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wraithdance · 3 months ago

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The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Synopsis: When your fiancé breaks up with you, you start to question your timeline; who needs a man when you can have a baby yourself? Who better to ask for help on creating one than your arch-nemesis Kyle Garrick?

Note: F!Reader, Fat/Plus sized Reader, Reader is implied to be Black but can be read as WoC, Readers nickname is 'Siggy', there will be no y/n use Content warning: none; besides a terrible grasp of british-isms

Chapter One: Piss off Kyle

It was while sitting beneath the awning of your favorite bistro that you’d come to a great realization. Hugo Montclair, your fiance of three years, was not just a bore but a bit of a jackass.

Also, the lavender cake was no longer listed on Le Misa’s menu. So, technically two great realizations. As bad as it sounded, one concerned you more than the other.

Squinting you give the laminated sheet another thorough read to confirm your suspicions and… ah, yes. It’s not there. Where it should be between the ladies fingers and the lemon cake is an empty, discolored space.

With a manicured finger you chip away at the corners to reveal the sloping letter ‘L’ beneath the meticulously placed correction tape.

This was no good.

“Siggy, darling have you heard a word I said?”

You hum in reply, still deeply baffled with the current conundrum. Hugo calls your name again, not satisfied until you’ve given him your attention.

He leans his head down to be in your line of sight. He’s a bit too blonde and polished for you not to focus your attention on. Like a shiny beacon. You try not to sigh deeply and instead plaster on a smile.

“Yes, I heard you darling, you want to break up because you’re seeing Maddie from downstairs.”

Hugo extends his dainty manicured hands across the small table to cover yours above the menu.

“I’m so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you this way.”

His eyes are carefully soft and his expression does that awkward stretch people do when attempting to project a facsimile of contriteness. In this case it just makes the skin around his mouth pucker oddly, displacing the filler he swears he gets for preventive measures.

You pat his hand politely with a smile “It’s fine, Hugo, really. Do you think I can borrow your menu? I think there's been a bit of a mistake.”

You are sliding the paper to your side of the table before you can finish the sentence. Hugo is a bit taken aback and blanches.

Another sweeping glance at Hugo’s menu reveals much of the same.

There’s no lavender cake.

“Look, I know this is hard to take in but I want us to try to at least be amicable. We’ve been together for years and your parents and friends adore me.”

At this you snort but quickly cover it with a cough. Your parents tolerated him at best and your friends had made it well known they disapproved of Hugo. (Something about being a posh chihuahua enamored with its own self importance.)

You frown thinking of the dramatics his mother would put on inevitably, so sure you’d ruined the engagement to her son on purpose.

But really what could you do?

It wasn’t the most convenient thing to have your boss's beloved son kick you to the metaphorical curb, but technically you were the one who had been cheated on. Totally not your fault this time!

“I said I got it, you can’t help who you love and etcetera.” You give a cluck of your tongue before looking up once more hoping to catch the circling barista's eye.

The mid afternoon lunch crowd at Le Misa’s is blessedly tame for a Thursday. The gloomy weather outside makes it easier to spot the jittery teen in a crimson red apron. The poor girl is glued to a corner, hunched over and clutching a notepad in white knuckle grip.

She sees you shift in her periphery and snaps terrified eyes to your half raised arm. You do your best to smile sans teeth as you wave her over, coaxing her closer with small fluid movements.

You hope you’re projecting calming vibes because she looks a bit green around the gills from the very thought of being needed by a customer.

When she’s meters from your table you lean forward, your tits and belly squash a bit over the table causing your empty saucer to clatter before settling. Hugo, despite his offended chittering, stops long enough to stare at your chest. With a roll of your eyes you ignore his open panting. Typical.

“Hi darling,” you chirp in an octave higher than your usual. “I just had a quick question about the cakes? There used to be a lavender one here, I’ve been ordering it for years. Can you tell me what happened to it?”

“Um w-well.” The trembling girl blinks are twitchy and rapid, sputtering out um’s and oh’s.

‘Oh, no’ you think to yourself.

You might have broken her. Still, you nod your head in support waiting for her to gather her wits. The poor thing was obviously a new employ with a bitch of a case of social anxiety.

Your efforts are for nothing in the end because a loud clearing throat causes you both to freeze, just as it’s seem she’d gotten up her courage.

Your cheek ticks as you watch the skittish girl clam up again. Hugo’s gaze has pried off your cleavage long enough to laser something disapproving and pointed at the side of your forehead.

He’s even doing that thing with his face that you’ve always hated. His cheeks suck in like a goldfish and he does the eyebrow raise and head cock that screams ‘I am very displeased.’

“What? I just need to ask her something. I'll be just a sec.”

Hugo’s frown only deepens and he lets out the most dramatic sigh you’ve ever heard from a thirty two year old man.

It causes you to roll your eyes. Really, why couldn’t he just break up with you through text? This whole kerfuffle was starting to drag on and ruin your already limited lunch hour.

What happened to just saying ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’ or ghosting like a normal person?

You give the hovering teenager a tight smile and lift a single manicured finger to signify the need for a moment. She scurries back into the safety of the French doors into the cafe's interior before your hand has a chance to lower.

“Hugo darling,” Your tone is careful, neutral like the one you use to disarm your irate clients.

“I’m really not upset I promise, we’d barely begun planning the wedding and we never got around to moving in with each other. Really there’s no harm-”

“She's pregnant.” he blurts out suddenly.

A record scratches in your brain because, “What?”

Hugo grimaces. “She’s about three months pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

One blink. Two… before you’re sure there wasn’t a punchline coming.

“Are you taking the piss right now?”

“Sweetheart,” His hands raise in defense “don’t get upset-”

“Oh what the actual FUCK Hugo? You told me you wanted to wait until marriage before considering children!” Your hiss is low and dark.

More than a small part of you is satisfied with his flinch back to avoid your venom. You're slightly aware of the scene you’re causing but really! The man had kept his sperm under lock and key like his swimmers were precious jewels!

It’s the one thing he’d put his foot down about, content to let you drive the relationship otherwise.

‘I have to be considerate of my legacy as a Montclair, Siggy.’

‘We can talk about it after the wedding, Siggy.’

You didn’t understand the hang up because the Montclair clan were as distant from the crown as you were to Beyoncé! Still he’d been adamant about not having a child out of wedlock.

You’re not very kind about reminding him of the fact either.

“I did mean that, I swear,” he ruffles his coiffed blonde hair, the pomade holding firm but is no match for the havoc his slender fingers trail. “It just happened and Madelyn and I decided it was a good thing.”

He huffs “I mean let’s be realistic Siggy, she’s different from you. She’s a bit more equipped to take care of a child than you are.”

Oh ho! Now that was rich. You were chomping at the bit to hear how the barely legal heiress was better equipped to birth a baby than you were!

“How so!” Your tone is one translating the utmost disbelief and sarcasm.

Hugo waves a hand in the air, it’s so dismissive and you consider punching him in the nose for it. “She’s just much more flexible.”

Well ouch?

There’s a Rolodex of adjectives your litany of exes used to describe you before they dumped you.

Uptight, strict, aloof, intense. ‘Heartless harpy who feeds on the souls of innocent men’.

The last one came from a starving poet who’d been freeloading on your nice suede green couch before you'd kicked him and his lute out. How you managed to find the one man in London with dreams of being a modern day bard, who knows.

(You did admire his ways with words and his tongue was capable of art). It had admittedly stung a bit more than the others and you needed an extra hen session with the girls to unpack the resulting feels.

Nonetheless, you’ve never been called inflexible.

Matter of fact, you were pretty fucking flexible! Your Pilates teacher had crowed about it several times during class, thank you very much. (Maybe he was just trying to get you to put out but still, a compliment was a compliment.)

Momentarily you consider if that was actually supposed to be a dig at your weight but Hugo frantically rambles on as if reading your mind.

“I just mean that you work long hours at Mum’s firm and you’ve told me yourself you wouldn’t stop working even if you were pregnant.”

“So what!”

“So, that’s an awful way to raise a child Siggy! Madelyn works for herself and has the time to dedicate to a baby that you don’t.”

“Of course she has the time!” you cry out in exasperation, ignoring Hugo’s shushing. If he wanted you to react better he shouldn’t have dropped this bomb in public!

“She teaches yoga to the elderly in her perfect fucking apartment! I’ve been a barrister for all of 2 seconds and I can’t just give up my position!”

Hugo rolls his eyes with the dramatic flare only an aristocrat could pull off. “I’ve been trying to work on our relationship for months; you’ve blown me off every time saying you were working or there was a crisis with your friends.”

“I thought proposing would change things but…” The sad look does make some guilt well up into your veins.

Hugo’s shoulder drop and his blue eyes are a bit misty. It makes your throat close with panic. Hugo was prone to sobbing and you really needed to intercept that train before it derailed.

“Hugo-”

“It doesn’t even feel like you like me sometimes!” He’s hiccuping and throwing his hands in the air in exasperation before you know it.

Oh for fucks sake!

“It’s like you view me as more of a convenience than a partner. I’ve only ever seen you truly happy over coupons or work or cakes!”

Fat tears roll down his face and you’re handing him your linen napkin with a sigh. He thanks you and blows his nose loudly enough for other tables to glance your way. Wonderful.

When he composes himself you try to refute him.

“Hugo, that's not true, I like you,” His gives you a look of complete disbelief that sets you on the defense. “Really I do! I just…”

Your brows furrow as words evade you. You really wish he would have just broken up with you via text.

“I show it differently that’s all.” Your shoulders sag in defeat.

Hugo gives you a sad smile. It’s watery and his face is still a bit splotchy.

“But not like Madelyn does. Be honest, did you ever love me?”

You feel like an absolute bitch because you can’t answer him. After a while you both accept that it was about as much as you could say.

It’s only when you’re halfway to the office that you realize you never did get an answer about the cake.

Kyle Garrick had a radar for when you were about to make a fool of yourself. The man had somehow been privy to every embarrassing moment you’ve had in your shared building. You couldn’t prove it, but he had to have some kind of sixth sense for your personal humiliation.

There was no other explanation because the entire six years you’d lived across from him, he was always conveniently near when shit went awry.

Like that time you locked yourself out wearing only a ratty towel when reaching for a parcel. His stupidly pretty face only twitched in amusement seeing you hunched over and dripping wet.

You’d been attempting to jimmy the cheap lock with a stray paper clip you found discarded nearby. It hadn’t gone well, as you’d been more focused on trying to keep your tits and thighs within the thin, cotton fabric.

(They really should make towels for bigger girls more accessible, honestly it was ridiculous!)

It hadn’t been your finest moment but he could have had the decency to look away. Instead, he leaned his broad shoulder against his doorway, content to watch you struggle.

You’d snapped at him asking what his problem was and his only reply was ‘nippy in here, isn’t it?’

He did eventually help you break into your flat, but only after you’d called him as many names as you could think of. He’d waited out your tantrum without as much of a twitch. He’d simply taken the paper clip from you and sank to the floor in front of the doorknob.

His big hands were surprisingly much more dexterous than yours. You’d never admit to the lump in your throat or the shudder starting at your toes while staring at the long brown digits.

It didn’t help that his whiskey colored eyes bore into yours with an unspoken question when you made a panicked sound. The side of his head had grazed your breasts and the back of the hand holding your towel when he shifted on his knees. The light touch was clearly accidental, but still molten lava shot through you like a rocket on fire.

Intrusive thoughts of him kneeling before you in another context caused you to choke on your saliva. You tried so hard to clear your throat subtly but an embarrassing wheezing sound still managed to escape. Add insult to injury, the infuriating man had to pat your back when your body wracked with coughs.

You weren’t proud that you told him to fuck right off when he finally got the door open. You ignored his sarcastic ‘You’re welcome, luv” and slammed the door in his smug face.

That was nearly two years ago and the start of your vendetta against the irritating neighbor.

Per usual, he finds you just outside your doorway causing a scene. This time, you’re being clung to by your now ex-fiancés mistress.

Madelyn’s wails are loud, keening things that are razor sharp against your eardrums. Her tearful pleading is loud enough for you to miss the ding of the elevator as it stops on your floor.

Kyle strides from the lift like a living bronzed Adonis.

With gritted teeth you curse every deity known to mankind.

Wonderful. Truly, amazing actually!

He’s clearly coming back from a run, His arms are comically large and gleaming with a thin layer of sweat on his brown skin. You’re able to make out the intricate tattooed shield containing the numbers ‘141’ on his bicep. It’s the first you’d seen of it (not that you were keeping an eye out for it before).

His sleeveless jumper is damp and half zipped to show off a view of his firm pectorals and the first row of his 6-pack. You’re about to peek lower to his loose gym shorts when he catches your stray perusal and raises a singular brow.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Just peachy, Kyle, thank you.” you snipe in a clipped tone. “Please feel free to run along.”

Your snarky dismissal is prickly enough that most people would call you a cunt but would blessedly sod off.

The disgustingly fit nuisance just removes his headphones from around the cartilage of his ears and continues to linger just outside his door with crossed arms. Behind Madelyn’s trembling back you make a harried shoo-ing gesture. It’s meant to somehow relay that you had everything under control.

You did not of course, but the last thing you could stand right now is Kyle fucking Garrick in the mix of this shit-show. No matter how angelic the bastard looked in the dim lighting of the hallway, he had an uncanny ability to piss on all of your emotional reserves.

“Siggy!” Madelyn’s blubbering cuts off Kyle's next words. “I’m so, SO sorry!” She immediately descends into another fit of sobs against your cleavage.

There’s a bit of an awkward lull when Kyle snorts out a laugh.“You think she can breathe in there?”

With closed eyes you lean your head back to look at the ceiling, shooting a ‘fuck you very much’ to the universe.

You’d come home 20 minutes prior with murderous miasma cloaking you like a second skin. After being publicly dumped (without even the comfort of sweets to soothe the humiliation) you’d gone straight back to work just to deal with piles upon piles of paperwork.

Your only reprieve was Hugo’s mother canceling her standing appointment with you. You’d still been forced to work with the old woman’s assistant and to your disdain, he was just as persnickety as his employer.

By the time you’d made it home on aching feet and a splitting headache your thoughts were filled with the desire to stuff yourself with a big fat American cheeseburger. Specifically one from the shady shop around the corner that you suspect may be a mafia front. They made damn good cheeseburgers though.

Your mind had then of course wondered to the possibility of being caught up in a police raid and if ‘wanting to support local business’ be a good enough excuse to get you off the hook.

It’s how you missed the pint sized ambush lying in wait for you.

Madelyn had been planted outside your door in electric pink spandex and light up sneakers. She’d spotted you coming out of the lift and attached herself onto you before you could make a proper run for it.

Since then you’d been stuck holding her instead of the greasy end of a heart attack masquerading as a sandwich. Fat tears continue to wet the collar of the fleece outer coat you’d nabbed at a bargain sale.

“How long has she been like this?” Kyle asks with a raised brow.

Ignoring him, you do your best to wrestle Madelyn’s stiff form back enough to meet her eyes.

The younger girl’s face is red and splotchy, snot and mascara darkened tears stain her usually fair skin. Her mousy brown hair could use a wash as well but you aren’t unkind enough to point it out. Even though she did shag your husband to be, it was clear the girl was torturing herself with guilt.

It is a bit unfair that the smudged makeup does nothing to detract from her beauty, much to your petty disdain.

She’d make gorgeous babies with Hugo…

The thought makes you scowl. It was time to make a retreat.

“Madelyn, I’d really like to get into my flat. I don’t want to speak to you to be honest and I need you to let me go.”

More helpless wailing comes out of the younger woman.

“P-Please Siggy, I just need you to know I never meant for this to happen! Hugo and I tried to keep away from each other and I don't want you to hate me or the b-baby!” By the end she’s blubbering herself into hyperventilation.

From the corner of your eyes you can make out the door of your neighbor adjacent to you crack open. Whipping your neck to get a look at the nosy pissant gets the older woman to slam the door closed with a fearful squeak.

This had gone on too long.

Forcibly you use your hip and extra weight to maneuver the hysterical woman from your person. You hold her flailing arms to prevent her from launching herself back to your front. When she whines you’ve finally reached your breaking point.

“For fucks sake, you’re making a bloody scene!” You bark out, “I don’t care about Hugo!”

Madelyn flinches.

“But you care that we’re having a baby, right?”

It’s only when Madelyn lets out a whine of pain that you notice you’d been holding her thin wrists in a vice-like grip.

A forgotten Kyle chooses that moment to slink closer, his hands cup Madelyn’s shoulder carefully, despite your death glare.

“Maddy, darling, why don’t you let go for me.”

The brunette woman startles having finally noticed his presence in the vicinity.

“Oh, Kyle! I didn’t know you were here!” It’s insulting how quickly she wriggles from your hold to catapult herself into Kyle’s waiting arms.

