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lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer · 29 days

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Haunted

“You remind me of a man I used to know.”

I was watching the embers in the fire die, and the thought just came, out loud. The Ghoul chewed an unknown meat off the stick he’d skewered it on, not looking up to dignify my statement with even so much as a grunt. Maybe not then, I thought sadly. Maybe all the men like Cooper had died when the bombs dropped. I certainly hadn’t met a man like him since we’d said goodbye to each other at that party. Still, I continued.

“He was a lot friendlier than you – though I suppose actors are predisposed to high levels of charisma.” I smiled to myself from behind the handkerchief covering my face, thinking of how simple the past now seemed in comparison to the present.

“Actor?” It was first word I’d heard him speak since he told me to put out the fire that had cooked our dinner and it brought me from my daydream of my old life.

“Yeah, actor. One of the good ones, most of the time anyway.” I chuckled to myself, remembering the tantrums he used to have on set if something wasn’t entirely accurate.

“How would you have known an actor?”

“Well, if you must know, I was-”

I was cut off by a knife flying past my face and narrowly missing my eye, and then there was a body on top of mine, all flailing limbs and trying to stab me, grabbing a hold of my neck and head to hold me down. I grabbed the pocket knife hidden in my coat and wounded my attacker, before rolling the both of us over and pushing his face into the dying ashes. Their screams echoed out against the darkness of the wasteland, and I heard several gunshots. I took my pistol from my belt and shot whoever had tried to jump me in the back of his skull, letting him fall limply beside me.

I look up through the dying light to see the Ghoul surveying our surroundings, before looking down at me and I realised with horror I didn’t have the handkerchief covering my face anymore.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Rosie Ryder,” he let out an audible laugh, “What are you doin’ out in the Wasteland?”

My face went bright red, and I huffed.

“Even after the apocalypse, people still just know me as the girl who played the hooker that got her titties out for Cooper Howard,” I rolled my eyes and sighed, “I’ve done other movies, you know.”

“Yeah, you were great in Under the Covers,” he chuckled again, “although for you that film must have mostly been about shooting all that kissin’ you did to the poor bloke. I bet his lips were chapped at the end of every day!”

“You a fan of Cooper Howard?” I asked, looking him up and down, “this get-up of yours seems pretty inspired by his work.”

“You could say that, Little Miss Ryder.”

I laughed bitterly and gestured down at the three bodies around us.

“We should probably find somewhere else to sleep tonight, in case anyone heard the gunshots.”

I checked the pockets of the bodies but couldn’t find anything other than a couple of caps and a gun with some ammo still left in it.

“No chems?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“No chems.”

***

As we continued in our direction, the Ghoul became more talkative.

“So, if you were Little Miss Rosie Ryder, you must be at least two hundred and something years old,” he began, “So how are you here right now?”

I shrugged.

“It’s a long, long story. We don’t got that much time, Ghoulie.”

Eventually we came across a shabby-looking shack that looked just about safe enough for the night and might potentially keep us safe from any radstorm that might decide to descend onto us. And maybe from any raiders, too.

The Ghoul went in first, checking the inside whilst I set a bear trap up in front of the door, before following him inside. It seemed as if someone might have been living here for a bit – there was a sofa and a little table, as well as a small counter with what looked like to be a broken-down hob. No signs of life anymore, though. Everything had a thick layer of dust coating it, and any essentials seem to have been hastily removed when the last occupier had left.

“The walls seem pretty sturdy and the roof’s secure,” he said, “did you put a bear trap outside the door?”

“Yeah, don’t wanna take the risk we did earlier.” I sighed. “Still, can’t help but think we’re still sitting ducks if someone breaks in. We’re not exactly in the safest area – I know at least two Raider groups who have bases nearby.”

“They’ll break in and come face to face with my pistol aimed at their skulls, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m ‘sweetheart’ now, am I? Now that you know what I look like under all these clothes?”

The Ghoul stepped closer to me, the shadow of his hat towering over me.

“Maybe I jus’ appreciate those actin’ skills of yours,” he murmured, “on top of that fine figure.” He stepped back from me and sat down on the sofa, slouching.

“I’ll take first watch, Little Miss Rosie. I’ll wake you in a few hours and when the light comes, we’ll continue, and you can tell me that long, long story of yours.”

***

Susie Wellington was coiffuring my hair for my first scene, as I sat tugging on my cotton skirt trying to psyche myself up for the scene ahead. We’d rehearsed it a bunch of times in table reads but this was the real thing – closed set and all.

“Susie, I think the leading lady’s hair’s done up enough for now,” came a voice from the corner, “and you should be making your way back to the dressing rooms. I’m sure Little Miss Rosie Ryder here doesn’t want another cast member staring at her tits.”

I looked up in relief as Cooper appeared beside us, cigarette in hand. Susie didn’t look to happy about having to leave her creation as it was, but only pursed her lips and bid me goodbye.

“You excited for your first scene, Little Miss Rosie?” he asked, and I felt a strange sense of deja vu come over me at his words. I ignored it and put a shaky smile on my face.

“I’m excited to get the nudity outta the way, that’s all I’m gonna say!” I giggled a bit, and he laughed alongside me.

“Well, there’ll be a barrier in place of everythin’ and that dress of yours ain’t comin’ off completely. Gotta keep them perverts on their toes.” He winked at me, and I tried to keep the smile on my face, but under it all, I felt as if this was very dangerous.

As he kissed me softly in front of the cameras and rolled his eyes playfully as the director asked him to push my dress up to show more of my skin, I felt something lurking in the shadows. Once this was shot, there was no going back and for some reason, I felt completely doomed.

***

I woke up with a start, flinging my body forward. From the sofa, the Ghoul shushed me, holding a gloved finger over my mouth.

I could hear something outside, and I assumed that was what woke me up. It was a strange sound, of someone dragging their feet through the dirt and the mud. We sat there in silence for a full half an hour, until the dragging sound moved away from the hut and back out into the darkness.

“You mind takin’ the next watch, Sweetheart?” he said, “I need to get a couple hours kip in before we set off tomorrow.”

“Sure,” I say tentatively, pulling out my pistol. “I’m glad you finally trust me.”

“Well, I’m a huge fan.” He laid heavy emphasis on the ‘huge’, winking at me through the dusk light. I rolled my eyes, but inside I felt a little proud for some stupid goddamn reason.

Back when I started acting, I didn’t think I’d have any living fans – never mind a half-dead irradiated man from 200 years in the future. Is he half-dead? It’d never been explained to me at the brothel – I’d just done my service and taken the RadAway. None of the others had ever stuck around to tell me their life story.

We switched places, I sat myself down on the sofa and the Ghoul lay down on the bedroll on the floor.

“Damn, this shit is fuckin’ uncomfortable.” I heard him say, and I let out a laugh under my bed.

“I didn’t complain,” I whispered, and he made a grunting noise. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an insult or not, but I just chuckled quietly and pulled out my pistol, aimed at the door ready for anyone who tried to force their way through.

The sun rose quickly after that, and by the light of the sky, I was able to get a better look at the Ghoul’s sleeping face. There was something so familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I decided it was the cowboy look – it reminded me of the niche I’d almost fallen into after my three-month contract with Cooper’s team. The audience had loved our chemistry on screen in The Man from Calabasas, and the studios knew they’d get a lot more money if we came as a package deal – so we shot Under the Covers, City of Starlight and Valley of the Gun together. It took me back to the last film I’d shot, the one I hadn’t finished shooting.

I looked down at my clothes – the same clothes I’d been wearing 200 years ago on set. The ‘Western Hooker’ dress, of which there had originally been five different versions. The hat, which I’d stolen from my co-worker as a joke, but had still been on my head when we’d been told to start running. For a moment, I could still smell the food that they’d made us on set. I could still smell the horse manure, and the flashing of lights.

I looked back at the Ghoul, awake now, and almost came to a realisation.

Part 2

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout tv series #fallout show #walton goggins #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you

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aforestescape · 22 days

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thinking about older bf simon x younger reader

content includes: fat simon yummy, afab!reader, short reader, fat/chubby reader, cunnilingus, completely self indulgent

yeah i also wrote this at like 3 am:) enjoy

you meet at the grocery store you frequent. somewhere in between aisles as you’re on the phone with your cousin. talking over plans for the weekend, meeting up for drinks at her place and ordering in dinner and cheesecake. a little ways down the aisle is a tall, broad figure. you'd spotted him a minute or so previously, eyes stuck to him for a few seconds too long. eyeing the way his arms and stomach filled out the material. the barley noticeable flex as he moved to grab his item.

letting your eyes trail up from his stomach, chest, neck, and then finally his face only to realize with a start that he was looking right at you. honeyed eyes trained directly on you. watching you watch him with an intense stare that had you immediately turning out the lane. embarrassment flushing your body a few degrees hotter than normal for being caught checking this man out.

as you end your phone call and enter a new aisle you pass through it, grabbing a snack that’s no where on your grocery list but you deserve a treat. as you reach the end you find what you’re looking for. only three items left and they’re stuffed back against the shell. you roll your eyes in annoyance, rocking up onto your toes as you stretch for it. your fingers grazing over the baggy but not close enough to pinch between your fingers.

you plant back down on the ground, letting out a huff of air. pressing your body into the shelf as you attempt to grab it once again. you’re a little closer to grabbing it now. almost managing before a black clothed arm reaches past you to pluck the item.

simons hulk directly behind you, standing in a black hoodie and his normal mask covering the bottom half of his face. it doesn't hide the scars that liter the rest of it though or the ones on his hands as he reaches past you to grab the bag of granola you'd been trying to get. he steps back slightly and gives the bag to you.

you offer him a smile and thank him, voice quiet as you take in his face up close. you can only see from the bridge of his nose and up. a long scar peeking out from the half skull mask. he lets out a grunt in acknowledgment, turning to walk away before you stop him. you take a small breath, deciding to be brave because how bad could it be to ask?

“er- i hope this isn’t weird to ask, but are you single?”

he’s not expecting the question, staring you down for a few unnerving seconds before telling you that, yes he is single. and after exchanging numbers you spend the rest of the week messaging. his answers are sparse through the day but he tells you it’s because he works security during that time. he asks you about your days at night when you’re heading to bed, enjoying your mundane rambles and work tea over the phone.

you send him a picture before and some videos after you getting drunk at your cousins flat. loud music playing in the background as you down a shot, nose scrunched slightly before grinning at the camera. another of you dancing with a friend? he assumes, both of you with cups in your hand and giggling while you twirl around in her kitchen.

you haven’t known each other long at all in the grand scheme but he’s sure he can get used to this. hearing your drunken laugh and slurred speech as you head to your front door from your uber. still living at home and in your last year of university but he doesn’t care. it appeals to him honestly, your brain and that you’re studious enough to have seeked out higher education of your own wanting. he didn’t, knew it wasn’t something he’d be able to do in place of getting away from his awful home life.

leaving his mother and brother behind, doomed to their fate in order to escape the father who raised him. he praises you for it as the weeks go by and you stress to him about mid terms. over in his flat after classes, sat on the floor of his living room with books spread out. every so often he’ll reach his hand down from his spot on the couch, large fingers smoothing over your head like you’re a pet. petting your head and soothing you in his own way.

he’ll take you out on dates on his days off or pick you up to come over to his. he prefers being inside and smaller places. something he’s glad you accommodate to though really you also prefer to be indoors. date nights consisting of standing in his kitchen, prepping for dinner and talking with low music in the background. smiling and reaching on your toes to give his cheek a soft peck as he loops his thick arm round your waist.

you still hadn’t seen his entire face yet but well, you didn’t care much. it couldn’t be that different and the half you could see was attractive enough. and so was his body. you’d always been attracted to thicker frames. hairy chests and abdomens that cover up fatter tummies and delicious pecs. it both made you go absolutely feral and also made you feel more comfortable with your own thicker body.

having grown into a curvier and chubby body came with the occasional feeling of unattractiveness. it wasn’t true at all, your weight and curves only adding to your beauty, something simon said to you whenever he’d catch the way you’d stare at yourself in the mirror sometimes. leaning down and wrapping his bulk around you from behind. big, freckled and scarred arms holding you flush against him so you could feel the swell of his cock.

he’d kiss up and down your neck through his mask. low and thick accented voice singing your praises while his hands would search and grope the rolls on your body. holding the weight of your breast in his hands and squeezing as you’d moan in his arms. simon letting out a chuckle before kissing you again and keeping on with exploring you. coaxing you into bed where he could spread your plush thighs apart and worship you for hours.

keeping them apart with his forearms as he lapped up your arousal. a pillow under your lower back and your hands caught in the sheets, tugging on his hair, covering your face as you moaned in bliss. simons warm tongue spreading your lips as he flicked the muscle up and down them. letting his saliva pool and add to the obscene noises filling the air of his bedroom while he dined on you.

devouring your cunt, one hand on your stomach. caressing and squeezing and pushing down gently on it. roaming upwards to pluck and tug on your sensitive nipples. making your back arch as you cried out from the stinging pleasure. moaning into your slick cunt as he sucked on your clit. sucking and licking back down to stick his tongue inside your hole.

he’d go on for hours, holding your trembling body and praising you through every orgasm. even as you cried and shook from exertion, plush body covered in a layer of sweat. vision blurred and mind fuzzy around the edges. moans of how good you tasted, how pretty you were, how perfect your body is. all just for him, “just for me, right doll? only i get to eat this pretty pussy of yours. all mine, hm.”

and when he was finally done he’d clean you up. hold you in his arms under the blankets while you thanked him softly. pressing kisses to his chest in your sleepy and fucked out state. the telly on some random cartoon as you both drifted off in each others arms.

in a funnier world simon doesn’t actually help you at the grocers. he reaches past you and just as you’re going to turn and thank him for the hand he places the last of the granola in his own cart buggy and goes about his day. never mind the cutie who was staring at him for some reason?

anyways there will be another part cause i didn’t even get to the scene that made me want to write this🤭prepare for angst in the future hehe

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #older bf!simon #aforestescape

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astarion-approves · 8 months

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astarion reacts to tav being betrayed by a loved one and tav getting injured during the betrayal?

Astarion x Gender Neutral Tav! - Fucking Randy Astarion first person POV - it's alright lol I can't even think of a summary for this...

Tags: More humor than angst, first person pov (Astarion), 500+ words, drabble, poor description of a fight, OOC Astarion

Summary: Honestly, I don't know what Tav saw in that human. A complete jackass, and one that would eventually get them killed.

Read here or on AO3

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The battle started just as any other. Tav ahead of us, usually sticking their nose where it didn’t belong, insulting strangers without a second thought, or even just punching someone at random for the hell of it. It was one of the things that made me approve of them so quickly. Their… ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude. I admired it. Loved it, really.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one.

His name was Randy. Yes, Randy, if you can believe it. A human male who was tall and lanky, but not in an unattractive way— again, unfortunately for me. Somehow he had managed to woo Tav before we’d even met. The barbarian was a complete savage, encouraging Tav to make admittedly stupid decisions, drinking past his limit, and taking advantage of Tav’s kindness without them even realizing it.

It came as no surprise when Tav spit straight into the face of someone trying to intimidate our group. Hell, I laughed in response. Watching someone wipe spit from their face in shock is never not funny. Disgusting, obviously, but hilarious nevertheless.

Shadowheart clicked her tongue and readied her weapon, Gale doing much the same but with a heavy sigh, Randy (fucking Randy, really? Seriously? Randy? RANDY?!) revealed his sword and steadied it in his hands, and my lovely self exposed my dangers— each of us ready to destroy those who stood before us.

Tav grinned at their lover, laughing as Randy lunged forward and buried his sword into the spit covered face of the one that stood before them. A dagger would have been a better choice, but who am I to judge? Right? I was only a fucking magistrate.

Fucker.

Soon other’s flooded into the area, the quick murder drawing their attention to our group. Tav and Randy worked their way through the group, the rest of us picking off the rangers that tried to hide.

A quick fight, as it usually was with our group…

But then… something happened.

A shot of fire, heading directly towards Tav and Randy— Shadowheart wasn’t fast enough to shield them and the pair were vulnerable against it. I heard Tav scream as Randy grabbed their shoulders and pushed them in front of himself. I could only watch as the fire flew towards them and exploded against Tav’s chest. They fell to the ground, landing on their side, no longer breathing.

Gale cast a spell in the direction of the killer, but I wasn’t paying attention, I was running to Tav.

They laid on the ground, their eyes open and staring into nothing, mouth hanging open as if they were still screaming from the blow. I dropped to my knees beside them, cradling their head in my lap, my hands tapping on their cheeks, words flying from my mouth but I didn’t even know what I was saying.

“Leave them,” Randy said. “We need to keep moving.”

I flung my dagger into his skull.

Shadowheart began casting spells, anything they could do to bring Tav back—

But they still laid there.

Luckily, all we had to do was carry them back to camp and Withers was able to bring them back from the dead.

Randy we left behind. Because fuck Randy.

And now, tonight, I’ll be making my first move on Tav. They’re still a little hurt from the betrayal, weeks later. And… they also tell us stories of their nightmares and the cool chill of death that lingers and haunts them—

But they blush when they look at me, and that’s good enough for me.

