#that call is coming from inside the house

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Camera Caught- Matt Sturniolo

Summary: you accidentally left some hickeys on matt’s neck and the fans catch it, start making edits, and matt “punishes” you

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (female receiving), P in V, Unprotected sex, praising, slight crying.

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL ENJOYY

PSA: I GIVE NO RIGHTS TO COPY MY WORK OR USE MY WORK FOR “INSPIRATION”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Matt and I’s relationship has been very very private, we've been trying to keep it that way till we both collectively agreed to go public. Matt was down in the garage filming for a Friday video and I was endlessly scrolling on TikTok, I came across this edit of Matt, I didn't think much of it till i saw the comments.

Mattscupsupremacy: THE HICKEY?! WHO IS SHE?? MATTS A FREAKY GAL

Chrissypoohmylover: UHM MATTHEW?? what a freaky man.. she’s one lucky girl to be getting that fire dick

Nickismyqueen: WHY IS NO ONE POINTING OUT THE FACT HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO COVER IT UP??

Yamother6629: we lost another one girls… Funeral at my place at 6 pm tmr 😔💔

Thefourthtriplet5239: MATT SEEMED SO VANILLA.. who would ever guess that man is kinky?

“No no no” I say panicking out loud and immediately jumping out of bed and running through the house and busting the door open to the garage where Nick, Matt, and Chris are barging into the garage which sends the boys into an immediate panic

“Okay so you can edit this out of the video but it's an emergency,” I say out of breath.

“Girl go the fuck on, you said it’s an emergency, spill let’s go” Nick says snapping his fingers.

“Okay, patience, so I was scrolling through TikTok like normally waiting for you guys to finish filming and I scroll across this Matt edit,” I say trying to find the edit on my phone.

“Y/N how many times do I have to tell you to stop watching edits of me, I'm right here no need to fangirl over me,” Matt says with a sense of cockyness in his voice.

“No no hold on it gets better, so I scroll through the comments cause you know it's funny watching as the 12-year-olds talk about you being their ‘baby’-” start before Chris cut me off

“GET TO THE FUCKING POINT YAPPER,” Chris says throwing his hands in the air

“Says the one who goes on about putting a literal tit milk-drinking infant in the backseat of a car with no car seat. So let's not talk about her yapping” nick defends.

“ANYWAYS, Matt you forgot to cover your hickeys from the other night and everyone knows about it now, cause when you moved out of frame your hoodie must have come down, and there are edits and people calling you ‘vanilla’ whatever the hell that means, and like everyone is wondering who the girl is and I'm like panicking now,” I say with panic in my voice “I know you weren't ready to go public but everyone is like freaking the fuck out” I continue.

“Fuck, I thought the hoodie was a good cover” matt sighs “look its fine well figure it out after I'm done filming just go back inside and calm the hell down” he gives me a quick peck on my forehead and shutting the door of the car.

A couple of minutes later I got a text from matt, normally he does send me the occasional ‘i love you, almost done filming’ message but this one was a little different.

Matty B Rapz 💍

you’re in big trouble for getting us caught

i hope you ain’t tired cause you’re in for a long night

This wasn't out of the normal for Matt to be rough with me but over text? This is new, but I love it. I could feel myself getting soaked at all the possible ways Matt could fuck me, all the positions, thinking of all the ways in which he could make me cum.

After an hour and a half of endless scrolling through TikTok, I can hear the footsteps of Matt through the hallway.

“Hi baby, how was filming?” I say as he walks in the door immediately shutting it and locking it.

“Don't ‘baby’ me, strip,” he says harshly as his eyes darken with lust.

A smirk appeared on my lips, and moved off the bed walking towards him as I placed my phone down on the bedside table and slowly and teasingly removed my pants and shirt leaving me in my light pink lingerie set that I knew drove him insane, the way it hugged my curves, pushed my Brests up with a small delicate flower in the middle, and my underwear that sat and hung onto my hips with another small flower in the middle of it.

“So fucking sexy,” Matt says under his breath causing a light shade of pink to appear on my cheeks.

Matt wraps his arms around my torso and unclips my bra letting my breasts fall and the straps of my bra fall off my arms. He lightly pushes me back so I'm sitting on our shared bed as he places a deep and passionate kiss on my lips.

I yearn for more of his lips but he pulls away from me and starts trailing light kisses down my jaw and to my neck and sucking harshly on my neck so we have matching marks on my neck and soft moans escaping my lips.

“Since you had to go and get us caught,” he starts before sucking harsher in my neck in a pattern this time. “Everyone's gonna know who you belong to now” he pulls away walking back a couple of steps to admire the marks he left on my neck.

‘M’

His initial was spelled out on my neck.

“And you're not gonna cover that up. Got it?” he spits walking towards me and wrapping his hand around my neck.

“Yes, Matt” I whisper out

“Good fucking girl” he removes his hand from my neck and pushes me down so my back is now on the bed flat.

He lowers his body down, basically on his knees, and he leaves kisses down my stomach before kissing over my clothed pussy and a soft whimper comes out of my lips.

Using his teeth he guides my underwear off my legs and throws them on the floor with a smirk plastered on his face.

His face between my legs was always a sight for sore eyes, never failed to turn me on the way his blue eyes always stared at me through his eyelashes. He places small kisses around my thighs eventually making his way down to my dripping pussy and placing kisses everywhere around it but where I need him the most.

“Matt, please” I plead.

“What are you begging for? Use that filthy mouth of yours and tell me what you want” he says harshly.

“I need your mouth, please” i whine.

He smirks and uses his tongue to move up and down my folds collecting my juices he lets out a groan as the taste of my pussy touches his tongue. His lips attach to my clit sucking harshly on it.

“FUCK MATT” My back arches and my eyes roll back basically seeing my brain.

His tongue explores every inch of me as he keeps a steady gaze on me and how my body reacts to his mouth. His fingers trail into my begging hole that's clenched around the air begging to be fulfilled curling his slim fingers upward reaching a spot I could never reach by myself.

“MATT” I scream out as My thighs close his head in.

“Legs stay open” he mutters through my pussy.

His fingers now moving at a pace that's driving me absolutely insane, his muted moans against my pussy is only turning me on more.

“close” i breathe out trying not to strain my voice.

“hold it,” he says muttering against me as his nose flicks my clit digging his face deeper into my pussy. He was almost moaning as much as I was, typically he didn't even care if he cums, he gets off at watching me come unglued from his mouth or fingers.

“Please” I repeat pleading with matt.

“No, you're gonna hold it and you're gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be” he lifts his head continuing his pace with his fingers.

His gaze never left me, the way my back arched off the bed and my eyes rolled back just at his fingers was always so amusing to him.

“You always look so beautiful wrapped around my fingers,” he says smirking down at me and taking his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to arch his fingers inside me.

“PL-PLEA- CUM” i mutter unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Go ahead baby, let it all out” he coos in my ear in a low raspy voice.

The knot in my stomach snaps, and my orgasm hits me like a bus, my legs shake as my cum drips down into his fingers. he removes his fingers licking off my cum from them.

“Face down ass up, I ain't done with you” he says sternly.

I slowly nod turning around and holding myself up by my elbows taunting my ass around in the air. Matt smirks to himself removes his hoodie, and quickly removes his boxers and pants throwing all his clothes somewhere in the room.

I feel the bed dip down from the weight of his knees behind me. He reaches his arm around to my mouth places his hand below my mouth.

“Spit” he says harshly.

I obey spitting in his hand as he uses my spit to rub around the tip of his cock moving his hand up and down to coat his cock.

Matt aligns himself with my entrance and immediately bottoms out letting a loud groan escape his lips as my hips jerk backward and a loud whine leaks from my lips.

“You think you're so fucking innocent huh? Leaving those fucking hickeys on my neck” he spits thrusting harshly into me gripping onto my hair and pushing my head far into the mattress.

“I-im SO-SORRY” I scream into the mattress.

“Oh, you're sorry? If you were sorry you wouldn't be creaming all over my fucking. dick.” he says thirsting harder to annunciate his last two words as his head hangs low to look down at the white rim that's formed around the base of his cock.

“FUCKK” I whine out with tears starting to form in my eyes from the overstimulation. “CANT- CANT-TAKE” I muffle out as his hand pushes my head farther in the bed.

“You wanted this” he grunts “You take it” his hand travels down my body and starts to toy with my sensitive clit.

“OH BABY-” i scream out as my cervix begins to twitch around his cock signaling how close I was.

“Oh you think you're gonna cum soon?” he taunts rubbing faster on my clit as his thrusts begin getting sloppier.

“Pl-pl-please” I whisper yell to him.

“You're so fucking pathetic” he groans out using both hands and pressing my waist down the bed and rolling his hips into me getting deeper and kissing my cervix with his cock.

My legs began to shake and tremble “CLOSE” i choke out. his grip on my waist loosens up as he leans down and kisses my back.

“let it go, baby, let it all out” With that, the knot in my stomach breaks and I squirt all over the bed leaving a wet mess beneath me. “God damn baby you're so fucking sexy” he leaves small kisses on my neck as his thrusts got even sloppier.

“Oh fuck” he buries his head in my neck and groans as his cum begins to shoot out of him filling my hole of his cum.

He softly pulls out of me rolling me over now laying on my back and gives me a soft peck on the lips.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” he smiles down at me and I shoot him a small smile back.

He throws on the same pair of sweatpants from earlier and walks softly and carefully to the bathroom wetting a small rag and bringing it back into the room.

“You did amazing, Y/N” he smiles up at me as he carefully runs the warm wash rag down my legs and anywhere else that was covered in cum.

“I am sorry about getting us caught, I know that we didn't want to go public just yet” I softly whisper as he makes his way next to me bringing me into his arms and placing a kiss down on my head.

“Hey, don't worry about it. We'll figure it out in the morning. But for now, just get some sleep," he says, running his fingers through my hair and occasionally kissing my head. We eventually drifted asleep, intertwined with each other.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N PT 2 HI LOVES!! IDK how to feel ab this one but i hope you guys enjoyed it! I hope you're doing amazing!! And have an amazing day/night/evening!!

Xoxo

Gabs 💋

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part one | r.c.

summary:

“I’ll be upstairs with Monique, a’ight?” he said, muttering in your ear. “Are you okay getting the drinks to the boys?”

“Yeah yeah,” you huffed with a wave. “Go on. Be safe.”

Rafe smirked at you, ignoring how Monique was staring daggers at you. “Come get me if anything’s wrong, you hear me precious?”

OR; Topper gets duped by a pretty “bartender”, Rafe (almost) has another hook up, and you're trying to tell yourself that this is enough.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of drugs and alcohol (weed!), this chapter has no smut, but the later parts will so 18+ MDNI!

word count: 2,5k

author's note: wait... is this finally the first chapter of illicit affairs?🤭 yes it is!!! ik i've been teasing it for so long but it's finally hereee!!! inspired by my own tom holland fic (don't talk to me pls) and it has evolved into a series... i hope you love it so much!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

part one: "don't call me kid"

Women and men can’t be “just friends”.

You had always hated that saying. Like, why the hell couldn’t men and women be friends? All three of your best friends were guys, and you didn’t even remotely want to be anything more than friends with any of them.

Okay, maybe you wouldn’t mind being more than friends with one of them.

Bane of your existence.

Pain in the ass.

Annoying as hell.

Your best friend, Rafe Cameron.

You tried so hard to not be in love with him, to only be his friend. Mostly because it would make your life so much less complicated, but also because you hated proving that saying right by being in love with your guy best friend.

“Hey, you still with us?”

“What?”

Rafe stared at you with a frown, before he plucked the joint from your lips.

“You nearly smoked the entire thing by yourself. What’s got you thinking so hard?”

He raised an eyebrow at you while taking a hit from the joint, barely pulling it from his lips before Kelce snagged it from him.

“Greedy bitch,” Rafe huffed before he turned his attention back to you. “You tired, precious? Want to leave?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname - despite the long tradition of it - and shook your head. “Nah. It’s not even one. And Topper hasn’t made a fool of himself yet.”

“Fuck you,” Topper shot back immediately, moving his cup out of the way when you reached for it. “No, no drinks for mean girls.”

“Come on, don’t be such an asshole,” you whined, smacking your mouth a little to get rid of the dryness the joint has left. Making grabby hands at the cup, you annoyed Topper until he finally gave in, handing you his cup. You took a big gulp, before you pulled a face, pushing the cup back into his hands, barely able to swallow whatever the hell he was drinking.

“Ew, what is that?”

“Some girl in the kitchen made it for him,” Rafe told you, snickering. “I don’t think he was even watching what she was pouring into his cup. Too entranced by her pretty eyes.”

“She said she’s a bartender,” Topper said defensively and you only snorted. He made it far too easy for girls to mess with him.

“Top, I love you,” you said, getting to your feet and straightening your clothes in the process. “But please, you can’t keep falling in love with every pretty girl who pays attention to you.”

“But I’ve been in love with you for six years precious,” Topper proclaimed as he clutched his chest melodramatically, “When will you give me a chance?”

You only scoffed at his antics, twisting your hair up before putting a hair clip in it. “You wish,” you said, slapping his hands away. “I’ll get us some new drinks.”

“I’ll come with,” Rafe offered.

“Can you get me one too?” Kelce piped up and you pinched his cheek, making him wince.

“Vodka soda?”

Kelce gave you a dirty look, rubbing his cheek before he nodded petulantly. You gave him a thumbs up, grabbing Rafe by the wrist to drag him inside.

It was incredibly packed as soon as you entered the house from the backyard, the body heat from about 50 drunk people raising the temperature indoors and it smelled like the inside of a beer keg. Rafe kept his hand on your lower back, to not lose track of you as you carefully weaved between the people on your way to the kitchen. You tried not to get distracted by how his hand occasionally brushed over your exposed skin whenever your top rode up. He had always been this way. Running a hand through Topper’s hair to annoy him, clasping Kelce’s shoulder whenever he drank too much and was hanging over the toilet, squeezing Wheezie’s arm in a quick hug, and keeping his hand on your lower back whenever the two of you were walking somewhere crowded. He liked to show affection the way his father failed to do. So you refused to overthink it when his hands splayed over your skin, despite your heart racing whenever it happened.

Losing yourself to your thoughts for a second, you didn’t pay any attention when some guy walked into you, too busy talking with his friend to watch where he was going. You nearly went flying face down on the ground, but Rafe’s hand quickly found your waist, steadying you.

“Hey, watch it!” Rafe snapped at the guy, who only raised his hands in defense.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, gently pushing his hands off of you. “We’re nearly there, don’t start a fight.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Rafe giving the guy a stink eye before you reached the kitchen, where it luckily wasn’t as cramped, with only a handful of people mingling and talking. Grabbing four cups off of the stack on the kitchen island, you pursed your lips as you let your eyes roam over the options, rows, and rows of alcohol.

“Do you want a beer or something harder?”

“Beer, I think I might have to drive us home,” Rafe replied, grabbing the vodka bottle that was on his left, and handing it to you.

You unstacked the cups on the counter and poured vodka into three of them. Rafe reappeared by your side - not that you had noticed him leaving, you were too focused on making sure there was an equal amount of vodka in all the cups - sipping on a beer, a jug of cranberry juice in his other hand. You grabbed the jug out of his hand, wordlessly, filling your cup to the brim.

“Where’s the club soda?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder. Rafe only shrugged.

“Couldn’t find it.”

“Here’s club soda, Rafe,” a flirty voice suddenly said, and Monique Colver batted her long, fake eyelashes at Rafe.

“Thanks Monique,” Rafe replied with a smirk, taking the bottle to give it to you, which you accepted wordlessly.

Here we go.

“Call me Moni.”

“Moany?” you muttered under your breath while you filled the other two cups, barely wincing when Rafe gave you a side eye, acting like he was listening to every word that left Monique’s lips.

“- but I told my dad I really wanted to travel a bit so he got a me a trip to Europe.”

“Oh yeah? What countries you tryna see?”

Ugh.

You downed your entire cup in one go, already refilling it when you heard “show you” and “upstairs” and you rolled your eyes. You lifted your cup to your lips, basically putting your entire face in it, really, anything to remove yourself from this conversation, only pausing with drowning yourself when you felt Rafe’s hand on your lower back. Again.

“I’ll be upstairs with Monique, a’ight?” he said, muttering in your ear. “Are you okay getting the drinks to the boys?”

“Yeah yeah,” you huffed with a wave. “Go on. Be safe.”

Rafe smirked at you, ignoring how Monique was staring daggers at you. “Come get me if anything’s wrong, you hear me precious?”

You flipped him off and he took that as a sign to leave, following Monique as she dragged him upstairs.

“Bitch,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing the three cups on the counter and heading back outside to the boys.

It was a miracle that not a single drop was spilled on the way, probably because you were too busy trying not to imagine what was going on upstairs.

