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hannibals-favourite-meal · 6 months

Note

Rick/reader/Daryl are a throuple and the Alexandria residents don’t know how to react.

.⋆｡Her Poor Cat｡⋆.

Daryl x plus size reader x Rick

Obviously the Alexandrians were pretty vanilla

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and smut, bit of a crack fic, humour, fluff

WC: 900

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The welcome party was an interesting touch to the new-comers. It was so weirdly reminiscent of the old world with the nice clothes and good food and alcohol but at the same time, many in the room carried that haunted look in their eyes from the hell just outside the walls. But the food was fresh and the company was pleasant enough.

Carl had scrambled off a couple minutes ago, presumably to try and sneak some whiskey behind his father’s back, leaving you alone with a sleepy Judith perched on your wide hip. Her chunky hand tightly clutched at your shirt as her big blue eyes fluttered.

“Mama.” She muttered, nuzzling further into your hold. You gently cupped the back of her head and began to sway softly.

“We’ll leave soon, just need to find your dads and make sure they don’t get into any trouble.” Your eyes skipped over the crowd but you were quickly stopped by someone coming up beside you.

“It’s so good to see healthy children during these times.” Deanna seemed less focused on you and more on the now half-asleep child in your arms, which you were incredibly grateful for considering that your poker face wasn’t as good as it used to be and she legitimately freaked you out.

Judith grumbled as you hitched her higher on your hip. “Judy is an easy baby, pretty much eats anything that gets put in front of her.” You chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“You and Rick must be very proud of your kids.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, it’s not-“

A strong arm was suddenly wrapped around your thick waist and you were tugged back into their hard stomach. The scent of cigarettes and motor oil filled your senses as Daryl’s lips brushed against your earlobe. You watched as Deanna went pale, obviously coming to her own conclusion about your relationship with the archer.

“I-I didn’t realise, given how affectionate you are with the kids, I thought Rick was your partner.” You could feel Daryl’s broad chest rumble with discontent.

“So what if he is?” The noise from the party faded away to a faint whisper as all eyes turned to you. Internally, you groaned, vowing to get some sort of revenge on your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry?” Deanna seemed genuinely confused but you knew that whatever was about to come out of Daryl’s mouth would not serve to lessen that feeling.

With your free hand, you dug your fingers into his hip, urging him to shut the hell up but like always, Daryl refused to listen. “So what if we’re both fucking her?”

And there it was. Your body sagged with embarrassment as heat raced up your neck, blooming across your cheeks. “You fucking asshole.” Your group all seemed to be holding back their laughter as the Alexandrians were suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. You heard Carl groan loudly from somewhere behind you. “Not again.”

“Both of them?” Spencer materialised beside his mother, jaw practically on the floor. “At the same time?”

Just as Daryl’s mouth opened once more to very rudely answer the mayor’s son, Rick’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. His grip was light enough to appear friendly but the way his fingers curled into his collarbone kept the other man silent. “What Daryl meant to say is that we are all in a relationship together.”

You then made the mistake of making eye contact with Maggie and Carol who both seemed to be on the edge of suffocation as they desperately tried to stop giggling. You glared at the women and got back a rather rude gesture from Carol that restarted their laughter anew.

“I think I need to get Judy to bed.” You tried to pull away from Daryl’s grip but the stubborn man he was, he just held you tighter.

“How does that work?” The question came from a woman towards the back. You could practically feel Rick’s smirk as he cleared his throat but very quickly, another woman decided to answer for him.

“Obviously they take turns.” A murmur of agreement filled the room followed by- “Oh her poor vagina.” This makes Glenn snort into his drink.

With a horrified look on her face, Deanna spoke again. “This is highly inappropriate.” Yet no one seemed to hear her because someone else piped up.

“I can’t believe that she isn’t pregnant all the time.”

“I think that’s enough of that! Thank you all for the wonderful party, but we really should be going now.” Your voice boomed, starling Judith awake but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. Daryl went easily enough as your fingers clamped down on his wrist and you pulled him along, although there was a prideful smile on his lips.

But Rick had other ideas. “It’s not like we don’t try every chance we get.” Faster than you thought you were capable of, you dropped Daryl’s hand and your arm darted out, grabbing Rick’s ear with a force that made him visibly flinch.

“I said that’s enough.” You snarled and tugged him towards the front door, Daryl trailing close behind you. “Goodnight.” The door slammed shut behind you, leaving behind a room full of stunned Alexandrians and your friends who were all laughing loudly.

“Well, I guess that cleared that up.” Deanna murmured and took a long pull of her drink.

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hihomeghere · 9 months

Text

One Bed : Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro Series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 3.7K Summary : After a failed mission with the commission, both you and Five find a hotel to rest in. The only problem is, you'll have to share a bed. Aged up!Five. ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters ) Warnings : Smut, cursing, mentions of headaches

“Damn It!” You groaned, leaning on your knees, your chest heaved. You changed back into yourself. Happy to be back in your body instead of a very hairy man with a limp. Your head pounded, you should have been more careful. After barely getting any sleep last night you should have known better than to push your abilities. You coughed, spitting bile out onto the pavement in front of you. A crackle of blue light appeared next to you before Five flew out of the portal. He was equally out of breath.

“Where did they go?” He turned to you, throwing his hands up.

“I don’t know,” you spit glaring at him, your emotions running high, “he disappeared.” You waved in front of you. Your lungs screamed, drinking in oxygen in deep breaths, letting your lungs inflate to their limit before breathing out again.

“Disappeared?” He yelled, whipping his head to look at you. His hair falling out of his neat side part. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a strangled scream.

“Where were you huh?” You hissed, narrowing your eyes “You could have blinked after him if you were here!” He glared at you, his face scrunched into a sour expression.

“God you are unbelievable!” He groaned, clenching his fists. His hands glowed blue before fizzling out, “I pushed myself too hard, I barely made it back to you!” You huffed rolling your eyes. Fighting would get you nowhere, Five loved arguing. When there was a fire lit in him he was an eternal flame, furning for days on end. Once you had stolen his favorite coffee mug, for no other reason than he had said something to piss you off. That was a week of hell you never wanted to relive.

“Look,” you took a breath, “we’re both tired, let’s just go find a hotel and get some rest.” You put your hands up in defeat.

He clenched his jaw, the muscle tightening. He huffed looking around.

“Fine, but you’ll follow my plan tomorrow, got it?” He pointed a finger at you. You didn’t know if it was his age, but the way he would scold you like a child drove you insane.

“Fine.” You said through gritted teeth. “Shall we?” You asked motioning to your parked car. He moved past you, hitting your shoulder as he went. You sighed following him, hurt blooming in your chest. You hung your head as you walk to the car.

He stopped, turning back to look at you. You didn’t have the best poker face, not with him at least. You looked down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes. He bit his lip, guilt washing over him in waves.

Five had always been in agreement with himself, being alone in the apocalypse there was no room for second guessing. It was live or die every second of every day. When a simple infection from a paper cut could have as easily killed him as a broken bone, Five was always thinking ten steps ahead. Even after the commission picked him up his survival instincts hadn’t fully gone away. Whether he was in the field or not, his primal instincts still had him making decisions quickly and with no room for reflection. This was his way of life, learning layouts of offices, the nearest escape routes. Until you barged into his life.

With you, Five was constantly second guessing his actions. Normally he wouldn’t have given a shit if he was abrasive, cold or unfriendly. He didn’t come to make friends, he came to save the world. He had a job to do, and more importantly a plan. To get back to his family and stop the apocalypse. You were never a part of that plan. He had already calculated his steps when you came in throwing in three more steps to an already difficult dance. Sashaying your way into his life and heart.

He walked in front of you, cursing himself as he opened up the door of the 1977 Isuzu Gemini SL Coupe. He gave you a small smile as you got in. He closed the door behind you before walking to the driver side and getting in.

You drove in silence, leaning your head on the window. It throbbed from having to change into so many people. You rubbed your temple, praying for a shower and a warm bed.

Five’s hands gripped the wheel, he was spent. His body ached and the cramp in his shoulder was getting worse as he drove. The stress probably wasn’t helping. He stole glances at you every once and awhile. The only thing illuminating your face was the street lights as he passed under them.

He sighed under his breath, he shouldn’t have snapped at you. And it’s not like he was mad at you, he was mad at himself. He had let the guy get away, he had been worried about your safety. He had lost you at the beginning of the warehouse. The whole time he had been jumping around looking for you instead of the target. He knew he had made a mistake, using his powers for his personal gain instead of the mission. If the handler only knew, he would never be assigned with you again. Good thing she didn’t. As much as he tried to deny it he had started to enjoy working with you. You helped him maintain his humanity, like Delores had. You two were very similar, both kind, selfless, always thinking ahead. He admired your ability to stay true to your heart, even in your line of business.

He pulled off into a parking lot. Passing the glowing red sign that blinked vacancy. He rolled into a parking spot, putting the car in park. You both sat in silence, you sighed looking into the hotel lobby.

“I-“ Five started before cutting himself off, you raised your head looking at him. He stared straight ahead, his hand lazily draped on the wheel. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his gaze dropped to his lap.

“It’s ok.” You said touching his arm, “We’re both tired and overworked.” You looked over at him, your head throbbed. You shut your eyes covering them with your hand.

“Is it your head?” He asked, looking over at you. You nodded tears pricking in your eyes, “Hey, let’s get inside.” He said squeezing your shoulder. You nodded, wiping away tears that slipped past your eyelashes. Five opened the door, stepping out of the car. You followed him into the hotel lobby, the bell ringing as Five opened the door.

You winced, sitting down on a leather chair. The fake leather had started to crack, you mindlessly picked at the flakes. The orange carpet under your shoes had multiple stains, you wrinkled your nose in disgust.

Five walked up to the counter, his hand hovered over the bell before he looked back at you. He put his hand back into his pocket and leaned on the counter.

“Hello?” He said looking around. An older man walked out, he had a full unkempt mustache. Frizzy hair to his jaw, his tall body squeezed into a tweed suit. “One room please.” He said handing him twenty bucks. The man nodded, plucking a key off the wall behind him. He handed it to him, Five turned the red pass over in his hands. He walked back over to you, your head in your hands. His heart squeezed in his chest, he needed to get you to bed. He gently shook your shoulder. “Come on,” he said, helping you to your feet. You gripped his bicep, leaning on him. Any sense of pride had left your body when your headache started. He led you to your room, putting the key in the hole. He had to jiggle it slightly before the lock gave out.

Fives face fell as he took in the room. Only one bed.

“Damn it.” He muttered, shaking his head, you walked over to the bed. Sinking down onto it as you reached down to untie your shoes. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” He said matter of factly, sighing.

“Five.” He looked into your tired eyes. “We’re both adults, just take the other side of the bed.” You shrugged off your suit jacket, pushing yourself off the bed. You pulled out a hanger and hung your suit jacket up. You unzipped your pants, Five felt heat creep up his neck. You had undressed in front of him before, why did this bother him so much? You unbutton your blouse, hanging it up as well. God, your head hurts. It was no longer throbbing, but pounding.

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” You mumbled walking to the bathroom.

Five sat down on the edge of the bed. He untied his shoes, setting them down next to the bedside table. He listened to the shower turn on, your soft voice humming as the rings of the shower curtain scraped across the metal bar. Five swallowed, his mind started to wander. He imagined you washing your body. The suds over your breasts, letting out a sigh of relief as the hot water washed over you. He felt his dick jump in his pants. He pictured your hands traveling lower down your body, over your soft stomach, reaching between your legs. His dick was standing at attention now. He had a good couple minutes before you would be out. He reached down, rubbing himself through his pants. He could only imagine your hands instead of his, your hot breath fanning over his neck, lips, ear. He leaned back, letting his back hit the bed. He tugged at his belt, undoing the buckle. He unbuttoned his pants pulling them down with his underwear. His dick, no longer confined to his pants, sprung free onto his stomach. He spit into his hand, lubricating his dick. He ran his palm over the tip, once, twice, before he noticed the water had turned off. He quickly pulled his pants back up, buttoning them. He stood up walking over to the window, pulling back the thin green curtain. Trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

You opened the door. Your hair still slightly damp, you had a fluffy robe wrapped around your body. He turned slightly to look at you. You smiled at him, the windows low light illuminating him perfectly. He was reminiscent of a painting of an angel, the hotel sign acting as holy rays behind him. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“All yours.” You sighed happily, throwing yourself onto the shitty mattress. The box spring whined as your body hit it. He nodded before taking a couple steps to the bathroom.

You laid back, combing through your hair with your fingers. You slipped under the covers, the throbbing in your head was now only a slight ache. You heard the water turn on, and shut off after a few minutes. Five opened the door, a towel hung low on his waist. Your eyes traveled down his body, for his toned chest to his firm stomach. You took in all his scars, one above his belly button, it looked like an old knife wound. Your eyes traveled further to his v, a small patch of hair leading from his chest to his hips. You looked away, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. He was drying his hair with a towel so thankfully he didn’t see you ogling him. He walked over to the bed, pulling the covers back. He sank down, the bed dipping with his weight. He laid back, his arm brushing against yours. Electricity flew up your arm.

“Night.” You said softly, he hummed in response. You rolled over, away from him. Looking out the window, listening to his breathing.

When you woke up, it was still dark. The sun hadn’t come up but the sky was turning more of a light blue. You felt Five’s warm arm wrapped around your waist, and Five’s breath fanning across your neck. His hand was splayed out over your stomach, holding you tightly against him. You sighed contently, enjoying the closeness to the man you had come to develop feelings for. Although any pure thoughts disappeared when he rolled his hips against your ass. A low groan left his throat, which seemed to shoot directly to your core.

You froze, you could feel his erection pressing against you. Experimentally you rolled your hips back into his, he moaned nuzzling your neck.

The angel on your shoulder yelled in your ear to wake him up. You savored the feeling, trying to memorize exactly how he felt against you, saving the memory for a later time when you were alone in your apartment, before you nudged him slightly.

“Hmmm?” He mumbled into your ear.

“Five, wake up.” You said nudging him again. He jolted up, taking in the situation.

“Oh god,” he said, pulling away from you, his voice gravely from sleep. “Jesus, I didn’t mean, if I’ve made you uncomfortable in any way I-“ he groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Five. It’s ok,” You said, pulling his hand away. Looking at him in the low light, he was breathless, a light layer of perspiration on his body. Your mouth watered as you took him in. “If you wanted to, I wouldn't be opposed…” you trailed off your eyes locking onto his face. He froze, his lips slightly parted. He tilted his head, his brows furrowing. He stared down at his hands, deep in thought. “I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything.” He said softly, you smiled. For a man who was always so self-assured, he seemed so unsure of himself.

“I’m offering. This is just to get some relief, no strings attached.” You said biting your lip, you untied your robe. Letting it fall around your body. Now having no protection from the cold night air, you felt your nipples harden. Five’s eyes raked over your body, you felt yourself grow hot under his gaze. He stared at you like you were a cool glass of water in the apocalypse.

Five was sure he had been murdered in his sleep. There was no possible reality where you were all but throwing yourself at him. All Five wanted to do was ruin you and make you his. Make you crave him as much as he craved you. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even had sex, possibly in his early days at the commission, but only to get his dick wet. He didn’t care about those girls, now you on the other hand were something special. And you were naked, in his bed.

“Right, no strings attached.” He repeated back to you. His fingers twitched and you could feel his hesitation. You grabbed one of his hands, squeezing it gently. You brought his hand up to your breast, he let out a shaky breath, his eyes finding yours for confirmation. You leaned forward to nibble his neck, kissing over the bites. He shivered his body tensing, you grinned your breath fanning over his jaw. He pinched one of your nipples, smirking as you gasped. He ducked his head, his mouth covering your other nipple, his tongue flicking the bud. Your hand tugged on his hair, he sighed around your breast.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He groaned, you chuckled looking up at him through your eyelashes. His erection was now painfully stretching against his underwear, you grabbed him through his boxers. He let out a pained noise, like he was being stabbed instead of pleasured. He was puddy in your hands, ready to be shaped anyway you wished. He pushed you back against the bed. In a sudden shift in dominance, his lips found your neck, kissing and nipping slightly. You bucked against his body, your nipples rubbing slightly against his bare chest. His hands mapped a path down your body, like he was trying to memorize it. Unbeknownst to you he was. His fingers found your clit, testing the waters. You gasped, your hand finding its way into his hair. You pulled at his scalp slightly, earning a low groan from him. He slipped one finger inside you, curling it as he thrusted it inside you. You moaned softly, any pain from your headache was now long gone. He added a second finger, his eyes never leaving your face. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to cower under his gaze or beg for more. Your skin was ablaze, Five’s touch was electric, his incredibly eager fingers thrusting and curling inside you. You gripped the sheets, pleasure building in your stomach. That familiar coil tightening inside of you.

He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips, sucking them clean. “Shit, you’re sweet.” He hummed, swiping the head of his dick down your folds, lubricating himself with your slick. You both shuddered as his velvety soft tip found your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, his other hand rubbing light circles on your thigh. You hadn’t expected him to be so doting, tales circulated around the commission of the absolute animal Five was in bed. But as his green eyes peered into yours, you could put those rumors to rest. You felt entirely bare, like he was peeling back the layers of your soul. The alarm bells had been ringing in your ears, this man was a killer. He was a survivor, stepping on anyone he had to, to get to where he was. He was a mercenary, follower of no moral code, but if he was all of these things why did he hold you like you were made of glass?

“Yes.” You said, propping yourself up on your elbows. He lowered his gaze pushing the head of his cock in slowly. You both let out a moan, he hissed, baring his teeth.

“Christ you’re tight.” He sighed his eyes squeezing close. His hands gripped your hips, his nails dug in leaving crescent shaped marks. Although you couldn’t seem to care, you had never felt so full in your life. Your hands gripped his thighs for dear life, a strangled cry left your throat as he thrust all the way in, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He stilled, a blissed out smile on his lips. You wiggled your hips, trying to get any stimulation from him.

“Fuck me.” You whined, grabbing his face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes widened before a devilishly handsome smile split his face.

“Yes ma’am.” He started a slow rhythm, his dick spearing you every time he thrusted into you. Long, hard strokes. His cock rubbed at the spongy part inside of you and you mewled. “You like that, sweetheart?” He teased a mischievous glint in his eye, you couldn’t help but nod, stroking his ego along with his cock. He took the lead titling your hips up, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders. You needed him closer. Gripping at any part of him you could get your hands on, your nails raking down his back. He moaned, breathy and high pitched. Your breath was stolen out of your chest as he quickened his pace, going deeper than before.

“Oh fuck, Five.” You groaned holding onto his shoulders, your tits bouncing.

“You’re gripping me so good tesoro.” He grimaced, his eyes fluttering close. He let out a strangled cry against your leg. Biting down harshly before kissing your calf. You yelped fingernails digging into his thighs.

“I’m close, I’m so close.” You babbled tears slipping down your cheeks, every part of you was screaming out in pleasure. This spurred him on, one of his hands traveled between the two of you rubbing tight circles on your clit. You swore you saw stars, your toes curled and you couldn’t help the high pitched whine that ripped its way out of your throat. He leaned forward, his body looming over yours. His arms effectively trapping you underneath him. Working you through your orgasm as he grinded his hips against you, using your leg as leverage.

“I’m not gonna last.” He mumbled his forehead resting against yours, wincing slightly. You grinned, reveling in the fact that you had such an effect on him.