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blainesebastian · 7 months

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missin' you

ship: austin butler x female reader rating: NC-17, NSFW word count: 2,576 summary: anon request "more jealous austin" warnings: none but def check the rating notes: this took on a slightly more possessive note, rather than jealous--still fun though :) taglist: @stylespresleyhearted, @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief

Here's the thing about being with Austin for three years, you know what makes one another tick. What you both love, what you both hate, especially what buttons to press. It's a long time filled with history and too many emotions to count. You've had moments where you didn't think you two were going to make it, stuff that's pushed you apart. But you always end up coming back together stronger than ever. You've been lucky like that.

There's chemistry with Austin that you've never felt with anyone else—the pull is undeniable. He drives you crazy in the very best way and that whirlwind makes your head spin. You love him, even though there are moments you want to pull your fucking hair out.

But you suppose that’s exactly what love is half the time.

You let out a soft sigh as you push the door to the bar open with your shoulder, wandering in on a busy night, eyes scanning to look for some space at the counter. You roll your head to the side, massaging the side of your neck as you squeeze past a few college kids yelling about shots. In retrospect, you probably should have chosen a slightly quieter place, a headache starting to brew at the back of your skull that isn’t being helped by loud music and stale beer but…

This is your shared bar and it’s somehow comforting to be here—the first date you ever had was here, and so many times after that. Magic space maybe. The last time you spoke with Austin on the phone, things were a bit short—he’s stressed from working, you’re stressed from not seeing him. You’re not about to pull the ‘girlfriend’ card, whining about spending time with eachother even though that’s exactly what you want to talk about.

You eye a girl at the end of the bar getting up and quickly take her spot before someone else can, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you settle onto the barstool.

“Lemme guess, bourbon on the rocks?”

You turn and look to your right, Austin leaning his elbows along the bar, already a drink in front of him. Your mouth opens a little, eyes traveling down the long planes of his back in a maroon Henley, hugging his muscles perfectly. He’s paired it with black jeans and honestly? it’s not fair. You’re surprised you didn’t even notice him before you sat down.

You lick your lips and fix your purse around your shoulder, tugging your dress up a little because it’s twisted awkwardly around your thighs. You doesn’t say anything for a moment before you nod and Austin waves down the bartender to give him your order.

“Funny running into you here.”

He smiles just a little, his eyes tracing over your curves down the dress; he doesn’t have to use words to tell you that he likes it. You swallow, your cheeks flushing and you hate that he’s so capable of taking you apart without even touching you.

“Well this is our bar, isn’t it?”

A soft laugh slips out from your throat and you look at the drink set in front of you, blush working its way to the back of your neck. “I’m pretty sure when I said that I was really drunk.”

He hums and lifts his glass of whiskey to take a small sip, teasing around his tone, “So you didn’t mean it, or?”

You roll your eyes, your hand wrapping around your glass of bourbon. You take a small sip and let the alcohol roll down your throat, a heated grip, soothing as it settles in your stomach. Whatever you’re about to say is drowned out by an extremely drunk guy bumping into you from behind. You know that the bar is crowded and it was bound to happen sooner or later but you hate that it’s enough to jostle your drink in your hand, liquid spilling over the edge onto your dress.

You gasp and the guy looks over his shoulder, laughs, and then gets manhandled by Austin who shoves him further down the bar. He quickly hands you some napkins so you can pat yourself dry, slightly distracted by the fact that the drunk guy comes back with his chest puffed out like he’s going to do something about it.

All Austin has to do is stand up from the bar stool, encroaching into your space a little as his one hand settles on the edge of the bar and the other dangles next to his side, fingers flexing. You look up at him as his chest brushes against your shoulder, a smile pulling on the edges of his mouth but you understand his body language well enough to know that he’s not amused.

And just like a shadow passing over the other guy’s face, he clears his throat and sinks back, apologizing to you in one quick word before making his way down the bar. You feel heat crawl underneath your skin as Austin sits back down and orders you another drink since the one that spilled is pretty much empty.

“You good?” He asks and you chew on your lower lip because yeah you’re more than good and nods your head.

Once again, you’re captivated by that side to Austin that’s a little bit rough, a little bit possessive and you can’t help but admit that even with this unspoken conversation hanging in the air? It’s nice to feel him express that towards you because if anything, he’s always been more telling with his touch rather than what he says.

You clear your throat and sit a little further back onto your stool, opening your legs just slightly before running a hand down the fabric of your dress which sits at the top of your knees. This is probably a bad idea, but you can’t seem to stop it once it’s entered your mind—and say something that’s going to very deliberately push Austin’s buttons.

“I want to finish our conversation from the other night,” Austin takes a sip of his whiskey, a soft crease appearing between his eyebrows before he realizes what you’re saying. “We’ve been together for three years and lately we’re not seein’ one another enough.”

His eyes scan over you like he’s somehow missed something important, his hand coming down to rest on your knee. “We’re seein’ one another right now.”

And there it is again, something electrically charged in the way he implies that little bit of sass, it reaches into your stomach and squeezes.

“No,” You says quickly and presses your knee just a little towards him so his hand moves. Austin’s eyes snap down to the action, his fingers now curled along your inner thigh and it takes him a moment to piece together what’s going on—

But once he figures it out? His gaze looks back up at you, filled with darkened amusement and he leans a little closer before picking up his whiskey glass with his other hand.

“I’m talking about real dates, real time spent,” You continue, your thumb running along the condensation of your own glass when the bartender brings you another. “Not shoving whatever we can into forty-five minute bar drinks.”

It’s always been amazing to you how calm and collected Austin can be; whether it’s during an interview, or a meeting, placing his whole being in front of a camera, ready to be someone else—and now it’s sneaking his hand up your dress in a public place.

His expression is unchanging, like he’s discussing the weather when he asks, “Oh, we don’t like those?” He asks, a soft smile tugging the corners of his mouth, “No time well spent?”

You’re about to reply to him but his hand moves quickly, the cool contrast of the ring on his finger making a shiver course down your spine. It’s almost surreal, doing this in a public bar—this is something you and him have never done before…and the concept is unbelievably thrilling. Your hips move forward, just a little, Austin’s fingers grazing the outline of your underwear against already moist flesh and the words get stuck very literally in your throat.

“You gonna answer me, or?” His voice is against the shell of your ear, raspy in a way that turns you on even more. And god, you don’t even care what you’re talking about anymore. Dates, no dates—who the fuck cares?

You clear your throat and pick up your glass of bourbon, trying to act natural, taking a slow sip and replying with a soft ‘no’ because that’s all you can manage. I want more, you want to say…but have no idea how to say it.

“That’s too bad…m’really beginnin’ to like these bar dates.” Austin licks his lips and hums, staring straight ahead like he’s not teasing your clit through the outside of your underwear.

He’s too good at this, you realize, like his hands were made for this. Like all he knows how to do is take you apart piece by piece, ripping at the seams and sewing you back up with love and care. Drives you absolutely crazy, how much you crave him, how much you love wrapping yourself up in him.

That’s why at the end of the day, you know both of you are going to be okay together.

You open your legs a little more, the fabric of your dress soft and wide at the bottom, allowing you to do it without becoming too noticeable. Still, it’s funny, the way you feel like everyone’s eyes are on the two of you but a quick glance around tells you that no one notices—which just makes heat pound faster at your center, Austin’s fingers finally slipping inside your underwear.

You nearly choke on your own tongue, coughing a moment before taking a sip of your drink and Austin smirks—the bastard, sliding his one finger inside of you and pausing so it doesn’t overwhelm you. How thoughtful. Your cheeks are flushed and your breathing is a little heavy, you can feel it, your paranoia making you re-position your purse so it’s over your lap even though the bar is dark and loud and no one gives a shit about you or him.

The bartender approaches you two with a menu, offering Austin a small smile, “Did you guys want any food? Kitchen’s closing up.”

He takes the menu like he actually cares, pursing his lips together as he scans the appetizer list. “I dunno, you want food, babe?”

Of course, of course he’s really going to make you answer, looking over at you with an innocent expression as his finger circles your clit. “I uh—” You glance at the menu but the words on the page don’t even register. Fuck you’re…

You roll your hips forward and makes it look like you’re shifting positions on the stool, Austin giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response, his finger picking up speed as heat starts to boil over inside of you.

“No, I’m not hungry.” You says quickly, running a hand over the back of your neck.

“I think we’re good.” Austin agrees, handing the menu back to the bartender, who’s giving you a once over.

“Sweetie, you look a little flushed, you want some water?”

A whine most definitely sneaks its way out of your lips but luckily you think the bar is too loud to really make it out and you suddenly sit up straight as pressure builds and builds, your hand coming down on Austin’s wrist and squeezing—hard—

“I’m fine, drank this a little too fast, I think. I’m going to splash some water onto my face.”

His hand slips free out from under your dress, not even looking at him as wobbly legs take you away from the bar and into one of single-stall bathrooms. Your feet are kind of sticking to the floor and it smells like stale beer and lemon soap and really, this is one of the last places you thought you’d find yourself in. You set your purse on the side, leaning against the sink and it doesn’t take him long to find you.

Austin sneaks inside and you watch him through the mirror, leaning against the door, his eyes equally trained on you. You turn, reach past him to lock the door and the moment it slips into place, your lips are on his.

You kiss him hard, Austin not wasting any time to pick you up and set you on the sink, his hand tearing your underwear off and throwing them to the side. His one hand clasps the side of your neck as your hands make work of his jeans, tugging them down and reaching inside to grip his cock.

He groans against the sensation, thrusting into your hand and you shift your hips so you’re closer to the edge of the sink. Austin moves his lips to your neck, suckling the skin there and a loud moan that you don’t try to hide slips from your lips as he slides inside you. Your clit is swollen and sensitive, your entire body aching for him to begin moving and he’s taking too fucking long—

“Please, Austin,” You don’t even care that you’re begging, fingers fisting the back of his shirt at his shoulders, “Please.”

He shushes you gently, arms wrapping around your back so that you’re as close to him as you can get before doing what you’ve asked. Unfortunately, because you’re so worked up, it doesn’t take you very long to cum—clenching down around him as you bury your face in his shoulder. Austin’s right behind you, thrusting until he loses it, his breathing rapid and heated against your neck.

He doesn’t pull out right away and instead presses your foreheads together, his hand cupping your cheek before your lips meet in a soft, intimate kiss. Someone banging their fist on the door that they’ve got to pee ruins the moment however and a giddy sort of laugh leaves your lips as you cover your mouth with your hand.

Austin smirks as he backs up, handing your underwear back with a few paper towels to clean yourself up before both of you inevitably have to unlock the door and leave the bathroom.

You walk out of the bar with your legs feeling like jello, not even remembering the conversation that took place on the stools to even continue but…once you get to Austin’s car, he gently turns you around to press you against the passenger door.

Smiling up at him, you kiss his jawline. Austin hums, cupping your cheek and kissing your cheekbone before, “You’re right,” He whispers, “We’re not seein’ one another enough.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you’re drowning in endorphins,” You tease but god, you’re not gonna deny it feels good to hear.

“I mean that’s definitely part of it,” Austin grins, nuzzling your noses, “I’ll make more time for you—real dates, real time.” He coins, because apparently he was listening.

You smile, something bright and warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. Pressing yourself up on your toes, you kiss him. As wild and desperate your touches were in the bathroom, that’s how soft and loving your lips move now.

You suppose this, at the very least, is an upside of missing one another.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x female reader #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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shewritesallnight · 1 year

Text

Cell Block Tango [BSD]

YN is sick of listening to Dazai’s and Fyodor’s prison mind games. Locked away underground, she yearns for a distraction and decides that it’s time for a special game of her own. But can she keep control while playing against not one but two demons…

Rating: 18+, NSFW

3.5K words

a/n: Spoiler alert for anime fans but if you are up to date with manga translations then it’s nothing new. For the sake of this fic we are gonna pretend that the prison suits are two pieces rather than the jumpsuit. We are also sticking to the manga version of the prison, not the hamster balls :p

There was a dull throb at the back of her skull and she was pretty sure she was about to have an aneurysm. That or she was finally going insane. It had been bad enough that she was stuck in Meursault; but being trapped in a box between two maniacs made her mind spin.

How she got in this mess, YN wasn’t entirely sure, but she was willing to bet Chuuya’s entire wine collection that it had to do with one of Dazai’s little schemes. She had hoped to never find herself again playing pawn to the former Executive once he disappeared from the Port Mafia.

Apparently, that was just wishful thinking.

The Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia and the Demon Fyodor faced off in front of her. Sitting in ridiculous plexiglass cells like Hannibal Lector; and she had been graced with the misfortune of being stuck next to both, completing their little block in the shape of a U.

She had tried, when she first arrived, to question the males; an attempt at getting some idea why she had to be thrown in here. To no avail.

At some point, boredom pushed her to start a guessing game between the two of them to see who could recognize songs as she hummed the tune.

Dazai was up to date with the most current pop songs and seemingly a fan of country music. Fyodor was calling out titles before she even got to the second note of anything remotely classical or rap related.

She wasn’t sure if he called out the latter so quickly because he enjoyed the songs or he just didn’t want to hear them.

Once the conversations evolved to apparent mind reading, she left them to their devices. For all she knew they were absolutely bullshitting and toying with her mind as a form of entertainment.

She wouldn’t put it past them.

How long had they been going at it? Was it days? Weeks? It was so hard to tell in this place, though she had no doubt her two prison mates would know.

She craved stimulation, a new book, real music, or a conversation with a normal person. Hell, she was ready to attack a guard for a change of pace. Though they rarely came around save to drop off food and when they did, they remained silent and out of reach.

No doubt a stipulation to prevent any secretive communication to the outside world.

"97,462."

"4,475."

YN groaned, slamming her pillow over her face to drown out the ceaseless stream of numbers. It would put her out of her misery, if she suffocated herself with the pillow. Better yet, would be to suffocate the two of them.

She giggled into the fluff, building the scenario in her mind but frowned when her imagination came to Dazai.

The suicidal maniac would probably enjoy it.

"Uhg," with a huff, she dragged the pillow down from her face and onto her chest.

Her breath stuttered. A delicious jolt shot down her spine at the feel of the pillow brushing over her clothed nipples.

Were the prison uniforms that thin?

She tugged the pillow down another inch and her toes curled at the friction. She chanced a glance towards her cell block mates, still locked in their staring death match and spouting off numbers at a rapid pace.

Maybe they wouldn't notice. Or maybe she wanted them to, her face flushed at the thought.

Maybe she really was going insane.

Either way, it would be a much needed distraction and if it threw those two off their game while working off some frustration, even better.

Decision made, she returned her pillow behind her head and settled against the sheets. As a test she brushed her thumbnail over a nipple and keened.

Fuck, that felt good.

She slipped a hand under her top to cup her breast, gently squeezing, and groaned. Her other hand traveled down to rub over the clothed apex of her thighs.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, just to feel the delicious friction.

She moved to tug on the band of her pants.

"What do we have here?" "What do you think you're doing?"

Her body froze at the overlapping voices. Caught, like a deer facing off with two wolves.

She flicked her eyes first to Dazai then across to Fyodor. The duo had their gaze burning into her. She could only imagine her appearance to them. One hand hidden beneath her shirt with the other poised to slip beneath the fabric of her pants.

"I-i,” she paused.

Honesty was out of the question, there was no way she was going to tell them that she was so bored that she accidentally made herself horny with the idea of them watching her masturbate.

A half-truth then, just enough to placate them.

She cleared her throat before speaking again, “While your little numbers game has been stimulating. I crave a more carnal distraction.”

Not breaking eye contact with the Russian, she slid her hand into her bottoms. YN bit her lip to keep from moaning when her fingertips brushed against her clit.

Was the base of his neck turning red or was that a trick of the prison lights?

"Tell me, Bella," her eyes darted to Dazai, "who brought about these carnal desires?"

Neither of them.

She hadn't been thinking of anything but the sweetness of release.

Lies.

Both men were at the forefront of her mind. It was no secret that the two of them were quite handsome in their own aggravating way. It wouldn’t be the first time she had thought about-

Annoyed, she huffed out a quick, "The both of you seem to be skilled at guessing games, why don’t you figure it out?”

She knew she made a mistake when his eyes darkened.

Holding her gaze, Dazai spoke to his rival. "Shall we find out which one of us makes her pant like a common whore?"

Heat rushed to her face.

"Seems a pointless competition when we already know who it is."

Dazai’s eyes cut to Fyodor and she felt the tension settle around the three of them.

Taking advantage of their distraction, she took the time to take in the two figures. Dazai had a prominent tent in his pants. While Fyodor sported a large bulge; his very real flush had darkened at his neck, she wondered how far down his chest the color spread.

It was intoxicating.

The idea of these two men arguing and turned on because of her. She felt a rush of wetness at her entrance, slipped a finger in, and moaned.

She didn't notice when she became the focus of their attention again or that Dazai had pulled his cock from his pants. Nor did she notice how Fyodor tugged his bottoms down mid-thigh and started rubbing at his own.

She was lost to the brush of her finger against her inner walls until Fyodor cut through the haze with his words.

"Myshka, look at me."

She looked up to Fyodor and sucked in a breath. He leaned back on his bed with one hand, the other working around his cock. From what she could see, the tip was the same pretty red color and smeared in precum.

Dazai had stood, now leaning against the corner of his cell, fully facing her. She had a clearer view of his cock and could see his fingers run across the prominent vein underneath.

He looked delicious and she clenched at the view. She wanted to wrap her lips around the head and swallow him down till she felt him at the back of her throat.

As if reading her mind, Dazai smirked. He picked up the pace of his hand when a small sigh fell from her lips.

