#i think another one that i would like to mention that falls under the cheap but charming category is Studio Chizu | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steveslevis · 6 months

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delicate - chapter one

is it too soon to do this yet?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

chapter contents: singular mention of abuse & mentions of a shitty ex, mentions of violence, not much happening yet just lots of lead up <33

wc: 3.5k

a/n: first chapter!! i'm actually so excited for this i love it so much <3 hope you all enjoy!

The smell of coffee hits your nose as you slowly wake, the feeling of sun beaming in through a nearby window makes you squint and roll over, trying to avoid waking up for as long as possible.

Sleeping a little bit longer would be possible if it weren’t for the clanking of a pan and spatula a few feet away from your head. It’s in that moment that you become painfully aware that you’re on a cheap, cold leather couch and not in your normal, warm and cozy bed. You only groan and flop onto your stomach at the sound, hastily grabbing the pillow that was under your head in order to cover your ears and muffle the loud banging while trying not to think too hard about the situation you were in.

“Am I being that loud?” you hear a voice call across the room from beneath your pillow.

“I don’t think so, someone is just cranky and a light sleeper,” another voice says with a laugh, this one coming from closer to you, just before you feel the couch dip near your head.

You uncover your head at that remark, finally looking up from your spot on the couch to see your best friend, Eddie sitting beside you with a smug smirk on his face while his boyfriend, Alexander, was starting breakfast in the kitchen just behind you.

“None of those allegations are true, thank you very much,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting up while wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, “I just would’ve liked a little more sleep than I got, but your uncomfortable ass leather couch decided otherwise.”

Eddie only rolls his eyes and shakes his head, extending a mug full of fresh coffee your way. You give him a knowing look before taking it, eyes falling to the liquid in the cup, making sure it’s to your liking – even though you know Eddie knows exactly how to make your coffee at home, with just enough creamer to drown out the burnt taste from the cheap drip.

You can feel your best friend’s eyes on you as you take the first sip, unspoken tension holding in the air as you avoid his gaze. Eddie notices how you look like you barely got an ounce of sleep, just like the four nights before when you’d slept on his couch. The leather couch is partly to blame for your lack of sleep, but you and him both know that the thoughts of your now ex boyfriend is what’s really keeping you up at night. He knows you went to see him last night, so you definitely got not a minute of sleep. His eyes shift towards Alexander for a moment, who shoots Eddie a knowing glare, encouraging him to talk to you.

“So,” he says while clearing his throat, “what’s on your agenda for today?”

“Eds – you really don’t have to keep up with the pity small talk,” you say with a small laugh and a genuine, but sad smile, “you can ask me, I’ll tell you what happened.”

“Babes, I’m not gonna ask about that piece of shit if you don’t want to talk about it –”

“We’re done, Eddie.” you interject, a sad yet relieved look washing over your face as you finally say it out loud, “We talked and decided that no contact was for the best.”

“You’re telling me that Luke, that insufferable asshole who rarely ever let you get a word in and tried to control you in every sense, had a civil conversation about breaking up and agreed on no contact?” Eddie says with an incredulous glare in your direction.

Shit. You were lying straight through your teeth and got caught immediately. You should’ve just told him the whole truth, how you got yelled at for two hours straight about how you were such a slut, how you would never find someone half as good as him, and how he’s the reason you’re wearing a hoodie to cover up the bruises on your forearms from Luke’s drunken grip. But you knew better, you knew telling Eddie even half of the truth would end with someone in the hospital — and it probably wouldn’t be him.

“Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it went, but that doesn’t matter.” you shrug, shaking your head before taking another chug of coffee, “What does matter is that I am single and in desperate need of somewhere to live, so my search starts today —“

You reach for your laptop that sits on the coffee table in front of you, but Eddie swats your hand away, giving you another glare.

“You’re not gonna find anything for one person that’s reasonable anywhere around here, babes.” Alexander calls out from behind you while battling with a sizzling pan of bacon.

“He’s right,” Eddie replies, his face twisting into a look of genuine concern, “why don’t you just, you know, like I said before, live here? This dump is rent controlled and two bedrooms, I don’t need an entire office for playing guitar and planning DnD campaigns, y’know.”

“No—No way am I gonna continue to mooch off you and live here! You guys have done too much already, I can’t ask that of you too,” you shake your head quickly, a frown spreading quickly across your lips as you furrow your brow.

The room falls quiet as you shake your head, both boys staring back at you while you fight back tears you didn’t know were forming. You blink quickly and sniffle before looking back to Eddie, forcing a smile onto your lips to convince him that you’ll be okay.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, this time in a quieter, calmer voice.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll find somewhere to go, I’ll be fine.” you assure him.

“Will—Will you at least try to look for new jobs before you move?” Eddie begs, knowing you continuing to work as a bartender at the same bar Luke is a bouncer at would only cause trouble. “At least at a bar that’s a little nicer, where you can get good tips?”

“Yes, Eds. I’ll start looking for new jobs today,” you say with a small smile.

—————————————

Your eyes are tired and dry, your hands are sore from the amount of typing and scrolling you’ve been doing. All in the name of a job search, which was proving to be damn near impossible. Every coffee shop with an online application seemed to have a broken portal or no available positions, even the library and gym on campus had nothing for grabs.

There were probably fifty different tabs open on your laptop now, and you were close to giving up for the day. It was almost 5 pm at this point, and nothing was giving any positive signs. You were hungry and in need of time outside or you might end up going stir crazy.

So with a sigh, you begin to close all fifty tabs on your screen to spare your sanity.

Forty-nine tabs later, you’re left with one Indeed tab open in front of you. Before you close it out, a listing at the bottom catches your eye. You blink once to clear your glazed over eyes, leaning in to read its description.

The link reads, “HELP NEEDED: Full-Time Nanny in Manhattan wanted! Rent, meals and transportation included along with weekly salary. Please contact the following number with serious inquires only.”

You couldn’t believe what you were reading, it all seemed way too good to be true. Nobody in their right mind would fall for something like this, you thought. But, you didn’t feel like you were in your right mind, anyways.

You click on the link and it takes you to a simple Indeed page. The page itself was bare, only the description from the previous page along with a phone number next to the lister’s name, Steve Harrington.

“Find anything good?” a voice booms in your ear from behind.

You jump nearly a foot in the air at the voice, turning around quickly to swat Eddie in the shoulder for startling you like that.

“Ow!”

“Asshole,” you mumble, rolling your eyes at him as you try to hide a smile.

“I guess I deserve that.” he says with a laugh.

Eddie throws himself onto the couch next to you as you turn your attention back to the computer in front of you. He cranes his neck enough to read what’s on the screen, furrowing his brow as he reads the job listing.

“Well that seems like a dud. Too suspicious, not enough description.” Eddie murmurs, shaking his head.

You look at him, then back to your computer, then back to your best friend. He’s going to kill you for even thinking about it, you know it. But you can’t help but be curious about the whole situation, especially when it seems like too good of a deal to pass up.

“I—I don’t know, Eddie. I kinda wanna see what it’s all about.” you say with a meek smile.

“What?” he gasps, sitting up with a look of disbelief crossing his face, “hell fucking no, no way you’re actually thinking about this. That seems like a scam waiting to happen.”

“Eddie—“ you interject, grabbing your phone from your pajama pants pocket, “what will it hurt to try? If the texts are too sketchy or things go weird, I’ll block them and that’ll be the end of it, okay?”

He narrows his eyes at you and shakes his head, you’re too convincing to him and he knows you’ve won without much of a fight. A sigh of defeat falls from Eddie’s lips as he stands from the couch, making his way into the kitchen for a drink.

“Fine, but I’m driving you to and from whatever interview processes there are if you do follow through with this ridiculous plan, just so I know you’re safe.” he suggests, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.

“That’s fine by me,” you say with a triumphant grin, turning your attention to your phone.

You spend a few minutes curating a text to the mysterious Steve Harrington, reading it over multiple times before deciding to hit send. You wanted to sound as professional as possible, since there was no actual application process and one wrong text could ruin your chances. After reading it over approximately ten times, you finally decided to hit send.

Hello Steve! My name is Y/N, I was on Indeed in search of a new job today and came across your job posting. I am extremely interested in the position and would love to hear more about the opportunity. Is there any more information that you could provide me with about the position? Thanks in advance!

Once you sent the message, you stared at the blue bubble on your screen for another minute, rereading it once more.

“Alright, quit obsessing over that sketch ass job and let’s figure out what we’re gonna eat tonight.” Eddie calls from the kitchen, with a Chinese takeout menu in his hand, “wanna go pick up some lo mein, crab rangoon and some cheap wine? Alexander hates that place but he’s got a shift tonight, so it’s just me and you.”

“You know me too well, Munson,” you smile, shutting off your phone and shoving it into your pocket.

—————————————

The early autumn air bites at your cheeks as you walk down the street with Eddie, a bag of chinese food in your hands and a bag full of wine bottles in his. The two of you are laughing about something that Eddie said when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

You try to continue the conversation but stop mid-sentence when you see the text from none other than your potential future employer, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington: Hi Y/N. Thank you for your interest in the position. I would love to see if you’re a good fit and see if we can get things started as soon as possible. Would you be available tomorrow morning at 9 to meet us at Ralph’s Coffee on Fifth? I will have all of the details and contracts printed and ready to sign if you’re right for the position. Let me know ASAP.

“What’s up?” Eddie says as he peers at your phone, making you realize you had gone silent for too long, “oh shit, tomorrow? At Ralph’s on Fifth Avenue? That’s like, rich people territory that we’ve never stepped foot in before. What the fuck kinda job is this, Y/N?”

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer, looking up at him for some kind of guidance, “what do I say?”

“Say ‘fuck yes’?” Eddie laughs, reaching for the door of the apartment complex once you reach it, “shit, I don’t know. Just say something professional-ish about seeing him tomorrow.”

“Right—Okay, obviously. I’ll do that.” you giggle as you stomp up the apartment stairs.

You’re silent as Eddie unlocks all the doors on the way to their place, eyes glued to your phone as you type out a text that’s professional but not too eager.

Sounds great. I will see you tomorrow at 9 a.m. at Ralph’s. Looking forward to meeting you!

—————————————

Being awake before 8 a.m. on a Saturday felt like a crime to you, but you were hoping it was worth it for whatever job you were about to get yourself into.

You woke up bright and early at 7:30 just to make sure you had time to fully get ready and look decent before making your way across town with Eddie to Ralph’s. There weren’t many options for your outfit for the meeting, since you had to donate half your closet to save space in the shoebox apartment you once shared with Luke, but you opted for a nice pair of black wide-leg jeans, a cream-colored sweater and a pair of black Chelsea boots. You got ready in record time before you made your way into Eddie and Alexander’s room, attempting to wake up the curly haired boy.

Eddie was not happy to be up, but there was no way he was letting you go alone to meet a stranger about some random job, even if it was at one of the fanciest coffee shops in the city.

You led the begrudging and very tired man out of the apartment after he got changed, into the crisp morning air to start your walk towards Fifth Avenue.

“You owe me a nice coffee when we get there,” Eddie adds as he hugs himself, trying to create some warmth.

“You’re the one who wanted to come with, remember?” you remind him, shooting him a knowing glare.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I just wanna make sure you’re safe.” he retorts, shaking his head at you.

Before you can reply, a text buzzes through on your phone.

Steve Harrington: I grabbed a table off to the side in the shop, look for the crayons and coloring books on the table and you’ll find us. See you soon.

Your brow furrows in confusion at the text, surprised to see that he was bringing who you assume is his child along with him to the meeting. You shrug it off, smiling to yourself at the thought of getting to meet the kid today instead of after getting hired.

It takes only another 15 minutes to arrive, getting there a few minutes before 9 a.m. to make a good first impression. To shut the complaining Eddie up, you decide to get your coffee first, then find your future employers.

You order a hot vanilla latte for yourself, and a black coffee for Eddie, who grabs the drink hastily once given it. He bids you goodbye and wishes you good luck before finding his own seat in the coffee shop to occupy himself for the time being. With one last deep breath, you look around at all of the tables, trying to find the one with a coloring child.

Eventually you spot them in a far corner of the room. A little girl and her extremely well-dressed father sit at a table in front of you, both of them engaged in a deep conversation about which color she should choose for the fur of the puppy she was about to scribble on. Your eyes wander from the little brown-haired girl with a baby pink dress and matching shoes and up to her father, who you’re taken aback by immediately.

He looks only a few years older than yourself, and has the nicest head of hair you’ve ever seen on a man. You can’t help but stare at it for a moment, wanting to run your fingers through the chestnut locks. It isn’t until he looks up from the paper and actually makes eye contact with you that you realize how beautiful he actually is. His doe-eyes are like honey, your mind immediately runs to places it shouldn’t when you gaze into them.

“You must be Y/N.” he starts, shooting a smile your way as he stands up from his seat to extend a hand and greet you.

“Y—Yes, I am!” you stammer nervously, cursing yourself for seeming too excited as you throw your hand into his, “you must be Steve, it’s great to finally meet you.”

After you shake his hand, he gestures for you to have a seat, pulling the chair next to him out so you can sit. You quickly sit down and look at the young girl next to you, who has an excited grin and bright eyes when she looks up at you.

“Hello!” you greet her with a smile, “what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Amelia.” she says with a giggle.

Before you can continue talking to her, she turns her attention back to her coloring page, having decided on coloring the puppy in front of her with a purple crayon instead of the brown that Steve had suggested.

“She obviously has very important business to attend to,” Steve laughs, while reaching for some papers on the table in front of him, “and so do we.”

For the next thirty minutes, the two of you do a lot of back and forth, professional discussion about your life and what your job for the family would entail. You tell him that you’re in online courses at NYU, so you’ll need time for homework and exams, which he understands. You also learn that Steve is a CEO at Penguin Publishing, and that he is in need of a lot of help with taking care of Amelia, who seemed to be the best behaved child you could ask to watch.

The conversation was flowing between the two of you so easily, like you had known each other for years. Every time he cracked a smile at one of your remarks, it made your heart flutter. What the hell? What was wrong with you? You tried to push the fluttery feeling away as he spoke, not wanting it to get in the way of whatever this good thing was that you had going.

In the middle of your intense conversation about your schooling and working around it, Amelia pulls at your sleeve to get your attention. When you turn to her, she looks up at you with the same doe-eyes that her father has and shows you two crayons, one red and one green.

“What color for trees?” she questions, looking at you intently.

“Hm…I think red, it’s much prettier than green and it’s like all the fall leaves outside right now.” you suggest, which makes the little girl light up.

She nods feverishly at your idea, dropping the green crayon and immediately coloring the trees with the scarlet red.

“Well, it seems like we have a pretty good thing going here and that we’re in agreement for expectations and whatnot.” Steve says with a smile after watching the interaction between the two of you, “Although,I think there’s one thing that might make you change your mind about this whole thing that wasn’t specifically mentioned in the job description.” Steve starts, shifting in his chair nervously.

“I’m sure I won’t mind, whatever it is.” you say with a smile, now feeling desperate for this job after building such a quick connection to the two of them.

“Well, I would really, really appreciate if you moved into my penthouse, into the in-laws quarters that are obviously not being used. It would be so—so helpful for you to be there all the time and—that’s why I had rent, food and transportation on the description.” he rambles nervously, as if that had ran off past applicants before.

Who would wanna turn down living in a penthouse, especially if it’s with him of all people?

Fears and doubts flood your mind for a quick moment, but you shake them away, not wanting him to rescind his offer if you think about it for too long.