With disgust you watch Kyle pat the shorter woman’s hair much like one would do a pet. Something about watching him with her makes your hackles rise farther.

“Why don’t you come in and calm down, hm? I’ll make you that tea you like and we can watch something.” Kyle makes a humming noise meant to soothe. It pisses you off but seems to work like a charm.

Madelyn’s sniffles subside dramatically and she rubs her hand across her button nose.

“Yes, that does sound lovely, but I need to talk to Siggy...”

You flinch as the two turn towards you once more. Kyle must see the cornered look in your eyes because he rubs his hands along Madelyn’s shoulders and whispers something in her ear.

Madelyn nods and enters Kyle’s flat without any further hesitation.

It’s like the nearly thirty minutes of being held hostage outside your own home means nothing against his soft words.

God, you hate this man with every fiber of your being.

With a scowl you rummage through your bag for your house keys. Why did you have so many gum wrappers inside? You really need to clean your bag out.

It’s not until you hear a throat clear that you realize Kyle still watches you from the threshold of his home.

“What?” Your tone makes a muscle in his cheek twitch. You hate to say it but it satisfies you to know at least you have some effect on him.

“Are you alright, love?”

That causes you to abandon your search. You squint at his open expression and the genuine concern you see there. It’s unexpected and makes you a bit uncomfortable. How pathetic did you look that even your enemies pity you?

“I’m fine. Not like you actually care anyways.”

The last part was said in a mumble but Kyle’s sharp ears catch it.

“Oy, what is that supposed to mean?” He steps closer to you crowding your space.

Your senses are bombarded by the heady scent of the bergamot and cedar wood notes in his cologne. Coupled with the tangy smell of his natural musk, your brain does that thing where it shuts off and reboots itself.

“Siggy.” Kyle reaches out to touch your arm sending an electric current between you two that causes you to jolt back. He frowns, stepping closer, crowding you before you wield your bag in front of you like a shield and sword.

“Garrick, I really, really don’t want to talk right now.”

“Sig-”

“No, no, no! I don’t want to hear it! I’ve had a shite day and the cause of it is currently waiting for tea and cakes in your flat! I’m the one that deserves bloody tea and cakes for fucks sake!”

Enraged, you shove your hand through your bag and come in contact with the puff ball attached to your keys.

You’re frantically unlocking your door and shoving inside your home, refusing to give the universe another moment to make a mess of your ruined day.

You look at Kyle as he stands in utter confusion and give him the dirtiest look in your arsenal.

“Cheers, I hope you enjoy your sweets with Madelyn but you can piss right off, Kyle!”

You slam the door with finality.

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#the five year plan #I promise there's a point to the cakes conundrum!#baby face #kyle gaz garrick #wraith writes #kyle garrick x black reader #kyle garrick x reader

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months ago

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Omg please more Bimbo!reader x Mafia!Konig!!! I AM FERAL FOR IT! Your writing is so good! Can you maybe do some fluff with them! If not it’s totally fine! Thank you so so so much!<3

Konig smiles tiredly as you dance around in your bikini, showing it off to him. He doesn't understand how two tiny pieces of fabric and some jewels joining them could cost this much, but he will buy anything for his princess - as long as it means she will be happy and content with him. Throwing money at the problem is the only way he knows - either this or shooting the problem, which is clearly not an option here. He just tilts his head to the side as you laugh and ask for more pina coladas - it's a good thing he hired a new bartender for this property. The last one made the mistake of trying to get the lady of the house something cheap and artificial - you were still drinking it like a part girl you are, but Konig prefers you spend his money on something good. Something shiny and expensive - like a golden necklace with little diamonds incrusted into some magic ornament. He had a rough week - a rough month, most likely, with the new, almost uncorrupted politician rising in Vienna and promising to get the criminals away from the city. It was a problem he was solving currently - getting the secretaries, getting the bodyguards, surrounding the new guy with old ones, trying to get back into the warm underbelly. Konig just needs a bit of a pick-him-up, someone who won't be questioning his every move. Someone who has no idea how hard his work is. He slaps your butt as you stroll around, and you giggle. A godlike image - you lean down to him and ask if it would be too weird if you get on his lap and make out with him. You're a bit shy in the open air, a bit self-conscious about the servants he has running around - but he grabs you by your hip and pulls you down. You smell like expensive perfume and a bit of a water-cleaning chemical from the pool, and you laugh when he kisses you. You don't ask him about the gang wars, about drugs - you don't even take those unless he gives you something fun and non-dangerous, and your latest concerns include a new dress and a massage that you wanted to try on him because you saw it on insta. Konig loves you because he can finger you on the little pool seat while you squirm and moan while his other hand is busy texting his crooks on what to do with the most recent secretary the new politician got. Poor guy is going to get tortured for information and killed in the best-case scenario, but Konig doesn't feel remotely bad. He has his pretty wife meowing and moaning on his lap as he buries two of his large fingers into her cunt, and he has the informant on his phone. Life is good.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #mafia!konig

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kiss-theggoat · 1 year ago

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Would you write for Thomas Hewitt ?

A/N: I just recently watched this version and hubba hubba I’m in love with Mr Thomas Hewitt. I’ve only seen this one twice, so if some characters are out of character, I apologize! I hope you like it as much as I do bc this boy deserves better!

Bluebonnets

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You and your friends stopped for gas in a rinky dink little town in Texas, but the Hewitt family thinks that you’d be perfect for their little Tommy.

TW: Violence and Gore, Death, Hoyt is a pervert, Cannibalism, Sort of Stockholm Syndrome, Ends with fluff

The sun beat down on your face as you laid your head back against the rough leather seat, deeply regretting the fact that you agreed to drive in a convertible through Texas in the middle of August. Your sweat broke through the barrier of sunblock, leaving your skin sticky and shiny, the humid wind doing absolutely nothing to cool you off.

“We’re almost outta gas!” Johnny yelled, his hand on Sue’s thigh. She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. “I thought we gassed up in Austin!”

He shrugged. “We did. Getting bad gas mileage I guess!”

She groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. You were relieved to finally get out of the car and into some sort of building, hopefully with air conditioning. You sat in the back, squished against the side of the car by Tyler and Ginny making out, taking up almost the entire seat. You felt a little bit fifth-wheel-y, but you knew your friends would’ve given you so much shit if you refused to come.

Johnny pointed to a sign up ahead, faded and cracked from the relentless Texas sun. In light pink, what used to be red, the sign said, ‘GAS AND BARBECUE NEXT EXIT’. Johnny laughed, squeezing Sue’s thigh with a sweaty palm. “Barbecue, babe! Let’s go!”

Sue sighed. “Fine.” She turned to everyone in the back, and you saw that she was just as sweaty as you, tanned skin shining in the sunlight. “Everyone okay with stopping here.”

For some reason, this got on your nerves. You didn’t know if it was the fact that you’d been in the car for six hours or the fact that you were baking like a casserole in 100 degree weather. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone in the car was giving eachother fuck-me eyes, like a sick joke you weren’t apart if. And, on top of that, the last thing you wanted after being in 86 percent humidity was fucking barbecue. “Where the hell else are we going to stop? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Sue gave you a look before you were interrupted by Ginny. “Here’s fine, babe!” She smiled at Sue, her lips red and swollen from being absolutely ravished by her scrawny boyfriend. You crossed your arms and laid your head back down, trying your best to meditate your way out of this road trip.

You guess it worked because before you knew it, you were pulling into the run-down gas station, car switching off with an alarming squeal. You hopped out of the car, not bothering to talk to any of your friends, and went inside. Your stomach turned. Instead of the blissful air conditioning you were yearning for, you were smacked in the face by the putrid smell of rotting meat. Flies buzzed around your face, and you swore it was hotter in here than it was outside.

Looking around, there was a convenience store area, a case to your left with meat inside, and a little old lady sitting behind the counter. You took a deep, stabilizing breath. You were pissed and over this trip, but you knew better than to take it out on some poor unsuspecting stranger. You put on a smile and walked towards her, pulling your shorts further down your thighs. The old lady looked up at you and then back down at her book, before doing a double take. She took her glasses off, then gave you a small smile.

“Hi sweetie. What can I do for you?”

She’s nice, you thought. You liked when old ladies called you cute names. You smiled brighter at her, feeling relieved that one person was making you feel actual joy on this trip. “Hi, ma’am. Is there a bathroom here.”

“Yes, hun, it’s outside, around the side of the station.” She said, handing you a key ring. You tried not to let your face scrunch in disgust, but you were pretty sure there was a real rabbit's foot on this thing. You grabbed the key from her, avoiding the furry foot, and told her, “Thank you so much. My friends are also going to use the restroom so I’ll have this back in a few minutes.” She nodded at you, going back to her book.

You pushed the door open, actually relieved to be outside. You welcomed the smell of dust that Texas had gotten you used to instead of the rancid steaks. As you walked towards the bathroom, Sue grabbed your arm, making you jump. “What the hell is up with you?” She asked, staring at you accusingly.

You sighed, feeling better after your pleasant exchange with the old woman. “I’m sorry for being snippy. I’m just tired and hot and…done being in the car.” You said quietly, shaking her off to go towards the dilapidated bathroom.

“You can have the front seat from now on, you can actually feel the AC a little bit sometimes.” She said, following you.

You put the key in the door and twisted it. “It’s okay. The sun goes down in like…an hour and a half? It should cool down.” The moment the door swung open, you were hit with that same raunchy smell. You put a hand over your nose and grimaced, “It smells like this inside too…” you sighed, slowly walking into the single stall bathroom.

You couldn’t have pissed faster. You quickly washed up and nearly sprinted from the bathroom back towards the car, holding your face the entire time. The cheap soap from your hands also smelled bad, but compared to the smell of the bathroom, it was like the world's most expensive perfume. “Uhm…does anyone else need to use the bathroom? I have to return the key.”

Everyone shook their heads, but Johnny spoke up. “We’ll go with you. We’ll get food and pay for the gas.”

You nodded and opened the door to the station for everyone, watching in amusement as all of their faces twisted with disgust just as yours did when you first smelled it. The old lady looked up again, and instead of her smile she wore a sneer as she watched Johnny walk up to her. “We need twenty dollars on pump one.” He said, not looking at her and pulling out his wallet.

“We don’t have gas.” She said quickly and coldly, holding her book up in front of him. “Haven’t for a couple weeks.”

Johnny scoffed in disbelief, tossing his hands down on the counter. “So you’re the only gas station for 100 miles and you don’t have any gas?”

She shrugged, not answering.

“Well, when are you gonna have gas?” Ginny asked, also putting her hands on the counter.

“Could be a week. Maybe more.”

Johnny looked down in the case, noticing the green meat and flies swarming. “So no gas and I’m guessing…” he tapped aggressively on the glass. “No barbecue?”

The old lady took her glasses off again, irritated. “We got food.” She pointed behind your group to shelves of food that looked like it was from the 1940’s.

Johnny laughed, head rolling back. “You’ve got to be kidding me, lady! You have to take that sign down if everything is a fucking lie!”

You stepped forward, putting an arm in front of Johnny’s torso and pushing him away from the counter slightly. “I’m sorry ma’am. We’ll find somewhere else to go, thank you for your help and letting us use the restroom.” You said, sliding the key back over the counter. You felt bad for her. Obviously this town wasn’t a money pit, and maybe she did have a popular place before, but it looks like everything’s gone out of business. Maybe she’s barely surviving, the last thing she needs is five twenty-something year olds harassing her for things she can’t control.

She gave you her attention, unlike your friends. She smiled at you, grabbing the key back from you. “Thank you, young lady. You’re very polite. Maybe you could teach your friends there some manners.” She said, pointing to Johnny and Ginny with her glasses. Johnny scoffed and started to yell something, but you quickly yanked on his shoulder to usher them out of the building. You nodded at the woman with a smile before leaving. You bumped into Johnny’s back hard, wondering why the hell he stopped in front of you like that.

You moved out from behind him to see a cop. “Great, the old hag called the cops!” Johnny groaned, only shutting up when Sue rubbed his bicep. You never liked Johnny.

“We ain’t get no call folks. Came here for some refreshments.” The cop said, pointing to his badge. “And I ain’t just any cop. Sheriff. Sheriff Hoyt.”

Johnny sighed, nodding. “Okay, Sheriff. Where’s the nearest gas station? This dump doesn’t have gas.”

“It ain’t nice to disrespect someone’s business, boy.” The sheriff scowled, spitting black tobacco onto the concrete. You could feel your heart rate rising, you knew that Johnny was going to get you in trouble somehow. You looked around, finally seeing the sheriff’s cruiser parked behind the convertible. As you peered inside, you noticed a man sitting in the passenger seat. You couldn’t see him too well, but he was large, blocking up pretty much the entire window.

“It’s hardly a business. Pretty sure there’s botflies inside, could kill someone.” Johnny started to walk away, but the Sheriff stepped in front of him to block his path. “What’s your fucking problem?”

The sheriff stared into Johnny’s eyes, scowling. You could sense the tension, and decided you’d be the peace keeper of the day. “Sir…sir, we’re sorry. We’re just almost out of gas and we’ve been traveling for a long time.” You said, stepping towards the Sheriff.

His eyes raked over you, making you feel sort of icky. You wished you were wearing a winter coat, despite the heat. He spit again, a gross squelch breaking the silence. “Finally someone with some manners.”

Johnny laughed, “What the fuck is up with old people and manners?! Jesus Christ, we just need gas!” He yelled, shoving the Sheriff’s shoulder. You gasped, grabbing Johnny’s arm but in the blink of an eye, a revolver was being pointed at Johnny’s face. Everyone froze, staring at the firearm.

“Now are you gonna show some respect, boy? I’m the Sheriff of this town and I’m not gonna tolerate a group of hoodlums messin’ things up.” He said, voice hushed, almost a whisper.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. We’re leaving. Let’s go.” You moved towards the car, but the Sheriff stopped you.

“Y’all think you can just stroll into a town, cause trouble, and go?” He laughed, cocking the gun with a haunting click. “Tommy!” He yelled, turning his head towards the car. The door slowly opened and you watched as a mammoth of a man stepped out, dress shirt and apron giving him an even larger silhouette. He wore a mask with messy brown hair, broad shoulders slouched. Your heart skipped a beat. Wrong situation to think this, but the man was quite handsome. You’d always liked bigger men.

“Please sir…we don’t want any trouble. We’d just like to be on our way, we’ll leave and never come back.” You pleaded, hands out in front of you. Gravel crunched beneath the huge man’s feet as he walked towards your group. The sheriff turned to him. “Whadya think Tommy?” He asked with a cruel cackle.

The ringing of a bell made you turn back towards the station, and you saw the old lady standing there. She held her reading glasses, and pointed at you with them. Your heart dropped. What did this mean? You turned back to the sheriff, and he looked just as confused as you did. She scoffed at his confusion. She wanted to tell him something, but didn’t want you and your friends to hear it. She waddled over slowly, but Johnny had other ideas. He spun quickly, hitting the sheriff’s arm, but unfortunately, it didn’t cause him to drop the gun. Tyler started to run, Ginny tried to help Johnny, and Sue grabbed your arm. “Let’s go! We need to run!” She yelled.

Your ears rang at the close range of the gunshot, you fell to your knees, scraping them, and covered your ears with your hands. You heard a scream, immediately recognizing it as Sue. You turned around to see Johnny, laying on the dirt with blood pooling around him, a perfect bullet wound in the center of his forehead. You felt nauseous, but you couldn’t move. Looking up, you saw the smoking revolver gripped tight in the sheriff's hand, now focused on Sue. She was hunched over Johnny’a body, sobbing and screaming, the tears making trails of clean skin as they wiped away the thin layer of dust.

Somewhere to your right, another scream. Ginny. You saw the large man, who the Sheriff called Tommy, holding her up in the air on his shoulder. She banged against his chest with knees and hit his back with her fists, thrashing and screaming. On his other arm, he held the limp body of Tyler, blood dripping from his head and beading in the dust, tucked beneath his armpit. This man carried two grown adults effortlessly, his strength scared the hell out of you. You didn’t even see if he had a weapon, but he managed to take them both down.

You sat in terror. You wanted to run, but with a revolver focused on your head, what were your options. The old lady appeared on your left, hand touching the Sheriff’s shoulder. She leaned in to whisper, but you heard her.

“Don’t touch her. Keep her for Tommy.”

Keep her for Tommy? What the fuck did that mean? You stared up at them in fear and watched as he groaned, pointing the gun at Sue instead. She didn’t even look phased, too focused on her boyfriend’s dead body. Tommy loaded the other two into the back of the car, and then made his way back towards you. Tears welled in your eyes as he approached, his shadow looming over you and finally blocking you from the sun. As he got closer, you saw the detail in his face and clothes. He had pretty eyes and his hair looked soft, but his bloody clothes and tight leather mask contrasted the softness of the rest of him.

