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solarmorrigan · 5 months

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“You know, you’d probably be more comfortable in bed.”

Steve groans. Quietly.

“I’m gonna take that noise to mean, ‘Yes, Eddie, you’re so right, I should take my sick ass to bed!’, to which I am going to say, ‘Thank you, Steve for acknowledging how right I am.’”

If Eddie’s plan is to irritate Steve until he manages to get up off the couch and shamble himself to their bedroom, he’s on the right track.

But the thing is, Eddie is right (unfortunately) – Steve knows he’d be more comfortable in bed. The couch is too short and the cushions are too worn and the seats are just a little too narrow for him to really relax. But at the same time, the flu is trying to murder him, and he’s got a fever, and everything aches, and he doesn’t want to move.

Rather than explaining any of this to Eddie through his sore throat, Steve instead grumbles, “Your impression of me sucks.”

“Well, I’ll work on that while you’re resting,” Eddie drawls.

Steve manages a faintly agreeable-sounding noise and then pulls a throw pillow over his face.

“Steve,” Eddie says.

Steve doesn’t move.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again.

Steve is still not compelled to move.

“Steeeve. Come on.” Eddie reaches out to poke Steve in the side, who belatedly raises a hand to swat him away.

“Don’t wanna move,” Steve mumbles.

“You’re never allowed to call me dramatic again,” Eddie says.

“Mph,” Steve replies.

He hates being sick – really sick, the kind that his body just won’t tolerate pushing through. If he can’t pretend to be well, he feels he has no other recourse but to be dramatic.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Eddie offers. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

Steve snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Eddie declares, and Steve has just enough time to pull the pillow off his face and look up before Eddie is scooping him up off the couch.

“What the fuck!” Steve shouts, arms locking almost instinctively around Eddie’s neck as Eddie gets one arm settled beneath the crook of his knees and the other around his back.

“Relax, we’ll have you in bed in no time,” Eddie says, swinging around to face the living room door with a grunt and trundling forward.

“You’re gonna drop me,” Steve says, winding his arms more tightly around Eddie’s neck; he’s pretty sure no one has picked him up or carried him anywhere since he was maybe eight years old.

“Ye of little faith,” Eddie replies, only slightly strained.

“Me of exactly the right amount of faith, which isn’t a whole damn lot, no,” Steve insists, ducking forward when Eddie lists a little too close to one of the hallway walls.

“You’ll be fine,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

They reach the bedroom door and, as he’d promised, Eddie doesn’t drop Steve.

He does, however, whack Steve’s head on the doorjamb.

And then he drops Steve.

It doesn’t end up being much of a fall; Eddie only loses his hold on Steve’s legs, and with Steve’s death grip around Eddie’s neck, he mostly just lands awkwardly on his feet before tumbling down onto his ass with a thud and a quiet, “Ow.”

Eddie is on his knees beside him in an instant. “Holy shit, I hit your head.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. My head was the one part of me that didn’t hurt,” Steve grumbles, rubbing behind his ear, where his skull had connected with the doorframe.

“Oh my god, I hit your head,” Eddie says again.

Steve blinks at him. “Yeah, we established that. Did you hit your head, too, or–”

“Shit, shit, are you dizzy? Is your vision blurry? Wait, fuck, you’re not wearing your contacts – are things blurrier than normal?” Eddie places his hands on either side of Steve’s face and stares into his eyes, as if he’ll be able to tell that way if Steve’s brain has finally been knocked loose. “Do you feel anything, like, swelling? Bleeding? Leaking?”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t feel that sort of thing happening,” Steve says, and Eddie’s face crumples.

“Shit, you’re right, I should take you to the doctor,” Eddie declares, moving to stand up.

Steve grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down. “Eddie, I’m fine.”

“No, your brain could be leaking or some shit, and you’re gonna have, like, an aneurism, and you’re gonna die, and it’s going to be all my fault because I hit your head and I killed you,” Eddie rambles, shaking his own head.

Steve isn’t sure if any of that is even correct, but he’s willing to bet Robin has been sharing her worries about Steve’s head trauma with Eddie. “That’s not–”

“Your head is the one part of you we really can’t afford to hit!”

“As opposed to the rest of me?” Steve asks, one eyebrow raised.

“If it comes down to it, yeah!” Eddie bursts out. “Do you even know how many times you’ve hit your head?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you’re afraid I don’t remember?” Steve asks drily. “Because you weren’t even there for most of those times, man.”

“It’s not funny,” Eddie says, and he’s definitely trying to sound stern, but he’s verging a little bit on whiny; he seems like he’s starting to calm down, since Steve has so far failed to collapse and die.

“Okay, then, seriously, Eddie – I’m fine,” Steve promises. “You didn’t even hit me that hard, it barely hurts.”

“Steve, I love you, but you have a severely skewed sense of pain and should not be trusted to rate it on your own,” Eddie says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine. Here,” he grabs one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it around to where his head had hit the jamb, “feel. Are there any bumps? Cuts? Anything seem out of place?”

With a frown of deep concentration, Eddie runs his fingers gently from the top of Steve’s skull to the base, occasionally pressing a little harder, but never hard enough to hurt.

“Good?” Steve asks, once Eddie’s had a minute to feel for himself.

Eddie’s shoulders slump. “I guess.”

“Ah, don’t be disappointed. Maybe it’ll be a concussion next time,” Steve offers.

Eddie shoots him a wildly unimpressed glare. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Steve decides, but he takes Eddie’s hand from his head and brings it around to press a kiss to the back of it.

There’s definitely a smile ticking at the corners of Eddie’s mouth, but Steve doesn’t point it out.

“Do you want some ice, or something?” Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head.

“What I want is to walk over to the bed and lie down, and I want you to come with me,” Steve says. “And in an hour, I want you to bring me more Tylenol and some of that really good tea that Joyce sent over. Deal?”

This time, Eddie does smile. “I think I can handle that.”

Steve smiles back. “Good.”

They get themselves situated, Eddie at Steve’s back with an arm slung over him, a single blanket pulled up to their waists (“Pretty sure you still have a fever, sweetheart,” Eddie had insisted. “You’re gonna cook yourself to death if you cover up.”), and in the dim, sleepy light filtering through their curtains, Steve presses back further into Eddie’s chest.

“I like that you care so much,” he says quietly, and Eddie squeezes him a little more tightly.

He shifts enough that he can press his lips to the spot where Steve had bumped his head. “Always will,” he murmurs, and hell if Steve doesn’t believe him.

[Prompt: Bridal carries]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #pretty sure steve's method is not medically approved for testing for head trauma but he's fine #solar wrote

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drabblesandimagines · 4 months

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Dove (part six)

Leon Kennedy x female reader - the slowest, slow burn I swear Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five.

After the two of you had finished dinner, you’d began clicking through the channels in search of something to watch. It was far too early to go to bed, or even pretend to go to it - you’d just be staring at the ceiling, alone with your thoughts. Leon had insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen despite your offer to help, said he’d leave them in the sink to soak. You know that’s a task you’re not going to be able to handle until your arm is free of the sling, fingers unsplintered. You want to say you’ll do all the cooking and cleaning when you can, but that implies that you think you’ll still be in the safe house, with him, in however long it’ll take to be free of the sling...

By all intents and purposes, Leon had planned to wait until you’d gone to bed to pull together his report, but the fact that Hunnigan hadn’t replied to his text yet was giving him an unsettled feeling in his gut. Maybe she was doing it on purpose, tit for tat - no information for him until he gave information to her.

After setting the dishes and pan in soapy water to return to later, he’d come back to the sofa and picked the laptop up off the coffee table, almost reluctantly.

“Er, I’m gonna start my report now, if that’s all right?”

You look at him, noting the laptop now tucked under his arm. The report, of course – he hadn’t typed it up yet, couldn’t have, not when you’d sobbed and then napped all over him.

It’s like emotional whiplash - the soft, almost domestic moments where you could pretend this whole situation was normal - it’s dinner and a movie with a friend, first date vibes but both of you too cautious to make a move.

And then there’s the startling reminder that, no, actually, you’re not even home, in a one-bedroom bungalow, no idea where you are in the state, or what state, with a man, a bodyguard you hardly know, after very nearly being murdered the day before and could possibly be murdered in the days to come.

You must’ve stared too long in response as he raises his arm to rub the back of his head – you wonder if it’s a nervous habit.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Dove. The report’s just a formality after the interview earlier, and it’s better that I submit today. It’s fine if you’d prefer not to be in the room, though. If you’re not comfortable, I can wait until you’ve gone to bed.”

“Oh… No, go ahead.”

“Are you sure? I’ll be listening over the audio again but I’ll use headphones, so…”

“Yeah. It’s fine – needs to be done, as you said.” You smile, turning your head back to the TV to end the conversation.

Leon had sat on the other couch, laptop resting on his knees, plugged in a pair of in-ear headphones. For over an hour, you’d heard him tap away at the keys, brows furrowed in concentration when you’d chance a look his way. The last few times his eyes haven’t been on the laptop screen but that of the TV, watching the dumb romance movie you’d settled on during your channel searching, hoping it would prove a good distraction.

“Leon…” You feel rude for interrupting his work, but he’d tugged out an earbud, hasn’t typed anything in a good while now, definitely not since the last ad break.

Not that you were keeping track.

“Mm?” He hums in response.

“Can I…?” He looks over as you clear your throat - start over. “Can I ask you something? If you’ve got a minute.”

There it is - the encouraging smile. “Of course, Dove.”

“It’s going to sound stupid, but those things – were they BOWs?”

“The Lickers?” The smile drops as he tugs out the other earbud. “Yeah, they are.”

“Lickers?” It sounds too cutesy for what they are, like a lollipop brand for kids and not indescribable monstrosities.

“There’s probably some scientific name that Umbrella would use, but that term came from a cop that first saw them in the Raccoon City Police Department. I guess we kinda kept the name as a weird tribute.”

“Right.” Maybe it was the cop’s way of trying to make them less terrifying on first sight.

“Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t think BOWs were actually…” You swallow, though you know it’s not going to dislodge the lump in your throat now. “..things, if that makes sense. Like, I knew we were trying to protect the public from biological warfare threats, but I thought it was man-made diseases, or poisoning the water supply… That sort of stuff.”

“You’re not wrong. Those things were once human, mutated by a man-made virus. I’ve had a fair amount of experience with different iterations of the virus over the years, unfortunately.”

“Mutated…?” You feel sick as the image once again flashes in your mind’s eye, the grotesque features of the Lickers juxtaposed with those of humans, your colleagues… “Fuck.”

“Yeah - fuck.”

“God,” you exhale, but it doesn’t feel enough. “I’ve been so naïve to what I’ve even been doing all these years - I didn’t know what we were actually trying to prevent.”

“You sound like you think you’ve been doing something wrong.”

“Well, maybe I have.” You protest. “What if I missed something that led to that the other day?”

“You did not miss anything.” He says firmly, closing the laptop – you’re not sure if he’s concluded his report or not. “Is that what happened to everyone - they were infected and then they mutated into those… those things?” You can’t bring yourself to say the identifier out loud.

“No, Dove, the… The bodies they recovered matched with the amount of people signed into the premises. Excluding you, obviously.”

“So, someone brought them there and set them on us?”

“Maybe. They’re still working on how they got in the building. They don’t exactly use doors, so…” He laughs, though it’s half-hearted.

The lump feels too big in your throat, tears burn at your eyes as you drop your head down but you know you’re not quick enough.

Leon stands, soft footsteps on the carpet as he circles round the coffee table and sits down a cushion’s width away from you.

“Sorry – it was a bad joke.”

You shake your head, sniffling a little, eyes fixed on your thighs. “No, it’s not that, or you. It’s so stupid, but I wish I could go back and stop it…”

“I know.” He places a hand down on the sofa, swivels his knees in your direction. “But it doesn’t help to think like that – trust me. And I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to keep going.”

“And you’ve faced those things before.”

“More times than I’d like to count.”

“How do you stop them?” You look up then, wiping away the tears from your cheek with the heel of your left hand.

“You couldn’t have done anything differently back there, if that’s what you’re thinking. A couple of gunshots to the head or an explosion is the only thing that’ll stop them.”

“You can’t… you know, turn them back?”

He shakes his head, looking solemn. “Afraid not.”

“Maybe for the best. I don’t think I’d want to be turned back if I’d…” If you’d ripped off your colleague’s head.

“Hey, that is not going to happen to you.” He leans forward, places his hand on your knee - having you fall asleep in his arms earlier has removed all sort of boundaries, it seems. “I promise.”

You shake your head then. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can. I am going to keep you safe.” He pauses – wind it in a little, Kennedy. “And if it makes you feel better, you won’t be the first. Want my credentials? I rescued the President’s daughter from a cult, got her home safe.”

“The President’s daughter?” You hadn’t heard about that, but then again why would you? Probably wouldn’t want it announced to the world that the leader of the free world’s daughter had been abducted.

“Mm. She had a codename and all – Baby Eagle.”

“But you would know her name.”

“Yeah, but still used codenames on official comms.”

“So, what would happen if I told you my name?”

“Er, well, I’d…” There’s the arm raise, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I’d have to report in to HQ that your identity had been compromised, I’d be redeployed elsewhere and you’d get a new security detail.”

“Why?”

“Part of your protection is that I’m not a risk of revealing your identity if hostile forces used… certain methods of interrogation if we were to be captured.”

Your stomach twists at the code. “Torture?”

“I suppose.” He shrugs, like he’s going to collect your mail or water your plants when you’re on vacation as a favour.

“No, you can’t… How can you shrug at the prospect of being tortured for me? You don’t even know me.”

Leon wants to say he does know you, not completely but there’s things he’s picked up over the course of the day that he feels reasonably confident on. You don’t do good with sitting idle, has the feeling you keep yourself busy when you’re not locked in four walls. He got the feeling you’re thorough and proud of your work, or you were before this doubt crept in.

You like coffee with a splash of creamer, honey in your oatmeal. You don’t have any close friends or family nearby that will be wondering why you’ve gone AWOL just yet… ..and you’re definitely single, because if you had someone waiting at home you would’ve mentioned it they spoke about whisking you away to a safe house, or when Hunnigan said she was going to search your place.

He smiles. “I know you don’t deserve any of what’s happened to you over the last 24 hours, and that’s reason enough.”

“How can you be so sure I don’t?”

“Experience, Dove. Been in this line of work for a long time and, more importantly, I’ve been where you’ve been, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, relenting. “Sorry, my head’s just…”

He squeezes your knee. “I know.”

You leave the bathroom later that evening – Leon had ducked in at some point and prepared your toothbrush again – and find him leaned over the sink, scrubbing at a pan and a cloth draped over his shoulder. He’s left out the medicine – two painkillers, two sleeping pills - on the counter, next to a glass of water. It feels oddly domesticated again for what all of this is.

You walk over to the counter, slowly, as he continues washing the dishes.

“I forgot to ask earlier. Have there been any updates?”

He turns, gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not yet. But it’s only the first full day of the investigation, so I’m sure I’ll hear something soon, especially since I’ve sent the report over.”

He’d sent it whilst you were in the bathroom, half-expected Hunnigan to ring right there and then but his cell had remained silent, so he’d moved his attention to the dishes.

“Yeah, suppose other things will take precedence too.” Other things meaning families to inform… What would they tell them?

You take a swig of water before picking up the pills, swallowing them all down in one. Knowing how quick the sleeping aids helped yesterday, you’re aware there’s only a limited time before you’ll feel the effects kick in.

“Well, goodnight, Leon.”

“Wait a sec.” He pulls the cloth off his shoulders and hurriedly dries his hands as you watch on, curiously. He fiddles with the watch around his wrist, pressing a button on the side, then undoing the strap before he holds it out to you. “Here, so you can tell the time. I know there’s no clock in there, so…”

You stare at the offering, not raising your hand to take it. “But what about you?”

“Got my cell.” He pats his pocket, then holds the watch out again. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

You step forward to take it, gripping it a little too tightly in your fingers. It must be your imagination because it feels warm, but that can’t be right.

“Sleep well, Dove.”

Without another thought, you lean up on your tip-toes and press a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

“Thank you.”

You swivel on your heels and walk into the bedroom, closing the door without looking back, missing out on the sight of a flustered DSO agent in the kitchen.

If it wasn’t for the sleeping pills now coursing their way through your system, you would’ve been up for hours longer, heart pounding at what you just did. Instead, you climb into bed, close your eyes and it isn’t long at all until sleep washes over you, his watch still clasped in your hand.

Leon’s phone finally vibrates with Hunnigan’s caller ID as he enters back into the living area after finishing his perimeter check. Had to do two rounds of the building because he knew he was too distracted on the first by your kiss, admonishing himself for being so put out of joint by a simple gesture. After his second, more thorough check of the area and confident there was still no sign of any unwanted guests, he’d headed back into the building, making sure everything was locked up before he answered the call – placing the phone up to his ear on the opposite cheek that you had kissed.

“Hunnigan!” He answers, a little too jovial, would lower if his voice if he wasn’t confident you’ll be fast asleep by the amount of time that’s passed since you took your medication. “I was getting worried you’d forgotten all about me.”

“I’m sure.” Her voice is a little tense, but he can tell she’s tired. “Just finished your report.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s not exactly airtight.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose, holding in a sigh. “What happened to innocent before proven guilty?”

“That’s why I’ve put Dove in a safehouse with you, rather than in a cell.”

“So, restrictions remain?”

“Restrictions remain.”

He rolls his eyes, grateful it’s not a video call. “Did you search her place?”

“Unfortunately not. The President wanted the surveillance department back up and running ASAP, so all available manpower had been diverted to that. The tech analyst, however, has confirmed that the breach on the database yesterday wasn’t what you’d call successful.”

Leon walks around the sofa, drops on it a little too heavy. “You don’t sound particularly thrilled by that.”

“I’m not - the attempt itself was successful, but as soon as the system detected the forced entry, it wiped itself. Every subject that was still under surveillance has been lost.”

“Maybe that’s what they were trying to achieve.” He frowns. “Is there seriously no back-up server?”

“Analyst seemed to think it was their protocol, but it’s just a theory. Everyone who knew exactly how that division had their server set up is no longer with us.”

There’s a pause and he can hear Hunnigan tapping away at her keyboard as usual. “There is something I need to inform you of, though.”

“Right.”

“The tech analyst found the CCTV feeds have been tapped. They couldn’t trace where the feed was being diverted to, but it was definitely a system not within the DSO infrastructure. It’d been active since the attack, but they cut the connection when they discovered it.”

Leon frowns. “So, you’re saying that whoever orchestrated the attack could’ve been watching the cameras since.”

“Mm.”

“And if their objective was to leave no survivors…” Leon’s eyes focus on your bedroom door.

Hunnigan stops typing. “They’ll know they’ve failed.”

Part seven.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

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#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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that---one---kid · 5 months

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The cold snow

Coriolanus x Reader

AN: Sorry it kinda progressed really fast and I should’ve wrote him getting gradually more obsessive, but I’ll write another like that. Do yall think reader should relate more to teens nowadays though? Should I put her hitting a vuse in the next fic?

Smut, non-con, dub-con, arranged marriage, dark!Coriolanus, baby trapping, mentions of murder, threatening, reference to domestic violence, drugging, loss of virginity

Not once did you feel love for a man. Not once did you plan on getting married. And not once did you ever consider marrying a man from the capital, they were all the epitome of stuck-up, heartless and cruel bastards dressed up to hide it with a thick veil of elegance, but, alas, when did things you wanted ever go your way. You hide a scowl as the man you had heard far too much stood in front of you next to your father. “..and I'm sure she’s looking forward to the dress!” Your father laughed. “I’m quite sure my cousin is just as excited to help with the design.” The snow-haired boy- no, monster, said, turning to face you, his cold blue eyes look unnerving in the dim light of your dining room. You wondered if he had that same look in his eyes as he came up with ways to monetize innocent deaths. You give a forced smile, directed towards your soon-to-be husband. “I can’t wait to see what she comes up with!” Your voice sounds more strained than intended. Your father's hand lands heavy on your shoulder and he gives you a squeeze before speaking. “Coriolanus, it’s been an absolute pleasure as always, but I hate to keep you too late. University I’m sure is tiring enough and you’ll have Y/N to talk your ear off soon enough.” You shift your shoulder and shake his hand off. Your father gives you a look and Coriolanus smiles before taking your hand and raising it to his lips, bowing slightly he kisses your hand softly, the feeling of his lips on your skin makes a chill run up your spine. “Right again Mr. L/N, but I do look forward to having someone else to talk to aside from Gran’mam and Tigris and Y/N is a wonderful conversationalist.” Your father makes his way to the front door alongside Coriolanus while you snake away as they’re too preoccupied with a conversation of politics and wedding arrangements. You quietly make your way upstairs, narrowly missing a maid in your hurry to slip out of your dress and into a bath, washing the filth you felt from that monster touching you off of your skin. You weren’t naive to Coriolanus Snow. Despite a year his junior plenty of people had talked of the tenth games, of Coriolanus’s ideas, and even reminiscing on it made your blood boil even more so the fact that your father would not only condone his actions but praise them. He talked nonstop of Coriolanus’s genius and innovative brain, paired with an influential name is precisely why he was so eager to offer you up as a bride for this up-and-coming president. A soft knock on your bedroom door alerts you. “I’m in the bath!” You yell. Hearing a soft creek, footsteps slowly follow. “Hello?” You yell, a brunette female avox holding a silk robe enters your bathroom. You shift to cover yourself, despite having servants since childhood you never did get used to their lack of speech and dead stare. If your tongue got cut out you wouldn’t have much light in your eyes either, you suppose. “Thanks, just leave it on the counter.” The silent woman robotically moves towards the counter and places it down before leaving, swift footsteps and a quiet door closing signaling it was time for you to get you. Quickly standing and pulling the drain, the cool air on your skin gives you goosebumps. Slipping on the robe, there's another knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah, just one minute…” You pause, trying to recall the avox’s name, but drawing a blank.