“There she is!” Kelce greeted you. “Almost died of thirst. What took you so long?”

“Don’t ask,” you muttered, handing them the drinks and Topper eyed you suspiciously. Acting like you didn’t notice it, you plopped yourself into the empty seat next to them, taking a big gulp from your drink.

“Where’s Rafe?”

“Where do you think?” you said with a sigh, giving him a look.

You weren’t jealous.

Okay, you were.

But it wasn’t the main reason why you were so annoyed.

You just hated it when the girls Rafe hooked up with always treated you like you were their competition, like you would take him away from them.

Which, fair, you could if you wanted. If you faked an injury or being sick, Rafe would immediately drop them to get you home.

But he’d never want you the way he wanted them. Yes, you knew he loved you, and yes he was your best friend, but you couldn’t help but want more. Maybe that was selfish. You let out a small sigh, leaning your head on Kelce’s shoulder, missing the way he glanced at Topper. Lucky for you, they decided against pushing it. Taking a sip from your drink, you tried not to think about Monique and Rafe. It didn’t help that the vodka and the joint were starting to work, spreading into your system, making you feel all warm and woozy, your head cloudy.

Your eyebrows shot up when Rafe suddenly appeared, squeezing himself between you and the armrest, his hair disheveled. You were still stewing, looking at him with a crease on your forehead.

“That was quick,” you noted. “Where did you leave Moany?” You couldn’t help but ask, putting emphasis on her nickname.

Rafe only shook his head, plucking your cup out of your hand to take a big gulp.

“That man is traumatized,” Kelce pointed out, nodding in understanding like he didn’t need any further explanation.

“Wait, Monique Colver?” Topper asked. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Rafe held up his hand, stopping him. “Yes, but that wasn’t the problem.”

You rolled your eyes, already knowing what was coming. He was such a drama queen sometimes.

“What did she do?”

Rafe didn’t answer, taking another sip of the drink, before he winced. “She told me to call her precious.”

“What?!”

“HUH??”

“Ew!”

“You know what’s the worst?” Rafe groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t even get off.”

“That’s your biggest problem??”

He rolled his eyes at you, shifting on the sofa. “Pretty big, yeah.”

“Ugh.”

“Can we get back to Monique wanting you to call her precious?” Kelce interjected. “Did Rafe call you precious in front of her?”

“Yes, very clearly. There’s no way she didn’t hear,” you replied.

“Maybe she hates your guts and she wanted to roleplay being you while Rafe abuses her in a sex-way.”

“Kelce, literally never open your mouth again,” you groaned, covering your ears with your hands, while Topper cracked up, Rafe only pulled a face.

“It makes sense,” Topper insisted. “Like, precious is the only girl who’s been around us, or well, Rafe, constantly. You know, apart from Sarah and Wheezie. Maybe that was Monique’s way of telling you she wants to be your girlfriend.”

“What?” Rafe asked, his forehead creased.

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re giving her way too much credit, I think she’s just weird.”

“You’re biased,” Topper pointed out, reaching behind Kelce’s to boop you on the head. “I don’t think you’ve ever liked any of the girls Rafe hooked up with.”

“Ugh, what’s there to like? They either act like I’m invisible or are passive aggressive bitches,” you huffed, smacking his hand away. Rafe snickered, throwing an arm around your shoulder to pull you close, pressing a kiss on your head.

“They’re jus’ jealous, cuz you’re the only girl I keep around.”

“Get off me,” you grumbled, your cheeks warming regardless. Rafe knew how to make you feel special.

Kelce yawned, stretching his arms, laying one of them on top of Rafe’s arm around your shoulder. “This party sucks. And I’m starving.”

“I’m so down for tacos right now, do you think Mateo’s still open?” Topper asked, sitting up straight because if there was one thing he took seriously, it was tacos.

“It’s two am on a Saturday,” you pointed out, and his shoulders sagged. You exchanged looks with Rafe, a grin growing on your face. “His truck is definitely still open.”

“Alright!” Topper cheered, jumping up. “Let’s go then!”

He dragged the rest of you off of the couch, herding you through the backyard and to the car, all the while laughing and joking around. You ignored the dirty looks you received from others as you got into the passenger seat, Rafe getting into the driver’s seat of his truck.

It didn’t take long until Rafe pulled up into the parking lot where Mateo’s food truck was parked, the four of you tumbling out of the car, Topper nearly falling flat on his face as he sprinted to the food truck. The light was still on, with faint Spanish music playing in the background.

“If it isn’t my four favorite Kooks,” Mate said, wiping the counter with a towel, before throwing it over his shoulder, eyeing you expectantly as you stood in a row in front of him. “Can I help you?”

“Do you have any carne asada tacos?” Kelce asked, peering over the display.

“Even four would be enough,” Topper added, wringing his hands nervously.

Mateo sighed and you’d already come to terms with having to go to bed with a taco craving, before he grinned at you, shaking his head fondly.

“Grab some drinks and have some patience, I’ll feed you in a second.”

Ten minutes later, the four of you were chowing down on some tacos, washing it down with ice-cold cans of coke.

“Fuck, I so needed this,” Topper moaned, biting into his third taco and you rolled your eyes at him, dabbing at your mouth with a napkin.

“Get it together Top.”

Rafe nudged you with his knee, giving you a look. “Give him a break, I know you’ve been craving some tacos as well,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, which made you pull a face.

“Eurgh, please use a napkin you slob.”

You pushed the stack of napkins in his direction and he only grinned at you, picking up some off the stack to wipe his mouth.

“What would I do without you?” he teased, but you only rolled your eyes fondly, picking up some nachos.

“Whatever, eat your damn taco.”

Rafe squeezed your wrist with his clean hand, and you only leaned your head on his shoulder, starting to zone out when they started talking about some new boat, just enjoying their company. Honestly, you were glad you had them. Even if they were boys, incredibly dumb, and lacked a little tact sometimes, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You glanced down, where your legs were pressed against Rafe’s as you sat next to each other on the picnic bench, just like always.

Maybe, you thought to yourself, maybe this was enough.

“You good?” Rafe asked, raising a brow at you, taco halfway into his mouth.

“Yep, ‘m perfect.”

It had to be.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: tell me what you think pls!!!

🏷️list: @maybankslover

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfiction

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

First Date, Huh?

Summary: The human race is at danger of extinction. The government had come up with a plan to increase the level of population throughout the country that involved you and a very good looking man.

Warning: unprotected sex. oral (both receiving). creampie. slight degradation. overstimulation. male and female anatomy. afab reader. impregnating. breeding kink (kinda?) aftercare. mentions of medical procedures (I forgot what it was called lol). not proofread. wrote this right after my dream sooo…

Word Count: 5,155

A/N: I had a dream about this and I woke up thinking I was pregnant😭 (be safe out there y’all) anyways, I picked up far cry 5 again and I’m literally eating that game up

“Falling for a stranger, good gracious. I might even fly out to Vegas. I’m thinking maybe you’d be down to do it,” Love Talk (demo), WayV

The world population had been declining after the rise of a deadly disease. People died in groups and the government had tried to prevent the spread.

But their attempts were in vain.

Decades after the virus had finally been tamed. The world had been left with only one third of its population remaining. The economies across the countries crashed and people had to rebuild themselves slowly.

However, that all came to a halt when the government suddenly introduced a new bill.

They had planned for a procreating program. In which scientists were able to develop a new technology wavelength that can determine what person is more biologically compatible with another person.

The government had ordered people to come to the nearest available clinics in order for the scientists to collect a sample of their blood. Of your blood.

Months passed after the collection of blood and suddenly a group of soldiers, along with scientists, stormed inside the houses of people and marked them with bracelet bands.

The soldiers sedated everyone and transported them to an underground warehouse. The warehouse itself was an underground bunker with scientists roaming around in their lab coats.

The underground facility was huge- it could be considered an underground city if the president decided to. But he didn’t.

When you woke up, you noticed you were inside a room with white walls. The floor and ceiling were white. Even the lights were white. Everything was white, except for the red bed you were currently in.

They had laid you down on a bed full of pillows and blankets. Your eyes blurred as they adjusted to the lights of the room.

Sitting up, you’ve noticed- and probably felt- the presence of someone laying down next to you. You looked over at the person and noticed it was a man.

He was waking up as well. He had dirty blonde hair and looked to be tall and broad. His features were rough and masculine, with his stubble being noticeable under the harsh lighting. As you sat up, he slowly sat up as well and took in the environment. When both of you laid eyes on each other, you both let out a gasp and quickly got off the bed.

You quickly realized what either of you were wearing. They had changed you into a skimpy satin nightgown while he was wearing a silk pajama set that revealed his chest due to the V-line cut.

The intercom from the room turned on and a person spoke,

“Good morning to you two. I’m sure you’re both confused and scared but afraid be not. We’re ensuring your safety at this establishment. As you both can see, you’re both wearing the same color of wristbands.”

You looked down at your right wrist and saw the green wristband, your eyes trailed towards the man and his was also green.

“This means that both of you are biologically compatible. Our goal here is to not hurt you. We’re simply trying to bring back the population back to where it should be and we need your help.”

Your eyes widened and so did his. The man’s eyebrows pinched together as look of suspicion and anger appeared on his face. But he didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure you both know what this means. You have the remainder of the day to get started. We expect positive results since we’ve run extensive research on your genetics. That is all, get started.”

Essentially, they wanted you to have sex with a stranger. That’s revolting.

You turned your gaze back to the man, his blue eyes stood out from his features. Neither of you said anything. It was all too…awkward. You glanced at the bed and then back at him. How do you even start something so intimate?

“Um-“ you started quietly, “So…we’re compatible.”

The man simply stared at you and then back at his wrist. He nodded, “Yeah. Seems so.”

“Should I-“

“We don’t have to do anything,” he interrupted you, “What’re they going to do if we do nothing? They can’t kill us. Those mad scientists need as many people as possible and if they killed you or me then what’s the whole point of this?”

You sighed and nodded. He was right in a way. Even if you disobeyed they couldn’t kill you, right?

Sitting at the edge of the bed, you begin to wonder everything that has happened so far. They’re making everyone breeding machines- is what you thought.

Before all of this, you were living your life the way you wanted it. And now you were forced to have a baby with someone you don’t know. All for the sake of humanity.

It was cruel.

“What do we do instead?” You asked quietly.

“Find a way out of here,” he responded as he walked around the room and tried to find an exit. There was no door. No windows. Nothing. As if you two were put in a white box.

He was getting frustrated that he had been put in this position. He didn’t want any of this, not with you. It wasn’t personal but he didn’t know you.

“There’s no way out,” he spoke after some time. It didn’t take a genius to know that you two were locked in this space.

“Do they really want us to…” your voice trailed off as you stared at him. He looked back at you and shrugged, “Maybe. Those crazy bastards are probably stressing about the human race dying or whatever.”

After a moment of silence, you could smell something. Something that smelled good.

“Is that you?” He asked. He also smelled something.

“I was just about to ask if it was you too,” you replied.

He furrowed his brows and sat next to you. He leaned closer to your neck and inhaled softly.

“It’s the both of us,” he whispered. You stared into his eyes at the proximity.

What was happening?

Did the scientists do something? Why did he suddenly look more attractive and smelled enticing?

You leaned back and got up from the bed. Panic started to run through your veins. “Do you think-“

He raised a brow and sat in the edge of the bed as he watched you pace around the room. You hadn’t noticed but he was secretly checking you out in that nightgown. He felt shame and quickly looked away- this wasn’t him.

“Do you think they put something on us?” You asked, your tone laced with anxiety.

The man sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair, “I don’t know. But they sure know what they’re doing.”

“We should just get on with it. They won’t let us out anytime soon. But maybe they will once we had sex, right?” You asked with a rushed tone. Thoughts occupied your mind and all you wanted to do was get out of this sick and twisted place.

He looked at you with a worried expression, “Are you sure? I mean, we don’t even know each other’s names and-“

“Y/n. My name is y/n,” you interrupted him.

The man raised his brows in surprise and let out an airy chuckle, “Well okay. Name’s Leon.”

He extended his hand out for a handshake and you hesitantly took it. His hands were rough and calloused. Almost made you wonder how they’d feel inside your wet and tight-

What.

You quickly withdrew your hand and looked away. What was going on with you?

“You really want to do this?” He asked softly. You looked at him and swallowed hard. Did you? Or was it whatever the scientists gave you that spoke for you? Either way, you still wanted to get out of this place.

“If fucking you is the only way that could get us out of here then so be it,” you muttered and walked back to the bed.

You sat next to him, shoulders touching.

“Okay then…” he replied quietly, “Guess this is our first date, huh?” He joked.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, how did he have the spirits to joke times like these? Men.

You sat down next to him on the bed, staring at him. He stared right back at you and his gaze fell to your lips. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear, "Can I?”

He put his hand on your cheek as his other hand landed on your thigh. You silently nodded and closed your eyes as he leaned closer to your face.

His breath fanned your lips and all you could do was close your eyes as he finally put his lips on your lips.

The hand on your cheek traveled to the back of your head as he pulled you closer, your hands traveled to his shoulders as you deepened the kiss.

It was a slow, passionate kiss- albeit the current circumstances.

His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you parted your lips just enough for his tongue to delve inside your mouth, exploring every crevice.

The hand on your thigh went higher up to the hem of your nightgown, squeezing the skin gently in between his finger. You moaned into his mouth as he gently hit your bottom lip.

You’ve already started to feel aroused and wet, even though there was a lingering thought in the back of your head telling you that this is wrong.

He leaned closer to you, pushing you down gently until your back finally touches the bed. Leon’s hands moved around your body as he kissed you, his knee right in between your legs causing you to moan quietly.

He smirked at your reaction and moved his lips down to your neck as he pressed his knee into your wet cunt. You couldn’t help but grind on his knee as he sucked your neck. Leaving bruises and hickeys for you to worry about tomorrow.

Your hands wrapped around his biceps as his hands held your waist and squeezed just a tad bit.

He slowly brought his lips down to your collarbone before one of his hands pulled the straps of your nightgown down. Causing the dress to slip down to your waist, revealing your breasts to him.

He pulled back and stared at your hardened nipples with a slight smirk. His fingers hovered over them as he kept teasing you. Then he leaned down to suck the right one, as his hand began to roll your nipple in between his fingers. Your back arched against him and that only caused him to groan at the bliss of sucking your tit.

Your legs squeezed around his as he rubbed it slightly against your covered cunt. He could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric of your panties and that only turned him on even more.

His erection, confined against his clothes, rubbed along your stomach. You could almost feel it twitch as you felt it. Almost.

He pulled back from your right breast and moved on to the second one. His teeth grazed at your nipple as his hand gripped the previously sucked one.

And all you could do was moan and squirm under him.

He moved his lips down from your breasts to your stomach before ripping your nightgown apart and throwing it down on the white floor. Leaving you in your panties.

His lips trailed kisses until he met the waistband of your panties. His fingers ran down your thighs as he slowly parted them, lowering himself until he felt his knees touch the floor. His head was right in between your legs and he stared at the wet spot on the slit of your panties.

He brought a finger and stroked the slit from top to bottom, he made sure to apply just enough pressure for you to not only feel how wet you were but also to feel the way his fingers wanted to prod inside.

You closed your eyes tightly shut as your toes curled. This was all too much and he hasn’t even started. He chuckled lowly, seeing how you were reacting made his pride increase just a little.

He firmly pressed your thighs down on the bed as he brought his face back to the waistband and began to pull your panties down with his teeth. Once they had reached your thighs, he pulled them off with his hands and let them fall on the floor.

You were shining and glistening. His mouth watered and all he wanted to do was dive in. And so he did.

Almost immediately he struck his tongue into your wet hole, licking around as he savored you. He moaned as he tasted you, he’d never tasted something like you and he wanted more.

His thumb circled around your clit, his speed shifting from fast to slow as he watched how much that affected you. He dragged his tongue all the way up and down, sucking your wall and letting them feel just how spongy they are. He then pulled back and moved his thumb away from your clit- which caused to whine in protest.

He gave you a look, one that made you more wet. His eyes piercing yours as he thrusted one finger inside you. He let his index finger stay there for about ten seconds before he actually began to move it. He curled it around as he experimented with what way got you most closest to your orgasm.

His finger curled inside you as he kissed your clit. Sucking it and gently pulling it with his teeth. He took out his finger and then thrusted two fingers inside, causing your mouth to gaze open and let your head roll back against the mattress. He scissored you- fucked you with his fingers.

Pulling out and thrusting all the way back in. His callouses rubbed against your walls, bringing new sensations that you never thought you’d ever experience.

One his index finger hit the spot that made you moan a little too loud, he knew he’d found it. He curled his fingers even more rapidly as he rubbed that spot inside you. Brushing the pad of his middle finger against it, igniting something within you. Your body felt warm and sweaty.