“A—Alright, when would you need me to start? Like when would I move in?”

“Tomorrow, if possible. I can send a truck and some people over to where you’re currently living to help move whatever you need—“

“Tomorrow?”

—————————————

TAGS (ask to be added!): @frostandflamesfanfic @definitionwanderlust @diffrent-spokes

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things

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nyctophiliq · 4 months

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✮ ┆A GET-WELL KISS. ada wong

last time ada was here she left you with wanting more and without a promise of getting back to you. despite promising yourself that you won’t be fooled by her again, you can’t help but give in to her cheap trick of trying to kiss you.

CONTENT WARNING. 18+ only, minors dni. SUGGESTIVE CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; female-bodied reader, set after re4r, medic! reader, mention of previous encounters, mention of sex, mention of wounds, stitches, flirting, making out, | ~1,1k words

A/N. got sidetracked from the event uhm… ada brain rot set in a hard but a little by little, i am getting to finish the event entries too !!! so i hope you guys enjoy this for the time being <3

the med bay was tranquil which was always a surprise considering that while your employer’s puppets were out during the night and show up in the morning for a quick tape and glue job, by this time you would be flooded with work. only she walked in, shielding her eyes from the bright lights that lit up the room.

after getting her onto the exam table and finally getting out of her what happened and where was she shot or hurt you were ready to cut her visit short because ada wong was one of your ethical shortcomings.

“any pain i should know about?” you can’t even look into her eyes to make sure she is not trying to hide her pain or any other injuries she might have missed to mention just to get out of here. “just the stitches but i think i can manage.”

“still, just to be on the safe side i’m gonna give you some painkillers if that’s fine.” you reach into your white coat to pull out your prescription pad, scribbling down the name and dose of the pills, tearing the paper before handing it to her. you wait with a puzzled look as she looks back at you, not taking the prescription, a small smirk on her lips like she is about to jump on you. “fine would be a get-well kiss.”

eyes almost falling out of their socket, a ball of air suffocating you in your throat as you hear her words. a get-well kiss… without a doubt, she was playing to benefit herself, because when was she not?

it happened before, you were on-call to treat anyone who came in complaining of whatever and she came- waltzing in and holding her upper arm with the look of a wounded dog who was too proud to admit their defeat. she sat in front of you, talked, and talked. still, it never felt like she was telling you anything crucial about herself or what she really wanted. the mystery drew you closer and closer, first a touch, then a look, and a kiss that finished with your blinds being pulled on for your office windows and her kneeling in front of you, pushing your thighs apart and tasting you until you were begging for more, begging her never to stop.

so little hesitation on your side might have been a tad bit childish, fumbling around with the piece of paper before tossing it on the desk behind you, but still understandable. ada was… a charmer, a sight for sore eyes, and any other metaphor that could overly describe how beautiful she was and clever with her words and tone.

took it slow, leaning up and closing your eyes like you were expecting a slap, afraid of the rejection if this was just a teasing remark and yet another way for her to confirm that you were still thinking about that previous incident. your hand takes her hand resting on her thigh, the other touches her cheek to pull her close and keep her steady against your lips. the warmth drains from your shaky fingers when both her hands attack your face, dipping you in your place as she stands up from hers, pushing you back onto your chair, and completely taking over every sense you have.

the smell, the touch, that one last look you get of her before your eyes shut once your surprise wears off. her fingers gripping your skull, a harsh grip as her tongue demands entrance into your mouth and you let out a lewd moan as her saliva mixes with yours. it’s so much more intoxicating than you remember, her tongue clashing with yours in a fight you can hardly call vicious when you give up so easily on dominance, so she can have what she wants.

and she wants you.

so she takes you, takes your breath away, and turns your head inside out as her kiss twists your thoughts. you can already feel the room warming up, your clothes becoming heavier with each nod of her head to position you the way she wants, the way it gives her the easiest access. you can’t help your hands flying over hers, clamping down on them as you battle the growing urge to escape her hold because this high that she is bringing you is gonna be a painful fall if she doesn’t come back.

and you don’t want her to leave.

ada’s nails dig into your skin to make sure you are paying attention, that you can’t escape as her tongue continues to duel with yours. she keeps her movements smooth, her lips soft, gentle even, as if trying to take everything you give without hurting you. you choke back a groan of pleasure as she pulls on your bottom lip with her teeth, leaving you gasping and unable to control your own actions. you open your eyes again to see her looking back at you with a pleased grin, her pupils dilated as her chest rises and falls.

her lips linger several moments against yours, barely touching as she huffs, out of breath and full of adrenalin. ada smiles wildly, her expression turning to one of adoration and affection. she strokes her fingers down your neck, hands drifting down to rest on your shoulders. her voice is quiet, her touch gentle. “feels much better… thank you, doctor.”

her seducing words never failed to kill every coherent thought in your mind, the way your muscles shook as your arms found their way around her body to keep her close. “a-anytime.” and it’s so embarrassing as you stutter, voice barely audible in the quiet sterile room. a wicked smile plasters on ada’s face, her fingertips coming up to run along your lower lip to cut that thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you.

she sighs, still trying to catch her breath before huffing out a question, “so should i come back or…” she asks and you shake your head as you lean against her stomach, indulging in this newly found comfort.

“if it hurts some these…” you point behind yourself, hopefully at the desk where the prescription was. “pills should ease it and if you get a fever you should come back and see me.” the spy above you chuckles, her fingers now resting in your hair.

“and if i dont have a fever, can i still come and see you?” your eyes pop with excitement and if you had a tail it would be wagging a little too enthusiastically. you move your head, glancing up at her and nodding.

“yes, you can.”

#📗 — written by moss !#ada wong x reader #ada wong x female reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil ada x reader #resident evil ada wong x reader #ada wong x you

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jejuboo-s · 1 year

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JUST A SIP.

PAIRING: Vampire!J. Wonwoo x F. Reader

W. COUNT: 1.4K

GENRE: Complete smut, nothing much else

SUMMARY: While shaving your legs up to your thighs in the shower, you accidentally wound yourself, blood spilling out of the small cut. In a hurry, you contemplate on going outside and asking Wonwoo to help. But you really couldn’t. Why? Because your boyfriend was a vampire.

EXPLICIT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT MINORS DNI.

WARNINGS: Name calling (pretty, whore, etc.), mention of razor (for shaving), obvious mention of blood, Wonwoo is kinddaaa mean, slapping (face), Wonwoo gets cockier as reader gets needier, consent is sexy, cum-play, reader puts up with Wonwoo’s shit easily, she/her + female genitalia used/referenced

A/N: long.. long overdue. i haven’t done a work over 1k since my mingyu “stop kissing me please” and that was like two months ago, if i remember correctly. please do let me know what i could make better and if you have any suggestion for me in the near future, thank you. >3<

You hissed, looking at your thigh, you noticed a large cut from your razor. Feeling hot water fall from your shower head back onto your thigh just made the situation even more uncomfortable, so you decided to finish up your shower and head to your bedroom quickly.

Wrapping a towel around your exposed and wet body, you slowly realized that you really weren’t supposed to be going out of the bathroom with blood dripping from your thigh. Especially with Wonwoo home. You see, your boyfriend was a vampire. Although some things were harder to do with your irregular boyfriend, it didn’t stop you from acknowledging how kind, smart, caring, and handsome he was.

But really, you didn’t know how to really… approach this situation. You had two options, one seemed better than the other, yet the so-called “better” one would end up having more cons.

Option A: Turn off the shower, try grabbing a paper towel and wetting it to pat on the cut. Wait until all the blood has been patted off (estimated around ten minutes).

Cons? It would sting like hell, well, sure it’d sting even more if you got Wonwoo to do it with rubbing alcohol (if he could even withstand just looking at the wound), but it was always better for another person to do it. Plus, all the bacteria you’d imagine could contaminate the cut.. just. gross.

Option B: Walk outside with your towel, disturbing Wonwoo in whatever activity he’s doing inside of the living room. Also, interrupting whatever craving he had before and substituting it with your blood.

There technically weren’t many cons, but the last time he’d had your blood was when you two began dating, and let’s just say; it didn’t end so painlessly.

“Baby? Wonwoo?” You called out from inside the bathroom, loud enough for him to hear, quiet enough to not disturb him.

“Hm? Pretty, why don’t you get out of the bathroom to talk to me? You know I like face-to-face conversation better than ones in between walls.”

“Well uhm, do.. Do you still have that rubbing alcohol? And an uhm, a bandage?” You asked meekly.

“Why, are you.. are you bleeding?..” He paused in between his words, and you could tell he did because of the lack of noise coming from whatever activity he’d been doing before.

“Yeah, I just accidentally cut myself while shaving,” you bit your lip. “And there’s nothing really in the cabinets to help. So.. I assumed that asking you would be best.”

“Baby, you do know I don’t wanna hurt you. I haven’t tasted your blood, that rich blood for two years..” His mouth almost watered thinking about it. “I could go overboard and I want to put you over anything else.”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you took a small sip.. It’s fine, really, you always do so much for me. It’s unfair for you to give me everything I want but not vice-versa.”

Silence filled the air.

“Come out here.”

Although so bold with your words, inside you were quite the nervous wreck. You opened the door knob with caution, your attention turning to Wonwoo, who had some cheap Netflix show paused.

“Where’s the cut?” you pointed to your inner thigh while your boyfriends’ undivided attention went to the tempting bloody wound.

“So, what you’re basically telling me is that you want me to suck an intimate part of your body free of blood,” that same blood rushed to your cheeks and down to an even more intimate part of your body. “How naughty.”

You sat down on the couch, manspreading. “May I?” Wonwoo asked. It was obvious he wouldn’t take no as an answer by the way his mouth hovered over the cut. But either way, you’d still utter the words.

“Yes.”

Wonwoo sunk his tongue onto the cut, making sure not to waste any last drop, since he knew he’d probably never have this chance again in a while.

On the other hand, you, with your hand trembling scratching at his head, it felt—somewhat pleasurable. Way more pleasurable than it did when he first fed off of you.

“Oh, ‘Woo.. Fuck,” you moaned feeling his warm tongue on the cool patch of body. “Didn’t expect it to be this good..”

He looked up at you after ridding of all the blood dripping down your thigh, with bloody lips, he hovered over your neck and left kiss marks all over.

“M gonna bite you, please, stand still.”

Your neck fell back, providing more space for him to do his thing. Wonwoo let his sharp canines graze over your neck to find a place where he wouldn’t puncture a vein. Before sinking his teeth in, he paused.

“I beg, stand still, you’re shaking subconsciously baby. I promise ‘m not gonna hurt you.”

You tried your hardest but still, it wasn’t enough to ensure that Wonwoo wouldn’t accidentally sink his teeth into the wrong part of your neck. So he just kept a grip on your neck and shoulders.

And then he sank his teeth in.

First: it hurt, it hurt like a bitch. You swore you wouldn’t get used to it, but you still let Wonwoo drink from you like the good girlfriend you were. You just kept an insane clutch on his back, probably breaking skin in the process of doing so.

After a minute or so, your body felt lighter, like a feather, almost. You felt dizzy, not the nauseous type of dizzy; but really, just a feel good type of dizzy. The more he drank, the less pain there was. It was getting substituted with pleasure, it seemed.

“Wonwoo…” You croaked out, hands traveling from his hair and back and hair again. You didn’t know what to do, really, you were in a situation overwhelmed with pleasure.

Your hips bucked and grinded on his pelvis, in response to this, he loosened his grip on your shoulder, bringing it down to your hips, making sure to keep them still while he feeds.

“Woo, babe, hurry. ‘Wan you in my mouth, pretty please..”

Feeling a shadow tower over you, you opened your eyes to see your boyfriend no longer all over your neck, but with bloody teeth and an even bloodier mouth. You brought up your hand to wipe it off, only to just smear blood on his cheek.

God was he hot.

“Good girls wait patiently, don’t they? Fuckin’ whore. You know I haven't tasted your blood in a while, you could’ve been at least a little patient but no, you want to warm up ‘Woos fat cock don’t ya?”

His words hurt, but they also made you all the more horny. You wasted no time in getting off of the couch and letting yourself fall to your knees, your pretty little tongue peeking, waiting for him to take off his briefs.

Although having seen Wonwoo’s cock for the umpteenth time this year, you’d never get over how pretty it looked, hard and covered in precum. Just imagining how far inside he’d be with his dick covered in your spit was complete heaven.

“Open a little more, baby.” He held your chin down, watching as it fell slack with one simple command.

He slid inside, moaning, feeling your cheeks hollow out onto the sides of his dick. It took you a second to stop gagging, sure he wasn’t the longest you’d ever had, but he sure was veiny and thick.

“Oh my fuck,” he kept one hand tangled in your hair and the other to comb his hair back. “You look so damn pretty sucking dick, my dick and only mine.”

You let go with a pop, spit dribbling down your chin and down to your cleavage, his cum filling your mouth. Caressing your rosy pink cheek, he then landed a harsh slap on the flesh.

“C’mere.” Wonwoo held your chin, lifting yourself by your hands, he pressed a long and open-mouthed kiss on your lips, liquid seeping through eachothers’ mouths.

The sturdy towel that’d been holding on for life onto your body finally fell, your boobs pressing onto his shirt whilst deep into the kiss.

Pulling away, a string of saliva and the heavy cloud of lust was the only thing that connected you two, and, well, that bite mark of yours he’d left on your neck.

“God, I love you Wonie.” You gasped, trying to catch and steady your breath. He grinned back, now staring at unbroken skin on your neck.

“Right. So, round two?”

#.leeworks #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #seventeen smut #kpop smut #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #kpop x reader #smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo x y/n

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hot-pota-toes · 1 year

Text

Morning Cuddles

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Summary: You have to get up for work in the morning but it's a little difficult with your boyfriend's arms wrapped tightly around you.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: weed is mentioned once, a lot of fluff

A/N: This is my first fanfiction ever! I've had this idea sitting comfortably in my brain for what feels like a whole year, so I finally said screw it and wrote it down, and now I’m posting it. This takes place before the events of season four or maybe just in a completely different universe where everyone is alive and happy :)) Hope you enjoy it!!

You gently drifted awake to the warm early morning sunlight spilling into the bedroom through cheap curtains. As your surroundings became more clear. The week old clothes scattered along the floor. The posters and random doodles that covered every inch of the bedroom walls. You were reminded that you're not in your own apartment, but in your boyfriend's trailer and bed. The boy still sound asleep next to you.

Your head tucked gently into his chest as his chin rested upon your own head. His long arms were wrapped around you, similar to a child squeezing their favorite teddy bear. Your legs intertwined, holding you as closely as he possibly could. You felt warm and protected being pressed into his chest, listening to his gentle snores.

When he held you like this, it somehow made his twin size bed feel so much bigger. Unfortunately, the realization came that you would soon have to leave the comfort of your boyfriend's arms. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before Eddie's alarm clock would go off (you had thankfully remembered to set it up last night before falling asleep), signaling the start of another grueling day at a job you didn’t care for.

Not wanting to disturb your peaceful surroundings, you stifled a groan, and instead let out a long, soft sigh as you turned over to rub the sleep from your eyes, as gracefully and with as few movements as possible, so as not to wake the warm safety that lay next to you.