Had even you dehumanized these indentured servants so much that you never learned their names? “Y/N?” Your head perks up from the thought. “Uh, you can come in, Mother, I just got out of the bath.” The door closes and you make yourself decent before walking out into your bedroom. Your mother sits at the edge of your bed, her thin frame barely sinking into the plush sheets. Your mother, although barely giving out any more than the bare minimum of maternal comfort, had always been a confidant for you. Rarely speaking unless spoken to, dressed to your father's liking, and eating the rations for a mouse on your father's request, you had always had a soft spot for her. You knew from a young age you wanted nothing to do with men, and never wanted to be trapped in a marriage like your mother was, loveless and cold it was no wonder you were an only child. She motions for you to sit next to her. “Grab your brush and let's talk.” Grabbing your brush off the vanity beside you, you walk over and stiffly sit next to your mother, handing her your brush. She grabs a lock of your hair and begins working her way through the tangles. This goes on for a few minutes before she breaks the silence. “I know you’re not happy about the marriage.” You roll your eyes and let out a huff. “Forgive me for not wanting to marry the malicious Mr. Snow, I know I’m sooo lucky to get a shot with someone who can make such a spectacle of child murder.” The sarcasm that made you bite your tongue around your father was let loose around your mother She brushes out a knot with more force than she should, making you let out a wince. Sighing she continues on to another section of hair. “No need to be smart.” She puts down the brush and turns you towards her. Her pale, perfectly curated mask of makeup cracks up close. Her tired eyes and creases from many nights of poor sleep cannot be hidden, no matter how much concealer and powders are applied. “I was much more naive than you are when I married your father. I had the stories and the glory days of the capitol, but I was wrong. I know we haven’t set the best example of marriage for you, but please take this away if nothing else.” Your mother looks at you with a stern and pleading gaze. “You need to submit yourself to this fate.” Her voice is desperate and you can only give her a deadpan stare, “I’m not like you, mother, I have no interest in-” A stinging pain floods your senses, your cheek beginning to get hot accompanied by what you're sure is a brilliant red handprint. Your mother composes herself, fumbling with her hands in her lap, a blank stare adorns her tired face. “Unless you want to feel that and much worse from a hand much heavier than mine, I suggest you heed my advice.” Quickly and quietly, your mother stands up and walks to the door while you sit still in a somewhat shocked state from the normally docile woman's slap. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, I don't want you to go through what I did.” And with that she leaves, leaving you to recover and slip into a nightgown before lying in bed, a futile attempt to make sleep come quicker as your head swims through questions, realizations and your inevitable fate of entrapment.

A week comes and goes, you fill your time with work from the academy, struggling to get through dinners and talks with your father about marriage and the upcoming wedding. Your mother, to her credit, uncharacteristically changes the subject from time to time, giving you few and far-between sympathetic glances. You're grateful for that, at least. “I have business to attend to in District Two for a while, your mother and I will be away for at least a week, maybe more.” Your father says in between bites of sirloin. “Will Arthur be coming around?” Arthur was your uncle, a distant relative your father would like to forget, but it was the one fight he lost to your mother, her absolute refusal for him to isolate her completely from her eldest brother was what a majority of their fights were about in your childhood. Despite that, Arthur always made things more lively, less constrictive, and was the rare times you saw your father intimidated. Your father pauses before speaking again. “He is not, I see it fitting that Coriolanus comes and stays with you while we are away. He will escort you to school and come with his driver to pick you up after his university classes.” You clench your fork, and anger and something akin to nervousness twists in your stomach. Steadying your mind before speaking, you look to your mother who sips her wine, refusing to look at you. “Does that not seem improper, Father. I mean we aren’t to be wed for two more months. What image would that look like?” You try finding any loop, using the family image as leverage wasn’t ideal, but it was a last-ditch effort. “Since when have you cared about your public image? It sets a strong front up for the two of you. I want you to be seen with him as a young respectful woman from a strong house, someone the people can see as the first lady of Panem and I trust you will do as told.” There’s emphasis at the end of his words, more like a threat. Your mother clears her throat before excusing herself to the restroom. The rest of the dinner was sat in tense silence.

A knock at the door causes you to shoot your head up from your book in the living room. Your parents had left early in the morning and it was now early afternoon, you tried easing the building nerves in your stomach by reading non-stop since before the sun was up, with time put aside to make sure your hair and makeup were perfect because despite hating you fiance and dreading his arrival, some small part of you still wanted to be desired by him. You set down your book before whispering yelling at the avox passing by. You could see a small glimpse of Coriolanus waiting at the door from the window, but the tree would make it hard for him to see you. As childish as it sounded you asked the avox to wait until she heard your bedroom door from upstairs to close before letting coriolanus in. Like a child caught sneaking down stairs to get a glimpse of Santa, you ran quickly and quietly upstairs, praying silently that Coriolanus didn’t look through the windows next to the door only to see you scampering upstairs to hide in your bedroom. As quickly as you could you make it to your bedroom and slam the door just loud enough so that it could be heard downstairs. From there you crawl into your bed and under the covers of your bed, but instead of hiding from the monsters under the bed like when you were a child, you’re hiding from the monster downstairs, the one who comes to strip you of what little freedom you had left. Hearing the stairs creak makes the dull anxiety turn into panic as the creaking disappears, meaning they’ve now made it to the second floor, meaning they, who you were hoping weren't Coriolanus, were most likely heading for your door. Thinking quickly, you feign sleep, hoping that the oldest trick in the book will work on whoever came to disturb you. A knock on the door makes you flinch, but still you lay as silently as possible, trying to control and calm your breathing. The door knob turns and the door is pushed open ever so slightly. A heavy footstep echoes through your quiet room followed by a closing door.

Glass against glass is heard before being placed by your bedside followed by a weight on the bed and hot breath tickling your ear. “Sleeping at noon? Come on now, Y/N, I’m not an idiot.” Coriolanus’s voice comes out smooth like honey, but cold like the harsh whip of winter air when you first step outside. You turn over, bleary eyed and fake yawning. “What are you doing in my bedroom uninvited?” Your voice is meant to be accusatory and confident but comes out meek and wavering. Coriolanus backs up, his perfectly slicked back hair doesn't falter even when he brushes it back, a smirk that spells nothing but no-good unnerves you. “I’m your fiance, I think we’re past courting formalities, Y/N, plus, I’ve brought you tea.” Smiling Coriolanus gestures to the white porcelain cup. “Thank you, Coriol-” “Call me Corio, please, the formalities and all are far behind us.” You smile, picking up the tea cup and taking a sip out of it to try and fill the awkward silence that weighs heavy in the room. The bitter taste catches you off guard, scowling as you take another sip, trying to gauge what kind of tea it is. “Corio, what is this, it's such a..strange flavor?” Smiling Corio pushes the cup up to your lips again. “It gets better with taste, and old recipe Grand’mam taught me.” Downing it as fast as possible as to not offend his Grna’mam’s tea you feel yourself get light headed as the world gets blurry. “Corio, what is this..” You trail off, your words are slurred and speaking feels like a chore. Your senses are so numbed that you don’t think twice when Corio gently pushes you back against the feather pillows. “Don’t you think it’s funny that we are engaged and haven't so much as kissed yet?”

Even through your haze you can see the way the blonde is looking at you. His eyes are hungry, like a predator eyeing up its prey. “I’ve been thinking about you like this for a long time, Y/N, by my side, taming you and your defiance.” Coriolanus slips off his shoes and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he climbs on top of you. “I’ve been eyeing you up for awhile, Y/N, before the arrangements, at the academy, the way you look in your uniform, the way you think outside of the box..” Slowly he begins shedding his shirt, his hands snaking their way up your thigh, hiking up your skirt. “And I see the way the other men in the capital look at you, young, beautiful, rich, pure as snow…you’re a very desirable girl.” He’s made his way to the top of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, leaving you in your top and lacey panties. Now shirtless, Coriolanus begins working at undoing his own pants, leaving him in nothing but boxers on top of you. You try moving your legs but they give up after a few tries. It takes all of your energy to fight to stay awake,your heads not spinning anymore, but even if you could move, Coriolanus would easily overpower you. “S-stop.” You muster out weakly, trying and failing to push him off you, your weak arms are pinned to your side quickly by his own. “I don’t like the thought of another man but your husband taking you, and I intend to fulfill my role as your husband before you retaliate.”

Using one hand, Coriolanus unbuttons your shirt, button by button you feel your cheeks heat up and a growing arousal in your panties throws you off. You had never been touched like this by anyone other than your own hands in the dead of night before. Coriolanus swears under his breath as he exposes the rest of you, eyes wandering back down to your panties. “I’ve known about you far longer than you have of me, Y/N. I’m ready to have a loving marriage with you, but you just need to accept me.” He trails off as he unclasps your bra, rambling more about how he couldn’t wait and all the long dinners with you were driving him mad. Now fully exposed and more out of it than ever you feel his hands cup your breast. His erection pressing hard against your stomach as he leans down for a desperate kiss. He’s rough, trying to take in as much of you as possible.. Panting, his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, you feel your own wetness as you feebly rub your thighs together, weakly and with as much force as you can you push on his shoulders so he is sitting up straddling you. You tell yourself it’s to get him off of you, but in reality if so he’ll give attention to the rest of your body and not just your now abused lips. Coriolanus has the eyes of a madman as he quickly sheds his boxers and pulls down your panties. Using his thumb to tease your clit, you jolt slightly. Feeling foreign hands on you was a strange yet pleasurable experience. “Corio..” your soft moan of his name made him all the more possessive of you. He wanted to only ever hear you say his name in such a way, and he wanted to hear more of it. Taking out his hard cock, he lined it up with your entrance. Coriolanus leaned back down, kissing you much more softly as he pushed into your virgin cunt. You moan into the kiss as you feel his cock pushing into you. “God, you’re so tight, you were made for me.” He moaned, head spinning Coriolanus wasn’t sure when, but he was holding your hips down as he fucked you, the way your breast bounced and your hair fell in your face as you moaned his name in breathy gasps made his head spin. “Corio-ah, fuck, Coriolanus..” Your meek voice just made him want to fuck you harder, to draw out more symphonies of his name, to make it known to not just you, but the world that you were Y/N Snow, and nobody except him could take you this way. In between moaning your assailant's name and begging for more, you had a few moments of clarity, where you knew this was wrong but your body betrayed you. Moving on instinct you lift your legs towards your chest, begging to take the blondes’ cock deeper into you. In Coriolanus’s mind, you were begging for him to make you his, for him to not just claim you in name, but claim a life, a life that both of you created. Slamming your hips against his own Corio could feel himself coming undone, letting out breathy moans of your name you felt his hot cum spilling inside of you, begging for your own release which soon followed. Coriolanus fell on top of you, feebly keeping himself stable above you before rolling over to look at you. Rosy cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat cover you as your hair curls and frames your face in an almost angelic way. You were exhausted, trying to think but coming up blank, the drug affect starting to weigh on you, you allow yourself to block out the blonde lying next to you and let your heavy eyes close, drifting off to an inviting deep sleep while Corio stares at you, content with himself and that you’ll never be able to leave him now, especially with the child he and you would have, tying you to him forever.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #smut

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akoyaxs · 6 months

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˚༄ Tìyora Pt 5 - Final ༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies w Benefits ༊ 5.6k words Warnings: shit is filthy, rut, oral (m and f recieving), 69, rough sex, p in v, multiple orgasms, angst, fluff at the end because we got to finish it off nice :) ~ I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for all the support throughout this smutty slutty little story, I swear it's so unserious at times and I have a good little giggle writing it, but I couldn't do it without all my pookie pies and this one is for all of you Aonung sluts cause this man is so fine 😻 OKAY ENJOY!!! - Zenna

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“He’s a complete skxawng,” you growl, stabbing the knife you’re meant to be sharpening harshly into the sand.

“Right,” Tsireya says consolingly, though you suspect if you raise your gaze, you’ll find her rolling her eyes. The two of you are sitting on the beach, doing your various tasks, though it seems more like you're ranting and less like you're actually doing anything.

“I haven’t seen him in a week,” you scowl. “He hasn’t been at training, or anywhere around the village or the bay or even the rest of the reef. And he’s not even hiding in your marui.”

“And how would you know that?” Tsireya asks, a small smile curling her pretty lips.

“Because I checked,” you say bluntly. “Several times. Because I’m bothered that my supposed warrior commander is neglecting his duties. That is all.” Tsireya doesn’t say anything, just pursing her lips and nodding seriously, and your frown deepens. “I’m serious. What sort of leader is he going to be if he’s just sulking around and hiding from-”

“And what would he be sulking about?” your friend counters. “I haven’t seen my brother in a couple days, even after he’s been avoiding you or whatever, if you’re so bothered, why don’t you tell me what happened.”

At that, you pause.

You aren’t even entirely sure what happened. The last time you saw Aonung, which had been over a week ago, he’d caught you with Ta’ru behind the rocks. You had played a little game which ended up with you on your knees, getting the shit rocked and breath knocked flat out of you as he fucked you like he hated you (which, of course, he probably still did).

You had probably just imagined that he’d become less haughty towards you, that he’d been sweet and gentle sometimes instead of his usual taunts and condescending idiocy towards you. But apparently not, because now he’s even worse. You can tolerate fights and comments, Eywa knows you’ve battled off enough of them, but getting cut out and ignored just stings so much more.

No. You don’t care.

It’s not that deep. Why should you care that the most infuriating person you ever met is treating you with the same hatred you’re meant to feel for him.

You shouldn’t care.

But you do, for some inexplicable reason, and as always, your upset comes in the form of anger.

“Hello?” Tsireya snaps you back into reality. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about whatever weird thing is going on between you and my brother, but maybe stop trying to murder the beach?”

“What?” You look down to realise you’d been violently stabbing the sand with your knife, shells shattered at the bottom of the jagged grooves you left behind, loose sand scattered all over you from your unconscious stabbing. “Oh, sorry.” Tsireya grins, and then the rest of her words process in your mind and you straighten up to glare at her. “There’s nothing 'going on' between me and Aonung. He’d be the last per-”

“Oh really?” your friend scoffs. “Yeah, I’m not blind. I’ve never seen Aonung like this before.”

“Like what?” you scowl, but a guilty tone of your curiosity shines through your voice as you study her. But Tsireya just laughs and shakes her head, as though she can’t believe you right now. “Fine,” you snap. “Don’t tell me then. I’ll go find him myself.”

“That’s probably not a great idea,” Tsireya says, scrunching her nose up. “If Aonung doesn’t want to be bothered, everyone knows best than to try and disturb him.”

“Well he can suck it up because I don’t care if he’s some stupid silly prince or some bullshit,” you shrug. “I care that he’s ignoring me, because no one ignores me and gets away with it.”

Tsireya just grins as you stalk away, and you swear you hear her muttering smug, giggly nonsense to herself as she watches your furious, purposeful storming.

You end up in the forest behind the village. You’re not entirely sure why; maybe you’re just too worked up and you need something the least bit similar to home, or maybe you just think better when surrounded by trees instead of sand and sea. Either way, the second your feet hit soft, damp grass and the sunlight is barred by lush shady canopy, your annoyance doesn’t quite dissipate, but at least your body seems to relax in the mere presence of the forest.

You’re just wandering, enjoying the sounds of the birds and allowing the damp, cool scents to roll over you like home, albeit more tropical and sweet than rainforest. Or at least, you think it’s only the sounds of the rainforest wafting through the damp air, until you hear it. Deep, pained, laborious groans. Like someone’s hurting, aching, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

You pause. You could run back and get help, but the groans sound oddly familiar, and you find yourself instantly following them. Through the bushes and trees and shrubs, past thickets of bright flowers and sharp thorns and random animals. They’re growing louder, hungrier, the closer you draw to the source of the sound until you burst into a small clearing, a small woven marui stretched over in a shelter in the centre, blocking the groans from view.

You stalk closer, silently, though you can imagine they could never hear you over their own groans and grunts. Then you’re peeking through the gaps of the weavings and stepping into the hut.

Aonung’s slumped against one side, curled up slightly so you can’t see him properly, and he’s hidden in the shadows anyway. His face looks flushed and frustrated, and there’s a certain darkness around him that has your tail pricking up unconsciously. But when he looks up, when he sees you, his eyes darken further.

“What are you doing here?” he croaks, gritting his teeth, sounding furious.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you snap, crossing your arms in the entrance. “It’s been a week Aonung, where the fuck have you been? Cowering in this little hut doing Eywa knows what?”

Aonung just continues to stare, eyes growing darker and hungrier with every second they rove over your body, and you feel them lingering particularly on the curves and hidden places he knows only too well now.

“You need to leave.”

“What?” you ask, taken aback by the audacity of Aonung. “No.”

“Leave now,” Aonung growls, his voice deep and desperate and dangerous, and you feel a sharp jolt somewhere deep within you, as though your body is recognising something the rest of you cannot.

“What did I tell you about you and your orders?” you say stiffly, glaring at his slumped figure. “I don’t give two flying fucks who you are, you cant-”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he roars, eyes narrowing to pale slits, face contorted with desperate frustration.

“NO!” you shout back with equal ferocity, standing your ground and taking a stubborn step into the marui.

And then it hits you. The scent, the energy, the strangeness of his behaviour and his absence from the village, not just you. It should have been obvious already; the lustful darkness in those usually bright eyes, the heat with which he snarls his words, the sheer frustration surrounding him that was no doubt sharpened by days with only his own company.

“You’re in rut,” you whisper, tilting your head down at him.

Aonung doesn’t reply, just breathing heavily. For a moment you think he’s trying to compose himself to speak, but then you realise that his eyes are squeezed shut, hands gripping himself back with fierce desperation for a reason.

It’s starting to piece together in your mind, but not at all. It makes sense that he would go away from the village, hide away and try to master himself in solitude, but he had you. The thought makes you frown, that he didn’t want you near, that he clearly doesn’t want you near, and he didn’t bother asking for your help.

Aonung’s growing more frustrated the longer you stand there, and you can sense wave after wave of pure, vicious, animalistic desire radiating off him and breaking over you in a way that makes something… change.

“You need to leave,” he whispers, his voice a small plead. The change from his snarls and roars for you to leave makes you shiver, and you can already see himself slipping away, his will cracking under your presence and his last attempts to get you to leave becoming weaker as his hunger conquers him.

But you don’t. Surprising yourself, and definitely him, you step closer again, body feeling strangely shaky, even nervous. His ever-darkening eyes watch your every step, and his grip tightens so hard you see his large hands paling, anchoring himself, stopping himself from moving.

“I thought we were supposed to help each other out,” you say quietly, taking another step closer.

“Please,” he breathes, his voice nothing more than a small whine, and you exhale shakily. He’s a fucking mess, and you find yourself longing to take care of it, living off that hunger he’s trying so hard to hold back. You can see that, and that’s probably why you do it.

Your hand reaches out to lift his face towards yours, fingers trapping his chin in your gaze. He’s obviously struggling, whether to refrain from looking away or trying to hold the stare, you don’t know. And you know is the dark desperation in those eyes, and understanding passes between the two of you.

“I won’t be able to control myself,” Aonung whispers, head unconsciously leaning into your palm, looking so lost and helpless you just want to fuck it all away.

“I know.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says, chest heaving with the cracking efforts to control himself.

“I can take it,” you say quietly, gaze turning defiant. He should know that by now, you have an excellent threshold. Either way, you can’t imagine Aonung ever hurting you badly enough that you’d stay away anyway.

And then he cracks, his restraint crumbling, his grip holding himself back loosening, and he’s crashing his lips onto your with a vicious snarl.

With a small jolt, you remember you never kissed. It was an unspoken rule between the two of you; kissing seemed to intimate, and the arrangement had no room for intimacy. You always told yourself you didn’t have any time for it anyway.

But now, with Aonung tugging you closer with every second, kissing with such desperate fervour, it feels like he’s devouring you whole. His lips are hot and slightly chapped, rough and insatiable against yours, tongue slipping ruthlessly past your lips, fangs sinking lightly down on your warm, kissed skin. His hands are hungry too; roaming all over you with careless abandon, squeezing at the flesh of your ass, trailing between your thighs before infuriatingly pulling away to yank your top straight off your chest.

You let out a small hiss, whether you’re annoyed about the top or just shocked or just plain taken aback by his reckless thirst. The beads go scattering everywhere, the light, joyful plinks sounding completely inappropriate to Aonung’s heaving breaths, or the lewd, mortifying moan you let slip when he hefts you up into his lap and closes his lips around your breast.

