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logansargeantsbabymom · 7 months ago

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Too Good To Say Goodbye pt 10

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

warnings: Sadness, more douche Logan, death

A/N: I’m sorry in advance.

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10

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Lando's POV

(back in the waiting room)

My chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. Each breath is a struggle, shallow and rapid, as if I’m drowning in the air around me. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, a relentless drum that drowns out everything else.

I look around the waiting room, the sterile white walls closing in. The smell of antiseptic is overwhelming, making my stomach churn. I clutch the arms of the chair, my knuckles turning white. People move around me, their faces blurred and indistinct. I can’t focus on them. I can’t focus on anything except the gnawing fear in my gut.

My thoughts are a chaotic mess, spiraling out of control. What if something goes wrong? What if I lose her? The words echo in my mind, a constant, torturous refrain. I try to remember the last thing she said to me, try to hold onto something, anything, to ground myself, but it slips away like sand through my fingers.

I force myself to breathe, to count each inhale and exhale, but it’s like trying to hold back a flood with a paper dam. I can’t stop shaking. My hands tremble uncontrollably, and I bury my face in them, trying to hide from the onslaught of terror.

Minutes stretch into an eternity. I see a nurse walk by and I want to scream, to demand answers, but my voice is trapped in my throat. I’m helpless, stuck in this purgatory of waiting.

Every second feels like a knife twisting in my chest. I close my eyes, tears streaming down my face, and pray for a miracle, pray for her to come back to me.

3rd Person POV

Lando stood in the cold, clinical hallway of the hospital, the sterile scent of disinfectant filling his nostrils. The world seemed to tilt as he tried to process the doctor's words. "I'm sorry, Mr. Norris, but Y/N isn't going to survive the surgery. We've done everything we can, but the damage is too extensive."

His knees felt weak, and he grabbed onto the edge of a nearby chair to steady himself. The doctor's voice seemed distant, like it was coming from underwater. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Just a few hours ago, he had been holding Y/N's hand, whispering reassurances as they prepared for the arrival of their twins. Now, everything had unraveled into this nightmare.

The doctor continued, his expression a mix of sympathy and professional detachment. "We can wheel her to a recovery room if you wish. That way, you can be with her for her remaining moments."

Lando's mind raced, struggling to make sense of the situation. He looked into the doctor's eyes, searching for some sign of hope, some indication that this was all a terrible mistake. But there was none. Only the stark, unyielding truth.

"How long does she have?" Lando's voice was barely a whisper, his throat tight with emotion.

The doctor hesitated before answering, "It could be minutes, or it could be a few hours. It's hard to say."

Lando nodded numbly, his heart breaking with every beat. He couldn't bear the thought of Y/N being alone in her final moments, of her slipping away without him by her side. "Yes," he said finally, his voice trembling. "Please, take her to a recovery room. I want to be with her."

As the medical team wheeled Y/N into the recovery room, Lando followed, his steps heavy with dread. He could hardly recognize her under the tangle of tubes and wires, her face pale and devoid of the vitality that had always defined her. He took a seat beside her bed, reaching out to take her hand in his. It felt so small and fragile in his grasp, a stark contrast to the warmth and strength he had always known.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm here, love. I'm right here."

Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She tried to speak, but the effort was too much. Instead, she squeezed his hand weakly, a small gesture that conveyed more than words ever could.

Tears streamed down Lando's face as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against her hand. "I love you so much," he choked out. "I don't know how to do this without you."

The room was filled with the steady beeping of the heart monitor, each sound a cruel reminder of the ticking clock. He talked to her about everything and nothing, sharing memories and inside jokes, trying to fill the silence with the life they had built together. He told her about the first time he saw her, how his heart had skipped a beat, and how he knew from that moment that she was the one.

As the hours passed, Lando felt a strange mixture of peace and despair. He was grateful for these final moments, for the chance to say goodbye, but the pain of losing her was unbearable. He held her hand until he could no longer feel its faint pressure, until the heart monitor’s beeps grew slower and slower, and finally, fell silent.

When it was over, he stayed by her side, his heart shattered into a million pieces. The love of his life was gone, and with her, the future they had dreamed of. He kissed her forehead one last time, whispering, “I love you, Y/N. Always.”

Leaving the hospital felt like tearing himself away from a part of his own soul. The world outside seemed indifferent to his pain, the sun shining brightly as if mocking his grief. Lando knew that he would never be the same, that the wound left by Y/N’s death would never fully heal. But he also knew that he had to keep going, to honor her memory and the love they had shared.

And so, with a heavy heart and a life forever changed, he took the first steps into a future that now felt unbearably uncertain and empty.

When Lando got home, he sat on the edge of his bed, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. In his hands, he held Y/N’s engagement ring, a delicate piece of jewelry that had once symbolized their future together. After her death, he couldn’t bear to keep it locked away, so he had threaded it onto a chain and worn it around his neck. It was his way of keeping her close, of holding onto the love they had shared and the dreams they had built.

(four months later)

Today was Lando’s first race back since the tragic death of his fiancée and his twin babies, it was the Las Vegas Grand Prix. The paddock was not as loud and upbeat as it usually was, for when everyone laid eyes on him, they all vocalized how sorry they were for his loss.

Some fans Lando had met and signed autographs for had expressed even more condolences to him and shared their own stories of their losses with their partners and/or children.

Lando never thought he’d ever have to live with not only losing his spouse but his two children too.

For Lando, race day seemed to come by faster than it ever has for him and soon enough the lights were out and away they went.

Lando started on pole with Oscar following suit in second, Carlos in 3rd and Logan not too far behind being in 7th.

The end of the race seemed to come just as fast as the beginning did. This was Lando’s second Formula 1 win but he wasn’t as happy as he thought he would be. How could he be? His Fiancée and babies who he should be celebrating with right now, are dead.

After the Podium celebration and even more people giving their condolences to Lando and saying how if Y/N was still here, how she’d be so incredibly proud of him and how she was the luckiest person on planet earth to be able to share this moment along with parenthood with him, Lando went to the bathroom in the McLaren garage to was rinse the champagne and sweat off.

Lando stood in the warm spray of the shower, letting the water cascade over him, easing the tension from his muscles. The events of the Las Vegas Grand Prix race replayed in his mind—the exhilaration of racing, the rush of speed, and the focus required to compete at the highest level. He had taken off Y/N's ring, carefully placing it on the bathroom counter before stepping into the shower. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him, a brief respite from the intensity of his racing career.

As he emerged from the shower, a sense of unease crept over him. He reached for the towel, his eyes automatically darting to where he had left the ring. But it wasn't there. Panic surged through him as he frantically searched the countertop, then the floor, and even inside the shower stall. The ring was gone.

His heart pounded in his chest as he realized what had happened. Someone had taken it. His mind raced, replaying the moments before the race when he had briefly interacted with the team and a few fans who had access to the area. But there was no one he could suspect outright, except for one but there was no way he was capable of doing anything remotely that disrespectful.

Frustration and anger bubbled up within him. The ring wasn't just a piece of jewelry; it held profound sentimental value—memories of Y/N, their love, and the life they had planned together. Now it was gone, stolen in a moment of vulnerability.

Lando clenched his fists, the betrayal and loss cutting deep. He knew he had to find it. With determination fueling him, he dressed quickly, his mind focused on retracing his steps, questioning anyone who might have been near the area.

But even as he searched, a sinking feeling settled in his chest. The realization that someone had taken Y/N's ring from him—a tangible connection to his lost love—was a bitter blow. It wasn't just a piece of jewelry lost; it was a piece of his heart, a reminder of what he had lost and the pain he still carried with him every day.

The next day, as every day since she had been gone he had to deal with the memories of Y/N and their lost twins, Liberty and Carlos, surge through him, a bittersweet mixture of joy and pain. It had been 4 months, but the grief was still raw, an ever-present ache that never fully receded.

Lando’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Carlos. The words made his blood run cold: "Have you seen this?"

Attached was a photo of Logan, down on one knee, proposing to his brand new girlfriend. But it wasn’t the proposal itself that stunned Lando—it was the ring in Logan’s hand. Y/N’s ring. The ring Lando had worn around his neck every day since her death.

Lando’s heart pounded as he tried to comprehend how Logan had gotten the ring. He remembered the last time he had seen Logan, just a day prior, at the Las Vegas Grand Prix but Lando avoided Logan as much as humanly possible.

Lando’s mind raced back to that night. At one point, he had taken off the necklace for a moment, feeling the weight of the memories overwhelming him. He had set it on the bathroom sink while he took a shower to rinse off the sweat and champagne from the race just a mere hour prior. He had thought it would be safe, but now he realized his mistake. Logan must have taken it then, seizing the opportunity to steal something so precious, so personal.

Anger surged through Lando as he stared at the photo. How dare Logan take something that belonged to Y/N, something that represented their love and their lost future? And to use it to propose to another woman, as if it were just any ring, was a betrayal that cut deep.

Lando knew he had to confront Logan, to get the ring back. He couldn’t let this stand. He grabbed his keys and headed out the door, his mind a whirlwind of anger and determination. He drove to Logan’s apartment, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

Lando stood at the door of Logan's apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hardly believe he was here, confronting the man who had taken the ring that meant so much to him. It was the last tangible piece of Y/N he had, a symbol of their love and the future they had planned together. When Logan opened the door, his expression shifted from surprise to annoyance.

"What do you want, Lando?" Logan asked, his tone edged with irritation.

Lando took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check. "You know why I'm here, Logan. You took Y/N's ring. That was hers, and it belongs with me."

Logan's eyes flickered with something- guilt, maybe, or defiance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" Lando's voice rose, his control slipping. "I saw the photo. You proposed to your girlfriend with Y/N's ring. That ring is all I have left of her. Give it back."

Logan's face hardened. "She's dead, Lando. She's not coming back. You need to let go."

Lando felt a surge of rage at Logan's callous words. "You have no idea what you're talking about. That ring is a part of Y/N, a part of our babies. You had no right to take it."

For a moment, Logan's defiant facade cracked. He turned and walked back into his apartment, returning a minute later with the ring. He tossed it to Lando with a look of disdain. Lando caught it and immediately checked it, feeling a rush of relief that it was indeed Y/N's ring. But before he could turn to leave, Logan's voice stopped him.

"You know, Lando," Logan said, his tone venomous, "it's your fault she's dead."

Lando froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Logan stepped closer, his eyes cold. "The doctors told us she wouldn’t be able to have another kid. That she was too fragile to bear another baby, let alone two. She told you, no? Maybe she'd still be here if you kept it in your pants."

The accusation sliced through Lando, leaving him stunned and breathless. He had already blamed himself in countless ways, replaying every moment, every decision, wondering if he could have done something differently to save her. Hearing Logan admit that was like pouring salt into an open wound.

"That's not true," Lando whispered, but his voice lacked conviction. He wanted to believe it, but the guilt was too deeply ingrained.

Logan shrugged, a cruel smirk on his face. "Believe what you want. But you know I'm right. You knocked her up and now she's gone. And now Yelena has to grow up without her mom because of you."

Lando's heart shattered at the mention of Yelena, Y/N's one-year-old daughter from her previous relationship with Logan. The thought of Yelena growing up without Y/N was almost too much to bear. He had tried to be there for Yelena, to fill the void left by Y/N’s death, but it was never enough. The little girl had lost the most important person in her life, and the weight of that loss crushed Lando.

"Yelena..." Lando's voice broke. "She doesn’t deserve this. But neither did Y/N. Your relationship was toxic, Logan. She was happy with me. We were building a life together, a family. She died because of complications with the pregnancy. Even if the doctors told her that she couldn’t have another baby, she never told me! You can't put that on me."

Logan’s sneer faltered, replaced by a flicker of something—regret, pain, maybe even recognition. "She chose you," he said, his voice bitter. "She was happier with you. But that doesn’t change the fact that she's gone."

Lando’s anger surged again, mingling with his grief. "You’re right, Logan. It doesn’t change anything. But blaming me doesn’t help either. We all lost Y/N. We all have to live with that."

Logan looked away, the fight draining out of him. "Just take the ring and go."

Lando turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. Logan's words echoed in his mind, stirring up doubts and guilt he had tried so hard to suppress. When he got back to his car, he sat behind the wheel, staring at the ring in his hand. The accusations lingered, poisoning his thoughts, but he forced himself to focus on what mattered: Y/N, their babies, and Yelena.

He put the ring back on the chain around his neck, feeling its familiar weight settle against his chest. Despite the pain, he knew he had to keep going, to honor Y/N’s memory and the love they had shared. Logan’s words had cut deep, but Lando refused to let them define him. He would carry the ring, and the memories it held, with pride and determination.

