building where Steve accompanied you to your doors and wished you a nice night.

“Thank you, a lot, for asking me to come tonight,” you said to the woman before you could step into your apartment.

“You’re very welcome to join us again. Have a good night,” she smiled at you and both of you walked into your respective apartment.

The next day you felt good. You woke up and made your way to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. But the water stopped running after a little bit. You walked to the bathroom but there was also only a short amount of water until it run out. Great. You stepped out of your clothes and pulled on something for the day before you knocked on Wandas door to see if she had the same problem. She didn’t and offered you a coffee as you made your call with the landlord. They promised to call someone who came looking. You thanked Wanda for the coffee and borrowed the mug to wait in your flat.

You expected to wait a long time, but after 40 minutes there was a knock on your door. You opened the door expecting an old guy standing there and not a muscular guy with a manbun on his head holding a tool box and a smirk that should have been banned.

“Hey new girl, I’m Bucky and I heard you have some problem with the water. Your landlord called me to take a look,” he introduced himself when you didn’t offer to say anything. Your voice was still lost when you stepped aside to take him in. “Steve forgot to mention that you are pretty,” he said when he walked in. In fact, Steve didn’t forget to mention that, but Bucky couldn’t refuse to make you more flustered.

“Do you flirt with all your customers?” you finally asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Most of them are elderly so yeah, they tip better then,” he winked at you. “But back to business, what’s the problem?” Bucky spent the next few hours inside your flat and outside of it to find out why you didn’t have water. He took of his flannel shirt which left him in a black shirt and you stared at the metal that just appeared.

“I’m sorry, it was rude of me to stare,” you said when you noticed him noticing.

“It’s okay, it is unusual,” he said not giving you more information and you didn’t ask for more. Trying not to stare at the shiny metal you took in his other arm that was covered in ink. Well Steve did tell you his friends were his best customers. And if it really had been Steve that had placed that art there you were impressed. The two of you exchanged a little bit of small talk until Bucky fixed the problem and the water was flowing again.

“Hopefully I’ll be there next time you’ll join us,” he winked at you before he left your apartment. Well Steve and the others left the part where Bucky was flirty as fuck.

Next Chapter

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes mini series #bucky barnes series #marvelettesassemblenow #modern au #bucky barnes modern au #my non-biker-biker-bucky #bucky x you #biker!bucky

[cursestothemoon]

I’m so excited your requests are open!!! Can I request a blurb of rough sex with Charlie where he throws around and manhandles his girlfriend (it’s all safe and consensual). I just know he’s a bit burly dude who would have no problem picking up his girlfriend with one arm

Watch Your Mouth

C.W. x FEM!READER

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, manhandling, size kink, tummy bulge, praise kink, sub!reader/dom!Charlie, mentions of edging, spanking, overstimulation, UNPROTECTED SEX (wrap it before you tap it), kind of subspace (nothing too intense), also unedited because i am lazy ✋🏻😔

“But it hurts.” You whined into your boyfriend's ear.

Subtlety was fading fast in your act, after Charlie spent all night last night teasing you with the idea of an orgasm but never actually letting you get there you were far past the point of just horny.

Charlie placed a warning hand on your thigh, fingers gripping the flesh tight enough to have you squirming, “Eat your food and behave.”

His tone was husky, whispers harsh as he tried to keep you at bay in front of his family. Perhaps dinner at the Weasley’s- a usual Friday event- wasn’t the best place to start acting up but really it was Charlie’s fault. He had to have known his teasing would result in something of this sort.

You also knew his hand could be heavy when he wanted it to be, spanks from Charlie always left a mark that could be felt for days following. So you listened to him, quietly picking at your roast as your mind wandered to what might be in store for you once you two got home.

“Yeah, better get going, it’s getting rather late.” Charlie announced as he stood up from the couch, your hand in his.

You had to restrain from vibrating with excitement as you stood up next to Charlie, your head barely reaching his broad shoulders.

Everyone bid farewell to you two, a longer exchange than you would’ve liked but you managed. Finally Charlie pulled you into his side, tucking you under his arm as he appareled you two to your flat- after the war he wanted to move closer to his family and you had no complaints.

Leaning on the hardwood floor of your living room, you stumbled a bit only to be grabbed by Charlie. His arm wrapping around your waist to lift you up and off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom. He grunted through the doorframe, making sure he wasn’t going to hit your head on the wall as he passed through before tossing you onto the bed. Upon hitting the mattress your body bounced roughly, only adding fuel to the fire of your excitement.

Charlie pulled his boots off hastily, hands moving to unbutton his shirt and fling it somewhere in the room to be retrieved later for you to wear. In just a pair of tight black boxer briefs and a single silver chain dangling between his pecs, a dragon tooth at the end.

You watched him with wide eyes, breath hitching as he grabbed your hips and flipped you over with ease. His palm, open and heavy, rested on your plump backside. You panicked, trying to turn around to face him, because you knew what that meant but you thought you had been a good girl.

“But I was good.” You whined trying to move your butt away from him.

He tutted, pulling your hips back to where they were, “You were good...after I had to tell you to behave, and now you’re questioning me.”

“Because I was good. If you hadn’t been mean, not letting me cum, then I wouldn’t have been so needy. S’your fault.”

The silence was deafening and you realized you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“My fault?” Charlie questioned, his voice unnervingly calm.

You shook your head quickly, trying to back track as best you could, “No, no no, I didn’t- I’m sorry, I’m your good girl, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “My good girl wouldn’t blame me for her being a horny slag. My good girl wouldn’t question my authority. My good girl would take her punishment, but no. You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?”

Charlie didn’t give you a chance to respond, instead grabbing the material of your tights and quite literally tearing them apart, exposing your g-string and soaking cunt. He continued to rip and tear your tights until whatever was left didn’t have enough structure to stay on, he picked up the pieces and tossed them to the floor before roughly tugging your shirt and bra off. 

There was a moment of silence again, as Charlie adjusted the rings on his fingers. You barely allowed yourself to calm down before he was sitting on the edge of the bed, grabbing you by the waist to roughly pull you across his lap. The action made you squeal, your legs kicking up in an attempt to stall the punishment that was coming. He wasn’t having it, forcing your legs under his thick thigh to keep them out of the way before playing with the thin string that made up the back of your thong. You let out a muffled whine as he pulled on it, lifting it up and making the front of your panties rub against your throbbing clit then letting it go, snapping it against your skin.

“Only thing I wanna hear out of your mouth are apologies after every swat. Understood?” He asked, hand running across the globes of your ass.

You nodded, not wanting to anger him further.

“So you do know how to watch your fucking mouth, good.”

You had little time to prepare before his hand came down onto your backside with a painful sting sending pools of arousal straight to your core.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

Another swat hit your warm flesh, then another, and another. With each slap apologies fell passed your lips along with muffled cries, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

Forty spanks later your butt was beet red and practically numb, his ring clad hand massaging the raw skin making you whimper. He dipped his hand down to your core, running two fingers up your slit collecting your juices before teasing your entrance making you jolt. His other arm came down to keep you still as his fingers entered you, making your walls clench. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moans as he started to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, alternating between fast thrusts and massaging the spongey spot that made your vision go fuzzy.

You gripped his calf tightly as your orgasm neared, your legs started shaking and you could only hope he’d let you finally get off. Only you weren’t so lucky, Charlie pulled his hand away quickly watching as you writhed around in his lap.

“You wanna cum? I’ll make you cum until you’re begging me to stop.”