You unconsciously arch backwards, pushing your chest forward, and he moves with careless hunger; licking over your tit gently, grinning a little at your whine, the stark contrast of your smooth supple skin against his rough tongue just driving you fucking crazy. He wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks sharply at it before he nips lightly at the underside of your tit.

And then, as though Aonung’s impatience gets the better of him (and you have to remind yourself that this is completely about him, and he wouldn’t be in the right mind to be processing your entire pleasure either), he’s pulling you away and tossing you against the floor.

You aren’t used to it. Sure, he’s been less than gentle before, but when he said he wouldn’t hold back, you admittedly had no idea what you were getting into. Seconds later he’s on top of you, pinning you down and sinking his fangs into your warm neck, inches away from the throb of your pulse.

Another symptom of heats and ruts; marking. It was another thing you’d been careful to avoid, so no one found out you were fucking, but Aonung’s animalistic instincts were obviously overpowering. And besides, it made you feel things you never would have imagined.=

At the first whine of his bite, Aonung knows you like it. So again and again he sinks his sharp fangs into your warm, soft flesh, along your neck, the underside of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the inside of your trembling thighs. Then, eyes looking carefully up at you to see your reaction, he lightly licks away the droplet of blood and brushes your clit with a large turquoise finger. You can't speak, just scrunch your nose tightly, grip onto his braids for dear life as he muscles his way in between your thighs and goes to fucking town.

Everything about him is just too much. His hands are holding you down with the force of an akula, as though he’s worried you’re going to scramble away from him, but you doubt you’d be able to anyway. He’s suckling at you so eagerly, tongue stroking over your hole, over and over and over.

You’re never really that worried about being too gentle with him either, but you’re finding yourself more free in his rut state, knowing his mind is too hazy to focus on any of the little details he’d usually taunt you for if you dared to do them. He doesn’t care that you’re rutting into his face with desperation to rival his, in fact, you can see his hips searching for any sort of friction with the floor.

“Aonung,” you try to say, but it comes out as more of a broken whine. You cough and try again. “Aonung!”

He doesn’t respond, the only indicator he even heard you was the slight twitch of his ears before he’s sliding a thick finger into you. Trying your best to beat off the lewd moans that spill out of you, you try your best to tug at his head to speak to him, cause there’s no fucking way he’s listening properly when his head is nestled in its favourite spot, squeezed tightly between your thighs.

“I’m supposed to be helping you,” you huff, growing frustrated with the effort to slow him down. “That’s sort of the whole po-”

You cut yourself off with a positive shriek when he’s flipping you over, letting you flop against his front before dragging you up his body so your cunt is hovering over his face, thighs once again straddling the sides of his head in a very different scenario.

“Better?” he grunts, sounding extremely irritated.

“Where did you learn this?” you ask, looking in shock at the insatiable man beneath you, growing suddenly familiar with this position when your gaze drops to where it naturally falls, at the very large tent in his tewng. Aonung just huffs, as though growing increasingly annoyed that you keep delaying him.

“Don’t worry about that,” he growls. “You want to help me, go ahead. Now can I finish you off or are you going to keep yapping like your life depends on it?”

You scoff, but before your next words can be spoken, he drops you down onto his face and sucks at your clit. Hard. You let out a shocked squeak, jolting on his face, but he doesn’t protest at all by your weight, and when you worry you might suffocate him and try to lift off, his arm is looping around your waist and forcing you back down before remembering what you’re meant to be doing.

You reach out to grab his length, and he lets out a soft huff of impatience against you, the vibration making you flutter. Quickly, before you can get distracted to the point you’re completely useless to help him, you lick a long stripe up his length before closing your lips and swirling your tongue around the tip.

Thankfully, he seems somewhat satiated, letting out a relieved groan against your throbbing clit, and you slowly bob your head up and down his length, curling your tongue on the underside, dragging warmly against his sensitive flesh. But unfortunately, you forgot to factor in the rut aspect.

Soon enough, he was thrusting mindless up into your mouth, hand reaching out to hold you there, force you to take it all down your throat. You oblige, tears leaking from your eyes, moans spilling around his length in your mouth from his relentless nipping and sucking and licking between your thighs.

It is, by far, the filthiest thing you’ve ever done. You almost feel ashamed of all of it – the lewd sounds you make, the mortifying wet sounds from Aonung between your legs, his strong abs rubbing against your naked tits as he ruthlessly thrusts up into your mouth – but you remind yourself that it’s all for a noble purpose. You’re helping him out, that’s all. That is all it ever is.

And when you inhale deeply and take him down your throat, all warm and wet and hot around him, Aonung finds his hand falling to sink into your long dark hair, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a soft, rumbly, “fuck”.

And when he hits the back of your throat and you accidentally moan around his length, his hips accidentally buck into your mouth despite all his best efforts to compose himself, despite your small hand holding him back against the rock. Instantly your eyes fill with tears and Aonung hurriedly pulls you off him with a gentle grip on your hair.

He seems larger than ever, pulsing and swollen and obscene, driven mad and inconsolable with the animalistic desire consuming him, and you know he’s probably completely deaf to you. He pays no mind to the small sobs you let out against his length, though he remains determinedly focused in his task of sucking your soul out of your cunt.

You can’t tell if your lightheadedness is caused by the lack of air from Aonung being stuffed so far down your throat you can imagine he’s prodding your heart, or the overwhelming pleasure from his far less than gentle treatment between your legs, or maybe even both.

It’s filthy. It’s obscene. It’s fucking humiliating really, that there is just something so deliciously wrong with this situation. Oh god, Tsireya probably knew Aonung was in rut, probably knew what would happen, what’s going on right now in this hidden hut in the forest. You can’t even bring yourself to care.

Aonung’s practically leaking into your mouth and you continue, trying helplessly to keep up with his insatiable paces, but you’re growing further from focus the longer he continues, the harder he sucks at you, the further he pushes himself into your throat.

It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s hot. It’s a warm mix of saliva and precum that’s shining over your lips and mingling with the tears flooding shamelessly down your cheeks.

And when you come undone, it’s with a moan that’s positively obscene. Aonung’s a mess of strangled groans and bucking hips and hands sinking into your hair as he hungrily crests. Your tongue slides along the veins and ridges of his cock.

There is something just so perfectly fucked about the scene, and when you come back down, tears and come and saliva smeared all over your face and collar and tits, Aonung is still hard, and when he pulls you back down to his face, you realise he has no intention of letting up anytime soon.

Your first orgasm has barely abated before you feel it building again. It’s humiliating really, all your sounds and the way Aonung can definitely feel you practically throbbing. It’s overwhelming to the point you think you might actually die, but there’s no physical possibility you could pull away, not with his arm looped strictly around your waist to hold you still.

It’s hot in the hut, or maybe it isn’t, but you feel as though there’s fucking fire coursing through your veins, heating your face and definitely between your thighs. It seems impossible how much you like this, it’s fucked and filthy as well, but there’s something about Aonung’s insatiable hunger and his plain, shameless desperation.

Your moans are growing hoarser at his absolutely relentless movements, warm, textured tongue and slicked mouth sealing around your overstimulated, throbbing clit as his hands move to squeeze the flesh of your waist and hips and ass. You’re writhing against him with enough force to break his nose, but he’s just groaning right back as though this is helping as much as anything in his frustrated rut.

It’s too much, and it feels as though you might actually pass out on this once. Humiliatingly, yet somehow shamelessly, you’re begging for more, for less, to stop, to keep going. It’s slowly slurring into a sobbing mess until finally all that comes out of your mouth are lewd, strangled cries. You think that somewhere amidst that strangled heap of moans that his name is repeated, over and over again, his body tensing under you with every time you whine it, followed by a demeaning flood of incoherent sobbing.

And then it crests.

Somewhere in the middle of your euphoric, delirious vision of blank, tranquil white and the peaceful ringing in your ears, it strikes you that it really is like a wave. Because when it breaks, you fucking flood.

Your muscles are tensed so tight you might pull something, and you couldn’t care less. You can’t feel anything anyway, beyond blow after blow of overwhelming, world-shattering pleasure, completely unaware of the way you squirted beyond his mouth, over his whole face and body, your intense release gleaming with the tahnì over his flushed skin.

You babble incoherently for a moment, eyes wide and drooping at the same time, mouth open in hopeless shock, hands searching to find purpose on his hips before Aonung is lifting you up, chucking you back against the floor and crawling onto your trembling body.

If you thought the regular Aonung, your Aonung, had gone before, you have no idea what’s happening now. There is no trace of that taunting, careful, jealous, gentle man in those large blue eyes. Hell, there’s not even any blue either, just a starved icy ring around the pools of ravenous onyx gazing at you, filled with raw thirst.

There’s no sign of Aonung in any of his movements, not with the way he’s tugging you into him like you’re a fucking ragdoll, not with the heaviness of his breath, the way he claps you against him so he can sink his fangs into your shoulder as he pushes past the ring of resistance and slides into your tight, welcoming heat.

Your cry is strangled by the dryness of your throat, feeling yourself being stretched to a point you don’t think he ever even met before. It’s painful, but you find yourself not wanting anything more than being able to take him, to be able to bring him pleasure, to let him into his paradise between your legs.

This now is a brutal reminder of why you’re here, who all of this is about. Aonung radiates complete careless selfishness as he pushes deep into you, until you physically can’t take him anymore, until you’re sobbing against his shining chest, gripping his arms so tight his flesh is starting to bruise, before he pulls out and slams back in. Fuck.

You don’t know shit, where you are, what way’s up, even if you’re fucking na’vi or tawtute, because the stretch of his relentless length feels as though he’s absolutely ridiculously massive compared to you. All you can do is cling to his tense, growling figure, praying to Eywa that this is satiating him, your own body limp in his iron grip.

Your lolling head allows him perfect placement to your neck and shoulders and chest, where he litters you with hungry nips, warm, wet, textured tongue licking away the blood his fangs spilt. Your own hands can’t do much either, but when your nails dig into his back, he lets out a low, snarling groan against your skin, and you can’t help raking you hands up and down, tracing your mark into the rippling muscles under your fingers.

And when you think you might actually pass away, where the pleasure has peaked so high it might as well be in the fucking heaven tawtute talk about, Aonung pulls out to the tip, fingers lacing back to tug your kuru, neck completely exposed and throat tight with the stretch, and gaze trapped helplessly in his.

“You’re mine,” he snarls, face inches from yours, large eyes deluged in sharp ferocity. “Mine, forest girl.”

And you find you can’t do anything but whine weakly against him. You can hardly breathe in this position, feeling impossibly empty without him stuffed deep in you, yet still being stretched wide by him. His gaze is raking fiercely over your tear-streaked, flushed face, before he buries himself deep inside you once more and completely loses himself.

And you do lose yourself. You just blank out, knowing nothing but his weight against you, his lewd growls in your heart, feeling strangely safe and comfortable. And content.

When you come back, whether seconds or minutes or hours or maybe even days have passed, you don’t know. All you know is you’re slumped against the floor, and you’re no longer drenched in shining sweat, no longer glimmering with release over your skin. The bites scattering your body are throbbing with a warm sting, no longer bleeding, now ruby adornments to your skin.

There is nothing more distressing than the realisation that hits you next; that you’re alone.

With a flare of panic that makes all of you throb painfully, you creak up to a small, seated position. It stings more than the bites, than the stretch and the intensity of your releases. Aonung must have left you, used and littered, a helpful toy during his rut. The wound deepens when you remember that’s all he would have thought it was.

He had no idea - let alone his mind being in its animalistic, desirous state - simply believing you were here to aid him in his struggles.

But then something catches your eye, a dark, muscular pile in the corner of the hut. With terrified tentativity, you pad lightly over to Aonung’s slumped form, back turned to you, face buried in his lap. You can see the marks you raked into his back as you move closer, but you don’t dare to touch him.

“Aonung?” you whisper nervously. He doesn’t respond for a moment, and the tension curling inside you throbs painfully again. He doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t look at you. “Are you…”

“You should go,” he says tightly. His voice sounds strained, painful, but his words sting further than any ache he could be possibly feeling. You still, hands half reached towards him, face twisted in a helpless expression of hurt, trying your best to breathe. You have no idea why you feel so vulnerable right now, why he suddenly has the power to break everything within you, everything you know, and why he’s already halfway there.

“What?” you whisper, and despite all your best efforts, your small, trembling voice expresses all the ache and horror and heartache you tried to hide. Aonung’s muscles tense a little at the so painfully obvious brokenness of your voice, and you would give anything to see what his face looks like right now, as he ruins you.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

That’s all. No name. No explanation. Just two meaningless words tossed carelessly your way, like some twisted reparation for all the damage his last three words did. You bite your lip, feeling your eyes welling with tears.

WHY WERE YOU SO FUCKING STUPID. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU RIGHT NOW.

This is Aonung, the man you hated since the moment you landed in Awa’atlu, the same one just a week before you had practically at your fucking feet. The one you swore you’d never feel this way about. But now here you are, already breaking at his carelessness.

WHY ARE YOU SO WEAK.

The tears stinging your eyes disgust you. Since childhood you had never cried. Not when protecting your siblings, not when getting shot by demons, not when leaving your clan and birthright and all you had ever known. And now you are about to cry over a fucking man, one that you tried so impossibly hard not to care for.

FUCK HIM.

“Fuck you.”

The words are out, they are spoken. Not with quite the ferocity you meant to snarl them with, but the brokenness of your voice had a certain effect too. Aonung tenses, but that just sparks the usual fire inside you. He had no fucking right to be upset right now.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice steadily emotionless, and that fire blazes brighter.

“Don’t be,” you glare. “I mean, the perfect prince of the clan does no wrong, right?”

“I’m sor-”

“Stop!” you shout, rage boiling inside of you. “Stop fucking saying that Aonung. I mean, this was the arrangement, right? Careless sex, no strings, no attachment, no concern, fucking NOTHING.”

Aonung’s shoulders slump slightly, and once again, your annoyance flares that he still won’t face you.

“So what was all that shit about your mine if you’re just going to kick me out now,” you say rawly. “Was it just your rut? Are you just a weirdly jealous fucking man, getting mad when people touch shit that isn’t actually yours? Why are you so fucking angry-”

“Look at yourself!” Aonung explodes.

It takes you a moment to realise that he’s suddenly standing, towering over you, fists balled and whole body tense, face twisted in rage and disgust. With himself.

You can’t think of anything to say for a moment, tense, furious silence falling in the dangerously small space between the two of you.

“I mean, you’re hurt,” he says, eyes raking over your body. The bites are glowing against the dark, rich blue like sanguine crescents. Your skin looks raw and flushed still, and you realise that he must have wiped everything off you. “You’re ruined.”

“Aonung I-”

“And I did that to you,” Aonung sighs, face twisting in slight distress as his eyes fall over the bites and grips and few bruises he left over you. You let out the breath you’d been holding.

Aonung’s gaze flicks up to yours, emotionless and blank as you stare back at him. There’s terror in his eyes, which are slowly returning to their usual blue, pupils shrinking away as the animalism of his rut starts to pass. He’s worried, maybe you’ll slap him, or shout at him again. But your hand comes to rest gently on his face, thumb brushing lightly over his flushed cheek.

“I told you Aonung, I can take it.”

Aonung squeezes his eyes shut, face screwed up in overwhelming emotion. But his head unconsciously leans into your hand, and you smile slightly.

“But I hurt you,” he whispers, sounding disgusted with himself.

“You’ll have to try harder than that skxawng,” you smile weakly, and Aonung lets out a shaky laugh. “But I was more than happy to do what it took to help you.”

“Eywa,” he groans, his own hand coming up to brush your hair from your face. “I’m so sor-”

“Stop apologising skxawng,” you frown. “Or I’m actually going to leave.”

Instantly, Aonung’s hand closes around your own, his fingers lacing through yours and tugging you back, so you’re inches away from him, neck tipped back to look at him. There’s that usual grin playing around his face; although his face remains blank, you can see the smirk glittering in those eyes.

“Go on princess,” he whispers. “What were you saying, before I so rudely interrupted you?”

“That you’re a complete idiot,” you grumble, but you don’t let go of him. You don’t want to ever let go of him. “What did you mean before, about me being-”

“Mine,” Aonung finishes. “You’re mine.”

And you feel a small smile twitching at the corner of your lips.

“Alright,” you smile, blinking up at him.

“Alright?” he echoes, as though that wasn’t at all the answer he was expecting, what he dared to hope for.

“Yep. I’m yours, fishlips.”

There’s a brief moment where he’s silent, eyes wide and staring blankly at you. He blinks several times, lips parting, before he’s stepping in and wrapping his arms tight over you, pillowing your body in his own. After a moment, you lean in even closer and snake your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I still think you’re a skxawng,” you mumble against his skin, and his laugh rumbles warm and comforting against you.

“Of course syulang,” Aonung grins, squeezing your waist lightly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stay in that embrace for a moment, before he realises just how tired you are, and then he’s instantly fussing about you, making sure you’re alright, that you don’t need anything, before he’s making you rest against him, cuddled warmly and comfortably on the floor.

His hand is resting lightly over you, lightly tracing your darker patterns or gently playing with your hair as you drift comfortably off, head resting comfortably against his solid chest. You can feel his warm heartbeat against your cheek, steady and reassuring.

When you wake up, he’ll be waiting to be able to hold you tighter without being scared of waking you up, having already gone out and hunted while you were sleeping. He’ll take you gently back to the village where you both deny any of the suspicious comments your friends and family shoot you, but no one believes you; the hopeless grins on your faces and the sly grins you send each other aren’t all that sneaky.

But for now, you’re warm and comfortable and happy in your fucked out, satisfied state, snuggled against the man you once hated so fiercely.

As far as it goes, you came out alright on this one.

Quite the victory it was.

Your tìyora.

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

༊ Taglist: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul - Thank you for being here and enjoying this story 💗 Also tagging @pandoraslxna @pandorxxx @hotdsworld @tojisun @xylianasblog @aperiraa @blue-slxt @theblueflower05 and @vivid-ink bc you are all my biggest inspirations and thank you for being such a big part of the avatar fandom 😘 Okay let me know if i forgot someone hope you pookie pies enjoyed 🙃

#avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #aonung x reader #avatar the way of water #aonung x female reader #avatar smut #aonung fic #avatar #aonung fanfiction #aonung #aonung x sully!reader #enemies to lovers #enemies with benefits

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lesinquietes · 5 months

Text

Summary: With Dynamight’s help, you solved the crime. He isn’t quite finished with you yet, though.

Adult!Bakugou x Forensic Detective!Reader

⚠️ fluff. suggestive themes.

I Previous l Next l

You close the manila folder on your desk and lean back in your chair. A breathy, content sigh leaves your lips. The case has been solved. The evidence has been retained. All that’s left is to file the associated documents. Then, you can head home for the evening. Another job well done.

You gaze out at the cityscape. The sunset sprays beams of brilliant yellow and orange towards your office building, reflecting off the large glass windows. The streets are busy with people and cars. Soon, you’ll join the bustle, conforming for the sake of commuting home.

Sometimes, when you sit here like this, you consider how small everyone is compared to the rest of the universe. Most actions that seem supermassive are actually minuscule and insignificant. In the grand scheme of things, you wonder if the job you’re doing makes a difference. Maybe not wide scale, but arguably, Japan could stand to be safer. Heroes do a lot of the rounding up these days, but you think local detective work is still important.

“Hey.”

You perk up. Speak of the devil.

You glance away from the view to greet Katsuki Bakugou, the hero who spent his time protecting you throughout your most recent case. He’s leaning against the door, arms folded arrogantly over his chest. At once, a smile graces your mouth. As soon as you submitted your conclusion about the primary suspect — with enough evidence, to boot — the Captain of your force implored Bakugou to make an arrest. Of course, the rowdy blonde didn’t capture the villain without beating him to a bloody pulp first. Normally, you wouldn’t condone such behaviour; however, given that the murderer targeted random women every time he killed, you can turn a blind eye. Men like that don’t deserve mercy.

You adjust your position so that you’re sitting upright. You know he doesn’t care; you’re not sure why you do. When you’re satisfied, you raise your fists in the air and reply.

“We did it!”

The exhaustion woven into your words isn’t missed. Since gathering that first sample at the initial crime scene, you haven’t stopped working. He admires your drive to do what’s right.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Plenty more where that came from, though.”

“True.” You acknowledge, climbing to your feet. “But that’s one down.”

And Katsuki can’t argue with that. In fact, Katsuki finds he can seldom argue with you. It’s not that you’re always right; he thinks it’s because he likes listening to the sound of your voice. It’s unique. It’s calming. It’s something about you that he’s grown excessively fond of.

At last, he enters your office, like a moth drawn to fire. He’s still dressed in his hero garb. You notice there aren’t any scuffs on his pristine skin, indicating that his battle was rather one-sided. This is the first time you’re seeing him after the arrest. Everyone knows he doesn’t talk to the News team unless he has to; reporting to the public falls on the officers assisting his cases.

“You alright?” He asks, watching from a short distance as you gather your belongings.

“Definitely.” You verify. “You?”

“Whatever.”

That’s a yes. He doesn’t like to be upfront with his feelings. You’re beginning to understand his cues, though. It’s a shame this is the end of your time together; you would have liked to continue figuring him out. Perhaps another high-profile case will pop up and he’ll be assigned to you again. You can’t lie — you’re hoping for that to happen a little harder than you should be.

