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wileys-russo · 9 months ago

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filling the void II a.putellas x sister!reader

biiiig thanks to @girlgenius1111 for brainstorming this lil fic with me and listening to my rambles - would recommend listening to after the storm by mumford and sons for max angst as that was the soundtrack in my ears as i wrote this. filling the void II a.putellas x sister!reader

you'd known you were taking a rather large risk the moment you'd arrived to the event with your friends and realized just what it was. this was of course followed by the staggering domino effect of knowing who ran and organised it lingering in the back of your mind.

you'd not been responsible for the tickets, only accepting the invitation of a night out with your co-workers turned friends, your older friends to say the least with most of them in their early to mid twenties and you still only at seventeen, though majority of people would never guess so if meeting you for the first time.

having grown up with a significant age gap between you and both of your older sisters you'd only had so many years living in your childhood home with them before suddenly they had lives and jobs and partners all of their own, and one day it felt like you blinked and suddenly you were left behind.

weekly family dinners slowly strayed to become monthly or just on occasion, trying desperately to find any sort of common ground with your sisters which might attract them back to spending time with you like you all used to.

but time stood still for no one and they got older while still seeming to refuse to accept you did too, the things they enjoyed doing together not something you ever seemed to be included in.

gone were the nights you'd all spend curled up together arguing over what movie to watch, often followed by the spontaneous late night drives you were snuck out for afterward once your mami was asleep.

bribed with the promise of ice cream the three of you would sit on the beach and listen to the waves, talking about everything and nothing for hours and hours.

sometimes when you were much younger you'd fall asleep on the sand with your head on either alba or alexia's lap, their fingers carding gently through your hair they spoke softer as to not wake you.

when it came time to leave they'd argue for a moment over who was carrying you back to the car, alexia nearly always losing as she very carefully returned you to your seat, alba sliding in the back with you as your head was cradled safely into her shoulder, arm draped protectively around your back.

you'd stir a little as the engine roared to life, lifting your head slightly as alba softly pushed it back down to slump on her shoulder again. "go to sleep fresa." your sister would coo, kissing your forehead as you'd drift off again.

fresa, little strawberry.

the small red berry your favorite fruit growing up meant as a baby your face was always stained red with the juice, finding endless amusement in smushing them against your lips rather than eating them properly.

the nickname given to you by alexia who would always laugh as she tried to feed you one and you'd almost take her finger off in your eagerness, having to be extra careful once your teeth came in and suddenly the small nips hurt.

as a small child your affinity for the fruit continued, t-shirt often stained with blotchy red patches to your lack of care when eating, your entire family now dubbing you as fresa, the name affectionate and loving and sweet.

but now, now it felt like ashes in your mouth.

growing up with such a large age gap had made both your sisters fiercely protective over you. your first year of school an eighteen year old alexia walked you there hand in hand every single day, often leaving the barcelona academy early to make sure she was there on time to pick you up again at the end of the school day.

her heart would swell as your face lit up everytime you saw her, waving goodbye to your friends and sprinting over toward her, the footballer often still in her training kit would drop down as you launched at her in a tight hug.

swinging your tiny little hand in hers she'd smile in amusement at your bookbag which was nearly the same size as you as she listened to your excited little ramble about your day, waiting patiently while you forced her to stop so you could pick a bunch of wildflowers from a small park near your home which blossomed every spring.

sometimes they were a gift for her, sometimes for your mami, even sometimes for alba though that was a lot less as your fifteen year old sisters unpredictable mood swings could be truly terrifying at times.

the year your father died was hard for the entire family, but it seemed to fall hardest on you. still too young to understand why suddenly one day he just stopped coming home, and no one really knew for awhile how to explain it to you in words which made sense among dealing with their own grief.

it confused you that as you asked when he was coming home again everyone just seemed to cry, your sisters often pulling you into a hug so bone crushingly tight at times it hurt your chest a little as your shirt became damp from their tears.

of course with time you eventually understood why he no longer came home and had instead made a new home in heaven.

the tight hugs with your sisters you now offered to them rather than they just be taken from you at will as you all did your best to move forward together in this new scary norm.

back then you'd been a tightly knit family unit, bonded by a loss which would always leave a hole in that unit. but overtime with a support system full of love and care it began to close a little, relishing in the time you got to spend with your two older sisters who were your biggest idols and in turn your biggest protectors.

you cheered very loudly and very proudly when alexia played her first senior game for barcelona, sitting on alba's shoulders and watching in awe as your sister blazed up and down the pitch so fast she was like a superhero.

and back then to you both of your sisters were your superheros.

but now dismissed and brushed off by the two women you'd always looked up to and held on such a pedestal growing up left you with a wound carved a lot deeper than you cared to admit or either of them cared to notice.

though of course nothing was missed by eli who with now only you at home to look after meant the pair of you grew even closer. though even eli's subtle attempts to hint to her two eldest that maybe you were feeling a little neglected and left out were waved off.

as far as alexia and alba could see by your instagram you had an active social life and a good handful of friends you hung out with regularly. why would you want to hang out with them anyway if you had friends your own age? what teenager chooses their sisters over their peers.

but what they failed to see was all the over posting and the near forceful attempts to shove a healthy social life down the throat of your followers was to try and prove you weren't a loser.

prove you went out and had fun with your friends, so it hurt even more to not be able to answer the question of why wouldn't your own sisters deem you worthy enough to invite you to do the same with them anymore?

instead now on your own you'd been forced to watch on through a phone screen as the pair of them seemed to grow closer and you suddenly felt a million miles away, some days even on a different planet despite both their homes being a mere twenty or so minutes from yours.

you'd always been smart, you weren't by any means cocky or arrogant you were just intelligent. both emotionally and logically you found yourself head and shoulders above your peers, excelling through school and graduating a whole year early at only sixteen.

you'd hoped maybe this display of maturity and achievement might allow you a small crack to slither through to spend more time with your sisters, and for the weekend following your graduation it seemed to work with both older girls plastered by your side for the entire 48 hours of celebration with your loved ones.

but of course the moment monday rolled around they were nowhere to be found when you'd woken that morning, returning to their own lives and their own homes which just didn't seem to hold a place for you in them anymore.

discussing with your school careers advisor from afar the options which were laid out in front of you now you'd finished school, you found yourself put forward for a junior position with a local pathology lab.

at first they were quite firm they were looking for someone older and with more experience, but with a gentle forceful push from your advisor you were offered the chance to interview anyway.

you'd spent the days leading up to it doing your research, you'd always had an uncanny knack for retaining information and this was no different.

you'd reached out to both your sisters for some advice, hoping they might be proud enough to come see you and help you prepare. though when all you got back were simple texts wishing you luck and not even asking you call them afterwards with how you went, you deflated like a balloon someone had taken a pin to.

the day of the interview came and passed.

it hurt that neither of your sisters bothered to check in, though given they were on yet another weekend away together with a few of alexia's teammates you tried to tell yourself they were just busy and hadn't realized, deluding yourself as the days passed that anytime your phone went off it could be them.

but it never was and you knew deep down they'd likely forgotten all about it, and in turn it felt like they had forgotten all about you.

and when after a few days you'd not heard anything back from the lab you emailed your advisor thanking her for the support but that you were unsuccessful in the position.

but not even five minutes had passed before your phone started to ring and you clicked accept, your eyes widening as you were offered both the job and even an apology.

your chest swelled at the positive feedback that you were the ideal candidate and that in fact your age was an advantage, you might have been young but you were eager to learn with a good mature head on your shoulders and that was exactly what they sought out in a junior position.

that had been twelve months ago and now you were qualified to both take and test the blood with careful supervision, having assumed you might stay in the role only a few months while you worked out what you wanted to do next you found yourself quite drawn to pathology.

over those twelve months you'd found yourself withdrawing from your school friends, struggling to find common ground now you seemed to be in an entirely different life phase to them and through no malice you all just seemed to drift apart.

with a large chasm opening in your chest at the breakdown in relationship with your sisters, your sisters who at some point in time you'd go to for everything and anything, you sought that out elsewhere.

from your very first day you'd felt welcomed and looked after, everyone assuring no question you had was stupid and that the very best lessons came from mistakes made.

so taken under the wing of a few of the more senior girls working you found yourself invited out for dinners, then to parties and birthdays, then just to hang out as that chasm lessened a little with your new older friends offering you the life advice and comfort you'd lacked with alexia and alba stepping back.

which brought you back to now as you chattered eagerly with your coworkers turned friends, all of you grateful for the weekend off since the lab only operated monday through friday.

your heart started to race and you felt your head spin as you looked up at the very large manuelas banner stretched out across the top of the entrance, though that could be attributed to the large amount of alcohol you'd already consumed at pre drinks.

you'd tried to plead with your friends before you entered the line outside the club, already able to hear the thundering bass and laughter coming from inside but all you could focus on was the knowledge your sisters girlfriend was likely already inside.

you knew at least your sister herself wasn't going to be here, having seen on her instagram that alexia was out for dinner with her agent and management team celebrating a brand new deal she'd just signed with nike for a further three years under them.

of course you found that out through instagram as well, as you did with most updates about their lives or careers. the text thread with both of your sisters pushed right down at the bottom of your contacts, rarely speaking to them much these last few months.

you’d stopped going to alexia’s football games, she hadn’t seemed to notice which only solidified she didn’t care if you were there or not. instead you spent your weekends with your new older friends, the ones who actually wanted you around and cared for you in a way you hadn’t felt from either of your sisters in a long time.

though no matter which way you explained the olga situation and your worries you'd be caught out for being underage your friends were not taking no for an answer. promising they'd look out for you and that the chances of you being noticed among the hundreds of women crammed into the club was slim to none.

so with a sigh you allowed yourself to be pulled into the line to get in, your friends doing their best to distract you as your nerves were obvious, though they eased a little by the time you finally made it to the front.

you all had your tickets scanned, that was easy enough and without an issue you stepped forward, hovering in the middle of the group as you tried not to look nervous when you handed the bouncer your fake ID.

really it wasn't all that much of a stretch and you knew you passed for nineteen always having looked a little older than your peers, especially with the amount of makeup slapped on your face right now as you shifted and subtly tugged your dress down a little as it hitched up your ass.

when you'd bought the ID you knew better than to age yourself up more than a few years, nineteen was reasonable, achievable, anything more and you knew you'd be pushing it.

before anything else you'd contemplated just stealing alba's ID, but trying to pass for twenty seven was laughable and a disaster waiting to happen so you'd abandoned that thought quite quickly.

flashing the rather hulking and stern looking bouncer a smile as charming as you could manage, you withheld your sign of relief as he handed the ID back to you and nodded for you to proceed.

your friends dragging you inside your body sagged and they all announced this called for shots before you were even a few feet into the club.

you blinked a few times as you were pulled and jostled toward the bar, slightly disorientated from the tequila pumping through your blood stream, the amount of insanely attractive women surrounding you and the flashing strobe lights which pulsed above your head as the bass vibrated the floor beneath your feet.

a shot of something shoved into your hand you couldn't help but grin as the cheers rang out celebrating you, having been given a pay raise today at work on the anniversary of your first year with the lab.

"vamos!" you all yelled and downed the drinks, your nose scrunching at the sambuca which burned its way down your throat.

doing your best not to cough or gag one of your friends clapped you on the back and kissed your cheek, grabbing your hand and tugging you with her onto the dance floor.

your friends following suit and yet another drink placed into your hand you found yourself finally able to relax a little, calmed by the mass of sweaty drunken bodies crammed into the room you'd all but dismissed your fears of being found out.

but really, you were caught out long before that first shot passed your lips.

olga had been stood on the second floor with her team, watching with eager grins as the line to enter grew longer and longer and the cheers rang out, glasses of champagne clinking as one by one her partners slipped downstairs to continue the celebrations.

olga however relished in the gentle evening breeze fanned with the fresh fragrant air of summer, having spent what felt like the last month packed into that club organizing every little detail to be as perfect as could be, so understandably she was in no rush to go and join the party just yet.

she had always enjoyed people watching, a smile curling on her lips watching the groups of atendee's below. some clearly already maybe a little too drunk she trusted her security team to keep everything at bay, in olga's mind as she did with all of her events she'd prepared a solution to any possible problem which might pop up.

well, she thought every single problem that could have arisen.

eyes scanning faces and nursing the now lukewarm glass of champagne in her hands olga's gaze passed you by without a second thought, making it a further seven faces before suddenly she snapped to attention as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over her head.

her grip on the half empty glass tightened and eyes narrowed as they locked in on you, the sound of your laughter floating through the air confirming her fears as her chest tightened watching you make your way easily through the security team and disappear inside.

the moment you did her phone was already pressed to her ear, champagne abandoned as she paced back and forth, olga dismissing one of her colleagues who popped her head out to check in with a wave of her hand.

"hola, amor?"

your worries were now long gone as you downed your third drink of the hour, bodies packed against you from all angles as you and your friends sang screamed along amid your laughter.

"your round chiqui!" you felt a poke to your cheek and rolled your eyes playfully, one of your friends shoving you halfheartedly. "vale vale i'm going!" you laughed at their insistence, shuffling and jostling your way through the crowd toward the bar.

finally busting out of the throng of drunken sweaty patrons you were able to breathe properly again, standing in line and running a hand through your hair tugging out a few loose knots.

"hola." you turned your head at the new voice, a tall brunette grinning down at you, the alcohol coursing through your veins impairing your judgement a little as you smiled back and returned the greeting.

"can i buy you a drink querida?" the girl asked, tone clearly flirty as you raised an eyebrow at her forwardness. you opened your mouth to reply however a different pair of eyes caught yours from the bar and suddenly your heart dropped into your stomach.

"no, lo siento." you apologised before turning to make your way away, the girl shrugging and turning to another woman on her other side, repeating the question as you pushed your way back in trying to find your friends.

though the longer your eyes searched the more desperate you became and so abandoning your plan you decided to just make a break for it.

"oye! pequeña?" your blood ran cold at the familiar voice calling out behind you, eyes widening as you ignored the urge to turn around, instead making a beeline for the door, mumbling apologies as you elbowed your way through the crowd.

you flashed a nervous smile to the bouncer whose eyebrows furrowed but before he could say a word you'd taken off, the man deeming he had other priorities as he made no move to follow you.

by the time olga made it to the front you were already gone, the security team confirming you'd left as olga dismissed their questions as to why she was looking for you, the older girl needing to keep this as under wraps as possible as she hurried upstairs already on the phone to her girlfriend.

your uber account linked to eli's you couldn't call one of those, so it was looking like you were walking home considering you didn't have the faintest idea of what bus would get you there.

you were grateful that the club itself was in the centre of town, plenty of people wandering around the warm summer night as the time had now passed midnight.

you were so caught up in your own head you hadn't noticed the car pulling up on the curb behind you, the slam of the door pulling you from your thoughts as you glanced behind you out of curiosity.

but the sight which met your eyes had them widening and the breath quickly snatched from your lungs, the furious hazel orbs burning a hole in your head.

"tienes muchos problemas." your sister growled, both of you locked in a stand off as you sized one another up and you swallowed hard, eyes darting around nervously.

"no!" alexia warned as she took a step closer and you bolted, quickly snatching your heels off and sprinting away as your sister took off after you.

"mierda!" alexia swore as you quickly disappeared, returning back to the car and instructing olga to drive as it was now suddenly a race to see who got home first.

your chest heaved, calves throbbed and lungs burned as you finally stopped running, almost home now and profusely sweating out the alcohol which was pumping through you.

adrenaline and fear having carried you to your final destination everything started to catch up as a wave of nausea washed over your body and you careered over, throwing up the remaining contents of your stomach onto the grass.

wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you forced yourself to your feet, darting around the back of the house and moving the trash bin as quietly as you could, shaking your head to try and remove the dizziness as you climbed up.

meanwhile back around the front alexia and olga arrived right as alba was dropped off by one of her friends, having been at manuelas herself and by the luck of god not running into you she'd only just checked her phone while in the bathroom.

"where is she?" alba asked confused as alexia jumped out, kissing her girlfriend goodnight and promising she'd be home soon, olga sensing this was now a family matter as alba waved and she was gone.

"joder when i get my hands on her, ten foot under in a grave!" alexia warned coldly, body tensed with rage as the two made their way to the front door, alexia pounding her fist against it and tapping her foot impatiently.

"ale!" alba pushed her hand away as she did it again, the door swinging open before another word could be said. "Dios mío. what is wrong?" eli questioned worriedly, alba paling a little as alexia rolled her eyes unfazed.

"mami do you know where your daughter is right now?" alexia asked coldly, eli frowning at the question. "i know two of them have just woken me up at nearly one in the morning." the woman responded calmly, raising an eyebrow as alexia huffed and gently moved the shorter woman out of the way striding inside.

"alexia what-" eli started, the blonde making a beeline for your bedroom as alba closed the front door, alexia all but kicking your door open as you froze like a deer in headlights, halfway through the window.

"oh que perfecto!" your sister was hauling you the rest of the way inside as you stumbled and almost fell, wincing as she grabbed your ear and twisted hard causing you to hiss and try to pull her hand off to no avail as you were dragged across the room.

"alexia? let her go ya mismo!" eli ordered as your sister shoved you to sit down on the sofa, towering over you with a murderous glare as you tried to stand again, quickly abandoning that idea as you slouched backwards with a frown, crossing your arms over your chest.

