#all this because a white girl tried calling out the day an old man was stuck in an elevator

[whimsycore]

The way queer white people have always antagonized me and forced hostile interactions then become scared when I start meeting them with a blank face or show them I’m not going to be a doormat is crazy.

[jjscrybaby]

prompt 40: ‘lean on me.’

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | hurt & comfort | (stubborn!reader, mention of sick, reader is john b’s sister but no mention of race etc, getting shot, blood, shitty ending cause i’m tired🙂‍↕️)

my first request! thankyou anon, i hope u enjoy this <333

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

For your entire life, you’d been stubborn. Back when you were a kid, you’d refuse to admit that you were sick even when you were puking your guts out into the toilet, there was one time you climbed a tree because you wanted to be like JJ and John B and you ended up slicing your arm on a hanging stick; you kept it from them until the next day when they noticed the scab.

Your brother and your friends were used to it by now, you smiling through your tears when you got cheated on, or stumbling home alone after drinking too much because you were embarrassed to call for help.

No one was worried about you when you began the treasure hunt for the gold your old man had been searching for, you were a strong girl who could take care of herself and them. You weren’t worried about yourself either, not until you heard the bang.

“Shit!” JJ yelled from somewhere in front of you, ducking down with his hands over his head. You knew this lead was bullshit, a trap of some sort.

“Over here!” Kiara called, finding an entrance to the old warehouse you were running near. She held it open and the group of you ran in, panting and groaning. She slammed the door closed as you rushed in and pushed a table against it for good measure.

John B let out a laugh of disbelief, followed by JJ, Pope and then Kie. “Shit, that was a close one.” He chuckled, sitting down to lean against the wall.

“Too close,” Kiara agreed, sitting down beside him to catch her breath.

You weren’t listening to a word they were saying. Your ears rang as you looked down, blood was seeping into your white tee, your body numb from the pain.

“You good?” John B asked, looking over at you. Your eyes flickered over to him, panic all over your face. He slowly stood up and walked towards you. “Hey—” he stopped, eyes landing on the blood that covered your left side. His eyes widened, his face paled and he was rushing at you like a mad man. “No, no, no!”

“What?” JJ worried, coming over from where he’d been leaning against a wall. He followed John B’s gaze and had the exact same reaction, complexion going green and hands starting to shake as he grabbed your waist.

“It’s fine—” you croaked out, inhaling sharply at the pain that followed.

“Shut up. You’re shot,” JJ argued sternly. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and gently pulled your shirt up, apologising when you cried out in pain. He inspected it, you were losing a lot of blood. “We need to get to the fuckin’ hospital!”

“Can’t afford that,” you coughed out, making everyone shoot you a dirty look.

“Would you rather bleed out? Come on, we need to get back to the van,” Kiara responded, looking around to see if there’s another exit.

You tried to stumble after them, clenching your jaw. JJ wrapped his arm around your waist, you tried to push him off and his grip tightened. “Lean on me. Let me help you,” he murmured.

“I don’t want to die, JJ,” you sobbed as he held you up, following the rest of the group. John B was up ahead, storming down the hallway you’d found to find an unlocked door.

“You’re not going to,” JJ argued, his pace quickening. “I’d never let that happen. Don’t panic, I know it hurts. You just have to hang in there a little longer, can you do that f’me?”

You just nodded your head, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you finally leant on him properly; finally accepted the help that he’d been trying to give you for years. When you climbed that tree, he’d been at the top holding his hand out for you to take. When you were sick, he’d offer to hold your hair back and follow you around with food and water. When you got cheated on, he went round to your ex’s house and punched him right in his smug face. He was always there, you just never accepted the help.

You’d gotten lucky, the bullet had grazed you so the procedure was no where near as difficult as it could have been. When you woke up, head foggy and body numb, you felt a hand holding yours.

“Hey,” JJ murmured softly, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “John B’s just gone home to grab you some shit.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” you replied croakily — he was instantly passing you a cup of water.

He gave you a look, shaking his head at you with amusement in his eyes. “You really ain’t worked it out yet?”

“Worked what out?” You asked, putting the cup back on the side table once your mouth started to feel less dry.

“That no matter how much your stubborn-ass may hate it, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” JJ stated, sounding stern yet soft all at once.

“Why?” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up at his words. Was he just being friendly? Did he mean it because you were his best friends sister?

“‘Cause you’re, like, the most important thing to me,” he shrugged, looking down at where your hands were clasped together. “And I hate that you just let yourself struggle alone.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your’s and JJ’s relationship had always been funny banter, witty comments and buried love. You’d never heard him say something so honest, and if you’d been standing it would have sent you to your knees.

“You’re the most important thing to me, too,” you replied, your brain too foggy with the pain meds to think of anything else to say.

He flashed you a grin, bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “From now on, you ain’t dealing with shit alone. Definitely not when you’ve just been shot.”

“Grazed,” you corrected.

“Big-whoop. Get ready for me to be your personal butler, your ass ain’t leaving your bed once we get home,” he teased, making you roll your eyes fondly. 

You didn’t necessarily hate the idea of him taking care of you, not that you’d ever admit that to him; although from the glint in his eyes you were pretty sure he already knew. You were pretty sure he felt the same way.

John B was in for a real surprise when he gets back to the hospital — because his best friend and sister are most definitely head over heels in love.

[mustangbby]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

[munson-blurbs]

Headcanon: Eddie is a boob man. Best friend Eddie would one day notice your boobs (maybe in a bathing suit or a low cut top or something) and they become his new obsession hehe

Us? Projecting? Never.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unwanted boners, semi-public masturbation (m), Eddie's a perv but he's not thrilled about it, Reader has boobs but no size is given (Eddie loves all boobs, let's be real)

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

Stupid D20. 

Stupid Dustin for tossing it so far across the table. 

Stupid low-cut shirt that exposes your chest when you lean over to collect the die, giving Eddie a stupid boner in the middle of Hellfire Club. 

“Hey, Ed!” Gareth calls out impatiently, snapping his fingers in front of the Dungeon Master’s face. “You wanna tell us if we defeated the demogorgon, or are you just gonna stare off into space?”

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry. Right.” He tries his best to proceed with the campaign as usual, but all he can think about are your boobs and how grateful he is to be sitting down right now. 

When he adjourns the meeting, he’s still too hard to stand without someone noticing. “I’m just gonna, uh, hang back and brainstorm for a few,” he lies as smoothly as he can. 

“Can’t wait to see what sadistic shit you come up with,” Mike says. The rest of the guys slap him five in agreement as they clamor out the door. 

The only people left in the room are you and Eddie. 

Of course. 

“You don’t have to stick around, Sweetheart.” He tries not to sound too dismissive, plastering a smile on his face. 

“You’re my ride.”

Shit. “Oh. Right.” He hedges a nervous laugh. “I’ll be ready in five.”

You nod. “No worries. I’ll run to the girls’ room while I wait.” Before reaching the door, you notice that Lucas’s character sheet has fluttered to the ground. You reach down and scoop it up, revealing the tops of your bra-covered breasts. 

“Sinclair owes me,” you chirp, placing the paper back on the table, remaining utterly oblivious to the way Eddie is straining against his zipper once again. 

To Eddie’s credit, he tries to stop thinking about them. He really, truly does. 

You’re his best friend. He doesn’t want to constantly think about your boobs, or the way they’d feel pressed against his bare chest, or whether your nipples would harden if he sucked on them, or—

“Mr. Munson!” Ms. O’Donnell’s shrill screech snaps him out of his breast-induced stupor. “Is there a reason why you can’t be bothered to listen while I’m trying to teach?”

“N-No, ma’am.”

She huffs out an irritated sigh. “Since you must know everything already, why don’t you come up and solve the problem for us?” She taps the piece of chalk against the blackboard, leaving tiny white dots in its wake. 

Eddie shakes his head, feeling his cheeks burn red. Humiliating himself when he can’t figure out the value of x will be bad enough, but to fail while his sail is at half-mast? He’ll never recover. 

Fortunately, the old bird relents and turns back to the board to continue her lesson. 

Crisis averted. 

Except…is it?

Because the only thing—things, rather—on Eddie’s mind are your tits. And he isn’t supposed to be imagining himself caressing them while you’re bouncing on his cock, moaning his name, saying that only he can make you feel that good…

He’s racing out of his seat the moment the bell rings, making a mad dash for the Hellfire room, relieved to see that it’s unoccupied. The door barely closes behind him before he’s ambling towards his DM throne and frantically tugging down his jeans and boxers. 

“Fucking Christ,” he whispers, inhaling sharply as his cock is free of its denim restraint. He wraps his hand around it and squeezes in his desperation for an ounce of relief. Pre-cum already leaks from his red, angry tip, and he knows from experience that this is not going away without some…intervention. 

Eddie reluctantly lets go of himself and spits into his open palm. He bites his lower lip to stifle a burgeoning moan as he slowly works his shaft, fingers tightening to simulate what he imagines to be the way you’d feel. 

“Thassit, mmmf, feels s’good.” He closes his eyes and rests the back of his head on his chair. He needs you underneath him so he can watch your breasts jiggle with each snap of his hips. 

“Bet you want my cum, huh? Where do you want it?” Eddie keeps his voice low, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Want it on those pretty tits of yours? Yeah, you fuckin’ do.”

His fist flies over his hardness, choked whimpers escaping his lips. He feels pleasure begin to build and moans your name to bring himself over the edge. 

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s head snaps forward, taking a moment to let reality seep in. He’s not buried deep within you; he’s jerking off in a dark room where he plays Dungeons & Dragons, and you’re standing in the doorway. 

“Eds? You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. ‘M fine,” he lies, silently brainstorming ways to tuck himself back into his pants without you noticing. 

You arch a disbelieving brow. “You sure? Lucas said he saw you running down the hallway—”

“I’m fine!” He insists louder this time. Shaking his head, he bites his lip and attempts to collect himself. 

The two of you have been friends for too long; you know that he’s far from fine when he raises his voice. You walk to him, determined to figure out what’s wrong. 

And then you see it. 

Eddie says nothing, fully focused on covering himself as best he can and avoiding eye contact. 

It doesn’t take long for you to put the pieces together: semi-hard cock in his hand, sweat beading on his forehead, the pleading mentions of your name. 

“Eddie.” You let your fingertips brush against his shoulder. “Did I interrupt?”

He only nods in response. 

“What were you thinking about?”

Eddie exhales a long breath before answering. “You,” he finally answers. “And th-that shirt you wore yesterday.” His cock twitches at the mere reminder of it. 

You grin knowingly. You’d bought it at the mall specifically because of its low-cut neckline, hoping it would catch Eddie’s attention. 

Apparently, it very much had. 

“You liked it?” 

“Loved it.” He starts stroking himself again, almost unaware of his own movements. “Want you to wear it every damn day,” he adds with a hoarse chuckle. 

Swiping your tongue over your lower lip, you lean in and whisper in his ear, “What if I didn’t wear one at all?”

With that, you lift your shirt over your head and unhook your bra, letting them both fall to the ground unceremoniously. Eddie’s eyes widen, gazing at your exposed chest. 

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, his free hand reaching out to touch them. His thumb grazes one nipple and he gives your breast a gentle squeeze. “Baby, they’re perfect.”

You smile, using your hip to nudge the table away and get on your knees in front of him. “Keep going, Eds.”

He nods again, shifting forward a bit so you’re between his legs. “Gonna…gonna cum all over these perfect tits,” he grunts. “Please. Please, I gotta…”

“You can cum on them, Eds.”

And, fuck, does he. Thick ropes spill out of his cock, painting your chest in a sticky film. He’s crying out your name as he does it, milking every last drop. 

He floats down from the high, staring at your chest and admiring the way he’s claimed you. “That…wow,” he manages, laughing nervously. “Let me clean you up.” He reaches for the tissues, wiping whatever is still leaking out of him before sopping up the mess on your breasts. 

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he admits sheepishly, wadding up the Kleenex and tossing it into the trash. “Like, do I take you on a date? Bend you over the table?” He says the second option teasingly, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t turn you down if you agreed to it. 

You re-clasp your bra and shrug on your shirt. “We could try a date,” you say as casually as you can. 

“Dinner and a movie?”

“I’ll wear that shirt.”

--

[grapejuicestyless]

Pay The Price

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: Karma is real, and those who do bad have to pay the price for it. But, sometimes, those who don’t do anything at all pay for the crimes the bad people commit.

He said she would pay. From the moment she watched Kiara shove the blonde boy with the short buzz cut off of the bow of the ship, and he surfaced screaming indecent words through the water that poured into his mouth, she knew just how much truth he held in those words.

Kiara was safe, but it always worked out that way for her. Rafe had said it best. Though by choice, she was a Pogue, by nature, she would always be a Kook. Until all the money she once had was used dry, she would never stoop down to the levels of desperation that her friends had. And because of that, Rafe held a soft spot for the curly headed girl.

She never believed he had the heart to go through with it though. Rafe wasn’t a good person. His hands were doused in mass amounts of blood that he proclaimed were necessary for the success of his survival and the growth of his future. Yet, all the death seemed unnecessary when the same prosperities were achieved through the act of simple, honest affection snd care towards those who can only help you. Still, though they shared different perspectives, Y/n sympathized with the broken boy.

He would always be the shell of a man. A young Kook who was desperately grasping onto broken baggies filled with snow and loud party music to drown out the absence of his father. He cried for help, and yet his desperate pleas were met with nothing but silence.

And so, the only response he ever got from his father would forever ring through his head. And the primal urge to fulfill what his father believed he needed to be rained supreme over whatever shreds of goodness remained within him.

Y/n went with John B that day, and JJ had pleaded for her to stay, an unease that refused to settle deep within his stomach. He gripped onto the sleeves of her shirt that once belonged to him and begged for her to stay because if Singh couldn’t manage to stick a knife through his heart, the idea of getting lost again would kill him.

“Hey, you know me.” She promised him softly in the evening light, the soft humming of the boat vibrating the pristinely white floors. “I’ll come back.”

He believed her. He hung onto every promise she ever made because it was true. If JJ knew nothing, he knew her. He knew there was no way she would turn away from him, because he knew just how hard she had always tried to make him feel seen. So he let go of her hands for the last time that day, trusting her completely that this was the right thing to do, and she towed behind John B the entire trudge to the old church where he swore he heard his father calling for him.

But JJ shouldn’t have trusted her, not because she hadn’t proven herself to him, but because she was selflessly following one of her best friends into an unknown territory lined with threats where if it truly came down to it, he would choose to save his father every damn time.

The pleasantries were nice, for a moment. The tight hug and the teary eyes as a father and son reunited. But soon, extra footsteps rang through the old church, but not those that were welcome. They were loud, unholy, threatening. Those of a sinner. Though, looking back now, if she knew what she would have known now, Y/n would’ve known that there was never a single saint standing beside her that day.

They ran, through the thick tree lined roads and down the uneven, rocky paths where no cars could reach. Though, that seemed to be untrue because right behind there trailed two black SUV’s that looked striking similar to those that had imprisoned Kiara and Y/n just mere hours ago.

“John B, run!” She cried out behind him, her hand splayed out on his back to shove him forward towards the small clearing between the wet brush. It was getting dark quickly, colder, even in such a warm climate the chill was getting to them. Their noses were turning red and the skin was forming small bumps across the span of their entire bodies.

They made a turn to loose them, one quick turn that should have granted them freedom. Y/n followed John B blindly, secure in her trust that he would never lead her into danger, but John B was just as blind as she was. The blind leading the blind into a darkness neither of them could navigate.

They were so close when suddenly, her foot caught onto a rock. A wet slab of earth sending her falling down the slick hill and separating her from John B. He called out for her, a soft groan echoing from the bottom of the hill. She was bleeding from her temple, a scratch against the skin that leaked in thin streams of crimson down the curve of her cheek and dripped off the edge of her jawline. She could barely make out anything around her, she was just getting a grasp of her surroundings.

She thought he’d come to get her when she saw the tall frame standing in front of her. The much larger, warm hand grasped her cold hand, pulling her up on her wobbly knees. Y/n wanted to breathe out her thanks to her savior, to hold onto him and pull him close. But it was so dark, he was only a shadow, only the ghost of the person she thought she’d seen.

“Checkmate, bitch.” The voice teased softly, the voice that Y/n associated with the Kook from figure eight that she often found herself sympathizing with in her daydreams.

“W-what?” She stuttered out, trying to step back only for his arm to wrap tightly around the small of her back. It was a threat wrapped around a wet dream, the idea of being held so intimately, so protected by the enemy, but to feel every tender touch like a threat made her blood run cold.

