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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Trailer Park Steve AU part 5

part 1 | part 4

“…Henderson? Oh, holy shit, Henderson!!”

Eddie sounds like a kid on Christmas morning as he comes bounding across the street, movements like a great dane tripping over gangly limbs. He barrels into Dustin and tackles him in a great big hug, swings him off the ground in a circle and puts him back down so they can do some elaborate handshake with slaps and switchbacks and an ending tap-tap of their ankle bones.

What the fuck?

Steve watches this whole thing go down with his hands on his hips and his face doing something horribly sour because seriously what the actual fuck? Stupid handshakes with Henderson are his thing.

“What are you doing here, man?” Munson asks Dustin with a jovial pat on the back. Dustin’s squeezing him around the middle, tucked into his side like a little kid hugging a giant teddy bear, face just lit the fuck up with excitement over this. Steve feels his nostrils flare in a brief flash of petty rage.

“Steve!” he shouts happily. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re neighbors with Eddie?”

Eddie’s face falls when he looks up and sees Steve. Feeling’s mutual, dickwad.

“You’re here to see Harrington?” He asks in a voice like flat soda, all the earlier enthusiasm sucked out into the void. He takes a tiny step away from Dustin — just the smallest bit of distance, a subtle lightening of his touch against his shoulder — but Steve doesn’t miss the flicker of hurt that passes between Dustin’s brows. As if he needed another reason to hate this guy.

“Uh, yeah?” Dustin asks, confusion coloring his tone. “He’s my brother.”

“He’s your what?”

Steve’s chest swells with pride. “He said I’m his brother.”

“Not my blood brother,” Dustin clarifies, and Eddie makes a little noise. “But yeah. He’s fucking awesome. And you’re fucking awesome—”

“Language?” Steve tries for Claudia’s sake, but Dustin’s on a roll now, getting louder and more exuberant as he starts talking with his hands.

“—And oh, holy shit, this is the best! Wait ‘til I tell Mike and Lucas about this. With you guys living so close, we can hang out all the time! And we won’t even have to make two bike rides!”

Dustin leans in to squeeze Eddie in another hug, so stoked he’s bouncing on his toes a little (so stoked he doesn’t even bother to ask Eddie if it’s cool if the whole party shows up at his door, but that’s Dusty for you). His face is turned into the front of Eddie’s shirt, and over the top of his baseball cap Eddie gives Steve this look that Steve’s pretty sure he returns. Serious. Somber. Resigned. A fucking gallows stare, because…

Because fuck. Fucking- goddammit.

They’re gonna have to pretend to tolerate each other now. For Dustin.

Steve’s left eye starts to twitch.

—

“Are you selling him drugs?”

“Excuse the fuck outta you??”

Okay. Yeah. Bad start. Backtrack. Steve knows this is not the right way to approach a conversation, especially not when it’s Saturday night and you just interrupted your neighbor’s house party to be an accusatory dick to him. The Munson trailer door is wide open behind Eddie, and Steve can see a couple guys he vaguely recognizes from school sitting in the living room — a chubby white dude, a nerdy black guy, and a baby-faced kid with a scowl to rival Mike’s. They’re eating pizza and smoking cigarettes and sipping some cheap-ass brand of beer, and Steve is clearly interrupting.

“Sorry,” he tries again.

“Wow,” Eddie smirks. “Didn’t know you knew that word.”

“Shut up, man- just— ugh.” He takes a deep breath, wills himself to stop rolling his eyes at the guy he needs to ask a favor. “I’m sorry, okay? Can I just talk to you for a second?”

Eddie considers him for a moment; chin tilted up, lips pursed; and then he steps onto the porch and shuts the door behind him. “I’m listening,” he murmurs around a fresh cigarette, hand cupped around the end to light it.

He holds the pack out to Steve. “You want one?”

“Do I- what?”

Eddie shakes the box for emphasis. “Do you want one?”

“No, I heard you, I just…” The weird ceasefire between them is tripping him the hell up. He doesn’t think it’ll go too well if he says that out loud, though. “…Yeah. Fuck it. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

They smoke in silence for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, looking out into the dark of the woods that kind of freak Steve out if he lets himself look too long. Something about the branches like long, spindly fingers in the dark; like jittering spider legs; like a Mindflayer made of—

“You wanted to ask me something?”

Steve rubs his brow with his thumb, lets the panic out on a slow breath. “Yeah, I just… Look, I’m not trying to— I mean, I shouldn’t accuse you of anything, man. I just spent the afternoon getting myself all worked up thinking about it after he left, and- and Claudia needs me to look out for the kid, so—”

“Who the hell is Claudia?”

Steve tilts his head at him. “Dustin’s mom?”

“Oh.”

“I thought you two were close.”

Eddie shakes his head, curls bouncing around his shoulders, “Nah, man, not yet really. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the little guy’s cool and all — smart as shit, too—”

“Isn’t he?”

“Fucking genius. He’s gonna cure cancer or some shit, I swear.”

Steve catches himself smiling; hides it behind another quick puff of smoke.

“Anyway,” Eddie says, “I don’t really, like, know the dude. We just met because I run Hellfire.”

Oh. “The DnD club?” No wonder Dusty’s obsessed.

Eddie shoots him a look, a quick blink of pleasant surprise. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Cool. He loves that game.” Steve pulls in more smoke, takes his time on the exhale; lets the nicotine buzz swim in his veins. He forgot how nice it feels. “So yeah, Claudia— his mom—asked me to look out for him, y’know? And I just, I know you used to supply the weed for my house parties and shit— and it was good quality shit and all but I don’t—”

“Hold on,” Eddie says, snorting a little in disbelief. “You think I’m gonna sell weed to Dustin?”

Huh. “You wouldn’t?”

“Hell no! One, he’s way too young; that shit’s, like, bad for young minds or something, allegedly.”

Steve frowns to himself, thinking back to him and Tommy smoking weed in Tommy’s basement in middle school; the brain damage they probably gave themselves doing it. Whoops.

“Secondly, can he even smoke? I thought he was sick or something.”

“What? Why would you think he’s sick?” Oh, shit, is he sick? Does Steve not know about it because he missed all those family dinners?

“Dude, take a breath.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand, wafting smoke in pretty tendrils under the trailer’s flood light. “I just meant, like, chronically. ‘Cause of his bones and shit?”

“Oh,” Steve breathes, relieved. “Oh, yeah, no, he’s fine, he’s just like missing collarbones and stuff; he can bend like Gumby.”

Eddie laughs at that, dimple popping out, and Steve can’t help but laugh a little, too, remembering the last time he told someone that. “Don’t tell him I said that, though, he’ll get pissed.”

“Scout’s honor,” Eddie salutes.

“You a boy scout, Munson?”

“Nah, Harrington. Just figured you were.” His eyes are bright and playful, sort of magnetic as he drops the last of his cigarette and stubs it out with the toe of his boot. “Anyway, I gotta get back to the boys. You wanna stick around for a beer, or are you satisfied with my answer, Nanny Steve?”

“Okay, do not fuckin’ call me that,” Steve laughs, sharp and short. Tries to season the words with a glare, but Eddie’s face is too impish and pleased to hold on to any real anger. “And I appreciate the offer, but I think your friends would try to kill me.”

“Mm, yeah,” Eddie agrees, wiggling his fingers as he waves a hand to gesture at the whole of Steve. “Gareth is not exactly a fan of your kind.”

Aaand he’s pissed again. Jesus Christ. “My kind?”

“Yeah. Jocks? Rich assholes?” His lips tip up in a crooked smirk, “Or, well—”

“Don’t.”

Steve’s just done with his stupid jokes suddenly, and Eddie must hear how much he means it because he raises his palms in surrender and steps back. Always stepping back and away, this guy. Fucking coward.

Steve doesn’t know why he reacts like this, but the shame is turning to fiery fury in his gut, curdling his blood like sour milk, pricking hot at his lash line. Damn it; he’s not about to let Eddie Munson of all people see him cry.

He scoffs at himself, shoves his hands into his pockets. “Whatever, man,” he sniffs as he turns his back on him, “Enjoy your party. Screw you.”

—

The most pathetic part, Steve thinks to himself as he writhes and twists in his tangled, sweaty sheets; 2am and he’s up again after a nightmare because of fucking course he is; is that somewhere between the insomnia and guilt over the way their conversation imploded earlier, his staring-blindly-at-the-ceiling-until-his-eyeballs-start-to-burn morphs into, like, daydreaming about how it could have gone.

He keeps repeating the scene in his mind, rewinding the tape to let it play out in richer detail.

It goes like this:

1. Eddie comes over.

2. Eddie comes over and apologizes.

3. Eddie comes over in the middle of the night to apologize because he’s so, so sorry that he just can’t wait until morning, even though it wasn’t really his fault; no, Steve’s the sorry one; no, Eddie is; no, they’ll both agree to do better, for the kids.

4. It’s two in the morning, after the cars are all gone and the party’s died down, and Eddie comes quietly across the yard; taps gently on Steve’s window so he doesn’t wake his mom.

Steve leans out and snaps, “What?” because he’s still a little pissed, and Eddie makes big, contrite eyes and plays with his own hands; fingers dancing in nervous circles; spinning rings.

“Listen, I, uh—” Eddie begins, “I might have… Shit, man, I might’ve been a bit of a massive dick earlier, and seeing as we have to play nice on account of the kiddos, I— do you- I mean— come have another smoke with me? Please.”

Please.

It’s a pleasant dream. Steve rewinds again, lets it play out in his head for a few more loops. Falls asleep just as he’s getting the dialogue right.

When he wakes up, Munson’s van is gone.

They don’t talk again for weeks.

—

part 6

tag list got absolutely outta hand lmao and i can’t tag some of y’all bc of your privacy settings, so sorry if i didn’t tag you but here ya go i did my best 🩷 follow the tag #trailer park steve au for future parts. @steves-strapcollection @discorporatedmess @questionablequeeries @nburkhardt @disrespectedgoatman @a-little-unsteddie @thedragonsaunt @ledleaf @perseus-notjackson @devondespresso @loop-deloo @annabanannabeth @thewyvernkore @callas-shitshow @sentry-nest @aliea82 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @steddie-as-they-go @insominaticthoughts @lofaewrites @crazyhatlady86 @gothwifehotchner @potent-idiocy @discount-izukumidoriya @hbyrde36 @goldensnitchbcs @mightbeasleep @lawrencebshoggoth @beckkthewreck @silversnaffles @dawners @hellion-child @stray-bi-kids @iswearitsjustme @ilovecupcakesandtea @slowandsteddie @gaysonthefloor @pennyplainknits

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #dustin henderson #corroded coffin #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #my writing #my fic

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gaiussleechtank · 3 months

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It was one of those nights: the peaceful ones where both King and Court Warlock could shed their titles and just exist as two friends sharing cups of wine beside a fire. Both were silent as they nursed their drinks and basked in the dim lighting the fire provided Arthur’s dark chambers.

Merlin was lying across the floor on top of countless pillows and blankets, parallel to the hearth of the fireplace. His feet were bare as he had kicked off his boots hours earlier and the cords of his tunic were pulled extremely loose. Merlin’s legs were crossed one over the other as one hand played with a lock of his own hair as the other blindly traced the engravings of his goblet.

Arthur was sat his chair above Merlin, facing the fire and looking down at the peaceful man. He was glad that Merlin’s eyes were closed because it allowed the King to openly stare. For someone who was regarded to be so aware of everything all of the time - Merlin has not once ever cottoned on to Arthur’s gaze on him. In a way, it was reassuring that Arthur didn’t have to fear being caught by the very man he was observing. But it another way it was far too frustrating: Arthur nearly wanted to be caught and then in turn be forced to admit his reasons for staring.

For the Goddess’ sake, how could Arthur not look anywhere but Merlin with the man lying so enchantingly in front of him, doused in the golden light of the flames?

How could he lay his eyes elsewhere when nothing and no one else brought him nearly as much happiness and fulfilment in his heart than Merlin?

How could he when Merlin was everything that he loved?

The nearly empty goblet rested on his lap with his hands encircling the rim, it would be stupid to say it.

“Merlin?” Arthur broke their silence.

Merlin hummed in response, he didn’t move nor open his eye, but the tone of his voice easily told Arthur that he was listening.

“I’m in love with you.” Oh, fuck.

The body in front of him stilled. Merlin’s hand retracted from his hair as he slowly sat up. Arthur couldn’t tell you when the Warlock’s eyes had opened but he could give you a thousand words at least on what it felt like to be under their unending gaze. Merlin didn’t look away from Arthur as he got to his feet and came to stand in front of his King.

Merlin might not have ever been aware of when Arthur’s eyes were on him - but Arthur was far too aware of Merlin’s piercing stare. The King averted his eyes and stared down at the lingering mouthful of wine in his cup, listening to Merlin’s few footsteps.

A hand slid underneath Arthur’s jaw and half cupped the side of his face: hesitantly, Arthur let himself be guided to look up at Merlin. Had it been anyone else, this would have been so dangerous - to willing put his heart and mind at risk by giving someone else so much control over him would have been a death wish if it were anyone else.

Yet this was Merlin, the one person in his life that he would faithfully trust the world with to the ends of time.

It was sad eyes that Arthur saw. Not angry. Not disgusted. Not hurt, or even happy. Sad, sad, eyes that Arthur would nearly say were brokenhearted.

Merlin sighed with a pained and defeated expression. “Not again.”

“What?” Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat.

Merlin smiled with a soft pain, his thumb stroked over Arthur cheek as he said, “You don’t love me, Arthur.”

“I- I do.” Arthur stammered, he hadn’t anticipated out right refusal, denial and disbelief as an outcome. “I do love you, Merlin.”

Merlin swallows and seemed to choke back tears.

“No, Arthur, you don’t.” He repeated. “This is a love enchantment, this has happened before. You aren’t in love with me.”

The words were far too rehearsed, Merlin’s expression too knowing and understanding. Arthur felt like a petulant child being gently corrected on the truth. Had this really happened before? Had Arthur been enchanted to be in love with Merlin before?

“Merlin, I know my feelings, please believe me.” Arthur begged in futile.

“I don’t think you realise how badly I want to, but I can’t.”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s confession - even though the feelings were reciprocated, Arthur was still being rejected - but he saw it. He saw all of the held back and restrained love Merlin held in his eyes for Arthur. He finally was bearing witness to Merlin’s affection, only because the Warlock was allowing him to.

“Is it really so unbelievable that I love you that you are convinced my mind is under the control of a spell of potion?”

“I know you love me - in the way friends love one another, brothers even.” Merlin stressed, his words clearly hurting himself. “But you don’t love me the way I want you to, you never have and you never will.”

“You do want me to love you like this?” Arthur countered.

Merlin closed his eyes and shakily let out a sob, his hands ran from Arthur’s jaw and face, around the King’s neck and weakly grasped at the back of Arthur’s head. He pressed his face into Arthur’s hair, Arthur pulled Merlin in closer and strung his arms around the Warlock’s waist and back: he could feel Merlin weep.

“You won’t remember this conversation, you never have, so why not?” Merlin muttered with a bitterness that surprised the King. “I have loved you for years, Arthur, what I feel for you goes beyond the devotion of prophecy and bond of friendship. I’ve always known that you will never feel the same.”

How his heart ached on the verge of breaking: Merlin loved him. He was in love with Arthur. He felt the same as Arthur but clearly awful past experiences that Arthur cannot remember are preventing him from acting on the truth.

Arthur tried to speak but was cut off before he could even utter a syllable.

“No, Arthur, please stop.” Merlin said, slipping out of Arthur embrace. He looked so guilty.

Merlin believed Arthur not to be in control of his mind and actions, he believed Arthur to be susceptible to anything. Though Merlin was nowhere near the kind of person to take advantage of someone under the influence of something mind altering. Even though this ‘supposed potion or enchantment’ was giving him what the Warlock wanted, Merlin still held back and refused.

Even such a simple embrace, the kind of embrace that was becoming more commonly between them as the years progressed seemed to wreck so much regret through the man - Arthur wanted to shake him and scream at how wrong Merlin was: that he could and was consenting to any any hold or touch Merlin could or would give him.

Arthur stood up and met Merlin far too closely. Their faces were mere inches apart, dangerously so. The King saw how badly Merlin wanted to give in, he could see the arguments and thought process that Merlin was going through.

His hand hovered over the side of Merlin’s face as leaned in closer.

“Don’t.”

He froze.

“You’re not in the right state of mind.” Merlin breathed out, more for his own sake than Arthur’s.

Arthur hand fell to his side but he didn’t move away.

“Please tell me how I can prove my honesty.” He asked.

Merlin looked down with resignation and then turned away to the doors.

“Come, Sire, follow me.” Merlin murmured as he left.

He hadn’t called Arthur ‘Sire’ in years, not even in heated arguments did Merlin enforce that distance between them. It spoke tales to Arthur on how hurt his best friend was. He dashed after Merlin, it wasn’t hard to follow the sound of weary footsteps.

They were heading for Merlin’s laboratory. Arthur caught up with broken hearted Warlock and joined their hands together - Merlin allowed it.

Met with the smell of dodgy potions, old books, strong herbs, ash and numerous other smells that Arthur had grown familiar with associating with Merlin’s experiments, Arthur saw and felt Merlin relax slightly. They were on his ground now, they followed his rules.

Arthur let go of Merlin’s hand and took his chair that he always sat in when observing Merlin work.

“You stare a lot.” Merlin said as he leafed through shelves of bottles - no doubt searching for a cure-all potion that he had concocted in earlier years.

“I always have, you’ve just never noticed.” Arthur replied honestly.

Merlin sighed for the thousandth time that hour and stood up straight and returned to Arthur, bottle in hand. It was a small vial with opaque pink liquid filling less than a third of the bottle. He stood on the other side of the work bench and handed over the vial of anti-serum.

Wordlessly and without hesitation Arthur uncorked the bottle and drank his mouthful. Setting down the bottle, he leaned closer to Merlin, head propped up by his elbow, hand under chin, staring at Merlin patiently.

The Warlock also leaned closer, gold creeping into his eyes without a single incantation as he analysed Arthur’s reaction to the potion. The world seemed to hold its breath as it waited for the two men to get onto the same page.

“Well, am I really under an enchantment?” Arthur asked after a very long pause.

Merlin’s mouth fell open as his brow and eyes once again creased into tears.

