#pain city population me ???

[agapeeternal]

"Remember when we bunked together on the carrier? Me on the top bunk, you on the bottom. Every night you’d say, “Goodnight, Hangy.” And I’d say, “Night, Roo.” I miss that." -- Glen

MILES.CALLED.HIM.HANGY.

GLEN.CALLED.HIM.ROO.

#hangster #glen powell #miles teller #hangman x rooster #these two #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #otp: next to you #otp: M I N E #otp: still into you #otp: you look...good #you can't convince me nothing is happening here okay you cannot #i cant handle this #literally i can’t #me while watching this: something lgbt is happening here #that feeling™️ #this got me feelin a whole roller ass coaster of emotions #otp: the fOND #pain city population me ??? #ouch?¿?¿?¿ #i will never get over this #like ever okay EVER #don't look at me. don't fuckin touch me. #what in the whole grain gluten free carb free sugar free audacity bitch???? #*dramatically sobbing* im fine #🙂 i'm fine really 🙃 #🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

[vmpyria]

you’re a fool for trying to escape the radio demon.

you thought you were clever, that you could outsmart one of the most powerful overlords in hell.

how stupid can you be?

hiding out in a small house, away from most of the hellosh population. it was far from the city, far from the hotel, far from him.

you thought you were safe.

sighing softly, you quietly scribbled down — journaling. a thing you had learned in the hotel, to write your emotions down, express them and feel better.

initially, you thought it was silly, a stupid way to cope that didn’t work. that is, until you escaped from him. your escape was planned, at least to the best of your ability. you weren’t completely isolated from the people in the hotel, but your meetings were limited, alastor did have rules..

the biggest one being: do not let them know you were being held against your will.

you needed to play wife, and you did, but that didn’t stop you from planning an escape from this hell hole.

anyway, journaling was a new hobby of yours.

you’ve come to remember your time with alastor, your first meeting, how he trapped you, what he did to you, and how you escaped. now you’re writing about your new life, a quiet life, a life you’re still getting adjusted to.

you were paranoid, scared, but feeling..better.

all of the doors to the small house were locked, so were the windows, and the windows had curtains.

you were locked away and isolated, but at least you weren’t with him.

that’s all that matters..right?

“oh, darling! there you are!”

that stupid fucking voice, the stupid old times voice, one that sounded like it was coming through an old radio. at the sound of his voice, your undead heart stopped dead in hits tracks.

your breath caught in your throat, your hand gripped the pen tightly. before you even realized it your vision got cloudy, tears were filling your eyes.

a hand came to your shoulder, squeezing it tightly. you tensed, the tears began to fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks as the atmosphere turned dark, tension filling the air.

the static got louder and his grip got tighter.

“this was fun, don’t you think?” he asked, leaning down, hunching over you. his horns growing longer and his body contorting slowly.

you turned around, looking over at alastor with fear behind your gaze.

his demon form terrified you, you never became found of him. he was horrifying. your eyebrows raised, furrowing upward, your tears flowing.

“now, y/n. my darling,” alastor said, his claw-like hands reaching out for your face. his grin was never ending, even now. he was snarling, his hands finally grabbed your head, his nails digging into your skin.

his grip on you was tight, painful, he might even be breaking your delicate skin.

“why would you do that?” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

the room was dark, his eyes glowing as symbols filled the air.

“i-“ you stammered, what were you supposed to say?

i hate you and i never wanted to see you again?

no, he’d beat you, restrain you, keep you isolated from the world. in the best scenario, he would kill you, but you didn’t want to die by his hand.

you gulped, choking back a sob. you hated how weak he made you feel, how terrified he made you.

“i-i’m..sorry.” you stammered fearfully.

a laugh boomed from his chest, a bitter laugh, a cruel laugh. “you’re sorry?” he mocked, after the stunt you pulled? after he was left to clean up your mess? answer all of the questions thrown his way by dear charlie?

now your want to apologize?

“i thought you were better than this, darling! you know how much i hate people that cross me..” he sighed dramatically, grinning angrily. almost as if he was holding back from ripping your body apart. “i never expected you to go against me!” he said loudly, pushing you against the desk where your journal was. the impact was hard enough to make the book fall, catching alastor’s attention as his ear twitched.

you were trembling like leaf, watching as he reached for your journal, filled with all of your memories and thoughts.

filled with paragraphs where you expressed how much you loathed him.

“oh? what’s this?” he mused.

“no! please!” you cried, falling to your knees as you tried to reach for the book, trying to take it away from him before he grabbed it.

alastor scoffed, pushing you aside, grabbing the book. curious on what could you be hiding that’s so important, important enough for you to try to hide it.

he’s tired of your secrets.

taking the book in his hands, alastor opened it, flipping through various pages filled with your words before landing on one.

‘i hated having to play his stupid wife, like, did i have to pretend i loved him? oh, so the daughter of lucifer wouldn’t think badly of him. duh. why does he even care about the hotel? he never told me, i’m sure it’s some stupid scheme to gain power. i hate him and i hate that stupid hotel.’

his pupil seemed to get smaller, anger bubbling inside him as he flipped through another page.

‘i hate alastor, i hate him, more than hate him. despise, loathe? i don’t know. i just hate him. i never knew what he saw in me and—‘

alastor’s claws dug into the paper, ripping up the pages. looking over at your pathetic form on the floor, look a deer caught in headlights.

terrified.

“my, is that how you really feel?” he hummed, stepping closer to you, holding the book to your face. “I—I-“ you stammered, skimming through the lines.

quickly, you shook your head desperately. alastor laughed, it almost sounded like growl, throwing the book to the side, he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer.

“you’re lucky i care deeply about you,” he growled, squeezing your chin tightly, all the sobs you were holding back before slipped. crying like a little baby as he grinned, if you survived this, you didn’t even want to imagine what he would do to you.

alastor moved his hand, gripping your hair tightly before pulling you up with a yank, “we’re going back to the hotel, you’re going to say that you were busy with some business, and you’re never going to pull a stunt like this again.” he threatened.

you cried, nodding, babbling apologies like a baby.

this was a second chance, one that you didn’t want — but at least you wouldn’t get killed by him.

you’ve seen what he’s capable of, you’ve seen him eat and maul anyone that dared to even look at him badly.

alastor grabbed your wrist, pulling you close as he morphed back to his regular self. “understand, my dear?” he mused, gripping you tightly, making sure you had no chance of pulling anything stupid.

you nodded, hiccuping and sniffling, you didn’t want to die.

you truly were lucky.

#𖤐 . WRITINGS #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere #yandere x reader

[natalievoncatte]

It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #literally made myself cry #angst #angst with a happy ending #happy angst #“hangst as it were #Kryptonians can purr #not canon compliant

[beaversatemygrandma]

It’s rude that my pain isn’t transferring to my brain as pain but as tiredness.

Like. I know i hurt. I’m aware it’s there. But I’m not getting the full amount of pain that’s there so I’m just tired. Yes. It’s my wisdom teeth. Yes I need to get them out. And Yes. I have plans to get that shit started next month. But here i am wondering if i can even wait the month bc today threw me SO Fucking off guard.

Also it’s probably not right if i can rub where my wisdom tooth is on the outside of my cheek and feel pain inside my ear. That’s not okay. It’s not even localized and my brain is confused. All i know is my teeth hurt, which in turn is making me beyond tired, making my head hurt, and making my ears hurt, but yet I’m hardly feeling pain where the pain should be.

What worries me is that the problem tooth broke through the gum recently and is visible now. Like i can see just how angled it is and why it would be an issue. Now i’m concerned the last wisdom tooth will make an appearance before i can even get a date set for the surgery. Or if I’m going to be in pain the entire time I’m back in FL for a week and i won’t be able to enjoy it. Bc if i have a day like today down there, I’m gonna be pissed.

I’ve at least gotten comfortable (for lack of a better word) with the idea that I’m going to be down Half of my savings just by getting these teeth removed, which is a step in the right direction. I’m not comfortable with it though. Like i wasn’t going to get a job until i got my license but my teeth are preventing me from getting my license now bc every goddamn time I want to drive and log some hours, I Feel Like Hell. And even then, I don’t know if i even want to get a job around here. Because I’d HAVE TO Drive in this fucking city. I hate the city. It’s loud. It’s crowded. It’s overwhelming just stepping out of your front door. Just in the past couple weeks, we’ve narrowly avoided accidents bc of just how many morons there are out here. My dad was driving thankfully during one bc I was literally having heart palpitations bc my anxiety couldn’t decided whether or not to give me an attack at that point or what. Idk, but if i had been driving, I would’ve definitely had a panic attack bc of that dumbass changing lanes WHEN WE WERE LIKE THREE FEET AWAY. My dad had to slam on the fucking brakes just to not take out this asshole’s back headlights. Why is it so fucking hard for me to get my license when these chucklefucks are out there driving? Probably because Of Them. So fuck them. Use your blinker and look behind you dickwad. I just bought this car with my Fucking Savings. Don’t fuck it up more than it already has been (ALL NOT MY FAULT TOO). I spend thousands of fucking dollars to get my shit together and i still CANT GET MY SHIT TOGETHER.

I want to be an independent adult again. So Bad. This trailer is EXHAUSTING to live in. My youngest sister who i Literally didn’t even know existed until she was like 5 (I was 15 btw) is here and it’s just a damn headache bc she has Zero Lifeskills. Not in a normal child way (She’s 13 and should know better by now) but in a way that her mom didn’t teach her jackshit and was literally just so inattentive that this kid thinks she can get away with literally anything. She tunes out literally any and all words you say that are just trying to help her. Without even being condescending. You can literally tell her exactly how to fix something she was needing help with in the kindest way and she will ignore everything you say. No matter how many times you say it. Which leads my dad to getting Pissed Off (reasonably tbh. I get it now. I’ve yelled at her and I don’t yell.) which puts me back into the *family bad* brain and makes me want to Leave bc it stresses me out so bad. I don’t want to be responsible for her. I’m told I’m not responsible for her. Then here I am with her coming to me bc apparently she trusts me more (???) to help her and STILL WON’T TAKE ANY HELP. Or even me saying like “Hey can you do this so dad won’t get pissed off when he gets home and bitch both our ears off?” and she just rolls her eyes at me and walks tf away. And then guess what happens? Dad gets pissed and is bitching and bitching and Yelling. Like. I warned her. Now we’re both getting our ears talked off about this. Like, they say it’s her ADHD. I HAVE ADHD. That’s Not ADHD. Sure, i can see the symptoms, but this isn’t part of the symptoms. Idk what the hell is wrong with this kid but my dad says “she needs a female presence in her life and a sister works” and I’m just thinking ‘i want literally nothing to do with family.’ But supposedly i help. I don’t see how. But I help? Idk but this kid is a headache bc it genuinely hurts to try your damnedest to be a helpful elder sibling only to be treated like somebody you couldn’t give a shit about. And I’ve literally told her “Hey, can you listen?” or “Can you please stop scoffing at me and rolling your eyes at me when I’m Answering Your questions?” And it’s still the scoff, rolling eyes, and just tuning me out. Like I KNOW why dad is ALWAYS Pissed with her now. And I can’t deal with this.

I want to take the offer of rooming with my friend in FL. There’s space. It’s somebody I trust with my fucking life and somebody I’m 100% comfortable with. I’m close to my mom and sister down there (Who oddly i miss? I didn’t think I’d miss being with my mom. But I miss being with my mom esp now that she doesn’t have that redneck neo-nazi stinking up the place) Sure, they have cats and I’m allergic to cats. But that’s a hit i can take and not these fucking emotional ones. And ya know. Not the Fucking City, where I’m woken up by trains and planes and trucks in the middle of the damn night. I thought that town in FL was big and loud and annoying. No, it’s just near civilization and not in the middle of nowhere (which I’d rather but that’s unconventional in these ages). It’s calm there. There’s less than 900,000 people there. (NO WONDER PEOPLE HERE ARE SO FUCKING AGGRESSIVE. Near a damn million. Packed in here like damn sardines.) Just a manageable 14,000. Yeah, it’s hot and touristy and i hate FL politically and for its climate. But. It’s not This. And I hate This more.

But I can’t do that until i can drive, have my wisdom teeth out, etc. But that small small list seems manageable. It seems like it should be easy. But every task on the list had like 28 different subtasks which are KILLING ME. Then my dad brings up the remote job possibilities again. Which have decent pay and all. But idk if i can do that. Then again, Idk if i can do any of this.

...The only thing i have to look forward to rn is going back to the hometown for a week and it’s fucking depressing. There hasn’t been a single shred of anything positive around me other than that and it’s taking a toll. I can’t do this anymore but I don’t know how to change it.

Maybe i will just get my wisdom teeth out, speedrun the 60 hrs needed for my drivers’ test and just dip out and head back home. Even if i can’t get a good paying job quite yet, I’ll be able to go back to my old stomping grounds at panera where I know the place and can live through that until i can get a good paying job. At least I know the area and I know i’ll be comfortable there. Yeah, I’ve never had a safety net from parents and had to build my own but now my own net is slowly deteriorating and I’m panicking about it. And now my mom is down there acting as if she’d finally step up and give me one, but my sister who’s still with her can’t even get one and has been working her ass off just so she can move tf out at 18 like I did. But at least she’s doing it for college and got into a school further south. I’m proud of her for that. I guess that’s what happens when you’re the only neurotypical one in the family. She’s doing great out there. Yet here i am, five years older than her and still struggling with the same damn thing i was when i was still back home.

All of it just kinda goes back to money and not being able to afford or understand how to receive healthcare. There’s meds and care i need and surgeries I’m terrified to receive and literally nobody understands or tries to help. My dad thinks he’s helping when he says “just call these places” when it really doesn’t bc just THINKING about calling those places gets my heart racing and me ready to cry.

Like it is now, but at least it dulled the pain I’m in somehow.

#taks speaks #some personal shit #teeth pain makes me wanna die. that's all #i wish i was physically able to take naps rn #but no anxious brain says 'no sleep unless everybody else is sleep' so that's impossible #i was able to when i lived with my roommate #so it's an exclusively family related anxiety so thats fun #I want to be back in FL man #it sucks there but this sucks more #just learned there's nearly a million people in this city and that explains So Much #it has twice the population of miami which i thought was one of the biggest cities in FL. It's not. #like thanks i hate this #get me away from people now #i'm remembering why i hate people #i really do wish it was more conventional to live out in a town with a couple hundred people in the middle of nowhere #but all that's out there is food and healthcare deserts #i'd have to drive thirty miles just to find a walmart or a hospital #but life out there is so calm and not as anxiety inducing #I feel like i was meant to be a simple farmer with no worries other than their animals if capitalism wasn't in my way #that or that was my past life and now i'm freaking tf out bc capitalism had really fucked over people who aren't money driven #or well. even if you are. you can't succeed bc there is no getting more money than what you were born with #unless you were born with millions

[starlightdreaming]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader! Ch. 3!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel!

Content Warning: more… angst. with some comfort..(?) idk starve lol. blood and vulgar words. SUPER LONG CHAPTER TOO WOO! (nonproof read too)

Synopsis: after going through severe depression, you mentally and physically shut down.

Further note: THANK YOU FOR THE PEOPLE WHO ARE SUPPORTING MY SERIES (Lululuna) IT MAKES ME SO FUCKIGN HAPPY AAHAHAHHDVENE (this is also my favorite chapter I’ve been waiting to write HEHEHHE) ENJOY READING AS IVE ENJOYED WRITING IT - ✨Lolo💫

Chapters!: Chapter 1 ✧ Chapter 2 ✧ Chapter 3 (you are here) •<•)b ✧ Chapter 4 ✧ Chapter 5

THIS CHAPTERS SONG IS uhhHhahwueh

(optional but recommended!)

｡･:*:･ﾟLululuna･ﾟ:｡*:･｡

After sending Lucifer away, you were silent during the whole aftermath ordeal.

You stared at the ground for a long while, sitting in the middle of the court room, ignoring and blocking everyone that was talking or looking at you. In a room so loud, in your mind, it was deathly silent.

Sera went to you, tapping your shoulder softly, “come along now, Y/n,” She says, softly, “Let’s get you home, alright?” She offers, standing up, waiting for you to collect yourself and get up as well.

the carpet was drenched with a puddle of tears, you felt like a part of you was gone forever… and you weren’t ever going to get it back. You dry your tears, using your sleeves to wipe them off your face before getting up and taking Sera’s hand into your own, she held your hand softly, teleporting you to the front of your home.

“Take all the time you need.” Sera says, understanding how much pain you were going through, you have told her everything after all in your years of working with her after you and Lucifer fell apart. She teleported away as you stood at your front door for a moment, staring at the door before unlocking it and pushing it open with no effort at all, your home was dark from how late it was,

The sun was gone, put away to rest, and the moon was present, subtle and set.

You walked into your home, stars barely dimming any light in the dark home, you closed your door behind you, leaning on it with a sigh, your exhausted eyes felt puffy from all the tears you had shed after seeing Lucifer for the last time, the way he looked at you as he fell, bore into your mind, it’s been haunting you since.

‘maybe it was a mistake?’ you thought as you conversed in your head for the nth time that day, your mind was haunting you endlessly with years of torment after Lucifer left you behind, your heart and mind were always arguing with one another, your heart always begged to talk things out even if the pain was unbearable but your mind was more of in control with your body, trying to keep your heart safe, trying to keep you safe from any more suffering. you just didn’t know what to do.

Tears fell from your eyes again that night, wishing to be held and comforted by someone who would understand the same pains as you, and that someone was no one.

Down at your door you sat, hugging your knees as you cried out your pain, the exact same spot when you cried yourself to sleep on your last birthday, the last birthday you shared with Lucifer. It wasn’t a good memory to remember but… it was a memory that was telling you, ‘here we are, once again.’ and that was enough to make you cry harder as you hugged yourself with the silence screams that no one could ever see or hear…once.. again.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

Day in, day out.

As time passed, you were slowly recovering from the losses of your childhood friend.

Day in, day out.

As time passed, you focused on your work behind the scenes, Emily bringing joy to those around Halo city, welcoming winners and Heaven born angels all around. With more Earth born angels arriving in Heaven, the population of the people grew, meaning more expansions of the city and more expansions of the city, meant you had to work much, much longer.

Day in, day out.

You were falling behind on your creations, being the only ‘angel’ that could make stars, Sera would often have to come and talk to you and your issues of the star makings. You and Sera both tried to get other angels to make the same stars as you, sentient and beautiful, but it was only ever botched and dull when anyone else tried to make them, leaving you at a loss. You often had to stay up in late night hours, until the sun came back up, barely ever giving you the chance to go back home and rest. After one problem, another came along, you began to feel confined behind those four walls.

Day in, day out.

Your life was just stuck in the same room, rarely ever getting out, star after star, it began to be repetitive and passionless, everything was the same.

Day in, day out.

Sera would often visit you, telling you to keep making an nth amount of stars today or tomorrow, sooner or later, she would just leave notes and piles of paperwork her employers would send to you, leaving you in the dust, life became frail and dulling, you were just a machine at that point, neglected and forgotten as you kept making sentient stars constantly.

Day in, day out.

Nothing’s new. Days, weeks, months, years, nothing was changing as you drowned more in more into a bleak and miserable office, you felt more and more empty, you would wake up and sleep, you lost track of time at this point, your office was just a mess of star dust and stars, the windows were black from the dust staining the windows making them unobtrusive, you sat on the floor in the center, feeling stuck and hopeless. Surrounded by the only thing that brought you comfort, now becoming the only thing you were ever useful for.

Day in, day out.

How long has passed? You didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was to escape and be free from this basked room of misery and self loathing, your stars became gloopy and sticky, they were melting in this room like you were.

Day in, day out.

You couldn’t bare another minute in the same room, your arms were stained black from stars that melted on you from time to time, the stars were barely ever successfully made anymore, you just couldn’t continue anymore.

Day in, day out.

Long and forgotten you were, nothing new and changing, just you in a black room, full of dust and gloopy stars. You laid there meaninglessly, your eyes lifeless and you completely numb, tired and exhausted.

Day in, day out.

Nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new.

Day in, day out.

After days of laying there, eating your own stars as survival, refusing to allow anyone into your room, Sera finally showed up for once after eons or centuries? you don’t even know anymore. She wasn’t as loving or caring as she used to be, it was to be expected since you lost sight of you as a sister and more of a machine. When she ordered you to get up and do something, you refused to respond as you continued to lay there, seeing as doing anything anymore was futile.

She commanded you again and she received no result, When she picked you up from the ground, she saw how lifeless you really were, she teleported you to a hospital, getting you attention from the doctors as quick as possible, they checked you, you were alive, obviously, but mentally, you died out long ago.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

The nurses cleaned and fed you, you were barely responsive but it was progress to them if you ever reacted.

You laid in that hospital bed, day in, day out.

One day, Emily came to visit you, you didn’t bother until she used her powers on you. As the joy bringer of the people, she managed to give you a glimpse of happiness again and that was enough to bring color back into your eyes and look at her.

A nurse watching, left to contact a doctor. Emily smiled at you as she channeled her energy to you, hugging you and asking you questions to see if you would respond, it took awhile but you managed to wry a smile and tell her, “hi..” a croak in your voice from how raspy your throat felt, she tilted her head with a comforting smile, “hi,” she said, “how are you feeling?” she asks genuinely, her hand over your yours as she channeled more of her angelic energy, soothing you physically and mentally, “I’m alright.” you responded with a croaky voice, “yeah?” she asks, “yeah.” you respond.

A doctor showed up to give you a thorough check up, the nurse following and thanking Emily as she lightly laughed off the nurses praises. Your eyes were still dull but they had color now, the bags under your eyes were visible from the years lack of resting, black circles covered your eyes but seeing you be able to smile was just enough for the doctor to say you were responsive now. The doctor and nurse left the room to get you your meal or checking on other patients, leaving you and Emily once again.

Emily would talk to you, making small conversations, tell you about her day and sharing her energy with you again to make you more at ease, she even told you how Sera refused to let her see you cause you were always too busy for visitors, that was true but it was also the reason you were here in the first place. When visiting time was over she promised to come back to visit you tomorrow, you smiled at that, waving bye as she left.

Now it was you, yourself, and the white room and for once, you decided to stand up and look outside the window, the stars shined and dimmed brightly that night, the stars were the only thing making your eyes shine that night, their light reflecting off your eyes irises.

with the day done and in, you rested peacefully in that hospital bed, letting the day out.

Emily visited everyday to see you, still seeing you as a sister and telling you her life stories, she even managed to make you laugh at one point, it was a big laugh but it was genuine and thats what matters to her. At one point, you managed to ramble off about stars and the ideas you had for them, you got to show her how you made them, you tried to show her as well when she requested to guide her to make one, obviously it didn’t work but she smiled whenever she got to be given the chance to, she gave you the botched star that was lavender blue, it was small with imperfections but for the first time in the longest time, someone had given you something and you never were letting it go.

You used a little bit of your stardust to make it stick in your hair, making sure it stays there, no matter what. Emily smiled when she saw it in your hair, seeing how much it matters to you. You and Emily both spent the entire day talking and creating, sharing and conversing, it was so comforting and warm, her light was guiding you out of that dark abyss you had made for yourself and eventually- you were out the hospital.

You went back to that same office room but this time, you cleaned it, you made more stars, the neglected ones being perfected and revived, sentient and chiming. With your office cleaned you decided to get a meeting with Sera personally. It took a few days but it was accepted and eventually you were in her office, she looked at you authoritatively, not seeing you as she had once, who knows long ago.