“Cum then.” You said before sucking a deep purple mark on his neck. You felt his breath catch in his throat against your lips.

“S-shit.” He thrusted hard into you, “you’re so fucking perfect,” He moaned his hips stuttering as he came. “Oh god I love you.” You froze, he loved you? He stopped, pulling out almost immediately. “I don’t know why I said that.” He recoiled, putting as much distance as he could between the two of you. He grabbed his discarded towel, covering himself with it as he stumbled off the bed. You pulled the sheet up, covering your breasts.

“Five it’s fine,” you said sitting up.

“No. It’s not.” He growled, the sudden shift in his demeanor made you recoil. You pulled the sheet tighter around your body, suddenly all too aware of your nudity. “This never should have happened.” He motioned between the two of you.

“It’s just sex. It’s not like you meant it!” You justified, your voice higher than you intended.

He stopped, the outline of his body harsh against the street lamp outside. His head turned slightly, allowing you to see only part of his face. You could see him mentally building his walls back up, brick and mortar in his eyes.

“Five, it’s not like you meant it.” You said it more as a question than a statement, hating the slight waver in your voice. His body tensed as he sucked in a breath, he raised his shoulders.

“No. I must have been thinking of someone else.” He said coolly. Ouch. The air was sucked out of the room as he stormed into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind him. Your heart broke in your chest, slicing up your insides. You swallowed thickly, your mind struggling to keep up with Five’s constant whiplash. One minute he’s taking you to the gates of heaven only to taunt you as he drags you back to hell.

This was all your fault, you put your head in your hands. You shouldn’t have suggested anything and just lived with the constant sexual tension.

No strings attached your ass.

part two here

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #smut #the handler #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #alison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #tua x reader #five hargreeves smut #one shot #hihomeghere

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linnamonrolls0 · 5 months

Text

The Winner Takes It All

LMM!Hermes x Reader

Summary:

“devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more…”

You accidentally find your way into the Lotus Casino, where a certain Greek god takes a keen interest in a game of poker, a sweet deal, and… you.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4,480

A/N:

I wasn’t gonna write this… until I saw some hater saying they’d [redacted] if they saw a LMM!Hermes x Reader fic show up - so naturally, being the disastrous Lin simp that I am, I HAD TO DO IT. After all, learning from the best in proving the naysayers wrong…

A lot of this was written pre-episode, allow it with a few inconsistencies and a lot of research-induced additions!

Mixtape... bloop - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6v2ZfRamJRh8eP6qOqz4ND

Chapter 1: When The Chips Are Down

Contrary to popular belief, apparently it is possible to get lost in Las Vegas.

You were only strolling the Strip with a group of friends on the last day of your whirlwind vacation, but soon enough you found yourself at a dead end, unsure of what turn you’d even taken to get there.

Hoping to locate a restroom and some means of connectivity to contact your friends, you beelined for the nearest building, flashily labelled the Lotus Hotel and Casino: upon glancing upward, you were met with the sight of a forty-storey tower, with a wide open entrance marked by a blooming neon-bright lotus flower in front of you. It was the sort of place you would expect to be buzzing with life, but oddly enough nary a soul lingered by the shining silver doors; just stillness and silence, save for the muffled music pounding from somewhere inside.

Though you felt overwhelmingly uneasy, that entrance carried a strange magnetism that compelled you to step inside. Something that suggested all your fear would be put to rest the moment you walked through those doors… or into that flower, at least.

You tucked your hands under your sleeves and drew in a deep breath, before you crossed the petalled threshold into an opulent lobby decorated with lotus plants in intricately designed pots and inviting plush couches around the circular hall. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the Nevada summer heat, and the whole place seemed to glow in a dark shade of pink.

You immediately felt an invisible weight ease off of your shoulders as you entered… What had you come here to look for, again?

Right, a phone charger and somewhere to pee. Of course, basic human necessities, how could you forget those so quickly?

Interrupting your line of thought, you paused in your tracks when a tall Barbie doll materialised in front of you, dressed in bright pink from head to toe; upon first glance she looked like some sort of projection, as though she wasn’t real at all.

“Welcome to the Lotus Hotel and Casino,” she greeted you in an almost robotic voice, with a plastic smile stretched across her face, holding out a shimmering green card. “Here’s your Cash Card, have a great time!”

“Cash… what? Do I have to pay for this?” you stuttered, confused beyond belief as you took the card. What was this place?

“No, not a penny!” She shook her head; not a single strand of her perfectly coiffed blonde hair shifted out of place. “Would you like a tour? Here, have a drink. Only the best in the world here!”

She offered you a glass goblet, filled to the brim with a dark maroon liquid and topped with blueberries, bearing the same eerie magnetism as the doors had done minutes before. You eyed the drink dubiously, brows furrowed as you sniffed it in a futile attempt to ascertain what exactly it was.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you politely declined, “What is—”

But before you could finish your question, the Barbie doll had disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived, and the moment you sipped the strong floral drink, your questions completely evaporated.

Following your curiosity, you craned your neck and looked up to see endless floors lined with rooms and doors and glass balconies, with a pair of glass elevators in the middle. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the great glass elevator could shoot through the ceiling like something out of a children’s book.

At least there were more people in here, though you were certain they too had just appeared as if by magic; not acknowledging you at all, they milled about in the lobby and outside the doors to the casino, beside to what appeared to be an arcade full of excited children playing classic and modern video games alike. Regardless of age, all the guests were clad in fancy-dress costumes; you figured perhaps there was an event taking place that had its attendees reflecting different eras of fashion. Wouldn’t be unusual for this town, everyone was dressed crazy and after three days traversing Sin City’s myriad clubs and casinos, nothing fazed you - or perhaps the effects of whatever you’d taken at that club last night still hadn’t fully worn off, who knew…

Still in a bit of a daze, you floated toward the immense double doors leading to the Casino, already hearing the jingling of slot machines singing proud over the pounding pop beats as their backing track.

The casino was lit by ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, deliberately dimmed to give way to the bright, flashing lights of the various gaming machines assembled around the hall, surrounding a set of card tables in its centre. Chatter and laughter filled the room and people crowded around the tables, playing without a care in the world and having the time of their lives; everyone seemed to have a goblet in hand and a cash card in the other, not dissimilar to your current state. It was warmer in here, though still comfortable enough that you could breathe… Just about.

You wandered through and your attention was glued to a game of roulette at a table beside you, where a couple had just won who knows what, when you were interrupted by a greeting that you just somehow knew was directed at you.

“Well, hello, there,” you heard in a smooth, low tenor behind you.

You whirled around on your heel to be met by… a guy. Literally just a guy, casually leaning on his gorgeously tanned forearms on a nearby craps table, aimlessly toying with a pair of dice in his left hand as he gazed over at you. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his vaguely familiar but handsome face, a mischievous little smirk on his lips, and pretty brown eyes that sparkled in the flashing lights… There was something about those eyes that drew you in. And for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away…

He looked like the most normal person in the room, but he seemed entirely out of place, given that everyone else was dressed to the nines - meanwhile he wore a comfy tan hoodie and sweatpants set, as if he perhaps owned it all and subsequently had no rules to follow in this already-lawless land. When he stepped around his table to approach you, he certainly did swagger around like he ruled the place, and his companions nearby looked at him like they worshipped the ground he walked on. Perhaps he was important, but how were you to know?

“You come here often?” he flirted, just about the most awful pickup line imaginable, but you were past the point of questioning why it still sounded attractive.

How had you ended up here, anyway? Hell knew… But this was Sin City, after all; a little harmless flirting could do you no harm, surely…

“Nope, never been here before. But weirdly, I don’t want to leave…” you shrugged, taking another sip of that strangely addictive drink.

“Sounds about right, Miss…”

“[Y/N],” you offered casually, uncharacteristically not hesitant.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he said with a playful lilt to his tone, holding out a hand, “They call me Hermes.”

When you shook his hand, for a split second you could’ve sworn you weren’t there anymore - when his smooth hand held yours, something akin to a firework went off inside your mind, and you’d put it down to just sparks if not for the phantom breeze you felt just then, a gust that nearly knocked you off your feet.

You couldn’t place what it was, exactly, but there was something strange about this man. He bore an almost otherworldly quality, as though he wasn’t human at all… But how could he be anything else? Come to think of it, there was a similarly supernatural energy about the casino itself; no wonder he fit right in to this weird wonderland.

“What, you got a Birkin in your back pocket or something, Mr Hermes?” you laughed, trying to shake off that odd suspicion, only to be met by his indignant scowl. Even that was cute.

“And what business do you have with my back pockets?” he teased, tucking one hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, to which you raised an intrigued brow.

You shrugged, nonchalant, still reeling from that strange feeling. “Nothing yet, but perhaps I’d like to find out…”

“Obviously I do not, but I could hook you up.” The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, least of all when Hermes smirked, that patented brand of mischief you were quickly growing quite fond of as he swaggered across to the card table; the players welcomed him back gladly. “Care for a game?” he asked, seemingly winning one without even paying attention to it as he rolled the dice carelessly onto the table that stood between you.

As he retrieved the dice, you eyed his hands curiously; they could only be described as pretty, as though he might be a pianist or… an artist of some description. He had his sleeves rolled back and a gold-plated Rolex glimmered on one wrist, a chunky gold chain-link bracelet on the other, and something about that on him was distractingly attractive. It all screamed money, despite his casual tracksuit getup, which would’ve been nothing special if it didn’t look so needlessly expensive in itself. You absently wondered what that obscure tattoo on his ring finger meant, for surely it couldn’t imply he might be taken…

“It’s not like you have anything to lose,” Hermes commented, interrupting your line of thought as he set a few chips down on the table and retrieved his own green Cash Card from his pocket, holding it up to show you. So everyone had them; then, what was the point?

Oh, right. You likely couldn’t do anything with the money outside, so, go figure it was an unlimited free pass.

“I guess I’m in. After all, what you gonna do when the chips are down?” you quoted a challenge, holding your own smug look at the recognition in his eyes.

“I see you speak my language…” he teased, “Even if those aren’t exactly my words.”

“Funny you should mention that. Has anyone ever told you you look a bit like Lin-Manuel Miranda?”

“So I’ve been told! Though, I think the correct expression would be that he looks like me. Same difference, he’s me, I’m him, whatever.” He waved a flippant hand, as if instructing you to ask no further questions on the topic.

“Gotcha…” You laughed, putting this all down to a wacky dream by now as you joined him by the card table. “What is this, anyway?” you asked him, raising your goblet in his general direction. He was the only person here without one, which didn’t entirely make sense to you, even in the logic of twisted fever dreams.

“Raise a glass to freedom… and throw it the fuck away,” he sang with a laugh, “Seriously, though, that’s a little addictive psychedelic beverage called blue lotus wine. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t drink a drop.”

“And what if I already did?”

“Well, then you’re well and truly screwed…” Hermes grinned, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. He swiped the half-full glass out of your hand and knocked back the remainder of the wine in one quick gulp, his gaze never leaving yours as he deposited the empty glass on a tray carried away by one of those apparating Barbie waitresses. “And now, so am I.”

He waved over another waitress and grabbed two new glasses of wine off her tray, politely handing one to you. He brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping at the wine as you eyed his hand wrapped around the glass, absently wondering what that seemingly delicate touch would feel like on you… There was no reason why the simple act of this man drinking hallucinatory wine should’ve been remotely sexy, but you could say the same for him in general; this shouldn’t work, but god damn, it does.

“Was that really the best idea if it’s—” you began, and he quickly cut in.

“Absolutely not, no, but if you come here to forget, you may as well do it right…” Hermes sighed, a momentary flash of resignation in his stance as he briefly let his shoulders droop. “Anyway, whatever, fuck real life. Let’s play?” he offered, running a hand through his dark hair, seemingly shaking himself out of the memory of whatever haunting reality had led him here. As a matter of fact, what had led you here?

“Sure,” you smiled, “What are we playing? I’m pretty sure I saw an arcade on my way in…”

“Come on, there’s no stakes in that! This is where the real fun’s at,” he said with a light laugh, gesturing to the craps table in front of you.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll have you know, I’m amazing at air hockey!”

“Yeah? I’m a killer at the claw machine, so go figure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Cute. Shame they don’t have an escape room.”

“Just as well, I’ve always been a little too good with locks… Besides, this place itself is an escape room. Only, there’s no escape…”

“Wait, what?”

“Because… You want to stay, right? What’s waiting for you outside?”

Suddenly, you found yourself struggling to answer his question. Where barely a few moments ago, everything had been so clear, now you could see a hazy cloud inside your mind as you desperately searched for the answer to no avail, almost as though that hallucinogen was beginning to hit hard…

“Outside? What’s outside? I — I could stay here — You’re… Huh?” you stuttered, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

Hermes sighed, glancing over at you. “Literally anywhere but here.”

“Sorry?” you questioned, brows furrowed. Had you misread his signals?

“Walk with me,” he offered, and so you obliged as he stepped towards you again. You followed his lead as he strolled on within the confines of the casino, glancing surreptitiously around as though making sure you weren’t being eavesdropped on - though you could only wonder why.

“Alright, I don’t normally do this…” he drawled, “But for some reason I’m taking a liking towards you; and all trickery aside, I don’t take unfair advantage, so here’s the secret. You ever heard of Odysseus and the Lotus Eaters?” he asked seriously; you nodded your assurance. “Well, this place is kinda like their island… Only, now it’s here in the modern world, and what better place for it than Sin City? Hence the lightness in the air and the endless supply of blue lotus wine…”

You eyed him curiously, willing him to go on and trying not to focus on his initial confession. “I guess that explains a lot. So this is… eternal psychedelic bliss?”

“Yep, that good old adrenaline and dopamine rush, forever and ever and everrrrr… Half of Olympus has tried to claim it, but nobody really knows whose work of chaotic genius this was.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not at all like he was explaining such an outlandish concept. “When you’re in a casino, time just seems to work differently - and just like that, time moves at its own distorted pace in here. Lost travellers often find their way into this place, it has that draw when you stray off your path - and that’s why I hang out here, not just to wander astray from my own shit, but to guide you back to yours. I’m not immune to this,” he raised his glass, gesturing to the wine, “But I can handle the air just fine, unlike most mortals…”

“And what if I want to get lost?” you challenged, plucking his glass out of his hand, holding his gaze as you brought the drink to your lips. His gaze remained fixed on you as he bit his own lip, his eyes flickering to your lips for a millisecond as you sipped the wine; thirsty, not dissimilar to the way you’d been eyeing him mere seconds ago.

“Mmkay, lucky for you, I have some semblance of sense about me,” Hermes said, stopping by a poker table nearby, where the players immediately cleared a spot for the pair of you. Entirely nonchalant, he swiped a deck of cards off the table, expertly shuffling it as he spoke, “So win the next deal, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“So if I lose, I’m stuck in here?” you attempted to clarify the stakes, trying not to get distracted as you watched him shuffle those cards. Hell, he had such pretty hands, what else could you do but wonder what else he could do with them?

“Pretty much.”

“And what if I ask for a better deal?”

“Better than having your real life back?”

“Yep.”

“Try me…”

“Okay. If I win, my prize is you.”

“Me? What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. Just, you and me, until not even the gods above can separate the two of us,” you teased, peak dramatic, somewhere between flirting and floating. You could get used to this, the weightless feeling of flight…

Hermes quirked a brow at you, undeniably amused. “Interesting thought, given that I’m… well, not above, per se, but one of them.”

“You’re… what now?” You tilted your head to one side, looking curiously across at him. What in the world was he on about?

He shot you a pointed stare, isn’t it obvious? But it wasn’t, until now… when it all began to make sense, slowly: what this place was, how he knew so much about it, why he had a more heightened sense of awareness despite the inherent hypnotism of the literal and metaphorical lotus flower you’d stepped into… And he could guide lost travellers out. Your jaw dropped as your hand flew to your mouth when it finally dawned upon you who and what he was, and what that entailed —

And out loud, all you could manage was a whisper; “Oh, my god…”

The Greek god in front of you heaved a dramatic sigh, aiming a playful eye-roll in your direction. “Please, like I haven’t heard that one before,” he chuckled lightly, the sarcasm heavy in his tone.

And so you let him deal your hand and you played, stopping every so often to laugh, for Hermes was surprisingly fun to be around and perhaps staying here with him wouldn’t be so bad… Only, this couldn’t be his permanent residence. He was the god of travel, it made sense that he never hung around one place long enough to settle. It was obvious he had a natural charisma about him that clearly worked in his favour more than once; and not that it really mattered, but you absently wondered how many like you had crossed paths with him before, and the past baggage he’d been trying to forget was certainly not lost on you…

He had his right arm slung casually around your shoulder, his left occupied by his cards, not caring if you could see them. You tried your level best to stay focused; for you were feeling a little lightheaded by now, a combination of the wine and the strong scent of his cologne… He was close, enough that you could pick up the gentle sweet notes beneath the woody cedar scent he wore.

“All in?” you suggested, nudging your chips toward the centre of the table, glancing up at the literal god beside you.

“I am if you are,” Hermes smirked, pushing his own ridiculous amount of chips into the pot beside yours.

The game went on; and as if out of nowhere, thanks to a sudden turn in your luck and a surprise royal flush - which if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve attributed to him - you had finally won. Caught up in the daze, you stepped up onto your toes and threw your arms around his neck in an excited hug. He was momentarily taken aback by it, but quickly regained enough composure to gently wrap his arms around you. His soft touch bore a pleasantly startling contrast to his mischievous demeanour, and you found yourself not wanting to let go.

“Well played…” he congratulated you in that same teasing tone as he gently drew you back, briefly glancing at his watch and tapping two fingers against the side of the dial.

Perhaps you would’ve wondered why, but spurred on by your victory and high off the adrenaline, you hooked one finger in the gold chain around his neck and gently tugged at it to urge him closer, until the distance between you was barely a hair’s breadth. You could feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, his intense cologne flooding your senses. And suddenly it didn’t faze you that you were in public, and you paid no mind to the way all his casino companions were frozen around you instead of continuing their games… Suddenly, all you wanted was him.

Was it blasphemous to lust after a god?

Hell, you could deal with the consequences of that later, for right now, his magnetism was pulling you in and you couldn’t bear to look away from those deep, dark brown eyes… Until Hermes leant closer to you and his soft lips brushed yours as he spoke, barely above a whisper yet you could hear him clearly despite the noise, “Not at all…”

Your breathing hitched, at his comment, at his proximity, at… everything about this. How the fuck did he know what you’d been thinking?

Perhaps you’d dwell on that longer, but just then he reached up to cup your cheek. Though unexpectedly tender, his touch was white hot where his skin met yours, but pleasurably so as you let yourself get lost in it, in him… He pressed his lips to yours in two delicate little pecks, clearly just teasing, and you just about caught sight of his smirk before you stepped up onto your toes to kiss him again, for real this time. His other hand smoothly dropped to your waist, holding you against him and you pulled at his chain with your finger still caught in it, curling your other fist in the soft cotton of his hoodie.

Apparently, even the gods weren’t immune to carnal need, and Hermes was evidently faring no better than you; he gave in to the kiss quickly, all but melting into you, his tongue swiping insistently at your bottom lip, and you weren’t about to stop him. You parted your lips for him, granting him access instead of prolonging this teasing that had left you both desperate. He tasted of something indescribably sweet, mixed with the rich taste of the blue lotus wine that you’d both downed not so long ago, and you already knew he was a far better intoxicant than any drink you’d find here… As he deepened the kiss, his tongue brazenly tasting yours, borderline hungry; you saw a flash of light behind your eyelids, gripped by the feeling that you were flying, all for a mere moment before you became hyperaware of his heated touch and the fact that your feet were still firmly planted on the soft floral-patterned carpet of the casino.