His hand dove back in between your legs, this time with an unbelievably fast pace making you let out loud, wanton cries. Charlie’s arm pressed down on your hips firmly, giving you no wiggle room as your toes curled and eyes screwed shut, orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You were shoved onto the bed as you heaved, Charlie having no trouble moving your from place to place without your cooperation. He got down on his knees, eye level with your pussy clenching pathetically around nothing.

Making sure you were still sensitive from your first climax, he was quick to dive into your weeping cunt. Tongue lapping at your glistening folds and nose nudging your clit, your twitching was uncontrollable as he was relentless with his mouth. Your hands tangled themselves in his deliciously wavy red mane as his copper beard rubbed the insides of your thighs raw.

You were unable to form coherent sentences, choked cries, waterlogged moans, and desperate pleas were the only things leaving your lips. Charlie gripped your thighs tightly, keeping them open after they had started to close around his head. You came again, loud sobs sounding through the room as he continued his torturous lapping at your cunt only to pull away seconds after your second orgasm hit you to aggressively rub at your clit.

“Go on, cum, you were begging for this.”

The back and forth motion only got faster as you tried to close your thighs and push his hand away, a third orgasm washing over you before you could even realize. Charlie pulled his hand away after giving your clit a harsh slap making you cry out again. 

Charlie took his time peeling off his briefs, his prick taut against his abdomen with precum leaking from the mouth watering tip. He had always had a rather gorgeous cock, the lively red of the spongey head contrasting the creamy beige of the shaft had you clenching your legs in need. You’d never say no to that no matter how worn out or sensitive you were, he was just far too beautiful. But the sheer size alone had excited nerves mixing in your belly, regardless of how often you’ve seen him nude. His tip was dangerously close to his navel, and not only was he gifted with length but his veiny cock was girthy- never failing to stretch your aching pussy out just how you liked it. 

You watched as his hand gave a few languid strokes to himself before your eyes traveled over the expanse of his torso. His skin was dappled with countless freckles and a few scars scattered here and there from misbehaving dragons or rowdy brothers, most of the time his sheer size as a human had your walls convulsing. Charlie was big, he was tall but by no means lanky, his thighs were deliciously thick along with his biceps, his entire being painted in the likeness of Norse mythology’s Thor. 

“How cute, my little girl is staring.” Charlie teased, hand abandoning his cock and coming closer to you on the bed again. 

He gripped your hips with his large hands, pulling you up onto your knees with your ass in the air. You were too tired to hold your head up, opting to rest it on the mattress instead as you watched Charlie - as best you could from this position- as he paced a hand on the still raw skin of your backside. You didn’t need a mirror to know that a few visible handprints would be left on the skin for a while. The cool feeling of his hand on the skin made you jolt forward, but Charlie hunched over carefully and placed a handful of feathery kisses on the tender skin- you could’ve sworn the pain started to subside immediately at the contact. 

You whimpered as you felt him start to prod at your entrance, he chuckled at the way you wiggled your butt back into him hoping for more. Giving you what you wanted, he pushed in all the way, careful to go slow keeping in mind that he was rather large. 

“Look at you, taking m’cock so well.” He grunted, bottoming out. 

Cries emitted from your parted lips as you nodded into the sheets, words and sentences long gone as he started to thrust. You knew what was in store, and it only made your moans and chants of Charlie that much louder. It was no secret he had stamina, a product of his insatiable libido was usually you getting to cum twice before Charlie even thought of filling you up himself. Seeing as tonight you had already trembled through two, four and five seemed a bit daunting- but you need it. 

He quickened his pace, eagerly thrusting into your tight cunt as his voice started to crack with each grunt and groan before looping an arm around your midsection and pulling your back flush against his chest. The new position had your head lulling back, pornographic moans crooning from your mouth and into his neck. Your hand came up to make its way the back of Charlie’s head, fingers carding through the copper curls at the nape of his neck as his hips snapped up into you at a hellish pace. His hand, the one not occupied with holding you up, moved to rest on your lower belly wanting to feel the way your tummy bulged with each of his thrusts. You were so tiny compared to him, so dainty, and it made his thrusts get that much harder.

His breath fanned over your ear and neck as he spoke huskily, “Such a tight little cunt f’me, can feel my cock in your belly.”

You hummed in response, his hand pulling yours down to rest where his was just moments before. The outline of his dick, each time he thrusted, running up the inside of your palm making you clench around him. 

“S’like I’m gonna slit you in two, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

With pathetic cries and nods you answered, “Yes, want you t’split me in two, need it.”

Orgasm number four hit you before you could even register what was happening but Charlie didn’t slow his thrusts, instead dropping a hand to your pulsing clit to rub rough circles and the engorged nub. His other hand, still holding you up, shifted so he could grab a handful of your breast, pinching and pulling at your erect nipples as best he could while he kept you upright. The overstimulation had you seeing stars, orgasm number five was already knocking on your door ready to come barreling in. At some point, your not sure when seeing as your mind was foggy from your fast approaching orgasm, Charlie had doubled over with your body firmly held in his arms as his hips continued to thrust into your weeping pussy at lightning speed, your back still held tightly against his chest only now your chin was hitting the mattress with each rough thrust. 

You could register the stuttering of his thrusts meaning he was nearing his own release and you could finally let go for a fifth time. The weight of his body on top of yours mixed in with his forearm pressing into your abdomen and fingers massaging your clit while his balls were slapping against your glistening and used pussy had your body trembling uncontrollably in his grasp. Charlie gave a choked moan of your name as he finished deep inside you, your body spasming along with the walls of your cunt as you came with him. 

Charlie held you to his chest still, but shifted so he was now on his side and you were no longer taking any of his weight. Slowly he went to pull out of you, making you whimper at the feeling, your over used cunt far too sensitive for the movement.

“Shh, you’re ok,” He cooed, gentling running a palm down the side of your face and through your hair. “Gotta get you cleaned up, yeah? Then I want my best girl’s cuddles, ok?”

His voice was gently, coaxing you to open your eyes and look at him as you answered with a feeble nod, “Ok, then cuddles...” you murmured.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinblack003

@maybesandohnos

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley smut #charlie weasley blurb #charlie weasley x reader

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. ��He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Can I place an order for Yandere Geralt de Rivia with the kind and loving reader who sees the best in people?

Yes lemme cook something up for our mans Geralt⚔️

Geralt of Rivia x reader - Full Moon on the Rise

Summary: You’ve never felt actual hate for others, you can’t even bring yourself to hurt a fly, and with Geralt, he’ll make sure you never have to.

Warning: a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective Geralt

Masterlist

“So what do you think? The green cloak or the black one....ohhh or maybe the red one?” You ask excitedly as Geralt stands next to you, looking around for any potential threats more then actually paying any real attention, “I mean, the green matches more with the woods, you know trees n’ such and that’s great for blending in. But the black gives off those scary vibes you have. But the dark red one just looks so good, and comfy too.” You raise a brow as he nods, “You know.”

“Right.”

You smile at his adorably lack luster reply, it’s just how he is and that’s perfectly fine with you, “I’m going with the dark red cloak.” You grin with a curt nod of self approval for your knowledgeable decision making skills.

Turning to the cloak vendor you hold up your prize, “Good evening ma’am, how much for this mysterious beauty?”

The old woman smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she beams, quite excited to have some business with you, “Oh, my dear that’ll be five silver pieces.” You nod, tucking your new cloak under your arm as you nudge Geralt for some coin.

He quickly snaps his head over to you, his golden irises showing concern before he realizes you’re completely fine, “Y/N what is it?”

With a small giggle you make a grabby motion with your hand, “Spare me five silver pieces my good sir.” You muse with a mischievous brow wiggle, earning an amused huff from your Witcher.

