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the-kr8tor · 2 months ago

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Layover

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: A trip home brings something unexpected. A second chance perhaps?

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothes), cw food mentions, cw suggestive, ex! Hobie, second chance love, lovestruck! Hobie, Fluff.

A/N: Happy octobie!!

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Octobie 🎸

Buy me a ☕?

When you ran through the airport while clutching your luggage you expected disgruntled passengers from all walks of life. And when you reached the counter expecting to be checked in like usual, you didn't anticipate for your flight to be delayed because of the snow storm raging outside. You just thought that the plane could handle it, you were very wrong. With the bottoms of your jeans drenched from wading through skin biting snow, and with your luggage checked in without having the foresight to grab a pair of fresh pants beforehand; you stand in line for the complementary cup of tea that probably tastes like sink water.

Everything has gone off the rails that you started to anticipate anything, from the earth swallowing you whole to a flock of birds suddenly entering the airport and attacking and pecking at your head— but never in a million years you’d see your ex standing in the middle of the rushing crowd looking disheveled but still as handsome as ever.

“Oh,” your breath gets stuck in your throat as the bright fluorescent lights above dim in your vision, and spotlights replace it— pointing directly at him while the crowd parts for him.

In slow motion, he turns his head and you see the recognition in his eyes just as he locks eyes with you through the haze of brief unfamiliarity. His lips curl into a smirk just like how you remembered it. His piercings glow as if the sun has come out just for him, melting the ice and snow outside. His hazel eyes roam over your discombobulated expression, you must look like a fish out of water right now.

“Miss?” The vendor’s voice behind you wakes you up from your foggy thoughts. “Your order?”

“Uh…” turning around, you try to gather your words, but it seems that Hobie has taken it all from your lips. “I—”

“Earl grey, two sugars and a splash of milk.” His voice sounds close, ever closer as he sidles up next to you. When you gaze upon him, he's already looking at you with those eyes you loved. Still love. “Did I get it right?”

“Fucking hell.” You murmur, and his smile grows wider.

“Yeah, she still drinks it.” He nudges your shoulder, and you're frozen on the spot. You don't care enough to notice the barista making your drink lightning quick. “I'll take the same thing, no milk.”

“S-still lactose intolerant?” You try to sound confident even though you can feel his warmth through his jacket, it still has the same patches you lovingly sewn on it.

“I don't think they found a cure for that yet.”

“Yeah, I don't think so too.” You say in a small voice, basking in his presence. As if you two didn't amicably break up two years ago, as if you still don't long for him— or don't love him anymore. Well, you still do, but you're trying (and failing) very hard to convince him and yourself otherwise.

He grabs both of your drinks effortlessly in one hand, while the other takes you by your sleeve to pull you aside so that other people could order. Once you're parked into a corner and leaning on a pillar, (all the while not straying your eyes away from him) he gives you your drink, ringed fingers grazing your own.

“Hi, Hobie.” You finally smile, eyes twinkling from the bright lights.

“Hello, love.” His voice is low enough for you to hear, but not loud enough for other people to hear how lovestruck he is.

Your eyes are practically ogling him, he's in plaid, a long sleeve button down that you remember buying for him on a whim. Under the long sleeve is his old band shirt, the same one that you painstakingly silk printed with him and his band for hours in his houseboat. His leather jacket looks the same, save for a few new patches and stitches he mended, it practically didn't change in those two years.

He still wears all the things that remind him of you.

“You look good,” good is an understatement. He looks fucking fantastic. His hair is much longer now, and his skin still lacks worry lines as if he didn't age. There are a few more piercings than you remember, but the most glaring one is the one on his lip. It shines whenever he turns his head, and you wonder how many new piercings he may be hiding. “I see you still haven't thrown out that shirt.”

Hobie looks down, chuckling when he remembers what he's wearing. “You made this one.”

You scrunch up your nose that fades into fondness despite your thudding heart. The image of you and him sitting on the floor of his houseboat while eating take out makes you miss that life. It would be nice to hug him before bed, to tend to his wounds, to kiss him every time he goes out. To just be with him— you miss that life.

You've forgotten to take a sip from your cup, so you do to act normal. The drink warms you up just right, but with your eagerness to look somewhat normal in front of your ex, you choke on your tea.

“Oh shit,” Hobie, without thinking, like it's the most natural thing ever and still acting on instinct, pats your back. “You alright?” He chuckles at the ridiculous situation. He never thought flying back home from a gig would cause a chain reaction of him holding you again in a crowded airport. He smiles at the thought.

“You're laughing!” You cough out. All your stiffness fades away once you hear his laugh, you missed it so much. You missed him. “I'm choking here and you're laughing.” You have tears in your eyes, whether that's from choking on nothing or it's because of your longing. Either way, you must look horrible.

His palm continues to pat, and his smile never wavered, completely endeared by you. Completely in awe of you just by standing in front of him. He missed you.

“‘m not laughin’” You give him a stern look, cheeks practically in flames. “‘m not!” He briefly takes his hand off of you to grab at his water bottle peeking in between his bag zipper that's filled with numerous stickers. “‘ere, drink.”

You take the bottle from his hand as you continue to cough. He opens the lid for you before you could wheeze, and you down it immediately. Again, you've completely forgotten about your *own drink in your other hand.

“There,” he tamps down his chuckles as he sees water dribble from your chin. “Better?”

You groan, coughing out a few more times before you hand the bottle back to him. The fact that it once touched his lips flew over your head, but once the bottle was back in his hand, it hits you like a snowplow. Your stomach flips, and you panic, drinking from your hot tea again.

“Fuckin' hell, careful.” He chortles at your side eye. “Alright, choke on it, 'm ‘ere for a reason.”

You stop drinking, back leaning on the pillar, chest heaving. “Why are you here? You don't like flying.”

“I had to this time.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“What are you, airport security?” He jokes, shoulder leaning on the wall beside him, leg crossed over the other casually. That does things to you, making your palms sweaty. “Business actually, we had a gig ‘ere in Cardiff.”

You grin, “the band's here?”

“Nah, those lucky bastards took the earlier flight.” He says as he looks over to where he was standing before he walked over to you.

You furrow your brows, “oh, you're with someone?” Your heart deflated right in your chest. Is it wrong for you to feel this way when it's been two years since you last kissed him?

A ghost of a smirk briefly appears on his lips. “Nah, just me. I took a later flight so I could visit some places. Be a fuckin' tourist for once y’know?”

Your heart inflates back to life again. “That's nice, it's not everyday you get to actually fly and conquer your fears.”

He chuckles, “I wasn't that afraid.”

“You didn't want to go on that Germany trip with me because of it.” His smile wavers, and something passes by behind his eyes.

“Sorry.” You did not expect that. Today is just full of surprises isn't it? “You know I couldn't—”

“I know, Hobie.” You grab his arm without thinking, palm cradling his elbow. You give him enough time to move away, but he doesn't. “I know what I was getting into by dating a vigilante.” You whisper the last word.

“That was before anyway, now I have someone lookin' over the city while ‘m gone.” He softly smiles, eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips briefly. “‘m still grateful for you puttin’ up with my shit.”

“I think I deserve a medal for it actually.” You joke, moving to poke his side oh so casually.

“I don't know if they sell that in the shops ‘ere.”

You chortle, “you'd get me one?”

“Shit, I'd have it engraved with your name and everythin’”

The two of you continue to giggle and indulge in each other's presence. The PA system continues to echo out in the background, hundreds of shoes squeaking on the linoleum floors, and children busying themselves with their gameboys beeping above the murmured conversations of their parents. Every sound is muffled, his laugh is the only thing that you can hear, and his face is the only thing you could see under the harsh lights.

It's just you and him in the crowded place.

“Let's sit down, yeah? Our planes ain't goin’ anywhere.” He pats your shoulder, palm lingering for only a moment. Since the entire airport is packed with stranded passengers, all the seats are taken no matter how uncomfortable it is. Looking around, he bites the bottom of his lip when he doesn't see any benches or chairs left.

Your heart feels like escaping from your chest. “We can sit over there, near the window.” You point with your chin at a space big enough for the two of you.

“Good eye.” Hobie gives you his drink, and you furrow your brow in question until he bends his knees to grab your luggage and his bag. “C’mon then.”

With a small smile, you follow behind him as he carries the bags effortlessly. After weaving through the crowd, you two finally make it to the large window that displays the tarmac where planes are waiting around in the plush snow.

He sets your bag next to his own in the corner, sitting down on the carpet that is probably older than the two of you combined. Patting his side, you chuckle, cheeks warm but you still sit beside him. You're so close to him that your knees kiss his own, and you're only a hair width away from his lips when you turn to look at him.

His lips part, and you see his Adam's apple bop up and down as he swallows thickly. Your eyes glance at his lips, and you quickly look away, moving to the side even though there's not much space between you and the wall beside you.

Hobie clears his throat, smile hidden as he casually turns his head away from you. “Why are you ‘ere then?”

“Business.” You hand him his warm drink, and again, your fingers brush along his own. This time, you let your touch linger upon his own for a brief second more.

