#DO YOU GUYS KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO DRAW GLASSES ON A WOLF???? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrs-gucci · 3 years ago

Note

There seems to be a darker, more violent take on Clyde floating around right now and I LOVE it!! I’m working on one for him too!

Since you say open for darker requests, I’d love to hear your take on a more violent Clyde! He could be saving you from a stalker. Clyde can show him what a real bad ass can do and then show you how well he can treat you too lol! He could be protecting you from someone at the bar. He could be showing you his special forces skills after some gets aggressive. You name it lol!

Secrets of the Blood Moon {werewolf!Clyde x Reader darkfic}

author's notes: helloooo! my friend shannon, thank you for this request!! I am also a fan of the darker take on Clyde and I hope I did it some justice!! I worked really, really hard on this one, and I’m super pleased with how it turned out.

**PLEASE HEED THE DARKFIC WARNING!! THIS FIC INVOLVES SEVERAL VERY HEAVY AND VERY DARK THEMES, SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!**

warnings: angst. smut. hurt/comfort. a minor car crash. mentions of alcohol consumption. rut. knotting. breeding kink. werewolf stuff. attempted mating bite. murder coverup. clyde feels guilty.

tw's: noncon touching (not by clyde). involuntary attempted sexual assault (werewolf clyde pins her down & dry humps w/o consent, but human clyde doesn’t know he did it nor would ever intend to do it). blood & gore. graphic depictions of murder and violence. human-hunting. depictions of human body consumption (is it cannibalism if he’s technically a wolf when it happens?). werewolf sex.

**this is a work of FICTION. the author does not attempt to condone the actions/behaviors of the characters written.**

word count: 5.9k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

Last Night

Stepping out of your car, you’re instantly suffocated by the thick humidity of the West Virginia evening. The sun paints cotton candy across the sky as it sets behind the trees on the mountainous horizon, the almost full moon hot on its tail, slowly rising on the other side of the sky.

The blood moon comes tomorrow, and from the old folk tales your mom used to tell about the deep West Virginia countryside, some weird shit goes down under the crimson moon. You never really believed her. What all could happen in lil ol’ Boone County, anyway?

The moment you step into the refreshing, air-conditioned Duck Tape, you’re immediately greeted by a loud call of your name.

“Y/N!” You smile and wave at Jimmy.

Clyde looks up and smiles at you as you come and sit down at the bar next to Jimmy. He serves the customer before coming over to talk with you and the eldest Logan.

You lean over the bar to give him a kiss, earning a couple hoots and hollers from the bar crowd, which made you both laugh as you pull away.

“How was work, buttercup?” He asks, wiping off some glasses. “Weren’t ya doin’ that one presentation today? How’d that go?”

You’re always so flattered that Clyde actually pays attention when you talk about work stuff. Most guys just smile and nod, but Clyde actually listens and remembers. He even remembered your one year anniversary at the company you currently work for, sending you takeout from your favorite place along with some flowers.

“Yeah, it was alright. Boring as hell, but the partners seemed pleased, so that’s all I can really ask for at this point.”

Both he a Jimmy give a small chuckle, nodding before Clyde mixes your favorite drink, setting it down in front of you a few minutes later. You thank him, and the three-way conversation continues before the bar door swings open.

Something about the man’s entrance makes you look over, already smelling trouble as he steps over the threshold. His eyes are glued on you, a smug smirk etched on his expression.

A hush falls over the patrons for a few seconds, all eyes on the leather-clad man. Clyde’s hackles are immediately up, body tense as the mystery man saunters over, plopping himself down onto the vacant stool next to yours.

Things on the floor continue as normal, the chatter picking back up, and you subtly scoot a little closer to Jimmy.

“Bartender?” A thick New York accent calls.

Clyde walks over, plastering a fake smile on his face, seemingly the epitome of southern hospitality.

“What can I getcha, sir?”

The man gives Clyde a once-over and snickers. “No, seriously, where’s the bartender? I’d like a drink.”

Your grip clenches around your glass. You absolutely hated it when people were dicks about Clyde’s hand.

“Seriously, I am the bartender.” He states firmly. “So, what can I get ya?”

His tone sends a chill down your spine. Normally, Clyde just shuts down whenever someone starts poking fun at his missing hand, but tonight, there was a certain air of frustration, of dominance.

You just thought he’d finally cracked, after years of dealing with this bullshit. But as you would learn, there was an alternate explanation for his sudden outwardly alpha-like behavior.

The guy seems to back off a little bit, just asking for a cold Coors straight from the bottle. You startle a bit when Clyde slams the bottle down on the counter in front of him, and you could swear his eyes turn a light grey for a second before returning to the dark brown pools you’re familiar with.

Everything’s quiet for a little while, the man sipping his beer in silence, before he turns to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, simply allowing his eyes to drink in your seated figure.

“What’s your name, baby girl?” The beer smell of his breath is strong as he leans in. “You lookin’ for someone to keep you company tonight?”

You roll your eyes. Douchebag. “Nope. I’m perfectly content just sitting here, thanks.”

Clyde’s watching the interaction like a hawk as he makes someone’s drink. It’s a wonder he can concentrate on the drink when his thoughts and eyes are glued to you.

His slimy hand touches down on your bare thigh, just above your knee, and you jump in your seat. He grins, trailing it up as he leans in even closer.

“Are you sure? I could show you a real good time...”

Glass shatters from behind the bar and then, Clyde’s grabbing the man by his biker jacket, tossing him onto the floor with an almost superhuman strength. You stand up, appalled, as the man on the hardwood scrambles to get up.

An icy grey begins to frost over his sweet chocolate irises as Clyde clenches his fists by his side.

“Don’t ya dare touch ma girl, ye pervert.” He growls, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Someone ought to show ya what respect looks like.”

The bar has fallen pin-drop silent, all sets of eyes focused in on the developing scene. He cocks his fist above his head, snarling as he readies to pounce on the helpless man.

It’s then that Jimmy hops up and puts himself between the two men, holding his hands up in front of Clyde. “Don’t do this t’ yerself. Ye know what’ll happen if ya do.”

This seems to bring him back, the warmness flooding back to his irises. His shoulders slump as he huffs softly, pushing past his older brother angrily, storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Shakily, the man stands and puts a twenty down on the table before running out of the bar, bell jingling against the wooden door as it eases shut after him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rare blood moon hangs in its place against the pitch black sky as you pull up to the Logan’s trailer home. There aren’t any stars in the clear night’s sky, despite it being the dead of summer, but you don’t think much of it as you approach the shadowed porch.

Moths flutter around the dimly flickering porch light while you peek through the windows, which were as black as the night. Not a single light was on.

Odd. The Pontiac’s parked in its normal spot outside.

You flip the threadbare ‘welcome’ mat up, revealing the rusting gold key beneath. Sticking it in the lock, you turn until the door pops open, an eerie creak accompanying it.

"Clyde?” You say, looking around the trailer’s living room as you flip the living room lights on.

You call for him again. Maybe he’s just taking a nap. “Clyde?”

Still no response.

Now, you’re getting worried. There’s no note, nothing noticeably out of place; in fact, it’s almost all too still. It gives you the creeps, how still and quiet it is in here.

The scent of suspicion thickens the air around you, and you just get the most awful feeling in your gut that something bad is happening or is about to happen.

Adrenaline begins to pump through your veins as you quickly walk around, peeking in the kitchen, and in the spare room. The air seems to thicken again the closer to draw to Clyde’s room, and you push the door open with bated breath.

You’re absolutely mortified at the sight before you.

Shreds of carpet, fabric, and mattress stuffing is scattered the floor, and giant claw marks have torn straight through the drywall. The blankets and comforter, at least the remains of them, are disheveled where they lay across the clawed-up mattress.

His vanity mirror is almost fully shattered, and the products that once sat atop are now tossed across the floor. The chilly summer’s night air flutters the curtains on the opened window above the bed.

The first thought that comes to mind is a bear attack of some kind. Now fully freaking out, you’re wondering how in the world a bear got into the trailer, and why it only seemed to attack Clyde’s room. You scramble to grab your phone from your purse with shaky hands, dialing Jimmy’s number in haste.

Was this one of the blood moon enigmas mom warned about? No, no, bear attacks are pretty common around here.

It takes a few rings before he picks up.

“Y/N?” He sounds out of breath, exhausted.

“Jimmy, hey. Do you know where Clyde is? I’m at the trailer, and--”

Something that sounds like a growl rips through the speaker, followed by a woman’s voice.

“Is everything oka--”

“Mellie, I can’t help ya right now! I’ll be there in a second!” He yells in the background. “Sorry Y/N, you were sayin’ somethin’?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just at the trailer, and I peeked into Clyde’s room...”

“Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?” His voice is rushed.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, no, but--”

The growl comes again, louder this time, and it almost sounds like it’s...a voice. A very deep and very animalistic one, but a voice nonetheless. And it was saying something, although you couldn’t really hear clearly enough.

“Jimmy, do you know where Clyde is?” You’re getting a little impatient.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Clyde, he’s okay, he’s, uhh, here with us.”

“Oh, uh, o-okay.”

But tonight was supposed to be your special night together.

“Y/N? Listen real close, now. I need ya to get outta the trailer and go home, right now. Don’t linger, and refrain from touchin’ anything in the trailer. Lock all yer doors n’ close all the windows when ya get back home, okay? ‘N don’t go outside for the rest’a the night.”

Okay, now you’re starting to get fearful. “What--”

“Jimmy!” Mellie’s panicked voice comes through the phone speaker again, this time a bit clearer. He curses under his breath.

Her cries clearly rattled the eldest Logan, and he quickly tells you to just do what he said and then hangs up in a frantic state.

You’re frozen for a moment, but then you quickly scurry outside to your car, frantically looking around as you scramble to fit the key in the driver’s side door. By some miracle, you hold your hand steady enough to unlock it, quickly shutting the door and turning on the engine, peeling out of there like a madwoman.

Suddenly, as you go to pull out of the driveway, a strange apparition appears at the edge of the wood across the street. You squint, trying to figure out what the hell it is. Whatever it is, though, it’s panting heavily and looks...inhuman.

It’s standing on two legs, but its large, probably almost seven feet tall if you had to guess, and must’ve had some type of black fur or skin since it almost blends in with the darkened forest.

The reddish light of the moon is the only light that reflects upon this mystery creature, before it seems to notice your car idling in the driveway. The crisp light grey pupils seemingly glimpse into your soul as the creature looks upon you.

Clearly, now, you can decipher what exactly it is, although you’re in utter shock and skeptical to think it real: A werewolf.

You quickly put the car in reverse, slamming down on the gas, flying backwards for a few seconds before colliding with the trailer’s tin wall. Your head slams forward onto the steering wheel, trickles of blood dribble down your forehead and nose as your consciousness is lost.

When you come to, only a few minutes later, you groan as the welt forms on your forehead. You look around, groggily, seeing that your car is in drive but isn’t moving. Surely when you’d passed out, your foot would’ve come off the brake and you would’ve rolled away...

Stepping out carefully, you find that some bricks have been placed in front of all four tires, effectively keeping the car at a dead standstill.

Who in the world did this?

Then, you turn your head and walk slowly around to the front of your car, seeing the remnants of sharp teeth marks on your bumper. You’re frozen, a lump slowly crawling up your throat as the realization hits.

A low growl comes from behind you, and your worst fears have suddenly been realized. You slowly, carefully spin around on your heels, afraid that one wrong move may make you tonight’s surprise entree.

Your eyes meet the soul-piercing grey’s of the werewolf, the one you’d seen at the edge of the forest minutes earlier. The one that seemingly saved your life, but...how did a werewolf know what to do?

As you continue to gaze at the large being before you, you’re struck with a sense of familiarity, almost as if you’d met them before. Strange, because you can’t recall ever encountering a werewolf. Hell, you’ve never even seen a wolf before, other than in pictures. Surely you’d remember coming into contact with a seemingly impossible biological phenomenon such as this one.

His presence is scarily comforting, and you find yourself briefly wondering what it’d feel like to be enveloped in his woolen arms. Well, arm, technically speaking. This particular werewolf seems to be missing the lower half of his left paw.

Then, your mind connects the dots, and you’re shocked to your very core. It wasn’t a bear that attacked Clyde’s room, it was Clyde. This werewolf that’s standing before you is Clyde. That’s why Jimmy and Mellie sounded so frantic and breathless on the phone; they must’ve been trying to keep him contained.

But why? Werewolves usually recognize the important people in their human lives...right? That’s why he’d saved you from rolling off...

Your headlights’ reflection was speared by your figure, creating a shadow that covered most of Clyde’s form, except for the very tips of his paws, which had enormous claws emerging from beneath the thick layer of fur.

“Clyde?” You whisper, and he seems to soften for a moment, falling down on all threes.

Just as you swallow the lump in your throat and begin to cautiously approach the creature, hand outstretched to allow him to smell you, his eyes suddenly darken, the once snowy grey now more like the color of storm clouds.

He snarls, white teeth shining in the moon’s moody crimson-tinted reflection, and you immediately backtrack. Oh god, I’m fucked.

Your bottom collides with the front of your car, the engine thrumming lowly as it idles happily, grille warm from the machine inside. The headlights are now fully shining on the creature, fur shining under the bright lights as he approaches, lines of drool strung between his sharp fangs.

“C-Clyde, please,” You plead with the creature. “It’s m-me, Y/N, your g-girlfriend. You know m-me, you don’t w-wanna do t-this...”

It doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade him, the animal within now overshadowing the kind, gentle man you know and love. No, this creature is something else. This isn’t your Clyde.

The wolf stops short of the hood, where you’ve crawled up onto and are laying back, raising his nose up in the air, sniffing. You’re perplexed by this action, but it becomes evident when his ear prick and he says, in that same deep, animalistic voice that was in the background of your call with Jimmy,

“Mate.”

And then, he’s pouncing, trapping your hands above your head with his one arm while his legs scramble to find a good grip on the metallic surface of the car, hips rutting frantically.

His muzzle dips down, wet nose running along your jawline and neck, teeth scraping dangerously against your thin skin. He quickly settles on a spot behind your ear, growling as his pink tongue darts out to begin lapping at the spot.

You’re completely still, both physically restrained and unable to bring yourself to even try to move as the creature drags his fangs across the skin behind your ear. Your car is rocking back and forth with his hips’ violent movements, dragging his enormous cock against your lower stomach.

He pants into your ear, breath hot as he prepares to sink his sharp fangs into your tender skin, marking you as his forever...

“CLYDE!”

Jimmy’s voice pierces through the still of the night. Crickets stop chirping for a moment, and Clyde’s body stills. His head whips around, snarling at his brother.

Mellie’s right behind him, and she peers around him, trying to look at you. “Y/N, are ya alright?”

“YYYeah,” You manage, somehow. “I-I’m o-okay.”

Clyde hops down, all three feet planted on the ground, hackles up as Jimmy takes a step forward. “Mate.”

“She ain’t yer mate.” Jimmy says, calmly. He points to you. “Look at whatcha done to ‘er, Clyde. Would a mate look like that, huh? Look at ‘er, Clyde, she’s all beat up and scared outta her damn mind.”

The wolf visibly stands down, slowly turning his head to look back at you, seeing the scratches on your wrists and the marks on your neck. He sees the bit of wetness on your shirt and shorts, from his slick.

He hangs his head and begins to cry, whimpering and whining as he sprints off, surprisingly agile and quick for a wolf with three paws, across the road and back into the woods.

His blood’s boiling, he’s angry that he couldn’t defend you against Jimmy, mad that his alpha instincts had failed him. Even as a werewolf, one of the most powerful beings in the forest, he was still weaker than and overshadowed by his showboat older brother.

Loud barks of anger rip through him as he masterfully maneuvers through the forest, weaving through the trees, dodging thorns, leaping over the fallen tree trunks.

The sky suddenly begins to empty down onto Earth, the cool summer night’s rain a welcomed refreshment on Clyde’s fur. He looks up at the blood moon, huffing softly as he silently curses the orb for bringing this condition to him each full moon, as he did every single moon before this, and will continue to do with every one after.

He reaches his cave a few minutes later, stopping dead in his tracks when he smells smoke coming from inside. He’s on high alert, now, as he moves to peek into the cavern.

There, he finds a lone man sitting by a very small fire, rubbing his hands together over the heat. He’s clad in head-to-toe tree camo with a shotgun laying just out of arms reach.

This man’s scent feels awfully familiar, Clyde thinks, but it takes him a minute to figure out why. And, when he does remember, Clyde is suddenly not so sympathetic for the unwanted visitor in his cave.

The wolf’s mind falls to a certain memory from last night at Duck Tape. This is the jackass that thought he could get away with feelin’ you up. The one that poked plenty ‘a fun at his missing hand.

Clyde’s still-hard cock presses up against his furry stomach in excitement, tongue licking over his razor-sharp fangs. He couldn’t protect or avenge you last night, again due to Jimmy, but maybe he can now.

Jimmy ain’t gonna get in my way this time ‘round.

He can’t just come running into the entrance, no, that allows him too much time to grab the gun. He thinks, and thinks, until he remembers the connecting cave that he’d recently found on the last full moon. He bets he can get in there and creep up behind the man, do a sneak attack.

He’s salivating in anticipation as he bounds down to the opposite side of the cave, paws padding lightly against the soft gravelly dirt floor, trotting along carefully.

The man is none the wiser to the wolf’s presence, and the hum of the loud rain certainly wasn’t hurting. A loud crack of thunder suddenly rips through the forest, vibrating the ground. Clyde freezes briefly as the young man curls up further, chin resting in the gap between his knees.

Predatory instincts pumping through his veins at an all-time high, he crouches down as he stalks closer and closer to the unsuspecting body by the small fire. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, now right behind the man, moving in slow motion so as to not alert his victim.

When the time is right, just as the next clap of thunder rumbles the rocks, Clyde pounces. He grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him out of the cave with an unprecedented swiftness. The fire is extinguished with the tussle, leaving the cave shrouded in darkness, the shotgun laid abandoned on the ground where he’d put it.

He struggles against the wolf’s grip, fabric ripping violently the further his body’s dragged along. Clyde throws him out onto the forest floor, pawing at the ground like a wild stallion as the disheveled man scrambles to his feet.

His hands are shaky as he holds them up in front of him, as if trying to calm the creature like a domesticated dog. “E-Easy, easy.”

If he could, Clyde would’ve rolled his eyes at the man’s pathetic attempt to talk down at him. He snarls, watching in amusement at the way he startles and stumbles back.

Clyde’s got the man backed against the trunk of an old oak within seconds, and he stands up on two legs, glaring at the much smaller figure. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s version of a devilish grin.

“Run.”

It seems like the man is caught in between being shocked that this wolf just spoke English and being chilled to the core by his word. He sputters for a moment, brain smoking as it churns on overdrive, before his legs carry him as quickly as they can down the mountainside.

The wolf casually trots along after him, in very little rush to catch him. He’s throbbing hard now, the excitement translating into pure arousal. Clyde knows these woods like the back of his hand; there’s no where for this man to hide from his inevitable fate as the wolf-man’s next meal.

His head continuously whips around, meeting the grayish-white orbs tucked behind a thick coat of jet black fur. In a frenzy, he tucks himself behind a large tree, catching his breath.

Twigs snap in seemingly all directions, his breath heavy as his eyes flicker all around the dark, damp wood, the only light coming from the crimson-tinted orb above. He reaches back and wraps his arms around the tree’s trunk, panicked.

A low growl rattles his eardrums and he looks to the side, seeing the black creature right at his side. Clyde’s head snaps to the side, looking directly at his victim.

Crying out in fear, the man leaps forward to make a run for it, but is quickly taken to the dirt by the wolfish creature. The man squirms and screams out for mercy, for God, and Clyde knows what he has to do now.

He quickly sinks his teeth into the back of the mans neck repeatedly, effectively severing the spinal cord, leaving the man completely limp and defenseless. A quick and effective manner of disabling a victim, he’s learned through hunting animals, but keeps him just alive enough to see what’s being done to him.

Clyde flips the limp form over, now on his back, and his eyes are wide as he watches the wolf above him, black fur now stained red around the mouth, stare down at him with a hungry gaze.

His mouth opens, probably to beg for his life, but it’s too late. Fangs sink through his shirt and into the flesh of his chest, just above where his rapidly beating heart lay.

The thump-thump rhythm slows, then stops, the life leaving his body. Sweet copper tang coats the wolf’s tongue as the body is drained of its remaining energy.

There is little feeling better than watching the life slowly and steadily drain from the eyes of a victim, and suddenly, Clyde’s throbbing arousal has reached an almost unmanageable point.

But, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to devour his freshly-caught prey, especially while it’s still warm. So he digs in immediately, carving further into the hole over the heart he’d already created, ripping out the vital organ.

He holds it triumphantly between his teeth for a moment before setting it aside. His craving is more for the meat, he’s never been much of a fan of organs, so he gets to work separating the good meat from the corpse.

Once he’s done, he lifts his nose in the air, howling loudly. He’s never been this hard before, he swears it, and there’s only one person that can satisfy this urge:

You.

For a wolf on three legs, he reaches your house in record time. He can already feel the wolf-ness fading steadily, the human beginning to peek through the cracks. But, his rut doesn’t give at all, and he bounds up the steps and scratches at your door.

You’re startled by the noise, already a gut feeling you know who it is. When you open the door, Clyde’s wolf figure is sitting politely on your doormat. Should you let him in?

He pushes past, whimpering as he does so, before you can make a decision. You shut the door slowly before turning around to face the creature. He seems a bit different than when you saw him earlier, seeming a bit more human.

You stand against the door, back pressed up against it, looking down at the wolf in your living room.

“Y/N.” He breathes, huskily, attempting to ignore the hardness pressing up against his wooly stomach. “N-Need you. Please.”

He’s ashamed as he stands up on his hind legs, wrapping a clawed hand around his oozing cock, jutting his hips out as if to show off for you. The alpha in him needs to show you how suitable of a mate he is, what strong pups he can give you.

“It hhhhurts, b-buttercup.”

The battle going on inside him, animal versus human, is painfully evident on his expression. Your hearts been ripped in half as you watch him struggle with himself, the human trying to overpower the animal, and the animal trying to fight off the human. He doesn’t even know what he did to you earlier.

“What do you need from me, Clyde? I’m here to help you, honey, I’ll do whatever you need.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but its quickly replaced by a look of what can only be described as pure, primal hunger.

“Floor. A-All fours.” The wolf-man manages, desperately humping his hand to offer some relief. “G-Get the lube, ffffuuuck, I mmuhhmight hurt ya without it.”

You rush to get the lube, placing the tube next to you as you pull your leggings down, exposing your bare cunt. Clyde watches with an eager anticipation as you spread yourself for him.

As soon as you’re into position, he practically falls over on top of you, hips rutting uncontrollably as he smoothes lube over his drooling cock and lines up with your entrance.

“B-Buttercup, I...I’m sssorry ‘bout what’s ggon’ happen. This ain’t me, ppuhpplease remember that, mmkay?”

You nod, tearing up at the pure agony in his voice. “I w-will, Clyde.”

His hips shove forward, a choked howl escaping his lips, balls tightening. You cry out, the burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his girthy length more prominent than usual.

Veins bulge out of his neck, jaw clenched as he begins moving, mercilessly plowing into you from behind. He plants his clawed hand next to yours, loud and desperate scratching noises accompanying the wet squelch of your joined torsos.

The carpet is shredded, hardwood floor scratched permanently by his feet as he humps you with a desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. This really wasn’t Clyde, but you soon realized that you exactly mind this side of Clyde, this primal instinct, this roughness. It was arousing, bittersweetly so.

When you look over your shoulder at the wooly mass moving behind you, your eyes widen. You didn’t notice the shiny substance from a distance, but now that he’s up close, you see that it coats his snout and has even dripped down onto his breast.

A gripping fear bubbles in your stomach. But then, you rationalize immediately, before you find yourself too deep down in this rabbit hole of worry. He probably just hunted a deer or a rabbit or something. He’s a fucking wolf, remember?

You almost sigh out loud in relief, but you keep it in, instead moaning along with each of his thrusts.

“D-Did ya like muhmmahhmm--ma w-wolf cock?” He asks.

You nod. “Y-Yeah, ohhh god, I liked it.”

“Gonna gguh-give ya real nice p-pups.” His muzzle rubs over the spot behind your ear, the same one that he’d been after earlier, smearing some of the crimson across your skin. He licks it with as much consistency as possible, considering the speed and intensity of his hips. “F-Fill ya u-up, knot ya gggood ‘n deep.”

You’re almost positive he’s talking pretty much nonsense at this point, his rut brain having completely taken over. You know you’re not gonna cum, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re doing this for him, after all.

“Oh g-god, I’m cummin’, I’m gonna--”

He pauses his hips, howling softly as he cums. But this time, something else begins to swell, and you cry out as it does so.

“M-Ma k-knot,” Clyde breathes in explanation. “Keeps it a-all inside y-ya.”

You nod, not really knowing what all he’s talking about but not really caring for an explanation right now.

“‘m gonna h-havta stay inside y-ya fer a lil while. S-Should be ‘b-bout 30 minutes or so.”

His tongue begins moving over your cheeks and neck, something that makes you smile, that helps you remember that your beloved boyfriend’s in there somewhere.

The half hour waiting period passes, and as much as you’ve loved snuggling with your boyfriend (who’s wolf counterpart is relatively cuddly, despite previous reservations), you’re happy to have him off you.

After wishing you a final goodbye, citing the need to ‘clean up his cave a bit’, he trotted back out the door and galloped like a madman (wolf?) back out into the shadowed wood, leaving you alone once more.

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It’s all over the news when you flip on the TV a couple days later. Hunter Found Slain in Boone County Woods, Bear Attack Suspected.

You have this awful, sick-to-your-stomach feeling that what happened the other night, when Clyde came to your house still in wolf form with a snout and chest covered in blood, had something to do with this.

When the picture of the victim came up on the screen, you audibly gasp, recognizing the face. It’s the guy that was feeling you up at a few nights ago at Duck Tape.

Oh god, no.

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Clyde’s panting as he rushes in and shuts it behind him. He looks pained, bottom lip trembling. “Have ya s-seen the ne--”

“...Police are still investigating the scene...foul play has not yet been ruled out...”

His entire demeanor falls, and the tears fill his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You stand up and rush over to him just as he collapses on the floor.

You’re freaking out, trying to confirm what it is you’re pretty sure you already know.

“C-Clyde, did you...?”

He looks up at you from where his head now rests in your lap. “I c-can’t quite remember, b-but I think...I think I m-might’ve.”

Sobs wrack through his body as he cries hoarsely. You’re in shock, somehow hearing the words makes the reality suddenly hit like a damn semi-truck. You run your hands through Clyde’s slightly matted mane, soothing him as best you can.

“Clyde, it’s okay, baby. It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah it i-is, though. I k-killed ‘im.”

You try to stay strong, for Clyde’s sake, but the tears are swelling in your eyes at an uncontrollably fast rate. “But you d-didn’t do it o-on purpose, h-honey.”

His face seems to drop even more when he sees that you’re about to cry. He sits up shakily, pulling you into a big ol’ bear hug.

“Oh, buttercup, oh god, ‘m sorry. I didn’t m-mean to drag y-ya into all ‘a t-this.”

You sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. It’s hard to believe that this man, this kind, gentle man, could’ve done something like this on purpose. Clyde would never hurt a fly.

From what he’s told you, which granted is very little, the line between werewolf and human for him is quite a blurry one. He seems to only be able to remember parts of what happened, and his subconscious is only there for part of the time.

Which means that he’s technically innocent, since he can’t remember nor could he control his canine impulses or instinct. As far as you’re concerned, werewolf Clyde and human Clyde are two different beings.

“I-If anyone ever f-found out ‘bout ma c-condition...”

You pull away and look up at him, holding his face in your hands. “Clyde, I-I’m not gonna turn y-you in.”

“What?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, like he’s surprised to hear your words. “Y-Yer not g-gon’...?”

Shaking your head, you swing your leg over his lap, hugging him once more while your face settles into the crook of his neck.

“No, of course not. I know you’re a good p-person, and like I said before, it’s n-not you. Your w-wolf side is not really you, Clyde, at least not entirely.”

Clyde looks down at you with an incredibly grateful expression, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts your head up with one of his meaty fingers, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is relatively short, just a showing of his gratitude, of his love for you. When he pulls away, you maintain eye contact.

“Okay, so most of the solid DNA evidence will have been washed away by the rain and tampered with by the elements over the past few days that the body’s been outside. Plus, they aren’t looking for wolf DNA, and even if they somehow knew, your wolf DNA wouldn’t lead to your human identity, at least I don’t think so...”

Hours and hours of watching countless true crime shows, movies, and documentaries are finally paying off.

“But, do you remember leaving anything, anything that could indicate foul play? Really search your memory.”

He puts his metaphorical thinking cap on, closing his eyes as he tries to recall anything of use from that night, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes swell with tears as they blink open and he shakes his head. “I can’t ‘member anythin’.”

“That’s okay, Clyde. They won’t find out, I promise, they won’t.” You kiss his neck. “For now, let’s just try to relax and we’ll keep an eye on the news. Will you come snuggle on the couch with me?”

Clyde smiles softly, nodding as you pull away and stand up, extending a hand to him. He takes it, standing up seconds later. As you walk into the living room, he says your name, causing you to turn around with a slightly perplexed expression.

“Thank ya.”

You smile brightly. “I love you, Clyde.”

“I love ya, too, darlin’.”

111 notes · View notes

javier-djarin · 4 years ago

Note

Congratulations on 1000 followers babes u absolutely deserve it!!

Could we get 1 & 38 from the prompt list w javier peña please xx

Look What I Found

A Javier Peña One Shot

Ship: Javi x Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,943 words

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Drugs, Mild Violence, Soft!Javi

Masterlist

Summary: Since Javi is working late, you decide to go out with some friends for the evening. Little did you know that it would lead you right to the job Javi was working.

A/N: This was so fun to write! It honestly almost had a very sad dramatic story as opposed to this fun and cute one! I hope you enjoy it, Anon!! Thank you for the support and love!!! Spanish translations are at the bottom, and please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

Prompt 1: “You really shouldn’t be here.” Prompt 48: “I’m not carrying you to bed.” *carries them to bed*

You were wearing your tightest dress and highest heels when your friends stopped by to pick you up. Javi told you he was working late that night, and your original plan was to stay in and read a book. But when your co-workers refused to take no for an answer, you decided to dress up that night and go out with them. They were taking you down to a club in downtown Bogotá, which made you a little nervous. At least you were in a group. He had told you to avoid certain areas of Bogotá, because occasionally, Pablo’s people would frequent clubs in the area looking for more than just a quick deal. You knew if he found out where you were going, he’d be furious, but again - you weren’t going alone.

You heard the blare of a horn just below your apartment building, signaling that your friends were anxiously waiting for you to get your ass out there. Grabbing your clutch, you slid out of your apartment and gracefully made your way down the stairs. Viv, your best friend down here, leaned out of the window and let out an obnoxious wolf whistle, drawing the attention of several people walking by. Your face burned and you glared at her. “Shut it, Viv!” you exclaimed, climbing in next to her.

“I’m just saying,” she chuckled, bumping your shoulder.

Juan, her brother who was driving, turned around and gave you a once over. “You sure you want to stay with that Javier?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Aye, hermanito,” Viv whined, “just drive!”

He chuckled. Viv’s boyfriend, Carlos, was next to Juan and shaking his head. “No tienes oportunidad,” he chuckled.

Juan huffed and put the car in drive. Viv leaned against the opposite door and smiled at you. “So he has to work late, again?” she complained.

You nodded. “Yeah, but he did say he’d make it up to me tomorrow,” you devilishly grinned.

She squealed. You saw both of the guys shaking their heads at you, and your cheeks burned again. Javier had a reputation, though, and so there was no use trying to hide what he’d meant by that. He also wasn’t shy about just how intoxicating he found you. Never in a million years would you have thought that someone like him would ever find you attractive or loveable. You came with so much baggage that previous partners were too afraid to unpack. But, Javier? Something was different about him. It was like he understood the depth of your pain and trust issues. He took the time to unpack it all, and he loved you anyway. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” she laughed.

You glanced at her from the corner of your eyes. “Where are we going anyway?” you asked.

“Zona T,” Carlos replied.

You hid your smile. Javi was going to be so pissed at you. “Is everyone else meeting us there?”

Viv nodded. “Yeah, Mona had to run back to her apartment for something, so they all rode together.”

You felt a little more at ease knowing even more people were going to be in your group. It would be easier to disappear into the group and stay out of any danger, should the problems arise at the clubs. Juan parked the car just a block away, as parking down there on a Friday night was insane. Viv looped her arm through Carlos’s and you stuck next to Juan as you walked to the first club where you were meeting the rest of your co-workers. The club was packed to the walls and the music was loud.

***

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself when he saw you walking into the club. “She said she was staying in tonight.”

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“Y/N is here. She’s with her co-workers.”

Steve’s eyes grew wide. “Um, does she know who is inside?”

Javi shot him an annoyed glance and grabbed the walkie talkie off the dash. “Espera mi señal. Tenemos un pequeño problema.”

“¿Qué pasa?” Carrillo asked over the radio.

“Nada. Espera.” He tossed the walkie on the dash. “Stay here.”

“Where are you going?”

Javier sighed and opened the door to his Jeep. “I’m dragging her out of there so she isn’t in the crossfire.”

Steve leaned across the seat and grabbed his arm, pulling back into the Jeep. “You’re going to blow our cover. The second they see you…”

He whipped his head back around and stared at his partner. “I don’t give a shit. I want her out of there before Carrillo goes in guns blazing. Did you forget about La Dispensaría?”

Steve cringed. He remembered that incident. An innocent woman was murdered in the process of them getting Poison, and he was certain those photographs were flashing through Javier’s mind. “I told her to avoid these areas, for this reason,” he muttered, staring at the door, “so, I’m going inside to get her before she’s another picture in the paper.”

He let go of Javier and nodded. “Take the radio at least,” he said, “in case you need back up.”

Javi chuckled and grabbed it, clipping it to his belt. “We will be back in a few.”

Steve shook his head, knowing they were about to cause a scene. You were too stubborn to just let him boss you around, and Javier was too bull headed to take no for an answer.

***

You were on your second drink when Viv pulled you onto the dance floor. You quickly finished it and followed after her to dance to her favorite song. You both twisted and turned with your hands in the air as you let the rhythm of the music move through you. It’d been a while since you cut loose. Juan approached the two of you after the song ended with another drink. You smiled at him as a thank you and sipped away. You were leaning against the bar when you felt a hand on your shoulder and someone whisper into your ear, “You really shouldn’t be here.”

You sighed and spun around to look at him, drink in hand with a large grin. You leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss. “I’m here with a group at least,” you replied, with a smile.

He rested his hand on your waist, holding you close to him. “No, all of you need to get out of here.”

You turned around and grinned at Viv, who was leaning up against the bar next to Carlos. You gave her a wink and turned back to Javi. “We’re fine,” you replied, taking a long drink from your cup.

He frowned at her and took the almost empty glass from her hand. “Hermosa,” he cautioned, “I’m serious. It’s too dangerous for you to be here.”

“Peña, do you copy?” the radio buzzed.

He growled. “¡Espera!” He exclaimed into the other end.

“Javi,” you said, resting your hands on his chest.

He grabbed your wrists and held them down at your sides. “You said you were staying in tonight. What happened to that plan?” He said, the worry lines on his forehead growing.

“Viv convinced me to go out for a little while, since you were working late,” you smiled, trying to ease him.

Javier let out a deep breath and looked at her friends behind her. “How much have you had to drink?”

You shrugged. “I think this is my third or fourth.”

He groaned and held the button down on his radio. “Estoy en el club y lo buscaré.”

“Esperaremos tu señal,” Carrillo replied.

“Tell Y/N hi for me,” you heard Steve add.

You chuckled at the annoyed look on Javi’s face as he glared from the radio to you. You reached forward and pressed the button. “Hi, Steve.”

Javier moved his hand and put his radio back on his belt. “Do you know why I’m here?”

The thought dawned on you. He was here for work, and suddenly an icy chill washed over you. The very reason Javi warned you to avoid this area was the very reason why he was there. You looked into his eyes, scared. He gave you a knowing, almost an “I told you so” look. Your friends had no idea what Javier did for a living, and telling them it was time to leave was going to be hard without exposing him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

He couldn’t hear you over the loud club music, but he knew. He pulled you even closer and whispered low in your ear. “You will stay by me all night. The second shit hits the fan, I want you out of here.”

You nodded, trying to calm yourself, telling yourself that Javi was there and nothing bad was going to happen to you. Picking up your drink, you finished it and Viv ordered both of you another. Javi kept his arm around you all night. Occasionally, he would dance with you, but you watched his eyes survey the room, looking for his target. When you walked back to the bar, he was close behind you. “Hermosa,” he chuckled, looking down at you, “another one?”

You gave him a sloppy grin. “It’s helping with my nerves, so yeah.” You took a drink.

He leaned against the bar next to you. You could see him relax a little, which he couldn’t help but do when he was with you. You started to see the boyish charm come out before his eyes raked over your body. His gaze turned hungry as it stopped at the deep v in the front that allowed him to peer almost clear down your dress. He raised his eyebrow devilishly and grinned. “You sure you don’t want to leave now?” he growled.

“Ojos arriba, Peña,” you ordered, and he begrudgingly obeyed. “I’may be a little tipsy,” you slurred, and then immediately forgot the point you were trying to make.

He chuckled. “A little?”

Viv came up behind you and slung her arm around your shoulder. “There you are!” she said loudly in your ear.

He tensed and went back to surveying the room. She planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek and hugged you. “I thought you two left.” She looked at Javi and then leaned in to loudly whisper, “Not that I wouldn’t blame you.”

Javi hid his grin well but rolled his eyes. “Where’s Carlos?” he asked.

She looked behind her and saw him standing next to Juan. Mona approached them with something in her hand, and you saw Javi tense even more. His hand was suddenly on his radio. Javi watched Carlos take the bag from her and walk over to them with it. He gave him a look, glancing at Viv and you before looking back at Javi. “You can get some of this over there,” he nodded towards a small secluded booth near the bathrooms.

Javi grabbed the bag from him and nodded. “I think it’s time we find another club,” he added.

Carlos motioned for Juan to get the others. Viv, oblivious to what transpired, protested the whole time as he dragged her out of the front door. Javi pulled you close to him and grabbed his radio. “Él está aquí.”

“Copy,” Steve and Carrillo replied.

“Movámonos,” Carrillo added.

Javi held on to you with a tight grip as he calmly walked towards the entrance as his men got into position. You saw Carlos taking Viv and the rest of the crew farther down the block to a different club as Javi dragged you over to the Jeep Steve had been sitting in across the street. When he saw the two of you, he shook his head and laughed. Javi opened the back door for you to slide into. You laid down across the back seat, sleepy from the drinks in your system. Javi grabbed his tactical vest from the floor and slid it on. God, how you loved him in that vest. You weren’t sure what it was, maybe it was the way it clung to his body. He saw you bite your lip as you gazed ravenously at him. “Not now, Hermosa,” he replied calmly.

You both heard Steve stifle a gag. Javi rolled his eyes. “Keep her in the car,” he ordered.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Javi glared at him. “I’m back-up.”

“Our orders were to stay behind and let Search Bloc do their thing,” Steve argued.

“I know,” he mumbled, “but Carrillo asked for the support. So, keep her here. I’ll be right back.”

The alcohol started rushing to your head. You wanted to sit up and argue with him, force him to stay, but you knew that you were now useless in that situation. You closed your eyes, feeling the Jeep start to spin. If you stayed calm, maybe, just maybe you wouldn’t throw up. You focused on your breathing as you laid on your side with your eyes closed. You heard shots coming from the area, and you jumped at each one, praying Javi wasn’t on the receiving end. Hours seemed to have passed until Javi rejoined you back in the Jeep. “They got the fucker,” he said, tossing his vest behind his seat on the floor.

You felt his hand rest on your head. “Are you okay, Hermosa?”

You glanced up at him with a drunken smile. “Si, mi amor.”

A grin crept across his face as he kissed your temple before climbing into the front seat. You could hear them talking about the mission, but you were in and out of a very drowsy stage as you fought off sleep. Steve mumbled something about Carrillo, and Javi told him to shut up. Soon, you had fallen asleep and didn’t wake again until you felt a hand brush the hair off your cheek. “Time to wake up,” he chuckled. Steve had already gotten out of the car, leaving the two of you alone.

You groaned and turned over. “Hermosa,” Javi said, “I’m not carrying you to bed.”

You smiled and now became determined to stay asleep so he had to carry you. You could tell he was standing there watching you sleep peacefully in the backseat. “I will leave you out here.”

No, he won’t. You thought.

Just as predictable as ever, you felt arms around you, pulling you out of the Jeep and holding you against his chest. You tossed your arms around his neck and rested your head against him, breathing in the intoxicating scent that was Javier Peña. You could hear his heart beating fast as his hands gently cradled you. He walked up the stairs to the apartment complex door; he’d taken you back to his apartment, which you were grateful for. His bed was ten times more comfortable than yours. “If I didn’t love you so much,” he muttered as he slid past Steve, who had been waiting with the door open, “I would have left your ass in the Jeep.”

You smiled and looked up into his eyes. “You have the most beautiful eyes, mi amor,” you murmured against his lips.

He stopped just on the other side of the door and grinned at you. Steve gagged again and moved past the two of you. “Unless you want me to drop you,” Javi added, “you’ll let me at least make it to my apartment.”

You gave him a soft kiss and then rested your head on his shoulder. He held you tight as he tried to unlock his apartment door. Somehow, he managed. He carried you into the apartment and gently set you on his bed. He slid your heels off and helped you out of your dress before you curled up in his soft sheets. He soon joined you, after giving you some Tylenol and a glass of water. You felt his arms pull you against his bare chest, and soon you felt safe and comfortable. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

He kissed the back of your neck. “For what?” he whispered.

You rolled over to look at him, resting your hand on his cheek. “I’ve never had someone who cared about me as much as you do.”

He sighed and gently leaned down to kiss you again, this time more passionately. “I love you, Hermosa,” he breathed against your lips, “and I’d do anything for you. Even carry your drunk ass to bed.”

You chuckled and rolled back over so he could hold you close. You felt safe in his arms, loved even. Even after the two years you’d spent together, you still had a hard time believing that he loved you. Especially on days when you would ignore his warnings and get yourself into situations like you did tonight. You chuckled to yourself as you pictured his initial reaction. He was your favorite grumpy DEA agent, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything in the whole world. “What’s so funny?” he mumbled, half asleep.

You ran your hand over his. “You still love me even though I drive you crazy.”

He lovingly squeezed her. “More like completely insane, on a good day.”

You moved against him to get more comfortable, finally feeling at home in his bed. It had been a while since you thought about the other women that had the opportunity to lay in this exact spot. It used to bother you when you thought about the amount, but now you knew he was completely wrapped around your finger. He would do anything for you, and you for him. Somehow you found each other when you both needed it the most, and neither of you wanted to risk ever losing what you had.

Translations

No tienes oportunidad - You don’t have a chance.

Espera mi señal. Tenemos un pequeño problema. - Wait for my signal. We have a small problem.

¿Qué pasa? - What happened?

Nada. Espera. - Nothing. Wait.

Estoy en el club y lo buscaré. - I’m in the club and I’ll look for him.

Esperaremos tu señal. - We will wait for you signal.

Ojos arriba. - Eyes up.

Él está aquí. - He’s here.

Movámonos. - Let’s move.

Taglist

@larakasser @magneticbucky @wickedfrsgrl @wander-lustbabe @pedropascalownsmyheart @frietiemeloen @fioccodineveautunnale @mrscrain-x7 @alldatalost @carringtonhill @enamoured-x @readsalot73

#javier peña #narcos #Javier Pena #javier pena x reader #javi pena #javi peña #loml #mi esposo #journey to 1000 #kc answers

149 notes · View notes

acklesterritory · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Ideas_Ch. 1

Hey guys, I'm back with a new story.

*First*: I want to apologize if I tagged you in case you didn't want to. Unfortunately I mixed up my tag list so please even if you don't read this story let me know if you're on my blog's

1. Dean tags or 2.series tags or 3.oneshot tags.

And reblog so the others see this post too. Thanks

**Second*I'm planning on finishing this story in 2 parts but sometimes it can take longer so no promises.

Dean x Reader

This chapter words~4k

Series Warning: +18, a/b/o relationships, Dom/Sub(No details. You know I hate spoilers), Angst, Smut, Unprotected sex (You're wiser that that), Cheating, Language, Hurt reader

Summary: She was supposed to get married and imprint her beloved wolf but what happens when a dominant hunter shows up to hunt them?

This chapter song: Wild by John legend feat Gary Clark Jr. Listen here

And I stole @jay-and-dean 's divider *sorry*

Happy reading and may you leave me something cause feedbacks are writer's fuel.

Mad, Sad, pretty, savage, seductive, crazy!

An obvious alpha.

I knew it from the first time I laid my eyes on her.

Couple of weeks ago I was at a luxury restaurant in my Fed suit to meet a businessman who could be involved in our new case. Doing that random investigation, I was getting convinced that there ain't any useful information and he was nothing but a waste of the time. So I excused myself and left the table to call Sam in the lobby. He had to know it was a dead end. But just when I was putting my phone back in my pocket, someone grabbed my arm from behind and pushed me against the wall out of blue.

"Say your name."

Wasn't my first time to face a seductive woman but for some unknown reason her whisper sent a shiver down my spine and I couldn't stop my eyes from gazing at her curves in that elegant black outfit.

"Listen. I got myself into this awful situation where I had to face this filthy woman announcing everyone in my birthday party that she was sleeping with my fiance. So before he show up to stop me, I need you to help them realizing something very important about me. And that help will be appreciated. So make your mind. You can just simply say your name and mention your price or I will kill you to make a scene and skip everyone's pitty looks part." She told me, running her right leg up, between my legs. To make me feel the bulge of her thigh holester underneath her dress: *She had a gun*

Wetting my lips, I looked down into her eyes for a second. She had some make up on but I knew enough to be sure that wild look couldn't be fake. She was a werewolf who probably had no idea what she got herself into.

"Name's Dean." I bit on my lip. Why I let her know my real name? I had no idea. I didn't want to think about it either. I just wanted to hold my gaze there, Letting myself to catch on those burning flames in her eyes.

"And sorry sweetheart. I'm off the sale."

I brought my lips closer to her ear so she could hear my whisper. However I hadn't to bend so much. Even without those elegant highheels, she was taller than a normal chick.

"What do you want, then?" She almost hissed on my lips before I pushed her back.

"Maybe I want you to be even more angry. Who knows?" I joked, distracting her for a second by my intentional smirk.

"You are a hunter, aren't you?" This time she surprised.

"What?" I narrowed my eyes and peaked out the tongue to wet my lips when she turned around for a second to catch a glimpse of whoever was approaching us.

"Just save my honor and then I'm yours. Kill, rape, torture. I don't mind anymore." There was no regret, shame or sorrow in her tone. She just stated it like a random proven fact. No hesitation, no hard feelings, no doubts. She was speaking like a smart commander in a war field, negotiating with her enemy to just save the day.

And to be honest I was stunned by that behavior. I know that I could resist her when she right away reached out but the thing is I didn't want to. As soon as she snaked her arms around my neck, her smell surrounded me like a trap. A captivating one. So pleasant! Then her lips were on mine in a shameless open-mouthed kiss. With her tongue dancing with mine.

I closed my eyes and immediately blood started to run wild in my veins. Every fiber, every cell were reacting to her warm body against my cold existence. It felt strange. I never was aroused by a kiss this fast. Not even when I was just a virgin teen.

"Y/n?!" A gruff voice called her. So she had to draw an unintentional groan out of me to break the kiss.

"That's him." She murmured on my lips. And I opened my eyes to look at a tall man in his fancy tuxedo. He was handsome. But not as much as he was wealthy. His watch could cost the whole hotel itself!

"What are you doing?" Eyes burning, he stared at me. Like he was watching the most terrible scene ever in his life.

"Well, ..." She smiled mischievously, getting out of my arms to stand next to me.

"Just enjoying my heat with a man who actually can handle it." She stated, smiling with her head up, radiating power.

"What..." The man's gaze shifted between us in disbelief.

"What do you ... what does ..." He was getting red by anger. And it seemed she couldn't care less.

"This is a break up, Jamie. I'm done with your endless excuses. I'm done with you, sleeping around while you can't even satisfy my needs in the bed. I need a better man."

*well, shit*

"You're … how you … can …" The man stuttered, shaking his head in disbelief. I looked around and found out people were gathering around us slowly. From the corner of my eyes I spotted two hunk in suits in front of the main door. They were definetaly bodyguards.

"That's it. We are done." She announced while everyone held their breath; watching her taking off her ring and throwing it toward her newly "ex".

"Y/N! …" The man took a step forward. His eyes were on fire and rage. Still his tone was soft, unlike his rough voice. "You can't do this. It's just a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" She laughed, tilting her head. Everyone could see how her fangs looked perfectly white and sharp: Ready, challenging, threatening!

"Is that so, Jamie?" She mocked before bringing out her phone out of her tiny clutch, throwing it to the guy after playing a video on it. By the noises I could hear, it was a sex type that made the man sweating bullets in no time.

"Now get the fuck out of my way and out of my life." She retorted, grabbing my hand. And as I was planning to win over the two bodyguards who mightly would stop us, we just reached to the main front door.

"Miss Y/l/N …" To my surprise, one of the bodyguards approached us politely. looking cool, calm, and all in control.

"You two can go home, Mark. I'm gonna spend the night with …" She hesitated and shut her eyes for a second to remember my name:

"… Dee. We probably need some private time for the next few days. I'll call you when I feel I need to get back home. But til that, I don't want any interruptions." She declared and by her steady and sure tone I could say she used to talk with them.

"But …"

"Just don't let Jamie get close to me ever again." She cut the bodyguard's word carelessly and then turned her face to look at me.

"You got any car?"

"Of course I do." I gave her my most proud smile.

"Ok then. Let's go out of here. I don't want to even take one more breath in here anymore."

I watched enough movies and read enough comics and slept with enough women to know that Y/n was a whole different savage alpha.

She was on the baby's seat in just her one single layer fancy dress that barely covered her body while it was freezing cold outside. To the point I could feel the chill in my FBI suit and coat the moment we walked out of the hotel. And still she protested me when I turned on baby's heater.

"She was pregnant." She said bluntly, a few minutes later, looking out of the window like she could see anything in road at that dark night through baby's steamed up glass.

I looked over her and catch a glimpse of her tears before she could wipe them.

"I can't believe he did this to me. Out of all the people, Jamie was the last one I expected him to betray me." She was hurting but her voice wasn't shaky. She still sounded more angry than sad.

"Maybe he didn't. Maybe the chick misused the hit of a moment to trick him."

*Why I'm defending him? He is a freaking werewolf!*

I had no idea! Maybe I was trying to soothe her pain. But Why?

"Yeah, maybe. But after all he is the one who let the devil in!" Her sound wasn't more than a whisper but it woke the old screams of my guiltyconscience in my head:

*How many times I had let the devil get in me?*

"Screw him." She said through her clenched teeth. Then she threw her head back and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Screw him. Screw dad. And screw the whole royal pack. Screw everything!"

I sighed, knowing she will be angry for a while. So I turned on the radio, changing the stations to find something that might distract her. I just didn't need to watch that lady's upcoming tears.

I … wanna take you so far.

Out past the Saturn rings

And into my heart

The rhythm catched my attention immediately. It sounds like a nice song. A comforting one.

I wanna drive you

Wild, wild, wild

I wanna love you

For miles and miles

I chuckled, patting Baby on the wheels.

We can go slow,

we don't need to rush

I'll take the wheel,

make you feel every touch

I wanna drive you

Wild, wild, wild

"Where is the lie, Baby? I always do." I chuckled, enjoying how the song perfectly suit us.

"Are you talking to me or to your old ass car?"

I was so ready to make Y/n regret that harsh remark, yet when I turned to give her my deadliest frown, she got me almost chocked on my tongue.

"Wha …"

A lace black lingerie hanging around the right knee, she had her legs wide open on my passenger seat‌, playing with her bare core with her delicate fingers while her left foot was using dashboard to support her weight.

Lay on the passenger's side

Tell me how fast you want

We'll get there tonight

Her right strap dropped when she jolted in her sex fever, almost revealing whole of her bare chest. And all of this was happening while she still had her eyes closed, panting in pain. I felt like I lost the ability to even form a God damn sound.

Oh, fire, you set me on fire

I swear you're the only one

I'd take on this ride

"What … are you … doing?!" My voice sounded horrible, scratchy and far. I darted my tongue to wet my lips but my mouth was already dry by watching her. It was no surprise that she didn't noticed my question. She was already lost in her body. Her neck was glistening under road's occasional faint lights and now all I could feel was her warmth in the small room of the car, already surrendered to her astounding smell, in middle of a freaking winter night.

… Oh, oh

Yeah

Wanna love you

Wanna touch you

Wanna drive you

Wild, wild, wild …

I jumped out of my skin when a sudden honk drew my attention out … to the road and I finally noticed the truck that could crash us to hell if I couldn't rotate the wheel just on time.

*Dang* Something beside me hit the windshield the moment I stepped on the break. Then a shattering sound cut the air.

"Y/N!" I screamed, trying to pull over without making any other mess.

"Hey … you hear me?" I asked as I turned to see her face buried in her hairs on the dashboard. A part of the windshield was broken in an oval shape, broken pieces scattered mostly on the passenger side while the rest of it had some cracks on.

"Y/N!" I called her again but when I couldn't get any answer, I get out of the car to circulate baby and open the passenger door.

"Hey … look here, can you hear me?" I pulled her carefully back, to rest her head against the seat, securing her neck between my hands. That was when my eyes catched on the sight of a deep cut on her forehead, right under the hair line. And it was bleeding.

"Y/n?"

She moaned, goosebumps raised on her skin everywhere around my fingers.

"I think I need to lay down on the back seat." She said, before opening her eyes.

"Are you in pain?" I couldn't help myself, not knowing why I suddenly would care that much?

She smiled and I reached to wipe the oozing blood on my thumb.

"I got a first-aid box in my trunk. Just wai…"

Before I could finish my saying and right as I started to withdraw, she grabbed my arm to hold me still.

"No, help me to the back seat." For a second I got lost in her eyes, feeling an odd fultter in the dip of my stomach, pulling me like a meaningless swarf toward the magnet of her wondrous touch.

"Please."

Mostly humans know that drinking sea water or getting hit by a gunshot can cause their death. But could that knowledge stop them from exploring oceans or fighting for their honor in the war fields?

"Dean …"

"Alright."

Well, I was a human too. A human who could be attracted to unknowns, being aware that it could be very dangerous. Or maybe more marvelous.

"You ok?" I asked as soon as I had her on my back seat, gazing at the sweat running down on the side of her face while one of my legs were resting inside of car, the other: still out, planted on the ground.

"I think I've hurt my back." I spotted a tremor in her voice as she avoided my puzzled look and stared down to her lap like she was hiding a secret there. Was that weapon still hidden there in that holster?

I checked my gun to be where it should've been. If she (as a werewolf) was up to kill me (as a hunter), I knew this could be her best shot. And honestly if It was me, I would've used the same trick.

"Are you gonna wait there for the rest of the night?" She raised her eyebrows and instantly hissed as the deep cut on her forehead got wrinkled with this simple move.

Taking a deep breath, I pulling myself completely in and closed the door behind. Well, I was aware that without any way out, she could've killed me much easier. But what kind of human could touch the moon without taking any fetal risk?

However I still didn't want to hurt her. So I hoped she wouldn't do what an enemy should do.

As I was all ready to confront her attack, she slightly turned her back to me. Then she grabbed her long hair and put them aside, giving me the access to her spine.

"Can you check it for me?"

Well, if she wanted to play, I was game too. In the end, I had killed enough werewolves to know how I could manage an alpha one like her. But … it was about something more. Something way stronger: A wild need and an ancient desire to touch her bare skin on my fingertips, tongue and teeth. A perfect example of a hunter and his prey. And yet … I was feeling like the first man who was about to discover the fire too.

"Do you want me to unzip it?" I asked to be sure. Never wanted her to feel like I would hurt her honor just because we were enemies. Even when touching her was all I could think about at the moment.

"Yes, please." She whispered and I noticed the same burning wish in her soft tone. So I couldn't help my fingers run their way on her back and touch the velvety fabric of her outfit.

She inhaled loudly as I unzipped the dress, watching the goosebumps raising on her skin as I was tracking down on her spine.

"I don't think you got any wound here."

"Then why I'm in pain?" She asked, leaning back to me. And I subconsciously pulling her dress down, not knowing why my everything wanted to touch her more?

"Hunter." Her breaths got quickened and as she rested her head back on my right shoulder and nuzzled her nose in my neck, I could tell she was still burning up.

"I'm in heat." She said, panting. And that was the moment I realized she was already lost by just imagining me inside of her.

"Y/n …"

"Dean ..." She whined as her hand found the side on my head.

"Dean, I need you." With that she pushed me down to claim my lips in a lustful kiss.

I could be a caveman or a scientist, or even an astronaut but for sure she was more than a thunderstorm or the electricity or even the mars itself.

"Ah … " She whimpered, her body twisted in my arms, like an angry wounded animal that was seeking for a remedy. From her owner.

"This is such a bad idea." I said as my hands grabbed her waist, trying to control her moves when she started to roll her hips impatiently.

"That's what people always say. To Galileo, To Da Vinci, even to ..." She claimed, taking my fingers with her delicate ones, to guide my hands up on her body.

" … to whoever with … " I stole her breath as my hands reached to her soft breasts.

"With the …"

She took a shaky breath to keep herself together. But I was that man who just had landed on the moon and now wasn't able to stop trying. So I grazed my teeth on the skin of her neck, marking her with a hickey right as I squeezed her breasts, giving her aroused nipples the special attention they deserved with my thumbs. Well, she fought to not fall apart and I had to fill her blank spaces:

"Best ideas?" I asked before biting on her lips, feeling the burning heat that was coming out of her skin. Could moon ever be the sun too?

"Hunter!" She almost cried as my left hand travels down on her belly and hips to find her already swelled bud and part her labia. "HUNTER!"

This time she really screamed as my thumb brushed her bud again while my other two digits sank in her warm core. Her walls sucked on my fingers.

"OH GOD!"

I was still rubbing her nipple with my other hand when she dug her nails in my arms.

"No!" She gasped.

"No? I thought you said it's not a bad idea."

I whispered before taking her earlobe between my teeth and pulled on it as her back fought hard to arch against my body. She got speechless, drown in whatever the black hole we both had fallen into. Now time and place were lost for us so I tightened my arms more around her body.

"Shush, alpha. Take it easy." I said as I removed my fingers from where I was making her weak. And that was out of the bare truth of a human's nature. We love to possess and we love to own. Even if it's the moon and the sun or maybe a lost star in the Infinity of the universe.

She jolted forward in ecstasy and I had to grabbed her wrists firmly before she could end herself: "No."

"Please! … God." She whimpered. Thighs shaking with need and thirst. But I knew better.

"My name is Dean."

But what else could make a negligible creature like me feel like a God more than this wolf of women during her pleasure?

I kissed her shoulder and hugged her from behind, letting her cool down as our warmth were mixing in the small room of the car. She was panting again.

"Come here."

I turned her chin toward my face, tasting her lips in an open mouthed and yet tender kiss, taking my time to draw some deep moans out of her chest.

Til she was nothing more than a pounding heart or a throbbing mess and a mind which had already got blind by lust.

Somehow I wanted this prideful moment to last forever.

"Deeaaaan!" She rubbed her thighs against each other, trying her best to control her wild necessity to come. I could tell it was making her mad cause now she couldn't even sit up in my lap.

"Lay down, sweetheart" I encouraged. And as she did, I got rid of our clothes as soon as I could. When I was done, I noticed her passionate gaze on me.

"You'll be the death of me!" She admitted and I bent to lick her along her jaw.

"No, I need you alive. We still got some dirty work to do."

My whisper made her shiver. And moan. Again and again.

Looking down, I watched how her body were twisting under me, once more rubbing her thights together as I was holding her wrists up beside her head.

"Open up, alpha." I commended, reaching to her core, making her pants in pain as I mercilessly squeezed her bud.

She took another shaky breath, as she parted her legs for me. So I take the advantage to lube myself with her juice as she was already dripping.

"I said don't come yet." I slapped her breast and bent to bite her hard on the other one, sliding myself in her velvety heaven.

"DEAN!" She cried and her eyes rolled. And I tried to freeze this image in my mind. Could a God be more proud of himself?

But It was just the beginning. I decided to start my favorite rhythm to slam into her. And kept watching her bliss and how her soft and round breast were bouncing every time out hips met.

"You're doing good, sweetheart. I know you can." I could not stopped my smile when I realized she'd almost fainted, fighting against her mad orgasm.

"Aa…ha." She tried to answer but it sounded more like a painful moan which I muffled it in a kiss. Sweet and sore. Wet and shameless. We now were a part of one another. The mystery was solved. The cold God was melting in the arms of the sun. The man kind had won the moon.

"Come." I groaned and her walls clenched around me, sucking me inside of her.

Her back arched violently and I had to clutched at the leather seats to keep myself up when an unstoppable rush of pleasure hit both of us.

And just like that, we made the big trouble. The gravity that could swallow our futures all together …

"To be continued".

Temporary tag list: @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @slamminmine @missafairy @anunstablefangirl @lauraashley93 @mimaria420 @roonyxx @chocolateheart @cocahood @pandaxo79 @bennyspengwing @holylulusworld

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teamjacobthot · 4 years ago

Note

Dee did you know the Wolfpack actors knew Taylor wasn’t Native American

Here’s the interview from the web archives

https://web.archive.org/web/20100619091323/http://movies.about.com/od/newmoon/a/wolfpack-interview_3.htm

i’m dead as fuck @ this interview

In the movie, you all have tattoos. Do you have real tattoos or would you like to have one?

Chaske Spencer: "We all have real tattoos."

Alex Meraz: "Which take about three hours getting covered up. One thing we have been talking about is maybe, depending on where this goes, by the end of the films, we're thinking about getting the wolfpack tattoo."

Chaske Spencer: "Yeah, it's been a real experience for all of us."

Alex Meraz: "It's a milestone."

Chaske Spencer: "It's a milestone. It's changed our lives."

Is Taylor going to have the tattoo, too?

Chaske Spencer: [Laughing] "Oh, I can't speak for him."

Alex Meraz: "Maybe if he's 18 by the time we do it!"

What was your first reaction whenever you first saw your wolf in the finished film?

Bronson Pelletier: "When Paul changed, I honestly…"

Alex Meraz: "He had to change his underwear!"

Bronson Pelletier: "I literally got goosebumps. I was like, 'Wow, that's awesome!' It looks amazing. Chris Weitz does an amazing, amazing job, and the special effects team."

Alex Meraz: "Yeah, Phil Tippett. He did an amazing job with the special effects. For me, I'd always wanted to be in a film where it's not so much driven with CG, but I could be something bigger than life, I could have some kind of superpower. So for me to be able to transform into a wolf and have a fight and all that, I was like a kid in a candy store. I couldn't ask for anything more."

Did the wolves all suit you?

Everybody: "Oh, yeah!"

Alex Meraz: "There were mannerisms that Phil Tippett and his team actually did to make them all stand as individuals. You can tell the difference between one wolf and the other, and also suited it to what our characters were and what we brought to the table."

Chaske Spencer: "And our eyes. Our eyes stay the same."

Bronson Pelletier: "Our real eyes are actually on our wolves, so it's pretty cool."

Taylor is not Native American, so can you talk about teaching what Native American means to you?

Chaske Spencer: "He was very open about that. He understands. We did the best we could with him, and he's the right guy for the part. He's the right guy for the part, and I'm very protective of him."

Kiowa Gordon: "He's like our brother."

Chaske Spencer: "He's like our brother. Nothing but mad love for him."

What did you talk about teaching him?

Chaske Spencer: "We asked a lot of stuff about the tribes and stuff like that, and we would talk to him and tell him. There are certain things that I do in my culture that I told him about, and he was really open to it."

Alex Meraz: "That's the thing. We're not even Quileute. The tribes we are is not Quileute. So for us to represent that tribe, it's as if we weren't even Native. It wouldn't really matter, because they have different customs than all of us do. It wasn't like we had to teach him how to be a Quileute Native, because we don't know how to be that either. All we had was our culture to bring into the filmmaking. We just knew how to respect the mythology of the tribe, and Taylor definitely is receptive to it."

Chaske Spencer: "He has his own culture, and he could draw from that."

How did you learn about the Quileutes and what do you know now about them?

Alex Meraz: "During the process of auditioning, I did as much research as I could about the Quileutes, knowing that they're whalers. They inspired the shape of their canoes to be pretty much clipper ships. They were really fast, and they were able to go from the Washington area all the way down to San Diego hunting whales. I learned about the mythology, really, the creation story. The Quileute came from wolves and transformed into people, but they don't go back. That's the thing, they don't go back. That's the aspect that Stephenie changed and took some things and put it in this fantasy realm."

Chaske Spencer: "I was amazed by the storytelling, which you were talking about. I was really attracted to that."

Was it awkward to spend so much time with your shirt off in the movie, or did you get comfortable with it?

Chaske Spencer: [Laughing] "Whatever puts the ladies in seats for the tickets!"

Alex Meraz: "That's what we've been telling guys. 'Guys, watch the film, because your girlfriends will be watching it.'"

Chaske Spencer: "The thing is though, there's action in New Moon. So bring the boyfriends, I think they'll really like it."

Alex Meraz: "They don't have a choice. Their girlfriends are going to be there."

Chaske Spencer: "They don't have a choice."

Alex Meraz: "But it wasn't awkward. By the time we got to start filming, we had already been working out shirtless. You know, it's like a costume. It really is. You wear it, you don it and you own it. You can't be intimidated about your body. That's not the time to be doing that, when that little red light's blinking and you're being filmed."

Chaske Spencer: "It also helps us get into character as well."

Bronson Pelletier: "Exactly. As soon as I got out there with my shorts and no shirt on, I felt the part, you know?"

Alex Meraz: "As soon as I got the bronzing on, I felt it."

Bronson Pelletier: "Good old bronzing. That always ended up on my socks."

Chaske Spencer: "That stuff is hard to wash off, too."

Alex Meraz: "I think they put motor oil on us."

Have any of you had any offers to be in magazine or on a cover shirtless?

Chaske Spencer: "Yeah. You know, this franchise, you're going to see us with our shirts off a lot. No more taking the shirts off. It's going to be up there, immortal, on film."

Alex Meraz: "It was in the contract. 'Beware, you're going to be objectified.'"

Chaske Spencer: "Oh yeah. We are the pieces of meat."

Alex Meraz: "But I did something for People magazine shirtless. But at this point, it's all in respect to the film. So it's fine for this particular franchise. If I was doing something else and I had a suit on, I'm sure they'd want me in a suit for publicity or for other things. So, it's for a project."

How cold did it get?

Alex Meraz: "About 30 degrees, raining. Pretty cold. Very cold."

Chaske Spencer: "Like he said, we could cut glass with our nipples."

Alex Meraz: "We had a glass-cutting company: Wolfpack & Friends."

#twilight cast #alex meraz #chaske spencer #bronson pelletier #kiowa gordon

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amatchinwater · 3 years ago

Text

Did a little thing for Day 2 of Stackson Week 2021!

Day 2: Trapped together

Pairing: Stackson

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2709

Rating: teen and up

Ao3 link

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to have a party at Lydia’s lake house in the middle of hurricane lever rain and a goddamn flood warning. What’s even worse is he’s the first person to show up! Lydia herself isn’t even here yet. The banshee was kind enough to tell him where they put the hide-a-key so he could get in and out of the storm. Scott and Isaac aren’t picking up or answering his texts. If they’re not here because they’re too busy fucking and Stiles has to be here soaked and alone, he’s going to kill them.

When Stiles gets in the house, he stomps his shoes on the mat to not track in any mud. Lyds would castrate him for that, so he takes them off just to be safe. Slipping out of his jacket, Stiles hangs it on the hook, careful not to let it drip anywhere other than the little rug underneath it. The house is empty and eerily dark. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the only fucking one here. Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles’ preturbrance only grows.

It doesn’t even look like the place is meant to house a party in the next twenty minutes. Nothing is set up. There isn't a single bag of chips or other snacks on the counter. No pizzas and sandwich platters like her birthday. A keg is not beside the island either. Just two bottles of wine with a sticky note that reads-

“Have fun?”

Oh my god! Stiles jumps and flails, nearly knocking the bottles over on the counter.

“What kind of fucking game is she playing?” Jackson snatches the note, rereading it before flicking it back towards the island.

Still clutching his wildly beating heart, Stiles gasps, “could you maybe announce yourself next time?” He collects himself- mostly. “Not all of us have your little wolf senses. You almost gave me a heart attack, you fuck.”

Jackson snorts and almost playfully bumps him with his shoulder. “Not my fault you left the front door unlocked, Stilinski.”

Fuck this. “I’m leaving.” Stiles stalks back towards the front door, yanking his jacket off the hook and grabbing his shoes. Whipping the open the door, the teen groans loudly, dropping his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What are you bitching about now?” The wolf steps beside him and looks outside, his eyes widen drastically. “Holy shit!”

The lake has officially overflown since they’ve shown up and the driveway is at least three inches deep with water. Jackson’s care looks like it’s barely capable of surviving if it gets too high. Stiles almost cares enough to wonder if they should move it. This fucking storm! Now he’s stuck here with nowhere to go. Yes, he has a jeep, but the road out is no doubt a muddy mess that even Roscoe can’t navigate.

Closing the door and putting his clothes back where they were, Stiles whines, “why would she pick today to do this?” Thinking about the weather his dad forced him to watch this morning. Most cities were calling in downed power lines and massive branches flying through the streets.

She knew this storm was coming. So much so that Lydia even reminded him to wear his boots rather than his sneakers. “I guess I better call Scott, tell him not to come. No use in him getting stuck in the woods like this.” Sures, having his best friend here would make this exceptionally better. But Stiles doesn’t want to break up any fights between a stir crazy Jackson and Isaac. Fishing in his pocket, Stiles pulls out his phone and smashes the call button in annoyance.

“Stiles, hey. I’m sorry I did-” Scott answers on the second ring only to be cut off by Stiles.

“I don’t care if you and Isaac were fucking,” Jackson chuckles at his jab. “Don’t come to Lydia’s. The lake flooded and now Jackson and I can’t leave.”

“Okay,” Scott draws out the word and if Stiles wasn’t mistaken sounds a little confused. Jackson’s brows knit together at the response too. Okay, so it did sound weird then. “I’m sorry you’re stuck there, dude. But maybe this will be a good thing?”

Is he serious? “How the fuck is it supposed to be a good thing to be stuck in a goddamn house with someone who hates my guts?” Stiles’ hand slaps his thigh in exasperation. Not to mention the asshole in question was hotter than hell fire and makes it incredibly hard to be in the same room with him. Not thinking about that when Jackson can smell his chemosignals.

“Well,” Scott drawls, “you did say you had a crush on him.” Stiles blanches and goes stalk still, forgetting how to fucking breathe. Jackson snorts beside him. Stiles is going to kill Scott. “Oh my god! He’s right next to you, isn’t he?”

“I hate you so much right now.” Stiles makes a point to stare at the floor and not at the shuffling wolf beside him. “Well, thanks for getting me killed. Great best friend job, truly. See ya probably never, Scotty.” He promptly hangs up before Scott can answer.

“So,” Jackson purrs and Stiles can’t help but turn and face the wolf. His arms are crossed from where he leans against the wall, one foot propped behind him. Jackson’s face holds that stupid, sexy, douchbag smirk, “you like me?”

He’s not even going to entertain that. Stiles squints at him with his mouth slightly parted. It only makes Jackson chuckle. “I need a drink,” Stiles uses every ounce of self control not to literally run away and back into the kitchen. Sifting through the drawers until he finds the corkscrew, Stiles grabs a bottle. Once the cork is out- that actually had already been opened- Stiles could give fuck all about a glass. He takes a sip directly from the bottle, regretting it at the extensive bitter taste of wolfsbane.

Clearly that one’s for Jackson. He’s courteous enough to slide the wine across the island when Jackson is back in the room. The wolf stares at him as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece and drinks from it, not giving a damn to wipe it after Stiles’ drank first. The other boy just watches before his brain recovers and he opens his own bottle. Setting the cork and opener aside, Stiles grabs the wine and leaves the wolf in the kitchen to go sit in the living room where Lydia keeps the playstation.