"Do you imagine my fingers replacing yours? Reaching places you can only dream of?" She whined, eyes closing to get lost in the scene.

Yes, she wanted it.

"She would prefer my tongue working her open, tasting her until she screams."

"F-fuck," she stuttered at Fyodor's words, curling her finger and imagining his tongue in her.

She couldn't decide which scenario she liked better, riding his face until her body gave out or seeing Fyodor below her, worshiping her cunt from his knees.

Dazai clicked his tongue, “It would take more than your slimy appendage to ready her for me. Don’t you think Bella?”

He tapped his tip against the plexiglass. “Let’s see how well you prepare for me. Add another finger.”

Shimming off her bottoms, she kicked them to the floor of her cell. Following his instructions, she slipped in a second finger. It was tight and she knew it wouldn’t be enough to let him in.

Breathlessly, she began scissoring her fingers, stretching herself.

The feeling was glorious.

She wondered how he would feel, hot and heavy inside her. She’d be lying if she said she never thought of it, of him taking her against the wall at headquarters. It made her whimper, adding in a third finger.

The action wasn’t lost on her audience.

“So desperate for my cock that you can’t even wait for directions. How impatient of you.”

Muffled profanity slipped from Fyodor’s lips as she raised her shirt to her collar, exposing her breasts, to pull at her nipple.

She couldn’t hear their harsh breaths, but she could see them falling apart. Dazai’s forehead fell against the wall, his hips thrusting forward to fuck into his hand.

Fyodor had leaned forward over his legs, one hand still working his cock while the other fondled his balls.

They continued talking, feeding off each other and the display of her body before them. Speaking into existence all the sordid little fantasies she kept tucked away in the back of her mind.

She would have thought they really did have the ability to read minds if they hadn’t spoken of other darker desires. Words that sat heavy in her core and pushed her that much closer to the edge.

She had never seen either man look so disheveled; and she had never wanted anything more than to be in the same cell as them. To hear and feel their words across her skin as they pounded into her.

“N-nhg” Her teeth clamped down on her lip to prevent the syllables from escaping, a name hanging on the tip of her tongue.

She hissed at the pain but was thankful for it.

When did she start to lose control?

There was no way she was going to give into their twisted antics. She would not say either of their names. No matter how badly she wanted to give in.

She struggled to muffle another moan, pleasure building at her center. A thought drifted across her mind, maybe she could tip things back into her favor.

If they wanted her to call out a name, she would.

It would have to be someone they both knew. Someone who would affect both men.

Someone like- oh.

Like him.

She teetered on the edge, palm grinding against her clit-

“Come for me,” they uttered at the same time.

-and she free fell into oblivion.

“Ah-h-Ango!” she cried out, eyes rolling back as her back arched off the mattress.

Her thighs trapped her wrist while her walls fluttered around her fingers; barely registering the sputtered choke and subsequent snarl in the background.

She collapsed to her mattress, liquid and loose, and took several deep calming breaths then turned towards her audience.

Dazai’s cum dripped down from where it splattered against the plexiglass, he looked pained. His hand next to his head in a fist.

A quick glance to Fyodor revealed his hands were covered in his release, a displeased look on his face as he watched her.

Pulling her fingers from her core, she made a dramatic show of slurping and sucking the digits clean, tugged her shirt down, and turned her back on the two.

With a flip of her middle finger towards the demonic duo, she pulled the blanket over her body and settled in to sleep.

BONUS:

There is a saying, that if looks could kill...

Ango had never understood those words more than in that moment.

He felt the crushing glare from the two demons on the monitors as if they were in the same room as him. Suddenly, he was very glad to have them locked away.

All the wall monitors of the intelligence room were focused on the three cells, as they had been, since the moment the prisoners had taken their first steps into Meursault.

Sure, he had expected to witness some private moments but to witness that and for YN to call out his name at the end.

There were alarm bells going off in the back of his mind but it didn’t matter. He never dared to dream that she could- that she would-

His pants felt tight, uncomfortably tight.

Ango could feel the burn of all the eyes in the room, pointedly not looking in his direction.

The triple agent’s face was in flames, a hand covered the bottom half of his face. Trying and failing to maintain a sense of normalcy after the show.

And what a show it was.

The servers would have to be wiped. It could complicate things if he was implicated in whatever Dazai had planned.

Yes, they would have to be wiped.

But Ango wouldn’t put it past his former friend to have a secret message slipped in. Dazai’s heart rate would need to be compared to the video and decoded. Just in case.

Ango would have to take a copy of the video home to thoroughly examine it.

Fun Fact: Ango was the one to arrest YN. Babygirl knew what she was doing when she fed him to the wolves 💅

❥• ➥ I do not give permission to repost or claim any of my work. Reblogs are much appreciated!

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andersonfilms · 8 months

Text

# which wolf wins? a. anderson

# content warning — eighteen+, fem reader, mentions of murder, gun violence, physical violence, ellabs being traumatizing to each other, reader fighting for life, cursing, tw blood, ellie having murderous tendencies, angsty gays.

𐐪𐑂 ° ︴ 9.24.2023

There was blood everywhere, some of it dried on your forearms, splatters on your face. You knew there hadn’t been a moment like today, like this terrifying second, where you didn’t believe you would make it out. More and more bloodshed. There wasn’t anyone who was free from it. You knew there wasn’t much love to be had between them both, the blood thirst vengeance was more than enough proof of it.

And you had got caught in the crossfire.

All of it was about evening the score, making them feel each other’s pain. Rage consumed Abby, more than you wish it did but you couldn’t tell her to stop. She started this to get justice for her father. But now, with a knife to your throat, you didn’t regret it. Even if your undying devotion for her was to get you killed, you would do it all over again.

It still didn’t make you any less terrified of what was to come. Helpless in Ellie’s hold as she taunted Abby with you. The gun pointed at Ellie’s head only made the blade further press into you, any more pressure and blood would be drawn.

“A-Abby, please.” You choked out, your eyes glossed over with tears threatening to spill. Maybe in a perfect world, you would be scared of death. Suspicious of what comes after, but not in this world you lived in. Just in the past few years, you wished death would find you. It would’ve been the greatest hand of mercy life had to offer.

You were terrified for the woman in front of you. The person you loved more than life, and these days it didn’t seem like much, but she was heaven in a world surrounded by your own personal hell. Always seeming like there were never enough moments to hold onto. Trying to find more so you could continue on. Fight to see another day, for her.

Then there’s a split second where you want Ellie to put you out of your misery. Maybe then you would know peace. True serendipity. The only time you ever felt glimpses of it was in Abby’s arms. When she’d come back from patrol, with you already in bed - she’d tuck you into her chest into the security of her. You didn’t feel like you needed to worry about what was to come next. She’d find a way to look out for you.

To protect you.

She’d lost so much, she couldn’t afford to lose you too.

That’s when Abby knew the plea wasn’t for you. She looked in your beautiful fucking eyes, and she knew who it was for.

It was for her.

You knew her better than her ego did, and right now it was bruised, battered even. Abby didn’t like anything being out of her control, and this felt like everything had gone wrong. Going over everything in her mind, correcting over the things she could have done differently. Was she so hellbent on rage she let Ellie get the opportunity to get her hands around you?

“Let go of her.” Abby all but growled.

The person she loved in the hands of the one who hated her the most and she wanted to blow out Ellie’s skull for it.

“Why?” Ellie taunted, pure fury laced in her eyes.

“She has nothing to do with this.” Abby’s voice breaks down in the process at the thought of losing you, but she pushes through. Trying not to let herself drown in the thought of you being murdered just like her father, especially not in front of Ellie. Never in front of Ellie fucking Williams.

“If it’s just between us, then put the gun down.” Ellie commanded. “Try anything, and I’ll fucking kill her. The only person who still believes there’s good in you. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

Abby couldn’t help but want to bark back, but your voice cast her right out of it.

“Abs, I love you, okay? I’m with you. No matter what happens.” The turmoil fabricated her brain and poisoned her intentions, she had a clear shot. She could drop Ellie, but she knew it wasn’t worth losing you. Nothing would be worth losing you.

“Drop it, Abby.” So, she does. Kicks the weapon away from them both in the opposite direction, not ready to risk your life for anyone, because deep down she knew you had this effect on her. Making her want to do the right thing even if she really didn’t fucking want to.

She’d much rather put a bullet through Ellie for threatening you right in front of her.

Ellie keeps her promise and lets you go and you all but fall in Abby’s arms. “This isn’t over, Williams.” Her tone is deadly, but anything else is erased as her sole focus is set on you.

Before she exits she sees something she never thought she’d see. You're cradled in Abby’s arms, your body wracked with sobs as you shake. She soothes you with the sound of her silky voice, promising the both of you will get out of this mess. She kisses your forehead softly, before whispering something so quietly not even Ellie could make it out.

Abby’s soft in the way she holds you. How she tries to calm you down. Carefully wiping away your tears, trying to focus on you and not the anger she feels. Abby thought it might’ve been hard but hearing your cries brings her into reality and you’re all that matters to her.

Ellie thinks Abby almost looks human.

She takes it as her cue to leave. As cruel as Ellie feels; she doesn’t have the heart to kill Abby in front of the woman she loves. Not when Abby had offered the same courtesy to Dina. All Ellie was doing was evening the score.

That’s all it was.

#dipping my toe in the tlou pool #first time writing for this fandom so pls keep negative comments to urself <3 #have a series in mind for this…more to come #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fanfic #ellabs fic #wlw #wlw fanfic #rayne writes

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3-2-whump · 2 months

Text

Escape Attempt Last

As in, there were plenty in between this attempt and First Escape Attempt, but I won't enumerate them (unless you ask nicely, I guess)

Set one year after The Auction Floor

TW/CW: minor whump, slavery, pet whump, noncon body mod (tattoos, piercings), threats of permanent injury (not followed through), burning, inappropriate use of a clothes iron

The first thing he heard that morning was “Happy anniversary,” whispered softly over him as he stirred awake.

Khaled blinked. The blond man leaned over his bed, not a trace of a frown on his stern face. Khaled groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had no idea what his master just said, though that might’ve just been because he was never much of a morning person. “What was that?” Khaled yawned.

“It’s our anniversary,” the man explained patiently as he helped him sit up. Those broad arms and bruising hands that once (and occasionally still) struck fear into Khaled’s heart now supported him as he climbed out of bed. “I brought you home a year ago, and so I wanted to give you something special today, if you’d let me…” he trailed off with a smile.

Khaled shuffled toward his wardrobe and began picking out a pair of boxers, denim pants, and a shirt. “A year, huh?” Though he was still in the process of waking up, having never been an early riser in his life, his muddy brain was slowly piecing it together.

It was well into midday when Khaled finally let its implications sink in.

One year of his life in slavery. One whole year of his life spent in servitude. His head swam in an unsettling mix of shock, anger, and grief, emotions that traveled down to his gut and twisted it into knots. A lot had happened in a year; the sixteen-year-old shot up a few inches in height, his voice had deepened, and his body hair (everywhere) had grown in enough to prompt his owner to teach him about shaving and ‘hygienic practices.’ That was an embarrassing talk, and one that he deeply wished his father could’ve given him instead.

It had been more than a year since he had seen his family; were they thinking of him? Did they notice he was gone? He brought home one of their main sources of income; how was his mother coping, providing for his siblings all on her own? They didn’t hate him for abandoning them, did they? Khaled blinked back the mist in his eyes at the thought.

The car lulled to a stop. “We’re here,” the Boss announced, taking Khaled out of his head. He looked down at the small box resting in his hands. Twin diamonds set in white gold rested inside the velvety interior. At first, Khaled thought it was a mistake, since his ears weren’t pierced. The man only grinned as he simply replied “not yet.”

They got out at the now-familiar tattoo parlor, entering soon after they opened. This was where the boy got his second and third tattoos, the initials and the skull and snake, respectively. The bearded, bespectacled man known only as Leo spotted them immediately and approached them with a welcoming grin. He made small talk with Khaled’s master as he led them to the back.

“So, we’re doing a set of piercings today?” he asked, pulling out a pair of single-use gloves.

Master nodded. “Ears, just one pair for now, unless we want more.”

Khaled let out an unbidden scoff. His master threw him a reproachful glare. There is no we, there never was, he wanted to scream. He didn’t consent to any of his tattoos, what made the man think he’d be okay with piercings? Yet his owner initialed him like an object and drew the symbol of his crime family on his skin, and he could just do that –he bought him, after all.

“Well, let’s get to it, then!” Leo said.

“Wait. I’ve gotta use the bathroom,” Khaled murmured. Master glanced at Leo, who merely shrugged. He silently pushed past the two men and made his way to the front of the store to the bathroom, where he locked the door and slumped against it as he settled onto the floor. He allowed himself a deep, shuddering breath behind the closed door, resting his head back against it with a dull thunk.

One year… he thought morosely. A streaky bathroom mirror bordered with stickers glared back at him under artificial light. Curious, Khaled got up from the floor and leaned over the sink to look at himself, to physically see how much he had changed in only a year. How much of these changes were within his control?

None of them, he realized sadly. He turned his newly shaved head side to side to look at his ears, taking in the sight of the unpierced lobes as much as he could. These would change too, and that was also out of his control.

Or was it? Out of the corner of his eye, Khaled spotted a slit of natural light seeping in from above. He turned; there, above the toilet, was a small window, vented open to let in fresh air. He assessed the window immediately, judging that he was still skinny and flexible enough that he could climb through, and without much else besides a desire to just be in control of something, he did exactly that.

With exception to the mall incident (which shouldn’t even count, he genuinely got lost), this had to be the worst escape yet. He was recaptured within two hours, tied up and thrown into the back of a car yet again, and now lay on his back on a large table, hands and feet bound to each corner as two unfamiliar goons stood on each side. Beside him, Master stood solemnly ironing a dress shirt on an ironing board. His resting bitch face was back, and he was re-ironing the same sleeve for the third time. Khaled gulped, only sensing a fraction of how fucked he was.

“I really thought we had made some progress this past year,” the man growled. A puff of steam escaped the iron as he set it aside and hung up the crisp white shirt. He then moved on to ironing a pair of slacks. “I trusted you, I provided for you, I gave you everything you could ever need, and what do you do? You run away the second I loosen your leash,” he continued, straightening out a seam with a bit more force than necessary.

Khaled cleared his throat and tried to look up from his awkward position on the table. “I’m sorry, Master, I just freaked out- “

“Quiet! Let me finish.”

Khaled shut his mouth immediately. He sunk back down, fixed his eyes on the dim ceiling lamp above him, and awaited his punishment with dread.

Master continued talking. “You know, the last time this happened, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons.” Beneath the quickening pounding of his anxious heart, Khaled heard the faint hiss of the iron. “I don’t want to permanently cripple you though, mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”

Khaled tore his eyes from the ceiling and looked over his outstretched toes. His master settled in front of his feet, the steaming hot iron in hand. Moist tendrils of heat lapped at his exposed bare soles. Dense as he may be, it didn’t take a genius to realize what was about to happen. Khaled trembled, then began struggling in earnest. The mob members held him firmly by the legs and shoulders as he thrashed frantically in his restraints, fearfully begging. “No, no, no, please, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry – “

“You’re only sorry you got caught,” Boss snapped. “Now hold still.”

Searing hot pain erupted in the soles of his feet as Khaled screamed himself hoarse.

After what felt like too much time and yet not much time at all, the goons above him let him go and started working on the knots tying him to the table. That must mean he’s done, Khaled thought, but why does it feel like my feet are still burning?

“Get up.”

The now untied boy paused rubbing his chafed wrists to look up at him in shock. His master glared down at him coldly. “I said get up!” he shouted.

He can’t be serious. With horror, he realized the man was completely serious. “I-I can’t,” Khaled whimpered, “I -you wouldn’t -I can’t!” He caught his trembling lip between his teeth before a small sob could escape.

“I’m not going to repeat myself again, brat,” the Boss gritted out. “Get. Up.”

Khaled hung his head and nodded. He stiffly swung his legs over the table and gingerly lowered his burnt feet to the floor. The freshly blistered flesh barely touched the ground before an effusion of pain shot up his legs. He gasped in agony. His owner, meanwhile, stood in front of him in silence, waiting. Khaled sniffled, grit his teeth, and, with legs quivering and tears streaming down his cheeks, he stood up straight and tall.

“Walk,” Thomas said.

No. Khaled shook his head, completely unable to get a word out through the pain.

“Walk.”

Please, no, he wanted to say. He hung his head and shakily took a step forward, not making it even two steps before he collapsed. The strong arms of the Boss’ cronies caught him just before his knees could hit the floor. They scooped him back onto the table before one ran off to find the first aid kit, and the other ran off to get a basin of cool water. Khaled thankfully slipped into unconsciousness and took refuge in the nothingness.

A hesitant knock at the door brought Khaled’s attention back to the present, three hours after the Iron Incident. “Khaled, it’s me.” His master entered his bedroom soon after.

Facing away from the door in a fetal position on top of the bed, Khaled curled up even tighter. His heart picked up pace as he heard the man settle to his knees in front of his bed. “Your bandages need changing.” He flinched away when he felt the man’s fingers graze his injured feet, but ultimately he relented, letting his master unwind the soiled bandages as he winced and whimpered. Not all of the gauze was peeling off neatly. He heard a faint click of a tube opening, then felt cooling salve on his burned soles. Then, with a level of tenderness he did not think the Boss capable of, the man wrapped his feet up in clean gauze and taped the bandages in place. “One more thing,” he murmured softly, reaching into the first aid bag he brought with him.