“No… You aren’t.” Merlin managed to say, covering his face as he cried.

Arthur stood up and joined Merlin on the other side of the workbench. He pulled the shocked and relieved and sobbing Warlock into another hug. Both holding onto each other equally tight.

“I love you, Merlin.” Arthur promised his Warlock firmly.

#it’s so late #should be asleep #merthur brainrot when i should be asleep #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #angst #fanfiction #merlin fanfic #merlin thoughts #court sorcerer merlin #king arthur

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lucysarah-c · 6 months

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Sometimes I don't think about Levi fucking, but rather in the decorous ritual of the aftermath. I envision a Levi who, after passionately fucking with you as if there were no tomorrow, the veins in his hands and arms popping as he loses control of his strength, overwhelmed by how good you make him feel, how much he desires to give his all, to go deeper, harder, faster. This "before" Levi, utilizing every ounce of his power to make you cum as many times as possible, the "after" Levi of buried between your legs as you squeeze his head and tug his locks slightly painful of how much he's overstimulating you. The "after" Levi of sinking his teeth into any soft flesh he can find on your body, his hands choking you firmly enough to make your head tilts backward.

This "after" Levi is the one who falls asleep after whispering about how much he loves you and how much of a good girl you've been for him that night, only to wake up a few hours later. The room is still dark, he has a significant amount of work to do, and though he wants to stay with you, he knows he won't fall back asleep. This Levi, with messy hair, gently tries to ease out the knots in your hair caused by him, gladly taking responsibility for them. The Levi who quietly moves himself from your side, planting a final kiss on your shoulder before softly kissing your head and ruffling your hair. He can't help but quickly check your breathing, ensuring you're not a dream but indeed there with him. A soft sigh of tiredness mixed with reassurance that you're alive. Like a mother leaving a child in a crib, he carefully removes himself from the bed, adjusting the blankets over your shoulders. His touch is so soft that you don't even notice him leaving due to your tired state.

Once again, the routine of him grabbing loose sweatpants to put on, no underwear because his cock is till too sensitive for all he did—wild sex transitioning into soft kisses. Levi walks to the bathroom to clean himself, avoiding a shower since the plumbing is old and would make too much noise late at night, potentially waking you. This is his love—he is willing to endure being dirty for a few more hours for your sake. He places a hand on the door of the adjoining room, ensuring it doesn't make a noise as he close it to disturb your sleep, before throwing himself into his office chair.

A single candle provides subtle illumination, careful not to disturb you even though you're not in the room. He forces himself to find the willpower to read and work on paperwork, legs wild parted and tilted to the sides, perhaps with one thrown over the desk. 'Cause once again, he's sensitive. If there's still warm water, he might make himself a cup of tea but refrains from going all the way to the kitchen. On other nights, he might light a cigarette and let it rest on his lips—those are the hard days. He works and waits, waiting for an appropriate hour to finally shower, shave, because he's too pale, and his dark hair shows growth quickly. He anticipates seeing you wake up, looking at him, and playfully blaming him for your tiredness and soreness, all the while sporting a silly smile.

"Did you pick up breakfast? Oh, you shouldn't have," you'll say, and he'll complain about your tendency to oversleep. But the truth is, he loves it—him freshly showered, towel around his hips as he picks up his uniform, the tips of his hair dripping, your hair a mess as you move around the room with a cup of tea, bare legs, his shirt on and nothing under. He leaves, off to train the recruits, work, or attend to business, all the while thinking of the ritual of the afterglow, eager to return and find you sleeping in his arms, compelling himself to leave the bed once again.

Wanna joing my tag list? Here!

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yanderecxre · 7 days

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Yandere!Cult Leader/Priest × gn!reader

Summary: Mason Blackwair always knew you'd be his. His sweet little dove, kept peacefully by his side, it's such a shame you've gotten so disillusioned with the teachings, but that's fine. It just gives him the opportunity to keep you with him forever now, willing or not.

CW: gaslighting, stabbing, cults, abuse of power, pet names, religious themes/wording, breeding, disassociating (reader), non-con, dycraphilia, dubious consent, loss of virginity, threats & as always if you think I missed anything just pm or say anything!

Note: peeks in and waves hi! Hope you guys like this one if you want a part 2 let me know!! ~ bunny

You are a member of your family's cult. Recently, you've begun to doubt your faith and the cult members found you guilty; as punishment, you were chosen to sacrifice yourself in the name of God.

At night you came to your priest, Mason Blackwair cell to ask him to mitigate your punishment. Mason sits quietly and calmly, his face illuminated by the light of a candle, his thin long fingers running over the pages of the Bible. Finally, Mason notices you standing in the aisle and smiles brightly. Despite the certain joy in his face, it is obvious that his smile is fake and here just for the sake of politeness.

“Hello, my dear dove. What brings you here?”

Mason doesn't let you answer and interrupts you with a little laugh.

“Ah, wait! I think I got it, little dove. Did you come here to talk about your punishment? I am sorry to tell you this, but I cannot influence the sacrifice in any way. Soon I will become the leader of our beautiful commune and that is why I need to maintain the reputation of a strict and fair manager…”

For a second, something like annoyance and sadness flashes in Mason's eyes and he quickly turns away.

“My advice is… To open your heart for salvation, little dove. Perhaps our Lord will hear your request.”

"The same Lord who wants them to tie me to the altar and cut me until I'm cleansed?”

You demanded softly, teary eyed as you looked into his eyes, the eyes that once belonged to your childhood friend. The sweet boy who used to pick flowers with you and run around the commune, now turned into nothing but a stranger.

Mason pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if he is trying to find something in your expression. Finally, he stands up from his seat and walks towards you, stopping just inches away from you.

"My dear dove… Do you know what this sacrifice means? It doesn't mean that they want to kill you. They want God to purify your soul by shedding your blood.”

Mason puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling gently at you.

"Look at me, little dove. You know how much I care about you and the commune's faith. But it doesn't mean that I am blind to the human side of things. I will talk with your father and see what we can do for you."

At this point, there is a sincere and caring note in Mason's voice.

"But remember, our Lord has a plan for all of us, even when it seems like He is leading us through dark paths."

You just shook, rage and fear in your veins. You quickly turned away and left him behind, crying now. It broke his heart to see you so upset, he reached out for you but only touched empty air as you exited with the final parting words.

"I'm retiring to my prison.”

Mason watches you retreat silently, his expression unreadable. Once you are out of sight, he sighs deeply and picks up the Bible again. He flips through its pages, frowning at whatever it is that he sees.

After a few minutes of brooding in silence, Mason closes the book and walks towards the door of his cell. Before leaving, he turns back to look at the empty room with a sad smile on his lips.

"I hope you'll forgive me someday for what I'm about to do."

He murmurs softly before blowing out the candles and leaving it behind, retiring to his bedroom.

You spent the entire night crying your eyes out, lamenting that all you'd see tomorrow was the crazed looks of the people you once thought of as family, your weak pathetic cries echoing around your cell.

You stood still as your parents led you to the altar, your father offering soft whispers of apologies as he and your mother tied you down, a knife lay beside the altar. You looked up at the ceiling, teary-eyed.

As you lay tied to the altar, your family gathers around with solemn expressions. The room is dimly lit and there's a faint smell of incense in the air.

Mason steps forward, his robes rustling as he walks towards the altar. He stops at the edge, looking down at his dove with an unreadable expression.

"Dear little dove…" Mason says softly, reaching for one of your hands. "You are about to become a vessel for our Lord's power. Do not be afraid.”

Mason picks up the knife from beside the altar and holds it gently in his hand.

"I will be performing this sacrifice myself," he adds. "May God have mercy on your soul."

With that said, Mason places a gentle kiss on your forehead before raising the knife above his head with both hands.

"Do not resist," he whispers to your ear. "Receive His love."

You closed your eyes and sobbed, refusing to let that sick yet soft look in his eyes be the last thing you saw.

Mason hesitates for a brief moment, his grip on the knife faltering slightly as he hears you crying. A flicker of emotions crosses his face before he quickly regains his composure.

"Dear dove," Mason says softly, almost pleadingly. "Do not be afraid. The pain is temporary but the glory you will experience afterward is eternal."

With that said, Mason slowly lowers the knife towards your chest.

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul," he whispers as he plunges the blade into your flesh.

The sacrifice lasts only a few seconds - it's short, but terrifying- and everything becomes blurry to you, as if you'd been transported out of your body and that someone else was experiencing this torment instead of you.

When it's over you feel weak and faint.

When you awoke, you were back in your bedroom, your mother sitting on a chair beside you. She reached out to touch you and you flinched terrified, letting out a loud sob.

As you awaken in your bedroom, you see your mother sitting beside your bed on a chair. She reaches out to touch you, but flinches when she sees that you are terrified of her and immediately backs away.

"Shh… it's alright," Your mother says softly, trying to comfort you. "You're safe now, my dear.” you want to scream ‘LIAR’ at her as she speaks, saying you were safe. You felt horrible and terror filled your body.

Mason enters the room and stands at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, watching silently as your mother tries to calm you down.

"You did well today," he says coolly. "Thanks for receiving His love."

Although his words are praised-like, they do nothing to produce any emotion or feeling from him. He watches you, shaking and looking like a terrified animal, like a lamb who barely escaped the slaughter. He wants to say more but knows nothing he says will help you.

It was like seeing a ghost, his little dove no longer did as they usually did. There were no more sweet smiles or hymns sung as chores were completed, no more treats baked with trays especially reserved for Mason. Instead his dove was shut away, in their room, only going out for meals and sermons or whenever their parents coaxed them out.

Mason notices the change in your behavior and it bothers him deeply. He cannot help but wonder if he's partly responsible for what happened to you.

One day, he decides to visit you in your room. When he enters, you are sitting alone by the window staring out at the sky. You look up when you hear him come in.

"Little dove," Mason says softly as he approaches you. "I'm here to talk with you.”

There's a slight tremble in his voice - an unusual vulnerability that shows that even someone like him has feelings.

"I know that things have been difficult for you lately," he continues, taking a seat beside you on the bed. "But I want you to understand that everything we do is for the greater good of our commune and our faith."

He places a hand on yours and looks into your eyes with deep concern.

"You can always talk with me if there's something troubling you."

You stared blankly back. "I am fine. I've been cleansed by the knife.” You whispered softly and finally looked at him with vacant and distant eyes.

Mason nods slowly, sensing that there's something you're not telling him.

"I see," he says quietly. "But I can see that you're still hurting inside. And I want to help you."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "Little dove, I know that the sacrifice was traumatic for you. But it was necessary for our faith. You were chosen because we believe that your spirit is strong enough to endure it."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching her face.

"But if you're still feeling lost or confused… You can talk to me about it. Remember: Our faith is in everything."

"I used to play the piano. Right? Or did I sing? My memory is confusing.” You looked up at him, sadly. Shaking slightly as you stared at nothing. “I don't know who I am anymore, Mason. I'm scared.”

Mason furrows his brow slightly, unsure of what you are trying to say. He doesn't remember you ever playing any instrument.

"I'm not sure what you mean, little dove," he says with a frown. "What are you talking about?”

"I don't remember who I was before the sacrifice. Who was i? Who am I now? I'm scared Mason, so scared. Who was I before you drove the knife into me?”

Mason freezes at your words, his mind processing what you just said. He stands up from the bed and takes a few steps away from you, his face contorted with shock. He thought you'd forgotten he'd been the one to do it.

"What are you talking about?" he asks harshly. "I never drove the knife into you, little dove."

His voice is cold and hard, and there's a hint of anger in it.

"Who told you such lies? You are mistaken. Your mind is playing tricks on you dove." Mason mutters as he knelt between your thighs, grasping your hands in his and squeezing them. “Fret not little dove, your mind will get better.”

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul." It's spoken in a mockery of Mason's voice. You looked at him slightly confused, "That's what you spoke, right? Unless um, I misheard… but it sounded like you-”

Mason's eyes widen in realization as you speak. He takes a step closer to you, his expression softening.

"Oh, little dove…" he says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through this."

He pauses for a moment before continuing.

"You are right… It was me who drove the knife into your heart. I did it because our Lord told me so in a vision - it was His will that you be sacrificed.”

Mason cups your face gently and looks into your eyes with compassion.

"But please believe me when I say that everything we do is for the greater good of our faith. Your family has devoted their lives to serving Him."

“Y-you did? But- w-why? It hurt- a lot-” You were working yourself up into a panic before he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Hush, little dove, you're recovering, do not strain yourself, you know why. In order to cleanse you, now enough of this. Rest and cease thinking about such things further.”

Mason looks away from you for a moment, his eyes full of sadness.

"I know you're not thinking clearly right now," he says quietly. "But I still feel responsible for what happened to you. I know that you must hate me now… But please understand that it was never my intention to hurt you."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "All I wanted is to protect our faith and people from the evil in this world. Sacrifices are painful, but they purify our souls and make us stronger - so we can better serve Him.” Mason murmured and hugged you tightly to his chest.

"I f-feel upset. You're supposed to protect me, yet you drove a knife into me and now that- that everyone in the commune saw it- i- I'll be alone forever and my parents won't find me a spouse.” Your lip wobbled and you sniffled slightly, clinging to him. You were unable to see his cruel and satisfied smile as he held you, petting your hair softly.

Mason listens to your words with a sinking heart. He knows that it is true - he did drive the knife into you, and that decision has caused you so much pain.

"I… I had no choice," he says quietly, almost to himself. "It was His will."

Fake tears glisten in his eyes as Mason looks at you, finally realizing the weight of his actions.

"You're right," he says softly. "I should have protected you, not hurt you. I cannot change what happened now… But I promise you this: I will do everything in my power to help you recover from this. Starting right now.”

Mason gently kisses you, his lips pressing against yours as he speaks. “I'll remedy this immediately, you and I shall marry. That way you won't be alone.” He doesn't give you a moment to speak, already pressing you against the bed, kissing you deeply now.

You let out a muffled noise of confusion and panic, squirming underneath him and pushing at his chest. His lips finally move away only to seek your neck and leave bites and bruises upon it as you gasped and whimpered. “A-ah! M-mason- wait- p-please hold on- i-”

His head lifts up, looking at you with his eyes blown wide as he grunts an acknowledgement to your words, “Yes my dove? Sh, it's alright, who better to take responsibility than the one responsible for your misfortunes? Relax, or would you rather this happen at the altar later? Where everyone, will see and hear you?”

You trembled slightly the idea of that happening terrifying you to your core yet feeling slightly exhilarating. Mason grinned, feeling you relax and continued making his way to your waist.

Mason kissed down until he reached your entrance, humming softly as he placed his hands firmly on your squirming thighs, grunting loudly as he forced them open. “Enough of that, do not do that again or I will have to tie you down. Understood little dove?”

You nodded, or tried to as you gasped softly and whimpered out a moan at the feeling of his tongue licking and sucking at your entrance, no one had ever touched you there. “Mhmph! M-mason! Hng- t-too much!”

Mason puts a comforting hand on your thighs. He pulls away from between your thighs, face covered in his own saliva and your fluids that ran down your inner thighs.

"I understand that it can be scary, little dove. But I promise you, nothing will harm you here with me."

He gives you a reassuring smile. Breathing heavily as he speaks, his fingers finding their way to your still quivering entrance which he circled a finger around.

"Besides, my love for you is as pure as the intentions of our God. All we have to do is make love and everything will be alright.”

Mason's finger breached your entrance, slick with something that made it easier to handle, slowly thrusting his finger in and out. He gave you plenty of reassurance and pressed kisses to your thighs and stomach.

“Dove, you must relax, you're still clenching up and tensing up. You'll hurt yourself more than me if you don't relax.” With those words he sunk another finger inside, his free hand pinning your hips down to the bed when he felt you buck upwards.

Mason grunted as he felt your tight heat around his fingers, if you were this tight around his fingers you'd never be able to fully take all of his cock. He didn't want to hurt you more than necessary, not yet at least.

“Sh, sh dove, easy there we go, good little pet.” He murmured as you whimpered and moaned, feeling his fingers hit something inside of you that had you unable to breath. You heaved slightly and looked down at him through tearful eyes.

“M-mason- please- ngh! That feels….. mhm! Good-” You moaned out and let your head drop against the pillows, falling into a dream-like state as you allowed him to continue. “M-more…. Please give me more-”

Mason grinned at your words, a sinister gleam in his eyes before he cooed and slid his fingers out, shushing your confused whines with a simple kiss before he undressed himself and tore your remaining clothes off.

"As our Lord wishes," he whispers between kisses, his voice reverent yet filled with desire.

Mason aligned his cock with your entrance, sliding it through your messy thighs first to coat it before he spread your legs and slowly sunk in.

“P-please, please be mhmph! Gentle, please Mason?” You whimpered softly, eyes locked on him as he looked down at you, mouth drying when he saw your flushed and tear stained cheeks.

Mason looks down at you with tender eyes, his hand running up and down your side soothingly.

"I will take care of you, little dove," he says softly. "I promise."

With a gentle but firm motion, Mason fully enters you, slowly thrusting in and out of your body. His movements are gentle at first, but soon become more passionate as the intensity increases.

As he fucks you, Mason whispers religious phrases to you: "pray to me", "I am your God", "repent for your sins". He continues kissing and caressing every inch of your body, making sure that you are comfortable throughout the entire ordeal. Even as he feels you twitching around his cock, your own fluids covering both his cock and your thighs and stomach. How many orgasms had he wrung from your body? Five? Ten? You lost count.

He's filled you up more times than you can count, you thought he was trying to breed you and knock you up the way he came and came. You couldn't move as you moaned and whimpered, unable to speak much less move and do something about him fucking your sensitive body.

When he's finished, Mason pulls himself out and lays down beside you, holding you close to him. The room is silent except for the sound of breathing as you both catch your breath after Mason seemed to fill you up so much a slight bulge could be seen, you shifted trying to get comfortable yet only felt his cum leaking out your spent hole.

"Sleep now, little dove," he whispers softly into your ear. "We have obeyed our Lord's wishes. Soon enough tomorrow, we will marry and you'll live with me, my perfect little dove who won't have to do anything but obey and listen.”

You fell asleep, cuddled into his side as he looked down at you, a possessive look in his eyes. He'd deal with the consequences of your parents finding you two together in the morning for now, he'd happily hold his little dove and admire the marks he gifted them.