It felt like time had frozen, the world had stopped around you, and nothing mattered except for him and you and the most perfect kiss you’d ever had…

But somehow, instead of clouding your thoughts like you’d expected, you drew back from his kiss with some clarity. Hermes had told you he could never lose. So why, then, had you just managed to win this? You were no expert when it came to these games, and he was clearly a well-seasoned gambling master… Had the notorious trickster god manipulated the deal in your favour? Had he purposely thrown this away for you?

The glimmer in his eyes only looked brighter as you separated, yet somehow those deep browns looked darker, lust clearly getting the better of him; and he made no effort to hide it, despite his small smile and the lightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. You were fairly sure you mirrored it all, and you were in no hurry to let him go…

Only, as the world began to come back into focus, you realised time really had stopped around you: everything and everyone in the casino was frozen, and you glanced up at the god in front of you with a mix of curiosity and fear in your eyes. “When you said you could stop time…” you began, still in disbelief.

Hermes nodded slowly, meeting your gaze with that characteristic smirk. “Yeah, I meant that literally. I may have had a running out of time crisis once, hence… this stolen life-saver,” he explained, raising his wrist to show you his watch - now upon closer inspection, you realised the hour, minute and second hands all pointed to 12, and he hovered a finger over a button at the side of the dial. “It’s up to you. Want me to bring it back?”

You shook your head. Not only did that beautiful gold timepiece look unfairly gorgeous on his wrist; it also held a piece of magic that could be incredibly useful… “No,” you whispered, “I’m in no hurry. Let’s make this last…”

You tilted your chin up towards him again, and he obliged you with another sweet little kiss. “Well, then… Perhaps I could show you some of the wonders of existing beyond space and time…” he murmured, “What d’you say to that?”

“I say, make time stop for us a little longer. Take me to another world, Hermes…”

The look he shot you just then, could’ve brought you to your knees on the spot - somehow you just knew he was fixated on the sound of his name as you whispered it, and you wondered how he could make you feel that just from a simple touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart; let’s get out of here,” Hermes suggested, offering you an arm; you linked your arm through his as he tapped the side of his watch, resuming the world around you as if it had never paused at all.

You gazed up at him in awe as he led you out of the casino, back to the lobby and towards the opening of the blooming flower you’d walked in through. The humid summer air hit you both as you stepped outside together, thereby breaking the spell - but you were still captivated by him, regardless. He briefly let go of you to do away with his warm hoodie, leaving him in just a fitted white t-shirt that had no business looking so goddamn gorgeous on him.

You couldn’t help but smile as he hummed softly in your ear, “There’s a place I know in a nearby park…”

Part 2 via AO3 (blasphemous smut ahead)

#lin manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda x reader #lin manuel x reader #hermes x reader #pjo hermes #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #my gif #my fic #pjo hermes fanfic #can't help it i love him

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cakexblankett · 3 months

Text

Fear is the mind killer

Character

Lady Jessica

Rating

Red

Words

2.414

~•~

Fear is the mind killer.

The Bene Gesserit taught you to be cold, distant, to not let emotions control your mind, but it was hard to obey to these rules when your professor was Lady Jessica.

She didn't have to do much that your heart would beat faster and when her distant, blue eyes caught yours, it was hard to not look away.

You didn't have friends, a Bene Gesserit doesn't have time nor the need to have one, the only person you could trust was yourself. But you trusted in Lady Jessica, you put your faith and life in her hands. She could crush you in mere seconds, the power she held over you- the power you let her have, was dangerous, and you knew it, but you couldn't stop the feeling blooming in your heart.

You tried your best to not let your true emotions show. What would they think of a Bene Gesserit whose heart and mind belonged to another woman? You had to bite your tongue and keep your thoughts hidden.

"Y/N."

You bowed your head, your heart racing. Her voice was low, smooth, her true intention hidden in the words she spoke.

"Come with me."

"Yes, Lady Jessica."

You followed behind, your eyes fixed on the woman's head. Her hair was hidden by a black veil, like yours. You would have loved to feel the texture of it, to run your hand in it. You looked down, following the motion of your feet.

If anybody would have found out that you, a Bene Gesserit, were so naïve and emotional, you would have died.

You followed the older woman to her chambers. You entered, taking in your surroundings. The room, like any other, was empty, apart from a bed and a closet. You looked anxiously around you, trying to calm your nerves.

Fear is the mind killer.

"Your feelings are palpable, Y/N."

You gulped. You looked down, closing your eyes, trying to gain control over your emotions.

"I'm sorry."

Lady Jessica grabbed your chin and raised your head, her fingers gripping your flesh tightly. You opened your eyes, looking directly at hers.

"A Bene Gesserit is never sorry. Learn to control your mind and heart better."

She tightened the grip, her nails leaving small marks on your chin. You closed your eyes again, the feeling of her touch sending chills down your spine. It took everything in you to stop a moan come out of your mouth.

"Kneel."

You opened your eyes and your mouth, in disbelief. You tried to understand her intentions, but her face was blank, every muscle relaxed into a poker face.

"Kneel!"

You immediately did as you were told, your legs working on their own accord. She used the Voice, you felt her voice reverberate in your head, like a thousand angels were speaking all at once, playing with you like a puppet, pulling the strings of your body like they owned it.

The older woman gazed at your kneeling figure for a second, then turned around you. You could feel the heat of her body pressing gently on your back. Your heart was beating like crazy, your head spinned and your mouth began salivating.

You wondered what her next move would be. You tried to calm yourself down, repeating the chanting the Bene Gesserit taught you. Then, a cold and sharp object touched your throat. A knife.

Fear is the mind killer.

Lady Jessica's hot breath was in your ear, and the adrenaline shooting in your muscles made you shake.

"Command me to stop."

"Please..."

Her free hand pulled at the veil, taking it off. Then, she grasped your hair and tilted your head backwards. The knife was still, her grip firm around it.

"Don't beg, command."

You closed your eyes, your breathing staggered. You tried to find calmness and channel your inner strenght to properly use the Voice. You exhaled, thinking of all the things you could get this woman to do if you only succeeded in persuading her.

"Let me go."

You whispered, your voice feeble and distant. The knife remained on your throat, her chest pressed on your back.

"Now, haven't I taught you to do better?"

You gulped, the pressure of the knife making it difficult to swallow. All this unusual circumstance was making you feel things you didn't think you could feel.

The grip in your hair tightened, and a moan escaped you lips. You immediately shut your mouth, eyes wide.

"I-I'm sorry..."

There was a moment of silence, and you thought that that knife will soon slash your throat. Then, she laughed. Her laugh was angelical, but it wasn't strange since she was like a divinity to you. The knife left your throat but her hand remained in your hair. Her body pressed tighter on your back.

"Does it arouse you? Feeling me so close to you..."

She licked your earlobe and you shuddered. You were still kneeling, but didn't dare to get up. It felt like she was playing with you, like she was playing with her prey. You wondered what her next move would be.

"Let me hear more."

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. She pushed you down, her body leaving yours. You whined for the loss of warmth. You turned your head as much as you could to see her standing majestically, looking at you with a dark smirk on her face. Then, she raised her foot and stepped on you, the heel of her boot pressing gently on your back.

You had to squeeze your thighs together, feeling needy.

"Command me to stop."

You stayed silent. Her smirk got even wider.

"You're really finding pleasure in this, aren't you?"

She pressed her foot on your back slightly harder, making you whince.

"You know, I've known a lot of men and women whose desires were... strange, to say the least. But this..."

She twisted her foot, the motion giving you pain, but you felt pleasure from it.

"You're such a good little pet."

You moaned at the name. She could do anything to you and you would have thanked her. You never would have dreamed to find yourself in such a position, but you were thankful you were.

Her boot left your back, making you sigh.

"Get up."

You immediately did as told, looking in her eyes. They were darker than you had ever seen them, and a thought occured to you: she was enjoying it too.

She took off her veil, that found place near yours on the floor. Her hair was long and luscious, and your first instinct was to touch it. You stopped your hand in mid-air and saw her smile softly.

"It's alright, you can touch it."

You took in your hand a strand of her hair and felt the smoothness of it. It was like water, soft and straight and it almost glowed of a red light, maybe warning you of something.

You looked up at her and flashed a smile, your hand still in her hair.

"I always wanted to do this."

"I know."

You wondered what else she knew. Then, she took your hands in hers and came closer. Your lips were almost touching, you could feel excitement and nervousness shoot in you.

"Kiss me."

You whispered. She smirked, her eyes locked in yours.

"Command me to do it."

You tried your best to gather your will and power to properly use the Voice. You thought of her lips on yours, on how it would feel to have her kiss you.

"Kiss me."

She closed her eyes, her lips parting. You thought you did it, but then her eyes opened and she smiled. You whined.

"Almost."

You took courage and kissed her anyway. Her lips were soft and sweet, and your chest almost exploded from the joy you felt. Butterflies began racing in your stomach. You felt sick from all the emotions you were experiencing in that moment.

She didn't back away, instead she bit your bottom lip and you gasped at the slight pain of her teeth sunking in your flesh. You eventually had to part to breathe.

"Tell me, what does your heart desire?"

At the back of your mind, a small voice was yelling at you that this was all a test, to see if you learned the Bene Gesserit way, but it was so distant and fragile that you didn't even thought of listening to it. Instead, your mind was on fire, you couldn't think straight anymore. You could still taste her on your lips and you felt the presence of hers on yours. It was like her ghost was still kissing you.

"I want you."

You mumbled out, your eyes on her lips. She smirked, enjoying seeing you so weak and needy.

"What would the others think of a Bene Gesserit that is so pathetic?"

You closed your eyes, bowing your head. Shame would have been brought over you, and you were pathetic indeed, fawning and drooling over your teacher.

"But nobody has to know."

You looked up, hope in your eyes.

"This could be our little secret."

Her hand caressed your cheek, than it moved lower, clutching at your neck. You gasped at the sensation. You almost couldn't breathe from the force of her choking.

"My little pet."

You moaned at the name. The feeling of her hand on your throat made you throb in anticipation. You wanted her hand to touch every inch of your skin, to feel her gentle yet strong touch on your body.

Her hand left your neck and you took in a big breath. Your lungs were on fire, aching, but it wasn't a bad feeling, not if she was the cause of it. Her hand trailed down, picking at the fabric of your dress.

"Undress for me."

She didn't have to tell you twice. You pulled your dress over your head and discarded it on the floor. You remained completely naked, no lingerie covering your most sensitive parts. She licked her lips, humming.

"You're beautiful."

She said, her voice gentle and sweet. She could be dominant and cold, distant and strong, but she could also be submissive and warm, kind and gentle. But it was only natural, a Bene Gesserit needed to be whatever her partner wanted her to be. What would you have wanted her to be?

She gave you a quick peck on the lips, then started kissing your cheek, chin, neck, chest. Finally, she took in her mouth one of your already erected nipples and you moaned at the warm feeling of her tongue swirling around it. With one of her hands, she played with the other one. Your hand flied to her head, making her come closer to you, if that was even possible.

"Please... I need you..."

You whined pathetically. She left your nipple with a click of her tongue.

"Make me. Use the Voice."

You gasped, feeling her hand on your thigh. You imagined her eating you out, or vice versa, and that thought made you grow more needy than you could bare.

"Kneel!"

You imitated her tone and her strength, trying to succesfully use the Voice. She closed her eyes, and kneeled. Her face was on level with your most sensitive part and seeing her kneeling in front of you made you shake with excitement and arousal.

She opened her eyes and smirked, looking up at you.

"Good little pet."

You bit your lip, gazing down at her figure. Her hands were on your thighs, and her breath on your clit made you shiver.

"You earned your reward."

She attached her lips on your clit, sucking on it. Your head snapped backwards from the waves of pleasure you felt. You moaned at the feeling of her eating you out. Her fingers teased your entrance, until she penetrated you with two fingers.

"Oh... please..."

You cried out, feeling her digits curling inside you. The only things you could hear in the room were filthy and naughty sounds coming from her ministration, and your moans and gasps. Her gaze was fixed on your face, watching your brows furrow and your mouth part to let out such wonderful noises. You tried to keep your eyes open, to stare at the beauty kneeling before you, but it was hard since she was making you feel so good.

You felt your orgasm built inside of you, your chest grew heavy and you felt a knot in your abdomen. It was almost itchy.

"I'm... c-close..."

Lady Jessica hummed, moving her hand faster.

"Come, little one."

"Ah... m-mommy..."

She stopped. You whined.

"Mommy?"

Then it hit you. You opened your eyes wide and tried to come up with an excuse good enough to apologise to her.

"S-sorry, I-"

"Hm don't be, I can be your mommy."

She penetrated you with a third finger and moved faster the before. You gasped and moaned, your hand in her hair.

"Come for mommy, little one."

Hearing her say that made you so wet, your juices coated her fingers which made it easier for her to move inside you. In a matter of seconds, you came undone. Your legs shook, your breath itched in your throat and your hand closed around her hair.

"Breathe, darling."

You opened your eyes and took in a deep breath. Her hand was still moving inside of you, slower, making you ride your orgasm. When you were lucid enough, she took her fingers out of you and stood up. Her eyes looking into yours, she put her fingers in her mouth and licked them clean. You both moaned, her from tasting you, you from the sight of Lady Jessica sucking the juices on her fingers.

"You taste divine, Y/N."

You blushed, like a little girl. You just had sex with Lady Jessica, THE Lady Jessica, the one and only. You came closer and kissed her. The kiss was sloppy and more sentimental than the one before.

"I love you..."

You whispered on her lips, eyes almost closed. You hoped it wasn't just a dream.

"I know."

You smiled. You didn't want her to say the same to you, you knew she couldn't love you like you did, but it was alright to you. If she wanted, you chould have been her good, obedient, little pet.

Fear is the mind killer, but love...

Love is the heart wrencher.

#fanfiction #ff #lesbian #actress #gay #gxg #rebecca x reader #x reader #rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson #lady jessica #lady jessica x reader #dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune part one #dune part 1

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dracoxmalereader · 6 months

Text

Know-it-All

Draco x Male Reader

Summary: With O.W.L.s right around the corner, everyone's rushing to cram in all the studying they can. Especially Draco.

Word Count: 479

“Draco?”

You stepped into the common room, listening to the entrance passage close behind you. Your shoes tapped against the marble floor until they met carpet. The fireplace was lit, but the embers burned lowly, evidence it had been going for a while.

Getting closer, you rested a hand on the back of one of the couches beside, bearing your weight on it as you leaned over. There Draco lay, a book open and smushed against his chest. He was out cold.

Papers were strewn about, his quill resting in a bottle of ink on the table between the two couches. You made your way around the side of the couch, bending down to tidy the mess.

“You’ll do fine on your O.W.L.s,” You found yourself mumbling to him, even as your ears registered his soft snores. “You’re plenty a know-it-all, there’s no need to pass out studying.”

You heaved the stack you’d made of his schoolwork onto the table and turned to just stare at Draco. His outer robe was slung over the back of the couch, pinned down at the bottom by his weight.

His hair was flattened to one side of his head, and you could tell he’d been sleeping on it for a while before he’d settled into his current position.

Fondness bloomed in your lungs and you cracked a smile, reaching for the book on his chest to take it from him. Your fingers brushed over his where they rested on the book, and Draco shifted. His face was loose and relaxed, lacking the tension that came with an active school day.

You pulled the book off him and closed it, setting it atop the stack on the table. Reaching back, you smoothed your fingers over his hair, feeling where knots had begun to tie themselves in it. You gave yourself a moment to admire him.

Then, you started pulling his robe from behind him as carefully as you could. You watched him squirm above the movement until you finally tugged it free and he calmed with a muddied sigh, shaking it open and laying it over him like a blanket. You pulled away, looking down at his still-sleeping form.

Your eyes scanned the common room to make sure nobody else was there, swallowing dense air to gather confidence before you leaned back down over Draco.

You looked up at the room around you one more time before you swept his hair to the side slightly and pressed a peck to his forehead. You stood back up quickly, and a wider grin tugged at your warming face.

“Sleep well, Draco.” You turned, hurrying to put out the fireplace so you could get yourself properly in bed.

Over the sound of wood and embers pushed around by the poker, it was no wonder you couldn’t hear him sleepily whisper back. “You, too.”

Reeee my first Slytherin!Reader this had me giggling kicking my feet the whole time I was writing it.

I'd say sorry for not posting anything and tell you guys why but I've just been playing the sims. Neglecting my school, neglecting my fanfiction, just simming.

Then once I was done simming Itzy dropped born to be out of NOWHERE. Zero right to be serving so hard on a random sunday. I couldn't write, my entire thought process was just born to be 🤖 born to be 🤖 born to be 🤖

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @siuspider @dracoshusband @skrunklespoingo @esperfraud @joongbin @midwestemosblog @we2222

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x male reader #draco x male reader #draco x reader #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #x male y/n #x m!reader #x male reader

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yustea · 11 months

Text

Back to [Navigation], [Part 2]

Pairing: Ceo!Jongho x fembody!coworker!reader (gn pronouns)

Summary: After an unexpected turn from a creepy colleague, you’re left within the comfort of your cold boss, Choi Jongho. However, he leaves you with an alluring offer of something more…

Genre: angst, heavily suggestive, comfort, slight fluff

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: reader!is!harassed, reader!cries!, making out, mentions of possessiveness!, claiming!, choking! and hickeys

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything <33

Bzz, bzzzzzzz.

Your phone vibrated with the soft echoing dingles of your alarm, gradually arousing you from your tranquil sleep. You yawned and stretched, taking satisfaction in the crackling of several bones along the curve of your spine. You sluggishly sat up, searching blindly for your phone, your hair and sheets a tangled mess. Once it was in your grasp, you quickly turned the alarm off, rubbing your face in tired motions as you took a moment to gather your bearings. You checked the time, squinting an eye in the process as the painful glare from your phone illuminated the room.

5:31 am.

With a sigh, you reluctantly crawled out of your warm, comfortable bed, making your way to the chilly bathroom as you scratched the back of your neck lazily. You twisted the sink tap, splashing cool, refreshing water across your face and neck, eradicating the last remaining hints of drowsiness from your body. You stumbled out to your wardrobe, hurriedly selecting a silk white blouse and a black pencil skirt, paired with a matching set of black lace undergarments for your work attire of the day. You strolled back into your bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you went.

You’ve been working for Choi Enterprise for the past two years under new CEO, Choi Jongho, whom overtook his father’s position as heir of the company for the past six months. Unlike his father, he exerted an intimidating and unrelenting energy that sent chills to your bones. He always wore a poker face and rarely ever spoke unless required to, more often than not resorting to unnerving stares and short, direct sentences when he conversed. Even the way he walked was domineering, his presence alone striking a quiver in your knees. It unsettled you… but also ignited a deep hunger within you. You couldn’t deny it - he was a handsome man, and his dominant aura just made you want to be railed by him even more; his strong, muscular arms choking you as he trailed bruising hickeys across your neck and chest as he possessively claimed you with each thrust. Is that too much to ask?