“I thought you're out ‘ere to wade through the snow.” He takes a sip from his cup, eyes flicking down towards the bottoms of your jeans where it's darker and wet from the snow.

“What?” You look down, and you immediately want to slap yourself for the blunder. “I-I forgot to grab a pair of pants before I checked in my luggage. I–it's very silly of me.”

Hobie chuckles lowly, finger absentmindedly playing with the cardboard cup sleeve. After two years, he can't believe you still have the ability to fluster him. “Tell you what, borrow my trousers, you could get sick from the cold.”

“I'm fine, Hobie. Besides, my flight's about to begin boarding any minute now.” A second after you said it, the PA system announces that your flight is delayed. Again.

Hobie laughs, “comedic timing. Just take my trouser, love.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, laughing with him a moment later once you've recovered. You decide to tease him. “I hope you don't mean the one you're wearing right now.”

Smirking, Hobie leans closer to you, whispering in your ear. “Even though we're at an airport, that won't count as bein’ in the mile high club, lovie.”

Maybe your flight getting canceled isn't so bad after all.

“Damn, I thought it would count!”

Hobie moves away, grinning from ear to ear. “Just take my bloody trousers. I don't want a repeat of that one winter we had back home.”

“That was one time, I learned my lesson. And fine, I'll wear your pants, I've worn worse.”

“Rude.” He says with a soft smile, “it's in my bag, the biggest zipper.”

You gesture towards the bags next to you, “You want me to rummage through your things?”

“Why not? You've already seen my knickers. And me in just my knickers.”

“That's not it, Hobie.” You say like you're winded after getting the image of him in that one pair of knickers in your mind. Thanks, Hobie.

“Too much crossin’ the boundaries then? Hand it to me.” He doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable, the same reason why you had to ask him if he's sure about you rummaging through his things. You don't want him to feel uncomfortable too.

“Kind of, I'll be wearing your pants anyway so we crossed that boundary a few minutes ago.”

“What is it then?” He knits his brows, concern etched on his expression.

“It's just that— it's your stuff, maybe there's something in there that you don't want me to see.”

“Love,” he says softly, “you've seen everythin' there is to see. Nothin' changed much, ‘m not carryin’ somethin' that will make me embarrassed.” When you still don't look too sure, he twists in his seat to loom over you, you get a full display of his chest as he pulls at his bag to put it over your lap. He smells just like how you remembered. For a second there your heart stopped at the sight of him above you. “Go rummage through my shit, yeah?”

You bite your lip with a shake of your head. “I will scream if I hear something vibrating.”

Hobie's booming laughter echoes throughout the airport, rising above the PA system.

Grinning, you open the bag, there's a few shirts on top that you recognize, and a couple of jeans. But when you see something red and blue with the familiar spider logo, you clamp the zipper shut.

“You brought your suit?” You look at him, bewildered.

“Why not? You never know when a mutant lizard would appear.” He takes a swig from his cooling tea, acting nonchalant but clearly amused by your reaction.

“What if security sees it?” You whisper.

He copies your tone. “They did.” Your eyes widen. “They thought it was a costume, love.” Winking, he smiles teasingly at you.

“That makes a lot of sense actually.”

—

You look at yourself in the murky airport bathroom mirror, hands tying the strings on Hobie's pants. Its red checkered pattern catches the eye, and its soft material reminds you of his pajamas. It might be his pajamas actually. You remember all the cold nights in the houseboat cuddled next to him, with the boat rocking softly as you whisper about your day in his ear. You wish you were there right now.

You push open the creaking door, and you see Hobie waiting for you, standing nonchalantly on a pillar with yours and his bag strewn near his feet. Once he hears the door, his head perks up, and a smile appears when he sees you in his clothes.

“Lookin' bloody fit, eh?”

“Stop, I'm already embarrassed enough. I feel like a kid in kindergarten who just had an accident.”

“Well, did you?”

You make a face at him. “No, the hell?”

Hobie shrugs, “I won't judge you if you did.”

You push him lightly, palm pressed on his chest, making him laugh. “Shut up.” Looking over the space you and Hobie were sitting at, you find that it's already occupied. “We lost our seats.”

Hobie follows your gaze. “That's alright, I heard a few blokes talkin' ‘bout rentin’ a car. We could try our luck there.”

“Impromptu road trip?”

“D’you want to stay ‘ere till tomorrow?”

“No,” you sigh, “let's go.”

Hobie takes each of your bags and his own while making sure he walks in the same pace as you so he doesn't go further away and lose you in the crowd. You don't argue about carrying your own bags since you know you'll lose and he'll charm you with that smile you love. It's better not to faint in the middle of a packed airport.

You're arm to arm with him, and your instincts tell you to hold on to his arm like you used to do. You wish you could still do it, just hold him lest he gets lost in the crowd or go further away from you. He doesn't, he won't, and you know that despite the two year gap of being away from him.

You have a lot of things to tell him, and he has a lot of thoughts about you. For now, he walks close to you, wishing, hoping that the divide between the two of you will crumble the moment you hold onto him like how he remembers.

A passenger bumps into you, and you collide on Hobie's side with a quiet yelp.

He reaches for you, thumb pressing on the small of your back in an attempt to keep your balance without dropping the bags. “You alright? What a wanker.”

You gaze at him through your lashes, eyes roaming around his concerned face. “I'm okay.” He looks marvelous basking under the light.

“You sure? You look a bit peckish, love.” He guides you towards the nearest food stall, all the while avoiding people from colliding into you.

You can't tell him that you're suddenly clammy because you're absolutely awestruck and still very much in love with him. So you lie. “I can't get anything past your senses, huh?”

He chuckles, trying to ignore your quickening heartbeat in his ears. “You want a sandwich?”

You give him a lopsided smile as he drops you off to the side of the sandwich stall. “Sure, Hobie.”

“What kind?” He leaves the bags near your feet, a smile never leaving his pierced lips. “The usual?”

“You still remember that?”

“I remembered your tea order, of course I remember your usual.” He casually says, hand hidden in his pockets, hoping that you can't sense his sudden bashfulness.

“It's not aunt Janet's chippy but it'll do.” You grin as the memory of you two having afternoon dates at your local chip shop passes by your mind.

“Don't tempt me, or I'll start swingin’ in this storm to get us some.”

“That's physically impossible, Hobie.” You unconsciously mirror his movements.

“Yeah, if you're not Spider-Man.” He shrugs with a smug look as he walks backwards to order your snack.

He'll be the death of me one day. You think as your eyes never leave his form.

—

You finish your sandwich right on time when Hobie comes back from the car rental counter. His annoyed expression tells you that it did not go well.

“What happened?” You swallow, throwing away the paper packaging at a trash can. Hobie leans on the glass wall right next to you, hands in his pockets. You narrow your eyes at his suspicions posture, “you're fucking with me aren't you? You have the keys in your pockets, right?” He tilts his head towards you with a tight-lipped smile. Your teasing grin falters. “Right?”

“Nah, not this time, love. Sorry.”

You sigh, wincing, hope snuffed out. “Really?” He nods, you really hoped that you would get to go on a road trip with him again. “Damn, I thought you were joking.”

“They're not lettin’ any cars out because of the ice. Slippery road and all that.” He huffs, and then flicks his eyes at you. “How was the sandwich?”

“Pretty okay,” you turn your head to him, body drifting closer. The window is cold under your head. “The bread should've been toasted better though.” Rummaging through your pockets, you find your wallet to pay him back. “How much do I owe you?”

“A hundred quid.” He chuckles at his own joke.

“Fuck off.” You scoff out with a giggle.

He finds your laughter contagious, grinning he shakes his head. “Nah, it wasn't much, keep it.”

“I gotta pay you back, Hobie.” You insist.

“You already did with the tea, love.”

You laugh some more. “That one was free!”

The PA system interrupts and calls on your flight again, and as you predicted, it's delayed. You barely notice the announcement with him looking at you softly.

“Everythin’ is free if you think ‘bout it.” He pokes your bicep playfully as you roll your eyes with a grin. “I think that was your flight, lovie.”

“Yeah, I expected it this time— wait, when's your flight? Did they announce it already?”

“It's cancelled,” he says casually. “Is it that bad though? I got to see you because of it.” His tone is tender, with a hint of apprehension under his voice.

“Too bad on the impromptu road trip though.” You scooch closer to him. In the busy airport where every person rushes in and out, you and Hobie are in your own world where it's just you and him. “I would've loved to stop by the chip shop with you.”

“We could still do that,” Hobie whispers, eyes downturned as he wraps his pinky around your own. He gives you space to move away or flinch, but you don't. Instead, in a twist of events, you pull him closer with just your pinky, toe to toe with him, holding him just like how he remembered. “I'll take that as a yes then?”

“Ask me,” your free hand rises to his chest, palm right on his heart, feeling how his heartbeat hastens. You lock eyes with him, smiling gently as you see his pupils dilate with just you in his vision. “Please ask me.”