When John B finally made his way down the hill, he didn’t see the same man that Y/n had looked at with terror. He saw the aftermath of her punishment.

Sitting underneath a low hanging tree, the heavy branches dripping onto the ground around her, Y/n sat folded nearly in half, just half of the girl she was a few minutes ago. Slumped over, her knuckles gripping onto the leaves, her hair hung over her face, hiding the maroon that stained her skin and the hole that left her breathless.

“Hey, hey, you okay?” John B kneeled on front of the girl, someone he often saw as the sister he never got. Often, they curled up in bed together when they were still young, sharing pajamas and exchanging stories from their day, as if they hadn’t been attached at the hip for the entirety of it.

He didn’t see it at first, how her hand covered her stomach in pain, the shakiness of her limps and the uneven pressure she applied with her weakening fingers. She tilted her head back slowly, finding a nice resting place against the dying bark.

Her eyes were glossy, clouded over in a dark pain John B had only seen once before. A pain that ended in a murder trial and the haunting image of the old sheriff bleeding out on the tarmac. She let out a choked breath, her mouth opening and squeezing shut to catch her breath, desperate to keep whatever little oxygen she could retain.

“Hey…hey, Y/n/n, what’s going on?” He questioned, oblivious to the main issue right below his nose. But it was so dark, so incredibly dark, it was a miracle in itself he could find her at all through the winding brush.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” She spoke in one breath, but the instability of the volume of her voice gave away the weakness in her bones, as the choked out gasps of pain alerted John B to where her bloody hand laid covering the wound that leaked through the thin fabric adorning her fragile body.

“Shit…hey, no, come on, we gotta go. We gotta get you help.” John B tried to lift her immediately after spotting the dark spot spreading on her abdomen, but her shrieks of pain made him stop, and she begged him to put her down.

“John B, we got to go, boy.” Big John rasped, but it fell on deaf ears, the ringing echoing through John B’s mind so loud, it drowned out even the threatening sounds of the SUV’s tires scraping against the mud.

“Rafe got me good, huh?” She hiccuped with a weak smile, eyes looking up at the sky, her final destination. She couldn’t bear to witness the grief in her friend’s eyes.

“I guess he was right.” She coughed, and with her bubbling breath, a thin line of her blood trickled down the center of her chin, a splatter of blood dripping down her shirt. “I really did pay for it.”

She laughed it off, her dying. She laughed because she thought that if she took it a little less seriously, then maybe John B would be less inclined to grieve for so long.

“No, you won’t. We’ll carry you to a boat, and we’ll get you help back in Kildare, okay?” John B planned it out like it was promised, but the knife was twisted deeply beneath her skin, the crunching sounds still playing on a loop in the back of her mind.

Y/n shook her head weakly, and the wetness that rimmed her eyes spilt down all at once. She smiled through the whole process, the feeling of her chest expanding, and then quickly imploding. The squeezing of her lungs beneath her ribs, the cracking of her heart as it began to slow. Her eyes felt heavy, and so did her body. She let her hand fall limp to her side, no longer trying to stop the bleeding that couldn’t be prevented.

“John B, you got to listen to me.” Y/n snapped John B out of his useless plans and breathless rambling. When they locked eyes, they both knew it would be for the last time, and reality hit them both hard, and John B gave up on any schemes he could have conjured up in her final moments.

“T-tell them I ran off.” She pleaded softly. “Tell them you lost me on the way back, that I made my escape and I abandoned you.”

“What? No, why?” He couldn’t understand it. They would resent her for it. No—JJ would hate her forever for it. Why would she take an eternity of hatred to spare the guilt from John B. To protect him from the potential blame the others might try and place on him.

“Please, just promise me. Promise me you’ll tell JJ, okay?” She coughed weakly, and neither of them could tell if what stained her face was blood, tears, or saliva, but John B wiped it off of her pretty face anyway.

“Tell him that I love him, okay?” She hiccuped through her tears, her weak smile turning more into clenched teeth and furrowed brows. This wasn’t peace, because if it were, JJ would have been the one to hold her, and her friends would be the ones looking down at her with smiles knowing that she had been at ease with her leaving, not Big John.

“Tell him yourself.” John B tried to argue.

Y/n shook her head.

“Please, tell him for me, okay?” She whined, the light behind her eyes fading.

“John B, we gotta get out of here, son.” Big John spoke up, the sound of footsteps crunching beneath the leaves only growing closer. It settled in then that there was no way he could lift her over his shoulder. She would be dead in minutes, and in the end it would only kill him too. He had to live to tell her story.

“Okay.” He nodded his head, pressing a kiss to the center of her forehead with wobbling lips.

“P4L.” She smiled, even as her eyes fluttered shut, it never faltered. Not until the last breath squeezed its way out of her lungs and her muscles died along side her.

He wanted to scream, to kick something, to do something, but it was just him and his dad now. A trade he didn’t know he was making when he abandoned the others on the stolen yacht, a sacrifice the others would never know about.

Even as the pair silently sailed back to the familiarity of their home, they sat in silence, which was weird because John B had always envisioned the second they reunited, it would be filled with laughter and memories. Now, as he looked at his father, all he saw was the haunting reminder that his family was no longer with him. That no matter where he put the grave, and no matter how beautiful he made it, he would never be close to her again, and he would never even know where to look to find something like her again.

When John B returned back to the safety of the overgrown greenery and the old, worn in hammock that hung in the backyard of the Chateau, suddenly, he realized it had lost its charming appeal. It didn’t feel like home anymore, it felt empty. And the sad expression on his face remained stuck as he leaned off the edge of the dock to wash the red out from under his nails.

Her body was forever lost, but her blood ran deep between the waves of the ocean back home, and it always would.

When the others slowly filed into the backyard like old times, it was the first question on their tongues. “Where’s Y/n?” And it was a question that John B hesitated on.

He almost told them the truth as they all sat around the fire, it danced on the tip of his tongue. But then, he locked eyes with JJ, and her final words rang through his mind.

“She uh…she ran off. Decided to take her chances on her own.” John B lied though his teeth, and when he locked eyes with the broken gaze of the tow headed blonde across from him, for some odd reason he couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend that she loved him.

It was selfish, maybe, to reject the dying wish of someone so deeply loved and special to him. But in some twisted, messed up way, to John B, if he ignored it, if he waited to tell JJ what she had said, then it meant that she wasn’t really gone. She would still be alive, just far away like his lie foretold, as long as he didn’t treat it like she had died.

“No, man you’re lying. Come on, where is she?” JJ laughed through the heavy silence, clapping his dry hands together and standing up so quickly, the stool beneath him toppled over into the dirt.

John B just looked down between his thighs and shook his head.

“Y/n wouldn’t do that, okay? I know her, and she wouldn’t do that.” He argued with wild eyes. John B may have grown up with her, but JJ was always the closest to her, an extension of each other. They practically hung off of each other’s arms. The image of her head up upon JJ’s shoulder, resting happily during annual fire pit nights was comforting and not at all rare. He should’ve known he wouldn’t believe she would abandon any of them for a second.

“Well she did, JJ, okay?” He wasn’t sure why he snapped at him, it wasn’t his fault she wasn’t there. His anger couldn’t fill her absence better than silence could, yet the wound was still fresh, and he couldn’t even close his eyes to blink without seeing the fading smile from her paling face. Her death.

JJ didn’t stick around long after that, going to god knows where to do god knows what. Someone should have grabbed onto him. Y/n would have. She would have talked to him like nobody else existed, because nobody else mattered but them in that moment. She would have stopped him and held him in a way he allowed no other. But she wasn’t here now, as odd as it felt to admit, even in John B’s head, and so nobody even tried when he stormed off into the sweltering night.

“The storms coming quickly, this isn’t looking good.” Pope observed obviously from behind the wheel of the rusted fishing boat Rafe had borrowed from his old drug dealer. It was a sketchy deal, but a desperate one to lead the even more desperate Pogues to the sandy shores of Morocco.

“No shit, we’re not prepared for this.” Kiara added sarcastically. Her knuckles white against the edge of the small table shoved in the corner. There was a card game left unfinished sprawled over the old wood, the uneven sea making both Kiara and Sarah too anxious to try and continue.

“This was a bad idea.” Sarah pointed out the obvious.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Cleo sighed, pulling down every lever that she recognized to help stabilize the boat.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Sarah asked nervously as she observed the frantic girl.

“I know enough!” Cleo shot back all too sharply.

“Y/n would know what to do.” Sarah swallowed, and the air in the small cabin seemed to grow heavier. In that moment, everyone as a collective was glad JJ was out on the open deck getting wasted by the hands of an old bottle of Hennessy stashed away on the boat.

He would’ve sneered and laughed bitterly about how Y/n wasn’t here anymore. How she chose to leave, how she didn’t matter anymore. They all recognized it as a projection. The truth was, JJ still loved that girl deeply, but it was all too well known that the blonde boy always ran from his terrifyingly strong emotions and pushed the blame to those who didn’t deserve it.

The thought reminded John B that the boy was out in the approaching storm, and after some internal debate on whether to leave him out there in the fresh air or to drag him into the warm dry cabin, he decided on the latter. Though, he was sure the boy could have survived the violent weather, he always did have the survival instincts of a cockroach.

“JJ!” John B called out, careful of the wet spots on the deck as rain misted down onto his tan skin. Not far from him stood his best friend, a nearly empty bottle dangled loosely in his hand and his legs crossed carelessly against some stacked barrels. He looked out at the violent waves, seemingly at peace with it.

“C’mon man, it’s getting pretty bad out here.” John B said, clapping a hand over his shoulder. The blonde simply shook it off.

“Nah.” He said plainly. His breath reeked of alcohol. “I’m good.”

“JJ, dude seriously, come on. You’ll die out here.” John B laughed. JJ didn’t seem to find it funny.

“No, I’m serious man, go on in. I’m good out here.” JJ smiled, his hands clinging onto John B’s shirt all while drunkenly taking another swig of the nearly empty drink in between his knuckles.

John B wasn’t having it, pulling him along only for the heels of JJ’s boots to dig into the rotting wood, stopping both of them in a harsh halt.

“Come on man, what’s your problem?”

“What my problem? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” JJ argued back. “Theres no harm in me staying out here, alright? I’m just a dead weight anyways.”

It was moments like this that John B prayed for Y/n the most. It was times like this when JJ was nearly unretrievable from his state of self deprecation that Y/n managed to pull him from every damn time. But Y/n wasn’t here, and John B had only one last card left to play.

“Actually, I have something to tell you.” John B spoke. Granted, in hindsight, now was not the time to show off his good fortune, the success of his relationship and how easily his life seemed to be falling into perfect place. Yet, it was all he could think of to pull JJ out of his slump like trance.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” John B said proudly, and when he was met with no response, his smile faltered for a moment before he continued speaking. “You’re like my brother, JJ, I’ve known you since third grade. Sarah and I want you to be the Godfather. I can’t imagine anyone else doing it.”

JJ shook his head quickly. “You wouldn’t want me around that kid, John B. I promise you that.” He took another large gulp of the alcohol.

“JJ I…I literally just asked you to be the Godfather, what are you talking about?”

“John B, what do you know about raising a kid, huh?” JJ cut his friend off suddenly, snapping at the mere mention of anything changing within the group. It was almost like it hurt him to imagine having to shift the dynamics once again.

“Not a single thing, JJ!” John B argued back quickly, trying to keep his cool.

“Exactly.” JJ raised a finger to John B’s face, the bottle swishing around tauntingly between the pair. “No exactly, alright? You don’t know shit. You’re gonna screw up this kid just like my old man screwed me up.”

“Thats what you’re gonna go on about?” John B tried to talk over JJ, but it was useless.

“Just like your old man screwed you up.”

“Stop.” John B warned, looking towards the sky for strength.

“And whats worse, is you’re gonna put Sarah through that!”

“Hey!” John B shoved JJ backwards slightly, his brows furrowed in a deep frown.

With one small step forward, John B’s hands were on JJ’s chest, grabbing at the fabric of his shirt until he was pressed against a nearby crate, leaning back with his eyes focused on his best friends face.

“Chill out, hey, chill out, okay?” John B said firmly, his grasp not letting up.

JJ simply threw his head back and laughed. He laughed like it was all some joke, like it was funny to him. But it wasn’t. None of this was. Not the fact that he was going to be a father so young, not the fact that they were heading into a storm, and certainly not the fact that Y/n was dead.

“Yeah, John B. You’re gonna be a great dad.” JJ smiled sarcastically, his tone bitter and condescending.

“I am gonna be a good dad.” John B nodded solemnly, his eyes fixed on the drunken glaze that covered the blues of his friends.

He wanted to leave then, he nearly decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore. For a second, he let the bad thoughts in, he let himself sit with the idea that maybe JJ should just sit out in the cold and let the waves take him. But what good would it do for any of them. John B didn’t want his other best friend dead, not when he knew it was all only just projections he was receiving from JJ.

JJ was sad deep down, and he knew it. He knew that JJ was jealous, angry, bitter. He had every right to be. That was supposed to be him after all. Him and Y/n, happy as can be, traveling the world together and surfing the tasty waves that crashed onto foreign shores.

He stopped himself before he could get beyond the threshold, pausing as he thought over his words. The very phrase he was never able to confess to JJ, the phrase that held the last remains of life in his heart, and the only living piece of Y/n he selfishly kept to himself.

“She loved you, you know.” John B broken the silence once more. He closed his eyes to not cry, but still he couldn’t face his best friend.

“What’re you one about now, huh?” JJ chuckled, the now empty bottle placed down firmly behind him. Heavy footsteps only grew closer behind John B, and it wouldn’t be long before he knew he would have to face him, see the pain spread across his friend’s face at the truth.

“Y/n.” John B said plainly, turning on his heals to look at JJ with glassy eyes. “She told me to tell you before she…”

“Before she left?” JJ finished John B’s sentence, throwing his head back for the millionth time and looking at his friend with a mix of anger and sadness.

For the first time in years, John B shook his head in denial for the narrative he had accidentally painted for JJ, all while trying to get over his own grief that was slowly consuming him.

“No.” John B breathed out. “Before she died.”

“Bullshit, she left, remember? Just like the spanish, she fuckin’…packed her shit and left you for the wolves, right?” JJ sputtered, his eyes now filled with something more than drunken frustration, but pure disbelief.

“JJ, Y/n is dead.” John B finally confessed, and he swore he felt his chest growing heavier, smaller, the air thicker. “She made me…” He hesitated on his words. “She made me promise to tell you that she ran away. And that she loved you…that she loves you.”

John B corrected himself like she was still alive. Though the prominent ache in his chest was enough proof that Y/n was gone. Even just speaking about it, he felt himself growing teary eyed. He felt the lump in his throat expanding as it rose, threatening to come out in a sob.

He couldn’t look, but if he had the courage to, he would have seen the same expression on JJ’s face. The grief, the loss, the pain. Only, on him, it seemed to run much deeper than John B.

“How?” JJ asked finally, breaking the silence that was growing increasingly heavier as time passed.

“We were trying to get away…the…Singhs men found us and we were running. At some point I…I lost her I guess and when I found her, she was…she was already beyond saving.” John B confessed softly.

JJ’s breath hitched, imagining the scenario in his head. He could see it now, her poor body sat in the mud, her desperate eyes looking for the familiar face of a friend, only to be met with darkness. His heart clenched tightly in his chest.

“Was she scared?” JJ let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“If she was she didn’t show it.” John B said, and JJ let out a weak laugh.

“Typical.” It made John B laugh too.

“Yeah.”

Silence fell over the pair again, the cold air suddenly nice against the heat that was burning in both of their chests.

“She…she was sorry, for leaving. For not getting to say goodbye.” John B told JJ calmly, using his palms to swipe away any tears that threatened to fall.

“Did she…did she say how it happened? Did you see? How she died?”

John B swallowed hard, vaguely aware of the blonde with the same threatening buzzcut that sat chained up just below the deck, but completely aware that the minute the truth came out, the culprit would finally get what he deserved for his crimes. A punishment John B had always been to intimidated to enact.

“She was stabbed. The guy twisted the knife and everything. She lost so much blood by the time I got there and she…she said that…she paid for it. She had it coming. That…” Even now, certain that he wanted to get the truth out, the name got stuck in his throat. “That Rafe got her good.”

JJ said nothing as he pieced together the scene, sobering up almost instantly. Not only was he reeling in the guilt of losing his best friend—no, the love of his life, but also in the fact that he had blamed her for something someone else had inflicted upon her. The very same person who was currently stowed away just underneath his feet.

There was no stopping JJ once he pushed past John B, unintentionally throwing him violently into the door frame as he made a sharp turn towards the stairs. There was a new found rage in his eyes so deadly, John B was certain he’d never see something quite like it ever again.

