#'....i don't know. it seemed like a good idea at the time'
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𓆸 ֗ ˳ DRABBLE : [ meschinità ostinata ] 𔓘
theodore is a man of patience, or at least that's what his reserved behavior hints at. obviously, everyone has a limit; if you made your moodiness his problem, then he'll make his annoyance yours. it's only fair, right?
taglist : p in v, hinting towards theodore being a brat tamer. no further descriptions because i don't ruin surprises. obvious +18 content; read at your own risk.
"you're not stopping, are you?" the thick italian accent doesn't cover for the clear tease within his tone, a breathy chuckle leaving theodore's lips, as his hand smacks another slap to your asscheeks: "come on, tesoro; you have a lot to apologize for, don't you?"
one would have thought that, from the way theodore seems oh so patient with his girlfriend, that any annoyance would be sucked up, forgiven and forgotten. although theo is a good boyfriend... he's also a slytherin, and slytherins rarely forget resentments without a good bribery, you know? like a serpent, theo cunningly waits for the right time to strike.
in a more rational part of your mind — since everything else seems to become too blurry and white out.from the pleasure that keeps poking on that sweet spot, again, and again and again —, you ponder about regret.
should you have been impatient this afternoon? no, it wasn't fair to push your pettiness and moody behavior onto theodore, especially not when the italian was just trying to smoke his afternoon cigarette, hopefully to expel some accumulated stress, from this week's assignments.
do you regret it? not exactly.
how can anyone regret anything, if the outcome is theodore nott under you, blue eyes piercing into your soul with the cockiness of who knows what he's doing — gaze dispersing from your fucked out expression, only to stare in marvel at the way your chest bounces with every. single. movement. of your hips? oh, he's loving this.
theo loves your bratty side.
it's not a secret either. why do you think he likes the sassy ones? the comebacks make him laugh, and theo definitely laughs harder when he gets you so tired and fucked out of your attitude, that not even a huff of annoyance he gets out of you.
and he's working in that direction.
well, it's more accurate to say that he's making you work for that.
his hand lazily settles on your hip, caressing the skin already tainted with darkening fingermarks; so what? it feels so damn good to be inside you, it always has theodore muttering in italian—cursing and praising, depending on his tone, you've learned from pure experience. the other one, as if to taunt your attempts of scolding his unhealthy habit of smoking, holds a cigarette between his index and ring finger.
you know, the ones he used to impatiently prepare you for his cock, still wet with your slick. theo loves to feel you drooling for him, already fidgety and sensitive when he slips inside you — or, in this case, having seen you sink onto his painfully hard erection. the heaven's view, he swears.
taking a drag from his cigarette, theodore ponders whether you deserve an incentive, or to have him being mean with you. weren't you so smart earlier?
his fingers bruise the skin on your hipbone yet again, this time thrusting up for a harsh thrust, contrasting with this slow rhythm you're providing. theo scoffs, "seriously, is this your way to apologize for your bitchy behavior? dai, amore, non deludermi."
as if it's that easy to make your body work faster; it's already uncomfortable to be in this position, especially overwhelmed from his fingers!
not that theo cares about that, anyway.
another harsh slap to your asscheeks; a raise of his left eyebrow, and you know that he's losing his patience: "don't make me do it for you, dolcezza. i'll rip manners out of you."
and as delightful as that sounds, you're not sure if you could take that sort of overstimulation today. not when you're already like this, even less when theodore is savoring the idea of bullying your pretty lips and sensitive core.
so, hands falling for support on his abdomen, you do your best to ignore the aching on your thighs — perhaps you should do this more often or exercise? — you force yourself to lift your hips, only to slam them again until theodore is so deep inside you, that your clit makes a wet mess of his groin. theodore fucking loves that, expelling the smoke from his lips with a breathless chuckle, head tilting back to the headboard.
yeah, mattheo is probably sleeping in the common room tonight.
not appreciating the lack of response, zero empathy towards the effort you're already doing, theodore sneaks his free hand amidst the mess of your hair. his fingers tangle between your locks, until his nails lightly scratch over your scalp and tug you closer to him; a demand from him that feels ridiculously good to you. his free hand moves the cigarette away from his lips, and taking the chance of your gasp from the extra tug on your hair, theodore blows the burning smoke to your lips; inside your mouth. taunting how much you dislike this vice of his.
nicotine swirls between your tongues as they meet; that, however, isn't the reason why you crawl back to him everytime.
theodore nott is a drug of his own.
perhaps he decides to be nicer now, sloppily exchanging slow kisses with you, letting his hips roll upwards to pursue his orgasm.
"non puoi nemmeno essere una vera troia," theo is so close to you, that the movement of his lips, pronouncing each foreign word, brush against yours, creating a tingling sensation that only adds to the notion of being cursed and insulted—at least, that's what your intuition tells you.
his hand blindly abandons his cigarette on the ashtray, keenly aware that you can feel—and taste—that acid smell of tobacco and cigarettes, less considerate than he usually is about your irking over it. his fingers grip your jaw, his thumb squeezing your cheek as his other fingers do the same, not even letting you moan from each sharp thrust that kisses your cervix.
"cazzo, it makes me want to laugh at you. you talk, talk, talk my ear off," even breathless, theo seems to have too much to say; it should be embarrassing, really, if his disdain didn't make your inner walls clench tighter around his thickness. "and can't even own your bitching afterwards. didn't even properly apologize; maybe you don't deserve this, huh?"
it takes a moment for you to understand the implication there, too distracted by the toe curling sensation of being repeatedly filled up. it's when theodore stops, resting on the mattress once more and giving up on the fluid movement of his hips, previously bouncing you on his groin, that your eyes widen with disbelief. seriously?
at first, you think about calling him out for his pettiness.
but it's the smug look and smirk that makes you want to sob instead, dignity crumbling to ashes, reborn as despair to finally cum. please, please.
his hand lowers to your neck, fingers curling around your throat, even though there's not much of a threat there. it's a loose grip; not even properly holding it, a simple squeeze that feels rather gentle, more like he's mocking you, in a way.
the worst is that theodore isn't even being mean. no, this is him having fun; if he was being mean, he'd be teasing you about the first semblance of frustrated tears, and you'd have to cry for it.
picking up the pieces of any strength left, the smartest choice is to surrender yourself, hopefully calming down the fire that burns within theodore's temper to slowly sneak into his good graces again. your hips move — unable to exert the tired muscles of your thighs — grinding helplessly against the firm muscles of his groin, the movement enough to rip out a low groan from theodore, appeased that he won't listen any whines from you, for now.
"brava ragazza," comes as a praise; before the compliment gets over your head, his free hand slaps your thigh, "go on. use me like a toy, carina, cum on my cock."
yeah, this would be a long night.
#slytherin boys#theodore nott#headcanons#theo nott#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#smut#theodore nott smut#theo nott smut#lemon#hp fandom
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I have officially run out of title ideas
Now I've had my lesson on saying stuff like “surely this is the last one!” but things are definitely slowing down
However, we’re getting late enough into this mess that longform content has started to emerge, adding a whole new layer to this millefeuille of drama
This is already taking me long enough, I wasn’t about to watch all the videos all the way through, but I’d say I got a good enough idea of their opinions. (even though there's room for more nuance in 30 min videos than in a couple tweets)
ALSO you can find the organized, cleaned-up version of the list here
How many content creators even are there
BoomerNA (I knew I was forgetting someone from the DSMP!)
MunchingBrotato
Valkyrae (I was hesitant to include her but she said this about Dream in Tubbo's chat so I think that qualifies)
Adam McIntyre (he said he relates to Tommy because of the Colleen situation… poor guys)
Louis McClung, surprisingly well informed
Omni
Ludwig, this time with his ex-roommates on their podcast
Coming out of left field again, we have actor Raegan Revord, starring most notably in Young Sheldon, who recently face-revealed as twitch streamer and twitter user SettingSunset
Me since I made this post: haha, I don't know who those guys (usually blarg, deadlox or mithzan) are but people in the tags really seem surprised to see them on the list!
Me Sunday morning: wait those are my guys
Dan and Phil (they were on Tommy and Jack's podcast!)
Shayy (plus what they've previously said about Dream)
Saltydkdan
BBNO$ (I wasn't gonna include him because it's literally just a video with Jack, but dream stans were complaining about it, so apparently it counts lol)
Editors & others
Kit (reinfalllz)
VC-david (VCTF_)
Rudy (Rudylmaolive)
Now, a retraction from part 4: someone asked Shadoune if his post was a dig at Tommy, and he said he didn’t know enough about the situation to have an opinion, and seemed mostly to disapprove of the whole thing, so he goes back to “neutral”
Serpias stays because he said "well done" when a chatter told him about Dream calling people a slur. which is not exactly a good look Again, I don't know what they said on stream, this is just based on their twitter and on transcripts sent to me (thanks again @pinkra5)
If you read this whole thing in one go, drink some water, stretch, and consider if you need an internet break because boy is it long to scroll through! Again, the summary list is here, and finally
Bonus
List of ccs publicly supporting Tommy & Tubbo
(or who just spoke out against Dream in general. or both.) as of jan 13
I haven’t seen a list on here yet so here goes (I def forgot some people, and I’m missing a few screenshots but this took foreverrr)
Content creators explicitly siding with clingyduo
Jack
AverageHarry
Ranboo
Phil
Sneegsnag
MaxGGs (could not pick a favorite tweet)
Aimsey
Kwite
SophieTexas
ConnorEatsPants
Krinios
a6d
Bitzel (not that we’re surprised)
Ludwig apparently
RosannaPansino
KyleEff
Dean Withers, coming out of left field
Molly (melinks)
Its_blarg
Mysticat
ItsZoil I think
Michael McChill
Content creators who didn’t say anything explicitly but we can read between the lines
HannahRose
Quackity (idgaf undefeated champion)
Shelby Shubble (see Phil)
Vikkstar
People who aren’t ccs but still get an honorable mention
Sarah Simons (Tommy’s mom)
Rue (Tommy’s old roommate)
Ady Manifold
Andi (Punz's ex) (I had to cut the post, sorry)
And that's everyone I can think of rn! Please add on if I forgot someone, if new people speak out, or if you have more screenshots to share!
#long post#dream situation#dsmp#dreamwastaken#tommyinnit#tubbo#discourse#mcyt#yeah of course dan and phil share a bullet point#do not separate them
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Bridging the Gap (Lando Norris)
A look into the Norris family summer vacation
Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!
my masterlist
Cw: reader is 4 years older than Lando, media scrutiny
Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins
The low hum of the television filled the cozy apartment as you and Lando sat on the sofa, nestled comfortably under a soft blanket as his hands absentmindedly traced patterns on your thigh. Lately, it was one of your favorite pastimes - catching up on a show after a long week and simply enjoying each other's presence without having the world around you.
Life with Lando was unexpectedly delightful. His infectious laughter and zest for life were contagious, and even the most mundane days seemed brighter with him around, no matter how many clients you had that day or how much reading you had to do before their next sessions. At the beginning, you couldn't wrap your head around how the way your routines still laced together despite the seemingly different responsibilities, but you cherished the balance you shared.
"Do you have a busy day tomorrow?", your boyfriend asked.
"I have 8 clients, as two of them already cancelled because they're sick, but I managed to adjust the schedule and hopefully I have some time to go to the bank and see about my mortgage payments", you said.
"And in that rearranged schedule, is there a possibility of you spending the night here so we can wake up together before you go be a boss lady?", he wondered as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing the skin there.
"I have to be in the office at before 10 am, Lan, I can't have a lie in", you reasoned.
"I have to be up at 7 am to go on a run with Jon, so neither can I", he smirked, knowing he had all the reasons to convince you to stay, "we can have some breakfast together before you leave me".
"I guess I have time to pop home, change and get to work on time", you reasoned, agreeing with his plans.
"I'm glad you think that because my next step was going to kidnap you for the night - I'm talking locking the doors and throwing away the keys", Lando spoke.
Your laughs rubbled as Lando squeezed you tighter against him, basking in the warm feeling on his chest of having you for the rest of the night.
.
A few weeks later, Lando told you Max and Pietra would be in Monaco for a week since they hadn't spent some time together in a while.
"Do you know how your week is going to be? In terms of your schedule I mean", Lando mused, holding your waist as you stirred the food in the pot.
"I had some people move around from their usual schedule, so the weekdays end late but I don't have many appointments on Friday and I have Saturday off", you spoke.
"That's good, means we can spend a nice long weekend together", Lando smiled, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin there, "I'm not sure of all the plans yet but it’ll be fun! And they’re eager to meet you", he grinned, optimism lighting up his face.
"I'm excited to meet them too", you spoke, despite the one looming shadow. The thought of meeting Lando’s close-knit circle always brought a tinge of anxiety with it. His friends were used to seeing him as the carefree poster child of single life - never missing a party or the chance to get a little drunk. Hell, the idea that Lando would rather stay in on a Friday night, watching his girlfriend cook them dinner after spending the afternoon waiting for her to finish her online sessions would baffle Max and all of his friends.
And though Lando never seemed to mind, the idea of them questioning your relationship because of your age gnawed at your insecurity. Even when you were younger, the party scene wasn't your thing and as the years passed, it certainly didn't become it. You were fine with Lando enjoying himself whenever he wanted to and never once objected to that, but feared that his friends would question it.
"There's something on your mind, I can tell that", Lando spoke softly, "would you like to share it with me?".
"It's just...", you tried, knowing he would be able to tell you were lying and knowing that sharing this with him could ease your fears.
"Doesn't have to sound pretty or polished, I just want to know what is on your head", he encouraged softly.
"Maybe they won't want to spend time with me? They're coming here to see you and spend time with you, and there's always the possibility that they might now want to spend time with me", you let it out.
"Why do you think that?", he continued softly.
"Because I'm not hard-core, adrenaline seeking fun!", you added.
"Lovie, the plans we have are just enough fun for everyone, I didn't to do anything too hard-core and they don't either, so we'll be good and have plenty of fun together, yeah?", Lando assured, turning you around and kissing your forehead.
"You are starting to have a way with words", you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin in such a protective manner, like no harm in the world could get to you if he was near.
"I catch on a thing or two you say", your boyfriend mumbled, kissing your lips slowly.
"I have to take my lunch to the office tomorrow, I don't have time to come home", you mumbled more to yourself than anything, taking a tupperware box from the cupboards so you wouldn't end up without your packed lunch.
"Pack two of them and I'll meet you in the office", Lando said like it was nothing.
"Sorry, what?", you asked again, afraid you had misheard him.
"You can pack two of them to go and I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow so you don't eat lunch all alone", Lando suggested.
"You don't have to", you reasoned.
"I know I don't, but I want to", Lando smiled, "the next couple of days are going to be busy for me and I need to fill up on time with you so my heart won't miss you as much".
He was ever the charmer and you still blushed at his words, not used to this no matter how many times he did it.
"Fine, but you can't mess up the crayons this time! You left one of them on the floor and I saw my life flash before my eyes when I stepped on it and nearly fell! No funny business in my office!", you joked.
"Does that mean we can't play Jenga and talk about my feelings? How dare you do that to me, woman?", Lando dramatised.
.
The first night of the week Max and Pietra would be spending in Monaco arrived quickly, and while the full day of sessions certainly kept your mind away from all of it, you found yourself at the door of your boyfriend's apartment waiting for him to get it.
"Hello, beautiful", Lando greeted as soon as he saw you, kissing your lips before letting you in, "let me take these", he said as he grabbed your bag and your coat.
"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm a bit late but the last session ran a bit longer than I expexted", you apologised, smoothing over your jeans and checking how you looked in the mirror - after the day you had, you couldn't expect much but you were pleasantly surprised that your hair was still bouncy and forgoing makeup was probably a good idea because you would have smudged it by now.
"You look beautiful as always, Y/N", Lando grabbed your attention, "and don't worry, take out is late too so you don't need to feel bad", he assured, guiding you with him to the living room where the noise was coming from.
"Guys, this is Y/N", Lando announced as they both welcomed you warmly, quickly asking you questions and letting you join in, preparing a drink for you.
"I'm usually heavy handed, but this one is proper, Y/N", he offered you before you took a sip, "I can fix a different one though!".
"It's good, it's good - hits the spot very nicely", you smiled, taking another sip before engaging in conversation.
When the food arrived, Lando asked you to join him in the kitchen to help him plate everything up and bring it to the dining table, opting to use the door closest to it so it would be easier.
As you crossed rhe hallway, you overheard Max and Pietra talking.
“Do you think it works?”, Pietra asked, “I mean, they seem happy, but Lando’s… well, Lando".
Max shrugged, “He’s crazy about her. Age doesn’t matter, does it? But yeah, never thought he’d settle, at least not like this".
You felt a small knot form in your stomach, but before you could dwell on it, Lando appeared at your side, his familiar warmth instantly reassuring as he placed his hand on the small of your back, “You alright?” he asked, noticing the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.
“Yeah", you smiled, deciding in that moment that the security you had together was worth navigating any doubts from others.
As the evening continued, you noticed Max and P exchanging skeptical glances across the table - they're were known for their protective nature over Lando, Max is his bestfriend, so they are particularly wary of anyone close to their beloved friend.
Over the clinking of silverware and hum of conversations, Max finally spoke up, his tone casual but inquisitive, "so, how’s it really going, being with a guy who practically lives on a racetrack?”.
You felt Lando's reassuring nudge beneath the table, prompting you to respond with honesty, "It's definitely something else. Racing is such a demanding world, but we find balance by making time for each other away from it all. So far, it has worked out well".
P leaned back, observing the dynamic between the you, "there must be a lot of pressure, especially with so many eyes watching your every move".
Lando chimed in before you could respond, "Y/N handles it like a champ. Honestly, she’s the calm in my storm", he said, his eyes filled with admiration for you. There wasn't a day that you didn't handle it gracefully, whether it was a fan wanting to take a photo or a reporter wanting to know more than you allowed.
Max and P exchanged another look, this time softer and less guarded - little by little, they began to see what Lando meant by his earlier assurance that you kept him grounded.
As dinner progressed, the conversation turned to shared stories, with Lando guiding the discussion to include moments from your relationship - your mutual love for travel, how you introduced him to the joy of quiet moments, and even shared a humorous tale of your early dates, laughter erupting when he recounted an incident involving mistaking your office with the one next to yours, Lando accidentally entering the lawyer's waiting room with a massive bouquet of flowers and passes to golf.