You were coming undone by a complete stranger that is allegedly compatible with you. Your hands traveled to the top of his head and pulled his face closer to your hide. His nose bumped against your slit, his chin hitting fingers. But he didn’t mind, he knew you were close and he wanted you to cum on his face.

He licked your clit as you grinded against his face, your breaths became short and your grip tightened. With a gasped moan, you came on Leon’s face. Your cum spilling down his fingers and chin. He pulled out his fingers and licked as much as he could, swallowing the grace that came out of you.

Once he finished licking you clean, he pulled back and stared at you with dilated pupils. The black consuming all of the blue as he stared at you like a hunter. He got up from the floor and stared down at you as he became mesmerized with your body.

He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his broad and muscled chest. He then pulled down on his pants, revealing the bulge in his underwear. Pre-cum leaking through the fabric.

You almost drooled and quickly sat up. Crawling your way to him, you sat on your knees as he caressed your head, encouraging you to do whatever you wanted with his dick.

Your hands cupped his bulge and he instantly inhaled sharply. He shuddered at your touch and so you slowly pulled the waistband of his underwear down, watching in awe as his cock sprung free.

The pink tip leaking ore-cum as aforementioned was a sight to behold. Your hand wrapped around his base as you brought your lips over to the head. Kissing it softly as your hand stroked up and down his shaft. He closed his eyes and gripped on your hair, strands meddling in between his fingers.

Your tongue dragged all the down to the bottom, to his ballsack. He shuddered and bucked his hips against your face, smearing pre-cum along your cheek. You parted your lips and slowly took him inside your mouth.

Your hands found his balls and you slowly massaged them, causing him to groan and moan loudly as his grip tightened.

As his dick was inside your mouth, your tongue flicked down the frenulum- just the underside of the tip where the head and the base join. He gasped softly and moaned as he felt you flick your tongue on his sweet spot.

Your tongue slowly moved down from his frenulum to his base, tongue slurping and swirling around as you took him deeper and deeper into your throat. Not deep enough that you’d start gagging because that would probably not feel good.

Instead, you took one of your hands and resumed stroking the remaining parts of his base as you sucked on on the part that fit in your mouth.

Leon was a complete mess; moaning and whimpering as you took him in your mouth. His feet flat on the floor as he looked down at you with pure list and desire. Your eyes met his and he only felt even more turned on.

His cock started to twitch in your mouth and you knew he was about to cum. You continued to stroke his balls and base as your tongue worked its magic on his head and frenulum.

With a loud groan, he gripped your head and forced his entire cock inside your mouth and shot his cum down your throat. Tears pricked at your eyes as you moaned softly as the sensation of his juices spilling down your esophagus. It was warm, you thought.

He pulled back breathlessly and watched as you swallowed his cum. Once he pulled back, some of his cum smeared on your lips and he watched as you licked it back in your mouth. The sight turned him on again and his cock got hard.

Leon got on the bed and slowly pushed you down again. He took hold of your thighs and brought them up to your chest, “Hold,” he demanded in a sultry and low voice.

Your hands wrapped around the back of your thighs as you held them pressed up against your breasts. He aligned his cock to your entrance and slowly pushed in.

“Fuck- so tight,” he muttered as he gasped for air. You rolled your head back and whimpered as he pushed himself all the way through. His pelvic bone making contact with your bone as he slowly began to thrust- not fully out though.

He rolled his hips in a way that wouldn’t allow his cock to leave you completely just yet. He was going slow and gentle, making sure you’ve adjusted first before he picked up the pace.

Once he saw your reaction- face scrunched up in delight as you moaned quietly and breathlessly. He pulled out and then pushed back in with force.

Leon couldn’t control himself anymore. His hands pushed your knees even more down against the mattress, your hamstrings flexing as he pushed this position even more further.

Your breathing increased- chest heaving up and down. His ballsack slapping against your asshole, causing your wetness to spread throughout your both bodies. His tip gently brushed up against your cervix as he plunged in. One of his hands went down to your clit and began to circle it.

You writhed and moaned even more as he simultaneously triggered your two sweet spots. It was all so overwhelming and your mind went blank.

He was fucking you dumb and you loved it. Your jaw went slack, drool coming out from the ends of your lips. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you still held on to your thighs.

He left go of your knees and gripped your hips, the sound of wet skin smacking echoing through the room.

“Gonna cum,” he muttered. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I’m gonna breed you…fuck- gonna be a good girl f’me right?” He grunted as he kept pounding into you.

His knuckles were turning white from how hard he gripped the fat skin of your hips, as if he was holding on for dear life. You nodded, “Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly.

He grunted some more against your ear and that only caused you to grow closer to your second orgasm. This man was so vocal but it was hot.

“Ngh- fuck,” he moaned as he shot his cum deep into your cunt. Cum spirting into your womb, making sure you took everything without spilling it.

He pulled put and motioned for you to roll over. You obliged and rolled over until you laid down on your stomach. He took hold of your hips once again, raising your ass to his level as he thrusted his cock inside you from behind.

Your face planted against one of the pillow and your hands gripped the bedsheets as your moans came out muffled. Somehow, he hit deeper in this position. His hands went from your hips to your waist and he squeezed it gently.

As he continued to pound into you, your ass cheeks juggling from the force of motion, he took your hair in one hand and pulled your head up. Your eyes were closed as you moaned. This was all so much but you needed more. Completely drunk on his cock is what you were.

He leaned down as he pulled on your hair, “Like it when I fuck you like this, huh?” He taunted. His words were sent straight to your pussy as it caused you to clench around him. You nodded and blabbered stupid yes’s.

“Gonna show me how much you like it?” He whispered as he pulled one and forcefully thrusted in you. You whimpered and moaned as you replied a breathy yes. He chuckled and continued fucking you like a mad dog.

He let go of your hair and wrapped his hand on the back of your neck, his fingers gently pressing on the sides of your throat. You felt lightheaded as he did so but it also added to how hot and turned on you were.

You felt your orgasm near as he continued. Your cunt clenched and pulsated around his cock and it only caused his moans to get short and breathy.

“Feel’s good,” he grunted in your ear. You could only mewl, moan, whimper- all of those sounds were the only things escaping your lips.

His other hand went down to your clit and he pinched it gently, causing a big moan to erupt from your mouth as you came on his cock. Essence spilling down from his shaft and onto the bed but neither of you cared. He groaned and his thrusts faltered slightly as you came on his cock, it felt even more tight and he closed his eyes for a moment as he continued.

But not long after you did he also cum inside you. For the second time. And it felt better than the first. You whimpered from the overstimulation as he shot his cum even deeper, the tip of his head brushing your cervix as his cum (and you were convinced) entered your womb with certainty.

He let go of the back of your throat and slowly pulled out of you. His cock softening as cum oozed out of your cunt and down on the bed. Both of you were left panting and you starting to feel sore and tired already. He looked around to try and find something to clean you with but couldn’t find anything.

So, he resorted to using his shirt to clean you off, “This might hurt,” he spoke softly as he gently pressed the fabric on your cunt and wiped the cum off. He tried to be as gentle as possible as he heard you take in sharp breaths. You were overstimulated and he started to feel bad for how hard he went.

He helped you lay down on your side and dressed you up. He put on your panties but then realized he had torn your nightgown.

“Sorry,” he mumbled shamefully. You shook your shoulders and looked at him with tired eyes, “It’s fine. They weren’t mine anyway.”

You both chuckled at that. You two had almost forgotten the situation you were both in, and maybe that was a good thing.

He pulled on his underwear and pants- since his shirt was used as a towel- and pulled the blanket over your body to give you some privacy. Even though he just fucked you.

He laid down behind you and wrapped his around your waist as he pulled you to him. Both of you closed your eyes and slept for a while, him nuzzling into your hair as your hands rested on top of his arms around your waist.

It was comforting. You felt cared for and that was all that mattered.

-

The two of you woke up to the sound of a door opening. Your eyes fluttered open almost immediately and you covered yourself with the blanket as Leon watched the scientists come in with a suspicious look. He narrowed his eyes as he saw them approach you.

“We’re going to take both of you to the examination room for testing,” one of them said. The other scientists gave you some new clothes before speaking, “We will wait outside.”

After they left, you exhaled loudly. You had forgotten you and the rest of the people were taken for insemination.

You slowly began to pull your new clothes on and walked out of the room with Leon next to you. The scientists saw you both and began to guide to a room down the hall, with two guards following behind you.

They had told Leon to wait in the lobby as they took you to a more private room. A female scientist came up to you and out on some elastic gloves, “I’ll be the one performing your pregnancy test. I’ll be taking your blood so please relax and take deep breaths for me.”

You sat down on the bed and followed her advice. There was no point in fighting or arguing since she clearly looked exhausted, probably overworked. But you couldn’t feel bad. You felt bitter at the fact that you now had turned into a baby machine- along with the rest of population.

With a sigh, you relax your tensed muscles as she took your arm gently and injected the needle on your vein. Blood began to draw from your arm and into a tube. Suddenly, you felt a wave of washiness. Fatigue overtook your body.

The test was over after a few minutes. The doctor withdrew the needle and put on a bandaid, “Okay. Off you go. Test results should be back in a couple of days. For now… I don’t know,” she shrugged tiredly as she moved over to the side of the room where she stored your blood sample with the rest.

There were at least 100 other blood samples. The mere sight disturbed you and you found yourself leaving the room hastily. Walking back to Leon, he looked at you concerned and gave you a once over to make sure you’re okay. Once he silently approved that you were okay, he spoke with a soft tone, “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” you muttered. “Did you know that there’s a bunch of us here?” You whispered as your eyes searched around, “I don’t think we can leave.”

He furrowed his brows and looked at you, “Why not? We’ve done the deed, shouldn’t we be free to go home?”

You shook your head, “No. I don’t think so. I have a feeling we’ll be stuck here if the results come back positive.”

He sighed and looked away as the information set in. Freedom was so close, yet so far.

“So now we just wait?” He asked quietly to which you nodded.

“And now we wait.”

-

Days have passed and you two were called to a room. A scientist sat in the middle of the room, on his chair where he had stacks upon stacks of papers. Both of you sat down in front of the desk and waited for the scientist to notice you two.

“Ah- you’re here,” he muttered as he swiftly began to look for some papers.

“Alright… just to confirm the information is correct. You’re both Leon Kennedy and Y/n L/n?” The scientist asked.

The two of you nodded silently and the scientist continued, “Okay so, we have the results. You are pregnant. Which means we’ll have to keep you both under surveillance. You are to stay in this facility until the birth of your child. You will be assisted with the birth as well as the raising. We will provide all the essential services required for this procedure, all you two have to do is remain healthy. And please, for the love of God, be kind to the child. The couple before me kept on arguing so the least you two could do is pretend you love each other in front of the kid.”

You and Leon exchanged a glance and then looked back at the scientist. You knew this would happen, it was inevitable.

“Before I forget, you two got assigned a new room. On the second floor. Good luck and congratulations,” he said as he dismissed you both.

The two of you stood up and left the room, only to be met with two guards to escort you both to your new room.

You were to share a room but at this point, you didn’t care. You were too focused on thinking about the pregnancy that you had forgotten about Leon.

-

The more you hung out with Leon, you didn’t know if it was by force or nature, the more you realized how kind he truly is. He looked cold and mean on the exterior but inside he was just a man looking for love. Just like everyone else.

The pregnancy went just fine. Leon was there to support you 24/7 and so were the scientists.

When you had to give labor, Leon stood next to you and held your hand.

You gave birth to a beautiful boy. He had your hair while he had Leon’s eyes. You held your son in your arms and watched as Leon looked at you with awe.

What you weren’t expecting at all was that you fell for Leon. Even before the birth of your son, you and Leon actually began dating. The two of you shared some interests and actually liked to be around each other’s presence.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Maybe this was a new type of freedom for you.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon smut #leon #leon kennedy smut #re6 leon #smut #x reader #resident evil 6 #resident evil leon

[serialunaliver]

also there's fat men who seem to think being fat doesn't "count" when you're a man so they speak about fat women like the call isn't coming from inside the house. actually insane. I mean neurodi

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

You don’t get to tell me about sad

Previous chapter

a/n part three! I’m brain dead so sorry for the wait. I hope you will all enjoy this. 🫧🫶🏻

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars, injuries, blood.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were sure that your lip was going to burst from the way you kept biting on it, trying to suppress the laugh as the carriage rolled through the misty autumn forest. Convinced that nothing was ever going to top the sight of Azriel, squished the opposite of you. He was scowling so hard that he was most definitely the reason why the sky had ripped open. Pouring rain drowned the lush forest since the early morning. It looked like you were driving to a funeral at best, gruesome execution at best. 

“Don’t start with me today," Azriel grunts, his eyes burning into yours. Yet now that he acknowledged you, the smile only seemed to spread wider. He lets out a grunt, and a quiet giggle slips past your lips. "Princess, life suits you," you mumble, making Azriel roll his eyes. “Come on now; it’s not so bad. Don’t huff”, you nudge his leg with your heel, earning yet another glare.

“Could have winnowed us there”, “You did almost all the way”, you point out. And you would have happily obliged, but the murmurs about something being wrong with the high lord’s family had started. So Lucien and Eris had made their outing. If not for the rain, you would have done just the same. Take a walk through the main streets. But now seeing the family carriage and your face through the glass would have to be enough. 

“Why do you hate autumn so much?”, It’s a bold statement to make. You’re not sure if he even hates it. Well, considering the amount of frowning he does, he has to. “I have my reasons," Azriel answers as bluntly as he can. “Care to elaborate?", you turn to him, ready to dig an answer out of him if you had to. He owned you, considering his creeping around your room. But your eyes fall on the way he’s trying to subtly rub his palms together. The scarred skin—humidity must be making the bones ache too. He’s impossible to read, but you’re convinced that the discomfort hunts some of his features. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care, yet you still inch closer. There’s not much space inside the carriage considering that man’s size, but it’s enough for you to brush your legs against him. As expected, Azriel’s hands instantly reached to put distance between you both. But that’s when you yank the side of your cloak up, draping the fur-lined material over his scared palms. 

“What are you?", "Shhhh," you say quickly. He tries to pull them out, but you catch his gaze—a daring look there. “Know your”, but you cut him off once more, “Next words out of your mouth better be, thank you, princess," you muse. Azriel clenches his jaw. But he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t fight the warmth slowly seeping through the stiff skin. “I thought you hated that nickname, princess," he says. One thing this man hadn’t learned in life was dealing with women. Clearly. You shrug, “Not so bad when it’s you who calls me that," you muse, watching as a glimpse of surprise washes over his features, and then the scowling coldness returns. 

Azriel doesn’t like it here. The thought alone had unsettled him ever since Lucien had announced the need to go back. “The High Lord needs to make a statement," Lucien had stated. Azriel itched to say that Eris wasn’t his high lord. But he knew that regardless of Eris’s wishes, he would have gone. Because you were going there. So here he was, standing outside the forest house. Not daring to go forward alone. You had waved him off. Told him to go inside while you checked on the horses. But he refused to step inside. So he stood there, trying to memorize every window.

“Who’s snooping now?", your voice fills Azriel’s ear as he slowly turns to you. Arms crossed as you grin at him. He wonders why you hadn’t mentioned that night in your room. Why you brushed it off so easily. “I just needed to stretch my wings." It’s not so much of a lie. It had been a disaster of a trip here. You barely manage to open your lips when an unfamiliar voice comes from behind, “Yn, Yn.“

Azriel pushes you behind him, his hand reaching for his dagger. But you slip out of his grasp, glancing over his shoulder. And then you’re stepping forward. “Makoa?”, it’s a whisper, and Azriel doubts that a disheveled-looking boy would hear it. But he does. And that name alone makes Azriel uneasy. The same boy you had sneaked out with. And just like that Azriel decides that he hates Makoa.

"Wait," you push again Azriel's arm, but his grip doesn’t falter. “Anyone can be a threat," the spymaster points out. “I know him," and it’s the desperation that makes Azriel back up. The same one that he had when he called out to Mor. To Elain. The lost kind. One that had you hanging up on things that weren’t there. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Makoa mutters once he is in arms reach of you. Azriel has to bite his tongue because nothing about that statement seems genuine. “You can imagine it’s been busy over here," and your voice is different too. Hazy almost. You bite at Azriel. Spewing venom. And here, this boy makes you behave like a youngling with your first-ever crush. “You could have written to me; I’ve missed you." Makoa raises his hand, and Azriel instantly inches to step forward, but then the boy is leaning in, his lips brushing over yours. Making Azriel lower his head. A strange sort of feeling brews within him. One that’s not welcome here. So he turns back onto his heel, heading deeper into the woods. To clear his consciousness. His logical thinking. His heart.