“JJ, JJ, stop!” John B called out quickly, frantically running after him. But he only drew attention to the situation more, because by the time he and the others managed to squeeze down the small stairwell, JJ was already stood over Rafe, who was long passed out, his head pressed against the wall and his face bruised beyond recognition.

“JJ!” Sarah shrieked, but John B held her back. He tried to ignore his wifes sobs of terror, too focused on keeping her away from the uncontrollable anger that their friend was currently releasing onto the deserved victim.

“You took everything from me!” JJ shouted through gritted teeth, not even phased by the blood that coated his knuckles and splattered across the bright white walls. “You piece of shit! You killed her!” He wailed, his punches slowing into soft taps as Rafes breathing slowed into soft wheezes for air through his definitely broken nose.

“A-and I blamed her for it the whole time. I-I fuckin’…I loved her.” JJ sobbed, ignoring the metallic smell of his hands as he used his palms to hide the vulnerability behind his tears that poured so wildly down his flushed face.

“I loved her, and I’ll never get to have her again.” JJ shouted through his hands, muffling his cries of pure grief, of unfathomable sadness that hit him all at once.

Pope was holding him within two strides, his arms wrapping around his friend as he too pieced together what happened, not needing as much context to understand the motive behind the violence.

In that moment, nothing more but the sounds of heavy sobs and thick, choked breathing echoed through the shaking boat, the storm long forgotten as the truth finally bubbled to the surface, leaving anything and anyone in its wake completely torn open.

Then, there was a moment of clarity for JJ, a singular hope that was based around the security of a magic that didn’t exist. He knew then, he had to get the treasure they were searching for. Selfishly, he didn’t even care about the money. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what his one wish would be once he got his hands on that crown.

And it would all be okay, if only he hadn’t had to have paid the price.

[getozitos]

the perfect heir and the lord's realization of love.

(sukuna x fem!reader)

summary: with him being your lord, you couldn't just refuse such an honorable ask from him now, could you?

content warning: smut, p in v, nsfw, porn with plot, explicit content, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, yandere tendencies, sukuna being obsessive, jealousy, reader being devoted to him, god complex, toxic behavior, heian era, true form sukuna, dark romance. (english is not my first language)

you couldn't understand him. he was a god, after all, and you were nothing but his most devoted and dedicated servant. the one he always chose to dance for him. nothing past it.

he was the closest thing these people had to an god, even though he knew he was way closer to a diabolical thing than to a god. this didn't matter now, he was their king, their ruler. he could ask for anything and they would give it. hand it. but then, why is it that those disgraceful men seemed to be so devoted to making him mad?

he marked you as his. you were his property and you accepted that happily, always smiling at the marks he gave you after a sleepless night, the bites of his teeth marking your skin through weeks. they never seemed to heal. and even if those men saw it, they didn't really care- something about "sharing", as they called it.

god, he hated those humans.

"you," he called the old lady by the lady's room.

"yes, my lord?"

"who is that man?" he asked sternely.

the old lady looked at the direction he was pointing to, her eyes blinking calmly before she closed them shut. "nobody important, my king. he is one of your entertainers."

"kill him." and she widened her eyes again. "not you, you old thing." he scoffed, angrily. "send someone to kill him. i don't want to ruin my clothes with his dirty blood. i want him dead first thing in the night. make it public."

and she gulped, nodding quietly as she slowly backed herself away from his throne.

then again, you were doing your daily duties since today was another girl's day to be with him. your attention got caught by the screaming in front of the area and, since your eyesight wasn't that good, you had to approach and pass your way through the lots of people that were in front of his palace to have the eyesight that made everyone so frightened.

it seems like the singer boy whom always sang his heart out for you was found gagging in his own blood, his tongue had been cut and by the look of his clothes, someone beat him to a pulp before cutting his tongue.

with your hands covering your mouth, you fell to your knees before trying to get closer to him, only to feel a hand on your shoulder and, for everyone's surprise, to see sukuna himself getting down to get you on his arms, not saying anything and just bringing you to his room.

and, for fuck's sake, you cried your heart out! was he really that important? what did he do for you to be so touched by this white haired boy death? he wasn't even as important or magnificent as sukuna!

"stop crying." he demanded, all arms crossed as he looked down on you, his eyes all focusing on you and on what you would do, say, how you would act.

"i'm sorry, master- my lord, i am so sorry" you begged, hands on the ground as you reverenced him and tried to stop the tears from falling.

"i don't care for your apologies if you don't stop crying." he growled.

you needed a bit more than five minutes to stop crying, but finally it had come to an end and you stopped your sobbing and crying session, hands pawing on your knees as you now looked up at him, your teary stained face making him smirk.

"i brought you here because i had something more important to talk to you." he said, eyes looking down on you like you were nothing but a bug even if he did everything for you — without your acknowledge.

"yes, sir. what do you need me to do?" you asked, breathing heavily.

"i want you to have my heir." he said, making your eyes go wide as you looked at him, stuck between being terrified and being the happiest you could ever be. "well? this is the part where you take your clothes off, dear."

and you nodded, submissively taking off your clothes and folding them like you were always told to.

"i'll be more than happy to give you an heir, my lord" you said, bowing your head to him as your hair cascated and covered your face from his hungry eyes.

"good to know." he smiled, pulling you closer to his still dressed body before putting your boob on his mouth. "i'll be more than happy to give you my heirs."

you frowned, heart beating fast as you felt your body react oh so quickly to his mouth on your nipple and his words against it.

"plural, my lord?" you gagged.

"you think i would've stop after one son? no, dear. you'll give me at least five sons. i don't care for their gender, i just want you to be their mother." and he nipped on your nipple, pulling you to straddle his lap.

you panted, nodding quietly in your devotion. "yes, my lord."

he smiled, biting your neck without any care if it would hurt or not, he wanted it to be clear. you were his.

his fingers travelled all the way down to your inner thighs, gripping at them before delving your pussy with his fingers. "don't you think you're too wet for someone who just lost a friend?" he asked, mockingly.

"h-he wasn't my friend, he was just someone i knew from afar" you panted, your cunt gripping his fingers.

"well, i'm pretty sure you weren't just someone he knew" he smiled, kissing and nipping at your neck "it seems to me that he wanted me to share you, you know?"

"n-no.. t-that couldn't be..." you panted, gripping at his shoulders.

"are you telling me i'm wrong, dear?" he arched his brow.

"n-no, my lord! i'm sorry!" you begged, panicking as his arms undressed his body. he smiled, laying you down on the bed and placing one hand over your belly.

"you'll look so pretty when you're all round and full of my seed" he smiled, thrusting his member into you before you could even answer something, a loud moan coming out instead. "i bet you're gonna look even prettier when you're nurturing"

he smiled, fondling your boobs and sucking them both together without even caring if you'd like it or not, well, lucky for you, you liked it. enough for you to be a moaning mess under him.

"what do you think, dear?" he groaned, grabbing your hips and thrusting into you in a quicker pace, god, he loved your hips so much. how could it be that they always seemed so round? you were always so perfect for him, so tight and such a good girl for him.

maybe he loved you. maybe that's why he wanted you to have his children and this might be the reason for him to kill any man that wanted to have a way with you.

...

nah, it was just possessiveness. love is something that humans reach for in a sick need of validation.

"my lord..!" you called, breathing heavily as he thrusted into your womb, warming your entire body up as you cried your pleasure out "p-please, can you kiss the future mother of your heirs?" you begged, crying lovable eyes staring into his like you were seeing a shooting star.

well, he might love you. enough for him to be holding back from cumming inside you right away when you asked for that kiss. of course, he couldn't keep that up for much longer and just like that, his tongue was inside your mouth, tangled in your tongue as he came inside you and made sure to pump his cum inside you, not allowing you to have it running down your legs.

"again," he said, breathing heavily, his dick still twitching inside you "i'll fuck you again" he said. "until i'm certain that you're gonna get pregnant, i'll be fucking you day and night." he said, looking into your eyes as he held your nape.

you blinked your eyes at him with clear surprise, as a human, hearing him say that was supposed to cause you to be preoccupied, but in other words, he just admited to have a sickeningly obsessive love for you to the point that he wouldn’t be inside anyone else but you.

"i'll keep giving you my seed," he breathed out, kissing you again "so have my child."

you were the only one that he wanted to have children with.

and you did! soon enough, there were a pair of three four-eyed and four-arms twins running around and making everyone's life (except yours and sukuna's) miserable.

and then, there was another one, and another one. god, you really loved those children, and him. life was perfect!

i mean, you didn't even care if he killed another man because of you, it was... common, at this point. of course, the blood cleaning task was not yours, so it didn't really mattered.

that's just his way to say he loves you.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Rafe x reader "you feel that, that's what you do to me."

Yes yes, more Rafe!! Get ready for so much more OBX when the new season is out on Thursday!!

Warning: implied smut, erectile disfunctions

my taglists are here+you can requests hereat any time

—

Never in his life did Rafe think his manhood would betray him. He trimmed it well and emptied it regularly, complimented it and kept it fresh. So why did it betray him like that? Why did it embarrass him like that?

He was in one of the backrooms of the country club with a hot blonde, her white tennis skirt flipped up and underwear pulled to the side, ready to get railed after her golf session with her daddy…but Rafe’s got a problem. Little Rafe’s got a problem.

Rafe tried to pump it to get it hard, but it was not working.

He cursed and tucked himself back into his shorts before leaving. Finding the course of the problem had not been difficult. Rafe’s dick never faulted him before he met you, before he fucked you in his dad’s office a few days ago.

The tires of his truck screeched in the parking lot, rage in his blood as he drove home. If he was in luck, you would still be there filing paperwork for Ward. His old man was at a business meeting outside the island and put you, his assistant, in charge of his phone calls and other business related things all day.

‘’We need to talk,’’ Rafe declared, walking in his dad’s office as if it was his own.

You looked up from the paper you were reading, more serene than the boy before you. ‘’Do we? I’m waiting for a call from a buyer. It could be a pretty big deal and your father counts on me to—’’

Without warning and only a few steps, Rafe crossed the distance to the office desk and grabbed your hand, pressing it right over his semi-soft bulge. ‘’You feel that, that’s what you do to me.’’

‘’Rafe, I’m working.’’ You tried to move, but he would not let go of you. Thank god Ward was not home. ‘’I don’t have time for a quick fuck in your father’s office.’’

His intense blue eyes were narrowed, a mix of frustration and anger all over his face. ‘’You’ve ruined my life.’’ He lowered his voice next. ‘’You broke my dick.’’

You drew your eyebrows together, feeling him harden under your touch. ‘’It seems to be working just fine.’’

‘’Because it’s you.’’

A laugh spilled from your lips, unable to hold your seriousness. ‘’Excuse me?’’

Rafe let go of your hand and rubbed his over his face. ‘’Since we fuck last week, I can’t get hard for other girls.’’

‘’Damn. Am I that good of a fuck?’’

‘’I’m being fucking serious! It’s like you put a curse on my dick.’’

You laughed again. He was being ridiculous. ‘’Every time you open your mouth, the situation gets funnier.’’

‘’And every time you open yours—’’

‘’You get hard?’’ you interrupted with a smirk. ‘’I can see that, but unfortunately, ‘little Rafe’ will have to wait until the buyer calls.’’ You traced the outline of Rafe's cock over his shorts, making him hold his breath. ‘’Then, I'll let you bend me over your dad's desk.‘’

��

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

❃ FLUFFCEMBER 2024 ❃

day 03: snow man - nico rosberg x reader

song rec: out of touch - daryl hall & john oates

“broken ice still melts in the sun, and times that are broken can often be one again.”

note: this is my favourite for now. it was so fun to write.

fluffcember masterlist | main masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You just moved in a house in Germany. It was a dreamy place, especially in winter.

A white cloth of snow covered your yard. You and your dog, Britney, loved to play outside in the cold weather. One day, you were just back from work when you found your neighbour waiting for you outside your property.

Ah yes, your neighbour, a 30-something year old divorced dad, very cute and very blond, who apparently didn’t have time to introduce himself yet.

“Your dog destroyed the snowman my daughters made.” He began, in a harsh tone. Is ‘hello’ out of fashion now?

You frowned. “What?”

He pointed to the part of the courtyard that your houses shared. You could just see a heap of snow in the middle. “I don’t see any snowman.”

“Well maybe because your dog destroyed it, as I just said.” His tone was more annoyed now. You still couldn’t understand what he wanted from you, so you kept looking at him, raising your eyebrow and shrugging. He sighed. “Let me explain it in easier terms. My daughters are here for Christmas Holidays and I want them to have the time of their lives. Please, keep your dog at bay.”

Whatever, you certainly wouldn’t let that ruin your day, so you went on like nothing happened. But the next day, at the same hour, he was there, once again. Arms crossed and furious blue eyes.

“What now?”

“My kids built a snowman again. And your stupid dog destroyed it. Again.”

“Hey! Don’t call my dog ‘stupid’!” What a dick. He was seriously starting to get on your nerves.

“You lock your dog then!”

“I won’t! Britney is free to do what she wants!”

He scoffed. “Of course you named her Britney.”

“What’s wrong with that name?” As you were about to insult him further, you realized you had no time to waste with that asshole. You stomped past him and opened your house. “Why don’t you tell your kids to build a snowman in your side of the yard?” You slammed the door behind you.

The bickering went on for a few days, until you decided to straight up ignore your neighbour, hoping he eventually would give up. And a week later he finally did. You weren’t welcomed with his presence complaining in front of your home, at which you were kinda sorry for, somehow. Instead, all you could hear were laughters. Kids’ laughters.

Two girls were running around the courtyard, jumping and playing with Britney. Well, that’s new. You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet sight.

Your smile faded when you saw your neighbour walking towards you. Oh, here he is. You prepared yourself to hear the same, if not angrier, scolding words. But, surprisingly, he wasn’t showing the usual serious expression. “They seem to have fun.”

You couldn’t believe he was actually able of using a kind tone of voice. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we have found a way to keep all three of them busy and happy.” He added, before turning towards you and offering you his hand. “My name’s Nico, by the way. I’m really sorry for the way I behaved. It may have been a little excessive.”

“Only a little?” You asked sarcastically, but shook his cold hand nevertheless. He had a strong hold. “I’m Y/N.”

All of a sudden, your dog ran fast to greet you, followed by the two girls. “Brit–“ you didn’t even have the time to formulate her name, that the dog threw you on the ground, and obviously Nico with you. You ended up literally on top of him, as the dog made a turn and went back to the girls.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You tried to steady yourself, sinking your gloved palms in the snow by his sides. “I’m really doing everything to make you like me, right?”

Nico laughed. “Don’t worry.”

You stared at him laughing, in awe. You had never seen him smile. “You have snow in your hair.”

[monstersandmaw]

Male orc (Rhuarc) x female character - Part One (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Thank you to the two people who explicitly expressed interest in this story via my inbox. This one's for you. Here's Rhuarc the single dad orc and his girl, and how they met. I've even got some visuals in this one too!

Content: kidnapping, attempted human sacrifice, violence, some light gore, implied age gap, older male character, single father orc x small human female

Wordcount: 4344

Rhuarc tried not to resent the fact that the Jarl of Markarth’s crusty old steward had looked him up and down as he’d stood in front of the so-called Mournful Throne, and decided that the orc was either entirely expendable or utterly stupid enough to take on an entire Forsworn camp. By himself.

Apparently it was the latter though, because with his two adopted girls waiting for his return in Whiterun, Rhuarc was most certainly not expendable these days. Perhaps twenty years ago, he might have hurled himself at the nearest frothing lunatic disrupting trade routes and abducting travellers off the roads without much care for the damage he took — the fact that he’d lost the sight in his right eye before he’d turned nineteen was testament to that — but these days, his contracts required thought and planning.

Kill the leader of Hag’s End, an old Nordic tomb complex nestled away in the frozen mountains to the northeast of Markarth.

Easy.

By himself.

Less easy.

The place was huge, and crawling with more Forsworn than termites in a mound, and there was every chance he would encounter a hagraven there too. Fuck, he hated those things. Whatever unnatural magic was used to create those half-bird, half-women, he didn’t want any part of it.

His own magic was fairly rudimentary by the standards of the average mage: a few fireballs here, a few healing spells there, and he could make a pretty decent lance out of ice if he had to. After all, orcs were known primarily for how ferociously they could bludgeon something into Oblivion, but magicka did coil its way through some of them too, and his mother had been both an alchemist and a mage.