Max's initial skepticism gradually melted away as he watched you interact. Lando's attentiveness was unmistakable - how he would lean in to catch your words over the din of conversations, or how his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement at your stories. He noticed how effortless and natural your connection seemed, a seamless blend of companionship and partnership.
By the time dessert came around, Pietra seemed convinced, "Alright, alright. I can see what everyone’s been talking about. You both really seem to understand each other in a way that's rare".
"You say that like we don't!", Max complained.
"Shut it, Max, you know what I mean", she mumbled.
Feeling the warmth of acceptance flood the room, Lando laid his hand over yours on the table, grinning with relief and contentment, "Told you she was amazing,” he said, playfully raising his eyebrows.
Max chuckled, raising his glass, "Okay, I admit defeat, I'm not sure we are like this!".
It was in that moment that you realized, the whispers of doubt that had once lingered were no match for the clarity of Lando’s affection. Together, you were creating a narrative all your own, one that defied stereotypes and embraced your unique bond.
.
As the days passed after the gathering, the glow of being surrounded by Lando’s friends began to fade, replaced by the nagging unease that had settled in your mind. You found yourself replaying the conversations from that night, the laughter, the glances, and especially Max's comment, which you still couldn’t quite shake off despite the way the night ended.
One evening, after a long day at work, filled with sessions and schedule arrangements thanks to the flu season, you sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media.
Your heart sank as you stumbled upon a headline featuring Lando. The article speculated about his relationships and how he was often deemed the ultimate bachelor, writing that they believed he wasn't about to change his ways. The more you read, the harder it became to ignore your worries.
Later that night, Lando arrived from his photoshoot, his laughter echoing as he stepped through you door. He instantly brightened the room with his presence, but you struggled to muster so much as a smile.
“Hey! Long day?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly, concern etched across his features as he took a good look at you.
“Just tired", you replied with a half truth. As you settled down, you felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing on your chest, knowing that sooner or later they would find their way out.
“Is everything okay?”, Lando probed, sensing the shift in your mood. Even when you had a bad day, the reception he got wasn't like this.
You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, Do you ever think about what people say… about us?”.
Lando paused, confusion washing over his face, "What do you mean?”.
“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down, "Like, the way the media talks about you. Or how your friends might see us. What if they don’t accept me? They might think I’m not right for you… for your image".
Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, “Why would you think that?”.
“Because it’s true!”, you almost spat, frustration bubbling to the surface, "You’re this young, popular and successful Formula One driver, and I’m just… well, me. What if they think I’m just an older woman trying to latch onto your fame? What if they don’t see how happy we are?”.
“Stop it", he said gently, but firmly, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, or someone. You’re incredible, and I’m with you because I want to be. Age is just a number and it doesn’t define how meaningful our relationship is, not to me and it shouldn't be to anyone".
But your doubts resurfaced, relentless as you continued with your voice rising with each word, “But what if your family doesn’t feel the same? What if they think I’m not good enough for their sweet boy? I just… I can't help but overthink it. I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you".
Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his and grounding you with his touch, something you explained to him early on that worked wonders for you, “I can’t control what others think, but my family will see how happy you make me. They care about my happiness, not just some number or date".
“But what if they don’t?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. Over the years, you could remember the times where you told patients exactly that, that their mind was looking for survival so that's where it took them.
“They will!", Lando stated, his grip tightening slightly, “Look, it’s not going to be like this forever. People talk, and yes, media can be ruthless, but what matters is how we feel about each other. And I feel lucky to have you in my life. Please trust that, my love".
You looked for reassurance in his eyes as slowly his words began to soothe the turmoil, but the fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.
“I just don’t want to complicate things for you", you said softly.
Lando brushed his fingers against your cheek, a gentle smile breaking through your anxiety, "you’re not complicating things. You’re adding to my life in a way I never knew I needed. Can we just take this one step at a time together?”.
Lando pulled you into a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on your heart lightened. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay in the moment and be there.
“I’ll try", you finally spoke against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his unwavering support.
“I promise I'm not going anywhere", he whispered back, wrapping you tighter in his arms, "we’re in this together".
"Thank you", you mumbled, pecking his lips softly.
"You don't ever need to thank me, not for stuff like this or anything else, we're in this together, lovie", Lando kissed your forehead, "besides, if you ever dump me, I'll have to find a good psychologist to help me through it and you're the best one, so that's another valid point for us to stay together", he chuckled, wanting to get a giggle out of you.
Smiling when he succeeded, Lando squeezed you tighter against him, "never doubt that we were meant to be, Y/N, never".
#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic
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༆THE LAST WOMAN ON EARTH ☢︎︎- ➪enhypen ot7 x fem reader
SYNOPSIS: Moving to South Korea at just 20 years old to study medicine was something that made you extremely proud. You had so many plans for the future, but it seems that fate doesn't want the same for you. Overnight, a virus that affects only women spreads throughout the world, causing all the women in the world to die in a matter of weeks. You were the only one left standing, the problem? Nobody knew, only you. As time passed, you managed to survive this post-apocalyptic world, where you had to hide from men because if someone knew that a woman still existed, everything would go to hell for you. You didn't expect seven strangers to break into your house in the middle of the night and you didn't expect what was going to happen next either.
Word count: 4360
Pairing: enhypen! x fem!reader
Genre: Suspense, death, dystopian, post-apocalyptic world, angst, too much drama, slow burn, smut as the chapters go by (mdni), fluff, Possessiveness, jealousy, fights, toxicity, lots of love (I know, it sounds contradictory) enhypen are complete losers for the reader in the best way, strangers to lovers and other things that may happen later
Warnings!⚠️: Death, loss of loved ones, use of weapons, depression and anxiety problems, mentions of suicide, survival, vulgar and sometimes offensive language, graphic descriptions of traumatic events. If you are sensitive, don't read it for your own good. Rader is a little mean to the boys in this chap, but she's just defending herself! everyone is of legal age!! Heeseung is 26, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon are 25, Sunoo is 23, Jungwon is 22 and Ni-ki is 21.
Status: ongoing (16-01-2025 -)
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction, everything came out of my head, the personality of the characters are not real and do not represent them in real life in any way, any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. Everyone is of legal age in this universe. English is not my first language so you will probably find spelling mistakes.
Hii beautiful people!! I'm finally back with the second chap of this story! It took me longer than the first one, sorry for the delay! hope you enjoy it a lot! You would help me a lot by liking, reblogging and commenting! Without further ado, thank you very much and enjoy!
CHAPTER I: "Disaster"
CHAPTER II: "Loneliness"
more under the cut ☟︎︎︎
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... that sound definitely wasn't the rain....
Your senses were sharpened to the maximum again, your hand gripping your weapon tightly and securing it close to your body. Your heart and breathing seemed to be in a race to see which one was faster, but you could be sure that your heart was the winner, as you could literally feel it pounding in your ears. Your throat suddenly felt tight and dry, nerves and anxiety on edge, you tried to swallow to moisten it, but your attempts were futile. You could feel tears stinging your eyes from the desperation you felt.
"Holy shit..." your voice was barely a whisper as you tried to process what was happening. You tried to calm yourself and sharpen your hearing so you knew how many men you were up against. Your room suddenly seemed suffocating and tiny, you felt the bubbling of a panic attack in your chest, you felt like you were going to die, your mind kept telling you that your minutes were numbered. You started to shake as one shudder after another went through your body like lightning, it was desperate and terrifying. You quietly climbed down from your bed and approached the door of your room on tiptoe. You wanted to listen better, because despite your fear, dying was not an option, not after surviving for so long. Breathing shakily, you leaned your ear against the door of your room, trying to catch a sound. Fuck, you had no idea what to do, fear made your legs shake slightly.
Meanwhile, on the second floor, the intruders were breathing heavily and panting, a sign that they had been running. Their clothes were soaked from the heavy storm outside, so the floor was filled with small puddles of water and some mud "Fuck, that was close..." one of them said, trying to catch his breath, putting a hand on his chest, feeling the strong beating of his heart as he leaned against the front door, holding it shut.
How stupid you were. In the midst of crying for your mother, you'd forgotten the most important thing: securing the fucking front door of your house.
"It was all Jake and Ni-ki's fault, we almost got caught by the police!" another voice shouted, pointing at the named ones who looked at him with a mixture of indignation and disbelief, while the first boy who had spoken looked at him with wide eyes, signaling him to shut up.
"Excuse me? no no, no way, it's not our fault, no one forced you to come with us Jay..." another of the voices said with a distinctive accent, his words tinged with contempt "And try not to scream, the police might still be around.." Jay frowned and approached this one with indignant steps "Don't be an idiot Jake, we can't let you go off alone in the middle of the night, you know crime has risen too much in the last few years, there's a reason the government declared a curfew after midnight, fuck..." his voice sounded frustrated as he looked at him seriously. "'You're a grown man, you should have a little more conscience, you both could have been killed..." he said this time with more seriousness and concern, scolding him firmly in a whisper. The weight of his words hung in the air.
Definitely none of them wanted to die, let alone go to jail, Jay was right, they couldn't just leave in the middle of the night and put themselves in danger and worry the rest of the group. It was a miracle they had found this house, a few more minutes and the police would have caught them.
"Well, sorry, it was my idea Jay Hyung..." another deeper voice said as he scratched his neck a little embarrassed and looked at the elder "Anyway, we're all fine," he said this time with a little cheeky but guilty smile trying to break the tense moment.
A sigh was heard, followed by another clear voice. "It's okay Ni-ki, make sure you don't do it again please..." he asked firmly but at the same time calmly as he looked at the one named and also at Jake who nodded silently, feeling a little guilty, he had quite a bit of leadership in his voice. Ni-ki nodded, "Okay, Jungwon Hyung..." Ni-ki's deep voice hung in the cold air of the house as Jungwon sighed again.
The house was silent for a few seconds as the boys looked around and surveyed the place, ignoring the fact that they were freezing to death from the water that had fallen on them in the middle of winter. And it had occurred to Ni-ki that it would be fun to leave (escape) from where they lived at three in the morning, Jake saw him trying to leave and joined him on the pretext that he "couldn't let him go alone because it was too dangerous", which brought them all here.
Ni-ki was the youngest of the group, which of course made him the most rebellious, and someone like that always needed an accomplice, which was Jake most of the time, which led to both of them getting into trouble quite often.
"It's a nice house...strange that it's abandoned..." another voice, different from the others, a little softer, broke the silence, praising the architecture of the place, your place. And it was true, it was a huge house, with a modern vintage style. Another of the boys nodded in agreement as he shook his head a little, trying to get the water out of his hair, "Yeah, Sunoo's right...it's pretty nice for being abandoned..." The words hung heavy in the air as the boys looked at each other, seemingly searching for answers, there seemed to be an immediate understanding between them as the named one nodded and the seven began to explore the living room, their steps cautious in the new suspicion that someone already lived in the house. Even though it seemed empty, they had to make sure they were out of danger.
On the second floor, you had managed to identify seven voices from your room, where you were still trying to calm down. So they were being chased by the police for breaking the curfew, tsk...men. Your breathing was still fast, but as you listened to their conversations, you managed to calm down a bit, knowing that because of their actions, it wouldn't be very difficult to deal with them.......
or so you thought
You could hear them walking around your living room and decided that you needed to listen more closely, their voices were a little muffled by the distance. You were about to open your bedroom door slightly, but what sounded like something falling to the floor startled you slightly as your free hand instinctively grabbed the doorknob, as if holding on to it would somehow protect you from them.
"Shit..." cursed the voice of one of the guys whose name you hadn't heard yet, furrowing his brow slightly "Pfff...what an idiot, Heeseung Hyung..." Ni-ki said, letting out a laugh as he sneered at the older one, watching as he crashed into a nearby shelf, causing a ceramic jug to fall and shatter into several pieces on the floor.
Heeseung turned his head to look at Ni-ki with narrowed eyes, "Aish...hey, what a brat...i can't see..." mild annoyance ran through his dramatic voice as he defended himself and pointed at Ni-ki who was still laughing. The other five boys chuckled a little at the amusing situation between the oldest and the youngest of the group. They got along so well, you could hear a certain camaraderie in their voices, as if they had known each other forever "I mean, ....Ni-ki isn't wrong..." the other boy, whose name you didn't know yet, remarked with a slight sideways smile that showed his fangs a little longer than usual, a cute, not-so-usual attraction.
Heeseung looked at him without any amusement on his face, judging him with his eyes. They had this habit of teasing him, not that he really minded, but he was tired, hungry and soaking wet, not in a good mood "Really, Sunghoon, you too?" he shook his head in disapproval as Sunghoon shrugged his shoulders without saying anything else and let out a small chuckle. He was really stressed out too and fuck, the current situation had affected him a lot, he hadn't had pussy in over four fucking years and he fucked so often that he was really going crazy.
Not that he was a pervert (or maybe yes), but he excused himself by saying that "fucking relieved his stress and made him perform better in his daily life"
But he had never experienced falling in love, only one-night stands, just like the other guys. The hope that he could have pussy faded deeper and deeper in the back of his mind, and he resigned himself to settling for his own hand. But he refused to accept that idea, he still had some hope. He didn't just want to fuck, he wanted a woman he could love and who would love him, he wanted to be a good love and he also had a dream of being a father, something that obviously seemed unattainable for Heeseung, in fact it seemed unattainable for the seven men.
They really wanted to fall in love...
In fact, they were all stressed about the lack of pussy.... Even Jungwon and Ni-ki, who were still virgins and had never been able to bury their sad cocks in real pussy, were sexually frustrated. But for Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon and Sunoo, the feeling of being trapped inside a pussy was like nothing else in the world and now they could only remember and even imagine because fuck, four years without sex, it was like being a virgin all over again.
But come on, their hearts needed to be stimulated as much as their cocks.
Jungwon cautiously approached the now non-existent jar on the ground, bowing slightly and examining it, "If someone was here, they would have heard us by now..." he mused with a calm expression. He straightened as he turned to look at the other boys, they were like his family, he had known them for many years and loved them like his brothers.
The only thing that illuminated the living room at the moment was the light from the occasional thunder light that came through the window like a horror movie. It was a huge place, enough for everyone to be comfortable "I think we can either spend the night here or keep the place, after all, the one we had was getting too small for the seven of us..." he looked at them, waiting for a sign of denial, but they all seemed to agree.
It wasn't a bad idea, after all. They were in the middle of the forest, far away from the city, where there was more crime by the way, and the place seemed quite cozy. Besides, if Jungwon said so, it was because it had to be. He always made sure that everyone felt comfortable, even though they often fought like siblings, which was sometimes funny, Jungwon always prioritized everyone's well-being.
"Well, we should look for the bathroom, clothes and blankets, I'm freezing...we could take a bath..." Sunoo spoke for the second time, articulating each of his words with his hands. The boys nodded. A hot shower sounded great after running through the forest in the rain, so much that their legs felt tired.
"Good idea, we should split up, go through the rest of the house and look for the things we need..." fuck no, if they went through the rest of the house they would definitely find you and that couldn't happen, they couldn't find you, so you had no choice but to find them before it was too late.
Sunghoon's voice was full of determination as he explained his idea to the others, who immediately agreed. But before they could take action, you beat them to it for your own good.
"I wouldn't do that if i were you..." Your voice finally echoed through the living room with newfound certainty, causing a sudden hush to fall over the place. Your gun was pressed against the large back of one of the seven boys, who was now undeniably tense, you could tell by the way the muscles in his back were contracting under his clothes. He was tall, blond, and seemed to have well-defined biceps.....
"No, idiot, this is not the time to think about biceps, concentrate" You mentally scolded yourself.
Instinctively, he raised both hands to let you know that he was not going to attack you. His hands were shaking slightly and he was completely stiff as he felt the cold metal of your gun against his back, which, in addition to your distinctly feminine voice, sent shivers down his spine.
From your vantage point, you could see the faces of the other six boys, pale and still as if they had seen a ghost. And no wonder, they must be more confused and shocked than ever. The torrential rain that pounded against the windows and roof was the only thing that filled the deadly silence. It was the first time you had seen people in years, your heart was beating fast in your chest and you couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement...
or perhaps a mixture of both.
After what seemed like an eternity, one of them tried to move forward, his hair was a deep red, but quickly there was an instant click in your head as you pulled the safety off your gun, making him flinch in place, your survival instinct was at its peak "Take another fucking step and I'll blow your friend's head off..." your voice was cold as was the expression on your face, your breathing rapid, matching that of the guys in front of you who seemed more nervous than you.
Your eyes were still slightly red from crying earlier, and even though you were scared shitless inside, you didn't want to let it show, you didn't want them to notice your weakness. This time you leaned your gun against the back of the blond boy's neck, indicating that you meant business.
Fuck, they couldn't let something go unnoticed, something they thought didn't exist anymore and that they would never see again in their lives, suddenly the reality they lived in took a 180 degree turn when you appeared, you were a woman, fuck, you clearly were, and you stood in front of them and threatened to blow Sunghoon's head off with one shot. It all seemed like a lie, the last four years of their lives began to have an unbearable weight on their backs when they saw you. They began to think they were hallucinating and had to blink several times to process the information. Even so, their throats felt dry and their eyes couldn't take their eyes off you. Sunghoon began to feel impatient, yes, he was scared, but he also wanted to see you, so he gathered all his courage to speak
"M-Miss...we don't want to hurt you..." you idiot, he mentally cursed himself for stuttering slightly and scrunched up his face in an expression that clearly said 'I screwed up', he who never hesitated in front of any woman had just done it with you, which left his ego a little bruised, but he didn't care.
You clenched your jaw as you heard him speak, pressing the gun harder against his head, making him tense up even more, if that was possible, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...really, we don't mean any har-..."
Pathetic, he begged pathetically, but a mixture of fear and emotion controlled him at that moment, he couldn't control it.
"Shut up...you talk too much for someone who is being targeted..." your voice was cutting and harsh, making it clear that there was no room for discussion in your words, making Sunghoon shut up immediately as he nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly.