You and Eddie had known each other your entire lives growing up together, from climbing trees in the woods and playing pretend when you were children, to weekly movie nights in middle school, to hotboxing his van the first night he got the keys. But it wasn't until high school when Eddie had told you he’d had feelings for you his entire life. Not being able to imagine a life without Eddie, you agreed to go out with him only to realize just how much you loved him too. Time you weren’t spending with him was time you spent thinking about him, and when he was around, you felt free.

You felt like you didn’t have to hide yourself, watch your every move, stringently guard yourself for fear of others ruining the things you had built within your castle walls. You were a private person, years of fortification having constructed barriers of the hardest stone, and Eddie somehow had found the key to the door of your castle. Maybe it was the way his deep brown eyes looked at you, not just looking, but seeing. Maybe it was the way he smiled, the light in his face brightening the entire room. Maybe it was the way he touched you, gently and respectfully, the warm skin of his hands making everything inside you melt.

He stirred, not yet fully awake, but adjusting to this new position. One arm hugged your waist while the other was tucked under your head, serving as a pillow where you had foregone yours. He nuzzled the top of your head. His eyes still closed.

This started out as a rare occurrence when you would spend the night. It happened one night, after you had spent the day together, and when the time had come for you to separate, you didn’t want to drive back to your apartment alone, nor did he want to leave you. The pure desire to be close to one another intoxicated the both of you, and you spent the night tangled in the sheets, wanting nothing more than for that moment to never end.

You buried your face in his chest, letting the smell of his detergent mixed with his deodorant fill your nose, the scent so comforting that you began to drift back to sleep.

And then the alarm clock went off.

You both took a deep breath, stirring awake. You reached behind Eddie towards the clock on the nightstand, but your movement was restricted by the two long arms that were still wrapped around you. The more you moved away, the more he latched onto you, burying his face in the space between your neck and your shoulder.

“Edd–“ you started. You didn’t really know how you were going to finish that statement, but you knew he was the obstacle between you and stopping the blaring sound yelling at you from just slightly too far away.

He mumbled a low groan into your skin, and you felt the vibration, tempting you to stay.

“Eddie please.”

He groaned again, slightly louder and assuredly more distressed than before, now wrapping his legs around you, pulling you tighter. You couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as you made gentle attempts to free yourself, his hands going back to you and arms holding you tighter the more you tried to escape.

“I need to get up.” You pleaded.

“No you don’t.” He slurred in a tired response, his voice rough with sleep.

After more struggling, you finally managed to free yourself just enough to reach the alarm clock with your right hand stretched as far out as it would go, the top half of your body twisting uncomfortably away from your captor. Grabbing hold of the clock, you haphazardly grabbed the whole clock so that you could bring the device closer, locating the alarm’s off button. Its red numbers are no longer flashing.

You gently placed the clock back to its place on the nightstand and returned your body to its natural position, still being tightly bound by lanky limbs that had no intention of letting go. You decided to try a different approach.

Having wrenched yourself upward in your escape attempts, his face was now in your chest, his brown curls tickling your nose. You began petting his hair down, creating a spot to place a soft kiss.

“Eds, baby…” you murmured into his hair.

He didn’t reply. You continued petting and kissed again.

“I have to go to work.”

Still no reply.

“Not all of us get weekends off cause they're still in high school” Part of you was jealous. Okay, a lot of you was jealous. Eddie and you were supposed to graduate together, but that didn't end up happening with him being held back. Twice.

He sleepily breathed out a laugh. “You could just quit.”

You laughed in response, once again leaning away, trying once more to release yourself from his grasp. This time, he relented slightly enough so that you could sit up, but as you did so, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling himself to your hips and weighing you down.

“Eddie,” you groaned in mock frustration as you put your hand on his back, trying to rub him awake, “You know damn well how badly I want to stay here with you…”

He murmured an affirmation, as well as what might have been words if they hadn’t been so muffled.

“…But I really do need to get up.”

Not moving, he repeated the same low whine from before.

“It’s only going to be a few hours,” you bargained.

He snorted. “Yeah, like, nine of them.“

You rolled your eyes. Not wanting to spend the whole day in your place of work either, but knowing that you had to. “Yeah. Like I said. A few.” You both chuckled. “It’s not gonna be forever. I’ll come back here after work…”

You lifted his arm, which was heavy as he had no intention of helping you move it, and placed it to the side, sliding out of his other one. As you moved to a kneeling position and looked down at him, his eyes were half-open, meeting yours, practically reaching out for you. You leaned forward and kissed him on his temple, caressing the side of his face. “…And then we can pick up right where we left off.”

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lilyrachelcassidy · 2 years

Note

Hi! How are you?

How about tommy shelby being in a marriage with a younger reader , who he often cheats with lizzie , the reader starts living life with parties , friends , shopping and affairs of her own , tommy falls for her but she always rejects his affections .

I never saw something like tjat and i tought it would be interesting

Thank you!

[Additional] summary: Five stages in which Y/N tried to make amends in her relationship with Tommy but failed miserably.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: coarse language, cheating, mentions of alcohol and drugs, some graphics, ANGST (with happy ending my babes)

Distant

I. rancor

When he opened the front door to their house, midnight walloping on the wall clock, Y/N could immediately tell where Tommy had been. He soon walked into their bedroom, the place that had carried so many memories along with it, good memories actually, those of the time before their relationship had begun to deteriorate. Tommy would stain them now when he would dare to come back to her after the hours' bash, reeking of cigars and courtesans.

The one courtesan she had in particular on the mind - bloody Lizzy.

The envious, little bitch would do anything to demolish the beautiful bond Tommy and her shared, barging and creating a wall of interspace with the last cell of her bloody existence between the two of them. Y/N knew, at the same time, she wasn't barking up the wrong tree and her assumptions about Lizzy were indeed correct; her nostrils could detect a cheap, rancid scent of Lizzy's perfume from miles. And when Tommy would come up late at night, the same scent was invasively clinging to his body, the smell almost smothering for Y/N.

"Are you asleep?" asked Tommy, innocently, as if he had just returned from something that lacked culpability that he was actually dealing with. Taking off his garments, leaving only briefs on, he crawled over to her side of the bed. His breath was huffing down her neck, softly and gratifyingly, but the only thing Y/N could think about was that the mere hours before, it was at somebody else’s neck.

Or other parts of the body Y/N wouldn’t like to think about.

“No, not yet,” she replied, deceptively faking a sweet tone. “Where have you been for such a long time?”

His body tensed marginally, something most people wouldn’t have noticed but a flinch that had become indicative for Y/N within three years. Maybe Tommy could be an excellent master of counterfeiting emotions but his body signs would divulge the truth, guilt stiffening his movements in the slightest.

“Have been off to work with Arthur. Had to deal with Solomons’ people.” He was forging himself under a duvet with her now, one of his arms coiling around her waist.

Y/N’s heart sank; maybe a naive part of her still believed that he wouldn’t lie. “Oh, okay.”

“What have you been up to today?”

And then she told him about the hard way she had tried to busy herself in the vast, barren mansion: she had written some bits for the new novel she had been working on for a couple of months; she had responded to some of his relatives from the extended family who had asked for urgent contact; she had quaffed enormous amounts of coffee while watching the enchanting landscape spreading before their house. She decided to omit the parts when she had felt so lonely, no friends nor family members caring enough to pay a visit, her only companion being Mary - their maid - who owned a rather stiff lip.

In utter earnest, she wished to run away some days, bolting like a stallion in the center of overwhelming grassland and never looking back.

“I was thinking,” Y/N took up again. “Maybe we could go to dinner tomorrow? A new restaurant has been recently opened - ‘L'Arpège’, it’s called. It’s French and I thought-”

“I can’t,” Tommy interrupted, his voice cold but guilty at the same time. “I have a meeting tomorrow... with some clients.”

“Oh...” Another surge of disappointment pierced through her. “May I come with you then?”

“You know, I’d love you to come. It’s just that...” He started fidgeting with words - an attempt to think up an excuse, Y/N realized quickly. “It’s a late-night meeting, Y/N, I just... wouldn’t want to drag you into that. There will be a lot of men, dangerous men. I just think it would be better if... you stayed out of it.”

‘So Lizzy could join you?’ Y/N thought to herself.

She really couldn’t determine what was boiling in her. Anger? Disappointment? She had been far over that emotional state of actually caring for his fabrications after the first time she had caught him cheating, sitting in the pub, his arms tangled around the woman she had learned to abhor.

From that time she had felt numb, indifferent to what he would say. So why, why would those little pangs of pain still sting her so badly, stripping her from the last remnants of dignity?

“I understand,” she said, her voice uncontrollably lower.

“I’m glad you do. So how about I arrange a horse ride for you tomorrow? I’m sure Curly would-”

“I’m okay, Tom. I’ll manage,” Y/N said quickly, butting in, somehow aggressively. But she didn’t pay too much mind to her outburst, really, as unconscious tears started brimming in her eyes. She couldn’t fall apart; not now, not before him. “Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

After a few hours, Y/N was still awake. Sulky tears already settled, their wet traces desiccating on her skin.

Irrepressibly, she wondered what it would be like to free herself from that agony.

Perhaps, there was the only way to find out.

II. replay (three month earlier)

Y/N was walking down the dim-lit, dungy alley making her way over to The Garrison pub, where Tommy was carrying some business meeting with Arthur and Polly.

She wished to make a surprise for Tommy with her arrival, mollifying his work time with her come-up. After all, he had been working so hard those recent days, returning to their home at bizarrely late hours, his face smudged with weariness and lethargy. Y/N pitied him, really, and had hoped to help him with swarms of paperwork; but he would never accept her offer, always explaining that he wouldn’t want to interlace her with his job.

And she understood.

His attitude towards her had changed too; he wouldn’t be that kind, considerate man she used to remember back in the days. Instead, he was pensive and aloof, and no longer would he try to make those little romantic gestures he used to in the beginnings of their relationship. Y/N didn’t blame him, however; she could tell that he was overworked and perhaps occupied with the assemblage of duties he had on his mind.

Nevertheless, that didn’t discourage her from trying to ease his time. She had a whole plan set in her head - promptly, she would get him out of the meeting, excusing his withdrawal with some urgent family case. Then, they would go over to the bank of the river - the place of their first meeting - and would sit at one of the close-by benches, the pale lantern light irradiating while they relished watching the river water glistening in the moonlight. They could munch on a couple of cookies, Tommy’s favorites, which Y/N had prepared especially for him...

Almost nearing the pub, Y/N sighed at the thought. She could already see the luminous lighting of the place, silhouettes casting shadows, contrasting against the dark streets of the gloomy area. The light sound of chatter and drunken jabber could be heard from that distance, livening the rest of the deadly neighborhood that was probably asleep.

Y/N was humming a song under her breath as she approached. A small smile was welcoming her face, the enthusiasm bustling within her. The cookies were pleasantly rattling in her purse as she stopped in her tracks, face to face with the pub window, and she looked in, attempting to spot Tommy in the middle of the teeming crowd.

She scanned the insides of the room: so many familiar faces she used to come upon so many times. They were all laughing and chanting, beer pints happily cradled in their hands, apparently enjoying their heedless time. Y/N’s gaze traveled further, slowly and carefully, over to a distant corner - Arthur was sitting there, laughing at something John had murmured into his ear, the contents of his pint dangerously rocking from one side to another; next to him were also Polly, guffawing, Finn, Ada, and...

Oh, what the fu-

Y/N’s heart spun at an unexpectedly fast pace and dropped into her stomach. Not sure whether she was seeing properly, Y/N pinched herself on the arm, checking if what was displaying just before her eyes was real - but indeed, Tommy was rested on one of the very seats of the mushy sofa. One of his arms was tightly wrapped around Lizzy, from what she knew his secretary, tugging her over to his side, their bodies menacingly close to one another.

For just a moment, Y/N thought - no, hoped - that perhaps she was hallucinating, her tiredness hazing the reality from her. Maybe she was overthinking that. Maybe it was just a friendly hug, Tommy’s drunken stupor rendering him more neglectful of holding his usual, cold composure towards the others.

But she was wrong, she realized, when Tommy leaned towards Lizzy, his grip tightening on her arm, eyes sparkling and warm. And he kissed her, passionately, not the way he would use to do that with Y/N now. His lips zealously landed on Lizzy’s, the hungry desire detectable in the action. Visibly, he was enjoying himself, and so was Lizzy whose hands were roving all over his body, eventually stopping at his head and playing with some random strands of his silky hair.

Y/N's heart was going a million miles an hour, and she suddenly felt it difficult to swallow. Her mouth went dry, and there was a lump of a fist size in her throat. Bitter tears quickly started accumulating in her eyes, and she swore she couldn’t breathe for a moment. All she wanted was to curl into a little ball on the swampy floor and lie there forever.

Instead, she just stared into the window, not taking in whatever she had just witnessed in front of her. The tears were streaming down her face, her eyes becoming puffy within seconds.

So he was cheating. For how long? And why?

Was it because of her? Had she done something wrong?

All of the thoughts gushed into her head like a flowing waterfall, and Y/N hated herself for having that much negativity garnered in her.

Clasping the hand on her mouth and preventing a nasty gasp from escaping from it, she turned away rapidly and ran away from the place. She was taking long strides, wishing to be back at home and able to writhe under a warm blanket, crying until the emotions were sucked out of her. Little was she aware of where she was heading as the tears fogged her vision, the flux of despair washing over her.

He had stopped caring.

He was indifferent towards hurting her, and so naively did she believe in his lies, vindicating him from his get-together with Lizzy.

She had trusted him. And now, she hated herself for being far too gullible.

III. rust

“You sure you wanna do this?” asked Isaiah, his fingers toying with the hem of Y/N’s skirt. His eyes were fully dilated in lust, and he was probably just asking as a matter of precaution, inspecting whether Y/N was actually serious about her quest and whether the revolt against his boss was worth it.

She nodded fervently. “Yes, I am.”

It was all about to begin - tit for tat Tommy had triggered her to do. Within months that had lacked intimacy and communication, Y/N had learned to become impassive. If he didn’t need her, nor did she need him.

“And Tommy won’t find out, yeah?” he asked.

She nodded, breathing deeply. “Certainly.”

At that, he tilted slightly and planted kisses all over her neck, his minty breath tickling the hair on her skin. “As you wish,” he whispered into her ear, his tone shoving a couple of steamy images in her head.

Y/N wasn’t sure if that was what she actually wanted. A part of her, the more moral one, told her warningly that whatever she was intending to do was not good and unfair towards her husband to whom she had sworn unconditional commitment. The other side, however, justified her motives; if he could act promiscuously, why couldn’t she? She really couldn’t decide how to feel.

In the meantime, Isaiah was just casting off his shirt and carefully unbuttoning Y/N’s blouse. He was in the midway of taking care of their clothes, clearly unbothered with keeping up loyalty to his boss. His lips, more chapped than Tommy’s, were all over her skin, igniting a great passion in every place he kissed. The soft moans were slipping from her lips while she laid underneath him, the pressure of his weight making her pleasantly warm.

When Y/N encountered Isaiah for the first time was during one of the Peaky Blinders’ gatherings that Tommy had called up in their house. Of course, one of the participants of it had been Lizzy too, though she had restrained from throwing herself at Tommy in Y/N’s presence.

But Y/N had noticed their sneaky glances from across the room and the fueling smirks on their lips. That was all confirmation Y/N had had to receive.

At that moment, she hadn’t been thinking clearly, plainly acting on her impulses - after the meeting, she had secretly grabbed Isaiah by the robes and hauled him to the guest room where they had made out until the air was sucked out of them. She hadn’t felt guilt nor shame, only a sweet taste of vengeance coursing through her body.