“What is it, Y/n?” She says, sitting at her desk as you walked up to her desk and took a seat in the chair at the opposite end. “I quit.” You spoke, unhesitant, “What?” She says, rather surprised, “I quit,” you smiled, crossing your arms, “at making stars for you and the people.” you finished, watching her reaction change, “and what makes you think you can?” She says with a slightly aggressive tone, glaring at you slightly, “I am my own person, I want a new job,” You say, sitting back in your chair, “then- will I make more stars for you.” You say, your her fingers intertwined and resting on your lap, legs crossed.

She stood up, her figure towering over you from over the table, “You refused to continue your work, end up in a hospital for who knows what and now you’re asking for a new job?” She asked, feeling rather insulted like you can laze around and do whatever you want, “Yes, that’s exactly what.” You smiled, unbothered, Emily made you feel this way, like a new person, she was therapy itself in a way.

“And you think you can handle a different job? even when you couldn’t even handle your own?” She glares, you leaned forward into your chair, “got bored with the stars thing, without a doubt I can do something else.” You say looking at her smugly, making her harden her glare at you. maybe Emily gave you too much of her energy.

“Fine then.” She says, turning around, looking away from you and out the window, she snapped her fingers and a man appeared next to you, “Woah- wait, what the fuck?” He says, looking around the room, looking at Sera, then at you, “You will be working with Adam from now on,” She says, turning back to you, you and Adam staring at each other awkwardly, before he began to wiggle his eyebrows at you with a flirty smirk, “Adam, you are to train and teach Y/n, show and tell her what she will be doing.” Sera orders, you had your knees up in the chair leaning away from Adam, due to him gawking at you before he looked away to Sera, “Wait now? Don’t you think it’s too soon for any recruits?” He questions, pointing a thumb at you.

“She wanted a new job since she failed to do her own,” Sera explains to Adam as you rolled your eyes from her statement, “since she says she can handle a new one, I’m giving her this one.” Sera finishes, sitting down back in her chair, “But we were just about to start? she wont even have time to prepare?” Adam responds, scratching his horn confused from this sudden meeting, “Then I suggest you get started,” Sera commands, going back to skimming through papers, “Dismissed.” She says, as you and Adam turn to each other confused.

You both left together, him leading and you following silently and awkwardly, your confidence long and left you after Adam appeared. “So what’s your name again? Already forgot.” He says looking at you, bending down slightly for you to meet face to face, you backed away from his action, “err, Y/n.” you respond, looking away for a moment before looking back at him, “Well nice to meet you, names Adam, first man, best man.” He smiles, reaching his hand out for you to take, you hesitated before shaking his hand, wrying a smile, “pleasure.” You speak, only giving him that response.

You both exited the building before flying, going to who knows where, “soo, before we get started, should probably ask what you do before you jump in the big ordeal, what do you do and how can you benefit us?” He asks, you flying alongside him, “I can do stellar manipulation, cosmic manipulation and stellar healing but im terrible at it,” You rambled, pointing a finger up after listing off your abilities, “What I can do best is making sentient stars do my bidding, like the stars that are all over Halo city? I made those.” You smiled, “Woah! wait, you made all those things come alive? that’s fucking sick!” He says complimenting you, “So you must be a big deal huh?” He smirks, “Ehh, I guess?” You shrug slightly with a smile.

“Ohoh, if you can control those stars, then you’re perfect for this job.” He smirks as he lands, you landed behind him as you looked around at everyone, them all wearing the same suits, you were confused now, just what even is this job?

“Sir? where did you go?” a female voice asked, “Sera teleported me outta nowhere for me to bring someone along with us,” he explains pointing to you, you walk up to her, “greetings, I’m Y/n.” you smile and waved, “Lute, Adam’s Lieutenant.” She says as she straightens her posture, giving you a short and slim response. “Attention ladies! we have a sudden and new guest! this is uhh,” he pauses before leaning toward you, “fucks your name again?” he asks as you deadpanned, how does someone forget a name so fast? “Y/n.” You respond, “Y/n!” He says, “Seraphim of the stars or something.” He says, trying to make you sound like big talk, “She will be joining us today, she isn’t prepared but thats okay, she will just be an audience for today at most, so everyone prepare yourselves,” Adam says as they pull out spears, making your confusion more piqued, “and let’s this fucking show on a roll!” he shouts, a portal opening, him flying off with his lieutenant.

You were caught off guard from them suddenly flying off, you followed, a little behind but you caught up quickly to Adam, (being a seraphim and all) staying behind him and Lute, when you went through the portal, you paused in the air, confused on where in the world were you? everything was red, the sky, the ground, it wasn’t long before you started hearing screaming in the distance, the angel army was flying and attacking, monster like creatures, “What the fuck is this?” You say in shock, “Oh shit, you curse too? fucking sweet!” Adam says, showing up next to you, watching the angels slaughter the creatures, “where am I?!” You ask with a shaky voice, concern and worry filling your voice, “You’re in hell, bitch!” He says, summoning an angelic guitar made of pure gold, strumming it.

“WHAT?” You say absolutely baffled from his answer, you quickly turned to look down at the destroyed city, those little things running around and screaming, pleading for their lives as they get brutally slaughtered, “why are we killing them?! they did nothing!” You say in a terrified voice, looking back at Adam, “calm down bitch, fuck,“ He says, making you glare at him instantly, “they’re sinners! We give them divine judgment!” He smirks, flying down and killing a sinner without hesitation, “Stop it!” You tell at him, your angelic form appearing from how terrified you were to discover that your divine people were slaughtering innocent souls that have done nothing but accept their damnation, “No, you stop it!” He says, flying back up to you, making you fly back when he got too close, “Sera ordered you to follow my lead, you are under my command!” He yells back, an explosion happening behind him, a city building tumbling, you stared in guilt, you didn’t even do anything to them and yet all you could feel was pure sympathy and sorrow for those souls who didn’t deserve the judgment they were receiving.

“Now, you’re going down there and helping us kill these fuckers or you can sit and watch.” Adam orders, you didn’t have any words to respond with as you looked down at the sinners, there was a young lady who was carrying a child away from the chaos, you couldn’t help but watch, you were too stunned to process anything, Adam flew off mumbling something under his breath, definitely cursing at you but you didn’t even care at that moment.

An angel chasing quickly behind the two sinners, the angels spear charging towards the two, before you can even give a second thought, you summoned a star quickly, tossing it at the angel, hitting them down before they could hurt the two, you gasped, surprised from your own actions, you hurt an angel, the angels you’re supposed to care for and protect! you watched the angel shrug it off like nothing before flying away to a different direction, giving the sinners the chance to run, why was Heaving allowing slaughter? doesn’t this go against the very foundations of Heaven? why didn’t you know about this was ever happening? and how long has it been happening? Sera assigned you here, so it’s obvious she knows! why would she allow this- wait.. does the father of Heaven know?

You quickly flew down to the city to find Adam, to find answers, but all you saw was bloodshed and destruction, spears left behind and angels flying around like they were proud of themselves, it gave you a gut wrenching feeling, “please spare me! don’t kill me!” A voice called out, you turned to see a sinner running for their life, your eyes widen when you see an angel walking up to the sinner, a manic laugh following behind them, you ran toward the sinner and the angel, you stood between them both, stopping the angel in her tracks, “I command you to stop!” you say aggressively.

The angel taken back by your sudden actions and outburst, “What are you doing? move it.” the angel said, trying to shove you away but you pushed back and it made the angel push you completely to the ground, moved to the side, you didn’t have any attributes to physical fighting and it showed, you fell to the ground, looking up quickly to see the angel about to attack, without a second thought, you summons another star, a rather big one and made it push her aggressively, you made the star make the angel collide with a building, knocking the angel out, you gasped, not meaning to go that far but you turned to the sinner and ran to their aid, “are you okay??” you ask the terrified man before you, he looked at you in awe, you angelic features making the man stunned and mesmerized, “yes… thank yo- gh-“ the man choked, a spear through his throat, his blood splattered onto your clothes, hands and face, you closed your eyes for a moment from the sudden liquid of blood covering your face.

You opened your eyes and your eyes widened when you saw Adam and Lute in front of you, the sinner headless and long gone of life, “Fuck do you think you’re doing?” Adam said, yelling at you, you looked down and stared at the red, staining your hands, your breath hitched, you were trying to save a soul and it died immediately in front of you, before your very eyes, from feeling sympathy and sorrow, you clutched your hands tightly, a fit of rage riling up inside you, “ADAM! THIS STOPS NOW!” You shout, your angelic appearance in full as you flew into the air, cosmic dust following your form, your wings emitted cosmic dust, along with your hands, star dust following suit.

You glared at Adam, Lute glaring back at you, sensing you were about to become a threat, she immediately charged at you before swinging at you, you immediately summoned a star as a shield, side eyeing her, you made the star push her down, away from you, another star attacking her swiftly and powerfully, knocking her out too, Adam watched it happen so quickly, “What the fuck was that? what did you do to Lute?!” He says, going after you next, he was much slower but he managed to fight off your stars as he kept swinging at you, you being the faster flying, dodged easily, they may have been more experienced than you but they were so damn sloppy with their attacks. not to mention as a seraphim, you are much more stronger.

You flew higher into the air, a radiant aura forming around you, “This massacre ends now, Adam.” you say in a monotone voice, focusing on your power as you began to summon multiple stars, making all sentient at once, you were using a lot of stamina for this but you were willing to do this if it meant stopping this meaningless wrath of judgment.

You had made stars fall, multiple stars stuck onto Adam as he tried to fight them off but you made the goopy ones specifically for him, eventually he was invulnerable to move, the stars sticky and drippy, making it hard for him to struggle, you glared at Adam silently as he began to curse you out, you made a big star float flatly, carrying Lute back into the portal along with Adam as the stars took his guitar and carried it with him separately, your other stars retrieved the other angels in this army, dragging them all back forcefully to the portal, you made the other spare stars fly up to the skies and make it rain stardust in the skies, the dust was full of healing properties, making sure the sinners that survived could heal physical injuries, you hoped it was enough for them since you weren’t very experienced with the healing attributes you had, feeling your stamina drained, you flew back to the portal, closing it as you flew to the grounds of Heavens cloud, panting heavily, you had never used that much of your abilities like that before, all at once in fact.

You looked up to see Adam pissed off at, struggling to break free from goopy stars you still had on him, you laughed lightly at this, that shits kinda funny.

You splat onto the cloud, face first, regaining your stamina for a bit, meanwhile the whole army Adam had was conversing in confusing, they tried to help Adam get out of the goop but that only made the. stuck with him, you turned to lay on your back, wings following and looked up to the sky, for once, you felt rather proud of yourself for being able to full something like that but now it was the worse part to come, after recollecting your energy, you got up and flew off, dragging Adam with you, the stars of goop following as he muffled our screams.

When you returned to Sera’s office, you busted down the door with any respect, “Sera!” you shouted angrily, “We need to take about this job offer.” you grumbled, slamming your hands down her desk, the goop of stars putting Adam down as he deadpanned at you and Sera. Sera’s eyes widened from your sudden outburst and the blood covering your body, “I assume you couldn’t handle it?” Sera asked, after recollecting herself, “Handle it? I more than handled it, I dragged a whole fucking army back into Heaven!” You screamed, Sera glared as she stood up, “That was not your job, your job was to follow Adams orders!” she spoke back sternly, “This job and his orders are hypocritical to what we believe in! this is conflicting to the foundation of Heaven!” You argued back as Adam watched, Sera stared at you before sighing, “Can we speak alone about this?” she requests, eyeing Adam, signaling you to let him leave, “fine.” you scowl at her in detestation, you snap your fingers and the goop evaporated, also summoning his guitar to give back to him, “Christ, you’re a crazy bitch, you know that?” He says insultingly, he spoke as soon he got his guitar but you ignored him as the ordered the with a swift of your finger, the stars dragged him out the room and shut the door, all while you stared at Sera with displeasure.

“Why would you let winners and heaven born give divine judgment to sinners? What was your plan? What the fuck even is this job??” You began, hostility filling your voice. “The sinners were uprising, they were getting more and more bigger in population!” Sera responds, beginning her explanation, “and?” you asked unconvinced, “They were getting stronger, of they become to powerful, they may even reach the Heavens! they would take over and spread evil all over our realm.” She continues as you scoff, “and why would you think that? you doubting your fathers abilities to keep that under control?” you point out as she looks away, making you ponder, “does he even know you’re allowing your people to slaughter souls?” You ask.

She glared at you as she sat up in her seat, “He doesn’t and won’t know.” she says calmly and authoritatively, “seriously?! you’re doing this behind his back?!” You say, raising your voice in shock and anger, “unbelievable!” You say as you step beck from her desk, turning to leave her office, “and where do you think you’re going?” She asks, “where am I going? i’m going to tell all of Heaven on what the fuck you’re doing thats what!” you shout back, opening the door to leave but it shits immediately, Sera now in front of you, “you’re not going anywhere.” she says darkly, her figure towering over you as eyes appeared over her body, her angelic form showing.

You stepped back, looking at her staring daggers at her as she stepped closer to you, “and what makes you think I can’t?” you taunt, as she stood tall in front of you, “you will be silenced.” She says as pulls out an angelic spear of her own, knowing that she was threatening your life now, “What will Emily think when she finds you slaughtered her own sister?” You ask, putting up a facade of bravery, trying not show that she was getting to you, “Emily is not your sister.” Sera says aggressively and threateningly with pure hostility in her voice, seeing as that got to her it made you smug, “We’ll see when she finds out about how you allow her people kill the innocent.” You smirk with a shit-eating grin, knowing that no matter what she did, it wouldn’t turn out well for her.

It in-fact: did not turn out well for you, “We’ll see, when you’re gone for good.” She says as she swiftly moved you too quickly for you to react, her angelic spear carving your back, a mass amount of pain following as you screamed, you fell forward as she pushed you down as she stabbed her spear through her wing, making you wince in pain, adrenaline fueling your body from the shock that she actually took this path of violence. You tried to get up but she stepped on your back, pushing you back down, you look up at her in fear, her cold dead eyes staring into yours, “long before you know it, Emily will forget you even exist.” She says, swinging at your back again as you scream from agony, golden blood now mixing into the dried blood that covered you, you were shaking from terror and pain, she picked you up from your neck, as you struggled in her grasp, “stop- it!-“ you begged, trying to breathe, trying to kick her off you as golden blood dripped onto the ground in her office, she didn’t respond as she opened a portal, you turned to look, the familiar red skies before your very eyes, you turn to Sera desperately, “Don’t do this!-“ you gasped, struggling more in desperation, “You can’t!” You say, trying to pull her grasp off you, you were losing air and the stamina in your body.

“But I will.” She says with no solace or pity in her voice, she threw you into the portal with a second thought, closing it quickly, you gasped for air, adrenaline fueling your body as you regained oxygen to breathe but that was the least of your worries now, you were falling and your wings were to injured to fly, you were panicking as you tried to use your wings to fly but the pain was to unbearable, you saw your stars in the sky from earlier, protecting the sinners, thats it! thats your only ticket, you immediately tried to summon stars but it was a struggle to do so from how much power you already used from earlier, you had to overexert your abilities again, you mustered all the strength you had left within you, your angelic form showing as a bright colorful aura gleamed around you, you summoned stars but it was so hard to focus with adrenaline and panic that was fueling your body, you manage to make some stars but they were falling with you, some staying in place in the air for you to land on but you would quickly bounce off them from impact, you couldn’t focus at all, the sky rained stars that you had tried to quickly make but failed to use, it was too late as you crashed into the ground, a crater formed around you.

Your whole body hurt, it hurt more than anything you felt before, you weakly tried to sit up, you look at something glowing on the ground, you look to see a lavender blue star, the imperfect perfect star Emily had gifted you fell out of your hair, you winced in pain as your reached for the star, grabbed it and holding it to your chest as you laid back onto the ground, completely lost of any stamina and energy left to give.

Golden blood began to surround and puddle around you, the adrenaline and pain was the only thing keeping you awake right now, you laid there weakly, looking at the now red skies, you couldn’t do anything but only to try and breathe, trying to stay away, you were alone and no one in hell was going to go and try to save you. You were helpless, alone, once again. You couldn’t help but cry, scream in pain, why was this always happening to you? Why couldn’t you just find happiness? Why couldn’t the universe- help its only and dearest child? Your screams were so loud but they always heard im deaf ears, why did fate choose you to suffer this path? you screamed until you couldn’t anymore, you stared at the red sky as you waited for your in pending death. While looking at the sky, you see the stars shift toward you, raining their star dust onto you, the dust leaving soft touches on your skin, they felt like cool kisses, soothing your pain, you smiled weakly at your creations, your eyes feeling heavy as they tried closing, you fighting to keep them open but you eventually lost that battle.

eventually, everything went to black.

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TAGLISTT WEEEE:

@ag-cookiebat800 @meow-meowo @kyo-kyo1 @darling-may-i @pink-apples001

#Spotify #lucifer morningstar #character x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lululuna #lucifer x reader angst #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel sera #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #character x y/n #character x you #i spent 12 hours making this after i accidentally deleted half of it and cried #slow burn #SO SLOW THAT IT BURNS

[thisreadswhatever]

The Chase: Part One

Pretty Sweet

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader

[wordcount]: 2.7k+

[summary]: Jax Teller is used to getting what he wants. At least that was the case before he met you.

[cw]: 18+ only minors do not interact - AU, follows some canon characters & themes but timeline is different. otherwise none yet, but stick with me, I have a smutty plan!

[authors note]: this has been really fun to write. thank you so much to this anon for requesting this idea! I plan on writing a good few parts of this.. as I am really loving writing this reader insert. if you have any ideas or suggestions on where you would like this to go, please let me know! I absolutely love getting your suggestions. I really hope you enjoy!

It had been a long sixteen hour drive. You sighed with relief as you sped past the large wooden slice, “WELCOME TO CHARMING”. You rolled your windows down, the wind blistering through your hair as you took in the warm California sun. 

You turned the music up, attempting to drown out the events replaying in your head that led you here in the first place. 

Charming wasn’t exactly on your bucket list of places to travel. Your parents had split a few years back, after your mom decided she could no longer handle the baggage that came with the Sons of Anarchy MC. Your Dad was an avid member of the Denver Charter, and she soon realised she couldn’t sit back and watch as he grew deeper into the Club. It was a quick and amicable divorce, made easier by the fact you were an only child and more than understanding of why the relationship had to end. You were old enough to see the pain your mom went through trying to make it work, and you knew that it was the best decision for them both. Your Dad on the other hand, never really got over it. 

When your mom remarried last year, he decided to leave Colorado and transferred to the SAMCRO Charter. Charming was his home now. He’d been begging you to visit him for months, and despite the fact you were genuinely pleased that he was happy, seeing him so far from home and content without his family wasn’t something you’d looked forward too. 

Charming was a small place, and from what your Dad had told you, it had never really left the seventies. Denver was the total opposite, a city full of life and people, and ever growing with new expanding chains of business. Even with the freezing winters, there was always something to do in Denver. But Charming? They barely had a population of fifteen thousand. 

You had evaded the trip for as long as you could, blaming college assignments and exams for the reason you couldn’t make the drive. Now that you’d graduated, the excuses had run thin, and it was time to visit your Dad in Charming. 

You pulled into the road of the address he had given you, entering a long unpaved driveway that ended on the outside of a dainty cabin. Your Dad’s bike was parked stagnant on the dirt. You dug your suitcase out from your trunk and walked up the wooden steps to the porch, bringing your hand to the door to knock. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door flung wide and your Dad lunged at you with open arms. 

“You’re finally here!”, he squealed in excitement as he grasped you into a giant bear hug.

“‘Finally’ is right. That was a serious drive, Dad.”

He took your suitcase and carried it through the entryway. “Sure is. I’m so glad you got here safely, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you settled. You hungry? I was just about to make some lunch.”

You followed him inside as you observed the interior of the quaint, dusty cabin. “I could definitely eat.” 

—

Your Dad showed you to your room and then became sidetracked from lunch, giving you a full tour of his new home and the complete low down of all things SAMCRO. He’d explained that the place was owned by the Club, but nobody ever frequented it unless they were in hiding. Your Dad was housed here for the long term, or at least until he could find something he liked better inside the Charming suburbs. 

Once he’d caught you up, he made his start on lunch. You watched as he strolled throughout the kitchen, sitting patiently at the small round dining table. 

“It’s a nice place, Dad. Not sure how I feel that you’re out here all alone though.”

“I’m barely here, kiddo. Spend most of my time down the Clubhouse.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to make sandwiches, dropping a piece of turkey in the process. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys, y/n. A lot more warm than the ones up in Denver. Some of them are your age too.” He placed the plate in front of you, and you grimaced at the site. Your Dad had never claimed to be a great chef. 

“Thanks.” You smiled at him politely, taking a bite and struggling to swallow down the piece of dry sandwich. “I’m sure they’re great, Dad.”

“So, how’s your mom?” 

You shrugged dismissively, unsure how to broach the uncomfortable topic of the newly weds. “She’s doing well. Mike is good to her.” 

He nodded. “That’s good. I’m really glad she’s happy.” 

It was hard to see your Dad try to be okay with the fact that your mom had moved on. The awkward silence was interrupted by his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up from the table. “Finish lunch and we can head on out. The guys are getting together at the Clubhouse tonight, you can meet them all there.”

You knew an evening with a bunch of Californian bikers was going to be inevitable during your trip. At least you could get it over with on the first night. 

“Sounds great, Dad.” 

—

You weren’t thrilled to be back in the confines of your car so soon after your long road trip, but your Dad knew better than to ask you to sit on the back of his motorcycle.

You rolled the windows down of your car as you followed his bike through the winding road from the cabin. As you re-entered Charming, you passed by locally run stores and cafes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a quiet, peaceful town. But you did know better. You knew what the Club’s presence actually meant for a small community like Charming. If SAMCRO was anything similar to the Denver Charter, the underworkings of this town would be anything but quiet and peaceful. 

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, instantly drawn to the huge row of Harley motorcycles lined up on the inner bays.

Your Dad parked up and met you outside your car, telling you all about his new job in the garage as you walked together. He led you across the lot towards a small black door, entering into the SAMCRO clubhouse. It was impressive, a comfortable space with its own bar and lounge area. The place was full of MC memorabilia and pictures from the club’s long history. The furthest wall was centered by two large double doors that were surrounded by mugshots of the SAMCRO members. You had visited the Denver Clubhouse enough to know that room was where the decisions were made.

Your Dad introduced you one by one to several members that were there, a few of which he’d mentioned to you that afternoon. Bobby, Chibs, Trager, Juice and Opie all greeted you with open arms. They were extremely friendly and welcoming, just as your father had promised. The one your Dad called Trager seemed very pleased with your arrival, hugging you for a little too long. Your Dad managed to break the long embrace, pulling you away to start touring you around the building. 

“Don’t get too close to that one, kiddo. He’s a little out there.” 

You giggled as you nodded in agreement, “I’ll keep my distance.” 

—

You sat alongside the club’s Secretary, Bobby, on a leather bench that faced out with a view of the entire room. You observed as the Clubhouse filled with more members and women, a handful of which were old ladies. The rest of them, very clearly single. Of all the members you’d met so far, Bobby had been the easiest to talk to. He clued you in on some of the Club’s legitimate businesses, Cara Cara and Red Woody Productions. You figured that’s where most of the girls came from, retired and current porn stars. 