You had to find a way to control the situation, no matter what. You grabbed the boy's soaked shirt from behind and pushed him down, "Get on your knees..." you ordered firmly and he obeyed immediately, kneeling on the ground, you don't have many options when you have a gun pointed at you, making it so that everyone could see you better now. You didn't mean to be so rude, but you couldn't trust them, not yet, "You too, idiots, what are you waiting for?"
Yes, maybe you were too harsh, but you had to guarantee your survival first and foremost.
With the seven men now kneeling on the floor in front of you, you sighed and thought about what to do next. You weren't going to kill them, you weren't that kind of person, even if it gave them a free hand to hurt you, you just weren't that kind of person. But letting them go wasn't an option either, what were you going to do, stay with them? you didn't know them, the most you knew was their names and from the way they looked, they were all around your age.
"Are you really a woman?" the voice of one of them broke through your cloud of thoughts. Oh God, you didn't think they were that stupid, he really just asked you that?
You raised your eyes to look at the boy who had spoken, your brow was clearly furrowed, he had some blue strands in his black hair "Jay, shut up for God's sake," Heeseung spoke softly, clearly scolding him, really, he couldn't believe his friend had asked that. But he didn't blame him, he was just as or even more stunned than Jay by your presence, which made him move slightly in his place, not wanting to alert you, he really couldn't believe his eyes either, actually none of them could.
While you thought intently without saying a word, your gun still rested on Sunghoon's head. You bit your lower lip, trying to think of a quick solution, but damn, this was clearly going to take a long time. A sigh left your lips, you were sleepy, your body was aching and your head was going a mile a second, which made your mental situation difficult as well as putting your thoughts in order. In addition, you couldn't see much because there was no light and everyone's eyes were on you, which inevitably made you a little nervous.
Meanwhile, the boys' minds were no better off than yours, still trying to process that you actually exist and are not a figment of their imagination.
Hell, they even wanted, no, they had to be in Sunghoon's place. Just knowing that you were a woman got them going, but what about your assertive dominance? The way you had brought Sunghoon, who was probably one of the strongest in the group, to his knees with a simple command from your lips was fucking attractive.
The tension in the air was thick, not only because they were threatened at gunpoint, but also because there was an undeniable sexual attraction and tension between you and them. It was impossible to control, something instantaneous that left them with their breath caught in their throats and their cocks already half hardened in their pants, including Sunghoon himself. They didn't want to look like dogs in heat or perverts, they didn't want to scare you and make you think badly of them, but it was something that was simply out of their hands.
The cold they had felt from being soaked earlier vanished at a ridiculous speed and was replaced by warmth. Their faces were slightly flushed and now that they knew you were real, they couldn't help but imagine a lot of situations in their twisted minds, but damn, besides being hard, you were beautiful, a temptation at a glance that made them clench their thighs as their erections went wild.
Sunghoon, who was closest to you, was the most affected, he could even smell your scent, so soft and delicate, the scent of a woman. He stopped himself from inhaling your precious scent with all his might, forgetting that the tip of a gun was pressed against his head.
Jungwon cleared his throat, trying to find his voice in your presence, which was quite strong, "Miss, please..don't hurt us... we can just go and..." a dry laugh came out of your throat as you looked at him with narrowed eyes, cutting off his words, "Sure, I'll let you go so you can shout that you found a woman all over Seoul..." Your words were clearly sarcastic, rejecting his suggestion outright, making Jungwon quickly shake his head in an attempt to contradict you, but your gaze was enough to make him stop trying.
"Then you'll have to let us stay here..." the rational sense of Heeseung had left his head when he dared to say those words with a tone of boldness and obviousness as he looked at you with slightly half-closed eyelids, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
It infuriated you, how could he be so arrogant when you could literally kill him at any moment? You looked at him as you let go of Sunghoon and approached him with quickened steps. You grabbed his jaw with one of your hands and roughly lifted his face to look into his eyes while resting your gun on his forehead. Your eyes betrayed your anger, but he seemed too relaxed for his own good, "You better shut the fuck up, because if you don't..." the asshole didn't let you finish as he blatantly interrupted you, "If I don't, what?..." he dared you, not only with his voice, but also with his eyes.
How fucking dare he?
"You're not going to kill us..." he said, his fucking grin getting bigger and bigger, "if you wanted to, we'd all be dead by now from the moment you walked into this room, precious..."
Oh fuck, he couldn't be that fucking arrogant, but he was right, you wouldn't kill them and you hated that he could read you so easily without even knowing you.
You clenched your jaw, wanting to break his ridiculously attractive face, because that was one little detail you hadn't been able to overlook, they were all fucking attractive, but you couldn't afford to think about that when your top priority had to be keeping yourself safe.
You clenched his jaw with your hand, your fingers digging lightly into his skin, causing a small sigh to leave his lips, "You're right, i may not want to kill you...but I'll blow your fucking balls off if you keep spitting shit..." this time he didn't dare interrupt you, instead he seemed to be lost in limbo. His gaze was fixed on your lips as you spoke each word with furious determination....
Fuck, you had fire in you
The formula was simple: danger equals adrenaline, adrenaline equals thrill, and thrill equals arousal. There was no other way to explain why they enjoyed danger so much.
The others were waiting for the scene to unfold in front of them.
So you weren't going to kill them. A relief settled in their chests when they realized that you weren't a bad person, you were just defensive, which was completely normal when seven intruders enter your house in the middle of the night. Jungwon had quickly understood and realized that Heeseung had been the first to notice, that's why he dared to talk to you like that. Now the group was less tense, they trusted their oldest member, they knew that Heeseung wouldn't risk doing something he wasn't completely sure about.
"All right, no need for anyone to get hurt, miss..." Jungwon interrupted what seemed to be a dueling stare between Heeseung and you, his words a little more confident now that Heeseung had taken it upon himself to break through the layer of harsher tension, but still he was being cautious.
Your eyes didn't leave Heeseung's and you didn't take the gun away from his head either, but his words echoed in your head and honestly, you didn't have much of a choice. Curiosity bubbled in your chest, you wondered what to do, you had been alone too long, you remembered nights when you couldn't sleep because you were so scared. Maybe letting them stay was your best option, you knew you were the last woman on earth, you were sure that if you asked them to do something, they would do it without hesitation and maybe they could protect you. Bring you out of your state of loneliness, which seemed to grow with time.
The boys' knees were starting to hurt from kneeling for so long, but the tense situation in the living room was too tense for any of them to try to make a move. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen, including you.
A sigh escaped your lips when you realized that you would have no choice but to let them stay here, but if that was going to happen, it would be under your own rules. You didn't want to be alone anymore, which didn't mean that you were going to blindly trust them overnight, because trust was a luxury you could pay dearly for if you decided to put all your cards on the table.
You let go of Heeseung's face and slowly lowered your gun, your gaze, still quite hard, shifting from him to the other guys as you took your time to study their expressions.
"Alright..I'll let you all stay..." you finally declared and your words were an immediate comfort to the seven men in front of you, but before any of them could say anything you continued "But..." you fell silent for a few seconds, letting the anticipation fill the air "if any of you do anything stupid, i swear...
i will kill you..."
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#enha x reader#enhypen fic#enhypen au#enhypen ot7#enhypen x femreader#heeseung#jay#jake#sunghoon#sunoo#jungwon#ni ki#survival#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#niki x reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enha#enhypen fanfiction#smut#fluff#angst#enhypen smut#switch!enhypen#switch!reader
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Good Boy | masterlist | ao3
@wearysparrows and i were talking this morning about dogs and work was really slow, so i just... wrote dog!sylus all day today. @leaderincrows is bursting with ideas for dog!sylus, but I only managed to fit some of them in this time (i'm so sorry, i hope you like anyway!). Maybe there needs to be more dog!sylus, i don't know. So voilà, I present you my very stupid take on the trope -> After a stray dog gets injured helping you in a fight against Wanderers, you take it home with you. Then one day, you wake up and find a man in your bed instead of your beloved dog. sylus x gn reader, sylus x mc. sylus acts like a real dog for 2/3ds of the fic. nsfw, there's penetrative sex, not with dog!sylus but with human!sylus (sylus penetrating), oral for both you and sylus, as a treat. Minor doggy injury, but he's fine. fluff, banter, teasing.
The snow is falling. Fat flakes, thick. The world is still, all sounds muffled under the blanket of snow covering the ground.
The blood is bright on the snow, against the white.
Your chest heaves as you stare down at the huge, beautiful dog. Wolf? You’re not sure. You’ve never been able to have a pet, never spent much time with animals. Wolf hybrids are outlawed within Linkon City limits, so you think it’s most likely that the injured animal before you is some kind of large shepherd dog. An albino, going by its red eyes, its long, silky looking thick coat of white fur, blending in with the snow.
Except for the blood.
Your Hunter’s watch alerted you to metaflux fluctuations while you were out with friends, in a park near the restaurant where you were having dinner. They stared, wide-eyed, as you stood up right as the main course arrived.
“Duty calls,” you said.
Tara looked worried. “Why don’t you call for backup?”
You shook your head. “It’s not that big of a fluctuation. Xav’s sleeping, I’m not gonna wake him up for this.”
She glanced around at the group, gaze lingering on the guy whom she was trying to set you up with. “Okay…” she said, grimacing.
You knew you were going to get an earful for interrupting the blind date that Tara had arranged but you didn’t know you were attending when you arrived, in order to fight Wanderers. It was your night off too, after all.
The guy seemed nice. Handsome. You just… felt nothing when you looked at him, when you listened to his small talk. You’d rather be out in the snow, risking your life.
Yeah, Tara might be right. There might be something wrong with you.
You were just bored, otherwise.
Without the adrenaline. The rush. The sense of accomplishment.
Most men you met just didn’t get it.
None of the men you met ever made your heart race, the way doing your job made it race.
Now, here you are. In the hushed, falling snow, staring down at the dog that just saved your ass from a surprise second Wanderer, while you were busy putting down the first.
The dog received a nasty swipe to its belly as a reward for its efforts.
It’s lying in the snow, curled in on itself, licking, licking.
You tuck your Deepspace Hunter standard issue firearms into your holsters, barrels still smoking in the cold. Crouch down into the snow, your boots crunching.
“Hey, buddy,” you say softly. One of the dog’s pretty, huge, pointy ears flicks in your direction, but it remains focused on tending its wound, its long tongue pink, its breath puffing in the frigid air.
You inch closer, waiting for a sign of defensive aggression, but the dog seems content to let you approach.
Finally, you’re crouched next to it. You lift your hand, and it lifts its head. It stares at you with its strange, bright red eyes. Bright, like the blood on the snow.
It sniffs your hand, nostrils flaring, and then lowers its head. As if deigning to allow you to pet it.
You stroke your fingers along its long snout, along its cheek. It huffs, closes its eyes.
“Can I see your tummy?” you ask, running your hand from its snout, down its shoulder, to rest on its side.
It lets you. Watches your hand, and then licks it.
You lean further, letting your hand rest on its leg. “I’m going to lift your leg now, take a look at your belly,” you inform it. It doesn’t move, so you take a chance, and do as you promised.
The dog lets you.
Lifting the dog’s leg, you see it’s a boy, unneutered. You’re surprised. Most pets, unless they’re registered for breeding or are show animals, are required to be neutered or spayed in Linkon City. You wonder if he’s a stray.
But your attention is caught by the long, shallow gash along his lower belly, where his thick, luxurious fur is the most thin. It’s not deep, but it’s bleeding quite a bit.
“You need to see a vet, buddy,” you tell the dog.
He growls, low in his throat. You still your hand, thinking maybe he changed his mind about you touching him. You lift your hand, but then he nudges it, butting it with his nose, as if demanding that you continue caressing him.
You laugh. “Okay. Okay.” You resume petting him.
He’s not wearing a collar. There’s no way for you to know if he’s a stray, or has an owner to call, who can help come and collect him, to care for him. Based on how beautiful and healthy he looks, you doubt he’s a stray. But you can’t just leave him here.
You stroke his fur, while slowly reaching into your coat pocket for your phone.
You make a call. The answer is swift. A bit exasperated. You can imagine the man on the other end pinching his nose, nudging his glasses aside as he does so, long-suffering from yet another strange request from you.
“You do realize that I’m a cardiac surgeon, and not a veterinarian.”
You humor him. “Yes, yes. I will make it up to you, I promise.”
There is silence on the line. Then his soft, soothing voice. “There is a new bakery that recently opened. They specialize in macha desserts.”
He knows you hate macha. This is his way of punishing you.
You smile. “I’ll treat you. Come quickly.”
“I will.”
The dog’s eyes never leave yours, the whole time you’re on the phone.
Zayne is as good as his word.
He arrives quickly, striding through the thick snowfall, at home in the frigid cold, seemingly unbothered with his handsome wool coat only partially buttoned, his scarf hanging loosely around his neck.
The dog watches him, with his strange, strange eyes, but doesn’t act defensive. As if he knows that this man is here to help.
Zayne couches down next to you. Sighs.
“What happened?”
“Wanderer claws. No poison, or venom. Just the nasty gash there.” You gesture at the bleeding wound, the white fur crimson now, matted.
“Has he shown any signs of aggression?”
You shake your head.
“All right, but that’s no guarantee he won’t react when I start working. I’ll sedate him.”
The dog growls, narrows his eyes. You have the funny feeling again that he can understand everything that’s happening to him, what you’re saying.
“I’ll hold his snout,” you blurt.
Zayne frowns, slightly. “He could bite you. He could have an infectious disease. Absolutely not.”
You turn to the dog. “Focus on me, okay buddy? Dr. Zayne is gonna fix you right up. It might hurt, but you can handle it, right? You’re such a good boy.” You speak low, soft, soothingly. The dog’s ears swivel, flick. He whines when you say Good boy. He inches forward, painfully, in the snow to get closer to you. You rest your hands on either side of his big jaws, stare into his eyes. “Do it,” you tell Zayne. “Please.
All you hear is his frosty silence, before a resigned sigh.
The dog whimpers, but doesn’t snap, or otherwise react, as Zayne cleans his wound, stitches him up. As he wraps the clean bandages around the wound, covering the bloody, matted fur. The dog just looks into your eyes, panting, shows no sign of reacting poorly to the pain.
When it’s over, the dog closes his eyes. You run your hands from his muzzle down his neck, back through his thick fur.
“Good boy,” you say, again, softly. His long, fuzzy tail thumps weakly in the snow in response.
“He’ll need antibiotics. You’ll need to arrange for an actual vet for that.”
You nod. “Thanks.” Then pause. Grimace. “I need one more favor.”
Zayne stares at you, lovely hazel eyes flashing behind his glasses. “Do I even want to know?”
“I came here on my motorcycle, and I want to take him home. Make sure he recovers okay. Find his owner, hopefully.”
Zayne immediately understands what you’re asking and frowns again, more deeply. “No.”
“Pretty, pretty please?” You’re not above begging, wheedling like when you were children.
“The upholstery in my car cannot handle all that—” he waves a scarred hand at the lustrous, incredibly thick fur of the dog, and his long, sharp looking nails.
“I’ll pay for any detailing or damage your car might need, along with the macha bakery!” you offer, desperate. You don’t think any cab in the city will accept your not-wolf as a passenger.
Zayne stares down at the dog. His shoulders sag a bit.
“On one condition.”
You perk up. “Anything.”
“Take my scarf. You’re not even wearing a proper winter coat,” he scolds, sounding infinitely exhausted with your inability to properly take care of yourself. He turns to you, lifting the scarf from his neck and wrapping it gently around yours. It’s warm around your neck, and smells good. “How you think you’ll care for a pet, as well as yourself, is beyond me,” he grumbles. He looks down at the dog. “Come.”
The dog just stares at him. Leans further back in the snow.
“Come, now,” Zayne tries again. Cold, imperious.
“I don’t know if he can walk,” you begin, but Zayne shakes his head.
“His side is injured, not his legs. He can walk.”
You glance uncertainly at the dog, whose ears are now flattened back against his head. He’s panting heavily, where before he wasn’t. He looks miserable.
You steel your spine. “Okay, I’ll carry him to your car.”
Zayne pinches his nose again, knocking his glasses a little. “No, I’ll carry him.”
He kneels, lifts the dog with a grunt.
You swear the dog looks smug as he rests his head on Zayne’s shoulder, ears pricked up and swiveling again. He watches you as you trail behind them both in the snow to Zayne’s fancy car.
You’re going to have to add Zayne’s drycleaning to the bill of what you owe him.
You thank Zayne, return to the restaurant.
You offer your excuses to your disappointed-looking blind date. You don’t have the heart to refuse to give him your number.
Finally, you make your escape. Break the speed limit to get home before Zayne and your… not wolf.
Zayne carries the dog into your place, sets him down on your living room rug.
He looks down at his fur-covered coat when he’s done, expression unimpressed.
“Bill me,” you say, trying to sound cheerful, as if you’re not already deducting the accumulated costs from your bank account and wincing internally.
Expensive fucking dog, and you’ve only had him for an hour.
“Do you want to stay? Have something to drink?” you ask, the least you can offer after your doctor’s excessive generosity tonight, even if you now owe him.
He shakes his head. “I have to return to the hospital. But thank you.” He stares down at the dog, who is now sitting on his haunches just fine, breathing normally. His ears are straight up, swiveling, swiveling. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks, absently.
You tilt your head. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He keeps staring at the dog. “There’s something…” his voice trails off. He shakes his head, seems to shake off his thoughts. “Nevermind. Call me, if you need anything.”
“Thank you, again. Let me know when you’re free soon, I’ll clear my schedule for macha,” you say, cheerfully, despite the fact that you hate it terribly. He nods, makes his way to your front door.
“Oh, do you want your scarf?” you ask, suddenly remembering that he insisted you wear it. You begin unwrapping it from your neck.
He pauses at the door. “No. Keep it, for now. You can return it when we meet again,” he says, strangely. As if he’s actually saying something else. Like it’s insurance to see you again, when he’s your doctor. Of course you'll see him again.
You thank him quietly, and then he’s gone. You hang the scarf carefully on one of the pegs in the wall of your hallway.
You return to the living room and stare at your new friend, who still sits on his haunches, watching you attentively.
“Hey, Buddy. I don’t have anything for a dog. No food, no leash. I’m going to have to go to the supermarket and pick up some stuff for you.”
The dog just listens, watches. You frown. “Okay. I’m going to go now. Don’t eat my shoes.”