Today was their fourth get-together. Yet it was somehow different than the previous times - they had never crossed the level of carnality other than kissing and touching.

Blame was margining with her reasonable thinking and acutely reminding her that she could be so over that jealousy; she didn’t need to do that to herself in order to punish Tommy. At least for her, she did punish him in her mind.

‘But he cheated too,’ Y/N told herself. ‘So it’s an eye for an eye, basically.’

Isaiah’s mouth was on her belly now, a growl rumbling in his chest, and he was placing kisses all the way from her breasts to her abdomen, the intense want pooling in her lower parts. Y/N found herself reaching down to wrap her fingers in his black hair, gripping roughly and arching her back. The tension within her was unbearable.

His eyes flickered up to meet Y/N’s gaze once more, briefly, asking for the ultimate permission to take her tongs off. The breath was heaving in both of them, their chests falling and raising to the intermittent heartbeats.

“Do it. Please.”

IV. ravage

“Hello, love,” said Tommy, cheerfully, entering the threshold of the office where Y/N was currently working on her novel. A moss woolen sweater was enfolding her arms, gray sweatpants pulled on and strapped around her waist; the homy outfit she would wear only around the house and still manage to look absolutely glamorous. Her hair was twisted in a loose bun, the glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose with a seamless dose of sophistication.

She gave him a half-smile when he approached her, pecking her cheek, but didn’t tear her gaze away from the typewriter where a virtually written page was scurrying to the last dot. Her fingers were briskly flying from one button onto the next one, and when she was finished, she purred in gratification and riveted to her husband.

“Done?”

“Yes.” She stretched her arms above her head, smiling, whereas Tommy leaned on the verge of the desk. “A good day too?”

He nodded in response, a faint smile gracing his lips. “So I was thinking, maybe we should go to that restaurant you were talking about earlier,” he said, without preamble, his tone disclosing a certain assertion, not a hint of invitation Y/N wished for.

He wasn’t asking her out; he was informing her of his plans with her.

A lava slide of anger and resentment swept away her rationality. How the fuck could he kick her around like that, ill-treating her for a couple of weeks, and then deciding on what she should do after Lizzy had probably met up with her other client, consequently cock-blocking him? There was that particular self-assurance with which Tommy had told her, or ‘offered’ her, a dinner that had tossed her patience aside; she wasn’t his possession after all. And she wanted to make a fair point out of that.

Something in her expression apparently crumpled because Tommy was ogling her with interested eyes, a wary eyebrow raised in query. “What do you think of that?”

“Oh, so now you’re asking,” said Y/N in a huff.

He frowned. “What are you on about?”

Unsuccessfully thwarting herself from a word vomit, she stood up so that her face could level up with Tommy’s, her eyes raging. His, on the other hand, were confused and in no apparent cognition of the upcoming tantrum. “In the last weeks, you did nothing to acknowledge our relationship. To acknowledge me. All I did was try to go out with you, or do something together, whatever you wanted. But instead, you dismissed all of that. And I don't understand why it’s so bloody difficult for you to include me in your life.” She took a pause, eyes filming over with hands flinging all over the place. “And now you are inviting me - no - telling me, that you decided to finally find some spare time for me. Oh, how generous of you.”

“You know the company is giving me a hard time. I go the extra mile to make things work, and that’s your effing gratitude?” he said angrily, and now with a hint of indignation tainting in voice.

“Oh please, give me a break,” she snapped, even more furious and glaring. As never, or at least never in front of her, Tommy’s face was incandescent, and his jaw popping from all the heavy clenching. “I saw you with Lizzy back in the days, snogging back in the pub. Were you working then too?”

He blinked, thunderstruck, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something but lacked words for that. The steely glare was locked on Y/N, perhaps transfixed with how he should respond to the crude truth he had no idea his wife had found out about. Ultimately, he pressed his lips together and took a step forward. “Perhaps if you weren’t so incongruous and childish, maybe I wouldn't need Lizzy for anything. And not behaving like a fuckin’ nun, Y/N.”

Ouch. It stung her.

Awfully, as though he had slapped her with full force.

Or maybe that would have hurt less.

Y/N took a step back, tears of rage and frustration trickling down her face. So there he was: pinning the responsibility of his infidelity on her, absolute dearth of shame for calling his wife out and, in lieu, defending his slip with the woman who had been mounting him for no other reason but money. She felt a dull ache in her chest, and her body stiffened. Evidently aware that he had crossed the line, his eyes changed back, the distinctive traces of regret in them. His arm lifted and, for a moment, attempted to take a hold of her hand as a form of placation. But she pushed him away, the spleen raising in her chest. “I’m going back to my parents’.”

“Y/N,” he began, strained, trying to get a hold of her but in vain. She just shook her head and retreated, doing her best to prevent herself from spilling any tears for him.

“Don’t fucking try to contact me. I’m gonna leave and... and-”

“Y/N.” His tone was pleading now, and so were his eyes. He tried to reach for her again but met with another compulsion of rebuff. “I’m so so-”

“Shut it!”

Without bothering to give him a second glance and afraid that he would see how much the conversation had shaken her, she turned on her heel and dashed out of the room. Not completely conscious of what she was doing, she headed to the wardrobe to fetch some of her belongings.

Tommy didn’t chase her, and mindfully so. She wasn’t able to face him right now after what he had told her; so, he had thought Lizzy better. In shade of the relationship, she hadn’t known that she had been razing.

Her shoulder stiffed at the thoughts in her mind, horror and moroseness coursing through her body.

If he really had enough of her, she won’t be a burden for him anymore. She will happily retreat.

V. recovery: a new start

It had been two months since Y/N had last heard from Tommy. Yes, against her plea not to, he had tried to contact her. And yes, he had arrived at her parents’ doorstep a dozen times. But her family was supportive of her and the resolutions she had made, accordingly dismissing Tommy from their house.

The fact was that Y/N reckoned living with her parents as a tad shaky and inconvenient - after all, she had to obey the prevailing rules they had in their household (which some Y/N had thought ridiculous for plentiful reasons). Their watchful and condescending remarks weren’t a charm either. At the same time, however, she felt like she finally unchained herself from the venomous aura of the Mansion she had inhabited a while ago; and it hadn’t felt like home to her anymore.

And so she enjoyed her old childhood room she had left behind years ago, chalk-white walls still reminding her of the times she had drawn at them with the crayons, to enlighten the area.

Y/N was laying face-down on the satin, pukey-pink sheets, a rumbling in her stomach reminding her that she hadn’t had any breakfast yet (although, it was already afternoon). Nose pressed to the pillow, she mentally braced herself for today’s plans - proffered by her father, they had to drop in at the Mansion to fix the rest of the clothing she had abandoned.

Obviously, it wasn’t a very pleasant thought to say at least; but if she wanted to move forward, perhaps start a new chapter of her life she close the preceding one. And she wanted to do both so badly.

The doors cracked while flinging wide open and Y/N’s mom walked into the room.

“Why aren’t you out of bed yet? Are you alright?”

“Yes, ma, don’t worry about that,” she said while staking out a sitting position. She covertly glanced over at her mom who was standing in the door frame, her attire absolutely irreproachable with a corsage, her face genuinely worried.

“Crying again, were you, Cherie?” Had she? Y/N hadn’t noticed before until now when her hand touched the tear-stained face. “We can talk about that if-“

“Ma, no, please. I’ve been over that,” she said, her lip subconsciously letting out a small tremble. “I…just don’t want to talk… about him.”

Mom’s eyes were sympathetic and her mouth was moving, but Y/N had muffled all the sounds coming from the peripherals with her torrent of thoughts. She had been through that so many times; Mom, usually at the end of the day, would attempt to approach the topic in many ways. Y/N would always deny it, however, deciding that it was still far too hurtful to discuss him.

As the three o’clock was rounding, Y/N was already sitting in the rear of the car with her father behind the wheel. They had barely exchanged any word throughout the entire journey as Y/N tried to deal with her volley of emotions - anxiousness, itching dejection, a jot of bitterness? She couldn’t decide, really. But she was keenly aware of a fist-size lump forming in her throat and a sharp ache expanding in her chest.

Before Y/N could notice, a stream of tears was freely rushing down her cheeks. She secretly tried to wipe them off but she knew that her father had caught sight of her emotional outburst in the rear-view mirror. Yet he made no comment to which Y/N was extremely thankful.

“Here we’re sweetheart,” said Father after another half an hour had slipped. Y/N shortly glanced out of the window - indeed, the stony, colossal walls of the mansion were spreading before their sight. Y/N had to quell an instantaneous urge to run away as she slowly, carefully reached for the handle and reluctantly stepped out of the car.

“I’ll be here, yeah? In case you need me.”The Father’s voice distinctly echoed in her ears but Y/N only heard that like through a haze. She merely sent him a grateful smile in response and silently received his form of succor.

‘It’ll all be gone in a few minutes,’ Y/N thought to herself, trudging towards the entrance of the Mansion. So many times had she passed that threshold, so many times had she walked that way. Was it all going to become nothing but a remote memory now?

Soon, she was heavily knocking on the door and was faced with her former maid’s smile who, with a hand gesture, was welcoming her and spurring her to come inside. After a moment of waver, Y/N finally gave in.

Strangely, she had expected the maid to show her a way to the bedroom because she didn’t belong there, not anymore; she was just trespassing like a mere guest did. But when the maid remained at the door, staring at her with a curious eye, Y/N understood the allusion - she was meant to go by herself.

And so she did.

Those stately oil paintings were still strewing the white walls and as Y/N plodded and plodded on through the high-celling halls. Her heels were almost stridently clicking on the floor, contrasting with the prevailing silence and her heavy breathing. Y/N did her best to focus on something else, anything else that could render her less nervous for the upcoming; she decided on counting.

One, two, three. One, two three...

In the next instant, she was standing in front of the mahogany door of the bedroom. It wasn’t going to be easy, she knew as much. Even if indifferent throughout their relationship, Thomas Shelby was a man of honor after all, and Y/N, certain in her conviction, was sure that he was waiting just behind that very door.

She waited a few more jiffs, bracing herself mentally, before finally swinging the door ajar and instantly beholding him, settled on the edge of the bed, and staring blankly at the brim of the glass he was tightly clutching in his hand. As soon as he heard her, however, his head snapped in her direction and Y/N quickly noticed the bloodshot whites of his eyes mixed with the steeliness of his orbs.

Per usual, top-notch elegance was radiating from him, his fossil-gray suit in an intact state and hair precisely sleeked to the back of his head. He had changed, however; he had become gaunt, so gaunt actually that Y/N could practically make out an outline of his ribs through a thin layer of his white shirt; the bags under his eyes, dark and cavernous, were giving the definite reminder of how much of a good night sleep he had missed out on; the wrinkles on his forehead marginally deepened, giving him an older appearance of what Y/N actually knew to be a true one...

It wasn’t the same Tommy Y/N had memorized the last time. Now he looked positively ghastly and it required a great composure of Y/N from quelling a gasp.

“Y/N,” said Tommy in a hoarse voice. Hadn’t she been a short distance from him, she wouldn’t have heard him at all. He scrambled to his feet at once, never tearing his gaze away from her figure as if in the trance. “Could we talk?”

Y/N wavered. Perhaps if he didn’t look as desperate and if she wasn’t so worried (yes! worried!) by his utterly unhealthy appearance, she probably would have rebuffed. But in lieu, she merely nodded and trotted to the chair opposite the bed.

Sensing a thick air between the two of them, Tommy got up and poured himself an ample slug of whiskey, and after a moment’s consideration, he also asked Y/N to which she declined. He took a few gulps before finally looking at Y/N again.

“I’ve missed you,” he croaked finally, which Y/N knew cost him a great deal since it was particularly hard for Tommy to speak of his emotions. The fingers of his free hand were fidgeting slightly on his knee as Y/N glanced up at him, streaked with utter astonishment. She wanted, so badly, to tell herself that his words didn’t matter anymore, nothing anymore did but it would have been a fat lie. She knew for that fact because it was suddenly extremely hard for her to swallow.

“Er-” She started looking around the room, busing herself with something, deliberately not gazing in his direction. “I’ve come to pick up the rest of my things, Tommy. If you want to atone for anything, I think it’s a little too late now.”

Even Y/N surprised herself that she had managed such a cold, collected tone; in fact, it was the opposite of what she was right now - jittery and emotional.

“Y/N-”

“Please, don’t” She chimed in before Tommy could say anything again. “I don’t want to explain anything. You... you hurt me, Tommy.” It was difficult for her to carry that out loud but when she ultimately did, she felt a thunderbolt of plunging emotions on her chest; and then, the tears began accumulating uncontrollably in her eyes. Quickly, she turned her face to the side, trying to conceal her waterworks, though unnecessarily so.

An uncomfortable grunt issued from Tommy’s throat and he took the next quaff from the glass, waiting for her to get a hold of herself. He had always been massively fazed when girls cried in his presence, even give it his wife of three years. Never had he understood why anyone would display their lack of self-possession in such an ostentatious way.

“Sorry,” said Y/N finally, wiping the residue of her tears with a hand. She sniffed a little, her eyes puffy, and Tommy offered her a silky handkerchief which she gladly accepted.

“That's alright,” said Tommy, giving her a final look of what he hoped was sympathy. “But please, let me just say one thing. Before, you know...”

‘-decide to leave you,” Y/N ended the sentence in her head. The mere prospect of abandoning him now, even though she had deliberated that for long days in her parents' room, was suddenly very suffocating.

With a final sniff, still keeping her gaze downcast, she nodded. After all, even though he had mauled her massively, as much as she could do in a final commemoration of their relationship.

“I’ve never intended on making you feel inferior, Y/N,” admitted Tommy, a flint of guilt flickering in his eyes, his fingers starting to draw nervous patterns on his knee again. As for someone who had always kept themself still, he seemed exceptionally vulnerable right now. “Lizzy - that was a mistake. She was a fuckin’ mistake. I... I...” His voice relatively faltered, and Y/N thought for a second that he might start crying. Thomas Shelby crying - the world was fucking weird. “All I want to say is that I’m sorry. God, if I could have turned back time, it all would have... been different. I don’t want you to fuckin’ leave, Y/N. Those past few months made that excruciatingly lucid to me.”

It was one of those moments in Y/N’s life when she didn’t know what she ought to say or even ought to feel. There was seething anger and hiccuping sadness simmering in the pit of her stomach, her head pounding loudly from all the aggregation of conflicting emotions; but there was a certain self-satisfaction raising within her - it was what she had wanted from the very beginning, making him entreat her for forgiveness, implore to stay.

“Tommy,” Y/N said heavily, her entire body tingling. “You know, I can’t do that.”

And then she looked at him again, his eyes conveying a magnetic force. They were staring at each other for some time, the desperation between the two aloft. It was all as if they were strangers to each other anew.

“Please, let me... make amends for that.”

“Tommy-”

“And I don’t mean that you have to move in with me instantly, tough as much as I’d like that. But... have dinner with me. Tomorrow night. No strings attached, just a casual dinner. In the restaurant that you wanted to visit - ‘L'Arpège’.”

“You... you remembered? After all that time?” Y/N took a dramatic pause there, her brows knitted together and almost pressing into one line. That sudden fact clouted her with a startling force.

“I haven’t been entirely ignorant towards you, Y/N. Some part of me... always looked out for you, you know. Though a better part of me was still a jerk,” he snickered and, not quite able to suppress it, so did his interlocutor. Until just now, she hadn’t been aware of how much she had missed that smile. “So what do you say?”