"mami do you know where she has been? where we found her? what she has been doing?" alexia was on the brink of exploding, and there was a time where perhaps you'd have teased her for the vein in her head looking ready to pop but long gone were those days.

"hija?" eli sighed tiredly, raising an eyebrow as she took a seat in the armchair in the corner of the room, alba and alexia's glares trained on you as you refused to meet their eyes.

"i was out with my friends mami, like i told you i was." you answered with a shrug causing your sisters to scoff. "tell her where." alexia continued to probe as you rolled your eyes, digging your grave a little deeper but beyond the point of caring now.

"at a club." you mumbled, picking at a loose thread of your dress. "más fuerte!" alexia growled in warning. "no, i heard her." eli held up a hand and you chanced a look up to meet her eyes, face unreadable.

"she was at manuelas mami, at olga's event in a club drinking with women twice her age! drinking, at seventeen in a club!" alexia hissed, fists balled by her side as once again your eyes rolled.

"you roll your eyes at me one more time hermanita and i will turn them black!" alexia exploded, taking a step toward you as alba grabbed her wrist and tugged her back.

"some friends hermana, sneaking you into a club and buying you alcohol? group of idiotas!" alba snarked adding in her two cents as your jaw clenched and you bit your tongue.

"do you have any idea how much trouble olga could be in if someone reported that there was minors at the club and drinking? she could lose her license, maybe lose her business, her team would be investigated-" alexia ranted on and on as you sighed quietly.

"no one would have found out alexia, stop being so dramatic." you muttered, and if you were all in a cartoon you were sure steam would have poured from her ears.

"pequeña since when are you this stupid? this reckless? this selfish!" alba spoke up again, shaking her head in disbelief, disappointed in you while alexia remained angry.

the last word caused a bitter smile to be painted across your face, body vibrating with a chuckle as alexia's eyes widened. "is this funny to you hermanita? are you laughing right now? because i will give you something to laugh about if-" alexia warned, cut off by eli clearing her throat in a silent warning.

"i went out with my friends and did a few shots, lock me up alexia!" your voice dripped with sarcasm as you pouted and held up your wrists mockingly as if ready for them to be cuffed.

"hija." eli's stern tone cut through that as your hands dropped and you sighed. "mami por favor i am tired and it is late, can i go to bed?" you asked quietly, eli's face softening as the older woman took pity and nodded.

"sit your ass down hermana we aren't done here!" alexia warned as you stood, her words ignored as you moved to kiss eli's cheek as she drew you into a hug, murmuring an apology to her as your sisters watched on in disbelief.

"mami. really?" alba scoffed as she gestured for you to head to your room and you shot your sisters a filthy glare. "you ruin my night, alexia's night, olga's night and you have nothing to say pequeña?" alba accused as you only shrugged.

"i was fine, i was safe, you had no reason to come here. you ruined your own night!" you snarled back, the sudden tone catching your sister off guard, not used to you pushing back like this and certainly not expecting that as a response.

"sit. down." alexia's larger form blocked you from moving, glaring down at you as you both stood chest to chest. "no. move, puta." you growled, the blondes eyes widening as you tried to push past her and she grabbed the material of your dress in her hands and shoved you back harshly into the wall.

"go on la reina, hit me!" you challenged with a twisted smile at the pure rage in her eyes as you raised your chin up, daring her to make contact.

"alexia! déjala ir, now." eli stood and warned firmly, alexia's grip loosening as you pushed at her chest sending her stumbling backwards. "you don't scare me anymore alexia. i hate you both! stay out of my life." you hissed, both your sisters eyes widening further at the venom in your tone.

but at your words and obvious lack of remorse toward the situation all the midfielder could see was red.

"careless, stupid, selfish little accident!" alexia hurled back angrily as you paused by your door, hot tears burning at your eyes as her words cut you deep like a dagger dragged down your back.

but you wouldn't let her see that they hurt so you refused to turn around and give her the satisfaction.

your anger deflating and now numb and tired you stepped into your room, door closing with a gentle click and a thud of your lock as alexia stood chest heaving with rage watching you go.

"she's seventeen drinking in a club and she gets a kiss on the cheek and sent to bed? mami!" alba echoed her sisters thoughts with a scoff as alexia watched your door for a moment more, your light turning out before she stepped away.

"she's a baby mami! our baby. she is out drinking and dancing and doing god knows what with older women, who don't know that she is a minor! are you blind? deaf? do you not care about her? her safety? she needs rules, consequences, discipline! she is out of control." alexia struggled out, eli fixing her with an unimpressed stare at her words.

"she is not a baby anymore and it would do the two of you some good to remember that hija's, if you have any hope of fixing this." eli spoke calmly as both your sisters faces scrunched up.

"fix it? por favor we have to be sorry? for what mami you are joking!" alba laughed bitterly, shaking her head and shooting a glare at your door with half a mind to kick it in and lay into you herself if no one else would.

"both of you. venga aquí." eli nodded for them both to follow her as she lead her two eldest daughters out onto the balcony, ordering they take a seat as she firmly closed the doors, your ears not needing to catch wind of any of this if you were still awake.

you were, sobs muffled into your pillow as your eyes stung from the salty tears pooled in them and the smeared makeup not yet wiped off your face, mascara stained tears carving their destructive little path down your cheeks as your body shook violently at the effort to try and stay as quiet as possible.

"mami it is late we-" alexia started, the night air cooling her flushed cheeks as eli took a seat across from them. "no, you woke me up and caused all of this, and now you will both listen to me." the woman warned as both girls nodded.

"before tonight, when is the last time either of you saw your hermana?" eli asked calmly as alexia and alba both shared a look, clearly struggling to remember.

"maybe your birthday? but mami-" alexia started, silenced by a hand held up her way. "my birthday was three weeks ago hija's, and it was just dinner. what did you do afterwards?" eli's tone was a little sharper now.

"we went to ale's house, i wanted to see olga since she returned from her trip." alba answered this time as eli nodded. "and did you invite your sister?" both girls hesitated before shaking their heads, starting to sense where this conversation was headed.

"but mami-" "no, i will ask the questions."

"tell me ale, how long has your sister worked at the lab?" eli asked quite casually as alexia opened and closed her mouth a few times. "eh, a couple of months?" she guessed, even alba wincing at that as eli hummed.

"no, one year. one year today, well yesterday. that is why she went out with her friends, to celebrate. i knew she was going to drink, she was honest with me about that as she always is. we went to dinner together on friday to celebrate her achievements." eli informed as alexia and alba shifted a little uncomfortably.

"she didn't tell us." alba dared to speak up, eyes dropping to the table at the fierce look from the older woman across the table. "no she didn't. i asked if she wanted to and do you know what she said said?" eli questioned, neither girl daring to answer.

"your sister said why mami? they won't care, they don't have time for a stupid dinner." eli's tongue cut like a sword through the tense silence rolling in like a fog around the table. "time. something the both of you no longer have for your sister it would seem." eli hummed, crossing her arms and resting them on the table.

"mami we-" "no, i am not done."

"growing up the pair of you have always had one another, three years apart and always close. always filled with love, always looking out for each other like we raised you to. always together." eli started as alexia awkwardly fiddled with the hem of her shorts.

"i know your sister is younger, much younger. but never did i think that would ever mean the two of you do not care for her and look out for her the way you looked out for one another growing up. you had each other, but when you both moved out she had no one but me." eli's tone became harsher as both girls sank deeper into their chairs, both on the verge of throwing up with guilt as her words hit home.

"i am partially at fault as i should have said something sooner. i know you both love her, i do. but she does not, she does not think you care and i can see why. i watched her try desperately to gain your attentions once you both left, i watched her heart crack that little bit more when she was rejected again and again. and it broke my heart because that is not how i raised any of my girls to be!" eli continued as alexia swallowed a hard lump in her throat and alba stared blankly down at the ground.

"i am getting older hijas, and so is she. i can see her now going backwards, she pulls away from you both and if you do not make attempts to fix this then she will pull too far and she will be out of reach. is this what you want?" both girls were quick to shake their heads.

"then do better, find a way to fix this. go to your own homes and think about why your sister does not feel she is welcome in them anymore, and why she no longer feels she holds a place in your life or that either of you deserve space in hers. before it is too late all together, you both need to fix what you have broke."

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part two

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #🍓☀️

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sourvers · 4 months ago

Text

THERE’S NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU (MY FATHERS LOVE)

summary: duty or family? he always did chose duty behind bittersweet goodbyes and missed birthday parties. you’ve always tried to understand. but when your husband comes home one day, your 15 year old kid decides enough is enough.

or… your child yells at their father through a tear-stained face

contents & warnings: simon & john x mom reader (separate), angst, reader's child is named, absentee father, emotional manipulation?

cod main masterlist . ao3 profile

⤷ i genuinely don't know what came over me. while i absolutely love the idea of tf141 being amazing fathers... a part of me always thinks the opposite.

JOHN PRICE

He knows he's late. Beyond late.

Night had already settled across London's horizon. The sky blanketed with an array of stars. Each of them a touch brighter than the next; glimmering down on him, smiling even.

John's momvents are gradual, unwinding. Park the car. Take the key. Unbuckle the seatbelt. Open the door. It was timed, familer, known like the spurs of energy from his only, beloved daughter and the tender warmth from his wife's arms. You exuded it: the candid, honeyed sweetness that Price indulged in, gulp after gulp.

"Dad?"

John recalled when he first held his daughter in his gritty, calloused palms. Under the hospital's white, glaring lights and your ever asture gaze, John felt the bones in his body quiver, his eyes a deep sea of glisenting blue. The world mellowed, it was only him and her: a finite stone hurtling against a blodied reality. She was so tiny. Wrapped in nothing but a blanket, her nose twitching, her body tenderly warm, malleable, innocent.

"Hey honey, how's school?"

"I didn't go to school today."

"Oh? Why?"

"Mom's sick again."

John slipped the ring on your finger for two reasons. First, he adored you. You were like stardust against his fingers, a kind of breeze he'd beg to dance with, a woman he'd kneel before when he came home, bruised and battered like a wooden doll. Second, you are shrewed, clever, and undeniably effacious. To a fault truly. John sunk his teeth deep and swallowed every drop of mellowed forgiveness until it ran dry. Untill John stopped reasoing because every father should drop their kid off for the first day of kindergarten, because he should've been their clasping your hand when you fainted for the first time, because little Jen should've had her father come with her to 'bring your dad to school' day.

"Is she in her room?"

"Why would you care?"

John stops, the warm lamp light of the living room constraints him, the bitterness in his daughter's voice echos against the walls. Against him.

"Jenzelle. Drop the attitude-"

"Or what? Or what dad?" Your going pack your bag up and leave?"

"Jen," John sighs, "You know I can't control-"

"Of course I know!" Jen heaves, throwing her hands in the air, taking another step back, "You've always told us that. Told mom that. You told me that."

Jen's face scrunches up, her lips pressed into a firm line, just like her mother-

"Don't look at me like that dad, don't."

John takes a gentle step forward, stretching his hand to her shoulder, "Honey, please. Sit, we'll talk. I'll call your mom-"

Jen swats his hand away, stepping backwards, "That's what I've been trying to do for the past fifteen years of my life."

Her words are blunt, sharp, faster than any bullet John has-

"Do you love me dad?"

John melts, his hand quivers. Jen swallows and her eyes grow red, glossy, hot. Yet, her voice is hushed, mumbled under her breath like a mere whisper. A prayer. A quit plead hidden behind her crescent smile and brilliant, bright eyes.

John swallows, "I love you and your mom more than anything in this world."

Jen squints, as if gazing at a puzzle. "Then where were you dad? I know it's stupid but-" Jen huffs, hastily wiping the tears from her face, gazing to the ground before glaring straight into John's eyes, "You said you'd keep me safe. That I'd never be alone."

He did say that, whispered it into her ears when she scraped her legs. When he tucked her into bed and when the fireworks shook the house. He engraved it in his heart when he held her for the first time. And after every ‘I love you’.

“Then why at the hospital, did I spent every night alone since fourth grade? Alone dad. Alone because you couldn’t answer. I took care of mom alone and you-”

She points her finger at him, John freezes.

“You love your job more than me, don’t you?

No no no baby, that’s not true.

“Jen-”

I love you baby. You, your mom. I love how you take after her. Whatever you said is not true. It’s not true. God, it’s not true.

“Honey I-”

I’ll retire, quit, drop the job whatever. But please don’t say that honey. Please.

“Don’t try dad. Don’t try.”

The stars are out; glimmering, dancing in the night sky. The paper he’s writing on is strangely wet.

SIMON RILEY

They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

"Why dad? Why?!"

It really doesn't.

Simon learned to be silent. To stitch his mouth close and chop his tongue off from the beginning of childhood leading into his career.

Neverthless, he believed his indifference- the apathetic glaze of his eyes- would never reach your eyes or his son.

"I've tried everything to make you stay- I brought home medals, took honours classes-"

"I know that."

Sean grimaces, his eyes painfully red. "Of course, you knew," he seethes, "You always seem to know everything!"

Simon was taught not to flinch or cower, his back straight and stiff. Accompanied by flat indifference.

Simon still smells the savoury aroma of dinner: its scent lingering in the living room. He notes how the recorded player is not fully off and how there is only one hanging photo of all three of you: when Sean was born, Simon gingerly cradling him in his burly arms.

He's a ghost.

Simon recalls how twilight casted its shadows over your home fifteen years ago. How violently his legs shook; caving under his own weight when he fell to his knees before you, grasping onto your shins and knees for dear life, begging, asking.

"What if I'm not a good father?"

"You're going to be a wonderful father, Simon, don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I don't want to hurt... I don't want to be-"

"You won't."

"You never cared about us," lashed Sean, "You were never there, and don't give me the stupid 'military' excuse."

For the first time since he arrived home, Simon spoke ever so calmly, "It is true."

"I saw the papers. I heard what you and mom were talking about over the phone."

Simon's eyes widen slightly.

"She asked you to retire dad," Sean's lips quiver, "She never asks of anything too big. You know this."

Simon did know that: how you desperately pleaded with him. At that moment, he imagined your clenched fist, the hot tears streaming down your cheeks and the grit in your eyes. The same one he spent nights picturing over and over again.

"Why dad? Why were you never just there?"

Because I'm a coward. Because I'm afraid.

"You know the answer."

Sean's bloodshot eyes stare daggers into Simon's. Acute and tenacious while he backs away, "Keep telling yourself that."

'Go call him', screamed Simon's mind, battering against his head, 'Do something, anything. Please.'

Simon stood there frozen.

A self-made ghost in his own home.

For what purpose?

cod masterlist .

527 notes · View notes

keravnous · 2 years ago

Text

bathroom b!tch; tangerine/fem!reader (smut; 18+)

part two | part three | part four

playlist: train quickie with tangerine

Tangerine meets you in one of the bathrooms on the bullet train. He just wants to clean up after his tussle with Ladybug and get rid of the blood, but he could use you to blow off some steam as well. You know: he has to take it if he sees it.

word count: 5,9k

warnings: mirror sex, bathroom sex, semi public, fingering, oral (female receiving), blood (it's tangerine's), squirting, dry humping, rather rough sex, unprotected sex, light choking, confined spaces, dirty talk, name calling, kinda a quickie?, tangerine's a little rude but surprisingly gentle too idk he's just like that, he just needs to fuck the adrenaline outta himself, i have very strong feelings about this angry man

title is from the song of the same name, bathroom bitch by holychild

also thank you v for a) helping me out with Japanese and b) by telling me what being a passenger on a bullet train feels like

You knew it was a bad idea.

Starring at yourself in the impressively clean mirror of the small bathroom, you try your best to hold back any fresh tears.

You knew that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work. You fucking knew it and yet you accepted your fiancés pleas to Just try it. Maybe, it indeed would've worked out if he wasn't fucking his bloody secretary.

You regret leaving London. You miss your home.

You're not even that heartbroken, you just feel exhausted, like you wasted an awful lot of time.

You take a long, good look at yourself. Bloodshot eyes and a sad hue resting over your pupils, turning the colour dark and deep. The dress, that you bought for your anniversary brunch – a surprise, quite as much as the one he gave you, when you walked in on him, balls deep in his secretary – now looks oddly strange, out of place on you. You feel overdressed and ashamed, foolish.

But there’s something else, too: the loneliness that followed suite after your screaming, after fighting with him - after breaking up with him. It's been there since you boarded the train to Nagoya but now it rolls over you like a wave of-

Thump, thump.

"What the fuck", you mutter, taking a ragged breath, before yelling out, "Occupied!"

You just want to be left at fucking peace, not being watched by other passengers as you're bawling your eyes out. All you want is to get off that train and burn some of that fucker’s money on a spontaneous vacation. All you want is for the remaining days in Japan to be good ones.

Another sharp knock follows. This one rattles the door.

It takes a moment for you to scramble for the right words, the ones you have picked up when visiting your fiancé before. "Shiyouchu!"

Another knock. And another.

Motherfucker.

You clench your teeth - saying goodbye to the precious moments of crying in silence for the year you've lost to the most useless relationship of all fucking mankind - and wipe away the wetness below your eyes to open the door. "I said-"

Oh.