You turn, walk to the door. You put your boots back on, and as you do so, you feel a cold nose nudging the back of your bent neck. You shiver.
“Hey,” you say, turning. The dog has followed you to your hallway. You hate thinking of him as ‘the dog.’
“Do you have a name?” you wonder out loud.
The dog whines, a little, tilting his head. “I bet you have some regal name. You seem like a very expensive dog, with a rich owner.”
The dog just huffs.
“Maximus,” you say. Trying it out. He lowers his head, bumps your shoulder with his snout. You laugh. “Okay, not Maximus. Uum.” You think. “Charles?”
The dog growls.
“Okay, okay.” You try again.“Sherman.”
The dog actually takes a step back, growls more deeply. You laugh even louder. “I should call you Sherman as punishment for being so picky.” He looks unimpressed, bored. But his ears are pressed back against his head. His tail is thumping the floor in agitation.
You can’t bear to see him so put out, so you decide against calling him Sherman even as a joke.
You stare at him thoughtfully. He’s so beautiful, with his soft, long fur. It almost has a pearl sheen, in the subtle lighting of your hallway.
Finally, a name comes to you. You don’t know why, but you say, “Sylus.” A name that you’ve never known anyone to have before. Not anyone you’ve ever met, anywhere, anyway.
His ears flick forward. He approaches you again. Rests his head on your shoulder.
“Oh, we like Sylus?” you tease him, and he lets his tongue loll out, leaves a wet swipe on your ear. You laugh, pushing his head away. “Sylus it is.”
He watches as you finish tying your boots.
As you shrug back into your coat. As you walk out the door.
He’s there when you return. Sitting patiently, in the same position. As if he was waiting for you to come home the entire time. His tail wags eagerly.
You dump all the shit you bought for him on the hallway floor.
“You’re already the most expensive thing I’ve acquired in a long, long time,” you grouse at him.
You unlace, kick off your boots. Hang up your coat.
You don’t notice that Zayne’s scarf is no longer hanging on the peg in the hall.
You take the huge bag of dog food to the kitchen. He follows you, head low, watching every move you make. You hum, taking a bowl from your cupboard, scoop out some of his food, set it and another bowl filled with water next to your kitchen island.
When you turn, you find him staring at you, ears swiveled toward you.
You stop humming.
He takes a step forward, nudges your thigh. He’s so big, he comes up to your waist. “What do you need, baby?” You run your hands through his fur. You don’t know where the term of endearment came from. It’s just, despite his size, the fact that he looks like an alpha predator, something about him screams ‘big baby’ to you. In the same way you knew that he wouldn’t bite you as Zayne tended to his wound.
You just know.
Like you know his name should be Sylus.
This dog is making you insane.
He whines softly. Lets out a little ‘awooo.’
You stare at him. He does it again. A sad little, awooo. Then he nudges your hip with his nose.
You suddenly understand that he wants you to keep humming.
You start humming again, and he looks incredibly satisfied. He sits back on his butt, tail thumping on your floor.
From that day on, you hum, every time you’re home. You decide that the next time you have to leave him, you’ll leave music on for him to listen to you while you’re gone.
You have no idea what you’re going to do with such a big dog if you can’t figure out who owns him, but you’re going to keep him if no one else will. Already, the thought of parting from him hurts your heart in a way that shocks you.
Even as he turns his nose up at the dry food you bought him.
Even as he only eats meat leftovers from takeout from the night before.
Even as he lets you bathe him, docilely sitting in your small shower, but then once he’s out of the cabin, he stares you directly in the eyes even as you say No!!!! and he shakes his body, his soaking wet fur, so hard that the entire room and everything in it, including you, is soaked.
You stand, shellshocked, dripping onto your little, soaked bathroom rug.
“Sylus,” you say. Glaring at him. He sits back on his butt. He doesn’t avoid your gaze, like other dogs. He stares right back at you.
You strip out of your clothes, leave them in a sad little pile on the floor. Naked, you kneel down, take a towel and gently rub him down. He licks your arm, your hand. As if to say he’s sorry. You don’t believe it for a second.
When he’s towel dry, you take out your blow dryer.
His eyes close halfway in hypnotized pleasure as you slowly, diligently brush him with the new doggy brush you bought and dry him with the dryer set to low.
When you’re done, he’s so fluffy, his coat so shiny. You want to bury your face in him. You check his stitches. They look fine, even after the shower.
But you’re still naked, and soaked. You shoo him from the bathroom, step into the shower. Wait for the water to warm up again.
You wash your hair, let the water beat down on your sore shoulders. With your job, something is always sore.
However, after a few minutes, you notice that the water isn’t draining. You look down and see a massive amount of white fur blocking the drain.
You hang your head, exhausted at the prospect of cleaning the drain before you can be done for the evening.
This fucking dog.
Finally, the shower is clean. You’re clean.
You step out of the bathroom, walk naked to your bedroom.
Sylus is lying on your bed. As if he owns the place. His big head rests on his big paws, and he watches you, his ears swiveling, flicking, as you stop and put your hands on your hips.
“Off.” You are not letting this monstrous, furry thing sleep on your bed. You’re already nuts about him, but this is a step too far. “I got you a dog bed. You can sleep on your doggy bed.”
You go to your closet, and you feel his glowing ruby eyes follow every movement you make. As you slip on underwear. Soft pyjama pants. A tank top.
You turn. He hasn’t moved. “Be a good boy, and get off the bed.”
He pretends not to hear you. Just looks away, as if fascinated by the view outside your bedroom window. He huffs, as if bored, tail swishing slowly.
“I spent way too much money on a glorified pillow of a dog bed for you to sleep on, Sylus. You can sleep on your doggy bed,” you insist, trying to infuse your voice with authority.
One ear twitches toward you, but otherwise he doesn’t move.
“I’m not afraid to shove you off, even if you are injured,” you threaten, lying. There’s no way you could do that to him.
He can obviously smell your lie. He just looks back at you. Thumps his tail.
You’re tired. You’ve got a long day again tomorrow, starting with a five in the morning run. You give up.
“Fine. Just for tonight,” you concede, crawling onto the bed. “But you stay on the end of the bed,” you grumble, snuggling under the covers. You switch off the light, and hear a satisfied sigh from your new companion.
You come awake slowly, not from your alarm, but from the warmth. You’re sweating. It’s a bit hard to breathe.
You blink open your eyes, slowly, to find a giant, soft, space heater of a dog curled up against your stomach and chest where you’re lying on your side, his big head resting on the pillow next to yours. He’s snoring softly. Every now and then, his legs move restlessly, as if he’s dreaming about running.
You roll over, peer at your clock on your nightstand. Ten minutes before you need to be up for your run. You groan. Every minute of sleep is precious, and your new dog deprived you of ten whole minutes.
Well. You’re awake now. You sit up, and the culprit who woke you up early startles, jumps to his feet. You stare at him. He’s a little taller than eye-level with you, as you sit on the edge of the bed.
“Good morning, naughty boy,” you say, dryly. His ears flatten against the back of his head. He takes a step forward, nuzzles into your neck with his wet nose, sniffing. You laugh, pet him. He seems mollified after being jerked awake. As if he has any room to be upset about being woken up early.
You stand, stretch. He jumps off the bed, follows you to the closet. You strip out of your pyjamas, pull on your running things. He tries to follow you in the bathroom when you go to pee, but you shoo him away, shut the door in his face.
When you emerge, he follows you to the kitchen. You shovel down a piece of toast, a sip of water. You dump the last of the leftover meat in his bowl, which he greedily eats. You make a note to get him wet food the next time you go to the store, since apparently your new (probably temporary) dog is a fancy boy.
“I”m going for a run. You stay here and be a good boy, okay?”
You walk to the hallway, and he follows. “No, you’re injured. I’ll take you out to pee and poopoo when I’m done with my run.”
His ears flatten on his head again. He squeezes past you, blocking the door with his bulk.
“Sylus,” you sigh. “You’re hurt. You can’t come on a run with me yet.”
He huffs. Shakes himself, like he shook himself last night in your bathroom. Then, like a king deigning to kneel for a peasant, he lies down and bares his belly to you.
You gasp. The stitches. The angry wound from yesterday.
Gone. As if they were never there. Just the soft, unmarred skin of his tummy where his fur thins.
You check your Hunter’s watch. No metaflux. You don’t sense any, either. He’s not a Wanderer. He’s just a miracle. You remember Zayne’s strange expression, staring at him yesterday.
You wonder if he’s some escaped medical experiment.
You resolve to take him to the vet, see if he’s chipped, with his owners on record. If he’s not, you’ll put up posters where you found him.
You don’t want to.
You want to keep him.
But you should do the right thing, and at least make a reasonable effort to find his true owner before allowing yourself to hope that you can keep him. This giant dog, whom you do not have time or space for, to keep properly.
But your heart hurts, when you think about taking him to a shelter. Saying goodbye to him.
“Okay. Okay,” you say. He rolls over, sits up. “I still have to go for my run. I’ll be back to take you out, after.”
He huffs, moves forward, nudges your hip with his nose. He then lopes to the bag of things you got him the day before, and he brings you his collar and leash, clutched in his big jaws, still with the tags on.
You laugh.
“Okay. Okay, you win. Again.” You roll your eyes, surrendering. You kneel, and he lowers his big head, pretty, glowing eyes never leaving yours, as you thread the black and scarlet, gem-studded leather collar around his neck with the empty tag shaped like a heart, clasp it tight. You clip the leash on the collar.
He does a little dance at the door, as if excited, tail wagging.
He runs with you through the gray, quiet, early morning. The snow hushes your footsteps. He doesn’t falter once, the entire run.
At the end of your run, as you’re walking to cool down, about to head back to your place, he suddenly dashes forward, jerks the leash out of your hand.
“Sylus!” you cry, trying to run after him. He disappears into an area full of shrubbery and dense vegetation, heavy with snow along the bare branches, the pine needles. You have no idea what got into him. Just as you’re about to get on your knees and try to crawl in after him, he re-emerges. He brings you his leash in his teeth.
“What the fuck, Sylus?” You stare at him.
He huffs. Runs a circle around you, kicking up snow. As if to say, Take the leash, take the leash.
You think back over the run. About how he didn’t stop, once. To sniff. Or to pee.
“Did you need to peepee? Or poopoo?” He just growls, bobs his head with his leash in his mouth. “Oooh, baby’s shy!” You laugh. “You better remember this, when you try to follow me into the bathroom again.” You take his leash from between his sharp, sharp teeth.
He leads the way back to your apartment building. You admire his big paw prints in the snow.
Before you leave him to go to work, you snap a photo of him, staring at you solemnly. As if he’s posing. You leave him with music playing and the curtains open, the door to your indoor balcony open for a view.
At work, you make a vet’s appointment. You print off a bunch of “Found” posters for Sylus for if he’s not chipped, with his cute picture front and center. You do paperwork, patrol the city, laugh and joke with Xavier and Tara.
She gives you the earful you expected, about ditching your blind date. She’s only slightly mollified when you show her the picture of Sylus, who looks like such a big handsome boy in the photo.
You’d rather hang out with your dog, than see that guy again.
But you don’t say that out loud.
This dog is making you insane.
You stop by the store on your way home, pick up an absurd amount of meat to cook, as a backup, you tell yourself. For if Sylus refuses to eat the wet food you’re also buying. Not because you have the bizarre urge to feed him food meant for a king. Meant for a king, and not your stray dog who is the least obedient creature you’ve ever encountered.
You let yourself into your apartment, and are a bit surprised, maybe a little disappointed that your new friend isn’t there to greet you already. You know it’s absurd, to wish he had missed you as much as you found yourself missing him throughout your day.
You kick your boots off, carry your groceries to the kitchen island. You glance around. No Sylus.
You peek on the balcony. No Sylus.
So that leaves the bedroom.
You pad quietly through the living room, and then pause in the doorway to your bedroom, shocked at the chaos before you.
Your dirty laundry basket, knocked over.
All of your laundry spread in a little nest, surrounding your dog.
Your big, beautiful, regal dog, who is lying on his belly the floor in the midst of your dirty clothes, like a sphinx, diligently licking a pair of your underwear meant for the wash that he has trapped between his paws. He’s so absorbed in his current activity that he doesn’t seem to notice you at all.
“Sylus!” you yell. Bellow. Air raid siren level of volume.
The noise seems to rip him out of his meditative licking. He blinks, looks up, pauses. Then he stares you right in the eye and takes another lick.
“No! Naughty! Naughty boy!” You stride forward, intending to yank your underwear from his mouth, but he just… chomps down on the slip of fabric, pulling it into his mouth with his tongue and teeth. Then he tries to swallow. “SYLUS!”
You drop to your knees next to him and grab his snout. You place one hand on his snout and the other under his lower jaw, and then you try to pry his jaws apart, as he continues to clamp down. “Drop! It!” you order, through clenched teeth. He ignores you, resisting your efforts, but not growling, not snapping at you. Simply...ignoring your insistence. “Drop it!!!”
He swallows, instead.
You stare at him, huffing from the effort, as you realize that he has just successfully eaten a pair of your underwear.
You’re really, really glad you made that vet appointment already.
It’s only after he has retreated to your bed, completely unashamed, unapologetic, and you’ve started putting your laundry back in the basket, that you notice Zayne’s scarf amidst the pile of clothes. It’s now completely covered in fluffy, white fur, and it stinks like dog.
You hang your head in defeat.
This dog is making you insane.
You take him to the vet. He’s not chipped.
“If you’re going to keep him, you’ll have to neuter him.”
Sylus’s ears twitch, and he growls menacingly, deep in his throat. The vet stares at him, a strange look on his face. You say something vague, about making an appointment once you’ve exhausted your options in finding his true owner.
The vet has no idea what breed he is. Suspects he might indeed be part wolf. But without a genetic test, he can’t say for sure. He looks at your dog in contemplation. “A fine animal. It would be a shame if he’s a hybrid, and you couldn't keep him.” His eyes flick to yours. “You’re a Hunter, right?”
You nod, wondering why he’s asking.
“One of your lot saved my daughter from a Wanderer attack, a few years ago. Handsome guy. Bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
You stare at him. “Was his name Xavier, by any chance?” you tentatively ask.
The vet nods. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
You look down at Sylus, who is leaning against your leg, eyes closed. “He’s my partner,” you say quietly.
“Hmm,” the vet says. He puts his tablet down. Seems to come to a decision. “Well, it looks like we’ve already got the genetic test results back about your dog. He’s just a mutt. Mainly shepherd, husky.”
You jerk your head up, stare wide eyed at him.
“Agreed?” he asks.
You could cry.
“Are you sure?” you ask, not believing that you’re one step closer to keeping your incredibly disobedient, lovely good boy.
The vet shrugs. “Test results are test results. Just take him to obedience training. Make sure he gets plenty of exercise. This type of dog needs a firm hand, and an outlet for excess energy. They can be really destructive if they get bored. Like a bomb going off in your house.”
You snort. Think about your laundry. Your poor underwear, which the vet says was small enough not to present a problem for your giant dog. He’ll just shit it out, later.
“Thank you,” you say, quietly, sincerely. You’re breaking so many regulations—ethics rules, accepting gifts for your work as a Hunter, violating city ordinances, because your dog is clearly not just a dog. But you’re realizing you’d do a lot of shady shit, if it means keeping your good boy.
“No, thank you,” he responds, shooing you and your good boy out the door.
You take Sylus home. He curls up on the couch with you, rests his head in your lap, as you watch tv.
And so it goes.
Morning runs.
Taking him for walks.
To keep him from going after your underwear again, you take big doggy toys that frankly look like butt plugs and fill them with peanut butter. You freeze them. It keeps Sylus busy all day, licking the peanut butter out of the toy.
You try to take him to a dog park, to interact with other dogs. He ignores them, looking bored out of his doggy mind.
You try to throw a ball for him, play fetch. He refuses to chase it. He just runs around you in circles, nips at your heels. Herds you into running with him. Then he’ll refuse to go faster than a walk, once you get tired. As if he knows.
You try to throw a frisbee for him. That, he likes. He catches it in the air, almost as if he’s showing off. Then he’ll bring it back, but refuses to release it from his jaws. You learn that you have to kiss him on his pretty white head in order for him to give it up. His tail wags furiously, every time you do.
This dog is making you insane.
When you come home, exhausted from a particularly tough battle, or an even more grueling day of paperwork, he waits for you at the door, his beautiful, blood-bright eyes big and excited to see you, his tail wagging so furiously the whole lower half of his body shakes.
You suddenly don’t feel so tired, as you kneel down, press your face into the scruff of his neck. His soft fur smells so good to you, even though he’s just a dog. You no longer feel lonely, or dread coming home to your empty, quiet apartment.
After a while, you resign yourself to hanging up the posters once you get home from work. The last hurdle, before you dare hope that you can keep him.
When you arrive at your place after work, you find Sylus on the balcony. Somehow, the window is open, just wide enough for two crows to perch there. They chatter at your dog. He just huffs in response, but makes no effort to bark at them, or chase them away.
The entire floor of the balcony is covered with the torn-apart paper strips of what used to be the posters advertising the dog you found, with your phone number on it in case someone is missing their beloved pet.
Your beloved pet.
You wonder if it’s so terrible, to just… accept that you’ll never know who had him before. And that he’s yours now. They should have chipped him, collared him, branded him as theirs if they care about him. You decide to get his tag engraved.
You put the hanging of posters on the backburner in your mind.
You eat with him. You, sitting at your kitchen island. Him, out of his bowl next to your stool. You snuggle with him while watching movies, TV. You take him for walks, for runs. He’s your constant companion, when you’re not at work.
When Xavier comes over to hang out, to cook and read, Sylus basically crawls into your lap despite your protests and his size, and won’t move unless you promise to make him meat along with the ramen you make for yourself and Xav. Once you’re done and back to reading, he’s back, impersonating a chihuahua instead of the wolf he probably is as he wiggles into your lap.
One evening, you’re dumping more meat into your picky-as-fuck dog’s bowl when you receive a call from an unknown number.
You answer.
“Hey. Um. Hi.” A tentative voice.
You wait. The other end is quiet. “May I ask who is calling?” you prompt, hoping you can just hang up. You hate talking on the phone. It’s never good, when someone is calling you out of the blue. Warn a person with a text, damn!