“I saw you a few minutes before we met at the tea stand. And I followed you like a bloody creep thinkin’ that I was hallucinatin’ or some shit—” you stop his rambling with your hand cupping his cheek. He leans against your touch, eyes closing for a moment. Your heart leaped in your chest when he did. “Breakin’ up was a bad idea.” He says as he opens his eyes, hand holding the back of yours, feeling his calloused hand around your own. “Go to Janet's chippy with me, we'll get your usual. And I'll get mine and I'll give you the first bite like always.”

“Like our first real date.” You almost couldn't get the words out with the lump in your throat.

Hobie nods with a lopsided smile, eyes glimmering in the light. “Say yes, please.”

“Yes.” Your lips wobble. “And you're fucking right, breaking up was a very bad and stupid idea on our part.” A tear escapes that he promptly wipes away carefully.

Hobie exhales like it's the first time he lets go of a breath. His forehead meets yours, and you hold him, giggling, pecking the tip of his nose.

“I missed that.” He leans away, cradling your face in his hands. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, you have no idea.”

“I have a faint idea.”

You chortle, eyes tearing up again. “You wanna argue who missed who the most?”

“Anythin' to hear you talk, love.” As he tilts his head to kiss you, he inhales and brushes his lips on yours. He feels complete.

Before you could seal the deal, the PA system echoed again. This time though, they announce that your flight is canceled. You hear simultaneous groans across the airport, except from you and Hobie.

You laugh against his lips, making him chuckle. Leaving a chaste kiss before moving away, you silently promise to give him a proper one once you and Hobie are out of the rushing crowd.

Moving away, you kiss his knuckles as you take his bag away. He understands the memo, carrying your luggage as you continue to walk away.

“Where are you goin'? We can't rent a car to drive back home.” Hobie calls after you, matching your pace almost immediately.

“I booked a hotel just in case something like this happens.” You swear you heard his breath hitch in his throat.

“Just like this?” He points to himself with a knowing smile.

“You know what I mean, Hobie.” You say with a lilt in your tone. “Either you sleep in a cot and wake up with an aching back, or you sleep in the same room with me.” You flick your eyes at Hobie, who's absolutely dumbstruck, that's quickly replaced with a huge grin, his eyes crinkle at the corners as you nudge him playfully.

“I prefer sleepin’ in the same bed with you if you'd ask me to.” He switches your bag on his other hand, carrying it all in one hand effortlessly so he could reach for your hand.

“Well, this is me asking.” You squeeze his hand thrice, walking towards the airport's hotel with a skip in your step. You're glad that your flight was canceled.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banner by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

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meanbossart · 4 months ago

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DU DROW LORE ASK COMPILATION: COMPANIONS, ASTARION'S READING HABITS, AND HIS LONG-INQUIRED OPINIONS ABOUT BODILY WASTE REVEALED.

I don't think "discussed" is the right word, more so mocked her for her blind faith and got into brief spats. It was precisely Shadowheart's water-off-a-duck's-back attitude towards his remarks that kind ingratiated her to him - DU drow spoke his mind, she took it in stride and remained firm in her beliefs without arguing or trying to push it on him. That, alongside the fact that they are surprisingly similar people is what brought them together as friends.

Even long after the events of the game he's still opposed to her hopping from Shar to Selune, also. Shadowheart's attachment to religion is simply something they agree to disagree about.

Can I answer your question with one of my own?

Am I the only idiot that killed her in their first run LOL

BUT YES, he killed Lae'zel when she tried to murder suicide the camp and I went through the whole game without her. I didn't go to the creche either!

I have since had other runs and she's actually one of my favorite characters, I just haven't had the chance to draw her yet.

ACTUALLY - scratch that. I've drawn her once-

Somewhat! But not really. He genuinely just likes jewelry, and rings are the only kind that suit his life-style (necklaces and earrings are a hazard during fighting) this is a reference to his bhaalist days when he used to be completely covered in the stuff day and night.

Hence why he finds them comforting to have on in some way or another. They change around because he gets bored of/misplaces runs out of fingers to wear the new rings that he loots constantly.

The great link in question

I don't know if it's been made clear enough, but DU drow's love for Astarion is borderline pathological, LOL. He's got a good humor about things and Astarion is definitely no stranger to having little quips and jokes made at his expense (a few references to him being Pointy And Long here and there, for sure), but the guy overwhelmingly adores him and thinks he's always the prettiest girl at the ball, even when he gets in his face and his nose looks huge.

I'll be honest, Astarion strikes me as the kind of guy that has like, 3 really weird books he really enjoys and reads them again and again very slowly over the course of years. Otherwise, not really a reader, but I digress -

DU drow was probably never a big reader himself, I would say he got started on a couple of books back in the day but likely never finished any. He's fairly intelligent, but most of his downtime was spent managing the cult and parsing through relevant documentation.

I definitely don't think he'd have the attention-span for fiction (which I picture as being said books that Astarion enjoys) but he does like to snuggle up with his beau to watch him read - every once in a while he catches a particularly scandalous line or description and they bicker about it. He makes a remark, Astarion feels obligated to explain the context, it devolves into some playful kind of argument that ends with Astarion telling him to go dig a hole and die in it while playing with his hair - The usual LOL.

Oh man I have a few more in-dept descriptions of how that went, both lore-wise and just for me as the player - but in summary, DU drow was pretty mean to everyone earlier on in the game and he did catch onto Astarion's very obvious and obnoxious seduction attempts very clearly. He doesn't like being so desperately pursued and they actually got off on the extremely wrong foot because of it, LOL.

After being unpromptedly rejected at the tiefling party he was a little more enticed by him, basically the "no" was his "go". I like to think of it like Astarion catching onto the fact that his initial strategy wasn't working and that this man in particular needed him to play hard to get - from that point on, DU drow started playing along. DU knew this was still a game, but now they were playing it on even ground so he was fine with it.

First of all - he inexplicably got butt-ass naked for the event.

All in all he liked it a whole lot and it was his re-introduction to the concept of pain being dished out as a form of love and his deep enjoyment of it.

Thank you so much, glad to hear you get some joy out of my work!

Dang it I had a pretty good write-up about his thoughts on Wyll from a long time ago, but I can't find it 😭

In summary, Wyll was a frustrating person for him to be around because of what he viewed to be a deeply ingrained naivete about the world. He shockingly didn't hate him (Wyll is kind of difficult to hate) but he never really saw him as an equal either, and definitely not as a friend. Du drow just desperately wanted him to express something that he would perceive as a genuine emotion; some kind of outburst or show of anger or frustration, but all he ever saw was someone trying to put on an act of performative heroism that he didn't buy at all.

At the same time, Wyll was far too young for him to be too mad. He might have held his father more accountable for making the guy into what he was than Wyll himself, really.

Can a man be scared of being scared? Because if so, it's that.

He also doesn't like shit a normal amount. (piss is fine depending on whose it is.)

#Guys I got my inbox under 80 messages #please clap #On the other hand #I also found more that I want to draw answers for #god help me #ask compilation #du drow lore

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 5 months ago

Note

kinda chubby fem reader x slash and shes kinda insecure abt her weight and slash wants her to sit on his face and shes afraid but he convinces her 🎀

A/n: Crying because of this, it was such a good thought and I wanted to write it but then I clicked post by accident and it was just hell trying to write this man :')

Warnings: Blood sweat and tears went into this, smut, oral (f receiving), face riding, sub!slash, handjob (m receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

“You’ll be fine.” Slash groaned again, his arms wrapped around you as you walked around the kitchen.

“You keep saying that but I’m not worried about me.” You said, trying to focus on getting food ready. Slash rolled his eyes and let go of you, mumbling something about bringing him the food when it was done.

You hesitated, Slash seemed like the kind of person to leave crumbs in the sheets and you didn't feel like dealing that but you eventually decided on doing it anyway.

You carried two plates upstairs, one for him another for you, but you nearly dropped them upon entering your room.

Slash was splayed out on the bed on his back, one hand holding a pillow to his face just below his nose so he could still breathe, the other holding his hard and leaky cock. He wasn't trying to get off, only stroking occasionally.

You weren't quite sure what he was doing other than assuming this was supposed to be an attempt to get you to just play into his little fantasy.

You came over, setting the plates down on the dresser, and pulled the pillow from his face to reveal a wonky grin. Slash lazily reached for you with the hand that had been holding the pillow. "Please." He whined. "I'll make you feel good, I promise."

You wanted hate him. You'd spent time making food and all he wanted was you.

Then again, that's why you loved him. All he wanted was you, you were always beautiful to him. Even now, all he wanted was for you to sit on his face, having in no way the same worries as you.

After a bit more coaxing he got you out of your close and straddling his chest. "Are you sure?" You asked, still nervously.

Slash nodded and gestured for you to move up. "Yes, now come on." You chewed your cheek but did as he asked. You didn't put any of your weight on him, scared to suffocate him or something.

Slash kissed up you thigh until he got to your cunt and pressed his lips to your clit, smiling at the soft breath it got out of you. He kept kissing you, licking occasionally or nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Slowly he coaxed you into letting some of your weight rest on him, then most of your weight, though you still refused to let go completely.