He politely grins, “Whatever the lady asks.” Feeling around he pulls out the exact amount of coin you need. Your palm is spread as he tilts his hand into yours, conveniently giving you the coin.

“Thank you my love.” You whisper softy as he simply hands you the flash of a smile before turning his head to scour the market place once again.

The old woman opens up a small sack of coins for you to dump yours in, “Thank ya dear, have a save eve’nin.”

Clink. Sounds the last silver piece as you hold your new dirt-less red cloak closer in your arm, “You too.”

She suddenly leans in a bit closer, her face going serious, “Best keep that Witcher close, never know what kind of beasts be lurking in the woods. Specially with the next full moons a com’in.” Her wrinkly complexion turning back into her original beaming old lady face, “Have a nice stay in Bellepav.”

Stepping away you nervously nod, “Uh, yes....I’ll try?” You reply, not certain if you should be concerned or ignore the weirdness of the locals.

Deciding to ignore the strange behavior of the kind old woman, you flash her a last generous grin before turning on your heel and walking over to Geralt. With the familiar sound of your approaching footsteps he turns an intrigued eye over to you.

His brows furrowing as you gently lay a hand on his arm, “You alright Y/N.” He worries, noticing the slight wariness in your step.

Lightly squeezing his forearm you send him a reassuring smile, “Of course, that old woman was just acting odd. Well not that odd, I’ve definitely seen weirder....she just had a strange look when she told me to keep you close and watch out for the next full moon.”

He moves to take your cloak from you, quietly swinging the thick comfortable dark red fabric around your shoulders, clasping the lock together that keeps the material from falling off your body.

After he’s done, does his beautiful golden eyes find your alluring ones, “Y/N, we’ll be fine. I wouldn’t dare let a soul touch you, you have my word.”

Reaching up to gently cup his scruffy cheek, you smirk, “I know you do.” Releasing your warm touch from his face do you turn towards the bakers cart, the smell of fresh bread wafting into your nostrils.

“Geralt!” You exclaim with an excited twinkle in your eyes, “Fresh bread....” Your skilled eyes land upon the shiny red apples displayed about on the stall, “Apples! Ugh, I haven’t had an actual apple in almost four months, what I would do for one.”

Your eyes stare dreamily at the bakers cart, your mouth watering at the smell and sight of the desired foods. Geralt chuckles at your adorable reaction before tugging at your arm. “Come on Y/N, I’ll get you something.” Speaks your kind Witcher with a tinge of humor in his gravely voice.

Snapping your head towards him, your eyes going wide in excitement, “Aww yes!” You shout before pulling him in the direction of the cart, joy flowing through your heart as you make hasty steps across the market place.

The red apples are even more beautiful then you’d first seen as you stand ogling them from your spot in the muddy lane, “Sir I’d like three apples and a loaf of that bread please.” You ask, your voice sweet as honey.

He nods, “That’ll be two silver pieces and a copper cent.” Inquires the baker with a friendly smile, casually looking you up and down though you’re to focused on the apples to even notice his slight creepiness.

Geralt does and immediately steps forward, his broad leather armored shoulder placing itself in between you and the lonely baker. His golden irises dark and deadly as he stares down the now noticeably frightened man.

The baker takes a step back, sending him a shy half grin, “Uh...I’ll get those apples...and uh...loaf of br-bread.” He stutteres, dropped his eyes to nothing else but his new task at hand.

You watch from behind Geralt’s strong body, your mind on those big beautiful apples as Geralt fishes out the coin, dropping it atop the wooden table as the baker hands him the loaf and a small bag filled with three juicy red apples.

A smile breaks out upon your face as Geralt hands you the food, you gratefully accept as he turns and practically death glares at the stunned baker, who’s notably averted his gaze to his fluffy loaves of bread.

Geralt turns back around to watch as you hug your valuables close, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at your obliviously cute demeanor.

Resting a hand on your shoulder he finds your beaming eyes, “Lets go find Roach.”

You gasp, “I bet Roach would love one of these big beautiful bastards.” Earning a chuckle from your silver haired lover as he walks by your side on the way to the front entrance of the small village.

You both wander past some more harmless villagers going about their business until a small dirty little boy races past the two of you, tripping over his own two feet and just like that does he abruptly fall into the dirt. His hands landing with a thwack sound as his stomach and knees reach the hard ground.

He lets out a pained cry once his chin hits the earth, you don’t have time to think before you’ve crouched by his side like a concerned mother. You gently touch his shoulder as he sniffles, his dirt smudged face turning to you.

“That was quite the tumble, are you alright?” His big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears as he moves into a seated position, his hands clutched tight against his chest as he holds in the pain.

“Y-yes.....sorry miss I should have been looking were I was going.” He mutters, his eyes downcast as he avoids Geralt’s hard gaze from right next to you.

Your eyes turn soft before you take one of your red apples from out of your thin ruck sack, “I have just the thing that would cheer you up, ever taste something as colorful as this crimson beauty?” You add with a raise of your brow, the young boy sniffles again. His face lighting up as you wave the shining red apple across his line of sight.

You smile, handing him the scarlet treat, “I think you need this more then me. Maybe it’ll sharped those senses so you won’t fall again, hmm.”

He holds the valuable in his small grubby fingers, his eyes wide in surprised wonder, “Th-thank you miss, I’ll try and not fall again.”

You breath out an amused snort, “Yes, I wouldn’t want to land on these streets again, considering horses are ridden through them daily.” The brown eyed boy gives you the shyest of smiles before you stand to your full height once again.

“Safe travels.” You add with a friendly wink before continuing on your way out of the village, Geralt trailing after you like the ever loyal lover that he is.

His large form keeps comfortably at your side, “That was our apple Y/N.” States Geralt in his titular gruff Witcher voice.

Turning an amused smirk to him, you nudge his arm, “Great observation, but the little beast seemed to need it more...poor thing just about face planted in the street. Did look quite painful.”

Geralt smiles, always bemused by your kind intellect, “Y/N you are too kind.”

Walking past the front gates and down the muddy village trail you let out a small laugh, “What? Can I not give a little, if you haven’t noticed my White Wolf...this world doesn’t like to be very kind to the innocent most times.” He hums in agreement, “So you see, I’ll do whatever I can to help those who need it most. And if that’s a clumsy child with a dirty face, I’ll be glad to make their day better.”

You can’t see it, but Geralt’s heart could just about explode with how much love he has for you in this very moment, the way you speak with such care and kindness for the people of the continent. He’s never met anyone like you, through it all, with all you’ve seen, your heart still goes out for the ones who need it the most and Geralt knows this. 

Your whole aurora feels light and warm, excitement courses through your vessel as you think of how happy Roach is going to be once she gets a taste of your delicious apple. And especially how much you’re looking forward to taking a bite out of your own crispy red apple too. It’s the little things.

Boots press into mud as you finally find your way to the small stream where you both left Roach to nibble on some vegetation. You quickly set your loaf of bread onto a mossy log before reaching in your thin ruck sack to pull out one beautifully shiny crimson apple.

“Hello my dear Roach!” You exclaim happily as the mare neighs, “I’ve got a lil somethin’ for ya, it’s a...da da da daaaa....apple!” Geralt chuckles to himself in the background as he fumbles around in his black traveling bag, finding something to sharpen his sword with.

“How bout’ them apples..” you burst with laughter at your admittedly cheesy jest, “Okay, okay...here ya go Roach. A prize for the best lady in all the land.” Her head bobs up and down as you bring the red apple near her face. She quickly devours the fruit in a matter of seconds, the speed and her clear delight enough to earn a giggle from you.