You’re about to hang up when the other person says. “Hi, yeah, sorry. I’m your blind date. The one from when you had to leave to fight Wanderers?”
You shake your head, shocked. You had completely forgotten that you had given this guy your number. “Oh, hey. What’s up?” you ask, dreading his answer.
“Yeah, hi.” He chuckles nervously. “Thanks for picking up. I was, uh, actually calling to see if you’d like a… if you’d like a re-do. With just the two of us?”
You blink. Try to think of an excuse.
You think of Tara, her badgering you to live for more than just work. To build new relationships. How much effort she puts into trying to introduce you to people she thinks you might like.
Even though you don’t like anyone.
Except your friends.
You glance at Sylus, who has lifted his head from his paws, his ears pointed at you, like he’s listening intently.
Except your dog.
Your mind is blank. “Uh, okay,” you blurt, wincing. “When is a good time for you?”
He rattles off some dates. You check your Hunter’s watch, settle on a date, a time, a place to meet.
He sounds excited, like he can’t quite believe you agreed to go out with him again, before you end the call.
You shake your head. How bad can it be? It’s just dinner. You get to eat, and then you’ll let him down gently. Or maybe, who knows? You might feel a spark, a spark that’s been missing for you, for so long. You try to be positive. Maybe this guy will be the one to make your heart race, when no one else has been able to.
You get ready for bed.
Sylus is already curled up next to your pillow, no longer even pretending to initially sleep at the end of the bed like the first night you ordered him to do.
You crawl into bed, lift the duvet for him to slide under, and he curls up against your chest and stomach. You fall asleep easily, as you’ve been able to do, ever since he came home with you.
You come awake slowly.
Like the first morning you brought Sylus home, something wakes you, but it’s not your alarm.
You’re warm. Really warm.
But instead of the soft fur that you’ve come to expect, waking up every morning with your dog taking up more than his fair share of the bed, you feel smooth, warm… skin?
You turn your head. Look over your shoulder, to the source of the warmth at your back.
You think you might be dreaming.
You must be dreaming.
What else could explain the gorgeous, very human, white-haired, red-eyed man looking back at you from your own pillow, where your dog used to be?
This dog is making you insane.
Are you so desperate for companionship that you can stand, that will make your heart race, that you’re dreaming that your beloved dog is the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life?
What the fuck would a therapist have to say about this dream?
You’re so, so glad that you don’t have a therapist, and will never, ever have to tell anyone about this fucking dream.
You slowly turn your head again. Close your eyes. Your alarm hasn’t gone off, after all. Maybe you can just go to sleep in your dream, wake up, and pretend this never happened.
You hear a low laugh rumbling behind you, rumbling through you.
A muscular arm snakes over your side, pulls you back against a warm, pillowy chest. “Is this how you greet your good boy?” A deep voice, rough with sleep but still soaked in amusement, murmurs in your ear.
“My good boy is a big fluffy dog,” you bite out, squeezing your eyes shut harder against the warmth, the muscles, the voice. “I don’t know what the fuck you are, other than a really weird dream.”
A big hand—alarmingly big—lifts from your stomach, where it was holding you tight, and tenderly brushes your hair away from your neck, your ear. The … dream behind you noses into the back of your neck, inhales. “I have fluffy hair. And I think you can feel what I am, without even needing to look.” The dream adjusts his hips. Your eyes open, despite your best efforts, widen as you feel a big—alarmingly big—dick against your ass.
“I am not having a sex dream about my dog,” you declare.
The dream laughs, low, a rich fucker’s laugh. “No, you’re not having a sex dream about your dog,” he says. “Unless you’re into that. And then I can oblige, but it’s still my mind inside your dog, I’m afraid.”
Okay, that’s enough. You whip around in the dream’s arms, stare into familiar ruby-glow eyes, so close to you, sharing the same pillow. “Who the fuck are you?”
One corner of his full mouth lifts. He’s so beautiful, it hurts. Your heart is racing.
“You should know,” he says, eyes drifting from your eyes, to your mouth. He lifts a hand again, runs it along your hair, so, so gently. “You named me, after all.”
You don’t dare hope. Just as you haven’t dared hope that you could keep him, from the moment you saw him launch himself at the Wanderer slinking up behind you, preparing to attack you. As you saw him rip out its throat, and watched, heart in your throat, as he was flung into the soft snow as a consequence.
You’re afraid to say it. To name your insane hope.
This dog is making you insane.
“Why so quiet? You couldn’t stop talking to me, telling me about your day, about your dreams, your fears—telling me what a wonderful boy I am, when I was your dog. Does this form not please you?” he asks, letting his hand fall from your hair. He takes your hand instead, places it on his own hair.
It’s so, so soft. Even softer than his fur. You can’t help yourself. You pet him, brushing your fingers through its shimmering strands.
You finally manage to speak. You don’t want him to ever think that you don’t delight in him. “I didn’t say it doesn’t please me.”
“Then say that it pleases you.”
You think of all the moments you’ve shared with him. All of the things you’ve said to him, as he’s lived at your side, in your house. You wince. Then you think of how he made Zayne carry him to his car.
“You could walk, that first day. Zayne didn’t have to carry you.”
He looks pleased, smug. It’s jarring, seeing the expression on his human face that you felt like you saw on his doggy face. “I was injured,” he sniffs. “Any doctor with an ounce of compassion would have offered to carry your injured pet.”
You scowl at him, ignoring his jab at Zayne. “You intentionally soaked me, in the bathroom, that first night.”
He smiles wider, just a little, a canine tooth peeking out between his lips. “But I didn’t make you strip off all your clothes and groom me while gloriously nude. That was all you, sweetheart.”
You lean forward, bury your face in his warm, strong neck. “You ate my fucking underwear.”
He coughs, the first time sounding a little abashed. “When I’m shapeshifted, certain urges… are amplified. Keep that in mind, if you want me to fuck you as a—”
You jerk back, cover his mouth with your hands. “I do not want to fuck you as a dog, Sylus.”
“Excellent, I’ll fuck you as a human then,” he says, voice muffled from behind your hand, but his subtle smile loud and clear under your palms.
“Sylus!”
“Yes, owner?” he asks, eyes wide, falsely innocent.
You drop your hands. “Don’t call me owner,” you whisper. “You’re my companion, not my possession. You have been from the day you came home with me.”
“Then say that this form pleases you,” he says, sounding uncertain for the first time.
“How can it not?” you ask. “You’re beautiful.”
He shrugs. “Not everyone sees what you see.”
“You’re beautiful. But you’re a naughty boy,” you say, slipping your fingers under the collar he’s still wearing. It’s loose on his human neck. You pull, gently. He whimpers.
“A very naughty boy,” he agrees, breathless. “How will you punish me?”
“First, by making you wash Zayne’s scarf. It wasn’t nice what you did to it.” You punctuate each word, by pulling his collar a little for emphasis. He grumbles, but looks slightly drunk. Eyes half lidded in pleasure. You continue. “And by interrogating you. Who are you, really?” You have so many questions, even as you feel him, hard and warm, against your stomach.
He huffs. “Would you believe me if I said that I’m the head of the largest criminal organization on the planet, and I’m the most wanted criminal on not one, but two planets?”
You stare at him. Laugh a little. “You were my dog, and now you’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my bed. I’d believe you if you said you’ve loved me for lifetimes, and have been waiting for me to be reincarnated in order to make me fall in love with you all over again.”
“How convenient,” he says. ��Because that’s the other answer to your question.”
You laugh, loudly.
This dog is making you insane.
“Wanted criminal, soulmate. Irrelevant. You ate my fucking underwear, Sylus.”
He leans forward, nudges your nose with his long, regal snout. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, and your heart races, races. “Is it a crime to want to savor something so delicious?”
“It’s a crime in some jurisdictions to pilfer underwear, yes,” you say, laughing, breathless in turn. You return his kiss. His lips are so, so soft. He makes a little sound of pleasure in his throat.
“Then arrest your naughty boy,” he murmurs. “And teach him what the real thing tastes like, instead of the leftovers.”
“You like leftovers,” you tease, thinking of all the takeout meat you’ve been setting out in his doggy bowl in between the fresh stuff.
“With you, I’ll take what I can get,” he admits. “But maybe if you tell me how to be a good boy for you, you can reward me with a fresh taste.”
Your heart is going berserk in your chest, as you look into his earnest, big, wet, crimson puppy eyes. It doesn’t matter, that he has been lying to you this whole time. That he’s tricked you into revealing so many of your secrets to him, as he wagged his tail for you, kept you warm in bed, as he ran by your side, kilometer after kilometer. Your heart is racing, and you think it recognized him, the moment you looked into his beautiful eyes in the snow.
You tell him how he can be a good boy. He uses his mouth, his big pink tongue, to soften you, make you wet. He licks you, like he licked your underwear. With single-minded, hypnotized focus. You tell him to mind his teeth, when he gets bitey, gently flick his ear to get his attention. His eyes drift between being closed as he savors your taste, and open, eagerly watching your face as he pleasures you, as your body begins to shake, as you gush into his mouth.
You lie there panting for a few minutes, watching him as he licks his lips, his fingers, his palms. Like a dog, licking its paws after making a mess in its bowl.
You suddenly desperately need to return the favor. You roll to your side, sit up. “I want to taste you, too.” He looks surprised, but pleased. He gets up on his knees, takes the back of your head tenderly in his big palm, petting your hair with his other hand. You open your mouth, and he guides his big cock to your lips, smears his own wetness across your lower lip, before gently feeding you his dick.
You have to open your mouth all the way, to allow him in. He moves his hips, little jerks, watching your reaction before sliding deeper, silken along your tongue, ember-eyes glowing under half-lidded lashes. You can’t take all of him, he’s just too big. You suck, use your tongue. Offer your hand, wet and sloppy for your dripping mouth, for him to tunnel through. He helps you adjust your grip. He grunts, with each little thrust. Helpless noises in his big, big throat. He smells so, so good. Skin, and sweat. A bitter tang from his leaking dick.
Finally, he loses patience. “I don’t want to come in your mouth. I want to come between your legs.” He’s panting, hair messy, sweeping over his forehead. “I want you to feel good too. May I? Please? I’ll make it so good for you.” His deep voice has a whiny edge.
You nod, looking up at him, mouth still stuffed with him.
He slowly pulls out of your mouth, uses his hand on the back of your head to urge you up to meet him, so that you’re kneeling on the bed too. He wraps his big arms around you, hugs you, tightly. Kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye. “Are you sure? How do you want me?”
You lift your hands to his cheeks, kiss him too. His cheek. The corner of his eye. His lips. “You’ve been such a good boy, making me feel good with your mouth. You can have me however you’d like me.”
He doesn’t have a tail to wag right now, but if he did, you think he’d wag himself off the bed. He kisses you, hard, tongue licking into your mouth. He eagerly urges you down, onto your back. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, and you’re grateful for all the mobility, the stretching you do as part of your job, as he splits you wide open, holds you by your ankles, and fucks into you slowly, so slowly at first, before leaning down, bending you in half, filling you hard and fast, over and over again. Sounds come out of you that you’ve never heard before, because you’ve never felt so good, so full before. He fucks into you at an angle that makes you moan loudly, surprised, and he ruts into you there again, and again. “Am I your good boy?” he pants, desperate, in your ear.
“You’re such a good boy, Sylus,” you assure him, turning your head, biting down on his earlobe. “My good boy.” He suddenly comes, hips jerking messily, with a loud whine, a deep grunt.
After, when your sheets are filthy and you’re both sweaty, cum drenched messes, you rest your head on his big chest, let your fingers circle one pink nipple, sift through the human fur swirling around it.
“Why didn’t you just introduce yourself like a normal person, ask me on a date?”
He snorts. “Oh, hello, my name is Sylus Qin, I’m the leader of Onychinus and your employer’s public enemy number one. May I buy you a drink? Perhaps, fuck you stupid afterwards? Love you for the rest of our lives?” His voice is wry.
You laugh, delight ballooning in your chest at his sense of humor. “Okay, maybe that would have been a little much, and I would have been suspicious. But infiltrating my life as a dog?”
He touches his finger to his lip, tilts his head. “I thought about kidnapping you. Violently trying to jog your memory by re-enacting our contentious first meeting.”
You swat his chest with your hand. “That’s a terrible fucking idea.”
“In retrospect, you are correct. Fortunately for me, the twins talked me out of it. They convinced me that being a cute, cuddly dog would be more… effective.”
You look up at him, curious. “The twins?”
He hums, low in his throat. “You’ve met them. Crows on the balcony.”
You think back, remembering the mysteriously opened window. The “Found” posters, ripped to confetti on your balcony. “The ones who destroyed my posters.”
Sylus nods, strokes his knuckles down your cheek, your neck. “The unnecessary posters containing your personal information, like your phone number, for any random fool to use to call and bother you.”
You sigh. Drift for a while, wondering how you’re going to explain your new dog and your new man in your life to your friends. To your family. “Caleb is going to hate you.”
He smirks. “I’m not worried about your brother.”
You look at him curiously. “You know who he is?”
He leans down, inhales your sweaty hair. Makes a happy noise. “I like to stay informed when I’m interested in a new acquisition. And you’re the most valuable thing I’ll ever acquire.”
You roll your eyes. “Why are you not worried about him? He’s been so weird, since he’s been back. Possessive.”
Sylus gestures at his arm, as if to indicate Caleb’s new augmentation. “I’m good with weapons. I’ll tinker in his arm, give him a little upgrade. Maybe give him sensation back. He’ll love me.”
You stare at him. No one else is supposed to know about Caleb’s arm. It’s like, a state secret. “How do you know so much about upgrading weapons?” you ask, instead of asking how he knows about Caleb.
“Do you really want to know?” He lifts a lovely silver eyebrow. “It has to do with my business. I’ll tell you, but you have to keep it a secret.”
You rest your cheek back on his chest. “Another time, maybe. I’m too tired to process all the shady shit you must do in order to be on the Association’s most wanted list. You definitely fucked me stupid.”
You feel him preen underneath you at your compliment. His invisible tail wags, wags. “Not just on the list, sweetheart. At the top of the list,” he says, smug. “And shady shit… You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, beloved? Like accepting the equivalent of a retroactive bribe from your vet, and breaking all sorts of Linkon City laws to keep your ‘dog?’”
You groan. “I can’t believe you witnessed that.”
“I feel privileged to have witnessed your fall from grace, and all because of me,” he teases you, hugging you tightly.
You just shake your head, close your eyes. Fret about your brother again. “You think you can handle him?”
He scoffs again. “Once he sees how sincere I am, he’ll have no choice but to accept me as your other half.”
You hold your breath. Ask him what you’re dying to know, what you haven’t dared hope, even as you gave in to your racing heart, your affection for him, and loved him with your body, as well as your heart. “So you’re sincere?”
He gently flicks your forehead. “You’re the only person, in any lifetime, that I’d eat out of a bowl on the ground for, beloved.”
You laugh, kiss his chest, right over where his strong, big heart is beating.
In the end, you get to keep him. You let your blind date down gently, but decisively.
You come home one day, and he is eagerly waiting for you, in his human form. You had promised him a treat, after all.
“You’ll have to bend down a little,” you say.
Without hesitation, Sylus drops to his knees, and then places his hands on the floor.
You stare down at him, as he looks up at you, soft white hair, soft red eyes, gleaming in the light.
Your heart is racing again, just from his eyes on you, his scent filling your apartment.
You bend down, thread a new, subtle leather collar around his neck. It will hang on the wall, when he’s using his doggy collar, in his big wolf form. But when he’s a man, out in the world, away from you on business, getting up to no good and causing trouble—as he still occasionally does in your bedroom as he manages to tear the stuffing out of the plushies you’ve caught with other people when you’re away for too long—he’ll wear this one for you.
The one that says good boy on the heart-shaped tag on one side, and your name on the other.
You never do make that neutering appointment with the vet.
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You have to do it! Grocery shopping with Quinn! 🛒 ☺️
Because of those shopping gifs, huh? I know the ones!
"Ready, babe?" Quinn spoke louder than his usual, putting on his flat-billed hat in the mirror while he waited for you at the door. He had been ready to go for a few minutes but would never purposefully rush you, especially for something as mundane as grocery shopping. He really didn't want to go but the house was looking a little bare and the fridge was near depleted of anything fresh. It was simply time to go.
Quinn had told you that he was fine going solo but you had insisted on keeping him company, and didn't think it fair to make him go alone when you used equally as much of everything as he did, if not more especially when he was on the road.
"Yeah, I'm ready!" You said, hurrying from somewhere else in the apartment. You were still buttoning your coat when you got to his side.
"You look cute," he commented, wrapping his arms around you for a moment.
You smiled, "Thanks, babe! You don't look too bad yourself!"
Quinn would laugh and give you a quick kiss before opening the door for you. You had no idea where the two of you were headed, but anywhere with Quinn was a good place to be. Outside, it was much colder than it was normally due to the Artic blast moving through the region, and it made being outside quite uncomfortable. Thankfully, you wouldn't have too far to walk, in any of your errand stops, but when the air hurt to breathe -- it was never ideal.
"I don't think I've ever missed the rain so much in my life," you joked, climbing into the passenger seat.
"This isn't my favourite either," he replied clicking both seat warmers on as soon as the car was started. "Won't take long now. You know you can stay home, babe. No sense in you being cold if you don't have to."
"I know, but I don't want you to go alone!"
Quinn shook his head as he smiled, "Babe--"
"I know, I know, you don't mind," you mocked him playfully. "But I mind, so I'm going with you!"
"You're ridiculous," he laughed. "Alright, well, if you're sure. Off we go."
- - -
"I'm going to drop you at the door then I'll go find a parking spot," Quinn said, pulling into the lot. "And before you say anything, I want you to go inside and be warm."
Mustering the deepest pout you could, you looked at Quinn as the car came to a stop, but he wasn't having any part of it. "Quinn--"
"Babe, just trust me, please."
"Fiiiiiine," you whined, slipping out of the car and going into the store alone. You'd stay just inside the automatic doors and wait to see where he parked. Everyone and their mothers seemed to be out shopping today, forcing Quinn to have to park in the near back lot. He looked so miserable as he rushed toward the store, trying to duck down in to his coat as his hands were buried in his pockets. When the double doors opened, he'd make his way to you, his cheeks red from the harsh air.