You brought a sharp slap to your cheek, snapping yourself out of your dreamy state. He’s your BOSS for god’s sake Y/N, you scolded yourself as an embarrassed flush began to bloom across your cheeks. With a shake of your head, you checked the time once more.

7:15 am.

“SHIT I’M GOING TO BE LATE,” you cried, quickly finishing your meal and slipping on your shiny black stilettos as you grabbed your purse and keys, and opened the door, haphazardly exiting your home as you headed to work.

Twenty minutes later, you arrived on time and stood outside Choi Enterprise, the tall skyscraper looming over your microscopic figure. With a deep breath, you smiled and entered the building, the echo of your clacking heels announcing your presence as you steadily walked to the elevator, swiping your key card as you entered and selecting your floor number. Soon after, you arrived on your level and stepped out, basking in the bright morning light through the crystal windows. Just as you made your way to your desk, your coworker, Madison, rushed over, plonking an array of files and loose forms on your workspace and panted.

“Woah, are you okay? You seem like you ran a mile,” You asked concerned as she propped her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. “We have meeting… with… Choi,” she gasped. “He wants.. see.. propositions… NOW.” A surge of cold dread ignited in your stomach, your jaw falling slack and your eyes widening at the sudden news. “Oh fuck,” you hissed, scrambling wildly through your draws to find your folio and USB. “I thought it was next week?!” You cried as panic began to settle in when you couldn’t find your business proposals. “He moved it up.. to today.. two minutes ago,” she inhaled deeply, finally composing herself. “Julian said that he didn’t know what spurred his decision, but he looked furious.” That was never good hearing it first-hand from his secretary; he must’ve been really pissed.

Finally, you grasped the dark navy blue folder attached to a ziplock bag stapled to its exterior with a USB sealed inside. A wave of relief washed over you. At least I haven’t fucked up yet. “Okay, let’s go.” You briskly ran to the board room with Madison in tow, mentally going over your presentation and the key points you’ll be stating. When you arrived, you saw Julian waiting for you both outside, ushering you in with urgent motions. “Be aware,” he whispered behind you. “The beast has awoken.” You gave a small nod as you and Madison piled into the room, Julian closing the door behind him as he left to go escort Jongho. Silent chaos encased the room as everyone hurriedly shuffled around, bowing their head slightly in acknowledgment as they passed. You sat at your designated seat, grateful for your earlier preparation as you let out a long breath, sinking into the fabric of the black chair.

“Well hello to you too princess,” a flirtatious voice spoke, bile rising within your mouth as an unamused expression plastered on your face. A faux tight-lipped smile graced your lips as you sat up, seeing the man that you despised most in the world sitting across from you. “Oh I’m sorry Rufus, I didn’t see you there.” He leisurely gazed his eyes up and down your attire, a sickening smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. You internally cringed. “You look gorgeous princess,” he whistled, a sultry look evident in his eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably and ignored his comment. Just as he was about to say something else, Jongho stormed into the room, everyone suddenly standing to attention and bowing in unison. “Let’s start,” he stated as he threw his file onto the table and sat in his seat, everyone following suit in silence. “Mr. Jones,” he called out as Rufus shot his head up. “Yes Mr. Choi?” “You present your proposal first.” Everyone turned their heads to Jongho, confusion and shock on everyone’s faces. Usually, he followed a particular order; starting from you and ending with Rufus. Why did he do that? you pondered, landing your gaze onto Rufus. He gulped, his eyes wide in surprise. “U-um,” all eyes turned to him. His hands visibly shook as Jongho waited patiently for his reply. Any sympathy drained away as a subtle smirk spread on your lips at his loss for words. Oh this was going to be good.

“W-we have nothing to present sir,” Rufus hung his head in shame as everyone held their breath. The room stood still. “Mr Jones, what is our company’s policy?” Jongho asked. “Be ready and prepared at all times, sir,” he responded. “And do you admit that you failed to fulfil this as an employee of this company?” “Yes sir,” Rufus poked his cheek with his tongue, embarrassment flushing across his neck. “Finish your proposal by next Tuesday and we’ll reevaluate your work ethic at this company,” he concluded, tapping his files together and leaning back against his seat as Rufus hung his head in humiliation and shame. Damn, your heart raced, that was attractive. “Miss L/N,” he turned his head to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Yes Mr Choi?” “Present your proposal for us please.” A small smile curved on your lips. “Certainly sir,” you stood up and made your way to the large screen, plugging your USB into the side and beginning your presentation.

After you finished, the room erupted in applause as you took a deep bow. Quickly, you gathered your things and sat back down. “Well done Miss L/N,” a proud smile splayed across his face. A surge of pride swirled within you as you nodded your head in acknowledgement. “Thank you Mr Choi.” “Now Ms Kahn, please present yours.” Ms Kahn nodded and stood up to present her idea. Suddenly, you felt something hard brush against your ankle. You flittered your gaze downward and noticed it was Rufus’ shoe trailing against you. You looked up as you met his enraged stare. Oh no, this can’t be good. The colour began to drain from your face as he slowly climbed higher, slowly inching towards your inner thigh. You shuffled your chair back in hopes to be out of reach.

His face contorted into a sneer as he dropped his foot, stopping his antics and setting his focus back on Ms Kahn. You eyed him disgustingly as you followed suit, calming yourself and ignoring the panic coursing through your veins. Unnoticed by you, Rufus knocked his pen onto the floor. He bent down to grab it, crawling further and further under the table. Coincidentally, his knuckle skimmed against your leg, causing you to jolt back as a pair of seething eyes witnessed the scene unfold. “We will continue this tomorrow, everyone is dismissed,” Jongho abruptly announced, interrupting Ms Kahn’s proposition and halting Rufus’ motions.

Seamlessly, he stood up, sending a flirtatious wink in your direction. Disgust morphed onto your face as you cringed, swallowing the fear of what could have happened if it wasn’t for Jongho’s impeccable timing. Just as you were about to exit, Jongho called out. “Except for you, Miss L/N.” Your body froze. What did he see? You turned around and bowed your head, obeying his instruction and standing still next to the doorway. Rufus was the last to leave as he strutted past you, a satisfied grin encasing his vile face as an angry gaze burned into the back of his skull. The door closed behind him. Silence engulfed the room.

Jongho stood up and made his way to you. He positioned himself directly in front of you, keeping a distance and his hands situated in his pockets. Your body trembled in nervousness. “Look at me,” he spoke softly. Startled by his gentle tone, you glanced upwards, noticing a forbearing smile on his lips. “Are you okay?” You looked away and bit your lip as you felt the familiar sting of tears brim your eyes. You nodded. Unconvinced, he gingerly stepped closer and gently placed a hand under your chin, tilting it towards his face. “It’s okay,” he cooed. “You’re safe.” Your facade caved as a tsunami of sobs escaped your throat. He carefully embraced your shuddering body, whispering caring and sweet phrases as you released your distress and fear into his chest. “I-I was s-so scared,” you choked. “Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe with me,” he gently patted your back in conforms as you continued to cry.

After a moment, your tears were dried, emotional relief encasing you as you inhaled a long deep breath. Jongho stepped back, his hands placed on your shoulders. “You okay now?” Your glassy eyes gazed into his as you nodded. He felt his heart skip a beat. Suddenly, your eyes widened at his soaking black shirt, realisation hitting you like a truck. “O-oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” you hurriedly pulled away to grab some tissues, only to have your wrists tenderly held in his strong grip. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got some spares in my office.” He gazed at you in a soft and affectionate manner, causing you to shyly look away. He gently brought his hand up to cup your face, stroking your tear-stained cheeks. Your heart fluttered. “Don’t let him get to you, okay?” You bit your lip as you nodded, your adorable doe eyes striking a chord in his heart.

As if possessed, he leant down to your face, his warm breath cascading against you as a shiver crept up your spine. Delicately, he placed a peck against your lips, once, twice, and then kissed you. Your body froze in shock, taking you a moment to grasp the situation. Suddenly, he pulled back, realising what he just did. “I-I-,” he stuttered as an embarrassed rouge reddened his neck, shyly fidgeting his fingers. Admiration surged within you at his cuteness, now seeing the unveiling of a mere sweet, flustered boy twiddling his thumbs compared to the stoic man you usually know.

Ah fuck it, you thought as you stepped closer and brought his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. In an instant, he kissed back, your lips moulding one another’s in a slow, feverish make out. You prodded your tongue against his mouth, silently asking for permission. He let you in as you both battled for dominance, his hand snaking to the back of you head and waist as he pressed you closer. He carefully shifted positions and leant you against the table, trapping you in his hold, his domineering presence back again. He gently pulled away, eyes glazed with lust and hunger as he stepped away, admiring the view of you panting and disheveled against the table.

“Fuck..” he sighed, clenching his jaw as he resisted the urge to rail you senseless. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts and composing himself. He brushed his hair back and readjusted his tie, making his way to the door. “Meet me in my office at 6:00 if you want to continue where we left off.” With that Jongho calmly stormed out, leaving you perplexed and shocked. You just witnessed the duality of your boss.. and my lord both sides were attractive. Who knew such an intimidating, cold man could be so shy and sympathetic yet so hot and controlling? You glanced at the clock on the wall.

8:06 am.

Your head lolled back, huffing out a sigh. “Now I’ve gotta wait for fucking ten hours just to get laid,” you groaned, wondering what you were going to do with the dampness in your panties. Suddenly, you sat up. A devilish smirk carved your face as an ingenious idea came to your mind. Oh he’s going to feel it…

But so will you.

Part 2?

A/N: Hi again, thank you so so much for reading my fic :)) I was originally going to do this as one big fic, however, I ran out of time and so part two will be uploaded next week 12pm GMT on Sunday. (I can’t leave y’all on a cliff hanger for too long <33)

As always, please feel free to reblog on tumblr, give me any feedback (all is welcome), and if you have any fic ideas/thoughts please send them in my bio and I’ll make sure to tag you in the post. Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see y’all soon <33

Back to [Navigation], [Part 2]

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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 5 months

Text

Hell's Angel 𓆩𓆪 James Hetfield (18+)

The comforting and familiar mixed scent of cigar smoke and stale lager wraps itself around you like a layer of protectant as you make your way inside of the bar, the crunch of the empty peanut shells and glass bottle caps underneath your booted feet adding a much-needed inch of height on you as you trudge your way forward and fully inside.

The weighted and triple latched door slamming behind you gathers no one's attention, as the bar is already fully alive and packed with anyone and everyone, with their screams and joyous cacophonies almost overpowering the hums of the mufflers emanating from the bike and repair room only a few handfuls of yards away.

Your eyes traipse over the ever-growing crowd of prospects and guests as you try to find a familiar face or patched leather jacket, the ghosted weight of your boyfriend's still feeling like it was weighing your shoulders down as you do so. Goosebumps raise and dance their way along your partially bare forearms, and a frown attempts to tug your lips down into a permanent imprint, as the cool draft of wind teasingly reminds you that it's no longer there.

Before you can get too into your head about the whole situation once again, an obnoxious and wilted whistle gathers your attention from the direction of the multitude of pool and gambling tables. Your eyes narrow and squint, before latching onto one of your best, and currently very drunk, friend's. A gentle chortle of a laugh bleeds its way through your lips as you get closer to him and nudge your way through the overwhelming crowd, the sight of Lars barely holding on to a slippery pitcher of beer in between his halfhearted and barely cupped palms helps to temporarily push your worrisome thoughts about the future to the back of your mind.

You rush forward and place a palm on the bottom of the glass before it can fully slip out of his hands, and a sarcastic smile etches its way on your lips as he squawks out a thankful gasp and a sound of wondered awe. Kirk greets you with a wide and affectionate grin as he catches sight of you from his seat on top of a crowded and messy betting table, his hands full of gambling chips and crumpled dollar bills as he waves them at you. You return him one back, warmth blooming in your chest as you watch him let out a celebratory shout and yank another fifty out of a burly and clearly irritated man's fist. You quickly turn your head back to the drunken Dane once the angered man stands up and slams a hand down on the table, not interested in seeing another random prospect act out in anger from losing against one of the best poker players in the entirety of the Hells Angels motorcycle crew.

Lars sends you a rewarding and wide grin as you help him sit back down safely, the sound of the leather of his jacket squeaking against the cool and hard material of the chair making you almost guffaw from the nearly animated sound, but you somehow manage to hold it in. Lars laughs anyway, before letting out a sigh of contentment and sliding down into a messy heap of limbs.

"Where's Cliff and Jason?" You ask, your lips almost brushing against the shell of his ear as you bend down to level with his slumped figure. The two men in question are blearily and haphazardly pointed at, before Lars closes his eyes and lets out a resounding yawn. An amusement filled grin finds purchase on your face as you watch him fall asleep so easily in the chaotic bar, the peaceful expression on his face seemingly looking out of place, as you remember the stressed look painted on his own just a few days prior. Your fingers twitch as you fight back the urge to push the random and long stray strands of hair away from his cheekbone, completely unaware of the man stumbling his way over to you.

A jolt jumps through you as a large hand wraps itself around your left arm, and you snap your head in its direction as an unfamiliar voice loudly invades its way through your overactive eardrums. A sound of panic tears itself through your chest as you're yanked up into a fully standing position, and your heart begins to beat erratically as an unknown man comes in to your line of view once you're stood. "Haven't seen such a pretty back warmer in such a long time. Bet there's only one of you in each district, huh? How lucky of me to make my way on over here tonight." Your upper lip promptly curls at the derogatory and degrading term, and you're quick to yank your limb out of the man's grasp, hiding a wince as his unruly and uneven nails dig into your skin with the harsh movement.

"That's funny, because I seem to fit in here a hell of a lot better than you do, all things considered," you grit out, satisfaction filling and replacing the earlier onset fear and panic inside of you, as you watch the predatory and condescending look fall straight off of his face as you continue to speak. "Nice missing patch on the back of your jacket, by the way. Seared off, am I right? Who'd you piss off that badly? Or were you kicked out and dropped off here for flirting with and harassing women twenty years younger than you, from over where you're from as well?" The man scoffs and raises his chunky hand in your direction, and you watch in disbelief as he mimics the motion of a backhanded slap.

"Women from where I come from never talk back to an elder, like you just did. How about I show you how we deal with insolent little bitches like you, instead?" He offers to you in a rough and taunting tone, his eyes widened with barely concealed rage and a vein protruding from the center of his forehead. You take in a deep breath and prepare to jump back as he swings his hand forward and in your direction. Before you can duck and try to make your way into a safer part of the crowd or bar area, a ringed fist engulfs his own and twists it behind the older man's back. Your eyes widen as your boyfriend comes into view from behind the drunkard, and the relief you feel is palpable as you watch him tower over the now fearful man.

"Women from where I come from are heavily protected and respected, and I recommend you take up this kind offer to be escorted out by my men, before I rip the entirety of your arms off and replace them with the Ape Hanger handlebars on my bike, you old, drunken fuck." James spits out, his eyes and expression only softening up once they cascade over your tense and nearly trembling figure. James nods once, and you begin to hear movement coming from all sides and corners of the room. Cliff and Jason make their way forward from behind James and they each roughly collect an arm of the unknown man, your shoulders hunching inward and visibly flinching as your ears pick up on the man's screams overpowering the sound of Black Sabbath reverberating from and throughout the building's speakers.

Kirk hurriedly jumps off the table and wraps an arm around you, before gently turning you around and guiding you towards and past the bike and repair room. You refuse to turn around as you hear and feel a heavy thump hit the wooden and hard floor beneath your feet, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel a familiar and comforting hand lightly push your head into the safety of your friend's shoulder.

"Everything will be alright, doll. Let's get you back and into one of James' rooms."

You couldn't help but feel uneasy as the music stops and the loud creak of the bar's front door makes its way all the way back to you. Multiple pairs of feet make their way toward the entry, and you're the only one out of you and Kirk to flinch, as a muted and heavy weight collects and slams itself down on the uneven asphalt of the parking lot outside. Kirk quietly shuts the door behind you and sits you down on the chair nearest to your boyfriend's disheveled and folder stack-covered desk, his hands lightly squeezing at your shoulders in a comforting way and bringing stinging tears to your eyes.

"You know we'd never let any drunk fucker put their hands on you," you nod mutely and send him a watery smile as he crouches down to your sitting height and sends you a worried glance. You twist your arm to ease the discomfort emanating from the slightly bleeding scratch marks on your forearm, and Kirk lets out a curse as your injury comes into view. "We need to get that jackass off the property before James sees you. He'll kill him if he's still here once he does." He mutters to himself, before standing back up to his full height and hastily making his way back out to the front of the bar and building.

You let out a tired and shaky exhale as you force yourself to relax in the chair you were placed in, your eyes taking in the photos of you and the rest of the gang encircled around his small office, his family. You stop yourself from getting up and walking to the bathroom and scrubbing the feeling of that man's hands off of you, knowing James would want to do it himself. Clutching your middle with your uninjured arm and making yourself small, your breath begins to finally even out as the music begins to play once again and heavily booted feet rush their way into the office and over to you.

James lets out a sigh of relief once you're in his line of sight again, the angered expression on his face melting into one of exhaustion as he resolutely closes his office's door for privacy. Your lips settle down in a frown and you go to stand up to reassure him nothing serious had happened, before letting out a quiet hiss as the skin around your scratches strain and nearly fully reopen with your movement.

James' attention zeroes in on the obvious red and jagged lines on your arm and wraps his palm around the doorknob to yank it open again, only stopping himself from walking back out and beating the drunkard to a pulp when your eyes begin to water, and your bottom lip starts to quiver.

Your boyfriend quick strides over to you and encircles you into a warm and protective embrace, before carefully lifting you up and taking you into the bathroom, where he can properly clean you up and make sure that you're okay.

𓆩𓆪

"It's not your fault." You begin, pursing your lips and quieting down as your boyfriend sends you a glare from underneath his layered and astray hair fanning his face, his already bruising knuckles pausing momentarily from pressing a saline solution into your skin with a cotton pad as he looks at you.

"Don't Good Will Hunting me. If I hadn't gotten back here in time, that old drunken fuck would have put his hands on you. More than he already has," James averts his eyes back down to your injury as his voice begins to soften, his true and young age seeping into his tone with forlorn exhaustion weighing in on it. "I shouldn't have listened to the others and invited everyone in for a celebration so soon after the first round of initiations. We don't even fully know these fucks, and look what's already happened to you."

You lift your uninjured arm and lightly brush a few strands out and away from his eyes, a small smile gaining momentum on your lips as he still melts into your touch, no matter the circumstance.

"It wasn't just the rest of the guys; I encouraged it too. You've been busting your ass to try and make things work after your uncle retired, and we just wanted to get everyone together to finally relax after a few months of stress and hard work," you try to soothe, your thumb delicately brushing over one of his dimples as he goes back to cleaning up and sanitizing your wound. "You deserved the day off and small break, and it doesn't matter if one old bastard got a little too handsy. What matters is that you got here in time, and I had Kirk and the other guys here with me too, in case it all could have gotten out of hand. I was at fault for not calling out for help, I didn't think the guy would want to get so violent with me. I thought he'd just spit some shit and walk away, like the rest of them usually do."

James bites back a rebuttal and instead just nods, his knuckles pulsating a relentless protest as he expands his fingers to intricately wrap the clean gauze around your forearm, its material already saturated in antibiotic ointment and disinfectant.

You sigh out quietly in the bathroom's tense air and look down at the ring James got you on your first anniversary as you continue your ministrations on his cheek- the snake studded skull logo of his district entangled with your number in the crew, alongside with your birth month's gemstone and your initials. You glance down at the small band underneath the weighed down silver and smile to yourself this time, the promise that came with the ring being kept like an oath for the past five years you two have been and treasured together.

