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endieinwonderland · 7 months ago

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Let The Light In: Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Words: 4k

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, mention of an injury, the girls are fighting

It's her—actually her—, standing right in front of you, and for a brief moment you almost wonder if your mind had conjured up a hallucination to retaliate against the sheer force of your yearning.

You've spent more time than you’ll ever admit imagining this moment, playing it out in various scenarios in your mind, but the reality has a sharpness that no rehearsal could have prepared you for. Her presence is a tangible, overwhelming, a reminder of what you had, of what you had lost.

“Hey, you good?” She repeats, her voice cutting through your racing thoughts, pulling you back down to earth.

Blinking away the tears that are, embarrassingly, still brimming in your eyes, you take a deep breath before allowing yourself to reply. "Yeah, I'm good," the words feel hollow, a betrayal of the whirlwind of the emotion inside you.

Paige doesn't respond; instead, she stands in front of you, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her hands nervously fidget as an all too familiar silence envelops the two of you. Wordlessly still, she reaches for the chair in front of you and pulls it out, the both of you wincing at the loud screech it makes as it drags across the wooden floor.

You don’t bother to hide the shock on your face as the blonde sits down across from you, her knees briefly brushing against yours before she swiftly tucks her legs to the side, avoiding your touch.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," her tone unusually light—almost friendly, which would be confusing if you had the ability to take note of it. The only thing you can focus on is the familiar cadence of her voice, bringing back a flood of memories, each one sharp, sweet, and painful.

“I feel like I have.”

____

“I hope we’re still doing this when we’re 80.” You say, grabbing another spoonful of her strawberry ice cream and plopping the pink desert into your bowl of cherry, mixing the two together before putting the spoon back into your mouth, letting out a satisfied hum when you confirm you’ve finally gotten the perfect mix. Paige chooses to ignore how much you’ve taken out of her bowl, knowing that when you get full in a few minutes the remainder of yours will be scraped back into hers.

“Doing what?”

"Ice cream Thursdays, dummy," you clarify, abandoning your spoon just in time to catch a melting drop threatening to fall from her chin onto her shirt with the pad of your thumb before pressing the finger against your lips to lick it clean.

She watches you, gaze shifting to the table when your eyes dart up to look at her again. “When we’re 80 you’ll probably be taking pictures of your husband and grandkids playing in your garden or something all cutesy and shit, you won’t be thinking about me.”

You lightly kick her shin under the table, ignoring the confusing pang in your chest when you hear her dismissal, “Oh come on, we’ll still be best friends when we’re 80, if anything I’ll be taking pictures of the grandkids playing basketball and you’ll be trying to keep up with them in your walker.”

This gets a chuckle out of her, “hopefully by then I’ll know better than to do anything but coach.”

You smile, pushing the now half empty dessert towards her for her to finish before leaning towards her, “okay then, I’ll be taking pictures of the grandkids with coach P.”

She digs into the remainder of your cherry strawberry mixture, bringing the spoon to her mouth before shaking her head and adding another spoonful of strawberry, “fine, but if we’re 80 and you still haven’t figured out how to get the right cherry to strawberry ratio I’m canceling ice cream Thursday’s.”

____

Her smile fades a bit, replaced by a more cautious expression as she changes the subject, the friendly façade faltering a bit as she speaks. “You know, you’re still sharing your location with me.”

"What?”

“I wanted to find you and I realized you still share your location with me.”

"You wanted to find me?” you echo. The part of you that's been hoping for this moment at war with the part that's been dreading it.

"Yeah, I needed to see you.” You hear her sigh, debating whether to continue, “thought we could talk."

The sincerity in her tone is disarming, and despite the hurt, a part of you wants to lean into the familiarity of her presence, to the shared history you’re still desperately clinging too.

"Talk?"

She nods, swallowing hard. “About the pictures you took the other day…” She begins, her voice trailing off briefly as she looks away from you, her hands fidgeting slightly, “Charlie sent me copies of them.”

“Oh, she’s not supposed to do that, you guys only get the final edits,” the words slipping out before you can think better of it.

"I know, but I asked her too.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Paige continues, “-I wanted to see the ones Leo told you to stop taking.”

You sit there in stunned silence. And, after a moment that stretches on for longer than you would have liked, she exhales, shoulders sagging. “I don’t know why I reacted like that, with the first shots I mean. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with Leo. I know how much his opinion means to you and I had been thinking that if you got me lectured by Geno I’d want an apology, so… yeah.” She finishes.

An un-familiar coldness washes over you as you digest her words. This isn't what you thought was happening, she was deviating from the script you had imagined, and essentially memorized by now with how often you replayed it in your head. “That’s what you want to apologize for?” You’re unable to keep the shock and anger from seeping into your tone. You lean back in your chair, arms crossing, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from the hurt you know she’s about to make you feel again.

“That’s all I have to apologize for.”

The tension between you crackles, a palpable energy that draws an invisible wall, furthering the separation between the two of you. "You think that's it?" Disbelief coloring your tone. "After ghosting me and making Azzi come tell me not to talk to you anymore, that's what you think you need to apologize for? Getting me in trouble with Leo?"

She looks taken aback, perhaps not expecting your reaction to be so intense. For a moment, she is silent, her eyes darting away before meeting yours again, this time with a mixture of frustration and pain.

"Come on, we were never even really friends.” She speaks softly, tone bordering on patronizing.

You can’t blink back the tears as they form in your eyes now, 'this isn't going to end well'.

“Don’t lie to me Bueckers.”

Paige recoils slightly at the sound of her last name leaving your mouth, as if your words are physical blows. For a moment, she seems to be struggling with something, then her posture stiffens, an accusing finger reaching out to point at you and she doubles down on her statement as everything seems to begin to escalate quicker than you're able to process it.

Paige’s words are muddled in your ears. “We both know that I was just your muse or whatever the hell you want to call it. You did not treat me like a friend, you used me to get praise from Leo and whoever the hell else you thought you needed approval from. You took me for your art when I was at my lowest, again and again, just because my face got your work attention.”

The accusation stings, not just because of its intensity, but because part of you knows there's some truth in it. You've always known how compelling she was in front of the camera, how her expressions could turn simple photos into art, and you loved it.

Before everything fell apart, the two of you had become something of a dynamic duo. Everywhere Paige went, often for basketball, you followed, and everywhere you went, a camera was almost always hanging around your neck.

The passion Paige had for her sport and the passion you had for your art is what originally brought the two of you together, bonding over the drive each of you had to constantly be your at your best, for better or for worse.

____

It was your freshman year. You had just been offered a coveted spot on the UConn sports media team after your photojournalism professor, Leo Howard, had apparently spent the entire semester showing your work to his collogues who had unanimously agreed, you were going to be something special. Being the only freshman to ever have been allowed to serve as the lead photographer at the school’s games was a big deal. The pressure not fully weighing down on you until the night before the UConn, Notre Dame women’s basketball game.

They had started you out small, tennis, water polo, even a soccer match as your superiors had gained more confidence in you. But this would be the first big event you’d shoot, your first chance to really prove yourself, to prove that Leo was right about you.

The clock had just struck midnight when you made your way across campus, having given up on trying to get any sleep earlier in the night. Opting instead to head to the athletics department gym where they had allowed you to stash away your things in a small, abandoned office room. Assuming that'd be better than staying cooped up in your dorm all night.

When you arrived, instead of being greeted by the silent gym you’d anticipated, a woman was stood at the half court line, a basketball bouncing up to meet her outstretched palm before being pushed down, again, again, again.

“The gym’s closed.” Her voice calls out to you, finally noticing you as you made your way across the court, heading for the office door.

You had lifted your UConn Staff lanyard up to show to her, “I could tell you the same thing.”

She approached you, your height difference becoming more apparent the closer she gets until she’s fully towering over you, “I don’t remember seeing you around here.”

“I’m the new photographer, I just started last month.”

This explanation apparently does little to clarify your sudden appearance in her court, “okay, but you’re not supposed to be here, it’s late.” She points out, her tone mixing curiosity with a hint of concern.

“I know but I’m shooting my first big event tomorrow and I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d just come here and look at some old shots and stuff, prepare you know?” you rambled, hoping to justify your presence in the gym at such an unusual hour.

You’ve gotten her attention now, “Oh, I have a game tomorrow, is that what you’re here for?”

You had of course, assumed she was on the basketball team when you saw her dribbling the ball earlier. But as when she had moved to stand in front of you, you immediately recognized her as the infamous Paige Bueckers, the star player you’d been specifically ordered to get good shots of during this game.

"Yes, that's exactly it. I’ll be covering the game," you confirmed, feeling a slight relief as she seemed to recognize your role and accept the reason behind your late-night visit.

“Oh, cool, I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then?”

You nod in response, “yeah, I guess you will.”

She gives you a small smile before beginning to walk back to her original position on the court, “I’m Paige by the way!” She calls out as you reach the door, you turn back, shouting your name out, already anticipating the next time you’d get to see her.

As it turns out, you don’t have to wait long. Barely 30 minutes have passed when you’re interrupted by a knock on your door, “hey,” she lets herself into the small office space, taking a seat on your desk.

“Hey?”

This girl has guts you can’t help but think. You’d just met and now she’s propping herself up on your furniture, uninvited. And you’d probably be a lot more bothered by her behavior if you weren’t so distracted by how pretty she looked, even under the glow of the notoriously unflattering florescent office lights.

“I was thinking, you need to practice shooting basketball games, and I’m just practicing shooting so if you wanted you could take pictures of me, you know, to get the hang of it.” She offers.

“Oh, yeah that actually sounds great!” You're unable to keep your excitement about getting to spend more time with her entirely out of your voice when you reply; grabbing your camera bag as she moves off your desk to stand back up, holding the door open before following you back out to the court.

“Honestly I’m kinda tired so I’m only doing free throws but feel free to take whatever pictures you want.”

You nod, taking her words to heart, the clicks of your camera mingling with the pounding of the ball on the floor as you take picture after picture after picture.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall into a steady rhythm, occasionally daring to interrupt the other’s focus with questions, jokes, or quick quips about the others work.

The next day whenever she gets a basket, her eyes turn to you first, pointing at your camera for you to get a shot, and every time she does, you take it.

You’ve never seen Leo smile so big as he does when he gets your contact sheet.

The “You did good, kid. I hope to keep seeing more stuff like this.” echoing in your mind when you leave his office, calling Paige, “when’s the next time you can shoot?”

She had left practice the second she heard your voice over the phone, “I can be free now.”

____

You’re abruptly pulled from your memory by the chime of the café door. A group of girls enters, their laughter and chatter filling the air. One girl stands out, wearing a stark white jersey with the number 5 displayed prominently across her chest. The sight of it jolts you back to the present, a reminder of where you are and what’s at stake.

'Fuck this is bad.'

“Paige we can’t do this here” you say keeping your voice low, sensing that this may not end well, and as Paige had just mentioned, any pictures taken of her end up everywhere, and if captured, this probably wouldn’t end up being a pretty one.

She exhales sharply, her lips parting to argue, but then she pauses, her gaze shifting to follow yours, brows raising when she sees her lucky number 5 on the chest of a brunette who is now whispering with her friends, looking Paige's way. With a reluctant nod, she chooses silence, perhaps unable to concede that you might be right.

The two of you don’t make it far, your new location being her parked car that had been right outside. You assume the two of you will drive somewhere more private but the second the doors lock she’s turned back to you, brows raised in anticipation of your still pending rebuttal.

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words to express the mix of anger and hurt that's been simmering inside you since you first heard her pathetic attempt at an apology 10 minutes ago. “Let’s get one thing straight, if I wasn’t your best friend, you most certainly were not my ‘muse’.”

The sharp sound of her laughter interrupts you, “okay then, you were just using my face to further your career and you didn’t give a single fuck about me.”

Your anger only pulses hotter at her laughter. If you had thought the silence between you two was bad, then this must be hell. Everything she says, every expression she makes sends you spiraling deeper and deeper down. You don’t even want to look at her anymore, scared that if you catch her gaze again, the once warm and loving looks you remember her by will be permanently tainted by the pure and utter distain that seems to be consuming her now.

You want to reach out, to say something that will mend the rift, but fear and doubt hold you back. In this moment, you realize just how fragile your connection has become, teetering on the edge of collapse.

"I wasn't using you," you assert firmly, struggling to keep your voice level. "Yes, you've helped my career—that's undeniable. But that was never the only thing you were for me. Our friendship, what I thought was our friendship, meant more to me than any photo ever could."

Paige's laughter fades, and she looks at you, her expression hardening as she processes your words.

"It didn't feel that way to me," she shoots back, her voice tight. "Every time you needed something for your portfolio or an exhibit, who did you turn to, not any of your other friends, me. Don’t you think that’s a little strange.”

The accusation stings, God she really knew nothing about you, did she?

“I reached out to you because I thought you liked it. Every time I took something you posted it, on media days you always requested me specifically, even when we were freshman and there were people who knew much more than I did, so don’t try to delude yourself, we both benefited from this. But at least I was under the impression that we liked spending time together, that it wasn't all just so I could get more praise for my pictures.”

She stares at you, her expression blank, as if your words are too much for her to process.

"You actually need to just leave now," her hand reaching to unlock the car doors while she motions for you to exit.

'She's scared, back down, stop this while you still can.' You think, but emotion takes over before you can stop yourself.

“No," you reply appalled, "you can't just kick me out because I made a good point.”

She lets out a dismissive scoff, her hands moving to grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white with tension. "This is my car and I’m asking you to leave.”

Your eyes narrow feeling a sudden surge of familiar desperation. “You’ve walked away from me once, I’m not about to let you do it again.” You take a deep breath, “if you really thought I was using you, you wouldn’t have agreed to shoot with me constantly for the last 2 years. So why are you really shutting me out Paige?” You press, watching her closely. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing your fear of losing her for good.

She just stares at you, her gaze cold and unwavering, each of you refusing to be the one to break eye contact with the other.

She diverts her gaze, her eyes finally falling away from yours. Staying silent for a full minute before she straightens up, seemingly gathering her composure, and shifts the conversation topic away from her wrongdoings and back to yours.

“Intentions don’t matter anymore. Actions do. And your actions have shown me exactly where I stand in your life. Tell me again, what's your most famous photo, huh?"

It's a low blow, and it doesn’t take long for you to catch onto what she’s talking about. The two of you have had quite a few viral moments but one far surpassed the other.

There was only one picture that had landed a coveted cover spot on the headlined article on ESPN, a place in CNN’s ‘This Week in Pictures’ and internship offers from all the way in New York to L.A.

____

She had crumpled to the ground, clutching her knee in agony, silencing the crowd in an instant. Her teammates had quickly formed a barrier around her, protecting her. Through a narrow gap between them, her eyes, wide and brimming with pain and vulnerability, darted around frantically until they finally locked onto yours.

It was a look of pure, raw emotion—a silent plea for comfort, for reassurance, for the familiar presence that had always been her anchor.

Her hand reached out, trembling, as if by some miracle, your touch could erase the pain. And in that moment, as she reached desperately towards you, almost mechanically, you lifted your camera.

The weight of it felt heavier than ever before. Looking through the viewfinder, you saw her in perfect focus, every detail of her suffering magnified. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of hope and despair, seemed to question your every move.

As you pressed the shutter, capturing the raw, gut-wrenching moment, a pang of guilt surged through you. The image was powerful, a testament to her strength and vulnerability, but it came at a cost.

Lowering the camera, you were left standing there, the echo of the shutter still ringing in your ears. You wanted to drop everything and run to her, but the moment had passed. The damage was done. Her eyes, now filled with a sense of betrayal, lingered on you before she turned away, her teammates closing ranks around her once more.

____

You gape at her, a million thoughts running through your mind, none of them coherent enough to form a sentence. You thought about this picture frequently; its creation was instinctive, driven by a reflex that you hadn't fully understood even as you pressed the shutter. You’d always (foolishly) assumed that she had known that you never meant for the photo to get out. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness where your professional instincts overpowered your personal loyalty.

'This is it, this is why she's not talking to you, this whole time it's been your fault.'

It was never meant to be published—but Leo had discovered it, and from there, it spiraled out of your control, gaining a life of its own in the public eye.

The image, once released, spread like wildfire. It became the defining shot of your career and the defining wound of hers.

“Paige, I-“

She shakes her head no, her expression eerily similar to the one in the picture that ruined the two of you.

“Please just leave,” she repeats, her normally deep voice an octave lower with the intensity of the emotion coursing through her words.

Realizing you have no ground left to stand on, the least you figure you can do is abide by her request. You reach for the door handle, but her voice stops you.

"And for the record," she begins, answering your earlier question, "I always agreed to those photos because I loved you and I thought maybe, just maybe, if I helped you get what you wanted, it might make you love me back.”

Her confession wrenches a sudden and uncontrollable sob from your throat, you want nothing more than to shut the door, wrap your arms around her, and beg for the forgiveness you know deep down you’ll never deserve until your heart gives out.

But instead you stand, exiting the car and turning to her one last time, speaking up through tears, "I can't justify taking that picture, and I know that if I spent every moment of my life trying to make it up to you, I'd still fall short," you say, your voice choked with regret.

Taking a deep breath, you looking up before meeting her gaze again. "And I know I didn’t show it well, but I would only spend so much time trying to make art if it was for someone I loved, and I loved you too, so much."

She looks away, blinking back tears, her shoulders trembling, she whispers, her voice barely audible, repeating the words you’d uttered just a few minutes before, “don’t lie to me.”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconn huskies #fanfic #angst #wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers angst

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tainted-liquor · 1 year ago

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✮ 4th Baby Mama‧₊˚ ⋅ 「15.10.23」 ft. Earth42 Miles G. Morales

ingredients; Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!

Listen, ik you said make it just one, but a part 2 is going to be made lol

It was a warm day out in Brooklyn, New York. The air gently caressed and kissed your skin, leaving your blue plaid skirt flowing as you trekked through the messy streets of Brooklyn. You paid no attention to the gunshots, explosions, or any of the...cherry-wine tinted 'spills' coming from a random trash bag in the alley. You mumbled along to the music you had blasting through your blue metallic beats, putting a slight pep in your step as Summer Walker spoke to your soul.

"I wanna start wit' yo mama, she shoulda whooped yo ass..." you grunted, giggling to yourself before swinging open the massive oak doors to Brooklyn Visions Academy. You felt rather giddy about the day ahead, knowing that you would be getting robotic babies as part of your home economics class. The problem was that you didn't know who you would be partnered with. It was all shits and giggles, and you were pretty sure the task would be as easy as ever. No matter who you were partnered with! Right?

No.

You made your way to the locker, checking your lashes and light makeup in the small mirror you had placed in the top right corner before placing all your unnecessary materials inside the navy blue metal. You did a quick fluff of your slick low bun and threw on your clear-framed glasses. You opened up your spearmint mentos gum, popping two small pieces in your mouth before closing your locker and proceeding through the bustling halls to find your friends. You lowered your headphones down to your neck, pausing the music and locating your girls all crowded together in what sounded like frantic whispers and sharp giggles. Catching up to the rest of the group, you merged into their tight circle to see what was going on as they all looked down at each other's phones.

"Yooo, what's happening? What y'all lookin' at?" You inquired whilst pulling out your phone and opening your school email. You turned your head to face your friend, Tierra, watching as the cyber-blue hue illuminated her facial features as she stared down at her screen with a hand over her mouth. Layla spoke up, nudging you gently so you could see what she was talking about, "They picked the partners for the...the fuckin' baby project at random!" She giggled, tears pricking her waterline as she flipped her screen to show you what was on her phone. You scanned through the list, eyes widening when you came across your name right next to Miles'.

"WHAT!" You shouted, breaking out into laughter with the rest of the group. "They paired me with my fuckin' ex, at least you got that quiet kid!" Tierra grunted, whacking you on the shoulder with a rolled-up homework assignment. You nearly fell on the floor, gripping Katie's shoulder while she held up upright. The idea of raising a baby, real or not, with a stranger sounded hilarious. You weren't mad, but he wasn't exactly the partner you wanted. You originally hoped for one of your girlfriends, or maybe even a cute guy from the basketball team that you could yap about later. But alas, the forms were out and the choices were final, so there was nothing more that you could do.

You were familiar with Miles; saying hi to him now and again in the hallways and always getting the same upward nod in the process. He was known to be an adept artist who wasn't big on having a large circle of friends, but that didn't mean he was weird. You held your stomach as you wiped your tears, easing into the steady flow of conversation your friends began to hold before it was time for you to head to your advisory. You waved bye to your friends before heading to Mrs. Thomas’ classroom for said advisory, where she covered the school's upcoming events and big tests we needed to be ready for. You fiddled and played with a loose curl in your bun, pulling it down and watching as it sprang back up at an instantaneous rate.