It was a little strange, and anyone else may have felt uneasy seeing their father in this kind of environment. But you were used to the life of girls and guns from growing up with a dad in a motorcycle club. The Denver Charter had its fair share of women in and out of their doors, but mainly just bartenders and the odd crow eater looking for a way in. These girls were more forward, scantily clothed, makeup on point, and obviously comfortable with their surroundings.  

Bobby nudged your shoulder, regaining your attention from the party happening around you. “You know your Dad talks about you constantly. He’s so happy that you’re here, kid. We all are.” 

You glanced over at your father, a huge smile forming as he collected a drink from the bar. 

“He does seem happy. Just weird seeing him away from home.” 

“You got a home here with us too now, y/n.” He placed his arm over you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “we’re your family as much as we are his.” 

“That’s really sweet, Bobby. Thanks.” 

He pulled his arm back as he chuckled to himself, his large stomach bellowing as he laughed. “I am pretty sweet.” 

Suddenly, the front door opened and a roar of drunken welcomes filled the clubhouse as two more members entered. The President of SAMCRO, Clay Morrow, walked in smiling ear to ear, hands held up as though he was a celebrity greeting his adoring fans. You’d heard a lot about Clay from your father, mainly that he was the initial sponsor for his transfer from Denver, and some remarks about what an ass he was. Behind him, a much younger member followed, embracing Opie as he entered. He was different from the other members, not totally clean cut, but you could at least tell he had showered. Not only was he bathed, he wasn’t harsh on the eyes either. You watched as he talked with Opie, his hands pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears as he spoke. 

“Who’s that?” You asked Bobby, your eyes never feigning from the man. 

“That’s Jax. Club’s VP.” 

As you watched him converse with Opie, he suddenly glanced your way, locking eyes with you. You quickly turned away from him and back towards Bobby. 

“He looks a little young to be Vice President”, you mumbled as you took a swig from your beer, still conscious that he was looking at you. 

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, well, he’s a Teller. His Dad was First 9 alongside Clay and Piney Winston, Ope’s pops. Jax has been SAMCRO since he came out of the womb.” 

You raised your eyebrows, glancing back over your shoulder. Jax’s attention had now been obtained by one of the Cara Cara girls. She was pulling him in by his cutte, batting her eyelashes at him as she leaned against the bar. 

Bobby watched as you observed Jax. He sipped his drink, amused by your interest. “He’s known for his way with the ladies.” 

You wanted to press Bobby further, but your Dad suddenly was stumbling over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Come on over here, kid. I want you to meet my sponsor.” 

“The asshole?”, you whispered to him as you stood up from the chair.

He snickered back at you, patting you on the back. “He’s having a good day.” 

—

You were impressed by the brotherhood the Redwood Originals shared. It wasn’t unfamiliar to the Denver Charter, but the way the members of SAMCRO loved one another was palpable. You observed quietly throughout the night as they all ripped into each other with lighthearted banter and spilled beer all over the place. You were conflicted by the fact your Dad fit in so well here. It was painful to know he had chosen this life over one with you in Denver, but you still felt at peace knowing he had found a place in this family. 

He was now slumped over a leather armchair in the lounge, snoozing after one too many beers. You nudged his shoulder, trying to wake him. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin, Dad. I’ll meet you here in the morning?” 

“You sure, y/n?” He tried to stand up as he slurred, but his balance failed him, collapsing back into the seat. “I can lead you back-” 

You chuckled, placing a hand on his head as he closed his eyes, “No way are you getting on a bike in this state. I remember the way.” 

Tig overheard and slid himself beside you, placing an arm across your waist. “We’ll take care of him, sweetie. Don’t you worry. Get back safe, okay?”

You unwound from his grasp, collecting your bag from the coffee table as you searched through the contents for your keys. “Thanks Trager.”

A strange laugh left his throat as he watched you leave, before his face turned straight as a board. “Call me Tig.” 

You said your goodbyes to the members that were sober enough to communicate, and made your way to the parking lot. 

Jax Teller was sitting outside the clubhouse, journal and pencil in hand. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

He smiled boldly, in a way that perplexed you. Almost like he was happy to see you, even though you’d never met. He took the cigarette from his lips as he asked, “you’re Ralph’s kid, right?”

“I usually just go by y/n.”

He placed his pencil inside the journal and tucked it snug in his cutte, standing from the bench. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing, coming all this way to see him.”

You nodded, “had to make sure my Dad wasn’t living with some crazed psychopaths, you know?” 

He exhaled, his lips forming a perfect O as the smoke left his lips. “Pretty sure a few of those knuckleheads could pass for psychotic”, he teased. His mouth pulled into an infectious smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Jax walked closer towards you, your bodies now inches apart. He held out an open pack of cigarettes, prompting you to take one. You shook your head, declining the offer.

 “And what about you? How’s your level of sanity?” 

Jax hesitated. “A work in progress.” 

You smiled politely as you walked past him, making your way to the car. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Was nice meeting you.” 

Jax’s brow creased in concern, “you heading to the cabin on your own?” 

You looked over your shoulder to see him pacing behind you, flicking his cigarette to the cement.

“My Dad’s not exactly in riding order.” 

“I can take you back.” 

You stopped outside your car and turned to him, scoffing at how forward he was. “I met you thirty seconds ago.”

“So?” He shrugged. 

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.” 

“I’m not asking to get in bed with you, y/n. You can ride the Harley with me and I’ll leave the second you’re in the cabin.” 

You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. “Not gonna happen.” 

“I won’t lay a hand on ya, darlin’,” he raised his hand up, smiling, “scouts honor.” 

You pressed your lips together, suppressing yourself from giggling at his innocent gesture. “I don’t ride bikes.” You affirmed. 

Jax cocked his head at you, confused at the statement. “Denver girl’s scared of bikes?” 

Your eyes rolled at his assumption. “No offense, but I just met you. I’m not sure my safety is your concern.” You shut the car door, realising your window had been left ajar from the way there. You wanted to curse aloud that the good Californian weather enabled the opportunity to ride with the windows down.

Jax didn’t push further, nodding his head as he watched you settle into the driver's seat. “No offense taken.”

Jax leaned his head into the open window, resting his arms on the roof of the car. You turned the ignition, letting the engine roar to life. “Nice to meet you, Jax.” 

“You too, darlin’. Will I see you again?” 

You were looking directly at him, your faces parted only by the frame of the window between you. “I’m here for the week, darlin’.” 

His lips pulled from ear to ear, smiling playfully as you put the gear in reverse, forcing his hands off the car as you pulled out of the parking lot. You peaked in the rear-view mirror, finding Jax still watching you drive away into the Charming night.

back to masterlist

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller x reader #jax teller fiction #jax teller smut #sons of anarchy fic #reads writes #soa #jax teller morrow #smut #jax teller x you #jax teller imagine #jax teller one shot #jax teller love #charlie hunnam fiction #charlie hunnam fic #chibs telford #bobby munson #tig trager #tig x reader #opie winston #juice ortiz #angst #jax teller fic #samcro #sons

[fluentmoviequoter]

Popstar Protection Program

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x singer!fem!reader

Summary: As a young popstar performing in LA for the first time, you don't expect to need police protection. A very reluctant and grumpy sergeant keeps you safe and gives you inspiration.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, vague mention of heavier topics (nothing specific)

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (from such a good episode, too)

Los Angeles can be scary. The aerial shots in movies and TV shows make it look inviting, and the focus on the glamorous aspects tends to hide the dangerous underbelly of the City of Angels. Even scarier, you think, is walking through Los Angeles when a large percentage of the population knows your name.

When you started singing, you never expected to become a “star” or be on the covers of magazines, and you absolutely never thought you’d be playing a sold-out show in Staples Center. While you should be focused on practicing and ensuring the show goes well, you can’t think of anything else except the incident in the airport when you landed.

✯✯ 2 Hours Ago ✯✯

Getting off the plane in LAX, you first notice the lack of fresh air. After playing on the East Coast and opening in smaller venues in towns on the other side of the country, you expected this to be similar. Los Angeles is nothing like Charlotte, Boston, or even Nashville. Taking a deep breath, you grow excited to see Staples Center and all the other sights of Los Angeles.

But you don’t even exit the airport before your hopes and plans are shattered. A large crowd of paparazzi are blocking the area outside your gate. You try to navigate through them with your head down, but one of them knocks his camera into your arm, tilting you off balance and making pain radiate down to your wrist.

“Alright, back up! LAPD, move back!” somebody yells on the other side of the crowd.

Slowly, you notice that no one is pressing up against you now, and when you see a man in a police uniform, you release a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you say.

He says your name, glancing over your shoulder. “Where’s your protection detail?”

“My what?”

“Oh boy. I think you should probably come with me; there’s some people that can keep this from happening again.”

“Why- why did it happen?”

“Paparazzi are practically vultures. They get paid by the picture to take advantage of people, invade their personal lives, and the closer the better. My guess would be one of the smaller papers or magazines heard you were coming and wanted to get a feature out before your show.”

“So, where are we going?”

“LAPD. Mid-Wilshire station is your best bet to get good cops and stay far enough from the center to avoid the cameras that seem to live there.”

“And then what?”

✯✯ Present ✯✯

“Absolutely not!”

Sitting outside an office with glass walls, you try not to look over as you eavesdrop. Your arm has been iced and wrapped, but the pain is now the least of your concerns. Three groups of officers entered the room after the cop who saved you explained the situation to the watch commander. At least one of them seems opposed to being your protection detail for a few days.

“We’re cops, not bodyguards! There are dozens of places in this city that cater to people like her!”

“Um, excuse me,” you interject, knocking on the open door. “I’m sorry to have caused all the upset, but I will find another way. Thanks for your time.”

Sergeant Grey says your name, gesturing for you to stay. “We’re going to take care of you. It’s your first time performing here and after your less-than-ideal welcome, you deserve someone to show you that LA isn’t all bad.”

“It’s not all good either though,” one of the officers adds.

“I don’t…” you begin.

“Why does this require three teams?” Bradford asks. You recognize his voice as the one that was wholly against the idea a moment ago.

“Bradford, this is your assignment. If you have a problem with it, take it up with IA,” Grey answers.

Bradford’s jaw clenches harshly, and his eyes flit to you before shaking his head and looking away.

“This is your protection team until after your show,” Grey explains, “Harper and Thorsen, Nolan and Juarez, Chen, and Bradford works with Metro so he knows this city inside and out.”

You nod along with the names, and a few of them offer their first names as well. After introducing yourself to the five officers who seem to care, you’re directed to an unmarked SUV.

“Aaron and I will be your mobile detail. You don’t go anywhere unless we take you there. Nolan and Juarez are more peripheral, unseen, protection. Lucy will stay with you as close to 24/7 as possible, and Bradford- well, Bradford’s here,” Nyla explains.

Chuckling, you thank her for the clear explanation and climb into the passenger seat after Aaron opens the door for you.

“I love your music, by the way,” he whispers.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that, and all that you’re doing for me,” you reply.

Aaron nods, closing the door and climbing into the backseat behind you. Your hotel reservation has been changed, booked under someone else’s name, and located farther from Staples Center. Watching the streets of Los Angeles from a police car window is, at the least, safer than the alternative, but it’s certainly nothing special.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Any idea as to why Bradford hates me without meeting me?” you ask Lucy.

“Tim is grumpy. He’s protective and loyal but he’s- he’s like a dog that wasn’t socialized enough as a puppy. Vicious until he gets to know you and then he’s the best friend you could ever ask for,” she answers, holding up one of your dresses.

“You’d look great in that color,” you muse. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Bradford wants to get to know me.”

“You think so? About the color? Because I need a new dress,” she replies.

“Take that one. Get it altered or just use the fabric, whatever you want.”

“Thank you!” As she hugs you, she lowers her voice to add, “You’re also young and beautiful and famous… Tim doesn’t always deal well with people who are different than him.”

You nod, but you don’t believe her. You’ll only be with Tim Bradford for a few days anyway. It shouldn’t bother you… but it does.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’re changing things around,” Nyla announces as she enters your room. “Lobby’s swarming with paps, but there’s also a crowd of men screaming your name.”

“So, what are you doing?” you ask.

“Bradford is taking point. He’s got some big plan that, and I quote, ‘no will catch on to.’ I won’t repeat the rest of it for your sake, though.”

“Grey is making him do it?” you guess.

Nyla hums, neither a yes nor no, but you know the answer. When he barges in a moment later, you stop talking, preferring not to give him another reason to hate you.

“Get your stuff, we’re leaving,” he demands.

You nod, walking into the suite's bedroom to gather your things. Part of you wants to know what Nyla and Bradford will say behind your back, but you’re also terrified that Nyla is just better about hiding her true feelings.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is your problem?” Aaron demands. “She’s in danger and you’re not helping any!”

“This isn’t the job I signed up for. I am a Metro Sergeant but I’m stuck on- on princess protection duty! She’s just a kid who sings,” Tim answers.

“It’s about her age then,” Nyla repeats.

“No! Well, yes, but she- what makes her special enough for a team like this? Why does she get a real protection detail?”

“Tim,” Lucy says quietly. “Have you listened to her music?”

“Why would I?”

“Her specific genre, what she sings about has made a lot of people angry,” Aaron explains. “Those paparazzi weren’t there for a ‘Taylor Swift is in LA’; they were looking for a much bigger story.”

“Spit it out, Thorsen.”

“Plenty of people have reason to try to kill her.”

Tim falls silent, looking at Nyla. She tilts her head in a ‘we can’t prove it but it’s probably true’ gesture. He looks back toward the bedroom.

“Look, I’m doing my job. I’ll be civil and that is it,” Tim concedes.

“That’s all we’re asking,” Lucy replies. “We’ll be in the neighborhood. Nothing can happen to her with our protection, right?”

“Right,” Aaron and Nyla answer, looking at Tim.

“Right. Because it is our job, nothing more.”

You come out with your single suitcase, waiting until Tim takes it from you to speak. Thanking him softly, you listen to his quick explanation that you’ll be staying with him rather than Lucy, and the rest of the team will be patrolling nearby in case of an emergency.

“You’ll be fine,” Lucy promises. “And thank you again for the dress. I can’t imagine how much that cost and I can’t thank you enough.”

Tim’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t ask any questions. Wondering why someone in your position would be willing to give away an expensive dress days before a concert confuses him. Tim reminds himself that he can’t start caring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s house is incredibly comfortable. You can tell that he doesn’t want you here, and when he disappears into a back room with his phone and earbuds, you assume it’s his way of getting as much space as he can. Pulling your songwriting journal from your bag, you start writing, disappearing into the emotions and the story you want to share. Time falls away when you’re writing, and you don’t hear Tim reemerge or walk to the doorway before you.

Tim clears his throat, and you look up from your place on the floor. You look small and as young as you are, sitting on the carpet and leaning against the bed with a journal in your lap. Tim has something to say but nearly forgets what it is when you look up at him through your lashes.

“I will admit that I judged you prematurely, and I’m sorry,” he begins.

“It’s okay,” you offer.

“No, just, let me finish. Please?” You nod, and Tim continues, “I thought you were just an entitled kid who found a way to convince the cop from the airport that you needed special attention. Craved it, whatever. And you’re just, you’re young and famous and that confuses me. I don’t know what life is like for you, I can’t relate to any part of that fame.”

“I can’t relate to your life either, but I didn’t shut you out because of that,” you whisper.

Tim licks his lips before speaking again. “I’m sorry. Aaron told me that you sing about- that you- uh-“

“Write songs for people who will never relate to the love songs or the ‘thank God for my parents’… who will never relate to a song on the Billboard 100 or feel protected by a song? Yeah.”

“And I diminished that. I listened to your last album-“

“That’s what you were doing back there?”

“Don’t- don’t laugh at me,” Tim replies, finally smiling. “It was really good. And I truly am sorry.”

“Consider it forgotten.”

You raise your hand, and Tim chuckles as he shakes it. He sees the nearly full page of your notebook and leans down. You slam it closed, and he shakes his head at your sudden movement.

“They’re private until they’re available on iTunes and all major streaming platforms.”

“Got it,” he replies, mock-saluting. “And, just so you know, I needed songs like this as a kid. Still do, so thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the next 48 hours, Tim ebbs and flows. One moment, he’ll talk to you for an hour straight, but by that afternoon, he won’t even look in your direction. It’s dizzying, and you don’t realize how much you’re thinking about it, about him, until you reach the last page of your notebook.

“Ready for the show?” Lucy asks, dressed in an event security uniform.

Shrugging, you run your finger over the edge of your journal.

“Songs?”

Lucy sits beside you, offering a hand. You lay your hand over hers, taking a deep breath.

“I thought I was making progress with Tim. He apologized and he was being nice to me and then it all stopped. Like we backslid. And, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to,” Lucy says softly. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Then maybe you should sing to him.”

Laughing, you argue, “That would be even worse.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is humming while he and Aaron stand outside your dressing room door. 

“You listened to her music,” Aaron accuses, placing the song.

“Yeah. Even apologized,” Tim answers.

“You haven’t talked to her at all today. Did something- oh my- did you kiss her?”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss her, and keep your voice down! I had to pull back.”

“Why?”

Tim doesn’t answer but glances over his shoulder to your door.

“You like her.”

“No- maybe.”

“You need to tell her. We don’t know when or if she’s leaving.”

“That’s why I can’t tell her. If she’s leaving tomorrow there is no point, and if she doesn’t know, telling her could influence her decision.”

“What about the effects of not telling her?”

✯✯✯✯✯

You open the door suddenly, and Tim and Aaron turn toward you quickly.

“Whoa!” Aaron exclaims.

“You look beautiful,” Tim says, sending you a small smile.

“Thank you. All of you, for everything these last few days.”

“Break a leg,” Lucy says, waving as you walk toward the stage entrance.

“Everybody in position? This job isn’t over yet,” Tim radios.

✯✯✯✯✯

You notice Tim standing in the wings during your second song. As if your energy has been zapped from you, you fight not to collapse. Tim’s eyes narrow as he watches you.

“Instrumental,” you tell your bassist, who communicates it to the rest of the band.

Rushing toward Tim, his eyes search your face. His hands raise to your sides as he waits for you to speak.

“I-“ you stop, turning off your microphone. “I thought something was happening.”

“When?”

“No. Between us. I thought maybe there could be something there but then you stopped talking to me. What happened?”

“You’re supposed to be singing right now.”

“I have a journal full of songs about you, Tim!” you exclaim. “I can’t come out here and sing without knowing if those ideas have a chance of coming to life!”

“You wrote songs about me?”

“Tim,” you beg. “Just answer the question.”

“Nothing happened. We’re too different and I didn’t want to push too hard.”

“Who gets to decide if we’re too different? Because I disagree.”

“Don’t tell me you have a song about it, I’ve heard that one.”

You sigh, beginning to accept that Tim is skirting around a rejection.

“You can do better,” Tim says quietly. “No point in me showing you how I feel when you could have any man you wanted.”

“I don’t want any other man!” you yell over the music.

Tim’s eyes widen, and his hand leaps to your waist to your mic pack, turning it off and tugging your microphone down.

“Thorsen, your badge is mine,” he grumbles.

Tossing the microphone onto a nearby chair, Tim raises his hands to cup your face.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure since you said you didn’t want to deal with me.”

“That’s- I don’t think I put it like that.”

“No, you said you were a cop not a bodyguard. But I think you’re a pretty good bodyguard too.”

“I tried not to,” Tim admits. “Tried not to feel this way, I mean. But every time I see you, it’s like I see another part of you. You’re beautiful, and your music is beautiful, and I’m sorry for pushing you away and being-“

“Worthy of a breakup song?”

Tim sighs, leaning toward you. “You need to finish your concert.”

“Promise to be here when I’m done?”

“I promise.”

You grab your microphone, hooking it on quickly before waving at Tim and returning to the stage.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Aaron,” Tim radios, “Did you turn her mic back on?”

“Those things are tricky,” Aaron replies.

“Then maybe you should go talk to the tech department and stay out of my sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The lights dim, and as the crowd applauds, you run to Tim, crashing into him as you hug him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist, smiling as he congratulates you for your first sold-out show.

“You’ll come to the next one?” you ask.

“Only if you sing one of those songs you wrote about me.”

“I’ll sing them all. Even if you’re the only one in the audience.”

Tim cups your cheek, pressing his palm against your cheek as he pulls you in. His kiss is the opposite of earlier; a look that sucked the energy from you has become a kiss that breathes life and love into your very being. You pull back before leaning against Tim and can’t hear anything except your shared heartbeat.

“I think they’re calling for you,” Tim whispers.

The muddled yells of “Encore! Encore!” greet you, but you’re warm and happy in Tim’s arms.

“I don’t want you in my audience,” you correct. “I want you at my side.”

“Then I should be easy to find. Knock ‘em dead. Again.”

Tim kisses you again, and you credit that as the reason your encore was better than your performance (LA Times’ words, not yours).

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader #singer!reader

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.6

Chapter Summary: You arrive at Ellie's family's house, but it's not what you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, mentions of child abuse (not SA), mentions of slavery, angst

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ellie was quiet the next morning, picking slowly at her granola bar and bent over, staring at her book. It was the day you expected to arrive at her aunt and uncle's house, and you had a hunch she was feeling bittersweet about it. When you woke up, you had a pit in your stomach that you assumed had something to the conversation you had with Joel the night before, but as the morning wore on, you realized there was a different reason. You weren't ready to let Ellie go.

"Hey," you said, nudging her knee so she would look up. "You excited to see your family?"

"I guess," she said with a shrug. Joel appeared to only be half listening as he nursed his coffee across from you.

"I'm sure they'll be happy to see you," you replied. "They probably don't even know you're alive. You said you were taken from their house, right?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "After my parents died, they took me in. I can't really remember much, but I know it was nighttime and I had a bag over my head, but I don't remember them breaking into the house, I must've been asleep."

"And it was the Fireflies who took you?" you asked.

"I'm not sure. It wasn't Marlene's group, if it was. There was more of us, they kept us all in this gross basement or something. No one could tell where we were, and whenever they moved us, they had the bags over our heads."

"Jesus," Joel muttered to himself with a shake of his head.

"How do you know it wasn't Marlene?" you asked gently, curious to learn more, but worried about upsetting her.

"Because after a few months, they took me and a couple others to Marlene's camp. She never made us wear the bags," Ellie explained.

"They hurt you?" Joel asked. His eyebrows were pinched as if he were bracing himself.

"A little," she admitted quietly. Your gaze dropped down to your hands, trying not to show her the emotion on your face. "They'd hit us if we weren't working fast enough, or trip us just for fun, I guess."

"I'm so sorry, Ellie," you whispered, reaching out a hand to place on her knee.

You exchanged a pained look with Joel before dropping the subject. At least she was going back home. She might not be excited yet, but you were willing to bet she would be once she saw her family again.

"We're doing the right thing," you murmured to him when you were out of earshot as Ellie packed up her belongings. "I know you weren't on board with this at first, but we're giving her a chance at a decent life."

"Second we get back I'm tellin' Tommy we are cuttin' all ties with these people," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't care what they got to offer."

You nodded, feeling the anger rolling off of him as he aggressively folded up his sleeping bag. You grabbed your pack and kicked dirt over what little fire remained, snuffing out the embers before reviewing the map once more.

Thankfully, her family didn't live within the city itself. Cities were heavily populated, which meant more risk of infected, soldiers, or hostile people. You tended to avoid them at all costs. They lived in a small town outside of the city called Morristown, which didn't have much outside of a post office, a school, and a fire department. The residential homes were built far apart from each other, scattered and disorganized. You got the feeling that people who used to live in this town knew everyone's business, it was so tiny. And you also had the feeling these were the types of people that shot first and asked questions later, given the extent it appeared they went for privacy.