“Everyone missed you," Makoa points out, your hands clasped in his. The feeling is strange. It’s all so wrong  because, yes, he has been vocal about courting you, but this… To be kissed in front of someone he doesn’t even know. You glance back. Eyes scanning the front gardens. He’s not there. Azriel isn’t there, and a dreadful sort of uneasiness pools in your stomach. 

“It’s just been a couple of days," you brush his statement off. You were trying to find joy in something you had dreamed of ever since you slipped that book beneath the floorboards. “You’re behaving strangely," Makoa mutters, his hand reaching out for your forehead, but you bat it away. “I’m just tired," but you’re more than tired. You need answers, and quite frankly, you’re willing to do about anything to get them. 

You can trust the man in front of you. His mother used to do laundry for your family. Until Beron changed his mind or whatever happened. As if reading your mind, Makoa reaches up, cupping your cheek, “What is it you can tell me?" A part of you is screaming to just drop it. Talk to Azriel first. But then he wasn’t there. He wouldn’t know. 

“Do you remember the night on the harvest moon, well after it?”, you say quietly, looking over your shoulder for servants. “I walked you home," Makoa shrugs. Well, he did more than that, but sure, that will do for now. “Someone was waiting for me," you admit. “I didn’t go inside; I went to the barn to feed the horses." It was misty and cold outside. You didn’t catch their face. Just a hooded figure.

“I... someone tried to slice my throat open." Brushing your hair to the side, you let the white line shine in the midday sun. Makoa watches. But he doesn’t frown. There’s almost no reaction. Azriel looked more concerned when you caught him brushing his fingers over it that night. Genuine concern. Or maybe you were just imagining it. 

Makoa brings you into his chest. “What a shame," he breathes out, and your hands are instantly pushing against his chest. "Pardon," you huff, brows knit together. “I mean, it’s horrible, yes," he says, lifting his arms in defiance. You shake your head. Too tired. Too tired for this. After all, you didn’t expect him to take you seriously. He was too wild. Too carefree for that. 

"Look, just be careful, okay?", you mutter, your eyes searching him, but he only shoots you a wicked smile. “You don’t have to worry about me," he muses. You burn to tell him that you both are no longer kids. There are serious matters, but you don’t have it in you to fight another battle today. “I’ll see you in the party," you say as you step back, letting your fingers slip out of his grasp. But then he’s pulling you back. Hand on the side of your face. An eager kiss smothered against your lips, “I wouldn’t miss the spectacle.”

Azriel’s task this weekend was easy. If he was being honest, he didn’t quite grasp why exactly he was asked to come. But then Eris might have just done it to spite him. All he was responsible for was keeping an eye on you when Eris and Lucien couldn’t. So essentially, babysit a grown woman. Now he was standing with his back against your door. Throwing his knife up and down in his hands. Trying to beat his record of spins before it lands back into his palm. 

“Okay, am...", your voice breaks the second-floor silence, making Azriel pause. “Can you get Maria?”, Azriel shakes his head even if you can’t see him, “She just went outside for the flower arrangements." The elderly woman had pinched his cheek way too many times, but as much as he hated it, she reminded Azriel of his own mom. 

"Fuck," the sound of things falling inside the room, makes Azriel press his ear to the door.“What’s going on?”, he demands. Silence falls. “I...", you start, but it ends with a frustrated sigh. “Well, let’s hear it," he muses, hoping for yet another privileged little dig he could throw back at you. 

“I can’t reach the back of the dress to do the..." It’s a whisper. A frustrated one at that. “We have twenty minutes," Azriel points out. “I know, tree man, I know," you growl in frustration, cursing to yourself as you continue to struggle. 

“I'm coming in," Azriel states, instantly frowning at his own words. "No, you are not," you snarl, and he is sure that you are frowning. “On three," the spymaster warns. But he doesn’t even get a chance to start the countdown. “Fucking, Azriel,” you say, yanking the door open. Rosy cheeks. Slightly disheveled hair. And that deep red satin dress. So far different from the one he had seen you in the first time you both met. That was a girl. This… You were meant to be in red. In…

“Eyes up here, moron," you say, reaching up to flick his nose. One arm holding the material upfront. You turn away from him. The smooth back exposed to his scared hands. Azriel shakes those thoughts away. “I’ve seen females before," he states, reaching for the golden buttons. “Really? I would have taken you for a virgin," you snort, shaking your head ever so slightly. Azriel fake gasps, earning a glimmer in your eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”, he says in the most dramatic way possible. You bite your lip, trying to hide that smile. He knows it. Feels it.

“Just do the dress up," you urge him, motioning to your back. Azriel halts, letting his hands drop to his side. “Start with a please," he says proudly. You glance up at him, “Are you being serious?” Surely a man who just completed about the amount of time you had wasn’t going to start playing games. “I decided that etiquette lessons are in order," he shrugs, making you roll your eyes. “I will spit in your drink tonight. How is that for your etiquette lessons?” You flash him one of your fake smiles. “Delightful, just how I like it," and it’s so unexpected that you are left slack-jawed for a split second, and then he grabs your shoulder and turns you around, nudging you forward. “You’re disgusting," you say, pushing your heel against his leg, making a little rumble of laughter fill the space. “Says you," he breathes practically against your skin, sending shivers down your back. 

You fidget with your sleeve as you and Azriel make your way towards the main part of the event. Public outings still felt strange. The big crowd overwhelmed you. But you had missed out on so many great things  and parties, especially when you were growing up. That now….

“Only a weirdo disappears like that," you halt suddenly, leaving Azriel to walk along until he too stops. Turning to face you. You quickly put a finger against your lips, stepping closer to the second-floor railing. “That’s what I told Makoa”. You know those voices. You don’t even need to look down the staircase to know who they belong to. 

“Daddy beat her, I heard," and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Tingles spread through your body like fire.“ She lived beneath the floorboards; I doubt she knows how to interact with living things." You let the words slash at you. After so many years, they don’t make a difference. It’s the fact that every time you feel as if you found someone willing to look past it, they still end up stabbing you in the back. 

That’s when your eyes fall on Azriel, practically charging towards the stairs. "Don't," you hiss, reaching to grab at his wrist, pulling him back. “It’s disrespectful, and I’m being very polite with my words here," he grunts. Venom. Purest of venom painting his features, and yet you cut him off. “I said don't," you step in front of him, pressing your palms against his chest. “It’s just another joke for them. You throwing a fit and acting all gruff won’t change a thing.”

Azriel watches you for a moment before a bitter laugh crawls up his throat. “And those are your friends? People that you think are not a threat to you? ”, he points downstairs in frustration. A wave of guilt. Shame. Fills you in seconds. You feel that familiar sting in your eyes. But you brush it beneath all the other pain. “Daddy got them for me; I didn’t have a chance to choose; my apologies," you purr through gritted teeth. 

And it’s as if you threw a comeback punch. The arrow shooting once again. Azriel’s shoulders sag. “Yn...", he breathes out, but you don’t want it. Don’t want pity. The sad eyes. The smothering. To hell with it. “We should go find my brothers." You pick at the skirt of your dress, turning to the stairs. “It was insensitive of me," Azriel’s words slam into the wall you had built, making you close your eyes for a moment. “Don’t get tangled in this; this has nothing to do with you," you mutter, not turning back to face him. Forcing your legs forward. Azriel stands at the top of the staircase for a heartbeat, watching you. Then he glances over his shoulder. One heartbeat. Two. And he unleashes his shadows to the first floor. 

The terrace is buzzing with people. If it were up to Azriel, he would be right by the platform, but there are Eris’s guards here. So he’s just standing by. That prick had it in him to suggest wine. Azriel, of course, took it. Before dumping it right next to Eris’s shoes. Rhys told him to behave, yes. And so he was, because the second option was to punch the fireling in his face. Pick and choose.

Azriel catches a glimpse of you. Well, more like all he had been doing was catching glimpses of you. Like a moth to a flame. Even if he tells himself not to, his eyes always seem to find you. That distant look in your eyes. Like you’re not here, even if your body is. He also doesn’t doubt that it’s partly because of the things the people said. Why not fight back? You seem to be fine doing that when it comes to him. But crumple the moment the people who are meant to be closest to you are involved. 

As if by coincidence, your eyes glance up, meeting Azriel’s. He should be scowling, yet he finds himself smiling. Just a little. He puts a finger beneath his chin, pushing it higher. Encouragement of sorts. You’re supposed to radiate power, not look like a damsel in distress. You return it with an eye roll, making the corners of Azriel’s lips curve even more. Deny it or not. You do lift your head up. That tingle of fire blazing just a bit brighter. That will do. It would have to be enough to get you through it. 

The music dies, and Eris walks close to the platform edge, that fox-line smile on his face. “It’s an honor to have you all here, so I thank you for finding time to join us," the high lord begins. “I know that the court is facing some challenging times, but you should not be afraid." Azriel crosses his arms over his chest as he listens. “I will do everything that is in my power to protect our people and be a true and fair high lord." Then the Autumn High Lord turns back breathy. “And... I’ll have my family to aid me in these matters," motioning for his two siblings to come to stand closer. “Lucien and Y/n Vanserra will be taking their rightful place on the throne." The crowd explodes with chairs and joyful applause. As the three siblings smile in unison.

“And…”, But there’s no and. Nothing comes after it. As if someone had stolen all of the other promises. Azriel feels it too. It hits his senses. Making them restless. There’s something wrong. Something that doesn’t feel right. A banner behind the platform bursts into flames. The hot tongues, lapping at the family insignia. Some people back up. Eris waves for his guards, ordering them into action. People are bringing buckets full of water while Eris and Lucien try to wield the wildfire. 

It’s the lightest of the sounds that follow next. It flickers, and... "Y/n," Azriel calls, making you snap your head sideways. “Y/n," he breathes out, and then he’s winnowing. His hands already stretched out. He has to make it. He will make it. There is no other option. So Azriel doesn’t let the what-ifs set in. Shrieks echo. Chaos breaks out. And then he’s up there. On the platform. One arm behind your body, the other on the arrow. 

The time stops. Your wide eyes are looking at him. Green so deep that Azriel knows he has never seen anything like it. The freckles seem even darker now that your skin has paled almost to snow white. His fingers are trembling. He can���t see it. Can’t fucking see it; the bunched-up fabric is making it hard to judge. Had the arrow met its target? Your heart seems to beat beneath his palm. But are those the last beats? Then the red fabric turns an even deeper shade of red. 

Every muscle tenses in Azriel’s body. "No," he mutters under his breath. He’s not letting you die just like that. Not on his watch. Not in some pointless death just because someone has a bone to pick with your brother. Your eyelashes flutter, and just for a heartbeat, Azriel is too slow to catch you. Your body sags, but the arrow stays there in Azriel’s head. It didn’t meet its target. Not fully, at least. Just nicked the skin. It feels as if someone rolled a mountain off of his chest. 

"Azriel," it’s so light he almost misses it. The plea. The fear. Your fingers reach up for his leg. His darkness swirls around you both. And quite frankly, the spymaster is not too sure as to what’s going on outside. The world might as well be going to shit for all he cares. Kneeling, Azriel takes hold of your trembling hands, “I’ve got you, darling; I won’t let anything happen to you." He’s not sure if you even hear him. Eyes fixed on something as if you’re looking right past him.“I'm here; I'm with you," Azrie promises, moving to drape your arms over his shoulders. “Are you with me, love?” You’ve gone into shock, that he can tell. Yet you blink. Fingers gripped onto his flying leathers as you nod. "Good," he says, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “Hold onto me, fireheart”.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @emryb @glitterypirateduck @xxtakeachancexx @justyouraveragekleemain @5onedirection5 @paleidiot

#azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x oc #acotar x you #eris vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x reader

[xi-chan]

can you pretty please write ratio sunday and maybe gallagher with a reader who just brings animals home like one day they come home with just a dirty feral ass cat out of nowhere

of course I can love <33 I love this idea

White Jasmine

sypnosis: one day, you bring home a stray- much to his surprise you found it on the street pairings: Ratio, Sunday and Gallagher x reader (Separate) wordcount: 338 (Ratio), 364 (Sunday), 292 (Gallagher) A/N: fluff and crack? I have NOT grasped enough of Gallaghers personality to write enough for him im so sorryyy

RATIO

"No." he said, nonchalantly as you pout with the kitten in your arms. "Why not? Look how cute he looks!" you said and your boyfriend grimaced as he saw the feral look on the 'kitten' that you held. "It looks like it wants to rip my face off. And here I thought you could use your brain for once." he added and you dramatically gasped, holding the kitten close to you. "How could you say that?! He's not an 'it'! Besides, all he needs is a bath, some food and some grooming. Plus, if he were to rip your face off, then it's because you made him uncomfortable." Ratio groaned in annoyance before you walked right past him, getting ready to help your kitten.

He followed quickly behind in fear for his dozens of books and whatever he has for studies. "What do you even want to name him?

"Emperor Maximillian Pusspuss."

"You cannot be serious."

Nevertheless to say, the two of you agreed on the name Cosine- mostly because that when Ratio tried to explain The Pythagorean theorem to 'an idiot' student (he called him that), the cat responded every time he said 'Cosine'.

After one long day of shopping, you opened the door to your shared house and noticed the lack of sounds from inside. Also, normally, Cosine would wait before the door once you entered, but not today. As you walked through the entire house, you stopped when you entered the bedroom, bringing out your phone to snap some pictures of the sight before you. There, your smart boyfriend laid on your bed with Cosine sleeping on his chest as he read a book. He looked up as he heard the shutter from your phone, "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, putting the book away. You smiled to yourself before walking up to the bed and petting Cosine, causing him to wake up and meow softly at you. "Well?" you took a glance at Veritas before you showed him the picture.

"Preserving memories."

SUNDAY

"Angel, this is the seventh time." he sighed, too tired to argument with you actually as you brought in yet another bird you found in Penacony. "But this one is injured." you said, showing your boyfriend the injured wing of the bird. He got up from his seat and you place the bird carefully on his hands when he stood before you. "Seems like a small fracture," he gently held the injured wing and inspected it before letting it rest beside the bird. "poor little thing." he quietly added before looking up to you. "I don't think we can care for another one, Angel." he said, but you shook your head, practically begging him. "pleaseeeee, the room is big enough for another, it can stay." he chuckled before the two of you began to walk to a distant room at Dewlight Pavilion.

Over the past 2 months, you have brought in six birds before this one, almost begging Sunday every time to help you heal them- after the fifth time you realized he only made you beg because he liked it. Together, with Robin's help, you have taken care of all the birds you have found. Even after they were healed, they chose to stay at Dewlight Pavilion, much like the origami birds that hid everywhere. Every morning, they would greet every with a delighted chirp and sometimes land on your or Robin's shoulder, but never Sunday's for some reason.

"Let me get some bandages and a intramedullary pin." you said, rushing to one of the shelves with the medicinal items. After making sure the bird was asleep for the procedure, you carefully drilled the pin into its bone before bandaging it up. Sunday gave you a small kiss as you placed the still sleeping bird on one of the pillows. "What was that for?" you asked, smiling at him. "I am not allowed to kiss you?" he chuckled before looking at the bird again. "This won't be the last, right?" You nodded and turned to him again. "Does it bother you already?"

"It does not. As long as there aren't too many staying here and you still remember that I'm present, of course."

GALLAGHER

"Here you g- what do you have there?" Gallagher just finished giving you your drink before he saw the stray hound that sat beside you. "Oh- this is Pee-wee." Gallagher remained silent before Siobhan laughed at the name behind him. "Pee-wee? That's his name?" he asked before silently mourning over the given name of that dog. You chuckled to yourself as you sat on one of the bar stools with your drink in hand and the hound also jumped onto one of the stools. "I was kidding, handsome. His name is Dexter. Fits more, don't you think?" you took a sip as he exhaled in relieve. "Oh thank god." Dexter swagged his tail as Gallagher pet him before turning to you. "Where did you get him?" he took notice of the amount of dirt in his fur and some injuries on his ears. "Near Dream's Edge. He was starving when I found him. Can we pretty please keep him?" Dexter barked at your idea and Gallagher found himself agreeing.

However, to what he was not agreeing was to you bring even more stray dogs to the bar, to the point where even the local Penacony monsters were unable to enter and the bar quickly lost customers.

"Ahem, don't you think you kind of... overdid it?" Siobhan asked you and Gallagher nodded, "They need to leave. Especially those who aren't even injured." you shook your head as you sat on the ground with almost five dogs trying to lie on your lap. "I'm unable to do so." Gallagher groaned as he gave up, sitting beside you and letting some dogs also lie on his lap.

"At least get them out of the bar. Argue with the Hotel Staff to let them wander around."