"You're upset with me." You state, your left foot beginning to ants around the carpet surrounding the toilet you're sat on as you watch James put the first aid kit away.

"I'm upset that you didn't call out for help, and that you let that pig put his hands on you," You flinch back from the harsh tone he speaks with, the reaction instinctual even though you know his tone wasn't directed at you. "I'm upset that you came here tonight, without my jacket on. How else is anyone supposed to know that you're my old lady? You're surrounded by a bunch of men, a good majority of them being at least ten years older than us and our best friends, and you walked in here looking like fresh meat." You cringe at the old term of endearment, but turn to face him anyway, watching hesitantly as he frustratingly runs a ring clad hand through his tussled mane.

You push yourself up with your good arm from the low sitting toilet and ignore your boyfriend's protests as you stand, walking over to him and wrapping your arm around his neck to tug him down to your height. You press an unyielding and affirmation filled killed on his stress bitten lips, your eyelids fluttering shut as he encases you against him and lifts you off of your feet. A silent gasp breathes itself out of your now slightly gaping lips as the coolness of the sink brushes against the back of your bare legs. James takes advantage of the fact, his slick tongue sliding in between your plush lips to wrap itself around yours and beckon you in closer, your spine arching to melt your front against his and to become one.

The bitter sensation of beer engulfs your senses as his taste envelops itself on your tongue, and your fingers grab ahold of his locks as his hands come up to grip at the flimsy material of your t-shirt, the coolness of the air in the restroom beginning to feel warm and charged as the two of you refamiliarize yourselves with each other.

You let out a pant as he slides his way in between your legs and flush against the sink holding you up, the movement causing your skirt to ruffle up and rest on the upper parts of the outsides of your thighs, your dampening underwear catching onto the draft in the air and causing you to shiver.

James removes his biker jacket from his shoulders and tosses it, it somehow finding solid purchase on the shower curtain rod multiple feet away. Your boyfriend detaches from you and lets out a light groan, his tongue peeking out to catch the remnants of your taste still clinging itself on his kissed red lips.

"I'm not upset with you, baby. I'm upset for you," He murmurs, his lips finding yours with each vowel he makes physical, a strand of electrified spit keeping you two together in a roundabout and intrinsic way. "I just want you to be safe, and I feel like I failed you by taking the day off and taking the break you guys offered to me earlier. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I could never be upset with you, especially after all that you've done for me, for the crew, our family. Hell's Angels wouldn't be a damn thing without you, and you know that. Knowing and seeing that man disrespect you made my skin crawl, and it made me upset for you because you deserve so much more than that."

"And you give me so much more than that, every day." You reassure him, your head swimming and thoughts seemingly slowing down from the close proximity of having him so close to you again. James' eyes glaze over from the praise and heat spikes its way to your core as his hands slide their way down to your bare and exposed thighs and squeeze. The coldness of his rings and the press of the sink against your backside make your lids flutter, and you moan out as his hold tightens and spreads your legs even further apart.

"Yeah?" He asks you, resting his forehead against yours and staring straight into your eyes as his right hand and bruising knuckles brush against your clothed clit. A harsh exhale of a breath bursts its way out of your chest, and James lets out a husky laugh as your thighs tighten around his, shaking and restless. "How much do I give you, angel?"

"You give me so much, spoil me so well." You whimper out, a fingertip of his pushing the damp cotton of your underwear away and dipping itself into your soaking wet folds. James moans from the praise and the feeling of your velvet-like heat, and his mouth begins to salivate from the sounds spilling and pouring themselves out of your mouth.

Your forehead disconnects from his as you toss your head back, a combination of a moan and a laugh lodging itself in your throat as the back of your head makes contact with the mirror embedded in the wall behind you. James bites back a grin at the sound and bends down to kiss you once again, as he slides a thick and long index finger past your entrance and inside of you.

Your lips widen and part as he crooks his digit and begins to slowly fuck it in and out of you, the slick and thick globs and strands of your arousal making a sinful sound echo in the room surrounding the two of you. "Such a good fucking girl for me, baby. Who else could make you this wet, make a mess out of you so easily?" Pleasure filled tears fill your waterline as he adds his middle finger and roughly taps and massages his palm against your spasming clit. You cry out as he makes contact with your sponge-like spot without even trying, and you feel your abs begin to contract as your first orgasm quickly approaches.

"Nobody can make me feel as good as you," you sob, your hips rising up from the ceramic to ride his fingers as the tightness in your middle begins to snap and break apart. "Nobody ever will. It's just you and it always will be."

"Look at me," your boyfriend orders, and you do. Wild and dilated blue eyes stare back at you, with a facial expression that looks like he was orgasming with you as well, a look of being fucked out of breath painted on his features while he brings you over the edge. White flashes in your vision, but you maintain eye contact anyway, teetering on the verge of overstimulation as his hand and fingers massage and continue pounding themselves into you.

You have to reach down and force him to stop, your trembling fingertips pressing against his cloyed skin and into his hammering pulse point, your chest heaving for breath as your body shivers against his upper half. James closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as your walls constrict around his ruined and messy fingers and knuckles, his cockhead beet red in the confines of his jeans and leaking an embarrassing amount of precum against the rough fabric of his zipper.

"Think you can take another one?" He asks you, reaching up with his clean hand to brush the hair away from your face as you continue to struggle to catch your breath. Exhaustion and weariness run through you, but so does excitement and the craving to be filled, so you say yes, regardless of the fact that your body might not be ready for another orgasm or be able to take it.

You let out an accumulation of a laugh and a gasp as you're lifted off of the sink and instructed to grab ahold of James' jacket, and you feel a wide and exuberant grin against the heated skin of your neck as you're carried back into your boyfriend's office, and right on top of his desk.

Before you can even voice out a complaint, his large and calloused palms are gently tugging off your shirt and unclasping your bra with one hand, his rough tongue dancing its way down your neck and hooking itself around one of your already swollen and taut nipples. By the time he's got his sharp and straight teeth embedded in the cotton of your arousal-soaked underwear to tug them down, you're already a panting and sweaty mess. Your injured forearm is elevated and resting on a stack of folders already finished by his tenacity, your other holding up your weight and helping you stabilize as you watch him travel his way down your trembling legs. His biker jacket is the only thing keeping you partially warm from the cool air, draped around your shoulders like a permanent branding and much more accepted and welcomed than the weight and touch of any other man's hand.

Hickeys and love bites are sucked into your bruising skin, and you have to repeatedly plead for him to finally fuck you before he decidedly detaches himself and his mouth from the soft flesh of your inner thighs and calves.

James mounts himself over you on the desk, his strong arms caging you in and gifting you warmth as he carefully inserts himself inside of your tight and soaked heat. You both gasp out in relief, the air in between you becoming frenzied and the sounds of skin connecting and shallow whimpers soon follow thereafter.

Even and ruled nails make their way down your partners back as he arches into you, his ballsack smacking against your backside and creating a beautiful red hue as he fucks into you with passion and reckless abandon. You scream out as his tip brushes against your spot and even further in to reach your cervix, and he holds you down in place as you cum and make a mess against him.

You hold on tight, and attempt wrap your legs around his waist as he continues to use you for his pleasure, one hand holding you in place by your hair as you slide up and down the polished and finished wood of his desk by the force of his thrusts, and the other connected and interlocked with yours. "You look so beautiful, baby." and "You were made to take my cock, weren't you?" are whispered into your damp and blushing skin, and you reach another handful of climaxes before he finally reaches his. Warmth floods into you and paints your walls white, and James moans out against your feverish skin as your walls continue to tighten around him and milk him for all that he's worth. You let out a gasp as his hips continue to stutter into you, as if he was subconsciously trying to breed you and fill you even further with his seed.

"How was you break?" You ask him once you're both fully satiated and sat in his large chair, his arms encircled around you and holding you close, sticky skin on sticky skin. A pleased and fulfilled hum is vibrated and almost purred against you, and you place your forehead against his damp and muscled chest as you wait for his answer.

"The break we just had now, or the one I had earlier?" He teasingly asks you, falling into hysterical laughter as you swat at him and soon follow suit, tears of mirth making their way down both of your guy's cheeks while you two fall apart together this time, head resting on each other's and heartbeats eventually aligning to create a single and steady beat once you both calm down.

"Oh, shut up, you know what I meant!"

𓆩𓆪

Cliff sends the officer a sarcastic grin and wave as he drives away, before sneakily placing the blunt he hid in his long sleeve in between his perked lips and letting out a sigh of relief at the feel. Kirk lifts a lighter up for him and flicks the flame, sending his best friend and Percenter a tipsy smile as he's offered a muffled thanks.

"Any chance the police are going to go with the story we just half assed and gave to them?" He asks, the ending of each of his words sounding slightly slurred and overjoyed. Cliff shrugs and momentarily closes his eyes in bliss as the smoke pleasantly burns through his lungs, instantly opening them back up as the blunt gets yanked out from in between his index and middle fingers.

"You guys are such assholes, letting me fall asleep around all of the new guys," Lars tiredly rasps out, narrowly missing a still burning and loose ash landing on the bare skin of his knee as he squats down on the front porch, his eyes barreling in and staring down the police car as it makes its way down the now abandoned and dark highway. "Last time I did that, it was our initiation, and you two cunts drew a dick on me."

Cliff grins widely as Kirk lets out a sharp cry of laughter, his left hand holding onto his side as he howls with amusement. Lars rolls his eyes and takes another hit, before nearly knocking his friend over with his elbow as he tries passing it back to him. Coughs ring out and become visible in the thick air of the beginning of winter, and they all calm down and huddle next to each other on the closest step for warmth.

"Next time, we'll draw a labia." Kirk mumbles out, his head falling to the side and landing on Cliff's shoulder, causing him to drop the rest of the roach. Laughter tears out of the man instead of anger, and he quickly steps on the filter to cease the flame, his laughter becoming painful and uncontainable as he looks over and see's the Dane shake his head and wrap his arms around himself, the smile on his face still visible in the dark of the night as he pretends to be annoyed and irritated.

"I hate all of you assholes, every single one of you." Kirk clicks his tongue and blindly reaches out for him, before placing him in a headlock and bringing him into a choking hold.

"We love you too, Larzy Poo!" Lars gasps for breath as his best friend continues to choke hug him, and only does Kirk let up once Cliff lightly raps against his curl covered forehead to let him know that he's unknowingly loving their friend to death.

"What happened while I was out?" Lars innocently asks once he can breathe and speak again, raising an amused eyebrow as two of his closest friends look at each other and then try to yell out an answer first.

"James knocked out a fucking geezer-" "James pounded an old man, and now he's pounding his chick!"

"Shut the fuck up! No way!"

#metallica #james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #metallica x reader #metallica smut #metallica imagines #lars ulrich #kirk hammett #jason newsted #cliff burton

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ofsappho · 9 months

Text

Summertime Sadness (part 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Now: Nothing can stop Ghost from going to you Then: Simon asks you why you're in therapy

NOW

Ghost POV

Ghost is arguing with the nurse at the front desk when the screaming starts.

She won’t let him in to see you. He was about as polite as he could muster for any medical professional in scrubs at the beginning, but a scowl grew deeper and deeper under his mask with every denial. She said you weren’t taking visitors at this time and asked him to leave. And then the nurse switched her story and claimed you were too busy. He went back and forth with the nurse a few times, resolutely holding his ground. Ghost needed to see you, even if he didn’t know why.

And then he hears it. Howling. Plaintive wails, over and over again, rising like the wind and then stopping long enough for the sufferer to cough and clear their throat. More crying, more screaming.

Ghost recognizes who that is. “Simon!” You sob, your hoarse, despairing voice muffled by the thick walls of concrete separating you from him.

He hears you blubber incoherently and someone tries to soothe you. The tosser is doing a horrid job at it. When you scream out once more, begging for your childhood friend, the pain and suffering you add to Ghost’s name makes him feel like he’s just been shot in the chest with a hollow point bullet. Each horrible noise is a shard of the casing digging further into his heart. Wounds like that can’t be mended.

It sounds as if someone is torturing you or something, maybe holding a red-hot poker to your face. Ghost would know what that sounds like. He’s lost count at this point how many people he’s had to hurt. It never bothered him, whether they deserved it or not. Those men, women, and young boys were just the poor bastards unlucky enough to end up on the wrong side of his knife. Or staring down the barrel of his pistol. Or at the end of a rope hooked over a water pipe in the ceiling.

But the knowledge that it’s you that is being hurt bothers him a whole lot.

Ghost snaps when the sounds suddenly stop.

The quiet is always worse than the screaming. Birds go quiet in the forest when a predator moves among them. People go quiet when they die and have nothing left to give him.

Nothing will stop him from getting to you. Nothing. Not even God himself.

He bodily sets the nurse aside without so much as a word and is through the double doors in an instant. Ghost’s timing is perfect - a staff member in blue scrubs is on his way out and all Ghost needs to do is charge past him.

Like a shark following the scent of blood, he tracks where the screaming was with unerring precision. There are many doors here, but he knows which one is hiding you.

It’s the third one on the left.

The nurses try to stop him. They chatter noisily in his ear about “Sir, you’re not allowed to be here” and “Sir, please stop and return to the waiting room”, or “If you don’t leave this area immediately, we’ll call security.” Let security come, Ghost thinks. Good fucking luck. The poor bastards will need it.

But this isn’t about them. This is about you, and whatever the hell it is they’re doing to you.

When he forces the door open, he sees you thrashing and twisting in the hospital bed. The orderlies have managed to restrain you, pinning your limbs down with straps. Someone rights the IV pole you must have knocked over.

Ghost will remember the agonized expression on your face until the day he dies.

Your skin is soaked with a shiny mixture of sweat and tears, and fresh blood bubbles up under the bandages on your wrists and soaks through the paper gown covering your thighs.

Crimson flowers bloom in your sclera from burst blood vessels and the air reeks of vomit and the acrid tang of fear.

A nurse with cold, narrowed eyes reconnects your IV line to the port in the crook of your elbow, callously wiping away excess blood with a cotton pad soaked in rubbing alcohol. That shit stings you and he feels sympathetic pain scrape across his skin.

“What’s wrong with her,” Ghost demands through bared teeth, hissing like a snake about to strike. “What the fuck is going on.”

Your eyes roll back in your head until you sag limply to the sweat-soaked mattress. “We told you she wasn’t taking visitors at this time. She’s in acute benzodiazepine withdrawal. You need to leave.”

“‘M not going anywhere. You’re fuckin’ torturing her. Stop it.” Ghost moves closer to you, close enough that if you’d just open your eyes, you’d recognize him. He hasn’t been this close to a person outside of work in years. “Leave her alone. I said-“

“Right now, she’s a danger to herself and others. The restraints stay until… it passes.”

You give up on the screaming in favor of piteous, gut-wrenching crying. Your body wants to curl up on its side and hide, you want to tuck your head under your arms and make it all go away, Ghost can tell.

He calls your name as he takes one of your shaking hands in his. Ghost calls your name one more time, resisting the urge to shake your shoulders and force you to open your eyes and look at him, goddamnit.

But there’s nothing he can do.

Ghost can only kneel here in a room that reminds him more of a morgue than it does a hospital and feel your weak pulse in your wrist and hope that he never feels it stop.

Finally, your lips twitch and move as if you’re chanting words under your breath. You’re hallucinating.

I’m sorry. Simon. Simon. Come back. I’m scared. Pick up the phone. Please. I’m sorry. Simon. Help me. Don’t leave me here alone. I need you. They never came back for me and you’re all I have. Call me back when you can.

10 YEARS AGO

Reader POV

You’re not entirely sure why Simon fascinates you so much. This place has no shortage of brooding, crotchety, “Rebel Without A Cause” types. If anything, you’re the odd one out amongst thirty other kids because you don’t wake up in the morning wanting to cause property damage or sulk in the corner during group therapy.

But sometimes when he’s sulking in the corner during anger management classes, his grimace turns into a softer, sadder expression and he looks lost, even scared, and you just feel that… He’s different. Simon could be a million different things if he wanted to, as long as there was someone who didn’t give up on him.

It’s with this mission in mind that you sit next to him during lunch with your tray of a sad-looking hamburger but surprisingly delicious crispy fries. “Why don’t you like it here?”

Simon glares at you for interrupting his riveting contemplation of an uneaten apple. You shrug it off and start working on your fries. Maybe he has a stomachache.

When it’s clear that you’re more involved with your food than you are with his “I hate you” vibes, he deigns to answer. “‘Cause I don’t belong. Don’t even fuckin’ know why they shipped me here,” The boy grumbles in a thick British accent as he runs a hand through his short white-blonde hair.

You try not to look at the scars on his hands. For one thing, it’s rude.

The faded marks aren’t quite in the right place to be self inflicted.

You wordlessly hold out a fry. Simon inspects it for a few moments as if he suspects poisoning. He takes it without looking at you and a shiver runs through you when his fingers press against yours.

“The more you fight the program, the harder it will be to get discharged. If you wanted advice. Sorry. You don’t need my advice. I didn’t mean to give you that impression-“ As you ramble, you unintentionally rip the fry you’re holding into tiny little bits of crumbly potato.

Simon cuts you off. “You talk too much,” He says flatly.

That’s it. You must be the biggest idiot in the world. Why did you have to embarrass yourself in front of a cute boy, of all people?

You stare at the sad, torn chunks of potato and feel a strange kinship with them. “…I guess.” You shouldn’t have said anything at all.

After a minute, the boy next to you sighs.

“Thanks. For the tip.”

“We gotta look out for each other,” You say with a smile, perking right up again.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Simon doesn’t like to sit like a normal person. He’s hunched weirdly on the chair with one knee up and the other leg sprawled out on the ground. His limbs are simply too tall to dangle.

As you watch him rest his chin on his knee, you can see vertebrae move under the skin on the back of his neck. Fine, downy baby hairs trail hazy and soft from his hairline.

You look away with a loud cough and bright red face. “I’m not. Technically, they shipped me here, too. I almost sat in the cargo section of the plane across the Atlantic.”

A brief flash of envy flickers in his eyes as he sits up straight. “That far away? And you don’t wanna go home?” Simon speaks like if he could, he’d grow wings and fly far, far away from here. Not just the facility, but everything. He’d like New York, you think. He’d fit right in. The coarse British scowl thing he has going on would scare off any ornery New Yorker.

“I mean… It's not so bad here. Not for me, at least. There isn’t much to do at home so I might as well do this.”

When Simon gestures towards your completely untouched burger, you push the plate towards him. “You seem normal. Why are you here?” He asks around a mouthful of crumbs, spewing saliva everywhere. Like every teenage boy, his metabolism must be through the roof and he eats as if the food is about to run away from him.

“It’s really, like, not that interesting. I promise. You don’t care.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly riveted by the state of your cuticles.

Simon burps. Gross. “Fine, then I don’t.”

You wrinkle your nose and wave your hand performatively. He almost laughs. Almost. Like a baby laugh. One third of a laugh.

This isn’t a good subject for you to laugh back. Maybe one day the whole thing will be a funny joke you can say over dinner, surrounded by people who love you. It doesn’t feel very funny right now. It… hurts.