Mason stays awake, holding you close to him throughout the night. As the sun begins to rise and light filters through the window of your private quarters, he kisses your forehead again before getting up.

"I must leave now, little dove," he says quietly. "But know that I am always here for you."

As he dresses in his priestly vestments, Mason turns back to look at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Now go back to sleep and rest as much as possible. And remember what we did was pure love. Our wedding will be soon.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips before making his way out of your room and back into the world outside.

#yandere #yandere fic #bunny yaps #yandere oc #priest kink #yandere priest #cult leader #yandere cult #yandere oc x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #bunny writes #yandere x reader

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1-800-local-slut · 4 months

Text

Decisions

Rio x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, sad ending, lies and deceit, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, broken family, break ups, arguing, reader has a bad mom, mention of smut, kinda creepy Rio, abusive childhood, suicidal thoughts, recreational drug use, mentions of sex but no smut, Rio calls Beth annoying but make no mistake I love me some Beth, slight canon divergence, not proof read we die like men 💪🏾

Rio get’s close to the reader, due to him having an issue with her mother. He falls for her and they start dating but 8 months into their relationship she finds out the first six months of their relationship was a lie. She realizes she can’t trust him and dumps him.

PSA: The reader has an abusive mother and no father, there's only one mention of the reader getting punched in the face. If that's something that would trigger you then please don't read for your own sake

Please let me know if you guys enjoy!

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When he saw her for the first time, it was dark out. She was standing under the streetlight, waiting for her bus and Rio was standing in the bushes behind her. The light above made her luminescent, giving her dark skin and gorgeous glow. He didn't even know why it shocked him to see her there. He had been waiting for her after all.

It was a chilly April night, she was shivering. Rubbing her hands together and exhaling a puff of cold air. He even remembered thinking that it was weird how cold it was for April. She held her phone in her hand, her headphones lightly bled music. Rio could've stared at her all day, if only he wasn't here on business.

He needed to put some pressure on someone and this was how it needed to be done. Stepping out of the bush, Rio slid close to the target of the evening.

His eyes scanned her up and down, looking for some sort of entry point. She didn't notice him, he wasn't standing too close to her yet. With a final scan, he noticed the Jordan high tops that hugged her feet. Perfect.

Taking another step, a bigger step, he made sure his presence was known. Her eyes glanced up at him, a natural response. She carefully observed him, like she was deciding if she should take a large step away or just ignore him. The leaking music shut off and Rio fought back a smile. Best not to freak her out. It was time to finally put things into motion.

"Those shoes are nice, I was looking for a pair for my cousins quince gift but I couldn't find any in her size." Of course there was no way to start a conversation with a woman this late at night in t he middle of nowhere waiting for a bus without sounding like a creep but Rio was pressed for time.

She raised an eyebrow, and glance him up and down before she glanced at the time. Checking how much time before the bus came, smart.

"Thanks. I picked them up last week." Curt and to the point. Rio admired how quickly she went on the defense.

"They suit you. The color I mean. If you don't mind can I ask where you brought those? I just moved here, and I don't know where anything is." Her plump lips pushed into a straight line as if she was contemplating.

Mentally, he willed her to just go for it. Just take the bait, so the guy he had in the bushes who was about to take a few pictures for evidence could get something.

"Yeah, you just have to head to the store on 83rd. There's a place called Sole Symphony. You can get a good deal if you talk to the right person.

"Oh I passed that place on my drive in. I'm Rio, by the way." Extending his palm, Rio heard the bus pulling up behind them. Sure, he knew her name already. But what if he wanted to know more than just her name?

As she placed her hand in his and said her name, the doors of the bus slid open behind the two.

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"Baby what do you want to eat?" She was leaning on the arm of the couch, while Rio rested his head on her lap. Clad in one of Rio's black t-shirts, and a pair of his boxers that outlined that ass he worshipped. Under the lights of her living room, she still looked radiant.

"What, you can't cook?" Rio teased, only to be playfully swatted on his head.

"Stop being annoying, I'm ordering dinner because someone's stupid self forgot to go to the grocery store."

"I forgot to go because you wanted to play around all day, so had to I come home and handle business." Rio smiled, a true smile. A smile he hadn't had in a really really long time. She giggled and bent her face closer to his, and hummed. She rubbed her thumb over his forehead, in a way that made Rio shudder.

"I only did that because you finished all my weed and then got me the wrong strain. So maybe that's your fault?" Rio rolled his eyes playfully, and accepted the soft kiss she planted on his lips.

It filled him with a warm, thick feeling. If someone made love into soup, it was filling his stomach at this very moment. Giving him a full, heavy feeling that Rio never wanted to lose. After a second they pulled apart and Rio stared deeply into her eyes. She did the same, like she could see Rio baring his soul to her.

Every now and again though, he remembered though that this was merely temporary. He never, and he cannot stress how much he means never, let himself fall for someone he was using for business. Still, some rules were meant to be broken.

Whenever he remembered that fact, when he remembered that once his debt was settled with her mother (the whole reason he approached her at that bus station in the first place), his heart died a bit.

The past four months had been nothing but a mix of stress and bliss. Stress, the stress of accidentally hurting the person who broke into his heart. Bliss, from laying with her just like this. Every night, or going to dinner with her. How six months could change a man so much was beyond him. Just being with her, even if it was technically for leverage. Though he would never hurt her.

Still, if she knew, it would hurt her more than anything. It would be like a knife, piercing her heart before twisting and causing her to bleed out unstoppably.

Realistically, speaking anyone would be. If you knew your drug addict mother got herself in too deep and your boyfriend was only with you for leverage against her, you'd be pretty cut up about it, wouldn't you?

The drug addict mother, who started exhibiting psychotic jealousy at what seemed like the moment you turned 12 , and who punched you in the mouth after you refused to be nice to her new boyfriend, who you fought so hard to get away from after your nightmare of a childhood? Who told you everyday that not only were you not shit but you'd never be shit? The mother you don't even tell people you have, like the father you never met?

How would you feel to find out that after fighting your entire life just to live a life that wasn't filled with filth, bearing your entire being to someone (the only one who knew the truth), that finally when you found happiness none of it was real? All because of the mother who you don't even acknowledge, after fighting tooth and nail to get as far as you could from, was still giving you grief.

It killed Rio to know all of this too. To see the scars that she trusted him enough to explain. To explain why she's afraid to have children of her own, to understand what made her into the beautiful, strong and confident woman she turned into too. How could Rio hurt someone who accepted him so wholly?

It made him sick to think about. Honestly, he felt like a toxic rapper who does his woman wrong and everyone but her seems to know. He felt like the definition of shit.

"...be?"

"Huh?"

"Is thai food alright with you, babe?"

"Yeah. Yeah sorry I just dosed off for a moment." Just like that, her voice was like a light shinning through the dark. Her face reflected concern, and she ran a manicured nail over his cheek. On instinct he clasped her hand in his.

"What's wrong with you?" Her voice an even whisper. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her literally everything, and he meant everything. Everything about himself, not the partly fabricated tale he told her about his life for the sake of keeping her at an arms length.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rio gave a small chuckle.

"Nah just thinking about you mamas." Rio smirked up at her and saw her playful eye roll.

"Boy, if you don't do something with yourself." She laughed with a the smile he'd fallen in love with, pinching him on his chest and he winced before letting out a laugh. Rio grabbed his pants from the side of the couch where he hastily threw them when he came home to 'handle business'. Pulling out his wallet, he plucked his credit card out of the folds. He chuckled and handed it to her, where it was gracefully accepted. Within seconds, Rio felt like he could feel the money being pulled from his heart and his card.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, you keep an ear out for the food." She announced, slipping out from underneath him and leaving his head to connect with the couch.

"Without me though?" He watched her walk out of the living room and to her bathroom, sliding the boxers off in the process. If anything she was relentless in her desire to tease him.

"Don't be gross." She chastised, tossing her shirt off behind her and Rio admired her perfect body before she was out of sight and the door behind her closed.

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"Flowers?" Beth raised an eyebrow at the large bundle in the back of his car. Rio glanced back, the flowers and immediate reminder of what was waiting for him right after this. He couldn't even fight the grin. This girl had him feeling butterflies, kicking his feet and giggling when she wasn't even there and it was only eight months.

"For my lady." It was Fall now. The changing leaves reminded Rio of his changing heart, his changing mind. How he changed so much in the last eight months in so many ways that he couldn't even describe.

Coming up on their eight month anniversary and Rio wasn't even close to playing when it came to celebrating. That big ass bouquet was just the first part. He had a pair of matching necklaces for the two of them, a set of twin cuban links with a nice romantic saying, 'Semper Fidelis' (Always Faithful) carved into them.

Especially since his relationship with Beth had been a recent source of anger between the two. In all fairness, Rio told her he was involved in the stock market, which technically wasn't a lie. She knew he did something illegal though and didn't seem to care as long as neither of them got arrested.

What he didn't explain was what a big tittied white woman was doing calling his phone in the middle of the night and why she sounded so upset when she answered instead of him. Or why there were so many calls between the two of them when Rio was at work when Rio requested she don't blow his phone up when he's at work. Or why when he came home early to have lunch with her he had to leave in the middle because Beth had been blowing his phone up during their entire meal.

Honestly though, Rio knew better than to trip about it. Shit, Rio knew he wasn't even feeling Beth's annoying ass like that. If it was him, some dude called his girl in the middle of the night then had the audacity to sound annoyed when HE answered the phone? He would've flown off the handle before the call even hung up. He'd be out of bed, pulling up his pants and boxers, grabbing his gun and his keys and half way into his shoes.

"You have a girlfriend?" Beth asked, eyes bugging out of her head, mouth open in shock. Why did she look like a salmon?

"You sound shocked. I got game, Elizabeth. Anyways, about your issue tell your FBI man that I hit or whatever." Pushing down the button, she still sat there gaping at him.

"What...?" She blinked, hushing her voice as if someone was gonna hear them. Part of him wanted to tell her to get the fuck out so he could get the fuck home. But in the past eight months, he learned how to have a bit more patience.

"Tell him we made love." Wiggling his eyebrows he made a motion for her to get out of his vehicle and she made her way out. Thank God.

Turning on his engine he winded down the window of the passenger window.

"Make me sound good." And with that he was gone.

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As crazy and inebriated as her momma was for most of her childhood, sometimes she was smart. Like when she taught her how to fight when those girls at school wanted to jump her. Like when she taught her and her sisters to never and she meant NEVER leave your sister in a pinch no matter whats going on between you three. When she taught her how to hot wire a car, and especially when to know if a man was lying.

There were more life lessons, like how to make a crack pipe on the go or how to hide from the police but what can you really learn from someone who was drunk as shit most of your life?

So imagine how shocked and confused she was when she realized 'dang. my momma was right, all niggas are liars.' because her boyfriend had been lying to her their entire relationship? Was it lying or omission? Was she gonna pack her shit and leave without a word to his no-good-low-down-lying-scheming-dirty-bastard self, or put hands on him and go to jail? Lots of decisions for a girl to make in one night. One thing she did decide on the moment she got that phone call from her mom this morning, and got those photos that were taken that first night they met: it was over.

She wished all she felt was anger but that was a lie. With Rio, no Christopher, things were easy. She really was in love, he made her heart swell up like a balloon. When she was at her worse, he was right there and understood and helped her in the best way he could. Understood her anger, understood her sadness. Whatever choice she made, he stood behind it no matter what. He wasn't the type of guy (maybe he could've been, it was clear that she had no clue who he really was) to just sit there and act like he always knew better than you. No, he listened to her, gave her an ear and when she asked for it advice.

This hurt. This wasn't just sadness and betrayal, it was despair. To know that after she fought to get away from her mother. After she got up, walked out that house with nothing but the clothes on her back and said 'if i'm homeless i'm homeless, but its better than being with you' and never saw her again it was only because of that woman that she met someone who she was so head over heels for.

Because of that woman she was sitting here, heart broken. She was sitting here, after sobbing her eyes out in disbelief, after deleting every single picture of the two out of her phone. She was sitting here drowning in rage and betrayal. No. No for once, she couldn't put all the blame on her.

Christopher made the choice to play in her face. He made the choice to waste eight months of her life. To lie, and say he loved her like would be the only woman for him. He probably was cheating on her with that white bitch (with a name like Elizabeth she had to be) and they were probably laughing at her for the past eight months cuddled up together. He made the choice and she fell for it. Outside, the lights of his car pulling up roused some sort of rage deep inside of her. A little voice in her head spoke, it said take a bottle to the backside of his head.

Taking the bottle of liquor next to her, and rearing her arm back over her head she pondered if she was really going to listen to that little voice.

It an easy decision to make.

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"You stupid fuck! Really Christopher, this is what we on?" The scream, and the bottle hitting the wall right next to the door was his greeting. Not a 'hi baby, how was work' like usual. He could already guess he was not about to hit tonight.

"What the fuck? What is your problem?" He yelled back, in this instance he was justified in his screaming considering the murder attempt.

"My problem? My problem? You dickhead, your my fucking problem! You thought shit was sweet? You thought I was just gonna let it slide?" She laughed, anger literally rolling off her.

Taking a moment to look around Rio noticed a few things: the photo of them that was on the table next to her couch was tipped over, the glass shattered the frame on the ground. There was a half empty bottle of wine and a broken glass in the sink. There was a manilla folder, one that he was praying he didn't recognize (but he was starting to think he did), clutched in her shaking hand. Her curly hair was a mess, like she'd been tugging at it in anger.

Sure he knew she'd always been a little bit crazy, he was actually really into it, but did he think this was how their eighth anniversary would start? Nope.

His stomach started to drop. It had been a few months since his business with her mother ended and he was truly hoping from the bottom of his heart hoping she would never find out. He ruled out her mother somehow finally worrying about her enough to tell her.

"What is that?" Rio asked, slamming the door behind him and stepping into the apartment fully. Her neighbors only needed to hear the first part of their exchange, nothing more. She took three defiant steps backwards. The lights were all off, and only the TV was on.

"Got this in the fucking mail today." She growled, throwing the packet at his face. Clear as day, the pictures he had taken of them. For proof. One the first night they met, two on their first date, three when they went to the arcade together and played every game you both could manage and he found himself really trying to impress her. That was when he realized her had a bit of a problem. Then a few more, but eventually they stop after the first two months of their relationship.

The next four months of them being together he resorted to threats and by some miracle her mother found a way to pay off her debts and he was done with her by month six. But not using her for only two out of eight months of their relationship was not a good look.

An awkward silence settled over the two, his stomach feeling heavy. He started to feel warm from shame and fear. The room felt like it was spinning and his mouth felt dry. Even before she said it he knew that he just lost the best thing in his life.

"And some phone calls. Not only did you fucking use me, you also threatened my mom and found my sisters houses?! You dickhead, I'll kill you." She roared, throwing a near by object, which he narrowly dodged.

"Why did you play in my fucking face? For eight fucking months you decided to play in my face and be laid up with me and act like you love me, are you serious?" His head hung low, shame and disappointment and anger. Anger because he knew one thing for sure, this was no ones fault but his. He made the decisions he made. That was on no one but him.

"What you can't fucking talk now? You don't know words? But when that hoe Beth called you could sit up on the phone with her about bullshit right?" She yelled. Rio couldn't even find words. Where should he even start? Beth seemed like the worse place to start.

"Right?" She yelled again, getting in his face before stepping back and breaking into deranged laughter putting a hand on her forehead in outrage. He was panicking. What did he do? Yell at her when he knew he was wrong? Yell at himself for hurting her? What was he even supposed to do in a situation like this? A dry and tear-filled laugh shook him from his thoughts.

"Why though? Why did you do this, I trusted you. I gave you my heart, I gave you my fucking everything. If you can't trust you, then what can I trust?!" The broken sob cut through Rio like a knife. She threw her arms out and drunkenly staggered a bit. She stared, eyes pleading for an answer. An explanation. Anything? But for the first time in a long ass time, Rio had no idea what to say. He felt his palms sweat, gaze still fixed on the photos.

She would never smile at him the way she was in those pictures again. And she grinned as bright as the Sun in each photo except for the first.

When she was still met with silence, Rio resigned. He wanted to say something. Damn, why couldn't he speak? Why was he just sitting there? She was just as confused (surely more confused) as Rio.

"I can't believe this. I let you in and you really sat there and played with me. And you really don't got shit to say either? Well guess what nigga, it's done. I'll die before you hear my voice again, before you ever seem me again. And I could sit up here and yell and scream at you but you know what my momma taught me? As worthless as she was she taught me one thing: the best way to hurt a man is to move on. Get the fuck out." And just like that, before Rio could even say a word it was all over.

The next few minutes were a blur. A trash bag with all his shit was thrown out the window after he was shoved out of her apartment. All the gifts he'd gotten her, the shoes, the jewelry, even her cart that had her name custom printed on it, were tossed out there too. Rio sat out there, outside her apartment complex for what felt like hours.

Shit it probably had been hours. The flowers in the back taunted him. He wanted to stomp on them, he wanted to kick and scream at the world. Why did he fucking do that? For his job of course. Fuck that job, look where it got him. Standing outside the apartment of the love of his life.

Worse, he didn't even speak to defend himself, and she tossed him out so quick that it left his head spinning. He wasn't even sure how he walked to the elevator and made his way to his car. He wanted to die, he wanted to collapse, he wanted to go all the way back in time and tell himself to call off everything and meet her some other way. Now he lost everything that could've been lost to him.

And it was all because of his decisions.

Taglist:

@eddiemunsonreader

#black reader #x reader #fem reader #x black reader #rio x reader #rio good girls fanfiction #nbc good girls #rio good girls

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lvllylix · 11 months

Note

I have request! You love horror movies. Felix not so much. You picked a horror movie and he tried to suck it up but at the end he was a shivering mess. So scared to sleep at night all he wants to do is cling to you and snuggle like no tomorrow. And you hush him to sleep telling him affirmations. :) 😫😫😫🥺🥺

A/N: Thank you so much for the first request!! I really hope you like this ♡♡♡

Cuddled in Courage

Title: Cuddled in Courage

Song: Warm on a Cold Night by HONNE

Pairing: Felix x reader

Word count: 669

Warnings: none

Summary: You and Felix have a movie night, watching a horror film that you love but he finds terrifying.