She noticed how his eyes swiveled with tendrils of hopefulness, how his fingers nervously anticipated her contemplated answer. Rationality, which she was utterly bereft of at that very moment, would have told her to say no; give a wide berth from that shit show. But a piece of her yet girlish tempt to discover that new Tommy who was opening himself in front of her eyes, something he had never done before, would be forcing its way to make things work.

At least, try to put them back in their rough maquette.

Y/N sighed, before bestowing him with a coy smile. “I guess, I can find some time.”

Through fucking thick and thin.

XOXOXOXOX

A/N: my dear sweet sweet anon. hi! i’m fine, thank you. foremost, let me just express my utter self-deprecation, seeing as you have sent that request a long time ago and i’m posting it just now. the work load has plunged on me since the beginning of September and I literally dropped my face off the earth for a couple of weeks. but i hope you understand.

the fic wasn’t entirely as i planned that out because a) it was supposed to be shorter, b) because I'm still lacking some twists that would have made the work even longer. so I reluctantly abstained.

ofc, I always love hearing and talking to y’all, so chat with me, request, ask me the most embarrassing questions in the comment section. whatever. and may i remind you - spooktober?! are we going to do something about that!? (a small hint: yes, we are going to either hold a little event or be graced - somehow - with another chapter of my WIPs). Lovvvvveveeee y’all xoxo

#Tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #Tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #peaky blinder #lizzie!!!#grr.... i never liked that... woman #plus me trying to refrain myself from using too many expletives which i did anyway #lol

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whollyjoly · 1 month

Text

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise.

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone.

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert.

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury.

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides.

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope.

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat.

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth.

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal.

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

#happy alton more day!#holy shit im actually posting this...i've been sitting on it for MONTHS #but YEAH its just...the gothic romanticism about the physical embodiment of war and soldiers and the concept of death you know??#what it means to feel and to live and to connect to those around you when it all feels so fleeting #fleeting not just due to the nature of war but also the nature of immortality #or something #...look i have a lot of thoughts about this story okay #it kills me #its also known in my brain as the “how immortal soldier!alton more made friends” story #because literally thats it thats the plot #OH WAIT did i forget to mention that speirs is also an immortal soldier in this story??#oh yeah thats the best fucking bit - they met like centuries and centuries ago on the wrong ends of one of the various punic wars #(where speirs was known back then as...wait for it...TERTIUS)#its good goddamn shit okay #also explains why alton is so fucking unflinching towards speirs at any given point and why they were so petty about the photo albums #ANYWAYS if anyone wants to hear more about this!! come stop on by!!!#also yes the title is a reference to the old guard #as is the reference to the siege of jerusalem which is where joe and nicky met #immortal soldier!alton more #alton more #easy company #band of brothers fic #mine #band of brothers #bofb #hbowar #em's moodboards #em writes #jesus christ i guess that's a tag now #alright here we go out into the void

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roryculkinsbf · 9 months

Text

Necrolust // Euronymous

This one-shot is inspired by Rory Culkin's portrayal of Euronymous in the movie Lords of Chaos. Everything here is made up, feel free to like, comment or repost. English is not my first language.

TW: making out, smut, sub euro, mocking reader, AFAB reader, breast kissing, pet names, lowkey praise kink for euro, skin carving, mention of blood, knife use, edging, handjob

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"Shit, that hurts..." Cheap knife was pressed against Euro's arm. He was whining a bit, trying to not fall into his pain. Blood began dripping down his skin as the blade dug even deeper. Loud whimper escaped his mouth. "You told me you could take it, Øystein. Don't be a pussy and do it!" You hissed towards his way with a mean look on your face, disgust maybe.

As a gesture of true love to you, you suggested many things. But after his thought of carving your name into his body, you couldn't resist. You practically forced him to it, you knew he'd want it anyway. It just seemed hard for him to control his pain in front of you. You just loved to see him break in front of you.

"S-sorry, I'll do better..." He promised. Shaky scream escaped his mouth, once another letter was added into the pale skin. He smiled a bit, proud that it was almost over. You grabbed his face into a harsh kiss, muffling his voice that way. Once you seperated from each other, you half smiled. "Good boy, now one more and it's over, hm? Be good and do it for me, Øystein. You know I care about you the most, so just do it."

With that kind of assurance he managed to damage his beauty once more, finishing your name and letting the blood paint his skin red. Smell typical to coins filled ur nostrils. He was holding back his stomach from exposing his dinner. "See? Wasn't that hard..." You smiled and pressed your lips against that cigarette taste of his. His smile faded into you, ignoring the aching pain he grabbed you by your waist and slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Soon his body was pressed against yours, sharing the good old feeling of agony. "C-could we do it please?" He asked with puppy expression. "Hm...could we? Im thinking of a, dog gets it when he barks. What do you think, slut?"

Quick nod told you what he was bout to do, so you just pulled from him and waited with a smile. Soon barks started to come out of his mouth. Just soft small puppy barks. You watched him and soon shook your head with a grin. "If you want to get laid, Imma need a little more."

He rolled his eyes but still obeyed. He opened his mouth and got to it. Bark after bark. Soon you were satisfied with his acts.

"Good..." You pushed him onto the bed and crawled on the top of him. Kisses in between you two were sweet but hungry. He grabbed you by your hips and you felt boner of his in between ur legs through all that clothing. Slowly you started moving towards him, just a little. Then you were fast and grinding against his cock like a slut. He picked up the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it off.

Your perfect tits were all his now, he was cupping them with his hands as you rode him. Whimpers came from his mouth, eyes rolled slighty back into his head. The bed under him was shaking, just a bit. When you got wilder, rolling your hip like a wildcat, sound of bed smacking into the wall drownded out Euronymous's pathetic whines. He pinched your nipples with his fingers and even leaned up so he your suck your breasts. Your pussy was a soggy mess, your panties now soaking wet.

His dick would be standing if it weren't for your dry humping on him. He needed to feel you...needed to be inside of you. Now with his eyes closed he imagined the sensation of your cunt milking him. He opened them only to get sight of your face moany as hell. "You don't like that, do you?" Calm tone in your voice came out.

He couldn't stand blushing once more. "I...n-not very much..." It took only this to make you sit to the side. "You're not mad, are you? P-please, don't be m-..." He couldn't speak no more when your hands began undressing him. Pulled his own shirt off, but it took you to get his erection out of the tight pants.

You grabbed his dick firmly and wasted no time to suck on his pinkish tip, flowed my his precum. When he saw the way you stared up, his dick in your mouth, and felt the way your tongue circled around it... He could've come right there on the spot. Being a good boy was his priority number one, so he did not.

You pulled your face from his lower body completely and layed next to him on the bed. Not before spitting on his cock disgustedly though. "A-ah..!" Surprised whine occured. Eye contact you kept with him felt like falling apart when your hand neatly stoked his sensitive cock. Starting off fast, you drove him crazy, still kept that uninterested look on your face.

"Shmmm...f-fuck..." He whimpered and, eyes rolling back and hips bucking up. That's when you stopped satisfying him and slapped his cock. Loud sound of flesh echoed through the room, just as his whines. "No moving, fucking bitch..." You said and moved forward. He expect a kiss, but you bit into his lower lip instead. Soon it bled and he cried out when you slapped his dick again.

"You know the safe word, babe. And you know if you didn't like this, I would stop. But you...you perverted little whiny whore...you need me hurt you, don't you, my love?" You told him and tears painted his precious face. Eyeliner on his eyes, was now dripping down in watery black.

Long sigh escaped your mouth. When you calmed yourself, your hand held his dick again and you continued on jerking him off. Just as fast as it was before, you slowed your pace so much even you were bored. After he realized you weren't going to pick on your pace he lost it. "N-no..." "Oh, you want me to stop completely?" You began taking your hand off him... "NO! No, no, no..." He cried some more. "Faster...p-please..." He whispered. "Annoying..." You sighed again.

You moved your hand up and down on his shaft, once...twice and then stopped. Tucked your hair behind your ear, he was squirming just looking at you. Did it once again. Smiled viciously. And did it again. And again. And again. Until you weren't stopping at all.

Who knew such a talented guitarist would pathetically cum all over his own stomach?

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#lords of chaos #rory culkin #culkin brothers #euronymous #smut #euronymous smut #rory culkin movies #rory culkin character x reader #Spotify

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter sixteen - talk is cheap

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: canon typical violence, blood, death, swearing, mention of fire and like burning and stuff, its a bit sad at the end

words count: 6.1k

a/n: this took me a while bc i’ve been writing out so many requests but hopefully you all like it! the pressure is mounting guys the next few chapters shit is going down. hold onto ur hats. also i am so ready to write the next few chapters of this because its all coming together fajfejrnierifaeurngiar. eep.

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Somehow you hear Frank’s phone buzzing somewhere in the room, the vibrating ring echoing on the hardwood floor. You were practically curled up in a ball, back pressed against Frank’s chest while he had his arm wrapped over you. Even while he was asleep you could tell how strong he was, arm still not fully relaxed, his hand almost holding onto you as if you would drift away in any moment. It was exactly the opposite of what you would do— of what you want to do.

I want to stay. Of course you did. Even if it wasn’t like this, the rise and fall of his finally relaxed breathing pressing you even closer - he was the only person who wasn’t afraid of you, who didn’t look at you like you were what you are. He understood— on some level or another. He wouldn’t force your hand, wouldn’t keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. So, that became exactly the place you wanted most.

The fact that he was also, well, him— you still felt like you were floating even now, long after you had passed out from last night. You couldn’t help the way you shivered a little just thinking about it. He was sweet when you needed and rough when you asked, every part of your body felt like it had been changed permanently. You rolled over, his arm staying tight around you, and your face was nearly pressed to his as you shook him lightly.

“Frank.” You tried to whisper, the phones ringing stopping for a short second, and then picking up again. Clearly, whoever it was needed him now, and being around him long, there’s only one person who calls him period, let alone this early. He still doesn’t budge. “Frank.”

“Shh.” He groans and nearly smothers you as both his arms link around your frame, every sense surrounded by him. “Sleep.”

“Your phone.” He takes in a deep breath, and your face buries into the new space, finding his collarbone. You press your mouth to his skin, getting distracted when he almost moans at the touch.

“S’ Madani. She’ll call back.” He moves his head higher, and your mouth trails up, kissing his neck, just under his jawline. One of his hands finds the back of your neck, threading slowly up through your hair.

“She already has.” He still holds you where you are, teeth and tongue working to give him matching bruises where you are sure you are covered in them. “Might be important. The article. From Karen.”

“Give me one minute, baby. One more minute of you.” Smiling, you make your move and push him onto his back, leg swinging over his torso. Neither of you bothered to put actual clothes on last night— you in one of Franks shirts and him in nothing at all. Both of you sigh a little when you drop your weight on top of him, and you pin his arms up near his head, leaning down to kiss him.

He gives up control easily, letting you take whatever you want from him. You stay slow, sleep still clouding half your brain. He moves a little underneath you and you let him, legs spreading wider. He groans into your mouth and you roll your hips, desperately aware of how he reacts to the small movement. You swear you could still taste yourself on his tongue, and he leans forward as you begin to shuffle down. Maybe more than just a minute…

The phone buzzes again, somehow louder now, the vibrations moving it closer to where you and Frank have claimed a corner of the bed.

“Pass it to me.” He whispers, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth. Your eyes nearly roll back at the look he gives you, but you bend down and grab the phone, reluctantly handing it to him despite knowing he needs to answer it. “Better be good, Madani.”

“Did you get the paper this morning?” You can hear the agent say through the phone, and Franks free hand falls to your hip, pulling at the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

“I got a good idea what it says.”

“I should of expected you to blow this thing into extreme proportions. It’s seven thirty and I already have four dead Gnucci foot soldiers spread out across 5th Avenue.” Your eyes widen a little at that. Sure, it was part of the plan— turn the two gangs against each other and lighten the load for you and Frank to inevitably tear to pieces. You were just surprised it had happened so soon.

“Karmas a bitch, ain’t it?” His thumb runs circles along your hipbone, goosebumps rising under his touch. You can see him smile when he notices. “I’m a busy man, so unless you got something for me…”

“I know where the brother is.” Franks hand freezes on your hip and your body goes tight. “The men who were killed— one of them had a comm leading through a secure network. I got to it, gave it to someone I trust back at base. There’s a hold out near…” The rest of the conversation fades off, you only getting parts that from where you are, it would take about seven hours to get to where your brother is.

Frank sits up, and it hits you all at once, almost like a punch to the gut. Your brother— the one you had been searching for, fighting for your entire life. The one you had killed for. He was only seven hours away.

“And Frank—“ Madani says as you start to focus back into the conversation. “—there’s going to be a time in this where I have to start connecting dots.” Frank looks at you, a strange emotion on his face somewhere between concern and…

“Just say it, Madani.”

“I’ve already got men breathing down my neck asking about my source for the Silo incident, and now with this article… shits hitting the fan, and all eyes are on me. When her brother is out, I need to bring her in.” His face twitches, nose scrunches almost when she says it. You knew it was inevitable. You were marked as immediate disposal on your file. Back then, you didn’t really give a shit if you got out alive or not, as long as your brother was safe. Looking down at Frank, you think of one more thing you would want to protect.

“I already told you-“

“I know what you told me. I’m not putting her in a bunker, but I need a paper trail. Something I can use to clear all this shit up. And I need more information. You may want to be in and out with as many bodies as possible, but this network runs deeper than you can imagine. I need to think of the bigger picture.” Frank says something like ‘whatever’ and hangs up the phone, tossing it onto the floor.

“Seven hours away.” You say and he nods, his hand still frozen at your hip.

“I won’t let anything happen t’you.” You start to lift yourself off him, but something about the way he looks at you makes you pause. There’s only been a few times when you can’t place the emotion he’s looking at you with. You were pretty good at reading people, and you were practically versed in Frank, but with his wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, you just paused. Then, lean down to kiss him lightly.

“Thank you.” You feel his free hand hold the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his. His eyes close, and yours stay open, watching the displaced emotion melt away. He nods again, and lets you go, throwing the covers off himself and finally getting out of bed.

Both of you waste no time, getting dressed with new clothes and restocking with food as best you can with what Karen still has around. You eat whatever you can find, chewing through fruit and the rest of Karen’s honey oats, Frank eating whatever you don’t. After you had practically ransacked the place, Frank wrote a quick note and left the key on the counter, grabbing your bags and heading to the door.

Your hand goes to the door knob, and both of you freeze.

You don’t have to open it to know who’s on the other side. You know those footsteps, the weight of them, how he leans slightly to the left because he got shot when he was 18 and it never really healed right. You know his breathing, laboured now he had made it up the steps to the apartment. You knew the sound of his voice, how he told the two other men with him not to knock the door down. Told them to wait, that he wanted to be the one to talk.

Frank’s artillery was swung over his shoulder, another bag in his hand, while yours was on your back. The cool metal of the barrel of the gun Frank forced you to carry around was a glaring reminder of where you were, and how the man on the other side of the door was far more apt at using it. You also weighed your options. You could kill him now— you knew where your brother was. You just had to make it there before his men could send the order. Not that they would be able to if you could kill them, too—

“Good morning, sunshine.” His voice was rough, mocking as the nickname floated into your ears making you want to hurl. Frank pressed closer, shoving you away from the door a little. “I know you’re in there.”