“No- no… sorry. Yeah. Um. My mother decided many years too late that she never wanted kids. So she went… wherever she is now. And then I snapped, or so they told me. My dad thought I would cope with the trauma better here than in our hometown, where I would be reminded of her everywhere. Honestly? Dad was probably just trying to get rid of me. But once I’m better, he promised he would pick me up and we’ll fly home together,” You finish softly.

With unexpected delicacy, Simon has the decency to avert his dark eyes and fiddle with the little gold chain hanging past his sharp collarbones. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It could be a lot worse. I’m lucky.” You smile, imagining thirty years from now when all of this will be simply memories made beautiful and shiny by nostalgia. Your dad will come get you. You’ll go back to America, graduate high school, and go to a fabulous college. Simon can be your lifelong pen pal.

“You are.” His mouth purses as he tugs his sleeves down over his wrists, watching you examine the tan line on your unblemished arm from your watch.

Tagging: @devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner @johfaam0 @babygirl-panda19 @illyanam1011 @q8852p @loser-alert @vantae-tea @alexisv15 @chessecakelover @allaboutirem0 @darling006 @aloraaaxcrystalzx @berryjuicyy @desideriumlove @aurora-basin @klttypawss @elysian0612

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mosylufanfic · 5 months

Text

A Mere Trifle

My first contribution to Rebelcaptain Fluffbruary! The prompt I went with was "dessert."

A Mere Trifle

Bodhi opened the fridge. "Oooooh," he said in delight. His roommate made sweets and desserts to relax, and Bodhi was usually the beneficiary.

"Don't you fucking touch the fucking trifle!" Jyn yelled from another room.

"Why not?" he yelled back, but set the bowl of trifle back where he'd found it.

"Because I'm saving it for poker night, you glutton."

Bodhi raised his brows at nothing. Poker night was at theirs tomorrow night, and while most everyone brought food, it was more along the lines of grocery-store chips and dip. Not a dessert of multiple layers and steps and approximately thirty thousand calories.

He grabbed the leftover Chinese instead, gave it a sniff, and concluded it probably wasn't going to kill him. Eating beef and broccoli out of the container, he went to the other room where Jyn scowled at the computer screen full of her photos that she was working on. "Not even a nibble?" he asked pitifully.

"Nope."

He licked sauce off his thumb. "It's got all berries and whipped cream and custard. You seriously expect me to resist?"

"Yes, I do, or I'll shave your head in your sleep."

Bodhi put a protective hand over his ponytail. "You're a cruel woman, Jyn Erso."

She bit her thumbnail, narrowing her eyes at two virtually identical images of an empty lot. She twiddled a setting and suddenly the tiny yellow flowers blooming amongst the lanky dried grass burst into focus. "You've known that for years," she said.

Poker night started around seven, or whenever enough people straggled in to get a decent game going. Bodhi expected the trifle to come out as they set up the table and pulled mismatched chairs in from all over the house. But only the two party subs that Jyn had picked up on her way home from work made an appearance.

"It's got to stay chilled," Jyn claimed when he asked about it.

"Uh . . . huh," he said, but had to go answer the door before he could needle the truth out of her.

It was Melshi, who came armed with various chips. "You ready to lose?" he crowed, setting a bag of tortilla chips next to the subs.

"No, but you'd better be," Bodhi told him.

"Big talk. Beers in the fridge?" Melshi asked.

"Yup."

He opened the door, grabbed a beer off the door, and paused. "Holy shit, Jyn, did you make that?"

Jyn was across the room in a split second, smacking his hand. "Don't touch!"

"Why not?" he whined, cradling his hand.

"Cos I said so." She slapped the door closed. "Go stuff your face with a sandwich. Veggie's on the left side."

Melshi sighed heavily and went to pile his slice of veggie sub high with peppers and mayo.

Leia and her brother came in next, then Kay, then Luke's truck-driver friend, Han, and his large, hairy roommate, Chewie, and then Shara and Kes from down the hall. About half of them mentioned the trifle, and every time, Jyn refused to let them get it out.

It didn't escape Bodhi's notice that Jyn's head snapped around every time the door opened. It also didn't escape his notice that Cassian Andor, who worked at the paper where Jyn sometimes picked up photo gigs, wasn't there yet.

People skipped poker night for work, holidays, hot dates, classes, and exhaustion. Usually they put it in the group text. Bodhi checked his phone.

"Nobody's canceled," Jyn said without looking at her own.

"Right," Bodhi said, grinning to himself, and arranged his bingo chips. "Okay, who won the last game at Han and Chewie's?"

"Me," Kes said, raising his hand, and taking the deck to deal.

Two rounds in, Jyn was looking very downcast, but she still snarled like a Doberman whenever anybody went near the fridge.

"We ever gonna get some of that dessert?" Han whispered to Bodhi.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Bodhi whispered back.

The doorknob rattled, and Jyn got half out of her chair before the door opened. She sat back down as Cassian came in. "Hey," he said, brushing snow out of his hair.

"Hey," Jyn said casually. "Thought you weren't going to make it."

"Sorry," he said, shrugging out of his coat. "I kept thinking I was almost done with the article and then I wasn't. How much has Melshi lost?"

Melshi flipped him off.

"Not enough yet," Jyn said, and got Melshi's finger next. "Did you get anything to eat?"

"No, and I'm dying. Tell me there's something left."

She waved a hand at the subs, mostly decimated on the counter. He put one of each kind on his plate and added mustard, then piled the rest of his plate high with potato chips and the baby carrots that Luke had brought.

"Should be beers in the fridge," she added. "Oh, and I forgot about a dessert I left in there, can you get it out?"

"Ohhh!"

"So he gets some of that first?"

"I see how it is, Erso!"

"That's who it was for?"

"Well well well!"

Jyn scowled. "Okay, the lot of you can go fuck yourselves."

"What?" Cassian asked, popping his head up over the fridge door and looking at all of them quizzically.

"Nothing," Jyn said. "Everybody here is a fucking moron, that's all. You find it?"

"With all the whipped cream? Wow," he said, pulling it out. "This looks amazing, Jyn. Is this the thing you were telling me about last week? Whatsits. Trifle?"

"Oh, yeah, it is," Jyn said as if it was a massive coincidence.

He looked at her for a moment, a little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "I can't believe it survived this long with these animals."

Melshi opened his mouth, then yelped as if a Doc Marten had met his shin with force.

"Well, like I said, I forgot about it," Jyn said.

Bodhi looked across the table at her and mouthed, You're so full of shit. She ignored him, a blush spreading up her face.

Cassian sat down next to her, juggling his plate of sandwiches and a serving of trifle in a bowl. "This is really good," he said with his mouth full. "I mean, really. Wow." He nudged Luke. "Get some of this, it's incredible."

"Thanks," Jyn said, shrugging, dealing the next hand. "It was nothing."

FINIS

#Jyn Erso #Cassian Andor #rebelcaptain #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #Modern AU #fluffbruary #star wars

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gasolineghuleh · 5 months

Note

You asked for nsfw drabbles? Maybe some aether size kink? 🥺👉👈

this turned into a whole ass fic, oops.

remember to reblog!

aether size kink word count: 2.3k

You wake to a trail of soft kisses down your back, gradually stirring you from slumber. First, a slight smile, then shuffling, trying to curl up, before you sigh and finally open your eyes. You blink, confused at first about the pitch black, but memories resurface. Right... The party in the dens, Aether giving you beer after beer, Dew making fun of your human hands, and then losing that poker game that seemed to never end... And then stumbling off to bed with Aether in his den room with no windows, the small fire in the corner and the ever enticing bottle of wine being pressed into your hands... Yawning, you stretch, and feel Aether shift back.

"Well, someone's awake."

"What time is it?" You murmur, feeling him sit up to look at the clock hanging on the wall. His eyes can see better in the dark, and you can only hear the ticking of the second hand, the clock itself entirely obscured by shadow.

"Only around ten."

You prop yourself up and look to where you think you remember he is. Even though you can't see a thing through the darkness, even if it were brighter it probably wouldn't matter-- you're fairly sure you're mashed up against the wall. "You didn't let me sleep in very long."

"No," he says, a chuckle in his voice even through the scratchiness afforded only by sleep. His hand drags down your hip gently, his claws scraping delicately over your skin. "Can you blame me? After last night, I-" He stops at your sharp inhale.

"Did we-?"

"No, luv." Aether's hand turns firm on your hip, grounding. "But we wanted to." He leans forward, closing the space between the two of you and allowing his breath the huff against your neck, hot and heavy. "Little too much blood alcohol content, if you get my drift..."

"And now?" you ask, bringing your hand to his, still balanced on your hip and radiating a warmth that reaches your bones. The thin skin just above where his hand lay holds the memory of heat and the tingling of hair standing on end, causing goosebumps to bloom and your nipples to pebble as his mouth gently trails along the ridge of your shoulder.

"And now, none at all." His hand creeps around to caress along your waist, over your stomach to feel the slow shifting of your diaphragm as you inhale and exhale a shuddering breath. "In fact..." he murmurs, voice little more than a whisper in your ear, "...why don't we see if you're up for a quickie?"

Already your heart is thundering, flushing your skin with anticipation as he starts to pull the blankets off of you, the fabric cool against your back but welcoming. Aether presses you slowly against the bed, lavishing kisses gently against every part of exposed skin until you're laying fully on your back for him. His leg comes up slowly, gently pressing your own apart until his thigh brushes against the damp fabric between your thighs.

"That looks like a yes," he purrs and kneels, leaning up to kiss you tenderly. His hands cradle you like fragile china, like you're the finest gift he's ever received, and he can hardly believe his good fortune.

As his hands shift to teasing along your waist and hips, you rake your fingers through the fur of his stomach, feeling the hard muscle underneath; The chub that comes with age only acts to accentuate the finely corded strength beneath. Each of his hands are more than large enough to grasp your entire ribcage, and he gently follows the shape of your curves with long fingers, rumbling deep in his chest with pleasure. "So soft, luv... and this..." His lips press into the hollow between your breasts.

"Aeth-"

"Quickie, right," he breaths, his hands running over your body reverently before he snaps himself out of it-- you know he can likely see everything in perfect detail despite the darkness, and the thought does nothing to ease the arousal in your gut. He shuffles lower on the bed and out from under your leg, until you can feel his ribs pressing into your calf as he's practically bent over himself, leaning in to drag the rough tongue along your inner thigh, and you sigh at the texture of his teeth teasing lightly on the sensitive skin of your nethers.

Slowly, Aether's nose follows his tongue, moving from the fine hairs of your groin to press the coarse tip lightly against the hood of your clit, where you quietly whimper with restrained excitement. Huffing deeply, nostrils flaring as he catches your heady scent, you feel the prickle of his cheeks splitting to display a feral smile, a soft grin you don't see but can only imagine with arousing detail. He breathes in deeply and then exhales sharply, pressing a firm kiss to your inner thigh and dragging himself up and over you again.

This time his hand goes to his cock, freeing it from his bottoms with a groan of satisfaction. The pad of his finger finds your clit, rolling it as he lines himself up with you, shuffling his knees until he's in the right spot. "Yes... yes, I think so..." he mutters quietly to himself, and you feel the head of his cock against your outer lips. "Perhaps... if you shift over a bit... yup, there we go. Perfect," He sighs, leaning over you once more and pressing a hand to the mattress on either side of your head, arms boxing you in comfortably. "Gonna get this tight little arse some quality meat... oh, that's nice. It opens up for me like it knows what's coming. What a clever little cunt." He moves your knee to bend around his ribs as he slides further in, the delicious friction stealing the breath from your lungs.

The size of his cock is what comes to your mind first, your surprised brain spitting out adjectives like a particularly apt Google search that the author performed-- "monster", "huge" and "like the arm of a large man" come swiftly to mind. He's particularly thick, somewhere beyond the level of the thickest toy you've used, and he's not slender either; Instead, as his hands press into the blankets on either side of your head and he rolls his body against you, you marvel at how he seems to fill spaces you didn't know existed previously. There are ridges that glide along your g-spot, fat enough to stretch your inner walls as you tremble beneath him, but his girth is nothing short of staggering.

As your mind gets its bearings on the foreign insertion, Aether starts pulling back with a low hiss, the flared glans tugging gently at your lips until he's on his knees before you again. When you whimper in need, starting to wriggle your hips in search of his cock, he laughs lightly. Aether gives it to you without chastising, without making you beg. This time you're more prepared for him, and the stretch of your walls around his cunt is more than welcome. Your mind quiets, focusing solely on the feeling of your lover moving within you.

"Oh, fuck, Aether. Please! Deeper. Just a bit more," you practically whine.

"I've got you, luv," he says, and you can almost imagine the lust laden hunger darkening his amber eyes. You think you can see the faint glow, the narrow glow of his eyes amidst the darkness but you're not certain.

When his head finds the end of you, you gasp at the immediate shock that your cunt is fully occupied, body adjusting to the sudden penetration. Without meaning to, you reach your hands up and clench your legs around him, begging with moans for him to be closer to you as your nerves awaken. The drag of his cock as he pulls back pulls an equally long groan out of you, and there's an audible sound as you separate. This time, his lips are at your neck, whispering to you as he sinks himself inside of you again, "you're so good at taking me, aren't you? I feel you trembling around me, luv, just let go." His lips press into the hollow of your throat as his hips roll over top of you. "You can do it, just let me have it, baby doll. Tell me... tell me you want me to take it."

"Take me, Aeth, Sathanas-" you manage to groan between gritted teeth, the desire to move against him rising in your gut.

He complies with your strained plea, finally filling the aching need. You grip his shoulders with desperation, something to hold onto as he presses you deep into the mattress, pistoning into you in waves of action and reaction as your core tightens into an exquisite coil. It isn't difficult for you to hold onto, either, when his chest hair rasps against your nipples with each stroke, the sensitivity driving you out of your mind and over the edge into orgasm so quickly you don't even know what's happening until he's cooing and talking you down, hips rolling gently over yours in never-ending stimulation.

"Aeth-"

"Shh, I got you, hm?" he murmurs into your ear, coaxing another orgasm from you with slow pumps of his cock. Another moment later and he's filling you, grunting in time with his heartbeat. "Fuck," he wheezes, staying inside of you but slowing, easing his hips against you in such a way that you can focus on the liquid heat within you. He lets out a shuddering exhale, pressing his hips against you so fiercely that you squirm on his cock.

"Oh, Sathanas, you keep moving like that and I'm going to have to beat this pussy blue again," he says, only half-joking.

"Do you say these things intentionally, or are they just thoughtlessly spilling from that silver tongue?" you groan, eyelashes fluttering, "Because right now, it just feels like you're trying to seduce me into more sex, which has certainly worked thus far-"

"Oh, bugger, you're talkative," he complains good naturedly, stilling and placing a firm hand on the wall above you and leveraging his cock out of you slowly before falling beside you on the bed with a grunt. "Have to work on that for next time, hm? Next time I'm getting this pretty cunt out in the light."

You go to reach for him in the dark, but the search is futile. Swearing with annoyance, you whine, huffing until the Ghoul gets the point. Aether rises from the bed with a grunt and stumbles towards the door of his bedroom, flicking on a light switch and letting some faux sunlight into the room, streaming from overhead.

In the dim lighting, his room is comfortably plush and decorated with furniture made of burnished, heavy red wood. All of it looks old and ornate, solidly placed and well used. A rug covers the stony floor and keeps the chill out from underfoot, while intricate tapestries hang on the walls. A fireplace sits in the corner, ashes sitting in the grating and a half-burnt log on the mantle.

Aether draws your attention as he comes back towards the bed, boxers half hanging off of his thighs and short, black hair standing mussed and on-end. You smirk, running your hands between your legs and feeling the thin line of slick you discover.

"Enjoy yourself?" you ask dryly, eyeing his own erection still.

Aether slides back under the covers, folding his hands behind his head, he stares idly at the ceiling. "I always enjoy sex, luv. Don't you? Hell, you got enough wind in you for more rounds?" He winks, leaning back into the pillows and opening his arm out for you, encouraging you to spoon into his side.

You comply, resting your head against his chest.

"Hm..." He trails a lazy finger down your hip, over the small swell of your stomach, pausing only to lazily circle your belly button before continuing towards his intended target. "Not quite ready to open the gates again just yet, are you?" he teases, nosing the crown of your head before kissing you there.

"Mm, let me wake up a little more, Aeth."

"Let's get you a glass of water first," he says and offers to fetch it himself. He leaves you in bed briefly, returning to hand you a cup, and it's only when you've set it on the nightstand and shift positions to make room for him in bed again, a pillow haphazardly tucked under your head that you actually see how large his cock is.

Having not paid all that much attention to it before, too enraptured in the pleasure, you gape a little, now staring at how monstrous he was. At how his massive cock filled you up. "How-"

"Don't hurt yourself, now," he teases again, his long, thick length still visibly wet from the rounds previously. He tucks it back into his boxers and scoots closer, placing his head on your chest with a sigh. "I had a nice time," he says softly, hand resting lightly on the jut of your hipbone.

"I did too," you respond, smiling, stroking his wide jaw with your thumb, letting your hand fall along the broad expanse of his shoulders to the sensitive spot where hair met flesh, "Maybe we can do it again sometime. You, um- haven't changed your mind, right?"

He blinks, looking down to see the tiny tent in the blankets that you cover back up quickly. With a low chuckle, he turns to kiss the inside of your wrist lightly. "Absolutely not." xx hi, thanks, authors note to see who gets this far: i'm not going to retire, i've pretty much decided. thanks guys. you sent me so much love the past two weeks. i really appreciate it. 💜💜

remember to reblog!

#the band ghost fics #the band ghost ficlet #ghost bc fanfic #lorraine writes #nameless ghouls #era 4 ghouls #era 5 ghouls #aether ghoul #reader x aether #reader x aether ghoul #aether

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cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut · 3 months

Text

Thanks to @heartstringsduet for the tag! Here’s something from TK’s past, in which Alex will end up being much worse than canon Alex, but TK doesn’t know that just yet 💛

“TK Strand,” says Alex then, trying the name out slowly, as if to see how it tastes. His teeth are poker straight and almost impossibly white. TK swallows hard, and Alex carries on with a smile. “Well, firefighting sounds cool. I’m a journalist, so not quite as much excitement, I guess, but—“

“You know what you said,” TK interrupts, the words spilling out in a flurry, “about making it more bearable? These parties, I mean.”

“Yeah…” says Alex, his gaze fixed on TK, rapt and waiting.

“How exactly do you — do that?”

Alex regards him for a lingering moment. His gaze is dark and searching, trying to discern something about TK before he answers, a whisper of seriousness to his expression that brings TK to the precipice of telling him to forget he ever asked. He opens his mouth to say it, but Alex gets there first.

“Depends on just what you can handle,” he says. He shrugs slowly, the seriousness fading, swallowed away like thin morning fog. Instead, he smiles, a playfulness to him, an intrigue that runs so deep he leans a fraction closer to TK, and probably doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. The whole room heats up in that moment. TK swears it isn’t just him. Alex hasn’t asked him to answer, and yet the question hangs unspoken between them, thick enough that TK can taste it. His heart thumps hard in the hollow of his chest, and in lieu of anything verbal, or tangible — in lieu of any kind of confession — TK simply nods, tracks Alex’s expression until he’s certain he understands him. When the knowingness settles into Alex’s expression, then — and only then — does TK start to feel some relief.