#sunday #Sunday x reader #Sunday x you #sunday hsr #Sunday honk star rail #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fluff #honkai #sundayhonkaistarrail #honkaistarrail #gallagher #gallagher hsr #hsr gallagher #gallagher honkai star rail #Gallagher x reader #gallagher x you #ratio #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #dr ratio hsr #dr ratio honkai #dr ratio honkai star rail #honkai star rail drabbles

[sonicfanthenightfury5099]

Slashers Adopted a Dumpster Baby

From seeing @angelbarelywrites 's post on Slashers accidentally Adopt a baby, I wanna do a version with a Dumpster baby.

Slashers: Michael myers (78, 07, and 2018), Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, The Sinclair's, and Bubba Saywer

Michael Myers

He was doing his usual nightly routine

He thought he was hearing things when he heard crying

Following when it's coming from until finding a trash can where the noise is coming from

Opening it up to his shock, a baby was inside it

Michael had to call it early on his spree to bring this tiny thing home to you

You were still up reading your book when you heard the door open, then shut. Hearing his boots walking to your shared room with the now sleeping bundle in his arms.

"I found this little one in a trash can." He said as you get up to see the baby

Poor thing was abandoned at their birth

You decide to adopt this little boy, Michael wasn't going to argue with that. He couldn't put it back where he found it

John was the name you decided, John Myers

Jason Voorhees

He was walking around the campsite when he heard crying coming from somewhere

Following when the noises are coming

Pamela found where the sounds came from, a Dumpster next to the Mess Hall

Opening it and his Heart dropped and almost his Machete out his hand

A little baby in a blanket was crying

Pamela was tearing up from the site

She tells his boy to adopt this little baby as his and your"s

Jason brought the little bundle back to his cabin

You were asleep when he came home, hearing him at your side of the bed

You opened your eyes to see a blanket with a little hand holding your man's finger

Think he took this little one from their parents he explains that he found this baby in the dumpster, his mother backed up his claim

"Can I see them?" You said him

You held this little girl, cooeing when deciding on a name for your newly adopted baby

"Pamela Melody Voorhees."

Jason cried on the idea of his adopted daughter

RZ Michael Myers

He heard crying when he came by a alleyway, he went to the only dumpster and opened it

Oh my god, there's a baby girl in this dumpster

He took up this little one in his large frame and comfort this little one

This little one reminded him of Boo when she was a baby

He took this little one back with him to you

You were watching Gorjia 54 on the TV when he walked through the back door

"You won't believe what I found in a dumpster." He said when he got closer to the couch, "Michael, you didn't eat Tra." You stopped when you saw the little bundle in his arms.

"Oh my god." You said as you reached out for the little girl. "That's what I said when I saw her in there. Someone just abandoned this little one in there."

You both decided to keep her

Audrey, because your daughter that night

Bo Sinclair

He's just walking around in a nearby town till the sounds of crying caught his attention

Discovering a little newborn in a trash pile just lying there

"How'd you get here, little one?" He said as he picked up the baby. "Someone didn't want you? I'll take you home."

Bringing home a new little Sinclair

You put your little girl to sleep as you went down to get something to drink in the kitchen

"Y/n my darling, do you think that there's room for another Sinclair in the house?" Bo asked through the opening to the kitchen. "Maybe why do you ask hun?" You replied

"Surprise," Bo came into the full of the opening. "I found this little one in a trash pile when I was out." Holding the little boy in his arms. "Someone just left this little guy? He's so small." You said as you walked to see the baby closer

"Well, I think Miles would be Anna's little brother." You said as you took the newest edition of the family in your arms

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent didn't know that he would be a father till he met you, a sweetheart who loves him

Bo came home with something in his arms

"I think you two would love what I got." He said as he hands his twin brother a little girl. "Someone dumped her in a dumpster, I heard her crying when I was having a cigarette."

Vincent fell in love with this child. They're pink cheeks, and Brown eyes were so adorable. He took this little one to show you in the share room

You heard what Bo said to Vincent, and you made your way to meet him halfway.

"Oh, she's adorable." You said as you hold her little hand

Lila Sinclair became your and Vincent's child

Lester Sinclair

Just doing his usual routine of collecting Road kill off the road to throw on the pile

A bunch of trash was on the side of the road with a box in the pile

A small noise came from the box, which caught him off guard

He looks inside the box

A baby??!!

Holy Fk, poor thing was left out in here for a while from how cold it was

It's still alive, thank heavens

Lester takes this little tike into his truck with Jonesy

Finishing up his task, he brings the little one home

You are shocked by what your husband found

"You think we should keep them?" Lester asked you

Aaron Sinclair was the name you both decided

Peepaw Michael Myers

He was doing his usual spree till he heard a sound while walking around

He found a trash can with a bag where the crying was coming from

Looking in the bag, he tilted his head seeing a teary-eyed baby in the bag.

He lifted this abandoned child up to his warm body, bundling the baby in his coveralls to warm them up as he walked home

You were sleeping when he placed the sleeping baby on his side of the bed on a pillow till they started crying again, which woke you up

Immediately confused about why he has a baby with him and has it on his pillow

"You found them in the Trash?" You asked him as checked on the little one, He nodded

Poor child left in a bag, you decided to adopt the little girl

Jane was the name Michael decided

Thomas Hewitt

He was taking the trash out behind his mama's gas station when he discovered the little boy in the dumpster

Poor Boy teared up seeing this abandoned child in there

Coming inside the station, Luda Mae saw his son crying with a little baby in his arms

She got Deja Vu when Thomas told her where he found them

Taking this little one home

Thomas rubbed the back of the baby that he found, cheeks still stained with tears

Hoyt gotten Deja vu from the Dumpster baby, the day Luda found Thomas in one

You came down the stairs seeing your Husband holding a baby, he found at his momma's gas station

"He found this little one in the Dumpster." Luda said, "Like how you found." Hoyt said before cut off by Luda elbowing him in the ribs

"They got a little birthmark on their arm Its not the skin condition you got, Tommy." You reassured him. He felt that he got the same condition he was born with, but he felt relief from that revelation

"I think Jedidiah would like a bath to feel better."

Thomas loved that name

Bubba Saywer

He wasn't expecting this when Drayton brought home a little baby home

Him and you already had a baby not too long ago

But this little one was just dumbed at Drayton's Station

Bubba was panicking inside, who would leave a healthy baby in a dumpster

Nubs and Chop Top being themselves joke about the Bubba was a dumpster baby, but Drayton smacked the both of them from that

You cooed the little one you held in your arms

Bubba looked at the little one, their teal eyes looking into his blabbering at them with their hand reaching out to him

He fell in love with this little one

"Bubba, I think we should keep them." You said. He agreed on that idea

Isaiah Saywer joined the family

#slashers x reader #michaelmyers #halloweenmovie #halloween1978 #jasonvoorhees #michael myers x reader #robzombieshalloween #slashers #Halloween2018Movie #oldmanmichael #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax 2005 #jason voorhes x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #leatherface #thomashewitt #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt x reader #tcm bubba #bubba saywer x reader

[dazai-ritualist]

I can offer you an idea of ​​yandere alastor.. What would it be like if alastor as a child knew the reader... Like I imagine alastor as a child not knowing how to act properly like a human, and the reader as a good best friend helping him seems more human (and not because the child reader is scared of him) ... Actually, what would happen?

FROM THE START

[wait a sec! you should probably read the other chapters as well]

— teaching your new best friend, alastor, to be a human. slowly, but surely.

the first day of kindergarten. it was a little scary, but seeing all the kids who felt the exact same— it made you feel a bit better. none of the kids stood out though. except for one little boy, one who was hiding behind his mother’s dress, begging her to not leave him.

“momma, don’t leave me here” he frowned.his mother laughed before she pushed him towards the door. “come now, alastor. you’ll make some friends, trust me dear.” to this, you took it as an opportunity to make a new friend. you walked up to the little boy, waving excitedly. “hi!! what’s your name?” you asked. his mother pushed him towards you, encouraging him to talk. “ehh… my name is alastor.” he said quietly. “cool, i’m s/o! come with me, i wanna play house!” you pulled him inside by the hand, near a table with many children’s toys.

“you can be the papa, and i’ll be the mama, okay?” you looked at him as he nodded. “okay! go far away like you’re coming home from work!” you said, placing him where you wanted. he nodded, getting into his little role, before walking near your little set. “honey, i’m home!” he called out to you in his squeaky voice. you grinned to him. “welcome home, dear! dinner is ready, we’re having tea and cookies.” you pulled a seat for him, before he shook his head.

“don’t do that. my momma says that men should pull the seats for their wives.” he pushed the seat back before pulling it out for you, and offering it to you. you giggled, seating happily and taking one empty teacup. “soo, how was work?” you asked. as he sat down, he thought for a moment. “work was alright. my boss was a big jerk though.” he said. “aww, but you can handle it right, dear?” you asked, taking a sip from your empty cup. he blushed a bit at your words as he nodded. “i can!”

as he spoke, you got up and grabbed all the trinkets on the table. “okay! dinner is done! i’ll go wash the dishes, and you take care of the baby!” you said, making a mess with the plastic toys. he looked nervous looking around. “baby? what baby?” you looked around, spotting something. “ooh! use the blankie, that can be our baby!” he nodded, grabbing the blanket, and bunching it up to mimic a baby.

“okay, i’m done!” you declared, walking back to alastor. “our little baby’s soo cute” you smiled. “um… yes, really cute…” he nodded. “what’s it’s name..?” he asked. “i like the name ellyce! but, it kinda doesn’t fit… what about emilia?” you asked to which he nodded. “um, yeah. it’s a really pretty name.” he smiled.

“hey, um… would you want to be my friend..?” he asked quite anxiously. “yeah! you can be my best friend!” you said, hugging him. and from your hug, came a wide smile from him. “haha, alright..!” he nodded in agreement, the tension in his shoulders falling.

“it was really nice to meet you, alastor!” you grinned. and, though it felt good at first— it was your last chance for a way out of this hell.

#filler chapter 😔 #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor the radio demon

[buckttommy]

I have an idea for a full-season Eddie arc that I want to put into the universe. tim, feel free to plagiarize me yet again (but this time. i want a dm. i know you're around here somewhere come say hi). So. Anyways. Season 8

8x1: Eddie has broken up with Marisol. By the time this episode rolls around, they've already been broken up for a couple weeks/months. As mentioned in 7x5, he's struggling with the idea of Catholic guilt, struggling with the idea of faith in general. He mentions, in casual conversation, to Buck, Chim or Tommy (who is still with Buck on screen *coughs loudly*) that he's thinking about going down to Texas for a while. His grandmother is the most religious person he knows and he's always found comfort being in her space and soaking in her presence, so he wants to talk to her about his feelings. Whoever he's talking to agrees that's a good idea.

8x2 - 8x7: A couple episodes pass with the idea of Eddie taking some time off in the background of the audience's mind. Nothing major, just little throw away lines about getting the truck tuned up before he makes a big road trip, paying bills before he leaves, things like that.

8x8: The 118 responds to a call of a fire in a church. Two people are getting married and their families are in attendance. Eddie doesn't go inside the church but he fights the fire from outside and helps treat the injured. Almost everyone is pulled out safely but the mother of the bride. Her daughter is crying because she and her mother aren't on good terms and she doesn't want it to be too late for them to patch things up. Eddie and the bride get to talking, and the bride mentions she always felt like she wasn't enough for mom, that she found it impossible to live up to her standards. They had an argument before the fire broke out because the bride realized, on-screen, that she didn't actually want to marry the man she was going to marry because she was in love with someone else (that's what started the fire, her making that announcement caused someone to pass out, and blah blah blah). But she was only marrying this man because her mom thought he would be good for her, and the brides makes a comment about always feeling like she was living her life for someone else, in service of a standard she could never reach. Eddie, of course, can relate. The bride's mother passes away and, it's a tragedy and is treated as such, but at the end of the episode during the voiceover (*coughs louder*), we see the bride reuniting with the person she's actually in love with because her mother's death means she's free from having to try to, like, be perfect.

8x10: Eddie's been getting a call from his dad all throughout the episode but he's been ignoring it because [shenanigans]. This is a light-hearted episode and the tone will be important because when he finally answers the phone during the last five minutes of the episode, he's like "Dad, come on, jesus, what is it" and his dad tells him that his grandmother has passed away.

8x11: Midseason premiere, the episode begins with Isabel's funeral, mainly because I want to see Eddie/Ryan in a nice tailored black suit (timothy, i'm sure you can relate). Anyway, the funeral is outside because it's important Eddie doesn't go inside a church yet. When it's finished, he goes back to the reception at Isabel's house. His sisters are there, everyone is there. He offers to help his mother in the kitchen and she tries to make conversation, but Helena Diaz has never actually learned how to relate to her son, so she says the wrong thing. It doesn't go well (but that's something to be circled back to in another season). Eddie looks at the pictures on his grandma's wall / mantle / whatever and sees himself and his sisters and his cousins when they were kids, smiling big at church christenings or whatever, and he's like... "I don't recognize this kid who was so happy to be inside of religion. I didn't know who I was then, and I definitely don't know who I am now because of it". He doesn't say it, but that's the vibe ofc, and Ryan's face is expressive enough that he can pull that off.

8x12: He's back in LA. Everyone is treating him with the utmost care because they are good people and they love him, and one evening, Eddie gets a visitor. He opens the door and it's his sister. (one of them lives in LA, remember?). In my head, that's always been Sophia, so he asks what she's doing here, and she holds up a bottle of wine. They sit on the sofa, they talk and reminisce about their grandmother, make apologies for the fact that they haven't been around for each other much despite living in the same city (but this isn't Eddie's family issues storyline, this is the Catholic guilt storyline. We will circle back to this in S9). So Eddie pitches the idea of faith to her, and asks what it means to her. It's the same question he wanted to ask his grandmother. Sophia says she has faith in the universe, faith that things always happen the way they're meant to, and it's a good answer but it doesn't speak to the core of Eddie's problem, which is that he always feels beholden to something he can't name/place.

8x14: Eddie continues to ask the people around him (Buck, Athena, Tommy, Chim) about faith and what it means to them. They all give him different answers. Athena has faith in purpose. Chim has faith in his family. Buck has faith in the inherent good of humanity. Tommy has faith in himself. It's not very helpful in the sense that no one gives him his answer, but it does reveal to him that faith can, does, and should exist absent of guilt, that maybe he's been doing it (or was taught) all wrong.

8x15: Insert an embarrassingly on the nose call about a kind, nerdy, reserved man who's lived by an unspoken rulebook all his life. He came out to Los Angeles on a whim and suffers from a hiking mishap where he's physically blinded by [something] and subsequently needs to trust that the 118, these people he literally cannot see, will save him. When they pull him to safety, he berates himself for even coming out to Los Angeles in the first place because he's not the kind of guy who does this, he just wanted to do something for him and now he feels stupid. And Eddie (because of course it's Eddie) is just like "no, you didn't do anything wrong. Look, you took a leap of faith (episode title btw). That's more than what most people can say. Maybe it didn't work out in this instance, but who knows how it'll work out tomorrow, or the next day. You don't know the future. None of us do, so maybe stop trying to live according to some giant colossal plan and just... live, and try your best. Isn't that all we can do?" And he watches the guy get airlifted away (thanks Tommy! *coughs even louder*) and it's like his lightbulb moment, like, oh. Yeah. He finally gets it.

8x16: Eddie walks into a church for the first time in years, and for the first time all season. It looks exactly how he remembers; wooden pews, high ceilings, the works. He takes a seat on one of the benches and prays / talks aloud to God and is just like, "I don't really know who you are and I don't know how to be what you want me to be. All my life I've been trying to be what everyone wants me to be to the point where I just don't even know who I am anymore, if I ever knew. So I don't know who you are, but I know I am who you made me to be, and I don't know who that is, but I know that person is enough for me right now. And maybe I'll figure you out along the way, maybe I won't. But, right now, what I know is that i can't be your perfect son because I can't be perfect at all, and I need to let go of the idea that I can and start living my life for me." So he walks out of the church and not much changes, but everything changes. You know?

And, like, obviously the story would need to be flushed out a little more. Obviously, this story centers more of the idea of faith than the idea of explicit guilt, but they're one in the same anyway because you can't have guilt without failed/presumably "failed" expectations. In this case, religious or spiritual expectation. So. I don't know. But there's just something so sexy about the idea of Eddie systematically and intentionally dismantling and releasing himself from all the things that have kept him from growing over the years. Starting with his survivors guilt in S5 and working his way through Catholic guilt in S8, I just love the idea of Eddie being purposeful in his own healing, especially in this post-breakdown era. Plus it'll give him a chance to have a storyline that's not romance-focused cos we've been leaning a bit too heavily into those. 🙃 But anyways. (Next up is his issues with Helena. btw. because we have yet to circle back to his family issues in canon but we certainly need to).