Slash tried to be understanding, he still got most of what he wanted but eventually it wasn't enough. "I didn't say to fucking hover," he said, landing a harsh slap on your ass, "sit your ass down." You squealed from the sting of his hand but it quickly turned to a moan as he pulled you to rest of the way down so all your weight was on him.

He felt so good, his tongue dipping into your cunt and fucking your, every move your body involuntarily made had your clit bumping against his nose, which only made you move more. You couldn't help it, and soon you were grinding down on his face, riding his tongue, his nose.

Your hands gripped his hair, fingers tugging on the dark and curly strands as you got off on him.

Slash was no better, his hips thrusting up into nothing, his heels digging into the mattress beneath him as he whined against you, sending vibrations straight through you, feeding the growing ball of heat in your gut.

Slash's hands gripped your thighs, scratching at them. When he originally came to you with this proposal he never mentioned this, he'd never thought of it.

Slash loved showing off his needier side for you, but it wasn't usually his intention to bring that up. Still, seeing him struggling to get off yet getting so turned on just from eating you out. He was so pretty for you.

"Fuck! Fuck, Slash, m'gonna-gonna cum." You managed to say between moans. Slash whined against you and you could see the tears building in his eyes, his cock pulsing with desire and need yet not receiving any attention.

You loved the sight. You needed more of him. More of everything. You weren't sure how but you knew you needed it.

His named rolled off your tongue more times than you could count, slipping out like a prayer as you pulled him impossibly closer until that knot finally began unravelling.

Your head fell back, eyes widening and rolling back. Your hand left his hair and rubbed your clit in fast circles, lifting yourself an inch or two off of Slash as you came. He took a deep breath of air before you squirted on him, drenching his already wet face completely.

Slowly, you moved down, examining your work.

The tears had finally left Slash's eyes, now mixing in with your cum. He was breathing heavy and you saw a small pool of his own cum drippling down his stomach.

You were smiling when you moved off of him, laying on your back and letting out a soft sigh.

Slash threw an arm over you pulled himself closer to you. He leaned over and kissed you, his lips needy and desperate and bruised, you tasted yourself on his tongue, mixing with the saltiness of his tears.

"See?" He mumbled, kissing your cheek. "Perfectly fine." You smiled at him and held his head to your chest as you reached over for his dick. He began thrusting into your hand, mumbling praises and thanks faster than his mind could comprehend.

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

Leaving these in here to remember the pain 🥹

I DIDNT MEAN TO HIT POST FUCK

ILL FINISH IT SOON JUST GIMME A MINUTE IM SORRY

ALDJDKDEJDKS I WROTE IT I WAS ALMOST DONE AND THEN FUCKING TUMBLR DECIDED I DIDNT NEED IT AND FUCKING DELETED IT

Crying 🥲

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #gnr #guns n roses smut #slash #gnr fic #slash gnr #guns n roses imagine #slash guns n roses #gunsnroses #gnr fanfiction #gnr smut #gnr x reader #saul hudson #slash fic #slash fanfiction #slash smut #slash hudson

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azullumi · 2 years ago

Text

wanderer and ayato — a family with them ☆彡

summary — family and children, how would they be as a parent and husband?

characters — wanderer and ayato (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, familial relationships; headcanons

word count — 1348

a/n — this mainly focuses on what they're like around their children hahahahahah

WANDERER

Wanderer, however rough his personality is, actually shows himself getting along with children and being good at dealing with them, especially ones of his own blood, quite well. It was surprising actually, pleasantly surprising, him being able to get along with kids and having a soft spot for them was a fact you never knew but definitely needed to know.

Of course, it's not like he was immediately as accepting, unafraid, nor open as he is right as of the moment. He was once afraid, clueless, and anxious because he didn't want to end up accidentally hurting his child and it took him some time to overcome that, reassuring himself that children are not as fragile as he thinks.

After overcoming that fear of his, when he first held the hand of his child, he felt like breaking down and crying on his knees. When he first carried them in his arms, he held them gently yet filled with fear. How could a child be so small and soft? From then on, he was determined to protect and give the world to them.

If he has more than one (or multiple) child, he would try to treat them fairly and equally, he makes sure that no one is left out of anything or feeling like they're not being paid attention to. After all, he doesn't want them to experience the same things that he did. He knows how horrible it feels and he couldn't imagine having them go through that.

He would give them everything that they wish for but on certain conditions that they must pass or follow. He doesn't want them to become spoiled children who'll cry whenever they won't get something that they want as he doesn't like that. His conditions aren't that complex nor hard though.

"I'll give you that as long as you promise to always be a good child."

He’s protective. Not over or too much but he’s definitely protective as majority of the time he’s worried about their safety or them encountering any kind of danger so it causes him to become strict when the situation calls for it. Permissions will often be asked from him especially when it's about going somewhere quite far away.

“My friends invited me to hangout and play with them on the river."

"Honey, you have to ask your father for permission. You know that even if I'll allow you, he always has the last say."

Ultimately, he'll end up allowing them but someone has to accompany them and it's either you or him.

Although as time passes by and his children have grown, he becomes less strict and protective. Becoming a carefree father as he just lets his children do anything that they want as long as they know what they are doing and are responsible with their actions. However, he still enforces some rules on them like curfews so they don’t get overboard and carried away.

He has a playful side that he shows to his children, occasionally teasing them but then silently panicking if they would end up crying because he doesn't know how to deal with that. Probably told them that Santa isn't real

"(Name), they are crying."

"Did you make them cry again? I told you not to do that."

He always has time for his family, spending more than half of his day bonding and just being there for you and his children. He doesn’t wish to become an absent figure and wants to show that he’s always there not only for you but also for them also.

He never knows if he's being good enough for his children so thoughts often wander and linger inside his head, thinking and believing that he’s not a good father, however, his children think otherwise as they see him as the best father that they could have.

He's doing everything that he can to be the father that his children need and not be lacking towards them, through his own actions, words, and methods, he displays his affection and support for them in multiple ways.

KAMISATO AYATO

The pure definition of a loving, doting, and affectionate father. Overprotective and strict, especially if he has a daughter.

He tries to be sweet and understanding towards his children, giving them full support and showering them with love always. It's a given that he'll get along with his children easily knowing him and his personality.

He spoils them with gifts always and wouldn't hesitate in buying them what they ask for. He tries his best to make time for them and spend time with them, often finishing his duties early and immediately.

"I'm here."

"You're early, what about your duties?"

"I finished them, my love. Anyways, where are they?"

He'll support his children in whatever path they'll choose and go down on. They want to be an artist? Full support for them and he would even buy the materials that they need. If they even need someone to teach them, he'll hire a professional. A samurai? A blacksmith? A fisherman? Or anything in general, they'll have his full support. As long as it's not anything dangerous or just illegal.

He would take his family on vacations and places when they wish to unwind and just relax. They could go to Mondstadt, Liyue, Sumeru, or anywhere they wish as long as they can and as long as his duties and responsibilities as the head wouldn't get in the way.

However, in times of festivals wherein he's one of the organizers and handlers, he wouldn't be able to accompany you nor his children in walking around and having fun in the said event. Thus you're left explaining everything to your children.

"Will father not come with us?"

"Sadly, I don't think he'll be able to, sweetie. But who knows, he might be with us later. For now, let's just enjoy everything, okay? Your father has prepared everything here and we should appreciate it!"

On rare occasions, he'll actually show up last minute and accompany you all in walking around and at those scarce moments, you'll have these memories burned in your memories.

In contrast to his sweetness and loving side though, he's actually strict and overprotective. It can't be helped though as he's the head of the Kamisato Clan and people are often out for his throat. His child becoming involved in these dangers are inevitable so he has to be wary and careful everytime to avoid any catastrophe or tragedy from happening.

Usually, when they would go out, he would have people following them and protecting them from the dark as it would ease his mind since he can't be there for them in case something happens. Knowing that they're with the people he trusts just clears his worries.

He's also cautious and mistrustful around the people they are surrounded with, you will never know who's trustworthy or who's going to stab your back. Everyone is considered a threat especially towards his family.

He doesn't wish to put pressure on his own children and would wish for them to leave a life wherein they are able to reach and achieve their dreams. However, he does understand that someone has to be the heir of his position and will soon become head of the family. It's just some wishful thinking that his children could live a carefree life that he couldn't have.

"Will my children live a happy life?"

"I'm sure they will, they have a great father like you."

"What if I'm not?"

"Oh, you definitely are."

That doesn't mean that he's not happy right now, however. He has everything that he could ever wish for, a loving family of his with an amazing partner like you. He's leading a fulfilling and successful life so how could he ever be ungrateful? He only wishes for his children to live a life wherein they're happy also.

Overall, despite his busy schedule and everything, he tries to always be there for his children no matter what and he'll probably never know how thankful they are to have a father like him.

— navigation | masterlist

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schrodinger-swriter · 9 months ago

Note

If you are still doing the fluff alphabet, could you do A B C E G J and K for Alastor?

A, B, C, E, G, J and K for Alastor

I'm still doing this alphabet! I'm unsure of how long I'll be doing it for, but I'll probably cut it when most of the character's have a good chunk of the alphabet done... or when people understandably lose interest. Which ever happens first!