"That's my school!" Ellie said excitedly, pointing down the street. Joel was focused on the map, trying to find the way to Spirit Drive, but you twisted your head so you could see the building she pointed out in the distance.

"That's cool, Ellie," you said warmly, happy to see she finally had a small smile on her face. "What was your favorite subject?"

She went on to tell you about her art class and a teacher she adored, and all the while you stared at her, listening to her stories while your heart ached. You imagined her in that school, with her friends, playing sports, eating lunch, and something inside you burned. It almost felt like jealousy, but that didn't make sense. It was a feeling you couldn't put your finger on, but you thought you knew what it was when you turned down her street, swallowing the lump in your throat when the realization set in that you were minutes away from never seeing her again.

"This the place?" Joel asked Ellie, squinting his eyes between her and the map. The house didn't look like much. It was a small, brick ranch with a long, gravel driveway that led up to a dilapidated grey barn. The hinges on the storm door to the front house were originally black, but now orange with rust. White paint chipped from the door in long strips, and the front garden was long abandoned and overgrown.

"Yeah," she said, looking at the barn.

"Do you think they're still here?" you asked, a flicker of hope igniting in you. Maybe if they weren't here, you could convince Joel to take her back to Jackson.

"Oh, yeah. They're here," she said confidently. You both glanced down at her.

"How're you so sure?" Joel asked, and she tilted her chin up towards the corner of the house. You both followed her gaze, noticing the cameras for the first time. They were small, it was no wonder you missed them, but they were there and definitely working. You could see a little red light flashing in the lens when the camera swooped across the lawn and over the driveway, where you all stood.

Joel slowly flicked his eyes around the house, counting at least seven cameras that he could see from his position. Then his gaze traveled to the barn, where he thought he could make out at least five more.

"How in the hell did you get taken from this place with all these cameras?" he asked. She didn't reply, and he wasn't really expecting an answer.

"So, what do we do?" you asked Joel quietly. "Do we just go up and knock?"

Joel twisted around to glance at Ellie, but she wasn't paying attention. She fidgeted her fingers inside her long sleeves as she stared out across the wide open dusty, dirty land the house was built on.

"I'll go up and knock, you two stay back," he decided, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck before venturing further down the driveway. The sun was blazing, even more so in the desert with little to no shade. You couldn't imagine how uncomfortable Ellie must have been in her long sleeves.

"That's far enough!" a man's voice rang out. Joel stopped dead in his tracks, whipping his head around to try to locate the source. Then he saw movement. An older man with a scraggly grey beard and balding head emerged from the barn, aiming a rifle right at Joel. He held his hands up in the air, showing from a distance that he meant no harm.

"Is that your uncle?" you whispered, holding your hands up as well.

"Yeah, that's Uncle Dave," she said, but she seemed unbothered by the threat. In fact, she shoved her hands in her pockets as she waited for him to approach.

"We aren't lookin' for trouble," Joel called out as Dave slowly made his way closer, his eyes transfixed on Joel. "We're here-"

"Toss your weapons on the ground!" Dave ordered, readjusting his grip on his rifle.

"Okay," Joel said, nodding, and slowly reached around to pluck the handgun from the back of his pants with two fingers. He held it up and gently tossed it on the ground in front of him.

"You too, missy," Dave said without even looking at you. You followed suit, slowly removing your gun and tossing it on the ground at your side. When you were no longer armed, Dave relaxed a bit, letting his shoulder drop but still aiming the rifle at Joel's chest. He finally allowed his gaze to drift behind Joel, looking briefly at you before his eyes landed on Ellie. He hesitated and swallowed roughly before forcing out a harsh chuckle.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Junebug! Get out here, you ain't never gonna believe this!"

A rounder woman with glasses and tight curly blonde hair emerged from the barn behind Dave, a scowl painting her features as she walked forward, aiming a revolver at Joel. When she looked over and noticed Ellie, her expression changed. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she let her gun fall to her side.

"Ellie!" the woman cried out, trotting clumsily down the driveway towards you. You looked down at Ellie, expecting her to finally show some excitement, but she only offered them a pained smile.

"Hiya, Aunt June," Ellie said before being enveloped in a huge bear hug.

"Oh, my sweet girl! I thought I would never see you again," June said with tears in her eyes. Dave watched the two reunite from his position in front of Joel, the rifle now slung over his shoulder.

Ellie stepped back and introduced you and Joel to her family. She explained you were helping her and keeping her safe, and the two adults began to warm up to you after that.

"Please, why don't you stay the night?" June offered. "We'll make you dinner and give you a warm bed, it's the least we could do." Ellie turned to you and nodded, a genuine smile finally spreading across her face.

You felt Joel hesitate next to you, but you quickly accepted her offer, not ready to leave Ellie just yet. He gave you a sideways glance before giving June and Dave a tight smile and followed them into the house, only after picking up your weapons from the ground.

The inside of the house matched the outside. It was well lived in and dated, but it was clean. You glanced around the living room, noticing there didn't seem to be any family pictures around, just landscape art and a clock on the wall.

June gave you a brief tour of the small house and showed you their spare bedroom, where you and Joel left your backpacks.

"Why don't you help me in the kitchen, dear, and leave the men to their own devices," June said, her pink cheeks pinching into a smile. You looked at Joel, trying to read his expression. He gave you a quick nod, confirming he was comfortable with being separated, and you returned her smile.

"That sounds great," you told her.

Dave led Joel down into the basement, explaining along the way that he would be 'blown away' by his set up down there. Ellie had mentioned they were preppers, and based on the cameras, you had to assume the basement was remodeled to be a safe room or a bunker.

You helped June chop up vegetables while she kneaded dough to make chicken pot pie. Your mouth watered at the prospect of a home cooked meal.

"We've been traveling for over a week, eating mostly trail mix and rabbit. This will be wonderful, thank you so much," you told her.

"Of course, dear. It's no trouble at all. Ellie!" June called out. Ellie came around the corner, her sketch pad hanging limply at her side.

"C'mon, girl, you forget how to help out around here?" June asked, her brows furrowed for a moment before she realized how harsh she sounded. She turned to you and laughed, her features relaxed again. "Kids, you know?"

You smiled and looked back at Ellie to gauge her reaction. She seemed quiet and closed off, but you brushed it off, chalking it up to the long day.

June held out a butcher knife to her, and Ellie hesitated, her eyes flicking from her aunt to the knife.

"Auntie, please don't make me," she said, eyes wide.

"You know the rules, don't tell me you forgot now," she replied lowly. Ellie reached out a shaky hand to pick up the knife.

"What is this?" you asked, putting your hand out to stop her.

"Well, we need chicken for the chicken pot pie, don't we now?" June said sweetly, and you were beginning to feel like that ruddy smile of hers was a little fake.

"I'll do it," you said, stepping in front of Ellie, hand outstretched for the knife.

"Now, I appreciate the offer, dear, but Ellie understands it's part of her chores, right?" she said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. She nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the floor.

"She can chop the vegetables and I'll take care of the chicken," you told her, your tone becoming more insistent.

June's watery eyes wavered between you and Ellie as she weighed her options. You glanced down at the butcher knife in her red, flour covered hands, then looked back at her.

"I insist," you said darkly, dropping the fake pleasantries. June's gaze dragged up to remain locked on you.

"Girl's gotta learn to be comfortable with killing," she replied, but you reached out and snatched the knife from her grip before she had a chance to blink.

"That's alright, I could use some practice, myself," you told her, refusing to break eye contact.

The tension in the room was thick, even Ellie was shifting her weight, trying to make herself as small as possible. You waited for June to try to argue with you again or say something to Ellie that didn't sit right, but it never came. As if storm clouds passed, her eyes cleared up and she blinked at you, a smile spreading across her flushed cheeks.

"Well, then," she said, dusting her hands on her apron. "Coop's out back. Suppose we should thank our guest, right Ellie?" June said, raising an eyebrow at the girl. Ellie nodded and looked up at you.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"No problem, kid," you muttered, giving June one last glance before heading out the back door.

"This here's an AK-47, got maybe six of these fuckers," Dave said, his fingertips grazing the weapon on the wall as he passed. "Just about anything you can think of, I probably got two of 'em."

For someone who hoarded weapons in an underground bunker, Joel would have thought the man would be a little more subtle. A little less eager to show a complete stranger his entire stash. But then again, men like Dave loved to show off. If they couldn't boast about it, then what was the point?

"Real nice set up you got here," Joel murmured, knowing the man was waiting for a compliment. Dave's chest puffed with pride before he opened a sliding door in the back of the basement, revealing a small room filled with different sized monitors, cameras all cycling through the different angles he had covering his property. Joel was wrong: he had way more than just the cameras he saw. They rotated to different views all around the outside of the house. He noticed the only cameras that were monitoring indoors were in the barn where he saw an old John Deere tractor and a pickup truck flash on the screen.

"Jesus," Joel whispered, taking a step forward, but still not entering the small room. "How the hell you manage to watch these all the time?"

"Ah," Dave said proudly, tapping his finger against his temple. "I got motion alerts. Sends out an alarm when I'm sleeping or taking a shit or whatever. Gets annoying, though. Mostly just birds or other animals, so I turn it off during the day. But sometimes... sometimes I get something good."

"Like us?" Joel said, and Dave laughed.

"Yeah... yep, exactly like you," he replied, trailing off as he stared at Joel.

"Y'know," Dave said after a moment, stepping back to shut the door. "There's folks around here who pay good money for things, if you're ever in the market to buy or sell."

"We don't got much, but we're doin' just fine," Joel said, beginning to feel uneasy.

"Nah, see, that's where you're wrong, friend," Dave replied, pouring two glasses of whiskey and handing one to Joel. "You do got somethin'."

Joel held the glass tightly, bringing it up to his lips and pretending to take a sip before setting it down. Something told him he should keep his wits about him. He raised his eyebrows at Dave, waiting for him to continue.

"That girl with you up there," he began, and Joel felt his stomach twist at the mention of you. "She would fetch you a fair price with the folks I know."

Joel froze, doing his damndest to not let his emotions show. The pieces were starting to click. He clenched his jaw and swallowed lightly before taking a deep breath.

"That right?" he replied, urging him to continue. He needed to get back upstairs, for the first time realizing you all might be in danger.

"Hell yeah. Medicine, food, weapons. I'm sure of it," he said with a click of his tongue. "I make one radio call and they could be here in two days."

"Hm," Joel replied, clenching his fists behind his back. "Lemme think on it, yeah?"

"Sure, sure," he said with a wave. "Don't think too long, though. One day, someone'll take her. It's just a matter of if you get to benefit from it or not, you get me?"

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Yeah," Joel said. "I get you."

Joel decided you weren't leaving his sight. He was relieved when June called down, letting them know dinner was ready, so he could make sure you were okay without making an excuse to leave and raise suspicion. A man like Dave with a whole arsenal at his disposal wasn't someone he wanted to tangle with. He had to be careful.

A cynical part of him wondered if he should be worried about the food, but he knew you helped prepare it. You were smart, you would have noticed if something was going on.

But when he climbed the stairs and locked eyes with you, he knew something was wrong. You didn't show it, but he could tell by the way your smile didn't reach your eyes.

He settled down at the table as you and June scooped out the meal on everyone's your plates while Ellie silently brought everyone glasses of water. When she set Joel's down, he tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn't look at him.

"Ellie, why don't you get Joel 'n me whiskies. You ladies want anything stronger?" Dave asked, tucking his napkin into his shirt. You shook your head and politely declined as you took your seat next to Joel, your knee purposely knocking against his under the table. He glanced at you, your lips pressed in a thin line as you looked down at your food, not wanting to raise suspicion but desperately wanting to warn him that these people seemed off.

"You know, I've been meaning to try that margarita mix we traded for last week," June said thoughtfully. "Ellie, let me show you how to make it." June waddled out of the kitchen and into the living room, behind Ellie. You heard their voices carrying over faintly as June instructed her how to make her drink.

"This looks great, honey. What's in it?" Joel asked, turning and giving you a pointed look. Honey. He never called you that. It got your attention, and you gave him a quick, curious look before you understood his underlying question. Is this safe to eat? Your gaze drifted back to Dave, who was watching the two of you talk.

"Just normal stuff," you told him. "Nothing special. Veggies, chicken."

His eyes bored into yours, trying to communicate silently with you. You figured it out. Something happened in the basement that worried him, the same way June's behavior worried you.

"Alright, let's dig in!" June said cheerily, entering the kitchen with a yellow drink in her hand. Ellie followed dutifully behind with two glasses of whiskey, placing them in front of the men before sitting across from you.

"This is great, Junebug," Dave told his wife after a few forkfuls. June smiled as she sipped from her glass. You and Joel choked down the meal, offering your compliments and thanks once again, while Ellie silently pushed her food around her plate.

"Not a whiskey man, Joel?" Dave asked, his eyes growing glassy from the drink he had in the basement and now his second one.

"It's just been a long journey," Joel explained, but took a small sip anyway. "Feelin' real tired, is all."

Ellie glanced up and looked at Joel, knowing full well he wasn't tired. In the short time she knew him, it was like pulling teeth to admit he was tired. She looked back and forth between him and you, trying to read your faces without being obvious.

"Quit playing with your food," June told her harshly, finishing up her margarita. "You should be so lucky to have a roof over your head and food in your belly."

Joel stiffened next to you but didn't look up from his plate, his mind racing, trying to formulate a plan.

"You know what? That drink looked good," you said suddenly. "Ellie, why don't you show me if you remember how to make it?" You stood up from the table and Ellie jumped to her feet to follow you.

"Bring me another, too," June barked as Ellie followed you around the corner to the bar cart in the living room.

"What the hell is going on here, Ellie?" you muttered quietly, picking up the margarita mixer and pouring it into a glass.

"It's how they always are," she whispered. "They aren't exactly good with kids, but it's fine."

"No, it's not fine," you whispered back, holding your hand out to keep her from pouring tequila in your glass, choosing to just drink the mixer, not wanting alcohol to dull your senses. You nudged her hand to make her pour a little extra tequila in her aunt's glass. "This isn't how you should be living."

"Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked sharply before turning on her heel and heading back into the kitchen. You trailed after her, finding your seat next to Joel and taking a sip of the fake drink and trying to ignore the guilt. You had no idea how you were going to be able to leave her behind with these people.

You helped June clean up the dishes after dinner while the men filed into the living room. Joel had drank his first glass, but held up his hand when Dave offered a second, rubbing his eyes and reminding him how tired he felt. He needed to get you alone and get you the hell out of here, paranoid that Dave would call those people to do a "trade" for you like he was already suspecting happened originally with Ellie. What else would explain kidnappers being able to bypass his security system?

As if reading his mind, Dave asked "Think any more about what I told you downstairs?"

Joel yawned, trying to hide his anger by contorting his face.

"Lemme sleep on it, get back to you in the mornin', I'm beat," he said, hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick. If he was, Dave didn't seem to notice, the whiskey doing its job by keeping him oblivious.

"Alright now, Ellie. Time to get ready for bed," June said, her drink sloshing in her glass. "Say goodbye and thank you to your friends."

You could see the despair in Ellie's face. Trying hard not to cry, you wrapped her in a hug and whispered it will be okay in her ear before pulling back, swallowing hard. She was about to reach for her sketch pad when, much to your surprise, Joel suddenly leaned down and pulled her into a hug. Ellie also looked shocked, not sure what to do at first but eventually brought her arms up around his ribs. You thought you could see him whisper something in her ear, but it happened so fast, you weren't sure.

"Okay, off you go," June told her, and Ellie quickly walked down the hall without another word. You watched her go, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You sat next to Joel, trying to appear interested in what her aunt and uncle were talking about, but you realized it didn't matter the more they drank. Joel's hand dropped on the couch next to you, grasping your hand and stroking his thumb over your knuckles. You looked up at him sadly as he tried to wordlessly say it's okay, I'll get us out of this.

After another hour, Dave stood to tend to the fire, stumbling in the process. June chuckled, her face redder than usual.

"Time for bed, old man," she teased, and he grunted in response, pushing a log around with the poker before straightening back up.

"Suppose you're right, Junebug," he replied. You could hear the alcohol in his voice, the way he spoke slightly louder and slower than usual.

"You two need anything, you just holler," June said, pushing herself off the couch. "Clean sheets are in the closet."

You and Joel stood, watching as they made their way slowly down the hall to their bedroom, June mumbling to Dave until their door quietly clicked shut.

You immediately swiveled around to Joel but he clamped a hand over your mouth, shaking his head. You nodded and he removed his hand, leading you down the other end of the hall to the guest room, and shut the door.

"Joel-"

He held his finger to his lips before he made his way around the room, checking the furniture and closet for any possible hidden cameras or bugs. When he was satisfied, he finally spoke.

"Don't get comfortable. When they fall asleep, we're leavin'," he whispered.

"We can't leave her here," you said, sweeping your arm towards the door.

"I know," he said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "They'll sell her off again the first chance they get."

"Wait, what?" you asked, eyes wide. "I thought someone snatched her?"

"I really fuckin' doubt it," Joel said, running his fingers through his hair. "When we were in the basement, that asshole was tryin' to convince me to sell you to slavers. Said if I don't do it, somebody'll take and sell you anyway. Sounded awful lot like a threat, if you ask me."

"Jesus Christ, Joel!" you whispered, wrapping your arms around your ribs and pacing nervously around the room. "So you think they sold Ellie into slavery? Their own niece?"

"Wouldn't put it past 'em. You should see the shit he's got in that basement. Must've cost a fortune. I'm sure Ellie wasn't the only one they sold off."

It started to make sense. The way June spoke to and treated Ellie like she was a servant didn't leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.

"But they seemed so happy to see her," you said, thinking back.

"Yeah, probably saw her as another paycheck. Two for one," Joel said with a scoff.

"So what's the plan?" you asked him, biting on your fingernail anxiously.

"Give it an hour or so," he began, sitting down on the bed. "Make sure they're passed out. Then, you go get the kid, and I'll go to the basement. I gotta figure out how to turn off the motion alerts on those cameras so they don't wake up. Then we get the fuck outta here."

"Okay," you said quietly, sitting down next to him, stunned. Twenty minutes ago, you just thought they were bad guardians. You had no idea it was this bad. You buried your face in your hands, feeling guilty for bringing Ellie back into this house. You should have fought harder to get her to stay in Jackson. Now, you all ended up in danger, anyway.

"We have to try to warn Tommy and Maria," you whispered. "What if something happens? It'll take us a week to get home."

"Maybe not," Joel replied. "I saw on his cameras that they got a truck in that barn."

Joel stuck his head out into the hallway, craning his neck to listen for any movement from the master bedroom. After a few minutes of silence, he looked back at you and nodded. Quietly, you followed him down the hall, pausing outside of Ellie's room. Before you could open the door, Joel put his hand over yours. He cupped your face and quickly pressed a kiss against your lips, then pulled back to look deep into your eyes while his thumb caressed your cheek.

I'll get us out of here, I'll keep us safe.

You nodded, understanding without him having to say a word. He dropped his hand and made his way down the hall to the basement door, clicking on his flashlight before descending the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed the bedroom door open. You took care to close it gently behind you, then turned around to find Ellie fully dressed and waiting for you at the foot of her bed.

"Hey," you whispered, and she stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"I'm ready," she whispered back.

"How did you-"

"Joel told me," she said quietly. "He said to keep my bag packed, and not to fall asleep."

So he did whisper something in her ear when he hugged her.

"Okay, good," you breathed, trying to hide your nervousness.

"I packed all new clothes, and a few other things I wanted. Do you think I need anything else?"

"You have your flashlight?" you asked.

"Yep. And I got this," she said, proudly reaching into her pants pocket and pulling out a switchblade.

"Where did you get that?"

"Does it matter?" she replied.

"Just be careful with that thing, put it away," you told her. She folded it back up and shoved it into her jeans.

You poked your head out of her door, making sure the coast was clear before taking a step out. You made it two feet before Ellie's hand shot out and grabbed your arm, pulling you back into her room just in time. The master bedroom door swung open and June hobbled out in her nightgown, making her way groggily to the bathroom. You and Ellie stood with your ears pressed against the bedroom door, listening intently as the toilet flushed and the sink ran.

"Where's Joel?" Ellie mouthed.

You pointed down to the floor and mouthed back basement.

You waited until you heard her door click shut and the squeak of the boxspring before opening Ellie's door again. Silently, you made your way down the hall and to the dark kitchen, where you waited for Joel.

"What's he doing?" she said as softly as possible.

"Motion sensors," was all you said back. She shook her head.

"He won't know - I'll do it," she replied, and before you could stop her, she opened the door and made her way down the steps, turning her flashlight on in the process. You went after her as quickly and quietly as you could, knowing Joel wouldn't expect you to be down there.

You entered the bunker, taking a second to gawk at all the guns adorned on the walls. There was also an elaborate looking radio and a workbench filled with electrical parts. You passed five dressers that looked to be filled with different types of ammunition, and you thought you even saw a couple grenades.

"Joel," you whispered, and you heard him shuffle near the back of the room. You swung your flashlight towards the noise, your heart pounding in your ears. He stepped out from behind a tall shelf of canned goods, shaking his head and holstering his revolver.

"This wasn't the plan," he scolded with a deep frown, but before you could explain, Ellie pushed past you both and made her way to the little room in the back that housed all of the security system equipment.

"Ellie!" Joel whispered, going after her.

"I know what I'm doing," she said over her shoulder. He glanced back at you and you shrugged.

"There, the alarm is turned off and so is the recording," she said, emerging from the room. Joel gave her a confused look.

"Recording?" you repeated.

"Yeah, the cameras record everything. So they won't know what direction we go when they wake up tomorrow and try to review the footage," she explained, looking at you like it was obvious before heading to the stairs.

"Did you know-" you began to ask, but Joel cut you off.

"Hey, wait," he whispered, making Ellie stop on the bottom step. He unscrewed the cap of whiskey Dave had shared with him earlier and poured it all over the radio, watching as it sparked a bit. And for good measure, he cut the wire that powered the device before making his way toward the stairs, pushing past Ellie to lead you both out of the house.

Joel led you to the barn, maneuvering on the soft grass instead of the noisy gravel. There was a standard padlock on the door, which he was able to break relatively easily with his hunting knife. He was beginning to realize Ellie's aunt and uncle had all the appearances of being survivalists, but lacked most of the skills. He had lost count of the things he would have done differently if he was defending his own home.

Still, he didn't want to wake them when he was so close to safety. So, he put the truck in neutral and had Ellie steer from the driver's seat while the two of you pushed the car down the long driveway, waiting until it reached the road before making Ellie move to the back and starting it up.

He drove for a few hours until you were both struggling to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline that was previously fueling you both long since worn off.

"Let's pull off here, maybe we can find some gas before we head out in the mornin'," Joel said softly, trying not to wake Ellie.

"Okay," you said quietly, staring out the window as he got off the interstate. He drove for another half hour until he found a volunteer fire hall.

There were a few abandoned cars in the large lot when you pulled in. Joel parked the truck and turned to you.

"Lemme go in and check it out, you stay with the kid," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"I'll come with you," you said, but he held out his hand.

"Stay," he repeated firmly, and you shook your head.

"What if-"

"Just do as your told for once," he snapped. You clamped your mouth shut, too tired to argue. He was clearly annoyed that you improvised back at the house and brought Ellie in the basement.