You throw on your windbreaker and take your knapsack in your hand. He hasn’t moved an inch from the front of your desk. It’s as if he’s been glued in place. The only part of him that’s visibly moving are his deep crimson eyes. He’s fixated on you. But unlike when you caught him at the crime scene, he won’t glance away this time.

“Dynamight, thank you so much for your work today.” You beam at him. “Without you, I—“

“Told’j’ya before, princess, it’s Katsuki.” He scoffs. “F’r fuck’s sake, talk t’ me like a normal person.”

You feel the heat spread across your cheeks. You’re praying he doesn’t notice your change in expression, but who are you kidding? Although the man acts like he’s emotionally unavailable, he picks up on more than you think. You flounder with your response.

“It’s just, we don’t really know each other like that, so I didn’t want to—“

“‘Course we do.” He lifts a critical brow. “You’re comin’ t’ dinner with me now that this shit’s over with, right?”

Mentally, your jaw is unscrewed and on the floor. Is this reality? The Dynamight — the rudest, most impressive motherfucker you’ve ever had the pleasure of working with — is asking you on a date. All this time, you thought his flirting was a game, while deeply regretting that you hadn’t made a move before your time with him was up. Discovering that your crush is mutual reinvigorates you. Before you fuck this up, you muster a reply.

“Uh… yes!” You giggle. “Of course I will!”

You don’t know how you manage to keep a steady tone. The only thing you can’t control is your face. Fortunately, he thinks it’s hella cute. Without considering who might be watching, he strokes your cheek with his thumb to coax back your attention. He nearly melts when you shyly meet his gaze, such a small, innocent smile gracing your lips. He knows it’s too soon to kiss you. He wishes it wasn’t. Instead, he offers you his arm. Your hand feels warm against his bare bicep.

He grabs your knapsack from you — a gentleman’s gesture that’s a little rough around the edges. Thankfully, the execution doesn’t bother you; it’s the thought that counts. Katsuki thinks that might be what attracted him to you. The way you conceptualize him is different. Last week, a woman scolded him for his use of language, even though he saved her purse from being stolen. Shouldn’t it be his actions that matter? Some days, he feels like he’s back in his teenage years, dealing with Best Jeanist’s strict teachings again. People need to learn not to judge a book by its cover.

He guides you out of your office with his hand secured to your lower back. You don’t miss the stares and whispers of your colleagues. You’ll have a lot to explain tomorrow morning.

“You like Indian food?” He inquires lowly, warm breath ghosting over your face.

“Sure.”

If you make it in.

#minors dni #katsuki bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #fem reader #adult bakugou #bakugou x forensic detective #afab reader #soft bakugou

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after-witch · 10 months

Text

Comin' In Hot! [Yandere Phinks x Reader]

Title: Comin' In Hot! [Yandere Phinks x Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes, when you've been kidnapped by a lovesick member of an infamous murderous Troupe, all you can do is order your comfort food and hope for the best.

Word Count: 700ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of emotional and physical abuse

You wanted to watch a women’s-night-out comedy.

“Babe.”

Phinks wanted to watch an action flick.

“Babe.”

The movie playing on the TV now, as you both eat your takeout dinner, is a buddy comedy, which is a little bit of both, and a good enough compromise that you’re not in a sour mood. You’ve got to appreciate when he’s willing to compromise, even if it’s only for little things.

“Babe.”

You blink, and look up, a spoonful of rice and curry on its way to your lips.

“What?”

You slowly bring the spoon to your mouth, savoring the rich spice and the hint of lime brightness at the end. A great little citrus kick, thanks to the lime slice that the restaurant tucked into the carryout box.

“Are you… doing okay?”

Your eyebrows furrow. Are you doing something wrong? It’s happened before--you doing or saying something that pissed him off or worried him without you realizing. But you can’t think of anything that you might be doing now, simply sitting next to him in the living room, eating a meal off a TV tray set before you.

He huffs. And looks away. And finally juts his chin towards you, mumbling out something in a tone that passes for caring, when it comes to Phinks.

“You’re crying.”

Oh.

Well. You are crying, yes, that’s certainly true. A tear slides down your cheek and there’s a familiar blurriness to your vision, but without the heaviness in your chest that usually accompanies a hearty self-pitying sob session.

That’s because the tears are instinctual here. Biological. It’s what happens when you get extra spicy food. Extra ultra mega delicious spicy food, which burns your taste buds and sends endorphins rushing through you like very little else does nowadays.

Yes, it hurts, but it’s goddamned tasty.

You sniffle through your nose, and wipe at your eyes with your forearm, careful to keep the spoon and its spice-laden curry remnants away from your delicate membranes.

“It’s fine,” you say, smiling, before digging your spoon back into the curry container. “It’s just because it’s really spicy.” Even talking hurts a little, and you lick a piece of stray rice from behind your teeth, which sends the spicy sensations tingling onto the tip of your tongue.

Phinks regards you with an incredulous expression. His eyebrows raise. "Maybe it's too hot for you. You can eat mine instead."

You shake your head, and quickly scoop up another bite, savoring the flavors and mm-ing for emphasis on just how enjoyable you find your lavalicious meal.

And yeah, your lips are a little swollen, your vision is blurry, and you’re sure you’ll have some heartburn tonight and asking Phinks for heartburn medicine will greatly depend on whether or not you want spicy food again anytime soon.

And sure, sure, sure. You’re sitting in the living room of some abandoned house (if you can call “you have good reason to believe Phinks simply killed the previous occupant and took it for himself” abandoned) held captive by a member of the Phantom Troupe.

But you’re watching a movie that is pretty close to what you wanted, and he let you order your favorite foods and for once didn’t wring his hands and complain when you asked him to order it Extra Hot.

"I like it like this, Phinks," you tell him, pouting just a little. Not enough for him to find it rude. But enough for it to be cute--you hope.

He's been kind to you today. And there's a streak going, apparently, because after you give your explanation, he lets his wary expression fade away until he slowly turns back to the movie, taking bites of his own (much milder) dinner.

”If you say so,” is his mumbled reply. You can tell he’s still a little worried, still a little bothered. But not enough to stop you. Probably because you’re being so complacent. Watching a movie with him. Eating dinner with him. Smiling at him.

You smile at him again, thin-lipped, but still a smile. It’s better to smile and force yourself to enjoy the normalcy of this completely-not-normal moment. It makes him less volatile. It makes him less likely, in the end, to grip your arm so hard you’re worried that it might snap or yell in your face that he’s just trying-to-be-a-good-boyfriend-goddamn-it-why-can’t-you-see-that.

But now? With your mouth burning and a movie playing… you can pretend.

Watching movies that you don’t totally hate helps you do that.

Eating your favorite meals helps you do that.

And if you stop yourself before you finish the container, you can do the same thing tomorrow with the leftovers.

#yandere phinks #yandere phinks magcub #yandere hunter x hunter #afterwitch writes #yandere #just something short I wrote this morning do be do

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jasmines-library · 6 months

Text

The Basement

WHUMPTOBER DAY 18. Prompt: Tortured for information Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: You are captured alongside your brother Sam by the BMOL. They want something you won't tell them, so they try to force it out of you.

Warnings: Torture, drugging, hallucination, violence, guns, death? kinda.

Word Count: 2.4k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

“Toni Bevell. London chapter house.”

Sam’s voice faded in and out as you regained consciousness. You felt sick, your stomach churned and bile settled in the back of your throat. Everything felt out of balance and you knew that whatever they had drugged you with had hit you hard; they had caught you with it in the side of your neck when they ambushed the bunker. You could feel the bruise lingering on your neck. Vision blurring, you craned your head to try and take in your surroundings. The room was pitiful; bare save a few shelves that had been thrown together. It was clearly a basement of some sort because the windows were high and let in very little light.

Sam sat across from you tied to a chair barefoot and dishevelled. It was then that you suddenly remembered the muffled gunfire. They had shot Sam. You could see where the blood had bloomed on his clothes, though the darkness of it told you that it had stopped bleeding.

“It’s nice of you to join us, Y/N.” The blond woman said when you let out a groan. “I thought for a moment there you were going to miss out on all the fun.”

“Where are we?” You asked groggily, moving to rub the sleep from your eyes, but it was a pointless gesture.

The woman looked up from where she was screwing on her notepad. Her handwriting was uniform like the suit she was wearing. “It doesn’t matter.”

“She’s just wondering how far we’re gonna have to walk back to town after we kill you.” Sam said before nodding towards the other darker haired woman who stood like a puppet next to Toni. “And her. But you first.”

Toni let out a huff you could only describe as some sort of laugh. “Yes. Well, before you murder us all we do have a few questions about you two. Your brother, other hunters in America. Oh, and how you saved the sun.”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “Right, you shoot me. Drug my sister, kidnap us both, but sure. Happy to help.”

“We didn’t want to hurt you, Sam. You gave us no choice. And I could say that it was never supposed to go this way, but, you’re Winchesters. It was always going to go this way.”

“And you know us?” You raised your brows.

“We do. We’ve been watching you and your brothers for years. Ever since you almost ended the world the first time. We knew all about Lucifer and the angels falling-”

“Then where were you?” You spat. “People died. Innocent people.”

She pursed her lips and tapped her pen between her fingers. “Fair question. See, some of us wanted to get involved, but the old men wouldn’t allow it. Thought we were overstepping our bounds. After all, this business with the darkness even they have to agree that things have to change.” Her accent was thick as she spoke with clear dictation. The words rolled off of her tongue. “Whilst you might not believe this, we’re here to help.”

You directed your attention towards the other woman who still stood with her arms folded behind her back. “Yeah. I can tell.”

Sam rearranged himself in his chair, trying to find a weak spot in the metal cuffs that were padlocked around his feet. “I won’t apologise for locking you up. You're dangerous to others. And yourself. But if you answer my questions, I promise you’ll walk right out that door.”

She gestured to it with a flick of her pen. The woman looked far too happy there.

Sam pondered for a moment, surveying you from across the room. He knew that what he was about to do would have consequences for you too, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of being right.

“Pass.”

“Sam-”

“You can ask us any kind of question you like, but the answer is always going to be the same. Screw. You.” He told her. Sam was surprisingly calm, given the situation. “And if you wanna get mad, you wanna get mean? I’ve been tortured by the devil himself, so you are just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?”

Toni nodded humbly, though the hint of a menacing smirk crept into the corners of her lips. “To you? Maybe not a lot. But to her? Lets see how long she can hold out, hm?”

She capped her pen, placing it on the table next to her gesturing to the other woman. The tap squealed as she twisted it all the way to the right. Icy water cascaded down over you. You spat it from your mouth, tipping your head back to stop it going spilling onto your face, but it just pooled on your lap and spat back at you anyway.

“A cold shower? That’s your play?”

You shrugged it off, but after some time the cold began to sink into your bones and it was impossible to disguise your shivering. Sam tugged against the restraint, but Toni and the other woman just waited you out.

“Screw you.”

After some time, the water finally trickled to a halt and you were left there shivering uncomfortably in the clothes that clung to your body. Sam wanted to shy away as he watched your body try to fight the cold, but he opted to stand his ground and keep up a false front for both your sake and Toni’s. The woman still watched you with piercing eyes.

“I know you two were always a lost cause, but I'm hoping that there are other hunters that we can work with. Teach.”

The two of you glared at her as she moved towards Sam, much too close to his face for his liking. “So, I need you to give me names, locations and everything else. Meeting places, an organisational hierarchy because maybe with all of us working together we could do what you never could. Make America safe.”

“So, maybe you’ll tie them to a chair.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you’ll do something worse. Maybe you can go to hell.”

Toni recoiled at the statement, humming. “Fine. Have it your way.” She turned, retreating up the stairs and leaving you with the dark haired woman.

Then came the humming of the blowtorch.

Closing your eyes, you tried to collect yourself and prepare for the pain as the woman stalked forwards. Sam protested in his chair, rattling the chains.

The woman eased herself down next to you and lowered the blowtorch. You could feel the sweltering heat against your bare feet.

“Are you really going to make me do this?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at your brother. It was a mistake because you could see the pure guilty hopelessness in his eyes.

“Screw you.”

She shrugged, before bringing the flame to the side of your foot. You tried to inch your feet away, but they were held securely by the shackles. You screamed in misery as the flames hacked away at your skin, causing it to blister and morph into an angry shade of red. Sam flinched at your blood curdling scream and arched your back, trying to create as much distance from the weapon, as he was haunted by the memories of his time in the cage. As the woman moved the flame closer and began to move it further up your shin, you continued to cry out. Your pained expression would forever be burned in the front of his vision.

Eventually the woman let up and disappeared behind you up the old stairs. It was when your screams turned into whimpers and then nothing at all. There were nasty burns littering the lower half of your body and every twitch of your muscle sent pain spiralling throughout your body. Your eyes drooped as you finally allowed your body to go slack into the back of the chair.

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay, Sammy,” You mumbled.

“Oh Y/N/N… I'm so sorry.”

“S’ not your fault.”

“I’m going to get you out of here, kiddo. I promise.” He began to try and find a way out of the binds. Now that both women were gone he could take a closer look at them.

At some point, you must have passed out because when you awoke you were lying on the concrete, but your head was resting on something warm. Beginning to push yourself up you forgot completely about the burns on your foot. You took a sharp inhale, fighting against the stabbing pain that radiated throughout your body.

“Hey, take it easy.” Sam said. It was then you figured that it was his lap that your head resided on. He helped sit you up, mindful of the burns. Sometime during your daze, they had been bandaged up.

When you sat upright, your vision doubled, and after rubbing you raw wrists, you reached up to touch your neck gingerly. It was still tender from the first shot they had given you, though you could feel another small bump where they had clearly dosed you with something else.

“S’mmy?” You muttered.

He nodded. “They got me too. I don’t know what it is, but they’re watching us.” He looked up to draw your attention subtly to the camera that they had strung up.

“Do you think it has sound?”

“No.”

“good.”

You were silent for a moment as you thought. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure.” Sam frowned. “I didn’t see the other one return once you passed out. I kinda freaked. Then they got you before they knocked me out too. I wasn’t awake much before you.”

You scanned the room and your eyes fell on the entrance hatch. You tilted your head at it and raised your eyebrows suggestively. Your brother rose to his feet and pushed up against the wooden frame. It shifted, but not enough for it too was tied together by chains which rattled with the motion. He went to try again, but was shut down by an ear splitting ringing. He groaned, covering his ears with his hands before slumping against the wall and breathing heavily.

“Sam?” You hauled yourself forwards, uncaring about the pain in your foot. You had hardly made it anywhere though by the time you were met with the same fate. You fell to your knees as the sound cut through you.

Faces began to dance in your vision. People you knew. People you didn’t save in time. People you loved.

“No…”

“Y/N?”

“Y/N.”

Dean was calling to you from the other side of the library, You had begun to doze off, head drooping over the lore book you had been studying.

“Hm? Sorry.”

Dean chuckled. The sound was light and reverberated in his chest. “Why don’t you finish up for the night, sweetheart? It’s late. We can catch up in the morning.”

You yawned, bookmarking the page before closing the book and sliding out from underneath the table. You had been working tirelessly all day, and the sun had long set. But you didn’t want to stop, you had to find the answers to stop the guilt gnawing away in your stomach.

Dean followed closely as you began to retreat back down the hallways. He took the last swig of his beer before tossing it in the trash as he walked past.

“It’s your fault. You know.” He said nonchalantly when you were about halfway to your room.

You stopped abruptly. “What?”

“You heard me. It’s your fault that they’re dead. If you had gotten the lore right in the first place then that family would still be breathing.”

Turning you recoiled at the sight of your brother. His eyes were an endless black as he stalked toward you. You stumbled backwards, until you hit the wall. And that was when something strange happened. As your back made concrete with the tiles, something flashed in your vision. A dark room lit only by the streams of light that had managed to force themselves through the cracks of the hatch.

It was a strange feeling as your vision flicked between the two scenes. It was like you were seeing between two lenses. That was until you saw Sam passed out on the concrete, surrounded by a puddle of his own blood, that blond woman was hunched over him and you forced your mind towards him.

When you gained some grip on reality, you surged forwards, landing a harsh blow to Toni’s temple. She grunted, keeling to the side only to be picked up harshly and pinned to the wall by Sam, who showed her the deep gash on his palm.

“Perhaps you’re not as good at your job as you thought.”

Toni spluttered and slumped to the floor.

Sam was quick to secure an arm around your waist and help you hobble to the stairs. You had hardly made it to the third one when tased the back of Sam's leg, causing him to drop. She ran past and slipped out of the door, locking it behind her.

“No!” Sam yelled through gritted teeth, ramming his fists against the wood.

By the time Dean arrived, you had lost three fingernails and some of the skin on your left pinky. His failed attempt at a rescue had only ended up with another Winchester locked up within the clutches of the British Men of Letters. You were about to lose another nail when the sound of a gun cocking caused everyone’s attention to snap towards the woman wielding it.

“Mom…?”

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. He seemed to have missed one tiny detail out from his time away from you.

She pressed forwards, snagging the keys from the table and ordering the woman to drop to the ground. When Toni failed to do so, she delivered a harsh blow with the butt of her gun. But Toni was smart, quick and well trained. She landed multiple punches to the four of your before Mary managed to get the upper hand. Dean scrabbled to untie the chains which hung above his head with the keys she had slipped him, it took him a moment, but once he did, he made quick work of dealing with the British Woman of Letters.

After releasing you from the restraints, Sam wrapped his arm around your waist again to relieve you of the pressure from the burns. Exhaustively, you leaned heavily against him, so Dean came to your other side to help move you towards the car. You had never been more grateful to see the sleek impala as you slid into the backseat, as the car sped away from the house. Your stomach churned. Toni Bevell was not dead. But oh boy did she have it coming.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 17 ⛤ DAY 19 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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annymation · 4 months

Text

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 5- When Blue Turns Green

Chapter 4

(This one has more of my commentaries than most because I was feeling chatty today, let me know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing)

“…Yes… I do have a wish”

Magnifico holds in a laugh, just a bit longer, gotta hold in the act just a bit longer.

Magnifico walks towards her slowly with that same gentle smile he had at the wish ceremony “I knew you had it in you, just needed a lil push, right?” the king extends his hands in front of her, the same way he always does when getting people’s wishes “May I?”

He asks, as if Asha had a choice.

Asha stares at his hands… It’s not like she can actually grant this wish she’s thinking about right now, so she might as well let the king do it for her.

(… Oh you’re waiting for me to say what’s the wish she’s thinking of? Lol this is the chapter opening, read more if you wanna know)

Asha closes her eyes.

Takes a deep breath.

She thinks about her wish.

And…

She forgets.

Magnifico is holding her wish.

Asha thought that after giving up her wish she’d feel a great sense of relief, like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. That’s at least what everyone in Rosas says it feels like…

She feels lied to, because there’s no sense of relief to be found at all.

She feels like she just forgot something really important, it’s not her interest in drawing though, it’s something else, but she can’t for the life of her remember what… She feels like part of her is missing.

While Asha is going through all that emotional turmoil, the villains are looking at her wish as if it’s the most adorable thing in the world.

“Now, was that so hard? All you had to do was think about it and *snaps his fingers* there’s your wish” He says while making the wish bubble levitate slightly above his hand

“Oh and what a beautiful wish it is, it really does suit you well, Asha” the queen complemented in a honeyed voice

“Th-thank you?” Asha doesn’t really know how to react to the complement, of course it suits her, it’s literally the most essential part of her…

Oh god, did I actually just give that to them?

“Could I… maybe take a look at it?” She says meekly raising her hand to reach out for the wish.

Magnifico swiftly moves the wish away from her and holds it above his head, like a bully keeping a toy away from a smaller kid.

“Ah ah ah noooooo peeking~” he singsongs in a mocking reprehending tone “You know the rules Asha, you’ll remember your wish only after I grant it for you” he explains like he’s talking to a toddler.

“I… I know but… Why’s that even a rule again?”

“Oooh you and your questions haha” he laughs while pinching her cheek and shaking her head “It’s more fun that way, sillyhead! So you’re surprised when it does come true!”

(I wanna murder this man I’m writing, I might actually just give Aster a gun idk)

Asha notices how the king is acting more… Mean than before, like yeah he has been kinda pushy and overly touchy with her, and disrespected her father’s beliefs earlier. But other than that he was being nice overall…

Now it just seems like he’s making fun of her and treating her like a child.

That’s because he has no reason to keep the mask on, he got what he wanted so why keep pretending he respects her at all, right?

Asha rubs her cheek that now feels sore because of the king’s grip, she was already feeling small in their presence before but now she feels like she’s the size of an insect.

“Patience is a virtue, my doll” the queen states serenely.

Magnifico glances at his wife with a little “Oh I see what you did there” smirk, referring to how she just called Asha a doll, get it? Cause he just turned her into a doll minutes ago with an illusion.

“Tell you what Asha, I was going to grant all of today’s wishes next week, buuuut because I like you soooooo much I shall grant them all… TONIGHT! So you’ll remember it by morning, how about that?” He exclaimed with his usual over the top energy.

In case y’all need a refresher, in my rewrite wishes are granted at night, while everyone sleeps, so when they wake up they can already tell their wish was granted.