Khaled had raised his head from his pillow, his red-rimmed eyes trailing down to his feet as curiosity overcame his pain and apprehension. His owner procured a pair of socks, gingerly slipping them over each gauze-wrapped foot. “There are plenty more of these, so if this pair gets dirty, you can just ask me for more,” he told him. “Comfortable, right?”

Khaled reached over and brushed his fingers against the soft fabric. His eyes misted with tears again at the act of kindness. “…They’re nice,” he sniffled. “Thank you, sir.”

The man replied with a pleased grunt before he lifted himself from the floor and stood, ready to leave. “Now then, is there anything else you need before I go to bed, Khaled?”

A hesitant silence. “No, but I-I’m sorry. Really.”

“I know,” he answered, his tone sincere. “Goodnight, Khaled.” Khaled flopped back onto the bed, face to the wall as he heard the door close gently behind him. What was that? He wondered. In the whole year that I’ve been here, he’s never been that gentle with me. Was that even the same man?He didn’t hear the faint click of the lock this time. In any other circumstance, this would give him hope, but at this point, the hope had been burnt out of him through the soles of his feet.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter

#throwing in a bit of carewhumper in the end #whump #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #tw minor whump #slavery whump #tw noncon bodymod #tw burning #carewhumper #failed escape attempt #no beta we die like my protestant upbringing

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onyxino · 8 months

Text

In The Next Life

Horrid dreams and visions plague Reader and Gojo's nights. Gojo soon realizes these dreams will not cease until he finds the truth, what exactly is the Gojo of the past trying to tell him?

WC: 2.3K

CW: Death, gore, kissing. implied smut, angst, modern au but also not a modern au?? idk I have plans. EXTREME JJK CH 236 SPOILERS

Proofread but I'm also dyslexic so don't be mean or I will cry

“The sky it’s so blue” he thought as he stared up at it, he couldn’t think about much right now, he didn’t want to anyway. There was one thing that was bothering him though, he couldn’t feel anything waist down.

“Am I? Paralyzed?” he questioned wanting to say it aloud but physically couldn’t , once he started to notice one thing everything came rushing in at once.

“I can’t move.” “My mouth is so dry but full of something wet at the same time…tastes like blood.” “And ... .And I'm scared.” were all thoughts and realizations of what his situation really was.

Dying. He was dying.

But how could he be dying, how did he even get here. He tried to take in his surroundings as much as his limited vision would let him. His failing eyes landed on a sign on a tall building in the center of the city that read, “Shinjuku, Dec, 24,2018.”

“That was so long ago, almost a hundred years.” He thought.

Suddenly he started to feel the ache in the back of his skull creep in and that could only mean…

~~~~~

Gojo shot straight up in bed. Panting, shaking and the familiar wetness from his eyes streaming down his face, dreams like these had been occurring all week. They always started the same with the sky being so blue and rich in color only for him to realize what was actually happening and having his world fall around him.

It had been one week since he first met you and now it seems as if his life had been turned upside down. Daily occurrences bring him back in time, putting him in places he’s never been, seeing things he’s never seen before, horrid things at that.

He slowly clambered his way out of bed. It was Saturday again his one and only day to get some real sleep and yet it feels as if he hasn’t slept at all. Running a hand through his stark white hair he made his way over to the bathroom.

Set on taking a nice hot bath he passes the mirror on the vanity only to see something catch his peripherals. He stops dead in his tracks and a rush of cold air runs against his body. There in the mirror was a man who looked exactly like him. Only he’s dressed in a sort of uniform, the blindfold he normally wears is cast off to the side on the vanity.

Gojo slowly turns to face the mirror, the reflection’s pacing doesn’t match his own though. It seemed to be staring intently at him as if it was trying to tell him something. Gojo felt his breathing quicken the longer him and this reflection of what was supposed to be him made eye contact.

The blue of the reflections eyes seemed so much sharper than his own, but everything else about this man seemed to be on point physically with himself, uncanny. Just when he thought it was safe to look away, the reflection slammed its hands on the counter in the mirror and doubled down on the eye contact like it was trying to tell him something.

“W-What do you want?” Gojo’s voice was shaky as much as he tried to hide it.

“You have to wake up.” It was mouthed through the mirror but he heard it in his head, like his subconscious was speaking to him, it sounded exactly like him.

“Who are you?” Gojo asked furrowed brows, stepping up to the mirror.

“Who do you think? You have to wake up, you have to wake her up too and then find the rest of them.” The Her in question being you, the girl at the bakery who started all this but them? Who are they?.

Gojo found himself nodding at the mirror and then in a blink the mirror's image once again reflected himself. His current self.

~~~~~

You find yourself here again for what seemed to be the nth time this week. Standing in front of all of these tv monitors stacked on top of one another. Mei’s crows seem to always keep perfect track of all the movements. This horrid scene seemed to be caught in 3D just for you. Every detail, every noise ingrained into your skull.

You don’t wanna watch this again, you can’t. Yet you can’t seem to look away. You find yourself wishing for comfort from a person known as “Nanami” He has yet to appear in any of your visions but yet you wish you had him here.

You wish you could turn to Yuuji and Yuta and tell them what's about to happen, tell them to get out there and get Gojo out of there before IT happens.

But IT does happen.

Sukuna and Mahoraga deliver the final blow, nothing can be said or done now. You watched him die again, and you’ll watch him die again and again for as long as these visions continue.

Complete and utter heartbreak.

The scream you let out is one you’ve never thought possible, knees weak you fall to ground, Shoko only catching you halfway This man meant something to you, he had too.

It felt like you loved him.

~~~~~

“JESUS CHRIST, PLEASE MAKE IT STOP.” You shout as you shoot up from your bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

The vision ingrained in your head, Gojo the man from the bakery laying in the middle of the battle field ... .severed in two.

Shaky breaths leave your lungs as you calm down, every night it seems to get more intense. The 1st night the shock and gore of it all was what upset you. The next night a familiar pang etched its way into your chest. Then by the 3rd you were in complete and utter agony, it felt like your heart was ripped out of you by that point and now you are on day 7. You’d think you would be used to it by now, but no, not even possible.

Tying your hair up as you make your way out the door, you had decided to open the bakery a little late today in favor of getting a couple more hours of much needed sleep. The cool crisp morning air nipped at your face as you walked down the streets. The images flashing in between blinks, you felt as if it had taken over your whole life.

Rounding the corner expecting to see at least a couple of your Saturday regulars standing outside the doors, but instead you see him.

Eye contact is immediate and it's enough to make you stop in your tracks, you never thought you would see him again, in the flesh.

He’s breathing.

He’s alive.

It feels like forever before you start towards him in haste, your legs move for you and your mind goes to autopilot.

“Get to him, touch him, you have too.” your thoughts scream.

“Hey listen about the other day I-” He doesn’t even get the full sentence out before he finds himself wrapped up in your shaking embrace, your arms gripping him around his midsection. He gasps but it's more like a sob almost and you can’t tell exactly what that means at this point but you don’t care. You’re touching him, you feel him. His heart is pounding and air is entering and leaving his lungs.

He’s Intact.

“You're alive.” Is all you can get out.

He doesn’t return your embrace but he doesn’t push you away either, instead he lets out a sigh “I take it you’ve seen ‘me’ die then?”

All you do is nod your head, body still quaking, you’re terrified to let go. You’re afraid that if you do he may fall apart in front of you.

“Let’s go inside, yeah? I wanna talk.” He says resting his hands on your shoulders gently moving you back.

You nod quickly, fishing your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door you head inside.

You make sure the storefront blinds are closed as you relock the door behind you, lastly glancing at the open sign to make sure it's off.

You turn to see that Gojo has already taken a seat at one of the many vacant tables , and you join him.

“How many nights?” he asks, you don’t need any elaboration.

“Every single night this week, I’ve seen it.”

“Me as well, can you tell me exactly what you’ve seen?” He says softly leaning forward resting his arms on the wood of the table.

You gasp a little and your body seems to start shaking on its own. “I think I can yeah, I even have names of some of the people that were there too.”

“Okay then whenever you’re ready go ahead, I wanna hear everything.”

~~~~~~

“Jeez, I see, it's much worse than I thought.” Gojo said shaking his head , your version of events were way more graphic and horrifying than his.

“Where do you suppose we start with this?” You ask, bouncing your foot out of anxiousness.

“Well I had a vision of sorts today in the bathroom, my reflection was that ‘other’ me. He told me I had to wake up and wake you up then we had to find the others.” Gojo explained.

“Have any idea what exactly he means by that? Who are they?” You press.

“Not a damn clue, dude was freaky tho.” Gojo replied, resting his head in his palm, looking as bored as ever.

Your face contorts and you snort a little at the comment, and this does not go unnoticed by Gojo “What are ya snorting over there for?”

“It’s just he looks exactly like you and you called him freaky.” You reply unable to wipe the smile from your face.

“You haven’t seen him without the mask have you?” You cock your head at this.

“What is he? Deformed or something?”

“No not at all, looks exactly like yours truly. We even have the same eye color but his seemed to glow almost. When we made eye contact it was like he looked right into me.” Gojo shivered at the thought “It’s like he looked deep into me, like he truly read me or something.”

“Wow jeez, I hope I never see him with it off.”

“Nothing about it was evil though is the thing, nothing about him was evil, in fact his presence gave the opposite effect. I think he just really wanted my attention…” Gojo seemed to trail off after that, deep in thought.

Silence continued for a minute or so before you broke it.

“Okay so, I want answers and if you’re with me I think we should start with finding the location of this school, maybe something or someone is there that can tell us what exactly is happening with us, are you with me?” You say putting your hand in the middle of the table.

Gojo saw this jester as a little cheesy but also slightly cute and endearing of you. It made something flutter in his chest and he couldn’t help but smile. He laid his hand on top of yours expecting the ‘Go team, go.” mantra but all he was met with was the pain returning to the back of his head, he could see it in your eyes too, you both felt it.

~~~~

This scene is set in someone's living room, you and Satoru appear to be in civilian clothing, specifically nightwear. Satoru is clad in his white pajama pants and black long sleeved shirt that showed just a little too much of his collar bones… .You weren’t complaining though, they looked as if you could sip red wine from them.

His eyes. They were uncovered. God,were they beautiful to look at. They glowed almost, so bright and vibrant you felt like you could get lost in them, literally.

“Satoru, if you tickle me I will become violent and this is your only warning.” You say, voice dangerously serious.

Satoru however doesn’t look fazed at all, these threats are empty and he knows it, you know it too. He advances on you in lightning speed, speed that you didn’t even know was possible and the assault begins. It’s like he knows every single part of you as his hands glide up and down your midsection, painfully light and fast.

You were borderline screaming for mercy, laughing and giggling at him, “Ah, Mochi, you sound so cute like this.”

“Shut up Satoru, stop please. Can’t breathe!” You proclaim wriggling and kicking to get out of his grip. Little did you know this was all a ploy to get you close to the couch.

Once in range Satoru falls back on the couch taking you with him, plan executed perfectly. Now you’re straddling his lap, his hands have ceased their attack and have settled low on your hips, squeezing the fat firmly but not too firm, just right.

“You know if you wanted me on you, you could have just said something.” You say, smirking.

“Where is the fun in that, Mochi?” He replies pressing his forehead against yours.

You don’t say anything, you just connect your lips to his firmly. Slow and steady kisses turn into hurried and feverish ones. His hands start roaming up and down your body, kneading and grabbing at places that elicit small moans to come from your mouth which only drives him more insane.

“Bedroom.” Is all he says and you nod fiercely as he stands holding you like you’re nothing and heading in the direction of the hallway.

~~~~~

Gojo comes to first pulling his hand away as if it were literally on fire. You come to second with a blush as red as roses plastered on your cheeks.

“Did you-” You start.

“Yes, we don’t talk about it..” He cuts you off firmly, his face dawning the same shade of red as yours.

You nod in agreement.

“Okay let's start on locations now!” You say hurriedly, standing up with him in tow, you head toward the storefront door.

~~~~~~~

2nd Chapter! What do y'all think! I hope it’s good. I really enjoyed writing it. Sense I had someone request to be put in a tag list I will now include one! So if you wanna be on it lemme know! Reblogs and likes are appreciated! I do wanna let y'all know that I don't really have a schedule for updates as I work a full time job and have mental illness, so updates may be sporadic but if you wanna come along for the ride you are more than welcome!!

~~~~~

Taglist: @ritsatoru (am I doing this right?)

#satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk manga #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jjk236 spoilers #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru

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writeroutoftime · 2 years

Text

always been you

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader (requested by: anon)

summary: as your best friend - and secret crush - of course you follow steve into the upside down, but what happens when you get injured and thinks he cares more for nancy than you?

warnings: mild spoilers for season 4, vol. 1

words: 1.1k

a/n: anon, here you go! sorry if this isn't the best, but I wanted to get this hurt/comfort request out before tomorrow!! as always, I hope you have a lovely day, and please let me know if you enjoy this! ✨

oOoOo

Following Steve into the murky waters at Lover’s Lake had been an automatic response. The moment you saw your best friend violently be pulled under, there was no choice to be made. All other thoughts left your head in that moment, apart from keeping Steve safe. That goal proved to be more difficult than you originally imagined as you were thrown into the horrors of the upside down. Immediately, you tried your best to dodge the demobats that flew around, all the while looking for something that would help protect you and your friends.

Eventually you found a stick that worked as a makeshift bat, but the shock from the continuous onslaught of demobats had caused you to lose your footing and stumble as you your body fell to the ground. On the way down, your head smacked against a nearby rock and a jolt of pain shot through your body. Tears immediately sprung to your eyes, and you forced yourself to reach a hand up to your head up only to feel the sticky sensation of blood against your fingers.

Robin was the first to reach you, shouting your name in distress, swatting away the last few demobats. "Hey, hey! Are you okay?" she asked, holding your hand, and nervously looking you up and down.

Slowly, you nodded, accepting her help to get you back on your feet, though your grip tightened as spots of black marred your vision. A few feet away, Nancy was helping Steve stand, who had taken the brunt of the attack, blood and bruises littering his torso. You longed to be closer to him and confirm for yourself that Steve would be alright, but your heart tightened at the way he seemed to be looking at Nancy – not for the first time in the past few days, you noted.

Pain and jealousy mixed together, you pushed forward and stayed by Robin's side the entire time until the five of you made it to skull rock. It was there that Robin finally forced you to sit down as she examined the back of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Nancy similarly examining Steve, carefully wrapping a section of her shirt around his chest.

Instinctually, you flinched at the scene, luckily able to play it off as Robin brushing the cut on the back of your head too harshly. The two of them had seemed so close in the past few days with their soft gazes and hushed conversations. Of course, Steve never saw you as anything more than his best friend, so why wouldn’t he go back to Nancy? She was smart, strong, beautiful, and they already had such a strong connection. You knew he didn’t have to share everything with you, but your heart clenched as you might have completely lost your chance with him.

That realization, combined with the pain and shock your body was experiencing, caused a sharp cry to leave your lips as tears began to cascade down your cheeks. With shoulders shaking and a salty taste in the air, you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and bring some comfort, but to no avail. It suddenly felt as though your pain and grief was constantly building and would swallow you whole at any moment.

Robin rushed around to your front and knelt in front of you. "What happened? What's wrong?" she demanded, crying out for the others to help.

"It hurts." you cried, leaning into her embrace. "Not just my head, but everything! What if we don't get out of here? What if this is it? And now I've lost my chance to even try to tell Steve that I love him. He’s with Nancy now, and I mean I want him to be happy, but it just hurts so fucking much!” you sobbed, voice dissolving into more tears the more you spoke.

By that point, Eddie, Nancy, and Steve had all turned their heads to you and Robin. Steve immediately stood up and pushed past everyone else until he was the one kneeling in front of you. "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart." he cooed, replacing Robin’s embrace.

He had been so worried about you the past few days, and his heart nearly beat right out of his chest at your tears. He couldn’t make out what brought on your agony, but he swore to himself he would do whatever it took to make sure that you were okay and that you made it back home.

“I love him so much, but why does Steve love Nancy and not me?” you cried again, so absorbed by everything that you had yet to realize you were no longer in Robin’s arms.

Your words froze Steve in his place, and he could barely breath. You loved him? Steve felt like he had to be dreaming to hear to hear those words fall from your lips. It hit him instantly, though, that he was the cause of your pain and suffering. All his little talks with Nancy about you had led you to believe he didn’t look at you like you hung the moon and stars.

Pulling away from you slightly, Steve cupped your cheeks in his hands and tilted your head to meet his eyes. Immediately, your eyes grew wide, and you felt the embarrassment of your accidental confession consume, but Steve hurried before you could say anything or run away.

“Look at me, y/n. You’ve always been the one that I loved. Not Nancy or anyone else – you.” he confessed, gently wiping away your tears while being mindful of the cuts that littered your face. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel otherwise, but please don’t ever doubt how much I love you.” Steve continued, tears misting his own eyes.

There was a moment of silence as you took in everything Steve had just thrown your way. Looking into his eyes, you only saw sincerity and a sliver of fear at the thought of you rejecting his confession. For the first time everything with Vecna had started, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, and you leaned forward until your lips met Steve’s.