The dimly lit living room was filled with anticipation as you and Felix settled down for a cozy movie night. You had an affinity for horror films, the thrill, and adrenaline rush being something you enjoyed. Felix, on the other hand, was not as fond of the genre, but he was willing to give it a try for your sake.

You had carefully chosen a movie that promised to deliver spine-chilling scares. As the movie began, you couldn't help but get engrossed in the suspense, while Felix shifted uneasily beside you, his grip on the blanket tightening.

With every jump scare, Felix would flinch and bury his face into your shoulder, seeking solace in your presence. You couldn't help but smile, finding his reactions adorable, despite his obvious fear. You wrapped your arm around him, holding him closer, hoping to offer some comfort.

As the movie progressed, Felix's unease escalated, and he clung to you even tighter, his fingers digging into your arm. You could feel the tension radiating from him, his body trembling with every twist and turn on the screen. Concern washed over you, and you decided it was time to alleviate his anxiety.

Leaning close to Felix's ear, you whispered soothingly, "Hey, Felix, it's just a movie. None of it is real. I'm right here with you, and I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe."

Felix turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide with fear. His voice trembled as he spoke, "I know, but it's still so scary. Can we turn it off? Please?"

You nodded understandingly, reaching for the remote to pause the movie. You turned your full attention to Felix, your voice gentle and reassuring. "Of course, Felix. We can turn it off. Let's put on something light-hearted instead, something that will make you smile."

Felix let out a sigh of relief as the screen went dark, the terrifying imagery no longer haunting his thoughts. You scrolled through the movie options, searching for a comedy that would help lift his spirits. Eventually, you settled on a romantic comedy, a genre that never failed to bring a smile to both of your faces.

As the lighthearted film played, Felix slowly began to relax, his grip on you loosening. However, the fear lingered in his eyes, and you knew he would need more than just a movie to put his mind at ease.

Gently guiding Felix to lie down, you nestled beside him, pulling the covers snugly over both of you. You wrapped your arms around him, providing a warm and secure embrace. You peppered light kisses on his forehead, temple, and cheeks, each one meant to convey your love and reassurance.

"Listen, Felix," you whispered softly, your voice soothing as you stroked his hair. "You're incredibly brave, and I'm so proud of you for trying to watch the movie with me. But I want you to know that it's okay to be scared. Everyone has their fears, and it doesn't make you any less amazing. I'm here for you, and I won't let anything harm you. You're safe with me, always."

Felix's shivering gradually subsided, replaced by a sense of tranquility as your words sank in. His breathing

evened out, his body relaxing against yours. You continued to hold him close, providing the comfort he needed, your voice a gentle lullaby.

"You're strong, Felix. You're loved, and you have nothing to fear. With me by your side, every night will be peaceful and filled with warmth. Let go of the scares, my love, and drift off to sleep. I'll be here, watching over you."

As the weight of his fear lifted, Felix's eyes fluttered shut, a small smile gracing his lips. With your comforting words echoing in his mind, he surrendered to sleep, feeling safe and cherished in your arms.

And there, in the quiet embrace of the night, you held Felix close, knowing that love, reassurance, and the power of snuggles were all he needed to conquer his fears.

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 9 months

Text

Gravity

Request: See below

Words: 2,393

Warnings: Angst, language, fighting, mentions of divorce (only the term)

Author's Notes: I really don't know why I wrote this one, I think I just needed some angst to get through my own feelings I've been struggling with lately.

“I want you to leave.” You clutched at your chest, your stomach in knots, the tears you tried so hard to hold back now falling freely. The only thing saving you was the fact that Jack had his back turned to you, and couldn’t see how much pain you were in. “I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t even sound angry or frustrated, just done.

“Something is going on with you, and I don’t know how to help you. Or if you even want my help, but we can’t keep going on like this.”

Jack slipped off his sneakers as he settled onto the bed, taking his wallet and phone out of his back pocket, and placing them on the nightstand. He didn’t even get a chance to do this when he first got home, your argument from earlier that day picking up right where it left off when he walked through the door. It was late, you were both tired, but neither were willing to stand down for the sake of your relationship, your egos taking over.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to catch your breath. “Just go to your mom’s for a couple of days. I’ll tell Brooklyn you went on a work trip or something.” You hated that you were even suggesting that Jack should leave, but at this point you just needed some space. You could see his back tense up at your words.

“I said, I’m not going anywhere. If you have such a problem, you can go.” You scoffed, your face heating up from anger. Jack walked over to the closet, emerging back int the bedroom shirtless after a few seconds. He had welts and hives across his chest, the condition flaring up whenever he was stressed.

“You’re barely here anymore, I’m surprised you remembered where you live.” You were ready to exchange blows, not willing to pull any punches.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“When is the last time you were home for dinner, or to put Brooklyn to bed? She asks about you every night, Jack.” You wiped a rogue tear off your face with the back of your hand.

Jack stopped in his tracks. You, Brooklyn, and Aaliyah were always at the forefront of his mind, everything he did was for the three of you, but lately, he had been feeling the pressure of his career growing stale and had been spending a lot of time working on his music. Honestly, the weeks had blurred together, and he hadn’t realized he’d been gone that long. He usually relied on you to see when he was running on fumes and force him to slow down. He knew it was selfish, but everything he did started and ended with you; you had become his guiding light.

“What do you tell her?” He avoided eye contact with you, afraid to look at your face. He knew you were hurting, he didn’t need to see it for any confirmation.

“Do you mean, do I tell her that you care more about your stupid music career than you do your own family? No, I spare her the details.” You words were like venom, with the intention to kill.

“That’s not fair! All of these things you love so much, this house, the clothes you wear, the money that you fuckin’ love to spend”, Jack let out a humorous laugh, “my stupid music career pays for all of it!” He stabbed a finger into his chest, trying to cement his point; you were sure it was going to leave a bruise.” You’ve become pretty accustomed to this lifestyle; I work my ass off to provide for our family, so you don’t have to work.” He could feel his nails digging into the flesh of his palms.

“You don’t think I work? Who takes care of our daughters when you’re away for weeks at a time? Takes Brooklyn to school and to her dance classes, to your parents’ house every week so they can see their grandchildren. It sure as hell isn’t you.” The air in the room was stifling hot, you could barely breathe. You didn’t even know if you truly believed your words, or if you were just saying them to hurt him. You wanted to share this pain with someone else.

“This is the life you chose, Y/N, when you decided to marry me. I didn’t beg you to, you chose to; you don’t get to back out whenever you feel like it.” The silence in the room was daring to be broken, but you were at a loss for words.

“Wow. Just wow, Jack. I don’t even know what to say to you anymore. I didn’t realize you felt that way. That I was such a burden to you. You sound like such an asshole.” You pressed the palms of your hands into your eyes, trying to stave off an oncoming headache.

“And you sound jealous.” You both silently decided on the terms of the fight, agreeing not to pull punches, but Jack delivered the final blow. He sucked in a breath, as if he had a futile moment of clarity, immediately regretting the words as they left his mouth.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“ he reached out to you, but you backed away, creating more distance between the two of you. “Don’t.” You held up a hand. “Just don’t.” You snapped your head toward the baby monitor at the sound of Aaliyah waking up, no doubt from the shouting match coming from two doors down. You grabbed it from the dresser, gripping it with such force the plastic threatened to snap in your hand.

“I want you gone, tonight.”

****

Jack ended up back at the studio that night, the couch becoming his makeshift bed. He always hated sleeping here, preferring to hold you in the comfort of his own bed, as the cushions felt as hard as a rock, but he didn’t dare to leave. You would have to answer his calls to tell him how much you hated him, so he would have to settle for punishing himself.

He always thought heartbreak was something that love-sick puppies said they experienced when they broke up with their first girlfriend in high school, but he could’ve sworn his heart was literally broke in two. He was always hanging on by a thread, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he never realized how much you were carrying it with him until he was forced to stand on his own.

He shut his eyes tight, twisting his wedding band around his finger. He always promised you that he would never hurt you, that he would be your provider and protector, but he broke those promises in more ways than one. He made you feel like his love was conditional when that was the furthest from the truth.

****

He gave you a couple of days of space like you asked for, each passing day more agonizing than the one before. He spent most of the time just thinking about what he would say when he saw you again, but nothing ever sounded good enough.

He snuck into the house one morning when he was sure you were gone. The house was eerily quiet as he passed by the kitchen, heading toward the living room. “Daddy?” Brooklyn called for Jack as soon as she heard the door open. She rounded the corner, a huge smile on her face at her best friend finally returning home. “I missed you!” She wrapped her arms around his waist, and Jack had to do everything he could not to cry. “I missed you too, baby.” He bent down in front of her, taking her hands in his.

“Did you have a good work trip?” Her face was so innocent. She was of the age where she would believe anything you told her, and that made any lie that much more difficult, even if he thought it was protecting her. “It was good, baby.” He stroked her cheek, giving her the most genuine smile he could muster.

He made eye contact with you at the end of the hall as he stood up, a lump forming in his throat.

You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you, tell you that everything was going to be okay like he did every other time, but it seemed in vain.

“Hey.” You twirled your wedding ring around your finger as he walked closer to you.

He was dying to touch you, kiss you, anything.

“Hi”, he finally edged out, “I didn’t know you would be here. I just needed to grab something, and I’ll be gone.” You nodded, allowing him to walk past you.

“Brooklyn’s teacher asked for a parent-teacher conference tomorrow night. She asked for both of us to be there.” You called after him, not bothering to turn around. Jack stopped, letting out a sigh. “What time?”

“5:30”.

“Ok, I’ll be there.”

****

“I’m so sorry, he’s usually not late.” You gave Brooklyn’s teacher a tight-lipped smile, earning one in return. You looked at the time on your phone; 6:00. Jack was 30 minutes late. You shifted in the tiny plastic chair in front of her desk, pulling at the skin around your nails. “If we need to reschedule we can. I understand that schedules can be hectic.” Her eyes were sympathetic; she could probably see the exhaustion on your face. You hadn’t slept for more than two hours a night since Jack left. “Maybe that’s best.”

Jack busted through the door as you were gathering your things. “I’m so sorry, I just lost track of time.” He was lying; he had spent the last 30 minutes in the parking lot mustering up the courage to come in. Seeing you yesterday had only made things harder, and he wasn’t sure if he could do it again without breaking down.

“That’s okay, Mr. Harlow, please take a seat.” You watched Jack as he sunk down into the chair. His body looked just as worn-out as yours, like this fight was draining him just as much as it was you.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re both here, and I want to assure you that Brooklyn is a very smart and well-behaved child.” You took a breath, the first all day. “I am concerned about her though. She’s been asking to go to the nurse’s office every day for the last week, and while I’ve let her go, the nurse did let me know that she’s been crying and complaining about a stomachache.” You looked at Jack, who’s gaze had been fixed on you the entire time. “Brooklyn hasn’t said anything about being sick when she comes home”, you responded, turning back to her. The teacher nodded in agreement.

“I’ve worked with kids a long time, and I know when they’re truly sick. I kept Brooklyn in for lunch today just to talk with her, and she said that the two of you were going through a divorce. Kids don’t always know how to express themselves with words, so sometimes those feelings will manifest themselves in illness or acting-“.

You held up a hand, stopping her words. “We’re not going through a divorce, I don’t know where she even learned that word.” You shook your head in disbelief, your mind searching for any time she might have heard you and Jack arguing.

“Mrs. Harlow, I’m not here to pry into your personal life, that’s none of my business, but maybe talking with Brooklyn will help to calm any worries. We have another child whose family is going through a tough time right now, and kids don’t always know how to process that information. She may be misreading the situation completely, but she’s a very smart child. I wouldn’t underestimate how much she can internalize.”

****

The two of you walked through the parking lot in silence. You finally allowed yourself to break down when you reached your car. You covered your mouth with both hands as you choked back sobs. “Oh my god, Jack. What have we done?” Jack raked his hands through his hair as he fought back his own tears. “Look, this is my fault. I’m gonna fix this, I promise, baby. I can’t believe I let this happen.” He was hyperventilating, his breathing constricted. You looked up at your husbands face, taking in how shattered he was for the first time since your fight.

“Hey, hey, Jack. Stop, you’re spiraling.” You tried to bring him back, but he was inconsolable. He dropped to his knees, his head in his hands. “I’m so, so sorry, baby.” You lowered yourself down, so you were face to face with him. “Baby, look at me”, you whispered, trying to pull his hands away from his face. “It’s okay.” He stood up suddenly, backing away from you.

“No, it’s not okay. You’re always doing that for me. I fuck things up, and then you put it back together, like it was never broken.” You traced his movements, your eyes watering all over again. “I want to do that for you. That’s what you do for the people you love.” You grabbed his arm, steadying him as he threatened to fall again.

“No. It’s not fair to you. You trusted me and I threw it right back in your face. This family only works because of the things you do. Lord knows I don’t contribute anything to it.”

“Jack, stop”, your voice was stern, forcing him to turn to you. “We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean. I’m sorry too. I know that you’ve been under a lot of pressure, and I didn’t make things any easier on you. You are fantastic husband and father, Brooklyn and Aaliyah need you, they love you so much. I need you.” Your grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers.

“C’mere.” You pulled him into your body, cradling his head as he cried against your shoulder. You allowed your tears to fall silently down your face. “I just wanna come home.” You could barely make out his words as they were muffled against his coat, but they were exactly what you wanted to hear. Your fingers raked through the curls on the back of his head. “I know baby, let’s go home.”

****

Request from anon: Dad jack let’s say jack has been in a bad mood for the past week he hasn’t been home he sleeps wakes up eats and goes to the studio there kid is starting to notice even when jack doesn’t give y/n hello kisses or love bombing her anymore but it’s because she’s upset with him and won’t listen to her saying he needs to slow down and be with the family but there kid learned the new word from there friend which is divorced when there parents are gonna break up there child ends up telling there teacher my mom and dad are getting divorced and the teacher is concerned and calls in a meeting to meet with jack and y/n and ofc jack is late but they were never gonna get a divorce it’s just that jack was over working him self and hearing it from teacher was a wide opening because he fucked up and put work over his family

Taglist:

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

@beautiifulpeople312

@bernelflo

@taniapri

@ageofthebarbarians

@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow x reader #jackharlow #jack harlow concepts #jackman harlow #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine

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cevansbaby-dove · 2 months

Text

Lust Royale 3

Pairing:Dark!Andy Barber X Dark! Steve Rogers X Reader

warnings:Smut!

Summary: When Y/N is away on a mission with her boss, Steve, everything seemed to go well, until a dark figure in the form of Andy Barber appeared. From the moment he laid eyes on Y/N he knows he has to have her, and he's willing to do anything he can to get what's rightfully his. Little does he know that Steve is going in with that same mindset, wanting to protect Y/N at all costs, so he can have her for himself.

I love writing for reader's pov so this series will all be in reader's pov ;)

I woke up the next day to steve not next to me. I sit up and my mind went back to that night...oh god! What we did...

I get out of bed and open the door and look down the hall and see it's empty. I rush into your room and slam the door and sob my heart out, I didn't want you to get that close to Steve....for fucks sake he is my fucking boss!

I slide to the ground pulling my knees to my chest. God..what did i do?

After a few minuses of crying i knew you had to see him...but Now i'll see him differently now....i get into a light outfit of a shirt and jeans. I walk into the elevator and then step out and see Steve is talking to Nick Fury. here we go... I take a deep breath as i walk near Steve....Oh god he looking at me!

"Morning y/n" Steve said as I walk to him. "Hi" I said as i look at Fury and he says "I was just going over the mission...undercover"

Steve looks at me and licks his lips thinking back to last night..god I made him feel powerful with me on your knees in front of him. But then he says. "Agent Y/n will need to think about it" I nod rubbing your arm. "Rogers is right, this is a big mission...Can I think about this before just jumping into this?"

I look at him and Steve says. "She's right...she needs to think" I look at the floor and hear Fury say. "yes you can think about it but just for today"

I nod and say. "is that all sir?" Steve nods. "yes" I walk away.

Not even a few minutes I hear someone say over the intercom. "Agent y/n and Captain Rogers please head to the garage you are needed"

I turn the hallway and Steve is in his suit and I feel like I felt last night...weak in the knees I don't know how i keep walking with Steve and he says in a low tone. "Did you sleep well?"

I glance at him "yes Sir" He smiles. "Keep saying that and i won't be able to control what i do"

I feel blush creep onto my face and say. "yes....Sir"

we get into a fight with some aliens and Tony says. "well that could have been worse!"

After the fight I got hurt and Steve helps me to a hotel and has me sit on the bed oh goodie just one bed...how random. "I'll grab some bandaging"

he walks into the small kitchen and digs through. "Shit this hurts like hell" I sad. then I hear Steve say. "Language Y/N" I chuckle. 'Sorry Rogers"

He kneels in front of me and rolls up my pants leg and says. "Shit looks better than i thought it's just skin deep" I laugh softly. "Language Steve"

He looks at me with a smile. "Haha very funny" He gets my leg patched up and then says. 'Better?"

I nod looking into his Blue eyes. "yes"

He looks at the bed as well, and puts his bag down on the ground before looking at me.

"I can sleep on the ground" Steve says, giving me a sweet smile. "Oh, no, that's not happening. You need to rest well, you're exhausted. I'll sleep on the ground, it's no problem"

I quickly reply, but he shakes his head.

"You're not sleeping on the ground, darling. You're just as exhausted as I am, so you're sleeping in the bed" he says.

I shake my head. "I'm not getting in that bed, Cap. I'm gonna sleep right here, or even on a chair, I don't care! As long as you get the sleep you need" I kindly tell, and he looks at me from head to toe.

"I should get washed up' I said looking at him. He nods. 'Sure i can uh..take a shower after you"

I slowly stand up and say. "We'd uh...save water if we..." i look away and Steve lifts my face to look into his eyes. "You sure?" I feel like my mouth is like sand paper. "yes...Yes sir" And that's all it took for his lips to be on mine. He lifted me up so easily and carries me to the bathroom.

When we reach the bathroom i say. "Steve...I should really undress" he kisses my neck making me moan and tipping my head back. "Hmm good idea babygirl"

He takes my shirt off and sees my black bra and says "Damn you look sexy"

He sets me on feet and turns the shower on as i take my pants off along with my black underwear. i hiss softly at the pain from my wound. Steve looks at me. "stills hurts?" I nod "it's okay"

He gets under the water after discarding his suit. "Get in here, darling" Steve said, holding his hand out for me. I slowly take it, and let him pull me into the shower. Instead of letting go of my hand, he immediately pulls me closer to him and kissing my lips with lots of passion and lust in his kiss.