Open tag, plus some no pressure tags beneath the cut 💛

@ambiguouspenny @birdclowns @bonheur-cafe @carlos-in-glasses @catanisspicy @chicgeekgirl89 @carlos-tk @detective-giggles @fitzherbertssmolder @freneticfloetry @goodways @herefortarlos @honeybee-taskforce @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @janto4ev @jesuisici33 @lightningboltreader @lemonlyman-dotcom @louis-ii-reyes-strand @liminalmemories21 @mooshkat @meditating-honey-badger @noxsoulmate @never-blooms @orchidscript @paperstorm @rmd-writes @reasonandfaithinharmony @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @safeaswrites @three-drink-amy @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @vineofroses @welcometololaland @wandering-night19 @wtfuckevenknows @alrightbuckaroo @sanjuwrites @chaotictarlos @thisbuildinghasfeelings and YOU if you’re not tagged and wanna play 💛

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the-lonelybarricade · 6 months

Text

We Bleed the Same - (2/?)

Summary: The forest was a labyrinth of snow and ice... The beginning to a story we know, unfolded a little bit differently.

A gift for @belabellissima for the @acotargiftexchange. You own my heart 💝

Read on AO3 ・Previous Chapter

Feyre was fourteen the first time she’d taken the life of another living creature.

A rabbit, not yet fully matured, a bit thin from winter. It had eyes like charcoal, round and darting with fear. Fear that Feyre had felt pumping through every squirming limb of its small body, desperate to cling to life regardless of how cruel it had been to the both of them.

Feyre had been prepared for the blood. She knew all living things bled. But the knife had slid through the rabbit’s throat with none of the resistance that should accompany the act of killing. It shouldn’t be easy—but it was. The rabbit went limp, and Feyre was left with the dreadful knowledge that she and the rabbit weren’t simply mortal. They were fragile.

The rabbit’s blood dribbled onto the snow in a stain that would linger despite the many storms that passed through the forest. Spring and summer and autumn and winter again, that first kill remained, the first bloom of hollowness in Feyre’s chest, weeping and spreading with every new winter like the ruby blood against the perfect white snow.

If only she could one day return to the girl she’d been before that first kill. The Feyre who had not killed the rabbit would be someone different, likely someone dead, but death sounded more ideal by the minute.

The Feyre who never killed that rabbit certainly would never have encountered this—a faerie beast the shape of a wolf and roughly the size of a horse, lodging its antlered head through the carnage of what used to be their front door. Its gummy lips pulled back to expose fangs the length of her thumb, and she knew they could cut through skin as easily as she had once slit that rabbit’s throat.

Narrowed jade green eyes swept across each of her family’s terror-stricken faces, and it was all Feyre could do not to stumble backwards from the sheer force of its roar as it bellowed, “MURDERERS!”

Feyre, iron poker braced in a closed fist, was all that stood between her family and the beast. She didn’t recall exactly how the cold, rusted metal had gotten into her hand. The first few moments of the beast’s arrival were a blur of fractured wood and screaming. All she knew was that she’d been consumed by the single-minded goal of putting a barrier between her family and the faerie.

Blistering cold cascaded into the room, biting into the metal at her palm. She wasn’t certain if the legend about the fae’s aversion to iron was even true. She should have asked Rhys—should have swallowed her pride and hired his protection, if only for the night.

She spared a glance over her shoulder. Her sisters were cowering against the wall of the hearth, their father now awake and crouched in front of them. He looked like he was preparing to become fodder to the beast’s claws if it gave Nesta and Elain a chance to run. Feyre swallowed down her hurt that no such protection, or care, was extended towards her. After all, she’d killed the faerie and inadvertently lured the beast here. It was only right that she bought her family time to escape.

Keeping the table between herself and the beast, Feyre ventured a step forward. Her eyes slid to the bow and quiver propped near the door, on the other side of the beast. She’d need to get around him to reach her ash arrow. And somehow buy herself time to fire it.

“MURDERERS!” The beast snarled again, hackles raised.

“P-please,” Feyre’s father babbled from behind. “Whatever we have done, we did so unknowingly—”

“It was me,” she interrupted, before either of her sisters could add to the hysterics and further invite the beast’s ire. She raised the iron poker defensively, slowly circling the table as she held the beast’s gaze.

Look at me. Focus on me. Forget about them.

If she could reach the door, she might be able to dart out, convince it to chase her and leave her family alone. Besides, it would be better to die in the woods. It would feel right. Repaying the blood she’d spilled in the forest again and again over the years, giving it back to the earth.

The beast’s cold eyes slid over her, startling jade against his golden fur and yellow teeth. “You lie,” he growled, head swiveling to narrow his gaze on her sobbing sisters. He sniffed, then curled his lips back to bear his sharp teeth. “To save them.”

“We didn’t kill anything!” Elain wept. “Please… please, spare us!”

Nesta hushed her sharply through her own sobbing, but pushed Elain farther behind her. Feyre’s chest caved in at the sight of it.

The beast’s hind legs lowered, muscles coiling as though preparing to launch himself right over Feyre and the kitchen table. Towards her sisters. No—no. She took another step forward, the glint of iron catching his attention as she brandished it higher.

“It was a wolf,” she said, desperate. “Grey coat. Yellow eyes. I killed him.”

He bellowed in response, and the entire cottage shook. Plates and cups rattled against one another. He pressed a giant paw onto the table, and it groaned beneath his weight. Feyre’s eyes darted to his long, vicious claws as they embedded into the wood, one by one.

“You.” He surveyed Feyre again, and she knew he was taking in her gaunt face, her thin arms. Thin, but still stronger than her frail sisters and injured father. She hoped he could notice that much through his anger. “How?”

It was less of a question and more of a demand.

She stared into those jade eyes and squared her shoulders. “An ash arrow.” She wouldn’t let her eyes flicker to the bow in the corner of her vision. “I didn’t—” I didn’t know, but that was a lie. She’d known what it was when she’d released her drawstring. “What payment can we offer in exchange?”

The beast pushed closer, snarling teeth drawing inches from her face. His hot breath curled over her cheeks. “The payment you must offer is the one demanded by the Treaty between our realms.”

Rhys hadn’t mentioned anything about the Treaty. She knew one existed, an agreement between humans and faeries drafted long ago. If recollection served, it had been written after the War that had liberated humans from faerie rule, resulting in the Wall that was raised to protect humankind. Feyre had vague memories of being read the Treaty during her childhood lessons, but could recall nothing about wolves.

But there was one childhood lesson Feyre had not forgotten: faeries couldn’t lie. They were all taught that an ancient magic bound the words of the fae, preventing them from uttering an untruth. Though faeries were experts at manipulating the truth with crafty, clever sentences, it meant there must be some validity to the beast’s claim, some clause in the Treaty that she couldn’t remember or which had simply been lost to time.

Dread sunk heavily in her chest, which was only worsened by the proximity of his teeth, inching so close to her face that Feyre could see the firelight gleaming against his canines. If those teeth lunged for her throat, would her family still try to fight?

She knew—with a sudden clarity—that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. She wouldn’t do the same for their father, whom Nesta had always resented with her entire, steely heart. Nor would she try to help Feyre, because Nesta had always known and hated that they were two sides of the same coin and that Feyre could fight her own battles. But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentle heart. Nesta would be dragged onto Death’s doorstep scratching and clawing for Elain. And if Feyre could buy them enough time, she could trust that Nesta would find a way to get Elain far, far away from here.

Though she already suspected the answer, Feyre didn’t need to feign the shake in her voice as she asked, “What is the payment the Treaty requires?”

His eyes didn’t leave her face, holding himself still even as she raised the poker towards his throat. “A life for a life. Any unprovoked attacks on faerie-kind by humans are to be paid only by a human life in exchange.”

Nesta and Elain quieted their weeping. How had Rhys neglected to mention that?

It won’t take long for its kind to come sniffing.

What name might I inquire to ensure you’re still alive in a week’s time?

Maybe he had. Not explicitly, but he warned her they’d be coming. That the choice she’d made in that forest would court death. Had he been generous with his coin to give her a fighting chance or because he planned to take it off her corpse once this faerie left Feyre and her family in ribbons?

“They had nothing to do with it. Kill me if the Treaty demands, but let them live.” Feyre wasn’t brave enough to look over her shoulder. If there was any trace of relief in their expressions, she’d prefer to die without seeing it. “But… not here.” Not where her family would have to wash away the blood and gore. “Do it outside.”

The faerie huffed a vicious laugh. He opened his mouth, but then his eyes lifted over her shoulder. And Feyre flinched as a bony hand closed over her arm.

“P-please, good sir—Feyre is my youngest. I beseech you to spare her. She is all… she is all…” Whatever her father meant to say died in his throat as the beast roared again, blowing damp heat into their faces.

“Silence,” the creature snapped.

To her father’s credit, he didn’t recoil from the bared teeth, though his eyes fixed on the trail of saliva connecting the beast’s upper teeth to his lower jaw. Her father swallowed, hard. “I can get gold—”

The beast sneered. “How much is your daughter’s life worth to you? Do you think it equates to a sum?”

Her father didn’t have a response to that. Feyre glanced over her shoulder, staring past his cowering frame to meet Nesta’s eyes. She still held Elain behind her, whose coloring now matched the snow drifting in from the open door. Nesta’s expression said she knew father’s answer, even if he didn’t say it.

It was to Nesta that Feyre said, “The venison should hold you for two weeks. Start on the fresh meat, then work your way through to the jerky—you know how to make it.”

“Feyre—” father breathed, but she recoiled from his touch, taking a step away from him and the beast. Toward the door.

She continued, “I left the money from the pelts on the dresser. It will last you for a time, if you’re careful. When spring comes, hunt in the groves just south of the big bend in Silverspring Creek—the big rabbits make their warrens there. Ask… ask Isaac Hale to show you how to make snares. I taught him last year.”

Nesta nodded, her face cold and unrelenting. There was no sorrow in her eyes, no gratitude, but for once there was no hatred, either. Just a shared understanding that they would both do whatever was necessary to ensure that Elain survived.

“Whatever you do,” Feyre added quietly, “Don’t marry Tomas Mandray. His father beats his wife, and none of his sons do anything to stop it.”

Her eldest sister stiffened but said nothing—both of them said absolutely nothing—as Feyre turned toward the open door, ignoring her father weakly calling after her. The beast eased off the dining table to follow, and any lingering hope she had of fighting died as he moved to the quiver beside the door, sniffed, and snapped the arrows in half with a violent swipe of his paw.

Feyre’s fingers had gone stiff around the iron poker. He didn’t demand she put it down, even as she walked into the night-shrouded winter. His lack of reaction told her all she needed about its effectiveness, but it was a creature comfort in her palm, like the ward markings and the protective bracelets around her sisters’ wrists.

Snow crunched underfoot as the beast led her into the woods. It was good, she thought, that he’d be doing it away from the house. By morning, the snow will have buried whatever was left of her that the creatures of the wood didn’t pick apart. Her family would never need to see the evidence. And one day, perhaps not very far in the future, Nesta’s cruel words would be true. There would be no one left to remember that she had ever existed.

She didn’t dare glance back at the cottage, terrified of what she’d find. If she turned her head, would it be worse to see her family standing outside to watch, or to learn that they were still huddled inside? It was better not to know as she kept her eyes trained toward the line of trees, every step too swift, too light, too soon carrying her to whatever torment and misery awaited.

“There’s another way,” the beast said as they entered the woods. Darkness beckoned beyond. “The Treaty states that Prythian must claim your life in some way, for the life you took from it. So as a representative of the immortal realm, I can either gut you here, or… you can cross the wall and live out the remainder of your days in Prythian.”

Feyre blinked. “What?”

He said slowly, “You can either die tonight, or offer your life to Prythian by living in it forever, forsaking the human realm.”

Feyre thought she’d be better off dying tonight than living in pure terror across the Wall, where she’d doubtlessly meet her end in a more gruesome way.

“I have lands,” the faerie said quietly—almost reluctantly. “I will grant you permission to live there.”

And it was a fool’s question, but she had already followed him into the woods, already consented to die. She couldn’t help blurting, “Why bother?”

“You have the nerve to question my generosity?”

Yes, she thought. Because it didn’t make sense. She had murdered his kind, without remorse or provocation. And she could not understand a life in Prythian, on his lands, that would treat her tolerably for what she had done.

But even if misery awaited her…

At least it meant she would survive, and maybe one day find the chance to escape. As long as the faeries couldn’t find her again, they couldn’t hold her to the Treaty. She opened her mouth, prepared to accept his mercy. But then the beast’s ears flickered, and a moment later, she heard a pair of boots crushing snow on the other side of the thicket. The beast snarled in warning, circling around Feyre almost protectively.

And then he appeared.

Her eyes strained to see the figure dressed in black, blending like ink into the shadows. Even as he stepped into the moonlight, the night clung to him, obscuring half his face. But that was all she needed to catch the tilt of his lips, the gleam in his violet eye. She couldn’t contain her gasp of recognition.

Rhys kept his attention trained on the beast. She didn’t register the crossbow in his hands until he raised it to his face, its iron bow a streak of silver against the mantle of darkness at his back.

“High Lord,” he crooned to the beast, inclining his head slightly.

The earth tilted beneath her. High Lord. Not just any beast, or representative of Prythian, as he had called himself, but a High Lord who ruled one of its seven territories. A creature of unprecedented power, capable of sundering their meager village with half a thought.

She did not know how Rhys knew, if there was some marking on the beast that gave it away. Perhaps the elf-like horns that protruded from its head, or a power radiating from him that she had not learned how to sense.

The beast’s claws curled into the snow, digging up clumps of dirt. His voice was laced with the promise of violence as he growled, “Rhysand.”

Her blood ran cold. This was not the first time Rhys had encountered this High Lord. The implications were mind-whirling—that Rhysand, a human mercenary, had once stared down a High Lord and lived to tell the tale. Had made such an impression that the beast would sneer his full name as if it was poisoned.

At least now she knew Rhys hadn’t been lying when he told her his name.

Rhysand smiled, heartbreaking in its beauty. His bolt remained trained at the beast’s head as his gaze slid to Feyre, eying her for any sign of injury. His eyes seemed to scream, play along, as he purred, “What a pretty prize you’ve captured. Intend to smuggle her across the wall, do you?”

“Leave, Rhys,” the beast commanded, positioning himself in front of Feyre the same way she had shielded her sisters in the cabin. Like in this situation, Rhys was the one threatening her safety. “This doesn’t concern you.”

The mercenary ignored him in favor of nodding at the iron poker in Feyre’s hand. “That won’t do you any good, I’m afraid. The only thing that can cause any real harm is ash.” Ash, like the wooden bolt loaded in his crossbow, if she had to guess. Her fingers tightened around the handle regardless. “If you were wise, you would be screaming and running while we’re distracted.”

He held her eyes, willing her to understand. Wind howled through the trees, whistling in her vacant mind. Run—she understood that much, though she doubted she’d make it far in the woods without her cape, which she left in the cottage, thinking she was walking to her death. Already, frosted air crept beneath her thin tunic, biting at her exposed skin. It didn’t help that she had a death grip on a piece of icy metal…

Oh.

“You have seconds, Rhys,” the beast warned.

Rhysand’s eyes gleamed with feral delight. “Is that so?”

The High Lord bristled at the arrogance, the utter irreverence of a human standing before one of the most powerful beings in existence. Feyre wished she could summon even an ounce of that courage as she watched the beast’s lithe body coil with wrath, signaling every mortal instinct in her body to flee. His lips curled back into a deadly snarl, one that promised the mercenary was moments away from greeting Death with that charming smile. Surely one ash bolt was not enough to subdue a High Lord of Prythian.

It didn’t matter. If Rhys wanted to invite his rage to give her time to run, he could be her guest. His taunting meant the High Lord was so focused on Rhysand, he didn’t bother to monitor his quarry. And Feyre was so thin, so small compared to the beast’s horse-like stature, that it likely hadn’t occurred to him to treat her as a threat. She wouldn’t let the oversight go to waste.

Her eyes met Rhysand’s, raising the poker to communicate her intentions. With the beast’s focus, the mercenary didn’t dare nod. But she could see the understanding that crossed his expression. They might only be delaying the inevitable, but at least they could give each other a fighting chance.

Feyre wrapped both hands around the poker, ignoring how her body trembled as she raised it over her shoulder—the way those debtors had done all those years ago, when she’d watched them cripple her father with a similar weapon. Air whipped against the iron as she brought it down, and the sound gave the beast enough warning that he turned, allowing her to strike him across his face.

Just as Rhysand had warned, the iron had no effect—besides redirecting the High Lord’s anger towards her. The reverberation of the strike sent her stumbling backward, but not fast enough to avoid the slash of his unforgiving paw. Sharp nails collided with her shoulder, and her body flew back from the sheer force. Feyre thought she might have been briefly airborne before she landed, hard, and skidded several feet in an eruption of snow.

Pain seared through the entire left side of her body, as if it had been plunged in flame, and she struggled to regain the breath that had been knocked from her lungs. She was too disoriented to see what happened, but she knew Rhys must have taken advantage of the beast’s momentary distraction, because she heard the distant snap of the crossbow firing, the resulting roar.

Then, a pair of sturdy hands grasped Feyre from under the arms, pulling her upright. “You’re okay,” Rhys breathed, despite how she hissed at the subtle movement. She knew she was bleeding, and she wasn’t yet brave enough to glance at her mauled skin to gauge just how lethal her injury was. “You did good.”

Feyre tried to peer behind him, searching for the beast. Was he dead? A High Lord taken out by just one measly ash bolt?

“We have to run,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

Given that she could hardly stand on her own, her chances of outrunning a High Lord weren’t very promising. But before she could protest, or plead for him not to leave her behind, Rhysand was scooping an arm beneath her knees and lifting her to his chest as if she weighed nothing at all. She supposed she couldn’t be much heavier than the equipment a mercenary usually carried.

“Just hold on,” he said.

Then the world became a blur of darkness. Maybe it was the blood loss going to her head, but she swore the world warped around them as he ran. Snow and shadow swirled together, roaring past. The forest fell away, and only Rhys remained, gripping her tightly as she clung to him. Like she very well might fall through the earth if he let go.

Eventually, the darkness stopped churning, and Rhys slowed to a stop in front of a stone guardhouse. It was attached to a towering wall that rose in either direction, so high that she had to crane her neck to spy the spikes jutting from its top.

“Where are we?”

Rhysand nodded to the twelve guards standing at the gate, as if he knew them. They were all armed, their faces hidden beneath thick helmets. Their bodies were equally covered in plated armor, right down to their boots. At Rhysand’s approach, the gates they were protecting split open, revealing a sprawling darkness in every direction. Farmland, Feyre realized. Fields and pastures as far as she could see, protected within the safety of the high walls. And somewhere beyond, visible in the night only by the warmth glowing through its slit windows, was a large stone fortress.

“I told you I’ve been employed by a local lord,” Rhys murmured, walking down the long, frozen road towards the keep in the distance. “I knew the fae would come back for you. So after meeting you in the market, I spoke with him, and Lord Nolan decided to grant your family sanctuary.”

Lord Nolan… A familiar name, perhaps one that graced the social circles her family used to run in, before they’d lost their fortune. She would be wary of the unusual generosity another time. For now—

“My family,” she whispered, clutching his shirt into a fist. “Rhys—my family! We have to go back.”

Rhys met her eyes, and the look he gave her was so disarming that Feyre smoothed her palm over his chest. His sternum rose and fell against her fingers, steady despite the running. And if she concentrated, she could feel his heart thrumming beneath his skin, not nearly as erratic as her own.