"Brrr!" Quinn remarked, putting an arm around you. "It's cold in here, too!"
"Says the hockey player!"
He laughed, sheepishly, "It's not that cold on the ice like it is outside!"
"Fair enough," you teased. "Basket or cart?"
"Probably cart. Stock you up before I go out of town next week."
You looked down at being reminded that Quinn would soon be leaving for more games away from home. Your bed wouldn't be as warm, there would be no one to share a bath with before bed, no one to laugh with over dinner in the evenings, and the apartment would soon be deafly quiet. Being unable to keep your expression from dropping, you would turn your face away from him for a moment to keep from crying in public.
Quinn, always in tune with your usual moods would notice this change and would ask you about it after returning from getting you both a cart. "You got quiet, babe. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," you mumbled, picking up a random item to look at it as if you were interested in taking it home.
"I didn't think you liked peanut butter," he quipped, leaning over your shoulder at the package of fudge you were holding.
"I-- don't," you said, unable to lie, and putting it back on the display you had robbed it from. Your cover was blown before you could even get behind it. Damn Quinn for being so quick sometimes, though you knew he hated when you kept things from you, namely when things were bothering you.
"Did I say something?" Quinn questioned, his hand resting on your waist, hoping you'd look at him.
"No, baby, it's me being sad over you leaving," you finally confessed, only looking at him after you had spoken your truth. "I'm just-- being a baby."
"You're my baby," he would whisper in your ear, in the hopes that it might make you smile if only because of how cringe it had been. "I know you don't like when I leave, and trust me, I know how it feels."
Your eyes were beginning to sting, fighting against your emotions, "I know it's your job, Quinn. I'm not trying to be one of those girls who comes off all spoiled and selfish. I just-- I just miss you."
Quinn smiled, bringing his lips to your forehead while you still faced him. "I know you do, and I don't think you're being selfish. You understand that this is my life. No one says it's easy, sweetheart."
With a sigh you leaned into him, face buried in the curve of his neck. At the moment, you didn't care that you were in public, having an episode of emotional weakness. You were in Quinn's arms and safe, everyone else could kick rocks. They didn't need to understand.
"Do you want to go home, babe?" He asked, leaning his head against yours.
You wouldn't answer him, you'd just shake your head slightly.
"For what it's worth, I'm not gone yet," he said with a smile in his tone.
This would get you to pull your eyes back to his. He had a point, and one that you were thankful for.
"I sorry, Quinn," you apologized solemnly. "I shouldn't be that way."
He kissed you again, knowing it often fixed things when you were feeling down, but he felt that you were struggling. "You're perfectly fine. I should be more careful with my words."
"You don't need to do that. I'll be okay. Maybe one day it won't hurt as bad-- but...I dunno."
Frowning, Quinn would touch your cheek, but his hands were cold. You'd take it in both of yours and try your best to give him a smile. "I love you. Sorry you have to put up with me like this."
"I just hope I help instead of making you sad."
"You do, I promise."
On that positive note, the two of you would finally get back to the reason of why you were there in the first place. "Should we get to shopping?" He laughed.
"Probably!"
- - -
"Bread?" He asked, standing before a literal wall of options.
"Oh, yeah! Sourdough!"
"Which is--," he stammered, watching you pinpoint the loaf you were after before he could finish his question. "That-- was oddly impressive."
"I know my bread!"
"That you do," he laughed, as you placed in in the cart. "What else do you want?"
Looking at the contents of the cart, you wondered if there was anything else that you needed. There was meat, vegetables and fruit, there were even a couple bottles of wine, and nothing else was ringing in your brain that you needed to get. That would likely hit you only after you were home.
"I can't think of anything. Is there anything you want?"
Quinn looked just as lost as you did which is probably why he laughed at your question. "I can't think of anything either."
"Oh! I know!" You said, excitedly. "I've been craving breaded shrimp!"
"Really?"
"Yeah! Remember those sushi rolls I made with the fried shrimp, avocado and cucumber?"
His face lit up at the mention of sushi, "Those were so good! Are you saying we're having sushi for dinner?"
"Of course!"
- - -
"Here, take my card. I'm going to run out and get the car started and then I'll meet you out front and get them loaded, okay?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he said before placing another kiss your forehead. "Wait for me inside, please."
Not wanting to argue with him when he was being so kind and considerate, you nodded while he headed for the harsh world outside the store. It would take a while to get everything scanned and bagged, but eventually the time had come to brace for going back out into it.
Quinn was right where he said he would be, the silver SUV rolling into view when he saw you waiting there. He'd get out and insist on taking the cart while you got into the warmed interior of the car.
"I can help you," you begged, talking to him from the front seat.
"It's alright, babe, you just sit tight. I'm alright. Hockey player, remember?"
You'd roll your eyes at him while smiling. "I offered."
"I know you did, and I appreciate it."
Once everything was said and done, the heat was set on full as the two of you headed off from the grocery; safe and sound from the blistering wind battering the car.
"Anywhere else we need to go?" He asked, a cold hand finding your thigh.
"I just want to go home."
"Home it is."
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes one shot#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes fic#hockey imagine#hockey oneshot#hockey fic#hockey fanfiction
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After he's done listening to the Archeologist's story, the Sheriff frowns.
"Well, that's not fair, is it?" Jimmy says.
"Fair?" Pix responds.
"Yeah, fair. It's not--it's not fair at all! You can't just end it with--they try to be friends for, for the first time ever. And the Codfather gets respect and the Count gets more mature. And they shake hands and, and share magic and stuff. But it turns out them being friends causes the end of the world? That's not fair! That's not a good story at all!" Jimmy says.
Pixlriffs shrugs. "I didn't make it up. It's what's been passed down, and the Ancient Capitol corroborates it to some extent. The Rapture was a very real event in the geological record, and what historical records survive from the Twelve Kingdoms era suggests at the very least some kind of symbolic rivalry between cod and salmon. Maybe a religious one? It's really all quite fascinating."
"Well, yes, but it's not really literal, that religion stuff, right?" Jimmy says. "I mean, uh, I don't know much about all this stuff, but it's like--don't tell Sausage, but Santa Pearla, she's not literal, right? She's like, the idea of the cycle of death and life and all that, but--"
"Recent excavations actually suggest that Empress Pearl was a real historical figure," Pixlriffs says excitedly. "I mean, it seems rather unlikely she caused all the fields in the Twelve Kingdoms to remain fertile until the Rapture on her own, but the number of statues and records we've found even today suggest that she was still a real person!"
Jimmy is silent. He crosses his arms and stares at Pixlriffs until, finally, Pix stops talking.
"It's still not fair," Jimmy says.
"It's not about being fair, it's about what actually happened," Pix says.
"Because the story as I told it went that they made friends to try to make the best of the rapture. And though all the rivers had dried up, the Codfather and the Count laid seeds in the desert, until one day we could go and build our towns there safe, because their seeds made a pond. And, er, that's not all literal either, you know? None of this is really--sorta like Joel is not literally a god, that'd be stupid," Jimmy says.
"Right," Pixlriffs says, nodding. "But we don't tell him that."
"But we don't tell him that," Jimmy agrees. "And I'm just saying that--it's not fair, saying that making up their differences is what made the world end. That's like, like if the moral was that we shouldn't bother even trying."
"I think you'll make yourself sad, looking for a moral in ruins," Pixlriffs says.
Jimmy swallows.
"That's stupid," he says. "That's stupid."
"That's life."
"And it's stupid. I'm going to go bother Joel."
"Good luck with that."
The Sheriff rides away. The Archeologist watches after him for a long time before sighing.
"...and good luck ending this one differently," he says, and he goes back to his dig.
#empires smp#THAT'S RIGHT I HAD EMPIRES SMP FEELINGS SUDDENLY AGAIN. I'M AS SURPRISED AS YOU ARE.#pixlriffs#jimmy solidarity#a bee fic#empiresfic#also man can you tell that i am still mostly obsessed with empires through a 'what if we did worldbuilding about it' lens LOL
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It was a lot of fun, being persued by by two Formula 1 drivers.
But they would soon be getting tired of the chase. They weren't going to let you stay ahead of them for much longer.
Warnings: smut, finally bottom franco, technically a threesome but not really, restraints (belt), edging, shower sex, anal (mxm), face fucking, tension?
Anon originally had an idea with journalist reader but I went in another direction :3
The tension between you and Max had been brewing since your rookie year.
You'd instantly taken a liking to each other and hung out all the time whenever you had breaks.
You'd been on his yacht, he'd been to your family's vineyard for some wine tasting. You were good friends, and you knew each other exceedingly well.
And of course it wasn't rare for the two of you to find yourselves battling for positions on track, and even came together a couple of times over the years.
That lead to some pretty heated arguments, you even took a swing at him once. You were both hot-headed competitors, it was inevitable.
Nothing ever happened between you though, you'd always kept a sensible distance to your coworkers.
But you couldn't help being a tease.
You'd put sexy bikini pictures of yourself on holiday in your private story, which only Max had access to.
He figured it out pretty quickly when no one else seemed to know what the hell he was talking about when he asked them about it.
And then Franco arrived.
But he never pushed. If this was a game you wanted to play, he could wait it out, no problem. If you got desperate enough you would come crawling to him, he was sure of it.
Franco was the biggest flirt you'd ever seen. Surpassing the likes of Daniel and Carlos as the smoothest talker on the grid.
He was slightly closer to you in age, so you gravitated towards each other naturally.
You went on holiday with him a couple of times, and you went clubbing a lot.
So pretty soon the rumours shifted from you and Max, to you and Franco.
And there were pictures circulating. You and Max had had your fair share of paparazzi nuisances, but with Franco it was on another level.
It was impossible to see each other without photos coming out the next day.
Some were photoshopped, like the ones of you and him on your yacht, kissing.
Or at least that's what your PR team told the public.
You hadn't slept with him of course, but 4 glasses of wine is 4 glasses of wine.
That's 3 too many if you want to keep a clear head. And day drinking in the sun is a dangerous game when you're alone with a horny man on a yacht.
But you politely rejected his advances, insisting that your relationship was supposed to be professional.
Max saw the photos. Of course he did. And he knew they weren't fake, so the next time he saw you he confronted you.
Much to the chagrin of both of your bodies’ needs.
“So how's it going with Colapinto?” he asked, faking nonchalance while you waved to the fans at the drivers parade.
“Nothing's going on, don't be jealous” you plastered a fake smile on your face for the cameras.
“I'm not jealous” he snapped.
“Sure you aren't, Max. Anyway I keep my love life, and sex life, separate from my career, you know that”
He scoffed, turning away from you to talk to whoever was on his other side.
During the next week you decided to spice things up a little.
The race weekend went by without a hitch, and Max didn't bring it up again.
You sent Max a dirty picture.
Nothing too bad, just you in some lingerie and a see through robe that hid absolutely nothing.
You followed it up with “shit, that wasn't for you sorry”
If that didn't get Max riled up nothing would.
But to your disappointment, he didn't reply.
That night you got yourself off to Franco's answering texts instead. You sent the same picture with the same caption, and waited for him to take the bait.
The next weekend Max cornered you in the paddock on media day.
He’d played the game at least, sending you a delicious picture in return, in the name of fairness.
He dragged you to a quiet corner and caged you in against the wall.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” he hissed, pressing you against the wall.
“What the fuck Max! What are you even talking abou-”
“I'm not fucking stupid, I know that picture was for me”
You sighed.
“No it wasn't, Max”
“Who was it for, then?”
“Wouldn't you like to know” you smirked, which just made him angrier.
“Yes, I would actually”
You pushed him off roughly and he stumbled backwards, taken off guard by your sudden aggressiveness.
“None of your fucking business. And if you want to fuck me, this really isn't the right way to go about it”
The next day, lord knows how, Franco managed to sneak into your driver’s room.
You sauntered off, leaving Max to fume in silence at your audacity.
“I enjoyed that picture very much, you know” he mumbled as he approached you from behind.
He quickly plastered himself to your back, hands on your hips while he felt you up.
“I'm sure you did. But it was an accident” your voice shook as his hands wandered.
He chuckled. “I am not convinced of that”
He placed kisses along the side of your neck, trailing upwards towards your lips as he turned your head to look at him.
“Any chance I can see more?”
His lidded eyes bore into yours and you sighed, pushing him away half-heartedly.
“No Franco. I can't go around sleeping with my coworkers. It's not professional”
He smirked. “Not professional? Tell me, who was that picture for?”
You hesitated a second too long.
“You don't know him.”
He bit his lip mockingly, he knew you were lying. “Okay. I guess will just go then”
Max won the race. He was back on his A-game and you’d spent the second part of the race squabbling with Franco and Alex over 10th place for the last point.
And he did, he slipped out without anyone noticing him, leaving you to contemplate your next move.
You got it, at the expense of Franco's front wing.
“That was a dirty move” he groaned into your neck.
You'd found yourselves back in the same position, him grinding against your ass, this time in the club while the bass made your bodies thrum with excitement.
“If you want to get my attention, crashing into me isn't the right way to go about it”
You shivered, both at his tone and at the fact that you'd said almost exactly that to Max three days prior.
“Why would I want your attention?” you murmured back, enjoying the feeling of his hands caressing your body.
“Darling, we both know you want to fuck me”
You turned around in his hold, giving him the most seductive eyes you could muster.
“No I don't”
He groaned and threw his head back in frustration.
“Don't do this to me. We both want it, stop playing around and let me show you how good I can make you feel…”
You smiled and leaned in.
“But where's the fun in that?”
You removed his hands from you body and slinked back into the crowd.
What you didn't know is that Max was in the DJ booth with Lando, and with his vantage point he could see everything.
Running away, once again.
He saw you slip away through the crowd and over to the bar.
His blood boiled and he decided to take action.
But he didn't make his way to you. He went to see Franco instead.
“Mate I need to talk to you”
“Ok, mate” Franco was confused, but followed him towards the bathrooms anyway, where it was slightly quieter.
“Did she send you a picture of herself last week?” Max was going straight to point.
Franco hesitated. “Who?”
Max rolled his eyes at the younger man “You know who, don't play stupid”
The sudden thought that you might be in a relationship with Max flashed through Franco’s mind.
What if he'd read the situation all wrong? What if Max had found out about the flirting and was actually about to beat him up?
“No?” he answered, but it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.
Max looked unimpressed.
“Give me your phone”
Franco complied immediately.
Max proceeded to scroll through his messages, and clicked on the conversation with you.
The picture of Franco appeared on his screen first, and he looked up at the man incredulously.
“You sent one back? It was obviously bait. Are you stupid?”
“I know it's all a game to her” he snatched his phone back “but playing it got me a very nice picture of her so who cares?”
“I'm not playing the game and I got the same fucking photo”
Franco frowned at his phone, and had to admit, he had him there. Maybe he had been stupid.
“Well… you keep not playing, and I will keep playing, and we will see who get her to break first?” he suggested.
“No” Max snapped. “I am sick of not playing”
He glanced at Franco's screen, where the photo of you was still visible.
They completely ignored you for two whole weeks.
“She has been teasing us for too long. Now it's time she learned her lesson”…
They avoided you at the weekend, and they never returned any of your calls and messages.
You even tried sending them more pictures, but they both left you on read.
You were bored.
You knew something was up when you spotted the two of them deep in conversation in front of the Redbull garage. They were plotting.
Max was pretty much your best friend on the grid, and you missed messing around with Franco.
So on Saturday night, you sent them both a text you knew they wouldn't be able to ignore.
Well Max might, but Franco would definitely crack.
To Franco, you sent “If you come and fuck me now, I won't tell Max”
And to Max, “If you come fuck me now, I won't tell Franco”
You sent them both your room number, and waited. They both saw the texts immediately.
Max had too much self control, so you doubted whether he would be desperate enough to show.
You waited barely 20 minutes before Franco was at your door.
But Franco…
He was so easy.
You had him on the bed, laying under you while you made your way down his body, picking off his clothing bit by bit.
“I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me”
His pupils were blown wide and a slight blush was creeping up his neck.
“The offer was too good to pass up” he groaned as you rubbed yourself over the bulge rapidly growing in his boxers.
You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you and roll you over.
“Your teasing has been driving me crazy” he panted, hovering over you while he made quick work of your clothes.
“Why do you think I was doing it” you muttered with a smile, and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he realised how much you'd been enjoying teasing him.
“To make me lose it and come fuck the shit out of you?” he asked, exasperated.
“That's the plan” you bit your lip, looking up at him with a smile.
“Perra” he groaned, sitting up. “Turn over”
You raised an eyebrow at him, doing as he said.
His hands were palming your ass while he admired the view, when a sharp knock at the door broke the tense silence.
Your jaw dropped as you looked back at Franco who was wearing a similar look of shock on his face.
Neither of you knew quite what to do, and the knock sounded again, louder this time.
You jumped to your feet, grabbing a robe on the way and opened the door.
Max stood there, fists clenched.
“Max…”
“Is Franco in there?”
You were taken aback by his question.
“And bear in mind, the answer is going to determine how this evening goes for you”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but was saved answering by Franco appearing next to you.
“I am here… sorry”
He looked slightly afraid, and it was understandable, because the grin that spread over Max's face was evil enough to scare even you.
“I had a feeling you would be here” he stepped inside, crowding against you as he slammed the door behind him. “Option number two, then”…
You didn't know what option number one was, but number two involved you having your hands tied to the headboard, while Max had his cock shoved down Franco's throat.
Which is not something you ever thought you would see.
But there Franco was, drooling around Max’s girth with red cheeks and tears in his eyes.
You knew he was enjoying it though, because he was still wearing his boxers and the wet patch at the front was getting steadily larger.
“Look at you” Max cooed “are you crying because you got caught betraying me just to get your dick wet?”
Franco whined, hips bucking at Max's tone.
“Or are you crying because you’re enjoying this a bit too much?”
Franco closed his eyes, more tears falling as he breathed deeply through his nose.
“You were fucking made for this. You've obviously had practice, slut ”
Franco whimpered pathetically and you throbbed at the sound.
You were fully naked, spread out for Max to admire.
“And you” he snapped at you. “You have been teasing me for years, making me wait, while posting pictures of yourself for my eyes only. Then this little bitch arrives and you let him touch you? Absolutely not”
He pulled out of Franco's mouth and manhandled him onto his hands and knees, facing you while Max dragged his boxers down his legs.