The shock of him really being here was starting to set in. Bobby Gnucci never got his hands dirty. Never put himself in the firing line. When you’re that rich, you can buy people to stand in front of you. Why the hell was he here, then? And how the hell did he find you?

“Nice place here. I’m sure Ms. Page would be upset if we shot through her lovely oak door. Why don’t you come out and we can talk like adults.” The mention of Karen’s name made you both pull out your weapons. “That is what you are, yes? An adult? You so often reminded me that is what you are now.”

You go to open your mouth to reply, but Frank shakes his head and nods towards the window. The fire escape would lead you right down to the car. Was he suggesting you leave? Now, when Bobby was right there?

“You know, it’s a shame, really. About The Colonel. As pathetic as he was, the man sure had a knack for politics. But a gun shot to the head? That’s not how I raised you, is it sunshine?”

Frank starts to pull you back, further inside the apartment. You try to ask why - why the hell wouldn’t you take them on, take them here? He just shakes his head, jaw clenched. You knew if there was a reason Frank wasn’t killing anyone, it was probably a good one.

“And I did. Raise you. You were so young, when we first met. I guess I was, too. Clearly we’ve both changed. Ms. Page didn’t recognise my voice when I called to meet her, and doesn’t have the slightest clue she’s sitting in a cafe with my best hit man right now.” Fuck. That’s why Frank wasn’t shooting. “Change is for the best sometimes. Even if it comes at a cost.”

“What do we do?” You mouth at Frank. His eyes are trained on you. Before he answers, Bobby speaks again.

“If you don’t open the door, I’ll have my men shoot Ms. Page where she sits. One word from me and they’d tear your brother apart, too.” You squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t see Franks face when you speak.

“What do you want?” You sound cold— a tone of voice you haven’t used in months.

“Ahh. There you are.” He sighs through the door, and you take a step closer. Franks eyes widen, standing in front of you. “What I want. I think I have made that fairly clear, no? You have made things decidedly harder for me with this article, you see. My men question my loyalty, question if I am still in my right mind, chasing a ghost such as yourself.”

You take another step and Franks forearm stops you, pushing you away from the door. You shove him back, instead pushing him towards the window. If he could make it out undetected—

“I want you. I want you by my side.”

“You want me as your weapon.”

“Does one not hold their weapon at their side? Care for it? Tend to it, keep it safe? You would not know, to be fair. I’ve given you no reason to ever need one.” Your grip around the gun tightens. You mouth ‘go’ to Frank, but he just stands there. You do it again, and pull the gun out, training it on the door. Frank finally manages to move, seeing you with the weapon. If he doesn’t get a head start, he won’t make it to the building. “Open the door, and I’ll take you to your brother, and we can go back to how it was.”

“When you locked me up?” Frank had moved, but only towards you, hands coming lightly under your chin. You tell him to go again, and you think he might kiss you. His hand drops and wraps over yours, the one holding the gun. He trains it on the door and angles you so that you are as close the the open window as possible, laying out your exit.

“As soon as that door opens, leave. Come to me. Get him to open the door, and come to me.” He whispers in your ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin.

“You know why I did that. You disobeyed me.” Bobby’s voice breaks you away from Frank. He needs to open the door. An idea starts to spark.

“I fucked someone else. That’s why you did it.” Frank looks at you one last time before he turns to the window, and he almost looks like he’s smirking.

“That is not why.” Bobby sounds through the door, shakier than before.

“The Colonel told me. That you think I’m some kind of gift to you, from your father-“

“Don’t talk about my father!” He shouts, and Frank has already disappeared, hopefully dropping down the fire escape and in the car already. “He is dead.”

“Clearly. If he were alive, you wouldn’t have lost four men this morning.”

“Open the door.”

“If he were alive, he would have killed me the moment I stepped out of line. But you couldn’t, could you?”

“You are on thin ice. Open this door, now.” He says, angrier. Good. You want him angry. Angry enough that he will burst inside. Or at least, the guards will. Them, you can kill without blinking.

“You couldn’t kill me. That’s why you locked me up in there. You really are obsessed.” You bite out, mocking thick in your voice. All the anger of all those years you spent with him bubbles to the surface. You only wish you could see his face. “It wasn’t that you needed me. It’s that you wanted me. You just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.”

“I will break this door down-“

“You had all those years to watch me, train me like some prized bull, and build the perfect weapon. Your father knew you couldn’t do it alone, that’s why he started it without you. He died thinking you would at least have the brains to finish it for him, but you just fucked it up again, didn’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up! I will kill him you—“ He was yelling now, screaming. You imagine his face bright red, an ugly vein popping out of his forehead, more prominent now he was older.

“You could only think with your dick! You locked me up because you were jealous and ruined your fathers legacy, and now you need me to fix it for you!” The door burst in and you pulled the trigger, the body of the first guard hitting the floor before the frame of the oak wood did.

The second guard faltered, not expecting you to be armed, and all that training with Frank flooded back to you. As soon as she stutters you fire again, a bullet flying through his throat and ricocheting onto the drywall behind.

Your gun is trained on the door, and you were backing up, feeling the breeze from the open window whip at the back of your legs. It’s close, and you crouch, starting to climb out of it when you see him.

Bobby Gnucci steps into the room, face still read from screaming at you, though now he is calmer, void of emotion. He almost smiles when he sees you, teeth yellowing from years of smoking those disgusting cigars he always smelt of.

“You look better.” His voice was sickly sweet, and the way his eyes roam your body feels nothing like the way it does when Frank does it. “Good.”

“I’m going to get my brother back.” He raises his eyebrows, keeping his composure. The way he stands, confidence oozing out of his jet black suit, you are reminded why his family is so feared. He isn’t tall, and he’s bigger than when you last saw him, but he looks like his father. All dark, oily hair and crumpled features.

“He isn’t yours to take. If your own father had been smarter, perhaps-“

“I’m going to get him back. Then I will come for you.” You step out of the window, gun still trained on him. You had to hope Frank had gotten to Karen by now, because it was your only chance.

“Think about who you are threatening.” He warns, taking a step towards you.

“It’s all I’ve thought about. For three fucking years. I will come for you, and I will burn everything you built to the ground.” Your word choice is purposeful. You want him to know. You want him to know that he will feel what you felt, what he did to you will come for him. Eventually.

You drop from view, throwing yourself off the fire escape and hit the ground running. The wind whistles past yo has you run the distance you drove yesterday to the main building of the Bulletin. If Frank hadn’t made it yet, it would be down to you. Faces pass in a blur and a few cars honk as you cross streets recklessly, and when the building begins to form in sight, you don’t see and blue and red flashing lights, which you take as a good sign.

Then, Frank crashes through the front window of the main lobby, his hands around the throat of a giant looking man.

You run to him, only stopping when you hear Karen inside, ushering someone out of the emergency exit. Frank flips the guy over and pounds his fist into his face, the sound of bone cracking letting you know he has it covered.

“Karen!” You shout and she looks up, relief washing over her face when she sees you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! We need to go— You. You need to go. The police are on their way. You and Frank—“

“Don’t worry about us. I need to get you out of here. Do you have somewhere you can—“ Another shatter of window sends glass flying into the air, and you cover Karen as best you can. She’s looking at something behind you, and when you focus, you can feel it. Someone, not something.

“Matt?” Karen shouted, one arm covering her forehead where a little blood seeped out from a cut. The man moved past you, taking her face in his hands.

“Are you okay?”

“Jesus! I’m fine! What are you doing here?!” She shouts at him, but you know that kind of shout. She’s not really mad, and you remember a conversation about her and someone called Murdock, and out together the pieces.

“I heard you! You need to-“ He pulls her closer, hand searching her face. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” She whispers, the lobby now completely empty. The lack of sound also makes you look back, seeing Frank climbing off the mangled body underneath him. Karen looks at you, keeping her hands linked with the man’s. “You both need to get out of here.”

“Do you have somewhere you can go? Bobby, he knows your place.” She nods, eyes flicking to the man. Matt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get- this isn’t what I wanted. I’ll make sure you’re safe, I swear-“

“It’s not your fault. I would of done it anyways. Journalism has its risks. It’s not the first time something like this has happened anyways.” You smile at her, slightly confused as to how anything like this could of happened to her before, but Matt also smiles and it seems like there’s a lot you don’t know about her.

“Get out of here. Please.” You say and she looks past you, to Frank, who was digging through the pockets of the man he’d just killed.

“Thank you. Both of you.” She says, and then she does something that both makes you want to cry and laugh. She hugs you. Tightly, both arms wrapped around you. You don’t think a woman has hugged you since your mother.

When she pulls away you must look confused, or scared because she looks to the floor, smiling.

“Look after him. He needs you.” She says, and Matt moves his head towards you, nodding, before taking her hand and leading her out of the broken lobby.

You turn to Frank, who finally stands and staggers over to you, holding his side. You can hear sirens ringing in the distance, and you know you don’t have long before they reach you here.

“You okay?” He’s swaying a little, and his entire arm is gushing with blood. The hand holding his sight is bright red, too. “Fuck. Where’s the car?”

“S’ that way.” He slurs, and arm swinging over your shoulder.

“What happened?”

“Big guys. Had a lotta…” He sucks in a sharp breath when you step out of the lobby, turning him down the street. “You get out okay?”

“Had my lucky charm with me.” You tap the gun in the waistband of your pants, and even though he’s probably in a lot of pain, he smiles down at you.

“That’s my girl.” More of his weight drops into your shoulder, and your steps start to slow as you see the car approaching. Frank fumbles with the keys, and eventually drops them on the ground. You lean him up against the car as he groans, picking them up. “S’worried.”

“You know I can handle myself better than you can.” He’s lost more blood than he probably realises, and looks pale. You have no idea how many men were inside the lobby before you got there, only catching the end of it. You take the bags off his shoulder and shove them in the car, and when you turn back to him, he’s sliding off the hood and nearly hitting the pavement.

“Frank! Jesus— what the hell did you do to yourself?” He groans when you pull him back up, his arms nearly slipping from your grasp, wet with blood.

“S’okay, baby. Just gotta get…” His head practically rolls to the side, face screwing up in pain when he tries to swing his legs in. “Ah—fuck.”

“What do I do? Frank, I can’t fix this. I don’t know where to—“ There’s so much blood, when you close yourself into the drivers side of the car you can smell it— a mix of metallic sharpness and salt. There’s so much of it, and you half consider driving him to a hospital. Or one of the ambulances that have probably pulled up to the lobby. You couldn’t fix yourself, let alone him. You couldn’t even sew a cut on your leg— “Frank. Please keep your eyes open.”

“Mmm.” His head hangs forward now, and his eyes flick to the side, observing as you slam on the accelerator and drive forward. “Where you goin’?”

“We need help. You. You need help.” He’s slurring his words, and if he passes out you’ll have to— yeah, you’d drive him straight to the hospital. Screw everything, you’d figure it out, but he couldn’t die here. Not in a car, coming out of a fight you pushed him into, one he never would of found if it weren’t for you—

“Right. Turn right.” You hit it hard, your arm coming across Franks chest to keep him from slamming into the door. “Exit on fifth.”

“You need a— I can’t help you like this, Frank. I can take you to a hosptial—“ He’s shaking his head, grunting no before you finish the thought. “—Curtis? Where is he? He can help.” You take the exit, not sure where you’re going but blindly trusting Frank, even though he’s a second away from losing an arm.

“Not here. Pull into the g—“ He groans as you swerve onto the left side of the road. “—It’s okay. We just need a little time…”

“Frank.”

“Garage. One with the green door.” You see it a block away, and pull into it, immediately getting out of the car and helping Frank out.

He’s limping even with you supporting him, and now you can see the bright red marks on his shoes, lines on the pavement carved by the flow of blood from somewhere else under his clothes. He ushers you to a side door that opens to some storage unit sized garage, full of bags and old furniture.

You lay him down on an old couch, and when he huffs finally landing, you stand up and get a good look at him, and nearly puke.

You’ve seen blood before. This is tame— compared to what you’ve seen, what you’ve done before. Blood doesn’t make you sick, but his blood does. And there’s so much of it. His head is soaked, eyes both black, shirt wet— not damp, sopping wet with thick, red liquid. You haven’t even taken his shirt off and you know it’s bad. Bad and you can’t fix it, you couldn’t even fix yourself.

“Hey. Blue bag— trauma kit in there.” Franks hand weakly taps at your leg, and you realise you’d frozen above him. You move, hands shaking as you tear open the blue bag, gauzes and equipment you’ve never seen falling out in front of you. You look back to him, eyes wide. “It’s gonna be fine. Now grab…”

“I can’t do this. We need to take you to a hospital.” He’s sliding his shirt up and there’s so much of his blood that shouldn’t be here, not like this—

“Baby, you can do this. I need you to do this for me, okay? I know you’re scared, but I trust you.” His voice is cracking, but he’s looking at you with urgency and— trust, maybe. Maybe that’s it. The look you’ve been trying to pin, where his eyes go a little soft and he leans closer to you. Whatever it is, it’s enough, and you look back down to the equipment.

“Okay. Okay. Just… tell me. Which ones do I…” He pulls his shirt up and you lean on your knees, seeing what you know to be a gun wound. “Oh, fuck.”

“Tweezers.” He says, and twists to the side. The wound is right in the edge, but it looks like the bullet might still be in there. You can see it, just under the surface of his scarred skin. “You gotta get it out.”

“Okay.” Your voice was cracking but you did what he asked. Grabbing the tweezers, your slightly improved confidence has you moving into position. You remember Frank holding you when he did this to you, how he told you how good you were doing. How he called you sweetheart. You take a breath and put your hands on his side.

“You might need to p-“ He cries out when you shift the wound slightly, and you take your hands off him. “It’s okay. Just keep going. You’ll have to dig around. Get it out.”

“Shit. Shit. Okay, I’m sorry.” You look at Frank, who tries his best to look confident in you, but then groans as you dig the metal into his side and balls his fists into the couch. “I can feel it.”

“Mm.” He grunts out, jaw tight and breathing fast through his nose. If he keeps going like that, he’ll pass out and you need him awake. Frank kept you awake when he did it by talking. You can do that. You can do this.

“You’re doing good, Frank. I’ve almost got it.” He cries out again as you dig in, clamping the bullet around the metal. “You’re a really good teacher.”

“Good to—fuck. Good to know.” His eyes are squeezed shut, but momentary relief floods his face when the bullet leaves the wound. “Needle and the string in the green packet.”

“Alright. Just two or three, right?” He nods once, and you remember how many when he removed them from your skin. As you bring the supplies back to him, you bring gauze as well, gently cleaning the area as best you can. When he did it, he had water, and his skin is so caked with blood you can’t find the edge, so you do your best. He hisses when you get close, and you use the other hand to rub small, soothing circles on his other side. “Sorry.”

“S’okay. Just push is through. Line i—it up straight and pull it together. Fuck.”

“One down.” You follow his instructions, applying one shoddy stitch to his wound.

“That’s it-“ He pauses, eyes fluttering closed. You call his name, shake him a little but all that does is make the wound bleed more.

“Frank.” You move up, yelling in his ear. Nothing. His heart was beating, but your hand was wet with his blood. “Frank!”

He wasn’t awake. He’d passed out. You remembered when you were shot, and how hard he tried to keep you awake. It must be bad, that he’s passed out. A concussion— you knew he couldn’t sleep with a concussion. You needed to wake him up. You tried to think— when he did this for you, even though you wanted to sleep so badly, you heard his voice. Talking. He called you sweetheart.