Asha is feeling really lost, she doesn’t know what to say or what to do “Yeah that… that sounds great, can’t wait” she forces a clearly fake smile

“Oh I’m sure you can’t my dear, so how about you just take your leave now and go to sleep humm? The sooner you do the faster tomorrow will arrive!” The king says as he guides her to the exit of the treasure room

Asha’s eyes widened in confusion “Wh-what? But didn’t you say dinner was in an hour?”

The king had to hold in a laugh once again. The girl actually believed she’d be allowed to sit with them? How pathetically naive.

“I know Asha, but I just can’t help but notice how tired you are.” He says giving her a fake expression of pity

“Yes little one, you almost fell on the floor a minute ago had I not caught you” The queen adds “Clearly you need sleep, today was a big day for you, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not tired really I just-“

“I said” the king interrupts, his voice stern this time, as he makes direct eye contact with Asha and his blue eyes turn green for a second “You are tired, you should go home, now.”

Asha is frozen in place as she nods slowly “Okay.”

(If you’re wondering why he didn’t use this mild hypnotic ability earlier when they were trying to convince her to give her wish, it's simply because it had to be her choice to give it away, otherwise the magic doesn't work)

The king’s expression relaxes “That’s better…WELP!” He snaps his fingers and starts talking really fast “There! Now all the doors that lead to the exit are open! Thank you for coming sweetheart! Nighty night now! Sweet dreams! Buh-byeeeee!”

B L A M

The door slams on her face

Asha’s now outside the treasure room all alone

About 5 seconds pass

The door opens again

“Don’t forget your goat.”

Magnifico’s is holding a very happy Valentino by the colar of his little goat sweater

He drops Valentino on Asha’s arms and-

B L A M

The door closes again.

…

“Good night…”

She says quietly and starts walking down the stairs, making her way back to the exit.

As she walks we cut back to the couple real quick.

Magnifico has his ear glued to the door trying to hear Asha’s footsteps getting farther away. He has mischievous smile on his face.

Amaya is just standing there watching him do so, smiling just as wickedly as her husband.

“Is she gone yet?”

“Shh shhh wait” he signals to her with a finger on his lips

He no longer hear her steps, she’s far away enough.

Magnifico cannot hold it in anymore and starts letting out a wheezed laugh…That grows into a cackle… And then evolves into an outright deranged fit of uncontrollable laughter as he’s leaning on the door hugging his sides.

Amable is laughing along with him, letting a dark chuckle that grows into a maniacal giggling.

Their voices echo through the dark room.

(… I need you guys to understand these two are losing their minds because they successfully manipulated an 18 year old… Because they’re petty she raised her voice to them in public… These people are in their 50s… What I’m saying is the straights are not okay)

So we cut back to Asha who’s getting near the entrance of the castle, and just like how the king said, the door is open.

Her expression is a mix of lost, sadness, but most of all defeat.

Even though she understands she’ll get this wish granted tomorrow, it was still something that was taken away from her

She doesn’t feel like she’s whole anymore.

“Is this what people travel days on end to experience here in Rosas? Give away part of themselves… So they can have it be made a reality by someone they don’t even know?”

She hugs Valentino tightly, and he realizes something is wrong, so he begins licking Asha’s cheek.

She smiles a little bit with that “Thanks Val. I’ll be okay.”

She puts him on the floor to take some deep breaths before she leaves

She starts talking to Valentino (more so to herself, really)

“I mean, maybe I’m just being dramatic, like they said, I’ll get my wish granted tomorrow, right? Then I’ll feel normal…”

She's distracted talking to herself so she doesn’t notice…

That the door to the room where the queen left Bravo in earlier…

Is open.

“But then again… Those two are really not how I thought they’d be at all… I mean yeah, I knew Magnifico was a bit full of himself sometimes and the queen was… well, actually till today I’ve never seen her being nothing but sweet… They were just acting so strange ya know Val?… Valentino?”

“Maaa! Maaa!” Valentino starts bleating, but not to talk to Asha…

He’s talking to Bravo, who just so happens to not have had his dinner yet, and is preparing to pounce at the naive baby goat that just thinks he found a new friend.

“VALENTINO!!! NONONONOGETAWAYFROMHIM!!!” She runs as fast as she can and manages to catch her goat just a millisecond before Bravo made his move.

The lynx is now growling at her aggressively, she looks behind her and sees the door of the castle opened, she can make a run for it and someone outside might be able to help her, she can do it.

Buuuut Valentino is panicking, realizing the gravity of the situation and he kicks his legs to run away, making Asha accidentally drop him.

“NO NO VALENTINO COME BACK!”

He runs up the stairs and the lynx runs after him, Asha obviously follows them running like her life depends on it.

“BAD KITTY! THATS NOT YOUR FOOD THATS MY GOAT!!”

She runs and gets close enough to the wild cat to step in his short tail. He lets out a scream of pain and turns to her with blood thirty eyes

“… Uh That- That was an accident hehehe” she nervously says as the cat prepared to jump no her

She manages to dodge him and starts running up the stairs after Valentino, with the lynx just after them

She’s realizes they’re getting near the treasure room again

“KING MAGNIFICO! QUEEN AMABLE! HELP!! PLEASE!!!”

(GYYYYYAAAA GET YOUR FUC*** DOG BI**

It don’t bite

YES IT DO!!!)

Asha makes it to the treasure room but she has no time to close the door.

But as they run to the other side of the room Bravo steps on the shattered glass slipper Valentino dropped earlier and gets distracted.

(Haha you thought that was just a pointless reference, didn’t you?? BUT IT WAS ACTUALLY PLOT RELEVANT HAHAHA- the writer proceeds to lose her mind as this scene unfolds)

Asha sees this as an opportunity, as soon as she enters a different room she slams the door behind her shut.

She and Valentino are both exhausted, Valentino drops on the floor panting heavily.

“I… *puff* am never… *puff* letting you in this crazy place AGAIN” she says trying to catch her breath

She looks around the room they’re in now

It’s a corridor, with decorative black armors along the way, leading to a new flight of stairs

(I know that you knew what room I was referring to so no need for an image reference, but either way have Magnifico happily jumping on a poor armor’s head)

“… Whoever designed this castle REALLY liked stairs” she comments to herself

She takes Valentino into her arms again.

She can hear Bravo scratching the door behind them and growling angrily.

Asha looks to the stairs in front of her and sighs “Well… Guess we’re not getting out of here unless we ask them to control their crazy cat… Greeeeeeat” she pretty much groans, clearly not looking forward to talking to them again.

She and Valentino start making their way up these new stairs

(Take a shot every time I wrote stairs in these past few chapters)

The ambience is dark, a direct contrast to how it was when Asha first entered the castle. Before it was beautifully illuminated by the sunset lights coming out of the glass windows

And now it’s night time, and the castle is just faintly lit up by some candle lights hanging from the ceiling.

She sees a light coming from the end of the stairs… the light seems to irradiate a mix of blues and greens flashes

Asha then hears something coming from the room she’s approaching… laughter?

That must be their room

She thinks… and wonders what they’re laughing so much about.

Asha reaches the end of the stairs.

She’s now in front of the large door… it’s slightly open, just enough that she can peek through.

She was about to say something like “excuse me” or “sorry to bother you again, but your cat wants to kill me” but her mouth was closed shut when she heard

“OH that stubborn little BRAT got me a headache!” Magnifico complained loudly while massaging both sides of his temple with his fingers “I never had to use THAT much mind bending magic on anyone before” he says sounding a mix of frustrated and almost impressed

(He’s referring to that whole illusion sequence at the end of their villain duet last chapter)

Mind bending magic?…What’s he talking about?

Asha looks through the small opening in the door and sees the king and queen are standing in the middle of the wishes room

(Like how Asha and Magnifico are here in this concept art)

Asha is in awe with the sheer beauty of all of them in that majestic room. She understands how much each one of those bubbles represents the most beautiful part of so many people, and that alone fills her with joy.

“Aww my poor darling” the queen coos as she caresses her husband’s head “You deserve some much needed rest, say, how about I prepare a sleeping potion for you before we go to bed humm?” She suggests lovingly, but not like the fake loving voice she does all the time, this one felt absolutely genuine.

Asha remembers the tales that queen Amable used to be an amazing potion maker when she first arrived in Rosas… But that’s something no one really talks about anymore.

“Oh please do, my love.” Magnifico looks at his wife with a devoted passion, then turns his attention to the wishes above him with a malicious glee “But before that, let us see which lucky subjects get their wishes improved tonight” he lets out a dark chuckle

Improved? What's THAT supposed to mean??

Asha holds Valentino close to her and places her hand on his mouth so he won't make a sound

Asha watches as the king moves his arms bringing some wish bubbles down, they circle around him swiftly, forming patterns in the air.

(Ya know like how he did in the movie during the “At All Cost” sequence? That was neat, not gonna lie)

Paying more attention she notices something really odd.

Most of the wish bubbles aren’t blue… they’re green.

Asha has never seen green wish bubbles before, only blue ones… like her wish.

Speaking of which

“I thought we’d begin with our little star of tonight, I am oh so looking forward to coming up with something special for her” The queen says sinisterly while tapping her fingers on Asha’s wish bubble. Her voice makes Asha feel a chill run down her spine.

What on earth is going on?

Now she’s trying to hold her own breath so they won’t hear her.

“Ooh you know how I always leave the best for last, my sweet. Besides, there’s some wishes here that have been gathering dust for a while” Magnifico gazes upon the wishes floating around him like a predator watching his prey “And what kind of king would I be if I left our precious people waiting, right?” He adds with sarcasm.

Amaya just shrugs and goes to the table with potions and alchemy materials to start preparing a sleep potion for her beloved husband.

Magnifico makes the wishes spin around him faster and faster “Now lets see… Eeny, meeny, miny… YOU!” All of them suddenly stop moving, Magnifico is pointing at one specific blue orb, he signals with one finger for it to come to him.

As the orb lands on his hands it reveals a young woman flying in the sky, along with a flock of birds.

The king’s face is cruel, but his voice is saccharine sweet “Awww would you look at that my beldam, little Wendy wishes to fly like a bird.”

“Is that so? How lovely” The queen says while preparing her potion “And what shall you do about that? Oh wise and benevolent king” she speaks jokingly.

It’s like they do this pretty much every night, and they just never get tired of it.

“Hmmm… You mentioned last month you’d like to have a mockingbird as a pet, didn’t you?”

The queen gasps with one hand on her chest “Awwn you remember?” She says, already knowing where her husband is going with this, but playfully acting shocked.

“Now how could I ever forget a wish from the only person that matters in this kingdom?” The king says lovingly

Asha feels like she’s gonna pass out, he’s not actually going to do what she thinks he’s going to do… Is he?

“Well mi reina, your wish is my command” He says as he caresses the blue orb and starts mumbling some words in latin as his eyes start glowing green

“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”

As he says the spell, the image of the young girl named Wendy looks at him terrified, as her arms turn into wings. The king caresses the orb a few more times and it slowly goes from blue… to green.

He removes his hands from the now green orb, revealing inside a little bird flying away scared, like it’s trying to get out.

… Asha holds in a gasp. She feels a single tear forming in the corner of her eye.

The king looks at the wish proudly, admiring his handy work “More of a Wendy Bird than a Mockingbird, but eh, it’ll do” He shrugs as he lets the bubble fly up to join the others “Tomorrow once she wakes up as a speechless helpless little bird, she’ll come flying begging for my help, and voila! You get your bird!” He says excitedly to his wife

“And what will you say if her family comes asking where she is?” The queen asks him, but not out of concern, more like she’s testing him to see if he’d know what would be the right thing to say

“… Not my problem?” He laughs at that

“Darliiiiing~ remember what we practiced”

“Hahah I know I know I’m jesting.” Magnifico says after laughing a bit more, but then his face instantly morphs to a sorrowful expression as he demonstrates what he’d actually say “Oh… I’m deeply sorry, but Wendy wished to be free from you, to live somewhere far far away… I’m sure she’s much happier wherever she is now” as he finishes the little act his face instantly goes back to an evil grin and gives her a bow like an actor.

“Hmmm not bad, you’re getting better” Amable complements softly

“Well, I do have the best teacher” He lifts his head and gazes upon her lovingly.

(This would be so sweet in any other context)

Asha feels like the world is crumbling down around her the more and more with each and every word that comes out of their mouths…

These people were more vicious than she could’ve ever comprehended… They tricked thousands of people… they tricked her.

“NOW!” Magnifico claps loudly, snapping Asha out of her thoughts “Let’s see who’s our next lucky subject~” he says in a singsong voice as the wishes once again start spinning around him, and once again he picks a random one

“A wish to write engaging stories about your culture?… Booooring!” Magnifico yells at the wish, the little man inside the orb holding a pen and paper gets frightened. “How am I supposed to make this fun for us?”

He ponders as he throws the orb to one hand to another several times, playing with it like it’s just a normal ball. The little man in the wish bubble is being thrown side to side like a rag doll.

“Just do the same you’ve done with the royal cooks, my love” Amaya suggests “Change the subject he’ll be writing about to something more interesting.” she says nonchalantly while grinding some herbs with a mortar and pestle for the sleeping potion.

(English is not my first language, so like, learning new words like “mortar and pestle” has been pretty cool :3)

The royal cooks?… Dahlia’s parents.

Asha thinks to herself in horror

“Oooh good idea my love!” Magnifico said excited as he turned his attention to the wish and once again recited the spell in Latin

“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”

“Aaaaand there, why write about your lame ol’ culture when you can write about something much more important… like ME” the wish is now green and shows the man writing a book about Magnifico.

Asha connects the dots. That family recipe book Dahlia found, THIS is why her mom doesn’t care about it anymore, the king made her only interested in making meals that fit his liking.

(I do love when my set ups pay off)

“Ahem” the queen says with an eyebrow raised and a mischievous smile

“… I MEAN US! WRITE ABOUT US! Of course, I’m sorry my darling, hold on le-let me change it!” Asha sees an emotion that she hasn’t seen from the king ever before, he got nervous, but not in a scared or pretending to be nervous way, more like an “awkward teen trying to impress his crush but he gets flustered” kind of way.

“Heh heh I’m just teasing, dear.” The queen says giggling at her husband’s small panic attack “We both know the less this kingdom knows about my past the better, so really, you may have all the spotlight you want” she speaks sweetly.

The king sighs with relief and comments casually “Hehe indeed, it would cause quite a stir if the people found out their beloved queen was banished from her homeland for being a witch back in the day, now wouldn’t it?”

As soon as the king finishes that sentence a cloud of smoke pops out from one of Amaya’s flasks, making a loud noise.

“Your sleep potion is done… Also, you know I much prefer the term “alchemist”” she corrected him, sounding a bit more serious… like the word "witch" strikes a nerve with her.

“… My apologies my love, I forgot” he says genuinely

(… I might make a blog all about this, because there’s history here, let me know if you’re interested… anyway enough of them being a cute evil couple, Asha is SUFFERING)

Asha is not even that shocked with the reveal that the queen was a witch, that’s minor compared to everything else she has seen.

They tricked THOUSANDS of people for the past 25 years, and no one had a clue…

How many people had their dreams twisted beyond recognition? How many families had their culture erased from their minds after entering Rosas? And how many couldn’t even tell that they’ve been forced into a complacent life of loving nothing but these two monsters?

And… What would they do to her wish?

Asha will get that answer earlier than she thought, as she hears the king say:

“You know, we really should wrap this up, it’s getting late…” he says looking at the stars outside and then turning his attention to Asha’s wish that is floating around, he smiles maliciously “Let’s finish this with our sweet birthday girl’s wish, shall we?”

Asha feels her heart stop.

Magnifico makes the wish fly towards him

Amaya also walks to her husband to take a closer look at the wish.

As they take a look in her wish we see...

Asha happy with other people in Rosas.

That was her wish, to make other's happy, and to be accepted.

Magnifico looks quite disappointed but not surprised "A wish to “Make others happy”… Pffft pathetic." Magnifico rolls his eyes and sighs "She couldn’t even want something only for herself. Now how can I possibly turn this into something entertaining?"

Asha's eyes widen, that's it, that was her wish... She can't really feel a connection to it anymore... Why would she want to be accepted?

(Sooo yeah, just like how Simon’s personality changes because he doesn’t have his wish, a similar thing is gonna happen to Asha, but it’s not gonna be that noticeable)

"Hmmm I can think of a way" The queen says with a wicked gleam in her eyes as an idea forms in her head

"Do tell" he says already anxious to hear what his wife’s words of wisdom.

She walks a few steps away from her husband to start explaining her idea

"Riddle me this, darling... Who makes a kingdom happy?"

Magnifico... The damn king of this forsaken kingdom, struggles with that question for a bit

"Uuuuh... Shoot, I don't know. Uh florists? Backers?...Hair dressers?"

The queen gives him a one arched brow look.

"That’s kind of a vague question, don’t you think? Peasants get excited over the simplest of things" He shrugs

"Fair enough... Let me put this in a different way then... What do we want to make of this girl" She continues her train of thought walking around the room.

"To be honest? I considered just pushing her off the stairs handrails a couple of times today" He states like killing a random 18 year old is just a normal Thursday.

"Yes yes me too, but that's thinking too small, what she has shown today is that she has this almost unbending spirit, so much so she made you tire yourself using your powers... What we need is to put her under control, make sure that she NEVER inspires anyone else to be like her" She explains eloquently.

Asha does not like the sound of that at all.

"I like the sound of that. Buuut how can I do that with such a simple premise? "Make others happy"... Should I just make her WANT to conform to the norm?" He ponders

"That is, again, thinking too small, darling" she walks towards him slowly "Wanna know something I've always wanted?"

Magnifico was kinda taken aback by the sudden change in subject but ok "Well, just tell me and it shall be yours, my queen" he said with his voice dripping with passion

"... I always wanted a daughter"

...

wha-

"W H A T ? !"

Magnifico literally screamed with eyes wide like a bat blinded by the sun, his voice echoed through the room in a way that some of Amaya's potions even shook.

"WOMAN, SINCE WHEN??? I THOUGHT WE AGREED BABIES ARE THE MOST HEINOUS CURSE ONE CAN HAVE CASTED UPON THEM???? NOT TO MENTION I WANT NO HEIRS!!!"

He's not mad by the way, he couldn't get mad at her even if she stabbed him, he's just surprised, really. Because that's something he thought they both agreed on.

Amaya blinks a few times after that reaction, she may love this man more than anything in the world, but wow, his temper is something they really gotta work on.

She continues her train of thought like that didn't just happen.

"Yes... But Asha is not a baby, is she?"

... Oh... Oh no... Asha understood where the queen is going with this

The king did not tho

"... Ooooooh... Uuuuuh??" He stared at his wife, very confused "Not that I’m questioning you dear, but um... Are you suggesting we make THAT girl... A princess?"

(Hehehe subverting the disney princess trope, I love it)

"Precisely." The queen nodded pridefully, then she continued “You change her wish from “I wish to make others happy” to “I wish to be a princess”, it’s semantics since a princess does make the kingdom happy. Her personality will be rewritten to fit that wish, and she shall never question us again.” The queen speaks like she’s just talking about the weather.

The king is not fully convinced though "...Thats all fine and dandy but I thought we were gonna punish her, not give her a life of luxury”

"And who said anything about a life of luxury? You know the guest room on the west wing tower?"

"Yeeeeees?" Magnifico starts to understand his wife’s train of thought

"We lock her up in there." Amaya says it like it's simply the most natural course of action.

"Hmmm" He thinks for a moment with a hand in his chin, and by the looks of it he warms up to the idea "Yeah I can see the appeal now... It’s like throwing her in the dungeon, but in a socially acceptable way." he rationalizes with an evil smirk

"To the people it'll seem like this poor orphan girl just got the wish of a lifetime. While to her, well, she won't remember ever wanting anything else than to obey us... And as a bonus she can stay drawing in her room all day, just how she wanted." She has a wicked smile that grows more and more with every word.

"There's just one caveat to that though” He says with a worried expression “She'd be the heir" He almost whispers like the word frightens him.

The queen shrugs "And? We are too beloved for anyone to dare threaten our lives, and with my potions we can remain young for many MANY years to come" The queen says like that’s all obvious.

Magnifico still looks concerned. He really despises the possibility of anyone getting his crown.

Amaya notes his fear, and genuinely gives him some words of comfort... in their own way "Here's a thought, in the impossible scenario that we may have to come to terms with our own mortality... I'll give the girl my special tea, the same one I gave to your brother all those years ago, and she won't take what is ours. How does that sound?" She speaks calmly... How she's gonna straight up kill this girl if they so happen to become old or sick.

Magnifico's face softens at that, his wife always know the right things to say

"As always, the brightness of your mind outshines the sun, moon and stars, my love." He holds her face tenderly. "Very well then, if a little princess locked up in a tower is what my queen wants, then your wish is my command"

They exchange a kiss.

Magnifico turns his attention back to Asha's wish and mumbles the spell one more time

“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”

And the blue bubble with Asha smiling among the citizens of Rosas... slowly turns green, and the image inside morphs into Asha smiling forcefully, while standing between the two royals.

... So umm yeah how's Asha feeling right now you may ask?

Yeah our girl is not fine, she's actually panicking. Tears running down her face while she hugs Valentino.

(It's like she's stuck in a story that the writer also can't wait to move along and get to the happy stuff... So let's move this along, shall we?)