The room was dull and filled with nothing but sleep until the bell rang, signaling for everyone to file out to their next class. You hastily grabbed your things, panicking slightly at the fact that in the next 30 minutes, you would be classified as a ‘mother’. The classroom was warm and comfortable, allowing your nerves to relax slightly as you sat in your usual seat. It didn’t take long for more voices to pour in, loud gossip and strained laughter filling the room as everyone took their respective seats. ”Girl this class finna be the death of me…how we havin’ kids at 8:35 in the morning!” Your friend Jayda mumbled, finally sitting down next to you as your teacher prepared to start today’s lesson.

“Nah that’s what I’m saying…Like, tell me how I got-” you began, cutting yourself off as soon as Ms. Kaylee cleared her throat and stood up from her desk with a warm smile. She spoke, her voice cutting clearly through the silence that hung over the room like a mistletoe over a pair with chemistry as thick as butter, “Alright, everyone! I’m sure you saw the email about your partners for your week-long project, but in case you didn’t have time or missed a couple of lessons I’ll go over everything for a couple minutes before we get started with our gender reveal!” You tensed in your seat, looking over at Jayda with wide eyes and an upside-down smile. The classroom door came swinging open, revealing a Miles who had a tiny matte-black bandage right next to his lip. His uniform jacket was missing, his tie askew, and his sleeves were rolled up to his upper bicep, displaying a ton of tiny scratches and a small bruise above the curve of his elbow.

The teacher glared at him for what felt like a minute, calmly pulling him to the side to discuss his entrance while you glared at him, too. But you weren’t staring because he was a disruption to the classroom. He looked delicious like this…when he was finally out of his usual blue school hoodie and grey slacks. You watched as he nodded at the teacher, towering over her 5’4 stature before you felt a light tap on your arm.

“Ayo, stop drooling girl we see you” Jayda laughed, giving her a firm eye-roll as you watched Miles stroll back to his desk and sit down. Ms. Kaylee let go of a deep sigh, shaking her head before continuing with her speech. She gave a brief explanation of what it was that we’d be doing, what the final goal was, and how we would be graded on our project. She clapped her hands together, setting out a bunch of baby holders and car seats before rolling out a massive case labeled ‘RealCare’. “Alright! When I call you and your partner's name, please come up and grab one bath bomb and a pail of water”

The people around you made quick work of finding their partners and grabbing the necessary supplies between chortles and hushed conversation. Your chest felt heavy as you talked Jayda’s ear off, nearing the order of people that you last saw on the Google form she had emailed you earlier. You perked up as soon as you heard your name, turning around to see Ms. Kaylee check off two spaces on her clipboard before beckoning the both of you to come up and grab your things. You sighed, getting up from your desk and grabbing a plain white bath bomb and a small beach pale filled with lukewarm water while Miles grunted and grabbed a car seat, muscles tensing and flexing under the weight of the surprisingly heavy chunk of plastic. He turned over to look at you, nodding his head back to his desk as a signal for you to follow him while you waited for the teacher to finish reading out the pairs.

“Wassup, Miles” you beamed, pulling up a chair in front of his desk so you could sit face-to-face with him while you placed the sunny yellow pale on the desk, holding the bath bomb as delicately as possible in your cupped hands. He nodded upward, setting the car seat on the floor next to him and cracking his knuckles. His skin was perfectly smooth, his braids laid neatly at the tip of his collarbones and he had a skinny but lean build on him. It wasn’t long after you took note of him avoiding your gaze that the teacher spoke up, instructing you to all drop your bath bombs in the pail of water and then rinse your hands at the sink. You squealed in anticipation, making sure that Miles was watching as you dropped the chalky white bath bomb into the sparkling clear water.

The bucket exploded with color, white foam suddenly turning into shades of bright pink and pastel fuchsia. You beamed from ear to ear, pure joy and excitement illuminating your face as you joined the rest of the class in their shouts of joy, exclaiming their ‘babies’ gender at the top of their lungs. Miles smiled slightly, nodding with a content expression before he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. Shortly after everyone's joyful exclamation, the teacher wasted no time in collecting everyone's attention and going over the plan for the next week. “You will need to devise a custody plan with your partner, so this means exchange numbers or whatever you need to do now. You may now all come up and select your baby” Ms. Kaylee explained and gestured to the now-open box.

You went up with Miles, quickly scooping up a pretty baby doll with deep brown skin and curly brown hair. You analyzed her little face, taking in her deep black eyes and light pink headband that came with her matching pink onesie while Miles got your baby bag full of supplies and wristbands. Miles cleared his throat, holding up his phone before mumbling “Just send me what days you want me to get her and I’ll make it work.”

You nodded, putting your number in his contacts and vice versa. “Actually,” he stated, gently taking the baby from your arms and hoisting up the bright pink baby bag. “I got her until lunch today. I’ll come find you and we’ll work sum’ out,” he shrugged as you handed him back his phone.

“Oh aight, bet. What we naming her?” You asked, attempting to reach for the car seat, but being instantly denied by Miles. “Uhh…” he mumbled, visibly blanking at the idea of having to name his baby. “Uhh…Anylah?” He smirked, attempting to cover up the fact he just thought of a name on the spot. You looked him up and down, playing over how the name sounded in your mind before nodding slowly. Miles let go of a deep breath, posture relaxing only a fraction before he reached into the bag to put on both of your orange wristbands.

“Aight, I’ll catch you at lunch,” Miles stated, making his way out of the classroom with a heavy load of baby items and a fake baby. You made your way to your remaining 4 classes, internally groaning at how fast the time was passing by.

“She ain’t even tell us these fuckin babies cry…I didn’t know that shit made noise! It started going off in the library!” Your friend Jayda moaned, attempting to shush her fussy baby she named Mariah. “The fuck you mean you didn’t know they cried…it was literally in the paper she gave us about the babies?” You asked, looking at her like she had a second head. She shrugged, eyeing you with slightly widened eyes and a smirk to silently convey that she didn’t read the forms. “JAYDA!” You giggled, half-shoving her as you opened up the doors to the cafeteria. The line was nothing short of demonic, so you decided to hop a couple of places forward with your friends who had already made it to the cafeteria.

The food was mediocre, but at least it was edible. You sat with your girls for a good 5 minutes, enjoying your food and conversing with each other before you spotted Miles making his way over. He held the baby like a football, making space for himself at your table with a low “excuse me” in between you and Tierra. “Aight so my schedule is weird cuz I have work some days, but I’ll make it work what days should I get this thing?” He asked, his voice low and stoic as he began typing away in the notes app on his phone. You gave him a playful glare, attempting to push down the smirk that was forming on your face. “Don’t call her a thing, this is your daughter,” you joked with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “But you can take…Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday!” You exclaimed, taking the baby from Miles and checking your calendar. Great, Wednesday!

“My daughter huh? Aight, I gotchu,” he sniggered before tucking his phone in his back pocket. He tapped on the table, shooting you a wink you swear you hallucinated before retreating to his group of homies without another word. Your head dropped down to your fake baby, fighting back a smirk as you submerged yourself back in your conversation.

Whatever you thought this project was going to be, you certainly didn’t anticipate anything from the road ahead.

It was 1 AM, and your arms felt sore from the constant rocking of this baby that weighed nothing less than 7 pounds. You changed what felt like 4 diapers, fed her for almost 20 minutes, and spent your night pacing through your kitchen to calm her down. You whined along with the baby, praying to whoever was listening that she’d be finished soon. You grabbed your phone from your shorts pocket, quickly dialing up Miles as a last attempt. You felt like you were intruding on his private life, but something in this goddamn world has to give.

The phone rang twice, sighing to yourself when you heard the familiar ringtone come to an abrupt stop. There was rustling, what sounded like a low breathy grunt, before Miles picked up the phone. “Yo…what’s good, whatchu need?” he mumbled, his voice sounding sickeningly velvety as he attempted to shake the sleep from his vocal cords. “Uh, hey. Anylah won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do…Can you come help, please?” You winced, balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. He made a low noise that sounded like a cross of a low hum of approval, and a groan of missed sleep before he got up, stretched, threw on a quick hoodie, and knotted his sweats. “I’ll be over in like…a couple minutes” he grumbled, hanging up almost as soon as you could say “thanks.”

He knocked at your front door not even five minutes later, leaving you to drown in his shadow as he stood over you with a tired, blank, and semi-serious expression. The frosty air from the outdoors nipped at any inch of skin it could find purchase, leaving you to beckon him inside the door as quickly as possible. You handed him the crying infant, watching as his eyes widened by a fraction before returning to their initial low post. “Damn, not even a hello?” He chuckled as he took a wailing Anylah in his arms, rocking the baby at an oddly specific angle. “I know you didn’t just pull up to my crib talkin’ like someone's absent baby father…” you joked, rolling your eyes and taking your respective place back on the couch.

“Hello, Morales.” You commented, leaning your head on his shoulder sleepily as he sat next to you on the couch. He nodded, somehow managing to hush the baby within the first 45 seconds of holding her. You huffed, feeling slightly irritated at how he managed to finish what you were attempting to do for over an hour in only a minute. “You were rocking her…too fast,” he slurred, clearly tired as he attempted to hold his eyes open. You didn’t even realize that you had fallen asleep, attempting to reach for the baby before ultimately clocking out for the night.

You woke up feeling groggy, sluggish, and plagued by a small migraine. Both Anylah and Miles were nowhere to be found, feeling around for your phone only to grab a purple sticky note stuck to the back of your phone case.

‘Went back home.’

You sighed, shooting Miles a text immediately that let him know to not disappear like that with the doll. You got ready for school, taking a scalding hot shower and repeating your daily routine of thoroughly scrubbing and exfoliating your face. You threw on your uniform, prioritizing the aesthetic of your uniform as you tugged on some rather cutesy slouch socks. You skipped breakfast at home, opting to grab something from the cafeteria before slipping out the front door and facing the cold air once again. Damn, this day was bound to be long as hell.

You reached school, giggling at your phone down the street as you ‘bickered’ back and forth with Miles.

‘alr alr mb. I didnt think it thru.’

‘Fym you didn’t think it through? I thought I was finna fail’

‘u actin like sb baby mama rn.’

‘Ntm now’

‘my fault’

You powered off your phone, jamming the smooth plastic case into the deep pockets of your black shorts under your school skirt. Today you had a class on burping babies and how to properly dress them for the winter, eagerly anticipating the cute little coats they’d provide for your shared babydoll. You took your seat, silently doodling in your notebook until you heard the familiar cold tone fade into the classroom. “Qué quieres decir? Esta mi mamá del bebé es ahí mismo,” he chuckled, carrying both the baby bag in one hand and Anylah in the other. “Baby mama is craaazy…” the boy he was talking to muttered, looking utterly tired and vaguely annoyed.

He took his seat next to you, giving you an upward nod as he cradled Anylah in one arm while he mindlessly scrolled through his phone with the other.

“Not you calling me your baby mother…”

"It's funny"

Tags ♡

@ashsostrangee @chessboxx @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

#atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #e42 miles x black!reader #e42 miles #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader

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innorogers · 20 days ago

Text

Labyrinth

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: "Babe, please..." His neck was at your mercy, the blade was cutting a thin bloodline on his skin.

Warning: Yeah Idk, big huge action scene?

Characters: OC, John Walker, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton.

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️

Time stood still the moment Steve made eye contact with you—or whoever it was standing before him. An indescribable fear shot through his spine like a bucket of icy water, freezing him to his core.

He could remember so vividly the night you met: the spark in your eyes when he first looked at you, your bright smile that could light up the whole sky, and the butterflies in his stomach as your gaze shone like the farthest northern star—quiet and endless as the ocean. But that light, that spark, wasn’t in the person holding the blade before him now. And he panicked. What if he never saw that light again? What if he never saw you again?

The battlefield continued as you and Steve stood face to face, a storm of chaos and destruction. Explosions echoed in the distance, shouts and commands lost beneath the crackle of energy weapons, the clang of metal against metal, sharp cracks of gunfire, and the low roars of the Hulk. Smoke billowed into the air, a thick, choking veil that obscured the figures moving within it.

"Circle formation around the Cap!" Commanded Natasha as she moved with precision through the swarm of attackers and spotted that both of you stood still.

The unit moved swiftly and smoothly like changing pieces on a chessboard, forming a human shield that left you and Steve in the middle, unperturbed by the rage of the battlefield.

“We’ve got this. Get her back!” Black Widow shouted as her batons sparked with each strike. Above, Sam darted through the air, his wings slashing through enemies while his mounted guns provided cover fire for Clint, who rained down arrow after arrow to try to open a road through to the source point.

But nothing else existed for Steve. The rest of the world had been muted. Chaos blurred at the edges, sharpening the tension between the two of you. Each second felt like a lifetime as he hesitated, his shield trembling in his hand, and in front of him, it was just you, the blade, and the hollow shadow of who you used to be.

You made the first strike, so fast it happened in the blink of an eye. The next thing Steve knew, your blade clashed against his shield with such force that it echoed loudly, the sound so sharp and powerful that the agents and soldiers around you groaned in pain from the noise and impact.

Steve took a step forward, his shield raised defensively, but his movements were slower than usual, weighted down by hesitation. “Babe…” he said behind his shield, his voice trembling with both fear and hope. “I know you’re in there. You’ve got to fight this.”

But your response was nothing more than a sharp, deadly swing of your blade, aimed directly at him. He barely managed to block it again, the force of the impact reverberating up his arm. The sheer precision and strength in your strike stunned him. This wasn’t something you could do; he’d only known caresses and gentle pats from you. Yet this was you, fighting to kill.

“Fuck!” Steve groaned under his breath as he sidestepped your next attack, your blade slicing through the air with an elegant yet terrifying efficiency.

He was still panicking, something that never happened to Captain America, not since his first day on the battlefield. He faltered as he caught glimpses of your face: those eyes he knew so well, now devoid of recognition, your expression cold and mechanical. Every strike you launched was calculated, every part of you he loved seemed to have been replaced by a weaponized ghost of yourself: fierce, deadly, and emotionless.

“Stand down!” He yelled, his voice thick with desperation. “This is not you!”

But you didn’t stop. You spun with lethal grace, your blade flashing toward his side. Steve dodged just in time, swinging his shield in a defensive arc to force you back.

“Fight it! Wake up!” Steve growled as he launched a counterattack, swinging his shield toward your blade in an attempt to disarm you. And your weapons clashed, sparks flying as his vibranium shield met the steel of your blade.

The impact sent both of you skidding back, but you recovered with terrifying speed, lunging forward without hesitation. Steve’s breath hitched. He couldn’t focus. His body moved to fight, but his heart couldn’t follow.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna do, Steve…” John shouted from the other side of the battlefield as he fought off attackers. “You keep doing that boyfriend thing of yours, and the next thing you know is a cut on your throat!”

“Maybe you wanna stop talking and actually reach the source point?” Tony said, his fingers moving with incredible speed across the keyboard, just as Robert Lin stumbled through the door in striped pajamas.

“I’m here, I’m here! Mr. Stark…” Dr. Lin said, adjusting his glasses and attempting to fix his disheveled hair. “W-what’s going on?!” His eyes widened as he took in the combat displayed across all the screens and the command room bustling with agents and the entire team in action.

“How are we, Sam?” asked Iron Man, while commanding the Iron Army drones that had just arrived at the scene. “Close enough? Need a hand?” His voice was calm, but his eyes flicked toward the screen showing Steve and you, worry etched into his expression.

“We’re pinned but holding!” Sam replied, his voice strained but steady. “But we’re outnumbered. If you’ve got a hand, Stark, now’s the time to lend it.”

“Copy that.” Tony’s tone sharpened. “Split formation: five in Sam's position, the rest sweep the perimeter. Let’s clear some breathing room.”

The Iron Army descended, metallic forms glowing as they fired precision blasts, forcing the attackers back. “Now we’re talking!” Sam said, his voice steadier. “Heading to the source point. Steve’s still engaged! It looks bad.” There was no way Steve was going to be able to make a move, hurt you, or hurt himself in the process of it.

Tony’s gaze flicked to the screen, where Steve was locked in combat with you, each clash of blade and shield sending shockwaves rippling through the area. His jaw tightened. “Not this time. Just go. I’ve got visuals. Sam, you focus on the source. I’ll keep an eye on Cap.”

“Got it!” Sam confirmed, taking to the air again, his wings cutting through the haze as he led his team closer to their objective.

Tony exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening on the controls as his focus shifted back to the battle raging between Steve and you. “Come on Cap…” He muttered under his breath. “Let’s bring her home.”

In the background, Dr. Lin fumbled with the equipment, his hands shaking as he tried to synchronize the frequency Stark had ordered. “I need more time!” Lin shouted, glancing nervously at the chaotic displays around him.

“We don’t have that! Work faster!” Tony snapped, his gaze never leaving the screen. “If this fails, we’re screwed.”

“The sound that commanded the neural waves is different from last time…” Robert muttered, feeling like he was working against a ticking time bomb. He was a lab scientist, for god’s sake—why did he always end up working under this kind of pressure? He wanted to cry, but instead, he kept typing furiously.

“Which makes sense because last time, the command brainwashed our people and not an army of freaking… Well, I don’t know what these things are! Their brains are configured on an entirely different level…”

“I just need to isolate the neuro-wave oscillation patterns and realign them with the inverse frequency modulation… ok, ok, OK! Got it! Got it! GOT IT! Mr. Stark! I’ve got it! We have the connection, and the file is transmitting right now!” Robert screamed, sounding like a fangirl in a frenetic state.

“Ok, Sam, everything’s ready. Just reach the source. Analyzing compound—run all the scans NOW, Jarvis. Open it up for the Falcon.” Stark ordered, and Hill followed his commands.

“Team Beta, assist the Falcon to get to the destination. Alpha, keep guarding the Cap!”

The team roared under the command, fighting harder, deadlier, to keep Steve and you enclosed within the formation.

This was the toughest, hardest, most difficult fight Steve had ever faced in his entire life. It was worse than fighting Tony in a freezing cave in Siberia, harder than fighting his younger self in the Avengers tower, and so much worse than fighting Thanos when the future of the planet depended on it. This was a battle against his will, his heart, and everything he loved.

“Stop it!” He shouted, more to himself than to you. He had to keep you down, but every swing, every block, every dodge tore at him like an open wound. He couldn’t bear to hurt you, but he couldn’t let you win—not over him, and not over anyone on the team.

In that moment, a flicker of emotion passed across your face—something brief, almost imperceptible. A hesitation. But he caught it. He knew you so well; he knew every cell of your body, every spark of life that made up your soul.

You were there. You were still there.

“Babe, It's me. It’s Steve.” He said, his pleading voice breaking as he lowered his shield slightly, taking a dangerous gamble. “Come back to me, please.”

For a split second, your blade faltered mid-swing, but then the hollow look returned, and the fight resumed, even fiercer than before.

Steve clenched his teeth, his resolve hardening. He couldn’t give up—not on you. Not ever.

He needed to immobilize you, that’s all it takes, he needs to take you back home, you were still there, he needs you back. That's the only idea that’s on his mind right now. Steve clenched his teeth and moved, he lunged forward, as Captain America does with his enemies, and his shield blocked you so hard, it numbed your arm.

But you didn’t care, because you didn’t feel anything. He swung his shield and its strength and speed even opened a break in the ground, the sound was mute when you stopped with your bare hands, threw it back to his face and when he blocked, the fight reached its breaking point, and then, at the height of the combat, it happened.

You were there a blink after the shield, and you swung your arm with the cold blade.

“NO!!” John watched the whole scene unfold and he shouted.

But before he did, you halted mid-motion.

The cold blade in your hand hovering a hair’s breadth from Steve’s throat.

The edge gleamed dangerously close to his skin, a thin barrier between life and death.

Steve froze, his chest heaving, the rhythm of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He didn’t dare move, his shield limp at his side. His eyes locked onto yours, and for the briefest moment, he saw it: the flicker of the real you behind the cold, hollow exterior.

There was a struggle, visible in your trembling hand, as if your true self was clawing its way through the darkness.

Your breathing grew ragged, and tears began to stream down your face, your lips parting as if to speak.

You were fighting.

You were fighting so hard.

Just like back then when you closed everyone out and plunged a tranquilizer on your neck to avoid hurting anyone. You were struggling to break free.

You were fighting, to come back to him.

Your soul, your heart, every glitter spark of your life thread, was fighting the hell out of you, to get back to him.

Tears welled in your eyes, trailing down your cheeks as the blade inched closer.

Steve's voice caught in his throat. “Babe…It’s me…”

His plea was raw, desperate, as if willing you back to him by sheer force of will.

“Fight this, you are stronger than this. Please …” His neck was at your mercy, the blade was cutting a thin bloodline on his skin.