Okay. You could do that— he always said how he could never get you to shut up. He’d talked you through the first one, you just had to do it over and over again. You had to talk him through it. You adjusted on your knees, replacing the soaked red gauze with a new one and exposed a little more of the wound.

“I can count on one hand how many times you’ve fallen asleep before I did.” You say to the small room. He can’t hear you, head lulled to the side, but you talk anyway. It was his voice that drew you to consciousness, a life ring in the weird fading fuzziness that blood loss tinged your body with. “It’s lazy, really. And do you remember, the first night we were in that really small hotel with the blinking lamp? And I told you that you should of gotten ice for your head? Bet you wished you listened to me.”

You were stabbing painfully at the wound, the slipperiness of his blood making it hard to get a hold on it. You tried to be gentle, but you needed to be safe more. Another few uneven ties eventually pulled his skin together, and you immediately covered the wound, wrapping it in gauze and sticking bandages over it. You grabbed more of the supplies out of the bag, ripping open packages that looked like what you had just used.

“If this is some kind of fucked up lesson like when you made me stay up for five hours with a gun on the door, I’m going to kick your ass.” You tried to tell yourself you were talking to him, but it was more a distraction for you, giving yourself something to focus on other than the gaping wound across his chest that you now had to try and pull back together. “I think I miss that time, though. I didn’t know how good I had it. New York feels so... full. I’ve lived in big cities my whole life, you know. Those shitty motels were always so empty. I liked the open space.”

A part of him flinched under you. Maybe it was just because you were hurting him, or a reflex, but either way it meant he wasn’t dead, and that was encouragement enough. Your hands continued to rectify the cut, now almost completely closed. Looking down his body, there was a lot of superficial wounds that you wouldn't be able to do much with, but there was a gash in his leg that was dripping blood onto the floor, and you grabbed a shirt from one of the bags in the room and tied it over until you could get to it.

“I just liked being outside, I think. Like that place in the woods, where you pulled all those guns out of the floor. If it wasn’t so small, I would have never left. I could breathe out there— I never felt like I could get a real breath in underground. You know, when they kept me down there.” Maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through you, or the fact that this was the chance to talk to someone without having to worry how they would react. Frank wouldn’t even remember it.

“My dad used to have a basement at our house. He did all his research down there, when he wasn’t stuck at the lab. Even there, I hated it. It was so cramped— he could never get enough of it, though. I used to stand at the top of the steps that led down there, playing a song on my phone or something, and he’d sing it with me. Then he’d walk up the steps and scoop me up, carry me out of there.” Everything feels like it’s hot— Frank’s skin under your hands. It felt like infection. You grabbed some of the saline and squeezed it over the wounds, then shuffled down and did the same to the one on his leg before starting to stitch again.

“That’s where he was. When they set the house on fire. My mom could never sleep without him, so she was waiting for him, making a few bottles for my brother in the kitchen.” A slow, shuddering exhale, and a few quick blinks of your eye allows you to see straight again. “I always think about what he was doing. If he was happy— if he struggled. Sometimes he fell asleep down there and mom had to go and drag him to bed. I like to think he was asleep when it happened.”

“My mum was screaming. For him, for me to get out. For my brother. I don’t even remember how I got the door unlocked. I think I dislocated my shoulder breaking it down. Eventually I knew mom was... she stopped screaming. I just kept bashing the door down. I was thinking ‘if I can just get in here, just get him and then I can go and help her’. He was a baby. I had to—“ You saw lines forming in the dry blood on Frank’s chest, and you knew you were crying. You straightened up, not wanting to get anything else on him. “I still remember Bobby. His face, hovering behind his fathers. Coming to collect their prize. My brother had ash on his face, he was sneezing every three seconds and I couldn’t stop him crying.”

Your words were choked, and every sentence came out in a hiccuped string of sobs you knew were hardly coherent. Somewhere in between, you ad sewn him up. You had managed it — somehow, you had tied him together, at least enough so the blood wasn’t dripping like a faucet anymore. There was more to do, so much blood all over him. His head was hanging off the couch, and there was a piece of metal you hadn’t seen sticking out of his right arm.

You grabbed the bottles of water you saw in the corner, along with the saline and remaining gauze. You were running out considering how much you had used on the gun shot wound, but you’d manage. You wiped your tears on the back of your arm and got to work, and you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from talking to him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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imaginesbymonika · 2 years

Text

It all tastes like poison.

Part 4.

previous chapter

Pairing: Homelander x fem!reader / Solider Boy x fem!reader

Plot: based on this request: “can you please write an imagine about someone who use to be with soldier boy before he "died» which left her broken, but she still worked with vought for years because she ages slower than normal and she meets homelander who she kinda falls for, but when ben comes back she gets mixed emotions till he tries to kill homelander and then she'll have to work with everyone else to get him back into the box, which she doesn't want to do. LIKE ANGST?”

warning: f-bombs, mentions of death and murder, mentions of torture, fluff i guess, long lost lovers being reunited <3

When Hughie returns, he is followed by someone Y/N beloved she would never see again. Their eyes meet and Y/N slowly rises from the couch:” Ben.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and the Supe nearly slams her hand in front of her mouth to repress the sob that has been dwelling in her throat for all those decades. Ben rushes past Hughie and pulls her into a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh my god.”, Ben whispers under his breath and only pulls back to take her face into his hands, he smiles in disbelief:” This is-. I mean look at you. You’re just as beautiful as I remember.” Y/N mirrors his expression. “That smile, sweet lord.”, his thumb wipes away her tears:” Whenever those fucking assholes tried to tear me apart-. I just thought about what it would be like to see it again.”

Her y/e/c eyes widen and her hand flies up to cover his: "W- What? What do you mean ‘Tear you apart’ ?"

Y/N’s eyes widen and her hand flies up to cover his much bigger one:” Wait, what do you mean? ‘Tear you apart’?”

---

The silence that filled the room is beyond suffocating. Y/N’s eyes are staring down at the cheap red carpet, while hot tears are rolling down her cheeks. Billy and Hughie exchange knowing looks.

“Are you okay?”, Ben asks and his hand moves from his thigh to hers. However as soon as he touches her skin, he flinche:”What the fuck?!”

She has started to burn up.

“Y/N? Oh god.”, he mumbles and quickly stands up once he discovers that she is melting straight into the couch. At the same time, black smoke begins to cram the air and the three men begin coughing. “Quick!”, Butcher shouts over the sound of the fire alarm and points towards the bathroom door:”We need water! Now!”

Hughie doesn’t think twice as he grabs the yellow trashcan before vanishing into the small bathroom. A few seconds later, he returns, the bucket in his hands is filled with water. Without wasting another second he tosses it at the Supe. Y/N looks up at him, while the liquid vaporizes on her skin. Billy shakes his head and opens up the windows.

“So you’re telling me…that you were held captive in fucking Russia- the entire time?”, at this point Y/N’s throat began to become tighter and tears were dwelling in her eyes:” And everyone told me that you just died? I was sitting at home with all this grief, while those bastards tortured you?! Ben…I could have saved you! I-.”

Ben takes a deep breath before he kneels down in front of her, his hands hesitantly touching her legs. He softly flinches at the sensation before he looks at her:” Hey, I know. Take a deep breath. I will get my revenge and after that, we both can live the life I promised you. Remember?” Y/N nods.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

#angst #x reader #imagine #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #homelander #homelander x reader #the boys imagine #the boys x reader #billy butcher #hughie campbell #soldier boy fic #the boys s3

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artobotsrollout · 1 year

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ROASTING REVIEWING KNOCKOFF TRANSFORMERS

Part 1

So it's no secret that I enjoy collecting TF figures. My collection isn't massive but I like to collect my favourite characters! Hasbro figures (at least the first series released at the start of a continuity is. I can't speak to some of the later releases) are usually p decent quality.

Decent faces. Thought out weight distribution so even characters like TfP Starscream can stand. Smooth joints. Basically an all around decent toy.

Of course with any piece of media there are the knockoffs.

Let's get into the first one

DINOSAUR Battle $4

Montoy

I saw these and thought they were cute right? "ooh a bunch of mini transformable dinosaurs"

However, the moment I look a little closer I already found things that bug me.

Review under Readmore

* Please be aware that this entire post is meant to be jokey. I'm not actually angry about any of these things. I'm exaggerating for emphasis and humour. *

The pictures of the dinosaurs to the left of each toy are not the same colours as the actual toys in the packaging. It's possible maybe the colours are random but from what I could see all the packages had the same colours??

Another issue... Maybe it's not as big of a deal to most people but as a paleo-nerd it really bugs me. So they label which dinosaurs they are right?? Well...

CRYPTOCLIOUS IS A PLESIOSAUR (Think long necked swimming dinosaur. Think Loch Ness monster) which if you look at the figure

IT HAS FREAKING FEET

A better name would be diplodocus or brachiosaurus OR Yknow what I'd even accept the outdated term Brontosaurus for this guy. At least it's the long necked land living dinosaur and not the water dwelling sea reptile.

I FEEL LIKE to have put down Cryptocleus you had to google it. So if you had to google you'd have seen that cryptoclious has FREAKING FLIPPERS.

I don't usually get upset about dinosaur mistakes bc like... I don't want to be that person who yells at people for not knowing dinosaurs / extinct creatures. Lord know I have gaps in my own knowledge. It's more just baffling to me that they picked a species that isn't even a dinosaur like the toy is. And it's such a weirdly weirdly specific and not well known species too.

I haven't even opened them yet and for some reason?? I expected every dinosaur to transform but apparently they are just meant to combine?? Into a wholeass dude? And that's it?

Anyways here they are

Despite my misgivings and the definitely cheap plastic used some of the designs are p cute.

Only the tip of the wings flap apparently 😂 the rest of the wing is permanently out oof.

Poor T-Rex. This is as high on his body as his head goes. He is doomed to forever fall flat on his face. 😔 Truly tragic

I appreciate the stegosaurus having constant finger guns 😂

The joints are not great. Some are okay while others are kinda tough to move. The pieces come off too easily as well.

Time to make it into a man.

....

........

...........

How the Frick is this a man?!?

This is so goofy looking help 😂

Amazing.

Now I'm gonna leave the joking mode and be serious for the conclusion.

These are not great quality but they have cute designs. The designs are fun if a bit odd at some parts. Cheap plastic and not super well thought out toy. Then again I didn't expect much for $4CAD

If you're someone who likes painting toys then these could be fun to use as a base.

I don't have children and haven't worked very much with children so take what I say with a grain of salt. For a child who is delicate with their toys and old enough to not eat everything it's not terrible. Could be cute in a gift bag from a birthday party. Wouldn't recommend for young children. There's a lot of easily removable small parts that could be consumed and be a choking hazard. Not to mention idk how toxic the material is. Also wouldn't recommend for children who play very roughly with their toys. Parts will go missing easily and some of the parts are thin and feel like it wouldn't take very much to break them.

The Combiner mode is kinda pathetic so if you are getting the toy, get it for the cute robot dinosaurs and not for the robot they turn into.

#Tf figures #Transformers #Transformer figures #Transformer toys #Transformers toys #Autothots reviews #knock off #Knock off transformers

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niphredil-14 · 10 months

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Unearth My Heart Chapter 7 (FINALE) (Jason Todd /Reader)

Summary: A savior appears, in more ways than one. Warnings: Alcoholism, creepy men, angst, mentions of death (Obviously) Word Count: 2.4k Author's Note: At long last, after over a year, I am finished with this fic! I hope you enjoy!

Despite all the healing she had done, and all the coping mechanisms she had learned, the closer it got to he anniversary of his death, the more she fell back into the depths of her mind, and the pain that was hidden there. It started slowly, with her sleeping more, and shying away from the world and any social interaction, aside from when she would run out of alcohol in her apartment, and would venture out to a liquor store or some cheap bar. The latter was where she found herself that night, drunk off of her own misery, and a few shots of tequila. She sat the bar, head resting on her hand as she swirled some cheap liquor in the glass, each clink of the ice hurting her head. A man came and leaned against the bar just to her left, pulling her out of her thoughts. He gave her a smile, a disgusting smile, and slimy voice resounded from him.

“How about I buy you a drink?” She gave him a blank stare and lifted her glass up, still swirling it, slightly louder and more obnoxious though, as if to say ‘I’ve already got one, asshole.’ He wasn’t deterred and spoke again. “Fair enough. I’ve seen you here a few times, you live around here?” She took a sip of her drink, placing it back down on the bar, keeping her gaze on the ice cubes. That frustrated the man to her left. “The fuck’s your problem, bitch? I’m just trying to make conversation. You don’t have to be such a cunt.” He spat, reaching to roughly grab her arm. She startled, and he tried to use her surprise to yank her to her feet. A hand grabbed at the man’s hand on her arm and pried it off. Y/n turned her gaze to look at the person who had interfered, only to find what could best be described as a giant. Dressed head to toe in a fabric all too familiar to her, kevlar, a brown leather jacket partially covered the red bat symbol on his chest, and the bright red helmet shone under the lights of the bar. She knew who he was. He had her family on their toes.

“Pretty ballsy move, trying to grab a woman in a room full of witnesses, don’tcha think, buddy?” His helmet’s voice modulator couldn’t hide his heavy Gotham accent, or the venom dripping from his voice. She took a few steps back, eyes trained on the back of the helmet. Why was he there? Why did he help her? Did he know the family’s identities? Did he know her?

“Hey, man, it wasn’t like that-“ The scum attempted to speak, but a sickening crack came from the larger man’s fist connecting with his jaw. And in the chaos, she disappeared into the crowd, and made her way out of the door. The city lights were reflected in the wet streets like the northern lights over the ocean, and with each step, her feet made a small plop, as if she were walking in puddles, even though the water wasn’t nearly deep enough to be classified as such. She didn’t get more than a hundred feet before she heard the bar’s door swing open and shut. His booming, robotic voice rang out, bouncing off the concrete walls, surrounding her entirely.

“You alright?” She stopped in her track, and turned only slightly around, just enough to toss a response over her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She intentionally left the gratitude out, fearing the crime lord would take it as her owing him something, and being left no choice but to hand it over, lest it be taken from her.

“You need a ride home? My bike’s just in the parking lot.”

“No, I’m good.”

“How ‘bout I walk you home then?”

“Oh yeah? What do you plan on doing if you run into another asshole, huh?” He asked, a smirk detectable in his voice. She turned to face him, threw her arms together, crossed against her chest, and shifted her hip out as she let her head fall slightly to the side.

“Haven’t I already?” It may have been the liquor talking more than it was her, but regardless of what made her continue speaking, she did. “I mean, you act like you’re some hero for getting that dick in the bar off my back, but you’re being just as pushy as he was” And by the time her mouth stopped moving, her brain had caught up. She was just as surprised as he was. The Red Hood threw his hands up in casual defeat and took a step back.

“Alright. Fair enough. Have a goodnight.” And with that, he disappeared into the night. She continued her walk home, and though he may have stayed out of her sight, she never left his.