Oh shit.

There's a very handsome man waiting outside the door. He is towering over you, impatience plastered on his face and seeping through his every movement, with the way he's leaning against the door frame.

He's hot.

Also, he's dripping in blood.

His light blue shirt, once crisp and clean, is now disshelved and just as stained as his expensive looking dark-blue vest.

"Jesus, fuck, are you alright?", you blurt out.

The man's raising an eyebrow. "Could be asking you the same, love. Now, would you please get the fuck outta there."

He's moving towards you, closing in the last few inches separating the two of you. Your gaze is focused on the nasty cut on his arm.

"You're bleeding", you say dumbly.

His eyes shoot up at you and for a split-second you feel like you are face to face with a predator. The anxiety, that the blood and his rude behaviour sparked in your chest, sends adrenaline pumping through your veins and has the muscles your legs preparing for fight or flight. He blinks.

"I know", he says and his lips curl up to something, that you're convinced is supposed to be a smile, "Now, if ya'd be so kind?"

He gestures behind you, towards the empty bathroom.

"No?", you say, voice shooting up a little, which immediately has him cautiously throwing a glance down the hall to his right, "No, I won't! You need help, how the fuck -- what the fuck happened?"

"You're starting to really get on my fuckin’ tits, pretty thing. Would y'just let me the fuck inside?", he growls, tilting his head towards you. His tone has the hairs on your arms rising, as he is starring you into the ground.

You back up, colliding unpleasantly with the doorframe, that nearly drills itself into your left shoulder.

"Thank you, Lady", he's squeezing past you and then turns around again, giving you a quick one-over. You are unable to move, mesmerized by the way he's looking at you.

The corners of his mouth tilt up again and one of his hands, a little sticky and red with his own blood, comes up to his face, straightening his moustache, as his gaze runs over your body once more. You should leave, you should run - clearly, something is awfully and so not right but you just can't, being glued to the spot by his eyes.

It shouldn't make your loins grow hot, but you can't help it. You feel your belly tingle, shooting sparks down down down between your legs. He is very attractive and the aura of pure fucking danger that wafts around him doesn’t do what it normally should do – instead, it pulls you in. Oh, aren’t you just fucked.

"What were y'saying about help, again?", the man murmurs, gaze locking with yours.

"Uuuh", it's a very stupid sound you make and his eyes spark up at that, lips giving room to flash some teeth, "I-I just said you look like you might need some help?"

"Well, maybe I do."

He licks his lower lip and you blink, gaze following the movement.

This is very stupid. This is risky, dangerous, and most likely something you are going to regret.

It's not only the situation, it's him, too. He seems dangerous. It's not only the blood, mind you. It’s the way he moves, how his eyes dart through the room, over your body. It’s the aggression in his voice that he’s trying to hide, cover up but ultimately fails, something that seeps through every pore of him.

But he's also just ridiculously hot, walking with his crotch first, heavy northern British accent swirling the words around his tongue and, fuck, it's mostly the way he's looking at you.

And you're just so fucking full of anger and grief and your life feels strangely directed and determined by your shitty-ass fiancé and there's so much rage and sadness -

You take a step into the bathroom and the door slides shut behind you.

"Good", he hums, "Because you do look, like you could also use some help."

The door locks behind you and take another step forward, approaching him. "You have no fucking idea", revenge sex is a very stupid concept but now, it seems very tempting. It's exciting and makes you feel oddly alive.

"Did'ya get dumped?", and you don't know why you trust him with that information but you can hear yourself say: "Cheated on. Fiancé of twelve months." There is a hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you in closer. You can smell him now, the blood on his skin and clothes, the heavy scent of his perfume – it’s warm and thick, vanilla and fruit, like an orange grove.

"Allow me the comment - that's one bloody stupid bastard."

You look up at him and blink. That man's insanely pretty and you swallow as he pulls you in even closer, your hand connecting with his chest. It is firm and warm and your fingers get a little sticky with the fresh blood on his shirt. They splay out, feeling the firm muscle flex beneath the expensive fabric.

"How much time d'we have, sugar?", he hums, runs his thumb across your lower lip.

"I have to get off in Nagoya."

"Gonna get you off alright now, sweetie", you roll your eyes at that and he chuckles, "Bit more than half'n hour I'd say. Think we can manage that?"

You nod while biting your lip, adrenaline thick and heavy in your veins, pumping your blood down south and making you wet wet wet, and he laughs at that, runs his tongue along his bright, bright teeth.

It's sheer excitement that has your belly tingle and you lock your eyes with his, the darkening blueish green pulling you in and then he leans down, locks his lips with yours.

They are soft and warm and his moustache tingles a little. You hum against his lips, one hand fisting his vest as the other sneaks up his muscular arm, runs over and through the blood, up up up next to the cut and comes a halt on his neck. The hand on your waist holds you close, fingers spread out delicately as he starts to feel you up.

His tongue darts out and licks over your lips and you gladly give him more room, parting your lips slightly. He's pushing in, licking into your mouth. You hum deep in your throat, pressing against him, tasting the cigarette smoke on his lips.

You can feel the bulge in his pants, his dick pressing hotly against your lower belly. It ignites your loins, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

You moan into his mouth and he responds by pushing you back, heaving you up the small sink, deepening the kiss. Your back presses against the mirror as you clutch onto him, hand running up his neck and into his hair, slick with product and a little sticky with sweat. Your knees hit his hipbones and the man starts to roll his hips into yours, having his hard dick rubbing against your crotch and your eyelids flutter with the feeling. He's rock-hard and so so hot through his dress pants and you can't fucking wait to get to it.

He eventually breaks the kiss, breath ragged as his eyes roam over your face, hands feeling your thighs up. You decide that you need more of him and thus, your free hand roams over his chest, fingers making quick work of his vest. As soon as you pop the last button, he hastily tears it off of himself, throws it to the ground where it lands with a quiet thud.

"C'mon sweetheart, I know you clammin' to touch me", he says, voice deep and raspy and you do - like you're on fucking autopilot. Your hands dart out, roaming over his defined chest. He feels nice and firm and makes you want him more, want to feel all of him, all at once.

He hums quietly, as you open a few buttons of his shirt and run your hands over the sweaty, warm skin, through the dust of fine chest hair, making his chain rustle. He feels nice and it makes you want him.

The man looks up from your hands and you don't know what has come over you as your hand glides up further, cupping his neck, thumb on his jawline. "Fuck me", you breathe, "Fuck me 'til I can't walk."

He grins and leans in even closer, his clothed and hard dick pressing against your wet panties, as he's kissing a wet trail from your jaw to your ear. "Who would've thought - such a naugh'y lil'mouth on such a pretty woman."

You hook one leg around his waist, tugging lightly at the hair that's curling in his neck as he starts to suck on your neck. The slight pain ignites your lust, has arousal blooming and wetness pooling between your legs. You want to tell him to stop, before he marks you up for good as --

"Name's Tangerine", he suddenly rasps, as his tongue rubs over the spot he has been sucking on and you're pretty damn sure that he just gave you a hickey.

"Like the-"

"The fucking fruit, yeah. 'M gonna burst you more like something of a cherry, though", he rumbles, quietly laughing to himself with his fingers digging into your hips.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses himself flush against you - all firm muscles, perfume, and hot skin - tongue licking over your throat like the hot blade of a knife, dancing over your jaw.

It's most likely not his real name and that should really, really alert you. But it doesn't - instead you surrender yourself to him, letting your head fall back and parting your legs, inviting him in.

And the man -Tangerine - follows suite and shoves your dress up up up, runs his hands over your now exposed thighs. You lean forward a little, until your lips brush over his. "Name's Y/N", you whisper and his eyes glint a little at that, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, you gon' be a fun one", he grins and you do too, before leaning in and kissing him again. He is less gentle now, keen on getting you hot, his kisses turn sloppy quickly, biting your lower lip and licking into your mouth until you lack air. The thumbs on your legs dive in deeper, until they connect with your crotch. And then, one of them gently runs over your soaked panties.

Tangerine breaks the kiss, wet lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, only to inhale sharply - keeps his cheeks puffed theatrically for a short moment, then exhales just as sharply, eyeing you up and down. "Jesus Christ, that pussy of yours s'fucking wet, innit?", he rumbles and two of his fingers run over the wet fabric once more, slowly starting to rub your clit.

You gasp, hips bucking a little and you watch the way his hand vanishes under the hem of your dress. "Fuck", you moan quietly as he quickly finds the spot that makes your thighs clench. He rubs you through your panties, soft lace turning wet wet wet and dampening his skin. Your mouth falls agape seeing his wrist twitching between your legs and the way he's looking down at it, a little mesmerized, makes your head swim. Then, he stops.

"Yeah, let's get those off", he mutters, more to himself than to you and then he's tugging at the straps of your panties, riiips the lace and tears them apart. "Oh-", you gasp unintelligently as he carelessly drops them to the ground and you really don't fucking mind at all.

It's the first time in a long time that you feel wanted, like someone's actually hungry, greedy for you. And it turns you on. A lot. It is like Tangerine has flipped a switch and you want him just as much as he seems to want you. And you want it now.

You blink at him through your lashes. "You gonna touch me now?"

"Easy, love", he chuckles, genuinely amused and then his fingers are slooowly creeping back over your legs, until his index finger finally touches your exposed cunt. The touch is cold, but not unpleasant and you suck in a sharp breath, one that hitches in your throat.

He watches you, as he runs it over your pussy, quickly joined by a second, digits running up and down, spreading your slick. You hum, pleasure building up in your abdomen and then, finally, his fingers return to your clit.

Slow, wide circles spread your lips apart, making you moan and throwing your head back in pleasure. His bracelet clinks as he quickly picks up a faster rhythm, keen on seeing you coming loose, circles growing smaller.

"Oh shit, yes that's fucking it", you can feel arousal building in your stomach, shooting through your body. Tangerine laughs under his breath and his lips are onto you again, licking and sucking over your straightened neck. You don't give a fuck anymore, the slight pain of him bruising your skin makes your hips buck and rolling against his digits.

"Such a good girl, ain't ya?, he groans against your neck and it sends shivers down your spine as you're moaning and gasping, nodding frantically.

Your body feels like it has been ignited, with the way his fingers rub your clit, teasing your pussy and then there's one finger circling your hole and fuck, you really fucking need it. You spread your legs farther and Tangerine puuushes in, sinks one rather cold finger in your hole, your hot hot skin meeting the cold gold of his ring.

Tangerine starts to fuck you slowly, finger pushing in and out of you, until you're loose enough to take a second one. His rings thrust against your hole every time he pushes them back inside and the sensation has you whining, his lips still glued to your neck, occasionally moving down down down to you cleavage, licking fat stripes over your warm, sweaty skin.

A flood of very good, very dangerous emotions has one of your hands abandoning the sink, instead running up his arm, splaying across his shoulder. You can feel the muscles working slightly beneath the light blue fabric, a little dampened by his sweat. "Fuck, you make me so hot, shit, that feels so good", you whimper quietly, gasping as his fingers push even deeper. It seems to kick Tangerine off, moustache grazing your skin as he’s picking up an even faster rhythm - rubbing, circling your clit faster, adding more pressure - obscene squelching sounds filling the air of the small bathroom. You moan as pleasure shoots up your spine, has you rocking on and against his fingers.

You can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, hole fluttering against the cold, golden rings and then --

He breaks from your throat and whistles lowly as fresh wetness pools around his fingers, your squirt dampening his golden bracelet and the cuff of his shirt.

Tangerine pulls his fingers out of you slowly, slick with your juices and looks at them for a few seconds, the way your wetness is glistening on his skin in the dim lights. He brings them up up up, gaze connecting with yours and then -

They go past his lips, as his tongue darts out and licks them clean. You blink - once, twice. "Fuck", you breathe, and he chuckles.

"You taste like a fuckin' dream, love", his hands push your legs further apart and before you know it, he sinks down to his knees. You blink at him, as he lifts the hem of your dress up, "Might wanna hold that f'me", and you do, pulling the fabric as high up as you can, exposing yourself to him further.

Tangerine tsks as he takes the sight in and you can feel your cheeks growing hot, burning red, as his fingers dance over your pussy.

"Don't ya just have the prettiest cunt?", he hums, running his fingers through your folds, "'M gonna fuck ya so good."

"Jesus, Tangerine", you huff out, legs shaking a little as his thumb carefully rubs over your clit.

Tangerine looks up at you, smirking a little and then he's leaning in, hands coming to rest on your thighs, forcing your legs apart. He's not breaking eye contact, keeps your gazes chained together, as he dives in and licks a long, fat stripe from your hole upwards to your clit.

You fucking mewl, as his moustache rubs over your sensitive skin, tongue circling your clit for a short moment. His eyes gleam up at you, watching your reaction as his tongue swipes down, over your folds to your hole, teasing it. It has your legs kicking a little and you grab the sink with both your hands, as your thighs give a quick shake.

You can hear him chuckle deep in his throat and it makes you hot hot hot all over, with the way his tongue crawls back up, lips grazing your cunt and then he's onto your clit once more, gently lapping at it, placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin.

A strangled noise escapes your throat as arousal rushes through your abdomen and up up up your whole body, has your chest heaving with a ragged breath and rolling your hips forward. It's so so good, but not enough - you just need more.

"Don't ya move, love", Tangerine rasps and one of his hands grabs your hips forcefully, dress sliding up to your navel as he's holding you in place. The other crawls up your lower leg and thigh, teasing your folds and then one finger presses against your hole, pushes in roughly.

You moan as he immediately starts to fuck you with it, pumping your wetness in and out of you with a rather merciless rhythm, keen on having you come for him, having you squirt once more.

His eyelids flutter, long and dark lashes against his pale skin as his tongue licks over your folds, tasting your wetness and taking your scent in. You're tasting so so sweet to him, like a fucking forbidden fruit that he's going to devour anyways, because he can and he will and because fuck the rules he had set himself for this job.

He closes his eyes as he pushes a second finger into you, pumping them in and out of you, while his tongue laps at your cunt, lips closing in around your folds, gently sucking. His fingers are fucking you fast now, pushing you further and further.

"Oh god", you gasp, one hand still holding your own weight, the other now fisting his hair, pulling it. It seems to spur him on, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and placing wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cunt, gently nibbling at the soft skin as his finger pumps into you. It's even better than before, with his beard scratching you and his tongue and lips gliding over your cunt as if it were a riddle he's going to solve without his hands. The heel of your shoe digs into his back - desperate for any leverage, to just feel him - as you are nearing your release.

"Shit, fuck fuck fuck", your voice sounds strange in your ears, high-pitched and far far away, between the squelching sounds that his rapidly moving fingers pull out of your pussy, "I'm gonna-"

He hums and then, after a short moment, pulls his digits out of you and grabs your hips hard, holding you in place, not stopping his tongue from rubbing over your cunt hard.

It tips you over the edge, has you breaking loose. You gasp loudly, throwing your head back against the mirror, incoherent rambling leaving your lips as you come - riding your orgasm out on his face as he licks you through your orgasm, your hips bucking wildly with it.

As your orgasm rolls over you, you already know that this isn't over. Usually, you would be spent for now, calm and a little tired but right now - you're not at all, lust still rolling over you, fresh wetness pooling between your legs again. "Mhm, shit", you breathe, feet kicking a little as Tangerine's tongue continues to flick over your clit. You are still wet, already desperate for more, more of him.

All you can think about is his hard dick, that you've felt earlier pressing against your crotch and pure want tingles in your stomach. Tangerine's lips close in around your throbbing clit, overstimulation making your head swim.

"Please, fuck, please", your hip bucks against his iron grip that holds you steadily against the sink. Tangerine looks up at you again and let’s go of your clit with an obscene pop. His moustache is dampened by your wetness as he grins up at you. "Please please", he mocks your high-pitched whines and then smirks, "Wan'it that bad, love?"

"Need you - ah, fuck - inside me. Oh, shit", you whine, as your hole clenches around nothing, desperate for more than his fingers. You are so turned on by this stranger, lust crashing over your body like waves - you can feel its tingle in your chest, your legs, feeling your pussy desperate for another touch.

Tangerine blinks for a moment and you're sure, that you saw his eye twitch and then he, very dramatically, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. "Shit, love, you make me feel all sorts o'things", he says quietly and then quickly gets up, wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He leans in and his lips lock with yours again and you can taste yourself on his tongue, as he licks into your mouth, grinning against your lips, damp stache rubbing over your upper lip. He licks over it, groans deep in his throat, while his hands brush over your legs, before he commands, whispers against your lips: "Bend over the sink f'me.”

"What?", you blink, words not really reaching you through the lustful haze that has wrapped your brain in like cotton candy. All you can do is look at him, at this very handsome stranger with the very fake name and he has your head swimming, brain giving in and surrendering to lust once more.

You take the hand he offers you as he helps you down the sink, your legs a little wobbly. "Alright c'mon now, girl, don't keep me waitin'", Tangerine gives you a light pat on the cheek, rings barely connecting with your skin - a patronizing gesture that has your knees going ever weaker for a moment as you try to turn around, hands gripping the edges of the sink.

You watch him in the mirror, as he makes quick work of his belt and the fly of his trousers. As he pulls his dick out, your mouth waters. It's long and big and has just the right girth, a drop of precum glistening on its tip. You'd really like to suck that cock, like right motherfucking now.