“Roach.” You tut with a shake of your head, “Those manners are something else. Wonder who you learned them from?”

You turn an eye to Geralt who’s stopped sharpening his sword to find your humored gaze, “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.” He mutters, doing his best to hide his growing smile.

Turning a flustered face away from him you gently pet Roach’s soft mane, “He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?” You whisper to the mare.

After tending to Roach for a bit do you walk down to the stream, washing away the dirt and grime from your hands and face as Geralt starts a fire close by. You can feel his golden irises watching you as the cool water washes away the worries of the day.

Finishing up your nightly routine, you stand once more, turning around to face the loving smile of your dear Witcher. You walk over to his glowing fire, a small smile upon your lips, “Room for one more?”

He scoots himself down the log, patting to the extra spot, “There’s always room for you.”

Sitting yourself next to him, he quickly wraps a protective arm around you, pulling your body close. The both of you do nothing but enjoy one another’s company and the crackling of the campfire for what seems like hours. You couldn’t be bothered to remove yourself from Geralt even if a whole war party was racing past you both louder then a giants scream.

Though you’re just about certain without a doubt in your mind that Geralt feels the exact same way. His breathing his steady and calm, it’s a comforting rhythm that you could listen to for hours. Even his large muscular arm is warm against your body, he’s like a furnace on the coldest night. And all yours.

You’re just about to drift off into dreamland when a sudden loud howl is heard in the near distance causing you to jump. Geralt hugs you closer, “Fear not Y/N, it’s just a damn wolf, nothing to be afraid of.” He assures you with the kindest of smiles, not a note of falseness lacing his words.

Resting your head against his broad shoulder once again, you gently squeeze his hand, “Right, of course. Just a stupid old wolf who apparently feels it the time to howl at the full moon tonight.” You affirm with a curt nod, “I mean, it’s beautiful out and whatnot, guess it just startled me is all.”

“There’s nothing in these woods to be afraid of, except for me.” Grumbles Geralt as he stares into the embers of the fire.

“Oh, my love I could never be afraid of you. Never.” He smiles at your truthfulness, his chest filling with warmth at your kind words.

In reply he places a gentle kiss atop your head, earning a content sigh to leave your lips at the feeling, he is too good to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not once has he ever made you uncomfortable or in fear for your life because of him, Geralt makes sure of himself to always put you first. He couldn’t bare to ever see you in pain.

The grip on your Witcher’s arm goes tighter at the sound of another piercing howl, this time much too close for your liking. Geralt can sense the fearful uneasiness radiating off of your smaller frame, how your heartbeat has picked up with the rush of your nerves. You’re not one to scare that easily, but this wolf is most definitely getting closer for whatever reason.

“Geralt!” You whisper yell, “That sounded close!”

With one arm wrapped around your torso and the other one clasped around the hilt of his silver sword, he looks around him as they two of you keep seated atop the log, a grand moon cloaking the land in a strangely beautiful whiteness. Revealing enough light upon the ground so that not all of the forest is covered in darkness and shadow.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will protect you.” He swears to you, giving a light squeeze to your hip in a small act of comfort, “And anyways, if this was anything to be truly concerned about, Roach would show it. We are going to be fine. This wolf is simply just passing through.”

Your eyes glance over to Roach who’s casually nibbling on some grass, “Alright. Perhaps I’m overreacting, it’s just a wolf going on a nightly stroll as you do, nothing weird about that.”

“Precisely, now how about we get ready for bed? I’ve got the bed rolls already layed out for us....so don’t worry Y/N I’ve got you.” Reassures your Witcher as he removes his arm from your side to rest his sword in the grass right next to his makeshift bed. 

Feeling much better now you eagerly follow suit, the roughish cloth of your traveling bed roll is a cherished luxury of journeying across the vast lands of the continent. Though a tavern mattress would be more inviting, the arms of Geralt are always enough in your eyes, or perhaps arms in this case.

Even on the coldest of nights out here would you never really feel a shiver or the icy touch of the cool night air upon your skin. For your Witcher’s large frame seems to always be enough to block out the chill with his body heat when pressed closely against your back.

 Just like he is doing now, holding you securely to his large chest, his arms wrapped around your torso. Pulling yourself firmly counter to him, a thick blanket holding in the needed heat that nicely covers over the both of you.

With Geralt so near, your wandering and worrying mind has subsided those troublesome thoughts away from you, the howling wolf from earlier now finding it’s way into the back of your head. Giving yourself time to forget and find the call to sleep once again. With the warmth of Geralt holding you close, your eyelids flutter shut in a matter of seconds, the pull into the dark void of unconsciousness taking hold of you quickly.

Soon you’re out like a light, Geralt falling asleep not long after you do, leaving only the dull glowing embers of the campfire to keep watch over the two of you. Sleep is peaceful and full of strange images presenting themselves as dreams in your head, you can hear the soft sweet calling of Geralt as he speaks sweet nothings into the bleary grey void. 

Suddenly you’re standing in a large field of the greenest grasses flowing at your feet, large beautiful mountains surrounding you on all sides off in the far distance, you look to your left and find a single small tree with a branch sticking out. 

Walking closer, a black raven materializes right before your very eyes, breaking the silence with a gravelly shrill caw as it nods in your direction. Like it’s trying to communicate with you in the birds own way, furrowing your brows, you trek closer to the mysterious bird. You don’t appear to feel afraid or scared, you’re not even sure if you feel anything at all. Guess that’s just how dreams are sometimes.

Taking another step closer the raven lets out a thrilling caw before the dark bird spreads its black wings, you stumble back as the bird jumps from its perch to take flight. It flaps past you before landing on the short green grass where it is immediately clouded in dark smoke of blues, purples, and deep reds until everything clears to reveal the dirt smudged face of the little boy from earlier that day.

You gasp, surprised to see the little guy standing right before you once again, he looks up to you now, the tiniest of smiles crossing over his face. You stand perplexed, ready to ask him why he’s here when suddenly he points to the blue sky. 

“Hold your silver close.” He speaks softly, in that unassuming boyish voice of his.

Hugging yourself, you glance back down at him, “Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean.”

He simply points his little stubby finger back up at the sky, you follow, bewildered to find that the sky is now dark and full of stars, though you can still see around you like the sun is still out. How odd.

“Hold your Witcher close.” Warns the small child in the calmest of voices. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion you meet his stoic gaze once again. “Uh....I’m kind of lost, sorry.” You mutter, “I’m not certain what you mean.”

The child smiles a beaming grin, letting out the most adorable of giggles before pointing up at the night sky for the third time, you shift your gaze to find nothing but pitch blackness. And a huge milk white glowing full moon, it’s the largest you’ve ever seen and it’s absolutely magnificent.

You don’t even notice the smile that's fallen onto your face when you suddenly hear the flapping of feathers, snapping your sight back over to the young boy, you’re perplexed to be greeted with the beaming wrinkly face of the old woman from the market. 

She nods, acknowledging your presence, “Watch for what lurks in the woods dear. The full moon is here.” She whispers, the warmest of smiles gracing over her aged face as she nods to you once again.

Taking a step closer you take a nervous fistful of the red cloak that’s covering your body, how strange you didn’t notice the material before hand. “Oh, uh hello there....it is quite beautiful isn’t it.” You stammer, “There was a little boy just here moments ago. Do you know where he went?”

She tilts her head to the side, walking a couple steps forward so that she can reach out to clasp both your hands with hers, a kind twinkle in her eye, “My dear, he will always love you, through land and sea, from woods to meadow, and far beyond what makes us human.” She gently squeezes your hands in reassurance, “No matter the cost, he will always love you. For you are his moon, and he is your sun.”