As he drove home, Lando made a silent vow to Y/N and their lost children. He would remember the love and the happiness they had brought into his life, even if their time together had been cut tragically short. He would find a way to heal, to move forward, and to keep their memory alive. And he would never let anyone take that away from him again.

And for Yelena, he would be there as much as he could. He knew he could never replace Y/N, but he would make sure that Yelena knew how much her mother had loved her. He would tell her stories, share memories, and keep Y/N’s spirit alive in her daughter’s heart. Because that’s what Y/N would have wanted. And Lando would honor that, no matter how hard it was.

I may or may not have let a tear or two slip but unless you guys want an alternative ending, this series ends here 💔.

Thank you to each and every single one of you guys who’ve read, commented, reposted or shared this post. To the ones who accidentally found it on a different chapter and gave the whole thing a chance. To those who’s been here since the sneak peek I put out in May. To the ones who comment as they read.

Thank you to everyone on Tumblr who let me post my writing and to the ones who want to see more!

I have loved writing every single part of this story (even when I had major writers block for part 7) and I’m so happy you guys are taking time out of your day to read each part as they come out!

Goodbye “Too Good To Say Goodbye” Series, I have loved every bit of you but I do have to make room for other upcoming series!

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington

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d3add0vedonoteat · 2 months ago

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Habit

Carmy Berzatto x You

No warnings, just a short fluffy blurb 💖

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

I’m back from the deeeeeaaaaaaad! Back with another Carmy fic for you, my loyal simps. I hope you like it! Not proofread AT ALL lmaooo

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

You were a creature of habit, for better or worse. You always slept on the same side of the bed. You always used the same mug for your coffee which you had the same way every morning. You wore the same coat. You smoked the same cigarettes. You drank the same liquor. You walked to work the same way. You ate lunch at the same restaurant. It wasn’t that you disliked change, you just had a hard time breaking habits.

It was habit that had you pushing open the door of The Beef at lunchtime. It was a small, grimy slop shop but you had been coming here for lunch since you started working at the bar around the corner. Mikey, the owner, had always treated you fondly and firmly planted the place in your heart. You could expect your order being wrapped up as you walked through the door, a warm smile and “hi sweetheart” greeting you like clockwork every time. But when Mikey died, that all changed. Over the last few years, you’d grown quite close to him. You were a regular at The Beef and he was in turn a regular at the bar you staffed. Many nights trailed into the morning refilling his glass and listening to him talk about his family, his younger brother, the restaurant, his troubles. There was always something that he seemed on the brink of saying but could never quite get out. You hadn’t pushed him but after hearing the news, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for not spotting it. You often found yourself losing focus at work, staring at the stool he used to be and wondering if you could have done more. Mikey’s death had left a huge hole in your heart, but The Beef was still there.

“-because you don’t understand this fucking place!” Richie’s loud voice greeted you as the bell chimed above the door. “You may be all fancy and fucking hoity-toity with your fucking bullshit caviar shit but this is real food and you can’t fuck with the fucking system! People don’t come here for this shit, they just want the regular sandwiches and the fucking spaghetti!” He stormed out to the front as he yelled, not missing a beat in greeting you. “Hi, sweetheart, where ya been? How are you?”

“Hi Richie. You okay?” You said in return.

“Yeah not good, not good. Sorry I don’t have your sandwich ready,” he pointedly yelled towards the kitchen adding, “someone is being a fucking dick and changing everything!”

The kitchen door burst open. “Why the fuck are you still screaming at me?!”

“Because you’re fucking up the whole system!” Richie turned to you. “Did you like the spaghetti? You liked it right?”

You stuttered, not prepared to be dragged into their argument. “Um, yeah it was good? But I mean… it’s a sandwich shop right? It didn’t make a lot of sense to have spaghetti.”

“Thank you!” The shorter man pointed at you.

“Wow,” Richie shook his head, exasperated. “So much for loyalty. Here cousin, why don’t you take her order since you know everything about everything and nothing can stay the same! You can make her some fucking fish gut foam shit or whatever you do in New York.”

With that Richie stormed off, but he shot you a little wave with a playful grin on his face as he left.

“I uh… I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Richie’s just… passionate, right?” You laugh. Now that he’s standing in front of you, you get a better look at him.

He leaned on the counter, the muscles in his arms flexing and straining at his white t shirt. Your eyes roam over the patchwork of tattoos shamelessly. His jaw is sharp and defined, well carved brow and deep blue eyes that make the breath catch in your throat. “You um,” you blush, catching yourself staring. “You must be Carmen. Mikey’s brother?”

He nodded, surprise evident on his face. “I knew your brother, I mean… not super well but not like… not at all. I-” you cleared your throat, feeling increasingly awkward under his steady gaze. “I come here a lot and I work around the corner so Mikey came there a lot. I heard about you.”

Carmy’s chest felt tight and heavy. The notion of Mikey talking about him made him uneasy, especially to you. There was something about you… fuck, he was staring.

“I’m sorry,” you said, sighing. “I’m a babbler when I’m nervous.”

“It’s okay,” Carmy rushed to reassure you. “I’m a… fucking asshole.” He chuckled halfheartedly.

“Warning noted.” You smiled. It was bright and made Carmen’s chest squeeze tighter. “I do the number 4, toasted, extra peppers please.”

“Yeah,” Carmy nodded, wanting to stare at you a little longer while he grappled with the rising urge to impress you. “You uh- you got it.”

He turned but stopped. “Unless, uh- you want to try something new?”

Your routine at The Beef was never the same. You never got the number 4 toasted with extra peppers again. You never got the same “hi sweetheart” again. Now, it was a different dish everyday and a breathless “hey” amid chaos. You never knew what Carmy would come up with but you knew it would be the best thing you’d ever eaten. You sat in the restaurant, savoring the food instead of eating it while you walked down the sidewalk; your eyes constantly flicking to Carmy while he navigated tasks around the place. He moved with precision despite his frantic nature. He was captivating, honestly. You stole glances here and there, bashful at how his brash nature made the butterflies in your stomach take flight. But every time your head ducked down to avoid being caught, Carmy stole his own glances at you. His heart picked up when you came in, but it was different than the pounding of anxiety when he was on the line. It was exciting in a hopeful way. He wanted to see you more. Slowly, lunches turned into dinners; dinners turned into dinners together.

It happened one late night. It was so late, it was practically dawn. You were walking home from the bar, exhausted and uniquely depressed. It was something small. A patron ordered an innocuous drink that happened to be the same thing Mikey had always gotten. Something in the air made it sink into your heart. As you trudged home in the dark, you noticed lights still on at The Beef. You pushed the door open, the bell chiming overhead.

“Carmy?” You called out, practically tiptoeing to the kitchen. You found him by the lockers, head in his hands.

He looked up when you entered, surprised. “Hey,” you said, softly. “Are you okay?”

Emotion gleamed in his eyes. His face was red, his hair even more messy than usual. “I just-” he cleared his throat. “I don’t know.” Carmy’s voice was weak, he fidgeted with his hands. You recognized it.

With a gentle sign, you sat down beside him. “I know.”

You didn’t look at him, instead you looked up at the florescent light above. The smell of the restaurant was nostalgic, comforting in a mournful way. It made you think of your friend. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “You know, there was this one time where Mikey got into a betting contest at the bar. This guy was not from around here. I mean, he had this fancy watch on, suit and everything. He looked like he just stepped out of a fucking airplane commercial. So Mikey goes up to him and first thing out of his mouth is: “you’re dressed like a fucking prick”.”

Carmy snorted. “That sounds like him.”

“Yeah, he played it real close to the chest.” You teased. “Anyways, this guy tells Mikey, “you look like a bum.” So they’re going back and worth and this guy says that he bets he makes Mikey’s rent in 5 minutes. Mikey being Mikey bets a month’s rent on a game of pool.”

“Mikey sucked at pool.”

“Yeah he fucking did.” You laughed. “You know what he does? He starts buying drinks. Shots. And I mean, he knew how to play this guy because every time he didn’t want one, Mikey would make it seem like he was just too much of a pussy.”

Carmy had sat up. You were facing each other, absorbed in the story. He looked lighter.

“It doesn’t take long before this guy is hammered. I mean, he’s practically falling over. So every time he’s chalking his cue or some shit, Mikey just slips a ball in the pocket!”

“No shit,” Carmy laughed.

You shrugged, smiling. “He was smooth, I’ll give him that… Dumbass.”

Silence settled between you. The funny memory melding with grief in a swirl of melancholy.

“So how long were you two uh…” Carmy trailed off. It took you a moment before you realized what he was asking.

“Oh god!” Embarrassment washed over you. “No, nothing like that!”

“I didn’t mean anything bad like-” Carmy rushed to apologize at the sight of your burning cheeks. “It’s just, I mean, it seems like you knew him so well I just figured-”

“No, we never- I mean- it wasn’t like that! We were just really good friends, I mean not that good just like industry friends, you know? Mikey was great but he wasn't my type like you are.”

Carmy couldn’t help the smirk. He watched the realization dawn on your face. Redness burned across your face, your eyes were wide in an adorably frantic way. Something in his heart tugged and he suddenly felt like a dumb kid in high school. He was your type? The affection for you began to twist and morph into vicious criticism of himself. You must have just misspoken. He wasn’t your type. He was just a sack of shit. A failure. A worthless waste of space that would never amount to anything couldn’t even keep it together for one goddamn dinner service-

“You okay?”

Your hand was on his. Gentle, warm, soft. His spiraling thoughts fell away, like the TV was out on mute. All he could think of was your hand on his.

“Y-yeah… I’m good.” He smiled at you. It was so genuine, it made you smile too. “You, uh- you hungry?”

#carmy the bear #the bear #carmy x fem!reader #carmy fluff #carmy berzatto #carmy x you #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fluff

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fastcardotmp3 · 2 years ago

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rockstar!robin, manager!steve, music journalist!eddie AU for funsies

On my first day shadowing her for this article, Robin Buckley tells me that her greatest fear in the world is not the massive crowds that flood arenas at every stop on her ongoing international tour, not the looming anxiety that her blooming success may be fleeting, not even a joke about how she worries this piece will make her look. No. On the day I meet Robin Buckley, she tells me the scariest thing on the planet is rabies. "By the time the symptoms set in, you're already dead," she says, walking with long strides towards her dressing room in the endless backstage of the Indianapolis Fieldhouse. "And I don't know about you, but death by raccoon is not how I want to go out."

I ask her if that's because it's not rock-and-roll enough, if such a mundane last stand doesn't match up with where she sees her life going these days, but the first thing out of her mouth in response is laughter.

She tells me maybe with a toss of her hands, asks me if I'm a music journalist or a shrink, and gets immediately pulled into a conversation about whether she's done rehearsing with her favorite guitar so it can be prepped stage left.

I try to stick around, try and get the inside scoop on how Robin Buckley prepares for a show, but I'm usurped by her fucking guard dog of a manager who fjsakdlfjaslkdfja FUCKING jesus CHRISTfsj

Eddie slams his hands down on his laptop keyboard and strains his neck back to look at the ceiling which is, quite frankly, an idiotic decision for a guy who gets motion sick on vehicles the size of, say, your average tour bus.

Don't get him wrong, he loves a good tour bus, loves the press van, loves the sweaty mess of a thing filled with people competing for clicks and desperate for the best quotes and--

Yeah, okay, maybe he doesn't love it, but if he's ever going to get enough notoriety in this business to write the sort of rock n' roll histories he grew up swallowing hole in the back room of his uncle's trailer, he has to go on a few shitty assignments.

Shitty assignments for alternative rock, one-hit wonders and their fucking hyper-protective managers who carry around lists of topics they're not allowed to bring up around Miss Buckley as if the girl herself isn't a goddamn open book.

How can the guy put a moratorium on her fucking home life if she herself sits down with the lowly press at lunch and twirls out story after story about her hippie parents teaching her how to roll a blunt when she was twelve years old?

How is Eddie supposed to write this damn article let alone his magnum opus if the advent of the internet has made managers and publicists everywhere so goddamn paranoid that Eddie has to use an anecdote about rabies as his hook?

Who is Steve Goddamn Harrington to tell Eddie how to do his job?

It's not that Eddie even wants to tear his little star apart; Eddie actually likes her contrary to the tension headache overtaking him on the ride between Indy and Columbus, but how is he supposed to prove why to readers if he's not allowed to say anything?

On his first day on this tour, Eddie had been forced to sit on this very bus and get a lecture from Steve Harrington, who has apparently been leading Robin's team from the small town get-go, and who is apparently God or whatever, and the thing is the guy's a prick.

He's downright insufferable, assumes the worst in people and expects their best behavior nonetheless, and Eddie can't stand his guts.

Except.

Except on day one of this tour, Steve Harrington gave them a terse lecture befitting a high school principal on the bus and then turned around and talked to the driver about his family for ten minutes before hopping out and going back to work.

And except, when they were in Chicago, he was screaming in some guy's face backstage and Eddie thought he'd discovered the real Steve, only to find out from a crew member later on that the guy in question was getting fired for trying (and failing) to hide a camera in Robin's dressing room.

And except, most of the time Steve Harrington is stern and bitchy and protective but the first time Eddie saw him talking to Robin before a show the two of them were laughing. Bright in ways that can't be faked.

Joyful.

Eddie looks back down at his computer and curses the man who is making this job so much more fucking difficult than it needs to be. Robin Buckley is a good story, without need for any embellishment.

Her start is interesting, where she comes from is interesting, her sound is even interesting despite its overnight popularity and worst of all Eddie likes her.

She's kind and open and smart as a whip-- apparently speaks four languages and is working on a fifth. She's got this sharp edge to her where she doesn't take an ounce of shit this industry throws at her and Eddie doesn't have to stretch to understand why her fans adore her.

God, he wants to write a good piece about this fascinating kid from Hawkins, Indiana, and he wants to write about the manager who she constantly reminds them she owes all her success to because how did that happen.

Eddie wants to be a fly on the wall when those two talk about ice cream, the weather, anything and he wants this article to be the one that gets him that goddamn book deal. Get Jonathan the high profile photog gig he deserves and Nancy the co-writing credit they've been dreaming of since college.

But there's still the guard dog in the way.

There's still Steve Harrington.

On the first day manager and good, Midwestern boy Steve Harrington introduces us to the star of the show, he tells us, "a toe out of line and I'll have your credentials stripped so far down the only paper that'll hire you has a whole page dedicated to Bible verses."

And as a good, Midwestern boy myself? I believe him.

Eddie thinks there's a story here, and he thinks he's the one savvy enough with loopholes to find it.

He's got three more hours 'til Columbus to figure out how.

#dot fic #dot post #steddie #stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things au #steddie au #have your saturday night ramble I had a thought threw it up and now it is yours peace and love <3 #i've never written quite such an AU au but i had fun with this!

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sparkles-and-trash · 1 year ago

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Hawks is avoiding him.

Dabi is furious about it, and even more so, he’s furious because of how much he suddenly cares.

It’s not like the two of them were super close, but quite frankly Dabi had found himself enjoying the banter with the little bird, and even found himself not minding his company when they were just doing their own things around each other.

So yeah, it’s quite fucking annoying that the stupid chicken is now avoiding him at every cost.

Dabi hasn’t even been any worse than usual, so whatever it was, the stupid hero was the problem.

Since Dabi knows Hawks is currently having some sort of «meeting» with Shigaraki somewhere in the PLF mansion, he decides to be prepared this time.

So, poor Hawks is entirely unaware as he leaves the meeting with the boss, which had really turned out to be Shigaraki venting about all the new people he had to deal with.

Normally he’d go look for someone to hang out with under the guise of spying, but in reality it was just to get to hang out with people he actually liked.

Not today tho.

Today he needs to get out of there as soon as possible, to make sure he doesn’t run into-

«Hey there, Little Bird.»

…fuck.

Hawks tries to plaster on a smile before he turns around, but he knows it’s strained.

«Hot Stuff!» he says trough his teeth, and he already feels the effects the arsonist have on him rip trough his body.

His wings trembled, his eyes lost focus on everything but Dabi, his body temperature shot in the air, he swore he could hear the other mans pulse thrum trough his body, and he wants, he needs-

«Birdie? Pidgeon? Hellooo?»

Hawks snaps himself out of it, and smacks Dabi’s hand away as he backs away.

«Don’t- I mean just, I’m fine, good, alright, heh!»

The words stumble out of his mouth like he just learned how to talk.

Dabi’s eyes suddenly get a little more serious, and he reaches out to touch Hawks’ face out of pure instinct.

Hawks entire body fails him, and he leans his cheek into Dabi’s warm palm, and before he knows what he’s doing he’d chirping and nuzzling into the hand.

Fuuuuck.

Dabi’s eyes are wide as saucers, but his face is weirdly soft.

Hawks entire brain screams at him to back away, but his instincts simply won’t let him.

Feels to good. To be touched. Even like this. By his Mate.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

He looks up at him, meets his beautiful blue eyes, blinks, try to find he words, but…

«Okay little bird, you’re starting to freak me out here.»

Hawks shudders, and croons apologetically.

Dabi sighs.

«First you ignore me for a week,» he starts, voice going a little deeper, his hand holding into Hawks’ face a little tighter.

«Then…»

He gently but sternly moves Hawks’ face to the opposite side so he gets to inspect his entire beautiful face.

«You come here acting like a bird in hea…»

Hawks feels his face go hot as he watches Dabi’s face light up with realization.

«Fuck me birdie, are you in heat?»

Hawks squaks and jumps back in embarrasment, and suddenly his voice finds him again.

«No!» he protests, but can’t seem to get himself to move further away from Dabi.

«Then… what?» Dabi asked, moving slowly torwards him again, caging him towards the wall with his body.

«It’s not… like, it’s not because of the season or anything, it’s because, well, I haven’t really even had it happen before, so…»

Dabi raises his eyebrows and gently grabs Hawks’ chin again to tilt his head up and their eyes meet.

Hawks’ face is entirely pink, and his pupils are huge.

Dabi shivers, and feels the heat in his gut flare up.

«So…?» he drawls.

Hawks chrips helplessly, eyes flicking back and fourth before he suddenly sets his eyes into Dabi’s.

«It’s YOU!» he squawks out.

Dabi blinks a few times, slowly, and his confidence seems to falter a little.

«Me..?»

Hawks nods and ruffles his feathers a little.

«My instincts they… think you’re my mate or whatever.»

Dabi shivers so hard he feels it in his toes.

«Mate, huh?»

Hawks nods again, finally letting his instincts win out.

«You make me feel… you’re supposed to be with me, mine, and I couldn’t stop it, it kept happening, I had to make sure you didn’t..»

Dabi smirks softly.

«Know? A little late for that, yeah?» he croons, and leans his face in even closer to Hawks’.

Hawks chitters softly, and rubs his nose against Dabi’s, letting all the noises he’s been trying to hide out.

Dabi practically purrs back at him.

«Such a good little bird,» he purrs, and Hawks thrills eagerly, pressing his face into Dabi’s neck, nibbling desperatly.

«Mmm, my mate, mine,» he mumbles between chitters and coo’s.

Dabi chuckles darkly.

«Sure, little bird,» he says roughly, running his hand along his little birdie’s wings.

«Damn sure.»

#dabihawks #Dabi #Hawks #hotwings #Keigo takami #touya todoroki #Dabi x Hawks #Hawks x Dabi #Touya x Keigo #Keigo x Touya #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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caelusproject · 7 months ago

Text

"Talk to me" (Chapter 1?)

Pairing: Royalkay

Rating: SFW (minor sexual talk/thoughts, death and injury mentioned, cursing)

Wordcount: 6385

This is a fanfiction based on another fanfiction! This story takes place mostly during chapter 4 of the Jalim fanfiction "Say Nothing" by @katzenprinz and @thunderwhenhepurrs ! It's the same story but from a different point of view with a different relationship focus! Please read Gabe and Holden's Jalim fanfiction, it's seriously so good and still being written!! Go show them some love!!

(Sorry for any inconsistencies or errors I made, I tried my hardest to do my research but I'm an overworked human so mistakes are a given oof)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick patrolled through the camp, letting the slowly fading rays of sunlight elucidate his path across the sand in a deep orange. Although he kept his mind sharp enough to immediately recognize any strange sounds and movements, so much so that he pointed his gun at an innocent little shrew hiding in a bush earlier, ready to pull the trigger and feeling bad about it right away again, he noticed his mind running wild in his skull. He felt his jaw muscles tighten as he looked towards the earth underneath his boots. Those fucking monsters were probably waiting for them. Sure, this time they came in prepared and with a purpose, as much as said purpose made him want to scream into the sky in a blind rage until his vocal chords snapped. Of course they would send them back in. Of course these idiots would want to know more about these creatures out of greed and blind thirst for knowledge. Of course Eric would run his mouth during the interrogations and mention how intellectually advanced they were.

But no matter how much Nick wanted to find a scapegoat to unleash his frustration and anger upon, Eric wasn't the one. Even if he hadn't talked about the vampires the way he did, those hazmat-freaks would have still gotten curious about them. The colonel didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Nicks rage. Or at least not to a certain degree, after all it was Caelus that led them all down there in the first place.

“Wasn't his intention, though,” Nick reminded himself quietly as he circled around the tend where the newbies bunked, checking for anything noticeably concerning but ultimately finding nothing unusual. So he decided to keep on walking around the campsite until his short lived patrol was over.

Nick had quite some time to reminiscent about his treatment of the colonel. Sure, he had plenty a reason to hate that mans guts. Eric led them into this wasteland. His program mistook an ancient underground temple for an enemy storage facility. Nick was dating Eric's wife.

And yet there was a spark of admiration for the colonel blooming inside Nicks chest. One he tried to ignore as best as he can. Eric had saved him multiple times down there, putting his own life at risk to protect Nick of all people, which took a lot of strength of character and courage to do. Of course Nick, who was aware of his own gentle and sensitive nature, would be unable to shrug those acts off like it was nothing. He was merely grateful, Nick reassured himself.

The marine kicked a pebble across the field and sighed. Just as he was about to turn on his heels, he had wandered a tiny bit too far from site and would most likely get an earful from either Jason or Eric for it later, he heard his name being called from somewhere behind him. Elliott was jogging up to him and waving.

“Sargent Kay, thank you for taking over my patrol for a minute. I'm back now so you can return to your tent.” the young man nodded at Nick with a friendly smile. Nick mirrored the gesture.

“Sure. I've got nothing to report, if you don't count the poor traumatized shrew I almost shot.”

Elliott pulled his brows together in a sympathetic way.

“Poor thing,” he commented and then joked, “I'll make sure to apologize to it on your behalf.”

Nick didn't bother holding back a chuckle, “I would be most grateful.”

On his was back into the middle of their campsite Nick followed the tracks that their truck had left in the sand earlier with his eyes. Jason had been sent off with a few of the new guys to fetch Zain and bring him here. A sigh escaped Nicks lips when he was walking past the tent where Jason, Salim and himself were supposed to be bunking. Salim had decided to retreat to their tent after Nick was asked to jump in for Elliott's patrol for a minute, files of the inventory in hand so he could read through them to get his mind off of things. Nick couldn't blame him. He had seen the face Salim made whenever he talked about his son down in the tunnels, their first encounter ended in a conversation about how Salim wasn't supposed to be on his mission to fight some marines and instead spend Zain's birthday in the comfort of their home. A strong feeling of empathy flooded through Nick and he found himself going back and forth on whether he should enter and at least ask Salim if he needed anything. Against his better judgment he turned away and decided that some quiet might help him a lot more.

“Sargent Kay!”

Rachel's voice pulled Nick out of his train of thought. He looked up to see the CIA agent wave at him from the colonels tend, motioning for him to come in. The corner of Nick's lips curled up slightly as he looked at the woman, pure affection racing through his veins at the sheer sight of her, and he jogged up to her, entering through the opening.

“How's he holding up?” Rachel asked as Nick walked past her. The marine shrug with his shoulders.

“Mmh, as well as one can expect from him.” Nick replied and took a look around the tent. Eric was sitting at the fold-up desk with his back turned to his wife and her lover, typing away at a laptop. A few feet next to the desk was a cot, certainly bigger than the ones in the marine's tents, even garnished with two pillows and a blanket. Quite the luxury in the field.

“I figured he would be nervous,” Rachel sighed and sat down on the cot, her gaze trailing off into the distance, “I hope Jason can get the boy here without trouble. If all goes to plan then they should arrive here soon.”

Eric nodded, but didn't verbally participate in the conversation, eyes still glued to the screen in front of him. Nick shifted his weight, unsure on what to do with his body.

“He'll manage. As much as he is a jarhead, Jason is also capable and understanding of Salim's situation. Although I wouldn't be surprised if he returned with a few bruises here and there.” he joked. To Nicks surprise it was Eric who huffed a laugh.

“I hope not. We need our Lieutenant in good condition,” the colonel shifted in his chair to look at Nick and nodded towards the cot, “you don't have to stand there all awkwardly. Sit down.”

Nicks eyebrows twitched upwards. It shouldn't feel so strange to him to be offered a seat on Rachel and Eric's bed, considering they spent a few days together stuck in a tiny room with Jason and Salim, sleeping on thin mattresses with barely any space between their bodies.

Still, having Eric of all people tell him to take a seat on their bed caused the spark inside Nicks chest to glimmer a little more. Nick glanced over at Rachel, who scooted over for him, and sat down. The blanket covering the cot was surprisingly comfortable considering the circumstances.

“It's gonna feel weird.”

Rachel and Eric both looked at Nick, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. The marine waved his hand towards the cot.

“Sleeping in a different tent, I mean. Guess the last few nights have left an impression on me. I'm already used to cuddling until I fall asleep.” he snickered and shrug his shoulders, a slight pain shooting through his upper body from where his wound on his shoulder was still in the process of healing. Neither of his superiors replied right away, instead Rachel tilted her head until it was leaning against Nicks arm. They spend a few heartbeats like this and Nick noticed Eric watching them with an unreadable, but not at all hostile, expression.

“I have to admit, it was nice sleeping between you two,” Rachel muttered, her lips a thin line, “it certainly helped keeping the nightmares at bay.”

Nick nodded in agreement with Rachel and breathed softly, grabbing Rachel's hand in a tight but loving grip and kissed the top of her head. Eric tilted his head like he always did when he was deep in thought about something, his gaze growing distant, and Nick found himself wondering what might possibly go through the colonels mind. A long moment of silence filled the tent, broken by the keys of the laptop ticking away again after Eric flinched slightly, something Nick would have easily overlooked had he not been staring at the man for a few heartbeats (something Nick tried not to think about too much). Although it wasn't just Nick who noticed.

“What's wrong?” Rachel asked Eric in a tone of voice Nick barely ever heard out of her mouth, a kind of concern that she always tries to control, but said control always broke when it came to Eric for reasons Nick could only imagine having to do with the bond of love they shared. Even though it was unlike Rachel to be so openly overprotective of someone. The colonel frowned in response.

“Don't worry. It's just,” he sighed, “the usual.”

“'The usual'?” Nick repeated, raising an eyebrow. Rachel closed her eyes as she exhaled loudly.

“Does it hurt?”

It felt like lightning struck Nick right then and there as realization hit him like a truck.

Eric's leg.

The colonel ran a hand through his blonde locks, a small sigh escaping his lips and he nodded slightly. Like she was waiting for this moment all this time, Rachel jumped up and approached Eric, reaching out with a hand to delicately caress his arm. Her brown eyes were filled with worry and a hint of guilt that left Eric clearly feeling uneasy.

“Maybe you need a break. Do you need to take it off?” she asked gently but Eric violently shook his head in response.

“I'm okay, really. I promise.” his voice was a lot harsher than he probably intended for it to sound. Rachel took a step back, her expression still full of worry and guilt and even Nick felt forced to sit up straight when he heard the colonel's tone of voice. Eric's pair of amber eyes wandered back and forth between Nick and Rachel and he blinked a few times, a hint of regret burrowed in them. He flinched again as he got up from his chair and took a few steps through the tent with no real destination.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you.” Eric apologized and closed his eyes. He looked exhausted all of a sudden, tired of the pressure of the mission ahead and the posture he had to uphold in front of the higher ups. If Nick didn't know better, he'd say that Eric was tired of fighting. There was a painful tenseness in Eric's shoulders that filled Nick with the same, or at least similar concern as Rachel.

The marine chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, unsure with himself about what he could do to lighten up the situation and make the colonel feel better. Then he got up and put a hand on Eric's shoulder, who immediately relaxed a little bit under the touch.

“Want me to take a look?” he asked quietly and tapped the shoulder straps of his backpack with a faint smile, remembering the role he had adopted despite his inexperience in the role of field medic. But if it meant helping out the people around him, then he would do his absolute best to make them feel better. Especially the ones he considered closest. “It's my duty as nurse Nick after all.”

Before Eric could react however they heard the engine of a truck getting closer. All three of them bolted towards the tent flap, looking out to see the dark campsite illuminated by the trucks headlights approaching quickly, zooming across the sand until it came to a screeching halt in the center of camp. Although it was quite dark, despite the few UV lamps they had set up as best as they could to keep potential stray vampires at bay, Nick could still make out Jason's face in the back of the truck, sitting next to a young man whose resemblance to Salim was undoubtedly. Zain looked terrified but also strangely curious. As soon as the truck came to a full halt, Mosson and Palmer jumped out and Nick fully expected them to guide Zain out of the truck or at least walk away for some rest after a successful mission. The fact that they immediately raised their guns and pointed them at the boy, causing Jason to react with his own gun pointed back at them, sent an ice cold shiver down Nicks spine.

“What the fuck-” Rachel exclaimed but Eric was quick to react. He went into a hasty jog, most likely held back from full-on sprinting by the phantom pain he tried (and mostly succeeded) to fight back, and shouted at the marines.

Luckily, his authority seemed to knock some sense into the newbies as they got a verbal beat down by both Jason and Eric before turning on their heels and retreating towards their tent. Nick and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief in unison and the marine thanked Eric in his mind for being so quick to react.

He watched Zain jump off the back of the truck and then he noticed the flap to one of the tents open. Salim stuck his head out and immediately froze in disbelief and amazement when his eyes fixated on his son. The heartfelt scene unfolding in front of everyone almost brought a tear to Nicks eye. The way Zain and Salim clung to each other. Now Nick definitely felt the connection between father and son and cursed under his breath when remembering what Salim had to go through to get to this point. It was unfair and cruel.

Rachel bumped her elbow against Nicks side, smiling up at him. Nick blinked the tear away and shrug his shoulders with a grin. Meanwhile, Salim pulled Zain into their tent, hopefully able to talk in private.

Then they noticed Jason and Eric talking while they unloaded the truck and as they both brought the bags towards the colonel's tent, Eric yelled an order through the dark of the campsite.

“Everyone off to your tents! Radios stay on in case of emergencies!”

The pair arrived at the tent and Jason dropped three heavy bags in one corner, nodding towards Rachel and Nick.

“Should've guessed.” he smirked as he locked eyes with Nick, who immediately noticed the new bruise blooming on Jason's face.

“Could say the same about you,” Nick joked, pointing at the damage, “too bad I didn't take a bet. I could've made bank.”

Jason play-kicked at Nick's foot but missed the other marine by an inch or so. Rachel and Eric looked at the bags, sharing a confused expression.

“Well, too bad we don't have any money, babe,” Rachel absentmindedly commentated on Nick's joke but then turned her attention towards Jason, face as serious as usual, “the contract said two bags total.”

“Don't worry about it. One's for Salim. But I got something else that the boy needs help with.” Jason approached Rachel, a tense expression adorning his facial features like something was truly at stake here. Rachel pulled her eyebrows together but showed willingness to listen. She nodded slightly and grabbed Jason's arm to lead him into a corner of the tent so they could talk quietly.

Nick and Eric watched them whisper for a few seconds until Eric shifted his weight and winced like he did before. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and leaned against the desk to get the pressure off of his leg. In a panic, Nick reached out to catch Eric, afraid he might fall over, but he held back from touching him once Eric was securely leaned against the desk. Nicks instantaneous willingness to support him clearly took Eric by surprise.

“You don't look good, colonel,” Nick whispered with a warm but worried voice, “please, let me check you out.”

Eric started to shake his head and opened his mouth but Nick wouldn't let him protest this time.

“Eric. You're in pain. Rachel can see it, I can see it. Let us help you, please!”

There was that spark again. It glimmered like a warm fireplace in Nicks chest, it felt comforting and familiar, and it only increased in it's intensity when the blonde man locked eyes with Nick. There was a hint of admiration in Eric's amber eyes.

Thankfulness.

Tenderness.

Eric was a few inches taller than Nick, Nick's eyes were almost at the same level as Eric's nose and the marine blinked hard when he realized that his gaze wandered down towards Eric's lips for a fraction of a second. Luckily, the colonel didn't seem to notice.

Nick didn't want Eric to think that his intentions were not about medical care, but more about coming on to him. Even if the hint of a desire to run his fingers through Eric's soft hair popped up in his head for a split second.

“... alright.”

Nick immediately pushed his backpack off his shoulders but Eric held up a hand.

“Later,” Eric whispered, glancing over at Jason and Rachel who were clearly about to end their quiet discussion, “and take a look at her too, please. She wouldn't dare show it, but her arm worries me just as much.”

“Mh, will do.” Nick agreed. Rachel truly never showed any pain. She was stoic, strong. But Nick always thought it was a mask she put on to protect herself from others, but perhaps mostly from herself. He wondered if she built that hard shell around herself because of her and Eric's accident. No matter how much she tried not to show it, she still felt guilty and hurt and was trying everything she could to stay in control over her emotions. She was running away from something just like Nick was.

Nick felt the urge to hold Rachel close and not let go.

To protect her from any kind of cruelty the world might try and fling at her.

Kiss her until her soul was healed.

Let the world know what he felt for her.

Hold their hands through hell and back.

'Their hands' Nick repeated in his head, freezing up inside like he was a kid getting caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. Instead of an annoyed parent, though, he was the one who caught himself.

“Earth to Nick,” Jason snapped his fingers in front of Nick's face, pulling him out of his train of thought. Nick blinked so his eyes could focus on the Lieutenant in front of him.

“Yeah?”

“Salim and Zain might take a while to catch up,” Jason said, “with our Colonel's permission I will do one last patrol through camp. Give 'em time to talk. Wanna come with?”

“Go ahead,” Eric answered Jason's indirect question, but gave him an apologetic smile, “but I need Sargent Kay here a little longer. Think you can handle this patrol by yourself?”

Jason chuckled as he turned on his heel to walk out the tent.

“Yessir!”

None of them said a word until Jason's footsteps were certainly out of earshot. It was Rachel who broke the silence first.

“Well. That's something.” she mumbled, her expression still as stern as when she was still talking to Jason. Eric leaned forward as much as his body would let him.

“He sounded serious. What is this 'special request' all about?”

“He didn't give me the details. Emphasized I need to make sure Zain will actually get through to London and that Zain was carrying something important.” she muttered and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Nick made a confused sound.

“The hell does that mean? Did Zain kill somebody or some shit?”

Rachel shrug her shoulders and then turned to her husband, a different kind of sternness in her eyes.

“No idea. Whatever, you are more important right now.”

Eric swallowed and raised his hands defensively.

“I know, Rach, I know. I promised Nick that he can take a look at it already. You can calm down now.” he explained frantically, to which his wife stuck out her jaw.

“You better.” she replied, grabbed Eric by the hand and pushed him onto the cot. Like making sure he wouldn't change his mind midway through, she sat down half beside him, half behind him and put her hands on both of his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

Eric sighed.

“Okay, okay. I promise, I'll stay right here.”

Nick didn't bother hiding the chuckle that escaped his throat. His Colonel looked like a boy being put into his place at the doctors office by his mother. Still grinning he opened his backpack, making sure whatever tools and medication he might need was close enough to grab.

“Permission to run my hand up your leg, Sir?”

Eric made an unimpressed face and gently kicked Nick in the shin, making Rachel snort.

“Just making sure.” Nick grinned back and pulled up the leg of Eric's pants until it was shoved up above the knee. The prosthesis had a few scratches here and there and was a bit dirty from their previous adventure with the vampires, but otherwise looked perfectly intact. The skin of Eric's knee however was already starting to turn red with irritation. Nick frowned at the sight.

“Shit looks painful.” he thought out loud.

“Shit feels painful.” Eric retorted and leaned forward to unclip the fake leg. Nick helped him pull it and the bit of fabric protecting his skin off so he could take a better look. Eric's right leg was cut off a few inches below the knee and his skin was red with irritation. A sigh of relief escaped Eric's lips as the pressure was finally released.

Nick noticed Rachel wince in the corner of his eye.

“Fuck, Eric. You should've said something.”

Eric didn't respond as he looked down sheepishly.

Nick tried to be as gentle as possible as he checked Eric's leg for injuries or chafing that broke the skin. Luckily it seemed that it was just the pressure that hurt the most.

“Well, good thing is you're not bleeding. All that chafing merely irritated the skin,” he explained, hand still resting on Eric's knee, “do you want some ice? Or painkillers?”

The Colonel bit his lower lip in thought.

“You got any ointment? It's a tad itchy.” he ultimately requested. Nick burrowed his hand in his backpack, fumbling around until he found a bottle of ointment. Without thinking he opened it and was already holding his other hand under it to catch the liquid when he stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth went dry at the thought of rubbing the ointment over Eric's leg, massaging it into his naked skin.

Even worse, what if Eric insisted on taking off his pants so that they wouldn't get drenched in ointment?

Feeling his brain short-circuiting for a second he awkwardly held out the opened bottle for Eric to grab, praying that the heat in his cheeks wasn't visible in the dim light.

“... thanks.” Eric mumbled and took the bottle with a raised eyebrow. Rachel mirrored her husbands confusion but said nothing. Nick swallowed, trying to moisturize his throat and then turned to his lover.

“Your arm. How's it holding up?” he asked gently. Despite what Nick had expected, Rachel didn't wave him off, instead she pulled her shirt up and above her head, even though Nick merely needed her to pull up a sleeve, revealing her upper body wrapped in only a bra with one upper arm bandaged.

And if his throat wasn't dry before it now turned into sandpaper.

There was no way Rachel didn't know what her half-naked body would do to the two men in the tent with her. She must have done it on purpose, Nick thought, there was no other way to explain this.

Rachel rolled her injured arm a little, testing out how far she can push her pain limits and then smiled at Nick.

“I can work with it. Probably just needs some cleaning.”

Nick nodded, trying not to stare at Rachel's skin, just like Eric desperately attempted to put his entire focus on massaging the ointment into his irritated skin. They both had mediocre success, casting Rachel a few shy glances here and there. The woman let Nick unwrap her upper arm, noticing (or anticipating) his shaking fingers. Nick cursed at himself in his mind. He must really be down bad if Rachel's not even naked upper body and Eric's exposed leg of all things made his skin tingle like he was a horny teenager.

The marine cleared his throat as he cleaned the wound, checking for any signs that it wasn't healing correctly. He was pleasantly surprised to see that it was doing well.

“Looks good,” he croaked, “should be gone in a few days.”

Rachel giggled at Nicks reaction, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him closer until their lips touched. Nicks heart did a flip in his chest and he leaned in to deepen the kiss as much as he could, careful not to touch Rachel's still exposed wound.

Rachel gently pushed him away again after a few heartbeats, breaking the kiss, making Nick's heart yearn for more. For a second Rachel stared at him, counting the freckles on Nick's cheeks.

Their eye contact broke when Eric leaned in from the side, one hand slowly brushing through Rachel's hair until he held the back of her head in his hand. Nick leaned back to give the married couple some space and something started to build up in his guts as he watched their eyes connect. Nick already had this feeling when they were down in the temple, a heat that made his skin prickle. Down there he called it jealousy. He called it frustration and anger.

And maybe it was jealousy.

But not the kind he initially thought it was.

His eyes were glued to them, he couldn't dare look away, and as soon as Eric's lips brushed Rachel's Nick felt a breath stuck in his throat.

And then the buzzing sound of a radio made all three of them jump. Nick, who was closest to their equipment, leaned over, fumbling with his hands as he tried to grab the radio when Salim's voice came through, speaking Arabic. Nick tilted his head when he heard his last name in between the foreign words but Rachel crawled off the cot and snatched the radio from his hands.

“That's for me.” she explained but before she could push the button to reply a different voice cut through.

“Keep that shit off the radio. You know English, speak it. Made us think there was an enemy nearby.”

“Sounds like Jones,” Nick grumbled and scrunched up his nose in anger, “fucking asshole.”

Another voice joined the conversation, if you could call it that, a groggy sounding Jason telling Salim to disregard what Jones hat barked at him and giving said marine a verbal beat-down to shut him up.

Eric raised his eyebrows in respect for his Lieutenant.

“Heard my name, though, and sure didn’t understand the message, so say again, Othman?” Jason asked through the radio and now Rachel decided would be a good time to step in.

“It was for me, Kolchek.” she explained, not trying to hide the smirk that shone through her words. She talked in Arabic without waiting for a reply, dropped the radio in Nick's hands and grabbed her shirt.

“Salim wants to talk to me. It shouldn't take long.”

“I haven't finished wrapping up your wound, though.” Nick complained but Rachel held up a hand to make him stop.

“We can do that afterwards. Like you said, it's looking good already. It can manage a few minutes of air.”

Flashing the two men a soft smile she disappeared into the dark of the night, leaving Eric and Nick alone in the tent. There was a hint of awkwardness in the air and neither of them spoke a word for what felt like ages. Nick's mind was starting to come up with all sorts of fantasies about what Eric could be thinking right now. Was he upset, sad, frustrated, jealous?

Nick didn't dare look at the Colonel, instead sucking on his teeth as nervousness filled his body. This was the first time Rachel had kissed both of them back to back while the other man watched. And without the threat of death looming over them.

“I, uh,” Eric finally spoke, clearing his throat, “... we good?”

Nick couldn't help but notice the irony in those words. He turned to Eric, who had a slight rosy tint in his cheeks, and allowed for his lips to curl upwards.

“Yeah, we good.”

Eric smiled back, seemingly relieved.

“Thank you, by the way. For your help.”

Nick accepted the bottle of ointment offered back to him and put it in his backpack.

“'s what I'm here for, Sir,” Nick saluted, but in a less formal way. Eric shook his head.

“Maybe, but still. Considering our backstory, I guess it would be understandable if you didn't feel like helping me out. Even though you are certainly a very loyal and dedicated soldier.”

Nick decided to take the compliment with grace. He walked over and dared to sit next to Eric on the cot, still ready to get up as soon as he notices any uncomfortableness in Eric's aura. Which he didn't.

“I suppose getting my ass saved more than once by you helped change my opinion,” he admitted shyly, “you're not as stuck-up as I thought you were.”

The corners of Eric's lips curled up, enjoying their conversation.

“You're welcome. I'm also very grateful that you didn't let me fall into those ditches. I definitely owe you, Nick.”

Once again, the spark in Nick's chest glimmered like embers. His fists tensed up on his lap, trying desperately to suppress this feeling. It's just gratefulness, he reminded himself, Nick was grateful and nothing else.

“You made up for it the moment you gave me your UV lamp when I went into the nest. Took me by surprise, though, but I'm thankful.”

“Speaking of which, I don't know if it was bravely stupid or stupidly brave of you to do that. I mean, it did an impressive amount of damage and you made it out fine, so I guess it was a success. But I wonder what went through your mind.”

Eric leaned slightly forward, trying to catch Nicks eyes. Nick knew the ball was in his court now and he had the choice to either play it cool or open up to Eric of all people and show his true colors.

The latter was probably the healthier option, he decided.

“I guess I wanted to protect. I was terrified the entire way down there, good thing you guys couldn't see the face I made when one of those things was looking for me. Thought I was having a heart attack,” he joked but Eric didn't laugh so Nick continued. “As soon as I placed the last round of explosives though, and saw those things around me, the fear was gone in an instant. Instead I was thinking of the people I hold dear. My family, my fellow marines, Jason, Rachel...”

Nick huffed a tiny laugh.

“Even Salim and you were on my mind. Dunno if it was some sort of twisted heroism complex, but as soon as I popped the flare I prayed that you guys would make it out alive.”

Nick paused and finally dared to properly look at Eric. The Colonel was sitting straight, taking in Nick's face like he desperately wanted to hear more. The spark turned into embers once again and Nick drowned in Eric's amber eyes for a second before continuing.

“I thought I was about to die for real. But you heard me. You guys came back for me.”

A sympathetic expression adorned Eric's face and he nodded ever so slightly.

“... I couldn't leave one of my best men behind.”

Nick heard what Eric said and it resulted in a war of conflicting emotions. On one hand he was happy to get yet another compliment, to proudly wear this verbal medal that Eric just awarded him with.

On the other hand he felt incredibly humbled. Was he truly just another soldier in Eric's eyes?

Both sides tucked at him, swaying him back and forth between pride and disappointment. He tried his hardest not to show his insecurity on the outside.

“Thank you,” he said instead, his voice a little sharper than before, “I appreciate that, Colonel.”

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Nick could have sworn he saw a hint of regret in Eric's gaze, like he wanted to take back what he said or reword it so his feelings came across better. Nick ultimately wrote it off as nothing, so he dropped it, even if part of him wanted Eric to explain further.

“Ow, what the fuck Rach?!”

Jason's offended sounding voice echoed through to their tent and Nick and Eric immediately burst out laughing.

“Sounds like she's done talking.” Eric commented through his laugh. Nick nodded.

“No idea what he did, but Jason probably deserved it.”

The entrance of the tent was pushed open and Rachel stepped through, a hint of relief and pride on her face. She flopped down between Nick and Eric, grinning to herself.

“He's such an idiot.” she exclaimed, obviously talking about Jason and Nick couldn't agree more.

“Do we even dare to ask?” Eric smirked in Rachel's direction but his wife waved him off.

“He was just worried about nothing. Felt the urge to kick him in the shin for it, so I did.”

Nick expressed his admiration for his lover by whistling.

“Kicking a sleeping Kolchek, you're truly brave, Ma'am.”

“Speaking of sleeping,” Rachel turned her attention towards Nick, “where will you sleep? Zain will be with Salim until 0400 when I pick him up, so that's occupied until then.”

Nick pulled together his eyebrows as he thought through all the options he had. Maybe he could find a spare cot in the equipment tent, or curl up in the back of the truck. None of those options sounded appealing, though.

“Do you have a pillow?” he asked, ultimately settling on the back of the truck.

Eric nodded and turned towards a bag hidden under the cot, opening it and pulling out a pillow like the two already on the bed. Nick raised is arm to grab it but Eric threw it onto the cot instead like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do. He showed genuine confusion when Nick widened his eyes.

“Oh. I thought you-” Eric stuttered, “... I thought you meant that you want to sleep here with us. Was I wrong?”

His heart skipped a beat as Nick glanced back and forth between the pillow and Eric. Although this wasn't what he intended, he felt a kind of happiness rise up in his stomach.

“Uhm, I mean, I'd rather do that than what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?” Rachel chimed in, squinting at her lover in suspicion. Nick raised his hands.

“I mean, the truck's pretty safe? I could've made that work.” he explained himself, faltering more and more with each word he spoke under Rachel's gaze. The woman shook her head.

“Nonsense. You're sleeping here with us. Colonel's orders.”

Eric looked shyly between the two people in front of him.

“I thought that was obvious.”

Nick couldn't help but smile softly. The fact that Rachel and Eric thought letting Nick sleep with them was self-evident made his appreciation for them increase tenfold. Well, he might have expected something like that from Rachel, but Eric?

All it did was set the spark in his chest aflame once more.

Rachel kicked off her boots and took a quick look at her watch.

“Still got a few hours until I have to pick up Zain. Enough time for a power nap.” she decided and turned to Nick. “Can you wrap me up so I can sleep a bit?”

Nick gratefully returned to his nurse duties, finished cleaning up Rachel's wound and put a fresh bandage around it. He then followed suit and unlaced his boots, put them neatly under the cot and crawled across the blanket until he was at the far side of the cot, next to the tent wall. It felt good, really good, to lay down next to Rachel again, like they did back at the base but this time without the constant gas masks watching their every move. On the other end of the cot Eric ran a hand through his hair, rubbed over his sore leg once or twice and then stretched out next to Rachel on the cot. They had to snuggle up a little, the cot was bigger than the standard sizes but still only supposed to support two people maximum. Nick didn't care. He enjoyed being able to wrap his arms around Rachel and pull her closer. Rachel cuddled up to both men, her forehead resting against Nicks chest and the back of her legs pressed against Eric's.

“I'll try not to wake you up.” she mumbled.

“The way you're clinging onto us might make that pretty hard.” Nick giggled, already feeling his limbs getting heavier. Eric chuckled behind Rachel.

“You can wake me up. For my goodbye kiss.”

“Stop acting like I won't return. You're so needy.” Rachel retorted harshly but the smile in her voice was too obvious not to notice.

“I want my goodbye kiss too.” Nick added, voice getting groggy.

“So needy.” Rachel repeated.

Nick managed to exhale a barely audible giggle.

And the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep were the rustling sound of fabric and the fingertips of a third hand resting on his waist.

#house of ashes #the dark pictures anthology #eric king #salim othman #jason kolchek #nick kay #rachel king #royalkay #my stuff #long post #i tried my best #please show some love for the original authors #can't stress enough how awesome their fanfiction is!!!

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megggyeggy · 1 year ago

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The Hound and The Wolf

Trigger warnings: Non con is involved, if you don’t like that kind of stuff then DO NOT READ. 18+ only. Minors do not engage. Some mentions of blood. Physical abuse is involved. Foul language? If that is even a trigger. I believe that is all.

Keira had heard about her father's death from Winterfell, her brother Robb wanted to go to war to avenge their father. Of course, Keira wanted revenge. But their little sisters were in King's Landing. There could have been casualties.

"Are you sure about this?" Robb questioned Keira, who was preparing her saddle bag. "No." Keira answered with raised brows as she looked over at her brother with a soft sigh, "But one thing I'm sure of..is that Sansa and Arya can't be alone in King's Landing for much longer. They don't have anyone they trust or know to look after them. I will go there." Keira reassured her younger brother with a faint smile before mounting her horse.

"I don't like this, Keira." Robb told his sister, worry written over his features. Keira's eyes softened as she looked down at her brother before shaking her head, "I will be fine. Keep Winterfell together while I'm gone." Keira spoke with a faint grin, which Robb let out a soft chuckle while nodding his head. "Of course." Robb responded with a small smile.

With that, Keira rode off to Westeros..

/// //// //// //// ////

Keira had arrived in Westeros a week later; Robb of course couldn't wait for Keira to return with their sisters. He had already started a war. Keira didn't wait to be greeted; she didn't tell the little bastard of a King that she was arriving. She simply stormed into the castle with her chin held high. She slowed her strides when she heard her sister's weak voice, "Your grace. Whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part! You know that! I beg you, plea-" King Joffrey over spoke her. "Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage." Lancel, Joffrey's scrawny little cousin paced back and forth as he spoke. "Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered."

Lancel took a deep breath before continuing to speak, "After the slaughter, The Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain." The common people began to gasp and mutter amongst themselves in terror. Keira couldn't help but smirk at the outrageous lies being told but she found it quite amusing. She continued to make slow strides, making her way forward. King Joffrey had his cross bow pointed at Sansa, "Killing you would send your brother a message." Keira could hear her sister sobbing in fear, her head hung low. Keira shifted her jaw in anger at this. "But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand." King Joffrey demanded as he placed his crossbow down.

Sansa stood immediately as her cries had quietened, her cheeks red and stained with her tears. "So, we'll have to send your brother a message some other way. Meryn," King Joffrey spoke up which Meryn stepped forward and began to approach Sansa. Keira tensed up at this, narrowing her eyes. She was like a mother wolf..waiting to attack at any given time if her pup was to be hurt. "Leave her face. I like her pretty." King Joffrey demanded as he sat down with a cruel smirk on his face.

Meryn grabbed Sansa by the shoulder and punched her as hard as he could in the gut, causing Sansa to cry out in pain. Meryn unsheathed his sword and hit Sansa in the calf with the back of his sword, causing her to stumble to the ground in pain. "My lady's over dressed. Unburden her." Ser Meryn stepped behind Sansa at King Joffrey's orders before ripping the back of her dress open. "If you want Robb Stark to hear us, you're going to have to speak louder!" Joffrey demanded with an evil glint in his eyes. Ser Meryn raised his sword and got ready to strike Sansa which caused her to scream in fear.

Keira was quick to step forward, taking slow and confident strides forward. "I got your message quite loud and clear, Your Grace." Keira spoke up, a smirk on her face when she saw the shock on Joffrey and Ser Meryn's face. As well as Joffrey's dog, The Hound. Sansa looked up at her sister with teary eyes and let out a sob of relief, hugging her sisters hip as she sobbed. Keira looked at Ser Meryn with narrowed eyes, shifting her jaw. She could hear some people murmuring, "That's Wolf Kissed!" The crowd murmured in fear. "If you want to send a message to my brother, why don't you choose someone your own size?" Keira questioned Ser Meryn, her eyes locked on his. She didn't show fear.

"Or do you enjoy beating little girls...because they can't defend themselves?" Keira smirked at Ser Meryn, his jaw clenched in anger. "Watch-" Keira backhanded Ser Meryn as hard as she could, causing him to grunt in pain..his lip split open from the harshness of the strike. "You can't hit him!" King Joffrey complained with an angry pout as he stood up now. "Kill her!" Joffrey demanded but a new voice spoke up. "What is the meaning of this?" Everyone froze, Keira turned her head to see Tyrion Lannister. "What kind of Knight beats a helpless girl?" Tyrion scoffed while Ser Meryn sheathed his sword and snarled angrily, "The kind who serves his King, Imp!"

"Careful now, we don't want to get blood all over that pretty white cloak." A new voice spoke up, an older man with black armor said with a smug look on his face. Keira smirked at Ser Meryn and hummed, looking him up and down. "Although, it would look much better with a splash of red." Keira spoke in a low threatening tone, the man whose name Keira did not know, looked her up and down with a curious gaze before smiling at her with an amused gaze. "Lady Stark," Tyrion greeted Keira with a look of surprise, Keira smiled politely at Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion." She returned the greetings before helping her sister stand.

"Someone get the girl something to cover herself with." Tyrion demanded, which The Hound was quick to walk over to Sansa and yank his cloak off his back and placed it onto her shoulders as she bowed her head in shame. He didn't seem to give Keira a second chance. "She is to be your Queen." Tyrion scolded his nephew with narrowed eyes, making his way up the steps. Joffrey glared down at his Uncle with narrowed eyes, "Have you no regard for her honor-" Joffrey scoffed, "I'm punishing her." Joffrey explained as if that explained anything. "For what crimes?!" Tyrion exclaimed with raised brows, "She did not fight her brother's battle, you halfwit!" Joffrey's voice seemed to get softer, in embarrassment perhaps. "You can't talk to me like that! The King can do as he likes!" Joffrey raised his voice near the end of his sentence.

"The Mad King did as he liked, has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?" Tyrion spoke with narrowed eyes, "No one threatens his Grace in front of the Kingsguard!" Snarled Ser Meryn as he stepped one foot closer. "I wasn't threatening the King, Ser. I am only educating my nephew. Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks..Kill him." Tyrion demanded as he kept his eyes locked on his nephew. Bronn simply nodded while Keira stifled a snicker. "That was a threat. See the difference?" Tyrion exclaimed as he looked at Ser Meryn with raised brows. Ser Meryn kept awfully quiet now, a coward is always a coward. Tyrion turned and began to walk towards Sansa and Keira. "I apologize for my nephews behavior." Tyrion apologized to both the Stark Sisters.

//////

Keira had gotten settled in King's Landing, she even had her own chambers now. How exciting. Sansa wouldn't return home, and Keira wouldn't leave without her. Not only that, but Keira couldn't find her youngest sister, Arya.

"Rest for tonight, take a lavender bath. Yes? I've had your handmaid's prepare one for you." Keira told Sansa with softened eyes, kissing her sister on the forehead before taking a step back. "I'll be back in the morning, okay? You aren't alone anymore." Keira reassured her sister with caring eyes. Sansa quietly nodded as she looked at her older sister with bloodshot and teary eyes. "Thank you." Sansa whispered softly. Keira swallowed thickly as she faintly smiled and nodded, "Always, little sister." Keira spoke just above a whisper before turning and exiting the room.

Keira made her way down the corridor with her chin held high, she let out a soft sigh as she walked. However, when she turned down the corridor, she had bumped into someone. "Pardon-.." Keira said with a smile, but her smile dropped when she saw who it was. Sandor Clegane. The Hound.

Sandor stepped forward while Keira stepped backward until she was pinned against the wall. Sandor placed his hand beside her head as she looked her up and down with a smirk. She knew that look. Nothing good ever came of that look. "You think the King will be okay with the little wolf ruining his fun?" Sandor spoke in a stoic voice, his eyes holding a certain glint within. Keira forced a smile as she let out a scoff, "Oh, I'm sure he is having a tantrum as of now-" She grunted in surprised when The Hound grabbed her by the bicep, squeezing so harshly that she was sure her arm would snap in half. "The King doesn't have any use for you," Sandor said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing as he glared into her eyes.

"That means he will either kill you...or he will reward some of his men with a little wolf.." Sandor said, an evil grin forming across his features. "And I do sure hope I am one of them, little wolf." The Hound's voice dropped, leaning in closer as he took a sniff of her scent. Keira glared up at Sandor as she gritted her teeth, "Unhand me." Keira snarled angrily, which caused Sandor to cackle. "Or what? What can you do to me, little wolf?" The Hound snapped, barring his teeth. "What're you doing, Clegane?" A familiar voice spoke, Keira turned her head to see Tyrion. Oh, her hero. Keira looked back at Sandor who removed his hand from her and looked at Tyrion with a bored expression.

"Never mind it..I was only-"

"Go find a tree to piss on." Tyrion demanded, which caused Sandor to glare in the dwarf's direction before turning and walking away. Keira cleared her throat and raised her head to try and show that the interaction didn't bother her one bit. But the way her heart was pounding against her ribcage, said otherwise. "Thank you, Lord Tyrion." Keira spoke in a calm voice, looking at the dwarf with a softened direction. "That is twice you've helped my family. I'm grateful." Keira said with a faint smile, while Tyrion looked surprised that she spoke to him so kindly before his eyes softened. "Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers, Lady Stark?" Which Keira smirked down at Tyrion.

"I appreciate the offer, Lord Tyrion. But that won't be necessary." Keira spoke softly as she started to walk away. "You need to be careful, Lady Stark. The Hound wasn't wrong. You are of no use to The King nor the Queen. Who knows what The Lion will do to The Wolf away from its pack." Keira arched her brow at Tyrion's analogy. Keira looked down at her feet, pursing her lips in thought. He wasn't wrong though. She was in danger. "I'll keep that in mind, Lord Tyrion." Keira responded before walking back to her chambers.

/// /// /// /// Two Weeks Later /// /// /// ///

Keira was laying in her bed, in a deep sleep..she had a dream..a curious dream. There was a baby lion that was feasting on a corpse of a wolf. The baby lion was surrounded by corpses of wolves. Keira didn't get to finish her 'wonderful' dream because she was yanked out of her bed by her hair, she cried out in pain as she dug her nails into the gloved hand that was intertwined in her hair. She blinked fast to try and focus her sight, looking up to see Ser Meryn. Keira grunted in annoyance, "That isn't a face I wanted to wake to,"

Keira grumbled before hissing in pain when the Knight shoved her to the ground harshly, she fell to her side and didn't have time to catch herself. She was still in her nightgown slip, it was sheer and didn't do much to hide her body. She stumbled to her feet only for Ser Meryn to grab her by the hair again and drag her along, "The King has great plans for you, Wolf Kissed." Ser Meryn sneered her nickname with venom, dragging her to the throne room where King Joffrey sat, The Hound standing guard in front of him like a good dog.

Ser Meryn shoved Keira to the ground in front of the iron throne, Keira groaned in pain when her knees hit the ground. Keira looked up at King Joffrey with narrowed eyes, her lips twitching into a smirk. "Is that how your mother taught you to wake a lady?" Keira questioned which some of the crowd in the throne room had chuckled at her remark but Ser Meryn easily backhanded her which caused her lip to split open, some blood dribbling down her lip and onto the ground. Keira's head jerked to the side and she let out a moan of pain, her eyes narrowing.

"Lady Keira, if you are going to stay here in King's Landing. You will need to have some type of use. You can't just stay here without pulling your weight." King Joffrey said with a smirk, his eyes raking over her body that her sheer nightgown did nothing to cover. Keira looked up at King Joffrey and shifted her jaw to loosen it from the harsh impact. "Oh yes, my apologies." Keira snorted as she shook her head in amusement, "And how will I pull my weight?" Keira said with an amused gaze, looking up at King Joffrey who clenched his jaw.

"By doing the one thing that you were created for. Baring children." King Joffrey said with a smug look but it quickly dropped when Keira laughed loudly, "Sorry-..sorry..it's just-.." Keira snickered as she tried to stop herself from laughing, shaking her head. "You're not my type, your Grace. I'm flattered, though." Keira said with an amused gaze which it was Joffrey's turn to smirk and chuckle. "Not my children, you dumb wench." Joffrey spat as he looked around his Kingsguards and his eyes landed on The Hound. "Dog..how would you like a little breeding bitch?"

King Joffrey questioned Sandor, who smirked faintly down at Keira. His eyes raking over her body slowly before he hummed in approval. "Aye." Is all Sandor said which caused Joffrey to chuckle, looking down at Keira with an evil glint. "Alright then, you two shall be wed!" He exclaimed, while a Septon had begun to emerge from the crowd, standing next to Sandor. Keira's brows raised as she looked at Sandor with a glare before looking at the Septon. "What? Now?" Keira scoffed softly which Sandor nodded his head with a smirk. "Your father is dead. You don't have any family here aside from my beloved. No one to hand you off. You're no one special. So, no need to make it all grand." King Joffrey chuckled and gestured his hand towards Keira which Ser Meryn grabbed Keira by the hair and yanked her to her feet.

Ser Meryn dragged Keria to Sandor and the Septon, shoving her into Sandor's chest who caught her roughly with a stoic expression, staring down at her with narrowed eyes. Although, within his eyes-..she could see the amusement.

///// ////// ///// ////

Keira was a married woman now-..or she officially will be when she and Sandor consummate. Which is why Sandor was dragging her roughly by the arm to Keira's chambers. He shoved her inside and she just barely caught herself, gasping softly. Keira turned to glare at Sandor as she gritted her teeth. "If you think I will lay a fucking hand on you-" Keira was backhanded harshly, her head jerking to the side and she had to grab ahold of her bedpost to keep herself from falling. Keira cupped her cheek as she looked at Sandor with wide eyes who looked at her with a cruel smirk.

"Keep talking, girl and I will fuck you bloody." Sandor warned as he began to approach Keira who quickly climbed onto the bed to try and avoid the man. Sandor patiently began to remove his buckskin belt, not bothering to remove his armor.

"I will not let you do this, you fucking imbecile!" Keira snarled only to yelp in surprise when Sandor grabbed her by the ankle and yanked her towards him. "I warned you, little wolf." Sandor said as he grabbed Keira by the shoulder and tossed her onto her stomach on the bed. Keira reached behind her and shoved her hand against Sandor's armored chest. "Don't fucking touch me!" Keira snarled, barring her teeth like a cornered animal. Sandor simply laughed as he looked down at her with an amused gaze.

"What will you do, little wolf?" Sandor questioned in amusement as he shoved his pants down his legs before yanking the skirt of Keira's nightgown over her hips, he let out a hum of approval at the sight of her pussy. "Freshly shaved, it's as if you knew." Sandor proved with a smug smirk, grabbing Keira's arms and pinning them behind her back harshly. Keira hissed in pain, and she could feel angry tears threatening to spill. "Please, Ser!-"

"Ser?! I am no Ser! I am a dog, remember?!" Sandor raised his voice now; it was filled with venom. "And you are my little wolf. A little breeding bitch." Sandor said with a smirk, even though he truthfully didn't care to have children. That's not why he was doing this. It was for the pleasure. Hot and angry tears rolled down Keira's cheeks as she closed her eyes tightly. "Please, don-..Ah!" Keira's pleads were interrupted when she felt Sandor pushing the head of his cock into her cunt. She wished she could say she was dry as a desert, but that would be a lie.

"Seven hells," Sandor growled through gritted teeth when the woman's walls clenched around his cock. He grunted softly as he sheathed himself deep inside of her, balls deep. Keira couldn't stop the moan that escaped her. Sandor raised his brow and smirked widely, "Are you enjoying this, little wolf?" The Hound mocked her, which caused Keira to glare back at him, tears continuing to roll down her cheeks. "Fuck you." Keira snarled which Sandor wiggled his hips inside of her, "You are." Sandor responded with a wide and cruel grin.

Sandor gripped Keira by both of her forearms and began to pull her back against his hips, pounding into her. The movement made the bed shake, the bedpost clanging against the wall with each thrust. Moans were being dragged out of Keira's mouth as she screwed her eyes shut, Sandor grunted along with each thrust. "What would your brother think?” Sandor mocked her as he thrusted harshly into her, drawing a sob of a moan out of the woman. “Hell, what would your father think? Perhaps he is looking upon you now, seeing you clenching your cunt around my cock.” Sandor continued with mocking Keira.

Keira cried out softly as she screwed her eyes shut even tighter, Sandor thrusted even harder into her which Keira could feel the tip of Sandor’s cock surely bruising her cervix. The sudden pain caused her body to jolt forward which caused Sandor to snarl, “Where do you think you’re going? Stay right here, little wolf.” Sandor chuckled out as he gripped her forearms even tighter as he pounded into her.

Keira could feel her stomach twisting and tightening, she felt the way her insides warmed up. Keira let out a loud and drawn out moan when she came around Sandor’s cock. Sandor let out a breathy laugh as he continues with his harsh and quick thrusts. Until he sheathed himself deep inside her, releasing his sperm deep inside of her. Keira could feel Sandor’s thick cock throbbing from inside of her as he emptied himself within her. Sandor pat Keira’s ass before leaning down, whispering into her ear.

“What a good bitch..you’re a natural.” Sandor chuckled out as he pulled himself out of her and he grabbed a cloth, wiping himself off before tossing the dirtied cloth onto the bed beside Keira. “Clean yourself up.” He said in a stoic tone before pulling his pants up. Keira glared at Sandor before sitting up with a wince and she smacked Sandor across the face. Sandor and Keira both seemed to freeze, staring at one another. Both stunned that she had done so. Sandor grabbed Keira by the jaw, yanking her close to him. “You only get one of those. Next time, I’ll fuck your skull.” Sandor warned Keira with narrowed eyes, gritting his teeth angrily before shoving her back onto the bed harshly.

Sandor then exited the room, leaving Keira to clean herself and comfort herself. Keira grabbed the dirtied cloth with a scowl, glaring down at it as she squeezed it in her fist with a snarl. She took a deep breath as she looked at the door that Sandor had exited from, tears flowing down her cheeks before she inhaled sharply. “Winter is coming.” Keira whispered softly as she clenched her jaw before she began to clean herself.

#sandor clegane #the hound #oc #original female characters #game of thrones #game of thrones the hound #the hound got #sandor clegane x reader #smut #non con #dub con

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priestessofspiders · 1 year ago

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The Worst Horse

From the very first moment I saw one, I have always hated horses. I remember the event clearly, that first meeting with one of those wretched animals which shattered my innocence at such a young age. I must have been about 8 years old, my family was attending a country fair, and there was an advertisement for pony rides.

Now, up until this point in my development, I had never actually seen a horse in the real world. I'd seen them in picture books, sure, I even owned a couple of toy ones, but I'd never seen an actual, living horse. The shock of beholding the actual animal itself was a viscerally disturbing experience.

Everything about it was wrong. The sour, sweaty smell, the too-large eyes that seemed to eye me as though I were prey, the sharp-tipped hooves, and those horrible, enormous teeth. I watched the attendant give the pony a sugar cube from her hand, and winced in terror at the thought of it simply biting down upon her fingers and snapping them like carrots.

My parents must have thought that my wide-eyed, silent terror was due to being overwhelmed with excitement, because they wound up pushing me forwards, where the attendant helped me up onto the pony. I wanted to scream as I felt myself forced onto the hideous monster, I wanted to beg to be let off, but I was still utterly paralyzed with fear. The attendant began to lead the pony forwards, oblivious to my horror, but the pony knew how I felt. It knew I was afraid.

Without warning it broke free from the attendant's grasp, the rope loosely held in her hands slipping free quickly, as the pony galloped forwards as fast as it could. Finally, I found my voice, and began to scream to be let off, to get away from this monster.

I got my wish sooner than I might have guessed.

The pony bucked, and I found myself flying through the air, crashing into a fence with a gut-wrenching snap as my arm broke from the force and I experienced the worst pain I had ever felt up to that point in my entire life. Blinking tears out of my eyes, I watched as the maddened pony began to rush towards me, seemingly preparing to finish the job. Mercifully, it was at that point I fainted.

Ultimately I was mostly okay, at least physically. There was no lasting damage, as it was a clean break which healed up nicely. The otherwise incompetent attendant successfully managed to keep the pony from ramming into me in the nick of time. Emotionally, however, I would never be quite the same again. It was the first time in my entire life that I was actually, genuinely afraid of dying, and that changes you.

My parents never believed me when I told them that I knew I hated horses from the first instant I saw the pony. They always assume it is simply a false memory, that I was projecting my trauma backwards, but I know the truth. From the very moment I looked at that disgusting animal, I knew that there was something terribly wrong with horses.

All this was decades ago of course. I'm an adult now, more than that in fact, I'm retired; a "senior citizen" as they say. I suppose people have started to get offended by the term "old woman". My parents are long since dead and buried and in all honesty I am very likely soon to join them. Perhaps sooner than I deserve.

My home out in the country isn't especially large, nor especially extravagant, and until now it has served its ultimate purpose quite well; to be somewhere cheap where I can live out the rest of my days in relative comfort. It is a simple old farmhouse, small but with two stories, in good repair and relatively easy to maintain, even at my age. The major downside is that it is fairly isolated from the rest of the world, surrounded by fields as far as the eye can see, but up until recently that felt like more of a blessing than a curse. Now however, I long to be in the city, surrounded by concrete and people, far far away from this place. All because of the Horse.

I cannot help but capitalize the word when I refer to this animal, for it is surely the purest and most hateful representative of its kind. It is a Horse to surpass all other horses, the most foul and despicable member of a species characterized by foulness and despicability. It is, to put it quite simply, the Worst Horse.

My first encounter with the Worst Horse was a few weeks ago now I think, perhaps a month, though I must admit I am unsure of the exact date. I was out hanging up some clothes to dry, and I recall it was a fairly pleasant, sunny day. Or at least, it was until the exact moment I saw the Horse. Almost instantly, the wind seemed to pick up, rustling the tall grass and putting a chill in my bones. A cloud passed over the sun, darkening the sky faintly as I stared at the creature across the field. It was staring back at me.

Living out in the country, it is not entirely rare to see the occasional horse, it is simply an unfortunate fact of life, and as much as I despise the creatures it is not within my power to criminalize the act of riding one. However, it is considerably less common to see one unbridled and unmounted, standing utterly still and staring at you with assuredly malicious intent.

I was obviously deeply uncomfortable, and found myself paralyzed, as if I were once again the frightened little girl confronted by that fairground pony. The Horse was similarly motionless. I am not a religious woman, laugh at me all you want but it always felt difficult to keep faith after my first interaction with a horse. I couldn't reconcile the existence of a benevolent creator with the existence of horses. In that moment, however, I wished I had something to pray to.

At first, I couldn't tell quite what was causing such an extreme reaction. It was a shock, to be sure, but I am a grown woman, not a scared child. I shouldn't be reduced to a quivering statue from the mere sight of my phobia, hundreds of feet away. It took me a few moments to realize that it was the Horse's eyes that had disturbed me.

Most herbivores, horses and their damnable ilk included, have eyes that face sideways, in order to give them a better field of view to spot predators. The forward facing eyes typical of wolves, lions, and other such animals are due to their need to effectively hunt down and kill prey. The Worst Horse has eyes which face forwards.

As I came to this uncomfortable realization, a crow went flying past the Horse, its cawing echoing back towards me across the tall grass. There was a flash of movement. The bird's cry was interrupted with an abrupt crunch. The Horse chewed the mass of bloodstained black feathers for a moment before swallowing the pulverized bird with a disgusting gulping motion.

It was at this point that I was able to successfully remember how to move again, and found myself running into the house in a daze, locking and bolting the door behind me before running to grab the shotgun I keep in a locked case for emergencies. By the time I had finished fiddling with the lock and loading the shells, the Horse was long gone, thought I can hardly imagine where it could have vanished to. There is nowhere to hide in these vast, empty fields, and I should have been able to see it even if it had traveled a mile away.

I was hesitant to relay my encounter to any of my acquaintances. I have few living friends, and due to never marrying have borne no children, but I do keep in contact with my brother on a somewhat regular basis, and generally try to call him whenever anything interesting happens. In this case, however, I worried that he may question my sanity. Tales of disappearing, carnivorous horses are hardly a sign of mental stability after all. This is not to mention the fact that he is well aware of my aversion to horses, and treats it somewhat disrespectfully as a bit of a joke. Given the probability of being treated like a lunatic or a clown, I decided to keep the entire affair to myself.

A few days passed before I saw the Worst Horse again, although that didn't stop me from feeling paranoid whenever I dared to go outside in the meantime. It was around 11 o'clock at night, and I had woken up in bed with the most unnerving feeling of being watched. My bedroom is on the second story of the house, perhaps not a good idea at my age but frankly I always liked the slight bit of exercise from going up and down the stairs. This made it particularly disturbing to see the Horse's long, terrible face staring at me hungrily through my bedroom window.

I found myself once again paralyzed, feeling rather as though I were a rat staring up at a king cobra. I must have sat there for minutes, eyes wide in pure terror of that awful, terrible Horse. It was slightly too dark to get a very clear look at it, but I could make out those evil, predatory eyes and the faint gleam of its teeth. I could swear neither of us blinked during the whole time we watched one another. Eventually, the face lowered down beneath the windowsill, slowly, maintaining eye contact until the last possible moment. I heard a faint snort that, for the life of me, sounded like laughter, followed by the clopping of hooves as it rode off into the night.

I didn't see the Worst Horse for a while after that, but I could tell it was still lurking around the property. I would find piles of dung with shattered bits of bone sticking out of them, and would occasionally hear the faint sound of whinnies or the clopping of hooves drift down on the breeze. On one occasion I heard it skulking about the back of the house, snorting with that derisive, almost human laughter. I just kept very still, waiting for it to go away. There was another sound, a sort of gagging, retching noise followed by a wet splat that made me feel sick to my stomach, and then I could hear the Horse galloping off. I waited for quite a while before checking the back door to make sure it was gone.

When I did, cautiously creaking open the door ever so slowly, I found a pile of hundreds of faintly yellowed horse teeth on the back porch, covered in a thick translucent slime. I put on some disposable rubber gloves and tossed them all into the garbage.

I took to leaving the gun case unlocked, and would frequently wander around the house with the loaded shotgun in my hands. I didn't leave the house very often anymore, I was always just waiting and listening for that infernal Horse to come back. I still didn't tell my brother. This was just something I felt that I had to deal with on my own.

It was 3 days ago that I woke up in the middle of the night to loud thumping hoofbeats, as if the Horse was trying to break down the walls. This time, I was prepared, I had fallen asleep with the shotgun leaning upon the wall by the bed, and I was fully ready to use it. I had taken to sleeping fully clothed, so after putting on my shoes I marched outside, looking for any sign of that awful, terrible, wretched Horse.

I found it. It stood atop the house, silhouetted against the full moon, staring down at me with those ghastly forward facing eyes.

This was the first time I'd seen the Worst Horse up close and clearly, and it was so much worse than I could have ever imagined. It opened its jaws in a wide yawn, revealing rows upon rows of blunted, huge teeth, seeming to occupy almost the entirety of its mouth. Its fur was covered in the thick frothy sweat typical of horses, but it seemed slightly yellow in color, and gave off a noxious steam in the night air as if it were some sort of acid. The worst part, however, were the legs.

Did you know that horse legs are, anatomically speaking, toes? The reason there is but a single hoof is because that is its toenail. There is a medical condition called polydactyly, in which one possesses additional fingers or toes. In horses, this typically results in additional, smaller hooves sticking out at odd angles from the rest of the leg. In the case of the Worst Horse, however, it just meant that it had multiple stunted, twisted limbs branching out where they ought not to be, some just twitching faintly, others sprawled against the roof of the house like some sort of horrible spider.

I wanted to kill it. I wanted to unload two barrels of hot lead into the thing's disgusting, horrific form, to end this nightmare and allow me to live out the rest of my life in peace. I raised the gun to my shoulder and took aim, lining up both barrels to the horse's general direction as best as I could with my shaking arms. The horse took a step closer, still staring, daring me to act, daring me to pull both triggers.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't will my fingers to move. It was as if I was a statue. My mind screamed at me over and over again, overwhelmed with hate and fear, shrieking out kill it kill it kill it but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't do anything.

The Horse whinnied with cruel, inhuman laughter before scuttling off the roof and galloping away, the echoes of its foul giggling fading away into the night. I fell to the ground on my hands and knees and began to sob.

As soon as it was morning, I went to go call my brother, to tell him everything that had happened and to beg him to let me stay with him and get away from this awful place and the Worst Horse. I didn't care if he laughed at me, I didn't care if he tried to get me institutionalized. I just wanted to be out of this place. I dialed his phone number, but nothing happened. There wasn't so much as a dial tone. I tried again. And again. And again. The phone line had been disconnected. Something had cut the wire. I was certain that if I ran outside to check, I would find that it had been severed with a set of far too many blunt, equine teeth.

I decided to simply drive down to the city, get a hotel and call my brother from there. I packed a small bag and was about to get into the car when I noticed how low it was sitting upon the driveway. I inspected closer to find that each and every tire was completely flat, as though they had been kicked repeatedly by sharp, stiff hooves. I was stranded.

I'm trapped here. I don't know why I've been writing this all down. In all likelihood none of this will ever be read. I suppose I just want to get it out of my head, to set everything down on paper to organize my thoughts.

The Worst Horse has been circling the house for a while now, day and night, just running around it in circles and whinnying. At first it was perhaps a hundred yards away, but it's been getting progressively closer and closer, spiraling in towards the house. I keep the shotgun with me at all times now, though I'm not sure if I intend to use it to fend off my tormentor, or in case I prefer an easy way out rather than being left to the mercy of its sharpened hooves and rows of blunt teeth.

I wrote earlier that I didn't believe in God, but that's not entirely true anymore. I think that the Worst Horse is God, and I know in my heart of hearts that it hates me just as much as I hate it.

- - -

The above note was recovered from the home of Gladys Rosewood in the summer of 1990, after a wellness check was called for by her brother, Stephen Rosewood. Police found that her home appeared to have been broken into, with the door smashed in and significant signs of struggle within the house itself. A double barreled hunting shotgun was found on the premises, one shell fired, and pellets of buckshot were found embedded in a wall nearby. There was no sign of Ms. Rosewood anywhere on the property, and it is unclear where she could have gone. Most curiously, dozens of muddy hoofprints were found through the premises, including on the walls and ceiling.

Further investigation has failed to locate Ms. Rosewood, and due to the absence of any additional evidence the case is considered cold and she has been declared dead in absentia.

#horror #horror fiction #horror story #equinophobia

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dema-heart · 1 year ago

Text

Not you...please not her

Hobie x starlet (fem! Reader)

I made a whole Spotify Playlist based on this pair's love but can't bring myself to work on the story beside random shorts and very small add ons🤦🏾‍♀️. Anyways,let me know if you want to listen to it!

Bit of context at the bottom. There's a short drabble on my page called dream boy that's also about these two. I just like making it to where it's x reader so others can enjoy!

Warnings:

Swearing

Falling

Pov changes

If something doesn't make sense let me know! I'm trying to change up my writing but I don't usually write intense,I guess, scenes like this pacing was hard for me!

Hobie and Peter from Earth 862 were wrapping up after fighting and catching an anomaly. They looked over the edge of the roof,checking the damage and preparing to head down to make sure everyone was okay when their spidey senses went off. Confused, they looked around preparing for a fight but seeing nothing.

"You felt that too right, mate?" Hobie asked, turning to Peter ,who had nodded.

Lyla glitches onto their watches before attempting to warn them "the....the..r.e....por...al....M...J....pe..te..er...862....cat..ch." she fades away, leaving both boys more confused than before.

Their spidey sense went off again stronger this time as the purple sunset colored portal opened right above the edge of the roof. They watched in slow motion as Earth 862 MJ fell through, still sleeping peacefully.

Both boys raised their wrist to shoot out a web but it was too late. They watched as she fell past them, almost clipping the edge of the roof.

Hobie dived after her not wasting a second the same time Peter yelled out "MJ" in a panic. Peter looked back to the anomaly he was currently holding down ,it was a goblin variant. Goblin cackled as he'd taken the distraction as a chance to slip out one of his pumpkin bombs.

"Bye bye spiderman" Pete's spidey sense went off again as he quickly grabbed the goblin and jumped to escape the blast.

Hobie was currently diving for you. The wind whipped past him as he reached out to you. You were just out of web distance and hadn't woken up yet, body limp in its relaxed state making the reach harder.

"SHIT!" He swore trying his best to reach you but just couldn't, frustration and fear growing. The fear that this could be one of your Peter's cannon events. The fear that this was another of his cannon events. He snapped out of it shaking the thought from his head. This wasn't a cannon event lyla would have said. Should have said but fuck if he would let anything happen to you.

"STARLET OPEN YOUR EYES! PLEASE. PLEASE GOD DAMN IT! NOT YOU FOR FUCKS SAKE NOT LIKE THIS!" Hobie screamed. The sound of the explosion caused him to look back only to see debris from the roof bomb falling towards you both.

"Shit!" You were right there right fucking there but he turned spidey sense going haywire as he webbed the falling debris knowing if he didn't it'd crush you and the people possibly below.

Growling, he turned back, going back into a dive to get to you again. He watched as your eyes opened slowly. The peaceful look on your face quickly changed to one of panic as the feeling of falling set in.

You could feel the wind whipping around you. The weightlessness that came with free falling but the heavy dread in your gut feeling like it was pulling you toward the ground faster.

You looked up at the masked man in front of you. He was reaching for you, hands out stretched. You couldn't quit hear what he was saying, but you knew he was calling your name. How he knew it was beyond you. Reaching your hands out, a small whimper left your lips when your fingertips touched but couldn't get a good enough grip. You looked up at him with teary, fear filled eyes after you chanced a look below.

"Shit. Shit please come on please, " hobie muttered to himself as he watched your eyes water. He grunted, shooting out a web to grab on to the building, watching your eyes widen as the distance grew again. Before he pushed off the building, hard enough to leave a crater.

Your eyes were closed again as you tried to steady your breathing, confused and scared, but you knew this was a dream it had to be. You'd wake up before you hit the ground and laugh it off with peter when you woke up frazzled. Yeah, that's what would happen... another whimper left your trembling lips as you held in tears.

You gasped as a body collided with yours, opening your eyes, you see the spiked spiderman from earlier. His arms wrapped around you as he shot out a web to try to save you both from hitting the ground.

"Shit..." You could hear the panic in his voice as the web gave a weak attempt at sticking to the building. He tried again, getting the same result he sweared aggressively as he looked down at your worried tear stained face. His web shooters had given their last good web to get him to you after the fight with goblin and the debris.

He whispers words if comfort into your hair as he turns you. His back toward the fast approaching ground, and you cradled into his front. You peaked over his shoulder once before he tucked your head down into his chest. He made promise after promise that everything would be alright. You nodded believing him even as you felt his racing heart under you.

"Close your eyes ,starlet. It's gonna be okay you'll see" He murmured into your eye. You shivered, closing your eyes as you thought about what you'd tell Peter when you woke up. How this dream had to almost be as scary as your in counter with Doc Ock.

Suddenly, the wind wasn't whipping anymore, and your stomach wasn't in your chest anymore. You kept your eyes closed just in case not wanting to open them and start the dream over.

"Starlet...hey..you can open your eyes now" the soothing velvety voice rumbled from the man below you. Still you waited not sure if you trusted it.

"MJ! Are you okay? Talk to me!" The sound of Peter's voice had you cracking your eyes open. You looked around to see a giant web holding you and the spiked spiderman above the ground. Peter was next to you in a spiderman suit, the mask in his hands.

You giggled at that, finding it funny that your subconscious would put your best friend you call spidey in a Spiderman suit. Your laughter shook your core before slowly dying into a soft sob, and both spider boys looked at you in concern.

"Im okay..." You sit up looking above you, then back down at the spiderman under you. "We're okay?.." You hesitate to ask, not sure about anything at the moment. He nods slowly, and you look over at peter and launch yourself at him. Hugging him tight as sobs shake your body. He holds you tight doing his best to soothe you as you rambled about how scary this dream was, just like you said you would.

Hobie lays there watching helplessly as your peter comforts you. He knows you don't remember him but everytime he hopes that just maybe you would. Sighing he gets off the web going to walk past you two. Your hand on his leg stops him and he looks down.

"Thanks pretty boy...I.." You shake your head not sure why that's what you had decided to call him but it felt...right. The eyes of his mask widened as he looked down at you. "I'm sorry I..I don't..." shaking your head as a dull ache starts you let him go leaning against Peter you close your eyes the stress and tears pulling you into a light sleep.

Peter looks up at the stunned hobie with a small smile. He stands, just as back up arrives to help with clean up and relocation of the goblin he'd webbed to the ground not too far away. "Looks like she's starting to remember at least a bit." He pats hobie on the back before cradling you as he opens a portal to earth 862, you guys apartment visible in the flickering opening.

"Tell Miguel I took this one home...and feel free to stop by maybe not inside the house but I can introduce you as a friend of gwen's... She's obviously fond of you. And..." He looks back at hobie as he goes to step through the portal, holding you in a secure grip. "I know you like her. Don't deny it! Maybe interacting with you in her "awake" time would help her remember."

"We'll see, bruv." Hobie slides his hand into his pockets, going for nonchalance, but his eyes quickly shift to you when you stir in Peter's arms. Peter chuckles, shaking his head as he disappears through the portal.

Hobie sighs opening his own back to Hq. Thoughts of M.J heavy on his mind. Pav and Gwen's teasing about mutiversal love coming to the forefront before he shakes his head a small smile under his mask at Peter's idea of seeing you and knowing you'd remember him.

"Pretty boy huh. Couldn't even see my face but you remember that lil calling you picked, starlet"

This is once again based on a story I was working on but haven't finished (it was gonna be long ;^; and it was just for me, so i slacked). Basically, I came up with the whole idea of being a different worlds "M.J." (the characters name starts with a J, and in the story, everyone calls her M.J. aka Ms. Jay as she's a nurse at her old high school). She's best friends/roomates with her worlds Peter Parker (doesn't know he's spider man but jokingly calls him spidey cause hes always acting all heroic and getting himself hurt even tho he's a clumsy nerd *nudge nudge* ). He recently saved her from doc ock but something went wrong during the rescue and she's been mutiverse jumping in her sleep but doesn't know it and always ends up in the spider society beacuse that's where her Peter,the person she feels safest with (for now) aka her anchor is. There's no love between Peter and M.j. because they're basically family, and he has Gwen,that they're both also best friends with.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x fem!reader #rainbow's bookshelf #spiderpunk x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #i cant believe i made a playlist for thid couple guess i should make a tag🤔#hobie x starlet

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