But he wasn’t going to move.

He was gambling with his life, he bet his entire existence to yours, that you’d fight, you’d come back to him.

“I know you are there…” He begged, looking at your eyes. He could see the tears falling down, the struggle within those unrecognizable eyes and the coldness of the machine that took power over you, but there was you, too.

“You are not this.” He whispered: “Remember? You are not this.” You are not the monster Hydra tried to create, you are everything your siblings hoped and protected, you are his precious treasure, his midsummer night, and everything he dreamed, cherished and longed for in his life.

“Come back to me…” He said in a soft voice, feeling already that the blade was burning in his skin.

And then for less than a second, he saw it.

He saw you.

The blade faltered.

Your grip tightened.

The knife edged closer, brushing against his skin, and in one swift motion, you turned the blade, pointing it toward yourself, and anyone could react, you plunged it into your chest.

“NO!” Steve’s voice ripped through the air, raw and desperate. The sound of steel piercing flesh echoed in the silence, followed by a soft, strangled gasp escaping your lips.

Steve’s breath hitched as he watched, unable to process what was happening.

Time slowed to an unbearable crawl.

Steve’s gaze locked on yours, and in your eyes, he saw it—the flicker of the real you, breaking through the haze, fragile and fleeting.

You collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

Steve’s heart stopped. He should’ve moved, should’ve caught you, but his feet were rooted to the ground, frozen in a mix of panic and horror. His shield slipped from his grasp, clattering uselessly to the floor.

Everything around him blurred, the shouts of the team muted as if underwater.

He could see John diving forward, his arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to catch you. Natasha was already sprinting toward you, their faces etched with shock and urgency.

But Steve couldn’t move. His chest felt hollow, his legs like lead, as if the very life had been drained from him. He could only watch as your body hit the ground, limp, the blood from your chest spreading in a crimson pool beneath you.

“STEVE!” John’s voice pierced through the fog like a thunderclap, raw and commanding, cutting through the paralysis gripping him.

“CAP, MOVE!”

The shout jolted him like a bolt of electricity, snapping him out of his frozen state. He stumbled forward and tripped over his own feet in his desperate haste to reach you, dropping to his knees beside you, but his hands were shaking so violently that he hesitated, unable to bring himself to touch you. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps, his heart hammering against his ribs as if it might break free.

This couldn’t be true.

He must be dreaming.

He must be so tired looking for you back in HQ that he passed out at his desk.

“No… no, no, no…please, please…” He whispered, his voice breaking as his eyes frantically scanned your face, your chest, the knife protruding from it. And it paralyzed him.

“This can’t… not you. Not now. Not like this…” His voice cracked, he could see it, the blade in your chest, blood blossomed around the wound, strength and life draining from you like water slipping through his fingers,

Your head lolled slightly to the side, and Steve saw the faint rise and fall of your chest as you opened your eyes.

“Steve…?” Your voice was weak.

And shit… he started to sob. Cause it was you, it was you.

“You okay…?” You frowned and as you spoke, and you started to cough, blood all over your mouth. “Did I…hurt you…?”

“No, no, no, no…” His voice was barely audible, his fingers trembling and caressing your face, so softly and so fearful, he was scared to death that you could disappear at his mere touch.

“Babe…you didn’t…you didn’t hurt me…please don’t speak…you are ok, you are safe…”

“John…Is he ok…?” Your voice whispers, each word a struggle. Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth as you forced the words out.

“Hey princess…” John smiled at Steve’s side: “You kicked my ass pretty hard…but stay still ok? Don’t move…” His face was pale but resolute. “Steve, she’s alive, but we need to move. Now.”

You closed your eyes, and lingered in Steve’s touch in your face. His fingers soaked with blood and dust, yet there was the warmth you missed so much, every cell in your existence missed him, and you could feel his pain, and you knew he missed you too, but you were safe now, you were with him, you were home.

“Shit!” Tony was pale as he drove the iron unit beside you and injected you with a cryogenic wound-sealing mist, the freezing fog hissing as it rapidly hardened over the gash, staunching the bleeding in seconds, but still he couldn’t see the injuries inflicted inside you. “Ok, get her back to the quinjet, now!”

“We gotta move…” John looked at Steve and shouted back to the rest of the still fighting team: “Open a way for us!”

“Go! We’ve got this!” Natasha’s sharp command finally cut through the storm of the battle, she pressed her comms: “Sam, are you in position?!”

“15 seconds!” Sam waved through the air scanning the source building: “Do we have everything ready!?”

“Robert!” With the gaze fixed on the screen but mainly focusing on your wounds, Tony didn’t even turn around: “You ready?!”

“Ready!” Dr. Lin was in between panicking and crying and ready in front of his computer.

“Medics bay to be ready in the quinjet, beta team, open a way for Captain Rogers and Walker.” Commanded Hill seeing the map: “Jet 1, prepare to fly, as soon they arrive you take off and take’em home, alright?”

“Come on Steve, we gotta move…!” John and Natasha transferred you onto a portable medic bed, the wound-sealing mist Tony had applied bought precious moments, but the blood loss was staggering. Your breaths were shallow, each one weaker than the last.

“Steve!” John’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze clouding Steve’s mind. He grabbed Steve by the shoulders and gave him a rough shake. “We need to move! Now! She’s not gone! Do you hear me? We’re getting her out of here!”

Steve blinked, his breath hitching as reality crashed back in. His hands, still trembling, hovered over your bloodied form. “She… she—” he stammered, unable to finish the sentence.

“Focus, Cap!” John barked: “Wake the fuck up!”

With a firm grip on Steve’s arm, John pulled him to his feet. “Walk!”

Steve’s body moved on autopilot, his mind screaming in anguish as he took his place. Together, they lifted you and began navigating through the chaos, the Beta team clearing a path back to the quinjet.

Steve’s eyes never left your face.

“Stay with me.” He whispered, his voice cracking. “Babe, please, just stay with me. We’re almost there.”

Your head tilted slightly, and your lips moved as if you were trying to speak, but no sound came out. Steve leaned closer, his heart pounding. “I’m here. I’m right here. Don’t try to talk, just hold on.”

As they reached the quinjet ramp, the medics were already waiting, springing into action the moment the team arrived, hooking up monitors and stabilizing you as best they could. Steve refused to let go of your hand, his grip firm but gentle, his other hand brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

“Don’t close your eyes.” He begged, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now. We’re going home. Babe…look at me, please.”

But your body trembled, a coldness spreading through you that even the advanced medtech couldn’t stop. “Steve…” Your voice was faint, broken. “I’m… so… cold…”

“No.” He pleaded, his throat tight, tears welling in his eyes. “No, no, no. Don’t do this. Don’t shut down. Keep your eyes on me, okay? Just stay with me!”

But your fingers twitched weakly in his hand, a fleeting response that tore at his heart, and your eyes grew heavier, your breathing slower, your body was giving out, slipping further away despite his desperate words.

“NO!” Steve’s cry of anguish echoed through the quinjet, raw and piercing. “No, no…please…Don’t… don’t…”

The medics worked furiously, but the room felt still, silent save for the beep of monitors and the hum of the engines. Steve knelt by your side, his hands clutching yours, his forehead pressed to your cold fingers. Desperation consumed him, but he refused to let go.

“You’re coming back to me.”

He whispered, his voice hoarse. “I won’t lose you. Not like this. Not now.”

TBC.

OMG I'm so sorry I didn't post last friday and left you in such a cliff hanger, but life is kicking my ass in the worst possible way, I'm actually writing this to escape TT_TT But hey, I loved writing every word of this chapter, specially the interaction of the group (I love writing fight scenes!), Dr Lin is always so fun to write, and mwaah to my John! He has turned out to be SO FUN to write! So I hope you enjoyed it reading it as I did! 🥰

See you next week! (hopefully, I promise I'll do my best!)

Love., Moon.࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

let me know if you want to be added! 🥰

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x ofc #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #captain america #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic

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seresinhangmanjake · 9 months ago

Text

Stolen Angel - part 2

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. Brief smut 18+. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1551

Part 1, Part 3

He moans so sweetly for such a strong, toned man. And it’s odd.

As he moves in and out of you, filling and stretching, his lips graze across one of your cheeks before he makes his way to the other, his nose nudging yours between those kisses.

You try to meet his thrusts harder so you can get him to fuck you faster, but he plants a giant hand on your hipbone to hold you in place so he can continue at the pace he wants. It is not a pace you are used to, and certainly not one you expected, but you don’t hate it.

Eventually, you succumb to it, you thrive in it, and when he flips you over and you sink down onto his cock, you keep it slow. You would like to think his hands on your waist are stopping you from increasing speed, but they just rest there, occasionally moving to your ass or breasts and gently squeezing.

“Beautiful,” he sighs, eyes locked onto yours. “Absolutely beauti–”

You shoot up at the sound of knocking at the door, instantly groaning at the ache of your healing back. There is more healing to be done, but you’ve made rapid progress, and, to your dismay, you’re slowly starting to get used to the weight of the new appendages. You’d resisted accepting the wings at first, but after multiple mornings of waking to find them still attached to you, you gave up on the idea that any of this could be a dream.

There’s another knock. You have no idea why he bothers, seeing as he hadn’t bothered with politeness when he invaded your body with whatever drug he used to get you here. But then, true to character, he opens the door and walks right in despite your missing permission.

The small tray in Jake’s hands is covered with an assortment of what appears to be familiar foods, but you’re no more certain that they are real than you are certain that the view outside of your window is real, or that he is real. There could be a monster under that handsome disguise. A fitting figure to match how he has treated you. His skin could be an unnatural color, bones twisted and mangled, teeth razor sharp, with eyes to compliment his misplaced soul.

You hope you’re wrong. You hope you didn’t let a creature like that inside of you.

As Jake nears, the blaze of his gaze over your body is unashamed and cuts into your skin like a heated knife. “Tell me you didn’t sleep in that again,” he says, disappointed.

You glance down at the dark brown smock cinched at your waist with a thin piece of rope; the first item of clothing given to you after your wings had finished growing.

“What happened to the nightgown?”

“It’s see-through," you huff.

“And?” he questions, setting the tray on the table beside your bed. “I’m the only one who will see you in it, and I’ve seen you in nothing at all, so what does the opacity of the fabric have to do with your not wearing it?”

“I don’t like it."

“So what did you do with it?”

Your eyes flick to the fireplace on the other side of the room, the fire long burnt out since its lighting the night before, and Jake’s head turns to follow. He sighs, clicks his tongue, and says, “I’ll bring you another.”

“I don’t want anoth—”

“You need to eat,” he interrupts, nudging the tray closer to you. “You haven’t in days.”

You get a better view of the fat, green grapes, and thin apple slices next to cubes of cheese and round plums. All foods you enjoy… coincidentally? No, suspiciously. You’re increasingly wary of the hints telling you that he knows so much about you.

“Not hungry,” you tell him, crossing your arms like a petulant child.

“Yes you are, you little liar. I heard your stomach groaning from down the hall,” he replies with a slight smirk. “So, you’re going to eat whether you want to or not. I don’t need you getting any ideas about starving yourself until you’re skin and bones,” he says. “That’s not to say I wouldn’t still find you appealing, but I prefer the woman I love to be a touch livelier than that.”

Just when you think you’ve gotten over the last of the nausea, another wave rolls through you—you would rather be skin and bones than be anything that pleases him—but then the sickness is overpowered by a rush of gritty determination.

“I don’t care what you like or prefer,” you spit back. “You want to dress me up and feed me as if you’re trying to play house, but I am not your girlfriend, I am not your wife, and I am not your toy. All you’ve done is kidnap me and put me through unbearable pain, so drop the bullshit.”

Jake’s fists are balled at his sides by the end of your words, face harshly contorted, eyebrows knitted, and the corners of his mouth tipping down.

“You think I wanted you to hurt?” The low rumble of his voice shakes the walls. The vase of flowers on your other bedside table shatters. A small frame you’ve never noticed before falls from its hook and smashes to pieces on the stone flooring. “You think I enjoyed hearing your screams? I wish I could’ve taken it all away, but that's not possible!”

You stand sharply, sturdy despite the tremor of the floor, and try pushing him back, but he doesn’t budge this time. He’s like a brick wall, tall and six feet thick.

“You could have left me alone!” Your fists slam into the rock-solid muscles of his arms and chest and shoulders; anywhere you can reach. “I’m not meant to be here! I don’t belong! I’m not supposed to be whatever the fuck you are, I'm supposed to be human!”

Jake snatches your wrists, presses them together, and wraps one large hand around both. Your eyes widen and wings fan out to keep you steady as you’re forced into a seated position on the mattress. The room descends into still silence, and with a tightening grip, Jake leans in until his nose nearly touches yours.

“You are meant to be with me,” he growls. “You are my Angel, and you couldn’t return to your old life even if I released you. You are not human. This is your home now.”

You try your hardest to hold your position in the stare-off, but you're distracted by a bright red that begins to seep into the green of his eyes, like little tendrils slithering from the pupil and infecting the iris. It's barely noticeable, but it calls for you to back off, to stand down, and though you don’t want to, you have to look away.

“I hate you,” you grumble.

Jake exhales heavily as he straightens to full height. “You will learn to love me,” he says.

You look up to find all traces of that red gone. “How could I? Why would I even try?”

“Because I saved you from a miserable life in a useless world. Because no man could love you like I do,” he replies. “Because before you knew about any of this, you enjoyed having me in your bed.”

When he goes to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear with the hand not holding your wrists captive, you jerk your head to the side. “Bastard,” you mutter.

Jake chuckles dryly and releases you, but there is a warning in that chuckle, a threat in the way he frees your hands. You can feel it—how he wants you to understand that he will have no problem putting you in your place if you refuse to cooperate, but that for now, for reasons you’d be wise not to test, he's willing to be lenient.

“I don’t know what we are going to do about that rude mouth, Angel,” he says, crossing his arms. “I’m getting a bit sick of it.”

“Yea, well, then maybe you took the wrong girl.”

His lips pull into a closed-mouth grin as he stares down at you, almost in examination. After a few seconds, however, you realize it’s not examination, it’s adoration. He’s not scanning your face as if to memorize all of its fine details now that he has ample opportunity, he’s gazing appreciatively at what’s been previously memorized. As his eyes drink in your features, you’re starting to believe he could map them out in complete darkness if necessary; he could paint your portrait with no source of light. They follow the curl of your eyelashes, trace the bow of your lips, give attention to each faded freckle as if caressing a long-lost lover.

“No, I didn’t,” is all he says before he turns and walks to the door. He pauses halfway through and points a finger at the tray of food. “Eat,” he demands. “And I want that attitude sorted out by the time I come back.”

Plucking a grape from the bunch, you hurl it his way as the door shuts behind him. You miss, of course. Because, somehow, he’s just a tad too quick. Somehow, he’s always one step ahead of you.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @fandom-life-12 @hookslove1592 @buckysteveloki-me

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #top gun #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin au #demon!jake seresin #tgm fic #tgm

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hippielittlemetalhead · 5 months ago

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Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 5: Man Of The Hour

Life is mildly less sucky with depression being more managed (also the mood boost from Renaissance Faires 😁) and my weekends being free again for me to travel to see my person. Still full of dumpster fires but I want to scream about it less. Also, been in feels very similar to the ones that inspired this whole endeavor so... enjoy?

Anywho, here's part 5! Enjoy, my little nerdlings. As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags, reblogs and/or ask box. If you see any mistakes feel free to message me about them. 😬👌

Part 1: Hop Fucks Up, Part 2: Pride and Prejudices (Joyce Edition), Part 3: One of Us, Part 4.1: With A Capital P, Part 4.2: Robin's Boy

Steve Harrington was an odd duck. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She would pat his already proudly coiffed hair as he hung off the arm of her rocking chair and tell him as much whenever his parents took him to visit. He would beam at her with his big (reportedly pinchable by every aunt and grandmother in the family) cheeks and quack at her before cracking up at himself like he told the funniest joke and she would let him laugh until he rolled himself off her armchair to the plush carpeted floor. She would laugh and reach way over the arm of her chair to poke his stomach or cheek or nose, sometimes just his little forehead, before leveraging herself up out of her chair and taking herself to the kitchen to boot his mother out of it. Steve Harrington was a certified 'odd duck'.

Steve isn't sure, as he sits in that old rocking chair he had stolen liberated from his parent's house when he moved into his new apartment, when he became whatever he is now. He slowly rocks himself back and forth, the chair creaking a little as his weight shifts. The kids and other teens are chattering on the walkie but it's nothing too pressing, just nonsense and junk food emergencies, Mike cursing out Hop. His ribs hurt and his nose is sore but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. It sucks he knows what broken feels like. It sucks that Robin is kind of mad at him for getting hurt enough Owens pulled rank and had him dropped off at home and assigned someone to be the Party's chauffer for the rest of the day. It sucks that all the kids have their own plans tonight, leaving him to try and find ways to keep himself distracted without their usual insanity. A lot of things just kind of suck these days.

He feels himself smiling and picks up the walkie to confirm that he was alive and resting like ordered when he hears Dustin bickering with Robin about invading his apartment to check on him. That doesn't suck he supposes. He knows Robin and the kids care and he knows that eventually the soldier tasked with driving his hellions around is going to be bullied into driving them to see him, other plans be damned and the thought makes him smile.

The smile drops when he hears what sounds like a soft knock at his door. It's too sharp to be Widow Bea two doors over who leans on her walker and kicks the bottom of his door with her soft leather slippers that belonged to her late husband when she needs him to fix a cabinet or mix batter for whatever pastry she was making that week. And it's not the distinct pattern of Clara Damon from down the hall who will come and tap at his door to ask if he has an extra cup of sugar or spoonful of flour as she bats her eyes at him simpering about how she's making cookies or a pie or a casserole of some kind and inviting him to dinner with her and her folks to have some. He's always got an empty pantry and a surplus of plans when Clara Damon comes knocking. He and Widow Bea have standing poker nights with the other older ladies who all meet at the recreation building.

(It used to be the Harrington house. But his parents decided to sell to prove a point when they up and kicked him out and Owens needed a place to set up a promised recreation space and the gym was already a relief supplies warehouse.)

But the knock at his door isn't either of those. It could be someone else in the building. Could be one of his neighbors who have started to associate Steve Harrington with fighting mutated wild dogs caused by government experiments gone wrong and hauling around kids who seemed to cheat death and holding I.O.Us signed by the U.S army instead of the absent Harrington socialites who are known for swanning into town, flaunting their wealth and making themselves scarce again. The ones who he can sometimes hear whispering about him as he makes his way down the street or through Melvald's.

The knocking comes again, louder this time and firmer. It could be a lot of things and he doesn't want to deal with any of them.

Steve sighs, it could be important. He gets up to answer the door, breathing slow and shallow and letting himself lean on walls as he makes his way to the door. A third round of knocking and he's starting to get tired of it. He takes a slightly painful breathe to call out to whoever is trying to knock down his door to calm themselves down when, "Hey kid, Harrington, you in there?" That stops him a foot from his door.

His ribs hurt and his nose is sore and his leg is throbbing where a demodog got a lucky swipe on the meat of his thigh. But nothing is broken. His leg will be fine in a day or two. He hates that he knows what broken feels like. He hates that he knows what infected feels like. He hates that he knows the stone in his stomach and the clenching vice around his lungs has nothing to do with his injuries. His ribs scream at him when he pulls himself as tall and straight backed as he can, shifting himself so his weight is on his good leg and he can (hopefully) use the hallway wall and doorframe to support himself long enough to talk to Hopper and send him on his way.

He opens the door with a smile and feels himself falter a little when he sees Hopper standing there in a big tan canvas jacket and baseball cap and he's reminded of the times the older man would show up on his parent's doorstep with the same look on his face asking questions Steve didn't always know how to answer.

"Hey, Hopper." His voice is light and smile wide and loose and he just needs to keep this up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a bit banged up on a patrol?"

Steve shrugs. It takes more than he'd like to hide the pain that causes. "Just a couple bumps and bruises, nothing I can't walk off after a decent night's sleep. Owens is just paranoid these days, ya know."

"Owens huh?"

"Uh, yeah? That's who told you right? Cause I took a couple hits?" Hopper doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something that Steve might have once thought was concern about his potential injuries. He doesn't know why today of all days Hop decided to show up cause he got knocked around a little more than planned but it doesn't bode well when something in his face shifts and he lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, but don't worry!" That came out louder than he intended. "I'm totally fine. Like I said, I just need to walk it off and I'll be back out there in no time. You don't gotta worry about a thing, I've got it handled. Like I said, Owens is just overreacting. Nancy can cover for me tomorrow and then I'll be right back on the roster I promise. You and Mrs. Byers don't have to worry about a thi-"

"Steve. Shut up." He feels his jaw snap shut, the edge of his tongue and inside of his cheek getting caught in his teeth. "I didn't hear it from Owens. The kids told me. Owens knows you're hurt?"