Valentino obviously didn't understand anything that just transpired but he sees how sad Asha is, so he tries cheering her up.

"Maa-"

Asha covers his mouth instantly

But they heard it.

"What was that?" Queen Amable whispers.

The two royals start walking to the door.

Their steps are quick.

Asha doesn't think twice and slides down the stairs's handrail.

She’s terrified. If they find out she heard all that she’s as good as dead.

She makes it back to the corridor with the black armors.

Asha knows behind that door there's a savage wild cat... Which now feels less scary than the people coming from those stairs.

She gets an idea.

Asha opens the door quickly and when Bravo notices that it's finally open he runs inside to attac-

B L A M

Asha pushes one of the armors and it falls on the lynx, making a lot of noise.

"WHO'S THERE?!"

Magnifico’s enraged voice echos through the whole castle.

She hears their footsteps quickly approaching.

They have not seen her yet.

She runs as fast as she can to the exit without looking back.

Magnifico and Amaya get to the corridor and find quite the sight...

Their cat has his head stuck in the armor's helmet, he's struggling to get out like those cats you see on youtube that get their head stuck in a jar.

Bravo meows in his raspy voice panicking as he moves around.

"OOH my sweet precious babyyyy! How on earth did this happen??" Amaya rushes to his rescue like a worried mother.

"Bad kitty Bravo, you don't attack armors, just the people inside them" Magnifico says sternly.

Meanwhile our girl is BOOKING IT down those dang long stairs, jumping the steps and almost falling a couple of times.

She doesn’t know if they're actually right behind her or not.

But she’ll not look back to check.

She finally makes it out of the castle.

The wish ceremony celebration is close to ending but there's still a few people in the surroundings of the castle, talking to each other.

Asha just keeps running, she let's go of Valentino, she knows he can keep up with her

So she just keeps running.

Some people see her and try asking what’s wrong.

But she can’t stop.

She' can’t look back.

Tears run down her face.

And...

She’s stopped, by a large hand holding her arm.

Chapter 6

Final Thoughts

AFTER 3 CHAPTERS ASHA IS GETTING AWAY FROM THE STRAIGHT WHITE RICH PEOPLE!!! RUN GIRL RUNNNN

Don’t get me wrong, I LOOOOVE writing these two with a passion, but I wanna focus back on my girl Asha and couldn’t quite do that with those two stealing the spotlight… They gonna keep stealing the show every time they appear in the story tho but hey that’s kinda what it means to be a Disney villain.

With that said, I hope this helped make it pretty clear how Disney royally screwed up when they scrapped the villain couple concept. Like, it’s not just a “oooh that looks neat” thing, NO it’s more of a “THE WRITING POTENTIAL IS UNFATHOMABLE” thing.

Because I cannot stress this enough, we’ve been told through Disney’s WHOLE HISTORY how love is the strongest thing of all, and that’s true… But what happens when two immoral people love each other? WHAT HAPPENS??? Well I’m planning to show here what I think would happen, and it’s scary.

Also a recurring theme I was trying to make very clear in this chapter is how this couple comes from completely different worlds, Amaya was a peasant, Magnifico was born royalty, but they both learned from each other to make themselves more powerful… Actually, I think I might write a whole blog about their respective backstories, like yeah I wrote about them here but this was the early concept (not that it’s out dated, you can still read it if you haven’t yet) but after some further reflection I came up with even more details to flesh them out and make them feel like rounded characters, that although are irredeemable, have their own perspectives on the world that makes them see themselves in the right… Let’s just say they think the world wronged them so they can do the same to others, that’s all I’ll say for now.

Also OH MY GOSH, I did it, the animal sidekicks pretty much are the whole reason the plot is set into motion. I'm actually so happy.

When I first started to think on this scene (Last month) I thought about Asha just going back up the stairs to ask for her wish back because “oh she changed her mind”… which didn’t feel right, ya know? Like yeah it’s cool she’s so determined, but it felt off… And then the idea of the royal couple having a pet lynx showed up to save the day.

It’s kinda funny that none of this would’ve happened if Magnifico just teleported Asha outside after getting her wish… But he was feeling petty as usual so he decided to have her walk AAAAALL the way back… And he accidentally messed up the spell and instead of just opening the door to the exit with the snap of his fingers, he opened ALL the doors, letting Bravo get out. So my point is that Magnifico’s pettiness will bring his downfall, as it should be.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! And get hyped because STAR BOY IS COMING!!!

Thank You For Reading!

#disney wish #wish #wish 2023 #wish star #disney #wish asha #wish disney #wish movie #wish rewrite #king magnifico #queen amaya #magnifico x amaya #king magnifico wish #asha #wish reimagined #long post #kingdom of wishes

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leclsrc · 1 year

Note

This req is gonna sound weird but do yk that scene in friends where ross is hugging rachel by the legs? on his knees? could i have a charles drabble w/ that? ty!

the final frame – cl16

You and Charles move in together, among other things.

auds here... this req is from before christmas hahaha. i do not watch friends so i scoured the internet for this ‘scene’, i hope i was right and i hope i did this req justice! this is the last one for now and i’ll hopefully reopen them fr in a minute. title from this

The night’s colder than you anticipated, a cool draft sending goosebumps up your forearm as you inspect the fillet of salmon in the oven. You step forward, off where you’d been leaning on the island, to heave the window shut—the act usually requires all your strength—but Charles bounds into you from behind, pressing insistent, laughing kisses onto your neck.

“C,” you say, giggling yourself, a hand coming up to stroke at the nape of his neck. “Stop, there are people in the next room.”

He bites on your jaw a little and you laugh. “Next room, babe. Like, right in the next—just two metres—!”

Laughing still, he finally lets up and effortlessly shuts the window himself. He pecks another kiss, just on the tip of your nose, murmurs I love you and lets it settle into the herb-smelling air. “Are you tipsy?” You ask, teasing. He winks.

“No—really, though,” you press a little, lacing your hands together. “You’re fine?”

“Totally.” He smiles. “Bit nervous.”

“I was, too,” you start, squeezing his hand, “until I remembered these are literally just our friends. And they’re stupid, and they’ll probably love us even if we announced we murdered someone.”

He nods and smiles, slots your mouths together. When he pulls away, he murmurs, “I love you. You look beautiful.”

Really, you’re just in a two-year-old dress from a flea market in Provence, and your hair is dry and ratty and tied into a bun, but you appreciate the compliment. He’s being genuine, eyes gliding over you with ease as he presses yet another kiss to your cheek; you loop your arms around his neck, smiling up at him. This is so foolish, you think, to be so idiotically in love like this, but it’s Charles, and it makes so much sense.

“You’re glowing, really.” He doesn’t give, still spouting compliments like a broken fountain.

“You suck.” You’ve never been good at accepting compliments, which seems ironic because you’re with a man who loves words, loves to tell you how much you mean to him, muffled by skin or said through a mic or in French or Italian. You tug him closer. “Should we go?”

He pauses, exhales. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Your friend group has gathered here, at Charles’ place, under the pretense that you’re trying to finish the ridiculously expensive bottle of wine Charles had purchased from France, but really, it’s for you both to announce your moving in together. Little milestones like these have always been celebrated by your group, and this is no different; tonight, Max has even volunteered to fix the clock that permanently reads 12:38 on Charles’ flat’s mantle.

You lead the way from the kitchen into the living room, where everyone is engaged in some kind of chatter or activity. Lily’s legs are draped over Alex’s lap and she’s coaching him through a Rubik’s cube. Lando is busy telling a joke to Carlos and Isa. And Max is three feet off the ground fiddling with a clock, turning deviously to ask: “Where have you two been?”

“Shagging,” you reply with nonchalance.

“Your hair’s still perfect,” Lily says disapprovingly. “Don’t lie!”

You roll your eyes, stifling a smile as you lean into Charles’ arm that’s wrapped itself around your shoulders. In the future, you’ll tell yourself you should’ve noticed his clammy hand pressed against your arm, or turned and noticed his blank stare, his too-nervous gait. So many signs, you’ll think, and you ignored them all because you felt so damn happy. “Okay, I’m lying. The truth is…”

You turn to him, brows raising. “…you wanna go?”

“I wan—do you?”

“Sure, if you—”

“Just tell us!” Lando yells impatiently, sitting straighter, abandoning the joke in favor of this. “Tell us. Now!”

“Okay, um, we—well, a few months ago we decided we kind of. No, we definitely wanted to live together. And, to save you all the sexy details of getting leases and looking around Monaco for flats—we got one just two weeks ago. So this is—what it is, is it’s, uh, really a dinner to celebrate saying bye-bye to Charles’ flat. Okay? Right. Okay.”

You pause. The room erupts in whoops and cheers—many utterances of the word finally! float across the room. Immediately Isa and Lily are standing, demanding to see pictures of the new place, directions they can input into their cars and phones so they know exactly how to get there. Carlos, Lando, and Alex all cheer, offer alcohol as housewarming gifts. Max nearly drops the clock.

And this is it, you think, the rest of your life’s been decided. With this group, and your Charles, and the flat that will be yours by tomorrow morning.

—

Your house doesn’t feel much like home.

You know it’s an unfair statement, that it’s only really been two, three months of living together. But something has shifted, something you cannot name no matter how hard you try to. It’s just as cold tonight as it was the night you were in Charles’ old place announcing this one, but everything feels different now.

The move had started excitedly, with you sending near daily updates to the group chat with Isa and Lily, of paint swatches and ship-ins from IKEA. They sent flowers, came over to inspect the place, and so did everyone else—Max returned the now repaired clock, nailed it onto a spot on the wall the entire group agreed on. Slowly, bit by bit, the place began to feel like it was yours.

But the nights without Charles grew long, and the days with him at work or at the gym or at a media affair—some of which he’d easily denied in favor of you before—grew more frequent. The flat, big and wide and lofty in an affluent neighborhood, felt bigger when he was gone. You were alone, a stranger in your own house, without him.

You can’t pinpoint anything.

You can’t pinpoint the when, the how, the why, the if. To you, everything is vague, and that’s the worst part: how can you fix something you can barely understand? You haven’t shared a cup of coffee in ages, and the most you see of him is half his foot departing the front door in the morning. It could be work, it could be the preparing for the season, but in six years of being together nothing’s felt quite like this. You wonder if it’s deliberate.

But your texts to Isa and Lily stay the same. Cream or eggshell? Cerulean or slate? And when they ask about Charles, you ignore the bite of guilt and lie instead. C and I just had brunch, he said eggshell, but the truth is, you’re the one settling on eggshell. You’d asked him ‘cream or eggshell’ three weeks ago and he said he’d think about it but he didn’t come home until four, and he hasn’t answered it.

He gets in on Saturday night earlier than usual, eyes dark with exhaustion. He’s wearing a suit, and you don’t know why. You can’t place half the places he’s been lately. His texts are choppy, standoffish. Here. Leaving soon. I’ll see you? “Hi, baby,” he croaks when he sees you nursing wine at the kitchen counter.

“C,” you say quietly. “Hi. When did you get in?”

“Just now, I was driven.”

“Oh.” You pause. “Want a glass?” You raise the bottle.

He seems to hesitate, stopping in his tracks a bit before nodding defeatedly and pacing toward you. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheekbone, then finally your lips. You relish this, because you haven’t had it in so long. This intimacy, this affection, this kiss that isn’t pressed onto you while you’re asleep and he comes home with apologies flowing from his lips.

You pull away, pour him a glass of red. “Isn’t it crazy to think we have a home now?”

His smile flickers a little, and you notice. You try not to sound nosy when you pry. “C,” you say, the lump rising in your throat. Here you are, celebrating one of the happiest chapters of your life, but Charles won’t even meet your eyes. This is it. After months of not knowing, you think, you have to know. Now. “Are you okay?”

The wine is only half-poured. He sighs shakily, shakes his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He sounds so, so far away.

“You’re scaring me,” you say, laughing. But you sound more nervous than amused. He sounds nervous, too.

“Baby,” he says suddenly, like a dam in his mind has broken and everything is spilling out, all the damage, all of it, and it’s washing onto you like a massive wash of water. “Baby, I—I fucked up.”

You cannot withstand the wave. Your eyebrows knit together. “Tell me,” you insist. Even more surprisingly, he crumples to his knees, hugs your thighs and leans against you. You press, anyway. “Talk to me, C. Please.”

“You can’t fix this,” he says resolutely, “you abso—you can’t.”

“I will,” you say. “I love you.”

“I slept with someone else.” This is a great, big, terrible feeling. You really can’t fix this. You’re back to being clueless. Your heart stops, and so does your breath, heavy and heaving. Words are dry when they try to leave your throat, leap off your tongue. Your hand, threaded into Charles’ hair, pauses. You feel him crying, but you feel nothing else.

“You what,” you ask. It’s so dry, everything is desert dry. A whisper, a breath, a murmur in the cold kitchen.

“I’m sorry.”

“C,” you say, and you can’t even cry yet. You’re stunned, struck with dizzy disbelief. “Was it—when, like, last season…?”

His silence answers you, and you stumble backwards, out of his grasp. You shake your head, like you’re trying to quell the tears, the lump in your throat, the nerves in your stomach that threaten to bubble over.

“Don’t say this year.” You shake your head, over and over, shaking and shaking, like it will rid you of the conversation you’re currently having. You think of the paperwork, of the nearly dropped clock, of signing the lease, of eggshell and flowers, of housewarming gifts yet to be unwrapped.

Tearily, you muster, “Don’t tell me, C. Don’t fucking do this to me, please. Don’t.”

“I barely even know her,” he says. “Once. It happened once. It meant nothing.” Your soul crushes, shot and wilted.

“No, it meant everything,” you say angrily. You’re angry now. Angry and sad, and furious and boiling with rage. You’re everything. You’re a house fire, right here in the flat.

And you stand, feet bare on the tile, thinking about how you’ll have to live with this forever, branded like an ugly stamp. You loved and he did not. Get out, you say. Get out and don’t come back, I don’t care. Don’t fucking come back. You shove him weakly, but he gets the message, ushers himself to the coat rack. You’re not even yelling. You’re just breathing heavy, shaking your head, like you’re denying this ever happened.

You only cry when he’s left, loud, exruciating sobs. He wrestles himself outside still apologizing, saying he’ll be back tomorrow. You’re torn between hoping he will be and hoping you never see him again, crumpled to the hardwood of your brand new house, knees weak, heart weaker. You don’t get up until morning.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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hendersister · 10 months

Text

panic

summary: you and steve find jason and his friends outside your house, looking for dustin...

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

title 🎵: panic by the smiths

It’s happening again. There’s been some mysterious deaths in Hawkins over the last couple of days. The police think that your little brother’s friend, Eddie Munson, is the murderer. But he’s not. In reality, the thing responsible for these deaths is an evil entity from the Upside Down named Vecna.

You can’t go to the police with the truth. Now that Hopper is gone, you have no allies left in the Hawkins Police Department. They would never believe you…so you, Steve, Dustin, Robin, Max, Nancy and Lucas have teamed up to stop Vecna yourselves.

While the others lay low and regroup at Nancy’s place, you and Steve go on a quick supply run to your house. You’re picking up extra walkie talkies, batteries, some snacks, and anything else that might be useful. Your mom is out at work during this time, which means that you’ll be able to get in and out quickly without raising any questions.

You and Steve take his car to your house. As Steve pulls up your driveway, you notice another car parked in your mom’s designated spot. You have no idea who that car belongs to.

“What the hell?” you raise your eyebrows.

Then you see Jason Carver banging loudly on the front door. His two jock friends, Patrick and Andy, are looking inside your home. They’re holding a wrench and a baseball bat. Your eyes widen. Whatever these guys are doing here, it can’t be good…

Steve parks his car alongside Jason’s and you both get out.

“HEY!” you shout to get the jocks’ attention.

You walk towards Jason to confront him. Steve stays by your side.

“What are you doing at my house?”

Jason puts his hands up in defense.

“Hey, Y/N. Relax! We’re not here to cause any trouble,” he smiles, putting on the charm offensive.

Steve nods to Patrick and Andy.

“Then why do they have weapons?” your boyfriend questions Jason.

“We’re looking for Eddie Munson-” Jason begins, before you cut him off.

“Well, you got the wrong house! He isn’t here,” you shake your head.

“I know that freak isn’t here,” Jason sighs, and then, “We heard your little brother Dustin was looking for him too. We just wanna talk to him… to see if he found Eddie.”

You shrug, trying your best not to react. You know where Eddie and Dustin are but you can’t let anything slip or they might get hurt.

“You just wanna talk?” you raise your eyebrows, suspicious.

“Yeah, a little friendly neighborhood chat,” Andy snickers.

You take a deep breath. You don’t trust these guys at all and you’re worried they will hurt Dustin. As Dustin’s big sister, you can’t let anything happen to him. You’re still trying to figure out how to respond when-

“We haven’t seen him,” Steve says in a low, serious voice.

You give Steve an appreciative look. He’s just as protective of your little brother as you are. That’s one of the many things you love about Steve.

“Y/N?” Jason nods to you.

“I don’t know where Dustin is,” you tell Jason.

Jason shakes his head. He’s not convinced. He believes you and Steve know more than what you’re letting on.

“Look, we’re not killers like Eddie! We just wanna find him and get him to admit his crime. Dustin could help us catch a murderer,” Jason tries, as he begins to slowly approach you.

You cross your arms against your chest, standing your ground. Steve keeps his eyes on Jason, making sure he doesn’t make a move against you.

“Dustin can’t help you. He barely knows Eddie. And I don’t know who told you that Dustin was looking for Eddie, but they were wrong,” you lie.

Jason looks you up and down and then takes another step towards you, standing uncomfortably close.

“You know where your brother is don’t you, Y/N? What do you have to hide?”

Your boyfriend suddenly steps in between you and Jason.

“You heard what she said. We don’t know where Dustin is. Now you need to leave,” Steve warns Jason.

“C’mon, Steve!” Jason shrugs, frustrated.

Steve shakes his head.

“Get out of here,” he coolly replies.

Jason and Steve stare each other down. You can cut the tension with a knife. After a super tense moment, Jason backs off.

“Let’s go,” he nods to the other jocks.

Jason, Andy and Patrick leave. You and Steve can hear them talk as they walk towards Jason’s car.

“So, now what?” Patrick asks.

“We keep looking. The town’s not that big. Only so many places these freaks can burrow,” Jason answers through gritted teeth.

Your eyes widen. You meet Steve’s gaze and exchange knowing looks. This could be trouble. You need to warn your little brother fast before something bad happens.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 11 months

Text

I Can’t Leave

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: When the reader is forced into hiding, she’s desperate to inform her fiancé and his son

Warnings: canon level violence, talk of domestic terrorism, some angst, guns

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

“Here you go,” I said, putting a glass of whisky in front of my father. I took my seat across from him, raising my glass. “To the Speaker of the House, part three.”

He smiled, touching his glass to mine before taking drink. “Thank you, dear. So how’s work?”

“It’s good. I mean, as good as hunting down predators and murderers can be,” I sighed. “But it’s good, I feel like I’m doing some good in the world.” I looked up to find my father’s expression falling. “What?”

“I just- uh… well it’s not that I want you to be unhappy but this next thing would be easier if you hated your job,” he chuckled awkwardly. Confused and nervous I urged him to go on. “Well there are some bad people after us, Y/N.”

“Dad, you don’t need to dumb it down. I’m an FBI agent, I take down bad people all the time. What’s going on?”

“Some extremists are after our family. Y/N, they sent death threats… about you specifically,” he said as gently as possible.

“Okay, so? I mean yeah, it’s strange that they were sent about me in relation to you but they’ve sent them to mom. I get them on my own from people we’ve locked up.”

“They suspect that the extremists are working with some members of Congress in the opposing party. Which can be incredibly dangerous for you.”

“So what? You want my team to investigate? I can hang back on this one if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well I’m glad you’re willing to hang back because… you need to go into hiding.”

I only stared at him, not believing what he was asking. “Did you seriously just ask me to go into hiding?”

“Y/N-”

“No, absolutely not,” I refused. “Dad, I’m an FBI agent. If anyone can protect themselves it’s me.”

“This is serious. I’ve talked to people in Homeland Security, people way above you and your team and they recommended you go into hiding.”

“What about you?” I was visibly upset now. “Are you hiding?”

“I can’t. The houses are already divided and each party is getting more radical. I can’t just leave, especially when I was just reelected.”

“So what makes you think I can just leave? Why can’t I just have body guards?”

“Because your job won’t allow that. I know you’ll run away from them with no regard for your own safety the second a — what is it you call them? Unsub? — when an unsub runs away. Besides, they said you won’t be safe unless everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“Excuse me?” I was angry now. “What could possibly be going on that Homeland Security thinks I need to be dead? Oh my god,” I said suddenly, realizing what my father was asking. “Can I at least tell my team that this is fake?”

He shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry. Homeland Security wants as few people to know as possible.”

“Can I at least tell Aaron and Jack?” Tears were pricking my eyes now as he shook his head no. “Dad, he’s my fiancé,” I was begging now. “He has a son. Jack is basically my son. He already lost his mother to a bad guy. I can’t leave them. He can’t lose two mother figures.”

“That’s exactly why you need to be protected. So you can be a mother to him again.”