Apologies if I seem a little off today in my writing, that horrid time of the month is approaching and it's throwing me off. I hope you enjoy, Anon!

ATTRACTION:

Now this one is interesting... see I know full well Alastor is aro, or at least somewhere on the spectrum. I'm just unsure of where he lies, if it was ever stated he was totally aromantic or something else. Personally I write him as demiromantic, or perhaps even greyromantic? We also need to take into account on if he's attracted to your romantically or for other reasons. He would probably like to spend his days with someone who keeps him on his toes, at least a fair amount. It keeps things interesting, and unless he has a reason to, he won't stick around if things get dull.

BONDING:

Alastor seems like the type to listen to music while sipping a glass of wine, or some other alcohol. Complete with sitting in front of a fireplace or some other piece that ties the aesthetic together. Reading, too probably. You're more than welcome to come and join him for some quiet time. I enjoy the thought that Alastor spends his time like this when he's not actively doing his job at the hotel or trying to network or build his power.

CUDDLING:

As most sinners are, he's very warm! Very skinny, though. Boney, even. Cuddling is rare, though, because he doesn't enjoy physical touch all the much outside of some occasion. He definitely tolerates your touch better than other's, but it's better to initiate cuddling when the mood is right. He may not initiate it often, however. Cuddling is exclusively done behind closed doors, he prefers his privacy.

EMOTION:

He shows just enough emotion where it's needed. Appearing happy with you and perhaps laughing if something funny has happened, or getting angry about something. He's not totally emotionless, and some of his true feelings do still shine through. But it's hard to tell where that starts, he's good at deceiving those around him into thinking whatever he wants them to think. He reacts and emotes with you, but he's not wearing his heart on his sleeve. In regards to romantic feelings, he does treat you more.. how does one word it..? How he behaves with Rosie, but more... casual and open.

GIFT GIVING:

Oddly enough, Alastor gives gifts fairly regularly. It won't be everyday, but you can bet that you'll always have a new bouquet of flowers by the time the previous ones had begun to die and wilt. Typically small things like that.

If you give Alastor anything, he will politely accept it. Maybe if you go into his room or into his radio tower, you'll find the gifts you've given him. It's a sweet thought, I think, he'd be ready to discard of anything he truly didn't want or need but here he is keeping the things you've given him, regardless of need.

JEALOUSY:

He conceals his jealousy fairly well, often outwardly portraying it by reminding you why you two are together. Re-enforcing the idea that you two are tied together. Be it literally or not.

He easily puts the other person into the ground, once more.. be it literally or otherwise... though that's assuming the other person doesn't turn tail and run when they realize you and the radio demon are an item. Though, that's also assuming they even know who he is..

He's confident that you won't do anything stupid or leave him.

KISSES:

He typically kisses you on the back of your hands and on your cheek. He does a little bow... dip.. when he takes your hand to place a kiss on the back of it. They're usually quick and fleeting.

Receiving he also enjoys cheek kisses. You guys don't do mouth kisses, tongue or not.. that often.. if ever. No harm there, besides kissing someone who's constantly smiling seems like it would be a little awkward.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #alastor x reader #alastor x reader headcanons #alastor x you #alastor imagine #radio demon x you #radio demon x reader

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pygmi-cygni · 2 months ago

Text

wrath - santiago garcia

i am cooking on these holyy. lowkey proud of myself. I think i'll do an aftercare series next because not every fic has that and sometimes it's nice to have some fluff.

cw: hate (?) sex, darkish santi but dw everything is okay, enemies to enemies who fuck, banter, badassery gone wrong, riding, biting, degradation, mentions of injury and violence (pg description), kinda pwp

songs to listen to: caroline by artemas, you've been a bad girl by artemas...anything by artemas....

OKAY HOT TAKE I THINK SANTI WAS OSCAR'S HOTTEST ROLE. highkey a snack.

okay okay on with the show xox

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Fish and Will, the other two on your team, had been wise enough to take a separate Jeep, seeing the venomous look in Santi's eye.

A quiet rattling from the undercarriage over the rocky terrain was the only sound between you.

You held an ice pack to your chest, trying to soothe the burning ache. A rubber mallet to the sternum was a hard hit to take, and you'd only recently regained the ability to breathe. Trying to swallow air as quietly as you could, you shifted towards the window, determined not to look at your partner.

Santi hadn't said a word, jaw clenched sharp enough to cut diamond. The anger rolling off of him clouded the air; a mix of sweat, heat and loamy soil. An irony twinge made your skin crawl. Blood was still caked under your fingernails and flecked on his cheek.

The stakeout hadn't gone well. In fact, Murphy's law seemed to be the only rule in action out in the backwoods, because nothing had gone to plan. The bodyguards for your target had switched shifts, the numbers were wrong, the target came home early...in short, it was a bloodbath.

Fish and Will took the supply van, trundling along in front of the armored Jeep Pope was currently driving.

Guilt and anger roiled in your gut. Yes, you'd been reckless. yes, Santi had reason to be angry. Did you get out alive and with the cash? Also yes, so at this point you weren't sure why it was still an issue.

"There's more ice in the back," Santi's low rumble broke the silence. His gaze was still locked forward, tone giving no room for further conversation.

You nodded thanks, grabbing a new pack and throwing the melted one into the garbage bag. The cold bite made you hiss. Santi flicked his eyes to yours in the mirror, then back on the road.

"Grab the map."

Sighing through your nose, you complied, shoving the messily folded sheet at him. His hand stalled as he grabbed the paper, clenching hard enough to tear.

"Interesting," he growled, "you can listen."

You glared daggers. This was not the conversation you wanted to have right now. Don't engage, just leave him alone.

"About time you decided to act right."

okay, fuck you.

Shoving forwards to the passenger seat, you stuck your face as close as possible to Pope's fuming profile.

"I got out," you spat, "and I got out alive, and I got out with an extra 50k. I was gonna offer it to you, but-"

Santi revved the engine and swerved off the road, swearing in heated Spanish. You screamed, thrown against the door from the force of the vehicle. Shrubs and branches crunched under the heavy wheels, and you tumbled onto the dash, chest searing with pain.

Hands hooked under your arms and dragged you into the humid fog. You thrashed and wailed, choking on breath. A familiar tan palm slapped over your mouth, and you felt Pope's grip tighten around your bicep.

While you struggled to comprehend what the fuck just happened, Santiago brought your ear up to his mouth and seethed.

"Listen very closely," he said quietly. "I have put up with you for five weeks. Five. Cinco. I am going to give you five minutes to run as fast as you possibly fucking can until I drive off without you. Otherwise, I'll put a round through your skull. Comprende?"

You shivered and coughed, mind doing pirouettes. Where did this come from? No, you didn't like Pope, but he'd never...

"Wh-why?" you croaked around his hand. With an umph you were shoved to the mossy floor, scrabbling away from him. Santi stalked forwards, dark gaze heavy and strong.

"You don't listen. You don't shoot. you fight good, but you risked all of us for what, a moment of glory? Puta," he hissed, grabbing your jaw again.

His arms rippled under a sheen of sweat and dewy raindrops. You struggled to suck in a breath, the injury on your chest throbbing with every inhale.

"P-please don't," you stuttered, trying to stand. He shoved you down, broad palm strong against your chest. A defeated whimper slipped between your lips. Santi clicked his tongue. Mocking.

"Cry later, you've got some ground to cover."

With a shove, you were stumbling forwards into a loping run. The jungle terrain was unfamiliar but you plowed forwards. Sharp leaves whipped your cheeks, wet bark and sticky sap clinging to your already drenched clothes.

Pitter pat pitter pat pitter pat. You had five minutes. 180 steps a minute, that meant you had 900 steps before-

A loud crashing came behind you. He cheated. It had not been five minutes, and Santi was a lot faster. You sprinted hard, trying not to slip on the slick leaves.

With a huge leap, you crossed a small creek and crawled up the bank. A few seconds later you heard Santi splash through.

You weren't going to outrun him. Hide. You could hide. you were good at that; being quiet and still. There was enough mud and foliage caked on you to blend in with the shrubbery.

Trying to quell your shivering limbs, you crept beneath a rotting log, rutting out a small ditch to cower in.

The forest was quiet. Every sound you made sounded amplified. Your ears strained to pick up Santi's careful footsteps.

Trying to track a Marine, huh? Good fucking luck.

You settled lower and sniffled. Better just to accept it.

"You can come out now."

It stunned you to silence. You weren't expecting him to catch up so soon. Biting your lip, you shakily crawled out of your hiding spot, hands timidly raised to your ears.

Santi stood a few feet away, posture relaxed and wide. His powerful legs were strong and steady, arms folded over his chest. Fish. God, you should have called Fish.

Fear choking your throat, your shook as he walked closer, stopping nose to nose. Raw anger radiated off of him, almost in visible rays. You met his gaze bravely, but the tears bubbling gave away your terror.

Santi's hand moved to his waistband and you flinched reflexively. His hand came up to smack you and you barreled forwards, tackling him to the soggy jungle floor. Desperately, you clawed at his chest, trying to stave him off and get back to the car. He grabbed your ankle, yanking you back into his chest.