Tangerine looks at you. "Got all hungry fo'it?", and you nod - breathing out Fuck yeah - arching your back for him, "Alright love, just a minute."

He spits in his hand and rubs the saliva over his dick, giving himself one, two strokes. You arch your back, keeping your eyes on him as he grabs your hips hard, lines himself up, head of his dick resting against your hole - all hot and hard - and then he finally, finally pushes himself in. The stretch is nice and has you squirming a little with the dull pain, excitement lighting your nerves up.

"Jesus Christ", his head falls forward a little, "You're so fuckin' tight."

He bottoms out, forcing himself in deep, holding still. You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, but he doesn't move and you can see his chest heaving, hear him grunt. His hand roams over your bare ass, shoving the dress even higher, until your back is partly exposed and his hand creeps around your body, over your stomach and under the dress, slips beneath your bra and cups one of your tits.

Tangerine squeezes it, feels you up and then pulls his dick back out only to quickly push himself back in. The sound that leaves your throat is nothing but desperate and your hand grips the sink harder, knuckles slowly turning white. His jaw is going a little slack as he rolls his hips into you, fucking you slowly.

"Ah shit", he groans, a deep and coarse sound, that makes you shiver, "Doesn't that just feel lovely?"

He watches the way his dick pumps into your pussy, eyebrows drawn together, lips slightly agape - until his gaze meets yours in the mirror once more and there it is - a shadow that dances over his eyes, turning the mesmerizing blue and green dark dark dark. One of his hands suddenly darts forward, rings glimmering in the dim light, only to roughly grab your chin, forcefully holding your head in place. It hurts a little, but the pain feels good, the way it stretches your back and intensifies the arch of it, forces you to look at him and yourself. Your mascara is pooling beneath your eyes, pupils blown wide and cheeks reddened.

"Would'ya just look at yourself", Tangerine groans, "Ya might be the hottest fucking thing I've seen in a long fuckin' time --" He groans again, thumb catching your lower lip and you moan as you watch his face coming a little loose with pleasure.

Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, thrusting into you and you push your hips back, meeting him - desperate for more more more. He grins at you in the mirror and his hand creeps a little lower, until it rest riiight below your jawline and then -

Then he squeezes.

It has you gasping, choking a little at the sudden loss of air and the feeling of your windpipe being closed. Your hip bucks against his and he licks his lips.

The lack of air has adrenaline rushing through your veins once more, as his dick pushes against your spongy hot walls and you feel your body surrendering to him fully, the small voice in the back of your head remembering you that You are at his mercy has you growing even wetter.

The hand lets go off your throat, now gently holding your head in place and you suck in a few deep breaths, gasping, greedily sucking in the air, as --

There must be a bump on the rails, as the wagon suddenly lifts a little and has you thrown forward towards the mirror, shoves his dick deeper into you. You moan, instinctively catching his eyes in the mirror.

His lips are slightly parted, eyes darkened by lust and his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. The train speeds up just as he leans forward, throws his chest against your back. His body is so so hot against yours and your walls flutter around his dick, as his scent wraps you in once more.

Tangerine lowers his head, until his forehead rests on your shoulder, cock twitching inside of you. "Ya have no bloody idea what'cha doin' to me, Lady", he says, voice coarse and dark and your eyelids flutter, "'M gonna ruin ya."

He lifts his head a little and your gazes connect in the mirror once more. A shiver runs down your spine - he means it.

And you feel it, too, as he thrusts into you once, knocks the air out of your lungs with the sheer force of it. The tip of his dick hits the spot perfectly and you nearly cry out in pleasure, hands gripping the sink tightly. There are small lines forming around his eyes as he's grinning against your shoulder, pulls out a little only to force himself back in, even deeper this time. The hand that was toying with your tit leaves, crawls back down and his arm wraps itself around your waist, holds you close.

Your legs shake as Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, starts pounding in to you like a starved man, like an animal gone wild. It's in his eyes, hunger hunger hunger and you feel pleasure shooting through your body, pooling in your abdomen. You squirt against his dick, wetting the trimmed pubic hair as his balls slap against your wet skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, a strangled high pitched whiny moan escaping your lips, as he hits your walls again, tip of his dick brushing over your g-spot, having you seeing stars. Your eyelids flutter, gasps escaping your mouth with every one of his thrusts.

"Be fuckin' loud, you lil'slut, I don't care - one - bit", he says through gritted teeth, each word one thrust, "If they come knockin'. I’ll kill’em."

It shouldn’t – really, it shouldn’t – but it has your head swimming, rocking back against him, obscene sounds filling the small bathroom and you moan loudly. His jewellery rustles and clinks as he ruts into you, huffing against your shoulder. The force of his thrusts has your body moving back and forth like a ragdoll, hipbones bouncing against the sink, one of your hands coming loose and pressing flat against the mirror, desperate for any sort of leverage.

You can feel yourself clenching around him, white hot pleasure building on the edges of your brain, until there's nothing left but him him him.

"Fuck", you cry out, "I'm gonna fucking cum, shit shit shit", lips falling agape with pure pleasure. It’s too much and you can feel your muscles tensing.

The hand around your throat tightens a bit more and that’s all you need – has your eyes falling shut, your second orgasm rolling over you. It knocks the air straight out of your lungs, has you going limp, while the muscles in your thighs and abdomen clench, holding and squeezing his dick inside of you.

You can hear him moan deeply, sounding far far away and then his cum hits your walls, paints it as he buries himself deep deep inside of you. You gasp, desperate for air and he lets go off your throat.

You suck in a few breaths and feel him doing the same, chest heaving against your back. "Fuck", he says and slowly straightens back up, looking at you in the mirror.

"Y'good over there, love?"

"Uh-huh", you hum, unable to speak, and blink at him. His hair's a mess and his cheeks are a little reddened, glistening with sweat.

Tangerine fucking winks at you and then slooowly, very carefully pulls out of you. You inhale sharply as you feel some of his cum following suite, dripping down your legs. You want to straighten up, too, clean it up, but he's quicker, taking one of the disposable towels and gently sweeps along your cunt.

"'S good, I can do that too, y'know", you say and take it from him, cleaning yourself up. For a long moment, while you can hear him putting himself back in his pants, there's silence between the two of you. Only, as you carefully put your dress back in place, does he look at you again.

"Be careful tonight, sweetheart", he says nonchalantly while tugging his shirt back into his slacks. He says it like it's nothing but it has the hairs on your body standing up.

I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. You look on the slight stains that his blood left on your fingers, that soaked his shirt.

"Make you sure you get out of that train in Nagoya, y'hear me?", his gaze is soft as it lands upon you. Your brain goes numb with anxiety.

"Y-yeah, yeah sure. I'm meeting a friend there, wouldn't miss her for the world."

He smiles at that. A genuine, warm smile. It does something funny to your stomach. "Alright love, gotta dash", he's straightening his vest and giving himself a glance in the mirror, running his hands through his hair, "There's this chap I gotta get rid of. Gimme a call, when you're in London, would'ya?"

You just nod and take the slim, white card he hands you. The numbers on it are orange.

"Very fucking funny", you huff and he grins, leans down towards you, and places his lips on your cheek. The kiss is feather-light but it'll haunt you late at night in the weeks, months to come after the story of the crashed bullet train breaks the international news. But right now, it makes your chest tingle in all the right ways.

"Tis'a good girl, eh?", Tangerine whispers and then, throwing one last look at you, struts out of the door.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine x reader #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson

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stevebckley · 1 year ago

Text

Steve finds out early on in his teenage partying years that tequila and him don’t mix well. It leads to terrible decisions and waking up in someone else’s bed.

But he doesn’t wanna be a party pooper when Eddie shows up for the Party’s pool day with all the stuff for margaritas and a grin on his face. He says that someone needs to put Steve’s fancy blender to use anyhow and he makes the best strawberry margaritas ever so Steve relents easily, resigning himself to try just sipping at the same one all afternoon.

He can’t stick to that though.

The first sip is like heaven. Cold and sweet on his tongue with just a hint of the sheer amount of tequila that must be in it. Eddie literally cackles at the little moan that slips out of him at the taste.

‘Told you, Harrington! I know what I’m about!’

The afternoon slips on, Robin and Nancy stopping after two so that they can drive all the kids home but Eddie just keeps filling up Steve’s cup before he can even protest. He’s floating a bit by the end of the day, not enough to be drunk but enough that he can’t stop himself from staring at Eddie.

Eddie has been in and out of the pool all day, water making his swim shorts cling to every single muscle underneath them. Steve can’t help but giggle at the sheer lack on ass on the guy but when he turns to face Steve, he has to actively try to keep his jaw shut.

He can see a perfect outline of Eddie’s dick. Even soft it looks big enough to choke on and Steve has to drag one of the towels over his lap quickly lest other people see how hard he got in the last thirty seconds. Luckily the kids are packing up now, calling their goodbyes.

Letting Nancy and Robin lead them out the door until it’s just him and Eddie left. Eddie is watching him curiously, and the attentions makes Steve flush from his cheeks all the way down his chest. ‘You doin okay, Stevie? You look a little warm’ Eddie sounds like he’s teasing, but there’s an edge to it that does not help Steve’s situation. Eddie practically glides forward toward where Steve is sitting on the lounge chair. Steve has to hold back the whine in his throat when Eddie leans over him, hands braced on either side of the chair.

‘Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?’ Eddie’s got a sharp grin on his face, close enough that Steve can see the pink staining his tongue from the drinks and he can’t hold himself back any longer. He drops his death grip on the towel so he can tangle his hands in Eddie’s hair, yanking him down into a searing kiss.

Eddie loses his grip on the chair, practically toppling into Steve’s lap, noses smushing together as they both try to keep from disconnecting their kiss Steve uses one hand to grab Eddie by the waist as he falls, using the momentum to pull him into his lap. Even as tipsy as Steve feels, it’s delightfully easy to move Eddie where he wants him. He can’t help himself when he rolls his hips up to meet Eddie’s, the wetness of their shorts making it slightly uncomfortable but Steve doesn’t give a shit right now.

He’s finally getting what he’s been wanting and Eddie seems just as into it. Eddie rocks downward in a slow, steady grind of his hips, his dick hard and hot where it presses against Steve’s. He shudders under the deliberate movements, praying to whoever’s listening that he can get Eddie to fuck him just like that.

For now though he desperately needs to get his mouth on Eddie, pulling away from the kiss and taking in a shaky breath. ‘Inside.’ He whines into Eddie’s ear, gently taking the lobe in between his teeth so he can bite down.

Eddie scrabbles off his lap like a cartoon cat, making Steve giggle at the sight before a thought pops into his head He stands, steadying himself for a moment before crouching slightly, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman carry.

Eddie fucking moans, using his position to shove his hands down the back of Steve’s shorts to grab at his ass. ‘This should not be so fucking hot what the fuck’ Eddie mumbles, half to himself as Steve carry’s him to the living room and tosses him on the couch.

He doesn’t miss a beat before dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, tucking eager fingers into his waistband and dragging them down his legs. When Eddie’s dick is finally exposed, Steve feels all the blood in his body rush south, a whimper falling from his open mouth at the sight.

It’s as big as it felt, long and thick nestled into a pretty thatch of curls at the base. There’s a bead of precome gathered at the tip that he can’t stop himself from leaning down and lapping up. Eddie hisses at the feeling, hands fisting into the cushions under him.

Steve can’t have that, gently peeling Eddies hands open and guiding them to his hair. Eddies mouth is slightly open, a look of awe over his features as Steve leans forward to run his tongue from base to tip before sealing his lips over the head. He doesn’t care that he’s never done this before.

The only think he can think about is making Eddie feel good, and he gotten blowjobs before so how hard it can be? He steadies himself, wrapping a hand around Eddie before taking a few more inches into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as best as he can.

Eddies fingers tighten in his hair, not pushing but just grounding himself. Steve pulls off with a pop, nuzzling his nose into the downy hair smattered across Eddie’s stomach. ‘Want you to use my mouth. Had dreams about you fucking my face.’ The look on Eddies face is enough to make Steve grind the heel of his hand into his own cock, nearly crying at the minor relief it brings.

He lets Eddie guide him back, sinking his mouth down as far as it can go before letting his jaw fall lax, tongue sliding forward to cushion over his teeth and lower lip

He squirms when Eddie’s hips roll up carefully, his brain already going delightfully fuzzy from the solid weight of hands in his hair and the ache developing in his jaw. ‘Oh baby you’re already cockdrunk aren’t you? This what you needed? Someone to take you down and apart?’ Eddie coos at him, movements growing more bold as he pushes a little further with every thrust.

The condescension makes Steve squirm and whine, vibrations in his throat dragging a moan out of Eddie. Steve loses the thread after that, his world narrowing to just Eddie and the way he’s making him feel.

Every thrust nudges at the back of Steve’s throat, the occasional too hard thrust making him gag and drool around Eddies length. He feels proud of himself when Eddie speeds up, rhythm faltering as he gets closer to the edge. It only takes a few more thrusts and a few moments of hard suction before Eddie is spilling down his throat with a shout.

Steve does his best to swallow it all, only missing a bit that drips down his chin. He feels high now, the tequila starting to wear off a bit. When Eddie pulls back, he’s just got a dopey grin on his face, eyes practically crossing in pleasure.

Eddie drags him up from the floor into his lap, smashing their lips together before reaching between them to shove his hand into Steve’s pants. He stills quickly and Steve’s face heats up as he realizes what he found.

‘I uh, I came when you did.’ His face burns with shame but Eddie looks like he could go again right then and there, dragging Steve into another heavy kiss. When he pulls back, he’s met with Eddie laughing. ‘Well I guess Nancy was right. Tequila really does make you outrageously horny!’

He’s still laughing when Steve registers what he said. ‘

Wait, what the fu-?’

#steddie #my writing #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st fic #stranger things fic #steddie ficlet

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: james potter x fem!reader ft. remus and sirius

summary: james is surprisingly willing to help you despite only having known you for a few weeks.

contents: reader is on her period, james barges into the bathroom because he's That Close to his friends

Sharing both a room and a bathroom with three men after having shared with four women is jarring, to say the least. Your old roommates could be slobs, of course, but there's something about James's habit barging into the bathroom whenever he pleases that doesn't sit right with you at first. You understand why he'd done it before you'd gotten there; you're sure they all had. You had no problem brushing your teeth beside Lily or Marlene while they were showering or peeing, but now that you're equipped with different tools than the rest of your roommates, it just feels wrong for them to see.

You first encounter it on a Monday morning, an appropriately terrible day for a terrible experience. You've just gotten up, and you're using the bathroom before you get dressed for the day, when James decides he needs to shower right then and there. He shouts a quick, 'Comin' in, mate!' Before turning the knob with the broken lock and storming right in, not giving you enough time to announce your presence.

"Ah- James!" You think you'll die right then and there, hands hovering over your crotch as James realizes what he's done. He's butt naked, probably tired after practice and in need of a steamy shower, but he's not any more enthusiastic about you seeing his parts than you are of him seeing yours, and he scrambles to cover himself up.

"Uh- sorry. I didn't realize it was you, I thought- I thought you had classes this morning. I apologize," He smiles kindly, though his eyes bulge where they're glued to your own, "Uh- you can... get back to business."

Neither of you had looked each other in the eyes for nearly 36 hours, but eventually the awkwardness died down, and you moved on.

Until the second time.

"Y/N," He calls, while you're in the shower, behind the flimsy curtain, "Listen, I know you're in the shower and all, but I'm running late, and I really need to brush my teeth. I don't want to rush you, can I just- just pop in there for a second? I swear I won't look."

You're at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish while the water streams around you. You appreciate his consideration, you know he doesn't want to scare you off or cross your boundaries, but it's a bold request. You're covered, sure, but the bathroom light is on, and you're sure you've got a silhouette behind the curtain. But you're going to be a while longer, and it's not fair of you to hold James up.

"Uh- sure," You stammer, covering up your chest like he'll be able to see through the curtain with laser eyes, "Come on in."

He doesn't hesitate to rush inside, but he's considerate enough to close the door after himself so that no one else stumbles upon you. You appreciate it, but you're frozen as he brushes his teeth quickly, bidding you a cheery goodbye like he hadn't just skimmed over giving you a heart attack. He shuts the door on his way back out, and there's not an ounce of awkwardness in his tone when he chats with you about his day later.

The third time, the third time is the kicker. You've started your period, the first time since you've been staying with James, Remus, and Sirius. You're sure they wouldn't give you a hard time for it, they seem decent enough so far, but there's just something mortifying about putting a used pad in a man's bathroom trash can.

You've changed your sheets before anyone can see the red stain, but your panties haven't been as fortunate yet. They're laying stained and wet on the ground beside your equally mangled shorts, hopefully not transferring the blood to the fabric below.

You don't get any warning, not enough time to hide them when you hear James's heavy footfalls by the door. He barges in without warning, face shifting to apologetic for only a split second before he registers the bloody clothes on the floor.

"Aah," He yelps, "Fuckin'- Are you wounded? You- oh." His sex education catches up to him, realizing why you've got blood only in the pad of your underwear, "Uh- right. Sorry."