Days passed, and she grew more paranoid with each passing one. She could feel someone’s gaze on her, though whenever she turned and looked about, it disappeared until she returned to what she was doing. He kept his distance for a short while, memorizing her schedule. She rarely left her house, but when she did, it was routine. And on a Thursday night, a few weeks after their encounter, he entered her apartment, silently sliding the window open and slipping in. She would be gone for about an hour and a half to meet with her therapist, something Alfred had insisted she’d do. He stalked silently through her home, almost every surface was covered in clutter, and almost every inch of wall was covered with pictures of her and Jason. Her apartment was filthy, to say the least, and smelled distinctly of cheap tequila. His feet carried him throughout every room quickly, he didn’t want to get caught- he wasn’t ready to face her yet- so instead of thoroughly searching, he merely got a feeling of the layout and contents. He eventually came to her bedroom, and was, almost hypnotically, drawn to what seemed to be her memorial. Pictures of Jason were scattered on it, along with several trinkets he had given her, and vice versa. Red Hood stood there, the tip of his index finger just barely touching the table. He was enamored. So enamored that he didn’t hear her open the bedroom door until it was too late. He whipped his head in her direction, only to find her standing horrified in the doorway. Her eyes ran down from his helmet to his chest, finally landing on the finger touching the shrine. Dashing over to him, she placed herself between him and the memorial. Her hands resting on either side of the table, and her back arched and chest puffed out towards the vigilante, in an attempt at shielding her most precious possessions.

“Don’t touch it!” She yelled at him. “Do whatever you will to me, but don’t fucking touch anything on the table. It’s all I have.” She threw her words out hurriedly, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. “It’s all that’s left of him, and it’s mine.” Her chest was heaving, and her body began to shake as her mind caught up to what was happening. She was challenging a vigilante, and a crime lord. She had only fought one over-dressed crazy person before, and it landed her in a coma. She wasn’t Jason, she couldn’t do that. Her demands quickly fell to pleads, in sync with the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please, don’t touch it, please.” The Red Hood stood frozen for a moment before taking a step back, listening to her begs turn into a whimpered mantra of ‘Please.’

“Hey, it’s okay, I won’t touch anything.” That didn’t stop her from continuing her cries, but her body eased down a bit, falling to the ground between him and the memorial. She kept a hand on one of the table legs, like it was the only thing keeping her tied to reality. The Red Hood stood there for a minute, just watching her cry, and it broke him, He took a step towards her, his heart splintering when she flinched, and crouched down in front of her, just a few inches away. He held his hand out to her, but she ignored it, holding tight to the table leg instead. It was like he was no longer there, she didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest, as if her tears had dimmed all of her senses. He didn’t reach out to her again, or try to touch her at all, but he gently called out, his voice just above a whisper. “Hey, hey, look at me.” He wasn’t ready to truly face her yet, he wasn’t ready to reveal himself to her, but there was nothing he felt he could do, not with how obviously torn apart she was over losing him. She wasn’t like the rest of the family, who had moved on and forgotten him, she still remembered him, she still needed him. “Y/n.” He said, a bit more firmly, but still a far cry from being even the slightest bit aggressive. She looked up to him, wide-eyed, with her gaze shifting from one of the eyes on the mask to the other repeatedly, as if she was unsure which to look at. He shifted so that he was smaller in stature. “I gotta show you something, can you focus on me for a minute?” She was unsure, but had no real choice, and gave him a shaky nod. Slowly, as to not startle her, he reached a hand up to the nape of his neck, looking for the helmet’s latch. With a small hiss of air, the helmet loosened, and he lifted it off of his head. He reached a hand up to the corner, ready to peel the domino mask off, but first asked her to, “Please keep this a secret. No one can know. Not your friends, not your family, no one. Okay?” She gave another shaky, single nod, and he closed his eyes and peeled the mask off his face, cursing the adhesive when it tugged on his eyebrow. Finally, placing it down on the ground beside his helmet, he opened his eyes and looked up. The horror displayed in her eyes deeply hurt him, though he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he had actually been expecting.

“Jason?” Her voice was quiet and timid. He nodded. “You can’t be, he’s dead, I saw his corpse.” Her voice gained some volume. “I sat there, holding his lifeless body and cried and screamed and begged for him to come back!” She was yelling. “You’re not real.” And her voice fell back to its hushed, defeated tone. “You can’t be real.” He scooched forward slightly, still not touching her, but giving her the option to reach him.

“I’m real, I promise I’m real.” He went to speak again, but she beat him to the chase.

“Prove it.” He hesitated for a moment, then took off his glove and rolled up the sleeve of his jacket enough to reveal his wrist. On it was a small bracelet, with two gems on it. Their birthstones, the same bracelet she put on him before the funeral. Her hand flew to her chest, where her matching necklace hung. She gulped. Still paranoid and unconvinced, she spoke again. “You could’ve stolen that.” He chuckled under his breath, if it were anyone else, he would have been annoyed. He untucked his left pant leg from his combat boots and rolled it up past his calf. Turning his leg to her, he pointed out a faint scar.

“You remember when I got this? We were climbing over a fence, and I lost my footing and fell. You were so upset that when we went back to the manor, Alfred thought you were the one that was hurt.” There was an edge of amusement in his voice, a side effect of thinking back on fond memories. She gently reached out and traced the faint white line with her finger. Though she was still not fully convinced. Jason let out a soft sigh and untucked his shirt from his belt. Lifting it up and holding it just below his chin, he showed her hist chest. “Don’t tell me that my autopsy scar isn’t enough proof for you.” The horror found its way back to her eyes, and she reached out to trace the large Y-shaped scar from the tip of the Y, all the way down to his naval, her eyes following her finger’s journey.

“Jay,” She whispered, breathless. “Jay,” She said again, louder, and began to cry again. Throwing herself at him, she wrapped her arms around his torso, and buried her face in his neck. Repeating his name over and over again. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to him. He pressed his face into her hair.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve gotcha, I’ve gotcha.” They stayed like that for what felt like hours, until she finally pulled back just slightly.

“I’ve missed you so much! How are you here?” He let out a sigh.

“It’s a long story.” She narrowed her eyes and lightly hit his chest.

“Jason Peter Todd. You are my whole world; you always have been. And I have not known a single moment of peace since your death. I left my heart in your casket, let it get buried with you. I have all the time in the world to listen to you talk.” And so he did. He recounted everything that had happened to him, from the bomb’s countdown, to waking up six feet under, to the healing effects of the Lazarus Pit and the madness that followed. To tracking her down. He recounted every second, and she listened attentively. When he finished his tale, they got up. It didn’t take much of her begging to convince him to stay the night. And when they went through their nightly routines, and laid down to go to sleep, she held on to him tight, afraid that he would slip through her fingers, or that she would find out that it was all just another dream. He held her just as tightly. Just before they fell deep into slumber, she leaned up, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Thanks, Jay.”

“For what?” He asked, sleep pervading his voice, providing it with a delicious rumble.

“Thank you for unearthing my heart.”

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #robin #robin x reader #robin jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #robin x you #robin x y/n

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nixie-writes · 1 year

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Nixie and Husk, out on the town, bar hopping and being followed by their favourite, bored Deer man.

They're too intoxicated to fight off a whole bunch of Vox's guys who recognize Husk. They fall unconscious pretty quickly.

They wake up in Willows patient room. She tells them that they stumbled in pretty beat up, but in actuality it was Alastor that helped them. He just doesn't want Nixie to lose that good ol' scepticism about him and thinks her hating him is for everyone's best interest.

Willows thinks it's stupid but she does as he very politely asks.

(yes I just summarized an entire story but I like seeing how others would see it in their mind compared to mine)

I'll put this under the cut because three pages long. Thanks for the fic idea lol

I fluffed out the little puff of water atop my head and smoothed out the dress I wore only for these occasions. I did a little twirl in front of the mirror to make sure the dress fit my features and, satisfied with the dress, I finally left my room. Husk stood at his bar without a drink for once, waiting patiently for me - as patient as that man will ever be at least. Upon hearing my footsteps he turned in my direction and blinked slowly. “You look nice,” he grunted, trying to hide his pink face. I chose to not mention it this time, to save his pride. “I’m all ready, are you?” I inquired. Husk nodded; “yeah, let’s get out of here”. Taking one of his claws in my hand we slithered out of the hotel unseen and walked off to go bar hopping, as we usually did on anniversaries or special occasions.

“They’re gone,” my shadow reported to me. I nodded my head slowly, setting down a cup of jasmine tea Willow had made for me earlier to calm my nerves. I closed my book, placed a bookmark to hold my page, and set it on my intable. Standing up I stretched, my tail quivering with the intensity of the stretch. Slipping into a shadow I decided to follow the two outside and see what they did on these days. And to make sure they don’t get hurt but, that’s my secret. Sliding outside, clinging to the shadows, I watched the two make their way out onto the streets, Nixie holding Husk’s claw tightly. Was she nervous or excited…? Regardless of that I watched as the two entered the first bar, a little dive nearby the hotel with cheap champagne. This should be interesting.

The first bar we reached was a little alcove surrounded by moss and other living things. Maybe I could get some jasmine beer? It was worth a try I suppose. We entered the bar, my fingers still tight around Husk’s claw, and I looked around; the bar was tiny and filled with pictures of different flora. Maybe Willow would like the place for its decor? We chose a small spot to settle down in and I ordered two beers while Husk ordered a bottle of vodka. How that man stomached vodka was beyond my knowledge. We drank our drinks and stood up to leave. I was already tipsy but Husk seemed fine. He looped an arm over my shoulders to keep me steady and brought me outside to find another bar. I felt a chill run up my spine as I eyed an alleyway but shrugged it off. This area of Pentagram was creepy regardless of why. Stumbling alongside Husk we searched for another bar to hit up.

‘So they’re already getting intoxicated,’ I thought. How fun. Perhaps I’ll keep following them and see what mischief they get into when they’re drunk.

The next bar we hit up was a flashy casino with a friendly barista. Husk spent his time pouring different drinks down the hatch and playing Poker. I sipped on a Baileys in coffee and stood behind him, counting the cards to tell him when to fold, go all in and win us some cash for the next bar. I tipped the barista generously for providing all the alcohol. At one point Husk and I were drinking from the same bottle, laughing when we won the jackpot. Math finally came in handy. Of course we were kicked out after we cashed out and the manager threatened us for winning the pot but we shrugged it off. To the next bar and to hoping it has a casino.

I was walking alongside Husk, trying to not fall over and giggling like an impling. I was using my phone to try to find another nearby bar. There were a few in the area. The question was, which one first? I pointed out one on my phone to Husk, it was another flashy bar with a strip section, though I kept that part out of the conversation. Sinners are easy to sway with sex. The trip there would take a good 30 minutes following the roads but by cutting through an alleyway it would only take 10. We were terribly intoxicated and inhibitions were left at the casino so we took the alley.

As we were stumbling along, I felt something hard crash into my cheek. Glancing down I noticed a rock. Who threw a rock at me? I dusted off my cheek and continued walking. It was as we were exiting the alleyway that we were surrounded. Sinners of every kind had us cornered, rushing behind us to block our only exit. Swallowing vomit I pulled my fists up in a defensive stance. “You wanna fight, bitch?” I slurred. A sinner tossed a handful of salt on my arm and I squealed, my arm burning as the salt absorbed my water. I hissed and used my good arm to toss a scalding hot bubble of water at his face. It landed on his face and he turned away, crying out at the pain of his boiling face.

Husk was bushy fending off two sinners who were trying to get a hold of his wings. I ran water around their feet ensuring they slipped and lost grip. I turned my attention back to the sinners surrounding us. We were outmatched and outnumbered and we were both drunk as hell. I lifted another bubble in the air and began to swirl it in a little whirlpool to sweep them off their feet but one in my blindsight kicked me behind my knees and I buckled, landing ungracefully on my face. I rolled over, hissing, prepared to fend for myself but a hard blow to my temple rendered me almost blind. The world around me blurred until I could hardly make out shapes. A flash of red came into my vision and I felt darkness dragging me down. I fought to stay awake but I couldn’t bring myself to keep my eye open any longer. Dropping my head against the concrete I allowed myself to succumb to the darkness welling in my head.

I kicked the door three times, a body slung over each shoulder. After a moment Angel Dust opened the door, stepping to the side in surprise. “Holy shit, what happened to those two?! They look like shit.” He commented as he followed me to Willow’s in-hotel clinic. I didn’t answer that, nor any more of Angel’s questions. I gently pushed the door to the clinic open with my knee and entered, clearing my throat to catch Willow’s attention. She was busy watering a Venus Flytrap when I entered. She didn’t turn, only replying with a tart “I’m busy, come see me later”. I sighed and set both Husker’s and Nixie’s bodies on gurneys.

When Willow noticed Husker and Nixie unconscious on the beds she jumped a little, forgetting her plant and rushing over to examine Nixie first, then Husker. “What happened to them??” She asked me. I blinked sympathetically at her. “These two dumbasses are sloppy drunks who can’t fight after a few drinks and I had to assist them after they passed out surrounded by some of Vox’s lower demons.” I explained briefly, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Willow called after me. I turned to look at her, those big brown eyes gazing into mine with so many questions. “Yes, dearest?” He inquired. “Does Nixie know you helped?” She asked boldly. I chuckled and shook my head. “No, and it’s best that way.” I answered. She sighed and popped a hand on her hip. “When are you two going to get along? She’s always at your neck! If she knows you brought her in for help maybe she’d be nicer to you,” she explained. I smiled sweetly. “My dear, it’s so much more entertaining to see her suspicions and her hatred for me. We go back further than you, you know that right? When I wreaked havoc on all of Pentagram City and the Pride ring, she stepped in and fought me in the name of Hellborns who were affected by my ‘reign of terror’ as she puts it. She hates my guts, and it’s best for everyone that she does, otherwise she may become too comfortable with me and I’ll lose the most entertaining part of this hotel assembly”. Willow released a long discontented sigh. “Fine, have it your way. Now leave so I can take care of these two,” she ordered. “As you wish, my love,” I winked as I exited the clinic, leaving behind me a blushing green plant woman.

I awoke to a pounding headache and groaned. My temple felt like it was split open and my arm burned. My eye was sore and my stomach ached. I could taste blood in my mouth and I could smell bleach. When I opened my eye I could only see blurry shapes at first, though it swiftly changed to the familiar scene of Willow’s clinic.

“You’re awake!” I heard Willow’s voice over the pounding of blood in my ears. I turned my head, despite the pain, and looked at her. “The fuck happened last night?” I asked her. She rolled her eyes. “You mean the other night? You’ve been asleep for a whole day.” She explained as she grabbed a needle of some fluid. “Husk has been awake for a little bit but he’s in about the same shape you are.” I turned my neck in the opposite direction and saw Husk, sitting up, face in his claws nursing his own hangover. His left wing was missing feathers and he had a few new, sore looking scars along his side. I felt genuinely terrible for him. Forcing myself to sit up I examined myself. There was bandaging wrapped around my arm where it burned and my body throbbed in pain. Willow approached me and aimed the needle at my arm. “Just a poke,” she assured as she prepared to stick it in. Liar, it hurt like a bitch.

“Okay, that’ll take care of the pain for a little while,” Willow spoke as she threw away the used needle. “You two got into a drunk fight and passed out. A good samaritan brought you two in and I treated your injuries. Now you just need to heal.” She explained herself as she approached the door to the clinic. “You’ll have to stay here overnight so I can watch you, after that you’re back to your rooms with no alcohol.” She opened the door and left, closing it behind her. I turned to Husk. “Do you think we won?” I asked in a cheeky tone. He snorted. “I’ll bet if we weren’t shit faced we would have won.” I nodded my head. “My last memory is boiling a sinner’s face off, that was pretty cool,” I commented. Husk rolled his eyes. “At least I have these new scars, the women will be all over me!” He showed off his scars. I scoffed. “You’ve got a woman all over you already, that should be enough.”

#hazbin hotel oc #nixie #nixie x husk #willow x alastor

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