Your brows scrunch together at her poetic words of wisdom? Or, well you’re not entirely so sure, “Sorry. I’m not confident on what you’re getting at ma’am, uh...thank you, I guess.” She smiles once again, showing you a nod of approval before letting go of your hands. 

She takes a step back, clasping her palms together, “He is here.” 

“Who is here?” You wonder.

“You will see.”

Without warning she abruptly bursts into a flurry of cawing ravens that squawk and screech as they press and flap their dark wings against your face, causing you to fall back into the grass from the jolting intrusion. Suddenly you suck in a quick breath of cold air, your eyes shooting wide open, only for you to find the snoozing face of Geralt. 

His tangled dirty white hair a mess over his handsome face as he lets in slow and calming breaths, you relax, letting out an audible sigh of relief. What a strange dream that was, you’ve never had anything like it before. And your dreams are far from anything normal most times. 

Though Geralt feels rather nice snuggled next to you, your body feels hot and sweaty, like you can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed and cornered at the moment. Wanting to get some air and cool off, you quietly and skillfully slip from your Witcher’s sweet embrace. You slowly cover him back up with the thick blanket, tip-toeing over to Roach who’s itching her furry bottom on a tree.

You take small steps towards her, a half smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “Hey there girl, having fun?” You chuckle to yourself as she does her thing.

“Nice night huh, I hope no one’s come around to bother you.” She leans her big soft nose into your gentle touch as you pet her, “I got a little too warm, guess Geralt’s a lot hotter then I anticipated. Well, I mean...he’s always hot if you catch my meaning...but you probably already new that and uh....you’d probably rather not listen to me ramble on about how attractive your rider is, hmm? So don’t fret, I will stop.”

She snorts, nudging her nose into your opened palm, “Okay girl, I think you’re great too. I’d say you’ve helped us out quite a bit and not to mention when...” 

Snap.

Your head leers to the left at the abrupt sound, nothing but milky white darkness and shadow is to be seen as your eyes trail over the wood line. That was certainly very close, what the hell even made that stick break? Was it a deer, or maybe a coyote? 

Your nerves prick when Roach suddenly takes a wary step backwards, her leather reigns pulling to their limit as she takes another step away from you. Thinking quick, you rush to her side, pulling out Geralt’s other silver sword just incase some weird shit is about to go down.

Grasping the blade in your tight grip, you take cautious steps towards the heavy pines that seems to be the place where the stick snapped. You swallow nervously, your heart just about beating out of your chest as you travel closer and closer to the green bristles. 

Y/N what are you doing? Have you learned nothing from what those weird dreams were telling you?

Blinking hard, you stop, turning an apprehensive glance over to your peacefully sleeping Witcher, why wake him this could be a simple deer? Letting out another shaky breath you turn towards the thick pine trees, squinting your eyes as you try and do your absolute best to locate the intruder. Walking past a small evergreen, your heart feels like it’s about to explode when suddenly you hear a gentle rustle of leaves directly in front of you.

Turn back idiot.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you blink again, attempting to focus enough that maybe you’ll be able to see what’s making that noise. But as you’re leaning in to the pines, does your eyes finally catch the sight of a large black figure standing on the other side of the tree. Without warning the shadow leaps, you don’t even have a chance to scream before the flash of pearly white fangs reveals itself to you in a raging blur. 

The beast shoves you back into the clearing, emitting a blood curdling howl of agony as it steps into the moonlight, your eyes widen in fear at the chilling sight of a huge dark-grey werewolf. It’s inhuman eyes that of glowing topaz, it’s fangs bare and mouth dripping with saliva. Your chest rises and falls with heavy terrified breaths as the wolfman stands on two legs, its strong hand going to its stomach where a thick human like paw pulls out your silver blade.

Steaming red hot blood pours to the frost covered earth as the beast drops the shinning silver to the ground, its wound showing in the bright moonlight as it eyes you down like you’re nothing more then a lost sheep. You shiver at the sight, desperately scooting yourself backwards towards the fire as the werewolf growls a low but haunting note, falling onto all fours as it takes a step closer.

A frightful tear falls down the side of your cheek, you see nothing but hunger and pain in this creatures eyes, he’s slowly dying, but you know he will kill you before his last breath is had.

The wolfman growls again, readying a last charge when all of a sudden a shimmering silver sword is thrust deeply into the beasts throat, the source of its demise steps in between you and the wounded bastard.

Your eyes are wide as you watch the werewolf sink to the earth, gargling and choking on it’s own blood as it dies, twitching here and there before finally it goes still as stone. Not a sound emitting from it’s vessel but the heavy breaths of yourself and Geralt, who’s walked over to the beast now. Crouching down to observe it better, he hums, pulling the blood covered sword out of the monsters throat with a gross meaty sound.

You let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling yourself to your feet as Geralt drags his bloody silver over the beasts fur to clean the wet red from the blade. You swallow thickly, eyes watery from the whole frightening ordeal, “So not a deer as I had hoped.” You mutter, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips causing you to gasp in pain at something on your ribs. 

Geralt pierces his sword into the soft dirt, his face a mask of frustrated anger as he turns to you, “Y/N what where you thinking? You could have been killed, you didn’t know what was lurking in the dark, why wouldn’t you have just stayed by the fire?” He grumbles as you avoid his troubled gaze.

Another tear slips down your cheek causing his face to immediately soften, “I don’t know?” You whisper sadly, “I...I shouldn’t have thought to walk in the dark alone like that, it was foolish of me Geralt, truly...I’ll think better of it next time I promi- agh ugh...”A sharp jolting pain rips through your body right down the side of your right ribcage, feeling like someone has just burned you with a cast iron. 

More whimpers slip from your tongue at the searing violent stinging of your flesh causing you to press your hands against the area, your face contorting into one of agony while Geralt’s expression reveals deep concern. Not understanding in the slightest why you feel such misery all of a sudden, your eyes slip down to the dreaded area where you take notice of how your dark coat appears to be torn in jagged slashes where the pain is coming from.

Your brows furrow as you slowly remove your tied overcoat, Geralt’s big golden irises studying your every move for what the problem may be. Your hands make quick work of the lacing, now your arms move as you remove the jacket, you gasp in fear once it falls to the ground.

“Y/N.” Whispers Geralt in the softest of voices as a lone tear slides down your cheek.

Slowly you raise your weary head to meet is saddened gaze, “I’ve been bitten.” You rasp, lifting your bloody hand up into the silky moonlight, the burning ache of your wound making itself more present then ever.

Suddenly a surging spike of white hot torment angrily tears up into your side once more, though this time it’s too overwhelmingly excruciating that you fall to your knees, desperately grasping your wounded side when Geralt takes quick steps forward. Pulling you into his strong arms before you’re able to even hit the cold earth completely, his eyes never leaving your distressed face.

“Y/N look at me love, I’m right here...” He speaks gently while holding you close, though you can’t look at him, “don’t be afraid I’ve got you.”

More fearful tears fall freely now as you press your face into his shoulder, a numb and dark feeling finding it’s way into your soul while your arms wrap themselves around his waist, “No, not this.” You cry, shaking with fright, “This cannot be, I-I cannot be a wolf beast....I won’t ever harm anyone Geralt I swear to you on my life, I would never! I-I could never, it isn’t in me!” 

“Oh Y/N, my dear Y/N..” His voice surprises you with how uncharacteristically tender it sounds, “Look at me love.” He pleads calmly, pulling you from his shoulder so that you may look into his kind-hearted gaze, “Do you think now, that I would dare lay my blade against your precious skin?” Your lip quivers as your watery eyes slip from his to the werewolf laying dead near the two of you.