#Sorry Isabel you were the sacrificial lamb #I wrote this instead of working ermmmm okay back to the grind as they say #jack.txt #tv: 911 #jack answers mail #8a speculation #8b speculation #ish #no read more sorry. i talk a lot and you should all be used to it. #tim minear #ok no for real i got work to do lmfaoooo bye #EVERYONE MANIFEST IT WITH ME GIRLS

[miwsolovely]

—THE WEIGHT OF BLOOD.

pairing: outlaw!farmer!141 x fem!reader

series masterlist taglist (closed.) next

contains: pov change, graphic violence, gore, reader’s husband insults her, mentions + use of knife in this chapter, reader is called a whore, implications of kidnapping, drugs.

summary: slippery floors.

wc: 4.7k

a/n: oh…

You always felt as if you were walking on eggshells with him.

It’s how you used to feel with him. When the sun was barely shining on your life and peppering your face with light, guilty, kisses.

Now that the sun is hidden by the horizon, no longer are the kisses light and guilt ridden, but they are harsh and forceful. No more are the rays hitting your skin with a warm embrace, but its replaced with a chill so unforgiving it’s like a whip against your skin.

No longer are the eggshells digging into your skin, because glass shards are piercing into your feet, digging into the flesh and staying there so that every time your once delicate, soft feet hit the floor, a wave of pain and realization washes over you.

Every step is a reminder; you’re never going to be free of him.

You let out a shaky breath and wince at your husband’s booming voice. Pointing fingers and yelling curses.

Johnny and Simon are doing little to nothing to stop him, in fact, they seem to be holding back.

Why?

Why are they holding back when your husband, James Fitzroy, is insulting their mothers? Their sisters, brothers? Them?

“We didnae do nothin’ to ye,” Johnny starts, standing in front of Simon when James gets too close for his liking. “So back the hell off.”

James scoffs with a sick smile on his face. “You didn’t do anything to me?” He spits. “Of course not, you just came into my house, and fucked my wife, is that it? Hm? Had your fill already?” He taunts, his hair flying wild.

You always loved his hair. His golden, rich dark hair, suggestive of the precious metal, mimics the beauty and luxury of his picture perfect world; compared to you however, your soul hides what’s really behind closed doors.

You shake your head to rid your mind of those thoughts. He’s not shining gold anymore, the secrets in this house are slowly coming to light. He resembles something that seems kind, but hurts you when you actually expect it, when you know it can hurt you. Like the sun.

“We didn’t do anythin’ to your wife.” Simon defends. He steps forward so he’s now side by side next to Johnny, the kitchen looking too small for them. “We just came here to deliver the meat she ordered, is all.”

“Oh really?” James says. He shoves an accusing finger in Simons shoulder.

He’s going to hurt them. He’s going to hurt them and you’re just standing there.

Like the pliant little housewife he made you to be.

What are you doing just standing there?

When you let the heavy coat drop from your arms onto the floor and you take a singular step in their direction, you can feel the glass digging deeper into your skin.

Every step is a reminder.

As you near your husband, you shudder. His wrath is like a toxic air that’s slowly killing you from the inside out. Taking and taking until there’s nothing left of you to take.

You reach your James, scared to meet the questioning gazes of Johnny and Simon, and reach a trembling hand to touch his shoulder. “James—”

He whips his body around to face you. You can see, feel, his anger as it burns everything it touches. Hungry for more. He grabs your outstretched hand and squeezes. Ignoring the whimpers of pain that fall from your lips and the tears that blur your vision and fall down to meet at your chin.

“You.” He says it with so much, loathe dripping from his voice, painting his lips, his chin, neck, black with anger.

“You fucking whore, playing around with these, little boys, getting their dicks wet while I slave away at work and provide for you?”

His face is too close. So close, you can smell the stink of alcohol on his breath, recoil as you feel the spit flying out of his mouth land on your face. You feel your tears falling fatter and faster as you see the hickeys and lipstick prints on his neck.

“You let go of ‘er—”

Your free hand feels like lead as you raise it to bring it down with such force it leaves a red mark on his face the moment your skin touches his, his face forced to the side, facing the wall.

You feel your soul getting doused in gasoline and set on fire.

You see James’s body turning rigid and stiff as his face turns a canvas of anger.

You blink away your tears.

He stiffens as if he endures the horrors you have to watch him do at night. He stiffens as if his body is constantly being clawed, dragged, down by hands that burn. He stiffens as if he has glass stuck in the soles of his feet, spilling his blood onto the floor and staining the wood, the walls, you. You, you, you.

He turns his head back to its original position to at you, but he’s stopped. Stopped by a scared hand deep his hair wrenching back so his body topples to the floor with a reverberating thud. You almost fall with him with his tight grip on your wrist, but you feel Johnny’s hand pluck yours out of his and cradle it, cradle you, to his chest.

But you can’t focus. You see your vision blurring and a ringing, your soul screaming, in your ears is blocking out the noise of Simon’s fists connecting with James’s face.

You watch with horror gleaming in your eyes as you see your husband’s face and body grow more and more unrecognizable by the second.

Why are you just standing there?

“Get—” Simon’s fist interrupts his slurred cries. “—th’ fuck off ‘f me you d’rty bast’rd . . .”

Your husband is getting beaten, and you’re standing in the arms of another? A stranger?

Simon’s eyes. They’re burnt a charcoal black and only seemed to be getting darker by each blow he landed on your husband’s face. It scares you to no end.

“You stain your wife’s skin with that mouth?” A sharp sound, a slap echos throughout the room. Right where your hand hit his face. Right where your hand can be seen on his face as a bright red gone darker by Simon’s force.

Your eyes catch a gleam in the light, a gleam of something sharp, of something used to kill.

A pocket knife.

James struggles to fully pull it out of his pocket but when he does, he grips it with a shaking hand and stabs blindly at Simon’s arm.

You suck in a breath and can only watch as silence consumes the room with Johnnys arms tightening around you.

He didn’t even flinch as the knife was forced into his skin, didn’t even react as he gripped the handle and yanked the knife out of his arm, his blood following the knife like a lost dog before splattering on the ground like abstract art.

Noises of pain and fear escape the opened mouth of your husband, noises that you’ve never heard him make. Only noises of power and rage.

Simon rises to his full height and takes a handful of James’s hair, dragging him up with him add dropping the knife on the floor

“Simon—” You beg, but it’s too late. With the grip Simon has on James’s hair, he pulls his arm back and swings it, swings James, towards the kitchen counter at full force.

His head ricochets off of the counter and he lands back on the floor, right in front of your shaking form.

He lays there sideways and still as the long gash running straight across his forehead leaks blood onto his clothes and floor at a rapid pace. You stare at it as the blood slowly runs towards you.

You’re staring at your husband’s bleeding body.

Simon grabs James’s pant leg, pants that you bought for him, and yanks his body towards him to resume what he hadn’t finished.

When the blows continue, you find yourself wincing at each one, unconsciously sinking deeper into Johnny’s warm body.

A man you just met that day is beating the life out of your husband.

You feel like cold water is raining down on your body.

“Stop—” Your cry escapes your lips broken. “stop, please! Simon please—you’re hurting him!”

You try to push Johnny off of you, try to yank your limbs out of his strong grip but that’s just it. His strong grip is like a snake that captured its prey, rolling its body around it and holding onto it until it dies, until it can’t feel anymore, until you can’t breathe anymore.

“Let me go—Johnny let me go!”

He shushes your cries and doesn’t even bat an eye when you turn to bang your fists on his chest and run your nails down his skin. He just cradles your head to his chest right where his heart is so you can hear his heartbeat and be soothed.

But how can you be soothed when—

“Simon.” You hear him say. “That’s enough.”

Like changing tides; Johnny’s voice sweeps into his mind and altered his landscape of emotions. Changing from the beast in a story to a soft bear.

A bear with blood dripping from its mouth.

Simon stops the torture that he inflicted upon your husband and keeps his back turned to you and Johnny as he stands. Blood, James’s blood, dripping from his clenched fists and escaping into the crevices in your tile floor.

He turns at the waist to you and Johnny. You, who’s still struggling to escape his arms, you whose tears are never ending on your damp cheeks, you who’s watching your husband struggle to breathe, blood exiting his mouth in bubbles, popping and splattering the red mess everywhere.

And Johnny, who watched with a satisfied smile growing on his face.

Bells were ringing in your ears, stars were dotting your vision, your hands were shaking, you can’t breathe. “James . .?” You whisper. Your voice coming out so broken that Johnny almost felt sorry.

He still has his arms around you, still feels your beating heart pound against the cage around it, against his chest, still feels the sting of the bruises and scratches you left on him, the latter leaving blood trailing down his arms, dripping and dripping until they bleed into your dress, bleed into you. He still feels, you.

“What . . . No . . . no, no!” Your wail runs deep and escapes raw from your soul. You wail and it breaks Johnny’s heart, breaks it into tiny pieces scattered all around this cruel world you all live in. This world filled with cruel people.

“You killed him! You killed him!” You struggle, and Johnny grunts out curses as you elbow his stomach, slipping in blood and failing to the floor, your dress pooling at your feet, shaking in the blood staining the floor and dying the front of your once blue dress red. You fall right in front of Simon. Right in front of your husband’s still warm body. Still bleeding. Still breathing.

You burn the part of you that feels disappointed in that fact.

“James,” You whisper, cradling his face, his broken face, his face that is broken and bleeding, in your hands. You know it will haunt you for life. “Please, please, wake up. . . wake up . . .”

Blood was everywhere.

Your cries are silent except for the horror filled gasps you let out in between breaths. Your hands shake and you feel as if the coldest of waters were dumped on you. Hoping there would want you up from this dream, this nightmare.

“Why . . ? Why did you do this . . ?”

Your face is drenched in your tears running down your face, some fleeing into your mouth, making you taste your own sweet nectar tears. A nectar that is sticky and leaves a bitter rather than sweet taste in your mouth, a nectar that clings to things that aren’t theirs and never lets go. A nectar like Simon and Johnny.

“He was hurtin’ ye lass,” Johnny says. “We couldnae let ‘im hurt ye like tha’” He walks towards you, the squelch sound coming from his boots walking on blood make you flinch and cover your mouth in terror with your shaking hands, spreading blood, your husband’s blood, all over your tear stained cheeks.

Johnny squats down next to you, his thighs brushing over yours as he watches you. Watches you process that your husband might as well be dead to you, and he’s not coming back no matter how hard you pray.

You feel Johnnys hand, his warm hand, his soft hand, his dry hand, guide your face to lock your eyes with his.

“Ye know we had to do tha’.” He says. His eyes aren’t bright anymore. Now they’re dark waves at night. Luring innocents into its waters and taking, drowning, keeping. “Right, love?”

Your eyes shift back to James’s body in your peripheral, still feeling the cold gaze of the two men on your face.

His eyes are swollen shut; but if they were open, you could imagine they’d be looking at you, piercing you with that gaze you used to love so much, The gaze you find yourself missing; back when things were good, not burnt and soaked in blood.

His skin is pale. It turns as white as the pure clouds that once blocked the heat of the sun. But now the clouds are dark, they’re dark and they obscure the warmth of the sun to let the cold chill of death sink its claws into the fertile earth.

His chest barely rises with the painful breaths he’s taking.

He’s still alive.

Your shaking eyes peel away from James and they lock with Johnnys’ again.

And you know, with a heavy and pained heart, that he can see the tiny part of you that agrees with him.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your eyes burned and your head is pounding. All you can hear is ringing. Ringing, screaming, crying, all the same to you in this moment.

You hear someone call your name, you feel a wet hand touch your shoulder, you feel something sharp sink into the fragile skin of your neck.

You feel the cold shadow of darkness embrace you.

Your body feels heavy.

Heavy with guilt, fear, and an overwhelming sadness.

Heavy with whatever drug was forced into you.

In your milky haze, your eyes open slightly and the sun burns your eyes even through the thick curtains blocking it.

You think they’re curtains. They could very well be something else; but they move with such a fluidity in them that you can’t think otherwise.

This room you’re in moves as if it’s a vehicle on a bumpy road, your ears pick up the sound of an animal trotting on the rough road.

Someone moves, blocking the shining sun with their body as they move to learn towards you.

“Sh, Bonnie lass.” A voice coos at you, brushing their—his—hand over your temple to gently move the hair that rested there. “Yer alrigh’, we’re gonnae get ye someplace safe.”

When you let out a hoarse moan in protest to his action, another hand, a bigger hand, pets your hair and plants a chaste kiss on your sweating forehead.

You let out a dry cry and try to move your head in another direction, any direction, but the poison burning your veins and warming your skin is making you a limp doll.

Your lips are cracked and your throat is raw. When you try to speak, the sentence gets lost on the way out of your mouth and only one word escapes.

“. . . home . . .”

The soft voice, the first voice, shushes you again, moving your body and placing it sideways in a laying position so your head rests on his lap and your legs dangle on something else. Someone else.

“It’s gonnae be okay hen, don’ worry that pretty head. We’ll get ye home safe with us.”

You last see the curtains move after going over a particular bump in the road, revealing dancing trees and a large sign; though you only see the last part of it before your body succumbs to sleep:

—POPULATION: TWO HUNDRED SEVENTEEN.

In the murky shadows of the dimly illuminated room, wisps of smoke curled and danced around the man seated amidst the gloom like a dragon.

With each inhale, the ember of the cigar flared, casting fleeting glimpses of their features into the obscurity.

The apple of his cheeks, his beard shining auburn, his eyes that reflected an angry sea.

“She sleepin’?” He asks into the shadows. His voice is rough and deep, his words escape him in a cloud of smoke as dark as his eyes.

“Yes. Brought ‘er in an hour or so ago. A ripe peach she is.” The shadow answers, stepping away from the window that covered an entire wall adjacent to the grand desk. The shadow walks the length of the room to stand in front of the desk, he picks up a random trinket from the desk and starts twirling it between his fingers repeatedly.

“And the husband? Tell me the bastards’ gone.”

The smell of smoke and ash covered the room. But nothing could cover the smell of blood coating the shadows fingers, staining the trinket, the knife, in his hand.

“He’ll never hurt her again.”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

TAGLIST.

@the-faceless-bride @chickennn-soupp @starabigail @drenix004 @dogboyfoe @lostintro @tonylagsagne @sobasicallyimpoppee @ahervyn @ghostlythots @flowerloversthings @sugar-brains @midnights-song @poohkie90 @minecraftflowerpots @cand1c @mortallydelicatedinosaur @coffinfae @wiotas @missinghosty @rataaaaail759 @crazy-phan-girl13 @riw3 @dmitriene @coy2u @storxii @uglycoyote @idioticsqu1d @iloveramensm @starluv @darling006 @ivuravix @mitoad @miss-mistinguett @totallynot-mac @tallicaside @imagine-valhalla @deputy-videogamer @ggpayer44 @yellow-paper-duck @sharkient @kaoyamamegami @kariiiel @chaoticla @lovelydays2night @lostintro @tonylagsagne

#♡﹒⇅﹒cod masterlist—﹒📁 #﹒ ✧ ichor #x reader #cod x reader #fem!reader #simon ghost riley #tf 141 x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john bravo six price #johnny mactavish #poly!task force 141 x reader #poly141 x reader #poly!task force 141 #poly tf141 #codmw x reader #soap cod #ghost cod #gaz cod #price cod

[ver-slxt]

erm, the call is coming from inside the house. im not blurring this screenshot lmao this is dumb as fuck, they also said that they have ships that are ‘morally grey’ but it ‘doesnt count cuz theyre not a proshipper’ like erm! it does! thats comshipping!!!

+ they said proshipping is a cult so pls block them!! icky as hell >-<

->but please dont harass them, i dont advocate to harass people!!<-

#problematic #comship #comshipper safe #proship #proshippers please interact #comship positivity #comshippers are valid #comshippers please interact #proshipper #proshipper safe #wack ass people #the call is coming from inside the house

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 13

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Ahhh! I almost own a house.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen struts down the hall, the white satin limning her figure. She is shameless as she passes soldiers but she needn’t worry for their judgments. You peek up at the few errant eyes that follow her, though many pass without even a glance in her direction. Servants course through the corridors, busy with preparations for the morrow’s departure. 

You think of asking Queen Jazlene whether now is not the best time. If she should be more concerned with her venture north. Of all she’s acquired of the queen’s former possessions, there is not a fur among her chests. Nothing more than a trim of squirrel or rabbit along a collar. The summer kingdom does not warrant the need. And certainly, you think, the king must be equally busied by the pending journey. 

As ever, your duty keeps you silent. You do not know better than a queen. You bide her whims, not your own. You follow the soft whisk of the robes hem and your mind wanders in your stead. You think of the dark gardens and the king’s words. 