I kiss him back, and wrap my arms around his neck. My God, I've been wanting to do this for months!

We make our for a while until he stops the kiss by biting my lower lip. I moan at the feeling, making him smirk before he let's go. I press my lips against his again, and take a step forward so he's against the shower wall.

he smiles. "oh are you wanting to be in control this time?" he raised an eyebrow and my hand moves down his chest to his cock. "maybe"

he groans feeling my hand pump him. I kiss him as i keep going. I take a gentle grip on his hardening member, and start to give it slow strokes.

I earn another silent groan from Steve, feeling his member getting harder and harder every second. After only a few slow strokes, he grabs my wrist and holds it up, stopping the kiss as well. "What happened to our shower babygirl?"

I smile. "I want to relive last night sir...please"

Steve smiles. "Oh yea?" I nod. "Get on your knees for me, darling" Steve says, growling a little as he talks.

I look right into his eyes, lick my lips and bite them after. "Anything for you, sir" I silently reply, almost whispering as I slowly get down on my knees where I face his hard member.

I moan at the sight, and start pumping him again, teasingly slow. Steve starts to buck his hips a little, asking me to go faster.

I stop my movements, and slowly move my head closer to his cock.

I lick a strip up from his balls to his tip, and place a soft kiss on the tip. Steve licks his lips a few times, looking down at me while I lick his shaft again moaning slightly.

"Don't tease me Babygirl" Steve groans, making me smirk. I lick his shaft one more time, kiss his tip and earn another groan.

I slowly take his cock in my mouth, and take as much as I can in my mouth, letting it touch the back of my throat.

I slowly move my head up and down, hollowing my cheeks every so often as I massage his balls with my hand. "F... F-faster, Babygirl" Steve says, running his hand through my hair and keeping it on the back of my head, grabbing a fist full of hair as he slowly bucks his hips.

I start going fast, faster and faster, while he bucks his hips with me and groans a few times.

I keep sucking, and moan at the feeling of his cock twitching in my mouth. "I'm gonna...." Steve doesn't get to say what he was going to say before before I feel his warm cum rolling down my throat.

I stand up and we wash up and he steps out handing me a towel then he gets an idea. "Bend over the sink"

"what?" he grabs my chin. "do as i say" I nod. 'Yes sir'

I bend over on the sink and see him in the mirror. He smiles as he walks to me.

Steve's hands touch my leg and he moves his hands up to my ass lightly slapping it.

""Spread your legs for me" he says, looking at me through the mirror. I do as he says, and look back to see him. "fuck i love seeing you this way"

He looks at me for permission, so I give him a little smile and a nod, so he smiles back at me for a second before going back in the dominant mood.

He bends over, resting his upper body on my back, and starts kissing from the back of my neck down to my lower back. "You're beautiful, and all mine...you got that babygirl? No one else can have you...Not even Barber" he silently says, with a little growl as I close my eyes in pleasure. "Say it darling, say that you're all mine" he adds, while his fingers slowly trace my folds as he still kisses my back.

"I'm yours Steve" He grins hearing me moan and i close my eyes as he keeps touching me. Steve says in my ear. "Eyes open, babygirl. I want you to watch in the mirror"

Steve commands, giving me goosebumps all over my body. I slowly look up, and see myself in the mirror.

My cheeks are flushed, and Steve is still behind me. "Good girl, you ready to take me?" he asks, tracing my folds with his tip as I moan at the feeling.

"I'm... ready...sir" I moan, making him smirk. He lines up to my entrance, and begins to slowly push himself into me.

One of his hands is resting on my back, the other one is holding my waist. I let out a loud moan and squeeze my eyes shut as he keeps pushing himself into me, he's fucking huge but god the burn feels good within seconds.

Steve says in my ear. "You can take it, darling" I slowly open my eyes again and feel a little tear rolling down my cheek.

Not because I don't want this, because I really fucking do, but because of his size. He's stretching me out, and it hurts, but it's good pain.

"You ok?" He gets a worried look when he sees the tear on my cheek. I nod. He says. "Use your words please" His tone softens now i know he' really worried. "Steve I'm okay please keep going"

"Good girl, keep your eyes open while I fuck you, yeah?" he asks, so I moan our a little 'yes, Captain', and Steve pulls out almost entirely before slamming back into me.

His thrusts are slow at first, but they keep going faster every time. We both moan and groan, watching ourselves in the mirror while Steve thrusts into me.

i gasp feeling close. "Steve..i'm...." I moan and he says. "What do you cal me babygirl?"

"Sir...Fuck i'm so close" I said as my eyes roll into the back of my head. Steve chuckles. "taking me so well baby good girl"

He keeps moving and he says. "Me too..hmm..let go first i'm right behind you...no pun intended" He chuckled. I giggle softly then I snap. "Fuck fuck!" I let go and Steve says. "good girl..."

I can feel Steve's cum filling me up at the exact same moment, groaning before riding out our highs. "Such a good girl, you took me so well, babygirl"

Steve silently says, pulling out of me before looking right into my eyes through the mirror.

He helps me stand up straight, and lifts me up the sink now so that I can sit. "You okay?" Steve asks, looking at every part of my face while puppy Steve shows up again.

I nod my head in reply, still catching my breath as he frowns a little. "Words, Y/N. Are you okay?" he asks, needing the real confirmation from me.

"I'm okay, Stevie" I finally reply, followed by a deep breath. "Are you sure?" Steve asks me again, making me smile. "I'm sure, I'm okay. Are you okay?" I ask in reply, giggling a little which makes him smile as well.

"yes I'm alright Rogers" He smiles brushing my hair from my face. "I'm always worried i would hurt you..." I press a soft kiss to his lips then lean my head on his. "Don't worry i'll let you know if you hurt me..."

He smiles. "Now can we sleep then?" I nod. "yes sir' he helps me off the sink and we walk into the bedroom and he says. "I can take the floor"

I laugh. "we just had sex Steve..sleeping in the same bed won't kill us Rogers"

He nods. 'okay if your sure" We get into bed and Steve looks at me. "Will this...change how you see me?" I turn and look at him. "Um...yes i think it would but..is that a bad thing?"

Steve smiles. "um..no..i don't think so" I shut my eyes. "good" Steve looks at me sleeping and smiles then soon fall asleep.

tags:@nicoline1998enilocin @bookishtheaterlover7 @cutedisneygrl @angelbabyyy99 @patzammit @armystay89

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x reader #steven grant rogers #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x reader fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x yn

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alldevilsarehere90 · 10 months

Note

hiii just saw your prompt list, would love some fluff for daryl with 19 and 13 xx

Title: Good enough

Pairing: Daryl x fem reader

Summary: A confrontation in the woods, after you make a almost fatal mistake on a run, doesn’t have the outcome you were expecting.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of walkers, descriptions of disposing of walkers

A/N: Thank you so much for sending me this request, I'm so grateful. Prompts: "Are you always this infuriating?" and "I'll kiss that smile right off your face, just say when." This one got a little angsty, but i kept the ending fluffy. Please enjoy!

This was the third time you'd been out this week, the third time trying to find medical supplies for everyone staying at the prison and meaning, the third time being outside the walls with Daryl.

While the two of you worked incredibly well as a team; being two of the best fighters in your group, your personalities however, seem to clash more and more frequently nowadays.

With the increased runs meant increased awkward silences, snide comments followed by harsh jabs.

If you were honest, you didn't know why he angered you so much but something about him really rubbed you up the wrong way but no matter how much time you spent together you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Equally you had no idea what you’d done to annoy Daryl, your mere presence seemed to irritate him in ways that you could only describe as irrational.

“We’re losing light, we should camp here?” His voice rasped into the silence, pulling you out of your manic thoughts, that were overcoming you more than you’d care to admit.

Glancing around the wooded area, you noted you had a lot of cover, it was as good a place as any but the idea of being this out in the open had your heart spiking. It had been a while since you had slept outside at night without the prison walls and fences surrounding you. You hadn’t expected to get used to that so quickly and yet here you are, panicking about sleeping in the woods, something you had all done more than enough of. You felt pathetic and irritated at yourself, so naturally you aimed that at the closest person to you, which more often than not was him.

“Here? Really?” your arms folded across your chest as you leaned your weight more on one leg and your hip jutting out with attitude, you knew he hated it and yet you couldn't stop yourself.

“Wha’s wrong with it?” He growled, starting on the defensive already.

“You don’t even want to try and find somewhere…sheltered?”

He stared at you, face unwavering and emotionless. “Na.” And with that he put down his backpack and began setting up camp.

Sucking in a deep breath, willing yourself not to throw a rock at the back of his head, you grumbled, “Fine.” joining him by pulling out your sleeping bag and unravelling it more aggressively than was necessary.

You helped with the tent as much as you could without feeling like you were a hindrance to him, attempting to ignore his side eye and impatient grunts and once everything was set up, night had truly arrived.

The darkness swallowed your landscape into a gaping black abyss. You could no longer see most of the surrounding tree’s and the thick black beyond them was suffocating. Possible eyes hiding in those shadows made your chest feel tight and put your nerves on edge.

Daryl started a small fire and with the small amount of light and warmth it brang it eased your fear somewhat, even with it maybe enticing nearby walkers it was a risk you were willing to take. It was not the dead monsters that had fear churning your stomach, it was the living ones.

The silence was as thick as the darkness, that was until Daryl said, “Yer wanna take first watch or yer want me to?”

You didn’t like the idea of either, you knew sleep would elude you but you were worried sitting and staring into the night your mind would play tricks on you, only increasing your fear. And fear made people stupid. You needed to get your head in the game, for your own sake and Daryl’s. A mistake out here could cost you both dearly.

“I’ll do the second shift if you don’t mind.”

He nodded, eyeing you warily. “A’ight.” When he didn’t look away, you shifted uncomfortably on the ground, a twig snapping underneath you making you jump.

“Listen, what happened back there–”

“We don’t need to do this.” You cut him off, your face flushing from the memory of your earlier raid in the store. Proving your point that a mistake can cost you dearly and today, you not checking thoroughly, you almost paid the price.

He continued staring at you. “I think you should stay home on the next run.”

Instant fury and embarrassment riled up in your chest, burning as it rose, your skin feeling hot all the way up your throat to your hairline. “What?”

“I’ll take Glenn, s’fine. Yer clearly need a break.” he spoke so casually, picking food out of his teeth with a pocket knife.

Your hands shook at your sides, trying to keep some semblance of control you clenched them into fists. “I’m fine, I don’t need a break.” you spoke slowly through gritted teeth.

“Ya do. It ain’t me that almost got bit by a walker today.” He shot at you, his voice low, words suddenly so full of anger, you almost reeled back before your hackles raised in retaliation.

“That’s fucking life now Daryl, it’s almost everyday we have to deal with that shit, so don’t act like it’s not a regular occurance.” Your voice quivered from trying to contain your red hot outrage, threatening to erupt.

He scoffed, only infuriating you more, “I ain’t ever seen ya come that close to being one of ‘em, so don’t gimme tha shit. If I weren’t there, woulda been it for ya.”

Before you could even process the movement, your legs were lifting you and closing the distance between the two of you. Your fists still balled at your sides, knuckles white from your grip you were unable to release. He was immediately on his feet, eyes fixed on yours.

“Yes, Daryl, I’m aware of that. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count but let’s not forget, it goes both ways.”

“I ain’t ever been as stupid as you were today.”

You flinched, reeling, the sting of his words felt as real as if he had physically slapped you in the face. “Are you always this infuriating? What the fuck is your problem?”

“You dun get it, do ya? If somethin' happens to ya, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Your body froze at his sudden honesty, knowing how it sounded but refusing to let yourself believe that was the meaning behind those words. Your muscles relaxed slightly, confusion sating some of the anger that had your body trembling. “You aren’t responsible for me Daryl, no-one’s going to blame you if something happens to me.”

He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, turning his back on you before spinning right back your way. “I dun give a shit bout what anyone thinks. What am I supposed to do if ya ain’t here no more?” he yelled, eyes still on you but now faltering in their confidence slightly.

You feel yourself gulp, trying to moisten the desert dry throat you have suddenly.

“What the fuck are you on about Daryl? You’d be fine, you don’t need me.” Your hands hung limply at your sides, all anger distinguished, now too distracted at the turn this fight seems to have taken.

“The hell I don’t.” His voice was quiet now as his eyes dropped to the ground, his face a slightly pinker shade than usual. Was he blushing?

You were silent, for the first time ever in a heated exchange with him and for once you had no idea how to respond. No comeback, no smart remark; nothing. You were completely taken aback. Not to mention the insanely loud pounding of your heart in your ears made it hard to concentrate. You wiped your hands on your jeans, realising how clammy they suddenly were.

“Forget it,” he storms off into the tent, leaving you standing alone with nothing but your wild thoughts and frozen limbs. That only lasts a minute before your irritation reared its ugly head again, your feet on autopilot following him in.

“Na-ah, you can’t leave it there.” you said pushing into the tent. "Tell me what the hell you mean."

"Na, nuthin’." He'd sat himself down on his sleeping bag, knees resting in the crooks of his arms.

“No, why the fuck do you care so much, when half the time you can’t stand being around me anyway.” you sat down opposite him, running a hand roughly through your hair, exhausted from today’s earlier events and now this.

He glanced up at you through his messy fringe. “I like being around yer.” he voice was just above a whisper, quite the difference to a few minutes ago. His mood swings were giving you whiplash.

“You could have fooled me.” you stare him down, trying to get a read on him. “Why do you act like you hate me most of the time?”

You watched as he chewed the inside of his mouth nervously, avoiding your eyes again and just shrugged.

You shook your head, “Daryl Dixon, that’s not good enough. I deserve an explanation.”

“That’s just it, yer deserve better, I ain’t good enough to feel the way I do about yer.” He growled.

Realisation hits you like a plank of wood right the face, but disbelief still clouded your judgement. You needed clarity. “And how do you feel, exactly?”

He stood abruptly and so did you in response, his calm mood now vanished. “Yer know how I feel!”

“Actually I don’t, Daryl. I'm good at many things but reading minds is not one of them.”

He turns his back on you, in the small space between you, shoulders slumped defeated. “I dun’ hate ya, never have. M’sorry you thought that.”

You wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, comfort him, ease his troubled mind but your feet and arms were rooted to the spot, afraid if you moved then this entire conversation would cease to be real. You needed it to be real. You needed to hear what he had to say.

“I’m an idiot for feeling the way I do ‘bout yer, I know that. I’m not good enough for someone like yer. I’ve tried to stop, m’sorry, I just can’t.”

Your heart felt broken, how can this man see himself this way. It didn’t make a damn bit of sense to you. And right now, in this moment, you realised exactly why he infuriated you so much.

You had been doing the same thing he had; snapping, arguing every chance you got, disagreeing for the sake of it because you also didn’t feel like you deserved him.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You whispered.

His head slowly lifted, turning towards you, eyes guarded and yet more open than you’d ever seen them. His stare was still cautious, searching your gaze for something. You couldn’t help smiling shyly at him, biting your lower lip with your own nerves.

He straightened up, steeling his arms by his side and said, “I’ll kiss that smile right off ya face, just say when.”

There was something so vulnerable about the way he said it; with a shaky confidence–that much was obvious–his fingers constantly moving against each other, still chewing the inside of his lip but his feet were planted firmly in front of you, unwavering, even though he probably felt like running as far away from you as he could.

A crack of a twig outside caught both your attention, heads snapping towards the sound. He pulled out his knife and edged towards the opening of the tent, arm across protectively in front of you, keeping you behind him.

You both recognised the familiar groans of the dead, Daryl’s tense posture relaxed slightly as he stepped outside and lunged forward. You followed quickly behind him, hearing his knife slam into the skull of the closest walker, you lunged at one setting sights for him before it could turn to you, driving your knife into his head and watching his body slump to the floor by your feet.

Another turned and came for you. Kicking it in the chest, watching it stumble back slamming into the ground before you were on top of it and slamming your knife into his forehead.

The stench perspiring from them was putrid, a smell that has by now been ingrained in your memory. You blew a big breath out as an attempt to rid your nostrils of it as you stood up heading back towards Daryl who cleared the last two walkers.

He stood with his back to you, surveying the woods, listening in the darkness, the way he held his knife, ready for anything. You watched him and when you were sure there were no more walkers nearby, here he was, clothes covered in walker blood, hair stuck to his face and yet, never looked more perfect.

You couldn't help the smile that stretched your mouth.

He turned to you and frowned when he saw your face, "yer ok?"

"When." You replied.

He frowned for a moment before realising exactly what you meant and what you wanted, he couldn’t look away from you as he took tentative steps in your direction.

He sheathed his knife and you did the same, when he stopped in front of you, looking down, he hesitantly asked, "Yer sure?”

"When." You enunciated the word slowly, making the corner of his mouth pull up in a one sided smile. He raised a shaky hand to your face, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears and you instinctively leant into the warmth of his touch as he brought both hands up to cup your face.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, forgetting everything, your fear, the walkers, the prison, everything.

You'd never been this close to him before and you couldn't tear your gaze away from his piercing blue eyes, so scared and unsure, completely opposite to the tough exterior he portrays.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he slowly leaned in and met your mouth with his.

A timid and gentle kiss that you soon melted into.

Your legs felt weak beneath you, feeling as if you were floating away from this god forsaken world with nothing but him.

Your hands found solace in his hair, grounding you, using it to pull him closer and deepen the kiss.

His confidence grew then, exploring your mouth with his, an arm snaking around your waist and bringing you closer, body moulded to his.

You had no idea how long you stayed that way, tender caresses between you, but you knew it wasn't long enough. But you were both sucking in much needed air and grinning somewhat awkwardly at each other.

"So…" you started now your breathing had slowed to a normal pace. "What now?"

"We'll get some rest tonight and as soon as the sun comes up we'll head back with the supplies." He replied quietly.

You couldn't help the amused huff of breath that escaped you. Good to know his confession hadn’t made him any less infuriating.

"Wha?" He questioned, his cheeks darkening in the firelight.