His grip tightened around your body, and you revealed in the softness of his lips, ignoring any trace of that metallically scent. Your hands reached up to gently tangle in his hair, and you smiled into the kiss when you felt Steve sigh against your lips. It wasn’t long before you pulled away, breathing deeply with a soft smile stretched across your face.

“We’re a bunch of idiots, aren’t we?” you breathed out, forehead pressed against Steve’s.

“Eh, maybe.” he conceded, smiling at the chuckle that came from you. “But you’re not getting rid of me now.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Harrington.” you said, pressing one final kiss to his lips before you pulled away with a renewed sense of vigor to get out of this hellhole.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x you #rita writes

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arcanarubinaito · 4 months

Text

How It All Went Wrong

Inspired by the “Who Broke It” meme from Parks and Recreation.

This week I’ve decided to do a reader insert fic! I was originally planning to do a special Incorrect Quotes post, but I ran out of time to even start editing it together. I’ll probably do what I planned eventually, but to meet the deadline I switched over to a mini-fic.

(I’m still figuring out how to format my mini-fic/creative writing posts so please forgive the inconsistencies.)

Summary:

It’s the start of a new day and the familiars have all gathered in the Palace to play and run around the mostly empty halls while you and the M6 share drinks and relax on the Veranda. Unfortunately, while they were romping about and having fun, you discovered one of the familiars broke a very expensive vase Nadia was planning to auction off for charity…

Tags:

SFW (<18), 1k Words, GN Reader, Reader Insert, No Established Relationship, Asra Alnazar, Nadia Satrinava (Mentioned), Faust, Chandra, Malak, Inanna, Pepi, Mercedes & Melchior, Camio, Reader's Familiar, Whodunnit, Parks and Recreation, Who Broke It?

“So. Who broke it?”

The pack of animals in front of you all exchanged guilty glances. You’d caught them running through the halls in a panic, a mess of feathers and fur as they frantically tried to get your attention; and they had led you back to the scattered shards of what once was a very expensive, very delicate vase. Nadia had planned to auction it off, raising money to instate a proper orphanage; she wasn’t going to be happy about this. You sighed and crouched down, so you weren’t towering over the frenzied herd. “I’m not mad.” You said soothingly, reaching your hand out. Pepi was the first to rush forward, pressing into your hand with an apologetic purr. “I just want to know.”

They were all quiet for a long, long moment before your own familiar tentatively broke the silence. “I did it,” They said, but you knew it wasn’t them. They didn’t know who it was, either; the creature was attempting to take the fall for their friends. You huffed out a slight, gentle laugh.

“No, no you didn’t.” Your other hand found the top of your familiar’s head, and you gently scratched at it soothingly. Glancing up at the rest, you swept your gaze over the sea of guilty faces and focused on Malak. The raven looked a little more disheveled than usual, his beady black eyes darting around and his head cocking back and forth anxiously. “Malak?” You prompted. You regretted it almost instantly when you saw the look in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me!” Malak shot back, and his wings flared out. His talons clicked against the marble floor as he began to pace, eyeing the other familiars with a paranoid and scrutinizing glare. “Look at Chandra.” He swept one wing towards her, and the other animals turned to focus on the owl. Her eyes widened further, both surprised and indignant at the accusation.

“I beg your pardon?” Chandra brought herself up to her full height, glaring down at Malak with cold, dark eyes. “I certainly didn’t break it. Unlike yourself I watch where I’m flying.”

“That’s weird, how’d you even know it was broken?” Malak said, almost smugly. As though he thought he’d caught Chandra in the act somehow. You glance at the scattered pieces of sharp ceramic in front of you all, and then back up at the two bickering birds.

The owl extended her wing, feathers flaring as she gestured towards the broken vase. “You imbecile, it is right there in front of us and it is clearly broken.”

“Suspicious.”

“No, it is not–”

“If it matters.” Another voice interjected quickly, and you all turned to look at the two Borzoi standing just off to the side. Melchior had spoken up, Mercedes pressed up against his side and eyeing Pepi. “Probably not… but Pepi was closest to it when we ran past.” Mercedes nodded in agreement.

You saw Pepi’s tail slowly puff up, her pale blue eyes widening in disbelief. “Liar!” She yowled at them, and her ears flattened against her skull. The fur on her back spiked up. “I don’t—push things off of tables, that is a stereotype!”

Mercedes looked amused now, baring her teeth in a grin. “Oh really? Then what were you doing up on the table earlier then?”

“Cats like to be high up to watch things, everybody knows that Mercedes—”

You sighed and held up your hands. “Alright, let’s not fight…”

“Well…” Camio bobbed his head thoughtfully. “Inanna’s been awfully quiet–”

“Really?” Inanna snarled, whipping her head in the cockatiel’s direction. The bird only cackled as the rest of the familiars broke into frenzied arguments, pointing claws and feathers. You could hardly hear yourself think over the uproar, the squabbling animals making so much racket it was a wonder the others couldn’t hear them from the veranda. With a long, suffering sigh you rubbed your hands over your face.

“Okay, that’s enough!” You called out, loudly and clearly enough that your voice rang through the entire hall and shut the bickering animals up. The guilty expressions returned tenfold this time as everyone quieted down, paws and talons shuffling. Your thumb and finger ran up the bridge of your nose, pinching together while you took advantage of the quiet to think. There were a lot of fingers being pointed—so to speak—but none of them were admitting it; and you were inclined to believe they were all speaking the truth as well. You opened one eye to survey the small crowd again, doing a brief headcount. Your own familiar, Malak, Chandra, Camio, Melchior, Mercedes, Inanna, Pepi… no sign of Faust.

“Found help!” Ah, there she was. You turned your head to see Faust slung over Asra’s shoulders as he walked down the hall, the periwinkle serpent waving her tail cheerfully at everyone.

“Faust told me what happened.” Asra crouched beside you and skimmed their fingers over the shattered pottery. “Why don’t we get this fixed up before Nadia sees, hm?” They threw a wink at the other familiars, all of them relaxing just a little bit now. Asra held their hands over the shards, and you watched alongside the familiars as the pieces began to glow softly and draw back together. Glowing golden lines formed where the cracks were as the pieces fit together, melting away to reveal a perfectly uncracked and unbroken surface. They picked up the object carefully and set it back where it belonged. “There we go, good as new. Nobody has to know.” They flashed a toothy smile towards you.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter who broke it then.” The familiars relaxed completely. The only reason you wanted to know was so that whoever broke the vase could properly apologize to Nadia; now there wasn’t any reason for that. You took a moment to give everyone some pets and ear scritches before standing up. “But let’s try to not break any more valuable objects, okay?” You chided them all gently and they murmured their agreements. As you turned back to Asra, you gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“If they’re all together like this, it’s hardly surprising that something broke.” Asra chuckled, guiding Faust off their shoulders so she could rejoin the other familiars. “I was waiting for it to happen. Murphy’s law,” They held their finger up as you both began to walk. “Anything that can go wrong, will. It’s just a matter of how, isn’t it?”

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heavenlyhischier · 2 years

Text

devil doesn't bargain - rafe c.

word count: 3.6k

summary: He'll only do you harm. He’s ruthless. You knew this.

warnings: 18+ themes minors DNI, mentions of sex, toxic relationship, angst, cursing, mentions of drug use, unedited

note: this could be potentially triggering to some so please proceed with caution. it’s kind of all over the place i’m sorry

For as long as you can remember, Rafe Cameron has been in your life. Your parents and his had been friends long before you two were even born, so being in each other's lives was never something you could have avoided. Not that you would have wanted to. Most of your favorite memories were with him and you firmly believe that he’s the only reason you didn’t go absolutely insane.

During sophomore year of high school, things between you and Rafe shifted after a night of far too many drinks and an over-dramatic game of truth or dare. Year's worth of unlabeled awkward feelings all came bubbling to the surface in a closet so small you barely fit. The way his hands awkwardly fumbled across your body and his lips felt on your own was not a feeling you were ever going to forget. That night was just the start of a complex relationship with Rafe Cameron.

The day after that night, you avoided Rafe to the best of your ability. You were scared that he was going to pretend like nothing happened or tell you that it was a mistake and you were both just too drunk. You’re not sure which is worse, but you didn’t want to put yourself in a position to find out. However, he managed to corner you near the bathrooms at the Island Club and a sober repeat of the prior night ensued in the janitor’s closet.

For a while, things with Rafe never moved past sex, and you had to convince yourself that you were fine with it. You had developed feelings for the blue-eyed boy long ago, and now that he was in your grasp it was hard to ignore those. You had tried to pull his own feelings out of him countless times, but he shot you down every instance and would ask you to leave. His constant dismissal was enough to solidify your thoughts that it would always be the same, but that changed one day over Christmas break.

Christmas Break 2018

You had arrived at Elijah's party over an hour late due to Rafe not coming to pick you up as he had promised that morning. You had to bribe your brother into driving you by offering to do his laundry for the next month, which he happily agreed to. He dropped you off with the promise that you would let him know if you needed a ride home or if you were getting there another way. You playfully rolled your eyes as you promised him you would keep him updated before turning to walk up the long driveway. The small smile you wore was now replaced with an annoyed grimace as you thought about the way Rafe completely abandoned you. It may not have been the first time, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.

Part of you wanted to find him and yell at him in front of everyone, but you knew Rafe well enough to know that it would backfire somehow. You also know him well enough to know that he didn’t just forget about you and that whatever he did was intentional. He was doing it to get a rise out of you; it was a game to him and you’re too tired to play it tonight.

“Y/N,” Olivia squealed once you had made your way into the living room full of people from school, “Where have you been?”

You let her pull you in for a brief hug before responding, “I had some other stuff I needed to get done before I could come.”

You knew he was watching you; you could feel the metaphorical hole he was burning into your skull. He watched as you ignored his presence entirely and it honestly turned him on a little. The way you acted as if he wasn’t even there made his stupid game all the more fun for him. However, he didn’t account for what you had planned on doing for the rest of the night.

“I’m surprised you didn’t come with Rafe,” Olivia subtly pointed out, eyebrow raised as she sipped on her drink and pushed you both in the swing on the back porch.

“Honestly, I was supposed to, but he never showed, so I had to have Evan drop me off,” You admitted, shrugging as if it didn’t bother you to no end, “So, I’m giving him the silent treatment to get back at him.”

Olivia abruptly planted her feet on the ground so the swinging stopped, splashes of alcohol escaping the red cup and landing on your bare legs. “I have an idea!”

She gave you no time to question her as she grabbed your arm and pulled you back into the house. She spotted Rafe in the corner with Topper and Kelce and a smirk grew on her face. You saw the way her eyes bounced from person to person in the house and you grew slightly nervous once you saw her mischievous grin. You apologized to the people she practically ran over, not wanting any sort of fight to start just because Olivia had no regard for those around her.

“Dylan,” She yelled over the music, earning the attention of an extremely attractive boy you had never seen before, “This is my cousin, Dylan. He’s in town for the holidays. Now, get back at Rafe.”

She gave you a sly wink before shoving you towards the confused boy and running off to God knows where. Dylan was sporting an expression similar to your own, but neither of you made a move to leave. You weren’t exactly sure that using another guy to get back at Rafe would be fair to do, but something tells you that he wouldn’t mind the attention for the night.

“Hey,” He finally spoke, breaking you away from your thoughts.

“Hey! I’m Y/N, by the way,” You introduced, plastering the most innocent smile you could manage on your face.

Rafe was gripping his cup so tight that the contents were spilling over and falling on the floor. The way you were giving some random guy your full attention and looking at him like you wanted him to take you then and there was enough to send Rafe into a state of emotions he was unfamiliar with. He’s never had to doubt your loyalty to him before despite you not owing it to him, and now he’s not sure what to do in order to keep it.

One of the first things Dylan made clear to you was he was not there to hook up with his cousin's friends, and that made you genuinely laugh. You went ahead and told him the truth about why Olivia forced you both into this situation, and he agreed to help you get back at “the pretentious rich boy”. You had tried to subtly point out Rafe in the sea of people, but his unmoving gaze on you made that a little difficult. Still, you managed to describe him well enough that Dylan was able to pinpoint him.

“So, what’s your story with him,” He asked once you had moved to a less crowded spot in the living room.

“Complicated,” You scoffed, taking a drink of whatever was left in your cup, “We’ve known each other our whole lives because our parents are friends. We started hooking up like two years ago and ever since then he has been the most confusing person I’ve ever met. It’s like- He doesn't want to date me, but he doesn't want me to date anyone else.”

“That’s not complicated. He’s an asshole; plain and simple,” He chuckled, making eye contact with Rafe from across the room.

He intentionally leaned down to whisper something in your ear, and that was the final straw for Rafe. He threw his drink into Topper’s chest, soaking the entire front portion of his shirt, but he didn’t care. His eyes were lasered in on you and he was going to get rid of whatever, or whoever stood in his way. You had noticed him storming your direction, so you urged Dylan to go somewhere else before he was physically caught in the middle of something that could get him hurt.

“I’m not sure leaving you by yourself with him is a good idea,” He argued, stepping in front of you so Rafe couldn’t see you. That only fueled Rafe’s anger because who the fuck does he think he is?

“Look, Dylan, I truly appreciate your concern. I do. But I know him, and I know he’s always looking for a reason to fight, so just go get another drink or something. You do not need to get even more involved in this,” You were trying to push him away now, but he was a little stronger than you. Especially with the amount of alcohol in your system.

Reluctantly, Dylan walked away a few seconds before Rafe was close enough to encase your arm with his large hand. He didn’t care enough about the random guy to bother saying anything about him running away like a bitch. All he cared about was getting you somewhere private. You let him drag you upstairs and to the very back of the house where one of the many guest bathrooms was.

“Get out,” He barked at the couple that had been previously making out against the counter.

You cast your eyes away from the indecent teenagers as they hurriedly dressed themselves. Your already pink cheeks flared even brighter as you grew guilty and embarrassed that you had interrupted a moment like that, but you know Rafe did not give a single fuck about that. Once they quite literally ran away, he pulled you into the bathroom before slamming the door and locking it.

You were still trying to gain your balance from being rushed in there so quickly that when you were shoved against the wall, Rafe’s hand came to grab your chin and force your eyes to his own, you had to fight the feeling of nausea off. His rings were cold against your skin as you did your best to not back down from his intense stare. Though you were thrown off by the way he looked more than angry. He almost looked scared, but you didn’t have time to think about it too much before he started.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh? You think it’s okay to throw yourself at other guys now,” He spat, his grip on your chin getting slightly firmer.

You’d be lying if you said the way his body was pushed up against you and the way he was making you look at him didn’t turn you on, but you weren’t going to give in that easily. You always caved as soon as he got you alone and you let your urges and desires speak for you. He knew that, too. He knew just the effect he had on you, but he didn’t know how determined you were to stand your ground and you knew that was going to get to him.

“I think so, yeah. Especially because I’m single, Rafe. You don’t own me,” You bit back.

“You don’t think so,” He taunted, his free hand trailing up the inside of your thighs, “You think you can just ignore me like that? You’re mine, Y/N. You ought to know that by now.”

Hearing him declare you as his own set you off, and you’re almost positive you only gained the confidence to say something because you’re already angry with him and you’ve had plenty to drink. You managed to shove him away from you, which caught him completely off guard, before letting it out.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I am not your anything! I am tired of just being someone you can call for a fuck whenever you need. I want more than that. I want to be more than that, and you don’t want to give that to me and I respect that, but I’m done.”

You kept your gaze on him as he processed just what you had told him. An unknown fear settled in his heart, but he knew enough to figure out that it was a fear of losing you. You had been the one person in his life he was always able to count on. You were always there even when he was far from deserving. He knows that he takes advantage of your feelings, but he does love you in his own twisted way.

You were frozen as you waited for any kind of response from him, but he seemed just as stuck as you. His lips were slightly parted as he gripped the counter so hard that his knuckles were turning white. It amazed you that he looked absolutely beautiful even when it seemed as if he was going to war with himself. You wanted so desperately to run your hand through his unstyled hair and kiss him so hard that he forgot why he was so frustrated, but you can’t do that anymore. Not unless things changed.

After what felt like minutes of no response, you let out a deep sigh as you wiped at your eyes to rid them of your tears. You knew putting the ball in Rafe’s court was only going to leave you heartbroken, but you had to at least try one last time. Prying your eyes away from the one person you’ve ever truly felt something for was deemed harder than you thought, but you knew it had to be done. Just as you reached to unlock the door, Rafe grabbed your wrist and gently tugged you so you were facing him.

“I’ll give you more. I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll be your boyfriend. I’ll take you out. I’ll buy you flowers. I will do whatever you want. Just please, don’t leave,” He pleaded, his voice laced with a mixture of desperation and apprehension.

It truly was pathetic just how easily you believed that Rafe meant the things he said, but it wasn’t hard when he said the one thing you have wanted him to say for years now. You believed in him enough to hold on to the hope that he truly would give you the things you longed for. You put all of your faith in him and you prayed that it didn’t bite you in the ass.

Present Day

Four hours. That’s how long it's been since Rafe was supposed to be at your house. He had promised you that he would be there at seven so you could go to dinner and then head back to his house to watch movies. It was a night he had planned himself, and he never planned a date night, so you were eagerly waiting for the time to come all day. You had been ready since 5:30, but it seems as if your efforts were going to waste.

You should have known better than to get your hopes up. Rafe was constantly making promises that he never kept. He was always hiding things from you. He breaks your heart time and time again by failing to be a half-decent boyfriend, but you forgive him every time. You forgive him after he floods you with gifts and love and he makes more promises that always seem to fall short.