"Uh, ye-yes sir. He's the one who sent me home. Gave the kids a detail to transport them and keep them protected while I'm out of commision. One officer to drive them around and they're being tailed by at least 3 others in case anything happens."

"Four soldiers just to replace you?"

"Oh they're not in that much danger! I'm perfectly capable of watching them usually, its just that Owen's guys are still kinda green even this deep in. Most of them just can't wrap their heads around the whole 'other dimension stuck in 1983' side of things." Hop's eyebrows shoot up under the bill of his cap. "But again, it's fine! I always take point whenever we go into a new sector and those guys are good as backup at least."

"But you're hurt." His eyebrows have come back down but now they're furrowed like he's confused or upset.

"Just a little!" He is not making things better. "I swear Hopper, you guys don't have to worry about a thing. I've got it handled, you don't have to-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington! Just shut up!" Steve flinches back, stepping further into his doorway as Hopper yells. The older man sighs, a big hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He tries not to think of the times Robin and the kids have made fun of him for doing the same, calling it one of his 'dad poses'. "Look, I didn't come to try and give you shit about getting knocked around a little being stupid and playing soldier. I came to- I was going to ask." He sighs and his shoulders slump a little forward and his eyes are focused on the toes of Steve's (very comfortable) bat slippers that had been a gift from Wayne once the kids had told him Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Steve doesn't think he heard him right. "What?"

"Joyce is making some sort of spaghetti casserole-"

"Isn't that just baked spaghetti?"

"And we wanted to have you over. We haven't talked much since I came back. I'd like to change that."

"What?"

"You, dinner, at our place? With me and Joyce and the kids? I think Jonathan is bringing Nancy." Steve flinches and Hop silently curses himself bringing up the ex who cheated on him and the guy she cheated with.

"Why?"

"Uuh... Talking?"

Ah, he had it now. "What did the kids do? Just, lay it on me man, and I'll take care of it. Did they say something? I can have them over tomorrow and talk to them. Was it Mike, it was probably Mike, I'll get him to apologize, just-"

"Goddamn it Harrington I just wanted to ask you over for some dumbass spaghetti casserole thing and a decent conversation. Maybe watch a football game cause no one else in that house seems to enjoy a good game."

Steve isn't sure what's happening. "You want me to come to dinner. To talk?"

Hop sighs again. "Yes, kid. Just. Dinner and talking."

"Uh huh. Right. I'm just- I just need a minute." He tries not to slam the door in the man's face but he's definitely trying to be as fast as possible. He's not sure what the hell is going on but it has to be something because Hopper wouldn't just invite him over. And Joyce Byers definitely wouldn't want him in her house for something as simple as a talk and to watch football. It takes him longer than he'd like to reach the walkie on the little side table by his grandmother's rocking chair. His ribs are screaming at him and his elbow smarts from banging it on the corner as he turned into the sitting room.

"I need some sort of backup at my apartment. Like now please?!" He waits a second before pressing the speaker button again, "Over."

The walkie crackles and he hears an assortment of concerned chatter. "Steve?" Dustin's voice breaks through the general din. "What's the problem? Over."

"I- I'm not sure how to classify it? I've Got Hop at my front door but I think there's something wrong with him? Or something is trying to trick me it's him? Oh shit did I get Vecna'd??"

"Steve," Nancy snaps, shutting up most of the chatter and giving his rising panic something to focus on. "Why do you think it's not Hopper? Or that he's not in control of himself?"

"He- He invited me to the cottage for dinner?"

"What?"

"Yeah just dinner and talking? And that- that's weird right?"

Nancy sighs and Steve hears Hop say something from outside his apartment. He's running out of time. "Why is that so weird Steve?"

"Cause he doesn't like me. And Joyce really doesn't like me." He feels like that's obvious. "They don't like me and they're busy with other stuff. They wouldn't willingly ask me over for dinner and football or some shit so something has to be up."

"Seriously kid?"

He doesn't scream as he drops the walkie-talkie, spinning around to face the voice behind him.

"You're calling an emergency cause I invited you to dinner?"

Again, he feels like this is obvious. "Yes. I don't know what happened but we're going to fix it Hop, I promise. Or, like, if you're something controlling Hop or wearing his face or some shit I will figure it out and I will find the most painful way to kill you."

Hop runs a hand down his face again, he's going to have so many wrinkles after this. "Fucking Christ, kid. Is it so crazy that we wanted to try and get to know you? Make sure you're fed and taking care of yourself since apparently Owens isn't making sure you're alright?!"

What the fuck?

"Yes!" That seems to make Hop take a step back. "I tried for years to try and get the slightest acknowledgement from you! I've spent the last year taking care of the kids and monitoring the gates and fighting Powell and Owens every time they decide to try something stupid and almost get their men killed cause I realized you never meant it!" God he can hear his voice breaking and feel the tears starting to roll down his face. "You never meant it. But you meant it for El and Will and fuck, even Jonathan. And they deserved that. They needed you and you couldn't be there if you and Joyce were fighting with Owens and-" He can't hold back the sob that rips out from deep in his chest. "And I don't- I can't- I just-"

"Hey, hey kid. I need you to breath for me. Okay? Can you just let it out in one push and take a deep breathe in."

There's a large, warm hand rubbing up and down his back. His running nose is throbbing, his sore ribs are probably cracked now from how tightly he's folded in on himself and his injured leg feels wet like he pulled the stitches when he dropped to his knees on the threadbare rug. There's a deep rumbling voice talking to him, telling him how to breathe and asking him to sit up, let go of the walkie he can hear crackling as people call his name and ask Hopper what's going on. It's all just too much.

Why?

"What was that, kid?" Oh. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Why?"

"I fucked up. I'm trying this thing called owning up to my mistakes." Steve lets out a wet laugh that turns into a pained groan when it shakes his ribs. "Come on, let's get you up here." He tries not to cry out when Hop lifts him up from under his armpits, pulling at his ribs, but he knows he lets out a sharp whimper. "You fuck up your ribs?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, dumb question." Hop chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Look, let's get your ribs wrapped and we'll get you down to the hospital to get checked out an-"

"No. No hospital. Can't do 'em."

"Kid you need to get looked at and maybe some pain meds and antibiotics while you heal up."

"No fucking drugs." Steve practically growls, his teeth clenched and eyes burning as he stares up at Hop. "I'll take your fucking antibiotics but I can take a couple of ibuprofen and call it a day."

"A couple of- What the fuck, kid? You can barely walk and you're telling me you're not in serious pain?"

"I've had worse."

"Bullshit." The kid winces and the look on his face closes off. "Stop trying to be a hero and just admit you need help." Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hop. I've walked off worse."

"Again, I call bullshit."

"You know how thorough our Russian friends could be."

"What?"

Steve shrugs, an angry grimace on his face. "Once you live through Russian military questioning and hiking through Upside Down Hawkins, most everything after that's a piece of cake."

"Jesus Christ-"

"I don't think saying his name is gonna make him listen to ya now."

"Ya ain't cute, kid."

Steve gives him the same smile he always did whenever Hop crashed one of his 'King Steve' parties. "I'm adorable." He chuckles at himself and Hop finds himself laughing along at the kid's attitude. "What do you want, Hopper?" Steve's voice is quiet. It wavers in a way that tells him the kid is sad and hesitant and tired and Hopper can feel something niggling at the back of his mind. "You come over out of the blue asking me to dinner with your family like that's something we do. What the fuck man? What are you trying to do?"

"Like I said kid: I realized fucked up. Bad. And I'm trying to fix it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Steve leans back, the rocking chair leaning farther back than Hop feels comfortable with considering the kid's injuries but he manages to not rock back so far he falls. "Alright then. So what do you need?"

Hop can't follow this kid at all and he's not sure when that happened. If it's always been like that. "What are you talking about kid? You're the one that's all beat up." His mind goes back to swollen eyes and bruised knuckles covered in a rainbow of haphazardly placed bandages being fussed over by a group of dirty but uninjured kids. Bloody sailor uniforms rounding up rowdy kids without a mark on them despite obvious injuries and a slight limp and what might be bruised ribs. Bandages being removed to expose red raised around a strong neck that looks like someone took barbed wire to it and bulky bandages poking out from beneath stolen shirts. "What are you talking about what I need?"

Steve lolls his head to look at Hopper. For the first time all evening his eyes are trained on the older man unflinching and not anxiously darting away. His smile is more a resigned grimace. "What do you need to get Robin -and I'm guessing the kids- off your back?"

"It's not just because of them."

"But it is because of them."

"I want to make this right."

"It's not yours to fix, Hop. I've made peace with that. Thought I'd made that clear to the rest of them."

"I thought the kids didn't know."

"Not about you being my emergency contact and like, in charge of making big medical decisions if they couldn't get a hold of my parents. But that you'd stop by the house to make sure I hadn't like drowned washing my hair after I took a beating. That I put more stock in that than I should have."

"You were right to put stock in that stuff Steve. Fuck, if I knew anyone else in that situation I'd assume they'd basically adopted you. It makes sense."

Steve shrugs, wincing less this time. "That's life, can't fix it now."

"Will you let me try?"

"I mean. I'm giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card here man."

"And I'm not taking it."

"Well. It's there, whenever you decide to take it."

"Thanks but no thanks, kid."

"Hey, your choice Hop. Ever get tired of the boardwalk just say the word and it's yours. Do not pass 'Go!'. Do not collect $200."

"Monopoly, really?"

"My head may have gotten a knock too. Not a concussion but I'm a little... swimmy."

"Swimmy?"

"Uhm-hmm"

Hop chuckles, "You're an odd duck, kid, you know that? An odd, pain in my ass, duck."

Steve feels his face splitting in a wide smile that pulls at a small cut on his lip and lets his head fall back, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that has been this entire interaction.

"Quack quack."

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(If you see this post and your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings @fiore-della-valle

#rambler writes #yeah the ramblings of a madperson #steve harrington needs a hug #stranger things fic #rambler writes fic #nttttf verse #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #idek anymore #fathers and sons #got the morbs #some projection about father figures and unrequited familial affection #morbid and melancholy unlovable bastards are we #come yell about the sad with me

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

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Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Like in 2019, 2020, 2021 & 2022, I will post a kinky, fluffy, angsty or scary one-shot from October 1st till October 31st, 2023.

Please consider none of the stories are available until the set release date. Titles may change (all titles are working titles until the release date.). The release date may change at any time.

ANGST/SMUT/FLUFF

October 1st: Forbidden Lust (2) sequel to Forbidden Lust

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Homewrecker kink

Requested by: @jayyyyyyy-stuff

October 2nd: Rekindle

Pairing: Chubby!Thor Odinson x Exgirlfriend!Reader

Trope: Reunion

October 3rd: Very tight places sequel to Cramped & Tight places

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Kink: Claustrophilia

October 4th: Footloose

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Trope: Enemies to lovers

October 5th: Serve your Soldier

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!Reader

Kink: Collars

October 6th: Falling leaves

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Trope: Sunny vs grumpy

October 7th: Blaze of glory

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Kink: Glad-to-Be-Alive Sex/Victory sex

October 8th: Two Bikes (1)

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader; Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Angst

October 9th: Golden Retriever

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader

Kink: Crops / Spanking

Idea by: anon

October 10th: One autumn night

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Trope: a/b/o

Idea by: anon

October 11th: I'm the best

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Kink: Breeding kink

Idea by: anon

October 12th: Breathless sequel to Take my breath away

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Secret crush

October 13th: One Summer night

Pairing: Cultleader!Thor Odinson

Kink: Sex Cult

October 14th: Snuggle time

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Plussized!Reader

Trope: Cuddling & snuggling

Idea by: anon

October 15th: The cabin in the woods

Pairing: Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Kink/Trope: Choking

October 16th: Not in my car

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Love confessions

Requested by: @dawn-petrichor-world

October 17th: Backpack

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader

Kink: Thigh riding

Idea by: @dawn-petrichor-world

October 18th: Sex you up

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Chubby!Reader

Kink: Size kink

Idea by: @sultryfandoms

October 19th: Fulfilment

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Pregnancy

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

October 20th: Triad (1)

Pairing: Omega!Stucky x Alpha!Reader

Kink: Dom / Sub

Idea by: anon

October 21st: Autumnal love

Pairing: Thor Odinson x fem!Reader

Trope: Carving pumpkins

Idea by: anon

October 22nd: Unwanted Mate (Bucky's version)

Pairing: Alpha!Stucky x Omega!Reader

Kink: Threesome

October 23rd: Rescue you

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader

Trope: Rescue romance

Idea by: @dawn-petrichor-world

October 24th: Right there

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Kink: Pegging

Idea by: @flory-alexandra

October 25th: Deepest love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Friends to lovers

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

October 26th: Demon knife

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Friends to enemies

October 27th: Sunrise sequel to Beyond the soldier & After the eclipse

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink/Trope: Quirofilia/Nursed Back to Health

Requested by: @clarinette07

October 28th: Naughty School Adventures (1)

Pairing: Janitor!Sam Winchester x Teacher!Reader x Gymteacher!Dean Winchester

Kink: Cucking

Idea by: @moosekateer13

October 29th: Unwanted Mate (Steve's version)

Pairing: Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Trope: Unrequited feelings

October 30th: Taped on video

Pairing: J3 x fem!Reader

Kink: BDSM

Requested by @moosekateer13

Halloween Specials: ANGST/SMUT/HORROR

October 31st: The past always catches up

Pairing: Winter Soldier x former Hydra!(fem) Reader

Trope: Villain Reader

October 31st: Dreams of sharp teeth

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader x Werewolf!August Walker

Trope: Monster AU

Find all other Bingos and Special Events here: Special Events

#dean winchester #sam winchester #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel #supernatural #kinktober 2023 #flufftober 2023 #angstober 2023

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contentment-of-cats · 9 months ago

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Head canon for little Chiss

1: Chiss babies comparative to an adult sized (average 6'4") are very small, and labor is very short. A six-hour labor is considered long, four hours is about average.

2: A Chiss neonate can't regulate their body temperature and needs to put on thermogenic fat. They will nurse almost constantly for their first six months, usually in a sling that holds them close to their mother. Milk-packs are often employed when Mom needs a break.

3: Chiss babies are fat and almost round if they are healthy. The thermogenic fat is packed on during their first year of life. They look like a blueberry. They become more independent between the ages of two and three.

4: At about the age of three, Chiss toddlers develop 'meat teeth.' This makes regular teething look like a tea party. Teething toys and gum rubs are common. Teething centers are popular with parents who are at the end of their tethers.

5:The first premolars and cuspids are replaced by the meat teeth. The adult central and lateral incisors are also extremely sharp and the central incisors will have an almost chisel-like appearance.

6: Adult Chiss have scent glands on their neck and chest, not obvious to the eye. Chiss to about age five will snuffle these spots to be calmed and comforted.

7: About the age of five, little Chiss start learning to use the halves of their brain independently. It's considered a major milestone in child development. This is also the age at which Sky-walkers are taken from their families.

8: Chiss will never refuse to feed a child or a parent with children or an elder. It is considered dishonorable.

9: The Chiss birthrate is low, but they have stipends for each child, extensive parental leave, nutrition vouchers, and free childcare whether the child is from a Common, Lesser, Great, or Ruling family. A woman who has three children gets a stipend for life. A woman from the Lesser and Common families who has five children often is adopted into a higher ranked family as a ranking distant along with her family unit. Any more children and she gets medals and honor chains.

10: Though modern deaths in childbirth are low, a woman who dies as the result of childbirth is given the same funeral as someone of the highest rank. She will have a place of honor in the ossuary, an honor chain and medal, while her surviving family is given a pension.

#chiss ascendancy #chiss #worldbuilding #thrawn

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goddess-venuz · 5 months ago

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COMMANDERS TOY CH 32

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ:Playing Games|Summer Walker& Drake

───────────────⚪────

◄◄⠀▐▐ ⠀►►⠀⠀

⠀ 2:58/ 3:48 ⠀ ───○ 🔊

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ LIPS ENTANGLED WITH

MIKEY'S...

Long after you had discarded your clothing along

with his Kimono, your fingers were entangled into

his locks, the moonlight that leaked through your

bedroom's blinds kissed on your nearly nude

figures on your bed.

Parting the kiss, gentle panting as you buried your

face into the nape of Mikey's neck, kissing it

roughly, the male's chest heaved slightly, grasping

your hips,

"(Y/n)--.." Swallowing back a moan feeling your clothed slit brush against his cock, "Are you sure you will be able to do this... You're drunk and I need to fucking know who hurt you-" A low moan falls from his lips as you rolled your hips, your lips dug into the nape of his neck, sucking the unmarked flesh, you slowly moved your lips away, licking across the newly made mark.

"Manjiro.."

Sitting up, you moved your fingers from his locks

to his chest, a small smirk resting on your lips;

"I don't want to hear anything unless it's my name."

"Tonight. You're mine."

Getting off of him, you kneeled in front of the

already lightly flustered Commander, Tracing your

finger against his veins of his cock, they pulsed

lightly underneath your touch.

Adjusting yourself on your knees, you dragged your

tongue from the base of his cock, flatly, to the tip.

Mikey's shoulders shiver slightly by the small gesture, his fingers falling on the sheets of the bed, his eyes trained on you with anticipation.

Lowering your jaw slightly, your tongue sticking

out, unhurriedly you took in his length between your lips, hearing a sharp-inhale moan from Mikey, you lowered your head until the tip of his cock rested at the back of your throat.

Relaxing your throat, breathing out of your

nostrils, you bobbed your head at a steady pace,

hearing small erupted moans from above you, you

gazed up being greeted with Mikey's lustful and

flustered gaze.

Taking off guard as you gazed at him, watching his

cock being engulfed by your lips made the

commander's face turn a soft red, shakily placing

the back of his left hand over his nose and lips, he

averts his gaze.

"D...Damn... Do you really have to

look hot doing this.." Muttering out weakly, trying

to speak without his moans interrupting him.

Another sudden sharp moan falls from Mikey's lips, his hips bucking up gently as unexpected you

sucked his length while fastening your pace,

seemingly the sheets were not sufficient to hold his firm shaking grip,

His fingers moved from the sheets to your (h/c)

locks, his fingertips brushing over your scalp just

barely before he grasped a firm handful,

"(Y/n)..."

Almost whispering out your name like it was a

ghost's name, Mikey unknowingly began to roll his

hips at the pace of your bobbing, his eyebrows

twitched in pleasure, lips parted then pressed

firmly together to subdue his low moans.

Your hand stroked the reminder of his cock you

were unable to fit into your mouth, stroking,

squeezing lightly, each time your tongue brush

against his veins of his cock, they pulsed each

movement you did.

Fondling his balls to drive him close to his release,

a choked-sob moan ripped from Mikey's throat, his

hand that firmly grasped your locks, pushed your

head closer to his hips, forcing his cock to be

shoved into your mouth.

Just the feeling of your throat snug around his cock

made him moan out, his head tilted back slightly,

chest beginning to heave,

"(Y/n)~...Damn.."

Feeling his cock twitch against your throat, the

small droplets of pre-cum coating your tongue,

forcing your head against his firm grip, you lifted

your head, removing your lips from his cock as you

panted out a laugh once Mikey snapped his head

down to look at you as if you had just slapped the

poor male.

Licking your lips with a breathless laugh, you stood

up to your feet with a smirk "That's payback for the

shower."

Releasing the reason you erupted him from his

chasing release, Mikey frowns with a small pout,

looking away from you "So mean..."

The feeling of your laced underwear smacking on

the side of his head made him look towards your

nude figure, tossing your bra to the side.

Just the sight of you made his heart leap through his chest, staring at you with full admiration, Mikey

moved your underwear from his head, tossing it to

the side,

"Every time I look at you... I just keep falling in love

with you."

Eyes widened slightly at his words, heat washing

over your cheeks until you smiled warmly,

"You always say that every time we about to have sex."chuckling gently, you walked to your nightstand, brushing a strain of your locks behind your ear as you dug through it.

"I mean it though. I'm not just saying it to say it. If

anything was to happen to you--"

Mikey was cut off by a large package condom that

was smacked into his face, he frowns at the object

with an annoyed sigh; "Really? I thought I threw

these away."

"You did. That's why I have extras. Are you trying

to get me pregnant?"

"It's going to happen sooner or later! It just shows

you more mine than anyone. Wouldn't it be nice

to have little Mikies and (Y/n)s running around

kicking ass?" Mikey asked, biting the end of the

package, he tears a perfect slit then pulls out the

condom.

The male places the condom over his cock, pinching the tip he sighed; "This is almost a turn off.... I won't be able to feel how warm you really are."

"Oh well, it's protection. We're not ready for kids.

Definitely you."

"Pfft... You're my wife, I'm always ready to start a

family with you. And when that happens I'm going

to be smiling from ear to ear."

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you smiled

down at him "When that happens. We will be truly

husband and wife."

Straddling his hips, Mikey gripped your plush hips,

his eyes watching as you lowered yourself on his

cock, a gentle grunt coming from him, adjusting

himself on the bed feeling your walls adjusting

around his length.

"You are already my wife.."

Swallowing back a moan, you parted your lips

slightly a small moan,

"You...You always just say that--" a moan of surprise falls from you as Mikey thrust his hips up, his cock stroke your walls roughly.

"I don't just say that I mean every word. (Y/n), do

you think I will just be near you almost every day because I was just saying that..No, All I want is you

and only you. Whenever I am around you. I feel

hopeless, butterflies in my stomach My dark

world I suffer in. becomes lighter just by your

smile and voice."

Looking down at him, you chuckled gently cupping

his cheeks, you tilt his head up with a light grin. "What am I ever going to do with you...I love you." pulling him into a passionate kiss, you began to rock your hips, fingers moving from your hips to

your waist, Mikey felt his heart being squeezed at

your words.

The way your smaller figure was pressed against

his, the way your hips rocked, the scent your body

gave off, no matter how many times he would have

sex with you, your pussy was always perfect to his

cock.

Your warmth, just the way your walls would adjust

perfectly around his length.

Everything about you was perfect to him.

Words were never enough to describe how much he

loved everything about you, sometimes it frustrated

the commander as he could do nothing but stare at

you with a smile earning a flustered and laughing

you in the end,

If anything was the happen to you...

Pushing your weight against Mikey, laying him flat

on his back, breaking the heated kiss, you placed

your palms on his bare chest, your fingers brushing

against his tattoo that matched yours.

Staring up at you with a lustful gaze, his blonde

locks sprawled as you bounced your hips, his cock

sliding through your warm tight walls, his lips were

parted as he moaned your name in a soft chant-like

he was reciting a spell.

"(Y/n)...(Y/n).... (Y/n)~...If anything was to happen to you I'll lose myself... And bring everyone to hell with me."

Mikey's fingertips dug into your waist as you parted

and closed your lips in utter pleasure, each time

you brought yourself down on his cock, it was

nothing but a wave of pleasure hitting you.

Breasts bounced gently to each bounce you did,

your fingers curled on his chest as you rocked your

hips with your bounces, "Manjiro~ God your cock

feels so good~"

A weak chuckle came from Mikey as his cock

twitched against your walls, feeling your cunt

squeezed around his length. drove the male to want to reach his release with you.

Fingers grasping your hips firmly, he halts your

bouncing, lifting your hips just inches above his,

Mikey began to thrust sharply upwards at a fast-

paced, his lips pressed together, his eyebrows

twisting in pleasure as he plows into your soaked

cunt making you moan out.

"M-Manjiro! Manjiro!~ Ah!~ I'm gonna cum~"

With one final thrust, prodding at your spot, you

released a loud moan, your head tilting back was

Mikey's back arched, his eyes widened slightly, his

closed lips parted as a loud moan ripped from his

throat.

"Ah-Ah-Ah!~ (Y-Y/n)! Shit!~"

Mikey's hips dropped, his chest heaving as he

comes down from his high with you, both left

breathless, your arms shakily giving out on you as

you fell on top of Mikey.

Draping an arm over your waist while staring

up at the ceiling, Mikey laughs out breathlessly;

"I guess you were able to handle it, Yeah?--(Y/n)?"

Hearing gentle snoring on his chest, he turned his

gaze down to you seeing you fast asleep, a warm

smile formed over his lips, carefully shifting

underneath you, pulling his length from your folds,

he lays you on the bed then covers you up.

Placing a kiss on your cheek, he sits up then looked

down at the filled condom, taking it off with his

nose turning in disgust, he tosses it into the

trashcan then looked towards your dresser.

'Tsk. I really need to get rid of those.. Whole turn off."

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daydreamingmia · 11 months ago

Text

ROADTRIP PART 2

Walker Scobell X Reader | Series | You Belong With Me🔱 Part 4

When you drive in the first thing you see is Buffalo. You take a couple pics and post them.

"Are you guys hungry?" Your mom asks

"YEESSSS!" everyone says in unison

"Alright look at the map and tell me what you wanna eat.

We decided on restaurant and drove there. Whe got a booth. I sat next to Walker and Leena sat next to me.

"I think I'm gonna have the fried chicken. What are you gonna have?" Walker asks me looking up from the menu at you

"Mac & Cheese" You said with a smile that Walker knew exactly what you were talking about

"Kraft Mac & Cheese if your parents don't buy it stop loving them" you recited

"Oh my God" Walker said rolling his eyes looking back down at his menu

When you leave the restaurant everyone is full. You go to your cabin and flop on the couch.

"I might explode" You groan

"Me too" Walker says as he lays down on the floor next to you. Making it kinda look like a crime scene.

"Oh no Walker's stupidity kill them both!" Lenna walks in with a smile

"Not yet!" You reply slightly lifting your head and putting it back down.

"Hey!" He said fake offended

Later that night everyone goes to the cabins campfire (I don't know if that is a thing. But pretend it it).

Everyone was making smores around the fire.

"Where is Walker?" You ask

"Boo!" Walker silently came up behind you and yelled in your ear. You scream and turn to see Walker laughing

"Walker! You almost made me drop my smore!" You yelled as you hit his shoulder.

He sat down next to you and made his own smore.

"Let's tell scary stories!" Walker said excited

"Noooo! I don't wanna have nightmares!" You complain

"Don't be chicken!" He reply and starts the story not listening to you.

"Years ago, a pack of ravenous wolves roamed these very woods, their eyes glowing fiercely in the moonlight. They were led by a massive alpha, whose howl could be heard for miles around. One night, a group of campers, much like them, set up camp in the same spot. Little did they know that they were being watched by the pack of wolves, their hunger growing with each passing minute. As the campers slept, the wolves attacked, their sharp teeth tearing through flesh and bone. The screams of the campers echoed through the woods, a haunting reminder of the horrors that lurked beneath the trees. To this day, it is said that the wolves still roam the woods, searching for prey. And on nights when the moon is full, their howls can still be heard, sending a shiver down the spines of anyone who dares to venture into their territory."

You hear a wolf howl and your eyes widen. You get closer to Walker.

"Alright let's go inside" Leena said seeing you were scared.

You looked at her with "Thank you!" Eyes and she nodded and smiled

Everyone got up and went inside to get ready for bed. You finished and went and sat on your bed and watched TV.

Your pajamas ⬆️

You were sharing a room with your sister and Leena. Walker across the hall.

Your sister was already asleep when Leena walked in.

"I thought you'd be asleep already." Leena said

"Not a hug fan on going to sleep right now." You said talking about the story

"Walker is annoying." she said

"Yeah" you nodded

"What are we watching?" she said hopping on your bed

"You don't have to stay up with me. I'll be fine." You said appreciating what she was trying to do

"You're my best friend and my stupid brother scared you. It is my duty to stay awake with you." She smiled

"What do you wanna watch?" You smiled

"Thor The Dark World!" She replied

You put it on with a smile and gave her the popcorn you had.

"Hey I know her!" Leena pointed to you on the screen

You both laughed

After about 2 hours you and Leena fell asleep.

You woke up in a sweat after dreaming about the wolves. You were scared. Leena said wake her up if she falls asleep and you have a nightmare. But you couldn't do that to her. There was someone who deserved being woken up. You got out of bed and Walker over to Walker's room. You knocked but there was no answer you slowly open the door and see Walker dead asleep.

"Walker!" You whisper yelled

Nothing

"Walker!" You said a little louder shaking him

"What?!" he groaned

"I had a nightmare" You pouted

"What about?" he asked still kinda out of it

"Your wolf story" you replied

"I'm sorry." He said actually compassionate "I didn't mean to scare you that much."

"Can I stay in here with you for a while?" You ask

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course." He said moving over

You laid down next to him and he hugged you. It was very comforting. He may be annoying sometimes but you knew he would protect you and would always be there if you needed him.

The next morning you woke up and saw it was 9 am.

"Walker" you said over your shoulder

"Hmm" He replied

"It's 9"

"So?"

"I'm hungry"

"Fine" He said letting go of you

You go to your room and change out of your pajamas.

Your outfit ⬆️ (you can change these outfits if you want)

You went to the kitchen where everyone is eating breakfast. Your mom made everyone French toast. It was delicious. After breakfast we all got in the van. We went to see Old Faithful which was beautiful then we went to the gift shop.

Do you like this?" Walker asked showing you a sweatshirt

The sweater Walker showed you⬆️

"Oooo! I love it! Why?" You asked

"No reason" He said casually and walking away

You look around and buy a few things. We all went back to the thevan and sat in our seats.

"Here" Walker said handing you a bag

You open the bag and see the sweatshirt that he showed you earlier

"Oh my gosh! Walker you didn't have to do that!" You said smiling holding it up looking at it

"Yes I did! It's repayment for scaring you last night." He replied happy you liked it

"Thank you!!" You said hugging him

"Of course!" He replied

You put it on as everyone drove back to the cabin.

You were reading on the couch and Walker was on his phone when your mom walked in the room

"Kids come look outside! It's snowing!" Your mom said

You and Walker both raced to the window to see blankets if white covering everything

"Oh my gosh it's so pretty!" You said admiring it's beauty

"Race you outside! Walker said running to the door and putting on his jacket.

You ran after him and put on your jacket and boots as fast as you could

"Walker?" You said stepping outside not seeing him anywhere. Then a snowball hit you right in the face.

"Bullseye!" He laughed

You guys had a snowball fight for at least 29 minutes then went back inside. Soaked. Especially Walker.

"I won!" You said with a smile

"Yeah right. I won!" Walker rolled his eyes

"Right Walker. Whatever you have to tell yourself." You said putting your hand on his shoulder

"You know what you're right..." He said clearly up to something

"I think the winner should get a hug" He said as you started running

"No! I wet enough as it is" You ran as fast as you could for about 2 minutes but you knew he was going to catch you eventually.

"Fine! You won! Happy?" You said turning around with your hands up

"Very" He said with a smile

We were now driving back home.

"It's so pretty here" Walker said looking out the window. You took a picture of him and posted it.

Then Taylor texted you

"I'm invited to the Grammys!" You exclaimed

"That's awesome! Congratulations!" Walker said hugging you

"Omg! That's amazing! Congratulations y/n!" Leena said very happy for you

"Thank you! I'm so excited!" You said smiling

When you got home it was midnight so you invited Walker and Leena to spend the night.

"That's sounds amazing! I'm so tired." Lenna said so happy

Leena would sleep in your room and Walker in the guest room.

"So, I got an email from my fashion designer and she gave me a couple options for the Grammys. Which one do you think I should pick?" You asked showing her your phone

"I think...that one" she said pointing to the one on the left

Your dress for the Grammys ⬆️

"That one it is!" You said emailing your fashion designer (Alexandria)

Couple days later

You were so excited!

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multifandom-exe · 7 days ago

Text

Love In The Time Of Zombies- G. Rhee x Reader (1?)

Word Count: 1.6k Synopsis: He almost took your head off with a 2x4 and you start screaming like a banshee. Zombie Apocolypse meet cute with Glenn Rhee A/N; no warnings other than avg zombie apocolypse stuff. This is part one of a series im creating maybe idk lmk what you think. Also a rewrite from last year? Find the og here, lmk if ive improved, also leave requests Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The stillness. The calmness. Something that can often be eerie, or calming, depending on the situation. Right now, you were just waiting. For a groan, a shot, a nasty, brain-eating, maniacal, shell of a human to creep up behind you. But it was nothing like that. A sharp sound split across the quiet store as a tin can hit the ground and started rolling around in the most patronizing way. You didn't dare move a muscle, fearing it may have been caused by a walker, or drawing the attention of a horde as we speak. Every muscle tensed as you glanced around your field of view. Throwing a shady glare at the can that was still stupidly rolling around. Glancing down at the sparse array of cans in your arms, you think maybe this supply run wasn't worth it after all.

You tried to conceal your movements as best you could, sliding across the floor so your footsteps didn't make any noise. You stepped lightly on the can; it came to a light stop. In a sudden flurry of movement, a body had twisted from around the corner aisle and a plank of wood was raised high above your head, ready to bare down on you like gods' almighty wrath. The cans that were once carefully balanced in your arms now lay sporadic and spilled across the shop floor. A shriek comparable to that of a banshee left your mouth as you scrambled back, desperate to escape the death that God wished upon you so dearly.

It became evident that you weren't a walker to the man standing above you the moment you let out that deafening howl. Although his nerves lit on fire all the same at the thought of attracting a horde to the shop door. He dropped to the ground swiftly and clamped a soft hand over your mouth. Unaware of if the stranger was friend or foe, you wriggled desperately to get out of his grasp.

“Hey. Hey, stop moving. Listen, please?” His soft voice became more exasperated the longer he restrained you. “I'm not here to hurt you but screaming like hell and high water is gonna get us both killed.”

Your wriggles slowed to a stop as you evaluated his words and your surroundings. A backpack. Assumedly for the supplies he was in the store for. A knife capped onto the side of it. Hard muscles and strong arms gripped around your body. Your senses edging on fight or flight. You tapped him lightly to signal for him to let go as you finally regained your breath. He broke the silence. “I'm sorry I thought you were a walker, and then the scream just... Are you alright?”

You finally looked up at your persecutor. Young, no doubt the same age as you. He didn't look exceptionally prepared for an apocalypse, but then again, neither did you. “You didn't need to try to take my head off with a 2 by 4!” The whisper yelling wasn't nearly as threatening as you thought it was. Not when you're in a heap on the floor surrounded by life-long tins of beans.

Your ragged breaths turned into quiet laughs as you finally came to terms with the past 5 minutes. “I was just on a supply run, the house I'm holed up in is almost empty and I haven't seen anyone the last few times I've been here, so I thought today would be the same.”

He glanced around at your backpack and other supplies in a pile and nodded cautiously. “I'm the same, I'm the runner for my camp, their food supply depends on me, 2 by 4’s be damned.” He added a lilt of humor in his words and a slight smile crept onto your face.

“Are you with a group?” In honesty, Glenn knew he should've been in and out as soon as he learned she wasn't a threat, but it was just nice to see a new face. One that wasn't trying to kill him anyway.

You suddenly felt self-conscious, as if you were doing the apocalypse wrong or something. It was reminiscent of a school teacher asking if you had someone to play with on break. Your gaze shifted to the shelves behind him, trying not to betray the fact that he was the first person you had seen in a long time. “Not really. I mean, I lived alone before... and i just never really found a group to join when the majority had left the city.”

When you finally looked back at him, you found him already staring. “Just me and Robert for now, I suppose.” His eyebrows furrowed and his lips slightly parted as if to ask a question. You knew the question already. You nodded your head towards one of the shelves, and lay against it was a baseball bat, with a drawn on smiley face, and the name ‘BOB’ underneath.

Slowly, a smile crept up on his face until he was creasing over in laughter. You stared at hm shocked and grabbed a rag from next to you. “Stop.” Slap. “Laughing.” Slap. “At.” Slap. “Robert.” Slap.

Quickly enough he was holding his hands up in defense as he tried to sooth his breathing. “Not, not that that's not resourceful, and also slightly insane, what kind of name is Robert? For a Baseball bat?” The look on your face couldn't have grown more incredulous.

“I don't know what would you call him!” Instinctively, you crawled across the floor and reached protectively for your bat, as if it was a real person who needed shielding from his words.

This caused him to almost burst into another fit of giggles before he caught himself. “Not Robert that's for sure!”

“Alright whatever! Let's just drop my terrible naming skills, I promise you can name the next thing we find.” A hope slipping off your tongue, the idea that you may not be alone in this for much longer. He raised his eyebrows, but you pulled a mocking face at him. “While you're here then. We can split whatever's in here.” You stood up and offered him a hand up.

“Split?” He took your hand and hauled himself onto his feet, dusting off his jeans.

“Well, you're not having it all! You almost killed me!” You crossed your arms over your chest defensively. Maybe not as over that as you thought.

He sighed a heavy breath and looked at you. But you were just motioning your head questioningly, begging him to argue. “I meant.” He started to collect supplies into his backpack. “I think you should come with me.” You stared up at him in disbelief. “As long as you bring Robert.” If you hadn't been so shocked, you probably would have laughed. In all your time out here alone, you'd rarely met others, none of them ever this kind.

“You better not say this to all the girls who you almost kill.” Recovering, you eyed him defensively and poked at his chest, still unsure of if he was being serious.

He let out a small laugh at that. “Believe it or not, I don't make it a habit of slamming down on screaming girls with a 2 by 4.”

“Well. Good.” You still stood defensively; arms crossed, even as your mind tried to twist that sentence into some form of innuendo.

“So, is that a yes? We have shelter, tents, people, even nicer than me, kids even.” Your heart softened; it had been so long since you'd seen a child who hadn't met a terrible end. “And now food, if you'd let me just...” He trailed off as he tentatively reached behind you to grab a stray can, acting as if you would run any second.

“Yes. Okay.” Your muscles loosened as you dropped your arms. “As long as Robert can come.” A small smile crept onto your features, as did it on his a moment later.

“Sounds like a plan. You didn't tell me your name, Banshee?” He stuck out his hand to shake yours, a bit late after almost taking your head off, but you appreciated the normality, nonetheless.

“Ha. Ha. Its (Y/N). And yours, Wood Wielder?” Your frown turned up slightly as you took his hand. Softer than you had imagined.

“Its Glenn. Ill introduce you to everyone when we get there, its just up the roadways, if you're okay walking?” He dropped your hand and returned to gathering the supplies he needed.

“Yeah, that's fine, although there's a bicycle outside, if you fancy that?” You quirked an eyebrow at him, daring him to agree. And to your misfortune, a mischievous smile grew on his face.

“You're on. I used to deliver pizza on a bike.” You gaped at him, not expecting him to take it seriously. “You're sitting on the handlebars though.”

“Not fair! I saw the bike first!” You whined as you continued stuffing supplies into your bag.

“I used to drive one for a living, that's as qualified as someone can get right about now.” He made a fair point, and all you could do was huff and turn down an aisle.

After a few moments, you found him in a different aisle and let him know you were ready to adventure towards your new chapter, in this godforsaken life. It would've been more nerve-wracking if you weren't cycling towards it with a cute pizza boy.

Supplies and weapons accounted for, you hopped on the handlebars, trusting a man, who not an hour ago almost took your head off with a wooden plank, to drive you to your new future. With Glenn. His voice broke you out of your thoughts one last time before you set off.

“Im calling the bike ‘Henry,’ by the way.”

A/N: lmk what you think, and leave reqs for your favs

#glenn rhee #glenn rhee x reader #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon x reader #steven yeun #steven yeun x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #rick grimes x reader

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rj-anderson · 2 months ago

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It's quite a thing to adjust to being back on eldercare duty 9-12 hours a day, every day [1], which is pretty close to how my life was five years ago right before my dad's needs became so overwhelming that we had to transfer him to a nursing home. [2]

Except my dad's weaknesses were mostly physical — mentally he was quite sharp for a nearly 95-year-old — and back then my mom was well enough to keep him company, do the cleaning and laundry, and make meals for him so I could focus on managing his home care (and all the phone calls and paperwork that involved), helping him in and out of bed for naps, and wheeling him to and from the washroom as needed. Even if it was a lot of work, I wasn't doing ALL the work, and I could go for a walk in the woods or run a few errands without worrying (much) that Bad Things would happen in my absence. My mom, though, is physically in decent shape for 92, apart from her Meniere's Disease (aka chronic vertigo). But over the past year she's been increasingly losing her executive function and ability to retain recent memories. She's starting to leave her essential items like hearing aids and glasses in odd places around the house, and getting distressed when she can't find them.

Most tasks that used to be routine for Mom are beyond her now, and even writing down the steps for her doesn't help. She either forgets to look at the instructions, or she's too confused to follow them. Even answering the phone is a challenge these days, because if she can't hear the caller right away (which she usually can't, despite the volume enhancement) she starts pressing buttons at random and hangs up on them more often than not.