“I am one of them now Geralt. How can I live as this now, I am not a monster. I can’t hurt innocent people, I can’t.” You exclaim, your voice breaking as you speak, “All the years we have been together have been the happiest of my entire life, know this Geralt. You bring me so much joy and light that I never imagined I could ever feel, you have given me your heart even when you first claimed you could not love. I will never forget that.” His heart breaks in two at your truthful words of honesty paired with how somber and dismal you appear.

Not being able to stand you looking away from him for much longer, he carefully lifts a hand up to turn your face to his, leaving his palm on your cheek in a comforting manner, “Y/N my love, you will never be a monster in my eyes, not once not ever. I may be a Witcher, but you will not meet an untimely end due to this curse that has made it’s way into your vessel.” His eyes are soft and serene, full of absolute love and adoration for you.

Y/N he will not hurt you, but you cannot hurt others.

You sniffle, your voice thick as you speak, “I will not let others suffer a violent death because of me Geralt, it’s not in my blood.”

“You will not, there is always another way..”

“There is no other way!” You interrupt, sure of yourself that this new affliction will be your inevitable demise, “A werewolf cannot be broken of their curse once it is had, there are no known antidotes!”

“Y/N..”

“This bite cannot be undone Geralt.”

Eyes softening, he pulls you in closer to rest his head against your own, “My dear Y/N, your life means more to me then you know. I will find you the cure, I have seen a vial of it myself long ago when visiting an experienced alchemist who taught me many things about potion making. He will surly know how to rid this she-wolf within you, I am sure of it.”

Lifting your face away from his, you finally show him the tiniest of relieved smiles, your heart bursting with joy at this refreshing news, “You never fail to surprise me, even now. I trust you...I love you Geralt of Rivia with my entire being, every part of me from now until death. I guess this world has yet to bring me down.” 

Studying your newly determined expression, he grins with eyes full of love, “I do not doubt it my dear one.”

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #my work

[attllhak]

Flora’s Musings

So, here’s the WingAU fic I mentioned. It’s the first one I wrote and features the fun trope of “The Unreliable Narrator That Is History”, which I had a lot of fun with.

I, don’t have a tag list for this AU at this point. So, this part is just my preamble I guess. So, preamble over, here’s the fic.

-------------------

Zelda ran her fingertips between her shoulder blades. She tried not to think about what wasn’t there.

Her wings would come in, she hoped, no she knew they would. They had to. As the princess fated to stop Calamity Ganon it was her duty to unlock her sealing powers, face him, and earn her wings.

It was why she was down here now, in the hidden and secret library they’d excavated. No one cared about this area of the castle, but Zelda loved it there. It was so full of knowledge, and there were records about the Queens and Princesses of the past, ones who had wings themselves.

It was certainly a good excuse to hide down there and do research.

There weren’t many documents on the founders of Hyrule, but she’d translated a few of the ancient texts and had learned much. Apparently her powers came from the fact she was descended from Hylia herself! There were exactly three paintings of her down there, and all of them were old and weathered. Two, one of her alone and one next to her husband, the first King of Hyrule, who was holding the Master Sword, his own wings giving him away as the first of Link’s incarnations, were so old almost all of the colour was gone. The last one, however, had been tucked into a book and, protected from the elements, retained some of its colour.

The goddess reborn had gold wings, bright and shining and as beautiful as everyone expected them to be. Her Hero, however, had red wings, a bright crimson with soft gold flight feathers. What was more, this painting seemed to depict them in their downtime, the goddess still dressed up and all, but leaning over the edge of her throne. Her Hero sat on the dias and leaned against the throne, and was messing with something in his hands that the goddess seemed to be watching, though age obscured what it was. It was entirely unprofessional and sweet, and it made Zelda happy. It made them seem less like untouchable figures of pure good and more like real people. She liked that they were people too.

There was only one picture of the next Queen, and it was so old and weathered that Zelda was scared to touch it lest it crumble into dust. This queen had smaller wings, though Zelda couldn’t tell what colour they were supposed to be. Her Hero was there too, and he had four wings, and Zelda couldn’t be sure but it almost seemed like each wing was a different colour. She couldn’t find any other record of these two, and so she’d taken a picture of the image on the Sheikah Slate to preserve it. This painting was important.

One of the Queens came from the point in history called the Split, a strange period of several thousand years where very different events happened at the same time. They had, through the records in the castle libraries and the temples across Hyrule, figured out this Queen had lived three different recorded lives. Regardless, she always looked the same, or similar at least, in all of her lives. She was a warrior, and her wings, indigo and white and flecked with gold, were always held in a way that showed pride.

Her Hero wasn’t always with her, in two of her lifetimes she ruled alone. In one of them, her Hero had died trying to fight Ganon, and was buried with wings wrapped about him, as was traditional for Heroes and their Queens. The Queen had been Princess then, the books say, and was only 17. I made Zelda uneasy, Link had turned 17 just a few months ago, and her 17th birthday was fast approaching. To think the Hero of Time could die at 17 made her worried for her own Hero. The next of the two he just, wasn’t there. There was no record of the Hero after he defeated Ganon, he just vanished without a trace. Zelda still wanted to know why. The last life gave the most information on the Hero, but he wasn’t listed as a Hero at all. There was no fight in this life, just peace and a failed arrest. As far as historians could tell, this was the most accurate life of hers, but Zelda wasn’t so sure. After all, she and the head of her Royal Guard both had wings. Something had to have happened. These were the only records of the Hero of Time where his wings were visible. A beautiful metallic copper, with darker bronze flight feathers. He seemed to keep them close to his body, like he didn’t want anyone to pay attention to him or them. He apparently married a farm girl in this life.

There were different heirs in each of these lives. For the first life the Queen was a fighter, one with all kinds of magic at her fingertips. Her wings were pink and red, and when she spread them a little bit of gold could be seen at the base of them. This was a Queen who never shied away from the many, many issues her people faced. And many issues there were, records argued whether the number of quests her Hero went on was five or six or twelve. He seemed grumpy in every painting, but after seven-ish quests Zelda would be too. His wings were pink, a million different shades at once. He also seemed to prefer long tunics or dresses to pants. Apparently he didn’t like pants.

After them came a pair of Queens. Zelda initially thought they were cousins, but apparently one was the other’s ancestor, as bizarre as that was. Only one of the two had wings, a soft amber or honey colour, a safe, warm brown. The Princess didn’t have wings, but was no less important if the records and paintings were to be believed. Their Hero didn’t look like much, but his wings, a deep, dark green with earthy brown flight feathers, told of his heroics enough that his looks didn’t have to. Records said he married the Princess, but they never had children, instead helping the Queen raise her bastard twins as a group. Zelda wondered if perhaps the three had all been together, so to speak, and the twins were actually his.

In the second life, there was only one heir, a woman who was named ‘Tetra’ and not Zelda. Her wings were blue, with red separating the blue from gold flight feathers. It was a beautiful colour. Her Hero was usually pictured at her side, his silver tipped sea foam green feathers shining next to her. Those two were always painted outside, and usually on a boat of some kind.

Following the timeline that was decided to be ‘true’, the Queen following the Queen of Three Lives was her great-granddaughter. Her wings, sleek and graceful, were solid black save for the lowest layer of feathers, which was a soft golden-orange colour. Her Hero was hardly ever at her side, history said he spent most of his time in his home village or on assignments for the Queen. Zelda didn’t know if they didn’t get along, or if he hated the city and castle, or why it was that he was never around his Queen, but there was only one painting of him next to her. His wings were big, wide and strong, a range of soft oranges with a rare black feather scattered across them. He also wore a strange charm on a rope around his neck, but no one seemed to know what it was.