"Get-" You start with a hiss, but you rein yourself in, trying to be kind, "James, can you- can you please get out?"

"Yeah! Yeah, right, I'll-" He motions over his shoulder with his thumb, "Uh- the guys are coming, so I'll head out. And-"

"The- what? Remus and Sirius are on their way back?" You panic, regretting your late wake-up. You could have really used the time they spent at breakfast to clean up."

"Yeah, they're- at the door."

"Close the door!" You urge him, as you hear the two other men enter the room. James does as he's told, but instead of stepping out, he steps in, panicked by your harsh tone of voice.

"Not- no!" You gush, but when he tries correcting himself, you lunge for his hand.

"Don't leave!" You beg, but rush to explain yourself when he frowns worriedly at you.

"I don't-" You whisper, "I don't want them to know I'm in here. Like- like this. If you leave they'll know. Just-" You fall silent with a sigh, "I don't know."

"Right." He nods, keeping his voice down so that it's muffled to Remus and Sirius, "Uh, I'll-"

"James? Mate, m'coming in," Sirius's voice comes from just outside the door, and you and James stare at each other, terrified. He rushes to slam his back against the door, and Sirius is unable to turn the knob.

"No! Uh, you can't-" James stammers, clearing his throat and steeling himself, "Use the bathroom in the hallway. I've got the squirts, mate, you don't wanna be in here with me."

You're lucky that Remus and Sirius groan in disgust, because it muffles your quick snort into your fist.

"You fuckin' animal. I told you not to cram those sausages down your throat," Remus snaps, "Now we can't use it for the rest of the day."

"Yeah, yeah, I've learned my lesson," James promises, shooting you a knowing wink, "Now get out!"

You're fairly certain you hear Sirius groan 'gladly', but you can't be certain. Their footsteps recede, then the outer door shuts, and once again you're alone with James. You wait for him to leave, but he lingers for a moment, politely avoiding staring at your soiled clothes.

"Right, well, they won't be back for a while. Do you want me to leave, too?"

"Uh- no, it's- it's okay," You decide, "You know."

"Yeah. Do you need any," James cringes before he even offers, "Help? I mean, I'm sure you've got wiping down, just- do you want, like, chocolate or something? Doesn't that help?"

"No! No, James, it's alright," You assure him, touched by his offer even if you're also embarrassed by it, "I don't want you to go to any trouble."

"No trouble," He shrugs, letting himself out of the bathroom and hovering in the doorway, "I know where Remus's stash is! He probably won't even notice it's missing, he's got so much. I can snatch some for you?"

"Really, it's okay," You smile kindly at him, still doubled over on the toilet with your elbows covering what you don't want him seeing, "Just- a moment alone, please?"

"Right," He nods with a grin, shutting the door, "Sorry!"

You breathe deep when you finally have a moment alone, cheeks burning with mortification. You're not sure you'll recover from this for a month, conveniently just enough time for it to happen again. You clean yourself up swiftly, not eager to spend more time in the bathroom that's revealed you to your roommate thrice in a month now.

James is kicked back on his bed when you reenter the main room, and he shoots you a kind smile that you bashfully return. You get to work putting new sheets on your bed, but when you move your pillow, you find a chocolate bar tucked under it.

If the sly grin on his face as he turns the page of his book is any indication, he's heard your light chuckle, and knows you appreciate him.

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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cozage · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! First of all, I love your writing and your content. Can I ask for HC on Law saying to their romantic interest something like: "If you don't like how we run things here, then leave" after a heated discussion which actually makes them leave the crew, and after Law goes to great extents to amend that, Angst to comfort.

A/N: Hi friend! This was a fun prompt and ive been working on it for a while! Thanks for your patience! (It’s not completely proofread, so I apologize for any mistakes. I may go back and edit it better later, but i wanted to get this out for you and everyone today!)

Characters: Law x gn reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Leaving

“If you don’t like how I run things, then leave,” Law spat out, turning back to the papers at his desk. “I don’t have time for you questioning my decisions.”

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded at his words and their harshness.

“Law-” you start.

“Leave!” He snapped, not even looking up from his work.

You turned on your heel and rushed out the door, covering your face to hide your tears. You ran to the Captain’s Quarters and threw the few belongings you had into a duffel bag, slung it over your shoulder, and left the room. You didn’t want to say goodbye to your crewmates or this life, but you had heard Law’s message loud and clear. Leave. You were no longer welcome here.

You passed by the kitchen and hang out area, and you popped your tear-stained face in the room, trying your best to act casual.

“Uhm-” you started to speak, but the moment that eyes turned, you burst out into tears again.

“I came to say goodbye,” you sobbed as Shachi and Penguin rushed to you.

“What happened?” the two of them demanded, holding you in a tight hug.

“I was told to leave, so-” you hiccuped into Shachi’s shoulder, and pulled away from the two men. “I just didn’t want to leave without-”

“You’re not leaving,” Penguin said, looking past you to the hallway.

“I am,” you replied, wiping your tears off your face, trying to compose yourself. “I have to.”

“You can’t!” Shachi cried, tears springing from his own eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said, tears welling up again. You loved these people. They were your family. They were all you knew for the past few years.

But you couldn’t live like this with Law anymore. This constant back and forth, his refusal to commit to you and his mood switches between fiery hot passion and icy cold shoulders. The way he would coo promises in your ear while you laid pressed against his chest one moment, just for him to spend the whole day without acknowledging your existence. You were going insane, and you simply couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I love you guys,” you said, pulling away from them and heading for the door. “I’ll call when I get situated, okay?”

“Situated where?” Penguin asked. “Just stay, we’ll get the captain to reverse his decision. Please-”

“No,” you said, with painful finality. “He made his decision, Penguin. I have to go.”

And with that you climbed up the ladder and walked out the door. You jumped off the deck and onto the dock of a foreign island you knew nothing about, trying to think of your next move. You desperately wanted to look back one last time, in hopes that Law would be there, watching you go. But you resisted the urge to turn around, and you walked boldly into the village to find a new adventure, hoping the hole in your heart would heal with time.

The sounds of shoes running down the hallway alerted Law that something was wrong. Then several bangs on the door.

“Captain!!!” several voices called out, and Law quickly opened the door.

“What?” he asked, looking at their panicked faces. “What is it?”

“What did you do to Y/N?!” Shachi demanded, tears in his eyes.

Law’s eye twitched and he grinded his teeth. “What happened is none of your business!” he shouted, slamming the door in their face.

“Captain!!” they all cried. “Please change your mind!”

“Room,” Law said, creating a blue bubble that only encapsulated himself. “Silence,” he said, cutting off sound to the outside world. One of the many tools he had taken from Corazon.

Law wasn’t sure how long the crew continued to bang and yell at his door, but he didn’t really care. The issue between you and him should be solved between the two of you, the rest of the crew didn’t need to be involved.

By the time he went to bed, the crew had thankfully dispersed. He was irritated with you causing such a scene amongst your crewmates, but he would talk to you about it later. He walked to his room, and was surprised to find that the light was off. Normally you went to bed far before him, but you always left some kind of light on for him to find his way to the bed with you. He was even more surprised to find the bed completely empty and cold. There was no trace of you or your belongings in his room.

“Y/N is gone,” said a broken voice from behind him. Bepo.

Law turned to face the bear, confused by his statement.

“Y/N said you told them to leave. So they left,” Bepo explained.

“No-” Law said, looking around. “I didn’t mean to leave the ship. I just meant-”

“You always do this, captain. You always push people away when they only want to love you.”

“I don’t need a lecture, Bepo,” Law hissed. He was starting to panic now, he couldn’t lose you. You were one of the few people he trusted and let get close to him, he…

“Go. Y/N is on the island somewhere. Make it right.”

Law could hear Bepo’s voice getting thick with tears. He knew the bear was trying to be brave, but he didn’t care at the moment. He took off down the maze of hallways and climbed up the ladder to the deck. He scanned the shoreline, looking for your frame. He prayed that it would just be a simple outburst you were throwing, a show of defiance you were putting on until he came and apologized and made it right. But you were nowhere to be found.

He jumped off the deck and onto the dock, racing towards town. He was racking his brain on where you would have gone. You had no family or friends here. What were you thinking, going off alone with no support system? Was your plan just to abandon him and leave him alone again? The thought of never seeing you again made him sick to his stomach.

He couldn’t lose you. Not after all you all had been through. It wasn’t fair. He was angry at you and at the world, but he was mostly angry at himself. He had been selfish, and he had put himself in this position because of it. He had to amend that. He had to make it right.

He finally found you, sitting alone at a ramen shop. He stood in the crowded street and watched you for a moment, admiring the way you looked under the soft glow of the shop lights.

You looked tired, but you were as beautiful as ever. You were talking quietly to the man next to you; he must’ve said something to make you laugh, because your eyes lit up and your voice rang out. Law couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at seeing some stranger bring you joy, and he resisted the urge to run to you.

“Do you come here often?” Law heard the man ask you. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

Law saw you hesitate for a moment, weighing your options. “I actually just got here,” you finally said.

“Oh?” the man questioned, looking around. “Need a place to stay while you get settled in?”

Law’s blood boiled. He knew what the man was implying, and he needed to put an end to it. He started toward you, but before he could make it, you spoke.

“That’s kind of you,” you started, your eyes darting around the restaurant nervously. “But I have a place at the moment.”

“I see,” said the man, looking a little dejected. “Well, I had fun tonight, and I hope to see you again.”

You smiled politely and nodded at the man. “I did as well. I’ll see you around!” Your voice held enthusiasm that made Law’s heart pang, and he made a decision.

He waited for the man to leave, and then quickly took the seat next to you.

You were staring at your ramen, and didn’t bother to look at the man who had taken Jiato’s seat. One conversation with a stranger was enough for you today. You just wanted to curl up and go back to your hotel room and cry yourself to sleep.

“One pork ramen bowl, please,” a familiar voice said to the waiter.

Your head whipped to the side to find your captain. Ex-captain, you reminded yourself.

Law didn’t meet your eyes. He just kept staring ahead of him. “Do you actually want to leave?” he asked.

You swallowed down the lump forming in your throat as you stared at him. You hadn’t expected to see him of all people.

You stayed quiet for a while, and finally he turned and looked at you. You cut your eyes away quickly, opting to look at your empty ramen bowl instead.

“Y/N-ya,” he prompted, waiting for an answer.

“I can’t keep living like that,” you finally said.

Law shot you an irritated glance and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but decided against it.

“You can say it.” You spoke softly, your words almost drowned out in the noisy restaurant.

He hesitated, but found the right words after a moment. “You didn’t have to leave.”

“You told me to.”

He scoffed. “I didn’t mean literally.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I did take it literally,” you shot back, trying to keep your face and your tone calm. You had just gotten out of a fight with him earlier today, you didn’t need another one flaring up again. And so publicly. “I told you, Law. I’m tired of this back and forth. So when you said leave, I just…there didn’t seem like another option for me.”

He gritted his teeth, as if he were holding back another argument to throw at you. “Well, you didn’t have to leave. I-”

You stared at him, waiting for the words to come. But they didn’t. His cheeks pinked and his eyes averted your gaze.

“What?” you asked, continuing to watch him. “You what?”

His pork ramen arrived, and he turned his attention to his food instead. You knew what he was doing. He was trying to get you to come back to the ship without ever actually apologizing. Or having anything change. But you were serious when you said you couldn’t live like that any more. You’d rather start a new, fresh life than keep going in this vicious cycle.

You grabbed your bag and dropped some money on the table. “Goodbye, Law,” you said, turning away so he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes.

“Stop,” he whispered. But you were already out on the street, out of earshot.

“Hey!” he jumped up, chasing you out onto the street.

He found you quickly and reached out, grabbing your arm. You turned around, shocked at the sudden pressure on your wrist.

“Law! Sto-” He cut off your words with a kiss. Or he tried to, but as your lips met his, you pulled away.

“What are you doing?!” you demanded. “Stop!”

Your loud voice drew several people’s gaze, everyone stopping to make sure you were okay. You could hear people murmuring around you and feel their stares.

Law dropped your hand, giving you a confused and annoyed glare. “I’m trying to- Do you mind?!” he shouted at everyone watching you all.

He looked back at you, his voice softer again. “I’m sorry, okay? I was stupid and selfish. Please come back to the ship. Please stay. Please don’t ever leave my side again.”

You chewed on your lip. “Law-”

“I’ll never ignore you or put you second again. I can’t lose you. You’re the closest thing to family I still have and-” his voice broke, and you could see tears in his eyes. “I love you, okay?”

You blinked in shock. You were certainly not expecting that kind of confession to come from him. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to cry or hug him.

Law made the decision for you, and wrapped you in his arms. You could feel him peppering the top of your head with kisses, and you began to cry into his chest.

“Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured in your ear, and you pulled away to wipe the tears from your face.

“Lets go get your stuff and get back to the ship,” he offered, entwining his fingers with yours.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. You felt more hopeful about the future than you had in a long time. A new chapter of your life truly had begun.

#one piece #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #law x y/n #law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x reader #cozage #✧˚law✧˚

1K notes · View notes

hornyroyale · 2 months ago

Text

pillow talk

Art the Clown x Reader

(SMUT)

5.7k words

Also posted on AO3

———————

Halloween.

One year ago, there was a massacre in Miles County. The now dead suspect was a tall, scrawny clown. The outfit contained half black, half white jumpsuit, with fluffy black pom poms. A white, painted face, with black details on his face. Bald white head with a little black top hat finished his look. When the police arrived at the scene, the clown shot himself through the mouth, admitting him as deceased.

Maybe.

Who knows.

Little kids flooded the streets with their parents, going door to door, filling their baskets with sweet, teeth rotting treats. One of the funniest holidays in the world. For kids, it’s the free candy and dressing up as their favorite things. For teens, it’s the amount of alcohol they consume at parties. For adults, it’s nothing, because they already hit their mid life crisis and can’t be happy anymore.

Doorbell rings, and a bowl of candy is swiftly picked up by the insider and she opens the door to meet with a group of kids. A smile reaches her face, adoring the cute excitement they have at the sight of the king sized bars in a plastic bowl, and she could tell that her house might get populated quick if the word gets around.

The kids leave and she waves to them goodbye, smiling as the door shuts, and soon the bowl is placed on a nearby table. Heading to the kitchen, she opens up the freezer to pull out a bag of frozen tator tots. Her airfryer opens up as she dumps a serving of the mini potatoes. The airfryer shuts and she turns it on, waiting for her snack to heat up. Her house rings with the doorbell once again, and she picks up the bowl of candy to meet with a little girl with her mom in the cutest tinkerbell costume.

With a cute giggle, she holds up a plastic pumpkin that had goodies in it. A king sized kitkat meets with the others and the face of the little girl lights up. The insider smiles at the young girl, saying her goodbyes so that she can go back to cooking her snack. Shortly after she shut the door, another ring echoed and she opened the door with the bowl again just to be met with a man.

Not sure if it’s a man, but it sure is a clown.

His outfit consisted of a jumpsuit that had a half black, half white scheme going on, as long with black puffy buttons and a white collar. He had stained, fingerless gloves wrapped around his hands. His face was painted white, his whole head was white. With his white face, he had black paint around his eyes, mouth, a dot on his nose, and expressive eyebrows, all completed with a cute little black top hat. A creepy grin was met on his face as he held out a black trash bag, implying he wanted candy.

The insider is frightened by his “costume” but she will admit, it’s really creative and well done. Best one she’s seen all day, even though the ones before were all kids, and this is an adult.

“Well hi there!”, she greets with a smile, even though she’s secretly terrified of this terrifier. “Your costume is very well done!”. She did figure that if he worked hard on it, it would mean a lot if she would compliment it.

The clown still has a grin on face while holding his big bag out in hopes to get candy. Even though he might be too old. The insider picks up her bowl of candy and the clown eyes sparkle. She grins at his reaction and chuckles, but he still doesn’t peep a word.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”.

A nod comes out of the clown.

There’s silence between the two and she can tell he’s getting impatient.

“You know, clown guy. Keep a secret for me?”.

The clown nods eagerly, and soon his bag opens wider when she grabs a handful of the candy bars and drops them in his bag.

“Don’t tell anyone I gave you a bunch of king sized bars, I don’t want anyone getting jealous”, she teased. “It’ll be our little secret”.

A wink appeared on her face, and the clown shut his bag that contained his candy, also returning the wink. The bag flew over his shoulder like he was Santa carrying a sack, and his hand gave a friendly wave to her as he bounced away. She shut the door, also waving goodbye. The noise from her airfryer went off, telling her that her tater tots are done.

“Dude are you on your way?”.

“I’m hurrying as fast as I can Sienna. My fucking shirt has a stain on it so I have to improvise”.

Her phone was mounted up against her desk’s mirror and she scavenged through her closet for a shirt that was close to her original design. All she had on was a black lace bra, green miniskirt, fishnets, and black boots that went up her shins. Her hair was down in curls with green hair spray shining through. She was supposed to be a seductive, sexy joker, but with her shirt dirty, her outfit isn’t complete.

“I might not be able to show up for a while. I’m gonna quickly wash my shirt and see if the stain will come out. If not, I’ll just be a boring Joker I guess”.

“Well I wish you could hurry. Allie hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts at all or Brooke’s as well. Has she messaged you?”.

“Not that I know of. Her phone’s probably dead anyways”.

She picks up her phone from her desk.

“I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. Love you lots!”.

“Love you too Y/N”.

She hung up, then grabbed her stained shirt and headed over to her laundry room. Luckily her parents are out of town, because there’s no way they would let her leave the house in a slutty costume, but Halloween is the one time a year a girl can dress like a total slut. Regina George would be proud of her.

Her washer was opened wide, and she tossed her shirt, as well as some other white clothes that were in the dirty clothes basket just so she could be a little helpful around the house. The washer was then shut, and bleach was poured in where the detergent goes. Apparently if bleach gets on your skin, it could make it soggy and slimey because of the pH level. Hopefully nobody has to go through that. I bet it would hurt.

Just thinking about that made her shiver, and she was extra careful when pouring the bleach, but it ran out before she could even fill to the brim. She shook the jug over it to get extra drops before she just gave up and did with what she had. She closed the detergent drawer, then started the washing machine, the empty bottle was placed on the shelf above, and she made a mental note to go shopping to buy more so that her parents don’t get upset.

She picks up her phone and shoots a text to Sienna.

Y/N: how’s the party?

Sienna: I’m fucked up right now

Sienna: My mom is pissed at my brother too because he brought a dead animal to school apparently and he’s blaming it on the clown that massacred a ton of people last year

Y/N: didn’t you see that clown the other day lol?

Sienna: It was probably some loser dressed up as him, but apparently that worker was found dead after I left

Y/N: crazyyy. maybe it was him

Sienna: I’m starting to think it was

Y/N: a clown came to my door early. adult man, in a black and white clown costume, bald. isn’t that your guy you saw too?

There was no response from Sienna.

Bubbles would pop up.

But no response.

Y/N: Sienna?

Still nothing

Her phone might’ve died as well.

The doorbell rung, but with her being shirtless, she quickly grabbed a hoodie that was hanging up on a hook and put it on so that way she wouldn’t expose herself to a potential little kid. Grabbing the bowl of candy, she opened the door expecting a group of kids waiting for candy.

It’s the clown again.

Something’s different with his costume.

There’s blood all over.

She’s frightened because of the conversation she just had, but she needs to keep her cool that way she won’t be his next target, even though she’s saying silent prayers in her head so that she stays alive. She puts a smile on her face and greets him once again.

“Hello there! I see you added some color to your costume!”. She giggles awkwardly. The clown nods with a big grin on his face. There’s no telling if it’s fake blood, and with the slight scent of iron, there’s no way that it is.

That’s real blood.

“Look at the both of us, we’re both dressed up as clowns, except yours is way better than mine!”. Trying to keep the conversation as positive as she can, she hopes that he’ll go to someone else instead. The silence starts between them, and she knows that’s not good, but she can’t think of what to say. The clown takes a small step towards her and she blurts out something without even thinking.

“Do you want to come inside for a bit? I’m waiting for something to get out of the washer”.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why did she say that?

Without thinking twice, the clown welcomes himself in like he owns the place, and sits down comedic like on a chair in the living room. Not much she can do now, she just dug her own grave. But, in most horror movies that she watches, a lot of victims die from being rude to the killer, so maybe he’s like them.

She sits across from him, managing distance, but not too obvious.

Should she offer a drink, a snack, ask him why he came back?

Thumbs twiddle on her lap so that she can think of something, but this clown makes himself feel at home. She wishes she could get a word out of him, but he doesn’t make a noise at all. Not a single peep.

“Do you want a beverage? Or any snacks? You are my guest, I hope I can make you feel welcomed”. He nods his head aggressively but again, with him being silent, it’s hard to understand him.

“Can I get you something to write on so that I can know what you want?”.

The clown just stands up and walks over to her, and now her life is at risk, she at least thinks, but he holds his hand out, implying that he wants her to stand up. Hesitating, she grabs it and he pulls her up, then walks her to her kitchen. She stands there as the stranger goes through her cabinets, looking for goodies.

“Can I get a name at least?”.

He stops, and fear runs through her body again. A knife shines on her counter and he picks it up.

This is it.

She’s gone now.

Her parents will come back from vacation and see their dead daughter dead in the kitchen.

Eyes are slammed shut, but nothing happens. Instead, various fruits and vegetables are cut up to look like letters. A banana peel is cut in half to create an upside down “V”, and the banana goes through the center to make it an “A”. A carrot in a straight line, and chopped up cucumbers to connect to the carrot to make a “R”, and finally, two pieces of celery together in the shape of a “T”.

Art.

“Art?”.

‘Art’ nods his head up and down with a fat smile, happy that she discovered who she was.

Art the clown.

The same name of the clown in the Miles County massacre.

This was the clown.

Standing in her house.

He could kill her any second.

Silence fills the room again, for a long period of time, and she can tell that he’s starting to get impatient, but she doesn’t know what to think.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to get to know you Art”. She extends her hand for a handshake and he takes it, not breaking eye contact with her.

Oh why her.

Why is it that she has to be the one in danger?

Finally he lets go of her hand and he has a bigger smile on his face.

This might just be her fate.

Her washer goes off, cutting the silence and she turns her head towards the laundry room. Excusing herself, she walks inside and opens the washer, pulling out her wet shirt. The stain did disappear, but no use anyways. It’s not like she could go to the party now. She’ll be dead. She turns around and almost jumps at the sight of Art leaning against her door frame, huge smile, and raising his eyebrows up and down.

Well, he is a clown, gotta stick to the part. Coming toward her again, he grabs her wet shirt and shakes it like crazy to get some water out, then hands it back to her, pointing at her hoodie.

“You want me to put on my shirt? I need to put it in the dryer first”. Still with his arms crossed, he doesn’t move. This freaks her out more.

Well she is a slutty joker. Might as well have a wet shirt to add more to the character.

“Okay, I will. Look away though”. She teased. His hands covered his eyes in a clown-like manner and he would open his fingers to reveal his eye, but Y/N would roll hers with a smile and shoo him away. Turning around this time, she was able to slip her hoodie off and put on her shirt. The water stuck to her body, and it was cold. Her bra was showing through the material and she clenched from the feeling. Wet clothes are really uncomfortable. She pats the clown on the shoulder and he takes his hands off his face and makes an “O” shape with his mouth.

Subtle claps are made and he jumps up and down.

“Does it fit with the slut aesthetic?”.

Rapid nods come from him, and he comes closer to her quickly and holds her face like he was a grandmother with her grandchild. Guess he likes seeing another clown. Her hands go on top of his and she smiles up at him, removing his off her face.

“Glad that you like it. I am supposed to be at a party tonight and I really hate to cut this short, but I’m sure if I don’t show up, my friends will be really disappointed in me. I promise that we’ll get to talk more later”.

He didn’t like that.

Smile slowly fades and this is when she knew she fucked up.

His head was shaking and he grabbed her hand so that she couldn't leave. Looking pissed, he yanked her hard closer to him, and he had a sinister glare to his face.

“Okay, fine. I won’t go. I’ll spend the night with you. I’m sorry. Can I atleast tell her that something came up?”.

The grip on her hand was released harshly, and she grabbed her phone that was sitting on the dryer. Sienna still never responded to her from earlier, but whatever, she already figured out who he was anyways.

Y/N: something came up, i can’t make it tonight i’m sorry

She set her phone back down, and began to take her wet shirt off, but Art stopped her.

“C’mon can I atleast change into comfier clothes. The tightness doesn’t feel good”.

A finger met with her face, and he booped her nose, then he ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Her eyes widened as he came closer to her and she stepped back towards the wall, and he came closer.

And closer.

She shut her eyes tight preparing for the pain, but instead the knife slipped under her shirt, and it got torn off, along with a part of her bra, making it fall, and she quickly covered her chest so that he couldn’t see anything.

“I could’ve taken it off nicely, but all up to you I guess”.

His shoulders shrug, and he goes for her pants next but she stops him.

“I’ll just change out of them. Much easier. I’ll be right back”.

Heading to her room, she kicks off her boots and finds a pair of sweats and a shirt she can wear to cover herself up. Shorts were quickly removed, along with her fishnets. She tosses them into her hamper by her door, just to be met with, again, Art. This time making her jump and finding anything to cover her body up with. He opens his mouth to indicate a silent laugh.

He walks towards her again, ripping the blanket away to reveal herself to him, and like the clown he is, he grabbed one and squeezed it like it was a horn. Then again, and again, and again, until Art pushed her back on the bed and ripped her underwear right off.

Like an actual rip.

Now she’s butt ass naked in front of a total stranger, and not just any stranger, but a fucking murderer.

Whatever it takes her to survive.

Art admires the exposed body, and with his half gloved hand, he traces from her collarbone, down to her pelvis with his finger. The light sensation makes her jump, and he stops the movement. Little breaths made her chest go up and down, and in between her thighs, wetness started pouring out of her pussy. A hand went up to his mouth, and his glove reached his mouth. His teeth gripped onto the cloth and he slowly removed it off of his hand, then spat it out onto the floor. The same thing happened with the other, and soon his hands were completely bare. Fingers crawled north of her body, up to her mouth, when she was met with his index and ring finger. They poked at her mouth, in which she opened slightly, and he put them in her mouth. Her tongue traced his fingers which tasted like metal, probably from the blood. Not very hygienic, but she didn’t even care. Saliva coated his fingers, and he took them out of her mouth, and went down to her soaking pussy.

He would lower them closer, then pull back, look up and smile, and repeat his actions, completely torturing her with a stupid smile on his face. She would feel his wet fingers tap her pussy so slightly, but not any friction to please her.

Whines started to pour out of her mouth.

Art the clown likes that.

A lot.

He likes hearing victims cry and make noises while he’s torturing them.

Makes him want to do more.

His slender fingers finally connect with her core, coating her wetness all over herself. He plays with her some more, walking his fingers around her hole, but prevents himself from actually entering.

This irritates her.

“Damn it! Stop with the teasing you fucking clown!”.

He stops, and pulls his hand away from her.

Bad mistake, Y/N.

He pulled a small scalpel out from his sleeve and presented it like he was a magician, and held it to her neck. Sweat beads started streaming from her forehead, and Art wagged his finger. Her face is still needy, and the scalpel to her neck turned her on even more. Hips buck up into the air, her dripping pussy throbbing, begging for touch.

“…please”.

Art the clown likes that.

How he loves torturing her.

A hand went back down to her core, and a single finger applied pressure to her clit. Her body jumps slightly at the feeling, biting her bottom lip. Art finally slips two fingers inside of her, the tight warmth makes his cock harden. The clown suit is baggy, so it hides his bulge, so poor Y/N won’t see his massive “head”.

Fingers dance inside of her, curling, feeling, pumping. With his free hand, that’s where his scalpel is, and he traces the cold metal along her bare body.

The blade goes around her nipples.

It goes around her belly button.

It goes back up near her neck.

Until.

He makes a small cut on the side of her neck, cold blood trickling down her neck, onto her bed. She clenches her jaw, and her gash throbs in pain. Art lowers his head into the crook of her neck, his fingers still moving inside her. A wet feeling against her neck. It’s his tongue. He catches the blood that’s falling, then he presumes to suck on her slash. He was a cannibal. He likes to taste people, and taste what’s inside. For some of his unlucky victims, he’d eat them alive, and no meat gets fresher than that. Other times, he’d wait until he already killed them, then rip them open and eat their insides.

Not the only part that he likes eating.

Her gash stops bleeding, and not a trace of blood is found on her neck, only a little on her bed. His iron efficiency is going to be really crazy.

Soon, he pulls his fingers out of her, and wipes it on his pant leg, just for him to lower himself to meet with her inner thighs.

Getting eaten out by a man in a clown costume was not on her bucket list for tonight.

Getting eaten out by a serial killer, who came over covered in someone else’s blood, and who might kill her next, was not even in her thought process for her future.

Here we are.

Kisses are planted on her thighs, his hands rubbing up and down her leg as he gets closer to her cunt. Small specks of black paint are left from where he kissed her.

He’s hungry.

Scooping her body up, and pulling her closer to his face, his tongue darts onto her pussy, gathering her wetness up, then smearing it all over. His hands rest on her outer thighs, and under her ass, squeezing the fat in his hands. For a psychopathic clown, he sure knows how to eat pussy.

Usually when she gets eaten out, she’ll grab at the person’s hair, but unfortunately, Art is bald. Such a shame, she can’t grab his “hair”, then yanking him up so she can see his mouth covered in hers and his wetness. Her hands instead just grab at her sheets, and occasionally rubbing the top of his head, and when she did, he’d grip her harder, his nails digging into her flesh. The pain does make her shriek, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides it.

He pulls her cunt closer to his face, his nose poking at her region, eating her pussy like he hasn’t eaten anything in years. Her thighs squish around his head more when her nerves start building up. A man’s dream really, getting his skull crushed by a woman.

His face is removed from her pussy, and his face paint is smeared all over the place. White paint on her upper-inner thighs, while black paint is smeared around her pussy, where his mouth was just at. On his face, the paint dripped down to his chin, unevening out his makeup. A hand grazes her thigh,and he turns his back to her, reaching his arm behind to a zipper that’s on his back.

He wants her to unzip him.

Legs shaking from the amazing tongue work that just went on, she kneels behind him, and reaches up to his zipper, guiding it down. A thin, light muscular body comes out of the suit, and he’s not wearing anything underneath.

Not even underwear.

He turns around, and does jazz hands with a stained grin. He did surprise her.

With a big cock.

A light giggle comes from her lips, and she looks down and makes eye contact with his second head. It’s about above average in length and girth, circumsized, and a throbbing pink tip with leaking precum. He moves it around a little by shaking his hips, and also just moving it on his own.

(I literally found out dudes can move their dicks on their own without touching it a few days ago)

His mouth mimics a silent laugh, and he stands proud on the side of her bed, flexing his cock. Since he is standing in front of her, she crawls on her hands and knees to the edge, then sits down. Face to face with his dick.

Her gaze fixates on his rod, then she looks up at him with big, innocent eyes. The clown looks down at her, no longer smiling.

He wants her bad

He needs her bad.

She can see this.

A light kiss on his tip makes his body shiver, and her mouth performs small licks around his tip, testing the waters. His hand falls on her head, pushing her closer to his cock. Better act soon before he kills her for teasing him.

Just the thought of that gets her even more wet.

Death is scary.

But imagining him fucking her, and as soon as they orgasm together, he kills her with his cum inside, which seeps out on her bed. He’d leave a note with her blood on the walls, and her parents come home to see their daughter’s corpse, exposed on her bed with her killer's seed dripping out of her, and the killer’s name all over her room.

She wraps her lips around his head of his dick, and twirls her tongue around. Art bites his bottom lip, and pushes her head down again, craving more of her wet mouth. Her hands rest on his lower abdomen, giving herself a base to control her bobs.

Her throat feels fucking amazing.

It’s hard for him to control himself, even though he’s craving to pound her throat so hard that she chokes on his massive cock, and dies, just for him to fuck her dead body. But an alive body is way better than a dead one.

One hand moves to his cock, pumping him as she slides her mouth all over him, then she moves down to sucking on his balls.

She maintains to look up at him.

His face is totally different from his usual smile, and it’s not a frowny face. His eyes are half open, and mouth gasping for air. His grip in her hair tightens, his hips moving slowly, craving more friction.

Her mouth pulls off.

“You want to throat fuck me? Don’t you?”.

A small nod comes from the clown.

“You’re the one in control here. Do it. Fuck my throat til i can’t breathe anymore”.

Another nod comes from him, and he makes sure that he’s positioned right for her. Hands grab at both sides of her head, and he thrusts in and out of her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. He wishes it was her pussy, he wants to fuck her pussy bad. Her mouth is amazing, don’t get him wrong, but her tight pussy throbbing on the bed is what he’s craving the most.

A tap is felt on his pelvis, and he stops pounding her throat. Her mouth gets removed from his cock, and she leans back on the bed, not breaking eye contact with him. After she gets in his full view, she looks up at him needy, spreading her legs open wide for him to enter.

Not even a hesitation before he gripped onto her hip with one hand, and the other guiding his cock inside her. He immediately shivers and rests his head in the crook of her neck. A pillow comes under her back and behind, and immediately, Art begins to fucking pound her.

Sadly, he doesn’t make noises at all. Y/N wishes she could hear his moans when entering her tight hole. His actions tell enough, eyes rolled back, mouth gaping open, and he barely entered her. Her body falls back more on the bed, and her arms go around him, hands on his back.

One hand of his slams against her bed, right aside her bed to give himself support, while the other is still on her hip, stabilizing her body for him as she gets fucked by a wild animal.

She pulls him tighter to her, their sweaty bodies connecting and making funny noises. His back begins to sweat, making her lose her grip, but her nails dig into his back to keep herself close.

The noises of skin slapping skin and her loud moans fill the house, and luckily, she is home alone. Her parents wouldn’t appreciate her getting fucked under their roof, especially with a murderous clown being the one that’s fucking her.

Her leg gets scooped up, and it rests on his shoulder, and he leans forward, pushing more of himself inside of her warmth.

Until he stops.

He pulls out, and taps on her chest. She looks up at him, confused, mostly at the lack of communication and also why he would stop. He swirls his finger in a circle, indicating for her to turn over, so that her ass faces him.

She swaps positions and as soon as she puts her ass up in the air for him to adore, he slams himself back inside, hands on her ass as he pounds so deep that his cock is hitting her cervix.

It really isn’t wise to put a dick that reeks of blood inside of her, especially a stranger’s. He probably doesn’t have any STDs, but it’s still a little unhygienic. Who cares though.

Her moans are muffled into a pillow, drool coating her mouth and the cushion. He gets amusement out of her, watching her ass jiggle on his dick, her hands clawing at her bed sheet. All because of him.

She arches her back more, and an upcoming orgasm is coming her way. Her core feels like it’s burning with pleasure, and her wetness seeps out. His cock is hitting her in all of the right places, and he connects their bodies together. He’s close to her ear, and she can almost hear him gasping for air. A hand cups her tit, and he goes as deep as he can, his mouth nibbling on her ear lobe.

Tension builds in her lower half, and she’s about to snap. Strings of curses and moans fall out of her mouth. A gentle slap on her ass makes her jump, and that is what makes her about to snap. Her breathing speeds up.

The knot in his stomach bursts, and a huge wave of pleasure goes through her. Eyes roll back into her head, her legs shake, and she collapses on her bed, Art pulling out of her.

He takes his cock in his hand, and strokes it so he can cum as well. Anywhere is a target. He could cum on her ass, her tits, her face, in her mouth, even inside of her. She turns around onto her back, leaving an open area for his semen to fly onto. Right there, on her perky tits.

More strokes go on, and his twitching cock is ready to burst. He points it at her chest and a white load shoots out from his dick, landing, mostly, on her tits. The rest flew off either in her hair or on the bed sheets.

The both of them try to catch their breaths, and Y/N is trying to comprehend what just happened.

A murderer went to her house, wanted candy for trick or treating, came back to her house later at night covered in blood, someone else’s blood, he messes around in her house, and fucks her.

Art leans down, and gives her one last kiss on her inner thighs, before supposedly leaving.

She just sits on her bed.

Her pussy is too sore to even move.

Her legs are shaking from the mind blowing orgasm she just got.

Cum is dripping off her chest.

What now?

She grabs a random shirt that’s on the floor to wipe off the semen, then tosses it in her hamper. She tries to get up off the bed, but her balance is very uncoordinated, and she collapses. Her comfy clothes that she had lying out fell on the ground while she was getting fucked, and she reaches out to grab them. She lazily slipped them on, and tried to stand up again, using a bookshelf as her balance.

Something falls on the other side of the house.

He’s still here.

She limps towards her doorway and looks around.

“Art?”.

Obviously no response, the fucker doesn’t even talk.

She comes out of her room, hand on the wall as she glides down the hallway, and sees a shadow in her living room.

And a bag.

A trash bag.

She goes towards the bag, and as soon as she gets too close, the clown jumps up behind her, and throws her on the couch, her head hitting against the back hard. He smiles at her rubbing the back of her head in pain, and he wiggles his fingers like he was a magician. The bag got opened, and he stuck a hand in there and pulled out an item.

It looked to be a saw.

Fear was obviously present in her eyes.

Art jumped at her, but not too close to actually get her, and she flinched. This is amusing to him. And he jumped again, and again, and again.

He slaps his knee and lets out a silent laugh, pointing at her like she’s a fool.

He drops the saw back in the bag, and pats the top of her head, then blows her a kiss as he picks up the bag, throwing it over his shoulder, then proceeding to comically walk away. He turned around when he got to the door, and he lifted his little top hat to her. She waved a small goodbye, and soon vanished. When he stuck his fingers in her mouth, they almost tasted like salt.

Wonder who’s blood he’s covered in?

Weird.

Dude must like salty foods

#terrifier #art the clown #smut #lol

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januaryembrs · 7 months ago

Text

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE | Marc Spector x reader

Request: @happyhauntt says - okay i am BEGGING for a fic based on the song 'forest fire' by brighton (be warned that shit HURTS) but i fully cannot decide between poe dameron, steven/marc or spencer reid so i am giving you full creative direction and i look forward to getting my heart ripped out!!

Description: Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realises he should have saved her.

length: 3.9k

Warnings: Heavy warnings for childhood / domestic abuse/neglect (both from Marc and also reader has a neglectful father) warnings for alcohol, the cave scene, drowning, death etc. you asked for angst, so I served!

authors note: sorry this took so damn long, today isn't even my day off and I have been too exhausted to even look at my computer, but I hope you like it!

Before Randall was too little to be part of his adventures, Marc used to play on his own in the yard.

Usually that entailed kicking a football at the wooden fence that lined their garden, trying to knock it off his chest when it would come bouncing back the way he’d seen the professionals do it, even if it had led to three milk teeth coming loose already.

But there weren’t kids on his street to play with, at least that’s what he thought until the one day he kicked his ball a little too high and watched it fly right over the top of the fence, bouncing into the neighbour's yard, a soft “ouch” meeting his ears.

In minutes, a little head appeared over the wall, beady eyes frowning down at him, and he realised it was a girl around his age, maybe a little younger.

“Did you lose this?” She held up his soccer ball he was worried he was going to have to kiss goodbye to forever, the small digits of her other hand holding onto the fence tightly.

“Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it so high,” Marc said, and with no more explanation than that, she threw it over to his side of the partition, and her tiny head disappeared back below the fence line.

He felt stunned. He knew there were moving boxes over that way a couple weeks ago, but as far as he could see there was only a man living there on his own, a scowl on his face most days. Marc had seen him shouting at the other kids on his block to stop riding their bikes in front of his house because it ‘upset the dog’, though Marc had yet to see for himself this canine friend he was speaking about.

But there was a girl living there! A real life girl who spoke to him; granted he had lobbed a heavy soccer ball at her, from what her distaste told him, and he wondered if perhaps, despite the grumpy look on her face he realised mirrored the man he’d seen living there, that she might like to even make friends with her neighbour.

“Wait!” He yelled, running up to the fence where she had slipped away from him, grabbing on to the top and pulling himself up to the point he was on his very tippy toes and he could only just about see her yard.

The grass was unkempt, which was odd because Marc’s own dad cut the grass every fortnight, and there were planks of wood with nails sticking out of them strewn across the side of the shed she had used to pull herself up with. He fought the urge to cringe in disgust, because there, looking up at him from where she was making a daisy chain in the long, dry grass, alone in a pink plaid shorts and a white, dirt stained top, was the girl.

“Do you want to play?” Marc asked, his foot nearly slipping under him where he was trying to rest it on the wood to take a closer look, “I have tennis, or swing ball we could play?”

She looked interested at the mop of curly, black hair for a moment, before she looked back at the house that he had still yet to see any sign of a dog.

“I’m not sure my dad would like it…” She said cautiously, almost whispering to him, picking the soil under her nails.

“My mom could come around and get you, she could talk to him,” He offered, because this was when his mother was still mom and not Wendy.

Before she had yet to flip his world entirely upside down with her cruel hands and vicious tongue. Before Steven.

She seemed unsure, biting her bottom lip and stroking her arms like she was giving herself a cuddle. But she nodded, looking up at him, and he tried to hide just how excited he was to finally have someone to play with.

“I’m Marc,” He said, grinning at her, his tongue poking between the space where his adult teeth were only just growing back in.

She told him her name back, and it was the first time he understood what a crush was.

–

“Marc, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” She said, grabbing his hand so tight he thought his heart might explode.

“It’s okay, we come here all the time, don’t we, RoRo?” He reassured, looking back to where Randall, now a few years older and big enough to play with them, held onto the side of the cave, his own face nervous.

“All the time!” The little boy echoed, because Marc knew he had a bit of a thing for her as well, because she was older and cool and smelled like a field of flowers and he hated seeming like he was scared, even though he was.

He was just a kid.

They were just kids.

And being kids, they stumbled into danger without realising it, not even when the rain started coming down outside torrentially and they had to pause their game of pirates to run for cover. They hadn’t expected, in their childish excitement to continue the adventure, that the water would start pooling into the cave; that it would fill up like a basin, whether they were in there or not, and it wasn’t until the screaming started that they realised they were in the kind of danger that required an adult.

Marc was the first one to get out, his hair soaked, his heart racing, and he used a grown up word he heard his dad use sometimes because he could have sworn they were both right behind him.

And if that had been true, then where were they?

He called her name, debated going back in there himself to see where they had gone, then he yelled for RoRo, because she didn’t seem to be answering.

And there was only silence, except a clap of thunder overhead that said the rain was going to get worse; was not going to stop for hours.

Which was when he ran to get his dad.

By the time Elias got there, his glasses wet and steamed, his thick thatch of curls too similar to Marc’s soaked through, all he could see was a head of hair peeking out of the mouth of the cave, and his heart sank.

He dragged her out of the dark water, arms under her shoulders as he rolled her on her front and started patting her back, trying to get her to spit some of the water out, because her face was ice and her skin was soaked and her playsuit was ripped from where she’d snagged it on the rocks.

Marc remembered crying into his hands, gaze flicking back to the cave to see if RoRo was right behind her, if he was just waiting to be pulled out as she had been.

But there was nothing. Nothing but rain water and moss and those damn rocks he’d been gripping onto not an hour earlier.

His heart leapt when she spluttered finally, after his dad had thrown her over his knee and taken to giving her a one handed heimlich right between her shoulder blades. She spat the water out, her body shivering immediately, eyes bleary as they looked around as if she expected to still be in that dark hole in the wall, and Elias set her down on the grass to go look for his youngest son.

“Stay with her, Marc,” He barked, uncharacteristically sharp for him though Marc guessed it was fear, and took off towards the cave again. Marc pulled her into his arms, and it was only then they started wailing together.

They sat there for an hour when the rescue team finally arrived, a medical team with warm hands and even warmer blankets ushering them to the safety of the back of an ambulance, and the last thing Marc remembered for that horrible day was sitting on the stretcher with her pressed against his side, trembling under the reflective wrap they’d been tucked in that made them look like baked potatoes, wishing he had never suggested they go in that damn cave.

–

“You’re leaving?” She said, her lip quivering, her eyes lined with tears. They sat on his bed, his duffel bag already packed, his acceptance letter burning daggers into his head from his nightstand, “Military? Marc, just think about this for a minute-”

“I have thought about it. I’m not some dumb kid making rash decisions, I want this,” Except he didn’t, not really. What he meant to say was he wanted to leave, to run away and never come back, but the idea of never seeing her again was too difficult to think about.

She thought about it for a moment, and he held her hand when he saw her face really start to crumble then. “If you go, I’ll have no one left. You’re all I have,”

He didn’t hide the fact he saw how nervous she was when Marc would pick her up from her house and her father would see her out the door, a nasty, inebriated glare in his eyes at the Specter boy. He saw all the times she would tiptoe around the floorboards, the way he knew too well, as if she was scared of what would happen if she took up too much space, made too much noise. Or when his mother had been kind, way back before any of this had happened, and had fussed over her pretty hair, had piled food on her plate because Wendy said she needed the goodness, she had locked up entirely and looked at his mother as if she was an alien.

Even now, when they were both seventeen, nearly adults in the grand scheme of things, he knew her father was cruel.

“I’m sorry,” He said honestly, and he felt his own throat clogging up with real emotion he only ever let himself show when he was with her, “When I get a place of my own, I’ll come back here, and we can pack your bags together, and we can live far away from all of this,”

And it sounded like he was spinning her a fantasy; which he was. She felt like an idiot for believing him, for flashing him a small smile and leaning her forehead to his which was the closest they ever got to admitting how they really felt about each other.

He wanted to kiss her then, before he left to start his new life, one where they could be happy together, and he made a promise to himself that when he came back for her that would be the first thing he would do.

He could see it now; he would be in some kind of flashy car with the top rolled down, a man grown from the regime and fitness they would teach him in the army and she would come running to him like an angel parting the clouds, like a dream that was finally within reach, and he would kiss her then, so hard it would make up for the time they had lost, the time they had grieved together, it might even make up for that day she nearly died because of him.

So he left her, that fantasy of coming back to her keeping him going in the months of training, during roll call and exams and the small, clinical portions they would serve him in the military.

But that day never came. Somewhere between losing himself to the alter that had formed and led a full life separately to his, between hiding Steven from the ugly truth and becoming a mercenary after dropping from the army, he tucked the dream away as a what if, and he didn’t return back to that house where his mother had caused so much hell.

Not until the second day of her shiva, that was.

“Marc?” He forgot how sweet his name sounded from her lips, and he hated to admit it in the middle of his drunken state, but he’d wished he’d never heard it again in his entire life.

Because the second his front door opened, and a woman in a long black dress, heels and lace gloves stared back at him with a face that looked similar to a girl he once knew, only a notch between her brows that said she had done nothing but frown for twenty years, he wished he had never seen her again.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he ever gave her credit for, yet she looked tired. Sunken. Like she had wept and screamed alongside all the frowning.

“Marc,” She said it more determined this time, pacing down the stairs to his home, her footsteps rushed and worried, “Are you okay?,”

He knew he must look like a mess. He hadn’t stopped crying for three days since he got the first phone call from his father in almost two decades, since he’d learned his mother had passed, and he was already a bottle of whiskey deep by the time he’d stepped out the cab onto the street he grew up on.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought she would be there. He guessed she would be far away from this place, just like he had been, in a mansion with a 401k and a dog and a neurosurgeon for a husband. She had always deserved it.

But here she was, grabbing the bottle out of his hand gently, rubbing a hand over his shoulder like not a day had gone by that they hadn’t seen one another, and it didn’t take him much convincing at all to pull her into a hug he had needed since the day he left.

“My mum’s dead,” Marc said, sounding like a little boy again when he wept into her neck, squeezing her body to his, and he felt her rubbing his back soothingly.

“I know, Marc, I’m so sorry,” She hummed, and she smelled like a fancy floral perfume he couldn’t afford to give her before, “I know you must be feeling complicated,”

He nodded, because he couldn’t have put it better himself. He felt complicated.

“I missed you,” She said, like it was a confession, and he cried harder, his face burying into the crook of her shoulder.

“I missed you too,”

“How’s Steven? Is he still around?” She asked, pulling him away to root through her pocket for the pack of tissues she’d kept handy for the day. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sleeved arm over his face to dry it even the slightest. He could feel his cheeks sopping wet from where he had sobbed in the back of the cab like a madman all the way here.

But she was still fussing over him, and she looked just as pretty as he had remembered her, sitting on his bed that day, if not only a little more tired under her eyes.

Ofcourse she had known about Steven. How else was he supposed to explain the times they would be playing boyfriend-girlfriend together and he would become a different person.

Sometimes Steven would remember her too, because it didn’t matter to her who he was, she was his best friend either way. He remembered a girl who smelled like summer, sitting on the swings and eating ice lollies together, taking it in turns to push each other, blue tongued and happy.

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replied quietly, as she handed him the tissues, “He misses you, too,”

She smiled at him with her lips pressed tightly.

“I take it you’re not coming in?” She said in a careful tone, and he shook his head quickly.

“No- I just can’t,” He said, tears welling up in his eyes in seconds, and she wrapped him in another hug immediately, soothing his hurt as fast as it had bubbled back up.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” She hummed, stroking down his back gently, and he hugged her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him together.

He opened his mouth to speak when his front door opened again, and he worried for a second that it was Elias.

Instead, he saw a girl no older than five emerge in a cute, poofy dress that met her knees, her hair tucked into a neat braid, lace gloves matching her own as she lingered at the doorway.

And perhaps the thing that struck him the quickest; she was the damn near double of the girl he’d hit in the head with his soccer ball in that very yard.

“Mommy,” The girl said in a gentle coo, her eyes empathetic as she met his gaze, more empathetic than he knew children could feel. But, he supposed, if she was her daughter then it didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

His best friend turned, her face smoothing out into something peaceful when she saw her little girl, and he knew then she was born to be a mother. Nothing like his own, nothing like Wendy, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

She was a mother.

“Yes, baby?” She said, half stepping towards her child as the girl stumbled down the first step towards them, and she was quick to swoop her into her grasp and onto her hip.

“I need to use the bathroom,” The girl said shyly, peeking a glance at him over her mum’s shoulder, and she waved at him with tiny fingers.

He waved back, even if the sight of her had dumped a bucket of cold water all over his body.

“Alright, baby. Just wait in the foyer, I’ll come take you in just a second, I’m just speaking to my friend right now,” She said, stroking over the back of the girl’s hair softly, and kissing her chubby cheek. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and her mum kissed her once more, plopping her back on the top step to direct her back into the house. And they were alone again.

She looked at him guiltily, stepping back towards him as she fiddled with her sleeves nervously, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get childcare and I don’t really know anyone in state anymore-”

“No, it-it’s fine,” He stammered, feeling her watching him for his reaction carefully, “What’s her name?”

“Dalilah,” She replied, rubbing hands up her arms to calm herself.

“Where’s her dad?” Marc asked, hoping he didn’t sound bitter, but the whiskey made it sound like a bite.

She shrugged, “He wanted the cars and the house when we split; I wanted her,” She said calmly, like it wasn’t one bomb after another to be dropped on him.

He knew nothing about her life. He had tried to run away from that promise he’d made her for twenty years, because he knew he would never be good enough for her; that he could never give her the happiness she deserved, even before he had become the Moon Knight.