A splitting scream tore from your throat before he stuck a thumb in your mouth, efficiently gagging you.

"Stop it, st- shut it-" he growled, pinning your arms at your sides. You grunted furiously, kicking at his ankle. Santi swore again and hitched up so your feet flailed in the air.

"I'm not gonna shoot you," he spat, wrestling you against a tree, "would you fucking stay still chrissakes, stop hitting me." Your brain took a moment to catch up, after which you fell limp.

Relief coursed through your veins.

Santi breathed heavily. "Can you...jesus can you stop moving? I need to-"

"Drop your gun," you said as soon as he removed his hand.

"Wh...I don't have a gun." His eyes were genuinely perplexed.

You kneed up to his waist, connecting with the hardness there. "yes, you do."

He buckled, groaning. Bewildered, you watched him swallow a curse before it clicked.

"...Are you-"

"Shut up," he growled, before devouring your mouth.

Oxygen deprivation was getting to you. You went slack when his tongue pushed into your mouth, harsh and greedy. Santi's grip was bruising on your arms as he kept them pinned to your sides.

"Why," he panted between sucks, "do you have to be so fucking difficult-" a groan cut him off and he returned to your neck, biting and licking for dear life.

You huffed and whimpered, overwhelmed by his attention. He kissed you angrily, teeth gnashing and clicking. A tang of iron when you bit his lip made him moan, grinding up against you.

The sharp grain of the tree you were pressed against dug into your shoulder. Lust burning, you ground back against him, urging him to kiss lower. He complied, still growling obscenities as he migrated to your collarbones.

"You hah have got to s-stop," he groaned again, flexing his hips, "f-ffucking around."

Your hands, free from his punishing grip, fumbled with his zipper. Pope shoved up against the tree harder, shucking his jeans in one go. You yelped before his hand jammed down your pants, finding the wet patch on your panties. A muffled whine was cut off by his lips while he dug his thumb into your soft, waiting heat.

A guttural purr rumbled out of his still-bloody lips, pressed against your temple. You buried your face shamefully in his neck as he thrust his fingers roughly into you, tearing blinding heat through your spine. You wailed and bucked, trying to urge him to slow down.

His thick digits were dragging against your puffy walls, spreading slick over his hand. Santi felt his eyes cross with the feeling of your wonderfully tight folds fluttering. He gritted his teeth and curled harder, wanting to see the tears threating to fall.

You gave him his wish, shuddering back against the branches as a sudden wave crashed into you, wetness gushing as your cunt sucked desperately at his fingers. He stopped moving and you screamed, wanting to ride it out with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't be greedy," he growled, ripping his soaking fingers from your hole. You whined and wriggled in his tight grip. Santi scowled and nipped your jaw, shoving down his boxers.

The cool evening air tickled, sending gooseflesh down his legs. He stammered a sigh, yanking your hips down over him. You choked at the intrusion, his girth tearing at your walls.

"S-slow down," you pleaded, pushing against his firm chest, "hurts-"

Santi cooed menacingly, thrusting up as hard as he could go. Tears cascaded down your flushed cheeks as he began a punishing pace, the scrape of your tender flesh against the rough floor was music to his ears.

"Hush," he whispered in your ear, groping at your chest, "just hush." You mewled and hiccupped, hips rolling against your will. Burning pleasure twirled up your core as he humped against your spongy center, stroking just there oh-

As he felt your walls pulse and tighten, Pope pulled away, stifling a moan at the loss. Your wet warmth was addicting - but watching you struggle was so much more satisfying. His eyes were heavy-lidded and drunk on the power, seeing your gaze shift from defiant to submissive.

"There we go," he breathed, reaching down to massage at your clit. You whined and leaned forwards, sucking his jaw into your mouth. "Feels better now that you listen, huh? See, see, you don't have to fight m-me ah ohffuck," he whined high and sharp when you yanked his hips forward into yours, crushing his cock between you.

Santi stumbled as you rutted hard, grinding against his weeping length. Stammering and swearing, he grappled for the upper hand, but you pressed him down firmly. Your shirt was rucked high, rosy nipples bouncing with every stroke. You refused to take him inside, face set as you chased a high.

He breathed hard, trying to stave off the rollicking pleasure singing through his veins.

"Stop," he growled, "S-stop, be gahhh," he howled when you reached down and squeezed his balls, making his thighs twitch and seize violently.

"Doesn't feel good, does it," you spat, eyes hazy and chest heaving. You looked desperately beautiful atop him, and Santi felt a strong surge coming through his length.

Your wet heat slid quickly against him, slick dripping onto his stomach. The smell of musk wafted up, adding to the tantalizing taste of you on his lips. Twigs and brambles dug into his back. Pope had stopped fighting, submitting entirely to your strong pace.

Short, stuttering whines lilted from your slack pout as you got closer. He grabbed your hips, grinding you hard on his needy tip. You sighed with pleasure and began rubbing your clit furiously, the rosy, stiff bud shining like a pearl in your velvety folds.

He was in heaven. You shuddered and moaned, folds fluttering and gushing hard over him. Santi bucked at the feeling of your climax, finishing quickly over his abs. You kept thrusting, pleasure overriding your mind.

"More," you breathed, digging your heels into the soft soil, "oh Santi please."

He couldn't deny that, though every nerve was screaming in overstimulation. You continued to wreck him on the jungle floor, simmering in lustful heat.

Later he crawled back to the Jeep, a half-conscious you slung over his shoulders. Fish and Will were waiting, but made no comment at your kiss-bitten neck and Santi's lust-blown eyes.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr

@steven-grants-world @ael-xander @silvernight-m @to-be-a-sunshine

comment to join!

#santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #santi x reader #pope x reader #santiago x reader #smut #triple frontier fic #x reader #reader insert #hate sex #series #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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cobaltperun · 11 months ago

Text

Lost (7) - The Reason

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 5.5k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-And all the pain I put you through I wish that I could take it all away-

Sam mentally apologized to you. You’ve kept Tara safe, you gave her sister the love she deserved, yet here Sam was, in a car she stole from you, out of gas about a mile away from Amber’s house because she was so blinded by rage. At least she managed to park it so it wasn’t in the middle of the road, but she would still leave it in the middle of the forest. And there was a gas station just ten miles prior, but, again, she was too consumed by anger.

Well, she’d apologize is she made it out of this alive. What she was about to do was reckless, she knew that, but as far as she was concerned, she'd either have a backup or she'd get both killers at once. So, she called Richie.

"Sam!" he sounded relieved, but that didn't matter, Amber was kissing Tara, playing the part of the worried girlfriend when she was the one who hurt Tara. "Where are you? I was worried sick!"

"It doesn't matter. It's Amber, she's the Ghostface, I'm heading to her place now," she revealed.

"W-What? Who is the other one? Wait, that's not important! Why are you willingly going to the killer's house? Please tell me you brought that MMA fighter with you, or that you are at least armed," Richie's voice was filled with panic and worry. Sam still hadn't decided what he was worried about.

"I left Y/N to protect Tara. I'll figure out who the other one is soon enough," she chose to reveal some more information, she wouldn't mention the knife she had with her, or that she was already walking toward Amber’s house.

"Please wait until I get back there. I went back to Modesto thinking you'd be there," Richie told her and it only made her more suspicious.

"Fine," she told him and hung up. She wouldn't wait though, she stopped just for a moment to send a just-in-case kind of message to Tara. 'I love you, I'm sorry for hurting you, please stay safe.' she typed it but then changed her mind and sent it as a voice message.

Sam didn't intend to die, and if she did die, she'd take Amber with her, but if she did die at least Tara would have some closure, at least she could listen to the voice message when she missed Sam.

But Tara would get over it, she was the strongest person Sam knew, her brave little sister, her survivor, she would stay strong, pushing on even if Sam was no longer there. It would be hard for Tara, Sam knew that, but eventually Tara would be fine. Tara would have you; she’d be fine as long as you were by her side.

With that in her mind, she saw the house, big, but otherwise entirely normal, not in any way indicating that a heartless killer who’d turn on her girlfriend and try to kill her twice lived there. Sam approached the front door, a knife in her hand. She had her guard up as she entered the house, checking the dark corners, and being as quiet as she could. So far all she saw were remnants of a party. She saw 'For Wes' hanging in the air and her heart broke a bit. Wes didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to die because of some stupid legacy. No one did. To make it even more cruel the party was held in the house of the one who killed him, or at the very least worked with his killer.

The few moments she chose to spare to grieve were a blunder she shouldn't have allowed as she felt a knife stabbing her in the back,

"It's so nice of you to join us Sam," the Ghostface taunted her as she managed to stumble away from her attacker and pointed the knife at whoever it was, she guessed it was Amber, but she couldn't rule out the possibility that it was the other one.

"Amber," Sam still growled, clenching her teeth to push down the pain. If Tara could fight with several wounds like this one, then Sam could fight as well.

"Oh, great, you figured it out!" Amber took the mask off, revealing her swollen cheek.