‘Should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.’ He must be eager to return home. You can’t help but harbour your own impatience. For all you’ve heard of the Hinterlands, you cannot picture them well. You want to see them yourself. It is the only time in your life you really ever longed to see something entirely unfamiliar. 

The queen stops and the soldiers on either side of the door shift, alert at her approach. The do not look welcoming. You wring your hands behind your back. What can you do but let the queen proceed? 

“Let me through,” she demands, “I must see the king.” 

“Your highness,” the rusty-haired soldier drawls, “he is not receiving--” 

“He is my husband,” she sneers, “I am the queen.” She points to herself, “I give you orders, sir. Not the reverse.” 

The other man huffs and tilts his head to the other as if to say, ‘don’t bother’. The first soldier raises his elbow to hit the door beside him. 

“Your highness, you have a visitor,” he calls through. 

“A visitor?” Jazlene scoffs and steps forward, grabbing the handles of the doors to try to force her way through. “I am more--” She shakes the doors as they offer resistance from the other side. You can see clearly through the crack between them that they are latched within. 

The metal grinds inside as the lock is slid out of place. The queen blusters through as a dark-haired man stands by the left door, watching behind her as she blows in like a storm. You pause in the doorway, uncertain if you should go further. 

The king sits at the table of his receiving chamber, maps unfurled and kept unrolled by heavy ornaments. He has one arm on the chair and his other hand against the tabletop. He watches his wife with his golden eyes, his lips straight and unamused. The man who opened the door, watches with a crooked grin. 

“Husband, I have come to see you. As we have much travel ahead, I figured it was the best time for us to--” 

“The best time?” King Geralt ponders flatly, “we ready for the ride north. We must anticipate the remaining rebels and assuage lingering acrimony. We must also account for the snows that will meet us in the Hinterland. This campaign has kept me long and the winter will be there to greet us.” 

“Let the servants trouble for it,” she insists. 

The man by the door flutters his fingers at you, “in?” He mouths. 

You blink, uncertain. You step inside hesitantly and step to the edge of the other door. He pushes the left one shut and turns to watch the interaction with glee. 

“You should trouble for it,” the king reproaches, “you should act as queen and so you should think of your people.” 

“Husband, do not presume to educate me. I have had tutors all my life. I understand these things. I was borne to be a lady, to mind a castle--” 

“A castle not a realm,” he shakes his head, “this is no banquet.” 

“Ugh,” she huffs, “what has gotten into you? Last night--” 

“It is today,” he insists over her, “I am occupied.” He shifts his chair pointed and frames an area on the maps with his large hands. “Jaskier,” he calls, “come, we must determine our way through Hare’s Pass.” 

“Your highness,” the man jaunts forward bouncily and as he nears the table, he pulls out a chair, “Queen Jazlene, please, have my seat.” 

The king looks at his companion with a deathly glimmer. The lord in his cornflower jacket is unbothered by the distaste aimed in his direction. He smirks back defiantly. 

“Thank you, sir,” Jazlene simpers and sits with her back straight and her chest pushed out, “I think I’ve forgotten which one you are.” 

“Lord Jaskier,” he intones, “I held the capital while the king claimed his beautiful wife.” 

She giggles and runs her hand along the front of her robe, “oh, how valiant, sir.” 

“Jaskier,” the king growls again, “put your mind back to the road--” 

“We have it figured, your highness,” the lord rebuffs, “surely you should enjoy this time you have in one place with your wife.” Jaskier takes another stool and sits at the table, “I should very much like to know this summer queen better. You secret her away--” 

The king sighs. His fingers tap in irritation on the table. He sits back and throws his hand up. 

“I see you are no help, as usual,” the king snips. 

“And you are tedious,” the lord smirks again. “My queen,” the man sits forward, his attention on Jazlene, “I traveled the summer lands once before. You see, I fancy myself a musician and as a young boy, I would play for the courts. I never ventured to Debray but I was at Harlowe. It is closeby.” 

“I know Harlowe,” Jazlene brightens, forgetting her mission for talk of herself. “Yes, I went there often for their harvest fairs. Were you there when Lord Edmund was still alive?” 

“Ah, yes, I believe he wasn’t there long after I left for the next county,” Jaskier artfully feeds her self-importance. 

“He was a good man. Of the few my father respected,” she mourns with her hand to her chest. She shakes her head and pauses with a sullen sigh, “maid,” she snaps her head up, “bring wine for us.” 

“No wine,” King Geralt counters swiftly. 

“We have a guest, husband, surely we should entertain him according to etiquette. In these summer lands, we offer sustenance to our guests,” she argues. 

“Bring warm milk then. You needn’t be glazed over with wine on the morrow--” 

“I am the queen and I am grown, I will have wine,” Jazlene waves her hand at you tersely, “maid!” 

The king glances at you. You stand in indecision. You can defy neither but in that moment, you must choose one or the other. His golden eyes drift over to the queen and back to you. 

“Go, fetch wine,” he relents. 

You bow your head and spin to set off on the task. Your thankful to escape the tension that floods the room. You can sense that the queen’s intrusion is unwelcome and yet that lord ignores the king’s mood. Almost as if he means to agitate him. 

You weave through the disarray of the corridors down to the kitchen. Barrels of pickled foods and crates of dried goods are stacked, waiting to be loaded onto carts for the distance ahead. The king must still think of feeding his army, and now, a royal retinue. 

You claim a bottle of wine amid the hectic furor and some goblets. You’re out of breath as you return to the upper floors and slow yourself to regain composure as you approach the king’s chamber. You’re let within without obstruction. Just the maid. 

You cross to the table and set the goblets upright, then the heavy bottle. Jazlene ahems and taps the brim impatient before you can uncork the bottle. The neck moves away from your reach as Lord Jaskier snatches it instead. He opens it easily and pours the queen a cup as the king leans heavily on an elbow. As you glance over, you meet his golden eyes and quickly shy away. You see he is not happy. You thought by Jazlene’s measure, thing’s might have been improving. 

You take your place by the wall. The king sighs. He does that a lot, as if he means to say something but will not. Lord Jaskier slides a goblet towards him. 

“Drink and let loose, your highness, you can’t be surly upon the road,” Jaskier chides. 

The king does not move. He glares at his company then looks at the ceiling. Queen Jazlene slurps loudly. 

“How charming you are, my lord, a wonder his highness likes you so much,” she chirps. 

“A surprise to me as well but I think my loyalty more tolerable than my other traits. Yet, you’ve yet to the king bellowing the most bawdy ballad. He is particular lively after a battle,” Jaskier winks at his liege tauntingly and receives nothing in return. “Mm, how about a game? The king is fond of those. How about it, then?” 

The lord lifts his cup and holds it before his lips, watching the king in his cantankerous glower. Another sigh as he sits forwards and tilts a hand indifferently.  

“If it keeps you from chattering,” the king mutters as he clears the heavy ornaments and rolls the map up. He focuses on that as Jaskier pulls a pouch free of his belt. 

“This is one he taught me. The old king before him was fond of it too. The mind’s of rulers, hm?” Jaskier explains as he loosens the tie of the bag and pours out similar pieces to the ones in Geralt’s purse. “Have you played it?” 

Jazlene keeps her hand on her cup. The king continues to clear the table, pushing aside the cup meant for him as he shifts the bottle off another map. He stands and gathers the rolled parchment. He approaches you. 

“Bring these to my bedchamber,” he bids under his breath. 

As you take them, your sleeves brush his and his fingers drag along the fabric of your dress. He stares down at you, his breath fuming like a hearth. You hug the maps and he backs away, returning to the table. You take your order and find your way through the east door into his bed chamber. 

You set down the maps on the chest near the foot of the grand bed. His sword leans against the frame, tall in its sheath. You stop to admire the thick handle and its well-hewn grooves. It must be heavy. 

You tear your admiration from the weapon and return to the receiving chamber. Jaskier reviews the rules as Geralt rolls his fingers against the armrest, bored by the explanation. You resume your vigil and stare at the wall. 

Pieces are dolled out, dice are counted, and the round begins. The king is let to have the first turn. He plays the same as he did against you. It must be some strategy. The queen is prompted to have her go but she is silent. She hums and stares down at the table. Jaskier whispers behind his hand, drawing your gaze. 

“Let her play her own turn,” the king insists, “isn’t any fun playing against two of you.” 

“Your highness, I was only doing my duty as a royal advisor,” Jaskier returns playfully. “By all means, my beautiful queen, I am certain you are as a clever as you are elegant.” 

Jazlene preens in the praise. She drinks some more wine then rolls a dice, seemingly without thought. Several of her pieces are plucked up by both king and lord. She pouts. 

“Wait, what happened?” She mopes. 

“Rules,” Geralt grumbles. “Jaskier, go on then, take my bronze.” 

“I know your tricks,” the lord replies, “I will not fall for it. I’ll have your silver.” 

Jaskier rolls the diamond dice and groans. The king takes his silver instead. 

“You’ve switched out the dice, certainly,” Jaskier accuses. 

“You whine about chance,” the king rebukes and rolls, taking even more silver from his advisor. “And again.” 

He gestures to Jazlene and her brow ripples. You can see she doesn’t understand. She will want to use the square dice then, she might have the iron back that she lost. She uses the slightly rounded die instead. Jaskier is already counting her gold. 

“I don’t understand,” she crosses her arms, “this game makes no sense.” 

“It is your first attempt,” Jaskier assures her, “you will get better.” 

“It’s boring,” she sits back and drinks more wine. 

Jaskier has a swig of his own as he rolls. He claims his silver back from the king and some from Jazlene. She shakes her head and waves you over with her hand. You can see her goblet is empty as you near. You lift the bottle to pour as the king has his turn. He loses a few iron but doesn’t seem to mind. 

The queen’s turn comes and you linger, examining her pieces. Your lips move slightly. Square, square, square. Your eyes flit up and find the king’s watching you. Oh no. 

“Wine, maid,” Jaskier clunks down his cup with a hollow noise. 

You move around Jazlene’s chair as she snarls under her breath. She rolls the triangle die. Her gold is all gone. She slaps her hands down and you rescind the bottle before you can pour as Jaskier’s cup wobbles. He laughs at the queen’s dismay and she sweeps away her pieces and dice before she can lose. 

“It isn’t fair! I don’t understand.” 

“If you don’t understand, ask. Do not be impetulant,” King Geralt reprimands. “You make a mess like a child.” 

“Do not speak to me as one,” she spits back. “I am not!” 

“Your behaviour would suggest otherwise,” the king says. 

“Now, now, perhaps it would be fairer with a forth, eh? Trios always do prove imbalanced,” Jaskier intones.  

As you go to pour the wine, you are suddenly pulled off your feet. You land in his lap and nearly drop the bottle. You hug it close as you notice the king lurch, sitting straight, only to stop himself on the edge of his chair. 

“Eh, do not handle the maid as such,” he demands. “She serves the queen.” 

“She may join us, yes? The queen could have an ally. We will play as pairs.” 

“Let the maid go,” the king grits. 

“Oh, do settle,” Jaskier unhooks his arm from around you. You stand and let your nerves settle, steadying your hands to pour the wine. “You are no fun, your highness.” 

Jazlene giggles, “oh he certainly is not. So dour,” she sounds like Lady Rezlyn in that moment. Often the duchess would throw barbs at her husband shamelessly. “Even his games are dull.” 

“You needn’t play,” King Geralt shoves his chair back and stands, “it was not my suggestion.” 

“She is right. You are much too serious,” Jaskier remarks. 

You leave the wine and back away. The air is thick. You feel as if you should go but cannot without dismissal. The king roils hotly as he exhales loudly. 

“Far too serious,” Jazlene trills, “he hasn’t time for any sort of fun, has he? He must attend his kingly duties and yet, he neglects his husbandly ones.” 

The king lets out a growl. He sneers at his wife as Jaskier’s laughter subsides. The lord looks alarmed as he peeks between the royal couples. 

“Mm, suppose it is time I see to my own luggage,” he rises. 

“No, stay, drink your wine,” King Geralt insists brusquely, “you and the queen can have mine,” he grips the goblet by the brim and shoves it towards Jazlene as the contents slosh. “You will find me attending my dour kingly duties, should you think to recall your own.” 

The king spins and stalks off, hands in fists, and bulls through the doors. They slam behind him and make you jump. You blink at the wood as your heart pounds. For as much as the queen wants her marriage to improve, she is hardly helping herself. 

“Ah,” Jaskier sits with a tut, “he can be a touch sensitive, can’t he?” 

Jazlene laughs, though you hear the nervous rattle in it, “can’t he?” 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

[cosmos-coma]

Glass Desks

A/N: Just a silly little scene I've had in my head for bit now since I work as an occasional house cleaner to try and get by. I got surprised by someone coming in on my last clean and just had to turn it into something.

Pairing: Mafia! Bucky Barnes x House Cleaner! Reader

Words: 1,055

Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

___________________

A sigh escaped Bucky as he ran a hand down his face. He was supposed to have meetings all day today- ones important enough that he’d rearranged everything around them- yet within the first two hours something had already come up and his associates were forced to reschedule.

“Hey, boss? We’re here…” Sam said from the driver’s seat, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him look up at the large empty house before him.

His empty house.

He wouldn’t trade his line of work for the world, truly, but between both the secretive and potentially violent nature of his job, it didn’t exactly leave much room for pleasant company. 

He sighed again as he stepped out, “Thanks Sam…. That should be all for today, but I’ll call if I need you.” He said and patted the roof twice before it pulled away. 

Making his way up the stairs toward the entrance, all seemed normal at first glance- that is until he spotted an unfamiliar car parked around the side. 

It was an old car, parked out of the way in the shade- not quite a beater- but they definitely didn’t make its model anymore. It was non-descript and would blend in with a crowd if needed, but more importantly: it wasn’t one of his. 

He moved toward the door with far quieter steps now, listening intently for the intruders. Multiple voices came from inside as if trying to talk over each other in layered tones. Chairs and doors clunked and creaked as they were moved about, followed by the moving voices- were people searching for something? 

Instinctively his hand found the gun in his jacket. ‘Sam didn’t say anything as he left… Did he really not notice the car? No-Sam was one of his best men… Maybe he already knew they were here..?’ Bucky thought.

Either way, he wasn’t taking any chances; his fingers closed around the gun’s handle as he cracked open the door, the weapon a comfortable and familiar weight in his hand. His steps were silent as he entered, their practiced paces unknown to anyone but him. 

However, instead of finding an enemy gang searching for secrets he found…. You. 

You were hard at work in your own little world as you went about cleaning the second floor. You bobbed and sang along to the music emanating from your back pocket, your voice layering over the original as the rags half tucked in your belt swayed with you. The mobster couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

He had completely forgotten. Usually, on days when he was meant to be out of the house for hours on end, you would be scheduled to come clean. But apparently, no one had informed you about the change of plans.

You had been hired on as his house cleaner a few months ago, helping him keep things together while work kept him endlessly busy. But despite having been on the payroll for a while now, he still hadn’t found the time to officially meet you- that is, until now.

He couldn’t deny that you looked… rather silly if he was being honest, but your unparalleled passion only made it all the more endearing. His head shook with a faint smile as he watched as you moved into his office. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, he was halfway up the second-floor stairs when he heard you suddenly break away from your song. 

“Ugh…,” you sighed loudly to yourself, still thinking you were the only one in the room, “what kind of an asshole has a glass desk? I mean, really- Do you have stock in Windex? Is that what it is???” You asked snarkily to no one in particular, but this was too good for Bucky to pass up.

“Not yet. Should I?” The mobster found himself biting back his laughter as he leaned against the office doorway behind you. 

“At this rate? You should really-“Your mouth clamped shut faster than it ever had before, your entire body freezing on the spot as his response finally processed. Your eyes were wide as saucers as your thoughts ran on a panicked loop ‘Oh no, oh god, oh shit, oh fuck. you really just had to insult the infamous White Wolf of New York… In his own home… In front of his own men… Are you STUPID??’ you yelled at yourself internally and quickly put on a brave face, turning off your music and turning to the unfamiliar voice behind you.

Your stomach nearly dropped as you realized it was not only “one of his men” it was, THE man. You instantly recognized him from the few photos scattered around the house; the sharp stubbly jaw and blazing blue eyes were unmistakable, not to mention the hint of the metallic arm you caught between his suit sleeve and glove. You couldn’t deny he was handsome- even more so in person than he was in his photos.

“Mr. Barnes…!” Your voice squeaked out, but he just held his same amused smile, looking anything but upset. “I, uh… I thought you had meetings all day today- I didn’t mix up the date, did I..?”

“Not at all…” he said with a quiet laugh. “My meetings got rescheduled part way though, so I thought I’d spend the evening working from home. Little did I know it’d be the perfect place to get financial advice too.” 