“You have reached the voicemail box of-,” The automated message played for the tenth time before you ended the call.

You were beginning to grow worried, and thoughts of any bad thing that could have happened to him ran through your brain. You hated the way that you always assumed the worst, but you truly couldn’t help it. Calling Sarah was the only thing you could think to do, so you did.

“Y/N,” She happily greeted, loud music blaring in the background, “Are you feeling okay? Rafe said you were sick.”

If you heard those words a year ago, your heart would have fallen right out of your chest, but it was a feeling you had grown accustomed to now. You let out a dry chuckle before saying, “Not sick. Is Rafe there with you?”

“He is, but I won’t tell him you’re coming since he’s obviously trying to hide something,” She scoffed and you could practically see her roll her eyes, “I’ve gotta go, but I want to remind you that you deserve better!”

The line disconnects and you’re on your way to Topper’s house almost immediately. A year ago, if you had found out that Rafe had ghosted you to attend a party, you would find yourself on your bathroom floor crying so hard that you threw up. You wouldn’t eat for days and your eyes would get strained from staring at your phone for too long as you waited for him to text or call you back.

Now, you found a sort of comfort in the feeling of hurt and distrust. It had become such a normal feeling that if you went too long without it, you grew uneasy. You were constantly waiting for the moment that Rafe would let you down because you knew it was going to happen either way. Of course, you wanted to break that habit of normalcy. It’s not healthy and a good enough sign that you should just end things before they grow worse, but you still held a small amount of hope that he would be better.

Pulling up to the party, you had to remind yourself to take deep breaths in order to stay calm. Despite this being a common occurrence, you couldn't help but be nervous to face him. Especially in front of a party full of people. You asked the first person you saw if they had seen Rafe, and they directed you to a group of people that were outside. You darted through the mob of people, briefly passing Sarah who gave you a sympathetic smile.

Finally managing to make it outside, you froze in your spot. Rafe was bent over a table, dollar bill held up to his nose as he snorted the powdery substance he had sworn he was done with for months now. He shot up, roughly shaking his upper body and rubbing at his nose as the drug made its way into his system. You watched as Kelce clapped him on the back and pointed in your direction, and his dilated eyes widened once they landed on you.

Your eyes were brimmed with tears as you shook your head at the one person who continuously breaks your heart before turning around and nearly running back inside. Rafe all but shoved Kelce out of his way as he followed you. He kept his eyes on your figure as you retreated to the front door to leave, and he was determined to get to you before you reached your car, even if that meant running into whoever was in the way.

Rafe knew he fucked up again. He does it often enough to know what it felt like, but this time he knew it was a much bigger deal. He had promised you a few months ago that he was going to stop doing coke. He had watched you cry and get sick over the very thing that made his life feel easier once you had found out about it and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for what he had done to you these last few years, but he was too selfish to genuinely make a change. Instead, he tried to get better at hiding it, and he had been until tonight.

“Y/N,” He yelled out, not caring whose attention he caught, “Wait!”

You ignored him and began walking faster, tears forming steady streams on both cheeks. You felt stupid. For trusting him. For believing in him. For loving him. Everything about Rafe Cameron made you feel stupid. You had constantly ignored the lectures and gentle comments from the people who actually loved you about just how damaging he was. You tried to convince them that he wasn’t all bad, but it seems as if you were really trying to convince yourself.

“Y/N, stop running away from me,” He grunted, his hand coming to close around your upper arm in order to keep you from walking any further, “Listen-”

You quickly turned on your heels so you were facing him, anger and sadness written all over your face. Your eyes were red and glassy, but there was a fury to them that Rafe had never seen before.

“No, Rafe! I am done listening. I am done with you. For good this time,” You cried, yanking your arm out of his hold, “I know I say that every time, but I mean it now. You keep lying to me and fucking me over time and time again. I thought you were changing, but each time I just end up finding that the devil doesn't fucking bargain. You just break my heart over and over and I am done.”

All this time, Rafe assumed you were going to be there no matter what he put you through. He assumed he was always going to be able to count on you, and he knew it was a selfish thought. He knows that the way he strung you along and fed you these deceptive promises was selfish, but he didn’t care as long as he got to have what he wanted. He never accounted for you giving up on him.

You took his silence as an opportunity to walk away before his body caught up with his brain. You never thought walking away from Rafe was going to feel this easy, but that’s what happens after endless distrust and disappointments. Despite the deep love you feel for him, you know that separating yourself from him was what was best for you overall. He was draining you emotionally and physically, and you have a long journey ahead to rebuild what he broke.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #drew starkey #obx #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron x reader

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daydream-cement · 1 year

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I have a one-shot idea for larissa (depends if the other person could be laurel or someone else) like a simple fluff fic about coffee dates at the weathervane or train rides together hehe

4 Train Rides and Coffee Dates I Said Nothing, And The 1 Time I Did

Characters: Larissa Weems x writer!reader

Synopsis: Kinda what the title says. Just fluffy. A bit of an AU, set in the past. Larissa is just beginning to work at Nevermore as a teacher.

Authors Note: Sorry anon. You asked me to post this a while ago but the ideas were still banging around my skull. Also we are pretending the train goes to Jericho cause its my world and ur livin in it.

You had been taking the train to Jericho everyday for about 6 months now. You were working on your next big novel, well what you hoped would be your next big novel. Each day you would take the train and then go sit in your favorite coffee shop for a few hours to clack away on your keyboard. The train rides were marvelous, starting near the coast and ending through the woods. That’s where you found your inspiration. Well, that, and one other thing. Her. You didn’t know her name, but she was becoming the main heroine of your plotline. Tall and beautiful. She just sat down at your table on the train and never stopped coming back.

1. The First Time

You had your computer out in front of you, but you hadn’t written anything. Words alluded you this morning, but you weren't going to force it. You leaned your head back against the seat and began enjoying the forest passing by. From all the train rides before, you knew you were pulling into the Burlington station.

Only one more stop to Jericho. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to focus on the plot line of your story, but your focus broke when someone sat down at your table sitting kitty corner from you. You couldn’t help but glance to your new tablemate.

You wondered if she might be a gorgon without the snakes. You might as well have been turned to stone because you couldn’t move once you looked at her. Could she be a Greek statue come to life? Was that a thing? Once she caught you staring, you shook yourself out of the trance, staring back down at your keyboard. Sneaking glances in which she would catch you every time, causing her to smile.

The ride to Jericho wasn’t long enough.

She wasted no time getting off the train, but you did notice her take a last glance at you when she walked from the station. You smiled to yourself, hoping you had made an impression on her as well.

At the Weathervane, the line was long once you reached the front and much to your pleasant surprise, the statuesque goddess came in. Before the barista rang you up, you leaned in close, “Hey, I want to pay for the woman who just walked in.”

The barista nodded as you pay a bit extra and tell them to keep anything leftover as a tip, “Don’t say anything though. I don’t want her knowing it was me.”

Finally you sat down, pulling out your laptop. You opened your tabs and documents, getting everything right before your name was called. You grab your coffee, sneaking a glance at the white-blonde haired woman who was already looking at you.

You began writing, ignoring when she went up to order so she wouldn’t suspect you. She stood by your table as she waited for the coffee, not speaking to you or looking at you. You were busy typing out her description, Statuesque with ruby red lips. Her eyes held an intensity and you had to find out what was the passion behind them. Her legs-

“Larissa.” The barista called and the woman near you moved to get her coffee. So that was her name? Larissa.

2. The Second Time

Just like every other day, you sat looking out the window, imagining your new main character in a scene, but quickly it faded to your own personal daydream. She towered over her love interest, her hand coming up to rest on your cheek. You turned your head, pressing your lips to her palm. She smiled fondly down at you. You saw her leaning down, her eyes glancing at your lips.

Your focus was broken when she sat across from you. A scarf wrapped around her head to protect her hair from the wind today. During the train ride, you fake many things to be able to life your head from your laptop to steal a glance. Your face turned red the couple times she caught you, but she only gave you a small smile.

Once at the Weathervane, you purchased a coffee for you and one for her. She was standing a few people back in line with someone today, another woman. The companion seemed to be pointing things out, possibly giving a tour.

Much as the routine goes, you sit, pull open everything you need on the computer, name gets called, and you sit back down to focus on your writing. How could you focus, however, when Larissa was so close by. You only saw your muse once a day, you probably shouldn’t waste it.

You take the time to look at her outfit today. You were seeing a trend, neutral colors and shades of white. It emphasized how fair her skin was. You thought it brought more intensity to her beautiful eyes and lips.

You notice Larissa glance around the shop when the barista tells her that her coffee is once again paid for. You smile to yourself, loving how she had no clue the crush you had on her.

When she and her companion were called to get their coffees, you stole a final glance. She was already looking. She flashed a smile at you. Did she know it was you buying her coffee?

3. The Third Time

Today you had headphones on. It felt like a classical music kind of morning, trying to suck some inspiration from Claude Debussy. Larissa sat down with you again when you reached Burlington, but what you didn’t know is that she tried talking to you this time.

“What are you writing?” Her voice was soft, nervous to even be speaking to you, but when she received no answer, her face was hot with embarrassment. She scolded herself internally, she should have known better than to talk with someone with headphones on.

The train ride continues. You steal the momentary glace. Typing out the ways to describe her nose, her jaw, and her hair. She saw you looking at her, so she held her gaze at you, wanting to let you know she saw you staring.

She gently shook her head at you, giving a partial smirk, almost like she was teasing you for staring.

The routine at the Weathervane came and went, only when Larissa waited for her order, she sat at your table. You thought you were having a minor panic attack. You stayed completely still not typing a word. She was looking around the room, stopping to look at you a couple times. Was she teasing you?

When her name was called, she stood up with a smile. She had to have known it was you buying her coffees.

You watched her leave the coffee shop, When she was outside, you watched her out the window. She chose to walk past the window on the other side of your booth, flashing you a smile as she walked past.

4. The Fourth Time

This train ride was fuller than usual. You heard through local gossip that it was the nearby school’s parents weekend. When Larissa’s stop came, you wanted to scream at the parents across from you to move out of the way. That that spot was her unofficial-official spot.

You didn’t hide the fact that you were looking for her at the Burlington stop. Just to catch her eye. You wanted to know if she was there and wanted her to know you were there.

You spotted her, unable to stop a smile from spreading on your face. You seemed to catch her eye too. She waved at you with a gloved hand from the other side of the train, causing your heart to flutter.

At the Weathervane, you were feeling a little cheeky. You ordered her coffee and put it at the spot across from you. When she came in, you leaned your head from the booth trying to catch her eye. She had already been searching the room for you though. You nod down to the table indicating for her to come over.

When she approached, you took the time to appreciate how truly tall she was. She looked from you to the coffee and back to you again, “For me?”

You nod with an embarrassed smile.

“I’m running late. Let’s chat tomorrow.”

You nod once again, words seemed to be caught in your throat. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Larissa only smiled down at you, seeming to enjoy how flustered you were. She gave a wink, “It’s a date then!”

You could have melted into a puddle then and there.

5. The Final Time

“What are you writing?”

Today your typing on the train had been furious. It was actually nervous typing. You knew today was the day to actually speak to her. Larissa was sitting across from you. You were so entranced in your work that you hadn’t noticed her intently watching you after she sat down.

“I-” You glance up from your work. She has her chin resting in her hand as she inquisitively looks at you, “I’m working on a novel... What brings you on the train?”

This generated a conversation that had you leave your laptop in the dust. You listened to her speak about her new job at Nevermore. She loved the kids and thought she thought she would want to take on a leadership role at the school when she had enough experience. You began sharing minor details about past books, but you chose to omit details about this book, not wanting to share the main characters similarities to Larissa.

You both walked and talked all the way to the Weathervane. Turns out, you were very compatible. You liked the same books and movies. You spoke similarly about the issues plaguing mankind. Conversation flowed so freely once she finally broke that barrier.

At the coffeeshop, the barista rang you up for two coffees as usual and Larissa smirked at you, “So it has been you buying these coffees? I had a sneaking suspicion...”

“Turns out I’m not too good at keeping my feelings a secret.” She takes the space across from you in the booth and you begin to take out your computer, setting it to the side.

“Your feelings? Does someone have a bit of a crush?” Larissa’s confidence was soaring as she took the opportunity to tease you.

The level of comfort you felt with her was spurning on your flirtation as well, “Perhaps I do...”

The sound of your names being called interrupts you. She slides from the booth, holding up a hand, “I got it.”

You turn your attention back to your laptop, pulling open your tabs, just like you do every morning. When Larissa returns, she doesn’t sit across from you, just rather she slides in next to you, “What are you working on? Be honest this time.”

Her arm moves behind you as she shifts her body to face you, wanting the full scoop on this book you had been working so diligently on whenever she was around.

“Oh, it’s nothing much.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing much.” She glanced down at the 170 page word count, then she lifted her eyes to read the words on the screen. She was skimming, but she thought she had enough information to go off of. Red lips. White-blonde hair. Pin-up girl. “Do I get royalties off this too?”

Her joke caused you to laugh, “It was hard not to- Well you are just so-”

You were fumbling. How do you tell her that she is the most beautiful woman you had ever seen? Well, turns out you didn’t have to. Your writing did the talking or you.

“She was the most beautiful being I had laid eyes on. Her beauty was ethereal?” As she read your words aloud, she almost felt embarrassed that someone felt that way about her.

“Yes.” You looked intently at her, earning yourself a smirk as she shifted her jaw back and forth, almost like she wanted to challenge you. Instead, she leaned forward to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth, leaving the most lovely of lipstick stains.

“I have work,” She stood, not ready to hear more compliments today. Turns out she didn’t believe herself to be the ethereal goddess you saw her as. She took her coffee, and kept speaking to you as she walked backwards towards the door, “I will see you tomorrow.”

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wednesday netflix #fanfic #gwendoline christie

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emotionalcadaver · 2 months

Text

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Racing against the clock to save Charlie, Tommy and Lucy work to seek out who of their allies has betrayed them.

Word Count: 4,927

Notes: Warnings for depictions of violence and references to kidnapping and pedophilia.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 24: The Line

They burst into the office in a rush, Lucy and Polly right on Tommy’s heels as he headed straight to the phone. As he dialed and raised the receiver to his ear, Lucy shedded her suit jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair. She jumped when Tommy suddenly hung up the phone, then flung it in a wild, violent movement against the wall, storming to another part of the office without a word.

“Tommy…” Polly started, resting a hand, oddly comforting, against Lucy’s shoulder in response to the way she’d jumped, giving her a squeeze before letting her go. Tommy was pacing, mumbling to himself, flexing his arms back and forth.

Lucy gulped. She knew he’d never hurt her; but it was unnerving to see him so obviously spiraling, teetering towards losing control. Polly was trying to reason with him, rushing to the corner where the phone laid in a crumpled twist of wires and metal.

Near the windows, Tommy had squatted down, back hunching and head bowed, arms crossed in front of his middle. Lucy approached him cautiously, making sure that he could hear her footsteps approaching before she crouched down at his side, slowly putting her arms around his shoulders.

“Tommy…” her cheek rested against the side of his head.

He didn’t say a word, but he did lean his weight slightly into her.

Thunder rumbled outside, and she flinched again at the unexpected noise.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. There really was nothing else she could think to say. He didn’t respond, just resting his head more firmly against her.

“You broke the phone,” Polly said, dropping the useless mechanism back to the floor. “It’s alright,” she assured when Lucy shot her a concerned look from over her shoulder. “We’ve got another phone.”

The door opened, and Tommy pulled himself back to his full height at the sound of Ada calling his name.

“There’s someone outside. A priest,” she gestured to the front door. Lucy felt her guts churn at the mere mention of Hughes. Her fingers itched for a revolver.

Tommy went for the door, pointing to both Polly and Ada. “Stay here. Don’t do anything,” he ordered.

Lucy nearly tripped over her own feet trying to follow him.

“No,” his finger was suddenly in her face once he realized she had followed him to the front sitting room. “Stay here.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

His jaw clenched. “I can’t risk you–”

“And I can’t risk you. The last time I let you go at him alone, you ended up with your skull crushed.”

He opened his mouth, but she shouldered past him to the door.

“We don’t have time to argue about this.”

He let out a frustrated growl, but didn’t try to fight her on it, footsteps thundering behind her as he followed her to the front door.

Night had fallen, and it was pouring rain outside. The cobblestones beneath her feet looked shiny and black in the darkness. Two men were waiting for them outside, herding them towards a car parked by the curb. Through the window, she could see Hughes sitting in the driver’s seat, and it took everything within her not to lunge for him, tear him from the car, and smash his face against the sidewalk until not even his own mother would have been able to recognize him.

“We have your son,” Hughes said to Tommy without preamble, while the two men escorting them patted them down. “Get in the car,” his eyes tracked to Lucy, and she had to stifle a shiver down her spine at having his slimy gaze upon her. “She can stay out here on the sidewalk, if she likes.”

Her jaw clenched, glancing at Tommy.

Please, go back inside, his eyes silently begged. She lifted her head stubbornly.

No.

He sighed, and opened the car door, sliding into the backseat. Lucy wrapped her arms around herself as she watched Tommy clamber into the car. If Hughes liked, he could take off at any moment, stealing Tommy far away from her.

Thunder roared from the sky, and it took all her willpower not to flinch. She could not appear to be weak, not now, with Hughes and his men watching her.