Franco's eyes widened as he looked at you, glancing between your thighs at where you were glistening in the soft light.
“You've been playing games with me since you joined the grid. And you would just let Franco have you after a couple of months? Over my dead fucking body”
He pushed Franco down onto the bed, making his arms buckle and his back arch obscenely, and the younger man gasped.
“So I'm going to fuck Franco, and you are going to watch.”
God knows where the bottle of lube came from, but you were grateful for it, on Franco's behalf.
The way Franco reacted when the first finger went it made you gasp softly.
His eyes fluttered closed and he arched his back even more, pushing back against Max as he let out a porn worthy whimper.
You were getting so turned on, you went to close your thighs but Max tutted.
“Franco, hold her legs open”
He obeyed, shuffled forwards and curled his hands around your knees to hold you in place.
Unfortunately, that brought his face closer to your soaked folds and you could feel his cool breath down there.
You whimpered and he groaned, leaning his head against one of your knees as he looked at your slick lips with a pained look on his face.
“Don't you dare touch, Franco” Max growled “You need to learn patience”
He was on three fingers already, and he was entranced by the way Franco's hole swallowed them greedily.
He made quick work of lubing himself up and pushing into the younger man, who mewled at the stretch.
“Jesus, you are tight.” He gritted his teeth as he pushed in to the hilt. “squeezing around me so good, maybe I should give up on her and just keep you as my plaything, hmm?”
He gave an experimental thrust and Franco whined low in his throat as he looked up at you through lidded eyes.
He looked so fucked out it was almost pathetic.
But to be honest, you probably looked even worse.
You squirmed against the bed, unable to get any sort of friction or stimulation as you were forced to watch Max rail Franco into the mattress.
“You're fucking dripping” Max commented, finally glancing at where you could indeed feel the sheets under you becoming damp.
He wrapped an arm around Franco's middle, shuffling him forwards until he was only an inch away from your soaked folds.
“You want a taste Franco?”
The younger man nodded as best he could with Max’s grip his hair.
Max just chuckled and pushed Franco's face forward, allowing him to eat you out hastily.
The sudden intense stimulation made you writhe under him, cursing as he sucked on your clit while his tongue delved into your wetness.
“Fuck! Oh my god-“ you whined, hips trying to buck but Franco's hold on your thighs was too strong as he devoured you.
As your moans increased in pitch, Max could tell you were getting closer and just as you were about to fall over the precipice, he pulled Franco's head back roughly.
You cried out at the loss, and Max just chuckled, slamming his hips into Franco even harder.
“Max please” you whined, and Max cooed in mock simpathy.
He pushed Franco against you once again, revelling in the way he tightened around his cock at being manhandled like this.
He angled his hips so that his cock pushed against Franco's prostate, and the vibrations of the resounding moan against your cunt got you right to the edge once again.
But again, when Max saw your thighs start to tremble, he pulled on Franco's hair to separate him from you.
Tears clung to your lashes as you were robbed of yet another orgasm, and Franco let out a loud moan.
“I'm gonna come, Max!” he cried, and Max just picked up the pace of his hips.
“Then come, I'm not stopping you”
Once Franco had come down from his mind-numbing orgasm, Max pulled out of him carefully and rolled him over, making sure to avoid the puddle of cum now in the middle of the bed.
Franco's eyes rolled back and his upper body slumped against the mattress as Max continued to pound into him while you watched helplessly.
“You can go now, I will take it from here” he muttered as he handed Franco his clothes.
You looked at Max.
He looked at you on his way out, sending you a kiss before the door slammed shut behind him.
He was making his way around the bed to come and untie you from the headboard.
You weren't quite sure what to say to him as you stretched your arms.
He walked into to the bathroom and turned the shower on, then poked his head around the doorway.
“Come and join me”
You got off the bed hesitantly.
Was that it? Were you going to take a shower and then he’d leave? Or stay with you and talk?
You weren't sure which option you hated more.
You got to the bathroom and he was already under the water, cleaning himself without a care in the world.
You approached him, putting an hand on his shoulder.
“Max? Are you angry with me?”
He huffed out a laugh.
“No, why would I be angry?”
He kept washing himself, and you had no idea what to answer.
He had every right to be pissed after all.
He looked at your confused face and chuckled.
“No, I am not angry with you”
You nodded, and he moved over a bit and pulled you under the spray.
He pulled you against his chest and looked down at you.
“I'm not angry, but I am sick of your games”
You gulped.
You could feel him against your hip, he was still hard.
“You didn't come” you muttered, and he smiled.
“Neither did you”
Your heart was beating fast as you stared at him.
“Are you planning to?”
He nodded.
“Oh yes. But you have a choice to make. Either I fuck you now, and we both come.”
His hand came to cup your jaw as his thumb stroked your cheek.
“Or, I leave right now, and you’ll never get to know how good you could've had it these past two years.”
Your jaw dropped, and your cunt throbbed at the idea of finally getting to fuck Max.
“Well?” his other hand trailed downwards to ghost over your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, to confirm that you were still soaked. “What will it be?”
You gasped, head leaning back against the tiles of the shower wall.
“Fuck me, please”
He grinned. “That's what I was hoping for”
He wasted no time turning you around and pushing into you roughly, your wetness easing the slide as he bottomed out on the first thrust.
You both groaned, and he snapped his hips, determined to hear that noise again.
He made you come twice like that, pressed against the shower wall as he took the frustration of the past two years out on you.
He did indeed make you regret not giving in to him sooner.
Later, in bed, you cuddled together after having changed the sheets.
“So tell me Max. If tying me up and fucking Franco in front of me was option number two… what was option number one if Franco hadn't been here?”
He chuckled, pulling you tighter against him.
“If you had been alone, I would have tied you to the bed and left you there alone"
You gasped.
“and Franco?”
“I would have fucked him anyway, to congratulate him for not giving in to you”
You went silent. Thank god for Franco’s weak will.
“Can I fuck him?" you asked "I really want to"
Max nuzzled into your neck and nipped at your skin.
“Of course. As long as I can keep fucking you, I don’t really care”
You hummed and turned your head, looking into his deep blue eyes.
“Sounds good to me”
He smiled, giving you a quick kiss before laying his head back on the pillow.
“Me too”
You giggled sleepily.
Just like you planned.
You had your best friend back, and two men were at your beck and call.
#my thots#franco thots#max thots#max verstappen#franco colapinto#max verstappen smut#franco colapinto smut#max verstappen x reader#franco colapinto x reader#max verstappen x franco colapinto#f1#formula 1#request
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— ☆ contents: dealing with dragon!form zhongli who possesses cat-like behaviours. human reader. dragon husband. sfw. fluff. established relationship. might be a little ooc. this is very unserious. 0.6k. | masterlist (i’m a dark content blog so mdni).
Dragon!Zhongli who acts much like an affectionate housecat despite his towering size and the magnitude of his status.
He, who is so comfortable around his human partner that he isn't afraid to bear his dragon form day-to-day, lest his cat-like behaviours (endearing as they are) go unnoticed.
Every time you run your fingers through the silk of his dark locks or scratch at the base of his horns, that's when it starts. A deep, soothing vibration beneath his scaled chest. The low rumble is almost hypnotic as his amber eyes drift closed, lulling him (and yourself) into a state of ease. If you remain watchful, you'll catch the corners of his lips curl ever-so-slightly upwards.
You can’t help but giggle because you know it’s not quite purring, but it might as well be.
Dragon!Zhongli whose tail is as much part of his personality as his deep voice and eloquent spiels. First and foremost, that thing is unapologetically heavy. When he’s in a good mood, it swishes around lazily, thumping against the furniture or brushing against your legs as he walks by.
Once it knocked over an entire stack of books and while you were busy laughing, he just sighed and said, “An unfortunate accident.” But if he’s feeling especially affectionate? Even worse. That's when you really have to watch out. It possessively curls around you and suddenly you’re dealing with the weight of a solid tail pulling you closer to him. You’ve almost toppled over a few times because of it.
“Careful, Zhongli,” you’ll tell him. “You might end up sweeping me off my feet.” Then he chuckles at you, tail tightening around your waist just a smidge.
That’s the idea, of course.
Dragon!Zhongli who feigns annoyance every time you act on your favourite habit: lifting his lips to inspect his fangs.
They’re a far cry from the tiny, delicate teeth of a cat, which is the only other creature you’ve subjected to this odd little inspection but that makes them even more fascinating.
"Must you do this every time?" he asks, lips pulling back just enough for you to admire them. They were sharp, pristine, and unsettlingly perfect. Enough to crack a bone with a single snap of his jaw but it was the same mouth he kissed you with. You never got used it.
"I'm lucky you’ve never nicked me with these," you’ll tease, brushing your finger along the largest fang.
Zhongli's responses are always the same: a long exhale as if you've just asked him to recite every contract he's ever known (which he could btw), followed by, “You’re enamoured with the oddest things.” But he lets you do it anyway. His words begin lose a bit of their weight when his tail slowly starts swaying behind him, exposing that he’s enjoying it more than he lets on.
And no one will ever believe you when you tell them how he is when he's feeling playful. It's a rarity but he'll nudge you gently with his horns as a display of affection and if you don't respond right away, he'll flick his tail at you. Not hard but enough for you to look his way.
Pay attention to me, it seems to say.
It’s mischievous, even if for a moment. Then you’ll catch a glint in his eye while he pretends to be all composed, but truly, he finds it amusing how he easily this form could be used as a weapon against you when he warrants his own needs.
The mighty dragon, who can command the earth itself, is stripped of his grandeur when you're around, replaced by a creature who wants nothing more than to be with you in the simplest way. And if you mention it, he’ll give you that look of half exasperation and half fondness before pulling you closer and acting like it’s purely your fault he’s such a softie with you.
a/n: if it wasn’t obvious already, i am a cat person (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform
#☾ grimmweepers#divider: adornedwithlight#i’m going through a writing drought so i’m posting my mediocre drafts i’m so sorry#genshin impact x reader#zhongli x reader#genshin x reader#morax x reader#zhongli x you#zhongli x y/n#morax x you#dragon zhongli#cw hybrids#dragon lover#gi x reader#genshin fluff#genshin drabbles#rex lapis
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Hey same person who asked for OP DILF x MILF reader
How about them reacting to MILF reader having a kid? (Even funnier if it was like luffy or zoro lol)
OP DILFS dating a MILF who has a kid
Characters: Mihawk, Doflamingo, Crocodile, Smoker,Shanks.
A/N: Two things. First one: i love this, i really had a good time writing it, you have great ideas my dear anon. Second one: exams are finally oveeeer, so i would be trying to update more than usual to get all the requests out of the hoven for everyone.
Masterlist
Dracule Mihawk
After taking care of Zoro and Perona, he thinks that he is ready for everything.
One day you were both on the kitchen and he like ussual is reading paperwork.
"It looks like the new generation it's going strong, this kid seems a good swordsman." he shows you the picture.
"Drac, i think it's time for us to talk." he almsot felt fear for a moment, "that kid it's mine, not like you and Zoro, literally that is my son." his mind exploded, you never saw him that concerned.
"And when will you have said this to me?"
"I am telling you now... you know how difficult it's to date at our age, especcially being a woman who already has a kid?" he nodded and pushed you closer, "i planned on telling you soon, i just, didn't know how, i was expecting something like this to happen to have the oportunity to tell you.
"You are lucky i already have practice with that green haired boy... call him, we can set a dinner and i can meet him formally, maybe even bond?" you coudln't help but smile and kiss him.
Donquixote Doflamingo
He already has experience with children since he literally adopted a lot of them.
One day someone robbed on the royal treasure chamber of Dressrosa and he was furious, he was looking for you to help him relax.
"My dove, i need some of your assistance on my d..."
"And when i tell you i date someone your best idea it's to rob him? you are lucky i found you and your stupid friends before he did? and.... " you finally became aware of his presence, but his eyes were already glued to the teenager.
You grabbed your child by the collar of the shirt and went to the door, your previous angry look bacame softer seen how Doflamingo's eyebrows were frowning.
"This is my son... i called him to Dressrosa so you could finally meet him but he decided to 'prove you'... i dont know what was on his mind. I have the treasure located and coming back to the chamber."
"You have a child." Doflamingo looked at the verge of an aneurysm, gritting his teeth.
"I do, please, don't punish him... i thake the responsability." his lips curled in a strange smile, like he was trying to fake it.
"I am honored to meet your son, it's impressive to know how skilled he is, maybe he can join court..." clearly Doffy was having a hard time trying not to kill you son.
Sr. Crocodile
Experience 0, oblivious 100%
He was on his office, doing work and you appeared with your son.
"Croc..." he turned the chair and looked at you both, "dear, i told you i don't need more agents... i don't know how you contacted someone with such a high bounty but i don't need it." and he turned the chair again.
"This is my son..." Crocodile was thankfull for being backwards to you cause he choked on the cigar.
"Your what?"
"SIr Crocodile, i am (Y/N)'s son, i was hoping to meet you and bond a little, i wasn't expecting a job... but if you give it to me i am not going to complain."
"You already have a job as bounty hunter, don't try to take advantage of this." you poked your son's cheek under Crocodile's surprised look.
"I..." he cleared his throat, trying to sound serious and prepared, "pleasure to meet you child, i would have appreaciate it a warning."
"I warned you, i left a note on the fridge that said 'special meeting today, i have a surprise'" your son started to laugh.
"That sounded like a booty call, jajaja, maybe he was expecting you to come here in lingerie." you punched your son on the head to make him shut up.
"I can make a reserve on the restaurant we both like and i can know you better." he tried to sound profesional but your son was right, he tought you would give him a sexy surprise, not this.
Smoker
He was really tired of dealing with teenage pirates.
He spent the last week chasing and fighting agaisnt a new supernova, he was tired and just wants to get home to you.
"Hello love." he said while hanging his uniform, then he got to the living room and saw that same supernova playing cards with you, "i don't know what you are doing here bastard but you are not going to hurt my..."
"Relax old men, i was just paying a visit to my mother." Smoker got his mind reset.
"Smoker sweetie, this is my son."
"How couldn it be your son? you are a marine."
"Same happens with Garp, but he is a grandfather.... i think maybe this is a nice time for you two to meet." you were really nervous but tried to sound chill and smooth.
"Oh mother, we already know each other, thi sis the man that has been chasing me all week." the moment got worse every second and you wanted to hide, but you felt Smoker sat next to you and put his arm on your should, "noooo, cut the romantic things, i am going to throw up."
"Don't talk to us like that, yesterday i was furious that you were so childish but right now, i wont tolerate you talking to your mother or me with such a disrespectful tone." you had to hide a laugh, he clearly was getting his frustations out but at the same time trying to be nice. "so tell me, how can a son of a marine officer become a pirate?"
"Well..." and you knew that this would be a long night.
Akagami Shanks
Since Luffy and Uta, he was out of the parenting thing, for now.
You were sleeping and suddently canons started to burst on the ship, you got dressed and prepared to a new day at board.
"I am xxxxx, and i will defeat you, Red Head SHanks."
"On your dreams, child." canons were still bursting when you got on the ship and saw the attacker of the ship.
"Mom?" "Son?" you both said at the same time, Shanks mouth touched the ground.
"Come here you little prick, how could you blow the ship of your mother's fiancee."
"You are engaged? i didn't got the letter nor invitation, you don't love me or what? i know we don't live together anymore but..."
"I sent it yesterday, it should get to you in a couple of hours but... we took the covers of various newspapers, how could you not saw it?"
"You know i don't read that bullshit..." you both were yelling at each other from the ships, until Shanks decided to finally talk.
"And when i was going to know this?"
"Today!" he coudln't even talk, his mind was going to fast, another problematic child.
"Boy, stop blasting canons and get on the ship... i love your mother and i want to marry her, i can kill you."
"You are not going to kill me, i am going to defeat you."
"You can try, after the wedding and only if i am looking." you yelled at him and went to Shanks, "leave him, he is excited in reality to meet you."
"I must recompose myself, i must make him see i am a good stepfather."
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece imagine#one piece x you#one piece headcanons#dracule mihawk#dracule mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk x you#dracule mihawk imagine#donquixote doflamingo#donquixote doflamingo x reader#donquixote doflamingo x you#donquixote doflamingo imagine#smoker#smoker imagine#smoker x reader#smoker x you#shanks x you#shanks x reader#shanks imagine#shanks#sir crocodile#crocodile x reader#crocodile x you#crocodile imagine#Akagami Shanks#akagami no shanks#akagami no shanks x you#akagami no shanks x reader#akagami no shanks imagine
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@lamentationsofalonelypotato
LOL jumping right back into the ocean of feels! 😬
I won't get my hopes up. I will be just as devastated now as when I find out that he is gone for good. 😭
Aww stay strong, my friend!! 💪🏽
Also I love that you said her mother refused to "entertain anything else" because Dean's job description is literally "anything else" lol. And it really is a wonderful thing (not wonderful like good but you know what I mean) that Dean and the reader can further connect on. Her knowing what Dean really did for a living and him being brave enough to risk his life on the possibility of "a chance."
Lol quite literally "anything else." 😆 Yeah the reader formed a connection with John through reading his journal entries, and now she can better understand Dean and connect with him too. 💞💞
I think Dean would've risked his life to gank the evil thing regardless, but definitely willing to do it for her, even if he finds her dad or not. 💔
It's too late for that kind of talk sexy mountain man. You're stuck with her and she is not going to let you go that easy.
LMAO this took me out. It's very much too late for that -- she's not letting him go for anything now. 😝
Am I trying to hide my emotions over Dean going into the wilderness alone to face a wendigo with humor? Yes, yes I am.
ehehehe 😜
It's a whole vibe 🍞 Side note: I did have to look up what nesting was in the A/B/O universe, but that is so cute. 😭
Ahaha I love GBBO so it got a special mention. (Also me going, how the hell is she gonna pass time for a full week? 😂)
Aww yes, nesting is so cute isn't it? Even if she had nested in Dean's room, compelled by her anxiety, I think it would've melted his surly heart loll.