So for the past three months I've been running downstairs every hour or two all day to give my mom her medications, make her lunch and dinner, do her laundry, take her for her daily walk, answer her phone, turn on the TV for her, shepherd her through her nightly bedtime routine, and reassure her when she's worried about something she can't remember. It takes up a big chunk of every day in addition to my own family and church responsibilities (neither of which I want to give up or think I should). And that's assuming Mom doesn't have one of her out-of-the-blue excruciating nerve pain attacks, a fairly new development which involves a whole other level of care and leave us both exhausted for a day or more afterward. [3]

But the hardest part is that I can't leave the house now, even for a short time, without hiring a professional caregiver or recruiting a family member to take my place. My mom no longer remembers how to phone me in a crisis, and is unable to take any of her needed vertigo or pain medications on her own. If someone isn't right there to help, Bad Things will most definitely happen at some point, and more likely sooner than later.

Worse, I have no sisters, only brothers, all of whom live hours away. And as my Mom's need for care becomes increasingly specialized and personal, they're less and less equipped -- or suitable, from a woman's point of view -- to help her for more than a few hours at a time. And if Mom has one of her out-of-the-blue pain attacks, they aren't trained to give her the injection she needs. [4] So they'd have to give her oral meds and watch her suffer for 30-45 minutes before the pills kick in — and having gone through that myself several times now, I wouldn't wish the experience on my worst enemy. Or put my Mom through that much pain again, if I can help it.

But she's not in pain, or sick with vertigo, all the time. In fact, she can go for days or weeks without an attack. She's able to move about freely with her walker, chat with visiting helpers and family, stroke our two cats and enjoy looking out the back window at our yard. She looks forward to the meals I make for her and exclaims over how tasty and nourishing they are. She's lived in my basement for 20 years now, so everything is familiar and comforting. And right now, she's as safe here as she could be anywhere. The idea of transferring her to a care home even if there was a bed available (which there isn't — the waiting list in this area is 3-5 years for 24-hour nursing care and 10 years for assisted living) just doesn't seem to make sense, or be anything but cruel to her. And while there are some places that offer overnight respite care for up to a week, they only do that for clients enrolled in their adult day programs — which my mom can't attend because of her complex and unpredictable symptoms.

So I don't know when I'll ever get another vacation. I certainly can't take any overnight trips, or even day trips, right now. Unless I hire a registered nurse to stay with Mom the whole time I'm gone, and pay her hundreds of dollars to do it.

I don't really know why I'm writing this, except to get it off my chest. I love my Mom and I want to do my best for her. I'm thankful that despite her physical and mental health issues she is a loving, grateful and overall very obliging person to care for. She thanks and praises me for everything I do to help her, and apologizes for taking up so much of my time. I know she never wanted to put me in this position any more than I want to be in it.

But it's hard. It's really, really hard. And I wish I knew how long this is going to go on.

-- [1] Not counting the occasional calls in the middle of the night, which I hope will be fewer now that I've moved the call bell to keep my mom from knocking it by accident.

[2] Dad passed in early 2020, just before the pandemic. I'm still thanking God daily for that timing because I can't even imagine what it would have been like trying to visit him in lockdown.

[3] We've been to the hospital and our family doctor multiple times about this. Nobody can figure out why it's happening or how to stop it. We're supposed to get a CT scan at some point, which I hope will give us some more answers, but that could be weeks or months away.

[4] I myself was only trained a few days ago, and without any medical background or experience, I'm far from confident about it. Not even sure how well it's going to work, but something has to.

#personal #eldercare #caregiving #valley of the shadow

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outofboundsarchives · 1 year ago

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virgin charlie walker has me in a chokehold

OH MY GOD. This one completely got away from me and turned into just absolute filth. Thank you for the inspo Anon!

(As always my requests are open. I do both sexes, any gender, with any Rory Culkin characters)

/Fem reader/

•Charlie wouldn't say he was a virgin by choice. There was just a lack of desire to lose it. He didn't see the point in pursuing someone just for sex so he left it at that.

•Don't get him wrong, that didn't mean he doesn't want to. He was horny all the damn time. But he sort of got used to it, being pent up all day and then jerking off until he came 2-3 times that night.

•He never sought anyone out for their sex appeal. He didn't care what anyone really looked like in the porn he watched or looked at anyone with lust or need.

•Until you.

•It was one of those unpredictably hot autumn days. The ones where the mornings are so cold you can feel it in your bones, but the afternoons are sticky, and you want to peel your skin off.

•You knew it was going to get humid when you excitedly dug your favorite knit sweater out from your closet, but you couldn't resist. Halloween was so close, and you were ready for that fun, cozy feeling.

•But as the day crept on, you regretted your decision. By the time you made it to after school cinema club (one of the few classrooms without AC) you couldn't take it anymore and decided since school was over, there was no harm in you just wearing a tank top.

•You felt the instant relief of chills over your sweaty skin. You felt like you had been suffocating all day and could finally breathe. You let out a satisfied sigh through your nose and continued to listen to Robbie talk about finale girl syndrome or whatever he was on about.

•But Charlie felt anything but relief, his hands twitched as they gripped the edge of the teachers desk he leaned against. He crossed one leg in front of the other, his cock growing hard against his jeans as he stood in front of his peers. Your cleavage on full display as you rested your chest against the table.

•He couldn't focus, his mind overcome with images of your nipple rolling between his pointer finger and thumb. He imagined the sharp gasp you'd take before he pressed your soft tits together and slide his lubed cock between them.

•He thought about how hot your skin would feel, how your mouth would drop open as he came across your chest, smearing his dick against your breasts while beads of cum dripped down you.

•It didn't take long for him to become obsessed with you. Following you around, using every excuse to talk to you. Watching you get ready for bed.

•With your constant interaction, eventually, you two developed a friendship, and before you knew it, you fell hard for the outgoing nerd. Little by little, you tried making your attraction for him obvious, but he never reciprocated.

•One night, you decided to invite him over for a movie night. It was just before Halloween, and you were tired of dropping hints that he wasn't picking up.

•Charlie of course, said yes, jumping at the opportunity to watch his favorite horror movies. The fact that it was with the girl he couldn't stop fantasizing about made it all the better.

•You had seen Stab a million times, but you were still captivated by Charlie's excitement and little facts he'd spew.

•But you were starting to get restless. You weren't even at the halfway point before you decided to place your hand on his upper thigh. You could feel his body tense next to yours, but you kept going when he didn't push your hand away.

•As your palm brushed over his clothed groin, you feel his dick pulse, already painfully hard against your hand.

•"A-ahh fuck..." He whispered as his eyes closed and his head fell against the back of the couch. You watch as his palms open and squeeze shut, desperately trying to keep himself from thrusting up into your hand.

•"You're so hard, Charlie," you say in a mocking tone, teasing him as you continue to touch him. His hips squirm beneath your grasp, needy for more friction.

•"Yeah, yeah I...fuck I'm sorry," He groans before pulling his plush bottom lip between his teeth. You giggle at his apology, soaking in his reaction.

•"Would you like some help?" You ask with a smirk. Charlie is only able to look at you with a slightly confused look before you're leaning over his lap, pulling at his belt before opening the front of his jeans.

•You hear him take a deep breath as his cock pushes against his underwear, the tip turning the light gray fabric a darker hue. You pull back the waist band to reveal his leaking tip. Before he has time to even process what you're doing, your lips are wrapping around him.

•Charlie jolts with a choked breath. He didn't expect your mouth to feel so warm. His hands instantly pull your hair out of your face so he can watch as you sink down his shaft, taking him deeper and deeper.

•His hips lift off the couch slightly to meet the back of your throat before he mutters a quick "sorry" and tries to keep his body still.

•His chest falls quickly with each breath he takes, your cheeks hollowing out around him as your tongue pushes against the bottom of his cock. He looks down at you with fascination as he watches you move up and down.

•Charlie let's out a stuttered groan as he feels your tongue swirl around his head before you take him deeper into your throat again.

•"f-fuck!" He moans through clenched teeth. His free hand runs through his own hair, gripping at his scalp tightly. He wished he wasn't so sensitive, wished he had more experience, so that familiar knot in his stomach wasn't approaching as fast, but it was.

•His hips start to push into your mouth again, his tip hitting the back of your throat and then some. You slowed the bobbing of your neck as he pushed past your lips. He chases the rhythm you created and starts to thrust a bit quicker.

•Both of his hands slide through your hair as he holds your head in place as he fucks himself into your mouth.

•He tilts his head, watching as your lips slide up and down his cock, your tits almost spilling out of your shirt as they squish against his thigh. The sight drives him insane, his breath quickening as he feels his release.

•"Wait...wait hold on i...stop I don't wanna cum yet," He struggles as he tries to pull your head away but you don't budge. You take him deeper, your throat convulsing as you swallow around him and he's done for.

•His body rocks forward, his hands grapsing your head as he thrusts up into your mouth and spills down your throat. Your nails dig into his denim covered thighs as you take every last drop.

•You sit up again, wiping the droll from your lips and chin as you look at his flushed face.

•"Shit I'm sorry I, it all happened so fast," He huffs as he looks at you apologetically.

•"It's okay Charlie, most guys don't last that long, or even for more than one round," you try to reassure. Suddenly, his hands are on your shoulders, and he's pushing your back into the couch and crawling between your spreads legs.

•"I-I can go another round...i.. just, you gotta give me a minute," He says a little out of breath. You chuckle at his enthusiasm.

•His eyes wander down your body. He uses one hand to hold himself up while the other starts to grope your covered breast.

•"I-is this okay?" He asks quietly, as if being too direct will scare you away.

•You bite your lip and smile at his cautiousness. "You can do more than that if you want,"

•The second those words leave your mouth, Charlie hooks his finger into the front of your low collared shirt and pulls it down, taking the front of your bra with it until you spill out over the top. His hand immediately grabs your breast, squishing it in his hand as he leans down and takes the other into his mouth.

•He moans louder than you at the sensation. You're softer than he could have ever imagined, his tongue lapping at your perked nipple.

•You can already feel that he's hard again, his hips rocking his exposed cock against the rough fabric of your shorts.

•His fingers grab and squeeze your tits as his tongue rolls around your nipple. Your body arches up into his as the feeling shoots straight to your core.

•"I need you baby...want you to fuck me so bad," You moan in his ear. His movements come to a stop as he looks up at you, spit coating his pink lips.

•"i-ive never uh..."

•He's too embarrassed to say it. His body almost delates at the idea of you being turned off and calling it quits from his lack of experience. He seems genuinely confused when you shake your head and smile.

•"I didn't ask that Charlie, I said I want you to fuck me," You almost command as you reach down, pulling your shorts off of one leg. Charlie's eyes quickly drift down to your soaking panties before letting out a soft breath.

•He sits up until he's on his knees between your thighs. He pushes his hair back from his face as he watches you push the fabric down your thighs. His eyes are latched onto your dripping cunt as he reaches forward to help you take them off.

•"You can touch me Charlie, you don't have to be so scared,"

•His eyes drift up towards yours before going back down to the task in front of him. He scoots down the couch until he's almost on his stomach, his face between your knees.

•You feel Charlie's hands on the back of your thighs where they meet your ass before his thumbs slide against your slit, pulling your lips open. The sensation causes you to squirm so he does it again, his digits sliding against your labia, spreading you open and observing your most sensitive area before you feel his breath against your clit. You take in a shuddering breath before the tip of his tongue gently licks against you.

•Instant waves of pleasure wash over your body, and you let out a small yelp. Charlie looks back up at you before leaning forward and doing it again, this time applying more pressure. Your body sinks into the couch as your legs spread more.

•He takes this as a good sign and pushes his faces fully against you, his tongue lapping up and down your pussy. You hear him groan as his eyes flutter closed, the taste of you melting across his tongue.

•Charlie wasn't stupid. He had watched plenty of porn and knew what giving head was. He had just never experienced it. You didn't taste like strawberries or flowers like those shitty romance movies would say. You tasted like you, and that made him want more.

•Your hand quickly tangled in his hair, pulling his face up just a little higher as he swirled his tongue around you. He was eating you like a man starved, all those weeks of jerking off to the thought of you finally coming to fruition.

•He moved his hands from spreading you open to wrapping around your thighs and pulling you against his face. With this new leverage he pulled your hips onto his knees, your cunt angled toward his face before he dipped his tongue lower.

•"OH! Fuck," you whine as you bite your lip, not expecting this level of aggression.

•He just wanted to taste more of you but bumped his nose against your clit. You gasped before letting out a strained moan so he did it again, and again. His tongue burying itself inside you, fucking your entrance as he moved his face back and forth, his nose grinding against you.

•Your legs tensed, and you started to shake as praises and begs fell from your lips. You let out a loud whimper as he pulled his face away.

•His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He ignored your cries as he pulled you more into his lap.

•Your knees were bent and pushed towards your chest as he drug his fingers up a down your slit.

•"Taste so fucking good baby, fuck" He groaned as your juices dripped from his chin. His eyes were half lidded as he looked at you, a thick blush spreading across his face and ears. He pushed his fingers against your entrance, sliding his two middle fingers in at once. You yelped in surprise and cried out his name.

•"Is that good baby?" He asked, concerned by your sudden reaction. Once you chuckled and nodded, he started to pump his fingers in and out.

•"Could have you fuck my face all day, wanna taste this all the fucking time," He rambled before pressing his tongue against you again.

•Your body was almost convusling at this point, his tongue mixing with the curve of his fingers quickly bringing you to orgasm.

•"Please Charlie, please I'm gonna cum!" You whimper and he keeps his pace steady as he brings you over the edge.

•H-holy shit I, I can feel it," He says mostly to himself as you cry out and clench around him. Your cum soaks his hand and starts to drip down your bent torso. Charlie removes his fingers before burying his face in you again.

•"ah! I-its too much!" You moan as you grab his hair but he doesn't relent. His tongue laps at you as he savors the taste of your cum. You can feel his hard cock pressing into your lower back

•Cum and saliva connect strands from your pussy to his face as he pulls back again. He hugs your hips with his arms as he looks down at you.

•"W-was that okay?" He asks a little nervously.

•"Never had head like that before..." You pant. You both breathe heavily for a moment as you catch your breath, but Charlie's dick is still pressing into you, and you chuckle. "Do you think you're up for another round yet?" You ask as you bite your lip again.

•He pushes his hair out of his face as he looks down at you. "It's okay, we don't have to if- I mean if you don't want to that's okay i"

•You wiggle your hips until his cock presses against your ass. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't okay," You reassure.

•He takes a breath before his eyes fall to his lap. He grabs your legs a little tighter as he sits up, pushing his tip between your thighs and against your clit. You gasp at the sensation before he pulls back and rolls his hips forward again, savoring the feeling of the slick heat between your legs.

•"Oh god...fuck you're so warm...can I put it in? Please...please let me put it in. " He inhales through clenched teeth.

•"Charlie please.." You whine before he pulls back again. He presses the back of your thighs against his chest and puts your legs over his shoulder before slowly sinking into you. His mouth drops open, and he whimpers, the feeling of him stretching your walls almost too much to handle.

•"Fuck...so good feels so good..." He hisses as he pulls out and pushes forward again.

•He's not scream queen massive, but he's decently sized and thicker than most. Your thighs tremble as you feel him push deeper and deeper until he finally bottoms out. He lets out a low moan and stays still for a moment, savoring the feeling.

•You clench around him, your body adjusting to the stretch as his eyes slowly open as he looks down at you. His gaze is half lidded, and his lips are parted as he releases a shuddering breath.

•He pulls back, letting his head almost slip from your cunt before sinking back in again. You both moan at the feeling as he repeats his actions. His head rests against your calf before he kisses and bites your leg.

•"Charlie!" You inhale sharply. His hands spread your legs before he pushes his body down against yours, the new angle shifting him deeper. You cry out before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and fisting your hands in his hair.

•His hips slam against yours and your legs twitch. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his fluffy hair tickling your face, and he whimpers. The sound long and drawn out.

•His arms snake between your back and the cushion before holding you tight to his chest and starts to hammer into you.

•"Fuck!" You gasp as the wet sounds of skin hitting skin full your tiny living room.

•"it's okay, you're okay, baby...you feel so good, so good for me," He whines as he hugs you tighter.

•"Charlie...Charlie you can slow down," You try to breathe, but his grip feels suffocating.

•"Mine...you're all mine, no one else's." He rambles as his lips latch onto your neck. "So perfect, so soft," He groans as he thrusts.

•Charlie was getting lost in the feeling of you. His head was fuzzy like he wasn't all there.

•That day from cinema club plays in his mind. He was distracted that whole hour, wondering what it would feel like to take your breast in his mouth and hear you whimper as he bit down on your nipple. You got caught up talking to one of your friends and forgot your sweater on the desk. He told Robbie he would catch up with him later, that he needed to do a few things first.

•He bit his cuticles until they bled, until he couldn't hear the sounds of foot steps and fading chatter anymore. He fought with himself, told himself he was disgusting for what he was going to do, but he did it anyway. He walked over, grabbing the sweater and leaned against the desk again. He paused for a moment before bringing the fabric up to his face, inhaling deeply as his other hand made quick work of his belt. He grabbed his aching cock tightly as he started to stroke it.

•The pent up energy from having a raging hard on and the smell of your perfume and the image of your perfect tits pushed up on the desk had him spill his seed onto the soft fabric. The gratification was gone instantly after he realized the mess he had made. That night, he took your sweater home and washed it, making sure to take good care of it before it had a chance to stain. He would never forget that smell.

•That smell that engulfed every fiber of his being as he nuzzled against your neck and pounded into you mercilessly.

•You could feel his muscles shaking as he held his weight above you. His breathing started to become uneven and small whines fell from his lips. His behavior was almost animalistic.

•He shifted his weight to one arm as his hand slid between your sweating bodies, his thumb sliding between your folds and rubbing circles around your clit.

•"ah!" You yelp as your hands twist in his hair. You hear him whimper against you before his teeth sink into your shoulder causing you to cry out again.

•He would bite and suck on your shoulder before swirling his tongue around the wounded area and repeating the action over and over.

•The feeling became unbearable, and you pull his hair hard until he lifts his head. His mouth hung open as he moaned lewdly, his eyes screwed shut at the feeling.

•"You're close again...i-i can feel it," He whines before his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. "Please, please cum on me....wanna feel you cum,"

•He leans his head down, taking your nipple between his teeth and swirling his tongue over the nub. Every touch, every sensation was like a pull in your stomach.

•His thumb swipes over you a few more times before your muscles tighten, and you feel the snap.

•You clench around him as you cum, letting out strained moans as he continues to pound into you. You body goes slightly limp against the couch but he doesn't stop.

•"Charlie.." You huff as you try to take in a full breath.

•"I-i know, I know," He whines as he presses his face against your neck again. "So close baby, please,"

•His arms slip under your back again as he hugs you against him and slams into you. Your arms wrap around his neck, and your nails dig into his back, and suddenly he stops.

•His moan is almost like a sob, his legs trembling and cock twitching as heat explodes in your stomach. His body thrusts forward slightly as he pumps you full of cum, his grip almost crushing as he fills you up.

•You both lay there for a moment, panting and trying to gather yourselves before he slowly sits up. He grabs the base of his cock and watches as he slides out of you.

•As your walls try to clench around him, you feel his cum drip out of you. You watch as he stares at your used hole before he reaches forward swipes his finger up your slit and pushes his cum back into you.

•"S-stop its...it's too much," You groan as you try to close your legs. He pulls his hand away but keeps your legs spread open.

•"Sorry, You just look so good," He smiles as a thick blush creeps across his face again.

•His eyes never leave your body, completely taken with how red your pussy became from his abuse, the urge to kiss and lick your sensitive areas overtaking him.

•"Can we do it again?"

Aaahhhh sorry for any mistakes and for how long it took to post. As always requests are open for any Rory Culking characters!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #charlie walker #charlie walker smut #scream 4 #scream #ghostface smut #ghostface

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lazyneonrabbitt · 1 year ago

Text

Monsters among us

Daryl Dixon x Reader | pt.2

Your water breaks in the middle of nowhere but to your luck you stumble onto the prison where you find the man of your nightmares.

Angst? Childbirth. Conflicted feelings.

🐺 🐺 🐺

The fence beyond the tree line was the best thing you had seen in a while.

You stumbled out of the woods and into the field, keeping your distance from the walkers and looking for a way in.

If someone would see you right now they'd shoot you on sight, mistaking you for being a walker as well.

Blood ran down your legs, walking with a limp and hunched over clutching your stomach that spasmed with every step you took.

Spotting what looked like a gate at the other side of the field you tried your hardest to speed up your waddle, crying out with every few steps.

Closing in you spotted figures walking around behind the gate before hearing a woman's voice yell out to get to the gates.

A large, metal door opened and an armed man ran out in your direction, keeping his gun pointed at you as he approached.

"Are you alone? Bit?" He called out before stopping near you.

"Alone. Not bit. Please help me." You wobbled in place, looking up at the man who was reaching out a hand for you to take. It was clear by now you weren't a threat. "We have a doctor, he'll look at you."

Once inside you were immediately led to a secluded cell where an elderly man and woman came to your side.

"Oh dear, its good you found us." The woman called as soon as she saw you and was on you in a second helping you out of your ill fitting sweatpants and ordering the younger women who came looking to grab a list of items.

"Miss, how long would you guess have you been in labor?" The old man asked as his hands found their way between your legs as soon as the woman had your pants off.

"M.. morning.." You stammered as the sharp pain returned and you cried out.

A hand reached for yours as the woman appeared at your side.

"I'm Carol. This is Hershel. We'll help you get this baby out, okay?"

You nodded, breathing through the pain and thanking them.

Soon the younger ones returned with supplies and a warm rag was cleaning you up to better assess the situation.

Hershel's hand felt around your belly and checked you up, announcing you were gonna have to push at the next contraction.

Soon you were making good progress but both adults' faces drained of any color before Carol excused herself. You followed her figure and saw her grab one of the women on stand-by and send her off.

"Sweetie, can you tell me who the dad is?" Carol's soft voice was next to you again as hershel kept his attention on the child.

You shook your head and dropped the subject as her hands were needed on your other end.

Before you could ask anything a man was dragged into the room. "Why'dya want me he--" he stopped dead in his tracks. Your gaze mirroring his shocked one as he quickly stepped closer making you flinch.

"Stay away from me." You shook as your belly spasmed. You cried from exhaustion but also from terror. You curled into yourself as he stepped up to Hershel, hoping he'd tell him something but he only pointed him back to Carol.

He knew why he was there, the reason he was called was currently making its way out of you. He recognised you, you haunted his nightmares.

Little did he know he haunted yours too.

"Why'd you call me here? Huh? She say somethin'?" He snapped, voice loud and deep, rumbling low in his throut sounded a growl right at the same time your child seemed to start moving around. "Get him out!" You screamed in his direction before Carol could form an answer. Not even you knew if you meant the man or the baby, but Carol seemed to decide on shoving the man out of the room.

"Okay, out with you. We'll talk later." He let himself be shoved out but not without protest. They cursed among each other all the way down the hall and right before the slam of a door rung through the building you heard the man roar. "I should have all right to talk ta her. Tha's mah goddamn kid in there!"

If the whole prison hadn't heard you scream in pain you'd be surprised, but it was done and you were patched up and brought to rest in a cell near the others'

You had passed out the second Hershel has pulled the baby from your body and when you woke up in the cell you were welcomed by one of the younger women who was with you earlier. She told Carol was taking care of your son.

"My name's Maggie," The woman introduced herself as Hershel's daughter. "How do know Daryl?"

You gave her a confused look before realizing Daryl must be the man that had showed up earlier.

Before you could answer a shadow appeared behind the curtain and Carol announced her presence.

She walked in with a bundle wrapped in cloth and an apologetic look in her eyes.

In this world it wasn't hard to know what that look meant. Especially as she held your child fully covered in her arms. Eyes wide and brimming with tears you looked at her but were quickly distracted by movement. The cloth slipped and draped over her wrist and revealed the back of a head, covered in a layer of light brown hair and what looked like large, upward pointing ears.

"Carol?" You couldn't find words so you waited until she moved closer to sit next to you.

"I really don't want to scare you, but Daryl demanded to see his son so I went to him. He really wants to talk but I needed you to see your son first and decide if you agree to talk."

You heard her talk but honestly didn't register a single word except 'Daryl' and 'your son'.

Your son who you were currently staring at, still in Carol's arms.

Your son that you had earlier today.

Your son, that the monster who murdered your entire camp had put inside of you.

That monster who walked around this prison in human skin. The skin you saw in your nightmares.

"He's like him." Voicing your observation was the first thing on your mind to kill the silence hanging in the cell.

Carol smiled at your at least not terrified words and held out the child for you to hold, or just look at. Which ever you preferred.

Your hand lifted closer slowly until a yawn spooked you and you pulled back. A stubby muzzle appeared from Carol's chest, now no longer tucked into her but staring right at you. Bright blue eyes in a soft furred face.

With shaking hands you tried again to reach out and pick him up. You really wanted to try because even if he looked like his father, he didn't have to be like him.

Carol helped you properly hold the pup against you and suggested you try feeding him.

"You mean, let him drink from me? Won't he bite my tit off?"

Both women laughed at your silly but genuine concern and assured you it would be okay, helped you with your shirt and bra and made sure the little one latched on properly.

It was insane, seeing the large not-entirely-wolf pup feeding off you. You spent so much time denying the fact of the beast being the one getting you pregnant, but here you were.

"Can you go get him?" You looked over at Maggie who nodded and walked out in search of Daryl.

Carol couldn't stop smiling at the way you progressed from screaming at him to leave, to asking to see him while you fed your child.

Only a short moment later Maggie returned with Daryl walking in right behind her.

A soft "hey," left his lips as he looked you over. Your pup was still happily drinking from you and the angry, terrified energy you held earlier was nowhere to be sensed. "M'sorry." He switched places with Carol so he could be close to you both, hoping his pup would sense him now that he was awake.

"How'd ya recognise me earlier?" His voice was so much softer than before and your pup stirred in his presence and a soft whine left his lips.

Your hand went to caress fhe fur between his ears as you talked. About the nightmares and the lies you came up with to stay sane.

Daryl returned the gesture with his own collection of nightmares of tearing a camp and this until now unknown woman to shreds. Except he never knew you were actually still alive.

He never came across any other survivors and couldn't remember your scent so he had nothing to track. He apologised uncountable times during your conversation and offered you anything you could want or need.

"What are ya namin' him?" It was the one question that mulled around in your head the whole time and Daryl beat you to it. You gave him a look and thought it over.

"What about Hunter?"

A grumble sounded from next to you. "'s gon' be a hunter for sure, yeah." He nodded in agreement. "I like it.'

You were happy you so easily settled all those stupid new parent things, although you were going to have to talk and figure out what happened. With his other half pushing those memories away and your trauma response doing the same it was gonna be quite the challenge.

"I hope you don't mind me keeping this cell for just me and Hunter for now." You respected him being the father, and he was going to be a large part of your life and maybe eventually be your partner, even. But for now you wanted to get to know him first.

"Ya need space ta heal and get comfortable. I get it." He nodded in understanding and told you where to find him if either of you needed anything. "Ya can come see me anytime. I wanna check on ya both once a day if tha's good." Now it was your turn to nod in agreement.

You couldn't be happier with the welcoming nature of the group and the safety of the prison. This was going to be a nice home for you and your son.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: SO that was.. I feel like I can't write believable angst to save my life, but I hope you enjoyed that one.

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #twd #twd au #twd x reader #twd imagine #werewolf #childbirth

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pinkhearteye · 2 days ago

Text

TW: Yandere, (I dont know what else I wanted to rewrite this since I quite actually skipped over editing and used ai to proof read so if you find some weird ass shit don't come for me pls ;( )

Merry christmas!!

2 Yandere females x reader

The cold nipped at your exposed skin, each icy gust cutting through you like shards of glass. Snowflakes clung to your lashes, blurring your vision as you moved forward, every step a battle against the continuing storm. Your breath came in uneven, short gasps, each one visible in the frigid air before turning into nothingness. Your head throbbed a dull, unrelenting ache that made it hard to think clearly. Every muscle in your body screamed for rest, but stopping wasn’t an option—not here, not now.

Your legs felt like jello, unsteady and weak, threatening to give out beneath you. The dizziness was overwhelming, the world around you spinning as if the ground itself were shifting. You stumbled, the snow swallowing your feet with every step. The nausea that had plagued you for hours rose again, and you barely managed to turn your head before retching, the violent motion leaving you even more disoriented. The acidic taste lingered in your mouth, a cruel reminder of how far you’d fallen.

You didn’t know how long you’d been walking. Time had lost all meaning, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm howled around you, a relentless cacophony that drowned out even your own thoughts. Your body felt disconnected from your mind, moving on autopilot, driven by some primal instinct to survive. But with each passing moment, that instinct grew weaker, the cold and exhaustion sapping your willpower.

The view was an endless scene of white, well except for the walkers, whose feet were frozen in the ground with how cold it was. Their mouths moved in slow motion and if you were to walk into them they would probably crumble. The wind tore at you, whipping your hair into your face and stealing the breath from your lungs. You stumbled again, this time falling to your knees. The snow was cold and wet against your skin, soaking through your clothes as you struggled to rise. But your legs refused to obey, and you collapsed again, the weight of your body too much to bear.

As you lay there, the snow pressing against your cheek, you felt the faintest flicker of despair. Was this it? Would this be your final resting place? Your eyelids grew heavy, the urge to close them almost impossible to resist. The cold was no longer painful; it was distant, almost comforting as if it were pulling you into a peaceful sleep.

Just as the darkness began to close in, you noticed something—a movement in the distance. Two figures on horseback, their forms blurred and indistinct through the swirling snow. At first, you thought it might be a hallucination, a cruel trick of your exhausted mind. But as they drew closer, their shapes became clearer, the horse’s hooves crunching through the snow with steady determination.

You raised a trembling hand, trying to signal them, but it felt like lifting a lead weight. Your voice, hoarse and weak, barely rose above the wind. “Help…” The word was swallowed by the storm, lost before it could reach their ears. Desperation clawed at you, but your body refused to cooperate. Your vision swam, the figures growing larger and larger until they seemed to fill the entire world. And then, mercifully, everything went black.

____________________________________________________________

Pain shot through your side, sharp and persistent, dragging you from your unconsciousness. You woke with a jolt, your breath hitching as your senses flooded back all at once. Your first instinct was to move, to fight, but a firm hand pressed against your shoulder, holding you down.

“Shh, stay still,” a soft voice murmured. It was soothing, almost gentle, but the cold press of metal against your throat sent a jolt of fear through you.

Your eyes darted around the dimly lit room, taking in your surroundings. Two girls stood over you. One had striking blonde hair that shimmered even in the faint light, her delicate hands carefully cleaning your wound. The other had black hair streaked with brown roots, her sharp eyes fixed on you as she held a knife to your throat. It was clear she hadn’t had time to visit a salon in a while(Not that she can), but the fierceness in her gaze suggested she’d been too busy with what was happening.

“Where did you get these wounds?” the black-haired girl demanded, her tone cold. “And why do you look like this?”

You swallowed hard, the blade’s edge pressing lightly against your skin. “Uh…because I was born this way?” you croaked, your voice rough from dehydration and exhaustion.

The blonde girl giggled softly, though she quickly stifled it when her companion shot her a glare. “Relax, Irina,” she said, her voice melodic. “She’s in no condition to be a threat to us.”

Irina, the black-haired girl, didn’t lower the knife. Her eyes narrowed, monitoring your every move. “That’s not an answer,” she said, her voice laced with suspicion. “What happened to you?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “I was attacked,” you finally admitted. “By someone…or something. I’ve been trying to survive since.”

The blonde girl’s expression softened, and she set aside the bloodied cloth she’d been using. “You’re lucky we found you,” she said gently. “My name’s Eliza. This is Irina. We’re…not from around here, but we’ve made this place our home for now.”

Irina finally withdrew the knife, though she didn’t sheath it. “You’re staying here until we figure out what to do with you,” she said, her tone making it clear that this wasn’t up for debate.

Your mind raced, but your body betrayed you. Exhaustion pulled at you, making it impossible to argue. “Fine,” you muttered, letting your eyes close.

Unbeknownst to you, the two girls exchanged a glance. Irina’s suspicion lingered, but Eliza’s gaze held something else entirely. Curiosity. Concern.

As the shadows of exhaustion claimed you again, the faint murmur of their voices followed you into sleep.

“She’s in bad shape, Irina,” Eliza whispered, her tone filled with worry. “We can’t just throw her out there.”

“She could be a spy,” Irina replied, her voice sharp but quieter now. “You know how things are. Trust doesn’t come cheap.”

“I know,” Eliza said softly, “but look at her. Does she really look like someone capable of pulling a stunt like that right now?”

Irina hesitated, glancing back at you. Her brow furrowed as she weighed Eliza’s words, her fingers still gripping the hilt of her knife tightly. After a tense moment, she sighed, slipping the blade into her belt. “Fine. But if she makes one wrong move…”

“I know,” Eliza said. “You’ll handle it.”

The warmth of their makeshift shelter and how comfortable you were made it nearly impossible to fall asleep.

When you woke again, it was the smell of something warm and savory. A small pot hung over a flickering fire, steam rising from it and carrying the faint aroma of herbs and meat. Eliza knelt nearby, stirring the pot with care.

“Morning,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a faint smile. “Or whatever time it is. Hard to tell out here.”

You tried to sit up, groaning as your body protested. Eliza was at your side in an instant, helping to prop you up against a bundle of rolled blankets. “Easy. You’re still recovering.”

The room seemed more inviting in the firelight, the earlier tension softened into something almost… safe. Irina sat on a crate in the corner, sharpening her knife, her eyes darting to you every so often.

“Feeling better?” Eliza asked, offering you a small tin cup filled with steaming broth.

You nodded, the warmth of the cup seeping into your hands as you sipped. “Better than before, I guess. Thanks.”

Eliza gave you a small smile, but Irina snorted. “Don’t get too comfortable. We still don’t know anything about you.”

You sighed, lowering the cup. “I told you the truth,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I was attacked. I’ve been wandering through that storm ever since. I don’t even know where I am.”

Irina’s eyes narrowed. “Convenient,” she muttered.

Eliza shot her a warning look. “Irina, enough.”

The black-haired girl shrugged but didn’t press further, returning her focus to her blade.

“You’re in what’s left of the Northern Divide,” Eliza explained, turning back to you. “A place people usually avoid. The storm been raging for weeks now, and…” She hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Well, let’s just say it’s not exactly a friendly area.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, thinking back to the unrelenting cold and the endless snow.

“Why were you even out there?” Irina asked suddenly, her tone sharp again.

You hesitated, the memory of what had happened clawing at your mind. “I… don’t remember everything,” you admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. “There was someone—someone I trusted. They betrayed me. Left me for dead.”

Eliza’s expression softened with sympathy, but Irina didn’t look convinced.

“Betrayal’s common out here,” Irina said, her voice colder than the storm outside. “Doesn’t mean we’ll pity you for it.”

Eliza shot her a glare. “Irina.”

“What?” Irina said, standing and sheathing her knife. “You’re the one who keeps bringing strays into this place. Don’t blame me for being cautious.” Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed her coat and headed toward the door. “I’m going to check the perimeter.”

Eliza sighed, rubbing her temples. “Don’t mind her,” she said, her voice tired but kind. “She’s… been through a lot.”

“So have I,” you said softly, the weight of your own experiences pressing down on you.

Eliza looked at you for a moment, her gaze searching. “I know,” she said finally. “That’s why I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

____________________________________________________________

Over the next 2 months, you grew used to the rhythms of the small camp. Eliza was a constant presence, her warm smile and gentle demeanor creating a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of the Divide. Irina, on the other hand, remained distant, her sharp gaze lingering on you for just a second too long whenever you crossed paths.

Doubts began to creep into your mind. While Eliza’s kindness felt genuine, Irina’s hostility left you questioning whether you truly belonged here—or if they were merely tolerating you out of necessity.

_____

One evening, after sharing a meal of roasted game and skimp rations, the tension between Irina and Eliza finally boiled over.

“I don’t trust her,” Irina said bluntly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed and her usual scowl firmly in place.

“She’s done nothing to harm us,” Eliza countered, her tone exasperated but calm. “If anything, she’s been trying to help since she could stand. Why are you being so harsh?”

Irina scoffed, pacing the small room. “Because I’ve seen this before, Eliza! We let someone in, get too close, and then they rip everything away from us. I’m not going through that again.”

“You don’t know that will happen,” Eliza argued, standing her ground. “She’s not the person who hurt us before. Don’t punish her for their mistakes.”

“I can’t take that risk!” Irina snapped, her voice rising. “You might be able to ignore the danger, but I can’t. I won’t.”

The argument escalated, their voices growing louder as they exchanged heated words. You sat in the corner, pretending to be asleep, but every word they said pierced through you.

“She’s just another burden,” Irina hissed. “We were doing fine before she showed up.”

Eliza’s voice softened but didn’t waver. “She’s not a burden. She’s a person, Irina. Someone who’s been through hell, just like us. If we can’t find it in ourselves to help her, what kind of people are we becoming?”

There was a long pause, the silence stretching unbearably. Finally, Irina spoke, her voice quieter but no less resolute. “I won’t let myself care for her, Eliza. I can’t. Not again.”

“You’re scared,” Eliza said gently, though her words carried a hint of frustration. “But you’re letting your fear dictate everything. If you keep pushing everyone away, you’ll end up alone.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Irina muttered before storming out of the shelter.

Eliza stood there for a moment, breathing heavily as she watched the door swing shut. Then she turned back to you, her expression softening when she saw you stirring.

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “Did we wake you? I’m sorry about that.”

You forced a weak smile, nodding slightly. “It’s okay. I’m used to people yelling.”

Eliza knelt beside you, her warm hand resting lightly on your arm. “Don’t let Irina get to you,” she said softly. “She’s… complicated. But she doesn’t hate you.”

You nodded again, but the doubts in your mind only grew stronger. If Irina thinks I’m a burden, maybe Eliza does too. She’s just too kind to say it.

Eliza stayed with you until you fell asleep, her presence comforting but also confusing. You couldn’t shake the feeling that she was only being nice out of pity.

That night, the camp fell into an uneasy silence. The fire had long since died down, leaving only the faint sound of the wind slipping through the cracks in the wooden walls. You lay on your makeshift bed, the blanket Eliza had given you pulled tightly around your shoulders.

Across the room, Irina and Eliza were curled up together, their quiet breathing the only sign of peace after the earlier argument. Despite their differences, they always seemed to find comfort in each other when the world grew too cold. You had noticed the way Eliza had slipped under Irina’s arm, how Irina had instinctively pulled her closer for warmth.

Even now, you could hear them shifting occasionally, soft murmurs escaping as they adjusted their positions. Each small sound felt like a reminder that you didn’t belong here.

You sat up, clutching the blanket tightly as the plan formed in your mind. If I’m only causing problems, I need to leave. They’ll be better off without me.

Carefully, you scanned the room, searching for your old bookbag. It sat in the corner, partially buried under a pile of supplies. You winced as you stood, your body still aching from the injuries you’d sustained before they found you. Moving as quietly as you could, you slipped toward the bag, retrieving it with trembling hands.

Inside, you packed what little you had: some food, water, and Irina’s jacket that hung nearby. You hesitated for a moment, staring at the blanket Eliza had given you. It felt wrong to take it, but the biting cold outside left you little choice. Wrapping it around your shoulders, you swallowed the lump of guilt rising in your throat.

You made your way to the door, every creak of the wooden floor sounding deafening in the stillness. The plank of wood they used to bar the door from the inside was heavy, but you managed to lift it, gritting your teeth against the pain in your arms. As you tried to gently place it aside, it slipped from your grasp and crashed to the floor with a resounding thud.

Panic surged through you as you froze in place, your breath catching in your throat. Behind you, Irina shifted, muttering something incoherent in her sleep. Eliza stirred as well, murmuring softly but not waking.

Your heart raced as you shoved the door open, stumbling out into the cold night air. The plank had rolled out of reach, and you fumbled to put it back in place. Your trembling hands failed you, and the plank fell again with another loud noise.

You didn’t wait to see if they’d wake this time. You bolted, ignoring the searing pain in your legs and the icy wind biting at your exposed skin. The snow crunched loudly beneath your feet as you ran, the sound echoing in the empty forest around you.

By the time the sun began to rise, you were gasping for breath, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. You leaned against a tree, clutching at its rough bark for support as you looked around.

The forest had thinned out, revealing a small town ahead. It was eerily silent, the streets littered with abandoned cars and buildings half-buried in snow and vines. Nature had reclaimed this place, turning it into a hauntingly beautiful scene of decay.

For a moment, you forgot your pain and fear, your gaze sweeping over the crumbling structures and frozen streets. Was this place abandoned before the world fell apart, or did something else happen here?

You pulled Irina’s jacket tighter around you, the faint scent of her lingering in the fabric. It was a strange comfort, even though her harsh words still echoed in your mind

The sun was beginning to rise, casting pale golden light over the frost-covered landscape. your breath puffed in the cold air as you stumbled forward, her legs aching from hours of running. You leaned against a tree for support, her body trembling with exhaustion and the lingering pain that hadn’t fully subsided.

You took a moment to scan her surroundings, hoping for some sign of shelter. The forest was quiet, the snow-dusted ground broken only by patches of fallen leaves and the occasional rusted-out car. It felt desolate, untouched for years, as though even nature had given up on this place.