"Fine," you seethed, and he slid out of the truck. You watched with your arms crossed as he approached the door, shining his flashlight inside the window before working on the lock and pushing his way in. You could see the beam of his flashlight through the windows as he moved from room to room, carefully checking out each one before finally coming back out to let you know it was clear.

"Ellie," you whispered, nudging her shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up with a yawn, turning around to try to figure out where you were.

"We're gonna stay here for the rest of the night and try to get some sleep before hitting the road tomorrow," you explained as you hopped out of the truck.

She silently followed you into the building, where Joel was waiting, holding the door open. He led you both up the stairs where the firefighters had a small living space with bunk beds. Ellie snagged the first one she saw, curling up with the blanket that was already draped over the bed and falling back asleep.

"You good?" Joel asked, looking over as you flopped down on one of the beds.

"Yeah, are you?" you replied. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Long fuckin' day," he murmured.

"Why don't I keep watch tonight and you get some rest, I'll sleep in the car tomorrow," you told him. You could tell he wanted to argue with you but his exhaustion won.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed after a moment.

You stood back up, checking your gun before heading back downstairs. After you peeked out the windows to confirm everything was all quiet, you wandered around the first floor a bit. It looked like after the outbreak, the building may have acted as a safe zone. There were abandoned bags, cots, blankets, and trash overflowing in the bins.

You were looking through some duffel bags for anything useful when you heard a noise outside. You froze, quickly pulling your gun from the back of your jeans as you made your way cautiously out into the room. At first glance, your flashlight didn't show anything out of the ordinary. You were about to give up when you heard the same noise again. Whipping to your left, you advanced towards the sound with your gun drawn.

The last thing you remember is a hand gripping your throat from behind and a needle slipping into your neck.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark @merz-8 @sarap-77 @sarahhxx03

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #look what we've become joel miller fic

[happilyhertale]

Voiceless - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Summary: As the princess of the realm, the gates of the world are open to you. But after one fateful night, everything seems to change for you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Author’s note: Hey you (:

Another story, requested by a dear Anon (: Thank you for this request!

I hope you will enjoy it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Warnings: Violence, blood, fluff

Word count: 3.5 k

Other stories of mine

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You lean your body against the wall and feel the coldness of the walls flow through your body, while distant echoes reach your ears. The graceful footsteps of servants echo through the corridors, accompanied by soft conversations that float delicately in the air. You hold your breath anxiously and remain hidden, fearing that the slightest sound might betray your presence. Only when the whispers have faded and you are sure they are gone do you let out a sigh of relief and the tension in your chest eases.

With newfound courage, you carefully disengage yourself from the wall. With a deliberate step, you walk through the winding corridors of Driftmark Castle. The dimly lit corridors, a secret labyrinth of shadows and secrets, bear witness to your clandestine excursion. Unnoticed by the outside world, you have escaped from your chambers, driven by a longing to glimpse the heavens once more before returning to the turbulent confines of King's Landing.

You have heard much of the island's enchanting night sky, where the stars appear with effortless brilliance, undisturbed by the burdens of a densely populated city. In this vast expanse of darkness, the stars shine, casting their celestial glow on the calm waters that surround the shores. And so, driven by this longing, you navigate the corridors of the castle, propelled by an inexplicable pull towards the sky that dances above the shores of Driftmark.

The day was accompanied by sadness and cast a shadow over the hours that passed. Your mother urged you and your brothers to be moderate. You were not supposed to frolic, but just stay by your family's side. So you and your brothers mostly just stood around nodding and smiling at the adults occasionally. But all you really wanted to do was frolic in the dunes with Aemond.

Today was the sad occasion of Laena Velaryon's funeral, a painful spectacle. Her daughters Baela and Rhaena have your full sympathy. The very thought of suffering such a devastating loss as that of your own mother Rhaenyra sends a shiver down your spine.

Lost in thought, you approach the exit of the castle. Your reverie was abruptly interrupted, however, and you were jolted back to reality as you perceive low murmurs that soon swelled to a tumultuous clamour. The echoes of discontent turned into cries of frustration and carried the weight of a brewing tantrum. You quicken your steps and approach the source of the uproar, only to be abruptly stopped.

You thought you were the only one awake. Yet here are your brothers standing in front of Aemond and they are shouting at each other. Baela and Rhaena are behind your brothers. You notice immediately that no one is standing next to Aemond. You walk towards the group, but no one seems to be paying attention to you.

"What's going on here? Jace?" you ask.

Jace finally turns his head to you, "Go back to bed, y/n!" he says to you.

But you don't listen to him. You walk on and stand next to Aemond. You see the corners of Aemond's mouth pull up briefly and barely noticeably.

"What's going on here?" you ask again.

"Aemond has claimed Vhagar! Vhagars is our mother's dragon!" shouts Rhaena.

Your eyes grow wide. 'Aemond has what?‘ –  immediately pops into your mind. But you can't help feeling a little proud for Aemond.

"Your mother is dead," Aemond says suddenly. Your head snaps to the side, "Aemond!" you hiss.

But Aemond seems to pay you no mind, "Vhagar has a new rider now!" he says proudly.

"It was my right to claim her!" retorts Rhaena.

Before Aemond can reply, you lightly take his arm and try to pull him back a little. You know that arguments between them can escalate quickly.

"Rhaena... it is not written down anywhere who can claim which dragon and when..." you say quietly. "Dragons decide for themselves who they want as a rider," you say a little more confidently now.

Rhaena gives you an angry look, "How would you know? Has your mother died yet? Have you had any experience with who claims her dragon?" she hisses at you.

You are a little startled and take a small step back.

"Shut your filthy mouth," chimes in Aemond and suddenly he shoves you behind him.

"Maybe your cousins will find a pig for you to ride. It would suit you," he says with a sneer.

Rhaena suddenly goes for Aemond, but he grabs her and pushes her to the ground. When Baela suddenly stands in front of him and punches him in the face. He didn't expect that, he goes down. You cry out slightly.

As if of your own accord, you suddenly stand next to Baela and push her away to keep her away from Aemond.

Aemond gets back up, looking hateful. He has clenched his hands into fists and is breathing heavily.

"Attack me again and I'll feed you to my dragon!" he says angrily but still with pride.

You look to him, "Don't do that Aemond..," you say quietly.

He looks at you, his gaze softening a little. But he is immediately distracted again when he notices Jace coming towards him.

But it's too late, Jace punches him square in the face. You cry out.

"No! Jace!" you scream, trying to pull him away, but Jace just shoves you aside. He tries to hit Aemond again. He punches several times in Aemond's direction, but to no avail. Aemond deflects each blow. Until Aemond kicks at Jace and he simply goes down.

Suddenly there is a scream from Luke and he tries to go for Aemond. But Aemond just punches him in the face.

"Aemond!" you shout, and run to Luke, who is on the floor. His nose is bleeding and he is whimpering softly. You try to comfort him.

When you turn back to Aemond, you see the others coming at him. Aemond is lying on the ground and the others are standing over him. They kick and hit him. You stroke Luke's head once more before running back over to the others. You get hold of Rhaena's hair and pull her away from Aemond. She struggles, but you push her away, "Stop it now!" you shout at her.

Jace turns to you briefly when he hears you scream. But at that moment Aemond kicks him to the ground again.

Aemond stands again, breathing heavily. Luke goes towards him, but Aemond just grabs him by the collar. Suddenly you notice him holding a rock in his other hand and raising it menacingly. You are too frightened to react.

"You will die in the flames, just as your father did!" he hisses at Luke.

You just gasp out, "Aemond! Stop that right now!"

But Aemond is too angry to even notice anything else

"Bastards," he says hatefully.

"Aemond! Are you out of your mind?" you say angrily. You walk towards the two of them. Luke just whimpers softly, "But my father is still alive..," he says quietly.

Aemond looks surprised, "He doesn't know, does he? Lord Strong?" he says.

"Aemond. Stop it right now," you say to him again.

Luke has tears in his eyes

But suddenly Aemond pushes you to the ground and now you're irritated, but then you see Jace coming at Aemond with a dagger. It takes you too long to process this.

But then Aemond hits Jace with the stone. You get up and go back to Aemond, wanting to pull him away from the group, "Stop that, Aemond! Come with me" you shout.

You turn back to Jace and at that moment you feel a searing pain. You grab your neck and your hands are instantly wet. You hear a blade fall to the floor. You immediately look to Aemond in panic, tears are in your eyes. You are in pain and you start breathing faster. You can't scream and you panic even more. But instead Aemond screams.

"I will let you burn!!! You will die for this!!!" he screams over and over. You slump down and cry silently.

"No!", Aemond shouts and is immediately at your side.

"It's going to be alright! Y/n! Please..," Aemond says almost pleadingly.

"Y/n!" shouts Jace as he realises what he has done, kneeling beside you as well.

Aemond stands back up. He breathes heavily and feels an incomprehensible rage inside him. The rage inside him feels like nothing he has ever felt before. He still has the stone in his hand. He lets his gaze wander to the stone as his chest rises and falls, heavier and faster, again and again. He raises his hand and wants to hit Jace with the stone.

When all of a sudden Luke yells out. At the high-pitched scream, you look up. He has the blade in his hand and swings it.

Aemond notices too late, but suddenly he screams out and holds his eye. You have never heard such a pained scream. You push Jace away from you, desperately trying to crawl over to Aemond. By now your hands are covered in blood and dust, your own pain completely forgotten. You kneel by Aemond's side and are only distantly aware of Jace shouting at Luke. It slowly dawns on both of them what they have done. Rhaena and Baela stand terrified in the corner, not daring to say anything.

You, on the other hand, want to say something. You try to speak. You open your mouth and try to force words out of you. But no matter how hard you try, your throat only hurts. Every time you try to say something, it feels like nails are being driven into your throat and more blood runs down your throat. The front of your dress is now soaked with your blood.

You grab Aemond by the shoulder and try to turn him towards you. As he lies on his back, he whimpers and you see more blood. Your whimpering mingles with his and you let out a soundless scream. His blood mixes with yours on your dress as you lean down and try to embrace him.

Suddenly the Kingsguard comes running.

Tears run down your face. But the tears are not an expression of pain, but of helplessness. Because Aemond lies screaming on the ground and you can do nothing to help him. His hand covers his left eye. More and more blood seeps through between his fingers.

You are only distantly aware of being taken aside, you only have eyes for Aemond.

Everything happens so quickly. And the next moment you are in the throne room. The wound over Aemond's eye is being stitched. He is sitting on a chair and a maester is standing in front of him. You are lying on a couch with two maesters bending over you. You have been given poppy juice and are light-headed. After the bleeding has stopped, your throat will be stitched. Tears keep running down your face. When the maesters have finished, you turn your head to Aemond. You see him contort his face in pain as the maester applies the needle. You try to sit up, but the maesters push you back.

"You should lie down for a while, princess," says one of the maesters.

You want to answer, but when you open your mouth, no words pass your lips.

The maesters cast a meaningful glance at each other. At that moment your mother comes storming into the throne room. She goes worriedly to your brothers and hugs them briefly. But quickly she continues to look around, her eyes searching for you. And then she sees you and horror is written all over her face.

She comes rushing towards you.

"Y/n!" she calls. With her soft hands she takes your face in her hands.

"My girl, what's wrong?" but you can't answer and that scares you even more. Tears well up in your eyes. Your mother looks at the maesters, "What is going on? Why can't my daughter speak?" she asks demandingly.

And then the maesters explain to her that you will probably never be able to speak again.

"A silent princess...", your mother murmurs with tears in her eyes.

Some years have passed since then and you have come to terms with the situation as best you can. The scar on your throat has healed completely, but it still makes you uncomfortable. In the evening, you sit in front of the mirror and apply ointments to the scar, hoping that one day it will hardly be visible. But you can't stand the sight of it for long.

Usually the scar is covered with a scarf to hide it from prying eyes. You are very ashamed of it and it burdens you even more that you can never speak to the lords and ladies of the court. Nevertheless, you have learned to observe your surroundings carefully and to notice the smallest changes.

But this has also led to increasing isolation. Still, Aemond can be found by your side most of the time. Even before the accident you had felt a certain closeness to each other, but now you are connected because of your shared loss. Aemond shares much of his day with you, telling you about the books he is reading. Sometimes he even assures you that you are not missing anything by not taking part in the conversations at court, as they are all trivial and boring.

And you answer him tirelessly with the art of writing. Every morning, when the busy maids help you to dress, you carefully tie a small roll of parchment around your wrist. In a tiny pocket that you have carefully attached to your dress is a precious piece of charcoal. These humble tools serve as channels for your communication.

On this roll of parchment you write all the feelings and thoughts you wish to convey. Your bold and solemn as well as sometimes cheeky responses find their eternal place on this paper that will forever go down in history. Somehow you like the idea that everything you share will be recorded. Unless, in a fit of frustration, Aemond throws your cheeky answers into the nearest fire and tries to give you an annoyed look. Then you can't help a slight chuckle.

Over the years, feelings have been stirring within you. You have watched Aemond grow into an impressive young man. Even in his clothes you notice the muscular development of his body through his hard training. This thought pleases you immensely. Sometimes you cannot suppress a giggle when you meet him after training - sweaty and breathing heavily. Aemond then looks at you in confusion, but you just shake your head as your cheeks redden slightly.

Likewise, you enjoy your quiet moments together. You just sit together then, giving each other comfort. Just as you suffer from your scar, Aemond suffers from the scar that adorns his face. And he cannot cover it as easily as you can cover yours. But your conscience still torments you often because you could not protect Aemond back then. You may have lost your voice, but Aemond has lost half his sight. Since birth, he has had to fight for everything he has, and it seems that nothing will ever change. But the fact that you could not prevent your brothers from going against Aemond and that he had to give up his eye for it, eats away at you and gnaws at your inner self.

When the overwhelming feeling spreads through you, you do not even seem worthy to enjoy his presence or attention. As you stand in the training yard one day, your thoughts are once again corroded by this guilt. An uneasy state fills your chest and a pressure makes itself felt. Suddenly, however, you are torn from your thoughts. Aemond stands before you and a smile adorns his face.

"I have not seen you at all today," he says softly and his smile widens.

You smile too and take your small roll of parchment in your hand.

"I've been hiding from you," you hold out to him on the paper.

He chuckles briefly and suddenly holds out a small flower to you

"I saw this and thought of you," he says softly. With delicate grace, his fingertips caress a delicate strand of your hair and gently stroke it behind your ear. As if guided by nature's whisper, he lovingly nestles a flower in your curls and adorns you with an enchanting touch.

You are overwhelmed by the sheer grace of his gentleness

"Will you wait for me until the training is over?", Aemond asks you, but your mind drifts, deaf to his words.

The suffocating weight in your chest persists and grows stronger. It feels almost unbearable that he has such endearing qualities and showers you with care while you have been powerless to protect him from the clutches of your own brothers who are responsible for his painful loss.

"Y/n?", Aemond asks you again to get your attention.

"I can't read your mind yet, you have to write it down," he says teasingly.

But your eyes suddenly fill with tears – Aemond's gaze instantly panics.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" he asks. He wants to caress the softness of your cheek to soothe you. Unfortunately, fate intervenes and as he reaches out to caress your cheek, you turn and hurry away. Aemond is visibly irritated, but he cannot resist and follows you.

"Hey! Y/n, what's wrong?", Aemond calls after you.

You walk into the gardens and wipe away your tears.

By the rose bushes, Aemond reaches you and grabs you almost gently by the arm. He turns you towards him and you look at him.

"Hey..." he says gently, wiping away your tears.

"Tell me what's wrong," he adds.

You hesitate at first. But then sob quietly and then take the parchment in your hand.

"I'm sorry," you write simply.

Aemond reads these words again and again. His eye dart over the paper, as if he wants to grasp something that is between the lines and still eludes his eye.

"What exactly do you want to apologise for?" he asks you quietly after a while.

You sob quietly and start writing again.

"That I could not prevent it," he reads next.

Again his eye dart over the paper several times.

He looks up, "That you couldn't prevent what exactly?" he asks you.

Now you are starting to look annoyed.

"Pardon me, y/n, I can't figure it out," he says.

You write again, "I thought you were smart?" reads Aemond this time.

He looks up at you again.

"What's bothering you?" he says and sighs.

You start again

"I couldn't stop Luke from taking your eye. I left you alone, so to speak... It still gnaws at my conscience," with each word Aemond reads, his lips move slightly. He slowly looks up at you.

"You silly... It's not your fault I lost my eye after all... You didn't swing the dagger," Aemond says softly.

But you shake your head and start writing again.

"I should have stopped Jace and Luke... I could have done more. I should have just taken you and walked away with you. Neither of us would have been hurt. You could still see with both eyes and I wouldn't have to write on those stupid pieces of paper. I don't deserve your attention," you hold out to him on the paper.

Tears well up in your eyes again and as Aemond looks back up, shaking his head slightly.

"No," he says simply, taking your face in his hands.

"No. It's not your fault," he says to you. With his thumb he gently wipes a tear from your cheek.

"If it hadn't been for you, far more would have happened. Perhaps one of us wouldn't be alive," he says to you.

You want to shake your head again, but his hands won't let you.

"I don't care how much you resist... it's not your fault and you are the only person on this cursed earth who deserves my attention," he says softly.

You notice him slowly lean forward. Your breath catches and before you realise what is happening, his soft lips are on yours. Gently they nestle around your lips. You close your eyes and give in to the feeling.

His tongue explores yours and the feeling of being so close to him is as sweet as a warm summer day. You feel the warmth emanating from him and it envelops you completely.

After a short time, Aemond releases his lips from yours. He leans his forehead against yours.

"Don't ever think like that again... You saved my life... In that horrible night and afterwards... When you were always by my side," he whispers, his lips inches from yours. You just smile and let your lips meet his again.

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Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @believeinthefireflies95

#aemond x y/n #ewan mitchell #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader

[the-xolotl]

Thundering Rain

Qí Yù | Rafayel x Reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You and Rafayel cozy up during a cold storm to enjoy each other’s company when you realize he got up for something but didn’t come back to cuddle you.

—• TAGS: Domestic fluff, kinda ooc Rafayel (? if you squint), no use of Y/N, use of the pet name my love, beta read (imagine that)

A thunderstorm had been raging outside for hours now and you are thankful, for once, about the harsh seasonal changes because not just did you enjoy the rain and the majestic flashing of light that occasionally lit up the otherwise dark gray sky, you didn’t have to go to work. You could enjoy a leisure day indoors, listening to the calming sound of the rain hitting the window and the deep thunder clapping after each rapid flash of light with a warm blanket and hot beverages.

It’s true you loved your job, loved the adrenaline of being a hunter, the thrill of battle, but it was nice to sit back and relax for a bit. And some reprieve was definitely due after these past few weeks, Linkon City had been seeing more and more Wanderers roaming inside the more civilian populated areas, your team along with some back ups had been dispatched as first responders almost every time; it’s been busy to say the least.

And Rafayel had definitely not appreciated your constant absence. You don’t blame him, you missed him too. Because your job wasn’t just turning monsters to dust and protecting innocent people; each attack meant a lot of paperwork, desk work, meetings. It meant time away from home and away from your already clingy, needy lover.

Who, speaking of, had suspiciously gotten up from cuddling you in the sofa and hadn’t come back.

The now cool spot behind you made you realize his absence. But as you were about to get up to look for the purple-head you heard his voice, “Stay where you are, how you are, for another 30 minutes…” Rafa trailed off.

He didn’t even ask politely yet you remained on your spot no questions asked and turned your head back to look outside the large, tall window that gave the perfect view to the backyard. “So that’s where you’ve been the whole time,” you chuckled softly, of course he was.

“Inspiration should never be wasted or ignored. The best master pieces ever created were in spontaneous bursts of creativity,” He stated as if it was the most honest to god truth. Yeah, alright.

Amused you simply retorted, “Is that a fact?”

“Most likely,” he shot back before taking a small pause, “Besides, you barely noticed after almost an entire hour I didn’t come back beside you.”

The last part sounded more begrudging, you didn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, my back was getting cold. That’s how I noticed you were still gone.” Rafa let out the most offended scoff, he didn’t even dignify with an answer.

The room falls silent again save for the rhythmic pattering of rain, it’s then you realize he’s actually concentrating and you can’t help the little leap your heart makes. “Are you painting me?”

“As I was coming back from the kitchen the scene and atmosphere looked perfect so I just had to capture it,” he explains, “I haven’t had the opportunity to play around with darker tones or paints in a while and I recently acquired some very high quality materials to produce stunning shades. Very rare finds, honestly.” The Lemurian continued on to explain how and where he’d manage to obtain them, of course pointedly mentioning that he needed something to do in your absence because it was just so so boring.

More than half an hour had past, that’s for sure, as you filled the time with more banter and teasing remarks.

“Rafa can I move now? I’m going to have neck pain and be stuck in this position forever if I don’t get up soon,” you whine loudly, “The painting won’t be needed to immortalize this moment then.” He only tsk’s at you, calling you over to see the painting.

“Holy shit you weren’t kidding, the pigments are so rich!” You know little to nothing about art, any scattered knowledge or artsy lingo has definitely come from listening to your boyfriend talk about art. You study the painting detail by detail, from top to bottom. He really does deserve the fame, not that you’re biased.

Rafayel smiles big like a satisfied cat (ironically) at your praise and expression of awe.

Though the more you steady the painting the more you realize the gloomy tempest going out outside was definitely not the focus of this piece like you had originally thought, despite the fact that the oversized window gave the perfect opportunity to capture it so.

Instead you realize most of the spotlight was you. Rafayel had clearly taken his time; each curve of your features was perfectly drawn and shaded, the way the light made light and dark contrasts against the little skin that was not covered by the quilt, the shine in your eyes that reflected the lighting that occasionally flashed and the hair that framed your face. The content of your expression clearly denoting how engrossed you’ve been on the weather outside, he even included the faintest curl of the corner of your lip. And you looked cozy as hell with the blanket all the way tucked up to your chest and your hands wrapped around the (then) steaming mug of coffee.

A heat crept up your cheeks and chest. Is this how he saw you? Is this what his eyes see when he looks at you? Truly? You must’ve had your thoughts written in your face because he breaks the long silence with in a soft voice, “You are the inspiration of the painting, my love,” circling back to one of his earlier comments. You turn to face him fully, meeting eyes as he was already looking at you, as soft smile that matched the softness of his voice spread across his lips.

“It’s going to be part of the next exhibit, on a very special spot.”

“I’m sorry what?” You lamely ask, astonished but still in a monotone.

Rafayel had the audacity to laugh in your face as he gave the cavas a few strokes with the brush to accentuate some shadows. “It’s not finished yet, of course. I will accept no less than perfection,” he says slowly, words as methodical as his painting technique, “Specially when it comes to you.”

If you weren’t blushing before you sure are now. You shove him gently when he takes the brush off the painting, attempting and failing to hide how much he managed to fluster you.

Another long pause passed, but this felt more intimate, watching him closely add some details, switch between different size brushes for finer details. Rafayel sure went into his own bubble when he worked, yet he is always somehow very aware of his surroundings. At least at the moment he was.

“Not a lot of people get the privilege to watch me like this, so up close, let alone live. Are you feeling how privileged you are?” The tone of playful arrogance brings you back and pops the bubble of comfortable silence. But it does make you giggle.

These little moments make you fall deeper in love with him.

⟢ A/N: feels kinda funny posting my writing for the first time in the internet tbh. i usually only write for my friends/myself so i hope you enjoy my lil rot. it’s been raining so much in my area it gives me a very cozy vibe.