Now though, as Rhuarc crept up behind the Briarheart warrior who led this bunch of rabid lunatics, and slipped his arm around the man’s throat to hold him still while he ripped the strange replacement heart out of the half-undead creature’s chest, he wondered exactly what kind of magic these people used that let them replace an otherwise healthy man’s beating heart with the poisoned seed of a Briarheart tree. And what special kind of lunacy allowed someone to undergo it willingly. Perhaps it wasn’t willing though? What did he know about these people?

As the orc’s fingers curled around the prickly seed that was about the size of an apple, the magic of it felt at once too cold and too hot; the way white hot metal feels in that moment of pure shock if you touch it by accident before the pain kicks in. He released the disgusting ‘heart’ and it fell with a splatter of gore onto the snowy carpet covering the cosy little platform, from where the man ruled over his clan of Forsworn. Rhuarc would have to find a scrap of cloth to wrap it in so that it didn’t leak everywhere between there and the city of Markarth, but he was looking forward to depositing it directly into the stuffy old steward’s lap as proof of the kill and the contract fulfilled.

The Briarheart warrior went instantly limp in his arms and Rhuarc laid him down silently on the frozen ground, already starting to plan his next move. A shout went up a second later from somewhere to his right — his blind side — and an arrow pinged off the bastion wall beside him. With a curse, he rolled and ducked behind the hide wall of the leader’s large tent, breathing hard. Of course he’d missed one of them, and if she alerted anyone else, or that lurking hagraven, Rhuarc was fucked. He was tired. And cold. His joints weren’t quite what they had once been, and his muscles were seizing with the cold and from crouching in dark doorways and corners on the long and winding way up to reach this part of the secret redoubt.

With a careful peek around the support structure of the leader’s tent, he realised that this new Forsworn hadn’t actually spotted him properly yet, and he hefted the haft of his war axe in his hand. Throwing a weapon away was never a great idea, but he didn’t have a bow on him, and if he called magicka to his hands, a hagraven would certainly sense it. Not a chance he wanted to take, and given that the place was called Hag’s End, he thought it pretty fucking likely that there was one of the bird-legged, psychotic matriarchs of the Forsworn roosting up at the top of the complex on that balcony almost directly above him.

So, he drew back his arm and sent the blade of his war axe whirling away to bite into the breastbone of the Forsworn before she could spot him or cry out again. She fell with the clatter and rattle of bone and fur armour, her silly antlered headdress skittering away behind her, and he was off running immediately to release the weapon from her corpse and seek a new hiding place in case the commotion had drawn others.

As it was, Rhuarc crouched for a long few minutes behind the gruesomely-displayed corpse of an elk that had been partly taxidermied by the cold and stuck on a stake, with his breath billowing all around him, and the stillness of snow in the air. Had he got them all? He was spattered all up one side of his body with blood and even had a red streak in his otherwise white hair that he’d shaved close to his skull above his ears and left long enough to tie back into a ponytail on top. What a mess. Still, it would be worth the groaning bag of coin he was going to get for clearing the whole bloody encampment and making The Reach a little bit safer for travellers.

Just as he’d begun to relax, half thinking of getting the girls each a new dress with his earnings, a scream like nothing he’d ever heard before tore the silence in two and his blood went cold.

It had come from the balcony above him where a spar of stonework jutted out into the winter sky like the bowsprit of a ship, and it hadn’t been the harsh shriek of a hagraven. The scream had come from a woman in blind, abject terror, and the sound of it shocked him back to his feet before he’d even realised it.

Rhuarc thundered up the stone stairs behind him and shouldered open the carved doors of the inner sanctum of the tomb, plunging into the relative darkness without stopping to think.

Not thinking was a sure way to get himself killed, and by some miracle of the fates, he skidded to a halt just in time to avoid a pressure plate in the floor that would no doubt have unleashed some kind of magical or poisoned trap on him. Whoever lived here clearly didn’t let just anyone inside, and blundering around like a panicked mammoth wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Think, you thick-skulled orc,” he growled at himself, chest heaving and heart pounding in his ears like a war-drum. He was only a few heartbeats away from slipping into that infamous, orcish berserker rage, and he never ever wanted to find himself on the far end of a state of mind like that again. Caked in blood and viscera and surrounded by an array of corpses with no memory of how they had been felled… He shuddered and forced himself to steady his breathing before moving on.

What he confronted as he wound his way carefully and methodically through the dark, blood-stained hallways of the upper Nordic tomb proved to be as great a test of his prowess with blade and his magic as any he’d ever faced in his forty-six years.

Savage witches clad in long, magicka-laced, black robes hurled spells and curses at him that he only just dodged or warded in time to sink his axe into their skulls, but what made his skin crawl the most was the hagraven who seemed to be taunting him, letting him get one or two shots in before a swirl of purple and black magic enveloped her and she vanished to somewhere else in the complex.

Was she an illusion? Had he lost his mind or, worse, accidentally imbibed some poison from one of his victims that was making him hallucinate? He’d spotted enough deadly mushrooms growing in the dank corners of the dungeon that the suspicion remained, even as he ploughed on through the coven of crazed witches towards the woman who had let out that heart-rending scream.

Just as he sensed he was gaining the top of the tower, the hagraven disappeared amid a final storm of eerie, flickering magicka, leaving him alone in an echoing chamber at the top of a staircase lined with mortuary shelves.

Over to his left, an arcane enchanting table crackled with residual magicka from a recent use, the blueish runes on its onyx surface glowing in the dim light, and on his right, an ancient monument reared up like a tombstone, carved with a script he couldn’t read. He had no time for any of that, and paused just long enough with his hand on the last door to gather his breath and the last ragged remains of his strength, before shoving all his weight into swinging them open and stepping out onto the snowy balcony beyond.

A blast of freezing air hit him full in the face, but it wasn’t the cold that stole his breath and his senses.

There on a low, wide, stone altar, a Nord woman had been bound hand and foot, stretched out and completely naked, and she was thrashing weakly despite the wounds at her wrists and ankles from the ropes. Tears tracked pale lines through the dirt on her face and her bare chest heaved with broken, choking sobs as she arched her back in futile protest.

Over her prone figure loomed the emaciated figure of a hagraven with a glinting, black dagger raised in her taloned hands.

Rhuarc didn’t think.

He hurled a bolt of ice at the creature, and might have been surprised to find that it had actually struck her right in the stomach if he hadn’t already been concentrating on drawing the ambient moisture into his hand to freeze into another shard of ice as thick as a tree limb. The hagraven let out a shriek that should have made his ears bleed, and hurled a fireball at him for the indignity of him getting a hit in first.

Searing flames exploded all around him and he smelled singeing, though he wasn’t sure if it was his fur armour or his own skin, and he didn’t care. He leapt forwards, diving into a roll in the snow to douse any lingering flames, and as he came up he launched a second spike of ice directly at the hagraven’s weathered, distorted face. Her black, beady eyes narrowed and she bared rotten teeth with a snarl as she clenched her clawed hand and prepared to fling a second fireball at him.

Rhuarc had closed the distance between them in a few powerful strides though, and before she’d finished the spell, he grabbed her by her flimsy arm and felt the snap of it breaking in his grip as he yanked her away from the altar. Before she could even muster a screech, he lopped her head off with his axe. He didn’t stop to watch her abandoned carcass slide over the edge of the parapet, down into the void of snow and cooling corpses below, and turned instead to the woman laid out on the table.

The dagger had fallen from the hagraven’s claws to land beside her right hand and she was reaching frostbitten fingers for it.

“Easy,” Rhuarc said, holstering his messy axe at the loop on his belt and realising he probably looked as frightening as the hagraven had. Six foot six and broad as a barn door at the shoulder, Rhuarc now had blood all up his face from one of the witches, a nasty burn on his shoulder that was only just now making itself known, and a long cut on his abdomen that was oozing blood down his solid paunch. As he’d got older, he’d lost the iron definition he’d had in his youth, but he was probably the strongest now that he’d ever been in his life.

No wonder the woman was staring wild-eyed at him like he was some animal barbarian, but his heart physically hurt in his chest when he saw the welts and bruises standing out starkly on her pale, Nordic complexion. Her long, midnight black hair was loose and lank and greasy, her lip was split and swollen, and there was a vibrant, purple bruise all around her left eye socket. Those dark brown eyes glared up at him with fierce defiance though, and her fingers found the hilt of the knife.

He smiled. “I know I look a sight,” he said in a low, quiet rumble, holding both hands up, bloody palms towards her. “I’m gonna help you though. Let’s get you healed up and out of here. I’m not sure what you can wear though…”

“My… My clothes are in… were in… a chest… in there,” she croaked, twitching her head slightly towards the chamber he’d just left. The swelling in her lip clearly made talking painful, and she sounded like she hadn’t had any water for days. That, or the thick, raw, red line around her throat was responsible, flanked by distinct, finger-sized bruises the colour of a ripe plum. It made his orc blood boil to see marks like that on a person’s body, but he made himself focus on the more immediate task of helping her.

“Alright. I’ll untie you — may I use that dagger?”

She nodded and reluctantly let her fingers go loose again. With the rope lashed so tightly around her wrist, she didn’t have enough purchase to lift her hand free of the hilt, so Rhuarc carefully slid his bloody fingers underneath hers and he eased the blade out.

Concentrating, he sawed steadily through the thick rope, and she hissed as she flexed her fingers when the rope finally sheared and one arm came free. The raw chafing showed him just how hard she’d fought her captors, and he found the warmth of pride glowing in the pit of his stomach for this stranger and her resilience. Methodically, Rhuarc moved his way around the table to free her ankles next before finally cutting the ropes binding her left arm to the cold table, and all the while keeping his eyes off her naked body as best he could.

“We need to get you somewhere sheltered. Can you sit up?”

She tried valiantly when he asked, but her strength failed her in a rush and she slumped back down with a gasp.

Rhuarc dropped the knife to the stone at his feet and stuck his right hand under her head just in time to stop her cracking her skull on the stone platform of the altar, and he cradled her lolling head in the palm of his hand. His already-bruised knuckles clunked against the altar under the full weight of her head as she surrendered at last, spent.  

“Easy,” he said. “I’ve got some magic. I’m going to heal you, alright? Keep steady, then we’ll find you some clothes and get you out of here.”

Her dark eyes rolled as the golden light of healing magic washed around her, and she slumped at last into unconsciousness.

Rhuarc picked her up with detached efficiency and carried her out of the biting wind and back into the tower that formed the top part of the tomb’s inner sanctum, marvelling at the Nord’s resilience to the cold. He knew that her people were tougher than most humans in these conditions, but still, with everything she’d been through, she probably should be dead.

Her small body was soft where many Nords were made of hard muscle, and he suspected that she had not been raised to be a fighter. That the Forsworn would snatch her away from whatever battle-free life she’d led before and defile her like this made his blood sing all over again and his hands itched to sink his axe into a nice, crunchy, Forsworn skull. He let the thought go with a growl around his thick tusks and shouldered the doors open.

With her pressed against his bare chest, he felt the tingle of magic in her blood too, and he recalled the way her body had drunk his own restoration magic down like water poured onto dry sand. Perhaps the fact that she was probably a mage had been why the hagraven had been about to sacrifice her in that unholy ritual.

Inside the echoing, stone room with the enchanting table, Rhuarc found the chest she’d mentioned, and he crouched down awkwardly in front of it with her half-draped across his lap, her naked body propped up by his right arm. He really didn’t want to have to use one of the beds in the tower that the witches had clearly slept in, but if the woman needed to rest, then he would stay with her and see that she was safe.

Just as he was fiddling one-handed with the catch of the chest, which luckily wasn’t locked, she drew in a deeper breath and came-to with a mewling sob of discomfort. Her bare legs were touching the floor and the room wasn’t much warmer than the air outside because of a huge hole in the ceiling, but at least they were out of the wind.

“I know,” he said without looking at her. “I’m going to find you something to wear. Just give me a second.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, and the sound became a sob as she squirmed in his arms, trying to curl inwards on herself. Whether that was to cover her naked body better or simply because she was hurting in every way humanly possible, he wasn’t sure. “Thank you. I thought that was it, when… when she… she —”

“Shh,” he said, briefly tightening his hold around her shoulders with a slight curl of his right arm, worried that if she grew too distressed, he might drop her. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

“Thank you,” she said again, and then added with a little sniffle, “My name is Syl, by the way.”

“Rhuarc,” he grunted, finally lifting the lid of the chest. “This your stuff?”

She peered forward and nodded. An undyed linen shirt and brown trousers had been roughly stuffed into the wooden chest, along with a pair of softly-worn, fur-lined boots, a thick, fur-lined jacket, and a small alchemist’s pouch that fitted on a belt around the hips. He had something similar himself for the road, choosing to forgo the usual traveller’s pack with a bedroll and cooking pot. He hunted or foraged for what he needed and cooked it over an open fire and slept under the stars when he absolutely had to, but mostly, he actually planned his journeys to halt at an inn for the night these days, because he was too damned old now to be sleeping out of doors in the grass like a bloody wild boar. He also thought he glimpsed some linen underwear and wrappings in the chest too, but he didn’t let his gaze linger.

“You… need a hand?” he asked quietly, but she shook her head.

“I can just kneel here for a moment. I’ll be alright,” she said in a steady, if rough voice. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “I’ll be over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his thumb over his left shoulder.

He helped her slide off his lap where he’d crouched beside the chest, and steadied her briefly with a hand at the small of her spine to stop her tipping backwards. Her flesh was still cold from lying out there on the table, but she couldn’t have been out there for too long before he’d found her, or she’d have died of exposure. Even a Nord couldn’t survive naked in the snow for very long.

Only then, with his rough palm pressed against the pale softness of her skin, did it strike him that it had actually been a very long time since he’d seen another naked body, and the feel of her skin beneath the calluses of his palm distantly stirred the cold embers of desire in him that had lain dormant and out of mind for longer than he cared to remember. Even for an orc, he wasn’t exactly short of people showing interest, but it just… hadn’t been something he’d wanted. Then of course, he’d found himself the adoptive father of a pair of ten and eleven year old girls, and all thoughts of romance and the so-called ‘Dibellan arts’ had evaporated completely from his life like autumn mist.

With a sigh, he banished the faint and inappropriate sensation and levered himself stiffly to his feet. As he did, he felt the cut in his lower belly pull with a sharp prick of pain and when he looked down at it, he found it already suppurating. His thick, naturally green, orcish skin had turned a nasty, angry red around the slash and something was oozing out of it that wasn’t blood. Poison. Fuck.

Glancing around the room, he wondered if there were any ingredients stashed way that the witches would have used, but he was in the wrong part of their stronghold for that and anyway, who knows what they might have been brewing in there? Thinking about what limited stocks he kept in the emergency pouch on his belt, he drew out two carefully-sealed glass bottles and tipped their contents into the cupped palm of his left hand. It was hardly ideal, but it would do for now, and he smeared it onto the open wound.

The flash of pain made him grunt, but with a soft fizzing, the powders got to work and nullified the festering poison before it could spread.

“Rhuarc?”

When he turned around at the sound of her voice, he found Syl looking at him from where she was still kneeling in front of the wooden chest.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a frown.

Her alto was still hoarse and rasping, and he wondered if she was still in pain. “I’m fine. Are you? Did I heal you enough?”

At his question, she smiled, and something in his chest slipped sideways when he saw it.

How could a woman who’d just been through the torment she had experienced still find the grace to smile like that? And at an orc of all creatures.

“Yes,” she said, and, now that she was dressed, she stood slowly; cautiously.

She wasn’t very tall for a human, perhaps five foot five at most, and her body seemed somehow even smaller in her loose-fitting, practical clothes. He could clearly see the swell of her hips though, and the definite curve of her breasts, and her dark eyes looked very large as she regarded him. In an attempt to tidy herself up, she had tied her lank, black hair back off her face in a low ponytail, but she still looked like she’d taken one hell of a battering, despite the healing magic.

And yet, there she was on her own two feet, and her resilience was suddenly as devastatingly attractive to him as were her natural good looks. Rhuarc swallowed thickly, utterly floored by what he was feeling for the first time in decades.

“You’re hurt,” she said, eyeing the wound in his stomach.

He felt her open herself up to start channelling magicka, and his own mismatching eyes went wide. “No, don’t!” he gasped, taking an involuntary step towards her and holding out both hands in a kind of warding gesture. “Please, you need to conserve your energy. I’ll heal myself in a moment. I was just waiting for the poison to work its way out first.” No point sealing up the cut with all the vileness still inside, after all.

Syl walked slowly towards him, moving like a black cat along a wall, with her gaze focused on his bare paunch.

Rhuarc’s breath caught and he froze. He couldn’t have moved so much as a muscle then, even if an army of hagravens had descended on him.