He grabbed your arm in a surprisingly soft grip, the only thing disconcerting about his touch was the slickness from the blood that he left on your skin. He pulled you towards the car, and it was obvious he wanted you to follow. The old woman put a hand on his shoulder and affectionately patted his chest, he leaned down to her level. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and told him, “She’s perfect for you, Tommy.”

You finally realized what was going on. They were setting you up with him, like you and your friends were on some sort of sick dating game. You stumbled as you followed him to the cop car, his head was down and his shoulders were slumped as he opened the front passenger side and moved aside. You looked up at him. He wanted you to get in, but he didn’t put you in the back like you thought he would, and for that, you were grateful. The last thing you wanted to do was sit beside the bleeding, passed out bodies of two of your friends.

You took a seat in the scalding car, body swaying with the force that he shut the door. He stood in front of the door as if keeping watch, like a prison guard. You stared in horror as the sheriff finally had enough with Sue, giving her the same fate as Johnny. She laid on his chest, her blood mixing with his as the sheriff walked away from their bodies. You were grateful you were far away from them, both because you didn’t want to see your best friend die, and your ears were still ringing from the first gunshot.

The sheriff entered the car, flashing you a creepy smirk before you felt Tommy enter the backseat. You stared out the window, definitely in shock and confused. Just twenty minutes ago the worst of your problems was having to pee on a road trip and now you just watched all of your friends either die or be brutally attacked by someone who is supposed to protect the community. You had a feeling he wasn’t a real sheriff, given the nature of the recent events.

You laid your head against the door. You hadn’t noticed how tired you were, but you guessed experiencing something like that would be hard on your body. Feeling fairly confident that they wouldn’t kill you, you drifted off to sleep as he drove who knows where.

You only woke up to the sound of a door slamming and you realized that it was dark outside. You had no idea where you were or how long you’d been driving, but you felt disgusting. Cheeks stiff with tears, nose running, mouth dry and eyes burning. Your door opened and you were being yanked out by the sheriff, who was much rougher with you than Tommy was. You winced at how tight he was holding you as he dragged you towards a fairly large country style home.

The door was kicked open and you saw the same old woman from the station holding a pot of food. “Finally, Charlie. Tommy had to help cook.” She scoffed, setting the pot down at the large dining room table, where an old man already sat.

“Dammit, Luda Mae, I told you! It’s Sheriff Hoyt! You hear me!” He yelled, hitting the wall with his free hand, making you jump. You were putting the pieces together. There was Hoyt, or Charlie apparently, Tommy, Luda Mae, and then this old man. They lived together, probably related.

You looked around, saw the table full of food, dusty knickknacks, bones hanging from the ceiling. It all felt like a sick mix of home and hell. The rugs and the quilts on the plush couches looked knit, and the lamps give the room a comforting glow. If you weren’t here under these circumstances, you might find this house cozy.

Hoyt forced you to the table, plopping you down across from the old man already seated. He tied your wrists to the chair with leather straps that were bolted in. Obviously, this wasn’t their first time offense. Your fingertips began to cool with how tight the leather was cinched, and you whimpered at the pain. Luda Mae sat next to the old man, smiling at you.

“Oh dear. The moment I saw you, I knew that my Thomas would like you. We’re so happy to have you here.” She sounded genuinely happy, and you couldn’t help feeling sorry for this family. You heard Hoyt bang in something and yell Tommy’s name, then a loud sliding sound. Thomas walked into the dining room and took a seat next to you, across from Luda Mae. Hoyt took the head of the table, standing over the pot with a giant ladle.

“Well thanks to this pretty lady…” he said, winking at you, warning a scoff from Luda Mae, “and all of her friends… we’ll have dinner for the next couple a’ weeks!” He grabbed Thomas’ bowl and dropped in a ladle full, then the same with Luda Mae’s. As he served you, you noticed large chunks of game-y looking meat inside of your stew. Surely he didn’t mean….

You stared in horror at your food, lips sealed shut in fear that you may vomit. Your mouth watered with the insatiable urge to throw up everywhere, and you felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. You watched as everyone dug in, eating with a fervor that said they’d been starving for a month. They moaned in joy at the flavor of the food, occasionally complimenting Thomas or Luda Mae for the cooking. Only you and Thomas weren’t eating. He because he didn’t want to remove his mask in front of you, and you because you weren’t really on board with cannibalism.

“Don’t be ungrateful, boy. Eat your damn dinner!” Hoyt yelled, a cooked carrot flying from his mouth onto the table as he slammed his hand down. Thomas jumped and put his hands near his face, like he was expecting to be hit. Your heart ached for him. It was obvious he didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t evil like the rest of them, he was forced to do this. You watched him slowly unbuckle the leather strap of his mask and slide it off, revealing a scarred face, exposed nose cartilage and teeth, mangled jaw bones. You felt terrible watching him keep his face down, hair covering it. He was ashamed.

He picked up a spoon, but still didn’t eat. He just stirred the stew. Obviously you wouldn’t know this, but he didn’t want to eat in front of you, because eating was a little difficult for him. He was more prone to spilling food on himself or getting messy and spilling down his chin. Not exactly the way to impress your new date.

You swore that Hoyt was turning red with rage. “Dammit boy! Your momma made this dinner and you’re just gonna stare at it?!” He growled, slapping Thomas upside the head. Anger filled your chest as you watched Thomas cover his head, eyes clenched shut. What made you even angrier is that Luda Mae and the old man just sat there, eating like nothing was wrong.

“Don’t hit him.” You said. Your throat was hoarse, you haven't talked in a while.

“Fuck you say to me, girl?”

You looked Hoyt in the eyes. “I said…don’t hit him.”

He sneered and leaned over the table, knocking the spoon from his empty bowl. “Oh I see…Tommy needs his little girlfriend to defend him, huh? Listen here, you little bitch-“

“Hoyt, be kind to our guest.” Luda Mae said, eating the last of her potato. She looked over at you, and then at Thomas. She was happy that you stood up for him.

Hoyt laughed at her, shaking his head. “Pathetic.” He grumbled, throwing his bowl to the center of the table. “Neither of ya wanna eat dinner? Fine!” He walked over to Thomas and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back, and with the other hand, he grabbed his mask. He slammed his mask hard against Thomas’s face, making him wince. “Ya can just go back to your little fuckin’ basement then.”

He walked over to you, roughly unstrapping your wrists. Blood flowed back into the white spots, and you knew it’d bruise. “And take your bitch with ya.” He growled, shoving you over towards Thomas. Thomas had just finished securing his mask, and he gently grabbed your sore wrist. You followed him while looking behind your back, staring spitefully at Hoyt, who shamelessly watched your ass as you walked away.

Thomas slid a huge wooden door out of the way and led you down a staircase. The basement smelled rancid, like stale metal and rotting meat. As you walked in, you knew why. Weapons hung from the ceiling, a workbench in the center of the room. Blood coated the entire floor, and some dropped steadily from the table, giving you the sound like a very messed up metronome. A bed in the corner called your name despite the stained mattress. It had no pillows, no sheets, no blankets. You looked at Thomas.

“You…sleep here?” You asked meekly and watched as he gave you a very tiny nod, looking at the bed. He led you over to it, and held your shoulders, sitting you down. He let you sit there for a second and then he walked away, going to sit in a chair on the other side of the room next to his work table. He wanted you to sleep in his bed, but he wasn’t going to?

Your chest swelled with the kindness of this poor man. A pure soul forced into the mud by his corrupt family. You stood up and took a step towards him. “I don’t want to take your bed. It’s yours.”

He shook his head and walked back to you, grabbing your shoulders again to sit you down. You gave in because the feeling of this stained, thin mattress was like heaven, despite the fact that you could feel the springs digging into your back as you laid down. You stared at him for a moment as he began to rummage through items on his shelf. Your eyes began to close, eyelids feeling like they had ten pound weights attached.

He turned around, holding something small and dainty in his large and veiny hands. He sat at your feet, a gentle hand placed on your ankle. You glanced down at him as he held out a dried Bluebonnet to you. You smiled softly and took it from him, feeling its soft stem and looking at its pretty periwinkle petals. “Thank you…” you mumbled sleepily.

You thought, just before you fell asleep, that there were two things in this basement that didn’t belong. Everything in this house was drenched in blood and fear and grime, this basement was disgusting and horrifying. But, in all of the terror, you had this beautiful Bluebell, a reminder of the open, sweet smelling fields of Texas, and even more pure, you had Thomas.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #leatherface #texas chainsaw massacre

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lipglossanon · 1 month ago

Text

Day 7

Kink: Piss & Collaring

Pairing: Puppy!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, hybrid Leon, piss kink, collaring kink, assertive reader, teasing, slight feet kink, praise kink, whiny Leon, begging, premature ejaculation

not proofread

The day started off breezy and a little overcast. The perfect kind of weather for taking Leon to a pumpkin patch. The drive there and the initial first part of exploring the farm went pretty smoothly. It wasn’t until you and your pup ran into another couple with a sweet older hybrid that things became tense.

Nothing even happened, just the usual polite smile and hello in passing as you and Leon skirted past the little group to reach the next row of pumpkins; Leon, however, started getting an attitude to the point you had to leash him tightly so he couldn’t walk anywhere except beside you.

Your smile shifted into a frown as he didn’t listen to you again, leading you to make the executive decision of cutting your losses and going home. Oh, he pouted and whined and dragged his feet all the way to the car, but after one stern look and a click of your tongue he quieted down. You made him sit in the backseat, away from the radio since he lost that privilege.

The drive home went by quietly and quickly—now, that you’re both home, Leon’s leash comes off, but his collar stays in place.

“B-but Miss owner—“

“Leon,” your voice lilts in warning. “You’re not to leave your room under any circumstances. You’re going to reflect on your poor behavior. I’ll come by and get you when it’s dinner time.”

“But—“

You shake your head no and his lower lip wobbles.

“Go, Leon. You’re lucky I’m being lenient.”

He nods dejectedly and walks off to his room. Your ears strain to listen and you hear the snick of his door closing, allowing you to blow out a breath. You hate being so bossy with him, but sometimes he just needs a firm hand.

A few hours go by and you feel less irritated and find it’s been long enough for Leon to stew alone in his thoughts. Knocking on the door, you wait for him to invite you in before opening it.

“I’m sorry!”

Leon wraps you into a hug, face tucking into the crook of your neck as he sniffles.

“I’m not mad, Leon, just disappointed.”

He whines, ears flattening against his head.

“You know better,” you lower your voice, tone soft and soothing. “What happened to my good boy today, hmm? You never act like that.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I didn’t like the way that lady looked at you.”

“Lady?” You rub his shoulders. “What lady?”

“The one at the farm,” he nuzzles into your neck. “She kept looking at you.”

“That hybrid we passed?”

“Uh huh.”

You bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling, “Leon, you don’t have to worry. I didn’t really even notice her.”

“You promise? She had a prettier tail than me and smelled really nice.”

“Should I be jealous?” You tease only for him to jerk his head away, eyes wide.

“No! No, no, no,” he shakes his head so hard his ears flap.

“Hmm,” you pull away, “seems you might need to learn a lesson.”

You loop your finger into the ring at the front of his collar and tug him along with you down the hall to the bathroom. You put him on his knees and move to turn on the shower. Leon watches you, tail thumping against the floor as he tents the jeans he’s wearing.

“Get undressed,” you tell him, shedding your own clothes until you’re naked. His hands go to take off his collar and you click your tongue. “That stays.”

He flushes all the way down to his chest, “Yes’um.”

You walk back over to him, his eyes jumping around your body before meeting your gaze with a blush. Pressing your foot down onto his cock, his breath hitches and he whines, fists clenched at his side. Lifting your foot away, his dick bobs—head shiny with precum.

“Miss owner,” he pouts, but doesn’t move as you drag your toes up his stomach to his chest, pushing gently until he takes the hint. He places his hands behind him and arches, aching cock standing proud as he stretches backward.

“Look at my pretty boy.”

His cock kicks and you watch as his abs flex with his groan. Placing your foot on the floor, you bend down and lean forward to grip his thick length. Giving him a few strokes, you let go and listen to his whimpers.

Stretching your hand out, you snag on the ring of his collar and pull him forward, Leon going eagerly. Panting, he lets you lead him on his knees over to the tub.

“Get in,” you nod and he eases himself over the porcelain side, now kneeling in the tub itself. “Good boy, Leon.”

His tail wags back and forth and he preens. Climbing in after him, you slide the shower curtain closed, warm water drenching you when you step under the shower head. You rub the water into your skin, fingers skating down your stomach to pet across your throbbing clit. You’ve been dripping slick ever since you made Leon get on his knees.

He runs his palms up your calves to cup the back of your thighs and you smile, a sharp curve of your mouth.

“Who said you could touch me?” You kneel over his thighs.

“Such a bad boy,” you coo and he whines, hips humping the air as your cunt hovers over his cock. He pants loudly, water matting his hair to his face.

“Please, please, miss owner,” he whines, dilated eyes staring at your puffy cunt.

“Well,” you hum, “maybe if I punish this naughty puppy’s cock, you can be my good boy again.”

He whimpers when you lower your pussy against his dick, letting your plush lips part around the thick length. You grab his hands and place them on your waist. Leon’s fingers dig into your skin, helping you grind up against his cock, slick dripping onto his half formed knot. The shower drums against your shoulders, water droplets trickling down your chest and making you shiver.

“Maybe I should leave my mark on you,” you murmur, eyes hooded as you gaze down at his needy face.

“Please,” he whines.

“Hold still,” you firm your voice. “If you move away, you’re going to get punished.”

He nods wildly, ears flicking water from the movement. Biting your lip, you raise up your hips, letting Leon support you as you use one hand to grasp the lip of the tub for balance and the other to spread open your slick pussy lips. Breathing out slowly, you relax your inner muscles.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Leon chants under his breath, eyes wide as he watches you. His cock throbs and oozes precum as you piss on his dick, the warm stream running down his shaft to drip off his balls, washed away by the shower.

His cock bobs and kicks as he whines and groans, precum weeping from his tip—glob after glob dripping from his slit until it looks like he’s cum all over himself.

“So good, so good, I can’t— oh, miss owner, you’re g’nna make me cum,” he mumbles, sounding pussy drunk already. He bucks up, cock grazing your cunt as the trickle of urine tapers off until it stops.

Shivering, his fingers grip your waist even tighter and keens in his throat, ears flat on his skull. Globs of pearlescent spend spurt out from his tip, knot halfway filled out and balls drawn up tight.

“Oh Leon, are you cumming?” Your hand cups the base of his cock, fingers loosely wrapped around him to feel him throb as cum oozes down his shaft.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean to,” he gasps, tears running down his face. “I promise I didn’t mean to, miss owner. Just felt too good.”

“Yeah?” You whisper, eyes flicking down to his hard dick.

“Uh huh,” he shivers again, dilated eyes staring at your pussy. “Wanna make you cum now.”

“I won’t say no to that,” you grin and he gives you a lopsided smile. “Let’s get cleaned up a little first and we’ll move this to the bedroom.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #lipglossanon kinktober 2024 #hybrid au #hybrid!leon #hybrid!leon s kennedy #puppy!leon #puppy!leon s kennedy #puppy!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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weepingfoxfury · 4 months ago

Text

The man on the radio wends his way through Wednesday morning helping us while away the hours. Weatherwise we're not exactly talking tropical, but definitely David Attenborough sweaty pits kind of weather. The traffic lady says there's animals loose on one of the main Dublin roads again, and suggests farmers need a fencing refresher course.

Today's groaner: a man fell into a vat of coffee and died. In an attempt to console his wife, the police told her "at least he didn't suffer; it was instant" ;-D badoom tish ... here all week!!

Off to the shiny metropolis, hip hip hooray, calloo callay. Well, maybe I'm not that excited about it ... but my poorly kitty cat needs vet tlc. Too tired to be overly quippy at this point, so as you were and tomorrow may bring more in the way of sentence silliness.

Bring me the coffee pot and let's see if I can stay upright! ;-D ...

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dollyslvttt · 5 months ago

Note

Guts with a virgin village girl ✨🧚🏻‍♂️

NSFW

Cherry

2.1k words

pairing: pre-eclipse guts x virgin village girl, f!reader

tags: set before eclipse, making out, rough s3x, softdom guts, fingering, virginity loss f! receiving

Guts was the only one not having fun. The Band of the Hawk had set camp by a village and everyone was in the village in a pub, Guts included. But Guts was not a huge fan of alcohol, the way whoever drank it actually was like total fools. He was watching a very drunk Corkus trying to flirt with a table of girls. Then Corkus moved a bit to the side and he saw you. You were sitting at that table, giggling with your friends. As if sensing Guts looking, you looked over and made eye contact. Your eyes grew wide and you blushed. Guts thought to himself how cute you were. But that didn't truly sum up your beauty. You had beautiful hair, skin that glowed luminously even in the poor lighting of the pub, and the bodice of the dress you were wearing was tight across your breasts. “That girl you’re looking at is very pretty. You should go talk to her, Guts.” Judeau said, nudging Guts playfully. “No.” Guts looked back at the table. “What are you too shy? Don’t tell me that you haven’t been with a woman before?” Guts glared at Judeau’s stupid, very false remark. Guts had been with many women throughout his years of being a mercenary, and was very skilled in the bedroom, or most of the time, tent. Suddenly Guts heard his name. “That is Guts right there, the large bloke. He is verrrry not amazing.” It was Corkus still trying to drunkenly entertain the table of ladies. He seemed to be talking to you, gesturing wildly towards Guts. One of the girls beside you leaned in and whispered in your ear, looking back at Guts. You turned bright red and your expression grew troubled. Guts watched as you got up quickly put coins down on the table and went outside. Guts, now curious, waited about a minute and followed you out.

⊹˚. change of perspective ౨ৎ

After your friend had whispered in your ear that tall muscled man, Guts, looked like he had a big dick, you decided it was time to leave. You now leaning against the wall of the pub, relishing in how the brisk night air cooled your hot cheeks. “Hey.” You turned at the sound of the pub door, and there was Guts. Up close you could see how truly massive he was, six and half feet tall with corded muscles, covered in scars. But he was handsome, with harsh, defined features, definitely much better looking than any man living in the village. “H-hi.” You said shyly. “Your table were talking about me? What for?” Guts stepped out from the doorway. “Uh, uhm that man, uhm, Corkus, saw you look over and started talking and uh, he was just talking.” You wrung your hands together nervously. “I’m just messing with you because I enjoy your reaction.” You looked up at Guts who was looking down at you. “Huh?” Guts moved closer, only about a step away from you now. “Your face gets all red. It’s, uh, cute.” Now Guts was the one that seemed a bit embarrassed. He closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you. Your eyes widened at his close proximity. “I wanna kiss you.” You thought your heart might’ve stopped when he said that. “Uhm, yes, ok, yes.” Guts put his large hand on your cheek and brought his face to yours, pressing his lips against yours. He deepened the kiss and slid his hand onto your waist, sliding his tongue into your mouth. The way Guts kissed you was not gentle, his tongue tangling with yours as one big hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His other hand was gripping onto your waist, his thumb stroking your side, making you shiver. Kissing Guts was very different from kisses you had shared with boys in the village before; rushed and inexperienced and only leading to your breasts being clumsily touched through your dress. Guts pulled back from the kiss, his full lips shiny with spit.

“Come with me to my tent. I want you.” Guts’ deep voice was strangled as he looked at you. When you nervously nodded, he took your hand, his much bigger one engulfing yours. He kept you close against him as you entered his camp. Looking at Guts’ huge frame had you thinking about what your friend had said concerning the size of what was in his pants. Now you were verynervous. You had never gone beyond clumsy groping, and the only things that had been inside you were your fingers. “This is my tent”, Guts said as he held open the flap for you, “Thankfully everyone is in the village so no one will hear.” Guts smiled as he secured the flap behind you. “So…about that. I’ve never done anything before.” Guts slowly turned toward you. “You’ve done nothing at all? Like you’re a… virgin?” You shallowly nodded, looking down at the ground. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure you’re extra ready for me. If you still want this, that is.”

Guts moved close to you and put his hands on your shoulder, slowly stroking with his thumbs. “I want this. I- I do! I’m just nervous, I don’t know how to do this.” Guts nodded at your words. “Don’t worry I’ll be the one in charge.” Guts moved you to his bed which was a small pallet covered in heaps of blankets. He sat and pulled you into his lap placing his hands on your hips. “I’m gonna unlace your dress.” Guts deftly unlaced your dress and corset, exposing your chemise. Shifting his hips to readjust how you sat, Guts kissed you again. At this this angle it was easier to have your hands on him, and you tangled you hand in his hair as he moved he mouth down your neck, making you gasp. “I- I wanna see you.” You gestured at his top. “Do you want me that bad?” Guts took off his top revealing his heavily muscled body that was covered in scars. You tentatively ran your hands down his chest, tracing scars and muscles. Guts breath came out heavier as you touched him.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer.” Guts growled as he manhandled your body, so now you were lying as he straddled you. “Can I take your dress off?” Guts was nipping and sucking his way to your exposed under-layers of clothing under your dress. “Y-yes.” Guts removed your dress and all other layers besides your flimsy chemise. He raked his eyes over you taking in your flushed face and the way you clenched your thighs trying to help with the aching between them. Guts kissed you roughly your chemise hiking up as he grabbed your hip with one hand while the other hand caressed your tits. Guts trailed open mouth kisses down to the neckline of your chemise and then pulled it down below your breasts. You gasped at the feeling of cold air on your hard nipples. Guts immediately took one nipple in his mouth while massaging your breast and other nipple. Guts’ warm wet mouth closed around your sensitive felt amazing and you let out a small moan. This spurred Guts on and he switched his mouth to your other breast, while also pressing the weight of his hips down between your thighs, and you could feel his form down there.

Guts drew back from you and slowly took your thin chemise off of you. His pupils expanded in lust at the sight of your fully naked body. You closed your thighs in embarrassment and he immediately opened them back up. “Fuck. Look how wet you are.” You squirmed under his hungry gaze. Guts looked you straight in the eyes as his fingers touched your clit. You whimpered at the sudden touch. Seeing that you wanted him to continue, Guts began to rhythmically rub on your wet swollen clit. You were squeezing around nothing which Guts noticed. You moaned as one of his large fingers went into your pussy. Slowly, Guts curled his finger inside you while he rubbed your clit. As your moans got louder and the pleasure of his experienced touching you increased, Guts inserted a second finger in and quickened his pace on your clit. You were getting close now, squelching noises and moans filling the tent. “You’re doing so good. You think you can take another finger?” Guts kissed you, swallowing your moans. “It’s- I’m already so full, ah!” Guts slowly put another finger in your tight pussy and you felt like you were so very close to cumming on his fingers. “I need you to be ready for my cock.” You were jerking your hips in small movements at the extreme pleasure. “Please- ahh! It’s so good! So- ahhhh- close!” Your mind was going hazy as you felt your orgasm approaching. With a loud moan you came, your pussy pulsing around Guts’ fingers. Your legs trembled as he finger fucked you through your orgasm. “Good girl. You did so good for me.”

Guts undid his belt and pulled off his pants and underwear. Now your mind was not at all hazy. His cock was long looking to be about 10 inches and curved slightly up. It was girthy and just all around big, with a dusky pink leaking tip. “Will it fit?” You concerningly looked at Guts. “I’ll make it fit.” Guts moved his cock in between your pussy lips coating himself in your slick. He grabbed your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He kept his fingers placed in yours as he guided his tip to your entrance and ever so slowly pushed in. You hissed at the stinging as he slowly moved into you. Tears rolled down your face at the burning sensation, but the burning was slowly turning pleasurable. “Shh, it’s ok, you’re doing so good.” You felt Guts bottom out inside you and you thought you might die from the fullness you felt. Guts was breathing heavily, trying to restrain himself it seemed. He moved his hand from your hip to your lower stomach. “Look I can see me inside you.” You looked down to see the bulge of the imprint of Guts’ cock. He pressed down at the tip of the bulge and you whimpered as he gasped. “I’m gonna move now.” Guts pulled out and slowly moved back into you. You clenched around him instinctively and he hissed. “Fuck loosen up. You’re gonna strangle my dick.” You gave a strangled tearful laugh. Guts continued to slowly thrust in and out, a frustrated, concentrated look on his face. It was obvious he wanted to go faster, harder. “Guts”, He looked up at you, “You can go faster, I-I don’t want you to hold back because of me.” He smiled at this but stopped thrusting. “If you want me to stop or slow down you’re gonna have to tell me ok? Because when I fuck, I don’t do it like I was doing.” He squeezed your hand that he had been holding and moved it to also be on your hips. “I want you to fuck me, Guts.” That was all the confirmation he needed because Guts immediately thrusted into you hard. You moaned at his roughness, but that was only the start. Guts hips were snapping against yours as he thrusted, wet slapping noises filling the tent. You were moaning almost sobbing from how good it felt. Guts grunted and moaned quietly as he fucked you at a merciless pace. You were gripping onto his bedding as obscene noises came out of your mouth. You loudly whimpered when Guts started quickly rubbing your clit, while still fucking you like an animal. “I want you to cum with me- ah!” Guts’ pace was even faster and harder before and now you really were crying, it felt so intense. You came with a screaming moan, falling apart on Guts’ cock. Guts came with you moaning loudly as he shot his cum into you. You felt you so insanely full and came again from the aftershocks as Guts thrusting through his orgasm. He pulled out and pulled you into his arms. You didn’t even bother with anything, just immediately passed out. That morning when you woke, you were cleaned up but very sore. The sun shone through the tent and Guts was no where to be found. Your dress was folded neatly on the ground. You dressed quickly and stepped out of the tent only to run right into Guts. He was coated in sweat and shirtless. “Sleep good?” You blushed thinking of led to you sleeping like a dead person. “Yes thank you.” Guts nodded. “We are gonna stay here a few more weeks so maybe,” Guts leaned close and whispered in your ear, “I can fuck you to sleep again.”

#guts x reader #guts berserk #smut #berserk #fanfic

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happilychee · 11 months ago

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how good I think fairy tail characters are at traveling pt. 1

♡ gray fullbuster -> he's calm and reliable; he'll check the route before the trip and always have a map on hand to make sure you're going the right way. overall a 9/10 experience. -1 point because he doesn't make time to stop and look at trinkets >:(

*this is if you're traveling just with him though. if you add basically anyone else, including natsu, cana, loke, or lucy, gray will become completely distracted and you might never get to your destination.

♡ erza scarlet -> she'll get you to your destination. you might obtain life-altering trauma, bury a body, and become a local eldtritch legend, but you will get to your destination. 8/10 if you don't mind coming out of the experience Changed.

♡ mirajane strauss -> this can go one of two ways. if you're with other people, mira goes into Big Sister Mode, and you will get to your destination with minimal shenanigans. she does factor in Trinket Time, so overall a 10/10 experience. if it's just mira, though, prepare to go on a spiritual rollercoaster. no plans, no tickets, no maps, just vibes. mira likes to explore new towns and cities without worrying about a schedule or keeping track of other people. she has disappeared for a week straight to just wander around fiore. it's about the journey, not the destination, y'know?

♡ lucy heartfilia -> this poor girl isn't directionally challenged but she is financially challenged. will accidentally spend your train money on a cute necklace in whatever town you're stopping in. she's a good travel companion, willing to socialize with the locals and find out the best sight-seeing and restaurant spots. allocates a bit too much time for Trinkets. you'll probably arrive at your destination with empty pockets but full hearts (and shopping bags.) a 7.5/10, could be higher or lower depending on how much you value your wallet.

♡ natsu dragneel -> just give up. if he doesn't scoop you up in his arms as happy flies the two of you in the completely wrong direction, natsu's probably wandering off without you. gets distracted by everything: food, shiny objects, bickering people. you're working double time to get to your destination in one piece AND not lose natsu in the process. a 4/10 that can be upgraded to a 6 or 7 if you buy him a fire-resistant leash backpack.

♡ sting eucliffe -> surprisingly, he's the one coordinating your trip. all cheery smiles and lighthearted jokes, he makes it look easy. you don't even know what train you're getting on or how long the ride is, you just trust sting. he's charming everyone: the train conductor, the old ladies at the market stalls, the young ticket seller at the station. all of that completely disappears once you get on the train and sting is reduced to a nauseous puddle of dragon slayer. 10/10 experience as long as he doesn't throw up on you <2

♡ gajeel levy and pantherlily -> where's gajeel? you don't know. he was supposed to be at the station half an hour ago, he won't answer his lacrima, he's gone off the map. don't worry, though, levy and pantherlily will keep you company. 2/10 for gajeel. the worst part is, he shows up at your destination before you! he didn't even take the train or fly with lily! he's just... there somehow.

#lychee writes #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #fairy tail x reader #gray fullbuster #erza scarlet #mirajane strauss #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #can u tell how biased I am with sting lmfao #sting eucliffe #gajeel redfox

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bangaveragewhitewine · 11 months ago

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feel the magic

Steve Harrington x Reader

Seven days before Christmas, you find yourself stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of a city you're still finding your place in. You wait out the weather with a handsome stranger.

This prompt is from @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars ❄️ Holiday Prompt Party ❄️ which was so fun! Thank you ladies for sharing these ♥️

You both rush to find shelter in a bookstore or bar during a snowstorm

Word Count: 6.6k

Contents: Set in 90’s Chicago, reader & Steve are both mid-late twenties. Nothing explicit, some kisses and mentions of arousal. Some talk of Steve’s shitty parents. No physical descriptions of reader. Steve Harrington’s charm comes with its own warning.

Note: Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being my hype woman as always ♥️

Chicago in December was cold. Very fucking cold.

A million miles from the hot and heavy city you moved to in the summer, there was something about that bitter chill of the air, the frosted pavements and the warm glow of the Christmas lights decked across the city that made it feel like something right out of a movie. You never felt like you could relate to those leading ladies in the romantic comedies and the coming-of-age romances you grew up watching, more like some side-friend character who faded into the background, inconsequential to the plot and action.

It was your first winter in the city, your first Christmas too, and it wasn’t long before you realised that your grandma had been right - investing in a good winter coat was a must for the Windy City. Despite the cold, the shininess of your new adventure in a new city still held up, feeling like the city girl you had always dared to dream of being.

With the holidays too close for comfort - just seven days before you caught a cab to O’Hare to make the journey home - you cashed in some of your overtime and finished work early to hit the city to get the last few presents for friends and family.

The snow had started just before you left the office, a light dusting that made your shopping trip feel even more magical. You had carefully stowed your camera in your bag to snap shots of the big tree at Civic Centre and the lights around City Hall to show your Mom and friends at home. When the snow started to come down heavier and heavier, the fluffy fat flakes falling in the shot made it feel more magical.

As you looked around, soaked in the festivity of it all, you thought that maybe for one day you could play pretend and let yourself feel like the glossy, confident main character of the movie in your head.

By six o’clock the magic of it all had well worn off and you were ready to go home. Your wool winter coat kept you warm-cheeked and overheating as you waited in line in Macy’s to pay for a scarf and fancy hand cream that your Aunt would fake-smile at before tossing it to the side. It felt like years since you had stepped inside the huge store, some sort of liminal purgatory where time didn’t exist and it was far too easy to get lost amongst the shiny Christmas displays and the disorienting overstimulation of the cosmetics and fragrances department.

Your head was surely going to explode if you heard some poor impression of Bing Crosby crooning another Christmassy jingle over the store’s speakers. You were feeling distinctly less festive and fun now - less merry and bright, more murderous and bad-tempered.

Over the tinny muzak and the scratch of your scarf on your too-warm neck, you tuned into the conversation going on behind you.

“That snow is really coming down, huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? It’s some sorta weather-bomb - only going to get heavier.”

You and every other shopper within earshot looked toward the windows, seeing the white flurry instead of the warm glow of Christmas lights.

You became all too aware of the sheer number of bags you were carrying, weighed down with books and gifts and trinkets, the heft of your camera and the bottle of wine you had bought to sip when you got home. The overheated parts of you longed to be cool again, but this felt like some sort of karmic mockery. The tad-too-short-for-work skirt you had chanced and got away with that day felt minuscule beneath your coat as you imagined how cold a weather-bomb was going to be.

By the time you paid and politely refused gift-wrapping for your purchase, the snowstorm had thrown the city into chaos. Traffic was at a near standstill when you reached the front door on State Street, the sidewalks packed with shoppers and commuters battling through the snow and each other to find a way home.

The subway entrance was one street away but seeing the pushing and shoving crowd cramming themselves underground made you feel claustrophobic, twisting hot panic in your gut. Maybe the stop before might be less crazy, you thought, hoping for a better chance of getting home sometime before midnight, so you squeezed away from the crowd and braved the worsening blizzard.

The magic of Christmas had almost fully waned now, despite the snowball fights starting up amongst the gridlocked traffic. You just wanted to get home, feel your fingers and toes again perhaps. You picked your steps through the icy streets, trying not to slip or whack other flustered pedestrians with your bags; they didn’t have the same courtesy or kindness. Patience and Christmas cheer had worn thin, battered by heavy snow.

“Watch it!” one sharp-elbowed woman hissed over her furry coat collar as she shouldered past you, sending you off-balance just as a rogue snowball hit your shoulder.

Had your feet not been aching so badly, you would have stamped like a toddler.

“Bitch.” Your frustrated whisper went unheard as you continued down the block, squinting to pick out a landmark to orient yourself in the snowy city.

You tucked yourself into a side street to regroup and take a breath, attempting to condense your too-many shopping bags to protect the preciously picked-out presents inside. The welcoming glow of a bar sign caught your eye, a blinking beacon through the fluster of snow.

Tucked away down the side street, The Snug appeared like a mirage. Twinkling Christmas lights blurred by the steamed-up windows winked at you, inviting you inside. It was fate.

Surely the snow will stop soon, you thought as you gathered yourself again. One drink and some fries would be plenty of time to let the streets and subways settle.

The cold air made your nose and lungs feel spikey-sore after a few deep steadying breaths. With your bags clutched safely in your hands, you picked your steps toward the almost-hidden bar, dodging patches of ice to get to the door.

Inside was cosy-calm, with clusters of friends and a few fellow solo drinkers hiding from the heavy snow and chaos. It was quieter than the streets and packed subways, their chatter backed by songs queued up from a jukebox glowing in the corner.

You squeezed yourself and your bags into a free booth, taking a load off with a sigh that pulled the tension all the way up from the tips of your toes.

Daringly, you chanced a look in your compact to assess the damage of a day of shopping and going head-to-head with the bitter cold front. Mascara smudged beneath your eyes, hair a riot.

“Shit,” you murmured, pulling the attention from the man at the next table.

He smiled, sympathetic when he saw your flustered state. “You look like you’re in the right place.”

After blowing hair from your face you returned a tight smile. “Thanks, I think.”

His brown eyes widened. “Oh no, no... I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, horrified that he had offended you.

You shook your head, “No, I get it. I look insane. It’s been a day.” Handbag in hand, you looked at him again, smiling a little softer at the flustered stranger. “Could you keep an eye on my bags for a sec? I’m just going to the ladies' room. And the bar.”

The man nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Sure, go for it. I’ll guard them with my life.”

You didn’t miss his charming smile, or the pink tint of embarrassment that lingered on his cheeks after accidentally telling you the truth about just how crazy you looked. You caught the subtle once-over he gave you after your coat was removed and hoped that your sixty-denier tights hadn’t laddered. Your cheeks felt warm again as you made your way to the ladies' room, purse in hand to wrangle your messy hat-hair and fix your face.

As you patted rose-tinted balm onto your lips, you quietly hoped that first impressions could be overwritten.

Armed with a glass of red wine and your receipt for a basket of fries, you returned to your table and tried not to sigh too obnoxiously (or moan) at the relief of sitting down. At the next table, the brown-eyed man was looking over a piece of paper and tapping his pen against his full lower lip.

“Thanks, Stranger,” you said, looking and feeling at least ten times better.

“Oh. You’re welcome,” he said, smiling distractedly before raising his half-drunk beer to you.

You raised your glass in return, sharing that little smile with the stranger before plucking one of the new books from your cluster of bags to distract your busy mind.

Wine and a book in a cosy bar? Maybe the day had not entirely gone to shit.

The stranger went back to his list, and you tried not to let your gaze linger too long on his broad shoulders or his sharp jaw. He looked like he had just finished work, a few shirt buttons undone beneath his navy blazer, his coat and scarf bundled on the chair opposite him with one lonely Macy’s bag on top. You watched him push his honeyed hair back, raking his fingers through the strands falling over his forehead. It was easy to forget to even open your book to start reading in favour of being distracted by him.

There was no denying he was attractive. And there was no denying that you were caught looking when his brown eyes met yours and his lips twitched with a charming smile.

“Steve.”

“Huh?” Wide-eyed, and flushed-hot with embarrassment, you could not find a quick way to explain away your gazing.

“You called me ‘stranger’ before. My name’s Steve.”

“Oh. Of course. Steve.” You gave him your name, watching how he smiled when you said it before repeating it as you had done with his.

“Pretty name. Guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I guess not.”

His mouth curved up as he lifted his glass again, taking a slow sip. Your eyes drifted to two perfect moles on his neck as he swallowed; they matched the twin set on his cheek.

Some sort of alarm started to scream in your head; you had forgotten the feeling of being flirted with. If that’s what this was.

“Christmas shopping?” he asked, nodding to your bags.

“Yeah, just about have everything,” you said, “Now I have to wrap it all.” After a steadying sip of wine as your fries arrived, you watched how he twirled his pen between thick fingers, names left uncrossed on the paper in front of him. “Are you stuck?”

Steve slumped back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before running his fingers through his hair again, making it messy in the most artfully effortless way. “Yeah, a little.” He rubbed his face before looking at you again. “Um, can I pick your brains? I don’t wanna impose…”

This was never how your day was supposed to go. As the snowstorm raged on outside, inside the cosiness of the bar felt like a whole other world miles from your planned evening of gift-wrapping and most of a bottle of wine. Instead, surrounded by soggy shopping bags, you found yourself with the attention of an Adonis-like stranger. You felt like it was some sort of fair deal from the universe.

When you made the move to the city, started afresh with this new chapter, you made yourself promise to take life as it came and not be too uptight. Maybe this was all part of the flow you had vowed to go with…

Smiling at Steve, you pushed your unopened book to the side and leaned forward on your arms, “Sure. Go for it.”

Steve relocated to your booth after a few minutes of chatting. An hour and a half later, he had made himself at home opposite you with his bright smile and dreamy dark eyes.

The bar had become a refuge to a few more bodies seeking shelter from the bitter cold front raging outside. He didn’t need much convincing to share your booth, freeing up the table for a couple huddled together over hot whiskies.

You had insisted on sharing your fries with Steve as you gave suggestions on what he could buy for the last few names on his list. A second basket and another round of drinks had been ordered on his tab when you realised that neither of you would be going home any time soon.

With a greasy-hot fry between your fingers, you tried not to drool over his thick forearms as he rolled up his shirtsleeves, and went back to navigating Steve’s complex network of friends-turned-family.

“So he’s your ex-girlfriend’s little brother? And you stayed friends… because he’s friends with Dustin…? Who’s like your brother?”

As you figured out who the hell ‘Mike’ was, Steve nodded encouragingly and chewed another fry.

“You got it.” His straight white teeth glinted in the warm light of the bar.

“And his sister - Mike’s sister, your ex-girlfriend, Nancy… Is Robin’s girlfriend now? Robin, your best friend?”

“Yep. See, told you you’d wrap your head around it eventually.” His smile was proud as he nudged the fries your way again.

You took two more fries as your reward before nudging the basket back to Steve. You tried not to focus on the way the fries had left his lips shiny, or the pink glow on his cheeks when he caught you staring. Again.

When you realised that this serendipitous stranger who gave you butterflies wasn’t someone else’s boyfriend, you dropped your shoulders and your guard and relaxed into the booth more. You willed yourself to relax, to go with the flow. It was not difficult to let yourself sink deeper into those warm brown eyes of Steve’s as he slowly upped his flirtations and snuck his own barely subtle glances at your lips.

He was smooth.

Steve tapped the paper list with his finger, transferring more salt and oil from the fries to the now annotated and doodled-on list.

“So, any suggestions? He’s the hardest one to buy for, so of course I got him for Secret Santa. Again.” He leaned his head back against the booth. “He’s a little dweeb. Big dweeb now. Taller than me.”

He spoke with such fondness of the kid he swore didn’t like him. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Steve was maybe one of the most thoughtful people you had ever met. Most of what you had learned about him had been through what he told you about his friends - where he grew up, his collection of poorly paid jobs after high school before going to college in Indianapolis, then onto Chicago. His best friends were never far behind. He would be spending the Holidays with friends and their families instead of his own, which he seemed perfectly fine about.

He was funny too, heavy-handed with charm and kindness. You were definitely done for.

Steve Harrington seemed like an enigma, one you would happily devote hours and hours to figuring out.

The basket fries were pushed back and forth and you wracked your brains to think of a gift for this random college kid you didn’t know. The barman announced that the snow was still coming down heavily, and to make yourselves at home. You had lost all track of time, cosy in the bubble of the booth with your new friend.

His brown eyes fixed on you as he rested his chin in his hand. “All you wanted was a quiet drink and a place to hide from the snow, and now you’re helping some dork with his shopping list. M’sorry, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The butterflies in your gut swooped.

Warm-cheeked, you shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’s distracting me from panicking about how I’ll get home, or if I’ll ever get home. I’m still figuring out the subways.” Picking at the crisp ends of the fries, you tried not to get lost looking into his shiny amber eyes. “I was only going home to wrap presents anyway.”

Steve smiled when you mirrored him, cheek resting on your hand.

“I think this isn’t such a bad way to spend the evening, Steve.”

A pink glow - not entirely from his beer - warmed Steve’s face and he looked down at his almost empty glass. You would think he was being bashful had there not been a grin spreading on his handsome face.

“Oh, you’re trouble.”

You shrugged, attempting to play coy. “What were you supposed to be doing tonight? What are you missing to be here with some strange girl?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, I was Christmas shopping, like you. Killing time. I was supposed to meet my buddy for dinner and drinks, came in to use the phone to cancel when the snow got bad. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”

“A buddy on your list?” You asked, nodding to the piece of paper.

“Mhm. Eddie. He didn’t mind too much, I’ll make it up to him.” He sipped his drink again. “He has a gig tomorrow night, so I’ll see if I can help with lifting amps and shit.”

“He’s the heavy metal guy?” you asked, remembering back to Steve labelling him as so easy to buy for.

Steve had not smiled so much in weeks, maybe months. With you, tucked away in The Snug, he basked in the ache in his cheeks, the way you laughed, how you remembered little things about him and his friends.

“I hope these friends of yours realise how much you love them, Steve.”

He liked that blunt edge of your delivery too.

You watched him fluster a little for the second time that evening.

“I do mean that. You’re putting so much of yourself into these presents, not just… I don’t know, throwing money at stuff. There’s so much thought in all of these.” You tapped the paper for emphasis, recognising a little of yourself in the way Steve put thought into his gifts for the ones he loved.

You knew the sting of that thoughtfulness not being returned, or even noticed.

Watching Steve flounder, seeing him resonate with your assessment, you felt a sinking stone in your chest. Too much. Too far. He was still a stranger, a stranger you were practically snowed in with and had probably developed some sort of cabin-fever-bond with, and you had to push it.

“Sorry. Shit. Steve, I should just shut up. I don’t know you, or your friends. I would be so mad if some stranger just-”

His hand, his much bigger, warmer hand, reached for yours and squeezed.

“Stop. It’s okay.” Steve squeezed again, his palm warm as it curved around your hand. “What you said, it’s true. I.. Shit.” He smiled, a sadness in his eyes you had not seen and blamed yourself for, “Here I am dumping my baggage on you.”

Steve sighed but didn’t let your hand go. You didn’t mind; you didn’t want him to.

“My parents just threw money at gifts for me. Totally impersonal shit I didn’t need, or want. They didn’t know me or what I liked, all for appearances and shit like that.” You watched soft fondness pull at the corner of his mouth. “So I put thought into stuff for my friends. They’re my family now. They annoy the hell out of me some days, but I want them to know… I dunno, that I listen. That I hear them. And see them, what they like…”

He trailed off when you turned your hand beneath his and squeezed.

“That’s the sweetest, Steve. They’re very lucky to have you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, loud enough for him to hear.

He shrugged, playing smooth again despite the reality check he had been dealt. “M’the lucky one. They’re buttheads, but they have my back too. Promise.”

You nodded and tried not to flush when you looked at your joined hands.

“Tell me something about you then, Steve… I don’t even know your last name. What’s your favourite colour?”

He smiled again, back on some new track now after that detour to the trauma dump. “I like yellow. I usually say blue, because when I say yellow people look at me like I’m crazy or somethin’. Yellow. Definitely.”

It clicked then, the warmth of his smile and his presence glowed like yellow sunshine and the golden bulbs of Christmas lights that could warm up the most frigid places. Warm like melted butter on toast and the glow of the lamp beside your bed for reading late into the night. It made you feel warm despite the winter cold.

“And it’s Harrington. Steve Harrington.”

“Yellow suits you, Steve Harrington.”

You and Steve moved on to clove-heavy hot whiskies as you traded questions back and forth, learning about each other little by little. You found it hard not to fall a little bit in love with him as he became less of a stranger to you.

He played basketball in school and swam competitively. His favourite films were Top Gun and Dirty Dancing. He preferred pancakes over waffles and didn’t like bacon on his burgers. You spoke briefly about what you did for work and focused instead on trivial things that showed each other the real you, the real Steve Harrington.

What’s your middle name?

Best Halloween costume?

Most important question ever, crunchy or smooth?

He was as close to perfect as you had ever dreamed someone could be.

Two middle names, Henry Michael.

Maverick, or Sandy from Grease - don’t ask, I’m not drunk enough.

Crunchy, duh. Have you tried it with honey instead of jelly?

A tiny cynical part of you waited for something about him to dislike. You could have kept waiting, kept wondering, but instead you decided to relent to the simple serendipity of it all. Maybe there was nothing to dislike about Steve (Henry Michael) Harrington, and that was perfectly okay.

You sat alone at the table, watching Steve’s broad back as he leaned against the bar to get change for the jukebox. That golden glow of his made him like the North Star in the business of the bar; simultaneously exciting you and making you deliciously nervous.

The first couple of people left the bar to bravely trek home through the mean cold streets a little after nine, promising to call to let the bar staff know they got back safe and advise whether others should stay or chance the journey home. Everyone had agreed to a lock-in until morning if the snow didn’t stop or if the conditions got too dangerous.

You all waited on a collective breath for the phone to ring; drinks flowed, and conversations continued and deepened over strong drinks. Feeling comfortably blurred around the edges, the spirits stayed high despite the less-than-perfect circumstances.

The shrill ringing of the phone behind the bar pulled the air from the room, silence fell.

Home safe. The barman gave a thumbs up and relayed the message that the streets were walkable, a few taxis were running if you were lucky to catch one.

Steve’s searching gaze found yours as everyone else cheered. The bubble had burst.

His smile was a little sad, matching yours despite the good news that you could actually go home. He held up a finger, ‘one sec’, and darted to the jukebox with his handful of change to queue up some songs before you had to say goodbye.

Goodbye.

You didn’t want to say goodbye to Steve Harrington.

A heavy weight settled in your chest as you took stock of your bags, distracting yourself until Steve settled himself across from you again. His hand patted the smooth table top twice, head tilted to look at your face.

“Y’okay?” he asked. “Guess it’s good that we don’t need to sleep here tonight..?”

“Mhm. Definitely. Just… trying to figure out how long it’s going to take me to get home,” you said, not totally a lie. Your smile didn’t meet your eyes, even though you looked forward to getting into your cosy bed with the brushed cotton bedsheets and your fuzzy flannel pyjamas.

“Me too. What way are you headed?” Steve said, an innocent glimmer of hopefulness in his eyes.

When you told him where you lived he nodded. “M’not far from there. I’d… really like to walk you home, if that’s okay? Or try to find a cab…We could share?” Steve rambled a little, his smooth exterior cracking. “Fuck it. I want to make sure you get home safe, and I like talking to you. A little part of me was hoping we’d get snowed in or something so stupid so I could spend more time with you.”

You looked at him across the table, wide-eyed as your heart hammered in your chest.

“Is that crazy of me? I’m coming on way too strong, aren’t I?”

“Steve.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “That would be really great. I kinda hoped the same. I’d like it if you walked me home.”

His smile was blinding as he took your hand between both of his, warm and large. “Okay, great. Cool.”

“Cool,” you echoed, placing your other hand on top of his like a stack as you tried not to giggle or kick your feet.

The familiar opening chords of Old Time Rock and Roll played from the jukebox, making you both grin wider at each other.

“It’s a classic, I couldn’t not put it on,” he said.

You threw your head back, laughing happily as Steve murmur-sang along with Bob Seger, bobbing his head as he crooned quietly for you. You knew about the scar on his arm from when he recreated that scene at a party; slid too hard, right into his mother’s second-favourite vase as his friends cheered him on (then drove him to the ER).

“Don’t tell me you put something from Dirty Dancing on next, Steve,” you teased, seeing his eyes sparkle with a sly sweetness. “Steve!”

Your laugh made him feel tingly-warm all over.

“It’s not Time of My Life or She’s Like the Wind, promise,” he said, smirking as he kept his cards close to his chest. “Promise. We can go when it’s over. If you’re ready to head out?”

You nodded, squeezing his hands before rooting in your bag for your gloves. Knowing that you didn’t have to part ways just yet made the idea of being out in the cold a little more tolerable.

“You been taking photos of the lights?” Steve asked, picking up your camera from the table after taking it out of your bag.

He remembered that ‘new in town’ excitement, still had the photos of him with Robin in front of the tree at Civic Centre (fresh-faced and pink-cheeked after too much mulled wine). The big tree had been nothing on their own lovably wonky tree in their tiny apartment, decorated with cheap baubles and coloured lights and tinsel that shed so much .

“Yeah, to show my Mom. Super cheesy, I know,” you rolled your eyes and watched as Steve turned it so carefully in his hands. “Might get some snaps of the snow, to remember tonight.”

As Steve nodded, an idea bobbed to the surface of your mind.

“Steve? Feel free to say no but… Could I get one of us? To remember…”

As if you would ever forget the night you met Steve Harrington.

Steve watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, let his eyes linger before catching your eyes. You saw the whiskey-brown disappear, swallowed by deep black pupils.

“Only if you get me a copy of it.”

His voice was low, smooth, and made your thighs squeeze - not for the first time that evening either. Without saying as much, you knew it meant he would like to see you again, that he didn’t want to forget you either.

You kept your voice remarkably cool and calm, despite the urge to squeal and kick your feet. “Yeah. Of course…”

He winked before leaning over to catch the attention of the woman at the next table, checking with you before he passed your camera to her with that bright charming smile of his.

The woman directed you both to lean in a little across the small booth table, taking her task very seriously. “You two look great! So cute!” she said, beaming behind the camera.

The opening bars of Hungry Eyes started up as she counted down.

It made the perfect picture; Steve grinning as he watched a giggle burst from your smiling lips. Your head was spinning, your heart beating hard in your chest - when you looked at that photo in years to come, you would never forget that feeling.

He thanked the woman and took the camera back as you soaked the lyrics in, thinking of Steve instead of Swayze. As you tucked the camera away, you realised that the song said more than either of you were brave enough to say out loud.

I feel the magic between you and I…

When your glasses were empty, when the butterflies had settled again, you began to wrap yourselves in your scarves and coats, hats and gloves, and gather your bags and belongings before braving the cold together.

The warmth in your bones from the bar was quickly extinguished by the bitter air outside, though you couldn’t pretend that the snow was not beautiful. A little post-apocalyptic perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Steve hissed, his words turning to vapour as you set off together, leaving footprints side by side in the crunchy snow.

“No shit,” you teased, giggling at Steve’s scowl.

The combination of frigid air and the alcohol in your blood made you feel delightfully dizzy. Steve’s hair was crushed beneath his beanie hat, the longer ends peeking out beneath between his turned-up coat collar and scarf. Something about how much hair he could squeeze under that fine (expensive) knit hat made you feel terribly fond and giddy about it.

“Okay, smartass. You were such a nice girl in the bar,” he tutted, teasing you back.

“Tricked you,” you shrugged, “I was never nice.” Your chattering teeth make your playful quips much less believable - as if Steve couldn’t see right through you.

“C’mere. Stick by me, we’ll either stay warm or freeze together.” Hooking a hand around your arm, Steve pulled you close to share body heat. Closer than you had been in the bar, body to body, you found that you fit nicely under his arm. Spicy-warm notes of his cologne mixed with whispers of cigarette smoke buried deep in the wool of his coat.

You smiled up at him, a shiver of nervousness down your spine as you realised you were alone together - actually alone now - for the first time.

“This okay?” he asked, pink nose matching his cheeks as he steered you both through the snow.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. With your arm wrapped around the thickness of his torso, you squeezed gently and hoped he could feel it through the winter layers. His grin told you he did.

You walked in silence for a while, carrying the weight of ‘when can I see you again?’ and ‘please tell me you feel that spark too?’ with all of your shopping bags.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” His eyes shone, sparkled with something when he looked down at you.

“We still haven’t figured out a present for Mike…”

Steve hung his head, eyes squeezed shut as your feet slowed down. “This fuckin’ kid.”

He lifted his head after sighing so hard you swore he was going to turn inside out.

“Mike Wheeler is going to be the death of me, I swear to god,” he said, speaking up to the sky. “He’s getting a Sam Goody gift card. Done. I don’t care anymore.”

“Steve Harrington, you can’t pussy-out and get him a gift card,” you tutted, leaning your weight against him to make him swerve.

The way Steve’s laugh echoed through the empty snow-capped streets made your heart flutter. “You did not just accuse me of being a pussy. You’re breaking my heart here, baby.”

When he looked down at you, eyes sparkling with mirth rather than genuine hurt from your playful betrayal, you could not miss how his tongue darted out to wet his pretty pink lips.

Baby echoed in your ears, warming you from the inside.

“You cannot get him a gift card.” Voice quiet and insistent, you squeezed him again, “Think, Steve.”

“I am.” Played-up-pathetic, Steve’s whiney voice made you double-take and giggle at him. “He’s impossible.”

“No one is impossible. Tell me what he likes again. Don’t say ‘nerd shit’, Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and you poked his ribs, far too cosy and familiar with the man who was a stranger just a few hours ago.

“Dungeons and Dragons, weed,” he listed, “He writes stuff sometimes, films, uh… Taco Bell?”

“He likes films too?”

“Mm. Studying film. Wants to be a screenwriter or somethin’...”

You hummed and looked up at the clear sky for an answer. “How about… a framed film poster?”

“Say more.” Steve looked down at you, prettier than the stars ever could be.

You forced yourself not to look at his lips, knowing you were a weak tipsy woman at heart. “Well, what’s his favourite film? Posters are pretty easy to find, a nice-ish frame. Slap a bow on it, Merry Christmas, Mike.”

Padded fingers tapped your upper arm as Steve thought, wracking his brains. “When they were kids, they dressed up as Ghostbusters for Halloween. Recreated it this year. Oh, you’re a fuckin’ genius!”

Steve squeezed you tight against his side, and with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, scooped you up with admirable ease to spin around in the snow.

“Steve!” your voice was an undignified yelp, cracked with laughter.

“You’ve saved Christmas!” Steve’s smiling face was brighter than any Christmas lights guiding your path home. Still turning with you, slower now and more careful, he rested his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re some kinda miracle, baby.”

Steve’s warm whiskey-tinted words whispered over your mouth. Your breath was caught, choked in a gasp in your throat, as he slowed down his spinning to ease you down onto the snowy empty road. Arms still wrapped around each other, shopping bags crushed and be-damned, you stood toe to toe just looking at each other.

“Can I..?” Quietly smooth and charming, Steve’s eyes dipped to your lips.

Instead of giving him an answer, using your words like a big girl, you grabbed a handful of his coat to bring your mouths together in a kiss.

Christmas lights twinkled above you, like movie magic or fairy dust. Lips pressed and lingered, kisses slow and sweet. It was everything you dreamed it would be, better even as Steve hauled you closer still and traced his nose against yours.

Smiling, breaths warming each other’s faces, you let Steve lead the next kiss - after all he had asked so nicely. One gloved hand on your cheek, his lips slotted with yours before he deepened the kiss with a tenderness that made your bones ache. Had he not been holding you so close, had you not been moored safely in the circle of his arms, you would have surely swooned.

His kisses warmed you, sending sparks through your limbs as his tongue grazed yours with a promise of more. You felt his lips tug and smile in response to the tiny gasping noise that escaped from your throat. Slowly, so sweetly, he kissed the side of your mouth and up to the warm apple of your cheek.

“Wanted to do that all night,” he murmured, making sure you were steady to stand before peeling away slightly.

“Me too.” You grinned, a giggle barely held behind your teeth. “Knew you were looking at my lips.”

“Oh yeah? Should’ve kissed you sooner then.” A smiling peck pressed to your lips as your reward, your gold star for being so observant, before you righted and reoriented yourselves for the rest of the walk home.

With most of your bags in Steve’s steady hand (the one that was not keeping you close to his side), you trekked together toward home as more frosty flakes fell from the dark night sky.

The heat of your kiss had melted something more between you, both relieved that you weren’t the delusional one, that you both felt that same something.

Without much traffic, meeting only a few other pedestrians trekking home in the snow, it felt like the journey was about to end far too soon. You passed and pointed out the place where you got your photo-film developed, your favourite diner, Steve’s favourite coffee place which happened to be by the bookstore you liked.

“I don’t wanna be presumptuous,” Steve said, “But I’d love to see you again.” He looked down at your face, feeling his heart beat harder. “I’ve never met someone like you… Y’know, when you click right away?”

“I’d like that, Steve. I’d like that so much.” Butterfly wings fluttered hard in your chest as you watched his smile melt onto his handsome face. “Anyway, I want to know how that Secret Santa goes down.”

His grin was brighter than the snow. “You have full credit for that, honey.” Smiling lips kissed your forehead, just where your hat ended. He had scribbled his number on a clean napkin back at the bar, tucked it in his pocket to slip to you if (when) you said yes to seeing him again.

You let yourself lean into him, nuzzling his cologne-and-smoke-spiced arm before sighing. With your door in sight, you took a breath and made yourself be brave.

“This is me, just up here.”

You spotted the recognition on Steve’s face. This was goodnight - at least it wasn’t goodbye.

“We’re not so far from each other. I’m like.. Five blocks that way.” He pointed off to the left, somewhere you did not bother to follow in favour of looking up at Steve.

Now or never. This didn’t have to be goodnight…

“Hey, so I don't love the idea of you out here on your own in the snow. What if you freeze into an ice cube, or slip and crack your head?”

As your teeth grazed your lower lip, you watched his cheek pulse as he tried not to smile at your dreamed-up worries. Your own smile was barely hidden, ducked briefly behind your thick scarf.

“Huh. I didn’t think of that.” Steve bobbed his head, faux-thoughtful as he considered his next steps. “Pretty perilous…”

“Christmas would be cancelled…” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Oh shit, you think?” his brows raised beneath his beanie, a knowing smile gave him away. You couldn’t possibly match Steve’s smooth charm.

You took a little breath in before asking the question you both knew the answer to.

“So, you might… You could stay the night? With me. If you want to.”

Steve measured himself and tried not to be too eager at the thought of more time with you, more kisses. “You sure?” he asked, glancing up at your building before looking right back at you.

You nodded slowly, smiling when you spotted the fresh snowflakes on his lashes, dusted over his broad shoulders too. “Mmhm. I’m sure.”

Steve smiled, closing the gap between you to kiss you again as the snow fell. “Then I’ll stay.”

Thank you for reading💙 Likes, reblogs and comments are loved, cherished and stored in a little locket 💙

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #90's steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x f!reader #promptparty #steve harrington #holiday prompt party #steve harrington fanfic #bangaveragefics

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myrunawaysweets · 9 months ago

Text

Imagine a life in Louisiana New Orleans, 1920.

Your a nice little lady, dragged to a nightclub by your friend. You didn't want to go initially due to the recent murders, but mimzy just had to go for her "reputation "

The loud music played as mimzy was surrounded by young men, most likely trying to get in her pants, er skirt. Mimzy always loved that kind of attention. You on the other hand, did not.

But of course, being near mimzy meant her little fan club of boys would sometimes drift to you aswell.

"Whats a fine doll like you doin here with a tramp like mim?" A young man spoke up, his cheeks flushed to show how many drinks he had so far.

"Shouldn't you be with the rest of your troop? You know, cheering for mimzy instead of belittling her?" You inquired, not even sparing the man a glance as you swished your whiskey in the glass it was in.

"You're right..." The boy spoke "but would you believe me if I said i fell in love with you from the moment i saw you?"

You knew it... these boys playing grown ups used that same line everytime they were around you.

You rolled your eyes to his response "nice try little boy but I dont play those games, so how bout you run along and try that on the next poor broad you see?" You waved your hand to shoo him away. "Maybe you'll have better luck next time-"

A tight grip was held on your wrist making you look up from your drink.

"So your just going to brush me off like that huh?" The drunkard looked into your eyes, previously clouded with lust was now darkened with anger "do you even know who I am, little lady?"

The man's grip tightened, making you wince.

You opened your mouth to tell him to let go but before you can even get the words out of your mouth, a gentle hand was placed on your waist and another vice grip on the man's wrist.

"My, is that any way to treat a lady, young man?" A cheery voice spoke up "every gentleman knows not to raise his hand to harm a lady, especially a lady they are courting"

The drunk young man let go of your wrist. Looking up at the brunette who has yet to face you.

"I think its time for you to go little boy" the brunette pushed the boy to the ground, watching him run away until he was out of sight.

The brunette turned towards you, revealing a handsome man around your age, a tan complexion accompanied with matching dark eyes and a shiny smile "are you alright my dear?" His voice was ever so cheery, just like his smile.

"Thanks..." you replied, rubbing your wrist.

"The names alastor, pleasure to meet you sweetheart! Quite a pleasure!" He held his hand out in which you shook.

"(Y/n), the pleasure is all mine" you were skeptical of him.

"What brings you here by yourself?" Alastor spoke, his hands now behind his back.

"I'm with a friend, mights heard of her, her names mimzy" you pointed over to your short friend who was giggling away, throwing back glass after glass of whiskey, bought by her little play things.

"Your a friend of mimzy? What a coincidence!" Alastor laughed "she invited me out here but I couldn't find her, shall we go greet her together?" The brunette held his arm out in an attempt to escort you to the little flapper.

You hesitantly took his arm and followed him towards your little pal.

"Mimzy!" Alastor walked towards the blonde.

Mimzy looked up from her crowd and smiled. "alastor! I was wondering where you've been!"

"I was searching for you when I came across one of your friends who had some trouble!" The man gestured towards you "you never told me you had such a pretty gem!"

"Yeah, she's a real looker ain't she?" She winked at you "though I'd love to talk some more, I was just entertaining some of these folks" she gestures towards the crowd of boys.

"Don't let me keep you mimzy" Alastor waved in dismissal and walked back to you "my it is crowded in here"

You nodded "This kind of thing isn't really my style" you waved at the crowded place.

"Me neither, mimzy always insists that I come" alastors smile stays bit his eyes show his distaste for this place before lighting back up "say, I know this nice place down the street, what say we ditch this place and head for a meal?"

Following a man you just met into the night? Couldn't be more of a death wish... but he didn't seem all that bad, plus he and mimzy seemed to be on good terms so whats the worst that could happen?

"Yes please" you sighed, smiling.

"Aha! That's better my darling! I haven't seen you give a proper smile all evening! It sits you!" He bellowed, holding his arm out to escort you once again.

Once you left the building, it didn't take long for you two to fall into conversation.

It turned out that alastor ran a radio channel, broadcasting about this and that, more so about those pesky murders as of late.

Alastor had learned that you don't usually go to these things due to the way men look at you with a lustrous gaze, so openly at that. Instead of following mimzy on these nightly activities, you would stay home and tend to your little restaurant.

"I know it's not really suitable for a lady to be owning a business, but if im going to end up cooking for a man, might as well get paid to do so, am I right?"

Alastor couldn't agree more, letting you in on some secrets his mother had told him about cooking.

"Your not so bad al" you laughed after he had told you a particular dad joke "not bad at all"

Now, alastor was never one to indulge in romance, but the way you smiled, the way you set your dreams to be so big... he couldn't describe the feeling it left... but it was addicting, more addicting than the screams he would entice almost every night from his victims. Yes he originally planned to kill you, but after actually getting to know you, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Thanks..." his voice was quiet "your not bad at all either"

The night went off without a hitch, you even let him walk you to your house which just so happened to be connected to your restaurant.

"Do drop by if you get a chance, I'll try out that jambalaya recipe for you" you smiled, leaning on the open door.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, darling!" He bowed before walking down the empty dark street.

The next time mimzy invited you out, you didn't hesitate to accept. You hadn't heard from alastor since the delightful night you two had.

Mimzy gave you the address and promptly hung up the phone.

You didn't want to be late, so you ended up being early, too early. The sun was only just setting, casting a golden hue onto the city.

You had hoped the doors would be opened but you're luck ran short on that part.

It was a chilly evening. That much was clear as a breeze brushed by, making you shiver.

It wasn't long until mimzy came by and the nightly routine began.

Boys flocked to mimzy, buying her drinks, and a few stragglers found their way to you.

The boy from the previous night came back, looking up and down, lust evident in his eyes once again.

"I'm guessing you came back in regret?" His nice guy act was no doubt gone, revealing his true colors.

You scoffed and continued to listen to the music. Frank Sinatra had such a heavenly voice...

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man yanking your hair "listen here, you harlot, no one ignores me... so here's what we're going to do" you felt something sharp and cold press against the opening of your dress on your back "we're going to walk out of here, got going to be a nice birdie and not make a peep, understood?" His breath fanned into your ear, reaking of alcohol.

Fear ran cold in your veins as you couldn't do anything but gently nod.

You trembled, making the man's eerie smile widen as you felt something poke at your back.

As soon as you got out, the empty street revealed that no one could help you now as he led you to the alley beside the building.

Tears pricked your eyes as he shoved you into the brick wall as he squished his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your perfume, the perfume you wore for alastor.

"Please stop" you managed to sob out.

It echoed out of the alley, and right onto the ears of the man you'd hoped to see.

He was standing outside of the club, debating whether or not he should enter. Would you be waiting for him? Has he been on your mind constantly, just like you have for him? Has he plagued every crevice of your brain just like you have in his? Or did you think little of the evening between you two, and gone back to your life...

His thoughts were interrupted by your sob.

His blood ran hot in his veins... you were here, but instead of having fun, you were in an alley in god knows what condition...

He walked towards the alley, everything seemed to be in slow motion...

There, before his own eyes, you were crying, the sleeve of your dress pulled down as the man behind you shamelessly grinded into you as he pulled your hair, biting into the soft skin on your shoulder.

"I thought I told you to behave..." alastors voice was heard from the opening of the alley "especially with a lady"

The man looked up from you with a glare "stay out of this, you square" he pulled out the knife and pointed it towards alastor making your eyes widen in fear of him being hurt to save you "unless you want me to cut you up"

The sight of you being worried for him made alastors head spin with glee, but this was no time for that.

"Darling Belle, close your eyes for a moment, will you?" Alastors smile was strained yet firm as a murderous aura clouded the alley way.

You did as told, wanting this night to be over with.

Screams were heard. Alastors hands moved quickly as he used his brute strength and adrenaline to break the man's knees backwards and draped his coat over you.

bones cracking and blood spilling filled the alley way along with the sound of alastors giggling.

Before you knew it, it was over and the man had passed it from blood loss and pain.

Alastor placed his hands on your shoulders as you trembled, bruises and bite marks all evident on your body as he guided you out of the alleyway.

"Sorry you had to experience that, darling" alastor apologized like you had seen him shirtless instead of him killing a man.

It took you a while, but you eventually spoke.

"Thank you... alastor" your head leaned against his chest as you felt tears start to form once again.

Alastor was never one for physical touch, but then again, he wasn't one for regular emotions, relationships, or even human connections, yet you bypassed all of his limits.

He sighed, and held you close.

"Its quite alright darling... " this was all new to him, so it didn't conquer to him that it would be the wrong time and mood for his next words "I could never let anything happen to you... i love you..."

You froze, slowly looking up at the man who held you so tenderly in his arms in the middle of the empty street... those words were spoken many times to you... your ex fiance before h ran away with his mistress, your family before he disowned you leaving you to fend for yourself in the harsh city, and your guy friend who supported you after the disownment who had confessed to you as you stayed at his apartment, running the friendship and trust... how could you ever trust anyone who spoke those words?

Alastors hold around you was gentle... it was comforting... you had only known him a few days, a week at most, having only met twice... yet he said he loved you?

"You love me?" You inquired... no longer liking the feeling of his arms around you as they felt fake

"I love you... " alastor smiled, though it seemed nervous as your gaze made him feel like he had something stupid...

Inspired by the song "something stupid" by Frank Sinatra.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin alastor #alastor x you

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 1 year ago

Text

cruel woman

roronoa zoro x reader, fluff

summary: you have the hots for zoro, but does he feel the same?

The upper deck of the Sunny was shiny and clean; clipboard in hand as you descended the stairs to the kitchen. An itemized list of supplies written in neat handwriting on a piece of paper – Nami had asked if you could go around the ship and take inventory of what was needed and any special requests for the next island stop in a couple of days. The kitchen smelled like lemons, looked clean and a smiling Sanji greeted you with a simper of smile. He asked if you wanted some coffee and you said please, setting the clipboard down to go over it on the counter. He poured fresh coffee into a blue mug with the correct amount of creamer; he knew everyone’s coffee order and he was pleased when he brought the cup over, and you gave him pinch on his cheek.

The one on his face, not his ass – you didn’t need him going into cardiac arrest.

“Do you need anything for the kitchen or perhaps a special request?”

“Some time with you would be sufficient.”

“Very funny.” He had to try but then he got serious and read out a few things he needed for the kitchen. It took about ten minutes for the cook to go over everything but in the end, he was satisfied. Leaving the kitchen with your coffee, you stopped by Chopper’s office and visited the doctor for a bit. Adding more items to the list. Then it off to Ussop’s factory then Franky’s workshop. Finally, you reached the fella’s dorm and knocked, hoping to find Luffy but when you walked in – you got Zoro.

Shirtless in black sweats, damp hair, and a towel around his neck; it was obvious he had just got back from the bath, but you pretended not to care about his near perfect physique. Biceps, abs, triceps…all the ceps of his body…

“Like what you see, huh?”

He teased but you shrugged, holding up the clipboard. “Not really. Too broad. I like the leaner athletic type – like Sanji. So, do you need to put anything on the supply list?”

Zoro frowned. “Uh, no – I don’t think so.”

Staring at him, dull in the eyes, you took a long sip of coffee and inhaled contently. “Well, if you change your mind, still have a few days before we dock. See ya later.”

The man looked dumbstruck, but you left him to ease his ego; leaving quickly back up to the kitchen. Your entire face felt on fire and all you wanted to do was go to your bed and relieve yourself of a sick desire. Zoro had been flaunting himself a lot lately but maybe he wasn’t and your sudden interest in him was due to the lack of companionship. There was the option to share a bed with the cook, but he was too friendly with all the ladies, and you were a jealous fool most times. That endeavor would end up with a knife in some poor girl’s heart Sanji had made eyes at – it was best to leave that all alone. Even if you wanted to…you couldn’t look past Zoro.

Something about that broad shoulder idiot.

“Come for more coffee?”

“I’m all done, thank you.”

Sanji beckoned you over to the sink and you watched as he rinsed out the mug, handing it over for you to dry. He stood quietly for a moment until he asked if you had everything for the list and then he asked if Zoro needed anything. “He never needs anything or anyone.”

The comment slipped out of your mouth, and you winced. Sanji chuckled. “We really need to get you on land. If you’re starting to lust after Zoro, God, help us all.”

Nudging him in the ribs, you scolded him for making fun of your woes. “It’s getting serious, I walked in on him shirtless…”

“Oh, god, please stop.”

You laughed and handed over the clean mug. Sanji plucked it from your hands and returned it back to the cabinet it belonged in, turning to lean against the counter. He lit a cigarette and asked if you were really down that bad. His sincerity threw you into a laughing fit and he joined, until you reached over and touched his shoulder to hold you up. He laughed harder and tears were forming in your eyes just as the kitchen door swung open. Zoro walked in, with a shirt on, and a look of confusion when the two of you stared at him before bursting into a louder laugh.

“Idiots.”

He left the kitchen in a huff and eventually the laugher died down. Sanji wiped tears from his eyes and patted the top of your head. “You guys will figure it out, if not, my bed is always open to.”

“See that’s the problem, Mr. Prince,” you touched his tie and straightened it up before pushing him away. “I’m a jealous son of a bitch. I would have to pluck your eyes out from stopping you from staring at another woman.”

The cook smirked. “Point taken.”

….

The rest of the evening was uneventful; Sanji served dinner, everyone drank and went to bed with warm bellies. Nami slept right away but Robin was still up reading when you left the room for fresh air; a warm jacket because the sea was usually freezing during the night. Up on the deck, the ship was quiet sans for the sounds of waves gently lulling the vessel forward. Yawning, you walked over to the railing and leaned forward to stare down at the ocean. Eyes glued to the waves you didn’t notice someone moving to your side and when you finally stood straight – you jumped at the sight of Zoro. He grinned at your yelp and asked what you were doing out so late.

“I’m waiting for Sanji to finish up cleaning the kitchen so we can cuddle in his bunk.”

You were so wrong for that but the look of discontent on the swordman’s face brought on a gloating smile. He rolled his eyes and mentioned how bony Sanji was. “Have fun trying to keep warm.”

Retorting with a quip that noted all the ways to warm up one’s body, Zoro gripped the edge of the ship’s railing and glared out into the ocean. Cruel woman, that’s what he called you and you agreed. Finally realizing you were teasing him the entire time, Zoro loosened up and asked if you wanted to come back to his bunk. “I can keep you warm.”

Adjusting to the moonlight, you gave Zoro a once over and asked him why he wanted you in his bunk. The question perplexed the man, and you watched as the gears turned in his eyes, he seemed lost in thought for what felt ages but then he finally confessed that he just wanted you to. “Don’t have more of a reason than that…unless you really do want to sleep in the cook’s bed. Can’t stop you. But I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me lately, I’m not blind.”

“How have I been looking at you.” You challenge the man and his eyes narrowed, grabbing you light by the elbow. He grinned, body lingering close to yours. “Like you’re in heat.”

Pulling from him, you practically snarled at him. “You’re a real son of bitch, you know that?”

He let out a low chuckle, apologizing as he pulled you back. Words were never his forte, but he managed to tell you to stay, that he had always been driven by his dream, the crew, Luffy, but you had disrupted his life. “I’m not that damn Prince, I never cared about this kinda of thing.” He held your hand carefully, as if you’d burn him. “I probably can’t give you everything you deserve…”

“What do you know about what I deserve?”

Zoro grew serious. “I’ll always have your back; I can guarantee that.”

Pretending to contemplate what he was saying, your finger tapped the edge of your chin and Zoro sighed. “Cruel woman.”

Laughing, you slipped both arms around his neck and he smiled, hands on your waist. The two of you stood silent, allowing yourselves time to devour the moment under the stars above the ocean – and the sound of the waves, pushing against the ship. Zoro let out rasped breath when your fingers massaged the back of his head, his entire body practically went into relaxation mode, and you laughed. “I’m not so cruel, am I?”

He roughly pulled you against his body and the two of you stared at each other, secret smiles on your faces. Hands on each other’s faces, your lips crashed just as the waves did and your heart skipped harder than you ever thought possible. You hoped he was feeling the same and by the way Zoro leaned in for another kiss – you knew he did. Breathless, he finally pulled away; cheeks red, lips bruised. He looked like a shy schoolboy and not the fierce man he was, it was endearing. He asked again if you wanted to come back to his bunk and the thought of being with him in the same room as the others made you uneasy and Zoro laughed. “Not like that, not with that cook in there too. Just sleep. I need sleep.”

Relieved, you agreed, and he took your hand – leading you to the men’s quarters. Quiet snores filled the room, drastic from the silence in the woman’s quarters every night. Zoro led you to his bottom bunk, got in first and moved over for you. Slipping down next to him, he immediately engulfed you in his arms – every muscle in his body surrounded you with ease and warmth. No blanket was needed, he was enough. With your back pressed against his chest, arms around your waist and his nose nuzzled against your hair – the two of you fell asleep instantly. Neither of you cared what the others would think when they woke up, completely unaware that Sanji would be the one to find you first. He would roll his eyes at the sight of you cradled in Zoro’s arms and the way you both drooled as if having the best sleep of your lives. Idiots, he would think but he knew better than most, the heart wanted what it wanted.

.....

tagging

@posessedbytheinternet @smolracoon25 @notthemainblog

@xentaipriest @xitara666 @rouzuchan @southside-otaku

@dimplewonie @stuckinthewrongworld @yourmomsgirl

@zoroshispanicwife @reneeprika @themossiestchick

@cyberneticsmoker @starrlovet

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 months ago

Note

Hello, before I request I would like to say that your work is my favorite!!!!

May I request a work that entails Wife Reader getting pregnant by Donna (scene would be appreciated) and both of them going through all of the milestones (finding out reader is pregnant, baby bump, first kick, etc.) Then after baby is born going through a couple of milestones before finding out Reader is pregnant again.

Thank you so much again!!!

Yessss!!!!! Thank you for your kindness and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Step by step

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff

Word count: 4,488

Summary: It's the beginning of a new stage on your life...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Hey, give me a hand,” you said, carrying a heavy box and entering the workshop.

Your wife immediately turned around getting up from the work table and running to support the weight until she carried it back to a nearby table.

The lady in black bent down to check its contents while you rubbed your sweaty forehead from the effort.

“Did he bring the eyes?” the woman asked, rummaging through that box and taking out a jar full of those objects.

You couldn't help but shiver and frown.

“Brr,” you shivered exaggeratedly as she looked at those lifeless eyes carefully. “That's quite disturbing, Donna.”

She looked at you with a smile and shook her head.

“Dolls need eyes, (Y/N),” she said in a soft voice, opening the jar and looking for two of the same color, perfect for an empty head that was on the table.

“Yes…” you joked, nodding with a distrustful look. “The fat Duke told me… You know, the usual, that it's hard to get the materials, that coming here is a hassle…”

“He's fooled you again, huh?” Donna said amused, giving life to that porcelain head. “You're very naive.”

“Naive? Oh, of course, of course,” you answered, pointing at yourself and approaching her slowly. “Why don't you negotiate with him instead of me?”

“Because I'm busy,” she answered with a concentrated whisper.

“Well, your lei that are at stake,” you murmured, letting yourself fall into a nearby chair.

“I have plenty of lei,” the brunette commented, carefully observing that shiny head, which she left at your side.

You took that piece of porcelain with an amused laugh, placing it in the palm of your hand with a thoughtful gesture.

“Look, Donna, Shakespeare would be proud: To be a doll, or not to be a doll, that’s the question,” you said in a somber tone.

Donna laughed again, shaking her head.

Another day could seem like just one part of a closed circle, of a journey that started over every day. It wasn't, and besides, you were a fervent lover of tedious routine.

For two years your life had stopped being a mix of hard work and unfair business. Like the rest of the villagers, you were nothing but another piece in the macabre chess game of Mother Miranda and the Black Gods.

Macabre, perhaps, but also peaceful.

Work, pray, rest, three essential actions to consider yourself a normal girl, with normal aspirations. But no, you weren't a normal girl at all.

Unintentionally, by one of those coincidences that are mentioned in books, you ended up attracting the attention of one of the Lords, a woman who lived hidden in a valley of mist: the doll maker and disturbing ventriloquist, Donna Beneviento.

Falling in love with her wasn't complicated, finding tenderness and affection within a dark and complexed envelope may have been a little more so. A deformity, a change, things that haunted poor Donna in her nightmares, but, as if for her you were also an opportune coincidence, you managed to navigate through those dangerous waters, dominating the waves of her madness, finding calm in her tormented soul.

When verbal love stopped being enough for her, and she proposed you to go a step further, becoming her wife, joining her in marriage, all her fears seemed to disappear, her fear of losing you faded, becoming only small attacks of jealousy and increasingly less frequent nervous breakdowns.

Definitely losing your boring last name, becoming Mrs. Beneviento, was the best decision of your life, without a doubt.

“Hey! What do you think you're doing? Don't play with my head!” a shrill voice almost made you drop that porcelain to the floor. Donna looked at you amused, of course, it had been her.

“Oh, don't do that,” you said, putting your head back in place while she laughed amused by your reaction. “It's so scary.”

“Are you scared of a porcelain head?” she asked, distracted by a piece of fabric that looked more and more like a dress. “I thought you were braver, tesoro.”

“Ugh,” you protested, shaking your head and crossing your arms.

“Bring me that arm, please,” Donna asked you in a soft voice, with a more serious, concentrated expression.

“Igor, bring me the brain,” you exclaimed ironically. Donna sighed, looking at you with a knowing smile. “Sorry.”

“I see you're in a very good mood today, (Y/N),” the lady commented, with the porcelain arm already ready to become part of another one of those sinister dolls.

You shrugged, watching her work, something that always seemed curious to you.

“I'm always in a good mood,” you sighed, settling into the chair, awkwardly watching the brunette's work. Donna soon turned around to steal a kiss from your lips, that kind of unexpected kisses you loved.

“Mm,” she murmured disinterestedly, shaping that new doll, apparently not very bothered by your exaggerated looks.

You raised your eyebrows amused, and moved a little closer, putting your lips to her ear.

“Hey, Donna, do you know what day it is today?” you whispered seductively, interrupting your wife's work again, who sighed thoughtfully.

“Friday,” she said with a cold voice, trying to concentrate despite your annoying presence.

“Erotic Friday,” you said amused, blinking flirtatiously, running a hand over her black dress, up her leg.

“Erotic Friday?” Donna asked confused, not moving away from your touch, so you smiled wickedly. “For you every day is…”she said with a murmur, stopping talking when your hand went up a little more, getting closer to its target.

You smiled at her reaction, seeing that despite your shameless touch, she intended to continue working, something you couldn't allow.

“If you want, I'll leave,” you said amused, lovingly caressing the bulge between her legs, causing a nervous gasp from the doll maker.

“No, um… Stay,” she said, visibly nervous by your touch, by how her weak body reacted to your lustful caresses.

“I assumed so,” you sighed satisfied, noticing how her incipient erection was becoming more and more noticeable in your hand, which grabbed it through the fabric of her dress.

Donna shifted uncomfortably, but made no effort to stop you from continuing.

“(Y/N),” the lady in black protested amused, unable to focus any longer as your hand caressed her harder.

Your gaze turned dark, moving a little closer, kissing her neck and biting your lip.

“Why don’t you take a break?” you asked seductively, placing your lips on her cheek, moving your hand up and down to continue stimulating her.

“I… Um…” she stammered nervously, giving you more room, looking embarrassed at what your touch had caused. “I, I have to finish this doll, (Y/N), it’s almost time to eat.”

“Are you hungry?” you asked with a mischievous smile, freeing her imprisoned shaft from its prison, hugging it with your hand, which began to move up and down slowly, just as you knew she liked.

“Yes, no, I don't know,” she stammered, closing her eye at your soft caresses, leaving that sinister half-made doll on the table, letting herself go. “Is it a trick question?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head in an exaggerated way, increasing the intensity of your movements. “Does it seem like a trap to you?”

“With you…” she said, interrupted by an involuntary moan, shuddering when your hand stopped at the tip, squeezing it gently. “…It's always a trap.”

“So? Did you bite the bait?” you asked, biting her earlobe, earning another pleasurable moan as she nodded, joining her hand to yours for you to continue.

“What do you think?” Donna asked, moving your hand slowly, burying her head in your neck, surrendering to the pleasure that just your touch gave her.

“Yes, you are hungry,” you joked, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, forgetting about your hand and climbing on top of her, changing that stimulation for a lascivious game of your hips.

She grabbed them firmly, continuing with that seductive dance, with a friction that caused her to say dirty words you didn't understand, flooding your senses.

“Così bagnata…” she whispered in your ear, when her hands slipped into your dress, caressing your incipient moisture through your underwear.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, amore mio,” you joked, moving the fabric to one side to place yourself on top of her, lowering little by little, letting your body slowly get used to the intruder, enjoying that stretch, those movements of your walls.

“(Y/N),” the lady in black moaned, when her shaft entered you completely and you began to move, letting it slide effortlessly as you hung from her neck.

“Shh,” you whispered amused, suppressing a high-pitched moan, playing with your hips to get those expressions you liked that much, those erratic movements that told you Donna was enjoying it.

The moans of both of you seemed to disturb even those inert limbs hanging in the ceiling. Your movements were calm, but carefully studied. It might seem like you were in a hurry, and so, you were. Donna had already run away from your advances that very morning, now she wasn't going to escape you.

“Like that, honey? Do you want me to go faster?” you asked, stopping with her completely inside of you, moaning at the lack of movement.

“Just... Don’t, don't stop,” she murmured, moving you with her hands, making the stimulation of your walls on her erection to continue.

Your release came perhaps too soon, something that was inevitable due to the pleasure you felt, a pleasure heightened by not being in bed, by wearing clothes, by that act of improvised lust.

“Donna…” you sighed, relaxing your body as she took over your movements, unable to do or say anything but moan. “Listen to me, darling.”

“Mm?” she murmured confused, relaxing her grip on your hips, slowing down the pace a bit due to your a little more serious than usual expression.

“I want, I want you to do it inside of me,” you whispered, thus expressing a desire you had been having for some time, something new that you wanted to feel. She looked at you, controlling the pleasure she felt and, after a reflective moment, she nodded, resuming the harmonious rhythm of your movements.

Soon, with a higher, guttural moan, she fulfilled your wish, releasing herself inside of you, caressing your insides with her wet heat, relaxing her body, resting her head on your shoulder as you caressed her, biting your lip because of that overwhelming sensation.

“(Y/N)…” she moaned, sighing, trying to catch her breath, to recover from your merciless attack. “It, it was…”

“I know, Donna, wonderful,” you said in a tender voice, kissing her lips, exchanging grateful smiles.

Some time after that little encounter, things started to get strange. Your body weakened, your mind was a constant delirium of joy and sadness, your stomach was a useless container that expelled everything that entered.

You felt so sick that even, after Donna's insistence, you agreed to let Mother Miranda take a look at you.

“Am I going to die?” you said lying on a sofa, while the priestess studied some tests, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“(Y/N), don’t, don't say those things...”Donna protested, with a sad, worried look. Of course, it seemed that she was the sick one. She suffered almost more than you, just to see you in that condition.

“No, you're not going to die,” Miranda commented, with apparent disinterest, checking the results over and over again. “Tell me, (Y/N), have you had any changes in your menstruation?”

“What?” you asked, shaking your head. “Well, if by change you mean that I haven't had it...”

“Haven’t you? I assumed so,” the witch said sighing, looking at Donna with a confused smile. “Could you tell me how long it's been?”

“Um... No, I don't know...” you said trying to remember. “I suppose that being sick has changed the cycle.”

“Let me clarify your ideas,” Miranda said, walking beside you and putting a hand on your leg. “Eight weeks.”

“That's very precise, Mother Miranda,” Donna commented, also confused, gently grabbing your hand. “Please tell us what's going on.”

“Too precise,” you said frowning, with the nervousness beginning to run through your limbs.

“Of course it is,” the witch laughed, with a sinister smile. “That's how long you've been pregnant, dear, congratulations…”

You opened your eyes in surprise, not finding an expression or adequate words for such exciting news.

“Pregnant?” the lady in black asked, looking at you curiously. “Is, is that true?”

“Of course,” Miranda said, examining you more closely.

“Oh, Gods…” you sighed excitedly, looking at Donna with tears in your eyes. “Donna, a baby.”

“(Y/N),” she sighed, with the same emotion, with her bright eye, bending down to rest her forehead against yours, squeezing your hand tightly. “It's wonderful…”

“Yes, yes, it is,” you said, nodding, crying with emotion. “A baby…”

“So, sono così felice…” the brunette murmured also unable to control her tears.

“I see that it's good news,” Miranda commented, with an arched eyebrow, unfazed by your emotion, as expected.

“Yes,” you said, between sobs, while Donna covered you with kisses. “The best news…”

Time passed faster than you would like. This new member of the family was growing in your belly, making the most basic tasks more and more complicated for you.

Luckily, Donna was always by your side, making your pregnancy as easy as possible. On the other hand, Angie, Donna's irreverent doll, was there to drive you crazy. You couldn't blame her, she was excited too. She would finally have a faithful henchman to cause chaos with.

“Does it relieve you, tesoro?” the brunette asked, giving you a gentle massage on your shoulders, helping your body relax from having to bear an extra burden. You moaned in relief and sighed, caressing your already swollen belly.

“Do you know what relieves me?” you asked in a soft voice, letting yourself be carried away by her soft caresses, by the delicate touch of her hands. “Having a wife as attentive as you.”

“It's the least I can do,” she said, with a shy laugh, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

“Hi,” Angie said, interrupting, as usual, one of so many tender moments.

“Oh, no…” you sighed, closing your eyes, fearing another of the constant mockery and approaches of the doll.

“Angie, lasciala stare…” Donna said, looking sternly at the puppet.

“Hey, hey, hey!” the puppet shrieked, with her arms raised in a sign of surrender. “I come in peace.”

“Don't… Yell… For Gods’ sake…” you complained, rubbing your eyes to endure better that squeaky voice.

“Can I touch it? I want to touch the baby,” Angie asked you, climbing onto the couch. Donna growled angrily, shaking her head.

“Angie, go away, leave us alone,” she said in a serious tone, tired of Angie being your only bother all this time. You, who saw no ill intent in the little demon, took Donna's hand, kissing the back of it with a calm smile.

“It's okay, honey, let her do it,” you whispered, extending a hand that the puppet gratefully took. “Isn't it adorable?”

The lady in black sighed, but reluctantly accepted, watching as her doll placed her hand on your belly next to yours.

“Wow, it's moving,” Angie said, surprisingly calm.

You, noticing those same movements, gasped excitedly, quickly looking for the brunette's hand, guiding it to the same place.

“Donna, look...” you said excitedly, noticing a soft kick on your belly, its first kick.

“(Y/N)...” the lady sighed, with the same expression, with her hand shaking as she noticed how her baby moved, how it made its presence known in such an adorable way.

“I think it says… Hi mom…” you said in a sweet voice, caressing her hand with yours, pressing it gently on your belly.

After that moment, many others came, many signs that this baby was growing healthy, and would continue to do so.

After a few hours of pain, contractions and agonizing screams from you in that old laboratory, the baby was finally born, a beautiful black-haired girl, Antonella Beneviento.

To tell the truth, you weren't particularly excited about the name Donna suggested, but you couldn't help but grant her that privilege, without her, nothing would have been possible. You owed her that for all her care, for always being with you.

“How is that precious thing?” the Duke asked, on one of his visits to the estate, greeting your daughter, now one year old, while you held her in your arms.

Little Antonella squirmed in your arms, hiding from the fat man by burying her head in your chest. You laughed amused.

“She's shy,” you said, cradling the little girl while you brought the merchant his usual bag of coins.

“I see... Like her mother, then,” the man said, laughing amused, taking a small toy out of the carriage. “I suppose such a shy girl wouldn't want this gift from her uncle Duke, right?”

“Uncle? Don't make me laugh,” you joked, shaking your head. The little girl turned around, losing her fear and reaching out her small hand towards that little teddy bear. “She already has enough strange uncles... Do you want it, darling? Let's see...”

Sighing, you carefully placed your daughter on the ground, holding her hands and walking slowly towards the merchant.

“She's learning to walk,” you commented when the little girl picked up the small bear, making a baby sound that you thought was adorable. “Do you like it? The Duke is so nice, huh?”

“She definitely looks just like her mother,” the merchant commented, quickly stroking the little girl's black hair. Antonella turned around, puzzled by this strange man.

“I know, I know, that's what everyone says,” you said, picking the little girl up in your arms again, looking at her unmistakable features. “She’s just a clone of Donna.”

“Well... Not quite...” the Duke whispered, pointing at the little Beneviento. “Look, her cheeks are yours...”

“Cheeks? Okay, whatever,” you said, shaking your head. “How much is the bear going to cost me?”

“Nothing, Mrs. Beneviento…” the man sighed, breathing heavily. “It's a gift from the house.”

“Oh, how thoughtful after ripping us off for years…” you joked, waving your hand in farewell. “See you.”

“Anyway…” you sighed, looking at your daughter, who seemed more than satisfied with her new plush, even though she already had an entire army of dolls made by her mother in her room. “Let's go see mommy, huh? Should we surprise her?”

The girl stammered something incomprehensible, with a smile that further evidenced her resemblance to the lady in black. You frowned, running a hand through her hair.

“Cheeks…” you whispered, shaking your head as you walked to the elevator.

Slowly, singing happy songs to the little girl, you went down to the basement, a place that little Antonella didn't particularly like. Something had to be done about all that darkness…

“Donna, look who's come to see you...” you sang, opening the doors of the workshop.

The lady in black, focused as always on her dolls, left a paintbrush on the table, turning around with that same smile as your daughter.

“Ciao, tesoro...” she whispered in a tender voice. “Have you come to see me?”

“Yes,” you said, moving the girl to the floor. “Come on, honey, show mommy what you can do.”

Slowly, releasing the girl's hands, she walked unsteadily towards the brunette, who was waiting for her with open arms.

“Did you see, Donna?” you said excitedly when the girl fell into her mother's arms, who lifted her off the floor with tender laughter.

“Good, my love… You can walk,” she whispered, lovingly moving the little girl in her arms and sitting her on her lap.

“Will she bother you?” you asked, resting a hand on her shoulder, while Antonella investigated the work table curiously.

“Not at all,” she said, kissing her daughter's head while cradling her with her legs.

“Fine…” you sighed in relief for being able to have a moment to yourself, thanks to Donna, as always. “Then I'll leave you two here and I… I think I'm going to take a bath.”

“Okay, tesoro” Donna whispered, concentrating on her dolls while the little girl fiddled with everything she saw.

“Mom, è stanca, mm? Vuoli restare con me?” she asked affectionately. The little girl, now looking at her mother, nodded slowly, stammering something incomprehensible. “Va bene…”

“Okay, well… I’m leaving,” you said amused, quickly kissing the brunette on the lips before leaving the workshop.

Everything was going perfectly. Antonella was a good girl, and the more she grew, the more it was noticeable. It was a shame that Angie always tried to lead her down the wrong path. After another year, you realized that in reality, there was nothing wrong with the doll's attitude, at least for the moment.

“Angie,” the puppet said, playing with the girl on a small rug full of dolls and toys.

Donna and you, who were reading together in a romantic way, looked at each other and then at the doll, frowning, with exactly the same expression.

“Angie, Angie, Angie,” the doll repeated, making the girl look at her confused. “Listen, Antonella, I'm Angie, A, N, G, I, E.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, leaning down to look at the doll, who looked at you sinisterly.

“Silence, Antonella has to listen to me,” the puppet protested, unpleasantly putting her hands on your mouth.

You pulled them away with a growl, looking back at Donna, who was reading again.

“See? Angie, I'm Angie,” she repeated, making you roll your eyes and lean on the brunette's shoulder, who relaxed you with a soft kiss on your head.

“Who am I? The great Angie, the supreme Angie, the wonderful Angie. Aaangie,” the doll hummed, jumping around the girl, who looked at her confused, but amused, trying to reach the puppet.

“What are you up to?” you asked, unable to look away.

“I will be her first word,” the doll said, proud, pointing at herself. “Look Antonella, don't pay attention to that fool, look at me.”

“Of course, of course, because it's much easier to say Angie than mom,” you joked, rubbing your aching temples, sighing tiredly.

“Shut your mouth, stupid,” the doll scolded you. You opened your mouth to return the insult, but you regretted it, crossing your arms.

“Angie…” Donna sighed, closing the book definitively and looking at you a bit worried. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Oh yes…” you said, not very sincerely. “It must be the weather…” you whispered, downplaying it.

You jumped when a dull thud echoed on the wood. The puppet had dropped, leaving little Antonella open-mouthed.

“Look, look, I'm clumsy Angie, repeat after me, Angie fell down,” the puppet sang, followed by soft and tender laughter from the little girl. Well, at least Angie made her laugh, always.

“Okay, Great Angie, it's bath time,” you said ironically, sighing as you stood up, you were a little dizzy.

“No, no, um…” Donna interrupted, pulling you back to sit down. “I'll bathe her, you should try to rest.”

“You're too kind…” you sighed, kissing the brunette's hand, who gave you one of her beautiful smiles before bending down to pick up her daughter.

“A bath, how lucky!” Angie shrieked, making you groan and sob at the same time. “Aren't you saying goodbye to me? Say: goodbye Angie…”

The little girl, tenderly hugging her mother, moved her hand with a charming smile. As Donna turned to take her to the girl’s daily bath, something interrupted her.

“A, A…” your daughter stammered, causing Donna to look at her curiously while Antonella pointed at the doll with her finger, with an expression of effort. “An, An…”

“It can't be possible,” you said, open-mouthed, shaking your head.

“Angie,” the little girl said, with a shaky but clear voice. “Angie,” she repeated laughing, pointing at the doll and looking for her mother's approval, who nodded with an expression of surprise.

“Yes! I did it! Suck that, silly!” the doll scolded, jumping for joy at her sinister feat.

“Great,” you murmured, unable to help but smile at your daughter's first word, one she would never get tired of repeating.

Antonella's third birthday marked a special date in your life. After continuing with those dizzinesses, those sensations that you already knew, you were out of doubt. But you still didn't want to tell it to Donna, you had to wait for little Beneviento to give you some time alone, something complicated.

“That's it, my princess... Now go to sleep...” you said while you tucked the little girl in, who, as always, was accompanied by her particular night guardian, Angie.

“Mom,” she stammered, with pleading eyes, rubbing them with her hands after a day of incessant running and playing with Angie. “I want story.”

“Oh, do you want a story?” you asked amused, sitting on the bed. Donna laughed behind you, leaning against the wall.

“Your stories stink, you cheesy fool,” Angie murmured, pushing you out of bed.

“Angie...” you growled, closing your eyes, too exhausted to argue with the doll.

“Mamma, storia,” the girl said now looking at the lady in black, who had approached to make peace between the doll and you.

“Oh, okay, huh? Very nice of you,” you said jokingly, shaking your head. “Well, come on, mamma, tell a story for the princess.”

“Mom, I love you,” the girl murmured, with an amused expression that you couldn't resist.

“Yes, yes, now fix it with sweet words... You're just like your mother,” you said amused, tickling your daughter. “Anyway, Donna, I think it's your turn...”

Your wife took your place in bed, telling your daughter one of the many stories that you couldn't understand, but that certainly sounded much better than yours. After a while, the girl fell asleep and the two of you slowly left the room.

“She's a sweetheart,” the lady said, with an excited smile. No matter what Antonella did or said, for Donna would always be something unforgettable.

“That's because you're a sweetheart, Donna,” you whispered romantically, kissing the woman in black slowly, sighing, knowing that, unintentionally, you had found the perfect moment.

“What's wrong? I see you're pensive,” she murmured, cupping your face in her hands. In truth, she had been worried about you for too long, and you didn't want jealousy or another of her insecurities to haunt you again.

“Yes, well, it's just that... I have, I have something to tell you,” you said nervously, playing with the buttons of her dress.

“Okay,” she said, with a slightly fake, expectant laugh.

“We... We haven't put the crib away yet, right?” you asked smiling. She shook her head, frowning.

“N, no,” she answered in a cold, trembling voice.

“Good, because, because I think we're going to need it again...” you said, with a smile growing wider on your face, and on hers. “Donna, I’m pregnant.”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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