—

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

—

⤷ dividers : cafekitsune ✰

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #qi yu x reader #qi yu #fanfic #writters on tumblr #fandom #domestic fluff #painting #oneshot #lnds #character x reader #romantic #romance #rain

[mafiaanomaly]

"Webs Territorial"

predator!Miguel O'hara x prey!fem!Reader

CW: Rape play, CNC, predator/prey, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia

Summary: After watching a fox attempting to hunt a bunny, Miguel suggests hunting you down instead. You agreed, knowing the consequences of being caught. CW: Rape play, CNC, predator/prey, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia

The soft crunch of leaves beneath feet. The cold sting of autumn wind. Pale moonlight slicing through foliage. Ragged breaths ripping through raw flesh of a dry throat. 

Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving.

One foot after the other. No time to cry. A stumble. The sharp snap of a breaking branch. A sudden sense of weightlessness before gravity’s claws sink in. 

Pain. 

Dirt in mouth. Gravel embedding into skin. Soft flesh ripping across knees. Scrambling. Palms searching for purchase. Feet fighting to stand.

Not yet, not yet, not yet.

A pained whimper. Rolled ankle. Sprained wrist. Blood running down legs. Limping forward. Eyes searching. 

Adrenaline.

A rustle on the right. Head turning to look. A shadow between tree trunks.

He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming.

Hurt ankle dragging behind. Strangled sobs. Leaning on a tree. Head tossed back. Ears straining for more noise.

Breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. The call of a bird in the distance. The answering chirp of crickets. Changing direction. A falter in steps. A sudden stop.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“There you are, little bunny.”

Stepping backwards. A forgotten injury. Joint giving out. Body crashing to the ground. Crawling.

Escape.

A dark laugh. Stalking forward. He knows. You’re trapped.

“Trying to run away again, bunny?”

Kneeling down. Calloused hand gripping tender flesh. A rough squeeze on a twisted joint. 

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Screaming. You’re screaming. Fighting to get away, but his grip only tightens around your ankle. 

“Aw,” He mocks you. Head tilted. Eyes alight. “You’re not getting away this time.”

He drags you forward. You try to twist away. Slight pressure. A warning. 

Immobilized.

Your thigh trembles. A whimper escapes you. One wrong move, and he could rip through you.

“That’s a good girl. Stay still for me and I won’t make it hurt that much.”

A shiver of anticipation. The sharp claws of defeat. He can see the way you fear your fate. Red eyes illuminated. The twinkle of stars

Gotta think, gotta think, gotta think. 

He leans forward. Eyes flutter closed. An idea. A quick inhale. Reel back. Ram forward. 

Crack. 

Hold released. Nose bleeding. An angry growl. Ignore the pain. Rush to stand. 

“You’ll pay for that, bunny!”

Stumbling forward. Don’t let the wolf win. Not without a fight. Pick up the pace. Break through branches. 

“You can’t run forever. Not on that ankle.”

Let's rewind back to what happen earlier...

--- Earlier ---

Miguel and you walked through the forest at the edge of city, taking in the beautiful summer day. You had decided to take a breather from the populated areas, so you proposed to have a walk in nature. You enjoyed the feeling of the sun on your face and the quietness of the birds singing nearby.

Miguel paused his step and gently grabbed your arm to stop you from walking as well.

“Shh, look. It’s a fox I think it’s trying to hunt that bunny.” Miguel whispered. The both of you stayed still as you watched the fox creep closer to the seemingly unimpressed bunny only a few feet away from it.

“Is… it gonna get it?” You whispered, feeling a bit nervous at the thought of a bunny dying so close to you.

“Wanna see?”

You felt queasy, not so sure how much you’d like to see that.

“No, not really.”

Miguel stepped forward, the sound of the twigs breaking under his step caused both the bunny and fox to run away.

“Come on, let’s keep walking.” He reached his hand out to you, smiling softly.

“Thank you,” you returned the smile and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers.

As you continued to walk, Miguel seemed unfocused from beside you, lost in his own thoughts. He did this often, sometimes not able to hear you talk to him when he got so deep in his own mind. You understood it was a habit he picked up when he was back home from missions, almost as if he was trying to filter through what he had witnessed. He seemed like he turned it over in his mind, trying to understand what he had done. It worried you seeing him so disconnected from reality, so you reached out for his hand to bring him back. He looked over at you, noticing the warmth of your hand.

During his daze, he was thinking of something else entirely. He could only think of you. Not in the way that was considered normal and fine, but he considered you pinned under him, unable to escape. The thoughts recurred to him often, the excitement of sadism rising up through his body and sending chills down his spine. He looked at you, wondering how it’d feel to chase you down like his own personal bunny. He knew he shouldn't bring pain to those that he loved and cared for, but how much different did his actions really make him from the monsters that he hunted down? He always tried to ignore these sorts of sadistic urges, but sometimes all he wanted to see was the fear in your eyes. Right before he brought out a paddle, a riding crop, or even as he lifted his hand to spank you. To punish you and make you succumb to him, all from your own will. To have you trembling from underneath him, spent and tired from taking him so well, tears running down your cheeks as you beg him to back off, but never fighting back.

The sunlight shone on your eyes and lips, making him want to see tears run down your cheeks alongside a trembling lip. He made up his mind.

“I want to try something,” Miguel said to you as he stilled his step.

It wasn’t often Miguel wanted to try something. Hell, he was happy to do anything you proposed and never really quipped in himself.

“Yeah?” You walked closer to him, standing in front of him now.

“What if I hunted you down?” He spoke gently, wrapping his arm around your waist as his free hand pushed the hair from your face.

“What? What do you mean?” You nuzzled your cheek into his hand, looking up at him with large eyes.

“Be my bunny, my love. And let me hunt you down.”

“Are you gonna eat me?” You spoke quietly, eyes wide as you saw Miguel's excitement increase as he looked down at you, grinning.

“Yes. If I catch I’m going to eat you.” His hand trailed from your waist down to your ass, squeezing the mass in his hand.

"But you have to fight me, bunny. You won't like what I'll do to you for me to eat you." He murmured as his hand trailed to gently wrap around your throat, not pressing, but sitting there. Threatening to squeeze at any moment.

You got the hint, and let the idea settle. Be hunted down? You never thought of that before. It’s Miguel, so how scary can it actually be? And yeah, you can fight a little, that's all part of the game… right? It must mean a lot to him if he took the time to ask you for it, so why not?

“Okay,” You nod and smile cheerfully at Miguel. His eyes filled with satisfaction before he grabbed you by the shoulder to turn your back to him.

“You’ve got 15 seconds to get in front of me, no using your spider abilities, mi amor” Miguel spoke into the shell of your ear.

Your heart quickened its pace in your chest as you stood in Miguel embrace. His hand over your mouth, the other gripping the base of your neck. His movements were so quick, you were stunned. The fear slowly developed in your stomach, making you feel nervous about the reality of what you had agreed to. It’s just Miguel, so you’ll be okay, right?

“If you can’t get away from me, you’ll see what happens.” He chuckled as he ran a hand down your breasts.

“Run, bunny.”

--- Back to Present ---

“Bunny, where did you run off to?” Miguel called out with a chuckle. He wanted to go easy on you, he really did, but he also wanted the prize. The sweet, delicious prize you’ll have to give to him.

No.

No.

You covered your mouth with both hands, trying to quiet your breath, horrified if he found you. You knew what was going to happen. And you hated yourself while you tried to rub your thighs together. The excitement ran down your spine, and you hated it.

Silence filled your senses as you failed to hear him. Had he left? Was it safe to keep venturing deeper into the woods? Or better yet, you should stay put in this spot and hope he never finds you. You slowly stand up from the crouched position you were in, eyes wide and alert, looking out from the tree you were hiding behind. You breathed quietly, stepping back a little, ready to venture deeper into the woods when you stumbled into something solid.

You panic, try to whip your head behind you to see what you stumbled into, but a hand finds its way around your jaw. Miguel's grip forced you to look up at him, seeing the gleam in his eye alongside his sadistic grin. He felt himself grow hard at the sight of pure fear in your face.

“M- Miggy...” You stammered, frozen in place.

“Oh my, bunny, I really tried to play fair. I really did.” His fake pouted at you as his voice reverberated against your back, sending chills down your spine. “But now it’s time to eat you.”

"Wai- no!" You squirmed from his grasp, trying to kick his knees, elbow his stomach, push him away from you, something! He grinned down at you, waiting patiently as he felt your futile attacks against him, staying perfectly still behind you as he took in every blow you gave him. Feeling you so weak beneath him only turned him on further, knowing how helpless and afraid you were.

His grip on your jaw moved your head to the side, exposing the side of your neck to him. He grabbed your body as he leaned down and bit into your flesh, causing you to scream. The stinging pain shot heat straight between your legs as you felt him lick and kiss where he had bitten you. You really weren’t supposed to like this. You're trying to make him stop, so why are you enjoying the pain?

He kept his grip on your jaw as you heard him unbuckle his belt. You knew it was going to happen, and now you had no choice. You felt the warmth in your stomach fight alongside the fear, your body at war with itself. You shouldn’t be turned on by this. This is sick. Really sick.

You were turned on by the idea of Miguel raping you.

In a few quick moves, he bound your arms behind your back with his belt. He kicked the back of your knees and made you buckle before he pushed your face down into the dirt. Your knees screamed in pain as all sorts of sharp edges cut into your skin. This only helped the warmth spread down your body, your breath quickening as you looked back at Miguel. He was so much bigger than you, much stronger, and this fact made your body tremble.

“N-no. Wait. Don’t-“ you stammered, feeling his talons find their way to your shorts and underwear, forcing them down your thighs, exposing your slick mess. He tore your shorts and panties away, using your own panties to stuff your mouth. Tears pricked your eyes as you were exposed to him, not able to fight back. The heat between your thighs only grew stronger.

Miguel chuckled at the sight of your wetness, unzipping his own pants before lining himself up behind you.

“I hope you like the pain.” He purred, rubbing his cock around in your slick, poking at your entrance. He was burning to be inside of you and abuse you so he could watch you cry.

In one slick move, he shoved himself inside, stretching you open. The pain was shocking, your body barely able to open up to the sudden stretch. No matter how many times you did it with him it always felt like your first time due to how fucking huge he is.

“Mmph!” You tried to negate him, to squirm away, to make him work harder for his prize, but he only pulled your hair and gripped your hips as he started to fuck you.

“Shut up, bunny. Take it.” He grunted as he let himself get lost in your tight cunt.

The pain faded away quickly, your own slick allowing him to abuse you further. Shame crushed your body as you let him fuck into you.

“What a slut, turned on by her boyfriend raping her.” He smacked your ass as he shoved his cock down to the base, balls slapping against your clit.

You tried to scream and push him away, but it was to no avail.

“I said, shut up!” Miguel growled and slapped your ass again. Over and over, he slapped you, the stinging pain causing you to flinch in pain from each blow.

You sobbed as you let him abuse your tight cunt, the sounds of your own body betraying you and turning you on further. The slickness of your cunt squelching against the treatment. You shouldn’t like being raped by your boyfriend. You should hate the feeling as his cock pushed against your cervix, making you whimper and squirm from the pleasure and pain. But you don’t hate it. In some twisted way, you loved the pleasure on the edge of pain, enveloping you. Feeling the pressure of his balls slap against your entrance, reminding you that you couldn't escape.

Miguel groaned as he got lost in the feeling of your body not fighting against him, letting him abuse you like it was meant for him. Letting his hips snap flush against yours, watching your tight cunt grip his cock. He lifted his foot up and pushed it down against your head, forcing your cheek into the dirt. This made you cry, the dirt digging into your flesh. The pressure of his boot on your head increased with every thrust. It hurt! It hurt! But the sensation was overpowered by Miguel's cock pushing so sweetly against your cervix.

You felt shame at the heat of your own orgasm creeping up on you, building up in your body. You weren’t actually going to cum from this, were you? There’s no way, right? You only continued to cry, the pain in your knees and the pleasure from your cunt mixing your senses together. Your cries muffled by the panties in your mouth, your drool slipping out.

"My poor baby is crying," Miguel cooed, "as if you weren't enjoying this," He laughed at you.

"Listen to yourself," He laughed as he pushed against your cervix, your slick running down your thighs. The sound of Miguel fucking into your sloppy, wet cunt was the only thing you could hear as the fire in your belly grew stronger. Why aren't you fighting back?

You continued to cry and drool as Miguel filled your senses. He was right, you are enjoying this. Enjoying being stretched by his thick cock over and over, your pussy betraying you as it wept with your slick, only allowing Miguel to snap his hips rougher. The fire in your belly finally snapped. You cried out and trembled as you squeezed against his cock. Your own body betrayed you, cumming hard from the rough treatment of Miguel's thrusts.

Miguel only laughed, snapping his hips into you harder, relishing in your cunt squeezing against your cock. Here you were, submitting to him, enjoying every bit of pain and pleasure he gave you. Exactly like he wanted to see you, stepping on you, watching the sight of your red ass bouncing against him as your cunt squeezed around him. The sight of your tears rolling down your cheek alongside the tightness of your cunt finally made him cum. Rope after rope of cum shooting deep inside of you, pushing against your bruised cervix.

You moaned at the warmth of being full, feeling Miguel give a few more thrusts as he let every last bit of his cum drip inside of you. You were spent, the force of your orgasm shook you to your core. You sniffled, drooling on the panties in your mouth, staring at Miguel from under his boot on your head. His chest rising and falling as he panted from the experience, looking down at your weak form under him. The both of you stayed like this for a moment, looking at each other, before Miguel finally slipped out from you. He took his foot off from your face, before unbinding your arms. He took the panties out of your mouth and laid you on your back, holding you. He kissed the tears from your cheeks, petting your hair gently.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked as he rubbed circles into your back.

“Yes,” you nodded quickly. “Oh my god. Yeah. I’m okay. I didn’t think…” you were at a loss for words. You only sniffled, staring at Miguel with red eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay. I got you. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Miguel took his own shirt off and used it to clean the mess between your thighs. He helped dress you, and dressed himself, before picking you up bridal style.

Slowly, he carried you out of the forest.

“Talk to me,” Miguel asked. Reality finally set in and he realized the gravity of his actions. He looked at the marks on your face from his boot, the bite mark on your neck, and the cuts on your knees.

“I’m okay, Miggy. That was really good. I didn’t think I’d actually get turned on from something like that.” You chuckled as you lay weakly against his chest. The struggle alongside the crying really tired you out, not to mention the orgasm that overtook you.

“Yeah. I didn’t think I’d like it as much as I did either.” Miguel chuckled lightly.

You grabbed his cheek and made him look at you. He had a doubtful look in his eyes, so you kissed him.

“I’d let you hunt me down anytime, foxy. Except next time I get to wear pants.” You grinned as you pointed towards the cuts in your knees.

“Okay,” Miguel agreed before he kissed your forehead.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #smut

[mockerycrow]

Undercover II (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover series masterlist — previous | next

Summary: After being waterboarded, your body is too exhausted and injured to handle any more. Soap and you are formally introduced outside of an interrogation setting.

[WARNINGS: medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies, angst.]

“Any dog, you put him in the corner, no matter if they’re vicious or not, they’re going to bite back.” -Mike James.

WAKING UP AFTER such harsh injuries is weird. It’s like the world keeps trying to materialize, distant voices that aren’t too definite, textures under my fingers aren’t quite recognizable yet, not being able to tell pain or pleasure from one another.. I wake up first with sensations across my body—pain, numbness, open wounds, closed wounds—cold, hot, burning, piercing. It makes me wish maybe I did die by Makarov’s hand. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to bare the burden of everything I know, everything I did to prove I was.. loyal, to that sick, sonofabitch.

I feel incredibly heavy, sandbags instead of muscles, my throat feels like I swallowed glass—that’s almost worse than the pain I feel in the rest of my body. The next thing I hear is a faint monitor, maybe two different ones? I can’t tell. My mouth is dry so when I swallow, nothing comes down my throat, but the retraction of my muscles in my neck ache nonetheless. I cough quietly and I gain just enough energy to open my eyelids. I find myself in a.. infirmary type room. I go to move my hand over my gut but metal sliding against metal hits my ears. My unfocused gaze hovers over to my hand and I see one of my hands is handcuffed to the railing of the gurney. My heart drops into my gut as I weakly pull on the handcuffs, a quiet sigh leaving my lips.

Fuck.

My free hand rests gently on top of my gut—they had to have cut me open or some shit, because this hurts like fucking hell on Earth. I feel like my goddamn intestines are about to spill out. Or maybe it’s the aftermath of Makarov’s torture hitting me.

I look down at myself and I’m changed into a fresh hospital gown, a surprisingly high quality blanket draped across my body. My free arm has an IV in my arm and in my vein in my hand, connected to a dispenser not too far away. I look up at the hooks decorated with liquid medicine—definitely a pain killer, I don’t know about the other bags, though. Can’t read from here. My hand goes my face and I feel two tubes; an oxygen tube gently hooked into my nose and a.. I think a feeding tube? My fingers go down to my jaw and I find a bandage wrapped around my neck and jaw, my eyebrows furrowing together. Jesus. Maybe he did break my jaw. Why can’t I feel it, then? I lay my head back down onto the paper pillowcase, closing my eyes for a few seconds. So, now I have to make a plan. Did they patch me because I was about to die? They know I have a lot of valuable information, so they need me alive just enough for that stuff. Makarov’s remaining warehouses, his extensive plans, everything. Do I keep my mouth shut? Yes. I have to remain loyal to my true team, not the one who’s planning ripping populations apart, desecrating entire cities—

The nearby door opens and my eyes shoot open as my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. A doctor comes in with a nurse and they pause at the sight of me being awake. I stare back at them for a moment before the doctor smiles softly at me. “You’re finally awake. That’s good, we nearly lost ya.” His accent is a thick southern-american (U.S.) one. I don’t answer—I wish I could thank them, but I have to be Zhenya. The doctor turns to the nurse and murmurs something just out of my hearing range, the nurse nodding in return and leaving the room, leaving me alone with the doctor. He begins to approach me and my heart monitor immediately begins to spike, as if I’m in danger—because I am—I have no idea who this guy is or if he plans on torturing me, too! The doctor stops in his tracks, his voice coming out as comforting and soft, “Woah there, pal. I’m not here to harm ya, just here to check your vitals. Ask you a few questions, too.”

My hands clench into weak fists as I keep my eyes on him—wait, American??—I don’t have much time to think about that as the doctor comes over to my IV machine, glancing at the numbers before looking at me with a soft, sympathetic look. “My name is Doctor Erikson. Are you in any pain?” I hesitate to answer but I give him a subtle nod, my hand resting back over my stomach. Doctor Erikson turns to the IV machine and ups the drip dosage, glancing at me. “Alright, now I have some basic questions for you, okay, hon? You were out longer than expected, so it’s just prodecure.” I answer with another nod, keeping my eyes training on Dr. Erikson. He has dark skin with tightly curled hair, put up into a neat bun. He has square glasses resting on his big, arched nose. Dr. Erikson is clean shaven, a scar resting on his cheek—looks quite old, probably from a shaving accident when he was younger. He has big, welcoming and soft brown eyes that you don’t feel like they stare into your soul. In this line of work, we need more people like him. His eyes may be soft, but you can tell he’s seen some things. I rapidly blink in order to focus; I naturally profile people when I feel.. on edge.

Dr. Erikson presses the end of his pen and the ballpoint end pops out with a click! He looks at me, a soft subtle smile remaining on his face. “What is the year?”

“2023.”

He nods and quickly checks something off—probably a box. “Who is the President of the United States?”

“Joe Biden.”

“What’s your name?”

I stare at him for a second and my heart stops for a moment before I answer with, “Zhenya. Zhenya Antonenko.”

Dr. Erikson and I stare at each other for a moment before he checks off two more boxes. He sets aside the clipboard on a counter nearby in the room. He keeps the pen and walks over, murmuring, “Keep your head still, follow the pen with your eyes only.”

Dr. Erikson begins to move the pen left and right, tracking my eye movement as I keep my eyes trained on the pen. After he doesn’t find any eye coordination discrepancies, he sets the pen down and grabs an otoscope, putting a singular use cone on the end, clicking the ‘on’ button, the end of the cone emitting light. He comes to my left side and gently puts the cone inside of my ear, checking for a few seconds. “You’ll have some visitors in a few moments, they will inform you of your medical injuries and what procedures we took.” He murmurs softer than he was before, considering how close he is my ears. My ear tingles as he removes the otoscope, coming around to the other side of the bed to check my other ear. I don’t respond. Dr. Erikson hums as he throws away the single use cone and murmurs ‘stare straight ahead’, using the little light from the otoscope to test my pupil dilation.

Fuck. I don’t want to see them again. Not now. My hand grabs the blanket, and then there’s a firm and quick knock on the door before the door swings open.

In comes fucking Laswell, Hudson, Mutton-Chops, and Mohawk.

What in God’s name is fucking going on??

Dr. Erikson puts the otoscope away and walks over to them, glancing back at me before talking. “They’re in a delicate state, physically and mentally,” He mutters, probably thinking I can’t hear. He isn’t good at being quiet with military dudes. His own people though, sure. “Be sure to play nice.” Hudson immediately approaches my bedside and I can’t help the hot and stinging tears that threaten to spill from my tear ducts—his soothing voice instantaneously makes my worries die down for a good 10 minutes. “You’re okay now, [Name]. The mission is over. You’re in good hands.”

I choke on a sob; of relief? Of devastation? Of need? Of grief? I don’t know.

I lift my handcuffed hand ever so slightly, my voice wobbly, “Why?”

“It’s a safety precaution,” Laswell says gently, approaching the bedside that Hudson is on. Mutton-Chops and Mohawk stay by the door, quietly eyeing me. I catch Mohawk’s eyes and I can’t read his emotion which makes me feel on edge; I turn back to my familiar faces. “S.. Safety precaution?” I question, glancing between them. They give each other a look—a look of pity—before Hudson speaks up. “You’ve.. been through a lot, [Name]. More than I can imagine. Until we have you go through a psychological evaluation, we’re keeping the cuffs on you.”

Oh. So like a caged animal.

My shoulders sink and I glance at the handcuffs, joy mixing with dread. “I know it’s hard, but we’re having Soap stay with you until we can have that psychologist come for you.” Laswell murmurs, gently grabbing my hand and squeezing it? avoiding the IV and it’s tape. I nod as I glance over at the men. “What kind of name is Soap?” I mutter, earning a snort from Mutton-Chops. Hudson looks at me worriedly, his wrinkles-in-the-corner-of-his-eyes kind of worried. I look back up at Hudson and look between him and Laswell a few times, biting the inside of my cheek. “Everything?” I ask. They don’t even need more than that to know what I’m talking about. “Everything.” He confirms with a nod. I take a deep breath—which I immediately regret because now it feels like my guts are trying to spill out again owowowowow—and I must wince because Laswell grabs a pillow from a nearby table and puts it on my abdomen. “Here, hold the pillow with soft pressure. It helps that weird feeling with your stitches. Learned it from the field.” She comments, her eyes scanning me like a worried mother. I nod as a thank you and use my free arm, applying pressure across my abdomen—gentle, mind you. Oddly enough, it brings me some level of relief. “We’ve provided Soap with a recorder so we can record your statement and stories, so you don’t have to repeat everything over and over.”

I nod silently—my throat feels like shit and I have no energy to speak, so might as well save what I do have for the statements..