"I meant, what now…for us?"

His eyes darted from you to the fire and back again, suddenly seeming so unsure, "what do you want?"

"I want you." You expressed bluntly. "No more games, no more pretending not to like each other. You and me."

His mouth twitched into a smile as he nodded and closed the small amount of distance between you, running his thumb over your bottom lip and lifting your face up to his with his knuckle under your chin.

"Then I'm yours."

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd #request #the walking dead request #daryl dixon request

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bellaxgiornata · 6 months

Text

I Can't Lose You [part one]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: The night doesn't go as planned after being tasked by Amanda to seduce a rival drug lord in order to seal the deal for claim to more territory for the Kinsellas. When Michael finds out from his brother what happened, he's not happy with you for following Amanda's orders.

Warnings/tags: light angst, overprotective Mikey, love confession

a/n: This mental image of an upset and protective Mikey going off on Reader hit me hard and I wrote this almost entirely in one day because of it. And honestly, part of me wouldn't mind expanding on things with these two at some point because I sort of love them already... Feedback is always appreciated!

Michael Kinsella One Shot Tag List: @danzer8705 @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza

Holding onto the wall for balance, you slipped out of your heels by the front door. Worn out, you slowly took them off one at a time, dropping each one to the floor with a groan. Your body was stiff and sore from the night's horrible turn of events and you were just glad you'd made it home alive.

With your heels finally off, you bent down to pick them up and put them away in your closet, but abruptly you paused halfway, hissing in pain as your hand flew to the bruise that had to be forming along your ribs. Gritting your teeth together, you straightened back up. Awkwardly limping down your entryway hall and past your kitchen, a hand still pressed to your side, you made your way through your house and towards your bathroom. You’d just leave your shoes where they were, too sore and exhausted to deal with them tonight.

Flipping on the lights in the bathroom, you limped over to stand before the sink. Carefully your hands reached down to your mid-thigh, pulling the hem of your dress all the way up to your chest. You winced as you saw the dark mark forming, stretching all along the left side of your ribs reflecting back at you in the mirror. It was only a matter of time before that became a disgusting and angry looking bruise.

With a sigh you released your dress, the fabric easily falling back down and covering you. Burying your face in your hands, you internally cursed yourself for having made such a stupid mistake. You knew better than to have reacted the way you had, but O’Brien had crossed a line. One you weren’t willing to cross for the sake of Amanda’s orders. But you certainly hadn’t expected that sort of reaction out of him. Thankfully it had been Jimmy she’d sent with you for the job instead of Eric–or God forbid, Michael . There probably would’ve been bloodshed had they accompanied you this evening and witnessed the way Sean O’Brien had treated you.

The sound of your front door flying open and the handle roughly slamming into the wall tore loudly through the stillness of your house. Hands flying down from your face, you startled in terrified surprise. Had O’Brien’s men come for further revenge? Had you embarrassed him that much?

But then you heard Michael’s familiar and enraged voice calling your name sharply through the house. Eyes closing, you grimaced at the sound. He was pissed, you could hear it in the way he was shouting your name. Which meant Jimmy must’ve told him what happened tonight already.

"Where the hell are ya?" he yelled. “I know you’re home already!”

Shoulders dropping in defeat, you realized you weren’t going to be able to hide this from him like you’d planned to do. Cautiously stepping out of the bathroom, you turned the light off on your way into the hallway. Swallowing thickly at the sound of his angry footsteps storming into your sitting room, you gradually made your way down the length of your hallway towards him. Stopping in the entrance to the sitting room, you leant up against the wall, eyeing Michael’s tense form as he scanned your back garden through the window.

“I’m right here, Mikey,” you weakly called back.

He spun swiftly on his heels, his lips set in a thin line as he fixed you with his hardened stare and that stern expression etched over his features. Eyes pinching tight at the sight of you, he briskly crossed the room in a few quick, agitated steps. You could feel your heart slamming nervously in your chest over and over the closer he neared. That look on his face was not one you saw often, and certainly not one he’d ever directed at you. He looked ready to kill.

When he reached you, he immediately slammed both of his hands onto the wall on either side of your head with a sharp bang , caging you in between his arms. You flinched at the harsh noise as both of his palms hit the wall while he lowered his face to yours. With him standing this close, you could see just how livid he was, his hazel eyes practically alight with rage.

“What the hell were ya thinkin’?” he growled low. “Are ya fuckin’ daft now? Is that it?”

“Amanda wanted the deal set with O’Brien,” you told him, your own blood beginning to boil at the way he was speaking to you. “If ya have a problem with that, maybe ya should take it up with her instead o’ crashin’ into my place hollerin’ at the top o' your lungs.”

Michael’s head tilted to the side, his eyes twitching at the corner as he stared you down. “I know ya aren’t this fuckin’ stupid,” he hissed. “ Seducin’ Sean O’Brien? That sounded like a grand idea to score the deal, did it? The fuckin’ Titan–ya know that’s what they call him, don’t ya?”

“I don’t give a sheep’s arse what they call him,” you snapped. “He’s a goddamn prick and we needed his northern territory to expand, Mikey. Ya already know that.”

“So what?” he asked, voice lowering to something dangerous that had the hairs on the back of your neck raising. “Ya were just goin’ to fuck ‘em, were ya? Like ya were nothin’ better than a goddamn whore? That what ya wanted? His filthy fuckin’ hands all over ya?”

You pulled a face at his words, hurt and rage coursing through you at the cruelty and crassness in them. That wasn’t like the Mikey you’d always known, not even when he was upset with you. Without thinking, your hand rose up, swinging forward through the air in anger. Though Michael saw it coming. His hand darted forward, catching yours by the wrist and immediately halting its movements. Jaw clenching, you fought to free your hand from his hold, but all he did was pin it to the wall beside your head.

“Jimmy said he hurt ya,” Michael continued, his tone softening. His eyes lowered, scanning what he could see of your body. “What’d he do?”

You tried to shake out of his grip, but Michael didn’t move. He stood solidly just before you, his eyes darting back up to yours. The muscle began to jump in his cheek in irritation when you remained silent.

“What’d he do?” he asked again, an edge to the question.

“Hit me,” you grudgingly ground out.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, an emotion crossing behind them that you couldn’t place. You knew he’d react horribly if he’d found out what happened tonight; you'd known that the moment Amanda ordered you and Jimmy to schmooze O’Brien. Especially when she asked you to wear this particular dress that didn't cover much and demanded you openly flirt with him. But you certainly hadn’t expected that Michael would be quite this pissed–not at you, at least.

“He hit you?” he asked, his voice terrifyingly calm as he enunciated each word.

“And threw me around a bit,” you answered stiffly. “Because I did what Amanda asked but refused to go so far as to fuck him.” You glared venomously back at Michael as you bitterly added, “Because I don’t consider myself a damn whore .”

You heard the rough hiss of breath he expelled at your words, his nostrils flaring sharply. That rage was burning just behind his eyes again now. You could practically feel the heat of his anger as he kept you pinned to the wall.

“Show me,” he ordered. "Jimmy said ya were hurt. So show me."

“Michael, I don’t–”

“Show me,” he demanded more fiercely.

You stood there for a second, contemplating if it was possible to get out of this. To get him to calm down and just leave. But truthfully you knew better than that. You knew Michael better than that. He wasn’t going anywhere until he got his answers–which apparently included visual proof of what happened earlier.

Sighing, you lowered your left hand–the one which Michael didn’t still have pinned to the wall with his large one–and gradually began to pull the hem of your dress all the way up your body to reveal your ribcage. You shuddered at the cold air on your skin, goosebumps raising as Michael’s focus shifted downward onto your body. You were vaguely aware of the fact that your underwear was on full display with how high your dress was pulled up, leaving you in a state of undress that Mikey had never seen you in before. One you’d often wished for–but certainly not like this.

The moment Michael took in the sight of your injured side, his entire expression shifted instantly. The anger quickly dissipated, his features softening. His right hand left the wall beside your head, lowering down to your side before he gently brushed his fingertips along the skin beside the quickly forming bruise. He winced, his brows pinching tight together on his forehead.

“I’m goin’ to get us out o’ this,” he whispered, fingers still gently brushing along your skin. “I promise ya, I’ll get us out o’ everythin’.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, “so ya always say.”

His gaze drew back up to yours, something sad and pained in them reflecting back at you. It was a haunted look you’d seen often on Michael’s face in the years you’d been friends with him. One that seemed to have a more permanent place in his eyes after his time in prison.

“I can’t lose ya,” he whispered.

You lowered your dress, pushing his hand off of you as you did. The emotional walls you usually kept up felt like they were returning now, your anger at the way he’d been speaking to you only moments ago returning.

“Neither of us are gettin’ out o’ this shit, Mikey,” you spat. “You’re damn family wouldn’t let it happen. We both know that. So if ya got a problem with the way things happened this evenin’, I suggest ya take it up with your precious Amanda instead of fumin’ at me. I’m fuckin’ tired and it’s the last thing I need tonight.”

Michael’s head tilted to the side, confusion crossing his features next. Slowly, he released your wrist, and you immediately crossed your arms over your chest, covering a bit of your cleavage that the dress displayed all too well.

“What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked, shaking his head. “"My precious Amanda'…?”

“Oh come off it, Mikey,” you snapped, still irritated with how he'd barged into your house and yelled at you. “I know ya still love her. I’m not an idiot. So why don’t ya take your anger out on the one who thought it a good idea to whore me out this evenin’, yeah?”

“I am not in love with Amanda,” he stated firmly.

You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes. “Absolute bullshit, that is. You’ve been chasin’ after her for ages. And when she chose Jimmy over ya…”

You trailed off, mouth snapping shut as Michael’s anger appeared to be quickly returning. As pissed as you were, you didn’t have the heart to mention Allison. You weren’t cruel.

Taking a sharp step forward, Michael was suddenly back in your face. His eyes were narrowed as they darted back and forth between yours, almost searching for something. You remained absolutely still, your arms hugging yourself a bit tighter at his reaction.

“I’ve never loved Amanda,” Michael growled out. “Not even back then, when we were kids just messin’ around. Because all these fuckin’ years I’ve always only ever been in love with you.”

Mouth falling open in shock, you felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs. Had you just heard him correctly?

“Except you have never wanted anythin’ serious with anyone! Ever!” he continued in a frenzy. “You’re the only one I ever wanted, but all ya ever wanted was to see what else was out there! And here I thought about ya every damn day–even when my arse was in that fuckin’ prison, just hopin’ one day I’d finally get out o’ there and fulfil my promise to ya. To get us both out o’ this shit,” he roared, chest heaving as he grew more impassioned. “And now I come to find ya were out seducin’ the goddamn Titan tonight and–and gettin’ beat for refusin’ to fuck him? Ya think I’m not goin’ to be fuckin’ angry ‘bout that, d’ya now, pet?”

You were still standing there with your back pressed against the wall, entirely shocked at everything he’d just said. All these years you’d thought he was in love with Amanda. You thought he’d married Allison because Amanda had chosen his brother over him. Figured that you were never anything more than just his friend and a part of the Kinsella business. Someone passed over when it came to his feelings.

But he loved you?

“Michael–”

He held up a hand, cutting you off. “I don’t want to fuckin’ hear another damn word,” he snapped. “I’m goin’ to deal with that damned O’Brien my-fuckin’-self. But first I’m goin’ to have some words with Amanda because what she set ya up to do tonight is never happenin’ again. And don’t think I’m done yellin’ at ya for what happened, either.”

“Michael–”

“Because I’m not!” he continued, loudly talking over you. “This isn’t what ya do for us! And ya shouldn’t have agreed to it–”

“Michael!”

“You’re better than this!” he shouted. “Ya deserve better than this! And I won’t stand for–”

“Would ya shut the fuck up for just a damned minute so I could tell ya I love ya too, ya fuckin’ arsehole!” you yelled over him.

Michael stiffened before you, blinking hard a few times as he finally grew quiet. You could feel heat creeping up your neck, unable to believe you’d finally admitted it aloud to him after all this time. Now he knew, after you’d spent so long trying to hide that truth from him.

“What?” he breathed out.

Licking your lips nervously, your arms hugged yourself tighter. “I’ve always been in love with ya. But ya always were so focused on Amanda.” You shrugged, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Figured I was nothin’ more than your friend, Mikey. So I did my best to hide my feelings. Didn’t want to make things…weird between us. I only ever slept around because I couldn’t have ya. Not because I was tryin’ to see what all was out there.”

“So–so all this time…?” he whispered, his eyes growing wide.

You nodded slowly, looking back up at him as the shock of the truth was still hitting you. That he had feelings for you as well.

“Yes,” you answered.

Silence fell between the pair of you in the hallway, both of you standing there with your eyes locked on one another. Neither of you moved, though you saw the way Michael blinked harder a few times before his attention dropped down to your lips. Pulse quickening, your focus shifted to his mere inches from yours. You could feel your breath beginning to come in shallower, the sound of it loud in your ears in the stillness.

How long had you thought about kissing him? How many years had passed where you dreamt about it? How many long nights had you laid awake in bed knowing he was with someone else, feeling it tear at your insides?

And now here he was admitting to having always loved you. Possibly having spent all those same years feeling the jealousy and hurt that you did.

Slowly, your eyes made their way back up Michael’s handsome face. His hazel eyes were already focused back on yours. You'd barely inhaled half a breath before he took you by surprise, abruptly lunging at you as both of his hands darted forward, firmly grabbing your face just before his mouth crashed hard onto yours.

Every single thought disappeared from your mind the second your back hit the wall behind you. Michael’s mouth was moving frantically against yours, the sound of sharp gasps filling the air each time his mouth broke away only to reconnect to yours. You weren’t even sure if it was you, or him, or the both of you making those hurried, desperate noises as your hands wrapped around him, fingers digging into the toned muscles of his back through his sweater. You were too busy struggling to keep up with the feverish and hungry way Michael’s mouth was moving against yours, as if he'd been wanting this for as long as you had. As if he physically couldn’t stop himself from kissing you.

And you were just as eager. Your fingers were wildly clawing at his back, trying your hardest to draw him closer to you while simultaneously trying to not to press your injured side to his body with the way you were holding him to the front of you. But you wanted him. Needed him.

But when he abruptly pulled back, you whined loudly in frustration and protest. Eyes flying open and hands fisting the fabric of his sweater, you glanced up at him. He was breathing heavier, his brows knitted together as his lips glistened with both of your saliva.

“I need to speak with Amanda,” he breathed out.

Something white hot shot through you, your face immediately twisting into anger at his words. That was not a name you wanted to hear at the moment. Michael clearly saw the way your expression shifted and he was quickly opening his mouth before you even had a chance to respond.

"I'm goin' to tell Amanda off for what she asked ya to do tonight," he told you, shaking his head. "She's never doin' that again. I'm goin' to make damn sure of it."

"Can't ya do it tomorrow?" you asked. "Stay with me instead tonight, Mikey?"

He smiled softly back at you, both of his hands still cradling your face between his palms. One of his thumbs began to lightly stroke your cheek, the gesture so tender and gentle. You leaned into his touch, your anger rapidly leaving you.

"I'll be back right after, love," he promised. "I want to finish this, I do. The conversation we need to have and–and whatever else might happen after that,” he said, a faint smile brightening his face before it melted away again. “But Amanda crossed a line tonight, and I'm damn well goin' to make sure she fuckin' knows it. ‘M'not goin' to let it go until the mornin'. It's far too important for that. You’re far too important for me to put it off. Then I’m goin’ to have a word with Jimmy. What O’Brien did to ya won’t go unanswered, either. I promise ya that, pet."

Overcome with emotion at Michael’s fierce protectiveness, you closed the distance between the pair of you once more. Though this time when you pressed your lips to Michael’s, it was far more delicate than the kiss the pair of you had shared a moment ago. His mouth responded immediately, his lips moving so sweetly against yours as he continued to cradle your face, keeping you close. Your arms were tightening around his back, pulling him into an embrace that you wished you’d never have to leave.

“Come back to me after?” you whispered, reluctantly breaking away from his lips.

Michael’s hand slid back, tucking some hair behind your ear. Lowering his forehead to yours, he affectionately nuzzled his nose to yours next, the gesture drawing forth a smile from you.

“Always, love,” he murmured. “I’ll always come back to ya.”

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin (amc)

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onestepbackwards · 1 year

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Remember when I said how Ingo was done dirty in the Pokemon Legends Arceus game and I went on a tangent on what could've happened, yeah? Now hear me out… platonic yandere warden Ingo, the little times he gets to see you you've gotten stronger and stronger. You're clearly dedicated to your work as a Galaxy corpse member and seeing all that hard work get trampled because of something out of your control struck a nerve with him. Also if we were to take into account that one angst bit that I pitched to you some time ago where the readers team gets killed by Volo's, rest assured that Ingo wont take so kindly to any threats aimed at you. I doubt that he would let you go into town without him or his Lady, he's already lost fragments of someone really important to him, he's not about to lose another through sheer ignorance of others.

Platonic Yandere Warden Ingo is certainly interesting!

He’s almost more protective of you than when his interest is romantic. He sees how kind you are, amongst all these villagers and clan folk. You care for even the smallest person, such as himself. A light like that must be protected. You can handle yourself in a pokemon battle just fine, sure. It’s something he is very proud of! But what about people? You are so kind, you are bound to be taken advantage of. It’s only proven true when you are banished from your village by your idiot of a team leader. You were the highest rank, and did so much for the village and the Galaxy Team, only to be tossed aside like trash. He takes you in instead, and doesn’t let you go anywhere without him. He’s willing to face Irida’s ire if it means protecting you. He’ll even take being banished himself if it means keeping you safe. Thankfully it doesn’t get that far. When you are attacked by Beni, it takes everything in him not to strangle the ninja. But much to your suprise, and Beni’s, he walks right up to the ninja, and slugs him right across the jaw. “Leave, and don’t come back.” Beni only sighs, and rubs his chin, before disappearing. After that, he’s your shadow. If your village leader was willing to send an assassin after you, he’s not taking any chances. When you are welcomed back into the village, he hardly leaves your side. If he can’t be with you, he asks Lady Sneasler to keep an eye out for you as well. She likes you a lot, so it’s thankfully no trouble. People learn to leave you be when they see the man following your every step, who you have affectionately referred to as you ‘Uncle Ingo.’ You don’t see how he glares at them from behind your shoulder. Not one of them came to your defense. They are nothing but pests to him that don’t deserve your kindness. But it would upset you if anything happened, so he only sticks by you as a guard, and as a warning. The only ones that aren’t receiving his own ire is your little rival, Cyllene, and the professor, who all seemed upset at how you had been banished. Kamado, however... After seeing Kamado when you had to save the day, he only held himself back for your sake, since there were more pressing matters at the time. But now? Kamado openly avoids you. He nearly refuses to have meetings with you unless absolutely necessary, though you aren’t quite sure why. You have no idea Ingo paid him a visit late one night, easily sweeping through his pokemon, and pinning him to a wall. “If you ever do something so stupid like that again, and put them in danger, I will kill you.” Kamado stares at him with a steely gaze. “Is that a threat, Warden?” Ingo tightens his grip on the man’s neck, his Gliscor snapping its claws ominously behind him. “No. It’s a promise.” He also has near to no mercy for Volo. Summoning a legendary to smite you down, right after a battle and wearing down your poor pokemon? Ingo isn’t sure why, but he’s pretty sure that’s against a rule of some sort. So if Volo plans to forgo the rules, so will he. He will battle by your side against the legendary pokemon. He goes in to give Volo a real piece of his mind, only to be held back by you. The Warden relents, but silently decides the moment he sees Volo when he’s not with you, it’s on sight.

#pokemon #warden ingo #submas #subway boss ingo #platonic ingo x reader #yandere #yandere ingo #yandere pokemon #platonic yandere #pla #pokemon legends arceus #ask #shegairowmyamo #zed.talks #zed.writes

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iceman-maverick · 6 months

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Huddling for warmth + "I really think you should re-evaluate your priorities."

“I really think you should re-evaluate your priorities,” Ice says, twirling the phone cord as he waits for the tone to go through.

He’s a vision in his briefs, sprawled out all sunkissed across Maverick’s baby blue sheets. The sun is just beginning to set, casting the room in a light orange glow- a picture perfect ending to a deliciously relaxing day by the pool. Mav was drawn to this rental mostly because of the price and proximity to Carol's house - the pool was just a bonus that left Ice hellbent on getting as much return on investment as their instructor schedules would permit.

Maverick tries not to think so hard about how sweetly the sheets bring out the color in Ice’s eyes. Tries to forget Carol's gleeful teasing from back when he bought the damn things on a Target run.

Seriously Pete? She had squealed, Look at the tag! They're called Pradise Ice for Heaven's sake.

He pushes her laughter from his mind - or at least he tries to.But then Ice rolls his shoulder, stretches like a sunbathing cat and exposes his neck for all the world to see. Peppered along the tanned skin is a constellation of angry red and purple bite marks, evidence of a night well spent.

Maverick smirks and turns to open his drawers. He’s drenched to the bone, shirt clinging uncomfortably to his chest and making all sorts of strange and off putting squishing sounds as Maverick tries to wrestle himself free. He nearly loses his footing and doesn't even wait for the cackling to start before he raises a middle finger up to Ice who is far too pleased about Maverick's spectacle.

“I couldn’t let it die,” Maverick whines, putting as much elbow grease into peeling his jeans off as his still aching back is willing to allow.

A night well spent, indeed.

“Mother nature can be cruel,” Ice drones. Even with his back turned, Maverick can hear the frown in his voice. The line’s engaged, Mav figures, just as he hears the testy click of Ice dropping the phone back to the receiver. “We’re going to starve because you had to go all Baywatch on a frog,”

"It was a nice frog," Mav shrugs, tossing his wet clothes to the side of the room and happily ignoring Ice's pointed frown.

Mav forgoes fresh clothes and instead opts to crawl up the bed and flop down squarely across Ice’s chest. He brings his arms up to wrap around Ice’s shoulders, basking in his radiating body heat. Maverick swears that Ice is some sort of lizard what with his uncanny ability to soak up the sun. Ice always tends to run hot - the irony is not lost on either of them - and Maverick is more than happy to help himself to his wingman’s warm embrace.

“Baywatch, huh?” Mav smiles into Ice’s neck, trailing his fingers lightly along the trail of hickies. He pokes at a particularly angry mark and delights in Ice’s squirming. “Didn’t peg you for a Hasselhoff kinda guy,”

“Oh shut up,” Ice pushes away Mav’s proding fingers, and then starts to buck until Mav slides off besides him. Mav makes a noise not unlike a dying animal before flailing his arms back towards Ice.

“Oof- Mav let go, it’s fucking hot,”

“Yeah, well I’m fucking cold,”

Mav successfully gets an arm back around Ice’s shoulder and uses it to propel himself back into the warm cocoon of Ice’s chest. Ice begins to worm his way out again but then Mav quickly shoves a thigh firmly between Ice’s legs and well, looky here, doesn’t that do that trick nicely?

“Now, are you going to help or am I stuck warming myself up all by myself?” Mav says, leaving a fresh trail of kisses along a suddenly much more cooperative Ice.

---

I was going to go in a completely angsty direction with this prompt - I'm talking chemo angsty - but then I opened up pinterest and the monstrosity above was suddenly thrusted upon me. Val Kilmer's body is obsecene, I want to feed him grapes and fawn him with various large leaves.

We're playing an IceMav askbox fic game. Send me a trope and a first sentence and I'll write at least one paragraph!

#once again pushing the pillow princess ice agenda #this was SO close from turning into omega ice which i mean can you blame me he looks like he's in HEAT in the pic #top gun #top gun maverick #tgm #tg86 #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #icemav #iceman x maverick #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #ask game #tg fic ask game #val kilmer

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queenmikoto · 5 months

Text

Traditions

(I’m making up my own Uchiha tradition based on this image and the Japanese Festival Tsukimi, the Autumn Moon Festival)

Fic under cut. Ao3 link

As one of the founding clans of Konoha, the Uchiha took pride in their traditions and festivals. Outsiders were rarely, if ever, allowed to join.

There were winter prayers in the Naka shrine, the whole clan kneeling, praying, sharing the warmth of the flames at the front of the room. Sasuke remembered fidgeting and his mother’s graceful hand alighting on his knee to stop his squirming. His father sat at the front of the room leading the prayer, Itachi kneeling tall and proud behind him. The fur collar of his kimono tickled his cheeks.

Spring brought the cherry blossom viewing festival and his mother’s most beautiful kimono, a silvery grey with white and pink petals all over. The slippery silk was cool to the touch and the potpourri that his mother kept in the folds was always comforting to him. He sometimes wished he could use it as a blanket, his mother said no but offered her soft apron covered lap as a substitute and that worked just as well.

Summer had street fairs. The whole clan, usually reserved, let loose and had fun. Children running and playing, the adults indulgently smiling. Outsiders were let in and the Uchiha went out among the people, the whole village celebrated. Sasuke clung to his brothers hand or rode on his fathers shoulders in the crowd. The family together, and happy. He always got a new cotton yukata for his birthday, to wear to the festivals, the Uchiha crest stitched by his mothers own hands.

Autumn was the Tsuki no Inori festival. There was no need for fancy clothes or loud music and laughter. Every year on the night of the first full moon in Autumn all of the Uchiha, young and old came together in the heart of the Uchiha district to light candles and share the love and celebrate the bonds in the clan.

Sasuke was excited to stay up past his bedtime and to spend time with Itachi who had grown increasingly busy as a newly minted chunin. He held his small candle tightly as he walked behind his mother and father, Shisui at his side and Itachi holding his other hand. The rest of the clan followed behind, the light of the full moon guiding their steps to the bank of the river. They stood in a loose circle, the moonlight creating halos on their dark hair. There were artful arrangements of pampas grass that his mother helped with. He had helped too, handing her the stalks to put into the vases, she occasionally tickled him with it, gently caressing his cheek when he got distracted. To the side there was a table with sake, tea, and traditional tsukimi soba, chestnuts, edamame and piles of tsukimi dango. Sasuke could see Itachi eyeing the dango with a wistful look.

Fugaku came to the center of the circle, the whispers silenced as he addressed the crowd.

“We gather here today, as we do every year, to celebrate the autumn moon. To also celebrate the bonds between us and our members of the clan that have passed on. Tonight we will light the flames in remembrance of them and to honor the history of our clan. The Uchiha crest on each of your backs represents the fan that rouses the flames of our wills and our hearts.”

Fugaku looked towards Mikoto with a softness Sasuke rarely saw on his face. She stepped forward towards her husband. She held up her candle, in it’s simple flower shaped holder, Fugaku’s hands slowly and deliberately formed the signs for a Katon jutsu. The flames bloomed from his mouth and lit the candle in his wife’s unflinching hands. She was wreathed in light, not the silvery light of the moon any more but the warm golden flames of her husband’s power. She smiled at him and turned to place the candle on the ground, to start the shape of the crest. She closed her eyes over the candle, to take a moment to reflect, then she raised her face to the moon and inclined her head in reverence. Standing, she moved back to Fugaku’s side, he nodded and flames started to light up the glade.

Tradition held that those closest to you lit the candle, usually direct family husbands and wives, siblings, parents. Those orphaned and alone had friends do it. Itachi stepped over to Shisui, who held up his candle to present it. The light burst out of Itachi’s mouth, Sasuke stared with pride and some envy, longing for the day he could do the same. Shisui placed his candle carefully and returned to Sasuke’s side. He and Itachi kneeled and Itachi held of his candle infront of Sasuke. He looked confused for a moment before Shisui spoke. “I’ll help you until you can do this yourself ‘cuz ‘Tachi here wants you to be the one to do this.”

Sasuke beamed at his brother, elated that he was Itachi’s closest person, he honestly thought it was Shisui since he was older and he took his brother’s attention away from him. Itachi gave him a smile warmer than the flames that had glided past Sasuke’s head. Shisui had formed the seals while holding Sasuke’s hands in his and gently blew the flames from his position over Sasuke’s shoulder.

Itachi placed his candle and turned to his brother who’s focus was on their parents. Mikoto was kneeling to place another flame. As the matriarch of the clan, Mikoto was responsible for lighting a candle for each clan member that they lost in the year. Fugaku kneeling behind her with a protective arm around her, not touching but just grazing her shirt. He should have been looking at the flame, but he was looking at his wife, still as radiant to him as the day they met. Itachi could see the love plain as day. His father caught his eye and he would swear he saw an extra glow upon Fugaku’s cheeks.

Chuckling to himself, he turned to his brother again, who was practically vibrating in excitement for his brother’s attention. He smoothly ran through the signs, and taking a quick breath, he let out a thin line of flame, the control a testament to his mastery, even at a young age. Sasuke, who had been focusing so hard on Itachi’s hands, trying to memorize how he did it, grinned brighter than the flame after it was lit.

In the glow Itachi thought about activating his Sharingan to capture the moment. Shisui, who’s curls shined in the light and who’s eyes held all the warmth of the flames around him. Sasuke’s cheeks, still round with baby fat, were squishing his eyes almost closed with the smile on his face. Itachi could feel the presence of his mother and father behind him, he could feel their happiness. He remembered when he was little, his father kneeling behind him, cupping his hands around his own to hold the candle. His mother before them lighting the flame, her long eyelashes touching her cheeks before they swept up and her eyes caught his, the flames painting them as red as the Sharingan.

Blinking when Shisui nudged him he watched Sasuke taking slow and halting steps towards the nearly finished crest of flames. Sasuke knelt as slow as possible, knees bending centimeter by centimeter till he was on the ground. When he placed his flame he let out a gusty sigh, almost enough to blow out his candle. Clapping his hands to his mouth, he turned wide eyes to his brother and Shisui who were trying (Itachi) and failing (Shisui) to hold in their laughter. Sasuke hastily went through his reverence before running back to Itachi’s side, slightly behind him and peeking out at the crest.

When the last flame was placed Fugaku stood and started saying the ancient prayers for the deceased. Itachi stayed at Sasuke’s level since Sasuke was still hanging onto his shirt. He could feel Sasuke fading from tiredness after a few minutes so he nudged Sasuke before making subtle motions towards the dumpling table, as if he was going to make a break for it.. Sasuke giggled and an uncle cleared his throat quietly nearby, glaring. Sasuke’s shoulders fell under the scrutiny but Itachi’s returning glare and warm hand in his made him feel better.

Once the prayers had finished, Itachi presented his back to Sasuke so he could climb on. Sasuke wrapped his arms around Itachi’s neck as he moved at a quicker pace than his usual towards the dumplings. As son of the head and a once in a generation prodigy,he had certain privileges to get to the front of the line quicker than most, and if Sasuke was holding several dumplings for him as Itachi held his own, no one said anything. The brothers retreated with Shisui to a nearby tree, to lean on and share the food they grabbed. Meaning Sasuke handed Itachi his dumplings and rested his head on his shoulder. Sasuke promptly started dozing, surrounded by the love and light of his family.

Sasuke opened his eyes. The Uchiha hideout where he had his fateful battle with Itachi was cold in the autumn. The moon shone over head through the destroyed roof. The candles before him had almost burned out in their lotus shaped holders. He was now more than strong enough to light all the flames himself in one go. Arranging the crest with one hand was what took the most time. One candle was laid for each Uchiha who passed in the massacre and one for Shisui and one at the end for Itachi, all of them long gone but the memories fresh in his mind.

The candles would burn out soon, the moon would wax and wane, and time would keep moving on. But Sasuke would always be surrounded by the love of his family.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #naruto #uchiha itachi #uchiha brothers #uchiha clan #official art #uchiha #fugaku uchiha #mikoto uchiha #shisui uchiha #shisui #sasuke #sasuke uchiha #uchiha sasuke #my fic

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 10 months

Text

WOMANIZER

Pairing: Mor x Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: girls just being horny for one another, consider reader kinda like Satine from Moulin Rouge, or even like the mata hari

Words:2767

Summary: For shits and giggles, Mor accompanies the Shadowsinger and General to see one of the Day Court’s famous showhouses. It’s said that the most beautiful temptress with Illyrian wings dances for the wealthy.

*I know in SJM's universe the words 'man' and 'woman' aren't used to describe fae genders but for the sake of this story, I'm going to push that fact aside since I really like the title name :)

*doesn't really follow any canonical timeline

*This is my first time writing for ACOTAR so please be kind

Mor stares at the finely painted poster depicting a curvaceous female with bat-like wings trailing behind her. She wonders if the painter exaggerated her beauty or if it how the female truly was.

Either way she thought it would be amusing to go along with Cassian’s suggestion.

He’d heard talk all over the Day Courts of the performer known as the Temptress with Wings. Illyrians weren’t necessarily big celebrities in Prythian. They chose to stay in their mountains and commit themselves to savagery. The Temptress was different. Or so that’s what Cassian heard.

Unfortunately Azriel wasn’t as willing as a companion. He put up with his brother dragging him by the shirtsleeve and the stares that were being shot their way.

Chuckling to herself, Mor shakes her head. Those two could act like petulant children sometimes.

She picks up her pace to catch up with them and holds up three tickets. “They’ll turn the two of you away if you go in there looking like you kidnapped Az. Plus you need your tickets.”

Outside stained glass doors, decorated with warm oranges and reds to imitate the nature of the night’s performance. While Mor had been doubtful about this adventure, all was swept under the rug when the trio steps through the grand entrance of the showhouse the Den.

A wave of anticipation starts to thrum against her pulse. Her brown eyes round in awe.

Every sense is held captive, a mesmerizing fusion of opulence and seduction is rolled out in front of her. Of course, only in Helion's domain would there be such splendor; a haven where temptation was shamelessly displayed for all to see. Bathed in a soft, golden glow, the walls are adorned with tapestries depicting other performers that had resided there at one point in time. They were stitched in poses of passion and desire.

Cassian and Azriel too are captivated by all around them yet the other attendees go about their business, waiting for the show to begin so that they may entertain the main hall.

Mor picked up on the heavy scent in the air of exotic perfumes mingling with a small instrumental band that played on a smaller dais. Their intoxicating melody floated through the air to mingle with the perfume.

"Every corner of this place is a masterpiece." Azriel murmurs, the first thing any of them has said since entering. Az cranes his neck up to check out the ceiling. Crystal chandeliers cascade from the top, multi colored lights cast a dazzling stained glass affect on the marble floor beneath them (much like the front windows).

Releasing a low whistle, Cassian puts his hands in his pockets. He looked and felt a little out of place. His frame was already large without his wings carefully tucked in. Even the rugged charm of his face couldn't compare to the polished beauty of the other guests. This didn't stop him from shooting Mor an excited smile.

As the doors to the show hall were still closed, they wade through others to get to the bar that was filled to the brim of every alcoholic drink Prythian had to offer.

Subtly, Mor listens in on a few conversations going around her.

"I didn't think an Illyrian could be graceful. (y/n) is really something else." A well dressed male comments with a toothy grin. "It's near impossible to book a private meeting with her though."

His companion groans. "I know. You'd have to be as wealthy as the high lord to get into contact with her."

Off to her other side, a woman complains to her friend "Such a backwards people shouldn't be let into our society." She scoffs and uses her fan to cool herself off as the room was growing warm with so many bodies pressed together.

Her friend disagreed. "Now I don't know about other Illyrians, but she doesn't seem to be like them. I hear her father was a high fae and once he heard about the wing clipping he took his daughter out of there and raised her among us."

That knowledge didn't make (y/n) anymore endearing to the first female. "So she's a mongrel then."

Mor keeps her face smooth, concealing the nasty look she wanted to shoot toward the cynical female. But many would think the same.

Azriel, as was his job, had been absentmindedly listening as well to the flow of different conversations. His own brow twitched at catching the mongrel remark. "Yet here she is paying good money to watch a mongrel perform." He grits out under his breath.

Tossing his drink back, Cass keeps the mood light by saying "Hey it's (y/n) whose having the last laugh. With this crowd, she'll be raking in all that gold by the end of the night."

True.

The reception room, while large, was bursting at the seams with males and females alike. There would be quite a lot of money to count come closing. Wealth was something this (y/n) was not lacking in.

Finally, several sets of double doors swing open, welcoming everyone into the actual show room that was no less elegant. The flow of the crowd is calm like a river as people spill into the show room, going to their respective seats and tables. Balcony seating had dining tables available for those who wanted to eat and watch the performance without disturbing the audience.

They take their respective seats, eyes falling upon the empty stage with titillation.

Once everyone is seated, a hush descends as the lights of the stage are lit and a symphony of sound, color and movements dazzles them. Out steps the most beautiful creature Mor had ever laid eyes on. (y/n) is adorned in an elaborate costume (much like the one she wears on the poster) that leaves little to the imagination. Gold adorned her wrists and ankles as well as the delicate structure of her neck. Her wings trail behind her and move in a perfect, fluid harmony as her hands flutter; inviting the crowd to the forbidden pleasures that would unravel on stage. The skirt she wore was of the faintest lavender hue and dangled with tinkling bells as she danced.

Everyone held their breath.

The way she moved with her wings, unperturbed by their existence and even utilizing them in her act.

And then she sang.

The audience had already been a sea of enraptured faces, but the moment she parted her lips, no one stood a chance at concentrating on anything else but her. The most heavenly voice she had ever heard resonated through the showhouse, filling every empty corner with its ethereal beauty. Divinity was woven into the fabric of her vocal cords as (y/n) crooned. It wrapped around the hearts of not just Mor, but also her companions who sat dumbstruck.

(y/n)'s voice was magic itself. Lyrics that spill from her paint vivid images and evoked emotions she had never experienced before. Something like this, Mor was sure, could heal wounds, mend broken hearts and ignite hope within the darkest of souls.

Every cruel memory that made up Mor's past vanished. Meaningless.

Her wings, which she spread out to fan behind her, shimmer against the multicolored lights of the stage. Fluttering gently along with her swaying body.

There was a moment where she could have sworn she caught (y/n)'s teasing eyes. That a fleeting smile graced (y/n)'s lips when she spotted Mor. But the moment vanished just as soon as it had happened making Mor doubtful about the exchange. Still, even that bit of attention from her had Mor drawn in deeper.

How long had they all been held captive by (y/n)? Mor wasn't sure.

Only when the music ended at (y/n) walked off stage did people leap to their feet in thunderous applause and roars for an encore.

Mor, Az and Cass simply sit there in awe.

It had taken a lot of strength for the trio to peel themselves out of their seats and go back out into reality. They felt dazzed and lost but grateful for experiencing such a show.

"Aren't you glad I dragged you here?" Cassian jokes as they go back out into the reception hall to grab one more drink before leaving.

Azriel shakes his head but he had a smile on his face. "Don't push it."

Mor chuckles but a tap on her shoulder as her straightening her back to address whoever had tapped her.

"You've been requested an audience by (y/n)."

Cassian and Azriel gawk, a little jealous that Mor had been chosen specifically.

Hesitantly she follows the usher before telling the boys she would catch up with them later.

Down one corridor were secret alcoves, covered by velvet curtains. An incredibly intimate warmth runs up Mor's neck as the usher pulls back one curtain to reveal (y/n) among dozens of bouquets and boxes with glittering jewels. She'd looked bored before Mor was introduced. Her (e/c) eyes came to life and she beckons Mor to come in.

The usher leaves the two alone as Mor makes her way through the throng of strong smelling flowers.

"I must admit, it's quite the honor to have the Night Court's most trusted advisors watching me perform." Her voice is of the finest skill as she purrs, patting the spot next to her on the love seat. She no longer wore her costume, but a lightweight robe that still revealed every curve of her body.

Mor smiles, forcing her heart to get a grip. "The honor was our's. I've. . . We've never seen an Illyrian like you before. Not one that can move or sing like that. You were magnificent." She watches intently as (y/n) grabs a bottle from a tub of ice and hands Mor a long stemmed glass.

"I doubt Illyrians would ever even entertain the idea of performing for high fae." (y/n) rolls her eyes. "My father took me back once to the mountains where my mother's people live. That much was enough for me."

Pursing her lips, Mor nods. The words of the woman in the reception hall are repeated in her head.

Mor could see the pointed tips of (y/n)'s ears, the only sign that she was only half-Illyrian. Much like Rhysand's. Up close, Mor could even see a spattering of freckles on the bridge of (y/n)'s nose. Mor was distracted by the halflings beauty as (y/n) chattered away.

"-and when I saw you. Mother above." (y/n) laughed out. "I'm sure everyone tells you that you have to be the most beautiful female in the entire known world. I almost forgot the words of the song and my footing."

Cheeks flushing, Mor smiles for she was thinking the same about (y/n). "It means a lot more coming from you. We heard your praises while waiting for the show to start." Alcohol is definitely warming her up and making her tongue loose. This wouldn't be the first time Mor had courted a female, but this would be the first time she has met her match in a potential partner.

"Yes, I'm sure you heard more than praises out there." Unconsciously, (y/n)'s shoulder leans against Mor's arm as both get comfortable with one another. This is not an unwelcome contact for Mor as the mere touch has a blaze engulfing the Morrigan. "No doubt you heard how I entertain rich males and bleed them dry."

"Have you ever invited Helion back here?" Mor takes a sip. Certainly the high lord with a high libido would not have let this treat go unsavored. Helion didn't seem like one put off by Illyrian wings considering he has asked for a four way that including Az and Cassian.

She nods. "Oh of course. He is the most generous of my patrons. But you can imagine he doesn't stop by often. What with being the high lord, he has more things on his mind than a pretty singer."

But (y/n) wasn't just a singer. That much Mor was sure about. If (y/n) had it in mind, she could be a sorceress and wield the most powerful magic. Her voice had influenced all in the room. Imagine that kind of power on the battlefield.

One could view Mor's that's as her trying to come up with a reason for the Illyrian singer to stay with her when she'd inevitably go back to Velaris. (y/n) could be useful to Rhysand but Helion would loathe to have such a renowned performer leave his court.

As bottles were emptied, Mor and (y/n) grew more comfortable around one another to where Mor had her legs drapped over (y/n)'s thighs while she ran a perfectly manicured hand along the length. This send shivers through Mor.

They spoke about everything under the sun from war to art to even Mor's upbringing in the Court of Nightmares. She couldn't bring herself to mention everything that transpired with her family and Eris. Maybe. . . Maybe some other time. But the mood was light and Mor didn't want to ruin it. Not when (y/n) was tracing intricate designs on Mor's thigh. Damn was it waking up every nerve on her skin and even more so it lit a needy sensation between her legs.

In the back of her mind, Mor reminds herself that this is what (y/n) did for a living. Of course not even Mor could refuse such seduction.

(Y/n) had not mentioned anything along the lines of payment as she genuinely seemed to want to be in Mor’s presence. At such ease with Mor’s shapely legs draped over her. Electric tingles sent chills up her arms when a finely shaped nail ever so gently scrapes along her skin. Her huge bat wings didn’t even appear to be in the way, the hung off over the back of the loveseat.

Illyrian wings were so sensitive. That was what the male part of the inner circle said. If Mor were to ghost her fingers along the leathery skin of (y/n)’s wings she wondered if the singer would mind. She’d never touched Cassian’s or Azriel’s and definitely not Rhysand’s.

So mesmerized, she missed the way a pair of dark eyes admiring the contours of her face, the pair of full lips painted in a alluring poppy red.

She likes the blonde’s appreciative gaze on her wings. They had escaped the plague of scars and deformity like many Illyrian women had due to the grotesque tradition of wing clipping. It wasn’t flattery that made (y/n) praise Mor’s beauty. When she saw Mor in the crowd, well, she knew she wouldn’t be having any other visitors that night. Perhaps not for a while depending how long Mor planned to stay in the court. Growing weary of the groveling of men, not even their money made up for what (y/n) had to put up with. They always wanted more than what she would give them. All the males (maybe except for Helion) were greedy. The few women she'd had in the past were more agreeable lovers. But females were often intimidated by (y/n) and tend to lean on being resentful toward her for her charms.

Not Mor though. She knew Rhysand's trusted advisor would not see her as a threat but a companion.

A heady fragrance of perfume and with the taste of intoxicating drinks in their system heightened their senses and emboldened there desires.

Before Mor could come to a conclusion on if she would brush her fingertips against (y/n)'s wings, the singer coaxed Mor's face to turn to face her with gentle fingers. She leaned closer and brushed her lips against Mor's. From that simple contact, a jolt went through the blonde. Tender and passionate became the exchange. Sound coming from outside of their intimate cocoon faded away leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

Countless kisses were shared that Mor began to lose track of the count and time for that matter. Hands flutter and grope at anything they could get ahold of. Never had Mor felt so complete before and so lost.

Her heart burned with the knowledge that their paths would cross again. How, she didn't know. But she'd be damned if this would be their one and only night together. If required, she would go to Rhys and tell him of her desire to have (y/n) by her side and perhaps he could come to an agreement with Helion to relinquish the beloved singer.

Finally pulling away with bruised and swollen lips, (y/n) smiled at her as if having the same thoughts.

They would meet again. Both females would make sure of that.

#acotar #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #a court of thorns and roses #mor x reader #mor acotar #morrigan #acotar morrigan #morrigan acotar #acotar the morrigan #morrigan x reader #acotar mor #acotar series #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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kleewie · 2 years

Text

i knew it from the first old fashioned, we were cursed

summary: drunk nights like these always end with your mind in a drowsy numbness. but why does your heart pound like a drum in your chest—fast and hot in anticipation of something more than just friends? (in other words, a modern au about drunk nights, hand holding, and unsaid feelings).

→ pairings: childe, zhongli, & alhaitham

→ warnings: fluff, light cursing, not proofread, mentions of drinking and alcohol, gender neutral reader

→ author’s note: i had a dream about my old crushes. as much as i want to say “yikes!! stop that cringe,” i got to admit it made my heart go doki-doki! plus binge listening to taylor’s reputation + midnights albums made the idea pop into my head. slight present tense issues are present (probably) ‘cause it hasn’t been proof read ;-; anyhow, i hope you enjoy it!

credits to @a-cure-for-writers-block on tumblr for the prompts!

beware, slight lengthy post ahead!

feedback, comments, and reblogs are extremely meaningful! i’d love to hear your thoughts on my writing (*´∀｀*)

childe: the sponsor-and-instigator

seemingly, the reason why you’re almost half-dead on the floor.

childe decides it’s a great idea to sponsor a fifth round of drinks when (a majority of) the group threaten to leave.

you and the bunch don’t though,

the shiny allure of brand new drinks put up a convincing fight.

so when you’re cursing his name, slamming imaginary daggers at his back,

the actual demon stands over your tired body, as if summoned. obviously delighted by your drunken state, he sends you a cheeky grin.

you, annoyed at his antics, return his smile with one of your own.

one screaming dare me, i'll leave you to vomit your guts out.

honestly, you never know what he's thinking.

your relationship with the ginger is, in short, awkward. both of you are in the same friend group.

yet, you seem to be closer to actual strangers than with him.

a chance to bond never presented itself. hence, you're stuck in a state of wariness and longing— slightly afraid to offend the man you're trying to be friends with.

so when the opportunity arises (a night out to drink for fun's sake), you immediately agree.

now, you're stuck in this predicament.

a hand behind his back, his arm around your shoulder, your whole body carrying the weight of his, stumbling around.

figures. the reason why he'd approach your tipsy condition is that you're the only one willing to carry (drag his ass) to the sofa.

bad call.

previously, you lounged half-dead on the second floor. which means, you'll have to haul him safely down the stairs.

him climbing the stairs, instead of crawling himself into the couch, baffles you. i mean, the last time you see him is downstairs.

anyway, certain someone (a drunk kaeya, “oops!”) forgets to wipe the pool of water he spilled on the lower steps.

causing you to slip first. as you're the one pulling his body, he soon follows.

the first thing you hear is a loud smack.

and the first thing you think is: you killed him.

“oh god!” you blurt.

you're almost disappointed to hear his sudden laughter. almost.

“i fell for you,” he mumbles.

crouching over him, you furrow your brows. “don't tell me…” you hesitate. “…do you have a concussion?”

childe promptly sits up, gripping your wrist. his sober blue eyes meet yours in a silent plea, as if begging you to grasp the message he's trying to convey.

to realize he's not fooling around.

to understand he’s serious.

maybe that's why it’s so difficult, so embarrassing, so upsetting for you to begin a friendship with the man.

you never want to be friends.

you desire something else, something different, something more.

his fingers, gripping your wrist, slide up in a gentle caress, “why would i try so hard to make you stay?” you feel his thumb brush your shoulder. “why would i try so hard to catch your eye?” his hand skims your cheek. “all the jokes, the teasing, the lingering gazes— all of it.”

childe slides his hand, softly resting his thumb on your lips.

and you swallow a lump in your throat.

“don't look at me like that and then feign innocence,” he whispers. “you keep saying we're friends, but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true.”

more under the cut!

zhongli: the low-tolerance drunk

at any given occasion (involving drinking), there are ten kinds of drunks.

apparently, zhongli’s the type to look like he can hold his liquor.

but looks can be deceiving, as he’s the first one to drop his glass and sprint to the bathroom.

why he’d rush off after one more cup? who knows.

you feel guilty though. i mean, you’re the one pestering him to chug a glass down.

your pouty lips, twinkling eyes, and soft convincing voice entice him to drink against his one-bottle agenda.

you're that persuasive.

but when he leaves, you feel the loneliness hit. ironic as you cause him to depart in the first place.

hu tao glances at your sullen form, slightly snickering.

it's obvious. extremely obvious how captivated you are by the dark haired man.

a small crush develops into something more intense. you could bask in all his greatness, yet, still be wanting more.

you sigh and wish he'd come back from his break sooner.

since it's mandatory to order additional drinks for sulking individuals. being the best companion (wingwoman) she is, hu tao drags you towards the bartender.

as she orders more glasses, a couple of intoxicated men approach you.

looking at how unsteady they are on their feet and how they stink like alcohol, you assume one had too many to drink.

“hey, cutie.” one slurs. “begging for some lovin'?”

you say, “no, thanks.” and step away. adding, “i'm with a friend.” when you see them follow you.

your eyes search for hu tao, but the amount of people piling around the bar obscure your vision of her.

the other man smirks, “playing hard to get?”

you roll your eyes.

stupid how these men don't take no as an answer. how they presume standing here is an invitation for something else.

before he's able to grab your wrist, a palm swats his hand away.

“excuse me,” zhongli drawls. “you're getting a little too comfortable.”

he wraps a protective arm around your shoulders, against your collar bone. igniting a red blush on your cheeks.

of course he's here to save you.

though, you still want to beat the douchebags up for continuing to hit on you after refusing them.

the man hisses in response, “ouch! shit hurt!”

scowling, zhongli shoots a hostile glare. “my apologies. foolish men daring to touch them puts me in a sour mood.” he gently pulls you, before adding. “be careful. try not to upset me.”

if you know what's good for you, he thinks.

and the irritated man whisks you off somewhere else. gone from the crowded room and away from the vulgar folks you go.

you sense his displeasure, as it radiates his whole body. but you're half-worried, half-giddy.

yes, he's mad. but he’s mad because of you.

“...you're upset.” you hint.

zhongli hums in agreement.

tugging his hand loosely in yours, you ask, “...so what's wrong?”

his thumb brushes your palm in soothing circles before pulling your hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

“darling,” he mumurs. “you don’t know half of the things you do to me.”

alhaitham: the designated-chauffeur

amongst a group of drunkards, there always has to be one sober person who picks up everyone else’s shit.

and unwillingly, alhaitham becomes the appointed chauffeur.

a funny circumstance really.

because: one, he never came to the party in the first place; and two, he meets up with your plastered crowd by pure chance.

and he's certainly surprised to see you.

since you told him the night before that you weren't going, at all.

your heartbeat quickens in anticipation.

i mean, why wouldn't your heart beat like it's running seventy miles an hour? your long-time crush from college (you both take the same classes) suddenly appears out of nowhere to save the group from certain despair (passing out on the sidewalk).

and upon considering he now knows you lied, your heart beats even faster.

“alhaitham, i can explain!” you sputter. “i thought i wasn't going either but—”

tighnari decides it's a great idea to intrude on your speech by gagging his life out on the pavement.

but you totally understand.

cyno succeeded at creating the nastiest concoction of juices and alcohol you've ever tasted— you heave just thinking about it.

“—but first... i think we (you, cyno, and the almost-hurling man),” you continue “need a ride home.”

as he cares about your welfare, and is the most responsible person in the group, he agrees.

but before you can get into the back of his four-seater car, he pulls front-seat car door open. “after you,” he says.

you gulp.

he's mad, alright.

after he drops off the two other intoxicated people in the car, he drives towards your apartment.

your eyes glance at his figure, trying to perceive his mood.

is he still mad? did he feel left out?

is it because you lied?

you couldn't tell.

the deafening silence is killing you. so you put on a brave face and apologize.

“i'm sorry, okay?” you mumble. “i wasn't planning to go but tighnari—don't look at me like that— you, of all people, know he can't hold his liquor.”

“oh? that's it?” he prods, steering the wheel to the right of an intersection.

you huff. “yes, that's it.”

a pause.

“you're a terrible liar.”

you grumble in frustration.

yes, he can see right through your lies. the point is, you've never been a good deceiver. so you curse the alcohol for making your inability to lie more obvious than usual.

thus, you explain the reason why you came to the party: a secret surprise planning session for alhaitham's birthday.

not so surprising now, is it? you remark. his fault for persuading you to spill the beans.

now, you feel guilty. and because you’re guilty, you get grumpy.

and because you’re grumpy, your eyes tear up in frustration.

alhaitham hears your sniffling and sends quick side-glances at you. “are you crying?” he asks.

“no,” you lie.

you blame your weakened emotional state on your weak alcohol tolerance. if you would’ve known he’d show up, you’d be as sober as a judge.

god, you’re absolutely going to embarrassed in the morning.

yet, something pulls on the breaks in your mind.

alhaitham parks the car in front of your garage, and you see the colors of your apartment through glossy eyes.

“please don't lie,” he reaches for your face and places his thumbs below your eyes. sighing, he wipes the fallen tears from your cheeks. “forgive me. i'm not mad, and i didn't mean to ruin the surprise.”

you choke a sob in response.

but, you're too busy tearing up to see how tenderly he looks at you.

with eyes full of longing, eagerness, and want.

“i hate seeing you so upset,” alhaitham cooes. “take a deep breath, sweetheart. you'll be okay.”

thank you so much for reading! ♡

feedback, comments, and reblogs are extremely meaningful!

i’d love to hear your thoughts on my writing ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

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