That’s when you saw it.

In the distance, partially hidden by the trees, a massive wall loomed. It was a patchwork of jagged metal walls and wooden planks that held up the metal walls, the seams held together with crude welds and rope. Rust streaked the metal like veins, and the wood was weathered, but the wall stood tall and imposing, a defiant barrier against the chaos outside.

your heart quickened. It wasn’t just a wall—it was a town.

You moved closer, her footsteps crunching softly in the snow. As you neared, you noticed details you hadn’t seen from afar. Walkers were impaled on spikes jutting out from the wall’s base, their lifeless bodies hanging limp like grotesque warnings to anyone who approached. The smell hit her then, sharp and sour, and you had to cover her nose with Irina’s jacket to keep from gagging.

There were voices, faint but unmistakable, coming from inside the wall. It was the first sound of life you heard in what felt like forever. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the tone was casual, almost... normal.

You hesitated, her hand brushing against the rough bark of a tree as you moved towards the structure. The wall stretched far in both directions, curving slightly as though encircling an entire town. The gates were ahead, two large slabs of reinforced metal bolted onto thick wooden beams. They looked like they hadn’t been opened in days, maybe weeks.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward cautiously, her eyes darting to every shadow and movement. When you reached the gates, you could see the cracks where the two panels met, faint slivers of light spilling through. You raised a trembling hand and knocked.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, voices erupted on the other side.

“Who’s out there?” a gruff voice demanded.

You took a step back, her heart pounding. “I—I’m just looking for a place to rest,” she called out, her voice shaking.

The sound of footsteps grew louder, and suddenly, a smaller panel in the gate slid open, revealing a pair of sharp eyes glaring out at her.

“Step back,” the man barked.

You obeyed, her hands raised slightly to show you wasn’t a threat. The panel slammed shut, and a few seconds later, the gates groaned open just enough for a group of four people to emerge. They were armed, their guns trained on her as they spread out in a semi-circle.

“Name,” one of them snapped.

“I—I don’t want trouble,” you stammered. “I just... I was lost, and I saw the walls.”

“That’s not what I asked,” the man closest to you said, his rifle steady. “Your name. Now.”

You hesitated, her mind racing. “It’s... it’s Y/Nu,” You finally spoke.

“How’d you find this place?” a woman in the group demanded, her voice sharp with suspicion. “Who sent you?”

“No one,” You replied quickly. “I’ve been traveling alone. I just... I didn’t know anyone was here.”

The group exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. One of them—a younger man with a scar running down his cheek—spoke into a radio clipped to his vest. “We’ve got someone at the gate. Get Grace.”

Your stomach churned as they waited in tense silence. The group didn’t lower their weapons, their eyes never leaving her. You couldn’t tell if they believed you—or if they were just deciding whether or not you were worth the risk.

After what felt like an eternity, more footsteps approached from inside. A woman stepped out, her presence immediately commanding. She was tall, with a composed demeanor and an unsettlingly warm smile.

“Grace,” one of the guards said, gesturing toward You.

Grace’s eyes softened as they landed on her, and she held up a hand to signal the others to lower their weapons. “You must be so tired,” she said gently, her tone a stark contrast to the tense energy around her.

You nodded slowly, your throat dry.

“You’re safe now,” Grace continued. “Let’s get you inside. You’ll see—we take care of our own.”

With a wave of her hand, Grace signaled for the gates to be opened fully. The creaking metal and grinding hinges echoed in your ears as the towering slabs of metal parted to reveal the community inside.

Your breath hitched as you stepped through.

The town was bustling with life. Small houses and shops lined the streets, their rooftops covered in snow. People moved about, some carrying supplies, others chatting in small groups. Strings of lights were strung between buildings, casting a soft glow over the scene. It was almost surreal, like stepping into a dream—or a memory of a time long gone.

Grace placed a hand on your shoulder making you tense up, guiding her further inside. “Welcome,” she said, her voice warm and inviting. “This is your new home.”

You glanced back at the gates as they closed behind her, the outside world disappearing from view. The sound of the metal slamming shut sent a chill down your spine, a strange mix of relief and unease settling over you.

You were safe—or so it seemed.

____________________________________________________________

The house was a mess, the evidence of your presence scattered around like ghosts haunting every corner. Irina leaned against the kitchen counter, her jaw clenched, as Eliza stormed through the living room, frantically searching for any clue as to where You might have gone.

“She can’t have gotten far,” Eliza said, her voice trembling as she upturned a blanket on the couch.

Irina’s gaze fell to the spot where You usually sat, bundled up in the blanket Eliza had given her. The sight of the empty space sent a pang through her chest. She hated how much it hurt. Hated how much she cared.

“She left in the middle of the damn night,” Irina said, trying to keep her tone even. “We didn’t even hear her.”

Eliza whipped around, her eyes wide and filled with something close to panic. “What if she’s hurt? She barely took anything! There’s no way she’s okay out there—”

“She’s tough,” Irina interrupted, though her voice lacked its usual confidence. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if to shield herself from the gnawing worry threatening to consume her.

Eliza wasn’t having it. “Tough?” she snapped. “She’s injured, Irina! And you know damn well she’s not used to surviving alone out there.”

Irina winced but didn’t respond. She hated when Eliza was right, but she hated the thought of You out there, alone and vulnerable, even more.

“Why didn’t she just... say something?” Eliza muttered, pacing now. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, her movements restless. “Did we scare her? Did I—did you—do something to make her feel like she couldn’t stay?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable. Irina turned her back to Eliza, staring out the window at the snow-covered ground outside.

“She didn’t just leave because of nothing,” Eliza continued, her voice breaking. “We—we have to find her. Irina, we have to—”

“I know!” Irina snapped, spinning around. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she let out a frustrated breath. “I know, okay? You think I don’t care?”

Eliza froze, her eyes locking onto Irina’s.

“I care,” Irina said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “More than I should. More than I want to.” She ran a hand through her hair, her frustration melting into something more vulnerable. “She’s... she’s not just some random person we picked up. She’s different.”

Eliza’s expression softened, her own panic momentarily replaced by something like understanding.

“I miss her,” Irina admitted, her voice cracking. “Damn it, Eliza, I miss her. And now she’s gone, and I don’t know if we’re ever going to see her again.”

Eliza’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away, determination hardening her features.

“Then we find her,” Eliza said firmly. “We pack our things, and we go after her. We don’t stop until we bring her back.”

For the first time that morning, Irina felt a flicker of hope. She nodded, her jaw tightening with resolve.

“Let’s do it,” she said. “Before it’s too late.”

____________________________________________________________

The house was eerily quiet as You wandered through it, your blanket draped over your shoulders like a makeshift cape. The warmth of the home was almost unsettling, a stark contrast to the harshness of the outside world.

The walls were adorned with paintings—landscapes of mountains, rivers, and fields that must have looked pristine before the world went to hell. The furniture, though slightly worn, gave the place a lived-in charm. A plush couch sat in the living room, flanked by end tables with mismatched lamps.

You ran your fingers along the wooden railing of the staircase, your eyes drifting to the patterned rug beneath her feet. It all felt too good to be true, like you stumbled into someone else’s dream.

You passed through the kitchen, where the counters were clean, and the cabinets fully stocked with dishes and cookware. Your stomach grumbled at the sight of the food the leader, Grace, had sent earlier. There were canned goods, a loaf of bread, and even a jar of honey.

A soft smile tugged at your lips despite the lingering fear in her chest. This was... nice. Too nice.

You made your way upstairs, exploring each of the three bedrooms. The first had a large bed with a quilted comforter, its window overlooking the snow-covered street. The second was smaller, with a twin bed and a desk pushed against the wall. The third, though sparsely furnished, had an air of serenity.

But you didn’t feel safe in any of them. Too many windows. Too many ways for someone—or something—to get in.

Eventually, you returned to the bathroom. Its thick walls and single small window felt more secure. You dragged a pillow into the bathtub and tucked the blanket tightly around you, creating a makeshift cocoon. Before lying down, you placed a chair against the bathroom door and balanced a glass cup on the handle. If anyone tried to get in, you’d hear it.

The arrangement wasn’t comfortable, but it was practical. And that was what mattered.

Just as you was settling in, a knock echoed through the house.

You froze, your heart pounding. You slowly climbed out of the tub, her footsteps silent against the tiled floor. You moved the chair and glass carefully, then crept down the stairs.

Peeking through the curtain, you saw a man standing on the porch. He was young—mid-20s, maybe—with dark hair and a calm, open expression. He carried a small box in his hands, his breath visible in the cold air.

You hesitated, your fingers brushing the lock. He didn’t look dangerous, but appearances could be deceiving.

“Hey,” he called softly, as if sensing your presence. “I’m not here to hurt you. Grace sent me.”

You swallowed hard, debating whether to respond.

“I’ve got some stuff for you,” he continued. “Plates, silverware, that kind of thing. She thought you might need it.”

His tone was gentle, unthreatening. After another moment’s hesitation, You unlocked the door and opened it just enough to peer out.

The man offered a friendly smile, holding up the box as proof of his intentions. “See? Just the essentials.”

You nodded, stepping back to let him in.

He set the box on the kitchen counter, then turned to face her. “I’m Callum, by the way. I live a few houses down.”

You nodded again but didn’t offer her name.

Callum didn’t seem to mind. He gestured to the box. “There are some knives, forks, and spoons in there. A couple of mugs, too. Oh, and some extra candles, in case the power goes out.”

You glanced at the contents, you apprehension easing slightly. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“No problem,” he said, leaning against the counter. “Grace likes to make sure everyone’s comfortable. It’s kind of her thing.”

You frowned. “Why?”

Callum shrugged. “She thinks it makes people stay. And, well... happy people are less likely to cause trouble.”

your unease returned at his words. This place might look perfect on the surface, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking underneath.

Callum seemed to sense her hesitation. “You’ll be safe here,” he said, his tone reassuring. “Just follow the rules, and you’ll be fine.”

You nodded again, though his words did little to calm your nerves.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said, heading toward the door. “If you need anything, I’m just a few doors down. House with the blue shutters.”

You watched him leave, locking the door behind him. You returned to the bathroom, her thoughts spinning.

The house was nice. The people were kind. But it all felt too perfect, too controlled.

As you lay back down in the bathtub, pulling the blanket tightly around her, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

____________________________________________________________

The cold air stung Eliza’s cheeks as you adjusted the straps of the backpack slung over her shoulder. You double-checked the contents: extra food, water, first-aid supplies—anything You might need.

She glanced over at Irina, who was zipping up she coat with a determined expression. Despite Irina’s usual stoic demeanor, Eliza could see the worry etched in her features. It was rare for Irina to show her emotions, but today, they were written all over her face.

“Got everything?” Eliza asked, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” Irina replied gruffly. She slung a rifle over her shoulder and glanced toward the door. “Let’s go.”

They stepped outside, the snow crunching under their boots as they began their search. The sun was higher in the sky now, casting long shadows over the trees.

Eliza’s mind raced with possibilities. What direction had You gone? were you even still alive? The thought made her chest tighten, but she forced herself to focus.

“She’s smart,” Eliza said, more to herself than to Irina. “She’d look for shelter, maybe someplace with supplies. She wouldn’t just wander aimlessly.”

Irina didn’t respond, her eyes scanning the horizon with laser focus.

As they moved through the forest, Eliza couldn’t shake the memory of the last time she’d spoken to You. She’d been sweet to her, maybe even too sweet, trying to make up for the argument with Irina. Had that backfired? Had she made You feel smothered or pressured?

“Do you think... do you think she’s mad at us?” Eliza asked hesitantly, her voice barely audible.

Irina shot her a look, her brow furrowing. “What does that matter now? She’s out here, alone. We just need to find her.”

Eliza bit her lip, nodding. But the guilt gnawed at her all the same.

They continued in silence, the tension between them palpable. But both women knew that this wasn’t about their differences or their guilt anymore. It was about finding You —before it was too late.

______________________________________________________

A sharp knock echoed through the quiet house, startling You awake. You bolted upright in the bathtub, the blanket tangled around her legs. For a moment, you forgot where you were. The cold porcelain against your back reminded you quickly.

Another knock.

“Y/N? It’s Grace,” a familiar voice called out, soft yet commanding.

Your heart raced as you carefully climbed out of the tub, avoiding the makeshift alarm you had set. You placed the glass cup on the sink counter and moved the chair away from the door. Quietly padding down the stairs, you approached the front door with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

Peeking through the curtain, you saw Grace standing on the porch, holding a steaming dish in her hands.

“Good morning,” Grace said with a warm smile when You finally opened the door a crack. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. You nodded slightly.

Grace tilted her head, her smile never wavering. “I brought you something. Figured you might not have had a proper meal yet.” She held up the dish, the aroma wafting through the cold air. “It’s shepherd’s pie. My mom’s recipe.”

your stomach growled, betraying her.

Grace chuckled softly. “May I come in? I’d love to talk to you about a few things while it’s still quiet.”

You hesitated but stepped aside, opening the door just enough for Grace to enter.

The leader stepped in gracefully, her polished boots tapping lightly against the floor. She moved to the kitchen, placing the dish on the counter as if she’d been here a hundred times before.

“This is a lovely home,” Grace said, her eyes scanning the room. “It suits you.”

You remained silent, watching her warily.

Grace turned, her expression softening. “I wanted to check in and see how you’re settling. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s fine,” You murmured.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Grace folded her hands in front of her, her voice gentle yet probing. “I also wanted to tell you about the Sunday gatherings we have here. It’s a tradition in the community—an opportunity for everyone to come together, share a meal, and connect.”

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I’d really like for you to come,” Grace continued, her eyes locking onto yours . “It’s a good chance to meet your neighbors. We don’t have many new faces these days, so people are excited to welcome you.”

Your mouth felt dry. “I... I don’t know.”

Grace’s smile faltered slightly but quickly returned. “I understand. It can be overwhelming. But we’re all family here, and I think you’d find it comforting to be part of that.”

You nodded slowly, though her gut churned at the word family.

Grace seemed satisfied for the moment. She gestured to the dish on the counter. “I’ll leave this with you. Eat whenever you’re ready.”

You opened your mouth to thank her but hesitated. Something about Grace’s demeanor made you feel like there were layers to her words, like every kind gesture came with an unspoken expectation.

Grace stepped closer, her voice dropping to a soothing tone. “If you need anything—anything at all—you come to me, okay? My door is always open.”

You nodded again, unable to find her voice.

Grace reached out as if to pat her shoulder but stopped short, her hand hovering in the air before retreating. “I’ll see you soon, then,” she said, her smile bright yet unreadable.

You watched as Grace left, closing the door softly behind her.

You stared at the steaming dish on the counter, the smell of savory meat and potatoes filling the air. Her stomach growled again, but her mind was elsewhere.

The Sunday gathering. The family. Grace’s constant reassurances.

It was all too perfect. Too controlled.

You turned and headed back to the bathroom, her thoughts swirling as you prepared to eat in the one place you still felt safe.

The smell of the shepherd’s pie lingered in the air as You sat on the bathroom floor, the plate resting on your lap. You ate slowly, each bite tasting better than anything you’d had in a long time. But the comfort of the food didn’t ease your nerves.

Grace’s visit replayed in your mind. The woman’s smile, her soft-spoken words, her insistence on connection. It all felt rehearsed, like an act designed to put You at ease. And yet, it had the opposite effect.

As you finished the last bite, You stood and rinsed the plate in the bathroom sink. You dried it off with the edge of the blanket before tucking it into a corner of the tub with the other essentials You’d gathered.

The house was eerily quiet as you ventured out to check the doors and windows. You moved through each room methodically, ensuring every lock was secure. Your footsteps echoed in the empty halls, a reminder of just how alone you were in this new place.

In the living room, the glow of the moon filtered through the curtains, casting soft light over the furniture. You ran your fingers along the back of the couch, marveling at how clean everything was. The house seemed untouched, like it had been waiting for someone to come along and fill it with life again.

You wandered into the kitchen, your fingers brushing over the counters and cabinets. The polished wood and neatly arranged shelves made her uneasy, as if the house itself was too perfect. You opened a drawer, finding utensils lined up in a row—knives, forks, and spoons gleaming under the dim light.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

Your heart leaped into her throat as you froze in place. Another knock came, firmer this time.

“Y/N?” a man’s voice called.

You crept to the door, peering through the curtain. A tall man stood on the porch, holding a small crate in his hands.

“It’s Liam,” he said, his tone calm and friendly. “Grace asked me to bring this over for you. Just some things to make settling in easier.”

You hesitated before unlocking the door and opening it just enough to see him clearly. He had a kind face, framed by dark, slightly disheveled hair. His clothes were practical—worn jeans and a thick coat—but his boots were spotless, as if he took extra care to stay presentable.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” he said, holding up the crate. “Just thought you might need these. Plates, utensils, a few extra blankets. Stuff like that.”

You nodded, stepping aside to let him place the crate just inside the door.

“Thanks,” You muttered, your voice barely audible.

“No problem.” Liam straightened, his eyes scanning the room behind you. “Nice place, huh? Grace always makes sure newcomers get one of the good houses.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes fixed on the crate.

Liam cleared his throat, his tone shifting slightly. “Look, I know it’s a lot to adjust to. But Grace means well. She’s got a vision for this place, and most of us are better off because of it.”

You glanced up at him, your expression unreadable.

He offered a small, apologetic smile. “Anyway, if you need anything, my house is just down the street. Third on the left. Don’t be a stranger.”

You nodded again, your grip tightening on the door.

Liam stepped back, his hands in his coat pockets. “Take care, You .”

You watched as he walked down the steps and disappeared into the night. Closing the door, you locked it and slid the chair back into place.

The crate sat in the center of the living room, its contents neatly packed. you sifted through it, finding everything Liam had mentioned and more—a few canned goods, a flashlight, and even a notebook with a pen tucked inside.

It was generous. Too generous.

You carried the crate to the bathroom, tucking it into the corner with the rest of your meager belongings. You climbed back into the tub, pulling the blanket over your shoulders as you settled in for the night.

But sleep didn’t come easily. The quiet of the house felt heavier now, like it was pressing down on your chest. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside, made your heart race.

Grace’s words echoed in your mind. We’re all family here.

You curled up tighter, clutching the blanket like a shield. you wasn’t sure if you could trust Grace, Liam, or anyone in this place.

All you knew was that you had to stay careful.

____________________________________________________________

A week passed in the community, and despite youe initial wariness, You found yourself falling into a cautious routine. Grace had a way of drawing people in with her warmth and charm, making it hard to resist her invitations to engage with the community. This time, it wasn’t just any Sunday gathering—it was the week of the Christmas party, and the preparations were in full swing.

You found yourself in the main hall, draping garlands over the windows and setting up a small, modest Christmas tree in the corner. The room smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, the atmosphere unusually cheerful for a place that still had an undercurrent of tension. Grace, ever the orchestrator, worked beside you, chatting animatedly about the upcoming festivities.

“You’ve got a knack for this,” Grace said, stepping back to admire the arrangement You had just finished. “Everything looks beautiful.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, brushing your hands off on your jeans.

Grace hesitated, her expression shifting to something a little more serious. “Speaking of beautiful things, we’ve had two new arrivals today.”

your heart skipped. New arrivals weren’t exactly rare, but the thought always came with a sense of unease.

“Really?” You asked, trying to sound casual as you adjusted a strand of lights.

“Yes, two young women,” Grace said, her tone light, but her words careful. “They’ll be staying in the house just across from yours.”

You froze for a second before masking your reaction with a nod. “I see.”

“I’d like you to help them settle in,” Grace continued, handing you a neatly packed basket filled with utensils and plates, much like the one Liam had brought you on your first night. “This is for them. And…” Grace paused, giving You a pointed look. “It would be good for you to introduce yourself. Let them know about the Christmas party too.”

your stomach twisted at the request, but you nodded, taking the basket. “Sure.”

You made your way across the snow-dusted streets, the cold biting at your exposed skin. The house Grace mentioned stood out with its freshly lit windows and the sound of faint movement inside. You approached the door, basket in hand, and took a steadying breath before knocking.

The door creaked open moments later, revealing none other than Eliza.

your breath hitched, but before Eliza could get a word out, you launched into a rehearsed introduction.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I live just across the street,” You said quickly, shoving the basket into Eliza’s hands. “Grace asked me to bring you this—utensils, plates, that kind of stuff—and to let you know about the Christmas party in the main hall. Everyone’s invited, and, um… yeah. Enjoy your stay.”

You didn’t give Eliza time to respond, practically spinning on your heel and heading back down the porch steps.

“Wait—” Eliza’s voice called out behind you, but You idn’t stop. Your heart pounded in your chest,your mind racing with the implications.

They’re here. They found me.

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