Your face burned with embarrassment as you relived the very recent moment yet again, “Right, uh, about the whole ‘asshole’ thing, I-” 

But he simply waved you off, “Don’t. It’s refreshing to get an authentic opinion, and honestly? I don’t even like that desk.” He admitted, his heart stirring in new ways as your whole body relaxed and he could finally see you as you usually were, “and, ah… if you wanted to stay for a while, I sure wouldn’t mind the company- I could use a little advice in the stock market.”

You bit your lip to hold back your grin, you wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, “Oh, me? I don’t know if I’d really be suitable company while I’m cleaning.” 

A thought seemed to pass over him then as he nodded in agreement, “Hm, you’re right..” he smiled, “Perhaps we should just have dinner then… how’s tonight?”

______

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

#I want to do more mafia bucky eventually but it probably won’t follow the same characters #same reader I mean #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob au #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #James

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Home | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mention of parental death, mentions of abuse

Word Count: 4388

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You sat cross-legged on the floor of the boys’ motel room, sipping a coffee you’d run out to get earlier that morning. Dean was on his computer, and you were responding to the potential cases he’d found.

“A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali—” Dean started.

“Ooh, I like Cali,” you cut him off.

“—Its crew vanished.” He finished.

“And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” 

“Meh, that’s boring. Let somebody else handle that one,” you dismissed.

Dean noticed Sam hadn’t spoken in just about the last hour. He was frantically scribbling on a notepad.

“Hey,” Dean called to his brother. “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.”

He clearly wasn’t.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.”

“Ooh, I like that one,” you said. 

Dean leaned over and waved a hand in front of Sam’s face. “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at his notepad. “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” you asked.

Sam got up from his bed and began rifling through his duffel bag. 

“What are you doing?” Dean eyed his brother strangely.

The younger brother pulled out a photo from the bag and held it up next to his drawing. You couldn’t quite see what he was looking at from where you sat.

“Guys, I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean asked.

“Back home. Back to Kansas,” he responded.

The older brother was surprised. “Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

He showed the photo to the two of you. “Alright, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?”

“Yeah…?” Dean still had no idea where he was going with this.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” 

Dean— as well as you— was still lost. “I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but… the people who live in our old house— I think they might be in danger,” Sam rushed out.

“Why would you think that?” you questioned.

“Uh… it’s just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?” Sam turned away.

“Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?” Dean shook his head and stood to follow him. “Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give us a little bit more than that.”

“I can’t really explain it is all,” Sam shrugged.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do.” 

You turned to face Sam as he began to explain. “I have these nightmares.”

You nodded. “We’ve noticed.”

“And sometimes… they come true.”

Dean was stunned. “Come again?”

“Look, Dean… I dreamt about Jessica’s death— for days before it happened,” Sam explained.

“Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” Dean sat back down on the edge of his bed. 

“No,” the younger brother protested. “I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

You felt overwhelmed, and so did Dean. “I don’t know.”

Sam sat down across from his brother. “What do you mean you don’t know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!”

“Sam, slow down—” you urged him, knowing Dean was about to go through the roof.

Sure enough, Dean stood and started pacing. “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” you asked.

Dean’s voice broke for the first time since you’d met him. “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?”

Sam’s puppy dog eyes appeared as he spoke softly, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

Dean nodded. “I know we do.”

***

You looked out at the boys’ childhood home and followed them up to the front door.

“You gonna be alright, man?” Sam asked his brother who didn’t respond.

“Jury’s still out on that,” you muttered in response.

Dean knocked on the front door, and a young woman answered. You could see a look of recognition pass over Sam’s face.

“Yes?” the woman said.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—”

One Winchester cut the other off. “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

The woman seemed surprised and smiled. “Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She turned to you. “Are you a Winchester, too? I didn’t see a little girl in any of the pictures.”

You shook your head. “No, no. Just a friend. (Y/N).”

She smiled at you. “Nice to meet you. Come on in.”

Inside the home, a girl who looked to be around seven sat at the table doing homework, and a little boy who was presumably two jumped in his playpen.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” the toddler called excitedly.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie,” Jenny explained, taking a sippy cup from the fridge and bringing it to her son. “But, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” She walked back over to her daughter. “Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). The boys used to live here.”

“Hi,” the shy girl said quietly.

You waved.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, from Wichita.”

“You got family here, or…?”

Jenny’s smile faded. “No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job— I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“So, how you likin’ it so far?” Sam questioned.

Jenny laughed awkwardly. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home— I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here—”

You discreetly turned to see Dean smile weakly. 

“But this place has its issues,” she finished.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

That caught your attention. “Oh, that’s too bad. What else?”

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

Dean shook his head. “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

Jenny looked at him quizzically. “It’s just the scratching, actually.”

Sari tugged on her mom’s shirt, who stooped down next to her. “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asked.

“The thing in my closet,” she whispered as if the thing would hear.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny looked up to you and the boys. “Right?”

They shook their heads.

“She had a nightmare the other night,” Jenny explained.

Sari’s voice suddenly got louder. “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom and it was on fire.”

The boys seemed too shocked to speak.

You took over. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’re okay now though, right?”

She nodded.

“See? It didn’t get ya. It was only a dream.”

You knew it wasn’t. A pit filled your stomach after saying your goodbyes to the family and heading out of the door. 

“You hear that? A figure on fire,” Sam reminded the two of you.

“And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?” Dean asked.

"Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true,” the older brother chuckled humorlessly.

“Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean responded.

The brothers were only making each other panic worse at this point.

“Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam inquired.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Both of you need to calm down,” you told them, simultaneously getting in the car. “We’re gonna get those people safe. Whatever’s in there is not gonna hurt you or those people.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” Dean remarked.

You snapped into a more intense tone, leaning over the backseat. “Look, dude, you’re gonna get your shit together. The two of you are only ramping each other up. Now, you are going to get a grip or I will do this job on my own.”

Sam and Dean both nodded.

“You’re runnin’ low on gas, Dee.” You patted Dean’s cheek before sitting back against your chair. 

***

“We just gotta chill out, that’s all,” Dean said as he pumped gas. 

“I’ve tried telling you that eighty times since we left that house.”

He ignored your snide comment. “You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?”

"We’d try to figure out what we were dealin’ with. We’d dig into the history of the house,” Sam sighed.

"Exactly,” the older brother began, “except this time, we already know what happened.”

"Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?”

"About that night, you mean?”

"Yeah.”

Dean paused. “Not much. I remember the fire… the heat. And then I carried you out the front door.”

You looked at the floor, knowing how hard this must be for him to open up.

“You did?” the younger Winchester asked.

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

"No.”

“And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was— was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?”

“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.”

"Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

You decided to add your two cents. “Yeah. We can talk to your dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Silence blanketed the three of you for a moment, the air feeling heavy. 

“Does this feel like just another job to you?” Sam piped up.

‘Of course, it doesn’t,’ you thought.

Dean kept quiet for a moment. “I’ll be right back,” he finally said. “I gotta go to the bathroom.” He walked away, and you watched him turn the corner around the gas station. He looked back for a moment, and you assumed it was to see if anyone had followed him.

You furrowed your brows. You allowed a few minutes to pass before you announced to Sam, “I’m gonna go check on Dean.”

While you turned the corner, you saw Dean exiting the bathroom door. He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. When he noticed you, he tried to shoulder his normal attitude.

“You stalkin’ me?”

“No, actually, I came to check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine.” He went to brush past you.

You grabbed his bicep. “Don’t lie to me.”

He stopped, looking you over. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Then what’s this?” you gently brushed your first finger under his chin, picking up a tear he had forgotten to wipe away. You held it up for him to see.

Dean opened his mouth to say something before snapping it shut again. He gently pulled his arm out of your grip. “C’mon, let’s go.” He started walking away from you.

You caught up to him, asking, “Are you sure you don’t just want me to do this one by myself?”

He nodded sharply. 

Sam gave you a curious look while Dean got in the car.

You shook your head before the two of you ducked into the Impala simultaneously.

***

The three of you spoke to a man who had owned a car garage with John years ago. You learned how much John had changed before Mary’s death versus after, and you began to understand why Dean was the way he was. You also learned that he had been going to see a palm reader in town. Dean recognized the names of one of the palm readers Sam had read from a compiled list: Missouri Moseley. The three of you went over to her house and waited in her foyer as she finished with her last client.

She guided the client out of the door. “Alright, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.”

The man thanked her, and she closed the door behind you.

She addressed the three of you. “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.”

You giggled.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asked.

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news,” the woman explained. You stared at her, as did the boys.

“Well? Sam, Dean, (Y/N), come on already, I ain’t got all day.”

You looked at Dean. You knew you hadn’t told her your name. The three of you followed her into the next room. 

“Well, lemme look at ya,” she smiled at the boys. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She pointed her finger at Dean. “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” 

You giggled again. You liked her a lot.

“Sam.” Missouri grabbed his hand. “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend. And your father— he’s missin’?”

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asked her.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.”

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean questioned.

Missouri’s smile faded. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” 

“Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.”

You smirked at Sam and sat down.

Missouri snapped at Dean. “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything!” he responded.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and you and Sam smiled.

“(Y/N), honey, I didn’t mean to completely disregard you,” she smiled at you. “(Y/L/N)... where do I know that name from?” She pondered for a moment and her smile faded. “I knew your dad. Mean ol’ bastard.”

Your throat clenched. You could feel the boys looking at you, but you kept your eyes on Missouri. 

“I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she went on. “I’m just sorry about what he did to you. And your brother? You poor thing.” She tsked. 

Tears welled in your eyes. 

Sam knew he should change the subject. “Okay. So, our dad— when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say I drew back the curtains for him,” Missouri explained.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean questioned.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.”

“And could you?”

You tried to focus on the conversation, but your throat was still choked up. You could vaguely register them talking about what Missouri sensed in their house and how she had been keeping an eye on the place since Mary’s passing. All you could focus on were the memories you were being pulled back into. Memories of what your father put you through and how your mother just stood by. Memories of defending your brother against your father’s wickedness. You tried your best to pull yourself back to the light; you knew Missouri could hear what you were thinking. You wouldn’t let yourself be weak enough to let your father hurt you eight years after his death.

“Baby, you are not weak.” Missouri’s voice pulled you back to shore. “I’m sorry I brought all that up for you.”

You nodded at her, voice too weak to respond. Sam squeezed your hand, and you could feel Dean’s gaze boring into the side of your head. 

***

You and the boys headed back to their childhood home with Missouri. You still couldn’t register what was going on outside of your own head. You knew Missouri hadn’t truly brought anything up for you; these memories were all just buried under the surface for you. Hunting didn’t exactly leave much time for you to dwell on your emotions. 

Jenny allowed Missouri to come into her home and showed her and your trio into Sari’s bedroom. You were beginning to come back to earth and could focus on the conversation happening around you. 

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it,” Missouri explained, walking around Sari’s room. 

“Why?” Sam asked.

Missouri turned to him. “This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.”

Dean pulled out his repurposed walkman.

“That an EMF?” Missouri asked.

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

“Amateur,” she deadpanned.

You noticed the EMF was beeping frantically. 

“I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom,” Missouri told the Winchesters.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

She nodded.

“How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.”

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Not it.” Missouri opened the closer. “Them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.”

“What are they doing here?” Dean asked.

“They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected,” Missouri elaborated.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It’s attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.”

“You said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.”

Dean’s voice became hard. “Well, one thing’s for damn sure— nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

***

After Missouri taught you how to pack small protection bags that you and the boys were to place in the cardinal points on both floors in Jenny’s house, you had to get Jenny and her kids out of harm's way.

“Look, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you guys here alone,” she told Missouri.

“Just take your kids to the movies or somethin’, and it’ll be over by the time you get back.”

You could tell the woman was still unsure, but she followed orders anyway. And with that, the four of you got to work.

When you were halfway done with the job, things started to get ugly. Just as you were about to place your second and final bag in the wall of Jenny’s bedroom, a cord snaked around your neck and pulled tightly. You dropped the bag of herbs to the ground; unable to get it into the wall in time. You gasped for air, frantically reaching for the bag but the spirit’s hold was too strong. Your vision began to spot and your face contorted in discomfort; doing the best you could to get air in your lungs. It was no use. Just when you thought it was over, Dean rushed to your side.

“(Y/N)!” he cried, pulling at the cord with all his might.

You clawed at your neck with one hand and motioned to the bag of herbs with the other. Dean understood what you were trying to say, and kicked a hole in the wall. He quickly put the bag inside, and your neck was released. Your head fell to the ground gasping for air.

Dean pulled you into a fierce hug that left you breathless. He pulled back from you, holding your face on either side. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. He gingerly touched the place where the cord had undoubtedly bruised your neck. “Can you stand?”

You nodded again. With Dean’s help, you made your way down to Missouri and Sam who stood in the middle of an extremely messy kitchen. Jenny’s kitchen table had been turned on its side with knives driven through the top of it, assumedly by the ghosts. The refrigerator door was swung wide open, and various items from the pantry had spilled out all over the place. 

“You sure this is over?” Sam asked the psychic.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?”

Sam sighed in response. “Never mind. It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opened.

“Hello? We’re home,” Jenny announced when she walked into the house. She came into the kitchen, dumbfounded by the mess. “What happened?”

"Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this,” Sam told her.

“Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess,” Missouri added.

Dean stood glued to his spot.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.”

He glared at Missouri, but began walking away nonetheless.

“And don’t cuss at me!”

***

You remained confused by how Dean had hugged you for the rest of the night which you spent in the Impala parked in front of Jenny’s house.

“Alright, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asked his brother.

“I don’t know. I just… I still have a bad feeling,” he responded.

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.”

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.”

Dean slumped down in his seat. “Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.”

You slumped down in your seat, too, only to see Jenny screaming and banging on her bedroom window. “Guys, look!”

The three of you rushed into the house.

“You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny,” Dean said.

You nodded and sprinted to Ritchie’s room. The sleeping toddler was startled when you woke him up, but allowed you to carry him downstairs nonetheless. You met Sam by the front door who said to Sari, “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don’t look back.” She obliged and took the little boy from you. 

Before the two of you could do anything else, you were slammed to the ground and dragged backward across the tile floor. You could hear poor Sari screaming as you and Sam were dragged away. 

You were pinned to the wall by an invisible force and pushed up toward the ceiling. You could hear presumably Dean hacking away at the door, trying desperately to get in as a figure on fire approached you.

Dean made his way into the home and called your names frantically. He raised his gun at the fire figure when he caught sight of it.

“No, don’t! Don’t!” Sam cried.

“What, why?!” you asked.

“Because I know who it is. I can see her now.”

And then, the fire vanished revealing who you recognized from pictures as Mary Winchester. She was wearing a white nightgown and her blonde hair billowed softly around her. Her feet were bare, and her aging skin was only slightly wrinkled.

You could see tears rising in Dean’s eyes as he lowered his gun. “Mom?”

The woman smiled and stepped closer to him. “Dean.”

She walked toward you and her youngest son. “Sam.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked. 

She looked at him sadly, but said nothing.  

The woman turned to you last. “Thank you,” she said. 

You smiled back at her, though you weren’t quite sure what she was thanking you for.

She turned away and looked up toward the ceiling. “You get out of my house. And let go of my son.” Her hair and nightgown were swept up into flames once more. The fire licked up to the ceiling, growing larger before disappearing entirely. You and Sam were released from the wall at once.

“Now it’s over,” Sam muttered.

***

The sun had risen while you and the boys were in the house. You called Missouri back to the Winchesters’ childhood home, and she sat on the porch talking with Sam.

You were standing with Dean by the car looking through his old family photos.

“Thanks for these,” Dean told Jenny.

“Don’t thank me, they’re yours.”

Dean put the trunk of photos and family memorabilia in the car.  You and Dean bid Jenny, who thanked you, goodbye before leaning against the car together. The two of you knew you had a lot to talk about, but you weren’t brave enough to start the conversation.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked you.

You couldn’t look at him. “Why do you ask?”

“I think you know.”

You paused a moment before turning to face him. “I promise I’ll tell you, just… not today.” You stuck out your pinkie for him to take.

He chuckled at you. “What are we, five?”

“Just do it, asshole,” you smiled back.

He linked his pinkie with yours, shaking your hand back and forth lightly. The two of you stood there for a second, staring at each other and getting lost in the moment. Before long, you both realized what was going on and jerked away from each other.

Dean scratched his head. “Sam, you ready?” he called.

Sam nodded and came over to the car.

“Don’t you kids be strangers,” Missouri told you.

“We won’t,” Dean responded. 

“See you around,” the woman winked at you.

You smiled at her before getting in the car and driving away. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @thepocketverse @simpingdeadcharacters @elqsiian @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @doublecrazyyymofo

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite