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theowritesstuff · 2 years ago

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Yours No More

Nikolai Lantsov x gn!healer!reader

Summary: Hiding an almost-relationship with the Prince of Ravka is hard enough, but it gets even harder to navigate feelings when he’s engaged to a Saint

Prompts: “are you really so oblivious?” & “it hurts, just how much I ache for you.”

A/N: What can I say? I love writing healer!reader. Also once again I’m mixing book canon and show canon

Sobachka - puppy

Moi tsarevich - my prince

Moi tsar - my king

SHADOW & BONE S2 SPOILERS

When thinking about your life, the young prince of Ravka seemed to be a prominent feature. There was before Nikolai, the life you lived before the palace, then there was after Nikolai, the life surrounded by other Grisha, serving the royal family.

You were offered up to the Lantsovs as somewhat of a personal healer, ready to tend to them whenever needed. The king and queen didn’t really have a need for a healer most of the time, and the older prince was often far from the palace. They younger prince however, the sobachka, had a tendency to dive headfirst into danger whenever he liked.

While this very well could have made Nikolai a thorn in your side, you’d quickly grown fond of him. It was impossible not to, what with his crystalline blue eyes, the blonde waves that adorned his head, and his charming, carefree spirit.

You’d been given an easy role. You’ve seen how other Grisha are treated amongst the other royals, sometimes even the soldiers from the First Army. Your poor friend Genya was dealt a terrible hand when it came to the roll she played in the palace, so you were grateful for the young prince’s kindness.

He became just as infatuated with you as you did with him just as quickly though. Whenever you ran to him healing a scraped knee, or when his parents sent you with him when he joined the First Army specifically to tend to him, you stole his heart little by little, until he could no longer call it his own. He almost looked forward to getting hurt, because it meant he could call upon you.

If asked he’d deny it, but he begged his parents to let him take you with him whilst he studied for his apprenticeship. They were hesitant to send you away, to lose their best healer, but Nikolai was persuasive.

He asked you to tailor him, just enough that no one would recognize the prince of Ravka on a ship. You reluctantly agreed, slowly waving your hands over his face, changing the features you’d grown to find comfort in. His blonde waves now a bright red, stark against his pale skin. His once sparkling blue eyes were now a muddy green color. The only thing that really remained of your prince was the ever present smirk he had.

“How do I look?” He asked you.

“Different.” You nodded.

“Good. No one will be able to pick me out of a crowd.” He looks over himself in a mirror.

“I could.” You stand behind him. “I think it’d be quite easy to pick you out.”

He smiles, but furrows his brows. “How so?”

“Well, let’s start with your posture. You’re still too regal. Relax your shoulders a bit. You’re no longer carrying the weight of a prince.” You place your hands on his shoulders, using your thumbs to massage the muscles. “Then there’s your charm-”

He quickly turns his head to face you, a bold smirk resting on his face. “You think I’m charming?”

You laugh. “I think you’re confident, sometimes overly so. I think you have this air about you that draws others to you.”

“Are you?” He asks, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Am I what?”

“Drawn to me?” He leans closer to you, his eyes shifting down to your lips.

Before he could press his lips to yours a sharp knock sounded from the door. You pulled away from each other quickly, both trying to hide your flustered states.

“Come in.” Nikolai called.

Tamar opened the door and poked her head in. “Love the new look captain.” She laughed. “Ready to go?”

Sailing the seas with Sturmhond took some getting used to. The few Grisha you knew helped you settle into this new life, while others in the crew wondered why their captain kept a healer so close.

You shared a bunk with a few of the other crew mates, but more often than not, Nikolai pulled you away to the captain’s quarters. He wanted to keep you close to him.

“What if someone breaks into my room and stabs me?” He asked, shrugging.

You shook your head. “Then you’d probably want the Bataar twins here to protect you.”

“Here I’d be. Laying on the floor, blood pooling out of my chest.” He collapses to the floor with a loud thud, a hand over his chest. “Slowly letting the life drain from my body.” He closes his eyes for a moment.

“Don’t be so dramatic sobachka. I know you wouldn’t take death laying down. You’d fight it until your very last moment.” You roll your eyes at him, but can’t help your smile from growing. “Even then, you’d probably drag your corpse to me.”

“I would.”

Occasionally, in the quiet night, he’ll allow you to wipe away the tailored face you’ve created for him, and bring back his softer Lantsov features. You brush a hand through his gold locks, pushing them away from his face.

He lets you admire him in silence. A clever quip waiting on the tip of his tongue, but he never allows it to escape in fear that it will ruin these moments with you.

“Moi tsarevich.” You sigh as your fingertips travel from his hair down the side of his face, tracing over his cheekbones.

“You don’t have to call me that.” He whispers to you. His eyes remain locked on yours as yours travel around his face, memorizing every detail of him.

“Nikolai then.” You give him a soft smile.

You reluctantly pull yourself away from him after a while, ready to tailor him back into his privateer persona. “It’s probably time for Sturmhond to return.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well,” now you smirk at him. “I think the prince is decidedly more handsome than the pirate.”

“Privateer. It’s an-”

“Important distinction. Yes, I know.” You laugh as you slowly tailor him back into Sturmhond.

Once finished you walk over to the other side of the room, where he’s added a bunk specifically for you. You blow out the few candles that were lit, and climb into your bunk.

“Y/n?” Nikolai calls from the other side of the room.

“Yes?”

“Do you really think I’m handsome?” You can hear his grin.

“Good night Nik.” You roll your eyes affectionately, rolling over to face the wall.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, your new nickname for him floating around in his head.

You’d fallen into an easy routine with Nikolai aboard the Volkvony. You spent time with the crew during the day, tending to injuries, sometimes even practicing the heartrender specialties with Tolya or Tamar. Then the evenings you’d spend with Nikolai. You keep him company as he makes plans for where the ship is going and why, you show him what the twins have taught you.

“Watch this, I can adjust your heartbeat a little bit!”

He watches as you do the heartrender motions in front of his chest. He can feel his heartbeat quicken just a little bit, but whether it’s from your powers or your close proximity he’s unsure.

“You don’t need to use your powers to make my heart speed up.” He takes your hands in his and holds them to his chest. You feel his heartbeat through the thick blue coat he’s got on, and sure enough it’s beating faster than usual.

He’s smirking down at you, proud of how flustered he’s seemed to make you as you pull your hands away from his chest. You excuse yourself, and quickly leave him there, wondering whether or not he holds the same power over your heart that you do his.

Evenings are spent sharing moments with Nikolai, both of you teetering on the line that divides friendship and more. Quiet moments shared where you both wonder what would happen if you crossed that line. If you just leaned into each other, and took what your hearts most desired.

When Nikolai had taken in Alina Starkov and Mal Oretsev you were nervous. You knew Nikolai had a penchant for adventure, but harboring the sun summoner and a deserted First Army soldier was an entirely new venture.

You knew that he wanted to take them back to Ravka, to regroup with the First and Second Army there to find a way to destroy the Fold and take down Kirigan. He helped them find and kill the sea whip, giving Alina another amplifier to use, while you stayed behind on the ship, away from the danger.

Nikolai grew closer and closer to Alina as time went on, well after she learned who he actually was then punched him out of frustration. It was clear he was trying to create some sort of relationship with her, a type of alliance between the Ravkan royals and the living Saint.

Whilst Alina became closer with the prince, you started to form a bond with Mal. He was a bit hesitant about you at first, having a hand in keeping Nikolai’s identity a secret was a little hard to forgive, but he found you were a nice change from the air that Nikolai brought with him wherever he went.

“You spend practically every minute with him. You must find him insufferable.” Mal scoffs, watching Nikolai attempt to win over Alina.

It breaks your heart a little, watching him with her. It almost feels like you’ve been pushed to the side in his life. What was once a life long friendship has now turned into a mere partnership. He’s replaced you in his heart with a new Grisha, one much more powerful than you.

“No.” You shake your head. “His company means the world to me.” You tell Mal, quiet enough so he’s the only one that hears you. “You know what that’s like though. To spend so much of your life with someone that you form what you think is an unbreakable bond with one another.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile. He feels the same way. He knows Alina loves him, he’s sure of it, but like you, he fears that something could pull her away from him.

Being back in the palace separates you even more from Nikolai. Instead of sharing a room with him, you now occupy a room at the other end of a hallway from him. You both long for one another in the quiet night. His room is far too empty, and his bed far too large for just himself.

You think that maybe he’ll ask you to stay with him, like on the Volkvony. That you’ll share a space with him again and you’ll have that little bit of peace you once shared. But he never comes to your door, and you never go to his.

Nikolai doesn’t fail to notice your relationship with Mal starting to grow. While you once sat by his side during meals, Alina now occupies your seat, and you sit with Mal, laughing with each other about something only the two of you can hear.

He feels something in his chest, a sharp pain to his heart. This is something even you, the best healer he’s ever known, couldn’t fix.

You feel the same pain when he announces his engagement to the sun summoner. Unlike Nikolai, it takes a moment. He announces it at dinner, while the First and Second armies are gathered together, that their marriage will help heal Ravka. You’re frozen, too shocked to move. It’s Mal that pulls you back to reality, his hand on yours.

You feel the pain in your chest, a twisting sensation in your stomach, as you turn away from Mal to look back at Nikolai. He’s looking around at the cheering soldiers, but his eyes catch yours for a moment. He sees the red that begins to outline them, and the tears welling up. He looks like he might go to you, to assure you that you have his heart, and not Alina. But he straightens himself out, then sits back down.

He desperately wants to follow you as you quickly exit the room, no doubt heading back to yours. He wants to chase you down the halls, to wrap you up in his arms and wipe away the tears he’s the cause of, to whisper words of love against your lips. But he can’t. He must marry Alina for the sake of his country.

He keeps an eye on you at the engagement party his mother threw for him. You’re talking with other Grisha. You look breathtaking. The only thing missing from your ensemble is the Lantsov emerald. You don’t spare him one glance at all that night. That is, until chaos ensues.

Shadow monsters destroy everything in sight, and take the lives of so many. You search for Nikolai in the bustling crowd, but a hand grabs your arm, pulling you away. Zoya drags you away from the scene before you, tugging you through numerous hallways.

She leads you to a series of tunnels underground, all while you try to pull away from her.

“You won’t be of any use if you die trying to save the prince.” She grumbles at you. “You’re one of the few healers here, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

You hate to admit it, but as usual she’s right. There are dozens injured, some worse than others. You’re about to get to work when someone calls out your name.

You look down to the other end of the hall to see Nikolai. He looks fine, no visible injuries, but he does look distraught. He practically sprints to you, and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I couldn’t find you. You weren’t there, and I thought-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine Nik.” You pull away just enough to be able to look him in the eyes.

His scan over you, searching for injuries, until you lift his chin so he’s looking at your face again.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

He nods and takes a deep breath.

“Besides, shouldn’t I be the one worried about you? I am your healer after all.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Right.”

Alina pulls Nikolai away, asking if he’d seen Mal anywhere. You take that as your cue to leave. You start going from person to person, helping heal them in any way you can.

When it comes time to make a plan for Ravka’s next move, and Nikolai and Alina suggest finding the Neshyenyer, your mind starts to wonder. He’s sending Tolya and Zoya to go to Ketterdam and recruit the Crows to find it.

You think selfishly for a moment. It would be a way to get away from the soon to be king and queen of Ravka. A way to alleviate your heart of the pain you feel when you’re around them.

“I’d like to accompany Tolya and Zoya.” You tell him.

He looks surprised to say the least. “Why?”

“Well, there will be seven people looking for a mystical weapon, danger is bound to arise, they may need a healer.” You attempt to convince yourself and him that this is the reason you’d like to go.

“No. You’ll stay here.” He shakes his head. He can’t fathom so much space between you. “You’re my healer.” He puts emphasis on the word my, you don’t know if he notices it, but you do.

You listen intently for his heartbeat. It’s pace slowly accelerates as he starts to pace around the room.

You step in front of him, blocking his continuous path, and take his hands in yours. He closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of having you so near. He leans his forehead against yours.

“I think we both know, I am yours no more sobachka.” You murmur.

He shakes his head and opens his eyes. You can see tears slowly start to build up. “If you insist that you must go, take this.” He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his gold compass. “So you can always find your way back home.” Back to me.

The trip to Shu Han was definitely an eventful one. Tolya kept a watchful eye on you after being told explicitly by Nikolai to protect you at all costs. The Crows were an eclectic bunch, no one quite like the other.

Seeing Nina again was nice. She was still the same witty friend you remembered her to be.

“What? The prince let you off your leash?” She laughs when she first sees you.

“The king.” Zoya corrects her.

“Yes, he’s tending to his country, and his soon to be wife at the moment.” You tell her.

Her face falls slightly as she looks between you and Zoya. “Oh. My apologies, I didn’t-”

“It’s alright Nina. I’m really here to help forget about him.” You lower your voice. “Besides, he was never mine to lose.”

You stayed with Tolya through the heist, getting nearly killed by poisonous gas, and choking down a butterfly to save yourself.

Other than the poison slowly making its way through your body, the gas didn’t harm you physically. It lulled you to sleep, pulling you into a sweet dream.

You were with Nikolai, of course, in the palace. Light shone into his room from the large window, making the gold in his unkempt hair shine. His arms were wrapped tightly around you as you both lay the soft sheets of his bed.

“Hello my love.” His voice is deep, still strained from sleep.

“Moi tsar-”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of you neck, pressing soft kisses against the column of your throat. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You can feel him smiling against you.

“Pirate Prince then.” You smirk.

He scoffs, then pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” He says, moving to cup your face with one of his hands.

You reach a hand up onto his bare chest, just over his heart. You listen, searching for the all too familiar rhythm, but you don’t hear anything. You give him a sad smile and shake your head. “Me too Nik. But I know this isn’t real.”

He pouts. “Promise me you’ll come back. Back to the palace. That you won’t find a new life in Shu Han, or Ketterdam.”

You know he isn’t real, that he isn’t actually asking you to come home to him, that it’s just what you wish he’d do. Even so, you press a kiss to his cheek.

“I promise.”

You wake with a burning sensation in your throat, in the dark temple. Tolya and the Crows are with you, some in a coughing fit, others completely silent.

Tolya comes over to you, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

His eyes scan your face. “What did you see?”

You know he can hear your heartbeat spike. He glances down at your hand as you subconsciously reach for the compass that hangs around your neck, hidden under you clothes. You know you won’t get away with lying to him, but you do it anyways. “Nothing.”

You’re grateful that he doesn’t push for an answer.

After retrieving the blade, you all head back to Ravka together. The Fold has now expanded, nearly covering the entirety of the Spinning Wheel.

“Stay with Zoya.” Tolya tells you. “You’ll be able to help Alina.”

Your heart yearns to go with the other group, to find Nikolai, but you know saving the sun summoner takes precedence over anything at the moment.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay.” Nina tries to assure you. “He was always headstrong.”

Kaz glances at you as you wring your hands, about to follow Zoya, Nina, and Inej.

“Y/n.” He calls to you. He walks over to you and speaks lowly. “Watch over my wraith, and I’ll keep an eye on your king.”

You give him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

The journey into the Fold was terrifying. You kept yourself as silent as possible as the four of you searched for Alina. She and Mal were near the edge of the fold, fighting what looked to be a volcra. It had a hold of Alina’s hair, pulling her further into the darkness.

Inej slashed the monster with the Neshyenyer, killing it. They both looked grateful to see your little group.

“We need to get further into the Fold to destroy it.” Alina nods her head towards what looks to be nothing but pitch black.

You check over Alina for any injuries as you head further into the darkness. You heal any small cuts or scrapes you find on her, quietly watching her skin mend back together.

“There. In perfect condition to destroy the Fold and save Ravka.”

She snorts out a laugh. “No pressure, right?” She creates a small bundle of light in her hand and stares at it.

You smile at her. You want to dislike her, but you can’t. The living Saint who has stolen Nikolai’s attention from you is actually amiable. She’s kind, very brave, and willing to do anything to end this war.

“You’re going to make the perfect queen when this is all over.” You tell her.

She looks up at you and shakes her head. “I never wanted this. Nikolai thinks this engagement will strengthen Ravka, but I know my heart belongs to another.” She glances to Mal. “Just as his does too.” She turns back to you with a pointed look.

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t love me. I don’t think he could love anyone the way he loves you.”

“He doesn’t-”

“Oh, I assure you. He does.” She scoffs. “When I accepted his proposal I thought that maybe we could learn to love each other, but I see the way he looks at you. I hear the way he talks about you. I may be the sun summoner, but to him you’re the brightest. You’re the shining light in his life.”

You feel warmth spread across your face. Did Nikolai really feel that way about you?

“If we succeed today, the crown may be mine, but I promise you, the heart of the king will be yours.”

You understood just how strong shared love could be when you saw Alina light the fold. Combined with Mal’s power she was able to cast an immense light into the darkness. Flashes of gold and pink spread around you.

Kirigan arrived not long after, ready to fight Alina, but she was able to assail him. You rushed to Mal’s side when he collapsed, trying your hardest to help him. Kirigan had delivered a near fatal blow. In all your years of healing Nikolai, you’ve never had to heal something this large.

Alina falls to her knees next to you, taking his hand in hers. You do everything you can for him, focusing all of your power on keeping him alive.

Streaks of light flew from Alina. Reds, purples, and golds flashed through the sky, breaking apart the Fold. She takes a dagger from Mal’s side, and plunges it into his chest, screaming out as bright blue lights surrounds you. You shield your eyes, but can still see the blue behind your eyelids.

When you open your eyes again, the Fold has dissipated.

“Can you heal him?” Alina asks you, with tears down her cheeks.

“I’ll try.” You nod at her, then turn your attention back to the now unconscious boy.

Kirigan slowly rises up, and walks towards you. Alina stands up, taking a protective step in front of you and Mal.

“Now, you know sacrifice.”

“Beyond anything you’ve ever known.” Alina tilts her head up at him. “And look what it did.”

“Indeed. Look what it did.”

You try to start Mal’s heart again, but can’t seem to get it. Nina kneels down next to you, lifting her hand to his chest.

“I’ll get his heart started again. You focus on the wound.”

You take a deep breath, then pull the knife out of him, quickly moving your hands to sew his skin back together.

You’re so focused on saving Mal, that you don’t realize Alina has knelt down next to you again.

“He’s putting up a good fight, this one. Like something’s holding him on the other side. Give him a reminder then, of what matters over here.” Nina tells her.

After a few moments Mal wakes up, gasping for air. You sigh in relief, leaning back to check over the rest of the group. Inej and Zoya are both unharmed, staring down at Kirigan’s body.

Zoya stays with the body, while the other five of you start the hike back to the Spinning Wheel. Your spirits lift as you get closer and closer, and enter through one of the walls.

There are bodies strewn about on the ground, and groups of people gathered with hushed conversations. Their attention all turns towards your group as you enter though. Most of them are watching Alina, giving her silent thanks for finally destroying the Fold. Kaz’s eyes are locked on Inej, only briefly scanning over her, before he looks to you and gives you a slight nod.

You look past him to see Nikolai sitting with Tolya and Tamar. He’s got blood smeared on the side of his head, and he struggles to rise to his feet. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you, slowly limping in your direction. You rush to him, holding his waist with one hand, and the other pressed against his chest.

“Nik, what happened? I leave you alone for a few days and you nearly get yourself killed.” Your words are teasing, but your tone doesn’t quite match.

“I’m okay.” He smiles at you.

“Let’s go sit down so I can heal you, alright?” You guide him away from the group to a more private area. He sits down on a crate, groaning at the pain in his leg.

You heal his leg, then sit next to him, with your hand hovering over the wound on his head. He’ll have to wash the dried blood off, but you’ve closed the wound.

His eyes wander over your face as you heal him. He feels whole, complete with you here next to him.

“I should go see if anyone else needs any help.” You say quietly, rising to your feet.

He grabs your hand in his, softly pulling you down next to him again. “Allow me to be selfish for a moment, and keep you here all for myself.”

You reach into your top, and pull the compass out from underneath it. You lift the chain up over your head and hold it out for him.

“It seems you need it more than I do.”

“No.” He closes your hands over it. “It kept you safe. And it brought you back to me.” He whispers.

His eyes glance down at your lips, then back into your eyes. It looks like he’s having an internal battle with himself. A battle that only ends when he leans forward and brushes his lips against yours. You lift your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself. He pulls you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Everything comes rushing back to you in that moment. You softly push him away, breaking the kiss, and turn your head from him.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks, reaching for your hand again.

You pull your hand away from his reach quickly. “This isn’t right Nikolai.” You stand up and take a step away from him. “We can’t do this, not when you’re engaged to Alina. I can’t-”

He’s quick to get up and move to stand in front of you. “Y/n, I assure you, my heart belongs to you.”

“You can’t say that Nikolai. You can’t just play around with my feelings.” You shake your head and wipe away the tears started to form in your eyes.

“Play with your feelings? Are you really so oblivious?” He scoffs. He takes your hands and holds them to his chest. “Listen to my heart. Hear the way it beats for you, just for you.” He takes a tentative step closer, so close to you that his nose brushes against the tip of yours. “It hurts, just how much I ache for you.”

“But Alina-”

“Was just a political move. I thought that an alliance with the sun summoner would strengthen Ravka.” He takes a deep breath. “But a marriage with her wouldn’t mean anything to me, not when I could’ve had you.”

“Nik…” You trail off, attempting to gather your thoughts.

He lets go of your hands, and moves to hold your face. “Tell me to leave. Tell me you never want to see me again, that you’re going to leave and live in Ketterdam, and I promise you, you won’t ever have to deal with me ever again.”

You can’t fathom doing any of that.

“Or, tell me that you’ll stay here with me, and that we’ll work this out. Tell me that you feel the same way I do. Because I will find a way to rule Ravka with you by my side, I swear to you.”

A smile starts to spread across your face. “You always have been stubborn sobachka.”

Before he can retort you pull him into a kiss, sealing your own promise to him, that your heart does in fact belong to him.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #grishaverse

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selineram3421 · 9 months ago

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*stumbles in and door slams into the wall* Ding-dong💘

Soft Love

Alastor X Chubby Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ food mention-desserts and strawberries, hurt/comfort, italics=thoughts, insecurities, mentions of murder, mention of cannibalism, slight implied/suggestive ⚠

Life in Hell was hectic.

Love in Hell? Nearly impossible to find.

Especially if its real.

Alastor knew you as the kind, soft demon that everyone got along with in the hotel staff.

Kind even to him.

Your work at the hotel was mostly in the arts. The Princess has you in the therapy area to help sinners express their emotions with different mediums.

Such an interesting demon you were with many hobbies. Painting, singing, dancing, baking, designing, cooking, knitting, photography, drawing. The list could go on possibly for a while, you haven't shared all of them.

He was curious, wondering exactly what damned you to Hell.

"Alastor!"

Speak of the devil, you called.

"Yes dear?", he looked up from his book.

He sat on the lobby couch that was just across the bar, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"Could you try something for me? I made some lava cake for desert but I want to make sure yours is the right amount of bitter."

Yes, you were also very considerate and attentive.

"Of course dear!", he stood from the couch and whisked his book away into the shadows. "You know I always look forward to your baking."

He followed behind you, smiling a little wider at the pep in your step.

The Radio Demon knew that he had feelings for you. It took him a while to come to terms with it but let it happen anyway.

You were also the only person that he touched (respectfully) often. Holding your hand, linking your arms together, squishing your cheeks, holding you close for a dance. All excuses just to feel your warmth and softness.

Sure, he's let his friend Rosie touch him but she knew that he didn't like physical contact too often unless it was needed for dancing.

"I made your cake less sweet too!", you turned to look back at him with a smile.

"I appreciate it."

Once both of you entered the kitchen, you showed him the cakes and got out two different chocolate mixes.

"The lighter one is the sweetest, and the darker one is quite bitter.", you placed the bowls on the counter. "I actually want to try it with strawberries too.."

"Sounds appetizing!", he stepped closer and placed his hand on your lower back, leaning forward. "I wouldn't mind having a bite."

You blushed and avoided his gaze.

How adorable.

"I'll get a spoon for you to try the chocolate.", you said before walking out of his hold and over to the drawers near the door.

One thing he noticed was that when it came to his touch, you'd shy away. When he gave you compliments regarding your appearance, you would brush him off or put yourself down.

It upset him greatly.

Somewhat impatient, he swiped up some of the dark chocolate with his finger and tasted it.

"Alastor!"

Like a child, he quickly held his hands behind his back as if to hide something.

"Yes?"

You sighed and got a napkin before walking up to the red man.

"No use in hiding what you did.", you held out your hand.

"But I'm not hiding anything.", he shows you his hands by placing them on yours. "See?"

You hum and pull him down by his hands. "You've got chocolate on the side of your lip deer.", you point out and laugh.

He let's you clean him up with the napkin.

When you pull back, he stops you by taking a hold of your hand with the napkin. Calling your name, the Radio Demon looks you in the eye.

"I have a question for you"

"What is it?", you ask.

"Why is it that whenever I give you a compliment, you disregard it?"

In a second you stiffened and stared at him wide eyed.

"W-what? I don't do that..", you tried to pull away.

Alastor places a kiss on your fingers, still not letting go of your hand.

"Don't lie to me my dear, I always remember everything about you."

You look away with a sigh.

The frown on your face makes his unbeating heart ache.

"I don't like to talk about it.", you say and pull away.

Instead of leaving, you move the bowls and hop onto the counter to sit. Then you take a moment before speaking.

"I wasn't always treated right because of how big I looked.", you said with a sad smile. "I wasn't beauty standard perfect, or had a body that someone could ogle."

The red demon listened.

"When I did get into a relationship, it wasn't good. I was belittled, abused, and cheated on. But I still loved with my whole being..", you moved your hands onto your lap. "I was stabbed to death by them."

Alastor had to hold back his anger.

He wanted to find the person who dared treat you like nothing. To torture and rip them apart. To eat them alive.

"Silly, isn't it?", you smiled sadly, staring down at your hands. "Its what got me killed in the first place but yet I'm still chasing after it."

The Radio Demon slowly took your hands and gently rubbed them.

"You just put your heart in the wrong hands.", he said and lifted your hands to kiss your knuckles. "If I was the one who you loved, you wouldn't have to worry about any affairs."

He kissed the inside of your wrist.

"I'd compliment you everyday."

You were blushing madly at this point, too shocked and flustered to stop him.

He kissed your shoulder.

"I would never hurt you.", he says and kisses your cheek before whispering. "Unless you asked me to."

"Alastor-", you got one of your hands out of his hold to cover your mouth and some of your red face.

He leans back a bit to get a good look at you.

"I don't know how they couldn't see you for who you are. You're absolutely divine and worth so much more than anything anyone else could offer me."

You were tearing up at this point, still covering your mouth.

Carefully, the deer demon moved your hand away and caressed the side of your face. Wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

"I love you."

You start tearing up more and he sees them start running down, some wetting his hand.

"I love all of you.", he smiles genuinely. "And if anyone dared try to insult or belittle you again, I'll make sure to torture them a million times over until you ask me to stop."

You've begun to quietly sob, wiping your tears as best as you could with your free hand.

"May I kiss you?"

You laugh at that.

"I'm a mess!", you say with a breathy laugh before sniffling.

"No, you're adorable.", he kisses the top of your head.

He let's you take a minute to calm down and helps you wipe your tears and snot away.

"Can you ask again?", you give him a shy smile.

"May I kiss you?", his smile widens.

"Yes please."

Both of you share a soft but long kiss.

I found the merch!

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

None for right now until I can fix how to add more tags.

ML for Alastor🎙

Extra:

You confess to Alastor that you've had a crush on him for quite a while.

"How long?", he asks, deer ears perked up.

"Uh..haha.", you look away with a blush. "After a week of joining the hotel.."

Doing the math, he realized that you've fancied him four months before he started growing feelings for you.

"Is that why you would ask what my favorite meals are? And how much sweetness I could tolerate?"

You nod.

"I can't believe how oblivious I've been. You've been gifting and making things for me.", his deer ears droop down and his brows furrow. "I must make up for all the time you spent on me."

"It's alright love.", you smiled.

"No, you can't change my mind.", he says and steals a kiss. "I'm going to spoil you."

🫀

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too-much-tma-stuff · 4 months ago

Text

Let's Fill Our Home with Warmth (part 12)

Prev | Masterpost | Next

Later Jason and Danny lay sprawled out in bed together, the last of the bruises fading from Danny’s skin as Jason traced absent little patterns over Danny’s back. Danny was purring softly between little sniffles, finally calm but still recovering. Jason kissed Danny’s shoulder and he purred louder, giving Jason a soft, tired smile.

Jason smiled back and reached over to the bedside table for his phone, he was pretty sure there had been a notification while they had been fucking. Ya, one from Dick saying he had stopped by to check on them but heard… noises, so he’s left the takeout on the balcony. Imagining Dick’s reaction made Jason snort, at least Dick wasn’t a prude so he probably wouldn’t be too traumatized by hearing his little brother having sex. Danny gave a questioning little trill and Jason shook his head, putting his phone back down.

“Dick left take out for us on the fire escape. I’m gonna go grab it. You have a shower, okay Moonlight? I’ll join you in a minute and then we can have dinner. We’ll both feel better once we’re clean and we’ve had something to eat,” Jason promised.

“Alright, don’t take too long,” Danny sighed, propping himself up and kissing Jason before sliding out of bed and heading to the washroom without bothering to grab any clothes. Jason lingered on the bed to admire Danny as he walked away before he got up and grabbed a pair of PJ pants so he could go grab the food.

He smiled when he saw the bag, from a Thai place they’d been to with Dick so he knew what they might want, it was pretty damn thoughtful really. He put the bag down on the table and locked up again before going to join Danny in the shower, sliding under the water behind him. Jason wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist, and the other man immediately started purring. He leaned back against Jason and tilted his head to the side, baring his throat to Jason, who took the invitation to kiss along the graceful column of Danny’s throat drawing out a soft sigh of pleasure.

“How are you feeling now, Beloved?” Jason asked softly, it was a pet name he’d picked up from Talia. Ya she had been a mixed bag, but he’d spent a lot of time with her, and he respected her.

“Much better,” Danny assured with a little smile. “You’re not actually mad are you?”

“No, of course not,” Jason agreed, giving Danny a squeeze before letting go and reaching for the soap. “You were very brave doing all that, and ya, it could have gone better, but I don’t blame you. Besides, we handled it didn’t we? Nothing to worry about.”

Danny nodded and stole the shampoo from Jason, pressing against his chest and starting to wash his hair for him. Jason chuckled softly but tilted his head into Danny’s hands and let him pamper Jason a little.

They washed each other, and once they were both clean they grabbed some comfortable clothes and ate together, snuggled up on the couch watching a movie. There would be no patrol for either of them tonight, they were too tired after the meeting, and still recovering. Their haunt would just have to look after itself for one night, they would get back to it tomorrow and fix whatever small problems managed to go wrong during their day off.

They fell asleep on the couch, tangled together with the TV still playing. Jason woke up when the movie ended and turned off the tv, carrying Danny to bed instead of waking him up. Jason lay down with Danny curled up half on top of him, his cool breath tickling Jason’s throat. He shifted and got comfortable again and didn’t wake up.

Jason was awake though, and was having just a little trouble going back to sleep. He was sure in the days to come they would be checked on by their friends, maybe even some of the members of the Justice League. He tried not to hope one of them would be Wonder Woman. He had idolized her as a child, and he wanted her to understand him. But if she did come and she was disappointed with him too, he thought it might break his heart, which was why he was trying not to hope she’d come.

Though now that the heroes knew he was back, and they knew Danny was powerful he wondered how long it would be before they reached out for help with something, and what it would be. Actually something from Danny’s other world, or something like Trigon? It didn’t really matter, they still had to live in this world and they didn’t want it to end, so they might as well help right?

Maybe once they saved the world once or twice everyone would get off their backs and stop calling them villains. Jason didn’t like it, being a villain. He didn’t feel like a villain, he was still trying to do the right thing, make the world a better place, in his own way. And Danny had always been a hero, he lived to serve. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought about him besides Jason, and Ellie now, but Jason couldn’t help but think that somewhere deep down it bothered him too.

Jason stroked his thumb over Danny’s cheek gently, he gave a soft chirp in his sleep and shifted closer, it made Jason smile, his heart feeling warm in his chest. Things were fine the way they were, but they could be better. He hoped this was the start of things getting better. He wanted Danny to get the recognition he deserved, that he’d never gotten when he was an actual hero. Whether he would get it or not, he deserved it.

With Danny tucked safe in Jason’s arms and his mind full of pleasant fantasies about the future they deserved, Jason finally drifted off to sleep.

-------

Danny woke up first the next day, it happened rarely but when it did it meant Jason hadn’t slept well so Danny carefully phased out of Jason’s arms without waking him and went to put coffee to go. He would start to make breakfast for them, but he knew he wasn’t good at it and Jason had gently but firmly banned him from the kitchen. He considered ducking out to get them breakfast sandwiches from the nearest deli but he didn’t want to be that far away from Hood yet. After how yesterday had gone, if Jason woke up and found Danny was gone he might freak out, and Danny didn’t want that.

So instead he just made coffee and went back to the bedroom, waking Jason with a gentle kiss. Jason hummed and stretched, opening his eyes halfway and smiling a little when he saw Danny. Early on, when they’d just moved in together, it was about a 50/50 shot that Jason would lash out at Danny for waking him before he processed who it was and that he was safe. Now he almost never did unless he had a nightmare, he had fully internalized that he was safe in their home, something that made Danny so happy he felt like he might burst. Instead he handed Jason his cup of coffee, fixed just the way he liked it, and curled up next to him with a contented little chirp.

Jason took a sip of his coffee and sighed contentedly, leaning his head against Danny’s hair. “No nightmares?” He asked in a sleepy mumble.

“No, I was too tired I think,” Danny replied with a subtle shrug. “You?”

“No, Stayed up for a bit worrying about shit, but no nightmares.”

“You should have woken me.”

“Nah, I was fine and you needed your sleep. Besides, being able to hold you and have your weight on me was all I really needed anyway,” Jason assured Danny before he could get in his head about it.

“Fair enough. Talk to me about it when you’re ready too, okay?” Danny compromised and Jason nodded.

They drank their coffee in silence, easing into the day before even getting up for breakfast. Finally they got up and headed to the kitchen, deciding to just have cereal for breakfast because Jason was too tired to cook. Danny was fine with that, he really liked cereal! Though his enjoyment was nothing compared to Tim, who they had learned was borderline obsessed with the stuff.

Jason’s phone kept dinging through breakfast but he ignored the texts at first. If it was really important someone would call, and it was too early for business otherwise. After the fifth notification he gave in and checked it with a groan.

“The Teen Titans are texting us. Big Bird too. They want to know how we’re doing and if we can meet up today to sort of debrief about the meeting. They’re also asking about a number for you,” Jason said, glancing up at Danny, who groaned as well. He didn’t really have a phone, he had modified necessary tech like the coms to work around him, but given how tech fritzed around him, and Jason was the only one he really needed to contact, he hadn’t bothered with an actual phone.

“I should probably do that huh?” Danny said ruefully. “I’m not carrying it on patrol though!It’s going to have to be built like a fucking brick to work and it would ruin my figure!” He exclaimed with a dramatic pout, making Jason laugh and shake his head.

“Whatever you want Danny, they can use coms to contact you on patrol anyway.” Jason agreed, even though he knew damn well Danny could literally store things inside his own body when needed. Maybe doing that with the phone would break it no matter how well fortified it was? It didn’t really matter. “What about visiting them today?”

“I’m not sure,” Danny hesitated, fidgeting with his spoon. “We’ve never left the Alley for two days in a row. Maybe we should meet tomorrow after making sure that everything is alright?”

“Danny, it’s not a child, we don’t have to supervise it constantly. I’m damn sure if anything went really wrong someone would have called us. We can spend some time with our family. After that shit show yesterday it might do us some good.” Jason put his phone down and gave Danny his full attention again, there was something more behind this hesitance.

“You’re right, of course you’re right. It’s just… Nevermind, it’s silly. Of course we can go if you want to.”

“No, it’s not nothing. Please tell me what’s bothering you Sweetheart,” Jason encouraged sweetly.

Danny sighed, hesitated, opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. He shook his head and took a deep breath, biting his lip like he did when he was trying not to cry. Jason pushed his chair back and walked around the table, resting his hands on Danny’s shoulders bracingly.

“I just don’t want to lose another home,” Danny finally managed to choke out and Jason’s heart dropped.

“You’re not,” He promised, leaning down to hug Danny from behind. He pressed his face into Jason’s strong bicep and sniffled, taking deep breaths that shuddered with the effort of keeping himself together. “You know, we haven’t wanted them to visit us here much because of our reputation, but I’ve decided I don’t care. Hey, maybe knowing we have powerful allies will make people even more intimidated by us. Let’s invite them to come to us so we don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to coddle me,” Danny said, his voice damp but stubborn.

“Of course, we’ve already had Nightwing and Robin coming and going anyway, I don’t think this’ll make much difference. We can check on everything to make sure nothing is about to blow up before they get here. And if anything does go wrong while we’re distracted we’ll have backup,” Jason decided. If anyone decided to question their allegiances Jason and Danny could make an example of them and remind everyone it wasn’t their place to question Crime Alley’s lords and protectors, even if they were still relatively new.

“Ya, you’re right. That sounds perfect,” Danny agreed, nuzzling against Jason before pushing him gently away. “I’m okay I promise, I’m just a little raw after thinking so much about the past recently.”

“Ya I get that,” Jason sighed, slipping back into his own chair while Danny went to get more coffee.

“We’re doing well though,” Danny told Jason, gesturing for his mug, Jason handed it over so Danny could get him a fresh coffee as well. “My big sister wanted to be a psychiatrist and therapist and I internalized enough of her rants to know how healing works. We’ve built ourselves a safe place for our outbursts and our healing. You’re lashing out less and I’m dissociating less and facing my feelings more. I know I’m still bad about putting you first and ignoring my needs, but you call me on it and get the truth out of me. We’re getting better.”

“Ya, we are,” Jason agreed. It was helpful to both of them to have things laid out straight like that. Otherwise it was way too easy to focus on how things are now and forget how far they’ve come, and then it could feel like they’re not making any progress at all. “We’re not isolating ourselves anymore either, we have some support outside of just each other.”

Danny nodded and handed Jason his now full coffee mug. “We’re still pretty damn codependent though,” He said with a wry little smile as he sat down across from Jason again.

“Ya. Any plans of changing that?” Jason asked with dry humour.

“Hell no,” Danny laughed, nudging Jason’s foot with his own and smiling at him. “I’d drag you out of Tartarus Hercules style.”

Jason laughed and shook his head again, and refused to think about how Danny had mentioned being functionally immortal, and how frustratingly human Jason remained in comparison.

----------

They decided not to let the Teen Titans into their nest, that was still just for family, but their largest safehouse would have room for everyone. Jason and Danny had worked together to haul in a bunch of chairs and make the place comfortable and clean. Then they split up and Danny went on patrol as Hyena while Jason bought and made snacks and made sure they had enough plates and cups.

Danny had better senses than Jason, and with his increased strength and durability he was more likely to make it out of a scuffle unscathed even if he was alone. And since Danny couldn’t cook for shit this was the best division of labor. Jason did a fair amount of cooking, but he bought a lot too, because he knew that Impulse would be coming and there was no way that he could make enough food for both a member of the flash family and Danny on such short notice. Stuff from the local bakery and grocery store would have to do for the most part, and some home made cookies and snacks, which would have to be guarded from the two big eaters.

Danny had returned home safe of course, helping Jason with the finishing touches and mixing up some punch. Jason told Danny they didn’t need it, the canned drinks they had would be enough with the people they were having over. But Danny insisted that punch was good! And they shouldn’t pass up an excuse to make some, so Jason let him do it. And it turned out that he wasn’t alone in thinking that judging by how excited Dick got about the punch, only dimmed slightly when Jason informed him it was not alcoholic.

The entire Teen Titans team had shown up, and Nightwing, none of them were in costume though. It surprised Jason and Danny and Jason felt a little silly that he was wearing his helmet at first, and he took it off quickly. This was just a gathering of friends, and it was lovely. At first he and Danny had been busy darting around playing host, making sure everyone had what they needed, and soon their apartment was full of joyful noise.

Now that everyone was settled Danny was sitting in a chair and Jason was sitting on the floor with his head propped against Danny’s knee, with Danny running his fingers through Jason’s hair. Kon had stared at them for a long moment before he went and flopped down at Tim’s feet. Whatever Tim had been saying trailed off into spluttering and he blushed deeply when Kon leaned back against his leg, grinning up at Tim impishly. Tim scowled at him, but despite his attempt at looking reproachful he hesitantly carded his fingers through Kon’s hair as well.

When he looked up and caught both Jason and Danny smirking at them, Tim flipped them off with his free hand, blushing all the way to his ears. This was… really nice, next time they should host the party at their nest. It would feel good to fill their own home with this sort of warmth. They weren’t really talking to anyone right now, Danny was speaking softly with Ellie next to him off and on, but mostly they were just basking in the company. This was something neither of them thought they’d have again after the losses of their previous families, it was nice, and Danny thought it would make him cry later.

“Hyena?” Kon asked suddenly, underneath the noise of the general chatter, but with both their enhanced hearing Danny heard it no problem. He looked up, giving a questioning hum. “What does Kon mean?”

Danny choked and sat back in his chair suddenly, his expression almost panicked as the noise in the room stopped. Even if they hadn’t heard Kon’s question, they had seen Danny’s response, as he stared back at Kon.

“What does my name mean?” He asked again, just as softly, but this time everyone heard.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Danny asked softly. “It’s not nice. You like your name well enough don’t you? Why not just… keep it that way? And it probably should be Superman you ask about it, he named you right?”

“He did, but I think that he would lie. If I’m going to confront him about it I want to already know what it means.”

The logic was sound, Danny nodded slowly, considering.

“Maybe not tonight Kon,” Tim said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re really here for them aren’t we,” he gestured at Jason, Danny, and Ellie. “Maybe we should try to keep things light.”

“No, it’s alright,” Danny said, shaking his head. “If you’re sure?” He confirmed, and when Kon nodded he sighed. “Kon means… abomination. I’m sorry, it means abomination in the house of El.”

“Oh,” Kon said softly, and Danny saw Tim’s grip tighten on Kon’s shoulders. “Ya… Ya that’s not good, but I can see why he-”

“NO!” Ellie snapped, sitting forward in her chair and glaring at him. “Don’t make excuses for them! For either of them. Even if Superman didn’t agree to be cloned, that is no excuse to treat a living, feeling being like he’s treated you! You deserve better, and if you want to name yourself you should.

“My creator named me, literally the feminine version of his name,” She said, gesturing at Danny. “And considered me a failure because I ended up being female, I named myself Ellie, and Phantasm. You are your own person, You choose your identity! You choose your family, and you have good people around you. You decide what your name means.”

“Ya… I was mostly fine with Kon because it already worked as a short form for Connor, which is what you called me,” He said, smiling a little up at Tim, who smiled back bashfully. “But still… He could have told me any time. Or offered me a new name, I would have accepted. But he still… After all this time that’s still what he thinks of me?”

“Who cares what he thinks of you,” Ellie scoffed.

“Ellie stop, you’re being insensitive! You’re letting your anger speak, you remember how devastated you were when Vlad rejected you, and you still had me to love you,” Danny scolded her gently.

“It’s okay, to care what he thinks about you,” Jason spoke up, looking Kon in the eye levelly. “It’s okay if you always want something from him that he can’t give. I may not be a clone, but I know what it’s like to have shitty parents. It gets easier, especially once you’ve learned everything you wish they had taught you, on your own or with your friends.”

Kon mulled that over, and then nodded, leaning back against Tim’s lap. “Ya…” He sighed before shaking his head, probably filing all that angst away to process at a more conveniently time. “Hey Hyena? How do you speak Kryptonian?” He asked, and the abrupt change of subject startled a laugh out of Danny.

“I speak every dead language, or at least understand them,” Danny explained with a little smile and Tim whistled softly.

“Seriously? How many is that? What counts as a dead language?” He asked, and as he started quizzing Danny slowly conversation picked back up, though Kon stayed quiet, Danny stepped up to fill the gap in the conversation and they let Kon and Jason just… think, and process, surrounded by friends.

#dc x dp #fanfiction #danny phantom #jason todd #dead on main #kon el #dc impulse #nightwing #Hyena!Danny AU #timkon #dani phantom #tim drake #multi part fic

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crows-in-the-house · 3 months ago

Text

Disillusioned

Summary : (this statement by @/exodusin) / Mabel finds you in Bills penthause but instead of escaping with her, you show her your true colors. And your new husband, Bill.

pairing: Bill Cipher x gn! evil! reader

tw: none, tell me if i should add

Mabel couldn't find Dipper. For twenty minutes she's been running around Bills piramid only to get the demon further away from her Grunkles. That worked out. Kinda. Now she couldn't find a way back and had him running after her and her brother. And now she lost him! She really hoped he was fine. Hearing a booming sound she turned to another corridor. This one was looking... different?

It was smaller and narrow, as if the walls were about to crush her trying to protect something further. On the end of it, she found grand traingle doors. She really hoped whatever was inside would be harmless enough to let her rest a second. She opened them, coming into a big luxurious room. It looked like some sort of a penthouse with an expensive cauch, a fireplace, chandelier and a-

"Oh! Mabel, hi!" - Wait, what? It was you! Y/N her cool older friend, the one who helped her out in numerous adventures, and the one who vanished, just some time before the start of Weirdmaggedon! She could't belive her own eyes!

"Y/N? What are you doing here! Has Bill kidnapped you and inprisoned? We were so worried!" The girl rushed to hug you. "We need to go! Bill is-"

"Go? Oh Mabes, why would we go anywhere?"

She took a step back. You looked the same as always. Just maybe more elegant? Her tired mind desperately searched for the explanation for the weird feeling she had right now.

"Y/N... what... what have you been doing since the start of Weirdmaggedon?"

"Oh, well, I was sitting here " you gestured around the luxurious room. You didn't seem to be panicked at all. Have you get used to the situation? " I've been quite bored, but overall I'm fine, really! I'm glad you're here to visit!"

"Visit? No! I'm here to defeat Bill! Have you seen what he did to the town? To the people?!"

Despite your face being frozen on a smile something in your eyes changed. You didn't answer immiediately, stepping back to a table nearby, pouring yourself a drink. You talked slowly, as if you were soothing a panicked animal cought in a trap.

"Oh yes. Trully a work of art. It took time to design all of this you know? Do you have a favorite part?"

She felt her stomach drop. She misheard you right? O-or you're just acting! Or under some weird demonic enchantment, you wouldn't say such a thing, right?

You smirked tilting your head. " Well... in my opinion, the top three things would be... hmm, the walking water tower - I know, I know, a boring choice, but it walks very funny and-

"Y/N, listen-" you ignored her, continuing as she wasn't even there "- the second would be bubbles, very creative, colorful and fun, you know? Especially yours, it was so cute it made me a bit jealous! It's a shame I didn't get to visit tho. Yes I know, sorry, don't look at me like that, I will do that next time ok? Now! Drumrolls! the first place goes toooo-"

You looked at her as if wanting her to guess. In response she gave you a mixed look. It seemed like you clearly needed some help, but there was no time to sit around.

"I dont know, what is it?"

" ME " she jumped quickly pointing a grappling hook at the intruder. It was Bill, again in his yellow tamer form, standing awfuly close to you and holing-

" Dipper!"

"Nu-uh Shooting star! You're not playing with that toy anymore!"

At the snap of his fingers her weapon dissapeared. He grabbed her and before Mabel could move she found herself in the same hand where Dipper was trapped in. But you? You just stood there.

"Y/N! Help us!" her brother shauted. You only responded with a piting look in your eyes. Until your attention moved over to the demon getting closer.

"Hey toots! Check this out - a pegasus dropped it off today!" he handed you a card. From where the twins where placed they could see a drawing of the pyramid and a short text which Bill read out laud:

"It's a "I missed you, B.", and yes, it's me, I'm the B, also there was no pegasus, also there was me."

He blinked at you.

You gasped and smiled, your cheeks got darker and your hands tauched where your heart was supposed to be.

"Oh Billy! You're such a romantic!"

Dipper looked at you with disdtain "You just didn't say that."

"Oh but they did! That's my spouse after all!" you both laughed at shocked faces of the children. It was funny how none of the Pines realised they had a traitor among them. Now everything started to make sense. How you claimed to love spending time in the shack. How your face always lingered on Dippers journal. How you never smiled at Stanford but was always calming him down after a fight with his broher. How they all could always count on you, to take care of the kids on their silly adventures.

"How could you!" Mabel felt her eyes getting watery. She really liked you. She trusted you!

You shrugged lightly smiling. " Oh dear, don't be sad, it was always the plan. I'm sorry you have to be entangled in all of this"

"No you're not."

"Ha. True, I'm not. You know me so well kid."

"Why. Why did you do all of this? We were friends-"

"Oh HA HA HA, they already have friends kid! And money, fame, riches, infinite power! And the handsome ol' me! What else would they need?"

"An entire world to rule?" - You kissed Bills eye while handing him a drink "Oh, and I don't want you to take it the wrong way, you know? But i hate you. I thought I could get over it. But I feel sooo tired. And it's just the time to split up! I mean, honestly, you and your grunkles had lot's of chances to get to the right side of history but you decided not to. Now you pay. Tell my thanks to Ford, I would never meet the love of my life, if not for his stupidity." your smile dropped.

"Y/N you can still fix this!"

"As if!" Bills form grew larger while he opened the door "See you sweetcheeks, I will get that equasion in no time! Gotta disassemble some kids molecules!"

You stayed there smiling, waving back at Bill.

That was the last time they saw you.

#gravity falls #thetalkingcrow #bill cipher x reader #bill cipher x you #gravity falls x reader #gn reader

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angelinpiink · 2 years ago

Text

thinking about... mikasa finding your number in her serial cheater boyfriend's (eren) phone. her jealousy of you immediately morphing into that for her boyfriend for getting access to you first. Upon seeing the nudes you’ve sent him, she’d scoff at disgust as to how he even got lucky enough to get your attention in the first place. her feelings for him subsiding upon seeing you—literal perfection. the sight of your plump ass and dripping cunt turning her on along with those sweet sweet moans in the video of you humping your pillow you’d sent.

not being able to control herself, she’d send the pics and videos to herself just to lock herself in the bedroom, fluttering her eyes shut and grind onto her own pillow. imagining she was rubbing her cunt against yours, your cries echoing in her ears as the video played aloud. she only wished she knew what name to cry out as she came, squirting all over the pillow (something eren had never made her do) but unfortunately he never saved your number or mentioned it in the conversations you had.

during the times where eren invites you over to the apartment when she’s away, mikasa will come back to find your panties under the bed. the only reasons she knows they are yours is because she’s seen them in the pictures you’ve sent eren. she steals them before eren even notices you left them behind and keeps them for herself. she’ll slip them on to toy with her clit through the thin fabric, her arousal only increasing upon noting that her juices have mixed with yours.

eventually poor mikasa gets fed up with fantasizing about having you and chooses to take initiative to set things in motion so that she finally does get a taste of that sweet cunt that she hears eren mention when having phone sex with you. so, mikasa steals your number from his phone. She texts you and plays the role of the heartbroken girl asking for answers about her boyfriends cheating.

“hey, so sorry to bother you. I was wondering how you knew eren? I found your number in his phone and.. well I have a few questions.”

“is it possible for us to meet up?”

she invites you to a cafe nearby and though hesitant to join her you oblige when she reassures you that she has no anger towards you and just wants clarity in the situation. things go smooth and the two of you meet up a few times after that, just for the sake of getting to know one another and eren becomes a forgotten topic.

one thing leads to another, with flirtatious words like pretty girl and babe, glances being passed back and forth the two of you end up back at the very apartment you’d hooked up with eren in. her hands gripping at your ass, the very ass she’s been dying to get her hands on as your lips are locked with hers. the two of you struggle to make it to the bed the pooling heat in both your cores becoming unbearable. you end up on the couch. she wastes no time, sliding your panties off and burying her face into your cunt, sucking away at your clit. “oh..my..more..please..” your hips bucking against her face as she slides her fingers through your folds, she tries her best to slurp up your juices dripping beneath you but you're making such a mess it’s hard for her to keep up.

“like that, baby?” “erens been neglecting this pretty pussy, he doesn’t know how to take care of you does he?” her thumb drawing circles into your clit. you shake your head too dizzy to form a response you let out moans, your thighs entrapping her face in your cunt with your hand to her head. speak of the devil, eren enters the apartment, with his new hook up on his arm that he had (your replacement due to you blowing him off to hang with mikasa )..not expecting mikasa to be home at this time— let alone be faced with the sight of his side chick being devoured by his girlfriend . he brings a hand to his forehead and sighs.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me..”

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 month ago

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The Girl Next Door - IX

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics gif from pinterest, wick art from pinterest, prtty sure its AI, OPs unknown lemme kno

9. and be saved

You are left starstruck and gaping, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, when Constantine finally pulls back from the absolute claiming of your mouth, his dark gaze boring into you like he either wants to fuck you, or strangle you.

Maybe both, considering.

“After all this, that’s what you think?” he snarls.

A low growl reminds you both of the danger not far enough away. “And why wouldn’t she, after the way you’ve treated her, you stupid boy?” snarls Wick, his accent thickening in his anger. “Stop touching her.”

You jab a finger in the dhampir’s direction, putting yourself between them again. “This doesn’t mean you own me, buster, don’t get comfortable.”

The dhampir grumbles deep in his chest at this, glaring blue daggers at Constantine, but he stops his stalking advance. He seems to have enough self-control to weigh the consequences of breaking his promise not to hurt the man you obviously care about (for whatever reason he cannot understand), over the rewards of the deal you made. If he is patient, he will get what he wants. That should concern you, but at the moment you have one thing on your mind. You dare to turn back to your first beau, far from happy.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap.

“I told you that I like you!”

“Are we in third grade?”

“It sure fucking feels like it!” he snarls, then starts coughing uncontrollably; horrible, racking hacks that convulse his whole body.

You see the flash of blood on his sleeve. He is literally coughing up his lungs, and your heart breaks all over again. You try to help brace him, and he tries to hold you away. Finally fed up with his nonsense, you use your superior strength to best him, supporting him while trying to send energy to him through the bond to soothe him.

Naturally, you find that goddammed brick wall erected between you again. You are so frustrated this time that you pound a metaphysical fist against it. At last it gives, and you push all that wonderful strength you went out in the first place to collect down the line to John. Life, for lack of a better word, and he closes his eyes as it washes through him, leaning on you heavily.

It almost feels too good, and his relief naturally mixes with his native suspicion. He realizes he doesn’t actually remember what it feels like, to experience even the vaguest semblance of true health.

“Shit,” he rasps, leaning against you, his face buried in your hair.

You know they say that still waters run deep, but you still don’t understand the point of him hiding from you. Maybe there is no good reason, and maybe you’ll never truly understand. Even with your arms full of Constantine, you remain painfully aware of the lurking dhampir watching you, too close for comfort.

What have you done?

When you draw back to look at John, the only word you can think to describe his expression is agony. In turn, you somehow feel relieved and wretched and angry, all at once.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper desperately. “Why couldn't you just tell me?”

“I did,” he answers, and maybe he thinks that's true, but he'd practically spoken in code and it's not your fault that you didn't understand.

You should just tell him your side too, you reason. You've wasted so much time, and he's dying, and did you really hold back just because you were afraid he would laugh at you? You open your mouth, intending to get it out no matter what the cost, when Wick interrupts coldly, “This is very touching. But I didn’t come here to watch you two canoodle.”

“I don’t give a fu—”

You cut Constantine off before he can enrage the dhampir again. “He came here to help us,” you insist. “Come upstairs.”

“This asshole only knows how to help himself,” grouses the man in your arms, and you know he is glaring at Wick over your head. “I don’t trust him.”

“Fine. Come talk to the vampire he brought us, then we can kick him out.”

Wick snorts at that. “He can try.”

“You promised me,” you dare to remind the vampire hunter, even if there is a quaver in your voice.

“As you promised me,” Wick counters right back, offering a mocking little bow with his hand over his heart and a heat in his eyes that involuntarily curls your toes.

Dear God. What have you gotten yourself into?

Constatine’s grip on your hip tightens to the point of bruising, had you still been human. You can hear him grinding his teeth, and you have to stop yourself from laughing or crying with exasperation. This man. Maybe you do have a screw loose. You should kick him in the balls for the way he’d treated you, but all you really want to do is wrap him up in your arms, and cloister yourselves away from the world for a very long time.

Unfortunately, time is not something you have right now.

♰♰♰

Does the Geneva Convention apply to vampires?

You're sure what Wick did to the vamp he’d captured is at least immoral, if not downright illegal. And yet, you know this sycophant of don Juan’s was no innocent. You find it hard to feel sorry for him.

It doesn’t take much persuasion to get the injured vamp to spill the beans. He’s already scared shitless of Wick, and adding Constantine only makes him talk faster in hope of some mercy. You doubt he’s going to get it, or maybe but only in the form of a quick death.

He tells you all that don Juan has had a bone to pick with the High Table for years. Squabbles over power, jurisdiction, and of course, money, resenting the steep tithe he’s had to pay as a matter of course. He formulated a plan to overthrow them, by somehow involving the Son of Satan to wipe the slate clean with a new reign of Hell on Earth. With the exception, of course, that Juan continues to rule in L.A.

Constantine keeps shaking his head in disbelief, now seated at the head of the kitchen table. Wick has taken the seat at the opposite end, and you lean with your arms crossed against the sink, lowkey ready to intervene if they go after each other again. Maybe you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you sense the peace between them is tenuous at best no matter what Wick promised you.

“It’s like going after a roach problem in your house with a nuclear bomb,” gripes Constantine. “What the fuck is he thinking?”

Wick shrugs. “I will kill him. You kill the demons. Problem solved.”

Constantine snorts at that. “Yeah. Easy peasy.”

“Is it not?”

“It never is with these assholes. When I deport them they return to their realm, but they don’t die. They could just keep trying, unless we really figure out what they're up to.”

“How do we do that?”

John lights a cigarette, ignoring you as you glare at him, the big idiot. He blows a cloud of smoke into the air, staring at the cracked plaster of the ceiling like it holds the answer key.

“I gotta use the chair.”

“At Midnite’s?”

You have no idea what John’s talking about, but Wick seems to.

“Yeah.”

“Can you use it to find where Juan’s hiding? He’s gone to ground like the rat he is. It would save me time.”

“Maybe. It’s…unpredictable.”

“I might be able to find him,” you admit reluctantly, staring down at your bare feet.

Both pairs of dark eyes turn towards you. “How?” they echo each other, almost eerily similar in that moment.

“The last time you fed me…” you say to John, your cheeks warming with the memory. “Afterwards, I kind of…surfed around the city, while you slept. In my head, I mean. But not…”

Wick is impressed by this, an eyebrow lifting, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly. John, however, gives you a hard look. “You just…went frolicking around on the astral plane, huh? Do you know how dangerous that can be?”

You laugh, for once more amused than miffed by John’s irritation with you. It helps, that now you’re starting to suspect it comes from a place of caring, rather than contempt. Not that you can tell through the bond now. He’s re-built his walls between you, twice as high and twice as thick as they were before. You know he has more experience with this psychic stuff than you do, but it seems unfair.

“Well, I did it, and I found Juan. He felt it too. He hit me with something. It woke you up.”

“Yeah. I remember that.”

You shrug. “I could probably do it again.”

John ashes his cigarette with a flick into an overflowing dish, staring at the reflection in the green glass. “It took a little more than blood to invoke power like that.” Your ears feel like they’re on fire, and how ridiculous is it, that even undead you still can blush?

You dare to meet his eyes, and find a matching warmth therein. It’s his only tell.

“I can give you blood, malyshka,” offers Wick, breaking the heavy silence in the kitchen. “And whatever else you need.” You hate it, that just the thought makes a spear of warmth shoot straight to your loins.

Constantine narrows his eyes at the vampire hunter, pointing with the smoldering cigarette. “You can keep your cursed blood to yourself, dhampir.”

“I am not cursed.”

“No, but you’re a helluva traitor.”

“Pot, kettle, wizard boy. You think you’re the only one with a bone to pick with God?”

“Yeah, but you don’t see me skipping off to work for the other side because of it.”

“The other side,” Wick scoffs. “Two sides, same coin, Constantine.”

John snorts in answer. “Not exactly.”

“Oh? Was it not God who gave you this gift you resent so? Was it not God’s priests who fed my pregnant mother to a hungry vampire to create me, God’s weapon against the darkness? My poor mother died in agony after my birth. The priests called her suffering God’s will. That’s what they said when my Yelena and my little Irinushka died too. I finally told them all to go to Hell.”

“So now you get your revenge on God by working for the Underworld?”

“I was made to kill vampires. So it is what I do.”

Constantine barks with bitter laughter. “This is what you’re getting with this guy, y/n. He doesn't kill vampires to help people. He does it to scare the other vamps into line, so they don’t defy the High Table, and so the most powerful among them can go on exploiting human kind with ease. Trafficking, drugs, you name it, they’ve got their dirty fingers in it. When you said you would rob a drug cartel? He’s the one they would send after you for it.”

It’s not like you thought Wick was a good man, but for some reason hearing all this hurts your heart. Shocked, you turn to Wick. “Is this true?” you ask hushedly.

He actually looks regretful, not meeting your eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I made a bargain, a long time ago. It is the only thing that matters to me now. I must honor it.”

You’re not sure why hearing all this has made you feel sick. You don’t really get stomach upset anymore, but you do not feel well.

“Milaya…” says Wick pleadingly, willing you to look at him.

But you just shake your head, staring at the floor. Maybe deep down, there was a part of you that thought maybe, maybe, you wouldn’t have to be so completely alone as the long years went by. But now you know this was a very stupid thought indeed.

“Ask me,” prompts Wick quietly. “Ask me what the bargain was for.”

“She doesn’t care,” says Constantine, at the same time you ask:

“What was it for?”

Ignoring John, his dark eyes bore into you. “I made a deal with a powerful witch of the High Table, that I would serve until the day I found my Yelena again. I was told that if I waited long enough, someday she would be reborn to me.”

You don’t know why you feel dizzy in that moment, like the floor of the whole world has dropped out from under you. You close your eyes against it, screwing them shut tight as your fingers–claws–dig into the countertop behind you.

This man has done terrible things–for centuries, it sounds like. But he did them for love. Does that excuse them? No. Does it soften you to him? You hate to admit it, but the truth is…a little.

You entertain the possibility for a second–you only allow yourself a second–that maybe you are this woman the dhampir thinks you are. A reincarnated soul, searching for her long lost mate, like in the deliciously trashy romances you love to read. Shouldn’t you have some sort of past life memories or dreams? Isn’t that how it always goes in the stories?

You think about how you’ve always felt adrift in this life. Not really interested or committed to anything. How it’s all always seemed kind of silly to you, meaningless even, and the only thing you’ve ever been certain was truly important, was to be kind to others. It’s ironic, maybe, that only after becoming a vampire that you truly gained a sense of purpose in your life, helping those who couldn’t help themselves, and removing evil doers from the population at large.

You think about how you came to L.A. You practically moved here on a whim, because you were tired and off a bad breakup and you wanted to go somewhere exciting and new. Did fate guide that choice you made for yourself? Was it the unconscious searching for your soul’s true mate?

If that’s true, then why didn’t you go to New York instead?

You think about the day you moved into your apartment. Wrestling with your numerous boxes of stuff. Not much, really. Just what you fit into your compact hatchback car, which has since died an inglorious death on the 405. Some jerk had bumped into you on the stairs, nearly making you drop your heavy load of books, only to belatedly steady the box before it spilled, and maybe as an afterthought, you. You remember how you’d looked up, up, up because Jesus he was tall, to find the man now pulling on the addictive smoke that will prove to be his doom. He’d looked down at you with bemused annoyance in those lovely dark eyes. Told you to “Watch it,” and went on his way down the stairs, two at a time on those long legs, clearly in a hurry.

Rushing off to save the world, or a little precious part of it, you know now.

You remember how you’d felt like you’d been hit with a frying pan, the first time you saw him. How your heart had seemed to stop then start again, racing doubletime.

If this was a movie, John Constantine would be your soulmate, the man you were meant to find, the one who fate seemed to be driving you towards. Because since the first time you set eyes on him, you haven’t been able to look away. And if this was a movie…it would be a tragedy, because the man you love is dying, and there is no magic that can truly save him, only delay the inevitable.

You look between the two men seated at either head of the table. Both formidable, in their own ways, they could have been mistaken for brothers in their appearances. You wish you could deny that you felt a certain something for Wick too. It would be much simpler that way. You don’t really like the idea that things are preordained. You want to believe that you have the power to make choices about life, be they good or bad. But there is something in this dilapidated kitchen, the warm night air whispering through the broken windows, that feels unmistakably like fate.

“I hope you find her someday,” you tell the dhampir, and you mean it, holding your hands wide in a gesture of peace. “But I don’t really think that I’m the answer you’re looking for.”

The too-long sleeve of your shirt–John’s shirt–flops as you gesture, and you roll up the sleeve again, feeling more than a little ridiculous despite the looks both men have been paying you. As you crease the fabric up your forearm Wick zeroes in on something peeking out of your sleeve.

“What is that?” he demands, with way more force than the situation demands.

You look at him quizzically. “A tattoo?”

“Let me see.”

Constantine frowns as he watches this exchange. You feel a little uneasy too, as you pull back the sleeve to reveal the black and white flowers emblazoned on your underarm. “It’s just…something I thought was pretty on the flash wall, when I turned 18.” It had called to you, for whatever reason, on that rebellious expedition with a friend who had also just crossed the threshold into adulthood. Luckily, you still liked it. Lord knows dumber late night decisions had been made in that tattoo parlor in your little town.

Wick, however, sits back in the chair, laughing to himself like you have told him an inside joke. “Margaritka. What do you call this flower in English?”

“Daisies?”

Then you remember what he’d said, about the little white flower his late wife had loved to pick near their cabin.

Oh fuck.

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lovelybucky1 · 1 year ago

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The Doctor is In

Kinktober Day 11- Threesome

warnings: AFAB!Reader, student/teacher relationship, dom/sub dynamics, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, snowballing, dirty talk, smoking, alcohol consumption, robert x lawrence, 18+ minors DNI

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When Lawrence confided in Robert about his recent dry spell, he was never expecting this to come from that conversation. Robert had told him he has a mistress, one Robert is certain his wife knows about but has yet to confront him about. She's young, pretty, bright, and has an interest in physics- or at least is attracted enough to Robert to pretend to care about his ramblings.

Lawrence was skeptical. He doesn't know many men who are eager to share their woman, but Robert has never been like most men. Maybe it's a kink for him to have another man fuck his mistress. Robert was open about what the two of you get up to, and it's safe to say that neither of you are very reserved in the bedroom.

After thinking about the offer for a day or two, Lawrence agreed. Robert already had a time and place in mind. Seven o'clock on Friday at his house for dinner. His wife would be away with the kids until Sunday, giving them the perfect opportunity to explore.

Friday came quickly and Lawrence found himself standing on Robert's door step with a bottle of wine in hand. Robert came to the door and greeted Lawrence with a smile, then lead him into the kitchen. Once there, he saw your behind bent over in front of the oven.

You take the chicken out of the oven and place it on top of the stove. Lawrence thought it was a bit odd to have a mistress cook in the wife's kitchen, but he supposed you and Robert were playing house for the weekend.

You turn around and saw both men standing at the kitchen table. Your face lit up when you saw Lawrence, but his stomach dropped when he saw you.

"Dr. Lawrence!" you say excitedly, coming over to both men. Lawrence stares down at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"You two know each other?" Robert asks.

"Oh, yes, he's one of my professors," you grin. "When you said you had a friend from work joining us, I was afraid it was gonna be one of those weird old guys."

Lawrence snaps out of his shock and looks over at Robert. "I didn't know your..." he feels it's inappropriate to call you a mistress to your face, "was a student."

"I didn't think it mattered," Robert counters.

"Please come sit, I made chicken," you say, drawing both men's attention.

Robert sits down at the head of the table with Lawrence to his right, leaving the seat to his left for you. The table is already set neatly and you bring over the tray with the chicken on it. The meat is steaming and the herbs are fragrant. There's mashed potatoes, a salad, and enough wine to leave the three of you drunk.

You make polite conversation over dinner, and Lawrence can't help but find it a bit humorous that you're making a date out of an arranged hookup. He is enjoying himself, though, so he can't complain too much.

The conversation revolves around work, and each time you speak, Lawrence is reminded that you're his student. His kind, polite, curious student who always brings him an apple and sits in the first row. You are a brilliant student and your work is always impressive. He never thought you would be the type to get mixed up in an extramarital affair with Dr. Oppenheimer, but Lawrence supposes he doesn't really know the true you.

Your food is delicious, the best Lawrence has had in a while. He thinks to himself that you would make a good wife, then chastises himself for thinking that way about a student.

"What's the matter, Lawrence?" Robert asks, breaking Lawrence's train of thought.

Lawrence looks between the two of you. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little nervous," he says. There's a blush rising to his cheeks and he feels shy under your attention.

"Don't be nervous, Doctor. We'll take good care of you," you smile reassuringly.

You reach over and grab his hand. Your fingers are delicate and your hand is small compared to his. His heart races and he suddenly has the urge for more wine.

"I suppose since we're on the topic, we should discuss how the rest of the night is going to go," Robert says.

"That's a good idea," Lawrence agrees.

"To get the awkward question out of the way," Robert starts, as if this won't all be awkward. "Do you fuck men?"

Luckily Lawrence's mouth was clear of food because it would have been lodged in his airway after hearing the question. Lawrence clears his throat and looks between you and Robert.

"I... haven't."

"Are you interested?"

"In you?" Robert nods. "I don't know... I haven't really thought of it."

"We'll start off slow, then."

Lawrence's head is spinning. His coworker just asked him if he wanted to have sex and now he has to continue on living his life as if that's normal. As if he's not intrigued.

"What kinds of things do you like, Doctor?" you ask.

"Um..." Lawrence says as his mind races to find an answer.

"Any particular turn-ons you have?" Robert asks.

When he still doesn't answer, you speak up. "Well, I can tell you what I like and you can tell me what you think about them."

"Yeah," Lawrence nods. "That sounds good."

You scoot closer to him and rest your chin on your hand, somehow making yourself look even cuter.

"I like older men who have experience. They know what they like and aren't afraid to take it. I like a strong hand to guide and to please me. And I want to be worshipped." Lawrence listens intently with wide eyes. "How do you feel about that?"

"I, um," he clears his throat, "I like it. All of that. Sounds good to me."

You smile widely and look over at Robert. "How about Dr. Lawrence and I take turns on you, dear?" he says. You agree excitedly.

"You don't have to call me that," Lawrence says, feeling unusually timid.

"Call you what?" you ask.

"Doctor."

You stand up from your chair and push Lawrence's plate back so you can perch yourself on the table in front of him. Your legs are crossed but your skirt still shows a fair amount of thigh. It's nothing Lawrence hasn't seen before, but now he's allowed to look. Your feet hang between his parted legs and he traces the seam of your stockings with his eyes.

"But I like calling you that," you say, batting your eyelashes. "But I could call you professor if you'd prefer."

Lawrence's eyes flick over to Roberts, searching for signs of discomfort or objection, but only found a smirk.

"This is... inappropriate," he says. "You're my student."

There is a slight pout to your bottom lip. "Doesn't that make it better? I've seen the way you look at me in class, Doctor. I bet you've thought about what would happen if I came to your office and asked for extra credit."

Lawrence shouldn't be surprised. Robert wouldn't spend time with a girl if she wasn't a firecracker. You just look so sweet and innocent, it's difficult to fathom these dirty words are coming out of your mouth.

You uncross your legs and part your thighs, giving him a peak of your delicate panties. "No one has to know, Doctor."

You're a seductress disguised as an angel. You're the snake tempting him to take a bite of the apple and let the delicious juice drip down his chin.

Lawrence slides his chair back to make space in front of the table, then drops to his knees in front of you. He's staring directly at your clothed cunt and he can practically smell your desire from there.

"What are you doing, Lawrence?" Robert asks.

Lawrence looks over at him and expects him to be angry, but he is smirking. "You're not going to fuck my woman on the dinner table. You'll take her to the bedroom like a gentleman."

It's a bit ironic that Robert wants Lawrence to be a gentleman and fuck his mistress in his wife's bed, but he's the guest here, he's in no position to argue.

Lawrence nods and rises to his feet. He holds out his hand to help you down from the table, which you eagerly accept. You lead him through the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, Robert following close behind.

You turn the lamp on and turn to the two men standing in the center of the room and sit at the foot of the bed. "Daddy?" you ask, voice sweet as honey.

"Yes, dear?"

"Would you take my shoes and stockings off please?"

Everything about this situation surprises Lawrence. You call Robert Daddy? He is eager to kneel at your feet and take off your shoes and stockings when you are perfectly capable of doing so yourself?

Once your pantyhose is balled up next to your shoes on the floor, Robert begins to kiss up your legs. You hum with contentment as he does so, but you don't look down at him, no. You're looking at Lawrence.

"Come here, Doctor," you say, beckoning him forward.

He crosses the room to stand next to you. You reach out to grasp his tie and you pull him down to your level. His breath hitches in his throat at the display of dominance, eyes glued to your lips.

"I like when Daddy's in charge, but I always get what I want. He spoils me rotten, but that's the way I like it. Daddy knows what happens when he denies me, doesn't he?" you ask.

Robert peaks up from underneath your skirt. "I've learned my lesson," he says before resuming his exploration of your thighs.

"Are you going to give me what I want?" you ask, turning your attention back to Lawrence.

He swallows thickly. "Yes."

You grin. "Wonderful. Now, take off your shirt."

You let him go and he stands up straight. Lawrence is surprised that you're so demanding, almost entitled, but he's working open the buttons on his shirt anyway.

He reveals his pale chest dusted with light hair. His pink nipples are peaked from the cool air in the room and he feels a flush rise to his chest under your gaze. As he opens his shirt further, you can see the happy trail that leads underneath the waistband of his pants, and your desire for him grows.

While you watch Lawrence, Robert pushes your panties to the side to touch your pussy. He gently strokes your clit with his finger and tongue, caresses your folds with slow licks, and dips his fingers just the slightest bit inside you. He's teasing you, but you're not worked up enough to complain about it yet.

"Now the pants," you order.

Lawrence slips off his shoes and undoes his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles. You lick your lips at the sight of him standing in his briefs.

"Daddy," you say, pulling him away from your cunt by his hair.

"Yes, dear?"

"Take your clothes off too."

Robert does as he's told and undresses. You watch Lawrence trying not to watch Robert and it amuses you. Once both men are left in their underwear, you pull down your skirt and take off your blouse, leaving you in your own undergarments.

You stand up and step between the two men. You place a hand on both of their chests and urge them closer. Lawrence hesitantly puts his hands on your waist and Robert grabs your hips from behind. Both of them explore your body with your hands, and when they touch, Lawrence gasps.

"No need to be so shy, Doctor," you say while looking into his eyes. "Daddy doesn't bite."

Robert tucks his face into the crook of your neck and does just that; he sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin and you gasp. Your back arches and your chest presses against Lawrence's.

The man in front of you looks down at your breasts, almost entranced by them. You notice, of course.

"You can touch them if you want," you say.

Lawrence studies your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he sees is you batting your doe eyes at him. He slides his hands up your torso and cups your breasts in his large hands. You hear him let out a shaky breath and both you and Robert chuckle.

"He's so easy, Daddy," you giggle.

Robert wraps his arms around your waist and presses his chest against your back. "It's been a while for him, honey. Don't be mean."

Lawrence's cheeks are a delicious pink and it makes you want to tease him even more. You run your hand down his chest, stomach, over the fuzz under his navel, and over the bulge in his briefs. His body jolts at the contact, so you do it again.

"Fuck," he whispers.

"That's a naughty word, Doctor. I didn't think someone like you would do something like this."

Your hand slips underneath the waistband and you grasp his cock. You give it one firm stroke and when he lets out a groan, you grin.

"Haven't you tortured Dr. Lawrence enough for one night, dear?" Robert asks. He's phrasing it to sound like he's trying to benefit Lawrence, but you know he's getting impatient.

"I just want one more thing, Daddy," you say, looking over your shoulder at him.

"Anything for you," he smiles.

You have a devilish twinkle in your eye, one Robert knows well. "I want you and Dr. Lawrence to kiss."

Lawrence gawks, his eyes flicking up to Robert's to see if he's also shocked. To his surprise, Robert looks as if you've just asked him the weather.

“You’re a scientist, Ernie. Do it in the name of research,” Robert suggests. “Or in the name of getting your dick wet. Whatever works for you.”

"Okay," Lawrence says hesitantly.

Robert moves from behind you to stand next to Lawrence. He gently places his hand on the taller man's hip and leans close. You watch eagerly as Robert reaches up to press his lips to Lawrence's. Lawrence is stiff, but he's not rejecting the kiss. He's pliant for Robert, allowing him to take control.

The kiss doesn't last long and there's no tongue, but it was enough to satisfy you. When the two men part, they both look over at you. Robert's pupils are lust-blown and Lawrence looks like he could pass out.

"Was that what you wanted?" Robert asks.

"It was perfect, Daddy," you smile. "Now Dr. Lawrence has earned my pussy."

You scamper off to the bed and lay down on your stomach. Your feet hang over the edge of the bed a bit so there's enough room for Robert by the pillows.

Robert walks around the bed, taking off his underwear before climbing onto the mattress and sitting in front of you. His cock is hard and leaking, and you bite your lip in anticipation of what's to come.

"You tell him what to do, Daddy," you say while looking up at Robert through your lashes.

With Robert's legs positioned on either side of your head, you open your mouth and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. He lets out a groan when you suck gently.

"Why don't you come give our good girl what she wants," Robert says over your head to Lawrence.

Wordlessly, Lawrence steps forward and gently grasps the waistband of your panties. You move your legs to make it easier to take them off and Lawrence is met with the sight of your dripping cunt.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself.

Lawrence takes off his own underwear and begins to stroke his dick while looking at your ass. Robert watches him with a raised eyebrow, wondering when he'll get to it.

"Eat her out first. You can't fuck her dry," Robert says.

"She certainly isn't dry," Lawrence says as he kneels behind you and spreads your legs apart.

You squirm a bit when he leans in, his hot breath tickling your inner thighs. He starts by licking up your pussy, vaguely aware that Robert did this earlier. He can't tell if he's tasting your juices, Robert's spit, or a mixture of the two, but it's intoxicating.

He teases your clit with his tongue while you do the same to Robert's cock. You can't help the moan that escapes your mouth when Lawrence works his tongue into you. His hands grip your thighs as he buries his face deeper into you, making his glasses dig into your skin.

It's good, too good, but you know getting fucked by him will be better. You pull off of Robert and look up at him with a pout. "Make him stop, Daddy. I wanna cum on his dick, not his face."

The idea of you soaking his face makes Lawrence groan into your pussy and he is reluctant to stop. You're clearly impatient because before he has the change to remove his tongue, you're reaching back and pulling him away by his hair.

Lawrence whines at the tug on his roots. It's an accident, an entirely involuntary reaction and one you will file away for later.

"You heard her," Robert says, giving Lawrence the green light.

You work your way farther down Robert's cock as Lawrence kneels on the bed behind you, positioning himself properly. The tip of the cock hits the back of your throat and you gag. Robert looks down at you sympathetically and cups your jaw, stroking it soothingly.

"Take it all, gorgeous. Don't choke on it, I know you can do it."

Lawrence would be lying if he said Robert's dirty talk to you wasn't also affecting him. His cock drips as he nears your entrance and he is certain he won't last long. His tip bumps against your folds and you tense up at first, but then relax.

"Go ahead, Doctor," Robert says with a teasing lilt. "Fuck her."

Taking directions from Robert makes Lawrence's cock throb, but he pointedly ignores the implications of that in favor of relishing in the feeling of your tight cunt as he pushes into you.

He goes slow as to not hurt you, but your hole swallows him up greedily so he figures he doesn't have to worry about that. Once he's seated fully inside of you, he lets out the breath he was holding.

He braces himself on his hands and knees and begins to rock his hips. After so long with only his hand, your cunt feels like heaven. Even the friction of his lower stomach on your ass makes him dizzy.

At the head of the bed, your lips are pressed around the base of Robert's cock and you're focusing on trying not to choke. He's praising you like he always does, but it's hard to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears.

Your lipstick stains his cock, marking him in a way that makes Robert's possessive hindbrain go wild. He tries to be considerate when you suck him off like this, but it's so difficult to stop himself from bucking into your mouth and making you take him.

Pretty soon, you're getting fucked from both ends. Lawrence is pounding into your cunt, dick dragging along that sweet spot inside of you that fuels the flame inside of you. Robert instructed you to relax your throat so he could grab your hair and work you over his cock at his pace.

This is always your favorite part of the scene, when your bossy, bratty demeanor is replaced by a needy, submissive one. You're still getting what you want, but the punishing strokes of both men make it feel like they're the ones calling the shots.

Your whines and moans are muffled by Robert's cock, but both he and Lawrence are making noise freely.

"You feel so good," Robert praises. "My pretty little girl."

Lawrence doesn't do any talking, save for the occasional swear. There's mostly heavy breathing and small moans coming from behind you, and that just won't do.

"Spank her, Ernie. Makes her even tighter," Robert says.

"Can't get much tighter," he says, breathless. He brings his hand back and delivers a slap to your outer thigh. You choke on a cry and like Robert said you would, you got tighter. "Shit."

"Her cunt feel good?" Robert asks. He knows how hot it makes you when he talks about you like you're not there.

"So fucking good."

"You like sticking your dick in students, Doctor?" Lawrence moans low and long. He drapes himself over your back to rut into you with a newfound desperation. "You're never going to look at her the same."

Robert's right. The two of you have ruined Lawrence's life. He won't be able to teach or even think about physics without thinking of his student with the tightest pussy he's ever fucked.

"I'm gonna cum," Lawrence says. He's embarrassed that he was so quick, but he held it off for as long as he could.

"You better pull out," Robert says, still forcing you down on his cock. "You wouldn't want to knock her up, would you?"

Lawrence curses and quickly sits up to jerk himself off over top of you. Robert watches intently, ignoring you while Lawrence squirts his cum on your lower back. He groans and his head lolls back, the fatigue and relief hitting him once he's ridden through his orgasm.

Lawrence stands at the foot of the bed to catch his breath, watching the scene in front of him. "You're not finished," Robert says, his voice noticeably more airy now. "You're not done until she cums for you."

Resuming his earlier position, Lawrence eats you out with the intent of having you soak his face. He rubs your clit with his thumb, fucks you with his tongue, and moans into your cunt, all while you get face fucked at the head of the bed.

"Good fucking girl. You're gonna make me cum," Robert says to you. "Where do you want it? On your face?" You try to shake your head but Robert's hand on the back on your neck makes it difficult. "You want to swallow it, don't you?"

You moan loudly and nod the best you can. Robert smirks down at you and his body relaxes as he prepares to cum down your throat. You allow yourself to be used and focus on the pleasure of Lawrence's tongue inside you.

Like the last time he got you close, it didn't take much time at all. Before you know it, your cunt gushes all over his face and you cry out. Lawrence's mouth floods with your cum and he drinks it down eagerly.

With one particularly deep thrust, the first spurt of cum hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You're helpless to do anything but take it, though you don't swallow yet. You know Daddy likes to see it in your mouth.

Distracted by Robert's orgasm, you don't realize that Lawrence is still working your pussy until it becomes painfully sensitive. Robert pulls out of your mouth and lets go of your neck and your body jolts, trying to escape the stimulation.

"Stop," you whine, but its muddled by the puddle of cum on your tongue.

Lawrence immediately pulls away and you look at him from over your shoulder. He's sweaty: hair wet, chest glistening, and glasses foggy. He looks absolutely wrecked, but you don't get to admire him for long because Robert pulls your attention back to him.

"Hasn't anyone told you not to talk with your mouth full, little girl?" he asks, holding your jaw. "Open up, let me see."

You do as you're told and stick out your tongue so he can see the pearly liquid. He smiles, satisfied, but it morphs into something wicked.

"Why don't you go give Dr. Lawrence a kiss, dear? Thank him for making you cum."

Robert gives you a look that screams don't question me. You sit up, legs shaking, and turn to where Lawrence stands at the foot of the bed. You don't say a word, but you look up at him with wide, tantalizing eyes.

This time, Lawrence doesn't look to Robert before making his move. He ducks down and cups your jaw with his large hand before slotting his lips against yours. You escalate the kiss by pressing your tongue to the seam of his lips and when he allows you entrance, you let the cum flow from your mouth to his.

Lawrence whimpers, surely disliking the bitter taste, but swallows it quickly to get it out of his mouth. Despite that, he keeps kissing you for a second longer.

"Did you like it, Doctor?" you ask once you part.

Lawrence isn't certain if you're asking about the sex or the cum.

"Yes," he breathes.

You smile widely and look over your shoulder back at Robert, who is still sitting shamelessly nude and spread on the bed. The three of you sit in silence for a moment before Lawrence starts to redress.

No one offered him a place in the bed for the night and he certainly wasn't going to ask to stay. You crawl back up by Robert and cuddle into his side, laying your head on his wife's pillow. You both watch as Lawrence rebuttons his shirt and slips on his shoes without untying them.

Once dressed, Lawrence looks at the two of you and clears his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. "Thank you for having me," he says.

"Our pleasure," you giggle.

Robert reaches over to the night stand and takes a cigarette out of his case and lights it. He takes a long, slow drag of it before speaking.

"See you on Monday, Doctor."

Lawrence smiles sheepishly and walks out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Work certainly is going to be different from now on. Most notably, no one will be able to address him without him popping a boner in the middle of a lecture.

#oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #oppenheimer smut #ernest lawrence #ernest lawrence x reader #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer fanfiction #oppenheimer 2023 #cillian murphy fanfiction

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waitimcomingtoo · 2 years ago

Text

Come Morning Light

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you and Peeta spend a lazy day together, baking bread and drawing. takes place after first games before cf

After learning from Effie that you had a rare day off, you made your way over to Peeta’s house in the Victors Village. Things had been weird between you since returning from the games and you wanted a chance to spend some time with him to settle things. You knocked on his door and when you found it open, you made your way inside.

“Oh. Hey.” He smiled when you found him in his kitchen.

“Hey. Did I hear correctly that we actually have the day off?”

“We do. And Effie made it very clear we’re not getting another one anytime soon. So we better enjoy it.”

“How are you gonna spend it?” You asked as you leaned against his kitchen table.

“I’m just gonna bake some bread and watch the rain. All boring stuff.” Peeta said with a soft smile. Peeta thought you would leave after that, but you didn’t budge.

“Why? What were you gonna do?” He asked curiously.

“Bother you.” You shrugged with a coy smile. Peeta returned the smile when he realized you wanted to hang out but didn’t know how to ask.

“Impossible. You never bother me.” He declared.

“Never? Even after all the times I’ve woken you up screaming?”

“No. Because when I hear screaming, I know that means I get to hold you. So no, you’re never a bother.” Peeta said as if it were the most simple thing in the world. You looked down to hide the smile that he always managed to put on your face. He could never know how much you missed that reassurance that he would always be there for you when you had your nightmares.

“You know, Haymitch once told me I could live a thousand lives and never deserve you.” You told him.

“Oh, did he?” Peeta smirked and folded his arms.

“I think it may have been one of the rare times he was right about something.” You said playfully. Peeta felt ecstatic to hear you say this, but played it cool.

“Well. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” He replied. You smiled at him before going over to where he had his baking supplies set up.

“So what kind of bread are we making today?” You asked as you picked up his apron. He playfully snatched it from you and tied it around it waist. You pretended to be offended for a second, but he was quick to provide you with a matching apron. You didn’t know why he had two if he lived alone, but you didn’t question it. You just held out hope that maybe it was for you.

“I’m making challah bread. You can just sit there and look pretty.” Peeta nodded towards his kitchen table as he tied your apron around your waist.

“Peeta, I won the Hunger Games with nothing but a bow and some berries. What makes you think I can’t make bread?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know you can’t make bread.” He insisted. “And I know that because before you win the game, you fed me disgusting soup.”

“You said you liked my cave soup.” You gasped.

“I was trying to spare your feelings.” He said with a cheeky smile. You pretended to be offended again and threw some flour at his face.

“Wow, Peeta. Next time you get injured, don’t come to me for help.”

“Well I definitely won’t come to you for food.” He said out of the corner of his mouth. You gasped and tried to throw more flour at him but he caught your wrist and spun you around. You smiled at the gesture before playfully shoving him away.

“Please let me help. I’ll do better then the cave soup. I promise.”

“Fine. You can mix this.” Peeta said as he poured two cups of something into a mixing bowl and handed it to you. You smiled proudly and mixed the contents of the bowl with a wooden spatula.

“Is this important? Am I being helpful?” You asked as you mixed.

“No. That was just two cups of flour. You didn’t actually mix anything.” Peeta admitted. You looked up at him in surprise and he was armed and ready with a handful of flour. He tossed it at your face and laughed as you coughed.

“Peeta. Let me help.” You whined as you cleaned your face.

“Just leave the baking to the baker, all right? I don’t show up in the woods and try to hunt.” He teased as he folded some eggs into his dough.

You watched him expertly mix the dough until a light and fluffy consistency was left in the bowl. You couldn’t help but admire the way he worked, moving as if with muscle memory. To get a better look, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder. Peeta stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into you.

“There’s no cameras in here, you know. You don’t have to pretend.” He said quietly. You were surprised by this comment and pressed your cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m not pretending anything.” You told him. “I just wanted to hold you.”

“So you’re not acting? You really want to help me bake bread?” Peeta asked skeptically as he turned around in your arms. You toyed with the strings of his apron for a second before looking up into his eyes.

“I really do.” You answered honestly. “We never get to do anything normal together. I just wanted one day where we can just be us.”

Peeta stared into your eyes for a while as he tried to decide whether he should believe you or not. He so badly wanted to, but could never fully let his guard down around you after you revealed the way you acted in the first games was partially an act.

“Okay. Come here. We have to knead the bread.” Peeta said once he decided he was satisfied with your answer. He pulled you by the hand and placed you in front of him before wrapping both arms around you.

“Oh no.” You chuckled dryly, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Oh yes. I’m a romantic. This is how we teach.” Peeta said as he put his hands over yours and began to knead the bread. You had seen this scene play out in old romantic movies that sometimes played on your TV and you knew Peeta must’ve seen them too. It was stupid, but it made you feel good inside.

“Do you teach everyone to knead bread like this?” You looked over your shoulder to question him.

“I don’t exactly go around teaching people how to make bread.” Peeta chuckled.

“Oh. I must be special then.” You smiled coyly and made eye contact with him over your shoulder. He was so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck and it sent tingles down your spine.

“Must be.” Peeta mumbled in your ear. You gulped and felt your face heat up, feeling grateful Peeta was behind you so he couldn’t see what he was doing to you. He continued to use his strong hands to make yours knead the bread.

“I hate the way this feels.” You said to break the silence.

“Then you’re gonna hate to hear that we have to do this for at least ten minutes.” Peeta laughed as you groaned.

“Peeta.” You whined but didn’t try to stop.

“You’re the one who wanted to stay and make bread. You could’ve run off into the forest to hunt with Gale, but you chose to spend your day off with me.” He reminded you.

“You’re right. I did.” You agreed with him as you squished the bread between your fingers.

“Where is Gale, anyway?” Peeta asked, and you could tell his intentions no matter how cool he tried to play it. He wanted to know if you were only with him today because Gale was busy.

“Probably at the Hob or something.” You shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

“You don’t know where he is? Aren’t you guys always together?”

“Not always. I’m with you.” You said and looked over your shoulder at him. Peeta smiled timidly as he looked into your eyes.

“You’re with me?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I’m with you.” You smiled at him before returned your attention to the bread.

“I can’t help but wonder for how long.” Peeta said softly. There was no self-pity in his voice, just an honest expression. You stared into the dough and felt guilty pile up in your stomach.

“I know it’s confusing. I know I’m confusing. I wish I had more answers to give you.” You said quietly without looking at him.

“It’s okay. I’m happy just doing this.” Peeta answered honestly.

“So am I.” You realized and leaned back into him.

You continued to knead the bread in comfortable silence as a gentle rain patter hit the windows. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt peace like this, peace only Peeta could give you.

“Is it done yet because it’s seriously grossing me out.” You said after a minute of the silence.

“It’s done.” Peeta chuckled. “You’re free.”

You slipped your hands out of his and quickly ran to the sink to rinse them.

“Ew, ew, ew.” You grimaced as you cleaned your hands. “That was grosser than when I had to clean out your leg wound.”

“Really? This is more disgusting than that?” Peeta laughed in surprise.

“Yes. I don’t know how you do it.” You stuck your tongue out as you dried your hands.

“I’m a baker. It’s my passion. I don’t know how you skin animals and don’t throw up.” Peeta remarked as he tossed the dough around a little and worked his hands into it. You shamelessly watched him do this for a second before snapping out of it.

“I’m a hunter. It’s my passion.” You humored him. Peeta looked at you fondly as he let out a laugh.

“You’re funny when you want to be.” He remarked as he put the loaf in the oven.

“Not you, though. You’re always funny. Even in the most life threatening situations, you’ve still made me laugh. And nobody can make me laugh.”

“I’ve noticed that. That nobody else can do it. Maybe that’s why I try so hard to be the one who can.” He admitted as he stared at you with that ever present fondness.

“Well it works.” You shrugged and held his gaze. You stared at each other for a moment before looking away in embarrassment.

“So how long does that bake for?” You asked him.

“30 minutes. Then we test it to see if it’s risen.”

“Hm. What should we do for the next 30 minutes?”

“Actually, there is something I’ve always wanted to do.” Peeta said with a timid smile.

“Uh oh. What’s that?” You asked coyly.

“Draw you. If that’s okay.”

“Haven’t you drawn me before?” You asked, knowing you’d caught glimpses of his sketches every now and then.

“Yes. But they’re all side profiles because I draw you when you aren’t looking. I want one of you facing front.”

“Okay.” You agreed as your face heated up from the request. Peeta grinned and went to grab his sketchbook as you sat on his couch. You felt the almost untouched furniture and felt sad that he lived in this great big house all by himself. When he came back, he positioned himself across from you and looked up eagerly.

“How should I pose?” You asked and raised your arms in a dramatic way you’d seen people in The Capital pose.

“Just relax. Sit how you would normally sit.” Peeta chuckled and began to sketch out your face.

“Well I don’t remember how to do that anymore.” You realized as you awkwardly shifted in your seat.

“Then just pick a way to sit and stay like that.” Peeta laughed again. You obliged and relaxed into his couch as you stared at him. He sketched the outline of your head while you studied his face closely. The sun was beginning to dim below the horizon, making Peeta’s foyer his favorite color, a soft orange. The way the light hit him made his blonde hair and eyelashes appear golden.

“Your eyelashes are so blond.” You commented without thinking.

“What?” Peeta looked up as his entire face turned red.

“I’ve never noticed that before. They’re so blond and shiny. They look almost golden from here. Like Effie’s hair.”

“This place gets really good lighting. It’s a shame I’m the only one who knows that.” Peeta said with a sad smile.

“Now you’re one of two who knows.” You replied, making his smile go from sad to lovelorn.

“That��s true.” He said softly. You exchanged a smile before he went back to drawing you. You felt like you were spying on him from his closely you were watching him but you never got to see him this peaceful. You studied the way his hands moved around his sketchbook and admired how they somehow knew exactly where to go.

“What are you staring at?” Peeta asked, catching you in the act. You gulped and knew you were caught, so you just came clean.

“Your hands.” You admitted and didn’t meet his eyes.

“Why?” He asked, face still in a rose blush.

“I can’t talk. I’m posing.” You said in an attempt to change the subject with a joke.

“You’re all done posing, actually. Come take a look.” Peeta said. You got up from your couch and leaned over him to look at what he had drawn. On his sketch pad was a perfect little charcoal drawing of you. You hadn’t posed for him yet he managed to perfectly capture your most neutral expression. You knew he most likely drew it from memory since you were definitely no help while posing.

“Peeta. That’s beautiful.” You gasped and looked into his eyes. Peeta looked up at you as you leaned over him and blinked slowly.

“Yeah. You are.” He spoke softly. You looked into Peeta’s eyes before letting your gaze drop down to his lips. Before you could psych yourself out, you leaned down to kiss him. Your lips had merely brushed his when the timer went off, making you jump at the sound.

“The bread is-“

Peeta cut your sentence off by tilting his chin the rest of the way up to kiss you. He sat up on his knees and slipped a hand behind your head to properly kiss you as the timer continued to go off in the background. When he pulled away, you were left breathless while he moved some hair off your forehead.

“Sorry. I wasn’t about to miss out on that kiss for bread.” Peeta smirked as he got off the couch. You watched him walk back into the kitchen and touched your fingertips to your lips. You were still buzzing from the kiss as you walked into the kitchen.

“It smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.” You smiled politely while Peeta took the bread out of the oven. Once it cooled, you took a knife and went to cut into it.

“Woah woah, what are you doing?” Peeta stopped you.

“Cutting the bread?”

“You can’t just hack into it. There is an art to cutting bread, my dear. Here. Let me show you.” Peeta said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind again.

“Oh boy. Here we go.” You playfully rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

“It’s like this. Yeah?” He said into your ear. You stayed silent as you watched his hands work over yours to cut the bread into perfect diagonal slices.

“You staring at my hands again?” He asked suddenly, making you freeze.

“Maybe.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” He chuckled softly in your ear.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just like them and can’t really explain why.”

“I know the feeling.” He whispered in your ear after a beat of silence. Peeta let go of one of your hands and used it to touch your side braid.

“Your braid is on a different side today.”

“Oh. Yeah. It is.” You gulped as he toyed with the end of your braid. His hand moved to your shoulder as he placed a kiss on the side of your neck that your braid wasn’t on. It sent shivers down your spine and you didn’t want him to stop.

“I like it.” He whispered against your skin and placed another kiss on your neck.

“You noticed that it was different?” You asked as you turned around in his arms.

“I notice everything about you.” Peeta said simply. You looked into his eyes and smiled before taking hand hand. You brought two prices of bread over to his front door and opened it. You sat across from each other and watched the late afternoon rain that drizzled through the dimming sunshine. You bit into the warm bread and listened the rain falling while Peeta just watched you. When you noticed him staring, you gave him a pointed look and nudged his shoe with your foot.

“You know, Effie told me there’s a stove on the train.” You told him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe you can show me how to make cake tomorrow?” You asked, making Peeta’s smile grow.

“Sure.” He nodded. “Anything you want.”

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #Peeta mellark fanfic #Peeta mellark fanfiction #Peeta mellark x you #Peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark

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whitedarkmoonflower · 11 months ago

Note

GIRL! You should write a Sihtric ffc that takes place when they are trying to get Bebbanburg back and they take him and Finan and chain them. While they are chained, Sihtric notices a girl also being chained in a corner (the oc) and after the battle he rescues her…the rest up to you. If you do pls tag me 🤭😳

Here you goo girly! Copy and pasted <3

Bebbanburg

Authors note: It's my last fic this year. I hope you'll enjoy. I found it not so easy to write, but here it is. A big thank you to @the-irish-girl for helping me with the ideas and writing prompts. I appreciate it a lot!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: a lot of Angst and a bit of Fluff. That's it .

Word Count: 4,8 K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf@willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Constantin's voice pierces the inner yard, “He's no man of mine,” he declares, putting a very fast end to their venture.

'Your Scottish accent sucks,' Sihtric grumbles, his teeth clenched, as his hands are forcibly bound behind his back. Like Finan before him, he's quickly disarmed. They are surrounded by too many warriors, the resistance is futile. Surrender appears to be their only reasonable choice for now. At least this might buy Uhtred more time and divert the guards' and Wihtgar's attention from him.

"At least I gave it a shot," Finan shrugs with his shoulders as they are hauled away.

The air in the dungeon is musty and stale, the smell of mould and mildew mixing with filth and rot. It’s not under the ground, the cliff of Bebbanburg has made it far too difficult to dig deep. It stands as a separate building at the fortress's far end, with double wooden walls built on top of a stone base likely still left by the Romans. Its exposure to the sea winds and dampness is evident. There are no windows, its sparse lighting comes from flickering torches that cast long, ominous shadows across the walls and the metal bars of the cells.

“Torture them for answers,” Lord Wihtgar orders, his frame obstructing the entrance. The threatening tone in his voice suggests that he's more interested in retribution than actual information. He’s been fooled and humiliated before the Scottish king and wants revenge, eager to make them suffer. He approaches Finan, intent on delivering the first strike, as the astir voice of his commander distracts him.

“My lord, soldiers approach from the south.”

“How many?”

“Many.”

“Lock them up and then head to the ramparts,” Wihtgar commands and storms out of the dungeon. The guards roughly shove Finan and Sihtric into separate cells. The heavy metal doors slam shut with a resounding clang, the sound of keys turning in the locks echoing in the room as the guards depart, leaving behind a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the torches.

"It could’ve been worse," Finan remarks with a half-hearted chuckle, making himself as comfortable as possible on a pile of straw in the corner of his cell. He glances over at Sihtric, in the cell across from him, worried about how he's handling things. Finan is well aware of his fearless friend's sole vulnerability.

Sihtric clutches the metal bars of his cell, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. He takes deep, deliberate breaths in an effort to remain calm, but his anxiety is palpable. The walls seem to inch closer, the pervasive darkness reaching towards him like insidious fingers. Each breath he draws feels oppressively heavy, as if pressing down on him, dragging him towards the ground. Sihtric shuts his eyes tightly, trying to take another deep breath, fully aware that it’s his own mind playing tricks on him, yet unable to shake the feeling.

When he finally forces his eyes open again, the cell is pitch black; the torches have burned out. The space feels even more confined than before. He finds himself sitting on the hard floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, back pressed against the wall. The distant sound of water dripping is the only thing that pierces the silence. Time has become a blur—hours, days, weeks? He can't tell.

Touching his swollen lip, Sihtric winces at the pain but is relieved to find his teeth intact. He curls up tighter, shutting his eyes, longing for sleep to claim him, but it remains elusive.

The cold in the cell is piercing, cutting through his thin clothing and his stomach is growling with hunger. Sihtric shivers, his teeth chattering from the chill. His gaze falls to his legs, barely covered by a worn rug, down to his bare, skinny feet. They're blistered and dirty, stained with streaks of blood. His blood.

He can still feel them—the blows from his father’s fists, the sharp sting of the dog whip in Kjartan's hands as he lashes out, his face flushed with anger, infuriated by Sihtric’s silence as he doesn’t cry out. He never does; he never gives Kjartan that satisfaction.

He can still hear them—his mother's desperate, pleading cries as she kneels before Kjartan, begging for mercy for her son, willing to do anything to end the brutal beating.

A vicious blow sends Sihtric sprawling to the ground; he instinctively curls into a ball, protecting his head and face, bracing for the rest of the assault. He doesn't make a sound, and Kjartan, losing interest, tosses the whip aside and refills his mug with ale. Strong arms grip him like iron claws, hoisting him up and tossing him over a shoulder. Sihtric catches a glimpse of his mother weeping on the floor, managing a small smile for her before he's taken to the small, damp cell in Dunholm's basement. Again. It’s not the first time and not the last.

No, no, no—it's not real, it can't be, Sihtric reminds himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. He's not the small, scared slave boy anymore. He's a warrior, a grown man who has endured more battles than the years of his life. He has risen above everything his father, Kjartan, sought to deny him. Kjartan is gone. This is Bebbanburg, and his friends are counting on him. He can't let the ghosts of his past haunt him, not from beyond the grave. He can’t let his father win this battle.

Yet, here he is, seemingly back in that same cold, dark cell in Dunholm, wiping away tears with the frayed fabric of his sleeves. This hidden place being the only spot where he lets them flow freely.

"Hey, hey, Sihtric, listen to me," Finan's urgent voice pierces through the haze, jolting Sihtric back to the present. His eyes fly open. He finds himself still upright, clutching the iron bars, his head leaning against them, breaths coming fast and heavy. A sheen of cold sweat coats his forehead, and his entire body quivers. If not for his tight grip on the bars, his legs would have surely given way by now.

"There's something in your cell. Sihtric, are you hearing me? Check out the corner behind you. Something's moving," Finan's voice, though somewhat muffled, carries a distinct note of urgency that spurs Sihtric to slowly turn his head. In the far end of his cell, he catches sight of a peculiar, quivering shape. It isn't merely moving; it's shaking, accompanied by faint, muffled noises.

Forcing himself to release the iron bars, Sihtric turns for a better view. The torchlight is too dim to make out details, so he cautiously takes a few steps closer. His muscles tense, ready to react to any threat.

He halts, concentrating on the sounds emanating from the shape. It quickly becomes apparent that what's under the tattered blanket is a living, scared creature, its quiet, stifled sobs reaching his ears. With careful movements, Sihtric edges closer, extends his hand, and slowly pulls back the ragged blanket, unveiling the source of the quiet sobbing.

—---------------------------------------------

You're abruptly roused from sleep by the sound of voices. Straining your ears, you recognize the voice as Wihtgar's. It's been a while since the Lord of Bebbanburg visited the dungeons, not since your arrival. You quickly rise and hurry to the iron bars of your cell, moving as swiftly as the clanking chains around your ankles permit. The metal chafes against the bruises left by the shackles, but you barely notice the pain. Desperation to speak to him, to plead for your freedom, urges you forward. You've done nothing wrong; you've been falsely accused, and you need him to know that.

The voices grow louder, and you catch sight of two men being dragged in. They're strangers to you. Probably intruders. Pirates? Or even worse, Danes? Hastily, you retreat into the shadows of your cell, curling up on the small pile of straw that serves as your bed. Your fingers grip the ragged blanket given to you by a guard – a young lad with a pale face and kind eyes who'd seen you shivering, your teeth chattering in the cold night.

You watch as the men are hauled to the cells. The sound of keys turning in locks and the snapping shut of iron-barred doors send a shiver down your spine as you realise that one of the men has been locked in the same cell as you.

"Oh God, help me," you whisper under your breath, noticing the pagan pendant hanging from the neck of the stranger in your cell. Your fears are confirmed: you're locked in a cell with a Dane, the kind of ruthless, heartless warrior you've heard countless stories about. You are frozen, too afraid to move, aware that the slightest sound of your shackles might reveal your hiding place. You hold your breath and pull the blanket over your head, silently praying for the guards to return quickly, before that wild beast in the shape of a man discovers you, before he lays his hands on you.

Blinded by the blanket, you're cut off from seeing what's happening in the cell, but your fear is too great to risk a glance. The silence is broken only by the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional shuffle from the other cell where the second man is locked up. You feel your legs begin to tingle, going numb from the tension and your cramped position. An involuntary shuffle causes the chains to clink softly, the sound reverberating through you like a fanfare.

"Oh no, please God, no," you silently plead, but it's too late. They've heard you. You bury your head between your knees, wrapping your arms around it, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You curse your trembling limbs as footsteps draw nearer. The stillness around you is palpable. Time seems to stretch on endlessly, each shallow breath feeling like an eternity. You wonder, anxiously, what he is waiting for. Your lungs spasm, your ability to breathe constricted, and a mix of whimpers and sobs escapes your lips as your shoulders shake uncontrollably.

The blanket is suddenly whisked away and a sharp yelp escapes your lips as you recoil. Your arms instinctively rise, shielding your head in a protective gesture.

Sihtric's eyes quickly take in the figure before him, immediately recognizing you as a girl. The hands covering your face are small and delicate, unlike those of a man or boy. He notices the shackles binding your ankles and his expression turns to one of surprise and rising anger, wondering who could be so cruel as to confine and possibly torture a woman.

"Hey, you don't have to be afraid of me," Sihtric says softly, carefully moving closer. "I won't hurt you," he reassures, tentatively reaching out his hand, as if to gently touch your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you see his hand approaching. In a reflexive movement, you spring to your feet, driven by fear, and scramble further into the corner, trying to press yourself into the rough wooden wall. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with those of the man beside you.

His presence is intimidating: tall, strong, with broad shoulders and chest, muscular arms visible under his sleeveless armour. His hair, braided on top, falls in wild curls to his shoulders. Even in the dim torchlight, you can see scars marking his forehead and cheek, and an unusual tattoo on his neck. Panic surges within you, and you wrap your arms around yourself protectively, covering as much of your exposed skin above the neckline of your dress as possible. Your trembling legs can no longer support your weight, and you sink back to the ground.

Sihtric observes you, his fingers raking through his hair. There's something about your tightly curled, trembling form, your wide, red, and swollen eyes filled with fear and disdain, that resonates with him. That feeling of being trapped and terrified, it’s all too known to him, it’s still there, it still lingers in his bones. He finds himself unable to look away. Cautiously, Sihtric crouches down, maintaining his distance, not wanting to frighten you further by moving too close. His gaze softens as he watches you, remaining still and quiet.

"I am Sihtric," he introduces himself gently, a softness in his voice. "I understand you're scared. But I promise, as long as we're in this cell, you're safe from me."

You are surprised by the softness of his voice and by the fact that he speaks your tongue, but it does little to calm you. He is what he is – a heathen, a savage and you are completely at his mercy, as the fleeting hope that the guards might return soon fades. It’s only now that the meaning of the words you overheard has sunken in - the fortress is under attack, and you've been abandoned to a fate that seems increasingly grim, forgotten by a world that seems to have no place for you.

With each movement deliberate and cautious, Sihtric settles himself on the floor near the wall. He leans back, drawing his knees to his chest, and places his hands on his knees visibly, a non-threatening gesture meant to reassure you.

He sits there for a while, quietly watching the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight. From the opposite cell, the sound of Finan's soft snoring indicates that he's making the most of this unexpected respite. Sihtric wants to convey to you that he is no threat. Understanding that words alone cannot convince you, he chooses to show it through his actions. So he just sits there patiently, giving you the space and time you need to realise that he means no harm.

You steal covert glances at the formidable Dane seated beside you. There's something compelling about him that repeatedly draws your gaze back to the stranger. He has remained still for some time, silent and not even looking your way. The air of strength and assurance he exudes is captivating, and his mere presence beside you has an unexpectedly soothing effect. Gradually, you feel the tension in your muscles easing and your sobs slowly subsiding.

Sihtric senses this subtle change in you, indicating that you're no longer overwhelmed by panic. He turns his head just enough to see you and clears his throat gently.

"Please, don't be afraid," Sihtric speaks in a soft, hushed tone. "I mean you no harm," he reassures once again.

Slowly, you lift your head, and your eyes unintentionally lock with his. The warm sincerity you see in them starkly contrasts with his intimidating appearance, and you reluctantly acknowledge that if he had intended to harm you, he wouldn't have waited this long. You break your gaze, only to let out a sharp shriek as you spot a rat sniffing near your feet. Startled by your cry, the rat quickly scurries away, disappearing through a small gap between the wall and the floor.

A smile slowly forms on Sihtric’s lips as he shifts his position slightly and stretches out his legs, his arms resting comfortably in his lap. He begins to speak, his voice calm and even. He tells about his childhood friend, a small, clever rat he had named Loki, after the trickster god.

"Loki was smart and fast. He'd come and go as he pleased, squeezing through the tiniest cracks in the walls. Each day, I'd save a bit of my sparse meal to share with him."

You find yourself captivated by his melodic voice, tinged with a slight accent. It almost feels as if he's speaking to himself, and only the occasional discreet glance in your direction reveals his awareness of your presence. As you listen, your breathing steadies, as you are drawn into Sihtric's story, finding solace in the sound of his voice. He recounts how Loki always found him, even in that dirty hole beneath his father’s fortress, and when he pauses, the last words hanging in the air, you unexpectedly find yourself asking, "What happened to him?" surprised to hear your own voice break the silence.

Sihtric's smile dims. "I don't know. When I finally left my father's place, I couldn’t take him with me. But I like to think that Loki kept having his little adventures in those dungeons, maybe even making friends with someone else who needed it. Like that little fellow you probably scared half to death just now."

You don't know whether Sihtric's story is real or invented, yet it stirs something within you that you believed was long extinguished. Is it gratitude? For a fleeting moment, the tale allows you to escape your grim reality, to forget the shackles chafing and bloodying your ankles, the hunger gnawing at your stomach, and even the bleak prospect of having no future.

"So tell me, why are you here?" Sihtric inquires, turning his gaze towards you.

You pause, your eyes lowering to your hands clasped in your lap. For reasons you can't quite explain, you feel a sense of safety in his presence.

"I'm accused of being a witch," you say quietly, your voice carrying a tremor of fear. "I'm waiting for my trial."

"They say I have unnatural powers, that I can summon spirits and cast curses," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not true. I've never harmed anyone. I just... I know herbs and remedies. People in the village would come to me when they were sick."

"People fear what they do not understand," you hear the Dane saying. "And in their fear, they can be cruel."

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. "I'm scared," you admit. "I know what happens to those accused of witchcraft. I've seen... I've seen the pyres."

Sihtric extends his hand slowly, offering a gesture of comfort. You're hesitant at first, but then, driven by an unexpected impulse, you place your hand in his. His grip is warm and reassuring, and you allow yourself to be drawn into a soothing embrace. It's been so long since you were held with such tenderness that you can't even recall the last time. Sihtric gently strokes your dishevelled hair, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat just beneath your ear.

Your moment of solace is abruptly interrupted by a surge of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Four guards burst into the dungeon, heading straight for the cells. The doors swing open, and Sihtric, along with Finan, are abruptly pulled to their feet and dragged out. Amidst the chaos, Sihtric exchanges a quick, knowing glance with Finan and swiftly reaches into Finan's boot, retrieving a small, concealed sharp object.

With rapid precision, Sihtric attacks the guards. The ensuing scuffle is fierce but brief. Within moments, the guards are dead on the dungeon floor, and you stifle a scream, covering your mouth with both hands in shock.

Sihtric casts a quick, conflicted glance back at you in the cell, torn between the need to escape and the desire to help you.

"Please, don't leave me here," you plead, rushing to the iron bars of your cell.

"Sihtric, we don't have time. She's chained and we don't have the tools to free her," Finan urges, grasping Sihtric's arm. But Sihtric resolutely shakes off his grasp and re-enters the cell.

"Lady, I will return for you. I promise," he whispers, his large hands gently resting on your upper arms.

"Please," you plead, your voice quivering as your fingers cling to his armour. "No, no, no, don't do this to me, please, no..." Your voice cracks, fading into a hoarse whisper, your eyes desperately seeking his.

"I will come back," Sihtric assures you again. His gaze doesn't waver as he cups your face in his hands, looking directly into your eyes. "I will."

He gently frees himself from your grip and turns to leave. Your world seems to crumble around you, despair engulfing you. You grasp the iron bars for support, but they provide little comfort, and you slowly sink to your knees, a desperate cry breaking out as you watch both men swiftly leaving the room, leaving you alone once more.

—---------------------------------------------------

The battle is over, the chaos engulfing the field before the fortress just moments before replaced by a haunting stillness. The ground is littered with fallen warriors, shattered weapons and broken shields, covered with dust and blood. Catching his breath, Sihtric lets his eyes wander around. He spots Finan nearby, bent over and breathing heavily, hands resting on his knees. Sihtric gives him a nod before continuing his search, but there's no sign of Uhtred.

"He's inside the fortress," Finan says, pointing towards Bebbanburg as he straightens up.

Sihtric turns, and a sharp scent of burning hits his nose. Bebbanburg is ablaze. The flames have taken hold of the fortress's roof, and a thick plume of smoke billows into the sky.

"Mighty Godfather, no," Sihtric mutters under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for Thor's hammer pendant on his chest. He hears Finan swearing and calling out to him, but he doesn't pause to listen. Driven by urgency, he breaks into a desperate sprint towards the fortress, pushing through the fatigue that weighs heavily on his muscles.

—-----------------------------------

The first warning is the smell. A sharp, acrid odour of burning reeds gradually fills the dungeon, accompanied by a thin veil of smoke.

"Is anybody there? Help!" you shout, tugging at your chains with increasing nervousness. But the only response is silence, a deep, unsettling quiet. Your heart races, pounding a frenetic rhythm of fear in your chest. You pull against the chains again, as if you hadn’t done it already hundreds of times since your first days here, even though you know it's futile. Still, driven by desperation, you persist. As smoke from the burning fortress above seeps into the cell, your efforts grow more frantic. You keep yanking at the iron shackles, the metal chafing against your ankles, turning raw and aching skin into bleeding wounds. But you don't stop. You can't.

Breathing becomes increasingly difficult as the air thickens with smoke, stinging your eyes and scratching at your throat. Your mind races, frantically replaying every moment you've spent within these walls, desperately searching for some overlooked detail, some key to escape that you might have missed. But there is nothing. The cell walls appear to be closing in, the shadows deepening and becoming more threatening as the flames above intensify.

Your hands, now raw and bleeding from your futile struggles, tremble as you keep tugging weakly at the chains, tears streaming down your cheeks, not just from the smoke but from the crushing helplessness. You are alone, there is nobody in this cursed world that cares for you, that will miss you and remember you.

Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes, as you have heard it told so many times. It settles around you like a heavy cloak, woven with threads of regret, unfulfilled dreams, and the bitter sting of injustice.

"Hey, Loki!" you find yourself smiling at the small rat near your feet. "Will you tell Sihtric that I waited for him? Tell him I believed him. Tell him I have no hard feelings. I just hope he's safe," you say, your voice breaking as you reach out to gently touch the little creature, but it is gone.

Suddenly, you hear the metallic clang of the cell door flying open. Strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pressing you close to a broad chest. "I'm here. You don't need Loki to deliver your messages. I promised I would return, and here I am," you hear Sihtric's familiar, soft voice whispering in your ear.

"You came back? For me?" you whisper, your voice trembling with sobs, barely able to believe what you're seeing. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, you lean into the sturdy embrace of the very man whom you had feared so profoundly.

The sound of Sihtric's axe pounding against the stone foundation of the fastening is deafening. Despite his efforts, the Roman-built wall is solid and unyielding. He shifts his focus to cutting through the chains, but his axe has dulled from striking stone. With one final, forceful swing, the axe shaft snaps, leaving Sihtric holding a broken handle, the blade clattering to the ground. Undeterred, he grasps the chains with his bare hands, pulling at them with all his might.

"It's no use," you say, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please, listen to me," your voice grows louder, trying to break through to Sihtric, who seems oblivious to your words.

"Stop it!" you finally cry out, grasping his hands in yours. Sihtric's eyes meet yours, his face a canvas of pain and despair, his fingers still tightly gripping the chain.

"There's no more time. You need to go. You have to save yourself," you implore, cupping his face in your hands, ensuring he can't look away. "Do you understand? Leave! Save yourself!" your voice rises almost to a yell.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, your eyes locked. Then you hear the dull sound of the chain hitting the ground as Sihtric finally releases it, his arms dropping limply to his sides.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I… I've failed you."

"No, you haven't. You kept your promise. You came back," you reply, your fingers gently caressing Sihtric's thick, curly hair. You wonder if the warmth and ragged breathing you feel against your skin are from him or from the encroaching fire above.

You lift your face towards Sihtric, the tears on your cheeks mixing with the dirt and soot. Gently, almost hesitantly, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, filled with a sense of urgency. Sihtric shudders as he responds in kind, his lips crushing against yours so eagerly, so desperately. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer, and you feel his fingers trembling as they caress your back.

There's a raw honesty in this moment, the rest of the world – the smoke, the distant sounds of the burning fortress – all fade into the background. For those few seconds, it's just the two of you, sharing a moment of solace in a reality that seems increasingly bleak.

With a strength you didn't know you had, you manage to pull back, breaking the kiss.

"You have to leave, Sihtric! You can't stay here with me," you plead, panic and despair evident in your voice.

Sihtric looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and sorrow. "I can't. I can’t leave you like this. Not alone, not chained," he says firmly.

Before you can protest further, he gently scoops you into his strong arms and lowers both of you to the ground. Your backs rest against the wall of the cell, his arms encircling you protectively.

"Please, Sihtric, you have to go! Save yourself!" you cry, your hands weakly beating against his chest, your pleas muffled against the fabric of his armour.

But Sihtric only tightens his hold, pulling you closer into his embrace. "I won't leave you," he murmurs, his voice resolute yet tinged with sadness. "We're in this together now."

Your struggles gradually subside as the realisation sinks in that he won't be swayed and you cease your futile attempts to show him away. Nestling against his strong body you let your tears flow freely.

“I don’t want this, Sihtric. It’s madness. Why are you doing this?” you mutter through your sobs, but Sihtric’s grip around you gets only tighter.

—--------------------------------------------

As your energy fades and your consciousness begins to slip away, the distant sounds of the dungeon seem to grow louder and more urgent. In your dwindling awareness, you hear the hurried footsteps of multiple people and the muffled clamour of loud voices.

Amidst this chaos, a distinctive sound cuts through the haze - the pounding of a hammer, resonating through the dungeon.

Suddenly, you feel multiple arms reaching for you, lifting you from Sihtric's embrace. You're too weak to resist or understand fully what's happening, but you sense movement as you're carried away from the cell.

You're vaguely aware of being brought into the open air. The cool, fresh breeze on your face contrasts sharply with the stifling, smoky air of the dungeon.

As consciousness slips from your grasp, the last thing you become aware of is the sensation of being laid down gently, with a flurry of urgent voices surrounding you. The chaos around you becomes distant, fading into a blur. Yet, amidst this disorientation, there's a distinct, grounding sensation - a hand clasping yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

In that brief, fleeting moment, you recognize the touch. It's Sihtric. Despite the confusion and the murmur of voices around you, his presence is unmistakable. The strength and warmth of his grip offer a sense of safety and comfort, a silent promise that you're not alone.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #arnas fedaravicius #arnas fedaravičius #sihtric fic

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 months ago

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hiii saw ur requests are open for inside job 🖤 what about brett hand with a s/o who’s confident and assertive but also very kind especially to him?? like they would always be there for him whenever he’d have a panic attack, comfort him whenever he’s upset and defend him when someone’s being mean to him?? pls i love him he’s such a little meow meow

A/N: AHHH MY FIRST BRETT ASK I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ANON <333 I love Brett we need more people like him in this world.

Warnings: Mainly fluff all around, john from finances is my biggest opp atm 😒👎

Navigation!! // Masterlist ( coming soon )

Brett Hand was usually the guy everyone loved—always optimistic, always eager to lend a hand. But the corporate world wasn’t always so forgiving. There were times when even his relentless positivity wasn’t enough to deflect the sharp edges of office politics.

It was late afternoon when you found Brett in the break room, staring out the window with a deep frown creasing his usually bright features. His posture was slumped, his hands gripping the edge of the counter like he needed something to hold onto.

“Hey, Brett,” you greeted him, your voice low and warm as you approached. You leaned casually against the counter beside him, your presence solid and comforting. “Everything okay?”

He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting a weariness you didn’t often see. “Just… work stuff,” he said, trying to brush it off, but the way he ran a hand through his hair told you there was more to it.

You tilted your head, giving him a knowing look. “Work stuff, huh? Is that why you’re hiding out in the break room instead of in your office?”

Brett let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah, guess I’m not doing a great job at pretending everything’s fine, huh?”

You placed a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “You don’t have to pretend with me. What happened?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping even more. “You know that big presentation I’ve been working on? The one for the execs?” He paused, waiting for your nod. “It didn’t go well. At all. There’s this one guy—John from finance—he just… tore me apart. And not in a constructive way. It felt personal.”

Your brow furrowed, anger simmering beneath your calm exterior. “John, huh? The guy who thinks he’s everyone’s boss?” You shook your head, irritation clear in your tone. “Brett, that’s not on you. Some people get off on tearing others down to make themselves feel bigger.”

“I know, but…” Brett’s voice wavered, and he looked down at his hands. “It’s hard not to take it personally when you put so much of yourself into something, and then someone just… rips it apart like it’s nothing.”

You turned to face him fully, placing both hands on his shoulders and gently forcing him to meet your eyes. “Brett, listen to me. You’re one of the hardest working, most genuine people I know. John’s comments say more about him than they do about you.”

He searched your eyes for a moment, as if looking for something to hold on to. “But what if he’s right? What if I’m just… not good enough?”

Your grip on his shoulders tightened, a mix of firmness and tenderness. “Don’t you dare doubt yourself because of one person’s pettiness. You got where you are because you’re good at what you do. You care, and that shows in everything you touch. No one can take that away from you, especially not some bitter finance guy.”

Brett took a deep breath, some of the tension leaving his body. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You always know what to say.”

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his arm. “I’m always going to be here, Brett. I believe in you, even when you forget to believe in yourself.”

As you both stood there in silence, the weight of the day slowly lifting, you knew Brett wasn’t entirely free of his doubts. But he leaned into your touch, drawing strength from your presence. He had someone who saw him, really saw him, and that made all the difference.

Later, as you both left the office together, you noticed John across the parking lot. The sight of him immediately reignited that protective fire within you, but you kept your cool. As you walked past, John threw a glance your way, and you didn’t hesitate to hold it.

“John,” you called out, your voice carrying just enough edge to get his attention.

He looked over, a smirk on his face. “Yeah?”

“I’d appreciate it if you kept your critiques professional,” you said, your tone polite but firm. “We’re all working toward the same goals here. Tearing down a teammate doesn’t help anyone.”

John looked taken aback, but before he could respond, you added, “And for the record, Brett’s presentation was solid. You might want to rethink how you approach these things in the future.”

Brett squeezed your hand, a small, grateful smile playing on his lips as you both walked away.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.

“I know,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “But I wanted to. You deserve better, Brett. And I’m not going to let anyone make you feel less than what you are.”

Brett’s smile grew a little more, the warmth returning to his eyes. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You shrugged, grinning. “I try. And so do you, which is why I’ve got your back. Always.”

#inside job x reader #brett hand inside job #inside job #brett hand x reader #brett hand #isuckatwritingsobenice

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lightlycareless · 2 months ago

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Is Naoya the type of dad that would do easy on his kids when playing games with them or would he be the type where he feels they just gotta learn and get better

Hello, dear anon!!

I think so, yeah! BUT WHEN IT COMES TO TRAINING… that’s another request for another ask 😊 Let's dive onto who really is the one that goes easy on them...

warnings: domestic fluff. Naori makes his first full-fledged appearance!! Oww, sweet baby I love him. 😭🥹 thankfully I have more of him coming soon :>

Happy reading!

Naoya would go easy on them because YOU’RE CRAZY.

Like, everyone would expect you to be the soft one and the Naoya insanely competitive one, right? That’s just how life went on with the two!

BUT NO, it’s actually the other way around!

With traditional games like hide-and-seek, tag, amongst others… Yeah, Naoya can be a bit too much, cheat here and there. Yet, when it comes to videogames… there’s no stopping you.

You just can’t help it.

It’s not like you’re obliterating them either, it’s just rare when they win against you.

“Mama… you said you were going to go easy on me!” Naomi pouts, passing the controller to her little brother, Naori. The two agreed to take turns whenever they lost, hoping that eventually they’d be able to play against one another… but with you in the mix, that seemed almost impossible to achieve.

“Oh, did I?” you chuckle softly, gently pinching Naomi’s cheek. “I’m sorry, dumpling. I didn’t mean to. I just got too caught up in the game!”

“…Yeah right, you always say that!” Naomi frowns, standing up soon after, ready to make her exit—but not without getting her goodbye kiss and hug. “I’m going to train.”

“Alright, sweetie. Be careful.” You say, kissing the top of her head before seeing her off. Your daughter was never particularly fond of playing videogames, so it didn’t surprise you she’d leave after a short session.

Naori, on the other hand, was far fonder of these moments compared to sorcery and curses. Oh, the poor boy, he was too frightened by them to even consider joining his sister as her training partner. Thus, he naturally gravitated towards you…

Even if he was growing frustrated that he never seemed to gain the upper hand against you, no matter how much he tried.

“Do you want to play another one, my little teddy bear?”

“No.” he responds, setting the controller aside, lightly pouting. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“Oh, are you tired, my love? Do you want to eat?”

He shakes his head before looking up to you. Though subtle, you could already see the tears beginning to form in his eyes. Your heart tightens at the sight, reaching close to him to comfort him—

“Why can’t I win against you, mama?”

Because you had years and years of dedication behind you—some of them much to your father’s annoyance—thus, to even have the slightest chance to win… well, he’d have to place a fraction of his motivation into doing so, just as you’ve done in your youth.

But he wasn’t going to achieve any results through you, instead, he’d have to rely on the person who once challenged you, and won, for that.

“Papa, I need your help.”

“Naori! What is it?” Naoya smiles, lifting his gaze from the mountain of paperwork before him and onto the sight of his distraught baby defeatedly walking over to him. He’s always happy to see his kids taking time out of their day to visit him…

But never like this. His overprotectiveness soon kicking in.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Why are you sad?” he asks, reaching for his son and picking him up in his arms.

“I can’t win against mama. No matter how much I play, she always beats me!” he sniffles, leaning into his papa. Naoya sighs, gently patting his back.

“Mama is just a bit passionate about playing, she really likes her videogames, you know? just how Naomi likes Hello Kitty, or you drawing.”

“I like playing too! …But I don’t like losing.”

“Ah, I know that feeling very well.” A bit too much, others would say. “But it sounds like you already made up your mind in what you want to do, cub.”

“Can you help me? I want to win!”

“Would you believe me if I told you I actually beat your mama once a long time ago? So, your papa might know what to do.”

“Really?! You’ll help me papa?!”

“Naturally.”

Though it would be quite an odyssey to get to that point, but they’d manage—arranging just the right schedule so he could learn how to beat you in your own game, but without neglecting his previous routine; he was still a kid that enjoyed doing other things, like going out with his parents to the park, playing with his sister, or drawing.

But eventually the fated day when he would approach you, ready to take you on would come, with such a stern, determined look on his face you just couldn’t help but lightly giggle at. He was just too adorable, with his rosy cheeks and chubby face, could anyone really blame you for reacting like that?

Well, whatever it was that he had in his mind must’ve been quite serious to reach out for you like that, and you were right.

“What’s up, sweetie?”

“I wanna play, mama.” He says, soon grabbing you by the sleeve and beginning to pull you towards the living room, with you curiously following his lead, where a console was already set up, playing your and his favorite game of the moment: Super Smash Bros.

Alongside the unprecedented company of your husband, which made your son’s innocent invitation to play grow slightly suspicious…

But you weren’t one to pass the opportunity of a good time, more so with your baby! So, after taking your rightful place besides him, Naori gives one quick look at his father before jumping straight into the character selection screen, and soon, the match begins.

The first round goes by smoothly, partially—for it appeared Naori had suddenly improved, in his playtime. Undeniably so considering you weren’t able to kick him out of the platform as easily… in fact, he managed to kick you out!

Enough so that the two ended up going straight to sudden death, the definitive moment where a sole winner was to be crowned.

It was a tense moment, even for a casual game, but still did their best, as always!

You expected this moment to go on like it usually did, with undisputable win against your inexperienced son… but then, as you were to do one last attack, the one set to send your son off the screen—your controller is rendered useless by a sudden surge of cursed energy! Followed by an unwanted sense of familiarity that invades your emotions, making you gasp as you tried to get your character to move!

But that was all that Naori needed to land one last strike, getting you out of the map and winning!

Your little boy grins once the match ended, jumping on his feet to giggle and celebrate his first victory against you… with his father.

“I won, papa! I won!” Naori cries, heading over to his dad and tugging at his sleeve, your husband smiles back, picking him up and celebrating with him too. All while you stared at them, dumbfounded by this revelation. “It worked papa, I finally won!!”

“It worked?” You repeated. “So, the two of you plotted against… me?”

Naoya gives you an apologetic smile.

“Ah, I hope you’re not too angry” He chuckles. “Naori really wanted to win against his competitive mama.”

“Oh, I’m furious! Naori, come here!” you laugh, reaching out for your son and pulling him close for an unprecedented tickle attack, where your little boy wouldn’t be able to do anything but laugh and laugh, showing that you were clearly not angry. If anything, you were amused! Happy to see the two interact together, even if it was at your expense.

You’d eventually stop before your tickles became too much for your adorable cub to handle, giving him one last kiss on his soft cheeks before sighing.

“So, you and papa planned how to beat me??”

“Yes mama… I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have…” he murmurs, you smile, giving him another kiss and a gentle squeeze.

“That was very sneaky, you’re just like your papa!” Just like in everything else too.

"Papa told me he won against you just like this a long time ago too”

“I should’ve known the moment I saw him standing there…” you laugh.

“…Are you upset, mama?” Naori asks, you coo.

“Of course not, Naori… we had fun, didn’t we?”

He nods, smiling.

“If anything, I should’ve gone easier on you, little bear. I know how much you like playing, so it wasn’t nice of me to not let you win.”

“But I don’t wanna win because you want to! I want to earn it too!” He firmly declares. “I wanna be as good as you…”

Your heart swoons at your little boy’s words. It was clear as day, evident in his voice, in the softness of his tone… He really wants to get good at this!

It kind of takes you back to when you were a little kid, how you longed to have someone to share these moments with. Sure, Satoru was there, and sometimes your brother came along too… but deep down you knew they never truly acted with your same type of enthusiasm, they had other passions to pursue, after all.

But with Naori… it seemed you could finally live out that dream. Share that same enthusiasm you harbored for videogames with your beloved family.

“Alright, sweetie. We’ll play together as much as you’d like!” You promise, but as delightful as that sounded, Naoya felt the necessity to step in due to past experiences.

“But no all-nighters, my love.” He warns, remembering the cranky way you’d wake up the following day after doing so. The last thing he wanted for his baby boy; or for himself for that matter… "He still needs to go to school."

“I know, I know… I promise.” you say, giving Naori one last kiss on his cheek before your stomach suddenly growled. “Let’s get something to eat, this game got me starving! And because you won… how about I make your favorite?”

Naori’s eyes twinkle, licking his lips as he imagines getting a handful of his favorite meal, the same as his dad: miso soup.

“It feels good to win…” Naori whispers to himself, making you and Naoya laugh. “I always want to win!”

“Then let’s do our best to achieve that, hm?” You say, he nods.

And there you have it, both you and Naoya would try to not be that competitive with your kids when it comes to playing, but I believe the two, deep inside, are just happy to live out part of your suppressed childhood with them. Like, Naoya finally has someone to play with and they don’t try to avoid him 😭😭😭 and you have someone to share your passions with too :>

Kajgfkasjgas they’re just a very happy family 😭 I love them so much.

Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! Now, take care and hope to see you again!!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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crushedsweets · 1 year ago

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Can you draw or talk more about Toby and Eyeless Jack or even the X-Virus?

YESSSS i can. heres a lil doodle to get me started.

OKKKK the little concept in my head has slender's MAIN GOAL being to prevent any paranormal/supernatural stuff coming out to the general public. hence his proxies being made to get rid of tapes, evidence, and kill if Necessary. sometimes slender makes paranormal/supernatural ppl help out his human proxies "as payment for refuge" in his forest. SO that sorta explains how toby and jack know each other and why jack helps at all. he can't rlly go out to the public so he's stuck with these assholes. it's not really supposed to be a 'mansion' trope, moreso random cabins and shelters littered about the forest, but it could work in the mansion au too

Imma ramble abt toby n jacks friendship (in my head) under the cut + a random x virus doodle

as for toby and jack specifically. toby is impulsive, aggressive, can't feel pain, and doesn't know what's good for him, so he's forced to get help from jack a good bit. for a long while there was hella tension between them since, again, jack isn't helping these guys out of the goodness of his heart. he's helping them bc the forest their boss resides in is the only place he's relatively safe. jack has a weird mix of a inferiority and superiority complex, since he envies toby's humanity but also feels like he's 'better' due to toby's own . . violent habits. toby thinks jack is pretty cool from the get-go ('wooow ur grey..') but he gets pissed off with jack's questions and demands of 'DONT RIP UR FUCKING STITCHES' and 'u have a concussion don't fucking scroll on your phone for 5 hours a day'.

toby has no idea if these demands come from actual concern or annoyance, and frankly, neither does jack. regardless, toby's with jack a decent bit. partially since jack makes a lot of people really uncomfortable so it's easy to go hang out with jack when he doesnt wanna deal with anyone else but still wants company. eventually theyre capable of some decent banter and conversations. theyre both mamas boys so thats a very weird touchy topic that they kinda dance around but both feel very deeply and know the other relates. THEY MISS THEIR MOMS SO BADLY.. :( mayhaps one year toby helps drop off flowers to jack's moms house for mothers day. jacks way too ashamed to even get within a 10 mile radius of his mom. that's kinda the moment things really shift between them and they actually become friends.

toby also asks abt university. lyra was at community college until she passed, and toby never considered college as an option, so he gets curious on what he missed out on. he also likes to share stuff abt lyra and their old shenanigans. tim and brian have used his childhood against him multiple times before, and it's not like he's gonna trust ben or jeff with that information. jacks sort of like a void he could talk into. jack feels uneasy talking about his life before the sacrifice, since he misses it so unbelievably bad, but toby accidentally got him to talk about it while treating a burn before.

ok and to top this fucking essay off heres xvirus. i had no idea he existed until this year and someone sent me an ask about his updated design, so he's some scribbles for him :9 his concepts super cool tho so maybe ill get more into him later on

#THEYRE BEST FRIENDS UR HONOR...#but seriously thank u for the ask #i love getting to ramble. im still working on the confidence to just post headcanons unprompted LOL #ok i gotta go to class now byyeeeeeeee #eyeless jack #ticci toby #ticcijack #eyeless jack headcanon #ticci toby headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta art #creepypasta headcanon #xvirus #toby rogers #jack nyras #sweetart #chatterbox #creeped

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cherry-blossom-20 · 8 months ago

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hey! i have a request for rafe x reader! i was thinking of enemies to lovers with rafe but with john b’s sister. like rafe isn’t that bad like in the show but he still has some problems, but then he’ll grow a soft spot for the reader. ofc only if you’re willing to write this.

I have always heard the rumors about Rafe Cameron – the bad boy from Outer Banks with the reputation that preceded him. Fighting, drinking, drugs, you name it. My brother John B, and my other friends, JJ, Pope, Kiara, and Rafes very own sister Sarah, all seem to have a history with him, one filled with tension, and animosity. I have never had a bad interaction with Rafe, but I chose my brother's side in the feud, listening to the rumors and avoiding Rafe at all costs.

JJ's mischievous grin lit up his face. "Hey, guys, have you heard about the boneyard party happening tonight? It's gonna be epic!"

Pope raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “I dont know guys, I have to work in the morning with my dad and if I dont show up again, I think he might actually kill me. “

Kiara, up for an adventure, leaned in eagerly. "Come on, Pope, where's your sense of fun? It's just a party! Count me in."

Sarah, usually the voice of reason in the group, bit her lip, torn between caution and curiosity. "I don't know, guys. What if something goes wrong? I know Rafe and the rest of the Kook possy are going."

John B, the leader, chimed in with a grin. "Aw, don't be such a buzzkill, Sarah. We can handle anything that comes our way. Let's make tonight legendary!"

feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension, I hesitated before finally nodding. "Okay, let's go. But we stick together, no matter what, deal?"

The group exchanged determined nods, a sense of camaraderie and adventure binding them together. And as we made our way out of the chateu, the promise of the boneyard party looming ahead.

The night air was cool and salty as we made out way through the darkened beach towards the party. The distant sound of crashing waves provided a soundtrack to our journey, adding an ambiance to the scene full of Pogues, Kooks and Tourons.

As we approached the flickering bonfire at the heart of the party, shadows danced around the sandy clearing, casting strange shapes on the worn-out boats and debris scattered around. The glow of the fire illuminated the faces of the partygoers, their laughter mingling with the crackle of flames.

I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation as we stepped into the heart of the boneyard party, the air thick with anticipation and mystery. Sarah clutched her arm, a silent gesture of support, while Kiara and Pope exchanged curious glances, taking in the scene with a mix of awe and wariness.

JJ, always the first to dive into the unknown, let out a low whistle. "This place is wild, I love it!" His voice carried over the sounds of the party, drawing the attention of a few revelers who nodded in agreement.

John B, the protector, threw his arm over my shoulder while scanning the crowd with a watchful eye, ensuring that they stayed close together amidst the throng of people. "Let's stick together, guys. I dont want anything happening to anyone" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of the party.

As we weaved through the crowd at the boneyard party, my eyes scanning the faces illuminated by the flickering bonfire, a familiar figure caught my attention. Rafe Cameron stood at the edge of the firelight, his posture relaxed yet commanding, a hint of mystery in his gaze as he surveyed the party.

Kiara nudged me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Look who decided to show up," she whispered, nodding towards Rafe. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in my chest.

As we continued to move through the party, another familiar face came into view. Kielce, Rafe's best friend, stood nearby, his easy smile contrasting with Rafe's more enigmatic presence. The dynamic duo seemed to exude an aura of confidence and danger that drew the attention of the partygoers around them.

Pope's jaw clenched at the sight of Rafe, a hint of tension in his stance as he exchanged a wary glance with JJ. "Those Kooks are always up to no good," Pope muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with unease.

And just as we were about to turn away and walk in a different direction, a voice cut through the chatter of the party. "Well, well, well, looks like some Pogues decided to crash our little shindig." Topper, Rafe's friend, swaggered towards them with a smirk, his presence casting a shadow over the group.

My heart raced as the tension in the air thickened, the unexpected reunion with Rafe, Kielce, and Topper adding a new layer of complexity to the already charged atmosphere of the boneyard party.

I met Rafe's gaze, his piercing blue eyes looking right into mine. My voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. "We're just here to have a good time, same as everyone else."

John B stepped forward pushing me behind him, his protective instincts kicking in. "We don't want any trouble. Just let us enjoy the party."

Rafe's expression softened slightly as he glanced at me. "I'm not here to cause problems either. Just trying to have a good time with my friends."

JJ eyed the Kooks warily, while blowing out a puff of smoke from the blunt he just lit, his voice cautious. "You guys have a habit of stirring up trouble wherever you go. We'd rather avoid any drama tonight."

Kiara, always one to diffuse tension with humor, flashed a grin at Topper. "Come on, Topper, can't we all just get along for one night? It's a party, after all."

Sarah, sensing the underlying tension, spoke up softly. "Let's just enjoy the night and try to stay out of each other's way. No need for things to escalate."

As we walked away from the conversation with Rafe, Kelce, and Topper, the air crackled with unspoken tension. We found a spot closer to the beach and settled down, the sound of waves a comforting backdrop.

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling Rafe's intense gaze on her. The rest of the group noticed, their expressions darkening. John B, clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Rafe needs to back off," Kiara muttered, her voice low but firm.

"Yeah, whats his problem now?l," Jj added, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

Sarah sighed. "Let's just enjoy our time here. Ignore him. We won't let him ruin it for us."

We huddled closer, our laughter mingling with the sound of the ocean, a shield against the unwelcome presence of Rafe.

We lounged along the beach, the sound of crashing waves mingling with our laughter and banter. Empty cups that were full of beer on the ground and the blunt JJ lit up is passed around as we enjoyed the salty breeze and the warmth of the setting sun.

As the evening settled in, I felt a sudden thirst creeping up, I looked in my cup noticing it was empty. Standing up, brushing sand off my shorts, "I'm gonna grab a drink. I'll be right back."

John B, Kiara, Jj, Pope, and Sarah all looked up, concern flickering in their eyes.

John B offered, "I'll come with you." starting to stand up from his place in the sand.

Kiara chimed in, "Yeah, we can all go together."

I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. "It's okay, guys. I'll just be quick. Stay here, ill be right back."

With a chorus of "Be careful" and "Don't take too long," the group watched as I made my way towards the Keg, the fading sunlight casting a warm glow around me. They settled back into their circle, keeping an eye on my retreating figure as I disappeared into the crowd.

As I waited at the keg, a drunk guy approached me, his slurred words and wandering hands making my skin crawl.

"Hey, beautiful, why are you alone?" one of them slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol.

My discomfort grew as I tried to push him away. "I'm not interested. Please leave me alone."

But the guy persisted, his grip tightening on my arm. Panic rising, I looked over to friends, but they were engrossed in their own conversations, oblivious to my distress.

Just when I felt trapped, Rafe appeared beside me, his presence commanding. Without a word, he pushed the guy away, his expression fierce. The drunk guy stumbled back, surprised by the sudden intervention.

"Back off, man," Rafe growled, his voice low and menacing.

I felt a surge of relief as Rafe stood protectively by her side, his actions speaking louder than words.

Drunk Man: "Hey, dude, what's your problem? She was just having some fun."

Rafe: "Fun? Putting your hands on someone without their consent is not fun. Leave her alone."

Drunk Man: *laughs* "Who do you think you are, man? She's fair game at a place like this."

Rafe: *steps closer, his jaw clenched* "No one is 'fair game.' You need to learn some respect."

Drunk Man: *backs off slightly, sensing Rafe's intensity* "Fine, man, whatever. She's not worth the trouble."

Rafe: *fixes him with a steely gaze* "Remember this. No means no. Don't let me catch you bothering anyone else tonight, or Ill escourt you off the beach myself. Youre lucky I havent done it already."

The drunk man mumbles something unintelligible and stumbles away, leaving me alone with Rafe, grateful for Rafe's intervention. As the tension dissipates, I turn to him with a mix of relief and gratitude.

Y/N: "Thank you, Rafe. I really appreciate it."

Rafe: *offers a reassuring smile* "No problem. Just looking out for you."

Y/N: “Well im gonna head back before John B starts to worry, thanks again.”

As I started to make my way back from the Keg, a familiar figure fell into step beside her. Rafe's presence was unexpected but not unwelcome, his protective aura a comforting shield against the bustling crowd.

"I can walk you back to your friends," Rafe offered, his tone gentle yet firm.

I nodded gratefully, appreciating the gesture. As we approached the Pogues, I sensed the tension radiating from John B, Kiara, Jj, Pope, and Sarah. Their expressions hardened as they watched Rafe by my side.

John B's voice was sharp with concern as he demanded, "What's going on here?"

Rafe stepped forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "There was a situation at the keg. I just wanted to make sure she got back safely."

I quickly explained, "He helped me when a drunk guy wouldn't leave me alone. Rafe intervened, and I'm okay."

John B's anger softened into gratitude as he turned to Rafe, his voice sincere. "Thanks for looking out for her. We appreciate it."

The tension ebbed away as they realized Rafe's intentions were genuine. I felt a sense of relief as the Pogues thanked Rafe, without any issues. Rafe bid his goodbyes and walked back over to his group.

As the night drew to a close, we started to gather our belongings, heading toward the twinkie ready to head home. As I was getting in the van, Rafe approached, a nervous look in his eyes.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" Rafe asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Curious, I nodded and followed Rafe a few steps away from the group. The others exchanged knowing glances, a spark of anticipation in the air.

Rafe took a deep breath before blurting out, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out on a date with me sometime?"

My surprise melted into a warm smile as I met Rafe's gaze. The night had been filled with unexpected twists, but this invitation felt like the perfect ending.

"I'd love to," I replied, my voice soft but filled with genuine interest.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed it! this is my first time writing anything like this.

and to the lovely person who requested this, I hope I meet your expectations!

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey imagine

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