Oh goodness, yes it was a bad idea and I am so happy that Dean showed up when he did, because my anxiety for this reader was THROUGH THE ROOF. I mean yes, go get your man, but gurl please it's snowing and you've got a broken ankle. At least catch a bear or something to pull you on a sleigh lol. 🤣
SUCH a bad idea loll. I had to have Dean intervene there. Exactly like, go get your man, but not on a broken ankle, hun. 🤣 "Catch a bear" -- I'm deceased. I think she's pretty much done with bears from now on! LOL 🐻
See this is why I don't get my hopes up because OH MY SWEET GOODNESS I'M CRYING 😭 But at least Dean is there now to wipe away her tears. AND my tears will soon be dried with the fires of their passion so... LOL 😂
bby we're all crying, but like you said, at least Dean's there to pick you up (and warm you up). 😏❤️🔥❤️🔥
See I feel better already 🥰
Oh good! lol that's what I was hoping for.~~
This is such a wonderful comparison to what it's like being around him for the reader. It holds the warmth and the feeling of home whenever you read it. I love it.
Honestly that description reminded me of the way you write the reader in Take a Chance, giving very human and specific details to her background and whenever she talked to Ben about her past -- so I'm very glad you enjoyed that part. 💕
And also you know how much I love the continuing idea of Dean thinking that he's not enough and that the reader would never like him. I know that I always point it out when I read something of yours, but it really always fits him and you write it so well my friend 💚
Aw thank you so much!! It seems I always come back to that in my Dean fics! I think subconsciously I'm trying to beat that mentality out of him with every story. 🤣 But also, I think his self-worth (or lack thereof) and his fear of being a danger to the people he loves are just key points of his character that you kind of have to deal with -- at least in the canon SPN world, whenever Dean gets close to being in a serious relationship with someone. 🥲❤️🩹
I also love this bit, because Dean reduces himself to physical wealth here rather than seeing all the wonderful qualities of himself that we all love being something that he can give the reader. It really makes their connection all the more loving and real, because the reader isn't asking for Dean to give her things or to be rich, she's just asking FOR Dean. And I think it will be a beautiful and wonderful thing when he realizes that.
In Dean's pov it's like, "I don't have a 'normal' house, I don't have a normal job, all I've got is my car and emotional baggage that I don't want to unload on someone else--especially someone outside of the Job." But she doesn't need him to have "normal" things. He literally saved her life and is meant to be hers. To her, the quality of who he is and the connection of being true mates is more important, and the rest they'll figure out together. 💞 Here's hoping Dean can realize that soon...
This chapter was so wonderful Alex! I loved every heart wrenching bit and I can't wait to read the next one my wonderful friend! ❤️
Aw thank you so much, my friend!! 🥰 I'm so happy that you're enjoying the mini rollercoaster of this story, and I truly hope you enjoy the grand finale too!! 💖💖
Against the Wind - Part 3
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader
Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.
AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…
Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo
Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger
Word Count: 3.8K
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~
Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist
Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn
“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”
“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”
You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.
“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.
He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”
“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”
“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”
You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.
“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.
“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases.
You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.
“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.
“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”
“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”
You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”
You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.
“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.
“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”
Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?
“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”
“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.
He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.
Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.
“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.
A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.
You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.
Not for himself, but for you.
“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.
“What? What is it?!” you yell.
He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”
He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.
Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.
You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?
Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.
No matter what direction you take, you never find him.
“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.
Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.
“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.”
You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.
“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself.
A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father.
When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes.
“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”
Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.
“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”
He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it.
Wendigo.
“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”
You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.
“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.
“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”
You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.
“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.
You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.
“Where did it happen?”
Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.
“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”
“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.
“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.
Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.
“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”
By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.
“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.
Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.
“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.
“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.
Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?
“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”
His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.
“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.
At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.
“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.
Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.
“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”
You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin.
Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside.
After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.
For when he gets back.
You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.
Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser.
On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)
On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.
With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.
“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.
You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either.
But you’ll have to try.
After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.
Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.
A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive.
“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.
You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt.
You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.
“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.
“Yeah, just peachy,” he says.
You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.
He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door.
“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”
Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes.
“I thought something happened to you,” you say.
Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one.
“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”
Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”
His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”
You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.
“Did you find my dad?” you ask.
Dean’s expression sobers as well.
“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”
Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him.
Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”
He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place.
After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure.
You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.
He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…
He finally drags you to him in a kiss.
It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.
You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.
But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair.
“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.
He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion.
“Why?” is all you can ask.
He doesn’t want to answer.
“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.
“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.
That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.
“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”
You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.
“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”
Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance.
“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”
You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”
“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”
You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.
“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”
“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.
“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”
You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin.
“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”
You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek.
“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.
Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands.
You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin.
“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.”
Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free.
He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.
AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘
Next Time:
“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.
You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.
“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.
“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.
Your lips curve upwards in return.
▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)
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What if Rizy met the other TWST sonas?
I had this silly idea in mind and tried to imagine how it could turn out ((if you don't agree with or think differently, feel free to let me know!💯))
For Quartz, I imagine Rizy liking to go against what she says just to troll her (more in a way to tease her for fun). @quartztwst
Kaz is Rizy's bestie, and Rizy always enjoys making random plans with her. @kazuww00
Rizy would enjoy goofing around and spending time with Hisui, I'm sure she'd love to tease her as well. @ghostiidasponk
Hagi is Rizy's little darling, I don't think she'd say it openly all the time, but she finds her really adorable and caring, and cute and [...]
I think that since Rizy often puts herself in dangerous situations, she can always count on Hagi to put her on the right path and stop her from taking unnecessary risks. @hagi-clvnk
I'm sure Hae and Rizy would get along well, given that both seem to have energetic personalities and are a lot of fun.
Plus, I can totally imagine Hae showing Rizy crazy theories, and she would be 100% on board with them, even if they seem crazy and impossible. @haeoflii
And there you go! I hope you liked this little silly thing, I mainly based it on the interactions I've had with you to make this.💖
I wanted to somehow thank you for the good times we've shared together.💝
#i hope you like it#Rizy#twisted wonderland#twst sona#twst oc#gift#twst#twst sona oomf#moot oc#twst wonderland
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The Day After
Aegon II Targaryen x Reader
Yesterday I felt more confident posting this (maybe because I finished writing it having a fever lol) but I want to share it anyway because I miss posting
Please feel free to like, leave a comment or reblog. These things motivate me to keep writing
And if you have any ideas, any headcanons or just want to talk about something my inbox is always open
Now I wish you all a good read <3
Aegon looks so calm and you don't know how to feel about that. You think he should be nervous, panicking, or even uncomfortable but he's happy eating the breakfast that the two of you ordered from room service at the hotel, as if today was a normal day, as if it wasn't crazy that you woke up next to him with a ring on your ring finger.
But you don't feel nervous, scared, or uncomfortable about this situation either.
When you were invited to Martyn's bachelor party in Las Vegas you never imagined that you would end up married to your best friend but you're not upset.
Of course, you were both drunk, you were left alone in the bar while everyone else went to the slots, and you ended up confessing that you were bummed that you weren’t married yet and that you were afraid of ending up alone. So Aegon told you to marry him and you laughed, you told him that he didn’t need to go to that extreme to make you feel better but he insisted, he told you that if he won the roulette then you two should get married. Of course, he won by choosing your birthday as his number. And that’s how you two ended up getting married.
You weren't nervous when you signed the papers or when you kissed. You thought it would be weird to kiss him but it felt good. You liked the softness of his lips and how he held your face like you were something precious. Aegon also had to enjoy kissing you because he couldn't seem to separate his lips from yours as they walked back to his room making you feel like a lovestruck schoolgirl again. You were happy and delighted. Your teenage self didn't think you would ever dare to be with Aegon without being afraid of ruining your friendship.
Last night Aegon made you feel loved and wanted. He kissed and worshipped your body like you were a deity.
“What are you thinking about?” your husband asked, drawing your attention.
“Nothing,” you said, and hurried to take a sip of your coffee to have an excuse not to talk.
Aegon raised an eyebrow at you, “Liar, you’re wrinkling your brow.”
Of course, he knew the expression you made when you tried to lie. You didn’t mind that detail, it was more like he was giving you another confirmation of why he was the man for you.
“I was thinking about us,” you finally admitted.
“It hasn’t even been a day and you’re already regretting marrying me?” You could see that he tried to say it as a joke but you could feel that he genuinely cared, noticing that his eyes seemed to have suddenly lost their sparkle and his body wasn’t as relaxed as before.
“I don’t regret marrying you” you declared without hesitation and you saw how the tension disappeared from his body. “And you?” you asked although you were already sure you knew the answer.
“Of course not” he answered instantly, almost seeming offended by your question.
You smiled feeling your heart warming up. “Good”
“Good,” he repeated, mirroring your smile. “I love you,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn't the first time he told you he loved you but this time it was different. He didn't say it as your best friend, nor did he say it when he was drunk or in the heat of the moment. You had no doubt about his feelings for you.
You leaned over the table to kiss him. "I love you too," you said on his lips.
The truth is that neither of you was afraid of the future; in fact, you couldn't wait to see what was coming. You two would probably have to tolerate criticism from your families for having done things in the wrong order and for having dared to take such a step, but that didn't worry either of you now that you were together.
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It Comes Naturally
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Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy, Slight Angst
Prompt: "Dad things he does subconciously" with buck (request by anon)
Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.
-With that said it's all under the cut-
A lot of the fatherly things he did initally came out in ways of making sure that you had properly bandaged your finger or carrying you to the bedroom when you fell asleep on the couch. It was just casually caring for your partner as one should, like making sure you had enough dinner or that you got to work safely.
As time went on in the relationship progressed, you noticed how fatherly he seemed to Chris. How he would help him every single time he had the opportunity, maybe with homework, girl talk or other general things.
Buck is so kind and attentive, most of the time he can tell how someone's feeling just by looking at their face or reading the room. He is always so good at making sure to clock your emotions and how you're feeling.
"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked as he came into the room.
"I promise it's nothing." You had said not wanting to put your shitty day on to him.
"I know that's entirely bullshit." He smiles, gently grabbing your chin so he can gaze into your eyes.
"I'm just having a rough day, I'm remembering some shit from my childhood." Your eyes slightly teared up as you are trying your hardest not to cry. He pulled you into a hug and everything starts to feel right, his hugs were all encompassing. You know how they say that everything faded and it was just you and him? Like the movies. That's exactly how it felt with him his hugs were just the best thing you could think of whenever you're feeling like shit.
His dad behavior seem to spike when his sister had a baby. Every single time that Maddie needed a babysitter he was the first person to jump on it. He tended to carry Jee around everywhere, showing her how he does everything even if she can't understand.
"And this is the smoke alarm." He held her up so she could see the smoke alarm. There was no rhyme or reason to the things that he showed her just random things around the house like the top of the fridge, the pantry or the microwave. Of course considering the fact that she's a baby she has no idea what's going on but she enjoys it just the same.
You often caught him watching Bluey, Max & Ruby, Blue's Clues or whatever TV show he had put on for the little girl, he had gotten sidetracked and sat down and started watching it. Of course it started the same way it does for every other father where they glance at the TV and slowly get sucked into the plot of the episode. A couple of times you've caught him passed out on the couch with her because the both of them had fell asleep watching television.
In a way he is very much an uncle but in so many different ways he is like a father, he's patient, kind, and understanding. Evan is the perfect partner and the perfect person that you could see yourself building a life with.
When there's a problem he always talks it out with you and you both come to an understanding and say sorry because what he says is that "it takes two people to argue" and both of you are to blame; apparently this is something that Maddie taught him when she essentially raised him. It was a way of making sure everyone felt understood and cared for in any type of relationship, it took him some time but he did realize it slowly that it was indeed true in most situations.
Evan isn't just fatherly but motherly as well, he's perfect with kids, he's a fantastic partner and a wonderful human being.
It was really early in your relationship and neither of you had talked about it, having kids. So when you saw that little blue plus sign you're nervous, not because you don't want this but because you're worried it's too soon.
"Baby, I-" You take a breath as you come out of the bathroom in your pajamas. Buck is remaking the bed that both of you didnt have time to do this morning. He hears the worry in your voice and turns around.
"Hey..." He sits at the end of the bed and pulls you between his thighs, those ocean eyes staring into yours with love and care.
"I- um... I missed my period and I didn't think anything of it because I've been stressed. You know with everything that's been happening, the fires and all?" You tell him, your heart heavy in your chest. He just listens as he knows that you'll continue when you're ready, his hands slowly rubbing your hips in silent support of whatever you have to say.
"...We- We only had one test laying around." You handed him the test and watched his reaction on his face, it took a minute of his brain processing but a huge smile covered his face.
"Oh! Oh my God! Baby, you're pregnant! This is- this is good news, this is great news!" He pulled you into his lap and hugged the doubt and worry out of you.
"You're not mad? It's really early in this relationship and I really didn't want to push anything on to you." You started crying cause you were so sure he'd be upset cause generally a lot of guys would be, it was a relief.
"Mad? Baby, I've never been happier. You- You're amazing. We can do this. Right? You wanna keep it, dont you? If you don't its okay but I just-" Evan starts to get nervous as he speaks cause he realizes he doesn't want to force any decision on you or make you feel obligated to keep this baby if you don't want to.
"I- Yeah. I do." Tears pouring down your face and onto his neck.
"You're going to be the most gorgeous mother out there." Buck rubs your back as he tries to help with the tears that are dampening his shirt You had never had this type of support in your life and you knew at this exact point you wanted him in your life in any way possible.
If at some point down the road you guys didn't love each other the same way that you do now, you know that you would want him in your life as a friend at least just to have him in your life. You'd always have a connection to him and that was even before you got pregnant, but now there was a bundle of life growing within you that was part you and part him stringing the two of you together forever.
"I'm going to be here with you as long as I breathe, I promise." He whispers into your ear before pulling back so he can see your face. Buck covers your salty tear filled face in kisses.
He always knew exactly what to do to make you smile and this was no exception, the love he gave you and the compassion and care was to be unmatched by anyone no one could make you feel like this but him.
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One time you could claim sanctuary from churches and they would grant you it. It was used by those who needed shelter, in the Middle Ages, the tradition of Sanctuary was written into Law, and went far beyond the provision of shelter, allowing even convicted criminals to evade capture. Many a tale is told of desperate criminals who beat the Law to reach the safety of a Church. So for Heaven to do what they did? Knowing full well that many of those who live in Hell might have claimed sanctuary at one point or another? It is spitting on it, it is saying that it doesn't matter, that their belief doesn't matter. That they are going to die regardless. Churches for the longest time were seen as safe havens for those who needed them. Struggling mothers, homeless, young children who had nowhere to go. Heaven using the building as a church is spitting on what sanctuary stands for. Not to mention that from what we have seen in Vaggie's memories, there are children in Hell, quite possibly sinner children as well. At one point in time, it was believed that all children who were not baptised would go to Hell when they died. So how much of that is true? Vaggie was tossed out of Heaven because she wouldn't kill a child, so that is another strike against Heaven. Heaven has no idea how the system works, they don't know how the souls or judged. The supposed 'rules' that Adam gave them, in theory, means that Lucifer would have been allowed into Heaven. But he isn't. So Heaven has no idea how souls are judged. Heaven is fucked up, I am not saying that Hell isn't. It is. It is Hell. But it makes you wonder if Heaven is willing to have a church as their symbol with a massive hourglass, knowing full well that many would have claimed sanctuary at some point in a church and the fact that they sent an army year after year down to slaughter sinners. What else have they done? What lines have they crossed? How far as they willing to go to keep their status? Heaven is not what it seems, it is not filled with good beings. Sera, Adam and Lute are proof of that. Emily is much like Charlie, but due to her age, I doubt that others will listen to her. They are more likely to listen to Sera over Emily. Sera has already proven that she will kill, that she will send armies to Hell to slaughter people. Charlie is a danger to Heaven, she is a danger to the status quo and I think that we are going to see how far Heaven will go to keep the status quo.
Damn, I never noticed that the Heaven Embassy looks like a Church chapel - though it makes perfect sense that it would - or that it has a giant hourglass that they use for the countdown for the next Extermination (that is so fucked up btw, forcing the Sinners to live with this giant, golden timer in the middle of their city, slowly marking down the next time an army is going to descend down and murder them).
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Thinking about lighters voicelines like how he goes "know your place!" or "try not to fall down".. hmdjfmndjsnmm gripping my goddamn knees
Like maybe being lighters enemy would not be so bad if he ever said that to me, though i can only imagine the kind of ??? hed give if he heard anyone say that but MAN its almost unfair how hes got such a hot voice
This got buried in my askbox, but fuck me sideways enemies to lovers with Lighter is literally the dream. (Also I play on JP so I've never heard this man's EN lines lol). Just imagine how good the sexual tension could be, how perfect the emotional beats would be. THE HATE FUCKING!!!! Got my head spinning just thinking about it.
Just imagine both of you disgustingly sweaty, just having finished a tussle. You should be angry as hell, having just had your ass beat by the guy, but... you weren't. No, you were horny as fuck. With the way he was talking, laughing at you, teasing you knowing you didn't have a chance. Jesus fuck, how could you be anything but?
You knew Lighter was formidable, but you thought it was cause he was good to fight, not because he seemed like such a good fuck. You can't help your thoughts wandering to him saying shit like that buried to the hilt inside you. Pounding your ass like a whore while you whined out his name over and over until you couldn't think. Made you clench around nothing.
It certainly showed on your face, with the odd way he was staring at you. Those same hands that just handed you your ass, reached out to help you back to your feet. You try to brush off the thoughts of those strong fingers choking you out while he fucks the air out of your lungs. Instead, taking the hand appreciatively, surprised at how courteous he was.
"You're pretty good," He gives you your flowers for holding your own, though you're sure he's just saying that out of habit. His ego must be huge... just like something else.
Rolling your eyes, you brush yourself off, "Lying isn't very nice, Champion."
That gets you a chuckle, which makes your head spin, "I'm serious. You were a rare challenge, don't beat yourself up too much."
He'll leave you with that, weak in the knees as you watch him strut off with the confidence of ten men. It'll leave you hoping your next fight comes sooner if only to feel those hands on you again. To hear him degrade you like some kind of slut one more time, even if he had no idea what he was doing to you.
#x reader#lighter x reader#lighter zzz#lighter zzz x reader#zzz lighter#zzz lighter x reader#lighter#zzzero#zzz lighter lorenz x reader#zzz lighter lorenz#lighter lorenz x reader#lighter lorenz
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