"Y/N's doing?" Sam taunted hoping to rile Amber up and provoke an attack.

Amber opened her mouth wide, revealing two broken teeth. "You mean this? Yeah, Tara's fucking guard dog really doesn't hold back," Sam could see the desire to kill you in Amber's eyes. "Too bad you didn't bring her."

Sam smirked. "Why bother her? You've already proven you can't beat her fairly, even two-on-one," her taunting had the desired effect as Amber rushed her with a furious scream. It was exactly what Sam was waiting for. She stepped to the side, hoping to end the fight as quickly as possible. There was still a chance the other Ghostface was in the house. And then the realization hit her. Amber was already in her costume. The only question was, was Amber expecting her, or was she in the middle of attacking someone? And if she was in the middle of attacking someone else, who was it?

Sam slashed at Amber, just barely grazing the younger girl's shoulder. It wasn't enough though, as Amber cried out and slammed her shoulder into Sam. With the wind knocked out of her Sam dropped her knife and barely managed to avoid another stab. All hopes of getting the knife back vanished when Amber kicked the knife under the kitchen sink, so Sam ran, hoping to get some other weapon. She ran up the stairs, having no idea where she was heading in the unfamiliar house. With Amber hot on her heels, Sam only had the choice to rush into the first room she came across.

When she came in, she saw it all. The blood, the three bodies on the floor, the knife that was used, she saw it all, and she felt sick, she froze, and Amber just stopped behind her. "No... What have you done?! Mindy! Chad!" Sam cried out at the sight of the twins, tied up and bleeding out on the floor with a girl Sam didn't recognize.

"They were supposed to be the bait for you to come back, but you came to us before we could even take photos of them," the voice that spoke was the same voice she heard over the phone, the one from the voice changer. Sam realized too late the second Ghostface came up to her and stabbed her twice.

"I'm so glad I get to kill you," he spoke, and Sam knew who it was before he even took the mask off. It still hurt to see Richie taking the mask off. In the end her and Tara shared the same fate, both being betrayed by their lover. Only, Sam didn’t have anyone to come for her, Tara had you, and Sam, in her struggles, fears and self-doubt, never formed that kind of bond with anyone. Sam didn’t have her protector, or someone to protect that wasn’t her sister. "I know, it sucks that it's me, but it was the best option for the movie," he said, only infuriating her further, but with the knife in her stomach, she really didn't have anything she could do. The only reason she was still standing was because of her anger.

"This isn't a fucking movie," she still gasped, the pain and anger mixed together in her voice, yet Richie only snickered at that.

"Oh, but it will be, but we need a few more guests before we get to the grand finale," a blunt hit to her head knocked Sam out.

When she regained consciousness, she had no idea how much time had passed. She did, however, know her head was killing her, she was in pain from the stab wounds, and she had her wrists and ankles tied up.

Sam failed. She went alone and failed miserably. Now she was defenseless, bleeding out on the kitchen floor with Sidney and Gale in a similar situation.

"Fuck," she groaned and watched as Richie and Amber came back to the kitchen. What followed their arrival was the sickest tale she ever heard. A tale of two crazy fans taking a movie that was over two decades old at this point way too seriously. The pounding in her head made it difficult to focus on their sickening reasons, and then Richie approached her.

"It wasn't that hard for me to find you in Modesto. It wasn't that hard for me to fuck you, either. But I guess being a sexually available woman is supposed to be empowering these days," he could talk all he wanted, her anger was already past its peak when Tara first got attacked. "Speaking of sexually available women, it wasn't hard for Amber to fuck Tara either. I guess a bit of attention is all it takes when you get abandoned like she was," at that, Sam's anger went above boiling point, and she tried as hard as she could to get free. The tape only dug into her wrists, but it didn't hurt at all compared to the pain she felt when he mentioned Tara and what was done to her.

And then the phone rang and everybody, but Sidney froze.

"I'm guessing that's for you," Sidney smirked slightly as Richie picked up the phone.

~X~

You approached the front doors with your phone on speaker. From the corner of your eye, you could see blood on the grass. You just hoped whoever got hurt there was still alive. Someone picked up the phone and you spoke. "The resident guard dog on the phone. I have a bone to pick with you," you said and kicked the front doors open. It slammed against the wall, unhinged from the doorframe and making it loud and clear where you were.

You didn't even bother to be quiet. You couldn't be quiet. "Come on out Amber and whoever the other one is. Richie? Chad? My money is on Richie," you announced your presence quite loudly as you entered the living room. Still no one holding a knife or any other weapon in sight as you looked around Amber’s house. And then you saw Richie in the kitchen. With a gun. "Oh, it is you," you weren’t surprised, to be entirely honest.

Richie pointed the gun at someone you couldn't see. "Stay the fuck back Y/N or I'll blow Sam's brains out."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really now? I want you to reconsider that just for a moment," you took a step forward. "Think long and hard how about many bullets you have and how many it'll take to kill me. Four didn't, are you sure you'll have enough this time," even one bullet would be fine, if he aimed well, but you could see his nerves getting to him. You were standing there, bandage on your jaw off, any visible bandages off, spreading your arms and confidently standing there, not a single hint of pain or fatigue in your body language.

A shadow from your side made you abruptly step back and just as Amber went to stab you, you went behind her and grabbed her. You pushed her to her knees and tossed the knife out of her hands. Amber let out a scream of frustration as you put her in a chokehold. "Looks like we are at an impasse," the implications were rather clear, Richie shoots, you snap Amber's neck.

"Shoot her!" Amber growled, trying to scratch her way out of your grip.

"You sure his aim is that good?" You asked rhetorically and tightened your grip on the girl. She tried to reach your face or neck when digging her nails into your arms didn't do anything. "That's it, keep glaring. you're hardly even a challenge," you had to keep Amber's attention on you.

"Fucking, guard dog," she choked out, that really was her favorite name for you, wasn't it? You watched as Richie aimed his gun at you, but his hand trembled. He wouldn't shoot, he wouldn’t risk killing Amber, besides, as far as he was concerned the three of you really were at an impasse, so he was safe.

"What was it you used to say, Amber? Tara barks and I bite?" you taunted before turning to Richie. "Take a few steps back Richie," you ordered.

"What?" well, your demand was a bit unusual from his point of view.

"Now," to get the point across you tightened your grip enough to actually start choking Amber.

Amber gasped for air, her arms once again reaching for your forearm to try and get free, but it was a losing battle. At least now she knew how it felt to fight for air, how Tara felt. That thought alone made you squeeze even harder.

"Fine, fine!" Richie raised his hands up and stepped back once, then again, then the third time.

"Bark, bark, fucker," you smirked as a crutch slammed into the back of Richie's head. Sam gasped. Someone else gasped. Tara went ballistic on the now-crying Richie, and you tossed Amber over the sofa as she coughed and gasped for air.

The moment Tara saw you approaching the two of you nodded at one another and she stopped her assault on Richie to go and untie Sam. Richie stumbled back to his feet and tried to attack Tara from behind, only to be stopped by you grabbing his wrist.

"None of that," you warned, glaring furiously at him and dislocating his right shoulder. Just as the frosting on the cake you then landed several blows to his head. Someone running up the stairs caught your attention, but you figured you'd handle Amber after you dealt with Richie.

"Chad and Mindy are upstairs, they were stabbed!" Sam was struggling to get back up as she told you that.

Your eyes widened at the new information, and you glanced at Sam. She wasn't exactly ready to fight, but it would have to do. "He's all yours Sam," just in case you hit Richie again, knocking the air out of his lungs.

You ran after Amber, catching up to her at the top of the stairs. She had a knife, so you guessed she wanted to either take one of the twins hostage or finish them off. "No! No, stay back! I didn't mean to do this! I was radicalized! Please Y/N, I'm just a dumb kid!" she cried out when she realized she couldn't reach the twins in time. When she realized you were still more than capable of catching up to her and beating her, despite all the injuries you suffered.

"So?” you saw the gun before she could catch you by surprise again. "Come on now," you sighed, threw a feint, and grabbed the gun behind her back. You could see fear in Amber's eyes, fear so strong and overwhelming that she ran and jumped over the fence just to get away from you. She cried out in pain and clutched her ankle. Was it broken? It hardly mattered. You walked down the stairs as gunshots echoed, exactly three gunshots.

~X~

It was over. She killed Richie. She shot him. The nightmare would soon be over.

"Sam," Tara's voice, so small and on the verge of crying broke Sam out of her daze and she stumbled over to her younger sister. Tara hugged her as tightly as she could, crying into Sam's shirt. "Don't ever do that again, don't ever leave me like that again," Tara choked on her tears. “Do you have any idea how afraid I was? All I could think about was reaching you in time!” she desperately tried to hug her even tighter, to make sure Sam would never do anything nearly as reckless.

Sam hugged Tara just as tightly. Fearing Tara would slip from her grasp if she held even a bit weaker. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll never leave you again. I swear I'll never hurt you again," she tearfully promised. She had five, no, ten years’ worth of Tara's pain and loneliness to make up for and she'd do it. She'd turn her life around for Tara. She'd be better for Tara. She'd do anything she possibly could to make sure Tara was happy and taken care of. That was what Tara was to Sam, she was the reason Sam would get her life together.