The rain that pelted down onto her was freezing, her drenched hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead, clothes thoroughly soaked. But she didn’t move; standing there beside the car, ready to throw herself in front of it if that’s what it would take to stop Hughes if he decided to try to drive off with Tommy. She was close enough that even with the windows closed, she was able to pick up on most of the conversation.

According to Hughes–who’s word she wasn’t exactly eager to give much stock to–Charlie was safe. Though Lucy had a feeling that his definition of ‘safe’ was wildly different from theirs. Tommy’s voice was strained with stress as he spoke, teetering on the line of begging. Hughes shoved an envelope at him, explaining how they were to blow up a train, since Tommy had sabotaged the Soviets doing it.

It would be unpleasant, especially considering that Hughes was demanding six people be killed in the explosion, but it was doable.

But then he mentioned the tunnel they were digging. There was a member of the Odd Fellows who wanted a Faberge egg to give to his wife. And they wanted all the jewels that they stole.

Her brows knit at the mention of the tunnel…how the hell did he even find out about it?

Tommy wouldn’t look at Hughes as he agreed to each and every demand, eyes staring straight ahead. Face looking like it was made out of stone.

At his attempt to explain that they would not be able to get the jewels to Hughes by the time he demanded, Hughes snarled, and for a moment–just a moment–Lucy was pretty sure that they saw the real man behind the mask of piety and good manners. The monster that had left Michael so wide-eyed and terrified at just the sight of him. The thing that had terrorized who knows how many children who had been placed under his care.

“If the St. Andrew’s clock strikes 5:00 a.m. on the night of the robbery, and we don’t have everything that we asked for, the bell will be tolling for your boy.”

Her blood turned to ice in her veins. Whether it was out of fear or fury, she couldn’t be sure. Her hands fisted in the soaked material of her shirt, squeezing tightly to prevent herself from ripping Hughes to shreds.

Tommy got out of the car, a hand reaching out to guide her back towards the house.

“You know it’s a coin toss if he’ll actually give Charlie back to us even if we meet all of his demands,” she mumbled to him in a low voice.

“I know,” he sounded as miserable as she felt, and she gave his arm a squeeze.

Once they were back inside, he darted hastily over to one of the chairs in the front sitting room, plucking up the worn, faded, orange wool blanket hanging over the back of it.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” her teeth had already started to chatter, but the blanket helped cut the chill a little after he wrapped it gingerly around her shoulders. He nodded, making sure she was snuggly bundled into it, before heading further into the main part of the betting shop. She followed right behind him at a shuffle.

Arthur and John had arrived while they were outside, but there was no sign of Linda or Esme. When questioned about their absence, John explained that all the chaos had sent Esme into labor, and Linda was helping her. Lucy ground her teeth together.

Great fucking timing.

A pinch of guilt immediately ignited in her stomach at the spiteful thought, but she shoved it away.

“I need to know who spoke,” Tommy said. Lucy leaned up against a beam, not looking forward to unpleasantness that was likely to come next. “Our enemies know everything. Everything. I need to know who spoke about business outside the family.”

The whole room went dead silent, Arthur, John, Polly, and Ada all staring at him in shock.

It took but a moment for Tommy to begin raining down accusations on each member of his family, eyes darting around suspiciously. Still leaning against the wooden beam, Lucy wracked her brain, trying to puzzle out who could be the most likely cause of the leak to Hughes.

They’d only told family about the tunnel, hadn’t they? Of course there were the clay kickers, but it seemed unlikely it was any of them. They wouldn’t even have had the opportunity to blab to someone. Tommy carried the same feeling, clearly, as he dismissed them as suspects when John brought them up.

They started going back and forth with each other, John hurling accusations about Michael, which immediately had Polly arching her back in defense of her son. Tommy dismissed him as well.

“The only people I told about the Faberge eggs are in this room,” he was still looking at each of his family members with unchained suspicion. Lucy frowned at the statement. Was that right? Was it really only these people who knew about the eggs…?

“How do you know it wasn’t her?” John spat out, pointing an accusatory finger at Lucy. She raised an eyebrow at the accusation, not all that surprised.

“I know it wasn’t Lucy,” Tommy said absolutely.

“How!?”

“Because the trust I have in her is more than the trust I have in all you put together!” Tommy suddenly roared, hands slamming down with a massive bang onto the table in front of him.

The whole room went silent once more.

Lucy still couldn’t shake the tickling in her brain that there was something that they were forgetting. Something very important.

Alfie.

The thought hit her like a freight train, choking her. Alfie knew about the eggs. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

Oh, she was going to fucking kill him.

Slowly, with quiet, parting words, Ada, John, and Arthur all stormed out.

“Tommy,” Lucy hissed, stepping away from the pillar, shuffling awkwardly towards him with the blanket still wrapped around her.

Head turning at her voice, his brows pinched, leaning his head down when she took a hold of his shoulder, stretching onto her toes to whisper in his ear.

“Alfie knows about the eggs,” she hissed. Upon leaning back, she was greeted with a face set like stone. She could see him doing up the odds in his head, weighing the likelihoods.

He departed from her side, giving instructions to John and Arthur about what needed to be done regarding the train. And then he rounded on Polly, who outside of her defense of Michael had been surprisingly silent, all things considered.

Finn came in briefly, but Tommy quickly sent him away to get his car. Lucy watched Polly’s face carefully the whole time, struck by the realization that she was on the brink of tears.

Had the painter meant that much to her? Lucy admittedly hadn’t been paying that much attention. She’d had far more pressing things to concern herself with over the past few months than Polly’s love life.

Tears finally started to roll down Polly’s cheeks when Tommy asked her why else a man like her painter would have pursued her. Lucy frowned at the statement, but before she could say anything on it, Tommy was stomping from the room.

“Lucy,” he called to her when she didn’t immediately follow him. She shook herself from her thoughts, hastily scampering after him.

“Can I keep the blanket?”

“Yes,” he didn’t even look back at her as he opened the front door. The rain had tampered off a little, and they rushed hastily into the car Finn had already pulled up to the curb.

There was silence in the car for a long stretch of time, as Tommy pulled them out onto the road and accelerated. Lucy cleared her throat, pushing her still damp hair out of her face.

“That might’ve been a little harsh,” Tommy finally said, one hand on the steering wheel and the other at his lips.

“Mm,” Lucy acknowledged, glad that he’d said it and not her. “Maybe a little. It still could be Alfie who talked.”

“Yes,” Tommy conceded, jaw ticking. “I still don’t trust the painter though.”

“I did background checks on him. They all came back clean,” she stared out the window at the dark streets whizzing past. “But I’ve missed things on those before,” she added quietly.

“Hey,” he reached out a hand to caress the side of her face. “You’re good at your job.”

She shot him a sad half-smile, shrugging, and his expression became stern.

“You are,” his eyes grew sorrowful. “This isn’t your fault.”

Tears were suddenly lodged within her throat, nearly strangling her. “I should’ve…I should’ve been watching him…”

“So should have a good dozen or so other people in the room with us,” his throat convulsed as he swallowed, eyes trained on the dark road before them, illuminated only barely by the low streetlamps and the car’s headlights. “I’m the one who fucking handed him to the bloody woman who took him away.”

“You couldn’t have known…”

“No. But I should have been more careful. Especially after all the threats Hughes has made.”

It was truly unnerving, how in a room full of Blinders they’d still managed to snatch Charlie away, right out from under their noses.

“We thought we were safe,” she whispered, helplessly, taking his hands in hers.

“Once we get in, I need you to call Alfie and set up a meeting for the morning. Ask him who he knows in England who would be willing to buy a Faberge egg even if they knew it was stolen because their wife is obsessed with them. Tell him we’ll pay for the information.”

“Okay,” the thumb of the hand not holding Tommy’s rubbed along the ring she was wearing on her index finger. “If it was him…”

“We’ll deal with that once we’re sure.”

“Kidnapping kids really doesn’t seem like something Alfie would condone,” at Tommy’s look, she shrugged. “He’s a bastard, but not that much of a bastard.”

“Mm…” Tommy hummed in agreement, frowning out the windshield. She squeezed his hand.

“I appreciated that, back there. What you said about trusting me.”

Tommy cleared his throat. “It’s the truth.”

“Still; thank you.”

He finally glanced back over at her, face softening just a fraction. Pulling his hand from hers, he looped it around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. She snuggled into him, letting the warmth from his body soothe her a little.

There was silence in the car for a long stretch of time.

∗ ∗ ∗

The meeting with Alfie did not get off to a great start. Alfie didn’t come alone, like they’d asked, and Tommy, his patience already very thin, was not happy about it.

But Alfie did bring them the lists of men who would be potential buyers for a stolen Faberge egg for their wife. Tommy looked over the lists only for a moment after handing over the money for them. Lucy watched his face carefully, her muscles tightened and ready to spring into movement. And the second that he spun around, gun pulled from his coat to level with Alfie’s head, she had her own revolver yanked from its holster in her coat, pointed at the man Alfie had brought with him, who had pulled his own gun to aim at Tommy.

Tommy’s voice was dead in a way that she had only heard maybe a handful of times as he confronted Alfie with his betrayal. Lucy swallowed down the sting of it. Troublesome as he sometimes was, she had always liked Alfie. Had thought of him as perhaps something akin to a distant, infuriating older brother. But this…making a deal with the Odd Fellows…

It hurt more than she had expected it to.

Alfie’s attempt to defend himself didn’t help matters. If anything, it just left her even more disgusted by him.

“You crossed the line, Alfie,” Tommy snarled, apparently sharing her feelings. Alfie blinked.

“You fucking what?” his tone had dropped.

“You crossed the line,” Tommy repeated.

“The line?”

“They’re using my boy!” Tommy suddenly shouted, voice echoing while his face contracted with rage and pain. Alfie’s expression changed, face falling for but a fraction of a second, something that was akin to horror briefly entering his eyes.

He didn’t know about that part.

The thought was at least somewhat comforting. Lucy didn’t think she would ever be able to forgive him should he have contributed in some significant way to them taking Charlie.

But, be it pride or something else, he didn’t admit to that, and Tommy lunged at him, knocking them both to the ground.

At least he didn’t shoot him.

The other man immediately leapt forward, trying to pry Tommy off of his boss. Lucy hurled herself at him, but he flung his elbow back into her gut, and she choked, chest spasming as the wind was knocked out of her.

From the side, where he had been hiding in the shadows the entire time, Michael rushed out, the gun she’d handed to him earlier that day and instructed for him only to use in an emergency in his hand.

Alfie’s man yanked Tommy to his feet, gun pressed to right beneath his chin.

A gunshot rang out, and blood exploded from Alfie’s man’s head. He went down immediately, his full dead weight taking Tommy down with him. Alfie groaned, sounding more just minorly inconvenienced than anything else as he hauled himself to his feet. Lucy moved forward, helping to haul the dead man off of where he slumped half on top of Tommy.

Tommy scrambled up, gun raised. And then Alfie was right there, right in his face, not caring when the gun pressed to his temple as they shouted at one another. Michael tried to get in between them with little success, and Lucy had to pull him away. Otherwise he was at risk of getting accidentally mauled by the equivalent of a furious wolf and an angry bear.

Tommy’s face was drenched with the dead Jewish man’s blood. But he’d lowered his gun as Alfie launched into a truly magnificent rant, complete with clanging his cane around and getting within inches of Tommy’s face. All the while calling out the hypocrisy of Tommy’s statement regarding ‘the line.’

At first, Lucy was prepared to dismiss everything that he said, still too angry by the betrayal to care. But as he went on, she felt the cracks in her armor starting to form, his words seeping in.

She groaned softly, head tilting upwards, the hand still holding her revolver limp at her side.

Fuck; annoying as it was to admit, he had a point.

By the time Alfie was done, Tommy seemed to have come to the same conclusion. When he spoke, his voice was softer, the rage gone as he sent Michael away to call Moss.

Lucy watched the boy walk away, pausing for a moment to stare at the bloodied body of the man he had shot.

“Get out of here,” she mumbled, giving him a little push on the shoulder. Michael turned his eyes widened as though he’d only just realized what he had done, onto her. She jerked her head. “Go.”

With a tiny nod, steps slightly staggering, he walked away.

“Well said, Alfie,” Tommy was saying when she turned back to him. “Well said.”

Alfie looked away, and Lucy had to hide a snort at the sudden look of discomfort on his grizzled face. When Tommy was screaming at him and seconds away from blowing his head off, he was calm as could be, but when Tommy agreed with him, he looked to not be entirely sure what to do with himself.

He groaned, as if what he was about to admit physically pained him. “I did not know about your boy, though.”

Lucy felt some of the constriction in her chest relax. Even though she’d already seen it in his face, the verbal confirmation was still good to hear.

“I know. I saw,” Tommy confirmed.

None of them spoke for a moment. Tommy lifted his head to stare upwards, shoulders heaving with a sigh before he turned, plucking up the gun that had fallen to the ground during the scuffle, and heading back to the car with slow steps. Lucy inched her way to Alfie, tucking her revolver back into its holster, the weight of it snug against her ribs.

She opened her mouth to speak, but could think of nothing to say, instead just patting his shoulder twice. When she moved to pull back, he grabbed her arm, keeping her in place, but not gripping so tightly that she couldn’t have yanked herself free if she’d really wanted to.

“Will you be able to get him back?” he asked in a soft voice.

The realization that she was not entirely sure of her answer made it feel as though her stomach had dropped out from under her. Swallowing around the fear that brought, she forced herself to meet his gaze head on, despite the tears no doubt turning her green eyes glassy. “I don’t know,” she whispered with a helpless shrug.

Alfie looked at her with sad eyes, and gave her arm a small squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

Her head cocked a little, lips pouting with the effort it took not to cry. She knew just how much it probably took for him to say that. “Yeah,” her voice was so quiet it was barely audible. “You take care of yourself, Alfie.”

“You too, little demon.”

She managed a tiny smile at the nickname, patting him again. He let her go when she turned away, picking her way back across to the car where Tommy was waiting for her.

“What did he say?” he asked, once she slid into her seat beside him, the engine awakening at the press of a button. He’d wiped the blood off of his face while she was talking with Alfie.

“Just that he’s sorry about Charlie,” she looked down at her hands. The car started to move, pulling slowly out, then picking up speed when they turned onto a main road. Looking out the window, she pressed her knuckles to her lips. “Do you think that Arthur and Moss will be able to get Palmer to talk in time?”

Tommy sighed. “They’ll do whatever they have to. He’s a posh; I doubt it’ll take all that much.”

She nodded, even though the reassurance hadn’t done all that much to actually make her feel better. “Are you…are you sure that you don’t it to be me who goes after Hughes?” she’d had her reservations about whether or not Michael could actually shoot a man, but those had gone out the window at the same time he’d blown the Jewish man’s brains out. Now her concern was more whether or not he would actually be able to handle going against Hughes.

“I’m sure.”

“I just–”

“I don’t want him anywhere fucking near you,” Tommy snapped. She closed her mouth shut, eyebrows flying up at the tone. It was rare for him to talk to her like that. He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, then opening them. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I just…I need you with me, alright?”

Nodding, she leaned into his side. “I know.”

He let out a breath, head moving to peck a kiss into her hair. Eyes darting out over the expanse of the passing fields, she frowned, taking note of the sun’s steadily lowering position in the sky.

They were running out of time.

“How long until we get to the dig site?”

“Probably not until close to sunset,” he pushed the car a little faster.

She pursed her lips, silently cursing the vehicle for not being able to go much quicker. Searching for a distraction outside of the anxiety churning in her guts, her mind wandered back to what Alfie had said, face crinkling.

“What?” Tommy asked when he noticed her expression.

“I really hate it when Alfie’s right,” she pouted, unable to fully keep the huffiness out of her voice. Tommy let out a small snort, cheek resting on top of her head. She rubbed a hand up and down his chest, feeling until she found his steady heartbeat under her palm.

“Tell me what I need to know about tunneling,” she requested.

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to help.”

His jaw clenched. “No, you aren’t. I want you to stay up on the surface with Johnny.”

“I’m not going to sit around and be fucking useless. I’m small and I’ll do what you tell me to; I can help.”

“It’s a small space, under the ground…it could bring up bad memories for you.”

“And it won’t for you?” she shot back, brow raising. She could hear him grinding his teeth together in frustration.

“If you panic, I’m not going to have time to comfort you.”

“I’m not going to panic,” she defended. At the look he shot her, she felt her hackles rise a little defensively. “I won’t. If you can do it, so can I. So long as you’re with me, I’ll be fine.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his face straining a little with the motion. Focusing ahead on the road in front of them, his eyes hardened. “No.”

Her jaw fell open.

“I’m not letting you go down there when you might get hurt, or slow us down–”

“Then why the hell are you even bringing me out there with you then, huh? I could’ve been helping Arthur and John with the train, or Michael with Hughes, rather than just waiting around beside a fucking hole, hoping that things go alright.”

Tommy sighed exhaustedly. “Lucy…”

“You just said you wanted me with you! And now…what? You’re just going to bench me when we need as much help as we can get in getting Charlie back?”

“That’s not what I’m doing–” his voice rose considerably with his temper.

“No; fuck you, I love that kid!”she shouted back and his eyes widened a fraction. “You don’t get to decide if I do or don’t get to help in saving him!”