“They’re already here,” he soothed.

Her brows drew together, and she shook her head, refusing to be lied to, manipulated—

He chuckled at her expression. “You think I came alone? I’m flattered you think I’m so capable. There was a group of us. We came to your cottage first, found your family trembling in the wreckage. Then we saw the tracks leading into the woods. The others assumed you were dead and didn’t want to risk the men to confirm it.”

“You came after me by yourself?”

Flakes of drifting snow landed on his hair, melting before she could marvel at the fragile beauty of it. But his smile, quiet with admiration—that stayed long enough to tempt her to cling to the waking world, even as darkness lurked in her periphery, promising relief from the pain.

“A little huntress like you? I knew you wouldn’t be dead.”

Feyre wasn’t sure why that made her eyes sting. No one else had been willing to come after her, not even her family. But this stranger she’d met in the marketplace, this lunatic… She bit her lip, knowing the blood loss must truly be getting to her as she sniffed, grateful she could blame her runny nose on the cold.

“Feyre,” she whispered. “My name’s Feyre.”

The mercenary paused in his step. He looked down at her, lips parting open. Up close, she thought the moonlight softened his eyes, its reflection a glimmer of starlight against the roiling violet sky.

“Pretty name,” he said, softer than she’d heard his voice before. “It suits you.”

Pretty. He was starting to make a habit of calling her that. She was too exhausted for the shyness to creep in, and any blood that might have rushed to her cheeks was too busy spilling from her arm and shoulder. She only sighed, resting her head against his chest. His body was hard and warm, her only comfort against the pressing cold.

“Speaking of names,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as she breathed in the scent of rain and salt and citrus. “How did the beast know yours?”

Rhysand began moving again. “You could say my job has made me well known in Prythian.”

Feyre let herself sag into his hold. She hadn’t realized how heavy her body had become until she stopped trying to lift it. And now that she’d shut her eyes, the simple act of prying them open was exhausting. With an exerting amount of effort, she managed to get them half-lidded, peering at him as she asked dryly, “Renown for saving maidens?”

“Well, all those stories about handsome, roguish heroes needed to be inspired by someone, hmm?”

She must have closed her eyes again, must have dozed, because the next time she peered between her lashes, she watched Rhys lower her onto a bed, golden sconces flickering behind his head. His knuckles skimmed a trail of heat over her cheekbone, and it was too much effort to resist the urge to lean into his touch.

“Sleep, Feyre,” he said, the velvet of his voice lapping over her, a gentle tide coaxing her back into that deep, warm abyss. A comfortable weight settled over her, accompanied by the smell of citrus and the sea, beaconing her down, down, down. She followed without resistance, trusting his honey-laced words as he promised, “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

#We Bleed the Same #Feysand #Feysand fic #Feysand fanfic #Feysand fanfiction #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar gift exchange

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captain-lessship · 6 months

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Frozen Over Pt. 5

Content Warning: Insinuation of sex, bruises, alcohol, hallucinogenic cigarettes, partying like how fiction makes college parties seem.

A/n: Tell me why there’s a twinge chemistry between Haymitch and Reader? I fr didn’t have to do that and why did I do that??

You woke up hours later, full moon lighting up your room. All of the house was peaceful. No one was due back til late that evening. You looked to the clock, its face illuminated read a quarter past two, there was no reason for you to be awake. You rolled over, expecting him to be there: he wasn’t.

You felt the bed where he should’ve been, it was long cold.

You sat up, letting the covers fall from your chest. “Finnick?” You called out into the room. Wrapping yourself in the blanket to cover you, you walked to your adjoining bathroom, you knocked on the door. There was no answer. You opened it anyway, there was no one.

You looked at yourself in the huge mirrored wall. Faint bruises were blooming on your neck. You let the blanket drop slightly, holding it at your hips where hand prints also blossomed. He painted you with acts love but yet he was gone.

You couldn’t help but force out a laugh: He really took you for a loop this go around. That son of a bitch.

Despite the mild anger, you felt your heart aching. He could’ve stayed. He wasn’t due to leave til the afternoon, your grandfather was busy with getting everything set up and your sister had gone back to your mothers for a visit.

It was just you and him in this house.

With great shame, you picked your clothes off the floor and put them back on also dressing your self in your robe for comfort. You then exited your room, moonlight following down the hall way.

You walked yourself to the window sill, a lump coming to your throat. He didn’t love you. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry.

You had carved out your heart and served it to him. He knew he was your first love and he lied.

Rage filled you as you turned and ran back to your room, flinging the door open and marching to your closet. You walked back into it and pushed aside several hangers of clothes.

You yanked the painting of him from the wall and ran out of the room with it. You went into the fireplace that your family lit the fire during a Hunger Games and put it out after it was over.

You took one last look at the painting. Anger took hold of you as you took hold of a fire poker from the rack and stabbed it through the canvas, directly into the painted Finnick’s heart.

You then snapped the wood framing and threw the entire thing into the fireplace. As you watched it burn, you could almost imagine him in the flames, a small figure of him appeared in the flames and you watched him intently, he seemed to be contorting with pain which brought little solace for your own agony.

Dying. Burning. Suffering.

Snow noticed a difference in you the second he laid eyes on you. You seemed colder, not much boyish charm or affection came from you. He smiled at this revelation. Yet a part of him kinda hurt for you, he cared about you deep down in his heart. Snow was not oblivious to the rage and sadness that comes from a lost love. It hurt to see you lounge about as if the life was drained from you. All of what made you your own self was slipping:

You were becoming a spiteful creature and he knew it. He didn’t hate it.

Every time someone mentioned the games, you got a highly irritated look on your face.

Had people seen your face during the Cesar Flickerman interview, they would have half expected the screen to spontaneously combust. You abruptly stood up, tempted to leave the room but something stopped you.

His words.

You turned back to the screen. Had you been just a twinge colder, frost would’ve weaved across the window panes you stood by.

With artic chill, You were stared into Finnick’s eyes. There was a sadness to them. Then you heard the words, he meant it but there was something else. Every other tributes words began to click.

They want out of the games.

You welled up with tears. What were you doing?

There was nothing you could do.

It all began to hit you. How helpless you were. How pointless it all was.

You had been nothing but a replacement for President Snow. You were nothing. How could you ever look Finnick in the eyes again? Would you ever look him in the eyes again?

You began to cry so hard that you started choking on your tears and you were grabbing at your chest, feeling as if your heart was shattering and your lungs were collapsing.

You were a pawn, not a knight.

Then it came to you like peace comes after war. You had to do something.

You walked in like you owned the place, knowing exactly who to find. You strode with confidence through the party hall, many people glancing at you, enjoying your new found energy. But god it was draining. Eventually you found him.

Haymitch Abernathy.

You sauntered over to him, “Mr. Abernathy, I need your help.”

He looked at you, sitting down the drink he was nursing. He wasn’t as drunk as the last few time you saw him.

“And what do I have the pleasure of helping you with?”

“I know vaguely of what you’re planning.” You sat down beside him and leaned to whisper in his ear. “Laugh like I told you a joke. Knowing that we are not supposed to really socialize with each other, we must assume we are being watched.”

He let out a hearty laugh and put his arm around you, moving to whisper in your ear, “What am I planning?”

You chuckled, he reached for his drink, you faced him, “You’re part of a rebellion. So is Finnick and I assume your tributes are too.”

He downed the drink and whispered to you, “I don’t kno-“

“Finnick.” you laughed out loud. You then narrowed your eyes and glared at him. “He mentioned it and I know him well. He wouldn’t mention something he had no interest in.”

Haymitch looked at you, trying to decide whether or not to trust you.

“If I didn’t agree with it,” you removed his arm from your shoulder and made a move to the unique cigarettes in the middle of the that tasted like different fruit flavors, “I would have told my grandfather already.”

As you lit a cigarette, you turned to a waiter who was walking by and took a glass from their tray, thanking them with a smile.

“I guess you would’ve.”

You drank a few sips from the glass straw before sitting it down, “You see, I was planning on not doing anything. Not one side or the other but then I realized that… this is wrong.” You took a deep inhale of the cigarette, the end glowing and sickly blue smoke floated from the end of it.

Haymitch nodded slowly, “Yeah, it is.” You grinned as the smoke seeped out of the corners of your mouth.

You slurped down the rest of the drink, a waiter already eyeing you for a refill. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“One that is in your alls favor.” You tapped off the ashes of the end of your cigarette, “You see, I have a level of influence. I can get you what ever they could want or need in the Arena. Under one condition.”

“Which is?”

You took another drag from the cigarette before turning to Haymitch, the smoke that came from your mouth outlined him. “No matter what, even if your little canaries from the coal mines die, Finnick Odair will make it out alive. Or…” you grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him to you, “I scorch your rebellious districts myself.”

“You are not nearly as scary as you think you are,” he took the cigarette from you and took a hit of it for himself, “Your threat would be worthless if you weren’t a Snow.”

You took it back from him, taking a drag from it, internally noting that you didn’t scare this man. Typically, there was a slight fear in people who associated with you but here this blonde from twelve was: not even a worried look on his face.

“I appreciate the tenacity. Finnick is planned to get out so settle down.” He moved your hand from his shirt. “We should probably laugh, waiter is coming.”

Both of you began to laugh, holding onto each other like old friends. When the waiter came by, you noticed the pitcher of the electric pink cocktail, “Could you leave that here?” You smiled widely at them as they nodded, sitting it down.

As the waiter left, Haymitch looked mildly concerned. “Stressed?”

“Exceptionally.” You poured the refill into your glass.

“May I ask why?”

You chuckled, “I just- They say a child not embraced by the village will set it on fire to feel warmth.” You stared at the ember on the end of your cigarette,

“What about a child who’s been embraced but there was not a single degree of warmth from it? Am I so cold I can’t feel warmth from it all?”

Haymitch reached for the pitcher and poured himself one, “Well, son. I guess many would call that child a traitor but at the end of the day, it’s still a child. I don’t think you’re intentionally cold, I think you were always said you were or that you should be. They made you a cold child.”

A while had passed, you and Haymitch were genuinely laughing. As you got drunker; your tie left, you unbottoned some of your now untucked shirt and your hair that was once neatly styled was disheveled. You decided to get up on the table, “Ladies and Gentlemen! I am so happy to see you all! And guess what? I am so fucking drunk! You’ll never see me like this again!”

Cheers erupted from them, or loud concern, you didn’t know which. Suddenly, the night was turning into a good time.

You danced around like fool, spinning around and attempting to hop like a ballerina; formal dancing was the one skill you did not possess. But dances your grandfather would not approve of were your forte. Hallucinogenic colorful smoke was your rhythmic ribbon; pink, green, yellow and blue wisps wrapped around you like the leading hands of your dance partners.

Under the lights, you took shots from glasses that were held in-between the bosoms of ladies, gentlemen poured liquor like syrups on you that you licked or let them lick off and other guests knocked open champagne bottles while you let it fall upon you like a child playing in rain.

You finally understood why the capital never slept. All you needed was the right party.

The fact you had to be hauled home by Haymitch was shameful. The only thing more shameful was the state your grandfather found you in.

#fanfic writing #fanfic #romance #x reader #male reader imagine #romantic relationships #male reader #snow!reader #snow #coriolanus snow #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #finnick odair x male reader #finnick x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games catching fire

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shywhumpauthor · 1 year

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Two Weeks of Whump—Day One

Poker // Shock Collar // Ashes

TWOW Masterlist

Cw: capture, torture, restraints, mentioned gagging/blindfolding, noncon partial/mostly nudity, noncon touching, collar, injuries, abuse, manhandling, dehumanization, degrading, some themes of noncon (not mentioned, potentially implied, up to interpretation)

“My god,” the sidekick chided, their chin jutting forwards as they looked down at the villain, a cruel grin twisted across their lips. “You really are nothing without your scary little mask and your weapons, huh?”

Below them, Villain cringed back, curling in on themself like that would do anything to deter Sidekick’s attention. They were alone in the room, in an Agency’s holding cell, bare except for a table bolted to the concrete floor against the far wall and the two metal folding chairs, one on either side. Just behind that table was a thick industrial door, closed and secured tightly with only a small window allowing sight inside. There were no cameras, no glass. Only a panel of fluorescent lights fixed to the center of the ceiling, starkly illuminating the splattered speckles of blood across the floor.

Their recoil only prompted another sharp laugh. Sidekick crouched down in a smooth motion, their fist lashing out to grab a handful of the villain’s hair, dragging them up from the floor. With their hands bound tightly behind their back, thick wire cables slitting against their wrists and their ankles bound in a similar manner, they couldn’t do anything more than flinch back.

“Shit, if only the city knew how goddamn pathetic you were beneath that suit,” Sidekick shook their head, amusement flickering behind their cold eyes as they looked Villain over. Their uniform had been stripped from them, ripped away from their struggling limbs until they were all but naked, only left with their underwear. They were completely exposed, every bruise and scrape and scar from dozens of past fights with the heroes on clear display. An angry bruise bloomed across their abdomen from where Sidekick’s fist had landed numerous blows, even after they had been subdued and restrained on the field.

“I mean, you’re nothing! Seriously,” Sidekick’s other hand raised to grab Villain by the jaw, tugging their head to the side so Sidekick could examine their array of injuries. “Where’s all that confidence, all that fight you had?”

Sidekick’s thumb dug hard against a bruise along Villain’s cheekbone, the defeating blow Villain had suffered during the battle, which had stunned them long enough for Sidekick to take the advantage. Villain hissed, a breath of air sucked through their teeth as pain pulsed from the injury. Sidekick smirked.

“Fuck, I can’t wait until Hero gets back. They said that they wanted to be the one to finally beat you, but you snooze you lose.” Sidekick’s hand dragged down to Villain’s chin, the pad of their thumb pulling at their split bottom lip. “I don’t think they’ll mind too much though, once they see you like this.”

Villain tried to tug their face away from the sidekick once more, but Sidekick gave their hair a sharp wrench, nails digging into their jaw.

“They’re off on a big mission right now, you know? They said your pathetic little attempts weren’t worth their time today. So they sent me. And boy aren’t you glad they did.” Sidekick’s hand was moving again, dragging down below their chin, sliding to rest over their neck. They could feel Villain’s pulse beating against their fingertips, quickening as Sidekick let their thumb press lightly against Villain’s throat.

“Ssh- st’p,” Villain croaked out, a hot tear trickling down from the corner of their eye. Their protest only seemed to further encourage Hero’s apprentice.

“Oh Villain,” they clicked their tongue, giving the other a wolffish grin before they shoved the criminal back to the ground, swinging their leg to straddle Villain’s hips. Their hand remained against Villain’s neck, pinning them against the concrete. “Poor, stupid Villain.” Villain let out a small gasp as Sidekick’s grip tightened, hindering their breath.

“Haven’t you realized? You’re powerless. There is nothing you can do. No one to help you.”

Sidekick brought their other hand to Villain’s face, roughly patting their cheek.

“Poor, stupid, sad, dumb little Villain,” they laughed, resting their hand in place as Villain wheezed a breath, trying to twist their head to the side. “It’s almost disappointing. I was hoping for more from the big bad Villain.”

“But, that doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun. How nice would it be if we put together a little surprise for Hero? Think of how thrilled they would be if the came back and you were completely and hopelessly broken. Not that you’re that far from there now,” Sidekick frowned, letting their hand skip from Villain’s cheek to their chest, flicking their collarbone before moving to press flat against their sternum, pushing down against the bare skin and forcing the air from Villain’s lungs. Their hand felt awful against bare skin, cold as ice and rough nails biting flesh. With the hand against their neck, the exhale was turned into a cough, one that wouldn’t allow them to draw the breath back in.

“I know just the thing,” Sidekick suddenly smiled, letting go of Villain and standing up, legs still firmly planted to either side of the criminal’s waist. “Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone,” they cackled, raising their foot and stomping down hard on Villain’s abdomen as they stepped over them.

The criminal heaved, breaking down as coughs scraped against the inside of their raw throat. They gasped, barely managing to roll onto their side as Sidekick all but skipped across the room, slipping out the door.

It took Villain a minute to collect themself, letting their temple rest against the cold floor. It felt nice against their flushed face, soothing a fraction of the headache that built behind their skull.

They couldn’t even start to process all of the emotions bubbling inside their chest. Terror spiked adrenaline through their veins, limbs twitching against their restraints. Anticipation like ice crept up their fingertips, slowly turning their hands numb—though that might have also been from the cords cutting off their circulation. Pain and anger hammered behind their eyes, tears slipping and falling down their nose to the ground. Resentment bubbled in their stomach, along with a faint prickle of rejection. Hero had been their only hope, when they had been gagged, blindfolded, and thrown into the back of an Agency van. Unlike their twisted, sadistic sidekick, Hero was good. Moral. With them, Villain would be facing prison, which seemed almost wishful compared to being trapped here, alone with sidekick. Hero wouldn’t have let this happen.

Villain flinched as the door slammed open, steel bouncing off the tiled wall as Sidekick strutted back in, kicking it closed behind them. The criminal raised their gaze, eyes red with tears, swollen with bruises and exhaustion, sniffling as they blinked to try and make out Sidekick’s form.

“We’ve only ever used these on the big supervillains, the ones with powers and whatever,” Sidekick began, stepping closer. They held something in their hand, a ring of sorts. The closer they got, the cleared Villain could make it out, until Sidekick pushed the criminal over with their foot, knocking them onto their back once more. “It’s really cool, actually. It gives them a nice little shock anytime they’re out of control, and it restricts their powers.”

Sidekick dropped down once again, their knee digging against Villain’s stomach as they settled on top of the other. They dangled the collar close to Villain’s face, letting them take in every small detail. The leather band was thick and dark, heavy with smooth sides. The silver buckle was bulky and undone, the two loose ends held in Sidekick’s fist to keep its curve. Attached to the back was a matching silver box, reflective in the light. It was fixed firmly to the leather with screws that went through the band and clips that hooked over either side. Along the inside from where the box protruded there were two dulled prongs, sticking out maybe three quarters of an inch.

“I can adjust the intensity right from the remote, duration, all that fun stuff,” Sidekick rambled, sitting back their weight as they dug a hand into their pants pocket, pulling out the aforementioned remote and waving it in Villain’s face. “It also has an automatic function, so try not to scream too much, m’kay? Loud noises tend to set it off.”

Sidekick dropped the remote to the side, not far out of reach.

“Now come on, lift up your head. If you behave, I’ll go easy on you,” they hummed, not giving Villain a chance to follow the order on their own will before they grabbed a fistful of the criminal’s hair, tugging them to an awkward half-raised position, trapped against Sidekick’s body. “Maybeee.”

Upon realizing the impracticality of the position, Sidekick dropped them once more, rolling to the side and shoving the criminal over to their stomach. There was nothing but cruel force behind their touch as they wound their fist into Villain’s hair, dragging them to their knees. Their breath caught in a sharp hiss, pain sparking along their scalp, and Sidekick just grinned.

“Better get used to this now, mutt,” Sidekick jerked them back, grip rough and forceful as they wrapped the collar around Villain’s throat, the prongs digging deep into their windpipe, making them gag on their own breath. “You’re gonna be spending a lot of time on your knees from now on.”

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@promptsforyourwhumpfic

Should I make a tag list for this challenge? I don’t think the other ones are going to be as long as this, but I think this makes for a strong start.

I actually kinda like this, a lot. I wouldn’t be opposed to a continuation if anyone’s interested

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