“Can’t you see this will do irreparable damage? Aaron won’t let me back into his life after I knowingly hurt him and his son in a way they’ve already been hurt. You want me to go into hiding? Fine but please let me tell Aaron.”

“I’m sorry dear, my hands are tied. Your death is already being orchestrated now. Your car will be crashed in about 10 minutes.”

My eyes widened as rage filled me. “I don’t even get to see anyone one last time?” I covered my face in frustration. I needed to calm down if I was going to think of a way to communicate with Aaron. “Fine but just let me do one last thing.”

My father nodded eagerly. “I’ll try my best to fulfill that.”

“Part of the reason I came over was to get my old Hot Wheels. I was going to bring them back for Jack. Can they say they were found in the trunk and you said to take them to Jack because I was delivering them?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not. I’ll ask the agents posing as officers to bring them.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. “I just didn’t want to leave Jack with nothing, you know? I’ll grab them,” I said, heading into my old room. Immediately grabbing a post-it note and a pen.

I’m alive. Tell no one. Love you - Y/N

I folded it up as tight as possible and stuffed it inside the door of a ‘65 Mustang I had once broken the door off of when I was a kid. I then replaced the broken door, which only fell off when you rolled it around, before tossing it into the box with the others.

Aaron had been cooking lunch on one of his few days off, excited for Y/N to return home so they could have some alone time when he heard a knock on the door. Cautiously he grabbed his gun before creeping towards the door silently. Checking the peep hole he spotted two cops. Frowning, he put his gun down behind the door before opening it. Before he could say anything the officer spoke. “Aaron Hotchner?”

“Yes?” he answered hesitantly.

“We’re very sorry to inform you but your fiancée, Y/N L/N, has passed.” Every ounce of hurt Aaron had ever felt hit him all at once. All the shots, stabs, and the countless punches Aaron had ever felt. This hurt more than Haley, which at the time he had thought would be the worst pain of his life. He didn’t even hear what the cops were saying until they mentioned his son. “We found these. We spoke to Y/N’s father and he said she was bringing them back here to Jack.”

Aaron stared down at the box that was filled near to the brim with Hot Wheels. The same toys that Jack and her had been so excited to play with together. He took the box before quietly shutting the door, wanting to be alone. Setting the box on the kitchen counter he leaned up against it, letting his agony consume him. He couldn’t even make tears fall as empty sobs wracked his body. Aaron was consumed with anger, hurt, sadness, any and every emotion associated with grief. But most of all he was trying to figure out what to say to his son. How could he tell Jack that yet another mother figure was taken from him?

Unable to handle anything he texted his sister-in-law that he had to go into work and asked her to take Jack for the night.

Aaron completely lost the rest of the day. He felt like he was in some sort of haze. He only “woke up” when he started going through Y/N’s Hot Wheels collection, desperate to hold onto her. When he stumbled upon the ‘65 Mustang he was consumed with memories. The first time he had met her parents she had showed him her old room including this exact car. She told him that she used to pass secret messages with her friends in this car. Curiously he fiddled with the door until it popped out. Peering inside he was surprised to see a note stuffed into it. Anxious about what he’d find he pulled out that note that had been very tightly folded.

Without even reading it yet Aaron already felt emotion consume him at the sight of her handwriting. Pushing through he read the note.

I’m alive. Tell no one. Love you - Y/N

He read and reread the short note trying to convince the whisper in his mind that it was in fact for him and Jack. Y/N’s father’s reelection had caused some sense of insurrection in radical groups and he had heard rumors of death threats against her family but they had received death threats in the past. They must have gotten worse and more targeted for Homeland Security to force her into hiding. He also knew she’d never fake her death without telling him and Jack and judging by the nature of the note being smuggled in she hadn’t known about the plan.

While he was relieved to know she was alive but afraid for her safety. If a threat was bad enough to force her underground it must be serious. And he still had to deal with the worst part of it… telling the team and explaining the situation to Jack.

He texted his sister-in-law again that their jet was delayed so he could take Jack for the night and bring him to school tomorrow. Just 15 minutes later Jack was back in his home.

After his son got settled in, Aaron went into his room. “Dad, where’s Y/N?”

Aaron hesitated for a second. “Um yeah, about that…” he had no clue how his young son would handle the news. Especially after Haley had already been killed. “Well first of all, Y/N is okay. She’s safe with a bunch of people to protect her but she’s going to be gone for a little while. Some people are angry at her father and well… they’re threatening to hurt her so some very powerful people think it’s best that she hide for a little while until she’s safe.”

“Is it like the people who hurt mom?” Jack asked with innocent eyes.

That hit Aaron like a bullet. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. “Sort of. They want to hurt her family but this is about something bigger than her family or our family.” He didn’t really think it’d be a great idea for him to explain the intricacies of domestic terrorism to his son right before bed. “But you can’t tell anyone about this, understood? We weren’t even supposed to know she’s alive. Not the team, not your aunt, not your teacher, not your friends. It could be really dangerous for Y/N.”

Jack nodded. “Okay dad. When will Y/N come back? In time for the wedding?”

Aaron also didn’t need the reminder that your wedding was supposed to be in two months. “I don’t know but I hope so buddy. I hope so…”

The next day at work Aaron was trying to work up the nerve to speak to everyone about Y/N’s death. There was a case about some women who looked like her and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this was connected but he knew he wouldn’t be able to share his theories with anyone.

As everyone filtered in they were all wondering about Y/N. “Hey, Hotch, where’s Y/N?” Morgan asked.

Aaron sighed heavily. “About that… I learned yesterday that um…” this was difficult to say even though he knew it was a lie, “Y/N was killed in a car crash yesterday. I thought this news needed to be said in person rather than over the phone.”

The room was left in shocked silence for a moment until Derek spoke. “Hotch I’m so sorry.” Everyone was keenly aware that this would be the second woman their Unit Chief loved that died.

“It’s not just my loss. It’s all our losses,” he deflected, the always altruist boss.

“How’s Jack handling it?” JJ asked.

“He’s not ready to talk about it so I’m giving him some time. I can’t imagine it’s easy losing another mother figure.”

“How are you handling it?” Rossi asked.

That was a question he didn’t know how to answer. Truthfully he wasn’t okay even though he knew his fiancée was alive because he knew dangerous people were after her. “I can’t really afford to think about it right now. Wheels up in 15, we’ll debrief on the plane.”

1 Year Later

Even though his fiancée was still alive he was still reeling from her loss. It was hard having absolutely no contact and no updates about the status of her or her case.

He was filling out case reports when he heard a knock at his door. “Come in,” muttered not looking up. After not hearing anything in response he looked up to find Y/N’s father, the Head of the Secret Service, Mark Sullivan, and the Secretary of Homeland Security, Tom Ridge. “Sirs, how can I help you.”

“This is about my daughter,” the Congressman began. “She’s alive.” Aaron wasn’t sure if he should reveal that he knew that or not.

“You already knew,” the Sullivan observed.

“Yes, I did. Y/N sent me a note,” he admitted.

“Has she had any contact with you since?” Ridge asked.

“She hasn’t. What’s happened?” he knew they wouldn’t come to him at work unless they needed profilers.

“It’s been a year since Y/N went underground. She’s been bouncing around various countries and they’ve somehow managed to follow her without us making any headway on the investigation. And we’d like the BAU to help us track these terrorists down.”

“I’ll have my team on it. Where are we going?”

“Brazil.”

In less than an hour the entire team was on the plane with Garcia calling in. “Why are we headed to Brazil? We don’t have jurisdiction there,” Reid asked.

“There’s a very high profile victim being hunted by a small domestic terrorist organization. The Brazilian government wants them out and they’ve given us full jurisdiction over any US citizens there as well as the ability to question any Brazilian citizens as long as they’re arrested by Brazilian officers or agents.”

“So who’s the vic?” Emily asked.

“It’s Y/N,” Aaron admitted. It felt like he had just released a breath he had been holding for a year. “She didn’t actually die in a car crash, she had been in hiding.”

The plane erupted into angry yells and confused conversations. “Hotch how could you not tell us?” Derek asked angrily.

“I know you’re all confused and angry, so was I. I wasn’t even supposed to know, Y/N had to smuggle me a note. As far as I know she never knew she was being forced into hiding until it was too late for her to say goodbye.”

“Still you should’ve told us,” Derek seethed angrily. He felt lied to by his boss and one of his closest friends. Both of which were always supposed to have his back.

“Enough, Derek,” Aaron said sternly, silencing the plane. “If you want to be angry be angry at the terrorists threatening her but I was just trying to protect her and she was trying to protect Jack and I. Like it or not this is bigger than you and I will remove you from this case if you can’t keep your emotions in check. Got it?” Derek begrudgingly agreed and soon enough the team was discussing theories.

It took a week full of interviews, analysis, dead ends, hundreds of suspects, and more fake names than they could count but the BAU finally tracked down the terrorist organization that sent one of their agents running. And along with with their investigation they had found where their teammate was hiding. Every member of the BAU wanted to rush over but they couldn’t afford to send the terrorists underground again so they waited for them to make a move.

As soon as the BAU got word that terrorists were moving in on Y/N’s location they headed over. Aaron’s heart was beating out of his chest the entire ride over. Terrified that they wouldn’t reach his fiancée in time.

They pulled up to the small cottage just as Aaron spotted some men dressed in camouflage creeping around the house. Aaron barely put the car in park, too anxious to get to his love. “FBI! Put down your weapons and step away from the house,” he ordered as the rest of the team and several other soldiers stormed out of the cars.

Seeing as they were outnumbered several of the terrorists put their guns down and raised their hands in surrender. The same couldn’t be said for the mercenaries at the back of the cottage as he heard a window shatter and several yells from inside. Immediately going for the door he had to knock it down, stumbling inside to find a stand-off. Y/N was stood half shielded by two guards with her gun raised at a few terrorists. The guards he recognized as Secret Service also had their guns raised and they were yelling.

“It’s over,” Aaron announced as soldiers appeared into the window, drastically outnumbering the two men who had their guns aimed at Y/N. One took a shot and he was instantly put down by at least five bullets aimed at him. The partner seemed to have been accidentally been hit because he went down with a yell. But Aaron didn’t care about him, he was concerned about Y/N. He looked over, finding her tending to one of her guards who had suffered a bullet to the arm. Her hands were covered in blood and Aaron wasn’t thinking rationally as he reached her. “Are you okay?” he asked, gently grasping her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Can you call an ambulance?”

“Sure,” he agreed hurriedly. “This is Agent Hotchner, we have two suspects down and a wounded agent. Send medical assistance immediately.” By now the other guard and some soldiers who had medical training were attending to the wounded agent and pushing Y/N away. “Y/N,” he called, dragging her attention away from the guard.

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a year. “Aaron,” she began to cry, throwing herself at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving,” she sobbed against his bulletproof vest.

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” he hushed, squeezing her tightly and stoking his fingers through her hair. “I know you didn’t want this. Thank you for sending that note to Jack and I.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of either of you losing someone again,” she explained. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Masterlist

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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justmeinadaze · 11 months

Text

We're A Family Part 14 (Steddie X You)

A/N: I'm not sorry for the cliff hanger esc ending 😈

I'm going to use this opportunity here to say thank you to the step parents, partners, siblings, foster parents, adoptive parents...all y'all raising children who aren't biologically yours...you are amazing and deserve love and appreciation. The woman I call mom is technically my stepmom but she has been more a mom to me than my own. She showed me how mothers are supposed to be and I love her everyday for that <3.

Warning: Smut, FLUFF, and slight angst, Mr. Harrington pops up making a brief verbal cameo , Eddie mentions an incident about Steve's past heartbreaks as well as briefly (very brief) touches on his life right after moving in with Wayne, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3535

“Does he have to wear a suit?”, Eddie asks as he browses the clothes on the rack above him.

“I mean he doesn’t have to but it is his first date technically so…”, Steve grins as Dylan rolls his eyes.

You had already done the whole mom thing where you cried for ten minutes straight because your “baby” was growing up and asked a girl on a date to a dance. When he asked the guys to take him clothes shopping, he had hoped to avoid more of that, thankful when you offered to stay home and watch Aurora.

“Calm down. I’m not going to coo at you and tell you how big you’ve gotten.”, the man teases as he playfully reaches for his son’s cheeks.

“I don’t think I should wear a suit. I don’t want to seem…overeager.” Dylan’s eyes scan the shirts in front of him. “What did you guys wear on your first dates?”

“Jesus, um…”, Eddie’s eyes fly to ceiling as he thinks. “Jeans and a Guns & Roses t-shirt, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Of course, that’s what you wore.”, Steve chuckled.

“Hey! We were like eleven and went to a movie. It wasn’t anything fancy. What about you, sire? I imagine you came out of the womb with a date the next day.” The metalhead smiled as Dylan laughed.

“For your information, my first date was in 6th grade. I took a girl to the Snowball dance. And yes…I wore a suit.”

“Oh, please tell me there are pictures in a box somewhere at home.”

“No, thank God.”

“We can ask grandma.”, Dylan smiles mischievously.

“I swear, if either of you ask my mother for pictures—”

“Oh! You’ll what?”, Eddie joked.

“I’ll…be very upset.”

“Uh huh.”

****

“Do we have to watch it again?”

“Yes!”, Aurora giggles.

You laugh at her smile as you replay “The Empire Strikes Back” on the tv. “Yeah. I’m glad you’re happy. I’m going to kill your dad.”

Just like Dylan had with Harry Potter, Ro seemed to attach to Star Wars. Steve was watching “A New Hope” one afternoon and she sat beside him the entire time completely transfixed. Ever since then she insisted on watching anything you would allow that was Star Wars related.

“Beep, Beep!”, she mimicked as the front door opened and your three boys came through.

“Star Wars still?”, Steve asked.

“I hate you. This is your fault.”, you laugh as you quickly rose to your feet. “Sooooo, what did we get?”

“You’ll see.”, Dylan smiles. “Are you guys still chaperoning?”

“Well, I don’t have a choice being a teacher and my boss volunteered me.”

“That’s the spirit, Harrington!”, Eddie chuckles as he wraps his arm around the boy’s neck. “Yes, we will still be there and we promise not to embarrass you…much.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to go call Daisy and tell her what I got.”

You three watch as he excitedly runs up the stairs before you lightly smack Steve’s arm. “What did he get?”

“I can’t tell you!”

“Call it payment for me watching those movies back-to-back with our three-year-old instead of me murdering you.”

“Oh… you won’t murder me. You love me too much.”

########

Dylan watches his dads with intense fascination as they get ready, occasionally getting distracted when he heard his sister say something cute as she helped you get ready out in the bedroom.

“Mama hair up.”

“Yeah? Here can you brush it for me so I can pull it up?” Aurora grins excitedly when you hand her the brush.

“When it comes to hair, kid, you should let Steve take the reins on that one.” Eddie smiled as he moved out of the way and allowed Dylan space in front of the mirror so the man could show him some techniques.

“Oooo… Din purty.”, Ro compliments him before waddling to the metalhead. “Daddy! Mama…tie…for hair.”

“Mommy needs a hair tie?” She nods aggressively as he reaches across the sink to get her what she’s asking for. “Here you go, princess.”

“Tank you, daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” His eyes follow after her as she grins and runs back into the bedroom.

“Alright, little man. What do you think?”

Dylan turns his head from side to side as he checks out his hair. “I love it. Mom! What do you think?”, he asks as he steps out of the bathroom.

“Oh my god!”, you squeak making the boys laugh.

“She likes it.”, Steve confirms as he sprays some of his cologne on himself before giving his son a little spritz on his wrist.

“Wow. Bubaful.”, Aurora coos as they all come out together.

Dylan had decided to not to wear a suit but a nice button up shirt with a small black tie hanging down his front. Still wanting to have some remnants of himself, he decided on wearing his converse with the black jeans he bought fully rounding out his ensemble. He actually looked like he tried to fuse Eddie and Steve’s style together.

Steve threw on a blue polo with some black slacks and shiny matching shoes. Eddie was donning a plain black shirt with black jeans like Dylan’s and sneakers.

“Aw, look at my guys.”, you grin as you climb off the bed.

You were wearing a stunning, casual blue dress with a cute floral print with similar color flats.

“You look beautiful, honey.”

As the doorbell rings, Ro claps her hands. “Kee!”

“Yes, that would be Aunt Kierra. Here, go open the door and make her feel old.”, you giggle as you push Dylan towards the stairs.

Eddie picks up his daughter as you four head down as well.

“Really? Of course, everyone looks good.”, Kierra whines playfully. “Hi Rara.”

“Kee.” She aggressively wiggles out of her father’s arms to run to her aunt.

“Ah yes. Fun aunt is here and now we don’t matter.”, you smile as you give your sister a hug. As you pull away you notice her own grin turn into a line. “Uh oh. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“You’ll tell me now.”

“Dylan, can you take this dork and turn on those god-awful movies she likes?” You son laughs as he grabs his sister and carries her into the living room. “So, Mr. Harrington, the evil one not this one here, went to visit our mother the other day.”

You sighed as Steve gently ran his palm down your back.

“Y/N, you think his dad was upset about you changing your name? Oof. Mom called me screaming saying you were taking it too far. She said she was going to call Charlie and side with him if he decided to go to court…” Her sympathetic eyes met yours. “I didn’t tell her…about him…ya know.”

“I should go talk to her—”

“Well that’s not happening.”, Eddie interrupts. “Sweetheart, do you really think talking to her is going to do any good? She doesn’t care. Now Steve’s dad… he can’t do anything right?”

Steve shook his head. “I mean what can he do? I have no inheritance from his side. Unless he wants to fight my mom. I don’t know. I think it’s more of an image thing now. Two kids with half his name and they aren’t…pure Harringtons.”

Your heart breaks as you listen to him speak. You know how much he hates this conversation. Aurora and Dylan are his kids; no ifs, ands, or buts about it. However, his father and your mother insist on finding little ways to remind him that both children don’t have an ounce of his DNA.

In a court of law, if you both left him, he would have zero say in where the kids go. Steve understood that would never happen. You both loved him and he loved you. This was his family but those little technicalities always loomed especially when other people brought them to light.

“Jesus. And our mom thought the Munson’s would be the biggest problem in this dynamic.”

Eddie sticks his tongue out at Kierra who chuckles as she comes around to give him a hug.

“Hey guys. Can we go now? I don’t want to be late.”, Dylan asks as he comes around the corner.

“Yes. Sorry. We got distracted by life. Let’s get a move on.” Painting a smile on your face, you grab your dates and head of the door.

##########

You snuck a picture from your place in the car as you three watched Dylan shyly shuffle up to his date who had been waiting at the front door of the school. Something he says makes her laugh and she blushes as he extends his elbow to her like he had seen the guys do numerous times. She grins, looping her arm in his before heading into the dance.

“What was your first date?”, Eddie asked as he leaned forward from his place in the backseat.

“Oh my god. I think I was about Dylan’s age. A boy asked me to dinner and a movie. Of course, dinner was some fast-food joint and we snuck into the movie but…”, you giggle. “I had fun. What are you guys going to do when Aurora starts dating?”

“Kill them.”, the metalhead pretends to glare into the distance making you and Steve laugh.

“Can we not think about our daughter dating? I don’t think I can handle that right now. I can barely handle this.” Steve continues to chuckle as both men get out of the car and open the door for you.

“Thank you guys for helping him pick out an outfit and getting him ready.”

“You don’t have to—”

You cut Eddie off with a kiss as you wrap your arms around him. “I know I don’t have to. Just let me, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

As you entered the dance, Steve had to detach from you two to tell his boss he was there and offer any assistance they may need. You and Eddie snuck a little closer to where the kids were, smiling when you say your son and his date sitting at a table talking. You can’t help but laugh when “Come Sail Away” by STYX begins to play.

“Isn’t this way outside of their generation? It’s barely in ours.”

“Eh, I’m sure they have to play it as safe as possible.”, the metalhead grins as he takes your hand and pulls you towards the edge of the dance floor where some of the other adults were swaying to the music. Your arms wrap around his neck as he clings to your waist.

“So, you and Steve would have went to school here to, right?”

“You are correct but we didn’t really hang out till high school.”

“Do you remember him?”

“Oh, princess, everyone knew who Steve Harrington was. King Steve with his awesome fashion sense and cool head of hair. I fucking hated him.”, Eddie chuckles. “Something changed his junior year. He started seeing this girl and I think she changed his perspective on some things. By senior year, he was a new man more or less.”

“What happened to the girl?”

“They broke up. She, uh, told him she didn’t love him.”

“Aw. Poor Stevie.” Your eyes shifted towards him, watching as he talked to some of the other teachers. “What about little Edward Munson. What was he like at school here?”

“Oof. Angry. Confused. Nerdy.”, he laughs. “I had been living with Wayne for a little under a year at this point. I was still trying to figure things out and this town sure as hell didn’t make it any easier.” You lean up on your toes to kiss his lips before resting your cheek on his chest. “I think the one good thing that came out of middle school was me getting into D & D. I thought it was amazing and gave me a place I could escape to.”

The music picked up tempo and you grinned as you watched Dylan walk his date to the dance floor. Eddie twirls you in his arms and your grin grows as you both dance along to the faster beat. You don’t see it but Steve pulls out his phone and begins recording his little family having fun.

“Dylan is yours, right?”, asks one of his colleagues.

“Yeah, that’s my son.”, he beams before pointing towards you and Eddie. “That’s my wife and husband.”