When Syl came to a halt in front of him, she brought her fingertips up to touch the fevered flesh around the wound. Very carefully, she let a tiny thread of golden magic seep into him, and he honestly did not mean to let out the noise that left his lips. He hadn’t even known he was still capable of making a sound like that.

Pleasure curled deep and visceral in his gut, both from the whisper-light contact of her fingertips against the trail of hair on his stomach, and from the way her magic coiled and twisted inside him, stitching him up from the inside out and cleansing the last of the poison’s putrefaction in the same deft stroke. She wasn’t just some hedge witch with a little magic: Syl had to be a master of the school of restoration with a healing that skilled.

“There,” she breathed. “Just looks a bit of a mess now,” she added, eyeing the blood that still covered him in a series of spatters and smears.

He couldn’t catch his breath for a moment, but he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Not much different from usual then,” he said a beat too late and painfully aware that his gruff bass sounded far more winded than when he had fought his way through the entire complex to reach her. “Thank you.”

With a long inhale, she let her hand fall back against her side and turned her big, dark eyes up to regard him. “So… what happens now?”

I hope you enjoyed this one? I'm fairly certain most people aren't going to read down to this point, so if you did, please consider reblogging it to help it find more of an audience, and give Rhuarc and Syl some love?

And if you want to learn more about how they fall in love on their journey away from Hag's End, be sure to leave me an ask or a comment! Otherwise I'll assume there's no interest and won't keep sharing it. :)

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[ash5monster01]

You’ll Be Okay

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: self doubt, language, mentions of trauma, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of suicide

Summary: Charlie absolutely breaking down when you tell him you’re pregnant which is the complete opposite of the reaction you had expected.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: for my Charlie girlies, I know it’s been a while but hopefully this holds you over <3

Masterlist

The bundle of nerves in your stomach was becoming too much to bear. This was visible as you nervously bounced your leg in the waiting room of the doctors office. Everything was so white and your heart rate was starting to pick up. You weren’t normally a fan of doctors but you felt you had justified reasons for your visit. Considering you period was late, you woke up queasy every morning, and your emotions seemed to be heightened, so it gave you all the excuses in the world. It also made sense because you and Charlie had agreed to stop using protection a few months ago. You had discussed being ready for kids and not wanting to rush into pregnancy, so you stopped using protection, and prepared for it to happen when it happens.

“Take a breath” Chris whispered, the small baby boy held to her chest. You had called her the minute you put the context clues together and she agreed to accompany you since she had already been through this twice now.

“I know, I’m trying” you forced a smile, your hand instinctively moving to twist your wedding band around your finger. It was a habit you had picked up since it became a permanent part of yourself.

“Remember, you and Charlie are ready for this. You should be excited” her soft smile radiated towards you and you felt comforted by her the same way you did the day you met. Without Chris you never would’ve met her boyfriend, now husband Knox, and Knox would’ve never introduced you to your now husband Charlie.

“I am, it’s just scary to think about. I’m already so attached and maybe I’m not even pregnant” you voiced your fears, admiring how she cradled her 10 month old baby as her 2 year old girl slept against her side. She was a super Mom, taking it all in perfect strides, the same way she mastered everything. Where she thrived, you struggled, and you worried motherhood would be the same.

“A mother’s intuition is never wrong, and you are going to be a great one” Chris’ hand moved to cover your stomach and you felt butterflies erupt because everything in you believed that a tiny piece of life, that you and the man you loved created, was growing in there.

“Mrs. Dalton” you nearly jumped out of your seat as the doctor called your name and you quickly stood, following him to an exam room.

“Good luck” Chris called out after you.

“We’re gonna do a blood test and then an ultrasound to see if we can find anything” you nodded, trying to numb yourself to feeling because you didn’t want to be disappointed. You’d rather not be heartbroken if he told you, you weren’t pregnant. So you tried to lessen your hopes as you let them take the blood test.

You could’ve sworn your heart was about to bust out of your chest as he prepped you for the ultrasound. Too scared to find there was absolutely nothing in there. Your eyes flicked nervously across the small, fuzzy, black and white screen as you waited.

“Would you look at that” the doctors voice nearly stopped your heart as a small blob appeared on the screen. A small thumping sound filled the room and you felt tears begin to form behind your eyes. “Judging by the size and the heart beat you’re about 6 weeks along. Congratulations Momma”

“Are you serious?” the dam broke as tears flowed freely down your face and the doctor smiled.

“Very serious” you leaned over and hugged him, him taken aback as he let out a chuckle. You couldn’t wait to tell Chris as you quickly got yourself back together to rush out to the waiting room.

“Well, what did he say?” Chris jumped to her feet as you returned to the waiting room. You tried to keep your composure but as soon as she asked you began to cry again.

“I’m 6 weeks along” shock flooded Chris’ features as she heard this.

“Oh my, you’re having a baby!” she squealed before hugging you as tight as she could with her son in her arms.

“I can’t wait to tell Charlie!” you spoke as you pulled away, already excited to cook the two of you dinner and tell him the good news. After that you and Chris wasted no time getting back home so you could prepare to tell your husband.

You nearly burned the chicken cutlet about five times as you prepared it, bursting with excitement and anticipation of Charlie coming home. You were going to have a baby, you had wanted this for so long. It was the whole reason you had stopped using protection, you were ready. So when you heard the door knob turn you realized you wouldn’t be able to wait until dinner was served to share the news.

“Hey baby” Charlie smiled at you, abandoning the brief case at the door as he loosened his tie. You couldn’t help but smile wider at the name baby.

"Hey sweetheart, how was work?" you asked as he walked over, wrapping you up slowly in his arms as he began to kiss the side of your head.

"Long and tiring, I couldn't wait to come home and see you" Charlie had ended up a Bank Managaer despite his best efforts not too. You admired that he was able to strip the work away the minute he stepped into the home. He still read and wrote poetry and played the saxophone every once in a while. You admired that he made an effort to continue doing the things he loved. Life was about work, of course, but it was also about the good, enjoyable things.

"I've been dying to see you too" you told him, finally pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. He hummed in relief, as if the action just removed all of the stress from his entire day.

"You seem extra happy today, what's got you all smiley?" Charlie asked as he pulled back from the kiss, searching your eyes as he looked at you with adoration.

"I got some good news" you grinned and Charlie rose his eyebrows, curious as to what could have you with this wide a smile on your face.

"News? Well hit me with it sugar, don't leave a man hanging" he told you and you chcukled, excitment and nerves bubbling over as he continued to hold your waist.

"So me and Chris went to the Doctor today?" Charlie furrowed his eyebrows, confused that good news could come from a doctors visit instead of bad. "I wanted to get checked out.

"But you’ve been fine, you haven't even had a cold?" Charlie was still confused, unsure where any of this story could be going. He didn't need to worry and going to the doctor without telling him worried him.

"Not cold symptoms, but pregancy symptoms" you explained and suddenly all the color seemed to drain from his face.

"You're pregnant?" you nodded, the huge smile still painted perfectly on your face and he felt his heart begin to quicken. Suddenly his arms loosened their grip around you and he took a step back, the smile instantly falling from your face.

"Charlie? What’re you thinking?" you nervously asked as he backed to the dining room table and calmbered into a seat. He stayed silent, looking anywhere but your eyes, and suddenly you felt the tears begin to burn behind them. "We talked about this, you we're ready. We stopped using protection"

The tears started to fall and Charlie finally looked to you, a hand over his mouth as he sat there stunned. Yet between your tears you saw he had tears in his eyes as well. You wished you could read every thought going through his head as he looked at you, a broken look across his face.

"Charlie, tell me what's wrong?" you begged as you moved towards hm, grasping his hands in your own.

"I thought I was ready" he muttered, tears now falling down his cheeks as well. He shook his head, removing his hands to brush his tears away.

"So you don't want to do this?" you asked and he sighed heavily, his heart clenching from his thoughts.

"Of course I do, I just don't want to hurt our kid" it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Bending to your knees in front of him you grabbed his thighs, practically pleading with him to look at you.

"Baby, how could you ever hurt our kid?" you ask and he sighs, his fingers running through his hair, leaving it a mess compared to his perfectly combed look.

"We could make them feel trapped, like they don't have a future, they could decide to leave us" and then it hit you. Charlie was scared to raise a kid, do it wrong, and lose them exactly how he lost Neil.

"Charlie that could absolutely never happen. You are not Neil's father, in fact you are the furthest thing from it. I know I can trust that you will keep our childrens happiness before anything else" you tell him, trying to reassure him of this and he sighs, tears still staining his face as he lifts you up to sit in his lap.

"I know I'm just scared, I didn’t think it would happen this soon" he says and you smile as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

"We've been trying for month Char, I think we are just on time" you tell him and he nods against you, a hand reaching over to press against your stomach.

"There's really a baby in there?" he asks and you smile, happy this didn't mean he didn't care.

"Yeah, 6 weeks old. Only the size of a pea" you tell him, a hand running through his already disheveled hair.

"If it's a boy can we name him Neil?" Charlie asks and you smile, brushing your own tears away.

"Of course baby" you tell him and he finally lifts his head from your chest to look at you.

"And if it's a girl, can we name her Nuwanda?" you laughed at this question, head tipping back in amusement, unsurprised that he said it. He was still the same guy you fell in love with.

"Absolutley not, but I don't hate Wanda" you tell him, your hand tucking under his chin to lift his head and look at you.

"Wanda is perfect" he said before leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. You smiled as he kissed you hard and good, more than likely trying to erase the mess he just made. He knew he should've been excited but the fear was suffocating the minute he heard the word pregnancy.

"I promise you'll be a good father Charlie, I just know it" Charlie smiles softly, holding his girl that was carrying his baby. The baby he would make sure didn’t grow up with the same fears of life like he did. Like Neil did. The exact fears that killed him.

"I'm going to do everything I can to gurantee that"

[mvltisstuff]

how to disappear - e.b

summary: after a series of tragic losses, y/n’s bright mood begins to disappear. so buck and the 118 try to bring it back

evan buckley x reader

this lowkey broke my heart a bit 🥲 i am def not the biggest fan of this, it was just rushed but i hope you still enjoy, leave any requests you’d like i’m in a big 911 writing era :)

10 minutes of cpr on the way to the hospital, rapid beeping on the machine, blood on the ground. hen places a soft hand on y/n’s arm, and pulls it away from the patients body. “y/n,” she says, making pitying eye contact with her. “time of death, 14:36.”

y/n sits back with a brush to her hairline with the heel of her palm and a sigh. she looks down at her hands and uniform, covered in a man’s blood. a son, a friend, and she feels like she just took that from him.

it’s been person after person, it feels. like she’s failing at her job and is failing all these people. she wants to scream. a few days before, she had lost a girl, new to adulthood, who had driven her car off the side of the road due to a drunk driver. her best friend, watching from the side and being held back by bobby and athena, was wailing in agony from watching the life escape her soul sister.

that wasn’t the last time, it’s been a few. everyone tries to reassure her that she did everything she could, and she knows she did. but was it enough? y/n’s been quiet, not wanting to hurt anything else around her. she felt like everything was glass in her hands and she couldn’t help but drop it. her eyes were dry and red from the sleepless nights and tearful showers, and her arms were tired from the endless compressions and the feeling of being completely burnt out.

buck had recognized this feeling, they all had, but it hurt to see her beating herself up so much over it. y/n already felt ridiculous, as this is partially what she signed up for, and he didn’t want her to feel ashamed. the 118 has been assigned to a ton of casualties and bad accidents recently, but it seems like they’ve been piling up and she feels like it is a result of her work.

everyone knows y/n is great. she’s smart and careful in her work, always checking over herself and being gentle with everyone, young and old.

another quiet night at home, y/n picks around her food not being able to find her appetite. the screams of the friend from earlier rang in her ear and the flatline of machines were stinging her brain. the pounding headaches were washed away with another tylenol, as buck tries to start another conversation.

“so, um,” he starts, quietly. “eddie invited us over to dinner tomorrow, do you wanna go?”

he tells a white lie because buck sort of invited himself to dinner. he wants to help y/n, and make her feel better and know that there are people still alive from her rescues. “maybe, i’m not sure.” she says, not having the energy to go tomorrow as she wants to just come home and fight with her sleep again. buck nods, deciding not the fight it. his heart breaks seeing her in this condition, and it pains him even more to know she’s helped him in this situation. he’s had his own losses, and he so desperately tries to climb out of the pit it puts him on. y/n was always the hand, the ladder that he called to climb out. he wanted more than anything to be hers.

they don’t teach you in training how to deal with this. they warn you, surely, but you always try to sugarcoat it in your mind. however, the agonizing sobs and screams will wake you up at night. you remember the names, the family, the details, the autopsy, the medicine that was inserted. every small detail haunts you, until you learn to handle the pain. it never gets easier to lose someone on the job, but the embraces and relief from saving someone is an incredible feeling.

“i’m just going to head to bed,” y/n says, her voice cracking as it’s barely above a whisper. she walks over to buck, placing her plate in the dishwasher. “i’ll meet you upstairs, i’m going to shower first.”

buck nods and gives her a sweet smile that conceals a bit of pity. watching her smiles fade from feeling like she’s not good enough makes his heart skip a beat in the worst way.

a few days later, y/n stayed a little longer at work than buck did. maddie had asked him to watch jee-yun, and when y/n walked in, she saw buck playing with her in their living area. he has a bright smile on his face in response to the little words and babbles from jee. “hey, baby. wanna come join us in here?”

she had completely forgotten that they agreed to babysit. she sighed and mumbled at buck for a minute. “i, um, forgot we’re watching her.”

“it’s ok, we just got done pulling uncle bucks hair out,” he says, scooping jee up and blowing light kisses into her baby cheeks. “who’s that, jee? y/n’s home!”

y/n forces out a small grin, making the side of her mouth raise a bit. “sorry, guys. i was gonna call it an early night, it’s been a really long day.” she replies, because she has no more energy left to give. she feels like shit, leaving her boyfriend and his niece alone, who she adores completely. she doesn’t want to bother their time together.

“oh,” buck says, surprised. y/n never denies extra time with jee-yun, always begging maddie and chimney to bring her over for a bit. “i get it, honey. go lay down.” he says, the smile on his face growing again in attempts to make her feel more comfortable.

“thanks, buck.” y/n walks over to the two, leaving a kiss on bucks lips and one on jee’s forehead. when she walks away, stepping back up the stairs like her muscles are worn out, jee mumbles out the few letters of her name.

“i know, jee-yun,” buck says, comforting her. “she’ll be back soon, i hope.”

days pass and y/n’s brightness that comes into the room when she walks in still isn’t back. buck has tried to give her space, but also giving her the love she needs to feel better. sitting around the table, the team talks for a little.

“kid, something on your mind?” bobby asks, taking a bite of his breakfast while looking at a zoned-out buck.

“s-sorry, cap,” he stumbles over his words. “it’s y/n. i just feel so bad, i wish i could magically fix everything but…”

“it’s hard, she’s been really taking it on these calls.”

“i’m just worried, i don’t know how much more stress she can handle.”

“she’s tough,” eddie adds. “i think she just needs time.” buck nods, still feeling indifferent on the situation.

the alarm sounds later in the night, and they climb into the truck for the last call of the shift. they’re all tired, ready to go home, but also ready to face whatever battle the world has for them tonight. y/n rides in the back, glaring out the window. she listens intently to the instructions in her headphones, and they climb out of the truck.

they see yet another tragic incident on the side of the road, a massive delivery truck had been completely turned upside down with two people inside of it. they team had all sprint up the the flipped vehicle, getting on the ground to see the damage to their bodies. “hi, sir,” y/n says first. “can you tell me your name?”

“r-richard.”

“ok, richard, can you tell me if you feel this?” y/n applies pressure to his legs. he shakes his head, and begins to panic at the numbness in his lower half.

“it’s ok, stay still,” y/n reassures him. “we’re gonna help you. can you tell us your friends name?”

“his n-name- is tyler.” he answers. “am i going to die in here?”

“we are all here to help you, richard, you are in some of the best hands out there,” y/n stands up and faces hen and chimney. “we have numbness in his legs, passengers name is tyler.”

“got it,” chim says, jogging over to see his friends condition.

on the side, after excusing themselves, the team meets up. “driver is not looking good, cap. i think the damage was already done when we got on scene.” hen says.

“can we get the other person out safely?” bobby asks, hesitantly. they all nod, knowing what is going to have to happen. “he’s pinned under that seat, he doesn’t have enough time.”

“what? no, we have to get both of them out!” y/n interjects.

“we can’t, y/n. we have to keep richard comfortable while they work to get tyler out.”

“but-“

“there’s nothing we can do, y/n/n,” buck says, stepping in. “there’s nothing that can save him.”

y/n keeps her cool, just barely letting the pot boil over the edge. she walks back over to richard without any directions, but knows that she is the one to keep him comfortable. “this is it, huh?” he coughs a bit, blood pooling at the corner of his lips.

“you have a family, richard?” y/n asks, hoping to keep his mind off the pain that has already been minimized with morphine. no morphine in the world can save his family from the pain they’ll endure.

he nods, slowly. “i have three girls and two boy, and my beautiful wife.”

“wow, a full house, isn’t it?” y/n laughs.

“we have, two dogs too.”

“can i hear their names?”

“the girls are, layla, and she’s the oldest.” he starts, ready to take the time to explain his precious kids. tears are already forming in y/n’s eyes, and she’s relieved he is able to talk over her. “she’s so smart, she was valedictorian, jesus, i was so loud at graduation. and then there’s jake, he’s so amazing, he’s the sweetest kid. and then there’s makenna and sarah, they’re two little,” he pauses to take a few deeps breaths. “firecrackers. and then the youngest is nathan, and he is a r-replica of his mom.”

“what’s their mom like?” the drilling and buzzing from the other side is faint, the two’s thoughts being drowned out by the stories of his family.

“oh, she’s amazing,” he smiles, with red-stained teeth. “the- the most beautiful woman. you think i could call her?” her shaky hand reaches over to his phone that had fallen out of the truck and onto the top. she puts the phone up to his ear, holding it, as some more jargon about the rescued man comes through.

“h-hey honey!” he says, like it’s almost muscle memory. “i, uh, it’s ok, i just wanted to call and see how everything is.” he smiles at the chaos on the other side. “can you, uh, put me on speaker phone?”

the tears are falling down y/n’s face freely, as the sirens of the other ambulances are turned on to drive away with other paramedics. her breaths are shaky, and the team gathers behind them. glass cuts the skin on her knees, but she is not fazed by the feeling. the husband, son, father, says his final goodbyes to his family, and the final breath from his lips is stolen in a matter of seconds. one of the police officers leans down and takes the phone, speaking to the widow and her young family.

y/n places a few fingers on the side of his neck, feeling for a non-existent pulse. her voice cracks, and a few broken cries come out of her sad mind. “i’m so sorry, richard. i’m so, so sorry.” she repeats, over and over again before her boyfriend has to remove her from the nightmare. she yanks her gloves off and wipes the mix of blood from her hands, sweat, and tears off her face.

buck has never seen her breakdown like this, and it was honestly one of his biggest fears. he knew it was going to happen, he just hoped he would make her feel better before it did. “i really tried, buck, i did, i couldn’t keep him up…”

“i know, it’s not your fault. none of this has ever been your fault.”

as y/n’s pained thoughts surround her mind on the way back to the station, she climbs out of the truck and slowly walks back into the locker room. she ignores everyone around her. she tries to ignore everyone, but buck is too quick to understanding her that he is following right behind.

“let’s just go home, buck,” y/n says, her voice is raspy from the sobs and exhaustion.

“i need you to know that you are doing everything you can,” he says, stepping closer to her.

“i know, buck. i’m not doing this right now.”

“you are amazing at this y/n. it is not your fault. these people were doomed from the second they called into dispatch. if anything, you were there for them when we got there.”

“then why? why does this keep happening, buck? since you seem to have an answer for all of this why can’t you tell me that? why does it feel like it’s my fault?” she snaps, raising her voice with him near. she’s not yelling at him, more at herself.

“y/n, please,” buck whispers. “i don’t have the answer for everything. but i know for a fact that you are doing the best you can. and that is enough. and i will say it is enough for the rest of time until you believe me.”

y/n stops and stands still. she looks at him with sad eyes, her mouth opened lightly. she shrugs her shoulders and feels like every word is draining her from everything she has left. “i cant sleep without hearing them, buck.”

“oh, my god. baby,” he says, rushing over to her and pulling her in before her heartbroken knees gave out under her. his arms wrapped around her waist and sat her weak body down on the bench. he held her until she had nothing else to weep out. “let’s go home, love.”

several days later, and several shifts later, y/n had started to feel more normal. things had been looking up, but she was still dealing with the loss of her patients. it never would not bring her pain, each bruise would never heal, but she would rather not forget about them.

buck had taken her out of the house for a day, meeting up with everyone for dinner. they all had been supporting y/n in their own ways. spending time with her, listening to her, giving her advice, and just being there for her was the best they could do. they figured it would be good for her to spend time out of the firehouse and their small shared apartment.

her bubbly personality wasn’t back yet, as she still thought about the casualties consistently. they still haunted her dreams and lay in her brain. having buck there made everything easier. the way he cared for her and never judged her feelings had caused them appear more valid. having someone that understands you like that can open doors to new feelings so fast.

sitting around, they all talked for a bit as y/n still stayed quiet, her hand and bucks never unwinding. her grip on his soft hands has been still like they were stuck in cement. being able to listen to his voice and the casual meetings between everyone brought her back to reality.

“hi, sorry, excuse me?” a woman said, standing next to another one. she had a hearing aid in, and was doing sign language while making eye contact with y/n. “i had just recognized the whole team, and i remembered seeing you. i wish i could remember your name, but it must’ve gotten mixed up somewhere.” the lady signs, pointing at y/n. “you saved my life, you came right back into that building and i would not be here today. you saved me and my family. i wish i could give you all the world, but seeing your face still brings me comfort. so thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

y/n was completely speechless. she had no idea what to say. her eyes were welling up again, but she blinked them back down and tried to force a few quiet words out. “of course, i’m so glad you remember me! that’s what i’m here for.”

her interpreter signs y/n’s words back to her, and she blows a quick kiss to y/n and walks away with a bright smile. y/n faces back around to buck, with a shocked smile on her face. it was bright, and it seemed like something that reminded her of all the good in this world that she has done.

buck knows that aside from a beautiful face, her soul had a wonderful outcome on the people around her. he wanted to give her everything and make her feeling like the most loved person on the planet. his admiration for her and complete head over heels mind brings him back to her hold every day, and he would spend the rest of his life being her hand to hold.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 6

Yes, my darlings, you read that right. I promised I would get back on this one once I was done with In the Midnight Hour and admittedly I did get side tracked for a week doing the Valentine’s fics, once that was out of my head I have written almost 7000 new words for this story. I went from half way through this one to a few hundred words into part 10. So yeah. Expect to see this one updated fairly regularly. I haven’t given up on Star Child I’m just trying to decide which direction the next part should take.

Also on the tagging, I HAVE REACHED MY HARD AND FAST LIMIT OF 50. I love the response this story has gotten. I do. I love you all. I love every reply, like, and reblog. It brings me so much joy, you don’t even know. But tagging is hard for my ADHD brain. I have gone up from 20 to 30 and finally 50 as my system improved but I think if I do any more than that I’ll go insane. So any future tagging requests will be ignored. Sorry.

The best way to keep update on these stories is follow me and set me on notifications. I rarely do a lot of reblogging these days (too busy churning out stories like whoa), so more often then not a post will be a story. I try to post at least once a day (some times twice if I’m trying to rush through the posting a bit like I did to make sure the Valentine fic got out in time without making people wait on Vamp!Eddie), just never at set time.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

*

They all met up by the fountain in the middle of the mall. Eddie was bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously.

“You sure he’s going to come?” Jeff asked.

Eddie tried to peer around the crowd. “That’s what he said.”

And then they spotted him. He was in a nice red sweater with a white polo underneath and fitted jeans. Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth in appreciation.

But then he noticed the gaggle of children following behind him. And what a gaggle it was. It consisted of Red, his new best friend, another girl with a thousand yard stare. The tall black kid must be the Sinclair boy. The remaining three were also very interesting. There was the short curly haired kid with no front teeth. The last two were both dark haired, but the one on the right was darker. Hair and attitude, judging from the rounded shoulders and down cast expression of the other boy.

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I’m late. Dustin called asking me to take him to the arcade, only when I told him that I was going to the mall, suddenly they all wanted to come.”

“And then I got roped into this because they wouldn’t all fit in Steve’s car,” a voice called from the back.

The person jostled his way to stand next to Steve. Jonathan clasped Steve on the shoulder. “I gave Will money to call me when you’re done so I can pick up him and El. Make sure he doesn’t spend it on the gumball machine.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, man. I’ll see you later.”

Jonathan nodded and waved goodbye to everyone, but especially the timid one. Which Eddie figured must have been Will.

“Your children, I presume?” Eddie asked, eyeing the thirteen year-olds warily.

“Yup,” Steve said with a put on expression. He pointed to each of them in turn. “That’s Dustin, Mike, Will, Lucas, Max and El.”

Eddie did the same to his friends. “I’m Eddie, these are Jeff, Gareth, and Brian. Or collectively, the band Corroded Coffin.”

“That’s bitchin’,” El said with a smile.

Steve ducked his head as he tried not to laugh.

“Hell yeah, it is,” Jeff said, taking an immediate liking to her.

“All right,” Steve said, turning to the kids. “You are to stay in pairs at the very least. And you know who your partners are. Will and Mike, Max and El, and Dustin and Lucas. Regardless of what you are doing, you will meet up here at 2pm. No later. I have plans with these guys at three and I’m not going to be late because of you guys a second time.”

There were a lot of eye rolls but everyone agreed to meet at the fountain at two.

Once they had left, Steve turned back to see that all four of them were struggling not to laugh.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Go ahead and laugh. Because fuck knows it’s hilarious.”

So they promptly burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” Gareth wheezed. “It was like watching ducklings.”

“Yes!” Eddie agreed. “My dude, I hope you are charging their parents for this.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like I need the money.”

They all just shook their heads.

Eddie clapped his hands together and rubbed. “Right, Stevie, this is how it is going to go. You’ll have one hour to get the most outrageous gift. Ten dollar maximum.”

“Each person or total?”

“However you want to swing it,” Jeff said. “But forty bucks is a lot.”

Steve nodded. “I guess my one concern is that I don’t know you guys very well and I don’t want to offend anyone.”

“So take Eddie with you,” Gareth said. “And then for the last ten minutes split off to buy something for each other.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “that could work. What do you say, Stevie?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Every one but Steve set a timer on their watches. Steve’s wasn’t a digital one, so he couldn’t.

“On your marks, get set,” Brian said. “And go!”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and suddenly he was being dragged along.

Steve giggled. “Where to first?”

“We are going to Suncoast,” Eddie said with a grin. “It’s the best place for all your metalhead needs.

“Lead on, MacDuff!” Steve said with a grin.

Eddie finally let go of Steve’s hand as they neared the store.

“I found out in drama that a lot of the sayings and words we use today are because Shakespeare couldn’t find the right word and made them up,” Steve said nervously.

“Wait, really?” Eddie asked, coming to a complete stop. “Like what?”

“Well, ‘Lead on, MacDuff’,” Steve said, “just for starters. It’s from Macbeth. Green eyed-monster. Just loads that I can’t think of off the top of my head.”

Eddie stood there for a moment blinking. “If they had taught that in English, I think would pay more attention.”

Steve laughed. “I know, right?”

They entered the store and everything had a dark red neon glow to it and it was clearly separated between the movie part of the store and the music part of the store. It was almost jarring. The movie part was dark like the inside of a movie theater. The music part was well lit and almost sterile white in its design.

They wandered around the music section. And they stopped by the minuscule instrument section. It had mostly accessories but also a couple of guitars. Mostly acoustic but one or two electric as well.

“This is pitiful,” Steve said staring at the selection.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, dude,” Eddie said. “There is an actual record shop with a full on instrument section. But that is not the point of this.”

Steve stopped by the drumsticks. “Gareth is the drummer right?”

Eddie nodded.

“I’ve been to a couple of concerts and I saw that the drummer had a bucket of sticks...”

“Are you asking if you should get Gareth more drumsticks?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded. “Go for it.”

“What’s his favorite color?” Steve asked.

Eddie frowned, but Steve pointed to the drumsticks on display and the had all sorts of different colors and patterns.

“The black ones with the flames on them, for sure.”

Steve grinned and picked them up. They got a couple more things here, but it was time to move on.

They hit up the stationary store, the weird little shop that sold incense and little Egyptian figurines, and Hammond’s Toys.

As they were passing Shapiro’s on their way to Hammond’s Toys, Steve found his gift for Eddie. It took every bit of will power not to just rush back and grab it, afraid it would be gone by the time he got back.

Eddie came up to him. “All right, Stevie. This is where we have to part ways. We only have ten minutes left and we need to get each other something, too.”

Steve smiled and nodded. He doubled back to Shapiro’s and quickly bought it. He raced to the fountain to be there first. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, his packages tucked under his legs so people wouldn’t steal them.

It wasn’t long before the others started showing up. Brian showed up first.

“How the hell did you beat me, man?” he asked as he sat down next to Steve. “I’m always the first to arrive.”

Steve blushed. “I got lucky.” He was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Brian eyed him suspiciously. “And you got a present for everyone?”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded.

Gareth was the next to show up. “Now that’s just embarrassing. Being beaten by Brian is one thing, he’s a shopping guru. But Steve Harrington, too? However will I get over the shame?”

Jeff laughed from behind him, having just shown up himself. “You’ll live.”

Eddie was the last to arrive showing up exactly at the hour.

“Ooh,” Jeff teased. “By the skin of your teeth. Is Steve-o here really that hard to buy for?”

Eddie grabbed his knees, panting for breath. “No,” he huffed. “Just on the other side of the fucking mall.”

“So,” Gareth said turning to Steve. “Now for the next phase of our little get together. We meet up at my house at three and exchange gifts and play a one-shot.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Is that like a D&D thing?”

“Yup!” Brian said gleefully rubbing his hands together. “It a story meant for a single day instead of multiple days like a campaign.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “We roll up quick character that are meant to die and just go to town no real rules. Just fun.”

Steve nodded. “Sure I could do that.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got twenty minutes before the kids show up.”

The other three backed away slowly.

“Yeah,” Jeff said, “we aren’t going to wait for that mob.”

“Oh, hell no,” Brian agreed. “I’m sure they’re great kids and all but I have three younger siblings, if I wanted chaos, I’d hang out with them.”

“Middle schoolers, man,” Gareth said, “are the plague of the earth. See you at three.”

Steve laughed. “Agreed on all accounts. I see you at Gareth’s. I’ll get the address from Eddie.”

The three boys walked off, shoving and pushing each other, laughing as they made their way to the exit.

“So what about you?” Steve asked. “You going to run before the hoard gets here?”

Eddie laughed. “I should. Leave you to the wolves.” He grinned. “But nah. I want to properly meet the kids that Steve the pied piper of Hawkins has taken under his wing.”

Steve blushed. “I wouldn’t call myself that. They barely listen to me.”

Eddie’s face softened. “I’m sure that’s not true. I bet the little sponges are just soaking up everything you tell them.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “That would explain the language problem.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “What language problem?”

“They swear like sailors.”

Eddie blinked a couple of time before he burst out laughing. “Having trouble not swearing around kids, Stevie?”

“You would be swearing too if you had to deal with them all the time,” he said with a shake of his head.

“So why do you do it?” Eddie asked.

Steve huffed out a sigh and kicked the side of the fountain with the heel of his foot. “Most of them don’t have great home lives. Except the Sinclairs, of course. Especially when it comes to caring adult men. I know what that’s like, so I try to be that for them.”

“Huh.”

Eddie didn’t have much time to comment on that because the first of the terrors had arrived.

The two dark-haired boys that seemed joined at the hip.

“Hey, Mike,” Steve greeted, “hey, Will. Did you already call Jonathan to come get you?”

Will nodded.

“Good,” Steve said. “Eddie here DMs for his friends.”

Both heads turned to him in shock.

“There is no way,” Mike said. “Steve would never be friends with someone who likes D&D.”

“Hey!” Steve protested. “I’m friends with you assholes!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Fine. Steve wouldn’t be friends with people his own age that play D&D.”

“Mike...” Will protested, speaking up for the first time. “What’s your favorite class?”

“Bard. It’s kinda self-insert type of thing,” Eddie said. “I play guitar, so I get the class. Um...second favorite would druid. I have a twelfth level druid named Kilmar Goatfiend in a campaign my club is doing right now.”

“You have a D&D club?” Dustin asked coming up from behind Will and Mike. “No way!”

“Yep!” Eddie said with pop of his lips. “The Hellfire club. Lenny Fitzpatrick is president this year. Next year, it’ll probably be Janice Montgomery.”

“You have a girl in your club?” Lucas asked, think of his sister Erika.

“Girls don’t play D&D,” Mike growled.

Steve hit him on the back of the head. “Oi! Your sister played. She’s the one that taught you. Show her some respect.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Nancy Wheeler plays D&D.”

“Did,” Will clarified. “She’s the one that gave me my wizard robes to DM in.”

“You dress up?” Eddie asked. “That’s so cool.”

Will blushed.

Just then girls arrived both of them eating ice cream cones.

Dustin spotted them and gasped. “You got ice cream cones?” He turned to Steve. “Why didn’t we get ice cream cones?”

Steve stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Because they saved their money and bought themselves ice cream cones?”

Max stuck out her tongue at him and El giggled.

“You better finish those up before you get into my car,” Steve said wagging his finger at them.

“Hey, I could take Max home,” Eddie said with a shrug. “I’m heading that way anyway.”

Steve looked at Max. “It’s up to you. You can go home with him or I could drop you off at Hopper’s and you and El can continue to hang out.”

Max thought about it for a minute. “I’ll think I’ll go home with Eddie and hang out with El tomorrow.” She turned to El. “Is that okay?”

El nodded. “I wanted to spend time with Will and Mike today.”

Mike blushed.

“What about you two?” Steve asked. “Where am I dropping you two off?”

Dustin and Lucas just shared a glance and shrugged.

“Well then you two can sort it out in the car,” Steve said and then turned to Eddie. “So what’s Gareth’s address?”

Eddie pulled out a pocket notebook and pen and scribbled out the address. “There you go, see you later, man.”

Steve took the piece of paper with a smile. “Do you always carry a notebook and pen with you wherever you go?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure, sometimes the muse will strike while I’m out and about so I need something to jot down lyrics or chord progressions as needed.”

“That’s sooo cool,” Mike said, a little star struck.

Will and Lucas looked over at each other and rolled their eyes. Eddie fought back a grin.

They split off, with Will, Mike and El, staying at the fountain to wait for Jonathan.

Part 7  Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19 Part 20  Part 21

@shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

[heavenlyvixen]

Percy

I want to address the allegations and scandal that has engulfed Percy Hynes White. As a survivor of SA, I take all allegations seriously and give all accusers the benefit of the doubt. When I was first made aware of these allegations my heart dropped into my stomach, and I felt the first stirrings of panic rise. My own experiences make me specially sensitive when these things occur. You could say I’m triggered. I logged off for my own mental and emotional well being. Once I calmed down, I logged back on and went to read the allegations. I didn’t want to believe that Percy was capable of such a thing, but as someone who believes victims first, I was open to the possibility that this kid I thought was charming, funny and sweet was an illusion and the reality was that a monster lurked beneath the surface. However, as I began to read through the tweets and “evidence” against this man, something didn’t add up.

That’s when the anger kicked in. Do you know how insulting it is, as a survivor of rape, when girls make false allegations? Do you know the damage that it does to legitimate victims? The likely hood that they will receive justice falls even lower than it already was. It is a further violation committed against us. And there is no justification.

So over the last few days we have learned that Percy himself committed no crimes - he did not SA anyone. We’ve learned that at worst, while a teen, he was cavalier with a girl’s feelings. Not kind, but if we are to believe this is true, he also apologised when older and wiser. We have learned that when he learnt that a friend of his was capable of such horror, he ended the friendship and he was kind and compassionate to the victim.

When all that came to light, his accusers tried another avenue to smear him - they called him a racist. Their evidence? A video of a very young Percy quoting a tv show. The line happened to contain a slur. Stupid, but I think forgivable considering his age at the time. But that’s not all, according to the girls, they also offered instagram likes as proof. Problem is, the post they referenced, was not what they claimed. And don’t even get me started on his supposed twitter likes. He doesn’t even have a twitter account.

Then they tried another route - kink shaming. Again, they posted unverifiable “proof” that he liked some kinky stuff. Ok, that’s not a crime first of all. And second, fantasies and exploration of your sexuality is normal. There is nothing wrong with that except the fact that these girls violated Percy’s privacy by telling everyone.

Were they done? No. Not even. They released naked and risqué pictures of Percy that they claim he sent to them as proof of bad acts. We have a few problems with that. 1) they offer no proof that he sent them to them, just the pictures themselves, which begs the question “how did they really get them?”. 2) revenge porn is a crime, but sending the pics to them in and of itself is not. Especially if they had a sexual relationship with him at the time. 3) this is the really disgusting part. Percy appears to have been 13 years old when some of those pictures were taken. That classifies as child p*rnography and most certainly is a crime. A vile, horrific crime.

Throughout all of this, all anyone has proven is that one girl was possibly assaulted by someone that Percy knew. He reacted with shock but kindness when he found out. As to be expected. But most of all, we learned that Percy is the victim here. And we learned that there are many among us that are more vile than I ever feared.

He’s a victim of vindictive little girls who held on to images they never should have had to justify false allegations in an attempt to ruin his life because he didn’t reciprocate their affections.

This is fucking sick. It makes me sick, it pisses me off and makes my heart break for every true victim of SA, for Percy, and for his real friends and loved ones.

I hope that the people responsible face the consequences of their actions. And I finish with one final point. There is no justification in this world for spreading child p*rnography. None. There is no justification for falsely accusing an innocent person of vile crimes. None. Those involved should be ashamed of themselves.

I hope and pray that Percy is being taken care of, that he’s ok and that he is able to return to some semblance of normalcy when it all dies down and the air clears. The reality is he’ll be irrevocably changed by this. I just hope it doesn’t change him too much. I hope he emerges from this still kind, goofy and adorably weird. Take care, Percy and know that we are on your side.

[noroi1000]

❝𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮-𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐢❞ Chapter 07

Satoru-Sensei | ←Previous chapter • Next Chapter →

Summary: A few days ago was the anniversary of your death. His former students come to meet him. How could they think he forgot about you? Why does Megumi look at him so suspiciously?

"Yo! Sensei! We haven't seen you in such a good mood for a long time!"

Has he ever been in a bad mood? After all, his mood had been unchanged for two years. He has been happy with his life for two years!

But maybe he really was brighter now?

And this can only be due to the fact that he woke up with the memory of last night.

Is seeing your red, wet and fucked up face something that makes him feel better? It looks.

The white-haired man turned around in the corridor, looking at the pink-haired man who ran up to him.

The young adult had the same smile on his face that he always had at school.

"How was the mission, Yuji?" he asked, shaking his hand in greeting.

"I tried to get back to school as soon as possible."

"Ooh? I don't believe teenagers love going to school!" he laughed and invited his former student into his office to sit and talk.

"Fushiguro and Kugisaki should be here soon. How are the first years doing?"

"On a mission at the moment."

"Eh?"

"They are to check an old building where noises were heard at night. It could be a curse, or just some animal." He sat awkwardly in his chair.

"I would also like to have such missions! So easy! As a grade 1 sorcerer, I can't count on something like that, right?"

"As a special grade sorcerer, I cannot count on any mission that would be as quick as the blink of an eye. Even though it's like that for me." He put his cheek on his hand. "I heard there is a special occasion for which you came here quickly."

"Yeah, this–."

The door suddenly opened, revealing Kugisaki and Fushiguro.

The girl looked at the pink-haired man with small scars on his face.

"You were supposed to wait for us at the entrance!" She shouted, regardless of the fact that she was at school.

The longer skirt of her uniform was rolled up as she sat on the small couch against the wall. Her longer hair fell over her shoulders. Brown and red ombre on her head.

Fushiguro, who had changed the least out of all of them, sat next to her. Because his hair was just a little shorter.

The only person who hadn't changed at all out of all of them was you.

According to them, you had no way to change because you lost your life.

According to Gojo, you haven't changed because you look almost the same. Except your body has grown as it should.

Making you even more beautiful than you were before.

Gojo hasn't changed either. He's the same. Everything as it was.

"Sensei, this Occasion –."

"Gojo-san, how long have you been talking without us?" the girl asked, ignoring the fact that Itadori was talking.

"Actually, we've only just started." He replied.

They didn't have to call him sensei. Only you said that.

But Satoru-Sensei was different than Gojo-Sensei. Because you called Satoru-Sensei, affectionately. You said that to him with love.

"What happened?"

"I was just asking Yuji about the occasion you came for." he explained to her, gesturing towards her classmate.

"Oh... Continue..." she said suddenly, being quiet and calm. Suddenly so serious.

"A few days ago was the second anniversary of (l/n)'s death... We didn't want anyone to think that we didn't remember her. That's why we wanted to come here."

After the pink haired man's explanation, there was an awkward silence in the room.

Well, they experienced the loss of a classmate. To them you are dead. For them, you are no longer in the world. You were their age, they knew you. And now you were gone for them. Because you died at 16. Death at a young age, something no one wanted. Anyone could regret that this happened to you...

Nothing could undo 'it'.

Death cannot be undone.

Especially since your body hasn't been found.

And the only person who didn't care was Gojo. Because for him you didn't die. He has been seeing you every day for two years, hugging you and kissing you. For two years you have always been with him. That's why he didn't feel sad when his former students talked about it.

"Tomorrow we go to the cemetery together."

"It's nice of you to remember her like that." he said with his thumb on his chin.

"We went to class with her. We were at the site of her death. We all could have died there, but this curse targeted her..."

"It was..." the short-haired man with a scar between his eyes began when he heard the girl's statement.

"Anniversary of the death?" White-haired muttered.

"(l/n) died two years ago..."

"..." His face looked thoughtful.

"Sensei, you remember (l/n), right?"

He tilted his head, looking at him from under the black blindfold.

Could anyone think that he would forget about the best student? About someone who cuddles up to him every morning and sleeps soundly in his arms?

"Who do you think I am, Yuji? How could I forget (y/n)-chan?”

"That's fine! Sorry... I just started to think you didn't remember what happened." He smiled at him.

"Maybe I'm not good at remembering random people's names. But I could never forget (y/n).”

From the corner of his eye, the white-haired man saw the dark-haired man on the edge of the couch look at him. As if analyzing more than others.

Megumi was always so...

He already suspected something earlier... When you were still at school. He has already shown something like suspicion towards Gojo.

His favorite student is you? You spend the most time with him. But the way he took care of you was even different than the one he knew. He had known Gojo for so many years. And he knew that what he was giving you was not ordinary care. It was something he had never experienced, despite spending almost fourteen years with him.

The white-haired man knew that Megumi was suspicious and didn't believe everything he said. Even though he trusted his sensei as someone he could trust with his life.

Something was wrong. His facial expression. Indifference in the voice when the pink-haired man talked about your grave.

He was indifferent... Even though he felt the loss of his loved ones very strongly.

So why was there such indifference in his voice?

But as long as Gojo doesn't show anything that might make them suspicious, everything will be fine.

Hide you from the world of Jujutsu. Hide you from the whole world. Assure you that you will not suffer and miss. Ensure that you will be the happiest. This was what he had to do.

Hide you and hide with you for the rest of your life. Forever. To ensure that nothing and no one will tear you apart.

Taglist: @mc-reborn ; @yihona-san06 ; @yerinsshi ; @erisfayred ; @tohsri

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Following you to the ends of the earth Pt. 2

Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary- Part 2 to my first work under the same title. As the story progresses, Bran and readers relationship does too. Taking place in the cave still, they face the white walkers. Part one right here! A/N- OH Em GEE you guys, tysm for all the likes and reposts, it makes me feel really good that yall are liking this story as much as I am! Love yall so much! Word count- 3,285

You were always a light sleeper. Maybe it was because you were never truly safe, that you always needed to be on your toes. That's what happens when your betrothed is Brandon Stark. The soon-to-be Three-Eyed Raven. A lifestyle you knew many girls would reject or resent, but you wouldn't change it for the word. If always being hyper-aware kept you close to Bran, then so be it.

Although you never slept very long, holding Bran certainly helped. Which you did a lot more since becoming engaged. Not a night went by where he wasn't leaning into your side, chest, lap, or shoulder. The only times you weren't holding him, he was holding you.

This particular night, Brandon was the restless one. His head resting on your thighs, acting as a pillow. You were fast asleep, back pressed up agaist some of the roots and stone inside the cave.

Bran looked all over in the darkness, trying to distract himself from his growing boredom. He contemplated waking you, but he knew you needed sleep more than him at that moment.

Ultimately, he lifted his head fom you, hair disheveled. He immediately regretted it as he heard you groan at the lack of warmth and pressure. Luckily you stayed asleep.

First, he started to play with the dirt that padded the floor. Careful to not get any on you, he lifted it in his hands and spread it back out. This amused him for only a minute. He then thought to Summer. She was ears-up watching him, but he was only greeted by a tilt of her head.

With a sigh, he tried to lean himself up against the wall, just as you were. He stared at you for a moment. Just taking in your features. The small pout your lip that had gained seconds previously, the way your head slightly leaned to him. Even the small scar you had on your temple, result of a bad encounter in the woods.

He then worried that you might think lowly of him for looking at you, sleeping so softly. That being said, he changed his glance to the Old man. How could the Three-Eyed Raven sleep so much? It made Bran upset just thinking about the wasted time in the cave.

The Three-Eyed Raven was always insisting that 'Bran needed rest', sometimes only after one vision. If Bran was going to become the Three-Eyed Raven one day, they would need to pick up the pace.

It was this mentality that had Bran picking up the finger bone of a far passed figure. He tossed the bone up to the Old man in an attempt to wake him, but was unsuccessful. With a deeper sigh this time, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With a small grunt he moved to a crawling position to grab a branch in front of you and him.

"Bran?" You spoke out to him, noticing he was gone. "Are you ok?" You whispered.

He sqeezed his eyes closed for a second, scolding himself for waking you. "I am, go back to sleep." He said, turning to face you with a smile.

"What are you doing?" You persisted.

"Nothing, I'm just restless. I promise." He insisted.

As much as you wanted to call him over to smother him in affection and cuddle his worries away, you didn't know if he would be comfortable with that yet. The look on his face seemed like it had a goal, like he was trying to do something. But, you trusted him and did not want to bother him further.

Maybe if you knew what was going to happen you would have done things differently...

"If you need anything, let me know." You gave him a pleasant smile, which he studied with all his might, before turning on your side to try to gain sleep again.

His heart warmed, and he thought about returning to snuggle up and try to fall asleep. But, he couldn't deny that he felt a type of calling, and with frowned brows he faced the branch infront of him again.

Inhale. Exhale. Then he grabbed the branch, going deep into another vision.

Suddenly, he was outside. Powdered snow beneath him, with more falling from the sky. He walked on to the large tree in the middle of the snowy field.

Unusual stones flowed around the tree, but seemingly abandoned. With confusion rich on his face, he turned completely around to take in his surroundings.

After looking away then back to behind him, an army appeared. Thousands of bodies, but none human.

All were still and looked of decaying flesh, nothing humane about them except for the ripped clothing they wore.

This did nothing to help his confusion, but he marched on. Forcing his way through the frozen hoard of beings. Until he reached the end.

Four iced figures on decaying horses were sat at the back of the mob. Bran approached them, yearning for a better look. Until one of their heads snapped. Now looking directly at Bran.

He couldn't have possibly been seen? Right?

All of a sudden, the whole of the army was surrounding him. All looking right at Bran.

He turned fearfully, panting. Now met face-to-face with the leader of the hoard, The Night King.

Bran tried to back away, but was not quick enough. The Night King was too fast, and was right in Brans way.

A loud scream left his lips, he didn’t know if it was in pain or fear.

Your eyes snapped open at the sound and anxiety hit your veins like ice. You were fully awake now, adrenaline pumping.

"Brandon, Wha-" You were interrupted by a frantic Bran.

"He saw me, he saw me, The Night King saw me!" He exclaimed to you and The Three-Eyed Raven.

Surprisingly calm, the Old Man asked, "Did he touch you?"

'I-I don't know, he was close but.." At his words you were already on your feet, knelt down by Brans side. You examined him for and visible wounds.

"He touched you." The Three-Eyed Raven commented, and you raised both of Brans sleeves up. His left arm unscathed, thankfully. But he was not so lucky, for when you pulled up his right sleeve, you were met with an Icy hand print, that might have left an Ice burn scar.

Now everyone was awake, and questioning what happened. You let out a mix between a gasp and short cry at his forearm. "Oh gosh..." At your words, Bran looked up at you. Horror filled his eyes and you tried your best to console him with one hand to his back, and other fingers combing his messy hair.

"He knows you're here, he will come for you." The Old Man stated. Now you were terrified as well.

"But, he can't get in." Bran said, now doubting himself.

"Now he can." The Old Man claimed. "His mark is now on you. You must leave, all of you, now!"

You quickly kissed Brans cheek before getting up to help Meera and Hodor pack your things. You had to beckon the two others to get up, them still confused and dazed.

Meera gained some sense of urgency and went over to the sled, "Come on Hodor, help me with the sleigh." Hodor hesitantly walked over, assisting Meera. All while you crammed items into you bags, uncaring of wrinkles.

"Im sorry, I didn't mean to." Bran wasn't just speaking to The Three-Eyed Raven, but the three of you as well.

"The time has come." The Old Man began.

"Time for what?" With a quiver Bran answered.

"It is time for you to become me." The Three-Eyed Raven finalized.

Bran looked over at you, searching for some sort of familiarity and comfort. All you could offer was a look of reassurance and a smile while grabbing another bag. "But... Am I ready?" Bran asked, unsure.

He was met with a "No." Then both the Old Man and Bran snapped into a vision. Brans head falling back with a gasp and eyes white.

You let out a shaky breath, standing up to try to collect your thoughts.

"We can go home now Hodor." Meera exclaimed, trying to ease Hodors stress.

He responded with a chuckle and a "Hodor."

"Well, maybe not home-home, but at least not a cave." She said, smiling herself.

You tried to distract the ugly feeling in you stomach by joining the conversation, "I just want a nice fluffy bed and a hot bath." You added.

Meera smiled at you, "Oh, yes. And eat something that's not moss." Hodor laughed at the two of you.

"I want an egg." She stated, "How do you two like them, buttered? With a side of bacon. Maybe sausage?" Hodor ws very amused by this, his giddy 'Hodors" followed after him.

"Sunny side up for me." You said while gathering the blanket you and Bran were previously using.

At this Meera fell quiet. "What, what is it?" you questioned. Her face dropping, then eyes widening. You rose to your feet to follow her when she ran to the entrance of the cave.

"Meera, wait, we're not done packi-." Your words left your mouth as you were met with the sight of thousands of the dead. No, hundreds of thousands. All standing outside of the cave, with their leader The Night King, in front.

You had never been so scared. Not even when Jojen was attacked and killed by wights. Fear struck you onto your core. The hair on the back of your neck rose, your brow lined in sweat despite the cold. You were frozen still.

With wide eyes, you watched the Night King and his White Walkers advance.

Leaf and the other Children of the forest started throwing special balls of explosives out. Then lighting a ring of fire around the entrance of the cave. This would help keep them at bay. But you did not have a lot of time.

"Meera, we have to go now." She was just as shocked as you. With a grab of her arm, you pulled her back into the cave. She quickly came to and started running along side you.

At the commotion of running back in, Hodor became distraught. "Hodor...Hodor."

"Bran, wake up. Please Bran!" You called out to him, just as you fell to your knees beside him.

With your body pressing against his, you grabbed his shoulders and shook him. All while Meera tried to console Hodor into picking up the sled.

Bran laid there, eyes white as ever. It took all you had not to start throwing objects with foul language at the Three-Eyed Raven. If he was all-knowing, why couldn't he have prevented this?

Your cries became sobs as you felt tears bubbling up while shouting at Bran. "Bran, they are here now, we need you! Brandon wake up!" His name left your lips in a pitiful weep. If Bran couldn't hear your blatant plead for help, you would have to come up with another option.

"Meera, help me lift him." You called her over, whiping your tears away and giving one last sniffle. The two of you struggled to hoist Bran up to the sled. In your still blurried eyed state, you just about dropped him off of the sleigh, if it weren't for Meeras help.

The both of you panted at the activity, now out of breath. But you still needed to calm Hodor down. You went over to him stumbling as you did. A gentle hand was rested to his shoulder, calling his name.

"Hodor, listen, we need your help, you need to breathe. Inhale then exhale, buddy." You talked to him like a mother would, if Bran was conscious you knew he would make a comment about how nurturing you were.

White Walkers started pouring into the cave, and you had to quickly grab your weapon, an axe. As a walker came up to attack Hodor, he let out a cry. You jumepd to, slicing the walker across the chest. It fell to the ground, but more were approaching.

"Hodor, we need your help!" Meera shouted out, while swinging her sword at walkers who were trying to attack Bran.

You grabbed Hodor the best you could, pulling him to his feet. You urged him to walk to Meera and Bran. A walker some how pranced down from the ceiling, Meera letting out a scream. Summer hoped into action, tearing the walker apart.

It was looking hopeless as more White Walkers poured in. That was until Leaf and some other Children of the forest came in as well. All defending the four of you.

"Bran, wake up, we are all gong to die! We need Hodor, Bran!" Meera tried again. His white eyes stared back at the two of you.

Hodor was becoming more frantic, yelling out "Hodor, Hodor!" He shook his hands all around.

You knelt down at the side of the sled, while Meera stood up to fight more walkers off.

Taking his pale face in you hands, you brought his face close to yous. Foreheads touching, and one hand moving to be in his hair, you spoke to him.

"Baby please, we need you to warg into Hodor. My love, if this must be the last thing I ask of you so be it, but we will die if you do not wake up. Please, we need Hodor." You whispered directly into his ear. Then pressing you cheek to his own. Not before planting a quick kiss on his lips.

Unknown to you, while Bran was in his vision, watching the courtyard where a young Hodor and his father played and worked, he felt your touch. First, he leaned into the familiar feeling of you hand to his face. He didn't think about the fact that he had never felt you in a vision before.

He just thought about how your hand moved to his hair, smiling at the action. That was until he felt your cheek against his, then a whisper of your words in his ear, ringing out. You sounded weak, like you were crying. With a warm pressure against his lips, he felt your kiss. Bran said your name unconsciously. Just before snapping back to and warging into Hodor.

It was just a whisper, but you heard him murmur your name. You jumped up, looking to his eyes. They were still white, but now Hodor was standing tall, silent.

Hodor, under Brans guidance, marched over and picked up the handles of the sled. He started pulling Bran to the back exit of the cave. You risked the extra second to grab a bag. You weren't sure if it was the food or extra furs. Either way, you couldn't live without one or the other.

Just as you were pulling away, a walker ran at you. With a scream, you fell onto your back. Helpless, you prayed what you thought would be you last prayer.

With a snarl, Summer leaped up and attacked the walker. Giving you time to compose yourself and run with the others. You turned your head to see that Summer wasn't following you, but standing her ground.

"Summer! Summer, come here girl." You called after, but she stayed. Continuing to snarl at the walkers that advanced. You had no time, you had to run. With another sob, you tried a last time "No, summer, you have to come!" She didnt, and you ran.

You could worry about how to tell Bran later, right now you needed to make sure he stayed alive. You sprinted as fast as your legs would let you, bag now secured on your back.

You caught up to them by sheer luck. The two panting as they ran as well.

You made a glance behind you, seeing the corridor flooding with walkers. "We have to hurry!" You proclaimed.

Just a mere few seconds later, you all reached a door at the end of the passage way. Hodor dropped the sled down and went up to throw his body against it. Trying to urge it open. Meera and you helped the best you could, her soon bending with her hands on her kneees. She felt that she might pass out.

Looking at the long hall again, Leaf stood alone. Looking to the hundreds of walkers. She muttered a "Good luck." Out to you.

She then ran to the walkers, sacrificing herself with an explosive ball in her hands. The tunnel went up in flames.

You urged Hodor back, swinging your axe at the door handle. As a result, you were hrown back at the rebound. You weren't strong enough, but Hodor took the axe from your hands and swung it himself. This time it actually did damage, the handle popping open.

You all rushed out, Hodor turning around to close the door. But, the door wouldn't close all the way. Hodor used his body to keep it shut.

"Hodor, Hold the door!" Meera told. While you picked up one handle of the sled, Meera the other, you two pulled Bran away closer to the forest.

"Hold the door!" Meera called out again to the man.

"Good job Hodor, you've always protected us so well!" You yelled to him. Knowing it might be the last thing he hears.

You couldn't bare to look back at the walkers digging into Hodor. You kept a blank stare straight, and the two of you struggled to pull Bran.

The only reason you and Meera were able to get him to far so quickly was pure adrenaline.

You let out whispered cries. The storm had passed, now only a light flurry. The sky was still dark, or maybe it was the many leaves blocking the moonlight. But it only seemed to get darker in the forest. Every so often you called out to Bran, but he was still in a Warged-out state, or simply a vision.

Not knowing how far you were into the woods, or how much time had passed, you and Meera collapsed.

Meera tried to stand again, to pull Bran by the rope reigns, but was unable. You were both out of strength. She let out a wail, and you froze for just a moment before calling out to her.

Now in a full cry, she fell back to her knees, rope still in hand.

"Meera, Meera its ok. Shhh, its ok. You tried your best." You said as your pulled her into a hug. Her tears wet the shoulder of you furs, you didn't mind though.

With a sniffle she pulled back. You both turned to Bran and went by his side.

She sobbed again seeing him unconscious, and you wrapped an arm around her while you both leaned into the sled. You had one arm now cradling Brandons head, the other on Meeras back.

The three of you in a circle formation, in a way that had Bran against a tree, you and Meera with your backs to any attacker.

Brans eyes returned to their brown state, with your hand rubbing gentle circles on his cold cheek.

He looks to you then Meera, "They've found us." was all he said.

"I am so sorry." Meera cried out. She was holding everything that happened on herself. While all you could do in the moment was prioritize everyone's safety, though you knew your feelings would hit you hard later. If there even was going to be a later.

You pulled Meera down with you, both close to Bran all huddled together.

You saw the walkers approach, but the two of you had no strength left. You just held eachother. Accepting your fate, at least you would die with Bran....

A/N- I couldn't help myself yall, I love Bran too much. Lmk if yall want a pt. 3! Thanks for reading, and thanks again for the support guys! Lmk if there's any way I can improve the story! Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[ilovespec]

Even a rotten heart can love..

| Yandere FEM ! Drug lord × FEM ! civilian reader. | part 1

WARNINGS !!!!! : mention of death, corpse, settled corpse, non-con touching, Kristina Zmeeva (she is already red flag lol), drugs, use of death from drug overdose, yandere is a FUCKING DRUG LORD, yandere and y/n are female, all my characters similarities with real people are random, grammatical errors are possible.

1228 words

Her description

The ??? city . Autumn.

You walk home from work with your face buried in your phone. You're texting with your friend. You looked up for a moment, choosing which way to go... There are 2 ways. The first one is shorter, but it goes through a dark alley. And the second one is longer. But he's walking down a lighted street. And you chose to take the short cut. That's why you walked briskly to the alley to get home as soon as possible. After a couple of seconds, you're already walking quickly down this alley, you put your phone in your pocket just in case and listen to the footsteps. And after a couple of minutes , here you are , almost coming out of the alley ! But suddenly you feel like you're being grabbed by the scruff of the neck...!! You're in a state of shock, you don't know what to do, and some kind of rag is pressed to your face. And as soon as you tried to breathe in, everything started to darken and blur..

且_(ﾟ◇ﾟ；)ノﾞ

You opened your eyes... your head hurt like hell ! You tried to shake your arms or legs... But they were tied up so tightly that you just can't feel them... You scream, but your mouth is gagged. You look around the room you are in... This is some kind of basement. It smells damp and ... A sickeningly strong smell of metal ....? You look down nervously and see what's lying on the floor... The corpse....!! It's a man.. And his stomach was ripped open, and his face was disfigured as if he had just been bitten by some wild animal....and because of this "look" you fainted.

且_(ﾟ◇ﾟ；)ノﾞ

You woke up because someone LICKED YOUR CHEEK !!! You opened your eyes in shock, and saw a girl by your face... Blindfolded .. She has black hair , pale skin , and 2 large scars peeking out from under the bandage , and she joyfully exclaims sadistically

- ??? - Gaetana ! Gaetana !!! Look how cute she is! ~ No wonder I took her in that alley.. ~

The one she is addressing is a woman of about 30 years old. Does she have short black hair, red..??? Eyes and tanned skin....She sighs and looks dejectedly at this strange and creepy girl.

- Gaetana : Kristina. Go away from this poor lady. Do you see how you scare her?!

Gaetana approaches Kristina , and ... Grabbing her by the leg and lifting her up (which clearly does not like Kristina), she turns to you.

- Gaetana : young lady . I'll call the boss now, and she'll decide your fate. Whether you live or not..

And then they leave.

且_(ﾟ◇ﾟ；)ノﾞ

Through ... You don't know how many minutes. You've lost track of time. The basement door opened again. And Gaetana and Kristina entered it again.

- Gaetana : young lady. The boss is coming now.

While Gaetana was talking, Kristina came up to you (violating your personal space for the second time) and hovered over you... she started unbuttoning your shirt!!! You started screaming into the gag again (about 20 times already this day). But Kristina stopped abruptly as her head was squeezed by someone's HUGE hand in white glove...

且_(ﾟ◇ﾟ；)ノﾞ

She was a huge woman.. About 2 meters tall . She has black , graying hair , dark green eyes , broad shoulders , prominent cheekbones , small wrinkles and muscles visible against the background of clothes ... She is wearing a dark red shirt, a black coat with white stripes , black trousers with a leather belt, black classic shoes and white gloves.

且_(ﾟ◇ﾟ；)ノﾞ

-Unknown woman: Kristina Zmeeva. Get away from this süsse kleine maus quickly.

Her voice is deep.. With a strong German accent. And even with the naked eye, it is noticeable that Kristina began to tremble. Just like you... AFTER ALL, EVERYONE IN THIS FUCKING ROOM IS DAMN SCARY. And Kristina obeyed and walked away from you. And in turn, this creepy tall woman came up to you, knelt down on one knee and... buttoned your shirt. And then she tried to make a kind smile and spoke.

- Unknown woman : Don 't worry mein süßer Kitz . They won't touch you in my presence... Perhaps , yes , you will live . You don't have to worry.

And then she gently stroked your face with her rough, big and warm palm. Trying to calm her down. This unknown woman, and it looks like she 's their boss

- Creepy woman - boss : Kristina, untie this Kätzchen.

- Kristina: Of course , boss !!! ~

Kristina runs up to you and... HITS YOU IN THE CAROTID ARTERY!! Knocking you out... But in the last seconds when you were conscious, you saw this unknown woman - their boss - hitting Kristina with an elbow in the neck. Making her fall down and then starts beating her up....!? And Gaetana just sighs and comes up to you, wiping yours.. Tears? Or it 's sweat .. You almost passed out , but you heard a phrase from her , against which there were sounds of blows , kicks and painful moans..

且_(ﾟ◇ﾟ；)ノﾞ

This time , you woke up on something warm ... You open your eyes in fright, remembering today's events, and see on whose lap you are lying..This is the creepy female boss. She notices that you are awake and smiles at you. She smells of VERY expensive perfume, tobacco and blood...

- Creepy woman - boss : good evening to you, Mein Schatz can you even get up?

Trembling violently (from fear and adrenaline at the same time) , you get to your feet , and immediately it gets dark in your eyes , and your legs give way and you fall... But you are caught by two powerful hands of that woman. And she... He sits you on her lap..! She looks into your scared face, and with a soft smile, hugging you, pulls you closer to her, and with her free hand caresses your face.

- Creepy woman - boss : Don't worry... And don't tremble. I don't want you to be afraid of me. And yes, don't worry about that rube girl. Right now, she can't even think and is sitting in your place right now.

- You: M -Miss..

She shushes you softly.

- Creepy woman - boss: Don't call me that. I'm Ricarda. Ricarda Reinhardt. What's your name?

- You: my name is.. (Your name)... And why am I even here..?

- Ricarda: well, how can I say it... One of your friends is my dealer. And he took my payment, but he didn't give me the batch of drugs. That's why we decided to kidnap you in order to lure him out, but... As it turned out, he died of an overdose yesterday.. And you're so cute to kill you ~

She gently stroked your back and hugged you. Pulling you even closer to her body while you were sitting on her powerful lap. She took the phone with her free hand .

- Ricarda : Hello, Jones, bring some food. Yes, thank you.

Ricarda nuzzled the top of your head and inhaled the scent of your hair.. And then, there was a knock on the door.

- Ricarda : Come in.

A man who looked like a butler entered the room, and put a tray of food on the table next to the bed on which you are sitting and left the room. And Ricarda took a fork, one plate of food, and with a fork broke off a small piece from the dish from the plate and gently brought it to your mouth.

- Ricarda : meine Seele, say "aah" ~

You open your mouth uncertainly and embarrassedly, and she feeds you..

- You: but I have hands.. I can eat by myself.

And Ricarda just smiles sweetly in response, shakes her head slightly and sends another piece of food into your mouth..

Thanks a lot for reading, the second part will be released tomorrow because I'm tired <3