At his core, he would rot her, ruin her. He would destroy her.

And yet hearing it was just the two of them alone, he felt like he could take out the piece of shit who ran out on them barehanded and go home to sleep next to her soundly.

He felt like perhaps, as much grief and anguish as returning back to that house had caused him, perhaps this was his second chance. His chance to be what she needed, to be something good.

He would be so good to them. He would give them everything if she asked.

“I’m not really in town much, especially with my dad still around,” She said, gesturing to where her yard still stood, full of junk and a dog that had supposedly been kicking strong for two decades, “But I would love to see you again. Lila has school most days so you’re free to come over any day of the week if you want it to be just us; I work at home,” She scribbled an address about two hours away down on a piece of paper, along with her phone number, handing it to his distraught face with a sad smile, somewhat hopeful he would take the olive branch she was shaking his way.

He took it with a nod, his bottom lip still trembling before he bit it hard enough to force it to stop. He would love to see her, if he would even allow himself something good. If he would just let go of the resentment for everything that reminded him of that time, he could see the two of them healing one another slowly, but surely.

She could fix him. And he could fix her. The way it had always been with them.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Marc said softly, allowing her to grab him tightly one more time, “I really did miss you,”

She laughed, not properly more like a sad breath out, squeezing him to her, “I loved you so much. I never let you go, you know that?”

He tried not to sob, almost holding her so maddeningly hard she couldn’t ever leave.

But he had to let go eventually, and he watched her walk back up the stairs to where his family mourned, her face glinting with something hopeful, holding a flashlight out to him where he was walking around in the dark blindly.

He tried to smile back, though he knew it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn't be truly untouched by the grief he wallowed in.

And by the time he got back to his hotel room, alone, even more drunk, Khonshu had another job for him that would whisk him away for two weeks. But he kept her number, the piece of paper gripped in his hand tight, like he was determined to keep his promise this time around.

He dialled her number exactly fifteen days later, his body aching, his nose bloodied, but something lighter in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again. The light in his dark, the girl on the swings he’d once pretended to marry during their game of house (the rings had been tiny daisy chains she’d woven together just that morning, their officiant was Randall who could barely ride a bike let alone remember the vows he was supposed to say.)

Only when the phone got put through, a different woman answered, and the light flickered back out into something cold and dark and vengeful.

“Oh, oh god, you haven’t heard?” He swallowed thickly, “She was hit by a drunk driver last week picking Lila up from school,” The woman, her cousin, explained, her voice teary and solemn, and he didn’t doubt she’d had to make a thousand of these calls the past few days, “They said it was quick, and Lila went fast so she wasn’t in any pain- and she was only in the ambulance for ten minutes before her heart stopped so she wasn’t hurting long either-”

But he put the phone down, his eyes wide, his body numb, his chest empty and lonely.

Because the very last bit of good in him was gone; because everything he touched was cursed and tainted from the offset.

It took what felt like twenty cups of whiskey for him to black out that night, he knew sleep would evade him, he knew not to even bother trying. And Jake Lockely woke up for him, something mean and hateful in the black of his eyes.

He didn’t care who, but someone was going to pay for his cielo being taken from them.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #moonknight x reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #jake lockely fanfiction #jake lockely x reader #steven grant imagine

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dreamingofmarauders · 7 months ago

Text

𝐈'𝐦 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙧

James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader!

Summary: In which you go back home only to find something dreadful waiting for you there already

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, torture, also blood but nothing extreme, crying, death(s), knives, I think that's it?

Previous Part Series Masterlist Next Part

───※ ·❆· ※───

Over the next week and a half or so, James was there as you recovered. To the surprise of Lily and Molly, you were doing better than they expected, you were healing fast. Of course, only you knew how many times you had been tortured that landed you on the brink of death, and made it back, all in that hellhole you used to call home.

James was constantly asking if you were alright, if you needed something, and even though you had told him not to, James Potter was full of guilt.

Not only had he misjudged you and been rude to you for years, he was the reason you could have lost your life. He had to make it up to you, somehow. And he was glad you two decided to turn back the pages and write a new story, as he found your company very pleasant.

Sirius was completely blown away at the behavior of his best mate. Sure, you had saved James' life, but that didn't mean James had to follow you around like a lost puppy. Sirius had nearly stopped his cold behavior towards you but didn't try to warm up either. Remus merely quietly chuckled to himself at the sight of James and you. It was quite amusing to him, how James had hated your guts but was now wanting to spend quality time with you.

Going into the second week after the incident, you realized you were well enough and had to head home. James however declared he would escort you home, and would not take no for an answer.

"Potter, I'll be fine." You gritted through your teeth. James' constant stubbornness did manage to get on your nerves from time to time.

"No. I am going and that's final." He said, being stubborn as ever.

"Prongs, let L/n go if she says so." Sirius spoke in between, not happy about the newfound connection between the two of you.

James glared at him and gripped your forearm with a tight grip so you couldn't remove his hand, but not tight enough to hurt you.

You sighed in exasperation. "Fine." You said, giving in. You waved goodbye to Remus and Sirius, the latter not giving any response while Remus wished you farewell.

You and James walked out of headquarters before you closed your eyes, imagining your little cottage and the two of you apparated. You felt a wave of nausea hit you as your feet hit the ground and you bent over.

"Are you ok?" James asked with worry, trying to peer at your face.

You waved a hand, "Yeah, I'm fine." You answered, straightening up. However your mouth went dry and fear filled your whole being at the sight before you.

The door to your cottage was wide open, darkness pooling out. Above the building you called home, a colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue, etched against the black sky like a constellation.

The Dark Mark

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" You whimpered, running towards your cottage with James on your tail. You rushed in, halting near your kitchen when you saw a dark red liquid staining the walls. Your breaths began to come out short and quickly, you felt your legs weaken as you leaned against the wall for support.

"This can't be happening." You breathed out, afraid of what you would see if you walked a few more steps in. James came from behind and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, surveying the situation.

"Y/n," He spoke softly, "We should go. I'll let the Order know and they can come and-"

"No." You shook your head as you freed yourself from the young Potter's grip, walking further in.

“Y/n.” James tried but you paid him no heed.

In the middle of the room sat such a heart wrenching sight that crushed your heart and soul entirely.

Your beloved House-Elf, the one companion you had since childhood, the one who healed your wounds, the one who had always made sure you ate and slept properly. The same House-Elf who had stayed by your side no matter how many times you had freed him, the one true friend you had for the longest time.

Dead.

And what broke your heart even more was that he had sacrificed his life, as his body lay lifeless in front of a small bundle of fur, also drowning in a pool of blood. The same puppy you had rescued from the streets only two months prior.

Both of them,

Dead.

You sank to your knees, sobbing your heart out.

"I'm so sorry." You managed to say out in between the heavy sobs escaping your mouth. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you two."

James stood rooted to his spot, reeling in with shock.

You shakily raised your hands out, grabbing the handles of the very metal that was pierced into your friends bodies and pulled them out. You tossed the knives to the side in anger, letting out a scream. At that, James finally snapped out of it and kneeled down beside you, bringing you into his chest.

"I'm so sorry." He said, rubbing your back as you cried.

You two stayed in that position for the next few moments. However a new sound caught both your attention.

Crack!

You pulled away from James' chest, wiping your face as you both exchanged a look.

Someone had just apparated onto the premises.

You both immediately jumped to your feet, wands raised in front of you.

You heard very tiny sounds of the pitter patter of feet and James moved forward, putting himself in front of you. You watched with bated breath over James' shoulder and when the newly arrived came into view, you shrieked, happiness and relief overwhelming you as you pushed past James. You fell onto your knees as you hugged your best friend.

"Willy! You're alive!" You spoke, feeling like your heart would burst.

A bark sounded and a very small bundle of white fur pounced onto you, excitedly licking your face. You picked him up, peppering his face with kisses.

"Hello to you too, my sunshine." You spoke as you hugged your dog, Fluffy, to your chest and pulled in Willy for a hug with your other arm. You were so overwhelmed with joy that tears began to cascade down your face again.

"Mistress, please do not cry. Willy did not mean to make Mistress cry."

You let out a watery laugh.

"How many times have I told you to call me Y/n, Willy?"

The House-Elf's cheeks colored pink. "Sorry, Mistress."

You wiped your tears away and then frowned, turning back to look at the scene in the kitchen.

"But if you're alive then, what's that?" You asked Willy, pointing over your shoulder.

"Those are fake, Mistress." Willy squeaked out. "About two weeks ago, I heard someone apparate and the wards shifted. Willy thought it must be you, Mistress, but it was not. You had told us to run if anyone evil came here, and we did but Willy had a good idea and with magic, Willy made the impostors so the evil people think it is us but Fluffy and Willy were gone and safe."

You let out a happy cry.

"You are an absolute genius, Willy, always have been! But how did you know we were here?"

Willy's ears bounced as he replied, "Willy had put up a new ward that allowed Willy to sense a new arrival if someone passed that ward."

You shook your head, smiling brighter than James had ever seen as you turned around, almost forgetting he was there.

"We need to go back. I need to stay at Headquarters until I can find a new place to shift us all."

James nodded but spoke without realizing, "Of course, but you could come to my place, it's fairly empty."

He mentally slapped himself. You two were at loggerheads two weeks ago and now here he was offering you to stay at his flat.

You smiled, "Thank you for the offer, but it wouldn't be nice of us to intrude, plus," You looked down at the excited puppy in your arms, "Headquarters may be more ideal for Fluffy in terms of space."

James nodded, not trusting himself to speak for if he did, something stupid would escape his mouth again.

James and you went through your cottage, collecting anything of importance and essentials, before apparating back to Headquarters, leaving the cottage in the state it was in case someone came back.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you're all well! This chapter was okay I feel but I'm more excited for the next few chapters, you'll see why when they're out! Take care! <33

Wizard Buddies (Taglist): @quack-quack-snacks @jamespottergf @themarauderswife7 @amethyistheart

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solarmorrigan · 9 months ago

Text

Requested by @westifer-dead (I think?? I hope that was directed at me)

This probably wasn't what you had in mind, but in my defense, it absolutely was not what I planned on writing. It sorta snuck up on me. I hope this is okay, though <3

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

Prompt from this post

Tags/CW: transmasc Steve, fairly explicit depiction of menstruation, resulting mentions of blood, mentions of dysphoria, Steve's internal dialogue is rather unkind to himself in this one (soft ending, though??)

Steve’s first, horrified thought when he wakes feeling an uncomfortable amount of damp sticking his boxers to his skin is that he’s somehow managed to piss the bed.

The immediate wakefulness caused by that thought, however, is enough to give him a second one – particularly when he feels the ache low in his gut and spreading down his hips as he rolls over to toss the covers back and reveal the red stain on both his underwear and the sheets.

Fuck.

He’s early.

His period shouldn’t have been along for another couple of days, at least, and Steve hadn’t even thought about putting on a pad before getting into bed—he glances at the clock—two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” Steve hisses.

He’d gotten home from the world’s most frustrating late shift sometime after midnight and had actually managed to get to sleep by one, and now his body is pulling this shit on him – waking him with pain and mess at three in the goddamn morning, days before it had any right to. And now his boxers are probably toast, and the sheets might be salvageable but he’s going to have to get up and change them right now, and he’s so fucking tired, and it’s three in the morning, and when he shifts to sit up, he’s caught for a moment by the sticky-slick feeling of blood drying against his skin.

He does his best to swallow back the feeling of nausea that creeps up on him at the sensation, but it’s something he hasn’t had the stomach for since being covered in Eddie’s blood after hauling him out of the Upside Down, and the cramps really aren’t helping.

It’s for all these reasons that he’s probably less gentle than he could be when he reaches over to shake Eddie awake.

“Eddie, wake up.”

Eddie groans and rolls over, curling up with his back to Steve.

Steve huffs and gives him a shove. “Eddie.”

“S’early,” Eddie grumbles. “G’way.”

Normally, Steve doesn’t mind Eddie’s steadfast refusal to wake up for anything less than three alarms and the promise of coffee. Sometimes he even has fun with it, seeing how quickly he can rouse Eddie with other sorts of promises. Right now, though, he has less than no patience, and he grabs his pillow and whacks Eddie in the side with it.

“Wake up!”

“Whatthefuck,” Eddie gasps, bolting upright and glancing around the room for his assailant.

Later, Steve might feel bad; for now, he only drawls, “You awake now?”

“Did you hit me with a pillow?” Eddie demands, eyeing the weapon in Steve’s hands.

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Steve says. “I need you to get up for a minute.”

“What? Why, what’s– oh.” Eddie much catch sight of the mess as Steve twists to shove the pillow back behind himself. “Shit.”

Steve’s face heats with embarrassment. “Shut up,” he snaps. “Just get out of the bed.”

Clumsily, Eddie moves to obey. “I didn’t mean–”

“It’s– never mind, I shouldn’t have snapped, sorry, just–” Steve sighs. “Just let me change the sheets.

He strips the comforter from the bed and rolls it up to toss it into the chair in the corner of the room to be put back on when he’s done, but he doesn’t make it much farther before his body betrays him with another wave of squeezing cramps and a dribble of blood sliding down the inside of his thigh from under the loose leg of his boxers.

He swears and lunges for the tissue box on his bedside table to catch the drip before it can hit the floor, and he can hear Eddie hiss a breath in through his teeth – it’s probably in sympathy, Steve recognizes distantly, but in the moment he still feels like he might die of shame.

“Let me– let me get cleaned up. Just a minute,” Steve mutters, balling the tissue up in his fist and making for the dresser. “Then I’ll finish with the sheets.”

“Why don’t you go take a quick shower?” Eddie suggests quietly. “I can finish the sheets.”

Yanking a pair of briefs out of the dresser, Steve slams the drawer shut. “I can clean up my own damn mess, Eddie.”

“I know you can, but you don’t have to,” Eddie says, much more patiently than Steve probably deserves. “I’m betting you’ll feel ten times better if you get the chance to rinse off, so go ahead. You know how much I love wrestling with the fitted sheet.”

Steve should probably say no. It’s stupid to make Eddie clean up after him when he’s perfectly capable of doing it himself.

He should say no, but he doesn’t want to.

He glances back at Eddie, who looks nothing but sincere in his offer, and nods. “Thanks,” he mumbles, and Eddie gives him a little smile and a nod in return.

In the bathroom, Steve makes the water as hot as he can stand it and pops two Advil before stripping and shoving his boxers straight into the trash. If he tried hard enough, he might be able to get the stain out, but he doesn’t have the mental fortitude to contemplate doing that right now. His t-shirt has been spared any blood, but he puts it in the hamper to be washed, anyway. It just feels dirty now.

There are some months where Steve’s period comes and goes without any fuss; it’s an inconvenience and a bit of a drain, but hardly worth comment. Then there are some months that shove Steve headfirst into ten different stages of dysphoria and various neuroses for no apparent reason.

This one feels like it’s going to be the latter.

Even once he’s standing under the shower spray, the blood already sluiced down the drain, Steve doesn’t feel like he’s ever going to be clean again. He knows it’s his shitty brain lying to him, he knows that the feeling will go away in a few days—a week, at most—but that doesn’t help him now.

He wastes an extra ten minutes in the shower, trying to convince himself he’s only staying in because the hot water is helping his cramps (only partially true; he’s so tense that they haven’t really abated, and in fact have crawled up his sides now, seizing on the scar tissue from his bat bites and yanking his whole abdomen in tight, but he’s hoping it will help with his cramps), but he does eventually manage to force himself out and dry off.

With the fuck-off-biggest pad he owns shoved into his underwear, Steve heads back to the bedroom and stops short inside the door.

The lights are still dim, and Eddie is waiting up for him, sitting against the pillows with his book. He’s not only changed the sheets and fixed the comforter, but he’s laid out a pair of pajamas for Steve – the exact pair he prefers when he’s having a particularly bad day. And for some reason, that’s it for Steve.

The tears hit before he can even try to choke them off, and Eddie must not be very immersed in his book, because the first ragged breath is enough to alert him to the fact that something is wrong.

He looks almost wounded when he catches sight of Steve standing in the doorway like a weepy idiot, and Steve would feel bad, but Eddie’s already up and out of the bed and coming towards Steve with his arms open in offering.

And with anyone else, Steve would shy away; this isn’t a part of him that anyone needs to see, this weakness and inability to cope. But from Eddie– even as stupid as Steve feels right now, he knows he doesn’t have much that he needs to hide from a man who will help him clean up his own blood and then offer to hold him while he cries about it.

He accepts the hug, allows himself to be led back over to the bed and sat down, and then lets himself be held.

Eddie presses his lips to Steve’s forehead and then swipes his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks, wiping away whatever tears fall and kissing him there, too, like he can replace the evidence of his distress with love.

And hell, maybe he can.

In a while, Steve will want to get dressed and they’ll both need some actual rest, but for now, Steve thinks he’s more than willing to sit and let Eddie try.

#westifer-dead #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #transmasc steve harrington #ftm steve harrington #stranger things #no I will not use consistent tags! apparently!#cw dysphoria #cw menstruation #let me know if there's anything else I should tag for that I missed!#anyway this one got super out of hand I am sorry #solar wrote #eddiesteve

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