Plopping on the couch, Stiles lets himself sink into the cushion and takes several swigs. Actually rather enjoying the slight burn and the warmth that quickly settles in his belly. He can very easily just sit here and watch tv like Jackson doesn’t even exist. Stiles can go to literally anywhere else to be away from the wolf if need be. He cannot believe that Jackson found out he likes him.

Fucking Scott.

It takes a few minutes for Jackson to join him. Stiles already has Supernatural playing and has killed a good third of his wine before the wolf is sitting next to him. Like right next to him. One nervous leg bounce and their thighs or knees will touch. Seriously? Lydia has two couches, a chaise lounge, and two armchairs in her living room. So why is he so close?

Scratch that initial thought. There’s like six other rooms in this big ass house that Jackson could’ve gone to. Why here? Stiles drinks more.

Jackson takes another small sip, looking like he’s barely drank anything from his own bottle before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.”

He fights the eyeroll only just, “what information could you possibly have that I would care about?” Amber eyes stay glued to the flat screen.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock interest. Even though there’s something tickling at his heart that Jackson didn’t call him ‘idiot’ or ‘Stilinski’. He can’t allow himself to fall for the wolf’s tricks. He won’t let the rug get yanked out from under him.

“Quite the opposite actually.”

Stiles snorts and turns to make some smart ass retort. But his ‘yeah right’ gets stuck on his tongue finding Jackson’s face mere inches from his own. He gulps. Clearing his throat, Stiles takes a big sip before putting his bottle on the small table beside him. Too fuzzy and warm to process this, Stiles scooches until he’s pressing against the armrest.

Jackson also places his bottle on the coffee table before sliding closer. Forcing Stiles to half turn into the couch while the wolf puts an arm on either side of him, completely encasing Stiles. “I like you,” he presses further, “a lot.” Jackson leans in until their noses brush, “tell me if you want me to stop.”

Blame the wine. Blame his hormones for not wanting him to stop. Hell, blame everyone and everything, Stiles included. But he does have a massive crush on Jackson. Even though he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. The guy’s a prick. He has no problem letting people know that he’s better than them. Making damn sure to flaunt his money too. As if that makes him hotter or something. It doesn’t.

No, it’s the icy blue eyes that make Stiles want to learn their secrets and harvest the knowledge. The wolf’s stupid jaw that’s perfect and Stiles just wants to bite it. He;s seen Jackson naked numerous times- thank you locker room shower’s forgotten concept of privacy. But god damn, when Jackson smiles- not his asshole smirk, but genuine smile- Stiles’ lungs and knees forget how to function. Despite his actions earlier, the teen is actually pretty happy to be stuck here.

Only acting as though he hates Jackson because he was simply following the wolf’s lead. His eyes flick to Jackson’s bottle of wine- its contents too hard to see in the dark green glass from this distance- and back to hooded baby blues. There’s only two reasons Stiles can believe that this is actually happening right now.

Jackson’s drunk. Because Stiles doesn’t understand the extent in which wolfsbane affects werewolf's tolerance. Which would mean the ex-kanima has no idea what he’s doing and should go sleep it off. Stiles hopes it’s this because the latter is just too painful.

Jackson’s fucking with him. Surely he doesn’t have actual feelings for Stiles. Maybe the wolf found out he’s bi and wanted to tease him about it. Although, something tells him that Danny would murder Jackson if he ever found out. Still. This is Stiles. Lowest on the lacrosse totem pole and not the wolf’s best friend. Is Jackson that cruel though?

Beautiful, parted pink lips get closer, so Stiles whispers, “you’re just drunk,” and turns his head away, hoping that’s the case here. Waiting for the joke to play out.

“I’m really not.” Jackson reaches over to grab his drink. There’s maybe three sips missing when he dangles the bottle for proof. “See?” The wolf puts it back, returning with a smirk and a cocked brow, “now will you let me kiss you?” Jackson chuckles, it’s a breathy sound, but doesn’t make to move closer. Leaving it to Stiles.

He’s not falling for that trap. The prove-to-me-you-want-it-so-I-can-kick-you-down trap by making Stiles lean in. “So you’re fucking with me then?” He should’ve known better.

The other boy looks confused and a little offended. Jackson leans back farther, still sitting close, but no longer in Stiles’ personal space. He actually wants him to come back, but how could he ever tell the wolf that when this is just a game? “Why would I fuck with you about this?” Jackson’s voice is soft and full of so much emotion that Stiles almost believes him.

“Uh, because that’s what you do?” Stiles gestures wildly like it should have been obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we’re not even friends. You were literally my bully when we were kids. I don’t- and i-it only got worse when I developed a crush on Lydia. Which I get, she was your girlfr-”

“What’s not why I was a dick.” The wolf cuts him off with a shake of his head. Stiles squints an eye at him, mouth still hanging open from the word that didn’t finish. “I was jealous.”

“Why the fuck would you be jealous of me?” Stiles scoffs and Jackson ducks his head with a chuckle. “Lydia never even looked at me while you were together.”

Jackson flashes a bemused grin when he looks back, “I was jealous of Lydia, you idiot.” The name usually bitten out comes with a tone that suggests it’s meant to be a term of endearment.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t fawning over you like your little fan club, okay? My bad. You’re right, you’re incredibly hot and I should’ve stroked your ego by putting you some fucking pedestal-” Jackson swallows whatever other words and the surprised squeak from Stiles’ lips. He stares bug eyed at the wolf’s closed eyes. Jackson presses closer, his hand cupping the other boy’s cheeks while his tongue slides against Stiles’ bottom lip. Entrance isn’t given, he can’t really, Stiles is too shocked to do so.

The wolf pulls away, still holding Stiles’ face, “I didn’t care that you thought she was attractive.” Jackson drops a hand and lifts his hips, pulling one of Stiles’ legs until the human gets the massage and- for some fucking reason- lays on the couch. The wolf’s hips immediately settle into the space created and Stiles can feel just how much Jackson wants this. Him. “I wanted to be the one you had a crush on because of the massive one I have on you.”

That’s a lot to process. If Jackson liked him then- “why did you make my life hell?”

Jackson’s free hand falls to Stiles’ hip, rubbing softly and the other props himself on the armrest behind Stiles’ head. “I didn’t know how to handle the fact that I suddenly like guys. Well, a guy.” The wolf sighs, “Lydia knew and agreed to keep my secret as long as I needed her to. I’m sorry I treated you like that.”

Stiles has never seen him act so soft. Having Derek as an Alpha and a proper back must really be working for Jackson. It makes him charming in a way that his jerk persona never could. Being emotionally balanced and all that.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And I’ll know if you’re lying. So don’t do me any favors and don’t hide from me either.” The warning is evident. Don’t say it and not mean it. And don’t mean it but not day it. Otherwise he’ll walk. “Will you please, let me fucking kiss you?”

Stiles fists his fingers in the wolf’s shirt- half expecting Jackson to snap at wrinkling his expensive clothes- to push him away or pull him closer, the other boy really doesn’t know. Until his arm moves of its own volition and Jackson’s mouth gets drawn to him.

The wolf chuckles against his lips, “finally.” The hand on his hip grips tighter and the other comes back to his jaw. Jackson tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Jackson kisses like he wants to swallow Stiles whole. Maybe he does. Maybe Stiles would let him. Panting he pulls away again, and the other teen bites back a whine. “I have one more question and then I promise I’ll shut up.”

The human playfully rolls his eyes, “what is it?”

“Be with me.” Jackson states. Stiles cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, that wasn’t really a question. But his heart skips a beat nonetheless at the implication of the wolf’s words. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Stiles is nodding before the request is completely out of Jackson’s beautiful face. “Fuck yeah, dude.” The wolf breathes out a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Now just kiss me. Please?”

“Whatever you want,” Jackson grins and presses his body in further, claiming Stiles’ lips as his own.

Stiles is now stupidly happy about this storm locking them in Lydia’s lake house. He got a boyfriend out if.

#stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #teen wolf #ao3 fic #stacksonweek2021

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quentinbecks · 3 years ago

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Summary: Charlie left Hope County years ago hoping never to come back. But when she learns of her parents involvement with the local doomsday cult, she finds herself heading back to a life she thought she left behind. (Begins two years before the reaping/events of the game)

Words: 5 k

Warnings: The typical lack of boundaries from the Seeds, slight use of violence, mentions of violence and death, peer pressure to use drugs (bliss), and this is a big one, lots of talk of anxiety/ build up to a panic attack.

A/N: Thank you so much to @adelaidedrubman and @johnnycranes for being my betas/second and third eyes on this! And to @smut-goblin for hitting me with the writing stick! You have no idea how much I appreciate you guys 💕 Since the atonement process begins now, hopefully I can start putting these out in a timely manner from here on out.

Chapter 4: Snakes in the Garden

“We’ll begin the process of atonement immediately.”

Charlie glances up at the man through her lashes. She should be trying to run away; pushing his hands off of her face, but she can’t. Frozen in place with John’s hands cupping her cheeks; their foreheads pressed together. From this angle she can see all the freckles that adorn his neck and collarbone. It almost makes him seem human.

“I thought,” she stammers, “I thought I was just getting baptized. That’s what we agreed to.”

John sighs, pulling away to look down at her; hands still gripping her face. “You will be cleansed, you will confess all of your sins, and then you will atone. That’s the only way you can reach true salvation. And you did just promise me you would allow me the gift of saving you,” he grits out, the hold on her face getting tighter as he goes on.

Charlie squirms away, attempting to free herself without making matters worse. “You’re hurting me,” she hisses as she grabs a hold of his hands. She may be willing to play along with his mind games; keep up whatever foolish charade she needs to to stay safe, but she draws the line at having pain inflicted on her.

The Baptist just nods as he backs away, hands held up as if to show her he won’t touch her.

Too fucking late.

But there was no apology, and Charlie can’t really say she’s surprised. “Listen,” she says as she leans against the brick wall, fingers rubbing the spots where her face was held, “you can have my soul or my salvation or whatever the fuck it is you want. But what happens to me afterwards?”

If she’s being honest, Charlie is afraid of the answer. Does she get to have a normal life? Just one within the parameters of the cult’s rules? Will they force her to marry another member of the project in one of those giant, mass weddings like the Moonies? Or will they just kill her? It’s selfish and would be a great betrayal to her friends, but she would marry The Father himself if it meant keeping them safe.

John sighs, sitting on the couch, legs crossed and arms spread across the back; posture too casual for such a tense environment. “I think it’s best we take the process day by day.”

Charlie glares at the man, only receiving a chuckle in return as he notices her olive eyes fill with rage. “Relax, sweetheart. I won’t send you back up to the mountains; back up to my big, bad, brother.”

Sitting down in the chair across from him, Charlie wills herself to calm down. The shock of the situation is starting to wear off rapidly and she can feel the panic inside her start to rise just as fast.

“Can we at least discuss the immediate future? Like, me going home?”

“What,” John teases, a hint of faux sadness in his voice, “you don’t like it here?”

Not really she thinks. But she would rather not vocalize her thoughts; too tired from all of the youngest Seed’s threats and games. She’s pretty sure she’ll combust from stress if she has to stay at the ranch a moment longer.

“Haven’t you had enough fun tormenting me for one day. I’m just,” her voice shakes and she can feel her heart start to pound; her anxiety starting to make itself known, “not in the mood for this shit. Please. Just let me go home.”

Charlie wishes she could kick her own ass at this very moment. Uncomfortable with becoming so emotional in front of John, but there was only so long that false sense of bravado and heroism could last. But the sight of his guest on the verge of a nervous breakdown does seem to have an effect on the man.

“Wait here.” He says, standing up and heading towards the door. He turns back before stepping out to look at her. “Don’t leave before I get back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

John just gives her a smirk before leaving. Flopping back onto the chair with a sigh, Charlie closes her eyes. She’s sure trying to take a power nap in a herald’s house is just asking for trouble, but she’s too exhausted to care.

She’s barely relaxed for more than thirty seconds when the door bursts open causing her to jump.

“Charlene, this is Deanna. She’ll be taking you back.”

“What about you?” Charlie cringes inwardly at herself. Now she knows she really needs to get out of here, the environment is clearly taking a toll on her sanity quicker than she anticipated.

A faint smile creeps across John’s lips before he rights himself. “Don’t worry. Deanna is one of my most trusted chosen.”

Charlie takes in the woman she’s being handed off to. She’s not much older than her, tall, tan, and athletic. She can tell by the excited grin on the chosen’s face that the other woman will most likely get on her nerves.

“Hello, sister,” Deanna says with a wave.

“We’re not quite there yet.”

“Here,” John drops a white hardcover on her lap. “Try to read this before your baptism.”

Charlie thumbs through the book curiously. She may not have had any sort of religious education, but she’s pretty sure this isn’t the traditional Christian text.

“Is this a bible?”

“It’s the Book of Joseph.” The chosen chirps from across the room. “It shows us the hardships the Father went through and how God spoke to him and showed him the path; the path that would save us all from the Collapse.”

“Sounds enlightening.”

“It is.” John is behind her now, hands on her shoulders. “But as much as I would love to keep you here to continue this conversation, I thought you wanted to leave.”

Charlie recoils at his usage of the word “keep”. She can’t see the man, but she’s sure he’s wearing an arrogant smirk; a smirk that she would happily slap off of his face if she wasn’t trying to behave.

Nodding, she gets up. “Thank you for the talk. It’s been… eye-opening.”

John leans over the chair as he beams at her. “I’m just glad you agreed to let me,” he pauses as if he’s contemplating his words, “work with you.”

“Well, you didn’t leave me with much of a choice. Certain death or,” she gestures towards him, “you. And I like being alive, thank you very much.”

Charlie doesn’t bother to wait for a response, pushing past the chosen and out the door to wait on the steps. She doesn’t need to wait very long as Deanna follows after her almost immediately. “My truck’s down there,” the woman points down the driveway to an old, white pickup with a black Eden’s Gate sigil on the hood.

Following silently behind the other woman, she tries to catch her breath. Relax, she chants to herself internally. In only twenty minutes you’ll be safe. Charlie tells herself she can do this as she gets in the car. All she has to do is wait a few, short minutes and she can scream and cry as much as she wants to.

The car ride is silent for the most part and Charlie is glad for it. Until about halfway to her parent’s house when the chosen turns to look at her nervously. “So,” she pauses, chewing on her lip, “are you excited to be joining the project?”

Charlie gives her a snort in response. Leaning her head against the glass, she closes her eyes. “That’s an overstatement.”

“Well, I’m thrilled to have you here. I really like your mom.” Deanna gives her a grin before turning back to the road. “And besides, we don’t have many young women. It’ll be nice to have a friend.”

Friend Charlie scoffs. “Let’s just take this day by day,” she says, repeating the exact phrase John used on her earlier.

She’s relieved to see her parent’s house come into view as they turn the bend. Grabbing onto the handle, the young woman prepares to jump out the minute the truck pulls into the drive.

Charlie goes to shut the door when Deanna calls out to her. “I know you’re scared or angry or whatever it is you’re feeling, but I’m happy you’re here. Maybe we’ll even get to work at the ranch together.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Slamming the door closed, Charlie heads towards the house. She looks back to watch the chosen back out. Once she’s absolutely sure she’s gone, Charlie heads to the bunker in the backyard.

Clutching The Book of Joseph that hasn’t left her hands since she left John’s house, she climbs down the ladder. Charlie gags once she’s inside the bunker, the musty air that hits her makes her think that it’s been years since anyone has been down there.

She barely makes it to the couch before her breath becomes labored, adding to her already rising blood pressure. Tossing the book on the sofa she begins to pace around the room. What is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to explain this to Eli? Will Mary May even trust her again after this?

Letting out a frustrated cry, Charlie slinks to the floor. She has to make them understand she’s doing this for them.

But are you really? Pops into her mind. She offered to join the project the moment she felt her life was in danger, not her friends. Protection for her friends only came as part of the bargain after she agreed to have her soul saved.

But is it really wrong to want to save yourself? To value your own life? Not really, she thinks. Trying not to dwell too hard on the guilt that’s eating at her, Charlie goes to pick up the radio she notices lying dusty and dormant on the desk.

Blowing the dust off, she turns the dials until she finds the channel that would reach Eli and the Wolf’s Den.

Pausing to sniffle, she presses down on the button to talk. “Hello? Eli? Tammy? Anyone? It’s Charlie.” She clears her throat awkwardly as she waits for a response. “Um, over?” She adds.

“Ya know, it’s not really necessary to say over.”

“I know, Wheaty, but no one was answering.”

Charlie can hear the younger man laugh into the microphone. “Well, ya gotta give us more than ten seconds to get to the radio, Charlie.”

“Patience has never been my strong suit.” Sighing, she bites her lip. Not sure of how to go about relaying the message about the mole in the militia; not even sure she should be telling them this. But, it’s the right thing to do. And it’s not like she made a promise to John about what she would do with the information either way.

“Is Eli around?”

“He’s out scoutin’ right now. Whatcha need?”

Charlie knows it’s not Wheaty who’s the betrayer, but she has a bad feeling about repeating the news over the airwaves.

“Is anyone else from the militia there?”

There’s a long pause over the line as she waits for the young militiaman’s answer.

“It’s just me and Tammy here. Why what’s wrong?”

Picking up the radio, Charlie goes to sit on the dilapidated couch. She takes in a deep breath, trying to quell the feeling in her gut that’s telling her she’s making a mistake.

“Tell them that there’s a snake in the garden. They snitched on me to the Seeds. They know I killed one of Jacob’s hunters and I-”

“Who is it? Are you at The Veteran’s Center?” Wheaty interrupts her. There’s a hitch in his breath as he asks his next question. “Did they take you?”

“No,” Charlie can feel tears start to fall and she digs her nails into her thigh to stop herself from openly showing her distress, “but I can’t come back to the Wolf’s Den anymore. That’s why I need you to report back to Eli, shit even Tammy, what I just told you.”

“But why-”

She lets out a deep sigh before cutting him off. “Can you just trust me? I’m trying to protect you. All I ask in return is you get rid of your rat infestation.”

Charlie waits, the static of the radio the only response.

“You got it.”

“Thanks, kid. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

And with that she flicks off the power, unable to continue the conversation; unable to accept her newly minted fate.

Tossing the machine onto the ground, Charlie falls back onto the couch. She decides to spend the rest of her day inside the bunker, certain her parents won’t come searching for her here. She isn’t ready to hear the exuberance of her mother when she tells her the news of her joining the cult; if it was up to her she would have offered Charlie’s hand in marriage the moment she had stepped foot onto the compound.

Though, Christine has probably already found out if John was actually telling the truth about there being a meeting. She can’t bear to think about the two of them conspiring about her; about her future. It’s too much to deal with. The whole day has been too emotionally taxing for the young woman.

Charlie reaches behind her, picking up the stray Book of Joseph; her curiosity getting the better of her. She’s pretty sure the whole book will be monotonous; mundane monologues about their terrible childhoods. It’s the same bullshit with every cult leader. Regardless, she wants to find the juicy bits for future ammunition for the next time John Seed wants to throw jabs at her about her own youth. They’re alike, her ass.

Opening the book to a random page, Charlie settles in. Admittedly, the book is a hard read, both from Joseph’s unreliable narration and the abuse the two eldest Seeds regularly suffered. What catches her eye, though, are the bits of a young, barely more than a toddler, John being beaten; abuse so bad it forced the brothers into foster homes.

The new information forces Charlie to slam the book shut. She can’t help but feel guilt and pity for the man, all of them if she’s being honest, but especially John. She doesn’t know if these feelings are stemming from the parental neglect she suffered as a kid or if it’s because of her own desperate desire to become a mother; to be able to give a child a life she was deprived of. She doesn’t even know if any of this is actually; maybe it’s all a ploy for people like her to feel empathy for them.

Shaking her head, Charlie closes her eyes. Do not think of them as anything more than the monsters they are, she chides herself.

Curling up into a ball on the couch, she tries to relax; tries to clear her mind of all the dizzying emotions that came from today. After what feels like hours of breathing exercises and mantras to shut her brain off, she finally falls asleep.

The nightmare is the same as it is every night. Charlie finds herself being hunted through the Whitetails by one of Jacob’s red camo clad chosen. And just like always she kills them; just as it happened in real life. But this time, the outcome has changed.

It’s still her blood splattered face that’s exposed after the ski mask is ripped off, but the eyes staring back at her are no longer the hazel eyes of the recently deceased hunter. This time they’re sky blue; blue like the eye color shared by all of the male Seeds.

Charlie wakes up with a start. Heart racing wildly, she puts her palm over her chest in a vain attempt to calm it down.

“Fuck me.”

She’s no dream interpreter, but Charlie is definitely concerned this means something. Means that she’s become prey to the Seeds; that she’s become some sort of toy for them to play with at will. It’s distressing, especially since she’s worked for years to ensure she would never be in such a vulnerable position with men again. And now here she is; in the belly of the beast, but this time it’s worse. This time it’s with cult leaders rather than a gaslighting husband.

“I need a drink,” she mutters to herself as she sits up.

Charlie heads up to her parents house, the early summer sun blinding her as she exits the bunker. “Mom? Daddy?” she calls out once she’s made it back inside. The calls for her parents are met with dead silence.

Searching through rooms gives her no leads on where they could be until she finds a note plastered to the refrigerator.

“Princess,

Mammon and I will be out for most of the day. You can find your mother up at Black Horse Peak if there’s an emergency. I’ll be out fishing on the bay with a few friends from church. Both of us should be back by dinner time. Don’t get into any trouble while we’re gone, ma fille.

Love,

Papa”

Charlie sighs. She was hoping to not be alone after the nightmare she had, let alone the day she had previously. But, on the bright side now she has time to come up with a way to explain to her parents about her change of heart towards Eden’s Gate.

Deciding the best course of action would be to tell them over dinner; a dinner where she can spike her own drink to take the edge off. There’s no worries about them being disappointed or angry with her. No, she needs to drink to hide the disappointment in her own mother who will be delighted that her boss managed to break down her daughter into joining his family’s cult. In one day too. What a feat!

A couple hours pass with Charlie trying and failing to concoct a meal when there’s a knock at the door. Immediately going on guard since she wasn’t expecting any guests, she grabs a kitchen knife off the counter.

As she heads over to the door she peeks outside the window to see who her surprise visitor is. None other John Seed is standing there on her porch; a look of fury written all over his face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she says, slamming the knife down on the entrance table.

Opening the door with a bit of trepidation, Charlie begins to panic. Why would he come here when he could have just had her brought to him? Why come when she’s all alone? The normally well-coiffed Seed looks frazzled; his usual slick backed hair falling loosely in his face.

“What do you want?” she asks through the crack in the door. Instead of giving her a response, John pushes his way into the house.

“Oh, okay. Please, come inside,” Charlie grumbles as she slams the door shut.

She watches as John paces through the living room; watching as he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dark chuckle as he does so. The situation started out unsettling and now it’s just flat out creeping her out.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” John asks, finally looking up at her.

Charlie blinks at him trying to understand what she could have possibly done in the last twenty four hours to anger him this badly. And then it dawns on her. She told the Whitetails about the mole amongst them and she’s guessing Eli handled the problem.

Oops.

“What exactly did you expect me to do? Allow your brother to keep getting intel on my friends? So he could, what, pounce on them when the timing was right? I don’t think so.”

“No, you’re right.” He clears his throat before leaning against the wall, no longer manically pacing around the room, but calm and collected. “I trusted you too early; had hoped you would be grateful for the gift I’ve given you, but I see now I was mistaken. Instead, you would rather squander it and try and pull off these childish antics of yours.”

John pushes himself off the wall, slowly making his way towards her; the action preemptively making her back herself against the counter.

“But I’m not worried about it. And you know why?” He knocks on the table as he continues on.

Charlie shakes her head “no”, uncertainty over whether that was the right answer setting in.

“Because Joseph saw you walk through the Gates of Eden with us; with me. So, I know all of the trouble you’re putting us through will be worth it in the end. I just need you to recognize your purpose and start behaving.”

They’re so close now; too close for Charlie’s comfort. She puts a hand between them; her fingers lightly touching his torso. The touch makes her flinch, but after he put her face in a vice-like grip just the day before, she’s not letting him get that close again.

“Walking through the Gates of Eden? What does that even mean?” She furrows her brow, she’s pretty certain Joseph is just making up visions to have his brother keep her in line, nevertheless the possible euphemism unnerves her. “Is that like heaven? Are you here to commit a murder suicide?”

Charlie quickly realizes that that may be the wrong thing to say when she sees the scowl cross John’s face.

He leans in closer to her, forcing her makeshift barrier of her wrist to drop. “You are in no position to be making jokes, sweetheart”, the Baptist glares down at her. “Because you, Charlene, in less than three weeks have managed to get two of our chosen killed. One by your own hand and,” John looks down towards her lips, “and one by your big fucking mouth,” he hisses at her.

“Good.” Charlie shoves him away, trying to reclaim some of her personal space. “That last one snitched on me; took my life away from me. So I guess we’re even now. Eye for an eye. Isn’t that what you people believe in?”

“You know, you’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.” Sitting on their loveseat, John splays himself out as if he owns the place; the overly cocky attitude in full swing again.

Admittedly, Charlie does feel some guilt over the news of another chosen dead. There’s a part of her that’s curious about who they were in the militia, but the other part doesn’t need that on her conscience; not when the first death has been haunting her dreams nightly.

“Joseph entrusted me with your atonement; he still has faith that you’ll come around. Jacob still believes you deserve to be punished. Now I’m of two sides,” he says, leaning forward. “I believe you need to be reprimanded for this; for making some of the project’s best hunters spend their morning burying their friend. But death is too harsh.”

“What – what were you thinking of doin’?” Charlie stutters, her drawl starting to slip out.

“I was thinking of moving up your baptism. To tonight.”

“No!” Charlie all but yells as she marches over to where John is perched. “I – I haven’t even read your brother’s book yet! I don’t know what I’m getting myself into! I don’t even have anything to wear!”

She’s practically in between the man’s legs and she’s half tempted to bend down and scream in his face; make him feel as small as he constantly makes her feel. But it’s inappropriate and she immediately rights herself of the urge.

“None of that matters. All that matters to me is that you start the process soon.”

It dawns on Charlie that she should be questioning John on why he is so insistent on keeping her alive; what he meant by her walking through the Gates of Eden with him specifically. But a voice inside of her tells that she’s certain to find out sooner rather than later; and she might not like the answers she gets.

“Can I at least find something decent here to wear?”

“Yes, but,” John shifts uncomfortably, “I need you to keep the door open. I can’t trust you to not try and run.”

Charlie laughs as she heads into her parent’s room. “Where could I run to that you wouldn’t find me?”

She shuts the door a crack, partly out of habit, partly because she doesn’t want John watching her undress. The thought of him seeing her naked alone makes her grimace.

It takes her a few minutes, but she’s able to find something buried in the closet. It's pink and floral, not her usual color, but it’s a sundress and that’s all that matters to her. Pulling her shorts and cropped top off she watches in the mirror as John loiters around her family’s dining room.

Uncomfortable with the Baptist going through their belongings, she quickly pulls the dress on; tossing her honey brown hair into a ponytail.

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, you’re ready,” he says as he comes and leans on the doorframe to the bedroom. “Like I said earlier, I can’t trust you. So I need you to do me a favor before we can leave.” John pulls a flask from his jacket pocket, handing it over to her as if she’s just supposed to accept a drink from him.

“I thought you guys banned this shit? Too good for a stiff drink or two.”

“It’s not alcohol.”

Charlie scoffs. He wants to roofie her so she’ll behave; be a good girl for the Seeds. And he thinks she’s going to consent to this? Fuck that.

“Then I’m not drinking it. Not until you tell me what’s in it.” She has spent way too many years practicing drink safety to just take a drugged drink, even if the man giving it to her is warning her in advance.

“It’s bliss,” John says as if she would understand what that means. But he sees the confusion written all over her face. “It’s safe. You’ll be fine. It’ll keep you calm for a couple of hours. Enough to get you through the cleansing . And after that,” he smiles down at her, “we can work on building trust.”

“What if I say no?”

John’s smile turns sour suddenly, stepping forward to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Like I said earlier, I’ll be forced to take your sins out the people you love the-“

“Okay, enough with the threats,” Charlie groans as she snatches the flask from his hands. “You’re a huge dick, ya know that?” She shoves past him, “a real pushy asshole.”

Uncapping the flask, she takes a sniff. It’s oddly sweet smelling. Maybe it won’t be so bad? She thinks to herself. John watches her intently as she puts the container to her lips. She can’t help but feel that he’s enjoying this too much.

The drink itself is bitter in spite of its fragrant scent. The taste makes her want to throw the flask across the room; then maybe projectile vomit afterwards. She manages to get a bit down before handing it off to John.

“I think I’m ready,” she says, trying to hold the bile in her throat down.

John nods, heading out the door. Charlie starts to feel nervous as she follows suite; afraid that she may pass out and be taken to God knows where to have God knows what done to her.

“Don’t worry about the door. I’ll have one of my chosen let your family know where you are so they can join us.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, allowing John to open the car door for her to get in.

Eli and the Whitetails will come for you soon. They know you’re in trouble now and he’ll come and save you. They have to. She thinks as she watches the youngest Seed walk around the vehicle to get in as well. And she wants his head on a platter when they do.

There’s not much time to dwell on thoughts of being rescued. John has barely backed out of the driveway by the time Charlie has started seeing green and feeling dizzy. Her head drops back to fall against the cool leather of the headrest.

“I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a moment,” she slurs; eyes drooping shut. Before she knows it, she’s out cold; on the way to start the most interesting chapter of her life thus far.

#fic: stillness in woe #john seed x oc #john seed #oc: charlie berger #far cry 5 fic #yay! baptism next chapter #we’re really in it now

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darksaiyangoku · 4 years ago

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Devils of Remnant

Chapter 1- Dances with Guns

Sitting at the bar of The Black Bear, a club in downtown Vale, Ruby tapped her fingers on the table to the beat of the music. Red Like Roses was her favourite song and the new remix brought a smile to her face. Hei Xiong, known as “Junior” to his friends, was on bartender duty tonight. Ruby smiled as soon as her drink was served.

Junior: It’s on the house. *two finger salute*

Ruby: Thanks, Junior. *drinks the lemonade*

???: Is that lemonade on the rocks or neat?

Ruby turned her head to find a boy sitting next her. He had golden blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He wore casual clothing; a yellow hoodie with a black shirt underneath, blue jeans and white shoes.

Ruby: *deadpans* Very funny.

???: Okay, that was mean. Sorry. *chuckles*

Ruby: It’s okay. *chuckles back*

???: I’m Jaune. Jaune Arc. Short, sweet and rolls of the tongue.

Ruby: *smiles* I’m Ruby. Ruby Rose.

Jaune: *smiles back* Nice name. So, Ruby, what’s a girl like you doing in a dingy place like this?

Junior: Hey!

Ruby: It’s my last day before I go to Beacon Academy.

Jaune: *raises eyebrow* Beacon Academy? You mean the school for Devil Hunters?

Ruby: Mm-hmm.

Jaune: Huh, small world. I’m a student there myself.

Ruby: *eyes wide* No way!! Really?!

Jaune: You bet! *shows student badge*

Ruby: EEEEE!!!!! Oh my god, this is so cool!!!! I can’t believe I’m actually meeting a Devil Hunter from Beacon!!!!!!

Jaune: *giggles* Guess like someone’s a fangirl.

Ruby: Wha-? S-Shut up! *blushes*

Ruby and Jaune’s chat was cut short by a group of four guys. One had long, blue hair and wore a grey suit, the other wore a green vest with a light green mohawk, the third wore a brown t-shirt and had brown hair and finally there was the burly lad, with ginger hair and wearing a grey shirt that the logo of a golden cardinal bird. Their names were Russel Thrush, Sky Lark, Dove Bronzewing and their leader, Cardin Winchester.

Cardin: Why hello there, hot stuff. *winks at Ruby* How about you and I head over to the dance floor?

Ruby: *ponders* Hmmm, a tempting offer but I think I’ll stick with Jaune over here.

Jaune: *raises his glass*

Cardin: *sneers* Really? This guy? Come on, he’s a total dork. You need a real man, like me.

Ruby: I happen to like dorks, thank you very much.

Cardin: Ugh, quit playing hard to get! *grabs Ruby’s wrist*

Ruby: Agh! Let me go!

Jaune: Hey get off of her!

Sky: *pushes Jaune*

Jaune: Agh!

Russel: What the boss says, goes. *kicks Jaune*

Jaune: *coughs in pain*

Ruby: Leave him alone!

Cardin: Oh we will, as soon as you give me my dance.

Ruby: *grunts* If you don’t let me go, you’re gonna be sorry!

Cardin: *grips tighter*

Ruby: *smirks* Okay... you asked for it.

Using her free hand, she reached behind her waist and pulled out a silver M1911 handgun. Before Cardin react, Ruby shot him in the shoulder. Black blood leaked from the wound. The blood of demons. The sound of gunfire caused the people at the club to panic and they scrambled towards the exit. Cardin’s eyes turned red and his teeth became fangs.

Ruby: If you’re gonna disguise yourself as a human, you gotta be a little more convincing than that.

Cardin: *snarls* You bitch! I’ll you apart!!!

Surrounded by black smoke, Cardin transformed into his true self; a lanky wolf-like demon with black fur, white fangs and a skull-like mask. He lunged towards Ruby and bared his claws. However, he was shot again from another one of her pistols, this one red in colour. He yelped in pain as he hit the floor. Standing above him, Ruby put the guns close to his head.

Ruby: Say cheese! *shoots Cardin*

Cardin’s friends looked on in horror. Their leader was reduced to nothing but a mere plaything right before their eyes. Ruby reloaded her guns and turned to them, giving them a deadly smile.

Ruby: So boys... *cocks guns* you up for Round 2?

The others screamed and ran for dear life. Ruby pouted, upset that her fun was ruined. Jaune stared at her, baffled at what just happened.

Jaune: Woah! That was- uh, what? H-How did you know they were demons?

Ruby: *nervous chuckle* I-It’s kind of a sixth sense I have. I can’t really explain.

Jaune: Either way, that was pretty impressive!

Ruby: Thanks! *scroll beeps* Aw no! I’m late. So, um, I-I’ll see you at Beacon tomorrow?

Jaune: Oh, um, y-yeah. Uh, I’ll see you soon.

Ruby: C-Cool, bye! *runs to the exit*

Jaune: Looks like I didn’t need to hide myself after all.

The injuries Jaune sustained completely healed in a matter of seconds. Meanwhile, watching from the sides, was a Faunus girl, Blake Belladonna. From her pocket, she pulled out a picture of a white, armoured figure carrying a blood red sword. She stared at it intently.

Blake: Ruby Rose.

* * *

Ruby ran through the streets until the reached Schnee Manor, her home. Standing in front of the door was her younger brother, Whitley and he didn’t look happy.

Whitley: Where have you been?

Ruby: U-Um, nowhere? *innocent smile*

Whitley: Don’t try to act like the cute sister to fool me, I know you were out.

Ruby: W-Well so what if I was? There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun!

Whitley: We all like to have fun, but you will be starting at Beacon tomorrow. This isn’t your standard school, you’re fighting demons to protect the world! Start taking this seriously!

Ruby: I do take this seriously, Whit.

Whitley: You’re certainly not acting like it. Your reckless actions are going to come back and bite you in the ass one day.

Ruby: *sigh* Fine, whatever. I’m going to bed. *walks inside* .

Whitley: Fine, but don’t expect me to wake you up tomorrow.

Ruby stormed in her bedroom and slammed the door, collapsing herself onto the bed in a huff.

The next morning, she heard a loud knock. Groggy and feeling irritated, she drowsily made her way to the door. She opened it to find Whitley, who had a panicked look on his face.

Ruby: *groaning* I thought you said-

Whitley: *covers Ruby’s mouth* You have to keep quiet. An Alpha Beowolf has tracked your scent right here.

Ruby: *mumbles* Alpha Beowolf?

Whitley: *nods head* Look, I know I said that I wasn’t going to wake you up this morning, but I’d rather not see my sister get torn to shreds. Take this.

He let go of his mouth and handed Ruby a white, single edged sword.

Whitley: It’s not much, but it should help in holding him off.

Ruby: Okay, thanks Whitley. Let me get my guns.

Leaping out from her bedroom window, Ruby landed in front of the Alpha. It smiled sadistically at her, baring it’s razor-sharp fangs.

Ruby: Well hello there, doggy. You wanna play some fetch? *draws guns*

The Alpha roared at her and went in to strike. Ruby dodged with a burst of speed, sending several shots in its back. The demon howled in pain and tried to swipe her with her claws. Immediately, Ruby parried the blow with a quick draw of her sword, pushing its claws back. With an opening in sight, she cut off its arms. The black blood sprayed all over the courtyard and she plunged the sword into its chest. The Alpha shrieked and collapsed to the ground. Ruby approached it and pulled out the sword.

Ruby: Aw man, from the way Whitley described you, I thought you’d be more of a challenge.

Alpha: W-White Thorn.

Ruby: Huh? What’s White Thorn?

She didn’t receive an answer, as the Alpha turned to dust upon its death. From the doorway, Whitley was cheering.

Whitley: Yes!!!! Take that, Alpha bitch!!!! ...um, I mean *clears throat* that was a well done effort.

Ruby: Hey Whitley, what’s a White Thorn?

Whitley: I have no idea. *checks scroll* Also, you’re going to be late for the airship to take you Beacon!

Ruby: AHHHHH!!!! NO I CAN’T BE LATE!!!! *dashes back inside*

Whitley: *facepalms* Sparda give me strength.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby devils of remnant #chapter 1 #ruby rose #jaune arc #whitley schnee #cardin winchester #blake belladonna

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outrebanx · 4 years ago

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don’t feel (2)

JJ Maybank x female reader

Masterlist

Part one // -- // Part three // Part four

Summary: A week after the last incident with your parents, you’re invited to a kegger with your friends, and unsurprisingly a fight breaks out (literally an awful chapter summary but my brain is mush so you’re gonna have to deal with it)

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: mentions of abuse, actual abuse, fighting, swearing, (highkey haven’t read through so definitely mistakes)

——- I am in no way romanticising abuse if you have any issues with my writing pls message me

A/N: thank you all for the great response to the first part 🥺 🥰 im not 100% sure how many parts there will be because that involves being organised but anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter :)) (also i promise the next chapter will actually have more JJ in it) and I originally wasn’t gonna spend much time writing before the keg but I got carried away so sorry

“Y/N!” You heard from behind you, turning around you’re met with the smiling face of Topper Thornton running up to you.

“Hey T,” you smiled at him, “You good?”

“Yep, um I was wondering are you free tonight?” He asked, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Depends on why you’re asking.”

“There’s a kegger at the boneyard tonight and we haven’t spent time together in ages, Kelce wants you to go as well.” He tries to widen his eyes in a pleading manner.

“We haven’t spent time together because you’re always with Rafe now, and you know how I feel about him Topper.”

You turn to walk away, but he catches your arm, “I know, but Rafe won’t be there tonight, it’ll just be like old times, please Y/N.”

You consider his offer for a moment, “He really won’t be there?”

“Nope I promise.”

“Fine. I always like a kegger and you better not break that promise T, or it’ll never be like old times again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He salutes you, you roll your eyes at him, trying to hide your smile.

“See you later then.” You give him a small wave and continue heading to your car.

You, Topper and Kelce grew up thick as thieves and they still held a special place in your heart, but ever since they started hanging out with Rafe you’d grown apart. At first you were always invited to hang with them when they were with Rafe, but it didn’t take long for him to start to creep you out - not only by how he looked at you, but also because when he got angry at something he reminded you of your parents, and you never wanted to hang around someone like that. In truth you did miss them, but your mental health was bad enough without another person like that in your life, so you made other friends, not that you liked them as much.

The drive back to your house was nice, the idea you were seeing your friends again made you feel more relaxed than you had in a while, that was until your house came into view, both your parents’ cars sitting on the drive.

It had been a week since the last incident, and life felt suspiciously normal, you knew it was too good to be true though, your parents always acted like they were sorry after hurting you or Grace, then they would still hurt you again. It was a cycle you hated, but not one you could escape easily.

Obviously you couldn’t ask them to go out tonight so once again you were going to risk sneaking out and hoping for the best.

You took a deep breath and got out of your car, heading towards the door, bracing for the possibility your parents might be in bad moods.

Opening the door, you were met with silence, maybe your mum was already passed out from drinking on the sofa or something, but you were sure as hell going to take advantage of it. You crept through the hallway towards the stairs, checking your dad wasn’t in the kitchen, a sense of relief coming through you when you saw he wasn’t, and made your way up to your room.

You fall onto your bed, sighing and looking at the marks on the ceiling. You must have been tired enough to fall asleep, as the next thing you knew there was a soft knock at your door, rousing you from the calm state you were in, “Y/N,” you heard Grace whisper as her head came around the door.

You lifted your head to smile at her, “Hi.”

When she didn’t answer you sat up properly, taking in her appearance, her eyes were red and puffy, her body slightly hunched over, and her lips quivered. Realisation as to what had happened dawned on you, your heart sinking, “Hey come here,” you opened your arms for her.

Without hesitating she moved into your embrace, your arms sliding around her slim frame, pulling her in even closer when you felt the tears on your shoulder.

You stayed like that, rubbing circles on her back with one of your hands until her tears began to subside, when this happened you pulled back slightly, trying to meet her eyes, “Where?” You asked.

She pointed to her ankles, where they were already swollen and bruising.

You stood up, going to the draw you kept supplies for situations like this and pulled out a cream for the swelling and some bandages to try and support the injury.

You began working on it, “What happened Grace?”

She breathed in, sniffling slightly, “I was getting a drink and Mum asked me to get her some wine,” you clenched your jaw, trying to keep your mouth shut until she finished, “and I went to but she had obviously drank a lot already, so even finishing the bottle there wasn’t much in the glass. And when I gave it to her she thought-“ she hiccuped as the tears began falling again, “she thought I was trying to control how much she drank and she pushed me to the floor, and um I think I twisted my ankle on my way down.”

You couldn’t help but seethe with anger, how dare they hurt her, every time it happened, especially when you weren’t in the house, you couldn’t help but hate your parents - they were awful people who you wished would die sometimes, however bad that thought was to have.

“I’m going to kill them.” You stood up quickly, ready to go downstairs and fight your mum, or dad, hell even both of them.

Grace grabbed your hand, “No you won’t.”

You looked at her, the pain in her eyes making you realise she needed you, “I’m sorry, I just hate them so much, especially when they hurt you when I’m not around.”

“Y/N, I know - this is how I feel when they hurt you.”

“Yeah but I’m the older sister, I’m meant to protect you.”

You sank down next to her on the bed, taking her hand, “I’m meant to protect you Grace.”

She leant into your shoulder, “I love you Y/N but you can’t always protect me.”

Closing your eyes you kiss her hair, “I can try, and I love you too.”

You lay on your bed together, using each other’s presence as a comfort until your phone go off, you grab it and see a message from Topper light up your screen:

T - I’m on my way to pick you up please be ready

“Shit I forgot about that”

Your sister sits up to look at you, “What?”

“I said I’d go to a kegger with Topper earlier, obviously I’m not now.”

“Um yes you are.”

“No I’m not, I’m going to stay with you.”

“No,” your sister gave you a hard look, “Our parents ruin so much of our lives at the moment, you’re going to go have fun, even if I have to push you out the window myself.”

You smile at how stubborn she is, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, now lets get you ready for Topper.” She says teasingly.

You roll your eyes at her comment, she knows full well you don’t see Topper as anything more than a friend, and she’s always loved to tease you about it.

You end up wearing a small black skirt and a crop top with some red lipstick, ready in time for the next text Topper sent you saying he was at the end of your drive.

“Okay,” you turn to face your sister, “are you sure you’re okay with me going?”

“Yes, now please go.”

“Fine,” you kiss her on her head, and give her a small wave as you climb out your window.

Once you’re in Topper’s car, Kelce jokingly wolf whistling at you, your only response to smile and stick your middle finger up at him.

“It’s been so long since you’ve drank with us I bet your tolerance is shit now Y/N.” Topper smiles from where he’s turned to look at you.

“In your dreams T, I know I could still drink you under the table.” You laugh, sticking out your tongue at him so he could see in the drivers mirror.

By the time you arrived at the boneyard, there were already lots of drunk teenagers stumbling around on the beach, clearly enjoying their night.

Topper clapped his hands together, “Right, let’s have some fun.”

The three of you made your way towards the keg, which tonight was manned by Kiara and JJ, you gave a quick smile to Kie when she handed you your drink, then you looked up at JJ. You had felt his eyes on you as you interacted with Kiara, but only looked at him then, you stared into his blue eyes for what seemed like ages, until Topper took your arm and guided you to where Kelce was sat by the fire.

“How did your exams go then guys?” You asked once you’d sat down.

“Really? We’re at a kegger and you’re asking about exams? You really need to get out more Y/N.” Kelce laughed, nudging your leg with his.

“Fine, what do you want to talk about?”

“Not that.” Topper smirks at you, tossing a coin into your cup.

“Fuck you.” You say before you down the bitter liquid, “Now I’ve got to get another one dipshit.”

As you stand you playfully shove him off the log he’s sat on, and head back towards the keg to get a drink.

This time Kie wasn’t there, only JJ, who you could tell was looking at you as you made your way towards him.

“Uh can I have a refill please?” You hand your red cup to him.

“Wow a kook with manners, that’s almost unheard of.” He smirks at you.

“Unlike the rest of the kooks, you haven’t done anything to make me hate you, yet - so I’ll be nice for now.” You give him a smile and go to reach for your cup, only for him to move it out of your reach, giving you a look you couldn’t decipher.

“What’s your name? I don’t see you around often.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, now can I have my drink?” You say, reaching towards it again.

Before he can say anything else, you hear Topper’s voice from behind you, “Y/N, is this dirty pogue bothering you?”

You can’t help but feel the dread in your stomach, whenever words like that are said there is almost always a fight, and you hate it.

You swivel to look at Topper, “No he’s not, I was just getting a drink,” you try to manoeuvre him away from JJ, not that it was easy, especially when JJ started speaking.

“You know, Topper,” he sneered his name, “she’s her own person you shouldn’t be such a controlling bastard towards her.”

You turned to glare at JJ, but he only grinned at you.

Topper let out something almost like a growl and tackled JJ to the floor.

“For fucks sake, Topper get off him!” You shouted, ready to try and get him off of JJ.

That was until, your head felt like it had been run over by a car, a splitting headache already forming, you looked down to where JJ was being repeatedly punched on the face by Topper, his nose bleeding, and his eyes already beginning to swell up.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. No way is he your soulmate - as far as you know you’ve got nothing in common? And everyone you know hates him, especially because of the fights he gets in. You can feel the stress and tears begin to build at the thought of a life with someone who seemed like he enjoyed fighting, you won’t survive that sort of relationship. Not with how your parents have treated you.

You tried recovering yourself, deep breaths in and out, blocking out the cheers for the fight around you, blocking out the pain in your face as JJ got punched again. And once you’d stopped shaking, you reached forward to try and get Topper off of JJ, for both your sakes apparently.

“Topper! Get the fuck off of him!” You shouted, but as you tried to wrap your arms around him to drag him off, he didn’t move, he was too invested in the fight, not even hearing you apparently - because of this he must have thought you were one of JJ’s friends trying to get him off, so without looking at you, Topper elbowed you in the gut, hard enough you staggered back in pain.

JJ seemed to register the pain you felt, his eyes wide as he looked at you, blood covering his face, but it gave him enough strength to push Topper off of him, and he made his way to you, worry somehow etched on his face even if he was much worse off than you.

Topper seemed to see where JJ was heading, and seeing you bent over, holding your stomach in pain made him realise that he’d hurt you, he pushed past JJ and knelt in front of you.

“Holy shit I’m so sorry Y/N.” His hands were on your cheeks, but you felt nothing, nothing except the tears that now escaped from your eyes.

You removed yourself from his touch, “Don’t fucking come near me Topper.”

You stood up, turning in the sand and began heading off the beach, only to feel Topper grip your arm, “Y/N I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“I said not to touch me!” You shouted, ripping your arm away from him, when you noticed the stares you were getting from other people on the beach you lowered your voice, “It didn’t matter that Rafe didn’t come tonight in the end, because you’re just as bad as him now and I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

He stared at you wordlessly, shock and hurt written on his face - not that you cared right now, he had hurt you, maybe by accident yes, but he knew about your home life and because he lost control, you wanted to hate him and never see him again.

He let you walk off that time, passing Kelce who looked like he wanted to talk to you but instead went over to Topper.

When you got to the road you realised you’d now have to walk home, so you quickly shook the sand out of your shoes then headed down the road in the direction of your house.

It was only a minute until you got interrupted again, “Hey Y/N,” JJ shouted from where he was running to catch up with you.

God you didn’t want to deal with this tonight but he’d probably just follow you home if you didn’t talk to him.

So you turned to face him, “What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?” You raised your eyebrows at him, he’d been the one to get beaten up properly after all.

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugged, then rubbed the back of his neck, looking at you shyly “but um I felt your pain which means you must’ve felt mine and you know what that means.”

“Right now it means nothing JJ, I can’t deal with this tonight so please, leave me alone.”

He could obviously see how rough you felt, you were pretty sure you were still crying, and you were tired, so tired, and falling out with topper was one thing, but also realising your fucking soulmate was JJ Maybank was just something you couldn’t handle tonight.

He raised his hands, “Okay we’ll talk about this at some point, and I am so sorry Y/N, truly.” His eyes were shining slightly, but you could tell he was being genuine.

You nodded and turned around again to head home, leaving him at the side of the road.

You weren’t sure how long the walk home took, it seemed to pass in minutes with the number of thoughts that were racing through your head, it was as if you were on autopilot, climbing the trellis with ease, not even thinking where you were putting your hands and feet.

You were so out of it, you didn’t even realise your bedroom light was on, when you hadn’t turned it on before you left, so when you climbed into your room the last thing you expected to see was your mum and dad sitting on your bed with their arms crossed, expressions of pure anger on their faces.

(feel like this isnt my best but I am enjoying writing it also there might be fluff at some point but certainly not the next chapter whoops)

Part three

Tag list: @outerbongs @jjaybank @bailspogue @outerbankslut @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @alexa-playafricabytoto @teamnick @k-k0129 @do-not-talk-to-me-i-am-awkward @thoughtsofthestars @http-cherries @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @thesurfingsnail @lonely-kermit @oopsiedoopsie23 @overly-b @lus-shh @xlittlemissydjx @asaks6082 @copper-boom @danicarosaline @deathcompass @jellyfishbeansontoast @butterfliesinthenightsky @iamaunicorn4704 @my-soul-is-the-moon @diverrdown @thorsangel @saintkore @prejudic3 (please tell me if I’ve missed someone cos I’m dumb and it’s late)

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the-slasher-files · 4 years ago

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ANDREI KULOKOVA HEADCANONS

Clearly I cannot get this man out of my head.. like ever! Honestly I’ve been in a big big writing lull lately and I only want to write for Andrei, so I happy to share these hcs with you!.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

Andrei’s code names in the army were ‘The Wolf’ or 'North’

He has O negative blood type, meaning he is a universal donor. Andrei always (when he is wearing his vest) has IV tubing and needles, just in case.

On that topic, Andrei is very knowledgeable with medical information, he has saved many of his brothers in the army from death. He can save you, but the issue is if he cares to.

Yes he is a very hot bloodied man, but under pressure he is calm and cool, especially with his s/o. Feral rage can turn instantly off if he sees someone he loves really hurt, calmly giving orders and helping you.

Andrei never went to school after his mother died, at age 12. He may not be super educated in math or sciences but this man is smart. Never underestimate him. He can fix a truck, be your handy man around the house, and has amazing people skills.

He is a history buff.. Yup, you heard me. Andrei loves history, specifically war history. After his uncle died he was free to explore more education and he found a deep love in history, learning it all himself through reading, documentaries and listening to people around him. (Me and @horrorslashergirl have a weird AU where he is in college and works in a museum, in a suit with glasses 👀)

Andrei is trained in many things but one I don’t talk about often is bombs and specifically land mines. This guy loves to blow stuff up for fun and has a few land mines in specific places on his land, and abandoned town.

His favorite drinks are a deep earl grey (a Russian blend of course) and Vodka on the rocks.

He loves bath time.. yup a hot bath, even with bubbles he doesn’t care, he loves it.

One of my favorite things about Andrei is when he needs to think or stop his active mind, he goes into his field (usually shirtless) and just stands out there, closes his eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Andrei HATES condescending and controlling people, it brings him back to when he was a kid or in the army. Now that may seem hypocritical but honestly it is not. Degradation is for sexy time and teasing only, and Andrei is only controlling with his playthings but even then he lets them decide and have a good amount of freedom.

Man is a furnace and doesn't feel cold what so ever

He loves action movies, even though he will comment on how unrealistic they are. Also he loves documentaries.

Andrei listens to all kind of music. Mainly rock or metal but he loves Russian new wave and some rap. He also had a HUGE punk phase so that occasionally comes on.

He will do any dare or bet, not even kidding. His army buddies stopped daring him to do stuff because he would just do it. Andrei is a big thrill seeker and will do so much stupid stuff.

He used to have a wolfdog, a brother to Amaria’s wolfdog Dyn. Unfortunately it had too high of a concentration of wolf in it and he had to let it go, but he does still see him every once and a while. He even named him Alexei, meaning “great defender” in Russian. Andrei always leaves one of the outbuildings open for him just incase the weather gets too cold or dangerous. Also he may or may not use him to get rid of bodies, if he sees him wandering around.

Andrei drives a 1995 Range Rover all black with giant snow tires, or his black old Russian truck.

He can ice skate and used to play hockey with his buddies

He is secretly loaded. Yes he has money in his walls and all over the town. Andrei knows what he is worth and his rates aren’t cheap, plus it’s all in cash so there is no paper trail. He is never one to flaunt his wealth, you probably won’t even know until you see him coming home from a mission with a duffle bag of cash, throwing it in under the floor boards.

Andrei had a secret male s/o in the army, it was his first male relationship but they had to hide it from everyone. In a dangerous feral state the wolf had killed him, that was his last undercover mission.

This guy can read people like no tomorrow, every tiny subtle thing you do he notices. Could be the way you bite your cheek if you’re nervous or the way you rub your hands together when excited. He knows.

Also Andrei is very good at manipulation but doesn’t use it often.

He is a terrible sleeper. Andrei wakes at every noise in the house and only gets about 5 hours a night but only 1 hour is actually deep sleep. Sometimes he gets so exhausted that his body gives out and he will sleep for 12 hours fully clothed, in his cargo pants, vest and jacket. However he is much better with an s/o to sleep with, it’s still bad though.

I say this a lot but Andrei has an incredibly active mind, and it’s hard for him to relax or ease up. He uses drinking and smoking as a way to calm down, also just walking into the field for peace.

His favorite food is a nice hardy warm stew with rabbit meat.

Andrei adores just holding his s/o in his arms as on the couch or in bed.

He is honestly kind of paranoid, not so much by himself but if he has a s/o. You can come with him to the nearest town, but never ever draw attention to yourself or him, for your safety. He has people after him.

The wolfs signature is ripping off someone’s jaw or ripping out their spine by gutting them and reaching in.

If you mess with him but he dubs you as not a worthy hunt or not a good kill, you might see a bear trap in your home the next morning.

His tattoo on his left palm 'NO GODS’ is something he got to remind himself that he has control of his life and take his fate into his own hands, not his paranoid controlling uncle. It also holds him accountable for his actions, there are no gods to blame, he did it. The tattoo connects to Amaria as well. She is a lil crazy and does kills for 'the gods’, but Andrei sees that as foolish, he does his kills for himself, nothing else.

The 'grateful for the hunt’ thing I often write in Andrei’s stories is what his uncle would always say to him, with people or animals. It’s burned into his brain and it will never leave him. The words remind him to breathe and take in every deadly detail, that Andrei loves so so much.

Alright time to get.. a little odd lol… me and some friends have an interesting thing going where Andrei has a 'wolf pack’.. Dallas (@slashersins oc) is his husband, not legally, but Dallas wears a wolf ring for him. Xaviera (@horrorslashergirl oc) is Andrei’s soul mate and girlfriend. Xaviera’s cousin Akshay is Andrei’s best friend, they fight constantly but have so so much fun.. plus they fuck when they’re drunk lol. I am Akshay’s 'snow queen’ aka girlfriend. Andrei also has 2 'playthings’ Bianca (@horrorslashergirl) and Sights (@thesightstoshowyou)… the house is too full and Andrei may or may not regret having all these people lol.

#my writing #andrei kulokova #slasher oc #oc #slashers #slasher x reader #slashers headcanons #hcs #horror

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writemydaydreams · 4 years ago

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Work In Progress Wednesday

So! I’m releasing the first chapter of a new fic tomorrow so how about a preview? The first 4 and a half of 6 (or possibly 7) chapters are written so I’ll do a chapter a week. I’ll put the preview below the cut.

Rating: M

Chapters: 6 or 7

Title: In This Lifetime or the Next

Pairing: InuKag

Summary: The dreams have started. Inuyasha knows what it means, knows what comes next. His soulmate is alive and she’s ready to be found; but this time, he is not ready to find her. Because he is cursed. Because every time he finds her, she dies. Because she’s never lived more than a year after the first dream.

It shouldn’t be possible to get a demon this drunk.

“What do you mean you’re not going to look for her?” Koga asked, leaning over the bar and eyeing the woman serving drinks, again. His speech wasn’t slurred but he had no volume control and he was swaying dangerously on the flimsy barstool.

“Will you keep your eyes in your fucking skull for five minutes?” Inuyasha asked, snapping his fingers in Koga’s face to draw his attention. “Aren’t you seeing someone?”

Koga scowled and turned back to his friend, swatting at the offending hand. “She kicked me to the curb. Said I wasn’t spending enough time with her or some shit. Whatever, you didn’t answer my question.”

The bartender came over to check on them and gave Koga the stink-eye when he tried to wiggle his eyebrows at her. When she walked away, Inuyasha said, “No wonder you dragged me out tonight. And seriously, the bartender isn’t interested. She can probably spot an asshole a mile away and you’re a giant flashing sign that just screams ‘asshole.’”

Koga scowled. “Fuck off and answer my question. You’ve done this, what, like five times now?”

He sighed, trying not to think about the specifics and failing. “Seven and I can’t fucking do it again. I’d rather be alone than-”

“Oh, cry me a fuckin’ river,” Koga growled and downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. He slammed his glass back on the bar, drawing a few angry looks from other bar goers and the bartender. “What if this time is different?” He swayed dangerously on his stool and Inuyasha tensed, waiting to see if he’d have to play catch.

“You’re really fucking drunk,” Inuyasha pointed out. “Which is amazing for a full demon. And what if it isn’t? Why the fuck would it be any different this time around?” He put a hand up for the bartender to settle their tab. The wolf had had enough.

“You think...fuck. I should call her,” Koga mused, his mind jumping topics at a speed only achievable when shit-faced.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, knowing where this was going and asking anyway. “Call who?”

“My woman.” Koga started to tilt and Inuyasha shot a hand out to steady him. He should have just let the asshole fall. Luckily, the bartender was already there, taking Inuyasha’s credit card.

“Fucking hell, wolf shit. You’re not drunk calling your god damn ex.” One hand on his drunk friend’s shoulder, Inuyasha fished two 20s out of his wallet to throw to the bartender. She earned it dealing with Koga the last few hours. She took it with a grateful smile, handing his card back.

“Good luck with him,” she said, pointing at Koga without taking her eyes off Inuyasha. “Be safe and enjoy the rest of your night.” She shot one more look at him before sauntering off to wait on other customers. He was used to the looks his silver hair and gold eyes earned him. Even among demons he was exotic, an attractive novelty with fluffy fucking ears.

“Let’s get out of here.” Inuyasha stood and dragged Koga out of the bar.

When they were safely outside, he pulled out his phone to call for a ride. Carrying an inebriated demon halfway across the city was not high on his list of things he wanted to do on a Friday night. He debated who his best option would be. Miroku was spending the night with his girlfriend, probably being gross, so that was a no-go. Jinenji would be up but the guy was way too nice to put him through drunk-Koga hell and his wife would give Inuyasha an earful for dragging him out. Ginta or Hakaku would be ignoring calls, knowing how Koga got after a break-up. Shiori would do it but he didn’t want a woman for Koga to focus his attention on. Fuck.

He was gonna have to call the fox.

He popped in his custom-made earpiece (because it’s impossible to find earbuds that fit when you have dog ears) and scrolled through his contacts until he found who he was looking for. Shippo answered and it was clear he had been informed of things that Inuyasha had not. “Yo. Lemme guess: Koga’s break-up hammered and you need a ride?”

“How am I the last to hear about him getting dumped?” He growled and scowled at Koga. It was definitely a conspiracy.

“Someone had to deal with it and you seemed like the best option.” He could practically hear the fucker smirking. Yep, they’d set him up.

“Just get your ass down here.” He gave Shippo the address, keeping one eye and ear focused on Koga. At least Shippo was close by.

Turning his full attention back to Koga, he noticed the phone in his hand a little too late.

"Listen, I’m not even mad about that anymore. How about I come over there now and we can make up. I learned this new trick with my tongue and-" Koga didn't get to finish his sentence because Inuyasha snatched his phone away.

"First, gross. Second, what'd I fucking tell you? No drunk calls to your fucking ex." He glared at Koga, contemplating murder and the best place to dump a body, until a quiet voice distracted him. The ex was still on the phone.

"Hey, anyone still there?"

Shit.

“Hey,” Inuyasha said, holding the phone so they could hear each other more clearly. It was awkward at best with his ears on top of his head but his half-dog-demon hearing made up for it. “Sorry about the asshat, I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Oh, it’s alright. I was kinda expecting it anyway,” she said and sighed. “I shouldn’t have answered my phone in the first place so it’s partially my fault.”

Inuyasha growled, fighting the urge to punch Koga in the throat. The woman’s voice was soft and sweet, gently caressing his sensitive ears. The thought of Koga getting anywhere near someone who sounded so...so pure made Inuyasha’s blood boil. “Keh, not your fault he’s an asshole.” Said asshole was making grabbing motions for his phone but Inuyasha swept a leg out casually, Koga’s ass meeting the ground hard enough that Inuyasha heard his teeth clack together. “Don’t worry, I’m not giving him his phone back until he’s sobered up a bit.”

“How much has he had to drink? It takes a lot to get a demon that drunk,” she commented.

“Too much, clearly. I can’t promise he won’t try to call you again when I’m done babysitting his ass. Want me to delete your number from his phone?”

“Hmm, it’s tempting but no.” She sniffled and he wondered briefly if she’d been crying. Just because she was the one doing the dumping didn’t mean she couldn’t be upset about it. “Is he...well, really upset? It wasn’t a...a nice breakup. I kind of...um...well, I accidentally shocked him with my reiki when he wouldn’t leave and I uh, I feel kinda bad.”

Inuyasha couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that escaped his throat. “You what? I mean, I’m sure he deserved it.” Koga grumbled from the ground beside him but Inuyasha ignored him.

“Don’t laugh,” she said but he could hear the amusement in her voice and the poorly stifled giggle. “I never trained beyond keeping it in so sometimes it just...escapes.”

He shook his head and chuckled but reigned in his mirth quickly. “You, uh...are you alright?” he asked, genuinely concerned for the woman even though he’d never met her.

“Oh, yeah.” She sighed and sniffled again. “I mean, I’m as good as I can be after something like that. Thank you though, for asking. Um...what was your name?”

“Oh, uh Inuyasha.” Should he have been on the phone this long with his friend’s ex? Absolutely not. Did he care at the moment? Also absolutely not. His brain was scrambling for a way to keep her talking so he could hear more of her melodic voice. His instincts were shouting at him to comfort and protect the woman on the other end of the phone. He needed to put a stop to that and soon.

“Well uh Inuyasha, my name’s Kagome. Thank you and, um...it was nice to meet you, kind of. Oh, I mean, it was nice to meet you but we only kind of met. Not ‘it was kind of nice to meet you’...um, shit. I’m rambling, sorry.” She giggled and he could feel his ears twitching at the sound. It was fucking adorable.

The awkwardness of it all made him chuckle. “I get it. You too, Kagome.” He liked how it felt saying her name. “And if asshat bothers you again, just let me know and I’ll deal with him for you.”

She giggled again and it just wasn’t fair what it was doing to him. “Will do. I...um, I gotta go. Bye, Inuyasha.”

“Bye, Kagome.” He was sure he was grinning like an idiot by the time he hit the end call button. Hopefully, Koga was too drunk to notice.

“Gimme my phone back, shit-breath.” Koga had managed to get himself back to his feet at some point and was making a more focused grab for his phone. His scowl was a good indicator that he’d heard a good bit of the conversion. Inuyasha didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed when Inuyasha finally let the smile fall.

“Here, fuckface.” He tossed the phone in the air, Koga catching it with ease despite his drunkenness; he was already starting to sober up.

The blare of a car horn made them both jump. “You two assholes call for a ride?” Shippo yelled out the window. “Hope you know, I charge by the minute.”

Inuyasha pushed Koga into the car, trying and failing to not think of Kagome, thoughts of his soulmate forgotten for the time being.

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fanfic #WIP Wednesday #wip #ITLOTN #fanfic preview #inukag

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delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

or set your teeth against my throat (1)

warnings: vampires, blood, injury, violence, abduction, non consensual blood drinking, depressive thoughts, mild hypnosis, murder mention

Vampires, Roman was finding, seemed to have an even more shit sense of hospitality than he’d previously assumed.

Maybe it was ungenerous of him, considering this was the only coven he’d interacted with up close and personal, but he wasn’t really feeling particularly generous at the moment. When he’d been cornered, isolated from the rest of his pack, he’d expected a quick and valorous death, fighting to the last. Not… this.

Another rock made contact with the bars of his cage, the clang of stone on metal vibrating around him. His ears twitched down to flatten against his skull without his input, and he snarled low in his throat as a jeering laugh rose from the crowd.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, being taken hostage for whatever nefarious purposes they had in mind, bound and muzzled like some common animal, no, they had to parade him through the streets and batter his cage with pebbles and glass and whatever other projectiles the bloodsuckers thought fitting to torment their captive audience with.

None of it could get through the enchantment on the bars, so he wasn't struck, but it was still rough on the ears. And his feelings.

Not that they cared. That was probably the point, actually.

Gathering his resolve, he forced himself to remain still and unflinching as another shard of rock hit the cage and spun away, clenching his hands to keep them from trembling. None of this mattered. It didn’t matter what they did to him, because he would not break. He wouldn’t tell them a single thing about his pack, not one scrap of information.

He would die first, and without regrets.

As it turned out, the coven-- Kin of Æternam, they called themselves-- didn’t seem to care for information. Not a single vampire spoke to him as he was moved further and further into the town, and he couldn’t exactly initiate a conversation himself with a gag in his mouth.

Instead, he watched, and found to no surprise that he didn’t like what he saw.

He’d known many vampires were nomadic, but it was one thing to distantly know and another thing entirely to see the human town around them, half the houses smoldering and the other half looking uncomfortably ransacked. He could see the dark splatters of dried blood along walls or among the dirt, though mercifully it seemed like it had been long enough since their invasion that any remaining human bodies had been cleared away.

Roman didn’t risk interacting with humans often. He knew the tales that were spread about werewolves, and the last thing his tiny pack needed was an angry mob on their tails. Even with his reservations, though, he would never wish something like this upon them. Upon anyone.

The Æternam vamps walked among the ruins casually, as though this was everyday scenery, and Roman supposed that for them, it probably was. Simple routine; find a human settlement, feed to their unbeating hearts’ content, hold revel, and then depart again. Rinse and repeat.

It was enough to turn his stomach, and he was almost grateful when his view of the town was blocked off by their entry into the large stone fort that loomed over all else. Almost.

His opinion of the place went downhill as soon as he saw the ostentatious throne and the vampire sprawled across it, both placed on a literal gilded pedestal. Dark raven hair, corpse-like skin, and glowing red eyes painted the picture of the archetypal tyrant vamp. He found himself strangely disappointed by the lack of originality in the man’s presentation. If he was going to die to a bloodsucker, couldn’t it at least be one with a sense of style?

One of the attendant vamps pulled the door of his prison open, and Roman lunged against his restraints with all his might, snarling past the muzzle. The attendant flinched back, but the iron cuffs that bound him held firm no matter how hard he strained. The vampire on the throne laughed, the way one might at a child throwing a tantrum.

“Oh, you are a spitfire, aren’t you? All the better.”

Roman tried to convey how much this guy’s villain aesthetic sucked with his heated glare alone. He was pretty sure Virgil could have created a better evil persona than this guy in his sleep. At age twelve. While feverish. It was sad, really.

The platitudinous prick-- Roman instantly decided to alternate between very clever and very rude nicknames for the guy in his head-- beckoned, and the attendant unlocked the chain keeping him bolted to the floor of the cage. They proceeded to grab the connecting bar between the cuffs locked around his arms and maneuver him up the steps to the pedestal with probably more force than strictly necessary.

Roman had been riding in that cage for hours, and as such, had time to prepare for a lot of potential scenarios. He grew more and more tense the closer he got to the trite enthroned bastard, mentally readying himself for what was likely to be at best an assault on his person and at worst, a horrifying and gory death.

Instead, he was steered to the side of the throne, and then shoved to his knees, at which point he realized that a horrifying and gory death might not be so bad after all. Because now the attendant was locking his cuffs into a new platform, one that was designed to force him to stay hunched over and kneeling at the side of the throne. He growled, prying at the restraints, but there was little give in the cuffs. He was stuck like this, practically on display for the world to see.

“Perfect, right where a mutt like you belongs,” Vlad the Contemptible smiled sharply, as though proud of his pitiful insult.

Were all vampires this insufferably smug? Like, was it part of the package, along with the dumb looking fangs and the tacky glowing eyes? He was glad that werewolves had eyes that merely reflected light, like the respectable, well-designed creatures of nature they were.

It was possible that Roman was rambling, mentally, a little bit. He wished desperately that he could protest the indignity of it all, denounce these freaks and their humiliating tactics, but in this state, there was little he could do but glare impotently.

The bloodsucker seemed entirely too content to ignore him and his glaring hatred entirely for the next few hours, which confused Roman at first. Clearly, he was still alive for a reason, and he felt as though he’d done more than enough waiting to learn about his fate at this point. Plus, his knees hurt.

At the very least, the pain in the neck on the throne next to him seemed like the type to gloat, so why wasn’t he?

As dusk fell, Roman got his answer. More and more vamps filtered into the wide stone hall, filling the space with their corpse-cold bodies and idle chatter. Once the last bit of sun had faded over the horizon, the Toothed Tyrant slowly straightened up in his seat, drawing all the eyes in the room to him. This was what he’d been waiting for.

What was the point in gloating about your evil deeds without an audience to lavish you in praise for it?

“Kin of mine. As I’m sure many of you have noticed, we have a... guest with us this evening.”

Roman shivered as those icy, glowing gazes moved towards him, jeering or morbidly curious or hungry. He pulled at the chains once more just to have something else to focus on, the shift and clink of the metal drowned out by his rapid heartbeat in his ears. He wondered if the vamps could hear it, too.

The pitiful excuse for a villain was still talking. “... fullest potency once the full moon hits, and our hunt will decide who claims such a reward.” His half-lidded gaze slid over to Roman. “A beast like this one has engaged in plenty of hunts before, I assume? Though, probably not as prey. I’m sure it’ll get used to the sensation eventually.”

Even with the gag, Roman could snarl as fierce as any wolf, and the rumbling growl emanating from his chest made some of the closer vamps lean away.

It didn’t seem to have any effect on the worst human leech of them all. He just smiled in a satisfied sort of way before rising to his feet. “What a rebellious spirit. Perhaps you should save that for the hunt, mutt?”

Think up some new nicknames, you absolute bore, Roman thought at him, just in case those rumors about vampires reading minds were true.

The vamp walked closer, until he was at the edge of the platform and Roman had to crane his head back to see his face.

“Let’s give us both a taste of what’s to come, then.”

Without pause, there were suddenly hands on his shirt, dragging him upwards until the restraints threatened to dislocate something. One moment, he was nearly face to face with the vamp, meeting those eye-searing red pupils. In the next, his vision blurred as sharp pain shot through his neck.

The vamp had sunk its nasty fangs in on either side of his jugular, not deep enough to kill him, but enough that it would only take the slightest twitch of the head for his throat to be ripped right out. His body kept frozen even as he began to choke, his mouth tasting of iron and salt.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t escape, couldn’t attack, couldn’t even die until these monsters allowed it. The more he fought and resisted, the tighter their grasp on him would become, and the more he would suffer. It would be better to just give up now, save himself the trouble.

(Why am I… That’s not right--)

Roman only realized the vampire was withdrawing when those sharp teeth finally pulled away carelessly, causing a new wave of pain to roll through him. He automatically tried to reach for his throat, to stem the bleeding, but his bound hands could barely rise a few inches. He bent his head down instead, his pride stinging silently as a cacophony of mockery sounded all around him.

Once his fingers touched flesh, however, he could only feel shallow cuts rather than the gaping wounds he knew should be there. He coughed wetly, and red splattered across his hands, but he could breathe once more. However bad the bite had been, it had healed near instantly.

Of course. It was beginning to sink in that they wouldn’t let him perish that easily.

The vampire king was speaking again, eyes brighter than before, and his words blurred together and slipped away from Roman’s understanding. He could only notice the smear of deep red on the vampire’s face, and shudder where he lay as a chill set into his bones.

Time passed in a haze, marked by the constant flurry of vamp activity in the fort around him, the occasional meal to keep him alive, and his connection to the ever-waxing moon.

He felt a faint sense of concern about the way days seemed to slip away, and also about how far away and hard to grasp the concern itself felt. There was something seriously wrong when the growing light of the moon felt more like an approaching deadline than a relief.

The one other thing marking the time, he would much rather forget. Every night without fail, no matter how he fought, the same vampire would drag him up and plunge dagger-like teeth into his throat, leaving him drained and weak on the cold floor afterwards.

Roman wasn’t a fool; he knew that the bites were the reason he felt so exhausted and fuzzy. He just couldn’t do anything about it. The feeling of helplessness only grew stronger and stronger after each night, and slowly, he began to lose the will to fight the dreary feelings off.

By the time the night before the full moon hit, hope was hard to find.

He was slumped awkwardly against the ground when the door to the chamber creaked open, and the noise jolted him out of his dozing as quick as anything. His muscles went rigid and tense.

The head vamp hadn’t drank from him yet today, having left in the middle of the day with an extensive entourage for… something. It had probably been mentioned in earshot-- they weren’t very careful about what he did and did not hear-- but Roman hadn’t been paying enough attention. Maybe they were scouting out new territory?

Regardless, he had sort of been hoping it would keep the bloodsucker out of his hair for long enough that he could recover even just a bit before… before he ran out of time. So much for that.

To his surprise, there was no trace of the vamp’s normal arrogant strides. In fact, there was barely any sound at all. Roman could only tell that someone was approaching by the shifting of shadows and that dusty undead smell.

Suddenly, there was a cold palm on his arm, and he jerked up with a jagged snarl, his mind screaming at him to do anything to prevent being bitten again. The palm was yanked away instantly, and Roman could see the silhouette of the vamp before him.

It definitely wasn’t the head vamp. Smaller, and with curled hair that reflected the torchlight. He couldn’t see his expression, and his mind still screamed dangerous. His growl increased in intensity as the vamp extended a hand again, but he’d called Roman’s bluff: he had no way to defend himself in the restraints. Whatever the vamp was going to do, he couldn’t stop it.

The vamp’s other hand rose, and Roman couldn’t stop himself from flinching.

It made it all the more surprising when he heard the clank of a key in a lock. His eyes shot open, and to his disbelief, the chain connecting his cuffs to the platform went loose, no longer attached. A moment later, the vamp’s hands were on his cuffs, but rather than grab them and drag him, there was another clank.

For the first time in days, fresh air grazed his wrists. His hands were free.

A surge of adrenaline hit him, and he twisted quicker than the vamp could react, pinning him to the ground with a knee to the abdomen and a hand over his throat. It would keep the creature from getting enough air to call out an alarm. With his other hand, he immediately tore at the muzzle, his nails going claw-sharp to tear through the straps. He spat the remnants of the wretched thing out, and turned his attention to the vamp.

Cold hands curled over Roman’s own, like he wanted to pry the hand off his throat, but other than that, he wasn’t struggling against Roman’s hold. Oddly enough, his chest was rising and falling in an uncanny mimicry of panicked breathing, and even his eyes seemed oddly dark for a vamp. Roman would have thought him a human if not for the unmistakable fangs.

His grip tightened at the reminder. “You’re not getting any more blood out of me,” he growled, his voice rough and crackly. His whole body felt out of practice. If he stood up and bolted, he risked falling flat on his own face, and if he turned and the vamp lunged…

No. Easier to just… just vanquish the vamp so he couldn’t do anything. One less thing to worry about during his escape.

He lifted his other hand, claws pinched together as a makeshift stake. The vampire twitched once, his mouth opening briefly as though to speak, and then seemed to slump. His hands stopped tugging at Roman’s fingers around his neck, and he pinched his eyes closed, bracing for the blow.

Roman frowned. Was this a ploy for sympathy?

He could feel the way the vamp trembled under him, unnaturally lifelike.

… It was an effective one. Shit.

He lowered his hand slowly, loosened his grip, waiting for the moment the stranger dropped the ruse and lunged. It didn’t come. He just kept waiting for Roman to hurt him.

He abruptly felt a little sick to his stomach. He let go of the vamp’s throat. The guy opened one eye slowly, like he thought it was a trick.

“If you get up from this spot, if you even twitch before I’m out of this building, I’ll make sure you regret it,” Roman threatened, a growl under the words and his lip curling up slightly to bare his teeth. “You won’t get mercy twice.”

The vamp’s expression did something complicated (Confusion? Relief? Disappointment?) but when Roman scuttled back, he stayed laid out on the floor, not moving a muscle. Roman let a breath out slowly, some of the tension fading from him. “Well… good. Keep doing that.”

He could practically hear Virgil sighing as his awkwardness overwhelmed any menace his threat might have instilled. It wasn’t his fault he was off-script, okay? This vampire was… weird.

Roman shuffled back a few more steps on weak legs, and then, once he was sure he was far enough away, he let the shift wash over him like a warm breeze. Four unsteady legs were better than two, and if he leaned a little on his instincts, his inner wolf would make his gait mostly smooth. It was a small but invaluable aid as as he sprinted down long, musty halls until he was finally, finally out of that cursed fortress.

Roman was so relieved he could have cried. He was still weak, and his head was still foggy, but he didn't stop until there was finally trees around him and dirt under his feet. As he collapsed, the night air still tasted like victory.

#sanders sides #vampire au #fantasy au #ts roman #ts patton #blood tw #violence tw #hurt/comfort #more comfort next chapter lol #writing #my writing #bthb #or set your teeth against my throat #osytamt #werewolf au #this ones a little dark and sad at first but this is only the first chapter!#murder mention #ok i think thats everything #im tired im taking a break for the rest of the day

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years ago

Note

Hey!! Was wondering if I could get some Dib x reader where the reader is a really ‘popular’ likeable kid at skool and Dib has liked them for a while but feels they’re “unattainable”? (Basically every high school romance movie ever lol) thanks!

I had a lot of fun with this one! It ended up being longer than I thought it would haha.

It was a crisp autumn day, dead leaves crunching under your feet. Although it was dry in the moment, there was this feeling in the air that threatened a downpour. You stood behind your friends when they came to a stop, watching them with your hands stuffed deep in your pockets, feet shifting, the only sign to display your discomfort. Your eyes followed the notebook that was being tossed between your friends, a simple black spiral book, appearance only made special by the strange eye symbol scribbled in paint marker that adorned the front. Wicked cackles escaped your friends as they continued to throw the book around as if it were a football.

"Give it back!" Ah. And then there was Dib. The strange boy in your class that went on and on about aliens and saving the earth from Zim, your other absurd classmate. He took another jump, swiping his arm out in a desperate attempt to reclaim what was his. His fingers gently grazed the binding, only to be yanked back by his trench coat at the hands of Torque Smacky. This was what qualified as a middle school prank. Admittedly, you had thought it was a bit funny at first. That was until your friends began to run to the edge of campus, spitting hurtful words back at the clearly unathletic Dib, who was wheezing and struggling to keep up with your group.

"Soulstealers? Chupacabras? You are actually insane." Jessica laughed as she flipped through what seemed to be his personal supernatural journal.

"This is why nobody likes you, Dib. You're a freak." Smacky shoved him hard, his body colliding with the chainlink fence. You winced at the rattling it caused and the look in his eyes as he hunkered down into himself, slouching against the fence. The one thing you could say about him was that he was not one to give up easily, if at all. And yet, he looked defeated, deciding to take the lickings and wait until they lost interest. You couldn't take it anymore.

You were always well liked by everyone. Everyone adored you and your pleasant attitude, always gravitating towards and revolving around you as if you were their sun. And although you stood behind those that you called your friends, you couldn't just sit there and watch how they treated Dib. He was definitely out there, sure, and maybe you didn't understand everything he said, but there was a line you had to draw. He was never hurting anyone. If he wanted to believe in aliens, who were you to stop him?

"Guys, that's enough. Knock it off." You spoke up for the first time in that encounter, snatching the book from Jessica's hands. Your friends, whom most would label as 'the popular crowd', all stared at you. Not necessarily in anger. More so shock. "Here." You tossed the notebook back to him, lips moving in a silent 'I'm sorry'. His hands fumbled the book, almost dropping it as he too stared at you with disbelief. Why would you help him? Weren't you friends with those who antagonized him?

"Thanks-"

"Shut it. Just feel lucky they stepped in." Smacky retreated a few feet back from him, glaring at him all the while.

"Let's go. It was getting boring anyways." Jessica turned swiftly on her heel, every one of your friends following her. Glancing one more time at Dib, you nodded to him, a movement that was so slight it was barely noticeable. Without another word, you jogged after your friends, catching up with them quickly.

Dib was left standing there, still leaning against the fence, notebook still clutched close to his chest. His mind was now full of questions, which was no different from its usual state. Why would you be nice to him? No one was ever nice to him. Especially not the popular kids. He began to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, you weren't as bad as the kids you spent your time with.

High school. Sometimes media would try and convince you that it was supposed to be some magical experience that would change your life, that your entire character could be rebuilt from the ground up. If that were completely true, why had everything remained an almost exact carbon copy of the way it's been since your earlier days? Sure, you had changed a little bit. Different music taste, new style, trivial things like that. But, your friends and position on the social ladder? Exactly the same. You had stayed in the popular pool, friends still adoring you, and despite questioning their actions and morals many a time, you adored them as well. If anything, you were more popular than ever.

Dib had also remained the same. Always squabbling with Zim, causing a scene, being made fun of and ostracized daily. He was still the local loser, but at this point he was owning it. He never did have the patience to be someone he was not. That was one thing you admired about him, one thing you could never be. You didn't think anyone you were close to could ever truly be themselves. The only thing that felt different about him was his more 'fuck you' attitude to those who antagonized him. He still wouldn't fight back, but he had developed a tougher skin, almost paying no mind to any insults. He knew what was right in his mind, if no one would believe him, their loss.

Over the years, you had many classes with Dib. You had grown rather fond of him, at the very least he believed in something that wasn't ridiculously vapid. And, despite coming off as a bit of a nervous dork in some instances, he was surprisingly self-assured, for the most part. You were proud to admit to yourself that you looked forward to see him almost every day.

Twisting the knob on the classroom door, you let yourself in, eyes resting on the familiar dark-haired nerd, his face taken up by the same large glasses he's had for as long as you could remember. Waving, you approached his table, watching him straighten up almost immediately.

"Morning, Dib. How're you doing?" You always liked to ask him how things were going for him, knowing that he never was given concern very often. No one in your class would ask him how his life was, his sister, at least to you, seemed to not care, and from what you knew, his dad was some prestigious scientist that was always busy.

"Hey, Y/n. And, um, I'm doing alright! What about you?" His smile was bright, cheeks just the slightest bit flushed as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. You felt a giggle escape you as you witnessed this. Every morning, despite having the exact same routine, he always seemed to be taken aback that you were asking how he was doing, that you were even the tiniest amount of invested in his life.

"Fine, I guess. What about your ghosts and aliens?" You weren't sure that you believed in all of that crap, but if he took an interest in it and he wasn't harming anyone, who were you to stop him? "Oh, and I want an update on that werewolf you found in your trash." Remembering the story he had told you yesterday, you figured you would ask for a follow up to show your genuine encouragement.

"Oh, that! Uh, well...it turns out it was just some really hairy homeless guy rummaging through our garbage, but...as for aliens, I watched Zim's robot eat a baby. That was equal parts disturbing and intriguing." He shuddered, having flashbacks to whatever went down last night.

"His dog that he brought to pet day last year?" Thinking back to that day, it was a little strange. All hell broke loose, his dog going absolutely insane. It was a blessing he didn't end up destroying the entire school. Only the east wing. Lady luck was on your side that day, that was for sure.

“Yeah, GIR. The lip smacking noises really made it horrible." A cringe settled onto his features, and you felt it spreading to yourself as well. As much as you didn't believe that Zim was an alien (he was definitely odd and uncomfortable, that you would admit), you could see his dog consuming a human child.

"Geez. I'm sorry I asked." A chuckle fell from your lips, wishing to move past the disturbing imagery brought on by his response. Luckily for you, your teacher had announced the start of class, sending you back to your seat without having to think of a subject change.

"Tired of your charity work yet?" Jessica asked as you sat down in your usual seat across from her. Pressing your lips in a tight line, you pulled out your notebook and pencil, choosing to ignore her comment. You had always hated the abysmal way your friends treated Dib. So what if he was a bit weird? You felt bad for him, he had no one to talk to besides Zim, and he ate lunch with his sister every day. "Come on, please don't tell me you actually want to be his friend."

"I never said that...it's just...he seems so lonely." Ever since you could remember, you had been surrounded by friends. It was near impossible to hate you. You had never known what it was like to be all on your own, cursed to be a lone wolf. To you, it seemed that being alone was all Dib had ever experienced.

"He deserves it. He's a freak." Her answers were short and snappy as she tired of the subject.

"Does he?" Did anyone deserve to be lonely solely for being a little off beat? You were the only one of your friends, hell, even the whole school, who seemed to disagree with her notion. The social outcasts and rejects wouldn't even associate with him.

"Look, Y/n. I like you, I really do. We're friends. We have been for a long time. But if you become his friend, people are going to start talking." Your gaze fell to the tabletop, tired of this not-quite-argument. "You're too nice. I know you pity him, but think about your standing here. Popularity comes with a price."

"I didn't ask to be popular, okay? And at least if I were his friend, my social circle wouldn't be full of a bunch of dicks and stuck up bitches!" You spat, patience completely snapping. Jessica sat in a stunned silence, her eyes wide. That was the first time you had ever actively stood up to her. After a moment, you realized you were just a tad harsh, although she did deserve it. She was still your friend after all, and in her own twisted way, she was trying to look out for you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"We can talk about it later at lunch. Just calm down, alright?" Jessica brushed stray strands of blonde hair behind her ear, sticking her nose deep in her textbook for the first time in months. Sighing deeply, your eyes drifted to Dib's seat. His glance had already been on you, so you had managed to catch his eyes. His shoulders tensed from being caught staring, color creeping up his neck to his face. Before he could turn away, your lips quirked into a slight smile as you waved to him. It took him a second to register, but he returned the wave, a dorky grin plastered on his face. Again, you just couldn't see what was so bad about him.

"Dib, I swear to god, do you ever listen to me when I speak? You break my immersion-"

"You break my face. Yeah, I know." I laid on the couch, watching my sister play whatever VR game she was into at the time. All I did was start to ask her a question, I had barely gotten one syllable out before she cut me off. "It's important, I swear."

"Let me guess, Zim is eating waffles again?" Her voice was irritated, and I'm sure inside that head of hers she was wishing me to be dead.

"No, actually-"

"He's hiding in his toilet? Ooh, or maybe he's trying to work the toaster." Okay, so maybe I interrupt her for admittedly meaningless things sometimes. Fine, a lot of the times.

"This has nothing to do with Zim!" Now I had her attention. She hesitated for just the slightest second before she resumed playing again.

"Oh? This had better be good, Dib." Her voice was no longer threatening, rather it held curiosity. Although she would never say it to my face, she was intrigued by what I had to say.

"I need advice." Now, normally Gaz would be the last person on earth I would go to for this kind of thing, but I had already tried my dad, and lesson learned, never seek romantic advice from a man who is married to science. So, I had already exhausted pretty much all of my options. The internet was surprisingly not much help either.

"On what? How to stop bothering your sister?" Her words didn't match her tone at all. Besides, I knew that if she really wanted me out, she would remove me by force. I was suddenly beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea. After all, Gaz was very much...how to put this lightly...not romantically inclined. Still, she was my only hope at this point, and really, all I needed was someone to vent to.

"I was thinking more along the lines of cliché high school romance?" My voice became higher and quieter as the sentence went on, and I was just barely cut off by Gaz's groan. Despite her attitude, she powered off her headset out of her own volition, which meant she was definitely interested in whatever I had to say. I pushed myself to where I was sitting up, Gaz falling back onto the couch next to me.

"You're joking, right? You're asking me for advice?" I couldn't believe it either.

"Just hear me out?"

Fine. But if it's stupid I'm leaving." I already knew she wouldn't say no, but she still had to pretend it was a chore to listen to me.

"Okay, so you know Y/n, right?"

"The popular kid? They're so out of your league, Dib." She sounded condescending yet not surprised. I figured she had caught me staring at them at lunch multiple times. I had probably been pretty obvious about it. Thinking about that made me cringe, because Y/n most likely knows I stare at them all the time. If they didn't already hate me before, I'm sure they do now, they probably think I'm some sort of creepy stalker. Well, that's not the worst thing I've been called at school, so I'll take it, I guess.

"I know! And I told myself I wasn't going to fall for them, but I did. They actually talk to me though! Every morning in first period, and they wave to me in the halls, and god they have the cutest smile-"

"Dib! Okay! I get it, you're in love or whatever."

"I never said I was in love! It's just a crush. There's a difference." I watched her roll her eyes so hard I thought she might be transported to another dimension. Even I knew deep down I was lying through my teeth. All the little things had made me fall deeper into whatever my infatuation with Y/n was. Every glance, every little quip, every greeting...they all made my heart flutter and I would feel sick to my stomach every time I thought about them. It was a satisfying kind of sick, though. I knew I had been carrying these feelings for a long time. They had always been the first, if not the only, person to stand up for me when the teasing became too much. Of course I was going to fall in love, what else was to be expected?

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. But, do you even talk to them? No, you don't."

"So?" She was right. I never went out of my way to approach them. We would share short and simple conversations, but only when they spoke to me first. I was always too scared. They were the only person who could make me nervous and doubt myself anymore. The reasonable part of me told me that if I just went up to them, they would welcome the conversation. But, something was always stopping me. I held them on a pedestal, so much so that I believed making any move at all to be impossible. Y/n for me is unattainable, someone I was never meant to have. They were part of the untouchables, the most popular and worshiped kids in school. I'm just the freakshow who attracts all the wrong kinds of attention. And yet, something was pushing me to just reach for it.

"You're going to shoot your shot, aren't you." Her voice was flat. It wasn't a question. Rather, a statement that we both already knew to be true.

"Well, you know what they say. If you shoot for the moon, you're bound to at least land among the stars."

"I don't think that applies to this, unless your version of 'among the stars' is being taken out behind the school and beaten until you see stars." Ah, Gaz. Always so encouraging. What would I do without her?

"Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Of course! It's a terrible idea! But, it would be kind of funny to watch..." A smirk crept onto her face, which would have been unnerving if my thoughts weren't already racing to think of how I would even accomplish this.

"So, you're in?"

"I would never miss a chance to watch someone kick the shit out of you."

Without a doubt, you were spaced out. To the point where you barely noticed what had been left behind in your locker, almost crushing it with your multiple textbooks.

"What the...?" You pulled out a small bouquet of flowers and a note from your locker, even more confused than when you first saw it. For starters, you weren't sure how it had gotten in there in the first place. You were sure it was locked and that no one knew the combo. Unless someone broke into it with brute strength or some advanced skillset. If that wasn't enough to drive you crazy, the note was anonymous. No name, no nothing. It was typed as well, so you couldn't even analyze the handwriting if you wanted to. The contents of the note contained a love confession, and you weren't quite sure where to even begin with suspects. There were many people who had crushes on you, some even within your own friend group. Even still, the note was odd. It sounded like nobody in particular, the wordage making it seem like it could be from anyone and no one at the same time.

"Hey, Y/n. What'cha got there?" Jessica came up behind you, eyeing the flowers with intrigue. The two of you were back to being on good terms. This was how your friendship normally worked, for as long as you could remember anyway.

"A secret admirer, apparently." You mumbled, handing her the note to read. Clearly, the person had no intention of outing themselves. They were hoping for you to catch on. From the tone in the note, you guessed it had to come from someone who felt they had no place in confessing. That could be anyone, for literally any reason. Maybe they were your best friend, or a social reject.

"No way! We have to find out who this is."

"I dunno, they seem to be trying really hard to keep their identity a secret."

"But what if it's someone hot?" She poked you in the side, her face pleading with you to let her assist in finding out who left the gift as she passed the note back to you.

"But what if it's Zim?" You doubted it was him. As far as you were concerned, you pretended he didn't exist, and he seemed to hate your guts, which was completely fine by you. The two of you burst out laughing as you put the flowers back in your locker so you could retrieve them after school. "But, maybe I don't want to know."

"Lame." She huffed as you began your walk to class. You folded the note, stuffing it deep in your pocket. You hated that you knew you wouldn't be able to let this go. You felt the need to solve the mystery. Although you had no clue where to even begin, there was one person you hoped it would be from. He was your main suspicion, even though a part of you wondered if that was due to wishing for it to be so.

"Can we please just be lowkey about this? If I decide to pursue this, I want to keep it hushed. Word spreads like wildfire here."

Well, you were absolutely right about one thing. Word travels fast in high school, especially if it's drama. Left and right, you had people asking if you had found the unknown Romeo who had broke into your locker. You were disappointed but not surprised. You had expected Jessica to talk. Her lips were about as tightly sealed as a window in summertime. So far, everyone had their own theories. The wildest one you had heard was that it was from one of your teachers. You were immediately disgusted with that, and how desperately you desired to unhear that statement.

Nevertheless, you had started to feel more confident in your own personal favorite guess. There had been one certain individual who was particularly silent through the whole matter, almost uncharacteristically so.

Lunch time. The perfect time to gain confirmation of your theory. Tray of borderline unedible garbage in hand, you strode to your usual table, which seated all of the school's finest and most elite in terms of the social ladder. Instead of taking a seat like everyone expected, you continued to walk, not stopping until you reached the very last table in the back, which sat only two: the Membrane kids. Setting your tray down, you took a seat across from Dib, who stared in utter shock and amazement. The sister looked up from her Game Slave, glance so brief you weren't entirely sure if it had even happened. Without a word, she rose from her seat, leaving the lunch room completely, most likely to continue playing in the hallway. Let's face it, no one was going to eat the shit they served anyway. You hoped he would say something, anything that would be incriminating. However, only the usual din of the cafeteria could be heard, the occasional murmur of your table switch slipping through.

You couldn't handle any more of the surrounding clatter of trays, laughter, and indecipherable words, so you decided to speak. "Hey, Dib. You like mysteries, right?" The poor boy looked helpless, red up to the tips of his ears, eyes refusing to meet yours.

"Sure..." You could feel his knee bumping the table as he bounced his leg at about a hundred miles per minute. You had him right where you wanted him, and he knew it. You both did. In that moment, you knew it was him. It had to be. He was acting even stranger than usual. Based on his behavior, he knew you had cracked the case. Thinking back, it should have been fairly obvious from the beginning.

"Well, something strange happened this morning. And since mysteries are kind of your thing, I was wondering if you could help me?" You were trying to coax him into saying the words you needed so desperately to hear. And yet, he was so stubborn.

"Alright, I could, you know, give it a go, I guess." Maybe he wasn't stubborn, maybe this was him playing out his last hope that you still were clueless on who it could be.

"I found something interesting in my locker this morning. Some very pretty flowers and a lovely little note, but unfortunately, it was anonymous. So, I guess I have a secret admirer on my hands." By gauging his reaction, you could tell he wasn't about to relent any time soon. He nodded his head, lips pursed in a tight line.

"Well, that's a tough one." Vague answers, saying as little as possible. You were getting nowhere, and would be getting nowhere. He was really going to make you say it, wasn't he?

"Yes. I have my suspicions. Would you like to hear them?" He didn't respond at all, fingers drumming nervously on the table. He still wouldn't own up to it. You decided to give him one last chance to confess, saying no more and staring directly at him. Hoping the pressure would bring him to spill, you thought your breath would catch in your throat when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Did you do the math homework last night?" His voice was almost an octave higher than normal, and there was a slight wobble to it. You could only fix him with a glare. Unbelievable. He was trying to get out of this by changing the subject. There was no way in hell you were letting that happen.

"I know it's you, Dib."

"Oh...you do?" His voice was so soft and faint that you had to strain to hear it. His eyes fell to the floor, as if trying to will a wormhole to open beneath his feet to swallow him so he could be anywhere but there in that moment.

What Dib was expecting to happen was for laughter to spill from your lips, followed by you telling him that you could never in a thousand years like someone like him, that his chances were below zero.

Some pearls of laughter did escape you, but it wasn't malicious. Even Dib, in his most insecure and vulnerable state could see that. Throughout the day, you were itching for this confrontation. You hoped it was him, you wanted it to be him. Not so you could throw it back in his face. This whole ordeal brought you to realize that you had somehow caught feelings for him as well. Your morning conversations about spooks, although mildly concerning at times, made your day, and you appreciated how passionate he was about his interests, even if you didn't completely understand them.

"Who knew you were such a dorky, hopeless romantic?" You didn't think it was possible, but the blush that stained his face darkened at your words that were broken by giggles.

"So...you liked the flowers? Or were you just saying that?" His eyes finally met your own for the first time in what felt like ages. You could see he was slowly relaxing, although to him it probably felt as if he were still walking on eggshells.

"Of course. I'll put them in my room when I get home." His lips pulled back into the cutest smile you had ever seen, and you thought your heart had melted on the spot. "Can I see your phone?" You blurted out, embarrassed of yourself. What ever happened to playing it cool?

"Should I be concerned?" A hint of worry crept into his voice, but regardless, he pushed his phone over to you. Taking it, you opened contacts and input your number, adding a small heart next to your name. As you glanced around the lunchroom, eyes had started to become glued to you. You had been sitting there much too long, and many were taking notice. Standing up, you slid the phone back to him, taking your uneaten tray in your hands.

"Call me sometime." Those were the final few words that were spoken as you made your way back to your usual table, leaving him to sit and stare in disbelief. As lunch drew to a close, you would shoot Dib occasional looks, waving happily whenever you caught his eyes. You let yourself dream that this was possibly the beginning of some blossoming high school romance. In your position, you had your pick of virtually anyone at your school. Nevertheless, you wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be your secret admirer.

#dib membrane #invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #fanfiction #dib x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim one shot #invader zim fic #invader zim oneshot #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #request

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harley-sunday · 4 years ago

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Encore [epilogue]

Summary: The new Disney+ show ‘Encore’ brings together former castmates of a high school musical, tasking them with re-creating their original performance in a high school reunion like no other. Emotions run high as you face faded friendships, long-forgotten controversies, killer choreography, and an ex-boyfriend you haven’t seen in eighteen years.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader [unnamed OFC, nicknamed ‘Ace’)

Warnings: Language. NSFW

Word count: 3.1k

AN: This is it... The epilogue of Encore’s Encore. What a ride, huh? I had so much fun writing this, diving into this backstory, and making sure these two knuckleheads found their way to each other in the end :) Hope you’ll enjoy the last part, but please let me know what you think! ♥

eL, I owe you something chocolate for all the hours you’ve spend in this daydream world with me. Thank you so, SO much, sweets!

Masterlist

“Nic,” you answer with a smile, putting your phone on speaker, “we’re almost there.”

“Ok, good,” she says, “cause these potatoes are done.”

Chris chuckles beside you, “Two minutes, Nicole.”

“Step on it, Evans,” Nicole groans, “I’ve got two very impatient kids here who, I’m sure, aren’t above killing their mother if we don’t start eating soon.”

“Nicole,” you laugh.

“What? I’m serious,” she protests. “Please tell me you remembered to bring the-”

“It’s in the trunk, Nicole,” Chris reassures her with a smile. “We’re pulling up now, so you’re good.”

“Oh thank God,” Nicole says as she hangs up.

“I’ll leave the door open for you,” you tell him, before you give a kiss. “See you soon.”

He winks and sits back, trying to hide from view as you make your way to the front door.

The door opens before you even have a chance to ring the doorbell and you are greeted by two very excited boys who both run up to you and throw their arms around your waist. You run your hands through their hair, “Hi guys,”

“We’re gonna watch you and mommy on TV!” Robby exclaims, while he takes your hand and leads you inside. Leo’s still wrapped around your waist, his feet on yours, and so you penguin walk through the hall and into the kitchen, where you find Nicole and Keith.

“Hi,” Nicole says with a smile, planting a kiss on your cheek, “you had a good flight?”

“Not too bad,” you tell her as you give Keith a hug.

“How’s the apartment?” She tells Leo to let go of you then, and when he doesn’t listen right away she throws him one of those mom-looks that makes him do exactly what she wants.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, taking the glass of wine she’s offered you, “I’m not sure all my stuff’s gonna fit, but-”

“I still don’t understand why you don’t just move in with him, I mean-”

“Nicole,” you berate her, one eyebrow raised. “Have you met me and my commitment issues?”

“Yes, I know, taking it slow, blah blah blah,” she says while she pulls a face. “You know you’re just gonna be at his place all the time, right?”

“I know,” you agree with a nod, “but it’s nice to have, like, my own place, at least until he gets back from filming Knives Out, you know? I don’t- It would be weird to stay at his house when we’re not technically back-”

“Oh, come on!” She throws her hands in the air then, “You know what, I give up. Just let me know if you need help decorating the new place or whatever.”

“I love you,” you tell her, making a kissing face.

“Uhu,” she says, trying to keep a straight face but failing. She pulls you in for a hug, “It’s good to have you back, babe.”

“MOM!”

“Oh shit,” Nicole curses quietly and lets go of you. “Here we go.”

You pulls up your texting app and hit <send> on the draft you typed earlier, which simply says:

Now.

“Mom, Leo hit me!”

You follow Nicole into the dining room where you find Robby, a red spot on his cheek that confirms his story, and a very guilty-looking Leo. Before Nicole has a chance to say anything there’s a knock on the front door and you see the confusion on Leo and Robby’s faces when they quickly realize an unexpected guest has shown up.

It’s then the door to the dining room opens and you see the boys’ eyes widen in shock when they see who has just stepped into their house. You throw Nicole a wink and step back, letting your back rest against the wall as you watch the scene in front of you unfold with a smile.

“Hi boys,” Chris says, using the deeper voice Steve Rogers is known for. Holding Captain America’s shield in front of him he salutes them, before he sets the shield down and walks over to where they’re seated, kneeling in between them.

Leo finally seems to have found his voice again and looks from Chris to Nicole, “Momma! Cap’ain America is here!”

“He sure is, baby,” Nicole says with a smile.

As if on cue, both boys jump out of their seats and throw their arms around Chris’ neck, giggling when he stands up, carrying them to the living room with ease.

“Come on,” you nudge Nicole before you set your glass down, “Chris can handle those two, I’ll help you get everything on the table.”

She tells Keith to go take some pictures, maybe even a video so that, when necessary, they can help Leo and Robby remember about the deal they made with Captain America about being kind to each other. Once you’re in the kitchen she lets out a staggered breath, “I really hope this will help with all the fighting.”

“It will,” you assure her, gently patting her arm. “Captain America shows up, you listen, right? Those kids, oh Nic,” you let out a laugh, “they’ll be on their best behaviour from now on, because Captain America will find out if they’re not.”

After a dinner filled with stories from Leo and Robby, trying to impress Captain America with whatever they can think of, you settle down in the living room, your episode of ‘Encore’ just minutes from airing.

You and Chris sit down on the couch, Robby on his lap, while Leo snuggles up on yours, but only after both boys agree that Leo gets to sit on Cap’s lap after the second commercial break. Keith and Nicole are snuggled up on the love seat and you watch them out of the corner of your eye, smiling when you see Keith tickle Nicole which earns him a gentle slap on the wrist, followed by a kiss.

The episode starts then, the boys clapping and cheering loudly whenever they catch a glimpse of their mom. You can’t help but cringe when you see the footage of that first day, the awkward hug you gave Chris of course shown in its entirety. That’s the only time there’s any focus on you and Chris, which you’re thankful for, glad that whatever was going between you two didn’t transpire in rehearsals enough to make it into the final cut.

You smile when you see parts of the performance on screen and look away in embarrassment when they show the scene between you and Chris, making out in Kenickie’s car. Keith wolf whistles and Nicole winks at you, while the boys look up at you and Chris, confusion written all over their faces.

Robby, now in your lap, takes the lead, “You kissed Captain America.” It’s not so much a question as it is a statement and you’re not sure how to reply.

Chris steps in, “She did, but it’s super secret, so you can’t tell anyone that you know, ok?”

Robby and Leo nod fervently, excited to share another secret with Captain America.

“So, am I dropping you off at your place, or-” he says with a grin.

You shake your head and laugh, “You can, but then you’d have to drop yourself off there as well and I don’t think Dodger would be too excited to spend the night alone.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he drives past your apartment, speeding up a little to make his point, a cheeky grin playing on his lips.

You turn towards him in your seat and stare at him for a few seconds, memories starting to flood your mind now that you’re driving through Sudbury again together for the first time in eighteen years. You let your bottom lip roll between your teeth while an idea starts to form.

He looks over at you, “What?”

You shrug, “Remember that time you took me for a drive and we ended up at Great Meadows?”

“Yeah-”

“Yeah.” You reach out your hand and let it rest on the top of his thigh, “Wanna take me there again?”

He swallows hard, the double entendre not lost on him, and he just nods, gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter.

You let your hand travel further up his thigh and cup him through his jeans, drawing a sharp breath from him when you squeeze ever so slightly. It’s about five more minutes to the parking you were referring to and you keep your hand in place for every second of them, your thumb rubbing back and forth in languid strokes.

His breathing picks up and you can tell he’s trying to keep his cool, but the way he grows harder under your touch betrays his efforts. He curses quietly, “Fuck, Ace.”

“Uhu,” you reply with a sly smile and another squeeze.

He pulls up to the parking then, and you’re relieved to find it empty, not sure what you would have done if there’d been other people around. Before you have time to say anything he’s unbuckled his seatbelt and puts his hand over yours, keeping you in place, grinding against your hand.

You take your hand out from underneath his and unbuckle your seatbelt, while you tell him to slide his seat back. He does and watches you intently, no doubt curious to see what you’ll do next. You throw him a wink and move around in your seat, your ass now hitting the dashboard. Planting one feet firmly on the ground, you throw the other over his leg and slide onto his lap. It takes some effort, but finally you find yourself straddling his thigh.

Your skirt has ridden up and you can feel your soaked panties press against his jeans, a shiver running through you when you feel him flex his muscles. You cup his face and pull him in for a kiss and as you do you buck your hips, sliding over his leg, a moan escaping you from the friction it creates.

“Ace,” he breathes against your lips, his hands on your hips to keep you in place.

You give him another kiss and let your hands fall to his jeans then, your fingers unbuckling his belt with ease before you undo his button and zipper. One hand finds its way into his boxers and takes him out, and you press yourself against his leg when you see he’s completely hard.

Your thumb runs over the tip, coating it in precum. Pulling back you look at him and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks when you let a bit of spit fall onto your hand, your eyes never leaving his. Both hands are on his cock then, working in tandem, while he grabs onto your hips and helps you ride his thigh in earnest.

It isn’t long before his head falls back against the headrest, his breathing more ragged now, and you can tell he’s getting close from the way he thrusts into your hands.

“I’m right there with you,” you whisper, feeling your orgasm starting to build.

He flexes the muscles in leg again and pushes you down harder as he slides you from his knee to his hip and back.

You keep running your hands up and down his shaft, faster than before, and then you lean forward and put your mouth to his ear, “Come for me, Chris.”

He shakes his head while he tightens his grip on your hips, lifting you up, and you whimper at the loss of contact. He kisses you, hard, and then puts one hand on your lower back, pushing you against him, while the other takes his cock from your hands. “Wanna come inside of you,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, and you almost come right then and there.

You put your hands on his shoulders and slowly lower yourself onto him, a moan escaping your when he fills you up effortlessly. His hands are back on your hips then, helping you ride him, setting a pace that you know will get both of you there quickly.

Burying your face in his neck, closer now than you were before, you sneak one hand in between you to play with your clit. You want to tell him you’re about to come, but then he bucks his hips at the same time he pushes you down and the words get stuck in your throat because your orgasm washes over you instantly.

You feel him come inside of you not much later and he wraps his arms around you, cradling you against his chest and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you both come down from your high.

When you wake up the next morning Chris’ side of the bed is already empty and you figure he must have gone out for an early morning run. That is until you hear Dodger bark somewhere on the other end of the house, which is weird, because Chris told you he usually takes his dog along on his runs. You decide you might as well get up, feeling well-rested after your early night yesterday, but still longing for some coffee.

You start to make your way to the kitchen, but halfway there you are greeted by an excited Dodger, who you give some well-deserved scratches before continuing your mission to get some coffee. Your brows knit together when you see a bouquet of red tulips on the kitchen counter, which you are sure weren’t there yesterday.

“I was just gonna get you,” Chris says as hands you a plate with two Danish, and a cup of coffee while he pulls a face, “I hate to rush you, but we have an hour before we need to leave, so you kind need to haul-”

“What?” You look at him, shaking your head, “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t- It’s a surprise,” he says with a wicked grin. “So just- Eat your breakfast, and I’ll go take a shower, ok?”

“Ok,” you draw out, even more confused. You watch him walk out of the kitchen and turn towards Dodger, who’s at your feet hoping you’ll drop a bit of Danish, or maybe just both. “You in on this?”

Dodger barks quietly, which doesn’t really help. Still, you sneak him a bit of your Danish before you sit down at the breakfast bar and try to figure out what the hell is going on.

You’re in the car about an hour later and Chris still won’t tell you where you’re headed, but when he turns onto the I90 after twenty minutes or so, you are fairly certain you’ll end up in Boston, even though that leaves about a thousand places he could take you to.

He’s unusually quiet and so you figure it must be something important but there’s just no way of telling what is happening right now. When he pulls up on Salem Street about thirty minutes later you’re even more confused, almost certain that you’ve never been here before.

When you round the car to join him on the sidewalk, he takes your hand and leads the way down the street until you get to what looks like a barber shop. It confuses you even more, because are you here to watch him get a haircut, or?

You follow him inside and you’re surprised when the guy behind the counter greets him as if they’re old friends, telling him Dave will be with you guys in a second.

“Chris,” you whisper, gently tugging on his hand.

Before he has the chance to respond a guy walks through the curtains behind the counter and walks up to you and it takes everything you have not to stare at him, because he’s almost twice the size of Chris. This must be Dave, you figure, and you watch as he gives Chris a hug.

“How you doin’, kid?”

“Good,” Chris smiles. He nods towards you then, “This is Ace.”

You throw him a look because why would he use your nickname, but it’s then Dave gives you a hug and you find yourself a little stunned at how gentle he is for such a big guy. Before you have the chance to ask any questions, Dave beckons you and Chris to follow him through the curtains and it’s there things get even more confusing.

There’s a chair set up, but it isn’t a barber’s chair, and you glance at Chris, hoping to finally get some answers.

“I’ll just eh-,” Dave says then, “I’ll just go grab something from the back,” and disappears through another curtain, leaving you and Chris alone.

Chris takes your hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze, “Remember when I told you that I got that ace of hearts tattooed on what was supposed to be our ten-year anniversary?”

You nod, slowly starting to maybe connect the dots, but it isn’t until you realize what today’s date is that you let out a gasp, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods and smiles, “Happy twenty-year anniversary, Ace.” He tugs on your hands, pulling you close before he wraps his arms around you, his mouth close to your ear when he says, “It’s time to start fixing things.”

Dave reappears then and asks Chris if he’s ready. Chris nods and takes his sweater off, before he sits down in the chair and Dave starts prepping his skin. Chris holds out his hand to you and you’re quick to take it, standing next to him and watching in awe as Dave starts to fill in the broken line of Chris’ tattoo, the colour red he’s using matching that of the existing heart perfectly. You give his hand a gentle squeeze to let him know that Dave’s done not much later and let go then, so Chris can get up out of the chair and admire his tattoo in the mirror that’s hanging on the wall.

Dave throws you a wink, “Everything as it should be.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile, for some reason feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, as if the enormity of what Chris has just done only now hits you. You watch as Dave places what looks like saran wrap on Chris’ chest before he hands him a tube of cream and some instructions on how to take care of it the next couple of days.

Walking out of the shop not much later Chris looks at you, a tender look in his eyes, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a moment of clarity suddenly hitting you.

“So,” Chris asks, hesitating a little, “am I dropping you off at your place or-?”

“No,” you say as you let go of his hand and turn towards him. You cup his face ih your hands and push yourself up so your lips ghost against his, “You’re taking me home.”

#chris evans x reader #Chris Evans fanfic #Harley Sunday x Chris Evans #chris evans #Encore

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eredins-a-king-aint-he · 4 years ago

Note

Geralt/Gaunter + 5? Because I feel like Gaunter def looked jealous in the tavern when that guy interrupted him right before he stopped time 😏

hey anon?? Have I mentioned that you’re the best?? I love doing these, they’re a great writing exercise, and Gaunter/Geralt is so much fun to write >:3c

(I hope you don’t mind that my head went to a slight different place with this prompt though)

Prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

~~~~~

Geralt is not sure how he has managed to get dragged to yet another fancy masquerade party, yet here he is, dressed to kill, masked, and already deeply wishing he could get back into his comfortable armor. His collar itches, so he scratches it, earning himself a disgusted look from a nearby nobleman.

“Why am I here again?” he grumbles to his companion.

“Because you’re my friend, and I asked you to be here,” Dandelion replies loudly, drawing stares from all around.

“Don’t start with that again,” Geralt says irritably. “I know you, and I know exactly the kind of shit that you pull—”

But Dandelion is clearly not listening.

“Ooh, I’ll bet five crowns on that being the fair countess Merallia,” the bard says, adjusting his peacock mask, and he makes a beeline for the woman, leaving the annoyed witcher behind.

“Every goddamn time,” Geralt grunts, but he’s used to Dandelion’s antics so it doesn’t really bother him. He scans the crowd, taking in the array of fancy clothes and colorful masks. Spotting a tray of drinks moving past, he snags a few and downs them all, once again ignoring the resulting dirty looks. Warmth blooms in his stomach from the alcohol, and he sighs.

“Why, if it isn’t the White Wolf,” a smooth voice from behind him says, the sound ringing familiarly inside Geralt’s mind. He turns and looks down into a face that he recognizes despite the mask it wears. The sparkling eyes behind the mask are completely and totally unmistakable.

“Gaunt—” he begins, but the man shushes him.

“Naughty,” Gaunter O’Dimm says with a curling smile. “No naming names until the party ends, and we all remove our masks.”

The witcher scowls slightly, but the heat inside his belly is no longer from the alcohol alone.

“How did you get in here?” he asks.

“Are you surprised by my presence? Masquerade balls are one of my favorite types of parties. I wouldn’t miss one for the world.”

“Yes but this is a private event,” Geralt replies, snatching another drink from a passing servant and downing it.

“I got in the same exact way as you,” Gaunter says, surprisingly direct. “I was invited. Is that so unheard of?”

“Wasn’t trying to be rude,” Geralt mumbles into his glass. “Just curious.”

“Ah, dear witcher,” Gaunter says, patting his arm. “Haven't you ever heard the saying, ‘curiosity killed the—’”

“Wolf!” someone calls. It’s another voice Geralt recognizes, but the pleasant thrill of hearing it is suddenly tempered by worry as he watches Gaunter’s eyes shift slowly toward the newcomer, full of deadly good humor. He remembers the last time he witnessed someone interrupt Gaunter O’Dimm, and hopes that this instance will end differently.

“Wolf,” Geralt replies, turning to clasp hands with the man he knows is one of his closest friends, and they embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” Eskel says, pulling back and sounding pleased. “It’s been months! How have you been? How on earth did Dandelion manage to get you to one of these after last time—”

“Gods, don’t bring that up here,” Geralt groans. “Are you going to be in town long?”

Eskel takes a drink from a nearby tray.

“For a couple days, yeah. Why?”

Geralt casts a slightly nervous glance toward Gaunter, who is being unusually quiet.

“Why don’t we meet up at The Clever Clogs tomorrow evening after sundown and catch up? These events aren’t the best for that kind of thing.”

“Sounds great, I’ll see you then,” Eskel says cheerfully, clasping hands with Geralt once more. He sends a friendly smile toward Gaunter, wishes them both a good evening, and disappears back into the crowd.

Geralt turns slowly back to the man, dreading what he might find. Gaunter is still staring at the place where Eskel had just disappeared, but time hasn’t stopped, so that is probably a good thing.

“Sorry about that,” Geralt mutters. “Please don’t kill him, I’m actually quite attached to him, and would rather he stay alive if possible.”

This makes Gaunter look back into his face. The sparkle in the man’s eyes has vanished, leaving them black and eerily empty.

“You know how I feel about being interrupted,” he says softly, dangerously. He adjusts his doublet, and there’s something about the rigidly straight set of his usually curling mouth—

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

The words leave Geralt’s mouth before he can think better of them. Cold fingers of dread slide down his spine as Gaunter seems to consider them.

“You think I’m jealous?” Gaunter asks slowly, sounding almost amused. He steps forward, moving purposefully into Geralt’s space, until the scent of him— spices and smoke— tickles Geralt’s nose. Unable to stop himself, the witcher swallows hard. Fear and desire rise in him, coating his insides. The cocktail of feelings is one that Gaunter seems to brew in him every time they meet.

“Shouldn’t have said… sorry,” Geralt manages. Belatedly, he realizes that the design on Gaunter’s mask is a clock, then movement draws his eyes downward. He watches anxiously as Gaunter reaches up to him, but the man’s fingers close gently around his chin and not his throat. With Gaunter he can never be sure. The man holds his eyes for a long moment, searching his gaze with focused intent, then his mouth curls into a slight smile.

“Relax, witcher,” Gaunter says. “It’s a party, lighten up.”

“But you—”

The fingers around his chin tighten briefly, then they let go.

“Yes, I do still hate being interrupted, but for the party’s sake, I won’t make a fuss.”

Relief spreads through Geralt like sunlight. Eskel is safe then. Good.

“Not for my sake at all?” his traitorous mouth says. Gaunter chuckles.

“Come with me,” he says, and walks away. Geralt’s legs obey before he has a chance to consider the action. The crowds part before Gaunter as if large, invisible hands grip them and move them to each side of his path. Seeing this, Geralt shivers, but he still trails after the other man, following him into a secluded alcove. Gaunter stops, then turns to him, eyes sparkling once again.

“Yes, a little for your sake,” the man says quietly, conversationally, “but I can’t just have that spreading around. I have a reputation to maintain, you know.”

Startled by this apparently blatant honesty, the witcher simply stares down into Gaunter’s masked face. The desire to reach out, pull the mask off, and kiss him flits across Geralt’s mind. As it does, Gaunter’s smile broadens. He slides a hand around the witcher’s waist.

“Tip up your mask,” he whispers. Geralt doesn’t hesitate. He lifts his mask and bends down, hungrily pressing his lips to Gaunter’s, feeling the man respond with warmth. After a moment, they pull back.

“As much as I would love to torture you by introducing you to each and every one of my acquaintances here,” Gaunter says softly, his eyes twinkling as Geralt shudders, “I’d prefer to continue this somewhere else. How about it?”

“But you love parties,” Geralt replies through a haze of arousal. “You said so earlier. Don’t you want to stay and uhh, mingle?”

“I do not.” The words are said with a steely decisiveness that erases any question of a doubt from Geralt’s mind.

“Let’s go, then,” he says, tentatively reaching for Gaunter’s hand. Gaunter accepts, lacing their fingers together in a gesture that sends heat throughout Geralt’s entire body, and his mouth curves into a slow, meltingly sweet smile.

“After you.”

#i will make them smooch every single time if i can manage it #geralt of rivia #gaunter o'dimm #the witcher 3 #Gaunter/Geralt #gaunralt #my fic #prompt list #ask meme #anon you are the best #i totally do not have beta readers for these tho #plz pardon mistakes and any repetition #also sorry about the length i got carried away lmao #asks #anon ask #cedar answers #cedar scribbles

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