Hudson clears his throat and glances at Laswell, then back at me, “Laswell and I have to go for a bit, since the operation has been revealed, we have a lot of shit to do.” He says with an unsatisfied tone; like he wants to stay by my side. My heart warms a bit from that— Hudson has always taken care of his team, made me feel like I belong. I crave for him to stay near me but I bite my lip, —and then quickly releasing it from the hold my teeth had on it because I one-hundred-percent forgot that my lip was injured—and shake my head. “Go,” I start. “It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere, right?” I attempt to make a joke, and Hudson tries to offer a stale chuckle—one he only does if someone got seriously injured.. It must be bad—and he squeezes my hand gently.

They murmur me their goodbyes, taking their leave, pushing the door open and walking out. Mutton-Chops follows them close behind.

That leaves me alone with Mohawk—“So you must be Soap, then.” I state as the man starts to approach my beside, his boots thumping against the infirmary floor. He offers a boyish grin that fits him quite well and he nods, grabbing a chair and easily pulling it kind of near the bed, but not too close. The distance suggests distrust, caution. Which is understandable because he did take place in my brief torture part two..

Like a wild animal, again.

“The one and only,” He chimes, his fingers fiddling with the recorder. Soap leans back in the chair, his eyes studying me for a second. “Doc said someone should give ya th’rundown of what happened, eh?”

I nod, my fingers absentmindedly playing with the pillowcase of the pillow across my stomach. Soap hums and tilts his head, his expression turning ever so slightly sad. “You had internal bleedin’ n’ broken ribs; one of which nearly pierced ye lung. Your jaw is fractured on yer right side, they had t’put a screw in. Your stabs wounds were pretty ‘typical’ by the doc’s standards, but they did have to open you up and repair th’abdominal wall. He said you’re lucky you didn’t lose any organs.”

Lucky.

Lucky.

Lucky.

That fucking word. “I’m lucky?” I bark out with disbelief. I know I am, but that phrase makes me so angry.

I look back at Soap whose lips are pursed together; he’s sitting up from my slight outburst which makes me look back down at my lap. Soap doesn’t say anything for a moment, the faint beeps of the monitors filling that empty space. When he does speak, he switches on the recorder. “This is Sergeant John MacTavish, Callsign Soap interviewing…” He trails off, holding the recorder out between himself so it can pick up his voice, as well as mine. I take a deep breath and let it go. “[Name] [Last Name].” Soap offers a mood lifting grin as he repeats his name back to me and murmuring the date. His lip curls just enough to show some of his gums by his right canine tooth, ever so slightly. I can’t help but wonder for a moment why he suddenly is so friendly, but I already know the answer to that. When you’re in this line of work, there are friends and there are foes. There are no frenemies in this game. You are either on their side or against it. Something I can relate to.

“What division are in, and your mission?” He has a professional tone for the sake of the recording. I don’t even know this guy it seems so unlike him that it makes me wanna roll my eyes into the back of my head until they get stuck there. “I’m a sergeant of Task Force Eclipse. My Captain is Tyler Hudson, and my teammate, besides my captain is Trinity Wilson, code-name Lake. My other teammate Sasha Miranov, code-name Coal, is KIA. Richard Jensen, code-name Tendril, had committed treason and had joined the very cause I’ve been fighting against. He’s also KIA.” I pause as my heart aches. “My mission began a few years ago, I was a special ops soldier that worked with the CIA, being placed wherever I was needed. Station Chief Kate Laswell called me into a special conference room where I was met with my future colleagues…”

I pause in the doorway as my eyes scan several different unfamiliar faces, sweeping the room on instinct. I spot Laswell, General Shepherd, and an old friend, Tyler Hudson standing in front of the round table where the three strangers are sitting. “Come in,” Laswell beckons, holding a thick, vanilla folder between her fingertips. The confusion is shared between amongst me and three strangers—I shut the door behind me. Laswell leans over the table and presses a button and the glass walls of the conference room become foggy and soundproof. “Sir.” I greet General Shepherd with a kind and professional tone, taking the seat closest to Laswell. He nods towards me, his hands folded neatly in front of him. His brow is pushed forward like something is troubling him; isn’t surprising, considering his position. Laswell holds up the folder as she begins to speak. “You must be wondering why I have called you all here today. You’re here because between Captain Hudson, General Shepherd and I, you four are the best for this job. You have not been given any details up until now because this quite possibly might be the most confidential mission you will ever work on in your time of service.”

Laswell places the folder down and motions to the person furthest from me. “Everyone, this is Richard Jensen. He will be joining us from MI6, along with—the girl who is next to him—Trinity Wilson. Then there is Sasha Miranov and [Name] [Last Name] from our very own CIA.” We look between each other wearily because Laswell still hasn’t said the nature of this mission, and General Shepherd hasn’t said a word at all this entire time. We give each other silent head nods because there will be time to get acquainted later. I put my hand on the table and fingers tap nervously against the glass top. Laswell steps out of the way of the wall with both Captain Hudson and General Shepherd. Hudson hands her a small remote which she murmurs a thank you, turning to said wall. It prompts all of us to look in the same direction and she presses a button and a projector projects a light box with a symbol of a moon and sun in the middle, hints of CIA and MI6 logos as well. She looks back at us, letting out another sigh laced with stress. “Today, you are no longer with your old units. You are now in Task Force Eclipse, lead by Captain Tyler Hudson; curtesy of CIA.” My eyebrows raise for a second because of the anticipation in my bones, in my veins. Working with Hudson?

She presses another button and pops up Richard Jensen’s face and basic information; his name, his age, blood type, occupation, whatever. “Also starting today, you are no longer yourselves,” Laswell presses another button and Jensen’s information fades into Russian, quickly translating back to English. My lips part in surprise as Laswell opens the vanilla folder, going around the table, passing out different documents to everyone. “Starting today, you are living as new people, from either Russia or Ukraine. You lived and grew up in these areas and share the same ideals as our enemy—who you will be working closely with.” No fucking way. There’s absolutely no fucking way—

“We have entrusted you five to work this undercover op, to weasel your way into Makarov’s organization and take information to relay it back to us. Is that clear?” Shepherd’s tone is rough, rude, and authoritative as always. He’s leaning his hand on the table, looking between all of us. I keep glancing between my documents, briefly glancing over the information before looking back up at him. “Sir, no offense, our mission is to.. be terrorists?” Trinity speaks up, her accent cutting through the air like a knife. Her tone shows she’s absolutely baffled, traced with incredulousness. “Yes. You will have to be prepared to commit acts you never would otherwise.” He responds, holding back his snappy response from her own. I look down at my paper and see my new name, my new age—very close to my actual one—my new backstory, fuck, even passports and other official documents are displayed with my new name. “You will have to work close with the group, even find your way under Makarov’s wing. We will set up times and dates for you to relay important information back to your Captain, and to me.” Laswell’s voice is a bit quieter in volume as the heavy mood sets in the room. I tense as I borderline feel everything just.. sink. “You all have worked undercover ops before, and you all have done incredibly well. This is why we trust you with this task.”

It was no secret the CIA and MI6 trusted some of the wrong people, and some of the right people.

taglist: @glitterypirateduck @darling006 @elowynnlane @hardnutpost [If you are not tagged and you’re here, it did not let me tag you.]

#undercover⛈️🗯️ #call of duty #call of duty mwii #mw2 2022 #cod mw2 #modern warfare ii #mw2022 #cod #soap x reader #john mctavish #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x you #angst #flashbacks #CIA #MI6 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty soap #modern warfare soap #modern warfare two #modern warfare fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare

[luvrsux]

“Obsession”

word count: 3.8k

summary: you started off as a bartender at some rundown club until a mafia group infiltrated your job unexpectedly but the leader himself grows quite keen to you

cw//tw: nsfw!! shooting, mentions of murder/killing, creampie, oral, praising, obsession

disclaimer: im in no way romantizating mafia/mafia gang organizations. this is for entertainment purposes only

On a rather lustful, midnight weekend, you were working as a waitress at a night men’s club, minding your own business serving customers while they gawked at the skimpy dancers on steel poles. The club was a rather expensive one, where people of riches and fortune could express it by merely breathing. Despite the town, your job paid you a terrible rate. You’ve grown to hate your job. Sure, security helped and protected the slim dancers on the poles with precision but it, unfortunately, didn’t apply for you. Your body would get catcalled and often groped unwontedly. You lost track of the number of bruises and nosebleeds you gave the disgusting men that lounged in your workplace.

You then heard a blood-curdling scream in front of the dimly lit building. The sheer amount of terror on the feminine shriek made your heart drop miles into the Earth’s core, watching a half-naked woman running out of the building flailing her arms before a bullet spiked straight there her skull.

Whatever beverage stood on your black tray immediately crashed into the carpeted floor upon watching the horrid scene. People pushed past you to escape the chance of ending up in the poor woman’s shoes. Your total shell-shocked state was the very reason you crashed onto the ground by the taller, broad bodies colliding with you. You winced in pain when your body landed in a not-so-comfortable position causing your ankle to sprain.

Before you knew it, the building attracted more corpses when the culprit watched the population pour out of the building. The person sure was trigger-happy. Tears swelled your eyes but you still managed to trace the figure of the man now holding a pistol.

“That’s enough, Yasopp” A voice, that was oddly soothing. Your heart pumped out of your chest once you eyed the man now approaching you. He had two other men sprout behind him like a plantation.

“What do we have here?”

He crouched to your level, analyzing your figure. You held your now unavailable foot, completely defenseless. Even if you tried to run, the man now named Yasopp would shoot you down with his eyes closed. You gulped.

“You’re cute” You saw a grin appear on his lips, as well as bright crimson hair. He had an index finger and thumb pull your chin up to his face. Pure terror overcame you.

“I know you hate this shitty job, love. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you an entirely new world”

Now here you are

It was a dark, midnight rainy night on Friday. The building you were being driven to was laying in only the most expensive city in the country. There were blinding lights all around, nearly suffocating your vision. The window tints only helped so much.

What made this specific Friday night so different was you were approaching the head of the Red-Haired Mafia group. This was a weekly thing, every night you’d be escorted in a rather ominous sleek, black limo quietly to his grand mansion for a quick “meeting”.

You wore a tight slim dress that provocatively opened at your chest. It barely reached the middle of your thighs, the hem that is. Your neck glistened with the jewels the boss kindly gifted you. The giant fur coat covering your shoulders was also a generous token from the redhead, making it especially sacred considering he delivered it to you not only in person but on your birthday. Your sugar-coated gifts were usually left at your door to avoid being detained by the federal authorities, so the coat was something you’d cherished.

You’ve grown attached to the boss and everyone knew you were his weekly fling. As you admired the bright lights springing past your tinted window, a slim glass of champagne in hand, you traced back to the very first time you met. Your first impression was pure terror, but as time passed when you realized this was now your life, you’ve gotten accustomed to it.

Shanks, the boss you were fucking every weekend and in an oddly intimate relationship with, did turn your life upside down. It gave you whiplash with how fast he bought you a new house, jewels, and prizes for simply existing in a way he appreciated. You wouldn’t praise the life you were currently living, but you definitely didn’t complain. If it weren’t for Shanks, you’d still be living in that run-down, rugged apartment and that hell of a job for as long as you can remember.

You knew Shanks would kill anyone who dared to wrong you, it’s happened before. Your “favorite” was when you were at a club with the man himself. He had an arm rest around the top of the cushioned seat, underneath being you sitting there pretty as ever. Your seating was in a secluded, VIP area where absolutely no one was allowed into. Of course, you and Shanks recklessly made love in the room several times before and everyone would know.

A random extra wanted to converse with Shanks himself, putting the passionate rough lovemaking on hold for now. To this day, you wondered how a guy can be so dumb as to blatantly hit on you in front of the man himself. Not wanting to get his hands bloody and off of you, he had one of his crew members suffocate the air out of his body in a blink of an eye.

“Get rid of the body, the lady doesn’t like it” Shanks immediately ordered once the body let out a croak. His mates nodded immediately, thus having the body leave your field of vision faster than a snap of the fingers. Shanks had his remaining hand cup the side of your face to turn to him.

“You only belong to me, and I’ll gladly get rid of anyone who decides to intervene, princess,” He said with a cold smile. His demeanor did something wrong to you, but it felt so terribly right. You appreciated the way Shanks’ heart had a rope tied around your own. You knew Shanks wasn’t lying, and he kept his word ever since, even before then.

Now, usually, Shanks would greet you in the limo inside to “prepare” you for what’s to come, not only simply sharing a few drinks. Upon getting into the seats and seeing his absence, you realized how much you longed for his presence.

Shanks - 12:34 PM

Sorry for not being there, princess. I have a few things to do first xx

Was the text Shanks left you a few moments before entering the fancy vehicle. You were growing antsy about meeting him as pure usual. He’s given you the best nights of your life for as long as you can remember being in his palms. Each week you’d only have your hopes set on Friday.

You finally arrived at your destined destination. You heard your chauffeur speak on his phone, alerting your “partner” about your sudden presence. You waited patiently for someone to open your door for you to waltz out elegantly. You’ve grown used to the prissy, princess treatment. You have been letting Shanks fuck your brain out for roughly a year and some change now.

“She’s here, boss” Is all you heard before the door swung open for you to flood out. Your heels make a firecracker sound upon impact once you stood up from your seat.

“You’re a doll, Roux” You cooed, receiving a pleased smile from the bigger guy that once escorted you to the grand building before you.

You approached the front steps, passing by the grand fountain in front that spurted water in several directions—a rather perfect centerpiece for the mansion. You eyed the security guard up front.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“On his way, ma’am”

“Always keeping me waiting…”

You grumbled, stepping foot on the steps. Your stiletto heels hadn’t stopped making that fire-cracking pop sound with every preppy step. You finally gazed upon a toned, broad body appearing in front. His draped trench coat draped over his body while he wore a loose white button-up and black slacks to match. He had a pleased grin at your mere presence. The redhead snaked his hand to grab yours, placing his lips on the surface of your hand. You felt his stubble tickle your skin, making you giggle.

“I missed you, princess” He cooed, pulling you close to his body.

Shanks wrapped a prideful arm around your shoulders, the fuzziness of your expensive coat tickling his veiny, toned arm. You smiled happily.

“You say that every time, dear”

“How could I not?” You felt Shanks breathe and caress your neck through the fluff. A chill slithered down your spine.

“You always make me feel good~”

You felt his eager lips collide with your own. He proudly smudged your glossed lips when the two lips synced together passionately. Shanks didn’t care if he was in the middle of the massive foyer, he thrived nothing more than publicly proving to everyone you belonged to him—and him only.

Your arms latched around his neck, only making his hands grope the fats of your ass through your slick, black dress. Your lips parted ever so slightly, giving the eager crimson-haired man to slither his tongue to dance with your own. At this point, you two were heavily breathing in each other's mouths. You clearly longed for his touch, and it didn’t help that Shanks reciprocated that same feeling. You felt his lips detach from yours, leaving a slight feeling of disappointment lingering in your body.

“Let me take you to my office, doll” He smiled. You felt arms bring your body upward to latch around his torso. The sudden movement made a giggle escape your lips.

Shanks slammed your rear on his pricy, wooden desk that was scattered with files and papers of his targets—but who was paying attention to any of that? You two were going at it in each other's mouths, not parting to breathe for a single minute. Shanks's scarred hand tore off the fur that coated your body with ease, tossing it wherever in his office room.

You released a small moan once you felt his hands travel mindlessly around your body. His hands tugged down the hem of the dress that covered your chest. Your breasts poured out like a tsunami to Shanks's entertainment. A hungry hand latched onto it with force, letting yet another moan travel out your mouth.

“Fuck, princess…” Shanks breathed in your mouth from pure pleasure. His arm, without a single hesitation, cleaned everything laying on his desk to create space for your body all for his pleasure.

His thirsty lips traveled to your open neck, painting the entire canvas with bruised marks made by his mouth and teeth. Each mark made a whimper escape your now smudged lips. Your hand stroked through his crimson locks with each passing second he was on your neck.

“Lay down, baby” His voice was muffled by the marks he was mercilessly making on your body, recharging the ones that were beginning to fade from previous “meetings”.

Your back made contact with the now bare desk, fully aware of the consequences that’ll occur if you didn’t oblige. Shanks moved his hands to your lace to peel them off with complete ease. To no one’s surprise, your slit was already wet and ready for Shanks's body. He chuckled, always enjoying the view of your throbbing cunt before he completely tore through it.

Shanks didn’t even bother taking your dress off from the sheer anticipation coursing through his sadistic veins. He just crinkled it upward to make a better opening. Your head was thrown back when Shanks grabbed your thighs to lay on his broad shoulders.

All you felt was a moist tongue graze along your lips and sensitive bud with one swipe and the slight sensation of stubble. Your long moan made Shanks chuckle, sending vibrations in your body.

Shanks went back into devouring your cunt while knowing exactly where your sensitive spots lay. His tongue made sure to explore each and every crevice like it was the last meal of his lifetime. The room was filled with your messy moans and the sounds of slush slurping by Shanks’ hungry mouth.

Shanks flicked his tongue over your bud, sending a mountain peak of pleasure through your core. You shrieked, suddenly feeling that tight knot begin to snap.

“Sh- aah aah~! Im about to cum, Shanks~!” You cried. Shanks only chuckled at your, what he can only describe as pathetic, reaction, sending those vibrations through your body once more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck~!” You cursed, spurting out your secretions all on Shanks’ stubbled mouth. Shanks pulled away with a grin and a complete log in his pants while you watched him wipe the moisture off his face with an arm, all through completely distorted and blurred eyes. Your session was far from over though.

“Your turn?” You breathed heavily from your massive orgasm. Shanks still had that, as you like to describe it, sexy grin while he unbuckled his pants that were on the verge of bursting from his member.

“You know me so well~” He cooed, watching your sluggish body peel off the desk. You bit your lower lip and brought your body down to your shaken knees, your body still not fully recovered from your previous orgasm.

You saw Shanks’ member spring into your face. The intimidating size always caught you off guard each time he recoiled it onto you. You eyed the small number of sticky secretions spewing out of the hole from his arousal. You wrapped your hand around the base of it, making Shanks sharply hiss by your mere touch. You could tell he was longing for you ever since he saw you leave his place in your last appointment.

You placed a gentle kiss on the tip of it, making Shanks lightly jolt. He knew you were teasing him and he didn’t like it. Shanks’ excitement was getting way too much for him, and you were only making it worse.

“Open your pretty mouth, (F/N)” He ordered. You didn’t think he’d catch onto your sly antics so quickly. You obeyed submissively, extending your mouth agape in front of his throbbing, hot member.

You felt a hand rest on the back of your head, and it was the exact thing to push your mouth forcefully onto him whole. You let out a small yelp, followed by several sloppy gags by his girth and length. Shanks let out a long groan.

“Thaaaats it, doll~”

You began to bob your head back and forth along his size, gagging each and every time. Your hands gripped his pants, trying not to lose your breath in the middle of the session you impatiently longed for.

As soon as you looked up at Shanks with those “dumb” eyes, like he would call it, he felt like he lost all control. He used the hand that simply rested in your locks of hair to mercilessly skull fuck the air out of you.

Tears streaked down your face, completely smudging and ruining your makeup, but he didn’t care. In fact, he loved the way you’d look after he’d shove his cock far, far down your throat with his own hands. His groans and grunts became more consistent now that he was showing you zero remorse for your mouth and lungs. You tried every fiber in your body to fight through it.

“Yeah, take all of- mmmph~..! All of it in your mouth, princess” He breathed out. You didn’t stop looking up at him with teary, blackened eyes when he shoved every inch into your wet mouth faster than you can comprehend.

Shanks felt his long-awaited climax reach up to his core. He released a loving grunt when he slid your slobbering mouth off his member, a string of saliva connecting your plump lips with his dewed cock. He chuckled, completely in love with your distressed state and how quickly he ruined your caked face. You had saliva trickling down your chin and your chest expanded rapidly while you were catching your own breath.

"Your mouth is pretty with my cum and all, but I wanna dump it somewhere else, doll~"

In a blink of an eye, Shanks threw you back on that dark oak, glossed desk. Your bare breasts and stomach made direct contact coldly, making you shiver and flinch. His calloused hands grabbed the fats of your hips as handles. Your dress was still scrunched up to reveal your lower half—perfectly demonstrating the vast amounts of eagerness Shanks had for you when he laid his eyes on you at the doorway.

You felt the rose tip of his member caress your drenched opening, causing a whimper to leave your slobbering lips. Shanks hissed when the sensation of his hot member made contact with your cunt. Nothing, absolutely nothing, restrained him from him nosediving himself inside of your velvety walls forcefully. Shanks pushed a shriek out of your lips.

“Scream as loud as you want, princess~” Shanks cooed shakily, massaging your bruised thighs caused by the crimson-haired man completely breaking your mind with his cock. Shanks’ thrived on showing you off. Whether it be leaving marks, having you wear the jewels and gifts he gave you, or fucking your brain out in rather populated areas so people can hear your submissive moans and his hungry groans.

Shanks bucked his hips back and forth at a slow pace. He exhaled, feeling entirely pleased now that he finally got to feel your insides from a long, gruel week of waiting. You were all Shanks could think about, besides his rather gruesome occupancy, every week. He’d find himself teasing his wood through his pants at the mere thought of you and always contemplated invading your home just to release his urges. From the sheer obsession, Shanks had for you, an undercover bodyguard would look after you whenever he wasn’t there with you.

Shanks’ speed increased faster than you anticipated. After every stroke, you were rewarded with a sexy grunt or groan by the boss himself. You, on the other hand, were a moaning mess. You felt your own cervix being obliterated by Shanks’ merciless thrusts by the second.

“Oh, doll, you wrap around me so well” He groaned. His heavily scarred hand grabbed a handful of your now entangled hair. He yanked your head up to stare at the entire, fancy, well-kept room and the shut door.

That same door released a knock that was slightly suffocated by the sinful noises coming from both of you. There was no possible way the person behind the door couldn’t hear what was occurring in that office room, not with how loud you were moaning and how loud Shanks was pounding your body.

“Boss? We need the case file of our mission” A voice said from behind the door. You heard Shanks grumble.

He didn’t stop going crazy on your body while he searched the floor that carried scattered files of his targets he wanted dead. They all had one thing in common, but that didn’t matter right now since you both were only focused on climaxing.

“Im-.. fuck~.. Im busy!” Shanks yelled. Not a word was said after that, aside from your messy moans.

Your voice began to crescendo when that knot that was tightly built in your womb was beginning to snap. Your body was quivering before Shanks and he watched with a devious smile.

“Gonna cum, baby~?” He asked, knowing good and well what the answer was.

“Yes, sir… Mmmmph, Im gonna cum~!” You yelped.

Shanks admired your love juices spurting on his pelvis, knowing that he, yet again, made you climax hard and made your brain run blank. It was practically a talent to him.

“Good girl~” He praised, massaging your lower half while he let you ride out your hard orgasm. Shanks didn’t stop, though. You were bound to lose your ability to walk when he was finished with you but that wasn’t newborn at all.

Luckily, Shanks’ own climax was tailing behind yours. How you knew that the crimson man was about to dump his load was when his grunts would become breathless and he’d lightly chuckle from the amount of euphoria you gave him. He’d release one last loud groan, while it being slightly wobbly, and filled your hole past the brim with his seed.

“Fuck, baby~!” He shouted after his last pounding thrust, letting you feel the warm liquid flood your insides. You finally got an opportunity to catch your breath into your shriveled lungs and now worn-out throat.