The only other Queen, save for the one from 10 000 years ago, was one with a story so outlandish that historians debated on whether or not she was real. She always held a sword or bow in hand, and her wings were either spread for flight or held in close for combat. They were gold, with white flight feathers that seemed to go indigo at the base of each feather. Black flecked the gold, making it obvious she was a fighter. Her Hero was always with her, his wings out behind him, flared up in a show of pride or confidence, a rallying cry for his troops. They fought in a war, so the records claimed. His wings were gold, shiny silver spots scattered over his wings, not dissimilar to the stars in the sky, that made his wings look like they glittered. He was beautiful, as was his Queen, and it was clear that the two were very close.

There weren’t any records on the wings of the Queen 10 000 years ago, nor her Hero, and Zelda didn’t know why that was. Perhaps those records were lost when the Sheikah split. It was unlikely she would ever know.

Zelda didn’t know when her wings would come in, and some days she feared they never would. It was a comfort at least that Link’s wings hadn’t come in yet either.

He found her a few hours later, bringing her a blanket and some food. He sat with her and politely signed a request for her to read to him. They read all through the night, and Impa found them the next morning, Zelda leaned over the desk with her head on her arms and Link leaning on the side of her desk, head tilted back and drooling. She left them there.

When the Calamity hit and she didn’t get her wings she felt like such a failure, especially since Link’s wings had just broken skin a few moments ago, greyish brown wings that were still all fluff coming through the slits in his tunic designed to accommodate them.

She sat next to him in the Shrine of Resurrection, just before they sealed it. His wings were still small, they had never had the chance to come in fully before he fell. She reached over and brushed hair from his face, watching his relaxed features and ignoring the burns on the rest of his body.

“Don’t worry, Link,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure they’re all safe until you wake up,”

She marched on the castle then, staring down the Calamity and ready to give everything she had to keep him at bay.

She reached forward, holding her hand out to the monster and ready to fight. She could feel the triforce on her hand burn in response, her body spilling a radiant golden light. The monster dove for her, and she held her ground, eyes open and ready to stand and fight.

A push on her shoulders, then the pressure bursting and wings spread out behind her.

Blue and white feathers sat on the ground where she was moments before.

(---)

Link stepped into the castle, tiny wings fluffed up in anxiety and nerves making them quiver. He paused as he moved towards the heart, lifting one foot.

Under his boot, was a pair of blue and white feathers, perfectly preserved from when they fell there 100 years before.

#linked universe #lu #lu wild #lu flora #wing au #so as i said in the tags for my last fic in this series #these were meant/were written to be general loz too #so i'll add those tags #but after the first five #because tumblr only cares about the first five #so #breath of the wild #legend of zelda #tada. there we go #there is a second part of this #with wild running around and doing his thing #might post that at some point #but here's this one #i have no idea if people even care about this au of mine #but i do #so here it is

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I... I would... I would love to see Jameson testing Jake some more... I mean the drabble of him demanding Jake let him do things for him for food was... good...

Your wish is my command, my love

CW: Noncon/dubcon (nightmare, semi-explicit), noncon/dubcon touching and kissing, internal dehumanization, flashbacks, survivor initiates spice and is rejected, conditioned behavior, trauma response, knives, blood

More salt-copper-sweetness than sugar and vanilla, now, Nanda’s voice is rough with his breath hot against the pet’s ear. It’s a warmth that covers him, inside and out. 

It presses against the underside of the pet’s skin, and he opens his mouth to pant, sure that the blood will come back out from within him when he does, that he’ll spill Nanda’s voice back at him, a waterfall of the touch and tension and twist leaving him to fall like an offering or a plea at Nanda’s feet.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” Nanda asks, licking at the shell of his ear, and the pet shivers, all his awareness stretched between the hot tongue on his skin and the cold blade of the knife, the flat side pressed against his ribcage on one side.

Each is a promise, and the pet wants both to be kept.

“I-I...” His own voice is weak, snap of twigs, rosemary boiled in water until the flavor is gone. He shifts, kneeling somewhere that he can’t remember, a small room in a small house on a small street in a town where everything is named for the glory of the man he saved her from. There’s a folded paper on a desk and if he can only look, he’ll know, he’ll know why and where and when. If he can only look-

“I thought it might b-be difficult-... ah!”

Nanda’s hand, rough palms and calloused fingers, curving around the back of his neck over his collar, jerking him closer, and he forgets the note and the room and the town and there is only Nanda, there has only ever been Nanda and the pain. There are metal cuffs around his wrists, his favorite ones that scratch him and sting perfectly for hours after they’re done, keeping his hands behind him, just touching the small of his back with his wrists and his knuckles brush even lower. 

“What might be difficult, pet?” 

Oh, there’s the sugar, the slow melody of vanilla and egg. He loves how his owner says what he is, he has to love it, he was told to love it and there is no love but this one, no life for him but the custard voice of the man who cuts him to ribbons until he begs for more.

The pet’s mouth opens to pant as the knife is turned, Nanda’s motions slow and controlled, and the bright light of perfect pain sparks inside him as the knife draws a line. His skin opens like silk for the blade, and he moans, dropping his head forward onto Nanda’s shoulder, listening to the sound of his laughter like a spoon cracking the crust on creme brulee. Sugar, and fire, and blood.

“That... that it’d be difficult... mmmmn, fuck-... what with y-you... being dead.”

Nanda goes silent, shifting one thigh between the pet’s legs, pressing kisses into the soft, short shorn hair with bald spots from Robert’s muzzle, humming softly in thought. His thumb rubs, ever so gently, at the pet’s nape while the knife slips a little deeper.

The pet whimpers, rocks, ruts helplessly against Nanda’s leg, turns his head enough to lock at the soft skin of Nanda’s neck the underside of his jaw. Blood trickles in a welcome hint of sensation down his side, over the flat space just inside his hip. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Nanda murmurs, fingers twisting into his hair, pulling it up and back enough to see the pleasure-drunk haze in the pet’s eyes, watch him bite his lip to muffle his whimpers and moans as he rocks in an erratic rhythm against the expensive fucking tailored pants Nanda is wearing. “To leave me like that.”

“You... ah, mmmh... fuck, you left me.”

“Look at you.” Nanda’s voice is a whisper again. The knife dips, swirls lazily through his skin like an artist pulling color across canvas. It presses in just a little too deep (not deep enough) and the pet throws his head back, briefly breaking Nanda’s grip, back arching into a perfect bow as he cries out. Nanda’s hand pushes between his legs, then, too-warm and not warm enough, firm grip curving around him, stroking with the same lazy slowness that he has with the knife. “What is it like, to love the pain?”

The pet swallows, the knife digs and digs digs into soft skin along his belly, drops down to his thigh, blood wells up swift and absurdly brightly red there. 

“It’s... it’s hell,” He whispers. “I hate, ah, ah, ah-... I hate this.”

Nanda’s laugh breaks apart like a mirror, shatters into a thousand bites of sweet blood, drips over his mind like oil. If he was kneeling before, he’s on his knees again with his face pressed down against the cool concrete floor of the specialty room, legs spread, and his back is heat and blood and pain. 

Nanda’s hands are on his hips, gripped tightly enough to leave the bruises he will kiss later, as he murmurs, “We know all about coming back from the dead, here, don’t we, J-”

Jameson wakes up.

There’s no gasp, no dramatic sitting-up-in-bed like in the movies. In one moment, Nanda’s voice murmured a name he can’t remember as the pet’s body gave way to his demands and in the next his eyes are open to pitch-black darkness and the soft sound of his roommate’s breathing across the room.

The pet’s-...

Jameson’s body shudders, shivers roiling under his skin. He is hard and throbbing, and one of his hands brushes down over his ribs just to make sure his fingers don’t slip through slick blood. He breathes in through his nose, heart pounding, and looks across the room.

The barest hint of moonlight through the window gives him enough to see Allyn by. Their hair spreads light red and thick around them, the blue light of night turning it all slightly eerie and haunted. The rounded lines of their face, the soft relaxation of their mouth. He wishes Allyn would bite him hard enough to make it bleed, and then pour their rain-voice over him and tell him he’s good. He wants their hands on him. 

He wants someone’s hand on him.

He reaches under the pillow and grabs his collar, keeping his fingers over the buckle to muffle its clinking, and pulls it quickly on around his neck, choking on a sob, on his rage, on how badly he needs to be cut apart until he feels taken in ways he wants no one to ever take him again. 

The constriction is soothing. He’s safe.

He’s safe, here.

He’s so hard the slightest brush against his boxers feels like he could finish just like this, just from the memory of Nanda’s voice whispering are you ready for me, pet?

A different voice, sonorous and droning, are you ready to leave the darkness and come back into the light-

False memories. Stop. Leave me alone. He bites his lip until he feels blood break free, but it’s not enough.

Jameson pushes the blankets down - he’s pouring sweat, cold but it doesn’t make him feel any better - and sits up. His feet settle onto the cool smooth hardwood, as old as the house, and he stands, stumbling to the door. He thinks-

He thinks, water.

A drink of water.

Rub one out to the memory of a dead man, then water, and back to bed.

The bathroom door is open. The light is on. He almost stops, but he knows Nova never turns the bathroom light off if she uses it, she says it’s bad luck, he doesn’t ask but she says it anyway. Everyone thinks he fucking cares about their shit here. He doesn’t.

He just needs-

water-

touch-

to be bled by someone who tells him he is a good boy-

The big guy who owns this place is in the bathroom. Jameson stops in the doorway, staring at his back. Muscles ripple under mostly unmarked skin, the slight curve of waist and small of his back. Jameson pictures his own nails digging into the skin, the soft red welts he could leave there, lines to mark him. How Jake’s hands could leave him bruised in all the best places.

How easily he could force his legs apart or shove him up against a wall and hold him there, hands around his neck, thumbs digging into his jaw on either side. How Jake’s voice would sound when he moaned, when he buried himself inside, when the pain between them was perfect, like it had been with Nanda, like it can be again.

His heart is still pounding, thumping so loud he’s sure Jake can hear it, pouring adrenaline in his veins he tells himself is lust and not fear of how deep this runs.

He moves.

Jake’s eyes must have been closed, whatever he was doing, because he doesn’t see Jameson coming, and he jumps when his hand lays against his back, turning quickly around. He’s so tall, and strong, but there are no bruises from him on the pet’s-

on Jameson’s skin.

“Hey,” Jake says, voice low, river under rock, wearing what seems eternal slowly away. His eyes drop to the collar buckled tightly around Jameson’s neck, and he takes in a breath. There’s no surprise, there. He’s seen this before, they’ve seen so many pets, but none like me, Jameson thinks, almost desperately. Not like me. Not like this. “What do you-”

Jameson backs him into the sink and grabs his face in his hands, pulling him down, forcing their mouths together. It’s less a kiss than a challenge, and Jake makes a sound of muffled uncertainty before his hands slide up to Jameson’s shoulders, and he thinks, yes, make it hurt-

Jake shoves him back and away, holding him at arms’ length. “No.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Jameson snaps, trying to twist free of the grip, but Jake’s hands are strong. “I want you. I want this. Fuck me!” He shivers in pleasure as he pulls too hard and feels a burst of pain that goes right between his legs, his already nearly painful erection seeming to throb even harder. Being hurt hasn’t felt so good since Nanda died.

Since he walked away-

“I said no.” Jake shakes his head. There’s a stubble along his jaw, and Jameson hates Kauri suddenly for getting the redness on his skin where the stubble scratches even though Jameson never does, not anywhere, not on his inner thighs, nowhere at all. Hates how they smile at each other. Hates that Kauri doesn’t feel like this, not anymore, and Jameson can’t imagine it will never stop for him. “You know I won’t ever touch you that way.”

“I want you to!” His voice cracks, he’s desperate, and when Jake lets go, just for a second, Jameson grabs his hand and shoves it down, so Jake can feel how hard he is, rocks forward against the heat of Jake’s palm. “See? I want it. Please, fuck, please-” His eyes are wide with need, and fear - of himself and Jake and his mind and his broken betraying body. “Please, I’m good, please-”

Jake’s hand jerks back with a hiss and he moves away. “I. Will. Not. Fuck. You. Listen to me. Just talk to me for a second-... I need you take in a deep breath, I think you are reacting to a reminder of-”

“Oh, fuck off! If you won’t fuck me, get out of here so I can take care of my fucking s-self.”

God damn it, his voice is weakening, he feels like he’ll collapse under the weight of death he’s walked away from or caused by his own hand. He slumps down onto the ground, onto the bathmat next to the tub, and puts his hands over his face. 

There’s a pause, then Jake again. “Just-”

“Just fucking go!” His eyes burn bright and hot, his breath hitches. Still desire runs up through his nerves and won’t let him go. “Get out! I hate you! I should have stayed with h-him, I shouldn’t have left, I should have been good and good and good and good until, until, unt-til-”

There’s a whisper at the door, Jake’s low murmur in return. Jameson hears, tell everyone I’m handling it if they ask, stay out here. Make sure Allyn goes back to their room, just in case. 

Just in case what? In case he hurts them? In case-

He came in here so he wouldn’t. 

Oh, fuck, what if he hurts Allyn?

A pause, and then the click of the door closing. Jameson looks out from behind his fingers, only to find Jake slowly sliding down to sit with his back against the door. 

“Talk to me,” Jake says softly. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

Jameson’s tears break free, then, burn down his cheeks like a volcano is pouring liquid fire into a city below and leaving wreckage and empty air in the shape of bodies behind. He chokes on a sob and curls up around himself, shaking his head, again and again. 

He can’t stop crying, and Jake doesn’t stop him, only waits. 

He nods.

“Okay.” Jake’s voice is low. Fresh water on his tongue, a snowmelt waterfall by the side of the road. He laughed, didn’t he? He held his hand out to feel the icy water slide through his fingers and sink into the thawing earth below.

It doesn’t snow here.

Why won’t his mind stop inventing memories that aren’t his?

“What happened in your dream? You don’t have to tell me, only if you want to.” Jake’s voice, low and calming, doesn’t stop Jameson’s tears but instead it opens him up to them, he cries the same way he bled, helpless to stop. 

“M-My-... my first-... I was w-w-with him-”

“Okay.” Jake hesitates, and then asks, softly, “Can you tell me what you were so afraid of that you put the collar on?”

Jameson doesn’t look up. He keeps crying. Eventually, though, he manages to answer.

“M-myself.”

---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump  @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @wildfaewhump

#whump #nsfwhump #intimate whumper #intimate whump #masochism tw #sadistic whumper #creepy whumper #blood tw #knives tw #trauma response #abuse survivor initiating spice #dehumanization tw #conditioned behavior #conditioning #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #jameson bb #noncon tw #dubcon tw #noncon kissing #noncon touching #ptsd tw