She tilts her head at his statement but he doesn’t notice nor care. He’s having too much fun watching you three.

##########

“Well, look at this.”, the metalhead grinned as he looked around the classroom. “The kid who was bad in class actually has his own classroom.”

Steve thought it would be a good idea for you guys to walk around a bit and allow Dylan some time alone with his date without you in the room so he decided now would be a good time to show you his room that you two hadn’t got to see yet.

“I wasn’t bad…I just didn’t care.”

You smiled at him as you wrapped your arms around his waist, giggling when you feel something vibrate.

“Is that me or you?”

He grins as he pulls out his phone before it gradually begins to fade. “My father is calling me.” You take the phone out of his hand and place it on his desk, allowing it to ring as you bring his lips to yours.

“I love you. No matter what he or my mom says.”

“I know.”

“I know you know but I also know…sometimes when he says things…it still hurts you.”

“Like Aurora and Dylan not being Harringtons.”, Eddie cut in. Steve’s phone went silent but after a few moments yours started to ring, grinning sassily as you flashed him the screen. “Do you think we should go for gold and see if he calls me?”

You handed the metalhead your phone. “Do with it what you will, my love.”

He raises his eyebrows playfully in your direction before placing the device to his ear. “Mr. Harrington! How can the Munson-Harrington family assist you today?”

“Where is my son? I need to speak with him NOW!”

“Uh, last I checked, you hadn’t spoken to Steve in three years. When did he become your son again and what do you need from him?”

Your hand reaches out to grip Steve’s chin, turning him to face you. “Look at me, baby. Let Eddie handle him and you focus on me.” He exhales heavily as you palms slide down his chest. “We won’t get in trouble, right?”

“Not if we don’t get caught.”

He lifts you into his arms and places you on his desk, lips mingling with your own as your limbs circle around his neck.

“Is this the real reason you wanted to show us your classroom?”, you tease as he smiles.

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’ve fantasized about bending you over my desk.”

“Then do it, Steve. Please. I’m yours, baby.”

His fingers fumbled with his zipper as you lifted your hips to pull your underwear down your legs, grinning when you toss them to Eddie who sticks his tongue out as he catches them. Your eyes gesture towards the closed door and he gets the message, heading that way to keep a look out.

“Mr. Harrington, no. Dylan IS Steve’s son. He loves him and has helped raise him for half his life so far. I know that’s a foreign concept to you since you don’t know what actually raising a child looks like.”

Steve turns you till your back is to him and you lean over his desk as he grips your hips, guiding his cock into your entrance. Your eyes flutter closed as he thrusts into you, hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you making you moan.

“Y-yes, Steve. Fuck.”

All sound drowns out of the room as he leans his chest down to your back and wraps his arms around you.

“Does that feel good, honey? My dick—mmm—deep inside you like this.”, he mewls into your ear. “Tell me, baby.”

“Your cock is so deep. F-feels so good…please.”

“Do you think you can be quiet if I fuck you harder? You wouldn’t—fuck—you wouldn’t want us to get caught, right?”

You shake your head and he smiles as he lifts his arm up your body till its nestled under your chin. Your back arches as he roughly rolls his hips against yours at a faster pace.

“Mr. Harrington, I’m not going to lie, I didn’t hear a word you said mostly because I don’t care but also because I’m watching Steve fuck our wife and, as always, it’s the hottest fucking thing in the world. Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to let them finish and then most likely cum in his pretty little mouth. Fuck off and leave our family alone.”

With that, Eddie hangs up the phone and tosses it to the side as he unzips his pants, pulling out his own cock as he strokes it to the sight of you both.

“Cum, baby. Be my good girl and cum for me, honey.” Steve grunted when your pussy clenched tighter around him, his palm quickly moving to cover the loud moan that escaped your mouth. “You like that? Mmm—you like me calling you a good girl?”

You place your hand over his, feeling his alone won’t stifle the continuous whimpers that you pant out as he continues to whisper in your ear. The coil in your tummy snaps as you lean your head back against his shoulder and grip his hair through your fingers.

“That’s it. That’s it, Y/N. Fuck, you’re so…so fucking…beautiful.” His arms cling to your body as you feel him thrust his release into your cunt. Neither of you moves as you both try and catch your breath. “Are you ok?”

You nod as you gesture towards the groaning metalhead. “He…he may need you though.”, you say with a knowing smile.

Steve gradually pulls out of you, kissing your cheek before tucking himself back into his pants and sauntering towards Eddie. They exchange a soft kiss, the man smiling as he descends to his knees and takes his cock into his awaiting mouth.

You search the desk, finding the tissue you were looking for, and use it to clean between your legs. After readjusting your dress, you slide up beside them and Eddie hastily brings your lips to his. When he turns away, you continue to trail kisses along his neck and jawline.

“Fuck, Steve. Don’t…don’t move.”

His palms come down and hold the boys head by his hair as he pumps his hips. You cover his mouth as a strangled grunt leaves his lips and his body folds in slightly as he climaxes. Steve milks him, licking every last drop till the boy was clean before rising to his feet.

Their eyes meet and Eddie gave him a big tooth filled grin. “So, your dad says hi.”

########

“Did you have fun, baby?”

“Yeah, mom. I did. I asked Daisy to a movie next Friday. Is that ok?”

“Uh, I don’t see why not.”

You sister smiles as you for walk into the house. “I don’t know what you did but Mr. Harrington isn’t returning our mother’s calls.”

“Good. One less thing to worry about I guess.”, Eddie grins. “Where’s Ro?”

“She knocked out about an hour ago. I was afraid to move her and wake her up.” She gestures towards the living room and he heads that way, carefully lifting her sleeping frame in his arms. He pauses at Kierra’s side allowing her to kiss her niece’s forehead.

As she leaves, Dylan gives her a big hug before running upstairs and Steve throws himself down on the couch as you begin locking up the house.

“Shit. Hey, baby. Can you bring me my phone? I want to send my mom some of the pictures I took tonight.”

“Yeah, of course.”, you smile as you grab his phone from the counter. “Can I send myself some so I can send them to Kierra?” He nods and your smile grows as you unlock his device.

“She’s going to get a kick out of him and her slow dancing. We should send Dylan some to so he can show Daisy—what?” You had frozen in place and your smile had faded as your eyes scanned the screen in front of you. “Honey? Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“’Baby #3 Expenses.’”, you read.

“Y/N…I—”

“’Can we afford it?’ No, Steve. We can’t.”

He exhales heavily and he rises to his feet. “Actually…if you look at the math—”

“Really? Really. Ha-have you thought about, oh I don’t know, SPACE! This is a three-bedroom house, Steven. We-we would have to move which cost time and money! And…”

“What’s going on?”, Eddie asks as he cautiously enters the living room.

“The three of us have our jobs and two kids…we-we barely have time for anything else!” You feel yourself start to panic as you wrap your arms around yourself. “We are NOT ready for a baby right now.”

“Well, that sounds familiar.”, the metalhead sighs.

###########

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @alienthingstwo

@steddieloverrr @manda-panda-monium

@decadentwombatmiracle @katie-tibo @marsupiooo

@local-stoner-bitch @steamystrangerfics @lunatictardis

@adaydreamaway08 @hazydespair @actuallyspencerreid

@moviefreak1205 @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog

@kik51199 @strngrlytn @idkidknemore @damon-loves-pie

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@justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @3rriberri

@sashaphantomhive @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

@munsonzzgf @munsonmoonshine86

#steddie x reader #steddie fluff #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie stranger things #steve fanfic #steve smut #steve stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #stranger things #fan fiction

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fandomwritingbit · 11 months

Text

Let us in then

william afton x (fem)reader

reqs are open again btw :)

warnings: smut. like very nsfw smut. established relationship kind of thing.

A/n: Thanks to x-starxi in the comments for bringing this to my attention, my use of 'us' just refers to the reader or William singularly, if its confusing to swap it for the word 'me' xx

You’re standing in your kitchen with a glass of wine when you hear your doorbell go. Who the hell could it be at this time of night? You look to your watch almost to make the point that it was too late to yourself: 11:23. Either a postman has got fucking lost or it was a burglar or some shit?

You don’t know, but you’re just deciding whether to answer when it rings again. Putting your glass down, you slip into your hallway, going to the door, trying to be quiet so you can get a look at the ringer before you decide to open it in case it’s a... really polite murderer or something.

Seeing who it is, you sigh almost automatically. The one thing worse than a Voorhees type: Will Afton. He’s looking at his watch, impatiently waiting for you to let him in, because he just knew you were going to, gradually getting a little put out at having to wait.

You unlock and open your front door, to find William with his hand half raised like he was about to start braying it to get you over. You stand in the frame assessing him, he looked good but then again, he always did, that’s why you kept letting him in.

“What have I told you about banging on my door whenever you want a shag?” Your hands are on your hips, trying to mock chastise him but falling at the first hurdle and giggling.

He smirked, gesturing with his thumb to your side gate with a shit-eating grin, “To go round the back?”

You can’t help but laugh, “Nah. To give us a message first. I’m not at your beck and call you know, Mr Afton.”

“You gonna let me in then? I’m freezing my bollocks off out here.”

“How fortunate.” You make him wait a beat of silence before standing aside allowing him to move past, unable to resist.

He goes straight through to your kitchen like he owns the place, and by the time you’re in there with him, he’s drinking your wine. Sipping it without an invite his face screws up.

“This is shit.” he says, holding the glass up to look at the red liquid in the light.

“Yeah. You’ll never guess who bought us that one.” You point to the bottle and the realisation manifests in his expression.

“Sorry,” he laughs, “though I’ve never been good with wine.”

“You can earn my forgiveness by getting us something better, next time.”

“Nah nah, I can think of another way.” You were giggling as his hands scooped you up under your legs and carried you through to your bedroom, this man was much too comfortable in your house but hell, how can you complain?

Just as with your house, he was also way too familiar with what you liked, because you moaned as he began kissing your neck. The kind of kiss that had you ready to do anything the man said, it was silly really but true. He was able to find that part of your flesh that made you squirm with ease, and made you so lost in it that you hardly notice your hands pulling at his clothes.

Pulling his shirt up, grabbing at his belt, then the part of him you liked most over the fabric of his boxers.

“You’re in a rush.” he grins cockily, before turning you around to unhook your bra.

“I’ve got pasta on the boil.” The man goes stiff, pulling away from you with his head tilted to the side.

“You’re fucking joking?” he scoffs, unable to read the half-arsed shrug you give in response.

“Course I am, you tit.” you laugh, not able to stop as he pushes you back on your own bed. He was quick to pull your ankles up so he could hook the strap of your panties and slide them down.

Whilst you’d say that there was very little redeemable about this affair, there was one credit to give him: he could go down on you like no one’s business. The mix of his stubble on the inside of your legs and the flicking of your clit was bliss honestly, and you found your hand grabbing his head to keep him exactly where you wanted.

He obliged you, tongue moving between your clit and teasing your entrance, feeling him smirk against your cunt when your legs clamped around him involuntarily. That always happened when he got you close, like your body couldn't decide if you wanted to crash into your end or for him to back off and leave you panting.

"Fuck... Will?"

He didn't answer you, but his eyes flicked up, quickly catching your gaze. At seeing how you looked, he reached down between his legs, grabbing at his cock.

He hummed his acknowledgement, prompting you to say, "Come here."

At your words, he left you on your edge, that pretty little pussy fluttering around nothing, he was going to fix that though. He stood straight and you wrapped your legs around him, his hands pulling your legs apart to allow his body between them, his hard cock rubbing against your hole. It was a very familiar situation to be in, but every time the sheer size of him had you nervous, he knew that and always took advantage of the fact that this was the only time he could shut you up.

He moved himself against your pussy, his tip spreading your lips as he skimmed over your entrance up to your clit.

“You know how much I think about this, sweetheart? Think about how good you look just waiting for me, that tight little cunt aching for it, huh?” He continued teasing you, making you scowl because the fleeting stimulation just wasn’t enough. The filthy sight of it fuelling your anticipation.

Without warning, he grabbed your hips lifting you slightly so that the head of his cock just pressed inside, you groan because by lifting you up you had no say in how much of him you got, leaving you completely at his will.

Mercifully he didn’t make you wait too long, splitting you open as he sunk in balls-deep, pulling your body flush against his. You grunt the word fuck, making him smirk. He took you slow, every inch of him almost torture because it wasn’t taking you to your end fast enough, but fuck he was deep, causing your nails to dig into his forearms.

“I love when you look so moody, tell me what you want then.” He grinned, hissing through his teeth, teasing you was fun, but how tight you were was taking a lot of restraint for him not to give in and rail you blind.

“Sh- Will. make me cum, Will-” He cuts you off, setting a much more ruthless pace, shoving you down into the mattress and yanking your legs up so he could see you take him. And you were there almost immediately, you moans covering up the lewd sound of him fucking in and out of you.

#fnaf #fnaf smut #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x you #william afton smut

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cookie-crumblr · 5 months

Text

The Smell of Smoke

Innocent F! Reader x M!Yandere Bully OC

Part 5~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, name calling (bitch, slut, whore, ), BULLY, plot part(some backstory) a spoiler for TC, SA NOT BY ML, NON-CON oral on ml, force feeding alcohol, fighting, blood mentioned

Thick black leather covers your neck. A little padlock hangs from the buckle.

What the fuck is going on?

Of course you’ll try an avoid him!

Did Ace even have to ask!?

Something thumps somewhere outside your cell.

You try to cover yourself, but they didn’t give you any clothes.

Half of the gang is gone at the moment in some sort of fight, you couldn’t overhear much about it though.

There’s no way in hell you’re trying to get away, your leg is still casted up and pretty badly burned.

A thin door somewhere opens and then closes outside of your room.

“Hey Ace!” A guy says as you hear a hand-to-hand *smack*!

“Sup dude!”

“What cha doin’ ere?”

“Here to pick her up,” Ace answers them as their footfalls come closer.

“Oh? Man sounds like fun. I missed her train the other day, but oh well, plenty of whores, guess.” He shrugs and unlocks the door for the fluffy pink haired guy.

He walks you out to the connected parking garage without a word from either of you till you get into the car.

“Are you gonna get in trouble for helping me?”

“With who? Ezra? Hah!!” he laughs in earnest. “No, he raised me! after his mom ki—” his face drops, then he steels himself, “No! ya know what! He revoked his right to have secretes.”

“Wait wait, he raised you? How’d you turn out like the way you are? and not…”

“I’m sure he looks evil… I mean he’s never been like this with anyone. An I won’t try to say it’s right...”

“Why’s he doing it then?”

“I’ve never seen him with a vendetta quite like this. to be honest, i don’t know” He takes a long strained sigh before pulling out of the garage. “N-not saying there’s anything you could have done that would justify any of this! it just feels very… reveng-y”

“Whatever… Anyway, what was that about secretes? sorry-side tangents” You shrug in your seat.

“His mother murdered my parents”

Harsh knocking shakes your door practically off its hinges.

looking out the peephole you see, it’s not Ezra, but it’s still unfortunately a couple members of his gang you think.

“Sup. Boss’s gone f’today, we’re here t’escort ya around, an all that.” They look at you hungrily, sweeping over your still very much damaged form.

“A-are you??” You ask skeptically. “I-I’m just gonna… Get ready! … then.”

You go to close the door, and one of them smacks it open wider with his fist.

You jump. “Wh-what the—!?”

“Yeah. He said yur paying us fur our services” They step closer and closer. One strokes your hair, the other grabs you and bends you over them.

They take you to your class, still dirty and disheveled, but you make it on time.

After class they don’t come to pick you up. Which you think is odd, but you don’t question it, feeling a lot better off without them.

At the end of the school day you’re hopping down the street, sticky and hot, trying to get home.

“Hey, slut, ya miss me?” You hear Ezra call out to you, something stirs deep within you…

You sigh out, there’s no way you’re getting away from him right now, being on crutches and all. You give him a weak, defeated smile.

“Get in.” he practically snarls at you.

You do, without any assistance. It hurts all over by the time you’re sitting.

“You reek! t’fuck happened t’ya!?”

Sheer embarrassment turns swiftly into tears bubbling in the bottom lids of your eyes. “You should know—It was y-your guys!”

“My guys?” his lip turns up in disgust.

“Yes! they c-came first thing in the morning, said they’d pr-protect me—” your sobbing a little from exacerbation, “Th-then they—”

“What’d they look like?” His voice sits completely level, but it’s much deeper now.

You explain their appearance as best as you remember. He pulls away from the curb as soon as you get half way through.

“They ain’t my guys.”

“Stay here.” Ezra jumps out of the car and rushes the front door. Your little heart is beating so loud and hard in your chest now. Somethings really, really wrong.

You scooch down lower in your chair.

One of the guys from earlier opens the door… You see Ezra immediately grab him and slam his face down into his knee.

The guy yells loud, blood pours from his nose.

Ezra throws him to the lawn and reaches into the darkened doorway to grab the second guy and throw him as well.

He stomps on him once before kicking him a few times in the ribs.

The other guy is still reeling on the ground.

Ezra leans down over the man now and punches him repeatedly in the head and face.

Finally standing, the first guy goes to pull Ezra off his friend. Ezra’s attention is now on him, there’s blood splattered on his face, and dripping onto his shirt.

You look away, shivering, and hold your ears, your eyes are wide.

You consider running, again forgetting your damn leg.

“F-Fuck!” You punch the door of the car.

It feels like hours later he comes back to the car, the bandages on his knuckles are torn and blood soaked.

“thanks f’tellin me” He slides a wet finger up your jaw.

He throws your face roughly, before undoing his pants and grabbing you again.

“Open up, bitch,” he shoves your head down and grinds into your face. You shake your head no, and clench your jaw. “If you don’t take this fucking cock into your whore mouth—”

“Okay! okay! okayy, please! just sto-opp” You sob and put your lips to his hot, spongey tip.

Heat spreads between your legs at a frustrating pace.

“Nah, nah, bitch, this ain’t it” he chuckles.

His hand digs into your scalp and grips tightly. He forces you all the way down his shaft, nose against his thigh once again.

Your throat contracts painfully as you try and breathe.

He keeps you there, giving and taking your air at his own whim all over again the entire way home.

Once there, you’re apparently too slow to grab your things, so he grabs your bag and helps you with your crutches.

Again he tries to speed ahead of you and he sighs in frustration when you still aren’t fast enough.

He comes back to sling you over his shoulder with one arm and your crutches in the other.

You cling to his shirt, scared of having anymore pain than you’re already in.

“Have you not taken any meds yet?” He opens the door to your dorm.

“I was going to when i got home…” You say, your voice is hoarse, and quiet.

He finds the meds in your bag, after forcing you to sit. He then goes to your fridge and finds some of your roommates boxed wine.

He pours some wine into his mouth and drops in a couple pills, then brings his lips down to yours and forced the alcohol into your mouth.

It rushes in so fast you’re forced to swallow! The alcohol tastes terrible and feels so hot as it goes down. You push him away after he makes sure you gulped everything down.

He takes the container of wine and sips more, before repeating the process with you.

His hand finds your mound with ease, and he starts to rub you through your panties as you swallow more of the hot fluid.

You’re dizzy and panting already and when you try and push him away now, it’s sluggish with no power, as if you’re dreaming.

A weird buzz fills your head, you think you must be cross eyed when he pulls away.

“Hah, you’re such a lightweight!” His words float into your mind, vision spinning and blurry.

You yelp as he slaps your cunt with the back of his hand.

He takes a large gulp of the wine, before picking you back up.

It hardly feels different than being on the bed, you’re rapidly spinning regardless of where in space you are.

You can’t help giggling as he takes your clothes off, he keeps brushing over ticklish spots everywhere! Everything feels so silly right now, even your ribs tickle as you try and breathe!

He puts you in the tub with some hot water.

You suddenly stop laughing though, while he’s holding your casted leg up out of the water for you… It’s a strangely sweet gesture from him.

“‘ll this help?” he’s looking away as if trying to be polite while he asks.

You wash as quickly as possible.

Ezra dries you off and carries you to bed. He sets you in his lap and holds your chin to face him. His lips tickle yours as he just barely touches them.

You’re still dizzy, and the world is still fuzzy, making it hard to think.

His kiss gets rougher as the seconds pass, eventually he’s biting you, and sinking his teeth into your shoulder, leaving dark bruises in his wake.

His hand finds your tit, he runs his fingers over your pert bud. His other moves to your sore scalp.

“I want to tear you apart, Y/N,” he whispers against your neck in a gruff, rumbling voice.

You can’t do anything but whine, “What-” He pulls your head back forcefully, it hurts your neck, and causes you to cough.

As he kisses you, his hand slowly glides up your chest to your throat, pressing traveling dents into you’re flesh all along the way. you moan into him.

“I can’t wait to fucking destroy you,”

Your head tilts back practically welcoming his touch on its own. You couldn’t fight to keep it upright against the alcohol combined with the spreading warmth.

“You‘re too numb for me righ’now.” He throws you aside, though he stays close to you in the bed. “I want you to feel everything I give you.”

#yandere oc #oc ezra #yandere male #yandere x reader #bully yandere #bully oc x reader #bully oc x you #yandere bully oc #bully x victim #yandere bully #bully x reader #bully oc #yandere #my fic #my writing #my oc

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