You felt Shanks pull his huge girth out of your entrance, causing the waterfall of cum to pour out like a waterfall. You let out a long, soft moan when you felt all of the stuffing trickle down from your cunt to your leg.

“Let me get you cleaned up, princess” He smiled. While you were too busy trying to gather your consciousness together, Shanks buckled his pants and wiped off any remaining secretions lingering.

You rolled on your back to lift yourself up once your brain rebooted after being broken silly. Your hand lifted the fold that was scrunched down to cover your breasts and you cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna do my business. You think you’ll be alright being here while Im off?” Shanks himself tried to catch his breath while he picked up the scattered papers on the floor. He threw them beside you on the desk, them now at your reach.

“Of course. Don’t get yourself killed” You giggled. Your statement made Shanks chuckle.

You watched him barricade you with his arms by resting them on either side of the desk you were lovingly displayed on. Your hand was placed under his chin and then trailed to remove a red strand that lingered over his eyes.

“You worry too much, doll” He cooed.

You hummed and had your hand grab the files of soon-to-be deceased victims. Your eyes analyzed the pictures and your expression dropped. Shanks watched, entirely pleased like he wanted you to see what was in that cream-colored folder.

That one thing that they all had in common was that they all wronged you one way or another. Thanks to Shanks’ trusted undercover agent, he was able to pinpoint each and every person, entirely for your pleasure.

“Shanks…” You muttered. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to be flattered or astonished by the files presented before you. You saw the boss pull away and search in his desk drawer.

“I have a gift for you, my sweet (F/N)” He cooed, pulling out something you couldn’t quite make out yet. You expected a new necklace or diamond earrings, but not a glistening gold ring of the iconic gem that was now shining before you.

“I want to marry you. So that now you’ll officially be mine”

His words turned your mind upside down. What was a weekend fling soon turned into an intimate bond that was now formally being promoted to newlyweds. You hadn’t felt this content and safe with someone for as long as you could remember, and it was rather obvious that Shanks had an undying infatuation with you since the incident at the men’s club. Your words immediately birthed the word Shanks anticipated.

“Of course, boss~”

all licensing and ownership belong to eiichiro oda

#op x reader #fanfic #x reader #one piece #shanks #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #red haired pirates #mafia au #mafia #op x you

[mmgwritings]

I'M GONNA TAKE MINE OF YOU WITH ME

Character: Kaz Brekker / Wife! Reader

Prompts: There is a word for children who lose their parents, but there is none for parents who lose a child.

Warnings: Canon divergence; Angst; Character death; Grief; Kaz suffering; i'm sorry :(

Never trust the Saints; they give and take away.

Initially, a curfew was imposed. Without prior warning, patrol officers closed all clubs, brothels and merchant mansions, causing a commotion among the population that was soon violently suppressed. Later, when the disease spread from the interior of Kesh to the suburbs of Ketterdam, the healers' homes became crowded, and before long even the healers needed the assistance of the Grisha in the merchants' hospital.

Thus, Ketterdam remembered how to act. They had faced an epidemic before and would face this one with the same practicality. The funeral bells echoed incessantly throughout the day, while the bay south of the city was used to transport the bodies, piled on fishing vessels confiscated by the Council of the Tides. The former party town, Ketterdam, has transformed into a highly efficient funeral operation.

Burials were strictly prohibited. Thus, when the boats failed to remove bodies from the city quickly enough, in less favored neighborhoods, residents were forced to dispose of their loved ones on improvised pyres in the middle of the street.

This was the first scene we saw upon arriving in Ketterdam through the northwest gate, when the carriage had to make an abrupt stop in front of a pile of twisted ashes, which at first glance appeared to be the remains of slaughtered animals. However, horror soon hit us when the coachman, in a state of shock, vomited and exclaimed: “They are people, Saints, they are people!”

From the windows of the houses along the street, I could briefly see thin faces peering through the cracks in the windows. They were, without a doubt, the relatives of those poor burned creatures. Their looks were blank, as if they had already resigned themselves to the idea that the remains of their loved ones would end up on the street. I hastily closed the windows to hide the cruelty, but it remained etched in my eyes even when I closed them.

The trip was quick and extremely stressful, from Lij to the capital it was just two days of march that lasted the longest a lifetime. The exhausted horses showed visible signs of fatigue when the coachman left us at the hospital doors. However, as quick as it was, it apparently wasn't enough. The little girl was remarkably pale, her lips were dyed purple and her eyes were trembling under the weight of nightmares caused by the fever. My dear girl, a gift bestowed by the saints, the reward for any act of benevolence I have done in this world.

My mother used to say that the saints' mercy was unfair to mortals, because, as divine beings, they no longer understood the pain of any sacrifice, they no longer understood what it was like to lose someone. They were above everything and everyone. But I was a stupid young woman, I ignored my poor mother's advice because I thought it was the condescending words of a woman with pagan customs.

“Mommy,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with exhaustion, her eyes barely opening.

"I'm here my love. It’s going to be okay,” I whispered as I took her small, feverish body into my arms. At the beginning of the year, I could barely hold her on my lap for long, she was growing fast and turning into a beautiful, healthy five year old. Now, feeling how light her body was in my arms, my heart squeezed with pain.

Despite it being the early hours of the morning, a small crowd was sitting on the steps. They were probably sick people, but not sick enough to get a bed inside the hospital. I was trying to carefully pass between them, when, at the door, Nina appeared.

She was dressed in the black clothes of the doctors, with the distinctive blue apron of the merchants' wing, stained with small drops of blood.

“Y/N, come this way, sweetheart. I’ve already prepared everything for her,” said Nina, her kind face and caring voice leading me down a corridor to the east of the main hall. She was different since the last time I saw her, during the holidays. She looked sterner than ever.

“Any news from him? Did Kaz send any letters? Do you think he will arrive today?” I asked as I followed Nina through a corridor packed with doctors, heartrenders, healers and all sorts of people. I must admit that, little by little, the composure I had managed to maintain during the last two days of the journey from Lij to Ketterdam was starting to crumble. Felt like I was on the edge of an abyss, spiraling into darkness.

Nina looked at me with sadness as she led me into a small, but well-lit room with a comfortable bed, where I rested my daughter. She was in a restless sleep and quietly muttering nonsense words, the fever must be getting worse.

“Kaz didn't send any letters, none of them. Y/N, they must be on the way,” Nina reassured me. “Now, I need you to stay calm for her, please. We will examine her immediately, but you also need to undergo tests. You could be as sick as she is.”

“No, you don’t need to. I'm not going to leave her alone here” I said, freeing myself from Nina's hands the moment when a tall, tired-looking man entered the room, he seemed to be middle-aged, even though he was visibly a Grisha.

Nina walked over to him and they started talking in whispers, probably discussing the situation. It was not uncommon for merchants and their families to seek privileges in cases of calamity, but being Kaz Brekker's family, these privileges often extended to any kind of perk. Obviously, by now, the entire hospital knows that the wife and daughter of Ketterdam's biggest criminal are looking for help.

I sat next to my daughter, holding her soft hand and massaging her temple with my fingertips. Just like she is my joy, she is Kaz’s world. The gravity, the humanity, the warmth that keeps him alive. She looks much more like him: her light eyes, her dark hair and even her pert nose. At times, they seemed to share the same thoughts, to the point where I felt like I was somehow invading their space. She was his world.

Kaz would be able to destroy cities to protect her from her enemies, but that would not be enough to protect her from death.

Death came. It invaded my life so abruptly that I didn't even have time to cry for mercy. One moment, my daughter was in a restless sleep, and the next, she was convulsing, with blood pouring from her eyes and nose... The harrowing sounds were the most terrifying, they seemed to echo endlessly in my mind; it was the sound of her choking as she tried to breathe through vomit.

When it was all over, as my daughter lay on the bed with her head at an awkward angle, a horrible sound filled the room, resembling a wounded animal. I couldn't take my eyes off her to find the source of that sound. Only then did I realize that I was the one issuing it.

Once, when I was a child and still enjoying my hunting adventures with my brothers, we witnessed a fox with its cub in a trap set by my father. The cub was trapped, one of its paws shattered between the iron teeth of the trap, it was still too small to understand human antics, and its mother, whether out of compassion or instinct, killed it before we could get closer.

In those minutes when I was afflicted with acute pain, I reflected on that fox mother facing the suffering of her cub. I thought about how I didn't have the same courage as her, about how I would rather rip my own legs off with my teeth and offer myself to the hunters in exchange for freeing my cub from his torment.

Later, when Nina released me from her embrace with a pale, tearful face, speaking words I could barely understand, I considered how naive both I and the hypothetical fox were being in placing our faith in the benevolence of a superior, divine being. Tearing out my legs, my heart, begging, crawling – would that make any difference? Probably not. Yet even so, I would be willing to sacrifice myself for centuries on end in exchange for my daughter's life.

When I got up from the ground, with shaky legs and still immersed in a painful lethargy, I walked over to my daughter. The heartrender had cleaned her face, but there were still bloodstains on the collar of her blue dress, the same one she had received as a birthday present from her father and which she loved because it made her feel like a fairy.

When I held her little face between my hands she was still warm, it seemed like at any moment she would wake up and smile and tell me it was just a trick. But it wasn't, I spent a long time holding her face waiting for this trick to end and it didn't happen.

When I placed a kiss on her forehead, my tears fell on her face. It was an eternal kiss, I didn't want it to end, I didn't want it to be the last. However, when I pulled away, Nina wrapped me in a comforting hug. Finally, she retreated to a corner of the room, leaving me alone to watch over my pain.

I held my daughter in my arms, I ran my fingers through her hair, her face, memorizing every little detail of her. Finally, when she was starting to feel cold and heavy, I moved closer to give her another kiss, and this time, it was Kaz's goodbye kiss.

It was outside the hospital that Kaz found me. Nina took me outside when a team of healers told us they needed the room. In Ketterdam, the city of death, they are very practical about sorting things out. I was sitting on one of the steps, trying to catch my breath and looking at nothing, when Kaz, Inej, Wylan and Jesper arrived in a grain truck.

I didn't understand what emptiness was, nor how distressing it could be. I had no idea that it could be deafening, that the blood would rush through my veins and that everything around me would feel cold to the touch. Emptiness was the absence of all emotions, and at the same time, it contained them all. And the pain of emptiness made it extraordinarily difficult to notice anything around me other than the image of Kaz.

He was disheveled, his black coat was dirty with dust, and his hair was messy, as if he had spent the last few hours pulling out the strands. His usually restrained blue eyes were showing all of his emotions. A shadow hovered over them, something I had never seen before: fear. And I didn't know how to act other than getting up, walking a few steps, and finally succumbing at Kaz's feet in the hope that the ground would swallow me.

My breathing is heavy and shallow, sobs tear from my throat. There were no more tears, it seems that I was no longer able to produce them, however, a rain began to fall on us, as if it could cry what I was unable to. Above me, Kaz was standing still. He was like a wall that refused to fall under a storm, under the weight of reality. He refuses to vocalize whatever he's thinking, I think he's also feeling empty. It's as if any trace of humanity has been drained from him.

Would he become Dirtyhands, being all practical while he waits for the poor creature I've become at his feet to pull herself together? Or would he become the fox cub caught in the trap, hoping I could rip his throat out when he, for the first time in his life, didn't have a plan to get around the situation?

“Y/N, darling,” whispered Inej, as if calling my name could tie me to the ropes of the earth again. Besides, what else could she say?

Is this the moment when I would hear the lamentations, the pity, that would follow me for the rest of my life when they found out about the daughter I lost?

“She's gone,” I said, lifting my head and looking at Kaz. “We were waiting for you... but she got worse, so I came to Ketterdam. I really thought she would get better, but she's gone, Kaz” my voice broke completely.

I think whatever strength had kept Kaz up until that moment was gone. He turned his back on us, walking toward the side of the building, his steps swaying as if he were drunk, until finally he collapsed. A scream tore through his chest, a scream of rage, of frustration and sadness. But above all pain.

There is a definition for children who lose their parents, but there is none for parents who lose their children.

What are we now? A mother without a child? What would I do now? Just go home and put all her things together in a box like party decorations?

I got up and walked over to Kaz, hugging him from behind. We lay huddled in the rain, me holding Kaz's body as he thrashed about in a horrible cry. I offered whatever comfort I had: I kissed his head, whispered empty words, held him close to me. If I wasn't a mom, then Kaz wasn't a dad.

He would never hold her in his arms again, he wouldn't smile when she played with his gloves, which were too big, and he wouldn't stand by her bed on sleepless nights, watching her sleep.

“Kaz, she loves you more than anything” I said. Loved, whispered my treacherous brain. Then, fighting the lump in my throat, I said, “They've already put her with the dead people.”

Kaz shuddered, the crying became silent. The vision no parent, least of all Kaz, wants to imagine. Like any other death in Ketterdem, whether of the poor or the rich, our daughter's would be treated with little ceremony. No mourning, no funeral.

She, who was always warm, was now alone in the cold of the Harbor.

On the days when Kaz couldn't bear any touch, she was the one who defied him by clasping her little hands around his neck. Or on the worst days, when he came from the Barrel with someone's blood on his sleeve, she covered him with kisses and smiles. Kaz loved her the moment he saw her, covered in blood, wet, crying... and warm. When she was a baby he treated her like porcelain, if he could he wouldn't even let me touch her.

My hands met Kaz's, he was clutching his chest as if he wanted to rip out his own heart. I held him, afraid that he would somehow disappear under the weight of his own grief. If he leaves too...

“On the trip, when she was awake, I told her that you love her. That you love her so, so much,” I whispered in his ear. Then, the worst. “I gave her your kiss goodbye”

How can we survive this?

“No, Y/N,” Kaz said in a pleading tone, “I’m sorry, please. I'm so sorry"

When we lack words, guilt appears. It's our fault? Were we really that horrible?

The Saints. They give and they take.

#mmgwbrekker #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for putting delivery instructions in both Spanish and English?

Weird font so it's easy for me to identify this post while scrolling.

I (white person) live in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood and I have chronic pain. So, sometimes, on especially bad pain days, I will order food on Uber Eats if I am unable to make something myself/can't make a lot of noise in the kitchen bc roommates/etc.. And I usually order things pretty locally since I live in a city with a lot of things nearby, but, again, chronic pain, hurts to move. Since I live in an area with such a large Spanish-speaking population, with some of my neighbors and coworkers speaking only Spanish, I'll often write the delivery instructions in both English and Spanish in case it makes someone's day easier. The instructions are usually fairly simple - 'leave the bag on the desk' or my default 'please don't ring the buzzer' as my roommates can be very finicky about noise.

So, onto the issue. Another friend of mine, also white, doesn't speak any Spanish, saw the instructions when I let her order something while we were at my apartment. She asked why I had them in both languages, and I explained. She said it was "very patronizing for you [me] to assume they [Uber Eats driver] don't speak English" (her words exactly). I didn't really know how to respond at the time (and tbh I still don't) because I'm not sure how to explain that it's not about race or intelligence or anything, it's just because I live in a very Spanish speaking community and I'm so used to it, but I can see how it might be patronizing? I'm not super fluent in Spanish but I am conversationally and I can have full blown conversations in Spanish, and I often do with my neighbors and such. But none of the drivers have ever commented on it (probably cause they just leave the food outside the door and leave but idk). So here I am.

AITA for writing the delivery instructions in English and Spanish?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[domainedewinter]

The Price of fire - chapter 2

Summary: Aemond meets a mysterious silver-haired girl on the beach while facing Vhagar. But the more he tries to know her, the deeper her secrets seem.

Warnings: DUBCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, she/her pronouns, fingering, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, misogyny, toxic behaviour, Dom!Aemond, begging, underage hotd style, nsfw. 

(coming soon, I will indicate the chapters containing smut with a 🔥) 

Rating: 18+, MDNI

English is not my first language.

Chapter two ⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝ Roxaene ⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝

She saw the danger coming as the heat rose from the mouth of the impressive dragon in front of her, and a voice next to her that resonated. Vhagar. She didn't need to hear her name to recognize the creature; the only dragon that could be so impressive was Vhagar, the one once ridden by Visenya Targaryen. 

Roxaene knew all this because she had learned the history of every great house in the kingdom, and the history of the Targaryens had fascinated her from a young age. Dorian had tried to get her interested in other stories and other families, but the little girl she was at the time was already fascinated by the dragons that populated her dreams, and her interest had never waned.

She didn't have time to turn around before the sand already cushioned her fall, a gasp of surprise and pain escaping her lips as she found herself pinned to the beach by a man who materialized in front of her as if by magic. Or maybe it was the strange trance she had been in that had made her ignore her surroundings to the point of not seeing the danger coming in the form of a man.

However, she wasn't afraid and responded with courage, her thin eyebrows furrowed and her gaze attempting to be threatening, even though the man questioning her didn't seem frightened at all. 

And since Roxaene had been well educated, she instantly recognized the one holding her down.

"Prince Aemond..." She murmured, her voice losing its courage.

Out of all the people living in this great city, Roxaene had to stumble upon a prince, alone on a beach. And not just any prince; one of the king's sons, the one whose dark rumors made their way to Dorne. 

Being terribly too close to him, she couldn't ignore his hair of the same color as hers, and his eye, his only eye, which stared at her with the same violet gleam as hers.

Dorian would be terribly furious and disappointed if he learned about this. It shouldn't happen; she needed to leave and disappear as quickly as possible, return to her chamber and not come out until his return. 

Her features tensed up a bit, her eyebrows rising, scared that someone saw her, recognized her, as Dorian often told her. Not wanting to disappoint him by learning that his cherished daughter had wandered alone at dusk to fall into the arms of the cruel prince. 

Just for a moment, she thought she might be scared - not of Aemond Targaryen, but of the consequences of their encounter. Not for long, just enough time to regain her composure as he tightened his grip on her wrists and slammed her against the ground again. 

"You seem to know who I am but refuse to tell me who you are." The prince growled, frowning, the coldness of his fine features turning darker. He obviously wasn't used to being refused, let alone by a young girl lost on the beach daring to resist him.

"Answer me, it's an order!"

Roxaene didn't know what she risked by refusing to obey a prince, but the mere idea of the reactionof her father or being recognized filled her with more fear. Trying to sit up, she growled in frustration.

"Get off me! I swear I wasn't going to do anything to your dragon, so let me go!"

Wanting to tip the odds in her favor and taking advantage of the element of surprise, Roxaene quickly brought up her knee, managing to strike him, probably not hard enough to hurt him but enough to surprise him. If he thought he was going to intimidate her, he didn't know her well because when Aemond's eye widened, she quickly turned her head and bit him as hard as she could, tasting the warm metallic flavor against her lips.

Vhagar growled in concert with his rider, who released Roxaene's face with a cry of pain, as if he had just put his hand in molten lava. 

Surprise was written on his features, and it was the moment she chose to act; she turned around, quickly, then used her elbows to crawl away from his physical grasp to have a chance to stand on her feet and run.

Run as fast as possible, as far as possible. 

Do not look back. 

Forget this evening, the dragon. 

Forget the prince and the fear.

She hadn't received any close combat training and would quickly be overpowered if she didn't act swiftly. But realizing that her legs were still half blocked by the prince's body, she decided to act differently; even bolder and more reckless, but the only idea that sprang to her mind.

.⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝ Aemond ⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝.

Few sane men dared to look at the one-eyed prince, and even fewer dared to provoke him. Despite having recognized him, this young girl seemed not to fear him. Either she was completely unaware, or she feared something much worse than Aemond.

And this simple thought further fueled the prince's curiosity, if that was possible. 

Pain blossomed against his hip where she had struck him - by doing this, she had dared to raise her hand against a member of royal blood - and just when he thought it was the stupidest of her decisions, another pain erupted on his hand, forcing him to release her.

But this time, she wouldn’t win. He will not let her win. 

He pounced on her as she crawled on her stomach in the hope of escaping him and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back so hard that she groaned between her clenched teeth - apparently too proud to let out a real cry - ending up on her knees in front of him, her back hitting Aemond's chest.

"Enough! First, you stand fearlessly in front of the maw of the most dangerous dragon, then you shed the blood of a prince? I swear the Stranger is calling for you."

He tightened his grip, but she managed to pivot and do something unexpected; she struck him with the palms of her hands on the chest, unbalancing him so quickly that he fell on his back. She could have fled; she could have tried to save her life, but there she was, the young silver-haired girl straddling him in a vain attempt to immobilize him.

Her chest rose rapidly with her strained breath, her small and delicate hands trembling against his chest. She had tried her luck too many times for a single evening and couldn't retreat anymore. Lifting her chin and making a slight pout—quickly, but just enough for Aemond to furrow his brows, convinced he had seen that expression on someone close to him—Roxaene took a breath. 

For courage.

"I was so fascinated by your dragon that I didn't realize what I was doing. But Gods bear witness, I had no ill intentions, nor did I wish to shed your blood. I... I had no choice but to defend myself."

A sigh of relief escaped her as he let her stay on him, not pushing her away or attacking. Aemond was a trained, dangerous, and efficient young man; if he had wanted to throw her to the ground and slash her throat, Roxaene's lilac eyes would have already lost their sparkle.

Instead, he placed his hands on her hips, keeping her where she was, on him. 

The simple contact made Roxaene shiver, looking down at him, her hands still firmly anchored on his chest. She wasn't sure if it was to maintain her balance or to have the illusion of keeping him against the ground. But she needed this contact not to be frightened.

His hands on her hips, however, gave her a completely different impression. He didn't grip tightly, didn't hurt her, but it was a hold he exerted, fully aware that he could do whatever he wanted with her and proved it.

"Forgive me, my Prince, for the injury. I defended myself without thinking. Let me go, you will never see me again, I give you my word, I will pretend none of this happened."

A murmur rumbled in the prince's throat, not crossing the barrier of his lips; he seemed to be thinking, giving Roxaene enough time to observe the prince further; he was handsome, no more a child and not yet completely a man, even though he already had all the physical attributes. Their hair was the same shade, that particular color of the moon on a stormy evening. Even their skin was of the same paleness. Until now, Roxaene had not met anyone who resembled her, and it left a strange feeling in her chest.

"But that's not what I want." He eventually said with a sure voice.

"The last thing I want is to see you disappear without answering my question—and the ones to come." He didn't release her gaze, tightening his grip on her hips. "Let's find a compromise; I'll let you go tonight on two conditions only, and—"

"Please, I don't ask f—" the young girl began, cutting him off for fear of hearing what he was going to ask her, but the prince's voice overpowered hers, bossy and authoritative, his icy gaze fixing her with such intensity that she felt her cheeks warm and probably blush.

"Don't interrupt me." His voice was calm but firm as he tilted his head slightly to the side, as if trying to understand how such a young woman could have so much courage or recklessness and so little manners in front of a member of the royal family.

"I'll let you go if-and only if- you give me your name and your promise to come back tomorrow night."

The prince saw her shiver and felt a certain pride in being the cause of this reaction. 

With a movement as fluid as it was rapid, he turned her over under his body, just for an instant - a brief instant, like the beating of a wing before lifting her up with him. 

His hand had gripped one of hers while the other was in the middle of her back to maintain her balance. 

"And don't try to lie, because I'll know how to find you and if that happens, you'll regret that I didn't let Vhagar end your life. Do we have a deal, girl?”

She didn't take her eyes off him, swallowing but no longer daring to lower her gaze, either out of pride or determination.

"Roxaene."

"What?" He asked, as if he hadn't understood what she said, to which she replied.

"My name is Roxaene. And I give you my word to be there tomorrow night, no need to threaten me, I keep my promises."

#aemond smut #house targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction