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wickedusername · 8 months ago

Text

Apple Red

Curse!Reader x Mahito || 18+ MDNI

Synopsis:

In which our favorite shape shifting psychopath discovers the wonders of sex with someone equally fucked up in the head, all under a philosophical motif of the Knowledge Argument/Mary's Room, a thought experiment posing that certain mental states can't be known unless you experience them yourself.

A/n: Bringing this over from AO3! It was brought about in my annoyance at every Mahito fic being non-con and others yet thinking the man is illiterate. Listen, he may have been born yesterday but he's read more philosophy than you and me. This has an overarching Mary's room motif, skim it over, your enjoyment will be increased threefold. Just like your cl- Wikipedia article if you can't watch.

Tw: dead dove: do not eat, body horror, sadomaso, asphyxiation/choking, blood kink, double penetration, p in v, anal, murder kink, necrophilia mention, shapeshifting. However!! praise kink, body worship, dirty talk, consensual sex, size kink, no actual murder takes place.

Word count: 6,1k words

Epigraph:

He lowered his abs over your back again and got close to your ear. Licks, pecks and bites peppered your back, popping up in places you know mouths shouldn't be. “The pleasure of your wet, gorgeous pussy, deep and clenching for me… No dead or unwilling thing has it. You'll come for me again, won't you, dearie?

"Absolutely feral” is not enough to describe what was going on between you and Mahito. He groped every part of you, your ass, your thighs, your breasts, the fat on your hips. Arms scratched and pinched at the muscle and fat on every part of your torso with his fingers. All while his tongue licked all over your mouth and lips, swirled around yours, elongated down to your throat. His jaw took in more and more like he would gobble you up. You had your hands way up under his poncho, scratching his back to raw flesh.

This had started as a conversation. You were barely a sketch of a curse, not rivaling the strength of the other ones you knew, but shapely enough to pass as human to those who could see you. You tried your best to mind your own business and stay in hiding, fully aware the persecution of sorcerers could end you in one fell swoop. The unfinished subway station you liked to call home was where you spent most of your time. Nestled between the decaying scaffolding, the staff room was where you sat with him, the only furnished room among the many half-finished nooks of the construction site. The bare surfaces didn't bother you, and the room had remained thankfully untouched in the two or so years since construction was halted and abandoned.

You, however, neglected none of the room. Whenever you had the chance to be around humanoid curses, you made a point to invite them over. You loved to banter and befriend, but just as much as you loved to occasionally hit the jackpot for one that you could sleep with. You didn't care to investigate your origins, but you weren’t born of anything family-friendly, you knew that much.

You'd known Mahito for a while. He was introduced to you by Kenjaku, an annoying body-hijacker who'd seeked to recruit you for his revolutionary cause. You wanted none of it, especially keen on self-preservation, but the two of you had hit it off. Two curses of the psyche had plenty to commiserate about, so you often hung around each other. And you'd just now managed to have him in your nest. Of course it wasn't every time you dragged someone to your staff room that you wanted to fuck them, and you certainly wouldn't mind if it led nowhere. But he was the most human of all curses – maybe of all there were – so of course you wanted to ask him about sex. To your surprise, his opinions were less than satisfactory.

“It's not as good as murder, to be honest.” He tapped the arm of the couch he was slouched on, staring you down with conflicting feelings. It was definitely not what he was here to talk about, but it did leave him curious.

“Are you serious? You've been doing it on things that don't move, haven't you?” It was the explanation you could conoct for why he would think that.

“I can make them move, you know? I've put the parts together, it's just not all that.” He retorted.

“It's about more than the parts. It's the entirety of the person you're with.”

“I've tried full, intact humans. The first one I, uh… killed them by accident. Another one I killed beforehand and they start going cold and don't feel as nice. I kinda gave up after that, I really don't see how it's so hyped.”

“Yeah, that's not the fun way to do it. You're trying to get on the level of fragile, puny humans.” You looked to the side in pure contempt.

The disgust for human weakness nearly seeped out of you. You'd tried humans, and as good as sex was with anyone, you also boasted similar results. You had no need to kill or force, like he likely did. They flocked to you. It was easy, it was your nature. But it always ended in a body to discard. You did wonder, partly, if it was in the inherent fact of being a curse that your drive to fulfill your desire ended in human death. But killing wasn't the drive you yearned for, and you were more than happy to have something that would live to fuck another day. It was the whole reason you enjoyed other curses much more, anyway.

“Alright, I'll bite.” Mahito smiled. “What's the fun way?”

Your lips curled into a smile worth a hundred bucks. Now here you were, gripping his hair, licking his teeth and waiting eagerly for what came next.

Mahito lifted you up into his lap with what seemed like two arms wrapping around your thighs like thick belts. Two others squished and pulled on your asscheeks, torturing them, digits slipping forward to tease your clothed entrance from below. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, even though you didn't need to make much strength to be carried around. Against your belly, his hard-on pushed a tent on his leather pants. He pulled away from you with a laugh.

“This really isn't bad!”

“We haven't even started.” you leaned into his ear, scraping your lips against it before biting hard at his earlobe. “The fun part is that you can fuck me up”.

His eyes gleamed with fun and desire.

“How?” He pinned you against one of the walls. His smile was unnaturally wide, tugging at the muscles of his cheeks, pushing them up against his lower eyelids that squeezed against his fiery wide glare.

“However you want.” Your own stare burned with passion, knowing the idea of destroying you would fuel his fire to the maximum.

His dick twitched in his pants, achingly hard. A fifth arm stretched out of his stitched, toned right shoulder. His hand caressed the side of your face, combing your hair slowly back, tucking it behind your ear, before gripping your face roughly and pushing your head against the wall. He deformed it, veins and muscles bulging and pulsing in waves through your face and down your neck, while you healed up, undoing his damage and rolling your eyes back into your head. You savored his torture. His mismatched eyes burned with glee and he laughed, near maniacally, at your enjoyment.

“You-! You are too much fun!” He licked his lips and continued to cackle, like he had a front seat in the world's best joyride.

“More from the inside.” You teased. You lowered your hand to his pants and wrapped your fingers around the outline of his dick. He hissed as you stroked him, making you bite your lip at the sound.

The hand that was deforming your face stopped its transfiguring and moved to the top of your head, where it pulled your hair. He pressed your body further against the wall, giving you enough stability to bring both your hands to his pants, unzip them and allow his cock to spring free from the leather. You wrapped your hand around it and stroked him. Starting at the base, where it sprouted through the patch of brown fur that framed it, all the way to its pink round head. Your other hand caressed his abdomen, circling and clawing at the stitches in his cum gutters.

Mahito moaned and bucked his hips into your touch, squeezing your ass and thighs harder, pulling on your hair tighter. His eyes fluttered and his mouth hung open, before his sight landed on your chest, rising and falling under your tight fit shirt.

You encouraged him with a hum and the hand that was pulling your hair moved downwards, where its forearm split into halves. They promptly scrunched the cloth at the neck seam, one on each side, and ripped it apart, turning it to a cluster of circular tatters hanging from your waist and arms. His lips let out a long loud breath with the aftersound of a suppressed moan, almost like he was trying not to drool at the sight. He buried his face in your chest with nothing but nirvana in his mind.

You held the back of his head and nuzzled his hair as you kept stroking him, his pleasure-filled expression hidden between your breasts. Your breaths were heavy, and he would not stop letting out quiet grunts at your handjob. His hands roughly massaged your ass and the flesh belts around your thighs cut circulation to your feet, making them tingle. The arm that had split in two reunified, being joined by a sixth on the left side, and they both fondled your breasts. Mahito squeezed his face between the mounds and placed unrestrained bites and licks on them. When he felt himself getting close, he placed his lips against your ribs and muttered into them.

“You were right. I need the rest of it. I need to get in you.”

Mahito gripped your shoulders and slammed you against the wall once again, making you fumble the stroking rhythm you had. With the other pair of arms he gripped your asscheeks like rough dough and pulled you against him, rubbing his dick over your crotch. His nails dug in to the point of piercing cloth.

He brought his arms down from your breasts to fumble with the string of your pants. Unable to pull them or rip them away because of your legs around him, he turned around and let go of your ass, making you fall head-first into the floor. An unpleasant cracking was heard and blood splattered in a beautiful halo around your head, and you just healed the concussion shut. The only thing off the floor were your legs, still held at the sides of his hips. He stepped back and pulled your pants off with two hands at the rim and the two belts at the thighs, now sliding down to your knees and shins. When the pants were off, he tossed them to the side and recoiled the belts back into his body.

With now four arms, he crawled over you and pressed your legs apart. Mahito ripped the underwear you had like it was made of paper, throwing the pieces to the side. He held his dick in one hand, gently rubbing the head against your labia.

“God, I'm going to ruin you.” He grinned with a sing-sing tune of pure glee.

You grabbed him by the poncho and pulled him down to your level so you could talk.

“Think I'm not already rotten?” You whispered into his ear and licked your bottom lip, awaiting his response.

Instead of a witty remark, he just buried himself into you until bottoming out. He bit his lip and swallowed a big gulp, and you salivated with lascivious anticipation watching the stitches on his neck rise and fall from the movement.

“Fuck… This is good.” He muttered almost resentfully.

He threw his head back and enjoyed the feeling of your warm cunt. It was slicker than whatever he had before. Deeper. Warmer. Everything about the real thing, with the wetness and interaction of a willing participant, didn't compare to what he had done to transfigured humans, or to corpses, or to himself. Snapping back to reality, he started moving, and without much buildup he went right to pumping into you repeatedly. He was not at all mindful of still having his clothes on, of being on the cold floor, or even recalled being able to transfigure you while he was at it. All he could enjoy was the feeling.

You gripped the cloth falling over his back and started bunching it over his stitched shoulders, tucking his hair out of the way. When you got to the rim, you pulled the poncho over his head and he carelessly shoved it aside, shaking it off of the single arm that was stuck in its segmented sleeve. His hair fell forward with the movement and it now hung over you, grazing and tickling your chest. The view of his abs over you as he pounded was significantly better than a damn windowpane poncho.

Your own hands were busy as you tugged forcefully on a strand of his hair and decided to touch yourself, bringing about the familiar buildup of heat and electricity in the pit of your stomach. He noticed your hand and soon had it joined by an extra mouth, sprouting comically forward from his lower abdomen, right through his treasure trail. The mouth licked right with and over your fingers, and soon you were holding your pussy open for him, pressing down on your labia with your fingers. Their occasional twitching, your body's way to dispel some of the tension it was building.

“Do you want to feel what it's like when something comes around you? When they squeeze with you inside?” You teased, coaxing dirty talk out of him.

“I do… Come and scream my name. Fuck, I want to watch your face while you do it.”

“Then fuck me harder…” You mewled. His thrusts got stronger and he brought one of the arms sustaining his torso to grip your shoulder and push you harder against him with every pound. Your back chafed against the concrete, ripping at the skin of your scapulas. The mouth on your clit latched on and flicked its tongue around, catching the bud repeatedly.

Mahito lifted the last arm that sustained his torso from the floor, putting his weight on your thighs with the other pair. It forced them higher. It made your muscles sting. You unfolded your knees and placed your calves on his shoulders, and the position was riveting. He placed that hand on your mouth, where he pulled your lips, pinched your tongue, enjoyed the drool. Mahito straightened his back, lifting his torso away from your face. He ended up gripping your lower jaw like a handle, his knuckles under your tongue and thumb pressing into the soft spot under your chin. His nails cut the bottom of your mouth and he probably dislocated your jaw a couple of times with his thrusting, but fuck if you cared.

Your eyes rolled over as the heat built up higher and your toes curled around nothing. You thrashed your feet about in restlessness and the hands holding your thighs apart just tightened their grip, wavering with the movement of the muscles underneath them. You called out to him as promised and came around him. The pressure washed away in waves, rolling over you one by one in electric spasms. The tongue in the abdominal mouth flattened against your clit and you let it lick a trail slowly upwards. He could barely process his thoughts when the first spasm jolted your lower region.

“Ma- a- Ah!!” you fumbled your attempt to utter his name a second time.

“Ah...! Shit!” His eyes shot open and his mouth hung agape as you clenched around his dick.

He lost the regularity in his thrusting and let his sight glaze over, twitching at the feeling of your slick. The pulse brought him over the edge, and before your orgasm had fully waived he was moaning and pumping sloppily into you, spurting warm cum through your insides. His moans were even louder than yours, and his arms shook from the pleasure. Your half-lidded eyes framed by sweat met his and he had to shut them and turn his head away so he wouldn't be distracted. He moaned with the shivers that ran down his legs, his abdomen spasming and clenching. The abdominal mouth hung and drooled against your crotch, devoid of mind.

“Shit… you got so tight.” Mahito sighed, catching his breath, still coming down from his high.

“Isn't it so nice? You'll have to make me come again if you want more of that.” you giggled, partly trying to convince him to please you harder.

“Oh, I'll do so much more than make you come.” The man shook his head softly and looked down on you with a grin.

He didn't have such an issue as a refractory period. As soon as his dick went soft, he just made himself a new one and pushed that within you instead.

“Ah… More…” you cooed after his first few thrusts and it gave him a brand new idea.

Without ever pulling out, he made his cock a full double its volume. It shifted with delicious waves to the length of his foot and the thickness of a wrist. You bit your lips feeling its growth inside you, expanding your walls tighter. He pulled it out just to tease and even pushing it back took a little effort. The member stretched you open, the friction helped by all the wet and seed already inside. You felt a tinge of pride in your own pussy for taking it. He went right back to fucking. The pounding of this new dick made you feel so delightfully full, and the mild pain of his tip hitting your cervix was nothing but seasoning to your masochism. He wouldn't slide all the way in, instead he just pushed against the spongy back of your pussy until he felt too much resistance and slid back out, again and again.

The hand he once had in your mouth slithered down to your neck, where it was soon joined by the one that held your shoulder. He now had two hands on your thighs and two on your neck. He put his full weight on your trachea, and he seemed to love the feeling of wrapping his fingers around your small chunk of spine and muscle and grip it tight, with full suffocating intent. You couldn't breathe, but you didn't need to. His rhythmic slams against your cunt translated to his fingers digging harder and harder into your flesh, unrelenting as tugs on a zip tie. Pump after pump after pump, the pressure on your neck and on your cervix mixed in your head. They fought for your attention in turns with whichever felt strongest at any given second.

“Ah… I want to kill you so bad. I wanna blow you up into pieces.” Both arms pressed into your neck hard enough to scrunch it thin, folding the skin into rolls. He admired it as its color transitioned in a spotty gradient from pale to pink to red, to near grape under his fingers.

You couldn't talk, but you ran your finger under his chin and up his cheek, up to the stitches near his ear. You gripped the hair at the back of his head with both hands and held the blue-gray strands tight while he rolled repeatedly into you. He hissed in contentment at the feeling of you around him, at the sight of him around you, at the collapsing of your trachea under his hands. It made him way too aroused.

His gaze dropped slowly to your abdomen again and, with an intrusive thought, he decided to push into you until the base of his shaft. The pain stole your attention fully to your nether region. He pushed past any point of comfort into your cervix and gawked at the sight of your abdomen bulging ever so slightly to accommodate him. The sight made his dick twitch with the will to release. The feeling of pushing into your cervix past its intended size put wonderful pressure against his head. He pumped again and immediately had to stop himself because his stomach was coiling in pleasure against his will.

“Shit… I don't wanna come again already.” He let go of your neck and pulled out of you with haste, leaving with a loud sigh.

The curse panted loudly and stood up with laborious effort. He used this break to get his pants fully off. Both gasped for air, though you had much more of a reason. He wormed his legs out one after the other like boneless noodles and threw the pants in roughly the same direction where his poncho sat on the floor.

“You've made yourself such a gorgeous body.” you sat up and reached forward to grip the stitches in his thighs with admiration. You ran your digits over the raised clamps along the scar lines and resisted the urge to lean forward to kiss them. Mahito had kept human legs, even if the hairy patch around his base was still more like fur than pubes. Everything about his body was perfect to you. He snorted.

“You like it?” His smile widened. “How about this?”

With that, he split the dick mercilessly in half and reshaped both semicircles to the same girth as the first. He now had two wonderful shafts of exquisite size hanging from the soft brown fuzziness of his crotch.

“Fuck…” You whined, wordless except for the blushing in your cheeks and the glistening in your eyes. You scooted closer to him and sat up on your knees to get your mouth to the height where it could ghost over the shafts. You held them and fidgeted with their shapes, occasionally running your tongue along them, kissing their sides and cupping his balls. You looked up at him as you placed a hard lick over one of the tips and then the other in succession, tasting the precum that seeped from both. He could swear his balls ached at the sight.

“Get up and turn around for me?” Mahito grabbed both shafts and stepped back to keep you from worshiping them any longer. You bemoaned the loss, but got up and turned your back to him.

He embraced you with care and placed pecks on your neck. Mahito stretched an arm to the side and pushed the small wooden table that sat in the middle of the room against a wall. He walked forward with you until he had your legs pushing against the table’s edge and both of you faced the wall. You watched with wonder and a tinge of horror as a bramble of independent limbs split from his own and wrapped around the table.

Mahito placed a long, breathy kiss on your nape before putting his palm on your back and bending you over. You let him hold your wrists delicately and put them together above your head. He guided your forearms to lean against the wall, where he gripped them tight, making sure your hands wouldn't go anywhere. Two hands stretched from the table only to hold you by the lats, steadying you. Still carefully, the curse rubbed your shoulders and bent over you. He kissed your back and ran his other three hands down your sides, squeezing your anatomy and rubbing gentle scratches on the fats he could grip.

“You are being so wonderful, sweetheart.” Mahito placed kisses all over your back, his hair dragging ticklish paths along your sides. You looked back at him. The mood seemed to shift to something more loving than you ever expected.

“So caring all of a sudden? What's the matter, are you insecure about the b-- ahh?” He immediately shoved the top shaft inside your pussy until the base, shutting up any cocky comments coming out of you. The pain devolved your words into incoherence.

“You don't think I'm some kid, do you? I enjoy your teasing, but I'm inexperienced, not stupid. I'm being nice because I need you to relax if I want them both in.” He patted your butt and rubbed it in circles with both hands. “So you'll just enjoy it for me, yes?”

“I will… Mahito.” The line left you breathless. He was suddenly so much hotter than you'd thought. So far you thought you'd been commanding him, but it hadn't crossed your mind that he knew what he was doing. He knew what he was doing.

As he was standing behind you, he had a perfect view of your entrance dripping for him and he gripped your asscheeks and hummed while looking down at it. The way your back arched so nicely against him when he rolled his hips into you was almost as riveting and the feeling of the bottom dick rubbing against your clit with his back and forth. He pushed a few times, letting his cockhead rub on the hood of your clit, before he reached one hand around your thigh to your crotch. The man felt for your clitoris and then gave his palm a mouth to eat you out with. His fingers sprawled under your entrance, where he kept slowly rocking against you.

“Not that you don't have something I didn't know, but the missing piece was feeling it. I know plenty. It's… a Mary's room situation.” He kept talking, earnest and lost in thought while his hand sucked and licked your clit, mindlessly rubbing and patting your curves in admiration. The second shaft twitched and smeared precum on the back of his hand. “I guess it's just that… I can be too rough for humans to have any of the good stuff, I assumed I just couldn't get it.”

He placed one palm on your back and you felt the most sensitive spot of your clit peek out and expand, becoming bigger, more sensitive. Within your muscles, nerve endings branched and reached, making the pleasure increase threefold. If before you were casually enjoying his eating out, now you spasmed and lost breath as the feeling moved you dangerously up the drop of a roller-coaster. You whined incoherent.

“But you… You've shown me the pleasure in them.” He lowered his abs over your back again and got close to your ear. Licks, pecks and bites peppered your back, popping up in places you know mouths shouldn't be. “The pleasure of your wet, gorgeous pussy, deep and clenching for me… No dead or unwilling thing has it. You'll come for me again, won't you, dearie?”

“Mahito- I'm- Ah, I'm-!” Your breath hitched with the building electricity.

“That's just what I wanted to hear!” He chuckled with a genuineness that felt out of place.

The roller-coaster stopped for only a second at the peak of chilling anticipation before dropping you into a storm of pleasure, washing away. You moaned without thought, the sound echoing against the walls and bringing heat to your cheeks with the embarrassment of your pathetic noises. Your legs shook and threatened to give in, but he had more than two arms holding you tight. As you came off it your heartbeat thumped in your ears, in your chest, in your clit.

He praised you as you came, closing his eyes to enjoy your spasming velvet walls around his dick. You felt like heaven, tight, swollen to all hell, plush, malleable as a squishy toy. He couldn't believe he'd willingly discarded it as literary hyperbole. It could be as good as he'd imagined, and it was breaking him. The red of Mary's apple, sitting right in front of his eyes.

Before your mind was back to the present, he pulled out his cock dripping with slick and pressed the tip softly against your ass. With the hand that ate you out, he gathered as much wetness and he could on his fingers by rubbing them between your folds and brought that hand to your anus, where his fingers entered you to spread it all around.

He now had one hand holding your arms and one in the small of your back angling your ass up at him, another one that thrusted softly into your anus and a final one held his top shaft, preparing it to enter. You had just come off your orgasm when he pushed the shaft inside, slowly against the resistance of your ring. The burn reminded you, what you'd almost forgotten by now, that his dicks were still unpleasantly too big.

You whined and he reassured you with shushes and pats until he was in to the hilt. “You said I can fuck you up and you can't take this much? You're disappointing me…”

“It's not- a complaint.” You clarified. It really wasn't, the noises you produced were entirely reflexive.

Mahito hummed in agreement and held the bottom shaft that peeked between your thighs. He pumped it with his fist to spread the excessive precum that seeped from the tip. It had been dripping, neglected since you last licked it. He curved it towards your pussy and pushed in. You felt stuffed, entirely full, with no space left for yearning, no matter how much arousal had deepened your canal. Especially with both their sizes, it was entirely too much.

“This… is so crazy good. Even when I'm not doing anything else…” Mahito sighed as he slid leisurely back and forth into the holes, fully devoted to feeling. The pleasure of a slick recipient was doubled, occupying more of his mind than anything else had. He gripped the back of your head without looking and felt the sticky matted dirt of blood on your hair.

“Hm? What's this from?” He removed his hand in surprise.

“You… when you got my pants off.” You murmured.

“I like it.” He brought the hand to his mouth and licked the blood off it. “I think I know what I want to do…”

“I don't care what you do, just fuck me… please…” you whimpered, growing desperate at his stalling. You tried remove your hands from his grip, but they were well secured above your head. He ran that thumb over your knuckles in consolation.

“Hm, like this?” He pulled back and slammed into you in mockery.

“Yes! Please…!” you nodded vigorously.

“Is that so? I think I would rather…” He vexed and extended two of his arms forward, where they wrapped around your neck and forehead to pull your head back as far as it could bend. Your neck ached and your mouth opened wide in an effort to relieve his grip on your neck. “Even like that?”

“Anything… please-!” You begged, filling up his sadistic ego.

“Aye aye then…” he cheerfully agreed.

He held your hip with his only free hand and pounded you, over and over, without restraint. The arms that held you stretched unnaturally long to allow him to straighten his posture and pound with his full body. Grunts left his lips that sounded entirely too hot to be caused just by effort.

Mahito kept a steady rhythm and pulled your head back with his hands, forcing every muscle in the front of your neck to stretch taut. Your sight was confined to your forearms rubbing against the unpainted cement wall. His grip on your wrists turned your skin white, outlined by a flurry of red streaks. You spread your pinkies apart, trying to place your fingers on the wall, but barely achieved it, still restrained by his fist.

The hand on your neck twisted your anatomy, sending bulges of vein and muscle through you like shivers, pulsing your entire body with gross transfiguration. Not only that, but it sharpened, the web of this thumb thinning into a blade's edge and piercing into skin with his grip. You gasped in desperation as it started to dig into muscle and tried to heal the cut shut against his hand. He tightened his grip and shook your neck, back and forth, to dispel your effort.

“No.” His hand pierced further. “Let it run.”

Blood dripped down your torso, tickling your chest in its path and leaving sticky ruby trails in its wake. Drips ran down his arm and over your collarbones, contouring the mounds of your breasts, until they could reach your belly and fall to the ground, heavy with accumulated volume, unable to reach any further down and losing their grip on skin from the shaking of his pounds.

The cut burned like fire, stealing your attention from anything else. To get your focus back down, Mahito slammed into you hard and started sliding the shafts in alternating paces. He didn't need to thrust his hips: they pumped autonomously. The feeling was like nothing you'd ever had, either. You attempted to force words out of the hyperstimulating cacophony of sensations he was putting you through, shaking your attention away just to call his name. You bucked your hips backward into his thrusts, helping his movement in the only way you could.

He wrapped two more arms around your waist, gluing his body to yours again, and gripped the softness right below your ribs. You lost count of how many he had. He curved his fingers inward into the middle of your abdomen, sharpening his fingertips into precise blades, piercing at the skin and gripping as if he were going to pull out chunks with his bare hands. He gripped your fat and rammed his hips deliciously as blood ran piping hot down his forearms. The curse moaned and let his mouth hang agape, eyes half-lidded in pleasure, as the inherent eroticism of entering flesh turned him on so bad he thought he might come immediately. The pained cry that left your mouth went from his ears straight to his dick.

“Fuuuuck.” He leaned down and breathed hard against your back. The shaft in your ass twitched, bringing too much tension to his lower belly, relaying the message that with another second his balls would turn blue. You clenched your hole around it, milking it for release, and he couldn’t hold anything back. It pumped your ass full of seed, spewing jets of white inside you. Mahito placed his forehead against your spine and whined, his mouth ghosting over you with a small string of drool below. His fringe caught on beaded sweat and stuck to your back, but still he never stopped pumping. It was all only from the dick on top, the one that had been in you the longest. The one in your pussy still hurt for release, winding a fiery coil in his stomach.

His palms distorted you, shifting your insides so your flesh would compress and release against him. He was using you, making you a flesh toy, providing squeeze in his own terms. It peeved him for being too little effort from you, too close to what he already knew, but just the puffiness of your cunt against him was novelty enough. He didn't care now that he was in despair, pining for a second orgasm that didn't delay much further.

He came for the second time with cries that seemed almost painful and whipped his spine straight, carelessly forgetting himself and pulling on your head enough to snap it backwards. He moaned pathetically with the shakes of every muscle and attempted to rock his hips with faltering success. He let go of the grip in every hand and dropped his sweat-covered frame over you, pushing your body down into the table.

“Ah… ah… are you- alive?” He asked meekly at your limp, unmoving frame. He'd done things that would kill a human a few times, but he wondered if this had been too much.

“I told you I would be.” You replied with equally breathless lilt from underneath.

Happiness painted his perspective in pink and he recoiled all but two arms back while the main pair slithered underneath to hug you tenderly. The sticky layer of blood made his hug that much warmer in the literal sense, giving tangibility to the figurative warmth of his thanks. He pulled you tight into his embrace, and you folded your arms over your shoulders to pat his head on your nape, both waiting for their breaths to settle.

“I know it's been dragging out for long, but still… I don't want it to stop.” Mahito turned to nuzzle the side of your head. “I still wish I had more… more of the things only you can give.”

You pushed yourself off the table, forcing him to slip out of your holes and lift himself off as well. You turned to him and cuffed his chin to bring his lips down on yours, kissing him with sloppy nods, which one could almost mistake for a loving trade of affection. He wrapped his bloodied hands on your back, dragging trails that mixed with sweat to smear more than they should. Your lips separated and your eyes met his mismatched pair, half-lidded and full of wonder.

“Tell me…” you whispered into his lips with confidence he had expected to have snuffed out after all this.

“I want to experience your body more…” He licked his bottom lip, unable to divert his eyes from yours. “Let me find out how much I can dismantle you before you break”.

“If you still have the vigor, I'll give you something that you really never had from your attempts.”

You pushed him backwards, making him stumble with crooked steps and fall on his ass. His smile spread further than humanly possible when you got down and crawled over him, dressed in a stained scarf of blood that licked your entire torso in red.

You kneeled at the sides of his hips and reached down to ride him.

#mahito x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk x reader #mahito #mahito smut #fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #dead dove do not eat

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woso-dreamzzz · 10 months ago

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World Cup IV

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Sweden vs Australia

After the match against Spain, Morsa has to play Australia to see if she can win you a medal. She says that she will and Morsa doesn't like to lie so you trust her.

You play around in the changing room with moster Frido as everyone gets ready and she lets you run around in the atrium before the tunnel for a bit too.

When the match is going on, Momma will come and collect you so you can have food and drink in the box but right now you get to stay with Morsa's teammates.

You step out of moster Frido's gaze when you first meet the other little girl. She's younger than you and she speaks English like Sam does. She gives you a little bracelet and says that she's your girlfriend now because her mummies are girlfriends.

That confuses you.

You don't spend a lot of time with other little girls your age and sometimes adults are easier to get on with.

So, you accept her gift and run off to hide behind moster Frido's legs.

"What's up with you, monster?" She laughs when she notices you poking your head out," Did you miss me that much?"

"I have a bracelet," You say softly and Frido has to crouch down to hear you.

"Really? Where'd you get that?"

You peer around her to look at the little girl who is now being held by someone in an Australia kit. You stay silent.

"Do you want me to help you put it on?"

You hold out your wrist and moster Frido puts it on the moment before the rest of the team comes out and Morsa collects you.

It's her last match of the World Cup and you walk out with her.

She presses a kiss to your head before surrendering you to Momma, who easily hoists you up over the barrier and lets you run wild around the box.

The match is very fun to watch and many times Momma has to remind you that leaning over the barrier is wrong and that you shouldn't do it in case you fall.

You heed her warning each time before completely disregarding it the moment you get vaguely interested again.

Moster Frido manages to score a penalty near the later stages of the first half and you jump up and down and celebrate like the rest of the team does.

Morsa goes down a few minutes later after hitting Sam's head with her chin. You immediately go running off to hide with Momma, unwilling to look as you wait to see what happens.

Morsa gets back up though and carries on playing and you feel you and Momma breathe out twin sighs of relief at the action.

The halftime whistle comes and Sweden is still one-nil up so you take a break from being excited to have a snack.

"What's this?" Momma asks, tapping the bracelet the girl from earlier gave you.

It makes you feel a little weird to look at and you don't fully answer the question. "Momma?" You say," Are you and Morsa girlfriends?"

"Hmm, I guess we are but I always call her my partner."

You think for a moment. "Because you and Morsa are girlfriends, does that mean that I get to have a girlfriend too?"

Pernille feels a little nervous at your line of questioning. You're toeing the line of a conversation that really ought to be had with both her and Magda present though, to be honest, it was coming a lot later than she thought it would.

She knew that you knew that having two mums is different to most other people. She knew one day you would have questions about it. She didn't really know why it was the topic on your mind when Magda was forty-five minutes away from winning you another World Cup medal.

"Well...not if you don't want to," Pernille says, erring on the side of caution," You can have a boyfriend or a girlfriend or no one at all."

"Hmm," You grunt, staring down at your bracelet," Okay. Thanks, Momma."

You don't offer up any explanations and bounce right back to your feet as the teams come back out.

Asllani nets Sweden their second and final goal and you celebrate like they've just won the World Cup.

You're a bit impatient as Morsa gets her medal, fidgeting until she comes bowling over and plucks you from the crowd. One hand supports your body against hers and the other slips her newly won medal around your neck.

It's shiny and a bit heavy and you press a kiss to her cheek in thanks.

"Where'd you get that bracelet, princesse?" She asks as you walk hand in hand over to moster Frido.

"My girlfriend gave it to me," You huff in annoyance.

Morsa freezes. "Your what?!"

"My girlfriend." You pull at it. "She gave it to me 'cause we're girlfriends. Is that how it works? Can I decide that anyone is my girlfriend? If I give Jessie a bracelet, can she be my girlfriend? I think I like Jessie more than my girlfriend."

Morsa's mouth opens and closes like a fish before she sighs deeply. "That's...not how it works. If you want a girlfriend, you have to ask them if they want to be your girlfriend. You don't just tell them."

You think that over for a moment as you come to a stop in front of moster Frido, who is caught up told about everything's that just happened by Morsa.

"So..." You say finally," If I ask Jessie and she says yes does that make her my girlfriend?"

Morsa looks like she's going to start crying or maybe screaming but moster Frido cuts her off.

"You're still little," She says," You don't need a girlfriend just yet."

You think about that for a moment. It makes sense. You don't really need a girlfriend right now. You still have football to think about and you know sometimes Morsa gets distracted by Momma while playing football and they're girlfriends so it's probably best that you go without one until you're the very best.

"Okay," You say," I won't ask Jessie to be my girlfriend."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder #pernille harder x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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theambitiouswoman · 11 months ago

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I have mentored thousands of people. Men, women ranging anywhere from 18-50. Here is a list of things of things that I have found holds people back from achieving their goals.

1. They are very set in their way and are unwilling to learn. Especially If they have achieved a tiny bit of success. Essentially they get very stuck in their ways and close their minds to new strategies and opportunities instead of embracing change.

2. They think they know everything even though they have not accomplished anything in regards to what they’re trying to accomplish. As a result they are unwilling to learn and be open to opinions that’s differ from what they think.

3. They do not believe in themselves.

4. They are emotionally attached to their comfort zone and revert back to it after every minor inconvenience.

5. They think the time investment required to learn anything new is too much to take on so they end up never doing anything.

6. They do not want to change but they want everything to change.

7. They blame everyone else instead of taking responsibility for their own life.

8. They do not have honest conversations with themselves about what they need to work on or what they really want.

9. They are afraid to fail.

10. They do not have a specific goal. "I want to make a lot of money" is not a goal. You have to be specific.

11. They are not willing to give up the habits that have kept them where they are.

12. They are focused on perfection and end up not doing anything.

13. They care too much about approval from their friends and family.

14. They lack time management skills and discipline.

15. They think their goals are unrealistic or unachievable because their current life is so unaligned from what they want. They end up thinking it is impossible or overcomplicating the things they need to do before they even start.

16. They make so. many. excuses.

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seredelgi · 6 months ago

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Just thinking about how bf!Levi would let you know he’s fed up with a social gathering.

pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

tw: fingering, teasing, smut, voyeuristic behavior, alcohol consumption, profanity, explicit language, reader gets tipsy at a dinner, levi wants out, modern au, mature content, 18+

You’re sitting at a restaurant table, listening to your friends talking, drinking a tad more than usual. You start getting tipsy early on, your cheeks turning red. And maybe that’s why you laugh a bit too loud at one of Jean’s jokes, suddenly catching Levi’s attention.

The next thing you feel is his hand gently coming to rest on your thigh. Its warmth spreads against your skin like a fire, but you think of an innocent affectionate gesture at first. As soon as you let yourself giggle again tho, he dips his fingers in your flesh, gripping at it like a silent warning.

You quietly catch your breath at that, starting to feel a bit dizzy. You don’t want to draw attention but you feel like your boyfriend needs yours, so you turn around to find his eyes on you, dark with an intent that you struggle to recognize.

You’re sure you’ve seen it already, however, you can’t put a finger on it right at this moment. So you sigh and turn your attention back on the silly conversation going on just across the wooden table you’re sitting at.

You should’ve known it was coming, if you had read his expression correctly, you could’ve easily anticipated it, maybe even counter-acted it in time.

You try to listen carefully to your friends but it’s made impossible by the way Levi’s hand has started rubbing down your inner thigh, and you suddenly flush, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

You try but fail miserably to feign yourself unbothered, ‘cause he knows you too damn well. He knows you’re trembling at the idea that his hand could scout further up, reaching in between your thighs, right where your heat is now already aching for it.

But you can’t very well indulge in such thoughts. You’re in public, and you’d made him promise to behave and try to make it ‘till the end of at least one dinner this week.

It’s crazy how difficult it’s been up until now.

You blame him. He’s so anti-social, you bet he’s probably not even pretending to care about what Jean and Eren are fighting over right about now.

But you have to be honest, it’s not his fault alone. You’re just too weak to resist him. You could very well move his hand away, even now. You could stop it from skimming past the hem of your skirt, looking for your heat, but you find yourself unwilling to.

So you’re forced to hold back a moan, yet again. You’re forced to focus on trying not to look too flustered or in any way bothered by his fingertips starting to feel you out through the smooth material of your panties. You can feel your juices staining the cotton white fabric already, and you gulp nervously when you catch Mikasa’s eyes looking at you.

You’ve got to dart your hand to seize Levi’s wrist, heart pounding in your throat, eyes probably way too big, languid with both your emerging arousal and the thrilling excitement provided by the risk of getting caught.

Levi looks at you, but your eyes are still on Mikasa.

Luckily she quickly turns to look at Eren, as always.

The breath you exhale then has you dissipating some of the tension gathered up, and you’re not completely conscious of the way you absentmindedly let go of your hold on him.

He’s now free to slip one of his fingers in between the slim space separating your underwear from your naked sensitive flesh. Your hand comes to grip at the edge of your seat, your knuckles turning white as you feel his fingertips trailing up from your entrance to the swelling little nub that’s desperately started aching for his attention. And he knows how to give you just that, with the softest touch, the most exquisite amount of pressure.

He brushes on your clit teasingly, playing with it and letting you squirm a little. You hate as much as he loves how you’re unable to buckle your hips up to meet his touch, unable to move at all. You’re only allowed to wait patiently for him to grant you more.

You just know that he’s gloating at the way your eyes have started fluttering, your chest faltering with the growing intensity of his stimulation on your sweet spot. You bit at your bottom lip to restrain from moaning out loud. But then his middle and ring finger scout down again and you catch your breath in anticipation, so high on it that you barely care anymore who could be watching. Your nipples are perkily peeking through the sheer fabric of the dress you’ve got on, a sight you know he must be enjoying way too much.

It’s when his digits finally push past the soaking wetness of your walls that you can’t resist anymore, finally letting go of a deep breath of satisfaction.

Silence sets among your friends before everyone turns to look at you.

Levi’s stopped. You can’t look at him, but you just know he’s smirking proudly right about now.

You can just hope you don’t look as frenzied as you feel. Breaths short and ragged, you clear your throat and finally feel his fingers slip out, probably already highly confident that you’ll excuse yourself before the situation gets any more awkward. Damn, you hate that he’s won again. But you need him to sate the hunger he’s grown desperate in your lower abdomen, and you want it sated now.

He owes you that.

“ I’m sorry guys, I’m not feeling very well” you manage to mutter, and excuse yourself from the table, leaving everyone confounded and a bit worried, as per usual.

Levi just gives a short nod in their direction and then he’s after you on the way out.

“ I wonder what that’s about…” Jean considers, scratching at the back of his neck.

“ Yeah, she’s always feeling sick lately” Sasha chimes in, stuffing a chicken thigh in her mouth right after.

“ They’re probably going to blow off some steam in the parking lot” Connie wiggles his eyebrows cheekily and smirks to himself.

“ Gross” Eren lets out, eyes rolling “ Why are you constantly thinking about sex, Connie?”

“ Oh, they’re definitely having sex” Mikasa considers, unfazed.

Everyone turns to look at her, but she shrugs and adds no more.

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sunnie-angel · 4 days ago

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Part 12: The Reunion

part 11 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason reaches out for help with his serial killer case. dick comes to help and that goes about as well as can be expected.

tags: complicated sibling dynamics, stalking, fear for one's life, gaslighting, off screen implied sex

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.3k

a/n: thank you so much to everyone who helped me trouble shoot the plot problems i was having with this chapter!

Jason’s gonna kill Dick for this. How Dick had ended up in the middle of Gotham University’s campus at 10:08 in the morning waiting for Jason to show up to a meeting no one had bothered telling him about, Jason doesn’t know. He also doesn’t care, only he can’t have this happening again. Dick wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be the one Jason was meeting with, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to know about this side of Jason’s life at all. Maybe he should have known better. You attract the attention of one Bat, you get them all.

Which fuck, fine, Jason can find a way to live with their nosiness and their disappointment if that means he can keep you safe. What he won’t stand for is them terrorizing you. Jason can tell from a few tense lines of text that you’re nervous, that Dick makes you nervous. Can already see the down-turned lines carving themselves into your cheeks as you glare at him suspiciously. So he plays it off, the little shithead brother looking to stir up trouble with his family, anything to make the hard line of your shoulders soften. He’d dropped everything and broken more than a few traffic laws driving to campus, hoping against hope that for once in his life Dick would actually listen to him.

Jason slows to a fast walk as he yanks the doors to the student union open a little too hard, panicked but not wanting to show it. A muscle in his jaw clenches as he finds the place practically deserted and Dick sprawled out on the bench where Jason expects to find you. There’s the requested chili dog sitting on the table across from Dick and so Jason grudgingly takes the bench in front of it.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jason asks bluntly. He keeps his hands below the table, unable to hide how badly they tremble at seeing Dick for the first time in years without a mask on.

“You know Jay, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you weren’t happy to see me,” Dick says playfully.

Jason grits his teeth. “Well you don’ know better and don’t fuckin’ call me that.”

“Interesting,” Dick murmurs, leaning back in his seat. “You asked for help, I’m here to help.”

“No,” Jason shoots back, “I asked Barbie for help. You’re not Barbara.”

“Babs is busy with her own thing, I wasn’t. Besides, all this info is going back to her anyway, I’m just the messenger.” You were right, Dick’s grin is too wide, especially when it’s forced. Jason snorts.

“You just wanted a chance to be nosy,” Jason scoffs.

“Can you blame me?” Dick doesn’t try and deny it. “Look what you’ve built for yourself Littlewing–” Jason tries not to flinch “–you’ve got a life outside of the capes, just for yourself.”

Jason rolls his eyes at the way Dick honest to god starts to tear up. “Contrary to what B believes, I do have hobbies outside of killing people.”

“And friends,” Dick’s quick to add. “One of them in particular was very protective–”

“People are dead,” Jason interrupts, unwilling to let Dick’s fishing expedition go any further. Jason’s hands clench in his lap. “I asked for help because I haven’t been able to catch the motherfucker, not because I wanted a family reunion. So either be helpful or leave.”

“Fine, fine!” Dick puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Give me what you’ve got and I’ll get it all back to Babs.”

Finally, finally the conversation moves past the unsubtle prying and back to the problem that has had Jason grinding his teeth again in the few hours of sleep he now manages. When it comes down to it, Dick is a reliable partner, focused and attentive on all the details and getting as stubbornly focused on catching this killer as Jason is. It’s... nice in a way, to finally have a conversation that doesn’t end in screaming or entreaties to come back home. Dick’s– Dick’s finally listening to Jason. Only interrupting to ask questions about the things actually coming out of Jason’s mouth and not just the things that Dick’s trying to hear from him. All because some sicko decided that some women shouldn’t be allowed to breathe anymore. It would be nice, if the reason why didn’t make the acid in Jason’s stomach churn. The chili dog ends up in the garbage.

There’s eyes on you. Following you. For at least the last week the hair on the back of your neck has been standing up at random intervals. The paranoia that’s been dogging your steps ever since the first girl was found dead has been keeping you on edge, pulling the worst things from your imagination into reality, but this time you know its true. Hanging around Jason – the Red Hood – has taught you to look up more often, to scan the skyline for a familiar silhouette. What you see perched on top of the building down the street is not familiar.

You slam the door to your apartment shut, locking it up before sliding down against it. Your breath comes in heavy pants. Maybe, maybe it was just one of the city’s vigilantes, you try and reason with yourself. But you know that the only one that haunts this side of town is Jason, and whoever it was on that rooftop was not Jason.

Heart in your throat, you creep through your apartment, a foreign land in the darkness. Back to the wall, you use the edge of one finger to pull the blinds back a smidge, just far enough you can peer through it without the appearance of anyone being home. The streetlights are just bright enough outside that you can make out the figure still lurking on the building opposite yours.

Your nightmares always go something like this. Chased, cornered. Alone with the monster scratching at your door. It’s long leans limbs are nothing like Jason’s, it’s too short to be his frame. It moves with a fluidity that is so alien from Jason’s bullheaded focuses your brain clangs with the wrongness of it.

Your hands shake as you fumble for your phone in your pocket. It doesn’t even finish ringing once before Jason picks up.

“Jason?” you whisper, unable to tear your eyes away from the figure.

“What’s wrong?” his voice is tinged with alarm.

“There’s– there’s someone watching my building. I swear m’not imagining it, there’s someone watching from the roof across the street. I don’t– I don’t know what to do.” You break down on the last word, terror clawing through your chest as how violently alone you are won’t let you ignore it any longer.

“I’m— huff – on the way. Stay on— stay on the line— huff – and lock the doors,” Jason pants down the line.

You murmur something, probably your agreement, and then sit on the cold wooden floor of your bedroom frozen in fear as you pray to whatever deity might be out there that Jason will get there in time. The figure starts to move just as snowflakes start to cut through the beam of the streetlight. It disappears just seconds before Jason’s recognizable form goes careening across the rooftop.

“There’s— pant— there’s no one here,” Jason puffs and your fingers curl tighter around the hard edges of the phone.

“But there was. Someone was just there, I’m not imagining it,” your voice wobbles with desperation as you try to keep what’s real and what’s just the paranoia straight in your mind.

“— I believe you,” he says, but you’ve already heard the hesitation there. You swallow thickly.

“Will you– will you stay with me for a bit?” You ask, hating how needy it comes out.

Later when you’re lying in bed, the warm steady beat of Jason’s heart under your cheek, you can’t shake the feeling that something about the stranger’s silhouette was familiar. Nothing you can quite place, but still it itches at the back of your mind as you trail delicate patterns into Jason’s skin.

There’s only 8 minutes until class starts and the coffee shop you’re in is a 10 minute walk away from the building so understandably you’re in a rush to grab your order and go. You spin around, burning liquid caffeine clenched gratefully in your fist, and promptly nearly spill it all down the front of the guy that’s standing way too close to you. His hand snaps up with a startling speed to steady you and disaster is narrowly avoided.

“Sorry!” You call out only you look up and make eye contact with Jason’s still smiling brother and freeze.

“No worries, it was my fault for being too close,” he tries to apologize charmingly. “I was hoping to run into you again, I want to—”

“Sorry I’m running late, maybe another time,” you interrupt him and flee the coffee shop.

All through class you can’t help but to think over the encounter. That was weird right? Him showing up to a student cafe on campus, standing so close he was almost on top of you. It was definitely weird. Again something at the back of your brain itches but you can’t quite figure out why.

Jason’s waiting to walk you home from class, collar turned up against the cold and hands firmly tucked into his pockets. He neatly slides your bag over his shoulder and waits for you to finish mulling over whatever it is that has you so distracted.

“I thought I ran into your brother earlier,” you start, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Who, Dick?” He scoffs. “Probably not, he’s in Bludhaven.” You frown. That’s only two hours away. “Besides, he doesn’t come back to Gotham that regularly anymore. The other day was a special one off.”

Except it had to have been Dick because he’d tried to talk to you. Either Jason’s lying, or he doesn’t know his brother as well as he says he does. You hope he’s not lying.

Jason feels bad about lying. Well, not about Dick always being in Bludhaven – from the little he knows, Jason’s reasonably sure Dick’s been visiting to mentor Talia’s little demon regularly – but Dick definitely hadn’t been in Gotham today. In fact, Dick had blown off Jason’s offer to meet earlier while you were in class because of his own fact finding mission. It was probably just some other cheerful guy with a similar build and colouring. He covertly observes the roof across from your building for any hint of Nightwing blue when he double checks your locks. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

Dick’s early to the rendezvous point, a pointedly 3 blocks east of your apartment building and just on the edge of the territory Jason has greedily claimed as his own. The wind’s not so bad tonight, snowfall remaining unlikely on the forecast when Jason had checked it earlier. That doesn’t stop Jason from shivering in his steel toed boots as the temperatures trend towards freezing.

“Oracle hasn’t found anything you hadn’t discovered already,” Dick tells him upfront. “It’s not that he’s particularly tech savvy, just lucky.” Jason swears.

“Asking for help was meant to, you know, get help,” he snarls. “I’ve got nothing to show but you sticking your nose into my life.”

“Show to who?” Dick asks. Jason chooses to ignore the question.

“At this rate another girl’s gonna get taken tomorrow night and you know we won’t find her alive,” he reminds Dick.

“That’s one thing I did notice. All the girls – he’s got a type, a very specific one. Hair, eyes, ethnicity, all of it the same. And I couldn’t help noticing at the coffee shop that they’re all a match for your friend.” Dick levels his gaze at Jason, impassive behind the domino.

“I can want my friend safe and still want justice for the others too,” Jason says, hurt at the accusation he’s worried is going unsaid.

“That’s not what I— look, does she know about this,” Dick gestures to Jason’s Red Hood getup.

“Might,” Jason hedges, unsure of where this is going.

“So she matches the victim profile and she knows enough to trust you to protect her,” Dick heaves out a sigh. “I don’t think we’ve got much choice, our usual methods just aren’t turning anything up.”

“You want to use her as bait,” Jason says, the flat affect of his voice modulator turning his words into a blade. Dick flinches but nods. “You said “at the coffee shop”. You didn’t meet her at the coffee shop you met her in the middle of the food court.”

“I guess I misspoke,” Dick shrugs. “Coffee shop, food court, close enough.”

Jason may not have lived under the same roof as Dick for years but still he can tell when Dick is lying. He’s lying right now.

“She thought she saw you earlier today. Was kinda spooked about it actually,” Jason takes a menacing step towards Dick. “You wouldn’t do that Dickie, would you? Lie to me about being somewhere else so you could go and stalk my— my friend. You wouldn’t be lying to my face right now would you?” There’s a growl to Jason’s voice and boots are making heavy, even thuds as he prowls closer. Dick backs away.

“She called you Jay—” he starts but Jason cuts him off.

“I DON’T CARE WHAT SHE CALLED ME!” He roars. “YOU LIED TO ME DICK!” Jason is very, very glad he’s wearing the full helmet tonight. Tears don’t show through layers of plastic and metal. “You lied, Dick, and I believed you. I believed you over her and I should have known from the start because you and B always do this. You try to manage me. I’m done. Tell Barbie to figure out another messenger because you’re not welcome here anymore.”

Jason turns and runs for the edge of the building. The grapple catches and he feels the pull of it heavy in his shoulder. Whatever Dick shouts after him gets lost in the wind.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #ydcmb (uibyt) series #sunnie writes 🌻

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fayes-fics · 10 months ago

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 6 - J'ai Dansé Avec L'Amour

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none, really… some kissing and some awkwardness

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Well, this isn't the wedding yet, but it's them both dealing, rather awkwardly, with the idea of getting married as they grapple with their attraction to each other. The wedding will be the next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Eloise whispers into the inky blackness.

“What other choice do I have?” you whisper back, unwilling to admit how weirdly calm you are about the scheme.

You are lying in the spare room of Solène’s sister, Marie and her husband Jérôme’s cottage. Sharing the compact double bed, shoulders touching as you converse quietly. It must be after 2am. Benedict chivalrously insisted on taking the sofa downstairs despite being stuck on yours in Paris for the last few days.

“I still say we should find some forgers,” Eloise opines; you can hear the shrug in her tone. “You shouldn’t have to go through with a marriage to my brother just to escape.”

“It’s fine,” you placate, waving your hand dismissively, although likely unseen.

“What about Stanley?”

“I’m sure he will understand when I can eventually get home,” you fib.

There is a brief lapse into silence, and outside somewhere, an owl hoots.

“You know we may have to bribe someone to do this regardless, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” you frown, turning your head to face her.

“There are rules about residency for French civil marriages, and you’ll need identification neither of you have with you, like birth certificates,” Eloise points out.

“Ohhh…” you stutter, feeling sheepish you didn’t even know that.

“Although… Jérôme is the mayor of Montivilliers…” Eloise offers thoughtfully. “And he is sleeping just through that wall…”

“He can marry us?” You’re unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

“If he’s willing to overlook a few things… yes… he could marry you in the Town Hall.”

Internally, you are celebrating even as you try to temper your excitement.

“Then, for my sake, let’s hope he is,” you answer, attempting to sound gravely concerned.

Eloise hums sleepily in response, and it’s your last words before she drops off. You lay awake for what seems like hours, staring up at the beam of moonglow on the whitewashed ceiling. A myriad fluttering in your stomach—a cautious optimism that this could work, a strange excitement at the thought of marrying Benedict, and a vague dread that your family could still be upset if it all works out.

—

A light, dewy mist lingers in the garden outside the kitchen window as you sip coffee the following morning. A moment of solitary contemplation that has you considering a telegram to your family but deciding against it. Until you know if you can get out of the country, it seems pointless to make them more concerned than they already are.

“Dress shopping?” Eloise asks over a yawn as she plops into the seat next to you at the rustic wooden table in the kitchen, breaking your reverie. “For the wedding…” she adds when you frown nonplussed.

Oh.

“I, umm, was just going to use one I already have, to be honest. That off-white silk tea dress?”

Eloise cocks her head to the side in thought. “Hmm, that might just work - that can be your something old. I have a little faux fur stole you can wear to dress it up - something borrowed. I know you have some powder blue underwear, so we only need something new!”

“You believe in that stuff?” you frown, taking a sip. It seems so anachronistic for her. You also decide not to ask how she knows about your underwear.

“I know it's not…” she leans in, likely worried about prying ears, mouthing the word ‘real’, before continuing at her regular volume, “...but best not to tempt fate,” she raises a pointed eyebrow, silently reminding you of what is at stake.

“Good point,” you concede as she gets up to grab some fruit.

“Your humble sage at your service,” she jests, taking a comedic bow.

“But we still have to ask Jérôme…”

“Ask me what?” a genial, heavily accented booming voice rings out from the doorway.

“This one and my brother have gone and fallen in love,” Eloise explains, rolling her eyes. “The soppy idiots want to get married in France as soon as possible. I don't suppose you could help, could you? It would be their dream come true and so very romantic, non?”

She appears to be piling on the theatrics, but you see that winning smile, the one she deploys whenever she manipulates an unsuspecting man to get her way. Sometimes, you swear it is almost too easy to navigate the world as an attractive Bridgerton.

“Pour vous, ma petit chou-fleur, peut-être…” he responds, an avuncular glint in his eye. It is evident from this interaction and the previous evening when you arrived that Marie and Jérôme have spent time with Eloise, likely in Paris with Solène.

“Merci Jérôme!” she celebrates, kissing his cheek as he affectionately chuckles. “Demain?” she adds cheekily.

“Mon dieu Eloise,” he exclaims as he grabs a croissant, “C'est très bientôt!”

You try to listen in as they rapid-fire converse in French, but you only follow along with every few words, maybe something about paperwork, but really, you are not sure. It mostly seems fond exasperation on Jérôme’s part, so you sit hopeful, just as Benedict wanders in.

“Ah, the other love bird!” Eloise cuts away from their chat. “I know you want to get married so quickly, but please do not make out too much in front of Jérôme!” she titters pointedly at Benedict, her eyes cutting from him to you.

Benedict seems to cotton on very quickly, and you startle as he leans down and brushes a featherlight kiss onto your cheek.

“Bon matin, mon amour,” he rumbles, his minty breath warm, causing goosebumps to break out over your arms.

“Morning, my love,” you whisper back stutteringly, the words almost tacky on your tongue, your mouth suddenly so dry. Your eyes meet, and it's the closest you have ever been, captivated by the tiny flecks of colour in his iris. He doesn't look away, and you seem unable.

“Oh oui, je le vois, l'amour vrai… ” Jérôme mutters quietly across the room. “I will see what I can do,” he offers in English as you finally tear your eyes away, him giving you a nod before he takes his leave.

“Well done!” Eloise enthuses quietly with a big thumbs-up gesture once Jérôme has left the room. “Really convincing!” she adds before twirling out of the room with an apple jammed in her mouth.

“Sorry about that…” Benedict offers, a little flustered.

“No, please…” you can't think of anything else to say, almost tongue-tied as you replay his kiss on your cheek like a looping projector reel, wanting to add ‘do it again’, a tingle still lingering on your skin.

There are a few beats of awkward silence where he seems on the precipice of saying something, but you are almost afraid to hear it, as if worried he wants to conjure an excuse to back out.

“I…I need to buy my something new!” you exclaim, jumping up and scurrying out of the room, leaving Benedict mildly perplexed about what that might even mean.

—

After a successful trip into Le Havre, where you and Eloise found your ‘something new’ - a pair of ivory Mary Janes that will complete your outfit - the day ends with Jérôme and Marie taking you all to a local restaurant. A delicious meal of many courses with flowing carafes of wine under the bright red canopy outside. It turns into one of those late nights with convivial conversation and bonding with strangers.

A band strikes up in the cobbled square, and after a few numbers, Jérôme drags Marie up to dance as the three of you cheer.

“Les tourtereaux!!” Jérôme exclaims after the song ends, gesturing for you and Benedict to join them on their makeshift dance floor.

“Non..non!” you protest, gesturing a no with your arms and laughing, a languid feeling in your bones from good food, drink and conversation.

But it appears he won't take no for an answer, and as Marie giggles and applauds, Jérôme marches over and grabs you both by the elbow, hauling you to your feet.

“Danse!” he commands.

You and Benedict exchange slightly nervous looks but emboldened by wine; then you gasp as a strong arm wraps around your back, and your other hand slides into his.

“Just go with it,” he breathes into your hair, and suddenly, you are spinning, the stars above you twinkling, as he leads you expertly in a swing dance.

“Mr Bridgerton, you can dance!” you exclaim in blithe amusement, clinging to him as you move together in a balletic union.

“As can you, Mrs Bridgerton!” he peels carefree.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you lose your footing. Benedict has to grab hold and haul you back upright before you collapse onto the cobbles.

“Sorry…” he blusters, his arms still around you, “I…I wasn't thinking…”

“No, no. That will indeed be my name…” you stumble, almost as if that is only just occurring to you now. “I'm just getting used to it, that's all,” you lie, knowing that is not why you lost your footing.

He seems to accept that with a nod, and after a beat, you begin to move again, tentatively, Until the wine takes over and you are once again both giggling and dancing, his arm a strong brace around your back as you move together for many minutes, a joy fizzing in your veins.

At one point, you glance over and see Eloise with an odd expression on her face before she orders a drink from the waiter, but Benedict whips you around, and you get lost in the dance and in him. The feel of him wrapped around you at once safe and exhilarating.

“Kiss!” comes the yell from Jérôme as the song ends.

“You know, he's not going to shut up until we do it,” you raise, a little breathless from the dancing.

Without you having to say anything else, Benedict’s hands grasp around your waist, and you are lifted off the ground, taller than him. Then he tilts his head up and captures your lips with his.

Time stops.

The feeling is like an explosion and a perfect calm silence all at once. His lips don't open, but they don't need to - even this gentle kiss is a soft, sensual plushness that obliterates all your thoughts. A lingering tang of wine on his slightly dampened lips that you want to lick off, a plunge of lust in your belly that has you fighting the urge to wrap your legs around his hips and open your mouth, demanding a real kiss.

His hands slide around your back in a gentle cage as he lowers you to your feet. What upends you is the breathtaking look in his eye when he finally pulls away, pupils blown, face soft and full of yearning. You could never tire of that look.

“Get a room!” Eloise yells, and there is an uncharitable tart edge to it that breaks the spell and makes you look over at her. She appears much more inebriated than she was before.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your hands still wrapped around Benedict’s biceps, warm through his shirt sleeves.

“I think she ordered absinthe, so maybe not,” he answers, and you feel a pang of sadness as he releases his hold and gestures gentlemanly for you to walk ahead, to return to the table, the moment lost.

Half an hour later, Benedict and Jérôme are on either side of Eloise, helping her back into the cottage, much worse for wear. They get her to the sofa, where she promptly passes out and begins to snore lightly. Marie covers her in a blanket, and you realise it's unlikely you will be able to move her tonight.

“Well, you two will have to share the bed. But do not worry, I shall not tell your families,” Jérôme winks. “I can’t say Marie and I were saints before our marriage,” he adds with a tap on his nose and an uproarious chuckle.

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. Panic, excitement, and apprehension all bubbling up inside—a volcanic eruption in your gut. You trust him not to take advantage; it’s yourself you don't trust.

Jérôme wraps an arm around both of your shoulders, red wine heavy on his breath “Oui, I will marry you tomorrow, mes amis. I can overlook some rules for a true love like yours.”

With that, he takes his leave, with you and Benedict left looking uncomfortably at each other, unsure if you should celebrate. That feeling remains as he suggests you go up first and get ready for bed, and once you are nervously tucked under the covers as he enters from the bathroom, those broad shoulders framed with a white t-shirt and the same bottoms he wore in Paris when you watched him sleep.

“I really wish I'd packed a proper pyjama set,” he sighs ruefully as he approaches the other side of the bed and slips under the covers, seemingly arranging himself right at the far side. “I'm also so sorry about Eloise landing us in this situation. I can't believe she was that irresponsible,” he adds with his back turned but an unmistakable tinge of irritation in his tone.

Even then, it’s a small bed, and you can feel his body heat radiating under the covers.

“You don't have to cling to the edge,” you offer hesitantly, “we are to be married after all…”

The last words are a whisper that sounds almost wounded, and he twists over, a look of surprise crowding his features.

“I am merely being respectful...” he replies cautiously.

“I know…” it's barely audible, and you can’t look at him.

The overwhelming awkwardness makes your chest ache, your hands wringing together nervously under the covers. What feels like mere moments ago, you were swept into his arms, and he was kissing you as if your lives depended upon it. And now this… the juxtaposition of reality and the fairytale you both act so well draws a lump to your throat.

“This whole situation is so odd,” you confess quietly, unable to be anything but honest with him.

“I know… I'm so sorry it has come to this.”

You have no idea if he means tonight, the marriage or even life in general, in a war that could come to your doorstep any day.

“I don’t regret anything,” you volunteer after a beat.

“Neither do I…” his earnest whisper makes something inside you crack open, your palm itching to squeeze his hand.

Instead, you exchange soft goodnights, and you lay stock still for a long time, backs towards each other, feeling at once too close and a million miles apart.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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3hks · 2 months ago

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How to Write the "Black Cat" Character

A trope that's becoming increasingly popular right now is the "Black Cat and Golden Retriever" dynamic! And with good reason: their opposition in character makes such a cute and fun relationship! So today, let's explore the "Black Cat" character and how to write them!

OVERVIEW

The Black Cat is known to be introverted and can seem harsh at times; they tend to avoid people and might not talk a lot. They also dislike showing vulnerability or sensitivity, which results in their genuine emotions getting concealed more often than not. In general, they aren't great at dealing with other people.

DIALOGUE

In general, the "Black Cat" is not known for making a lot of friends and getting along with everyone. One of the main reasons for this is because of their communication, which we'll explore!

**SUBTEXT**

Like I said, this character archetype is not honest about their true feelings towards people. When talking, they have a tendency to avoid or lie about the topics they may find sensitive or don't want to share. Thus, their dialogue isn't all that reliable.

So instead, subtext is the key to portraying their emotions.

They could lie and say, "I'm not scared", but their tenseness and darting eyes betray their words, offering the truth without speaking. Those actions are the subtext.

This creates a contrast between their words and their actions, forming a more dimensional person! I'm not saying that they're dishonest all the time, but they will absolutely make something up if they have to, which makes communication with them just that much harder.

**SPEECH PATTERNS**

Everyone has their distinct speech patterns, and this trope is no different! The "Black Cat" is concise and terse with their speech. They're the type to respond with short, curt answers, which makes holding a conversation difficult because they don't feel the need to butter up their words. As a result, they can be quite blunt.

Obviously, that can pose a problem.

Additionally, more often than not, they're unaware of their ruthless honesty and/or struggle to understand why it could hurt someone.

On the other hand, they may say stuff they do not mean (much like word vomit), which can also be hurtful.

Tone-wise, they tend to have a blanker manner of speaking. Not necessarily in an emotionless way, but they speak more to get their point across than to express their emotions. So naturally, their tone is more consistently calm (or even cold) and involves less emotion.

Lastly, there's vocabulary. These characters are unlikely to use slang and generally don't stutter. They might have a richer vocabulary but also may not show it off when talking.

PERSONALITY

Let's break down some of the standard characteristics of this trope!

**FLAWS**

Blunt

Stubborn (Unwilling to accept help)

Closed off

Lack of communication skills

Struggles with empathy

Sometimes (unnecessarily) mean

Cold/Apathetic

**VIRTUES**

Intelligent

Analytical

Unbiased (Unless it the "Golden Retriever" is involved)

Highly skilled (Or a wide range)

Independent

Responsible

**GENERALIZED TROPES**

Tsundere

Apathetic

Mean/Cold

This is just a quick overview of their characters as a whole; the tsundere generally is softer compared to the other two. Although they act disinterested, they care deep down. On the other hand, an apathetic is one that strongly lacks empathy and emotions. They typically don't care about anything and may or may not be mean--it's up to you! And finally, there's the mean/cold type. Obviously, they have more hostile tendencies but sometimes it's a defense system in which they have no control over.

If you can't tell, this archetype is introverted with a more neutral temperament (it depends on how you write them, but the point is that they aren't all sparkles and butterflies). Most of their struggle consists of connecting with other people and building on that relationship. Normally, this is because they may feel that others weigh them down--especially if they themselves are gifted--or that they don't need anyone else because they can sustain themselves just fine. However, when they are close with someone, they're protective, if not overprotective of them.

**CHARACTER**

Another important aspect to keep in mind is that because the "Black Cat" won't show as much emotion and is considerably more serious, this character can easily seem too robotic. So how do we avoid this? We give them some more personal traits!

For starters, slowly establish any fears and/or weaknesses that your character has. The fact that they have their own vulnerabilities demonstrates that they are still human while adding some depth! I also suggest including backstory and dreams to build onto the dimension.

Following that, when they do open up, I recommend not skimping out when it comes to describing the importance of the moment! It doesn't have to be every time, but it allows you to demonstrate the value of their honest expression! Yes, it's mainly just for fun and fluff, but it doesn't hurt to be a bit dramatic about their elusive smile or laugh!

To finish up, the point of view the story takes place in is also crucial. If you're telling it from the "Black Cat's" POV, you have more access to their thoughts, which is pivotal when developing the character. However, they may be less self-aware about how their demeanor affects others.

On the flip side, if you're telling the story through the eyes of the "Golden Retriever", you get to establish how the other looks from someone else's angle and how they handle such a character.

Personally, I prefer to switch the perspective from time to time to get the full picture!

RELATIONSHIP

Here's the fun part! How does the "Black Cat" and "Golden Retriever" trope really function?

Most of the BC's character development actually happens around their partner or loved ones. This is because alone, they have no reason to change and they're perfectly fine with how they're functioning. However, with the GR, they must put in more effort into communication, opening up, asking for help, etc.

That slowly builds character development!

As expected, in their relationship, the BC is the most reliable and organized of the two, balancing out the GR's more reckless nature. Part of their enjoyability is the sheer opposition in their persona, but they should also break out-of-character for each other every once in a while.

What do I mean?

Well, like I mentioned before, although the BC is stoic and distanced, they should be willing to express their vulnerabilities and might even act uncharacteristically shy with their partner. Conversely, the happy and loveable GR may have serious moments when concerning their loved ones. That's how you can tell they do care about each other and that's what makes this dynamic so cute!

CONCLUSION

To summarize, the "Black Cat" is terrible at dealing with emotions and communication. As a result, their actions speak louder than words, so subtext is vital when their writing dialogue! Most of their development happens around their partner--not everything will change, but that's the beauty of this character!

Guys, I'm SO, SO sorry for uploading less recently; school is a mess right now so I'm trying my best to make it up! Homework is getting a bit overwhelming, and my tennis season is starting so I'm still trying to figure things out. With that being said, fall break is only a week away and I understand very well now that I need to prepare beforehand 😅 I genuinely apologize, and I'll working hard to clean my schedule up!

On a separate note, I appreciate all the asks I've been getting, it makes me so happy, so if you need something, please reach out! Thank you so much for making it all the way to the end, expect a post on writing "Golden Retrievers" soon! ;)

Happy writing~

3hks <3

#writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing inspo #writing tips #writing advice #thank you #how to write black cat #how to write black cat trope #black cat character #advice on writing black cat characters #tips on writing black cat characters #how to write black cat characters #black can and golden retriever

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fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 8 months ago

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Good Omens Fic Rec: Big Name Feelings

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

Length: 103,997 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Slow Burn, Fake Relationship, Pick-me-up

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

*Minor Spoilers* It's here! The finale of one of the most entertaining and immersive fanworks that I have ever experienced is finally upon us! I feel like most of you who follow me here are aware of this fanfic or have read it. However, for those who haven't or might come across this post later: I'm begging you to read this one. Buckle up; it's a long post today.

So, if you're not aware, this fanfic involves writer Crowley and fan artist Aziraphale. Crowley, being ace, seeks a boyfriend to shield him from unwanted attention during an upcoming convention. Aziraphale, smitten, agrees to be the fake boyfriend. This Arrangement is sure to work out exactly as planned!

Every one of the author's stories feels cinematic to me. The worlds are always so real and immersive, but this one, in particular, will have you feeling like you're actually watching the story unfold in real life. Some of that is achieved through embedded media like chats, artwork, and Tumblr posts, bringing a sense of reality to these conversations. The rest comes from really rich prose. You'll flow through it very easily, yet deeply.

The use of fandom and a convention as the backdrop for this fic was, to be honest, genius. I've seen attempts before, but none captured the spirit quite like this one. The fandom lore for The Nice and Accurate Prophecy (the in-universe fandom they're in) was rich enough for us to fully grasp the shape and feel of why they loved it so much, yet it never impedes the ongoing story. This story perfectly captured what it's like to be a fan: how friendships develop, how ideas and fan theories are freely discussed, the passion for a shared topic. The con, in particular, will fill anyone who has ever attended a fan convention with a strong dose of nostalgia and love. Oh, and having them in their 50s? Thank you! There is no age limit to fandom!

Having Aziraphale as the artist and Crowley the writer was not the most obvious choice, but it's one that worked amazingly well for the story! Crowley struggles with words and expressing his feelings in real life. However, in stories, he can build his own world and express whatever emotions are on his mind. Aziraphale, who does not wish to draw attention to himself in real life, expresses himself through his bold and beautiful artwork. His specialization in traditional, physical artwork is so fitting for him, though he's not unwilling to try new tech. There is a scene where they stumble upon some street art that Aziraphale had done. I teared up at that scene, and it's not even angsty! Just the casualness of it, how it's not Aziraphale but Crowley who boldly leads them to it, how Aziraphale doesn't sing his own praises. He's not self-deprecating, but he doesn't celebrate his work. He's still learning that he has value that's worth celebrating. At least now he has Crowley to teach him to be proud of himself.

They are both beautifully written characters. It's a real testament to the skill of the author to bring these characters into such a different reality and have them be unmistakably Aziraphale and Crowley. Sure, they're updated for the time and setting, but their souls are still the angel and demon we know and love. This setting is an amazing way to explore the different sides of their personalities. Crowley's asexuality, in particular, was one of the best depictions I've ever read. It brought a new level of understanding to me, and I'm sure many of you will feel a kinship with him. Really pay attention to what's being said here, there's some really deep and insightful passages that are worth analyzing. Like this moment, which may have been a subconscious thought, but again speaks to how deeply the author understands the characters.

This was such an amazing experience as a fan. I've never had a fic feel like this much of an event before. Every chapter drop was so exciting; I never knew what exactly to expect. And now, with the end being over 100k words?? Where did that word count come from! That's insane! I'm sad to leave this iteration, but I'm so excited for what's to come next. So please, if you haven't read this, give it a try. It's such a impressive work, so much time and effort was put into this and you can tell. It's not only a love letter to Good Omens, but one to fandom and fanspaces as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you for this journey

There are some explicit scenes towards the end, but they are all marked and skippable, so I'd say you're perfectly fine reading this in public.

Edit from after actually seeing the finale: no I’m not tearing up it’s just really dusty in this room. I’m being so normal rn 🥹🥹🥹

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

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coffeegnomee · 5 days ago

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Derap time. I have many thoughts but every time I stop to write about Derap I feel like there isn't enough info yet. But it's fun watching Derap learn and try to figure out how to survive on lifesteal.

4:49:00 DERAP: “he’s- in - in the nicest way possible he’s like, a - a canine. All he thinks about is just like killing or like biting and that’s it” ZAM: “I think you just let him kill you I’ll be honest [silence from both] but I mean obviously-” DERAP: “give him the satisfaction of like, killing?” ZAM: "well it gets him off you doesn't it?”

In so many ways, this is just the way Zam deals with the Mapicc problem whenever it comes up, he just takes the deaths. In the past he was just never good enough at pvp to beat Mapicc and wasn't as good at escaping. So he would just die. And one death a day satisfies Mapicc when he's bloodthirsty. Even on the stone sword day Mapicc only killed Zam once, Ro was the one who didn't stop murdering Zam.

And this season in particular Zam understands how Mapicc operates, in the infamous line 1:42:00 ZAM: "what I find is escaping gets you killed more when they get the chance to actually kill you, when they finally catch you and they sink their teeth into you, you know, like, they’re just gonna hurt you more” (7/16/24)

The only real way you get Mapicc off you is to get yourself out of his mind as prey, and that usually means being on his team.

He knows what Derap needs to do is just stop escaping and just die to Mapicc, but Derap, in the most human way, is horrified at that idea. Not just because he doesn't want Mapicc to have the satisfaction, but because he's afraid, he's afraid of feeling his heart pumping every time he gets hunted.

He's in a state of terror at all times. Finally, finally, he feels partially safe with Zam, and every time Zam helps him, Derap reciprocates with perfect equivalent exchange, giving his sword, telling him the truth because Zam saved him, etc.

But Zam isn't safe either because he's teamed with Mapicc.

So Derap is left outcast and alone. And he's blind to the team he's developing with Pangi and SB because the moments of fear (incidentally because of being hunted by Mapicc) while Pangi stands on the sidelines heightens his distrust. So he can't be safe and secure with him. So he looks for someone else. Someone he can feel safe around.

And he's tired of running. Oh how fascinating this season of ours is. Everyone wanting to know peace. Everyone looking to not be afraid. Everyone looking to not be hunted. Woogie, Kab, Pangi. This all returns to pacifism AGAIN.

He's trying to find peace from Mapicc by getting rid of his hearts by giving them to his potential future team. I know it's mostly as a gift of trust to his team and a way to be of value to them, but it is interesting how he is willing to /withdraw the hearts, but unwilling to die to get rid of them. He wants so bad for his word that he doesn't have high hearts to make up for the fact that he did have high hearts.

I don't know if Derap will ever be able to find this peace. I don't think it's possible on Lifesteal. But the fact that he's developing a character that wants it is fascinating. And the fact that he keeps playing, keeps putting himself in situations, and keeps responding to every development with a conversation is so so good.

#lifesteal spoilers #gnome rambles #lifesteal

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year ago

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter five

summary: you and luca finally talk about what happened the night of the ballet -- and finally have a chance to clear the air.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3k

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part four | masterlist | part six

You’ve been avoiding his calls all day.

After Luca bid you goodnight on Thursday, you’d practically sprinted upstairs and into your apartment, slamming the door behind you while wondering what the hell was wrong with you?

You’re too stubborn for your own good, you think to yourself, recalling the moment – the one where you could’ve kissed him but you didn’t – between you and Luca. You stood there, too paralyzed to make a move, yet unable and unwilling to walk away from him.

Luca had given you space most of yesterday, save for a text later in the evening, but the fact that today is Saturday, the day he almost always comes into the restaurant, is not lost on you. Instead of dealing with it, you’ve been hyper focused all day, choosing to bury your head in work as you run lunch service with Mathilde, more than grateful that business has run at a steady pace today.

It’s not until you hit a stop, forced to pause after a few hours in between the lunch and dinner rush, reaches a lull. Your brain is suddenly inundated with too many thoughts: was this it? Had you scared him away forever? Did he think you were a total freak considering you’d practically run away from him after he’d said goodnight?

“So are we going to talk about it?” Mathilde presses you, ripping you out of your thoughts with the sound of her voice. You look her way, noticing that her lips pursed in sheer annoyance at your avoidance mechanisms.

Your face falls, unable to carry this solo for much longer, letting out a sigh of resignation because you know she’s right.

You can’t run from this – from your feelings, from Luca – forever.

“Yeah,” you give in. “Yeah, okay.”

“What the hell happened?” Mathilde hisses as she approaches you. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, he’s cultured… he took you out to the ballet, and you like him!”

“I don’t know,” you huff, disappointedly. “I just-, I think I got too caught up in my head. It’s like one minute I was really jazzed at the idea of being on a date, let alone a date with Luca, and the next I’m just… I don’t know… totally psyching myself out and pushing him away.”

“Merde,” she swears in French this time.

“Fuck,” you sigh, at least releasing a little of the pent up pressure you’ve been holding onto all day.

“Babe, I know that holding all of this,” she begins, gesturing wildly towards you, “gives you a certain edge in the kitchen… but I can’t imagine it’s good for you.”

You send her another look – one that says ‘fuck off because I know you’re right’ this time.

“I don’t know what to do, Mathilde,” you confess, your eyes pleading with her for some advice.

She turns to you, this time with a much more serious expression as she says, “Luca seems like a really great guy. Maybe you should just tell him all of this.”

You nod slowly as you process. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it – it’s not like it’s a new concept to you – you were married once, after all. But the idea of being vulnerable like that, showing someone new your whole hand feels really scary. You know it’s the thing you need to do; it’s the kindest, most honest option that you have – and you know that Luca deserves just that: kindness, transparency, the truth.

As you continue to think it over, the only words that come to you are:

“I told him that I wasn’t in love with him anymore – with Joe. When he asked.”

“Luca?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t a lie. Was it?” Mathilde questions you carefully.

You share your head, growing more and more certain in your answer.

“No, of course not. It’s not that. My hesitation has never been about Joe. It’s-, it’s about me…” you explain, finding the right words in the moment. “... about my heart.”

Mathilde places a gentle hand on your shoulder as you share a knowing look as she listens.

“What if I do this? I mean, what if I jump… and it’s a horrible mess… and I ruin a good thing with a really great guy because I’m not ready?” you ask, shining a light on your biggest fears.

She takes a beat, thinking it over, before crossing her arms over her chest, as the two of you stand side by side, leaning up against a stainless steel prep station.

“Then you do,” she answers, as if it were that simple. “And you figure out the rest. You’re only human after all.”

You chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes at Mathilde’s not-so-friendly reminder.

“Here’s an idea,” she starts back up again, catching your attention as you glance sideways to look at her. “What if you jump? And it’s the best thing you’ve ever done? What if it’s worth it?”

You take a deep breath, letting her words sink in, letting yourself feel the possibility that this could also be the best thing you’ve ever done too. But before you can say anything in response, Jesper comes back into the kitchen, calling for you.

“Hate to break up the slumber party, ladies, but can I borrow you for a moment, Chef?” he asks, making it clear that he’s talking to you. You and Mathilde exchange glances as Jesper nods through the open kitchen to where Luca waits for you in the dining room. You open your mouth to say something, but instead, you just nod, murmuring a ‘yeah, of course,’ quick to follow Jesper out of the kitchen.

It’s impeccable timing, really, you think to yourself, that you were just contemplating the possibility that this could be something you could do.

You could jump, you remind yourself, if you really wanted to.

“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper as soon as you see Luca.

“Hi,” he smiles warmly in return, causing Jesper to look from you to Luca, then back to you again.

“I’m just gonna-,” he starts, searching for an excuse.

Only, he doesn’t have one, so Jesper simply excuses himself before disappearing into the kitchen to find a place where he and Mathilde both can pretend to do something when really eavesdropping.

Jesper’s abrupt and clumsy exit seems some of the palpable tension, earring a laugh from both you and Luca.

“I thought-,” he begins as you simultaneously say, “I’ve been meaning to call-.”

“Sorry,” he says with an apologetic half smile.

“No I’m-. You go first,” you encourage, blushing on a little as the two of you clumsily dance around each other.

Luca takes a breath, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be this weird if there wasn’t something between the two of you – that he hasn’t been imagining this – not even a little bit.

“I hope that it’s okay. That I’m here,” he finally says, his voice steady and even.

“I-, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” you ask him, suddenly insecure about the fact that he felt he needed to ask in the first place.

“I just-, well I thought ehm, maybe you’d need some space. I didn’t want to ehm, you know… show up here if-, even though it’s Saturday because it is your place and I wouldn’t want-,” Luca tries to explain, stopping and starting again and again.

“Luca, no I-,” you say, before pausing, swearing to yourself under your breath as you mutter. “Shit. Fuck, I-. Goddamn, you really are fucking perfect.”

“What was that?” Luca asks, only catching the swearing part at the beginning and the ‘fucking perfect’ part at the end.

“Um…” you trail off, looking around you.

As you catch Jesper and Mathilde ducking behind a shelf out of the corner of your eye, and a few of your waitstaff hurrying to make it look like they’re busy and not listening in, you realize that you and Luca have managed to earn the attention of some very curious onlookers.

“Do you want to step outside for a moment?” you ask, gesturing towards the front door.

“Sure,” he nods, letting you lead him to a spot outside.

You make sure that you're both as out of sight as possible, staying far away from the broad windows that line the front of your restaurant.

“Hi,” you say again on an exhale.

“Hi,” he says back, simply.

“I’m glad you came. I know I-... I should’ve called, or- or texted you… after Thursday,” you begin, nervously, eager to own up to the very big part you’ve played in the lack of communication.

“Yes. You should’ve,” he repeats, his eyes catching yours as you nod in confirmation.

It’s good – that he’s not going to let you off the hook – and while you like it, you like that he has boundaries, you’re disappointed in yourself as you say:

“I’m sorry.”

Luca sighs, shaking his head as he immediately counters with:

“No, I’m sorry. I mean, yes, you should’ve called. Or at least texted. But I should’ve been clear in the first place that Thursday…” he trails off, almost as if he’s mustering up the courage to say what he needs to say.

“... that Thursday was more to me than our regular excursions. That it was a date. To me at least.”

“Luca-.”

“I wish I would’ve told you – made it clear in the first place – so you knew what you were getting into,” Luca finishes, carefully watching for your reaction. There’s something so honest in the way he goes about this conversation, and you sure as hell feel like you could take the proverbial jump right fucking now.

“I appreciate that. Really, I do…” you start, before trailing off again. “But I-. This isn’t on you, Luca.”

“How do you mean?” he asks you, his expressive brows knitted together, as if you’d just spoken in tongues.

Here goes nothing, you think to yourself.

“I-. This has been great. I mean… I really like spending time with you,” you start, anxiously, instantly realizing that it sounds like you’re breaking up with him. “Fuck, I-.”

You let out a frustrated groan as it seems you’re having an impossible time getting out what you need to get out. You take a breath. And a beat, before continuing.

“And I’ve really liked this… hanging out, getting to know you… borrowing your books. I-, I just… we’ve got such a good thing going and I really don’t want to fuck this up, you know?”

He sighs your name this time, looking down for a moment as you add:

“I’m-, I’m afraid that… I’m going to fuck this up.”

“Yeah. I know,” he answers, heavily. “I-, I am too.”

“And then Thursday night, things were so, so good, and I-, I panicked and I feel terrible because… you don’t deserve that. You don’t.”

Luca takes a beat as he listens. He’s not sure what exactly that means, but he reminds himself to stay on track, stay the course and make sure that he says what he came here to say to you.

“It’s alright,” he reassures you, softly, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you have to feel a certain way just because I-.”

“No, that’s not it! That’s not-, that’s really not the problem,” you interject as you struggle to explain yourself, unsure of where to even begin. You take a step towards him this time too, your voice softening as you continue. “Luca, I don’t feel obligated to feel… any kind of way just because you-.”

“Because I?” he questions you.

The silence his questions leaves goes on a few beats longer than you expected, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to fill in the blank.

“Well, I don’t know,” you pause, a shocked look on your face as one of you waits for the other.

“You didn’t-, I never let you finish your sentence so,” you ramble aimlessly, immediately bursting out into a fit of laughter as you realize that neither of you are getting anywhere.

Luca laughs too, joining in on the much needed reprieve.

The two of you exchange glances, and one more shared laugh, before settling in once again.

With a crooked smile spread across his lips, Luca can take a hint, realizing that he may need to take the lead on this one.

The way your name sounds on his lips is so heavenly, so divine, so soft that you know you’ve got it bad, as you scramble for a way to tell him everything that you’ve been feeling.

“May I?” he asks, in reference to taking the lead.

“Please.”

“I just came here to tell you… I want to tell you…” he corrects himself, taking a step towards you.

“... that I really like you. I really like spending time with you. I like that you get me out of the kitchen in search of something different. And I think that your mind, even though incredibly neurotic, is absolutely brilliant. And if what you need is for us to be friends right now, I want that. We can… slow all of this down. All you’ve got to do is talk to me.”

It feels like time fucking stops, and the world goes black and white for a moment, then full color all at once as you hear the words coming out of his mouth. Your revelation comes rushing in, clear as day – that this man cares so deeply for you and that maybe, your heart could be safe with him. Unsure of how to deal with the grace and compassion Luca is showing you, you’re only left with one question, as it falls from your lips like a boulder.

“How?”

“What?”

“How do you always have the right thing to say…” you ask him, your voice caught in your throat as you finish your question. “... when I only have the wrong things to say?”

Luca opens his mouth to say something you’ll never hear, as you choose to completely throw caution to the wind.

Perhaps the question was rhetorical anyways.

You’re not sure what’s coms over you, but instead of words, you only have actions left, and the only thing that will remedy the situation is to do the thing that you’ve been panicking over doing since Luca showed you into the pastry room at AOC. You charge forward, reaching out for him, and he’s right there with you, meeting you halfway as you eagerly press your lips to his.

You can feel all the blood in your body rush through you as your lips connect. Your heart flutters. Your head spins. It’s the kind of kiss that people write sonnets about – write love songs about. It’s almost three months of simmering tension, finally allowed to reach its boiling point. You pull away, just for a moment, uttering out a breathless:

“Holy shit.”

Luca laughs with a shake of his head as he agrees with a, “Yeah.”

You exchange a look, and a laugh, before kissing him again.

And this time the kiss is a hello, it’s a new beginning, it’s a ‘thank god I met you.’

This time, Luca pulls away, reluctantly releasing you as he does.

“It’s not that I don’t like this,” he begins, using all of his restraint to put this on pause. “I really, really do, but… I’m kind of getting mixed signals here.”

“No, no, I know,” you apologize, turning as you hear your name called, swearing under your breath again as soon as you see Mathilde peeking her head out of the front door.

“Oh… my God! I am so sorry, I’ll just-, except for we need you to-, she calls after you, stumbling over her words as soon as she realizes what’s going on between you and Luca.

“Nevermind it can wait!” Jesper exclaims, poking his head out of the front door as well, before dragging Mathilde back into the restaurant.

You and Luca exchange another laugh.

“They’re… something,” you chuckle, with a shake of your head.

“Good wingmen,” Luca adds, mirroring your previous exchange with his coworker.

Returning his focus to you, Luca shakes his head incredulously, considering this is not the way he thought this conversation would go. He grins as he takes you in, but knows that this is time limited. He’d noticed the curious staff of your restaurant that he’s come to know and love doing their best to pretend they weren’t listening in on your conversation earlier. They know exactly what’s going on here, so if they felt the need to interrupt, Luca knows that you’re most likely needed back in the kitchen.

He shifts his weight in between both of his feet, taking a small step back as he states:

“We’re gonna have to talk about this.”

“Yes,” you agree, your declaration certain.

“But right now you have to go,” Luca continues.

“Right now I have to go,” you echo as confirmation. “Later. I promise. We’ll talk. Tonight?”

“Yeah ehm. Not to be… presumptuous. But my place is closeby. We could… perhaps talk. Tonight. There?” Luca suggests, trying to downplay the fact that it sounds like he’s asking you to come over for a booty call.

It’s certainly not his intention, considering he’d just offered to slow things down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it.

“Yeah. I’ll text you,” you agree, suddenly nervous again. “When I’m done here. If you’re still up.”

“It’s a date,” Luca agrees, deciding to move in towards you again.

You nod, taking another step towards him so that you can kiss him again.

“Oh, and Luca?”

He hums in response, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips because he really can’t wait to kiss you again either. .

“I should be-. I want to be clear,” you begin, deciding to be brave in this moment.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I really like you too,” you say, before standing tall on your tiptoes, and pulling him down to you for, this time, a see-you-later kiss.

----------------------------

a/n: ummm hi how are we doing is everyone doing ok?!

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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zablife · 10 months ago

Text

You're No Good For Me

Tommy Shelby x OC Satine

Summary: When Tommy comes into possession of a new club, the Shelbys want to know more about the beautiful and seductive performer working there. What happens when Tommy confronts her about her hidden past?

Author’s Note: Requested by @goodnightkatherine who wanted to see Tommy with a jazz singer men are obsessed with.

Warnings: language, mention of drinking, violence, possessiveness, hints of dark!Tommy, PTSD, mention of a weapon

“Bloody hell, the tits on her! Didn’t I tell ya?” Arthur asked, a wicked smirk curling around the edges of his whisky glass. His eyes never left the stage where a voluptuous ginger haired beauty leaned over the crowd. As her gloved hand seductively slid along the curve of her hip, a slight shudder ran through Arthur. He shifted in his chair, adjusting his trousers just as her ruby lips parted once more and she purred the last line of a lovesick ballad into a golden microphone.

“They’ve got a little perch for her up in the rafters and she swings on it like a bird. Last night she even did an act with red silks where she tied herself-“ Finn started, excitedly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Arthur cut him off. “Shouldn’t he be working the door?” he rolled his eyes toward the table, irritation visible in his clenched fist.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, studying the effect she had on his brothers and every other man in the club. “Go on, Finn,” he ordered with a jerk of his chin.

As the number came to an end, he placed his cigarette between his lips and clapped stiffly, the deafening noise drowning out the huff of a laugh that escaped before an honest assessment. “So this is why you want to stay in London, eh?”

“S right,” Arthur affirmed eagerly as he poured another round. “You need someone to keep an eye here.”

“On the club, Arthur,” Tommy reminded his brother with a sharp note of warning.

“And she’s part of it, ain’t she?” Arthur grumbled.

Tommy shook his head warily, “Remember what dad used to say, brother. Fast women…”

“And slow horses…”, Arthur interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know, I know, Tom!”

Tommy held Arthur’s gaze for a moment as he finished bitterly, “Will ruin your life.” He stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray, glancing back toward the empty stage. “I’ve things to do first, then I’ll give you my answer,” he replied, abruptly ending their conversation.

“Go on then. Don’t let me keep ya,” Arthur bellowed with a sweep of his arm. Allowing the king to exit in grand fashion, he remained at the table unwilling to allow his baby brother to spoil his evening or his plans for the future.

———————————-

The passageways beneath the stage were dark and winding, causing Tommy’s chest to constrict unnaturally. It didn’t bother him when there was chatter from the girls, but now it had become eerily silent save for the rush of blood through his ears. Tommy made haste to the dressing rooms, forcing his boots to thud upon the concrete floor a bit harder than necessary.

Soon he came upon the room he sought, breathing a sigh of relief at the glow of pale orange light seeping from beneath the door like an outstretched hand saving him from the smothering darkness. Like a beacon it called to him and he pushed the flimsy panel open without knocking, any pretense of formality forgotten.

“I need to speak with you,” he informed the woman sat at the vanity. The redhead looked up with a look of bored detachment, powdering her nose as she raised her eyes to meet his in the mirror.

“Can I help you?” she asked with a foreign lilt he immediately recognized as French.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asked incredulously.

“Are you an admirer?” she asked with a sly smile. Tommy cocked an eyebrow at her, but she only giggled in return. “I have many of those.”

“No, love, I’m not here to throw roses at your feet,” he confirmed.

“That’s a pity. I like roses,” she pouted.

“So I’ve heard from your previous employer, but there’s going to be a new arrangement. You see, as of last week, I own this club,” Tommy informed her as he clasped his hands behind his back.

She turned slowly to face him, head tilted to catch a glimpse of his shadowed face beneath his cap. “Are you here to fuck me?” she offered breathlessly.

Tommy shook his head. “No, nothing like that," he assured her, removing his cap slowly and placing it on a nearby chair.

“Then this job will be easier than I expected,” she purred, standing to her full height. She was easily a foot taller than Tommy and she carried it with a casual elegance.

“What’s your name?” he asked, fishing his cigarette case from his pocket and turning it over in his palm.

“Satine,” she replied without hesitation, a smirk playing on her lips mischievously.

Tommy laughed mirthlessly, the sharp note of annoyance clear as he rolled his eyes. He took a moment to light his cigarette, the flame of his lighter flashing in her cat like eyes. “Your real name,” he pressed in a low, dangerous voice, taking a step closer to where she now stood.

In such close proximity she was able to scan the details of his face, pale skin still youthfully freckled but the sunken cheeks and dark circles beneath his eyes bore the passage of time. She looked away before he could glimpse the recognition hidden in her gaze, but she’d already lingered a moment too long.

Tommy seized on it immediately. “You think I don’t know you behind a few rhinestones and hair lacquer,” he taunted, exhaling a large plume of smoke toward her. Leaning in to capture her face in the palm of his callused hand he hissed, “Say your fucking name.”

She tried not to recoil, but the tight lipped smile that tugged at her mouth gave away her discomfort. “Why do you need this?” she asked, jerking her chin away in defiance.

“Cos I want you to admit what you are...what you did,” Tommy spat, hand flying to her delicate neck as he forced her against the opposite wall.

Red nails clawing against his wrist, Satine shook her head. “I-I did nothing…” she sputtered.

“Yeah, you did nothing," Tommy nodded in agreement as he emphasized the last word. "Left me for dead," he seethed, tightening his hold until she was left gasping for air before him.

Her eyes welled with tears as they had that final night spent together, tucked away in her tiny flat making promises of a life together after the war. Back then he didn’t care that she fucked Barney first, knowing he would be her last. She’d promised him she’d be his forever. She said, "I'll wait through any storm to be by your side."

It was that thought alone that drove him to dig after the tunnel collapse, clawing his way from the depths of the blackened earth to seek her embrace. There was nothing but emptiness waiting in her flat, however, the neighbor apologizing with sorrowful eyes when forced to recount the man come to collect her. For the better part of a year, he chased a ghost before returning home to Birmingham alone.

As the memories washed over him in quick succession, Tommy allowed the rage to consume him. He watched her head loll and her eyes roll back in the moment before losing consciousness. A low whimper from her pulled him out of himself, the intoxicating sound of her causing his hands to shake uncontrollably. With that, he released his grasp and backed away to the center of the room as nausea gripped him.

Satine fell forward clutching her chest, a coughing fit descending upon her as she struggled for breath. “T-tommy,” her desperate voice called out. The sound echoed around him like the beating of the shovels inside his skull and he turned away clutching his head.

“You’re no good for me,” he reminded himself as he screwed his eyes shut. But I want you still, his tortured mind replied, fingers fumbling beneath his jacket for the cold comfort of his revolver...a decision to be made.

-----------------------

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#Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x OC #Tommy Shelby

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kseung · 1 year ago

Text

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Harm

Requested.

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, vague descriptions of wounds.

Words: 1226~

Back after a long time. 10 months hiatus, and now I am done with school for a bit.

Waking up next to Wednesday was like a blessing to you. She looked peaceful while asleep. Regrettably, she had to get ready for either school or personal shenanigans, as did you. That was precisely what made you anxious, daily, since the moment she opened her eyes. For being so perceptive, it was a miracle she hadn't found out about your scars yet. You weren't sure you wanted her to. She'd probably say something along the lines of "Delightful scarring of the tissue. I wonder how it'd look fresh." But, being your girlfriend, maybe she'd say something more akin to "Despite appreciating scars, I'd rather your skin be conserved pristine." It could go either way, really. You wanted to sigh, but you held it in. If you stared any longer, she'd wake up. You closed your eyes, enjoying the moment with your girlfriend. But it was too late, and Wednesday was wide awake. —Morning. It was said with a rather monotonous voice, which scared you a little. Typical Wednesday shenanigans. It was so suddenly said that you were startled. You opened your eyes to look at Wednesday. —Morning, Wednesday. You smiled before getting up. Cuddling wasn't a thing between you, and you were quite fine with that. Lying next to her was, admittedly, a big step for you—much like it was for her. Wednesday was staying at yours this time, so you only needed to go pick your clothes. It was nice, having that privacy. You'd hate for her to find out that way. Or any way, to be honest. She noticed you were being weird, of course. Or well, weirder than usual. She couldn't not see it. Yet, she said nothing. She thought that letting things play out may lead to interesting results. ¤¤¤¤¤ The morning continued as usual, uneventfully strange. But strange was usual at a place full of outcasts. You sighed, rolling your sleeves back down for the nth time that class. Wednesday noticed that too, of course. There's not much she doesn't see. But, as Wednesday herself, she's not one to talk about her observations so openly. Some time later, when it was time for another class, she quietly observed. You were there, yes, but you weren't there. And she thought that the pensive look of your eyes, melancholic and solitary only made you look ethereal. —Nails for your thoughts? —I'd rather much receive a penny. She was not a fan of that response, but she let it slide. It was you after all... She bit back her tongue. —Tell me what's going on. She had that way of speaking, truly Wednesday. It made you chuckle, resting a cheek on a propped up hand. She stood there with a straightened back, looking at you intensely. —Not much, Wednesday. It's more like I'm not thinking of anything. Well, she couldn't really understand that. There was always something to be thinking of, to be aware of. She gave you a look, a knowing, distrustful look.

—I won't pry for more. But just you know, I'm not that gullible. She gave a half turn, walking away as she does, dramatic end to the scene. It was nerve-wracking. But you had it in mind to keep the scars unnoticeable. You were far more careful for the rest of the day, keeping yourself from moving all that much. You knew she'd be observing you, preying on you like a vulture does a carcass. Exactly because of that, you kept yourself even more static than usual. She seemed busy with Enid... or well, it looked like she was being kept there as an unwilling participant in their conversation. It was just the perfect opportunity to slip away and back to your room. You sighed, locking the door behind you. Having alone time was the best thing that could happen. You took off the suit jacket Nevermore had given you, and then the hoodie, and then you were standing there with a short-sleeved shirt. You weren't really used to being like that —uncovered—, in fear that anyone would know just how bad your mental health had been. But just this time... You lied back down on the bed, covering yourself. You were tired after all... homework was for later. ¤¤¤¤¤ She was just outside your room, feet directly in front of the door. She had lock-picked it minutes ago, but she hadn't entered. It seemed both wrong and right, but it's not like her moral compass was up to date. She slowly opened the door, making sure it wouldn't creak much. Her steps were light, just like the sound of your slow breathing. You were there, she could see, covered in sheets and sleeping peacefully. So that's what you were doing, taking an afternoon nap. You stirred, feeling eyes on you. You pushed yourself up, the cold air caressing your skin like a suffocating blanket. It took some time to be able to open your eyes, the curtains not being too good at blacking out the tired sun.

—Wednesday?—, you asked. Your voice was warm, unfiltered with bits of seeping sleep. —What are you doing here? She kept quiet, taking in everything she could from all the senses she had. You looked good, sounded good, and she was sure you'd feel even better. The thoughts made her feel even stranger. —I was looking for you. You covered yourself again, lying back down. —'Kay... In such a sleepy and bare state, below such a perceptive gaze, your scars were on full display. Wednesday noticed, of course. The lighter scars and faded marks contrasted with your tanner skin, as did the much newer ones. She, of course, decided to stay in silence. She wasn't against speaking her mind. Quite the contrary. But she knew you'd be too sleepy. Instead, she closed the door and sat on your bed. Her hand was somewhat hesitant, but soon enough, her fingers combed your hair. Soft, soft. As soft as you made her, regrettably, feel. —Sleep well. We may talk later. ¤¤¤¤¤ Later came back all too soon, only minutes after she started caressing you. It made you sleepy at first, and then you suddenly remembered the state you were in. It shocked you awake. —H-hey!

You sat up quickly, making the covers slide down even more. She knew it was coming, as she does usually. So, she nodded, calmly, despite your panic. —I saw. I don't mind. Was that the normal reaction? Was that a good reaction? What would be a normal reaction anyway? Was that even the reaction you expected? At least Wednesday didn't judge... —I, uh... —Hm? You don't need to say anything—. She took some seconds to think. —I'm not adept with comfort, as you know. However, if you ever need my... presence, advice, or... something, I am here. It was too much. You didn't really expect her to comfort you, no. You knew she was a cold individual. But knowing that she truly did care about you, enough to make her say that she could possibly comfort you? That was truly a lot. Tears spilled before you noticed, nodding. Silently, they made trails on your face just as you did with her fingers on her hand. She let it happen, making your heart impossibly warm. —I appreciate it, Wednesday. She nodded. —I know. Maybe, just maybe, cold could be warm too.

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday incorrect quotes #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday series #wednesday adams #wednsday addams #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagine #wednesday imagines #wednesday addams imagines #wednesday addams x you

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tumbleweed-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Fight For What You Want: Chibs Telford X Reader

When Chibs Telford overhears the woman he's been unwilling to make a move on has a first date lined up, will he be willing to fight for her? When Y/N's first date turns into the first date from hell will Chibs Telford's efforts to protect her be enough to turn the night around?

Part one of two.

==================

Chibs Telford had never been one to eavesdrop. He knew well enough in the world he’d chosen to operate in that listening in on private conversations could only lead to trouble and could even be deadly. So, when he was well aware that there was a conversation that he had no business listening in on he was quick to disappear and mind his own business.

He wished he’d thought to mind his own business as he approached the door to the office at TM Auto. His feet remained locked in place though as he heard her voice.

“Are you 100 percent sure you’re okay with me dipping out a little early today, Gem?”

Gemma was fast to respond to the inquiry. It was clear by the tone of her voice she’d been asked this at least a dozen times today and there was a slight hint of amusement to her voice. “Yes, Y/N. I’m sure we can function even if you leave a little early today.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry I keep asking. I think I’m just feeling a little anxious, pre-date jitters I guess.”

Chibs felt his heart sink down into his belly upon hearing the words Pre-date jitters.

Although everything in his heart and soul was screeching at him to walk away before his heart had a chance to sink even lower, his body remained locked in place as he continued to listen in on the conversation.

Gemma was quick to speak, calling Y/N out on her comment. “Not butterflies?”

“Pardon?” Was the reply she earned Y/N’s voice raising a pitch it clear by her tone ovf voice that she was unnerved by the comment.

Gemma was fast to speak again not backing down with her observation. “Just jitters, not butterflies.”

This comment earned a small nervous laugh from Y/N as she replied. “I don’t know what you mean by that. Aren’t jitters and butterflies the same?”

Gemma spoke up, clearly not letting this go even with Y/N’s attempts to laugh off the reasoning behind the questioning. “I’m just surprised that’s all, Sweetheart. You don’t seem excited about this. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to have any first dates, at least not with him.”

Y/N Winston let out a heavy sigh at the words apparently already well versed in this conversation. “I’m accepting a date from the guy who will actually ask me out. I’m sick of waiting around for the guy I want to ask me out. I’ve accepted it’s not going to happen”

“That’s because you won’t force it to happen.” Gemma was fast to point out it only earning her a huff from Y/N.

“I shouldn’t have to force it, that’s the problem. It’s pretty obvious he’s not forcing it on his end. I’ve realized that he’s just going to keep dancing around me. I refuse to be the one who asks him out at this point. I’m not chasing a man. I should not have to chase him down. I refuse to chase him down and force things. I just have to accept that it’s not happening. He’s made it clear he’s not as into me as I am into him. I am realizing he’s not going to ever make a move and like I said, I’m not doing it for him. I got my hopes up, which was a dumb move on my end…I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that he’s just sitting on his ass not making any moves to show me this is more than flirting and hints that he might want me. I should have known how this was going to turn out from the start. I mean, pretty sure most guys around here have been sworn off even looking twice at me. So, why should he be any different? Maybe it’s time I just go for a normal guy outside of this entire SAMCRO circle.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely the truth, Y/N. I mean, I am sure your uncle and cousin have something to do with his hesitancy. You have to understand though that this has gotta be complicated for him. It’s been a while since he’s pursued anything with anyone, at least anything more than a quick fuck from a croweater.” Gemma was quick to provide, trying her best to soothe Y/N’s apparent angst.

Chibs furrowed his brow wracking his brain over who this mystery guy who was dancing around Y/N could possibly be. He’d not noticed anyone paying her more mind than what seemed to be appropriate.

He furrowed his brow all the more realizing it was someone within their inner circle. He searched his brain thinking of each one of his brothers searching for the possible culprit ignoring the way it made bile rise in his throat to think of any one he shared a kutte with harboring romantic feelings for Y/N.

He widened his eyes the truth hitting him like a freight train as Y/N spoke a huff leaving her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Estranged wife…or whatever is going on there and a kid in Belfast. I’ve heard all about the baggage. Trust me, he’s told me about his past. He opened up to me about it all over a shared joint and some whiskey. I’ve heard the entire story. I get it, it’s complicated for him. I am done making excuses for him though. I mean, either he likes me and wants to ask me on an actual date, or I’m just a friend. I can’t have it both ways, Gem. It’s not fair for him to want it both ways. I get that he’s maybe rusty at this whole dating thing, but either he wants me or he doesn’t. He hits on me and is all too happy to flirt with me, but any chance he’s had to take it to the next level has been squandered by him. He clearly isn’t going to pick if he wants me as a friend or a romantic partner. So, I’m picking for him. He’s just going to have to stay my friend.”

She paused a shaky sigh leaving her lips a bitter laugh following the sigh. “I was a fool to think that there’s something more he wants from me. I thought he was sending me all the signals that he saw me as something more than the club’s kid sister. I mean he’s taken me on a dozen bike rides and there've been shared joints and a ton of private talks on the roof of TM or outside at a Friday night party where it’s just us…conversations got deep and I felt like we connected. There have been so many moments where I hoped that he might actually make some kind of move, but like I said, it’s clear that he’s just not as into me as I am into him. I got my hopes up last time we spent some time together…I swear he was about to kiss me, but then he just backed up and acted like he couldn’t wait to get away from me. It’s like anytime I think he’s getting close to making a move this switch goes off in his head and he’s tripping over himself to get the hell away from me before it goes too far. What else am I supposed to believe when he’s so back and forth on the romantic gestures. It’s obvious that he’s just not that into me.”

She paused again another heavy sigh leaving her the sound shaky. It was clear she was getting emotionally overwhelmed. She cleared her throat as she spoke again. “I’m done waiting around for men. I’ve spent almost ten years tending to a guy’s ego, emotional needs, and wants. I’m not a mother nor am I a therapist and I am not a sex doll. I’m done tending to and waiting for men. A perfectly nice guy finally asked me out and I am not going to turn him down just because I’m sitting around waiting on Filip Telford to decide what he freaking wants. Trust me, I’m so done being the girl who sits around and waits on a man to decide if he wants me. I’m not getting any younger. I’d like to settle down at some point in my life and maybe have at least one kid. If the music thing isn’t going to work out for me then I’d like to at least have some part of what I pictured for my life. If I’m not going to be the musician I wanted to be, then I’d at least like to fall in love with my soulmate and be a mom. I’m clearly not going to get that with Filip. So, it’s time to move on to a guy who can give me that.”

Chibs felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him as he soaked up her words. Him? She wanted him? She was talking about him?

He felt his stomach churn as he soaked in her words, his heart sinking all the further. She thought he didn’t want her?

That was so far from the truth.

When Piney Winston had announced that his niece would be moving back into town earlier in the year, Chibs Telford had been intrigued.

Chibs had been living in Charming for almost a decade now and he’d not heard of any Winston niece.

He’d of course heard the entire backstory from Bobby; Bobby Munson was a terrible gossip.

Apparently little Miss. Y/N Winston had left home at eighteen years old, just a few months before Chibs Telford had rolled into town. She’d taken off down to Southern California chasing some dream of getting signed to a record label in Los Angeles with some boyfriend who’d talked her into forming a band.

Though she’d not remained in Los Angeles for too long. Apparently she’d been hopping around the country living in New York City, Las Vegas, and Nashville, Tennessee.

The boyfriend she’d run off with had bounced their band around from state to state trying out different cities and different labels. A few records had been put out through independent labels but nothing close to the music stardom they’d been hoping for had turned out.

Apparently the band had broken up with Y/N who had been the lead singer getting the boot after her ex boyfriend and she had a nasty breakup.

Y/N had been left broke and homeless; sleeping in her car and spending what little savings she had to survive as meagerly as she could. She had been forced to call up her late mother’s brother, the man who had raised her, and ask to come back to Charming.

Piney had accepted of course even shelling out the money to get her home. He was the type that believed it was a man’s responsibility to take care of his family, especially the women in the family. Y/N was family; that meant he was going to come to her rescue.

Chibs had also received another piece of information about Y/N this information coming from Tig who had been happily listening in to Bobby’s gossip. “Y/N is hot from what I remember, but painfully untouchable. If Piney doesn’t shoot any guy who glances her way, then Opie will do it, Jax probably too. Fucking shame too, fine piece of ass like her having a ton of guys who aren’t afraid to commit murder watching her like rabid fucking dogs. It’s all look and don’t touch with that one.”

Upon hearing that information Chibs had been all the more intrigued but mildly terrified. Although Piney was attached to an oxygen tank, the man had a nasty temper. Opie and Jax were quick to anger as well, especially when it came to the women in their lives.

So, Chibs had resigned himself to keeping his distance and following Tig’s advice of looking but not touching.

That was easier said than done. Upon his first sighting of Y/N, Chibs Telford was hooked.

She couldn’t just be pretty, no that wasn’t enough. She also had a sweet personality to match her pretty face.

Then there was her voice. That voice had sprouted their very first conversation.

He’d walked into the office at TM Auto late one night when they’d been the only ones working only to hear her singing softly to herself absentmindedly as she went over the books.

The words had left his lips before he could stop them “Ye have a beautiful voice.”

She’d gazed up at him, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly and Chibs Telford had known he was screwed when it came to keeping his distance.

Before he’d known it there had been offers to take her on bike rides on the weekend, shared joints on the roof of TM Auto during Friday night parties, lots sneaking away during Friday night parties where they’d had deeper conversations that Chibs had with any woman in far longer than he would ever admit, and shared lunch breaks.

As much as his heart had screamed that he wanted nothing more than to press his lips to hers and press his body against hers preferably in a bed or any available surface, he had held back.

That stupid comments Tig had made kept ringing in his mind: painfully untouchable, guys who aren’t afraid to murder watching her like fucking rabid dogs. If Piney doesn’t shoot any guy who glances her way, then Opie will do it, Jax probably too.

Chibs Telford would probably deck anyone who called him a coward, but he’d found that he was spineless when it came to pursuing Y/N Winston.

His heart screamed it wanted her, but his mind told him that making her his would sow disaster among the club he loved.

Anytime he found himself imagining what it might feel like to feel the press of his lips against hers or feel how glorious her body might feel under his, he’d quickly pictured Piney Winston strangling him with the tubing of his oxygen tank or Opie or Jax putting a bullet through his skull.

Chibs had reminded his heart and his hormones that Y/N was only meant to look at but he could never touch her.

He had been foolish of course, he knew that now, he’d not considered that Y/N might just find someone who was willing to touch her.

He felt his heart sink all the more as Gemma spoke. “And this paralegal is going to give you what Chibs won’t?”

Y/N let out a deep sigh as she replied to this. “I have no idea, but it’s worth a try.”

Chibs grinded his jaw realizing just who this paralegal was. The man had come tagging along with SAMCRO’s lawyer to the clubhouse just a few weeks ago.

Jax Teller had contacted the lawyer to draw up some papers for him, something concerning a will and the Teller children. It had been nothing like what the Sons’ lawyer was usually called up to TM Auto for.

Chibs had of course noticed the attractive young paralegal gazing a little too longingly at Y/N, and he’d not been thrilled with it.

He’d held back any desire to be a possessive asshole about it though. A little nagging voice in the back of his brain taunted him pointing out that he would not lay a claim on Y/N, so he had no right to get pissy just because a guy was looking at her like she was a rack of all you can eat ribs and a pitcher of beer.

It seemed though that perhaps he should have shown it bothered him.

He felt his heart crack as Y/N spoke. “I mean, I don’t get butterflies or whatever you want to claim I’m supposed to get when Russell looks at me, but I’m not saying I have to marry the guy. Maybe he’ll grow on me. Either way this date will be good for me. It’s time for me to stop putting all my eggs in one basket with Filip. I’m just breaking my own heart waiting around for him.”

“He should give you butterflies though, Sweetheart. You shouldn’t waste your time on a guy who doesn’t make you feel something. He shouldn’t have to grow on you.” Gemma pointed out a sigh leaving her lips clearly frustrated that Y/N seemed determined to see this date through.

Y/N let out a shaky sigh, it obvious she was feeling overemotional again. “I know, but I’m not sure what other choice I have. I am so sick of waiting on, Filip. I’m tired, Gemma. I’ve spent my entire life having guys I like scared away by my family both immediate family and my SAMCRO family. I ran off with the first guy who didn’t get scared off by you guys and look how that turned out for me. I came back home hoping things would be different…but it seems like even guys within the SAMCRO family are too chickenshit to make a move on me. Russell doesn’t seem scared. So, I should just take what I can get. Even if he’s not what I envisioned, I…beggers can’t be choosers at this point.”

“It doesn’t seem like it’s making you happy though, Hon. That’s all I’m saying. You’re settling.” Gemma pointed out the obvious Chibs feeling his stomach turn as he soaked in all the information that had just been slammed down on his head.

He felt his knees grow weak as he backed away from the door hearing Y/N’s voice sounding far too defeated. “We can’t always have what we want. I guess I’m just getting to a point where I no longer can say this is what I want my life to be and am just saying, well that’s life. I have to grow up and accept that we don’t get the love we want. I have to accept that this is what life is going to offer me.”

Chibs felt faint as he allowed everything he’d just heard roll through his mind like rocks in a rock tumbler.

He let Y/N’s words ring through his head, the words feeling like dozens of little knives to the heart: we don’t get the love we want.

================================

Gemma tensed her jaw as Chibs Telford made his way into the office of TM Auto, the woman who had been ruminating over him having left hours before.

Gemma gazed up at Chibs who seemed to be lingering around the microwave that they kept sitting over a minifridge to hold whatever meals the guys in the garage might bring for a lunch break.

There was no real breakroom at TM Auto. Most of the patched in Sons who worked at the garage just took their lunches to the clubhouse, unpatched guys who worked in the garage were afforded less luxuries.

She dared to speak, deciding to just be as blunt as possible. “What are you still doing here Chibs?”

“Jus lookin fer a quick snack. Transmission on that Honda is killin me. I need some energy.” Chibs remarked a voice in the back of his head snapping that this wasn’t quite what Gemma was meaning to ask him.

Gemma let out a heavy sigh fast to say the words. “I mean, why the hell are you still here when the woman you are crazy about is out with some spineless yuppie prick?”

Chibs cleared his throat, his eyes widening. He spoke trying to keep his cool and pretend that he had no idea where Y/N was at the moment. “I don’t know what yer talkin bout.”

Gemma rolled her eyes not above calling him out. “Don’t bullshit me, Chibs. I know you heard everything. Y/N might not have a clue, but I could spot you through the blinds listening in earlier. Now, I’m going to ask again, why the hell are you here right now and not out crashing that date and taking what you want?”

Chibs felt his stomach plummet his head feeling faint all over again. He’d been asking himself the same question all afternoon. Why wasn’t he taking what he wanted?

He let out a heavy sigh, deciding to just be honest. “Pretty sure lass has a few guys in her life who’d skin me alive if I even thought of it.”

“So, you and I both know you aren’t the kind of guy who backs down from a fight?” Gemma pointed out rolling her eyes once again as she stood up, her hands resting on her hips a stern look of disapproval crossing her features.

Chibs dared to turn to face her, he almost shrinking back at the look of disapproval on her features. Not many women intimidated him, but the Queen of SAMCRO had a certain intimidation factor when it came to the Sons. She was like everyone’s unrelenting mother. No one wanted to piss off mom.

He cleared his throat trying to square his shoulders and make his point of view clear. “I aint goin to stir up trouble in the club, not when shite has been this tense. I’m doin this fer the good of the club.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Gemma remarked, removing her hands from her hips stepping around the desk to approach him.

She spoke again, her voice firm. “Don’t feed me that for the good of the club bullshit. You have been following her around like a lost dog since she moved back to Charming. If you were trying to avoid trouble you wouldn’t be so obsessed. You want her. If you think that no one notices it, then you’re blind and stupid.”

Chibs cringed at the comment, a heavy huff escaping his lips. “Doesn’t matter much if I do, Gem. Shite, I…”

He paused, his throat growing tight revealing the other reason he’d been so hesitant, the truth he’d not even wanted to admit to himself. “What can I give her? I’m a criminal, I’ve done a lot of horrible shite.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Chibs, but Y/N was raised around this club. When her mother died Piney was the only one who was willing to take her in. She knows this club. She is not naive to the nature of SAMCRO.” Gemma pointed out.

Chibs shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his throat. “Even if that’s true. Shite with me aint so simple. I got an estranged wife in Belfast, a fuckin messy history there too. Shite is complicated there. Fiona and I been talkin bout finally divorcing…but that aint even started yet.”

“And she is aware of that messy history. She is all too aware of Fiona and the mess there. Hasn’t seemed to make her shy away from you, Sweetheart. You can’t use that as an excuse to not go for something with her. Don’t you think you deserve some happiness, after all the misery?” Gemma offered attempting to make him see the reality of it all.

Chibs took a deep breath rolling the question through his mind. “Do I though? Would I bring er anythin but misery? Look at what happened to Donna, Luann…shite, how difficult is it fer ye and Tara…isn’t lovin men in this life a ticket to misery? What if I bring er nothin but pain and heartache?”

“That’s a risk with any relationship, Honey. Sure, loving a man involved with the club is not without its own risk and heartbreak. You’ll probably break each other’s hearts a million times, but what matters is you put those hearts back together, together. You talk about pain, but I know for a fact that Y/N won’t be protected with anyone outside of this club. She needs someone who will go above and beyond to protect her. We both know that spineless prick she’s out with right now won’t have the balls to protect her. If push comes to shove he’s not the type to fight for her. I think you and I both know there is only one man who will do whatever it takes to keep her secure and love her. I’m looking right at him.” Gemma explained, reaching out placing her hands on Chibs’ shoulders, staring up at him.

She gave his shoulders a squeeze driving the point home. “You have to ask yourself something important, Sweetheart. Can you stand by watching someone who does not deserve her get a life with her? I think we both know the answer to that. Take what you want, Chibs. Decide if you can stand losing her or if you’re willing to fight for her.”

Chibs let the words sink in, the choice rolling through his head.

He swallowed a lump developing in the back of his throat, the answer seeming so clear.

He knew what his choice had to be.

============================

Y/N cringed as her date reached out placing a hand on her bare knee. His hands were too soft.

The thought felt ridiculous but it was all she could focus on.

She glanced over at her date mentally wondering why she’d agreed to any of this. He wasn’t exactly her type.

He was too clean shaven and too prim. The polo and slacks he was wearing seemed too formal for a movie date. His blonde hair was neatly trimmed and styled. His face was too smooth and though he had a sharp jawline and nice cheekbones she found herself wishing that there was a little facial hair there. His eyes were a pleasant shade of blue but she found herself comparing them to a certain brown shade sported by a Scottish Son.

She pushed thoughts of the Scotsman out of her head, refusing to let Chibs Telford ruin her night.

She placed her hand over Russell’s shoving it away as he dared to run it up her thigh getting too intimate in her opinion for a first date.

She spoke, clearing her throat as they turned down an unfamiliar road, the area looking more secluded and not anywhere close to the restaurant on main street he’d promised her they were going to after the movie they’d watched. “Where are we going?”

“Just a quick detour.” Was the response she received, the comment making her stomach turn a red flag waving in the back of her head.

She cleared her throat trying to laugh off the comment as they turned down an alley. “Quite the detour.”

She felt her stomach churn as they pulled into an alleyway Russell parking and turning the engine on his shiny red sports car.

She glanced over at him through the dim lights a voice in the back of her head telling her that she was possibly in danger. This didn’t feel right. It was clear what he was most likely expecting.

She felt her stomach turn a hint of rage raising in the back of her mind. He seriously thought he could pull into an alleyway and get lucky?

She spoke her voice holding a bit of tension. “I’d like to go to the restaurant now, please.”

Russell leaned in his breath warm against her cheek he far too close to her he having taken off his seatbelt. “We’ll leave in a minute. I just thought we could take a moment.”

He spoke again making her skin crawl. “Come on, live a little.”

She parted her lips to once again demand that she did not want to be in the alleyway with him, but did not have much of a chance to say a word as he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was too damp and too rough. She recoiled from the kiss bile rising in her throat as he attempted to coax her mouth open.

She placed a hand on his chest shoving him back with all her strength she fast to speak making her voice as demanding as she could. “I want to leave. You need to take me home. I don’t want to be here.”

“Oh, come on Y/N. I didn’t take you for a prude.” He remarked a scoff leaving his lips.

She was fast to reply to the comment her arms crossing over her chest scooting up against the door thinking of reaching for the handle and escaping the car. “I want to go home.”

“I thought you’d be more fun, I mean the people you’re involved with, I assumed you’d be a little more free thinking.” Russell remarked, he scooting closer to her making her stomach turn the rage that had been building in her becoming all the more prominent.

“Excuse me? The people I’m involved in, my family?” She snapped her hand reaching for the door handle ready to bolt for it if she needed to.

Russell smirked quick to say it. “Family or not, I’ve seen the girls who hang around that clubhouse. Girls only hang around that club for one thing. Now quit being such a fucking tease.”

He pressed his lips to hers again the kiss harsh his hands roaming her body as she struggled to open the door panic surging in her, her mind screaming to run.

She shoved him back, managing to find it in her to deliver a harsh slap to his cheek.

The action worked a growl from his lips, his voice tense and far from the charming tone he’d taken with her when he first asked her out. “You stupid bitch. I’m going to make you pay for that.”

She felt her blood run cold not helping but wish she’d thought to carry the revolver, Piney had insisted on giving her when she’d first moved back home, in her purse. She had left the gun at home though telling herself it was not needed on a dinner date with a nice normal paralegal.

Her mind began to spin wondering what he intended to do with her. What did he mean by making her pay?

Her salvation came so suddenly she did not even have a chance to fully understand what was happening.

The driver's door was yanked open, a pair of hands reaching into the car and harshly yanking Russell out of the vehicle, a familiar voice sounding out. “What the hell do ye think yer doin?”

She widened her eyes, recognizing Chibs Telford’s voice anywhere. managing to open her own door, her knees feeling wobbly adrenaline still rushing through her veins as she turned to see the scene playing out on the other side of the car.

Chibs Telford stood over a stunned and scared shitless Russell, the Scotsman’s fist risen. “What the hell are ye doin?”

“I didn’t mean nothing by it. I just figured she was up for it. I mean I know you guys have girls who hang around the club who are up for that kind of thing. I figured she was used to this kind of thing.” Russell dared to explain Chibs’ eyes growing darker at the explanation.

He delivered a harsh blow to the man’s face, his fist colliding with Russell’s nose a sickening crack sounding out.

Y/N watched the blood pool around Russell’s nose the youunger man reaching up to clutch it as Chibs’ fist backed off.

Chibs managed to push back his rage enough telling himself that tending to Y/N was far more important than beating her date to a bloody pulp. He’d deal with Russell later hopefully with some members of SAMCRO to aid him.

He spoke his voice holding a dangerous edge. “Ye get in yer car and drive away before I do somethin worse than a broken nose.”

Y/N watched as Russell scrambled to open his car door and get in still clutching his bleeding nose with one hand.

She watched as he fumbled with the keys, managing to turn the engine, the car backing out of the alleyway and speeding off carrying her would-be attacker far away.

She stared up at Chibs Telford as she and he were the only ones left in the dim alleyway, her mind going a million different directions all at once.

This was not how she pictured this date going.

Everything had gone completely awry so quickly, and she had a feeling her night was not over yet.

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