Silence fell over the interior of the car. Lucy realized that she was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sniffing, she yanked a hand through her hair, pulling further back from him to slump closer to the door, staring out the window with her arms crossed over her chest. She refused to look at him, even when his hand rested cautiously, lightly, on her shoulder.

“I know. I know you love him, Luce. I’m sorry.”

She sniffled, wiping at her face while her breaths turned shaky. His fingers tightened a little on her.

“But I have to keep you safe…”

She groaned quietly, squeezing her eyes shut against the headache of frustration building in her skull.

“Listen,” the urgency in his voice kept her from immediately arguing back. “Because I can’t lose you too, Lucy. First Grace, and now this–”

Her head snapped around at the way his voice broke a little. He was staring down at the one hand he still had settled on the steering wheel, throat working in the way she recognized as him fighting to swallow down tears. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“I love you. And I need you. I need you more than anyone, and if something happens to you…”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“You don’t know that, love.”

She folded her fingers over the hand he still had resting on her shoulder. “No,” she acknowledged, albeit begrudgingly. “But Tommy, I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

His eyes lowered, the fingers of the hand on the steering wheel rubbing together out of nervous habit. Scooting closer, she took a hold of the hand on her shoulder, holding onto it as she rested her chin on his bicep, squeezing him.

“I promise I’ll be okay. I promise I will do everything you tell me to down there. If I start to panic, I’ll leave and stay above ground with Johnny. Just…just please let me help, Tommy? Please?”

He made a pained sound, and when she looked up into his face, it was to see him jam his eyes shut, a crease forming between his brows. She jostled him lightly.

“Don’t close your eyes while you’re driving.”

That pulled a startled half laugh from him, opening his eyes to focus back on the road. She felt his shoulders drop and relax a little, and knew before he even said anything that she had won.

“You do everything I tell you to down there.”

“Of course,” she nodded.

He sighed, slow and deep. “Okay.”

She squished her face into his bicep, then tilted it up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Mm,” he just grunted, but encouraged her to tuck herself more snugly back into his side.

“Sorry that I yelled at you,” she mumbled into the fabric of his coat.

“I deserved it.”

“No,” she shook her head. “You didn’t. You were just trying to take care of me.”

He shot her an affectionate look, then kissed her forehead again, nose brushing tenderly across her hair.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my ocs #in the bleak midwinter #love me where i'm most ruined #my fanfiction

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thewriterg · 2 years

Text

♡︎In the moment♡︎S.H

pairing(s): Steve Harrington x Fem!reader, Steve Harrington x Powerful!reader, Eddie Munson x Fem!reader, Nancy Wheeler x Fem!reader, Robin Buckley x Fem!reader

Summary: You get your powers back and in the process get hurt instead of Steve and he bandages you up instead of Nancy

Word count: 700+

Warning(s): Faint mention of blood, injuries, Slight stranger things spoiler ig?, reader has powers like the scarlet witch, Horny thoughts at a horrible time, sexual tension, and Language but that’s nothing new 😍

A/n: -GIF is not mine- But can we talk abt how Steve was so hottt in this season?? I Switched Roles for this and added my own spin but this Inspo is from @kiss-inthekitchen

“And you just couldn’t save of us from our death like this before!” Eddie screamed fighting off the oversized what you would say bats mixed with an eagle as you flicked your wrist a ball of crimson energy disabling the bats around Steve’s neck the group stopping to look at you in shock

“I told you I didn’t have my powers up until five minutes ago” You responded and as one of the creatures flew over Nancy before the girl could get bitten you threw another power source the creature squawking as it fell out of the air with a thud

“Just try to watch your backs!” You called out gravitating in the air a Flock of the spawn coming at all directions your friends fighting the few ones that got past you with a Canoe ore’s

Being distracted looking down at your friends one of the squealing bat-eagles launched itself on your back as you groaned loudly enough for the group to hear as more of the creatures swarmed you attacking any skin they could get as you struggled against them before screaming out in pain a crimson energy knocking the teens over the bat-eagles dropped out of the air like dead flies as you slow leveled yourself as well

“Get up we have to get moving there a lot more where that came from”

☏☏☏☏

While the group hid under skull rock watching the air clear from the creatures as you all slowly made you ways out sigh’s of relief heard throughout the group as you stumbled slightly dizziness rushing through you randomly as you leaned against the stone for support Steve quick to rush to your side forcing you to sit down with a grunt

“Im sorry what happened to The Whole vampire healing voo-doo” Robin rushed to your side next to Steve while Nancy ripped a piece of skirt

“Robin I just got my powers back I’m a little rusty I’m healing slower than usual” You groaned removing your hand from the front of your lower hip revealing the bite that was dug deep in your skin as Robin began to ramble on about symptoms of rabies as Steve Roughly pushed the girls arm

“Robin?”

“Yea?”

“I kinda wanna punch you” you panted as the girl nervously laughed just as Nancy finished ripping her skirt handing the fabric to Steve before dragging Robin by the arm out from under the rock

“You ready?” Steve questioned with the make like bandage hovering over your lower abdomen while you breathed heavily nodding out for him to get it over with as you lifted yourself from leaning on the rock your arms lifted in the air while you hands went to rake themselves through your tangled hair

Steve pressed bandage against your punctured skin the boy immediately noticing how your chest rose and fell and fell in uneven breaths before the boy shook his head bringing the ends of the bandage together as you let out a groan

Now Steve would’ve been fine if it was normal, regular groan but it was your groan that was high pitched and sounded like a moan more than anything while your head fell back the veins in your neck more prominent as Steve continued to stare at you

God you were so fucking pretty

At the long pause you eventually opened your eyes looking down at Steve while he shot you an apologetic look as he continued to tie the knot on the back of your skin and you were confused for a while before it was Like a light bulb went off in your head

“Are you serious Harrington I could be dying of rabies and you can’t keep it in your pants for three minutes. I wonder what my funeral would be like” You whispered shouted picking yourself up from the ground the bandage secure around your torso your shirt long gone in the Canoe you all came in your Jeans, boots, and bra the only thing shielding your body

“Oh come on Y/l/n it was in the moment” Steve muttered taking your hand guiding you from out the rock your bodies pressed tight together and it was pretty much in the moment but now not so much

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jaxteller87 · 3 months

Text

A Sanctuary for Burning Hearts(big papa 10)

I had just gotten back from a run and decided to stop by the Clubhouse to check up on things. I had been out of Charming the past three days, and I left Tig in charge while I was gone. No big deal, I took care of everything before I left; all he had to do was make sure the place didn’t burn down until I got back. There was a party going on when I walked in, and amidst the chaos, a solitary pen perched on the edge of the bar caught my eye.

“Tiggy, did we get a beer shipment today?” I picked the pen up to look for a company name.

“I don’t think so, why?”

A sickening wave washed over me, and I felt the color drain from my skin. “Everyone out, now!” I shouted. One good thing about being VP is when you yell, everyone listens. It was a matter of seconds until the place emptied out.

“What’s going on?” Tig shot up from the barstool he was sitting on.

“Where’s Amber?” I grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“Dorm room,” Tig put his hands up like he was expecting me to hit him— leave it to Tig to actually let me if need be. Not this time, Tiggy.

“Amber, shit!” I yelled, bolting down the hallway. I burst through the door and saw her sleeping on the bed. She wasn’t supposed to be here when I was out of town. Not that she wasn’t allowed, but I run with bikers, and bikers aren’t the most trustworthy people. Not that any of SAMCRO would try anything, but you never know who we’re entertaining, how much alcohol they had, or what kind of drugs they’re on. Amber is my responsibility, and no one else’s, especially at the Clubhouse. Even so, most of the guys, especially Juice, Ope, and Tig, would break a few skulls for her if need be. Even so, I didn’t go out of my way to put any of them in that situation, at least not often.

“What the hell is going on, Jax?” she squealed as I slung her over my shoulder. “My chair! Don’t forget my—”

“No time!” my voice boomed off the walls. For a moment, I sounded like Clay when he was starting to lose his shit. Fuckin’ Clay— I’ll get to that in a minute. “Keep your eyes closed!”

“Jax?” I could hear the worry in her voice. I rushed through the Clubhouse like a coked-up bull in a China shop. I stepped out of the front doors and saw everyone gathering in the parking lot. I took a few more steps before our biker sanctuary exploded behind me. I saw the orange light from the burst reflect off the buildings in front of me, followed by a warm sensation. The gust from the explosion threw me into the air, but I was able to twist myself before landing, ensuring that I broke Amber’s fall with my body. We all watched as the Clubhouse went up in flames. I don’t know what happened while I was gone, but something told me this had Clay’s name written all over it. Oh, and guess who was on day three of their five-day stay in Belfast? That’s right, Mr. President himself, Clay Morrow.

The following morning, I had to go down to the burnt mess of a Clubhouse and talk to the fire chief. After that, the boys in blue stopped by and took some statements— but this wasn’t a Jonny Law matter, so they were basically just tickin’ boxes like good little bureaucrats. When I got back home, Amber was awake and packing a duffle bag. “Win a cruise or something?”

“Packing to leave. I’m doing what I’m told as an old lady,” she hissed.

Yeah, I deserved that smartass comeback. I tore into her on our way home last night, going as far as cursing her out for being at the Clubhouse instead of home. Not only was she there, but she fell asleep in the dorm during a SAMCRO party. I yelled and yelled, and she just took it. I told her that he needed to fall in line, pack a bag, and head to New York until things cooled down a bit. It wasn’t the impromptu NY trip that was the problem, but more in my delivery of how I suggested it.

“Jackson, I mean, really, what the hell?” she seethed.

Yeah, she’s still mad. She only calls me that when she’s furious. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Clay just has me lookin’ over my shoulder right now, and I admit I’m not thinking too clearly.”

“Has his greed really gotten that bad?” she stopped what she was doing and stared at me, waiting for an answer.

I sat on the bed in silence, unable to muster a response, just meeting her gaze.

“People could have died. It’s a damn good thing Donna and the kids weren’t there,” Amber took a deep breath, thoughts about what could have been trickled through her head.

“I know,” I murmured. There was no disputing that. “It’s a damn good thing nobody did die, too.”

“This time! Something’s gotta change, Jax. The Club, or us. Because there’s no way in hell I’m raising our kids in this violence. This wasn’t the dream we had all those years ago. The Club, yes, but not like this.”

Why did I get the sinking feeling that I was losing her? If it came down to it, I’d choose her every damn time.

With that, Amber rolled out of the room, bag in her lap, and into a taxi bound for Mary’s. I lit a cigarette and poured myself a glass of Scotch. I took a swig and sat on the bed, staring at my kutte slung over the chair. One thing was certain: I had a huge decision to make.

Amber’s POV

So, it’s been a few days since I’ve been crashing at Mary’s. I packed a bag and hightailed it out, Charming like Jax commanded. What a good little housewife I am; too bad that cocky piece of shit is too full of himself to notice. I was planning on getting a hotel, but Mary wouldn’t hear of it. I knew she would insist that I stay with her because we’re so alike, and it’s precisely what I would do in this situation.

“You sure you’re really at your wits’ end?” she asked, handing me another beer.

“I’m sure. You know what— do you think my old place is still up for rent?”

“Wow. It’s that serious, huh?”

“Absolutely, Mary!” I scoffed, “If Jax were a few minutes later than he was, my ashes would be spread across Charming right now.”

“Alright, fine. So what, do you think you could get your old job back?” Mary cracked open a beer of her own and sat down at the table.

“I left a message for my old boss, I told him he can call me here. I hope that’s okay,” I sipped my frosty beverage.

“You’re really serious? Throwing the Cali life all away, huh? No more masquerading around as the King and Queen of Charming?” Mary chuckled. “Never thought I’d hear that out of you.”

“Ha ha,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m dead serious. The violence has spiraled out of control. I mean, it’s always been rough, but I mean, come on. And if I’m going to dance with the devil and almost meet my maker, I sure as shit don’t want to be catching holy hell from my husband because he can’t articulate his words in the face of danger. Whoever set that bomb didn’t care who they killed. Hell, half the Sons weren’t even there— there were a bunch of crow eaters, hangarounds, and some nomads—”

“I’m not even going to pretend I know what any of that bike slang is,” Mary chugged half her beer and slammed it down on the table. “But when it comes to danger, Jax is usually Mister Joe Cool.”

“Yeah, I guess. I kid you not; it’s been a solid two months since he’s come home without blood on his clothes. Keeping that kind of stuff pent up takes its toll on a man,” I confided. “And Club rules say I’m not allowed to ask why. Sometimes, I try to inquire anyway, just to get hit with the ‘I’m better off not knowing’ quip.”

“You’d seriously leave Teller?” Mary raised an eyebrow.

I paused, pondering the question. Would I? No, deep down, I didn’t want to. But my safety was important to me, and if it meant dragging him back with me, I would. It was something I swore I’d never do — make him choose between me and the Club. But this was a different time, a different Club than the one that we rode for years ago.

Out of nowhere, a red bird flitted into view, perching itself on a nearby tree branch. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as we sat in the kitchen, my decision weighed heavily on my mind.

Jax’s POV

I knocked on Mary’s front door, the chaos of recent days finally subsiding enough for me to make the trip to New York and see if I still had a wife waiting for me.

“Hey there, Jackson,” Mary greeted me with a smile as she answered the door.

“Is she here?” I asked anxiously, bracing myself for the fallout.

Mary nodded.

“How much trouble am I in?”

“A lot,” Mary frowned. “I don’t know if trouble is the word I would use, though, but you definitely have some baggage to work through, that’s for sure.”

“Amber, Look who the cat dragged in,” Mary announced as we entered the kitchen. “It’s the piece of shit.”

“Whoa,” I reared back. “What’s with the name-calling?”

“Oh, sorry— that’s been your nickname the past few days,” Mary winked at me. I knew she was just breaking the tension the only way she knew how, with her sarcastic assertivieness.

“Hey, Amber,” I greeted her with a smile.

“I’ll leave you guys to it. I’m gonna take Lady for a walk. Beer’s in the fridge. If you drink it all, Teller, you owe me a case,” Mary said, glancing down at her dog before disappearing out the door.

“I’m sorry,” I began, taking a seat at the table. “I should never have yelled at you, especially like that.”

“You’re right; you shouldn’t,” Amber smirked. We had a little conversation and about thirty minutes later, Mary had returned with some subs.

We sat down to a nice dinner, catching up with Mary as we ate. After a few more minutes of conversation, we made our excuses and headed back to the hotel I had booked earlier. Mary offered for us both to stay at her place, but the apartment was already a little tight and I didn’t want to impose. Plus, it’s been a few days since I’ve spent any time with my wife, so I was looking for something a little more intimate.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, nuzzling my face into Amber’s bare neck.

“I know, that’s what makes this so hard,” she admitted softly. “Jax, what are we gonna do?”

“I’m ready to pack up and drag you back to Charming with me,” I said sternly. She chuckled at the remark, but her eyes were still full of doubt.

“I mean, this is a deal-breaker for me, and that’s incredibly upsetting. I told myself years ago I’d never make you choose,” I confessed. I could feel the weight of my allegiance to the Club pulling against my allegiance to my marriage.

“Well, back then, the Club wasn’t as cutthroat as it is now. We didn’t have as much to worry about. A few stray bullets here and there, I mean, I get it— you’re a biker in a big biker gang, but Jax— they blew up the Clubhouse and half the garage. If you weren’t—”

“I know baby, I—”

“Just listen! If you weren’t there, the bodycount would have been over two dozen. And only seven Sons. Whoever did that wasn’t trying to kill you; they were trying to hurt you by killing your friends and family!”

“You’re not wrong,” I agreed with everything she was saying. “This isn’t one of those pass-the-blame moments, but everything that’s happened, all the added violence— Clay’s been dabbling in something, and I have no idea what.”

“I mean, can’t Bobby or hell, Piney, talk some sense into the old man?” Amber suggested.

“They tried, apparently. But Clay just won’t listen. Piney even threatened him with some philosophical ‘what ifs’, but that didn’t do the trick either.”

“That could have been your Mom in there, Jax. They could have killed Gemma—”

“They could have killed you,” I took her hand. “Please don’t leave me,” I whispered, kissing her bare shoulder tenderly.

“I’m not,” she whispered back. “But something’s gotta be done, babe. I’d like to start trying for a family soon.”

“Oh, really? Well, in that case, may I suggest some practice?” I smirked, glancing down at our entwined bodies.

“Maybe,” she smirked back, running her finger over my cheek.

“I went to the doctor a few weeks ago. I know my disability is not genetic, but I wasn’t sure if it would take me a little longer to get pregnant. And my doctor said no. All things considered, I’m in pretty good health. He said that anytime I wanted to stop taking the pill, we’re good to go.”

“So... have you?” I asked, curiosity burning in my chest.

“Have I what?”

“Stopped taking the pill?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that without talking to you first. What kind of croweater do you take me for, Jackson Teller?”

“My apologies,” Jax blushed, “you know how the culture is.”

“Yeah, alright,” I flicked his nipple. “Anyway, I had a little plan... Have a nice dinner, a movie maybe, then talk about it. And see what happened from there,” she chuckled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

“Well, I would say once everything calms down, because you’re right, trying to have a baby now would be...”

“Stupid?”

“I was going to say less than ideal,” I admitted, “but stupid works.”

“Are you ready for a little Teller running around?” she giggled.

“Ain’t nobody ready for that, darlin’.”

#jax teller imagine #jax teller fluff #jax teller x disabled reader #jax x oc

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