~X~

You wanted to check on Tara, but you'd have to believe in her.

"Wait, wait Y/N! I killed Dewey, don't you think Gale and Sidney deserve a shot?" you didn't know if Amber was trying to distract you or if she actually thought that. It didn't matter.

"I don't care. You hurt Tara," you pointed the gun at Amber's head. Somehow your hand felt really heavy. Come on, just shoot... end this nightmare. Shoot! But you couldn’t…

Amber laughed when she saw the look on your face, your eyes gave you away. "You really are hopeless, Y/N!" she was trying to taunt you, but her voice barely registered in your head.

The image of your father's gun overlapped with the one in your hand. It wasn't about Amber, it was the act of firing the gun itself that was keeping your finger frozen on the trigger.

"What's left to love, hmm?! Tara will never be the same! Scars, doubts, paranoia, she could even turn out to be like her mother, a drunk. You can try all you want, but you'll never erase the mark I left on her," the maniacal grin, the satisfaction Amber felt due to what she did to Tara, it all fueled your anger.

Your finger still couldn't move.

Amber laughed and, perhaps seeing your inability to fire, lunged at you with a knife.

A gunshot echoed before she could reach you and you watched with wide eyes as Amber's body just dropped.

"You didn't leave a mark," Tara declared as she lowered the gun, Sam coming right behind her with Sidney and Gale.

You lowered the gun in your hand to the floor and without saying a word walked over to Tara. You reached her and took her hands, slowly separating her fingers from it as she shut her eyes. With the gun out of her hands you made sure it wouldn’t fire and gingerly placed it on the table. You hated that your hesitation, your inability to fire, made Tara do it. You made Tara kill. "It wasn't what she was saying. I just... spent years trying to prevent myself from pulling the trigger, so now that I should have, I just couldn't do it," you whispered barely loud enough for Tara to hear.

Tara seemed to deflate at those words as she stumbled into your arms. She glanced down at Amber's body and quickly looked away, burying her face in your chest and clutching the back of your shirt. You could feel a single tear dropping from her chin onto your shirt and you just held her, just pulled her closer.

"Come on, let's get out of here," you whispered gently and lifted her up, making sure she couldn't see the body. As you took the first step you heard police sirens approaching. That got you to raise an eyebrow and look at Tara who just forced a smile.

"Better safe than sorry," she said and for a moment you wondered why you didn’t just call the police in the first place.

Then you remembered how they left Tara at the hospital... 'Yeah, that's why,' you thought and took Tara outside.

~X~

Mindy and Chad would live, but Liv bled out before help could reach her. Before Sam even arrived actually. Overall, between new wounds and old wounds needing to be treated once again, every single one of you would need medical treatment.

You did have one question, so, as Sam watched over Tara you walked over to Sidney and Gale. "So, how did you get my number?"

Gale looked at you incredulously, as if silently asking 'Really? That's what you want to know?' you just shrugged; you were curious, so you asked. "You do know you're an MMA fighter and that I am an investigative journalist, right? It really wasn't that difficult," yeah, that made sense, you supposed.

"Right. I don't appreciate the tracker on my car, but I guess I owe you one for that," it didn't take much time to figure out Sam would be dead if that damn tracker wasn't on your car, or if Sidney called you even ten minutes later than she did. It was also lucky they called you when your car stopped in the middle of nowhere and you told them Amber’s address.

"Considering what happened inside, I'd say we're even," Sidney sighed and you raised your hands in surrender, if they thought you were even, you wouldn't argue. The last couple of days drained away your ability to argue.

"Right, take care," you stepped back and motioned toward Tara. "I'm going back to Tara," you said and went back to the ambulance Tara and Sam were in.

“Thanks for coming after me,” Sam gave you and Tara a small smile and judging by how Tara leaned a bit closer to her, you figured she already thanked Tara while you were with Gale and Sidney.

“Thanks for stealing my car,” you did not appreciate it being left on the side of the road.

Sam looked away and Tara turned to look at you as if she couldn’t believe what you just said. “Really?”

Your eye twitched at her reaction. “Sorry I don’t like my car being stolen,” you grumbled and then sighed, giving in when Tara kept looking at you with those doe eyes of hers. “Fine, but Sam is paying for the gas.”

~X~

Three days later Tara was finally getting released from the hospital, but there was an issue with that. She would be going back to her house. And no one went there since the night Tara was attacked. You could feel how anxious Tara was last night when she was told she would be released today, you could see it in her eyes as she frantically turned to look at you. If your apartment was any bigger you would have taken her there, but given the lack of space and her broken leg it just wouldn’t work, especially when it came to bathroom, and Tara refused to allow you to rent a bigger apartment.

So, here you were, in front of Tara’s house with a bag in your hand. It wasn’t the biggest house in Woodsboro, hell, Amber’s house was bigger, but it wasn’t a small house either. The grass needed to be cut soon, but it could wait a few more days, it was more important to handle what was inside. With a heavy feeling in your heart, you approached the front doors. Did Amber come in through the front doors? You didn’t know, you didn’t ask Tara anything about the attack, and she didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to remember it.

You opened the front doors and immediately stepped back. The stale air you could take, but the moment you smelt even a hint of blood you nearly threw up, consumed by what happened inside. And Tara was supposed to come back here. You hunched forward, gasping for air and then you saw them, a few red spots on the floor, dried up a long time ago, but clearly there.

Your legs shook. You’ve seen blood plenty of times before, drops just like those back in the octagon, but you still struggled to push forward to get inside the house. There wasn’t any more blood in the hall, so Amber likely didn’t come inside the moment she stabbed Tara there. Knowing Tara, she likely back away so that meant…

You looked down the hall, toward the kitchen and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you began, likely somewhat tracing Tara’s steps, you stopped at the wall, right next to the opening leading into the kitchen and the dining area and you leaned your forehead against it. “I should have been here,” you pressed your right palm on it, your fingers pressing harshly against the rough wall.

You had no idea how long you stayed there, but eventually you stepped back and walked into the kitchen and you felt your heart breaking into countless pieces. There was so much blood in front of you. A smudge on top of the counter, as if Tara was slammed against. A nick on the counter that wasn’t there before, likely from the knife hitting it. Stains on the floor from trying to escape.

You knew what you would see, but you still couldn’t stop shaking. You should have shot her, you should have used every single bullet in that gun and then you should have taken a knife. You clenched your jaw and opened the bag you brought. You had a lot of cleaning to do.

~X~

She was going back to her house. She didn’t want to, but she had to. She needed to get over the trauma, to learn how to feel safe even if she was alone. She grew so used to you being by her side almost all the time, and no matter what happened between the two of you that couldn’t be maintained, you couldn’t always be close to her.

And neither could Sam. There would be days when Tara would have to be without either of you, and the sooner she got over her trauma the better. She could not let three days define the rest of her life.

But first, going back to her house. She was standing on her own, using her crutches while she was waiting for her papers with Sam right next to her.

“I can wait, you should go and sit down,” Sam said, worriedly glancing at Tara’s broken leg.

Tara smiled, nudging her sister slightly. “I’m fine Sam,” and while she didn’t say it, a part of the reason she didn’t want to go and sit alone was how vulnerable she would feel surrounded by vaguely familiar people. And she didn’t want to leave Sam alone either. Sam got hurt as well when she was alone.

She glanced toward the main entrance, and the tension and anxiety that threatened to consume her faded away as she saw you walking in, looking around briefly before your eyes met. Sam must have noticed because she chuckled a bit and patted Tara’s shoulder. Tara blushed at that, Sam wasn’t even back for a week, and she was teasing her.

The moment you were close enough Tara leaned forward, letting you support her weight. Her eyes widened slightly when you wrapped your arms around her, your arms shaking slightly. She felt your shuddering breath against her neck, and she was reminded of that time in front of her house, right after you tried to… she didn’t want to think about that. You were with her now, and you’d stay with her for the rest of her life and as long as you wanted her in your life, she would never let you go.

“Tara,” she heard you whispering and hugged you, not caring that her crutches would drop to the floor. Sam must have caught them, because she didn’t hear them falling, or maybe she was just so focused on being in your arms that nothing else pierced through the bubble you two created.

She kissed your cheek, dug her fingers into your hair and pulled you closer. The feeling of your strong arms wrapped around her, the sensation as her lips pressed against your skin, her fingers in your hair, she never wanted to be without that.

“Thank you for surviving,” you told her so quietly she was sure only she could hear you, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to hear you if she was even a few inches further away from you. And she understood what was going through your mind.

You went to her house, you saw it all, didn’t you? “Y/N,” she pulled back a bit, just so she could press her forehead against yours. She felt as if she was about to melt at how softly you were looking at her eyes. “Thank you for staying by my side,” she could overcome this, all of this and even more, as long as she had you, she would be fine.

“That goes without saying,” you said as if you didn’t do what no one else did, you said it as if you didn’t stay by her side and protect her and she had to bite her lower lip just to stop herself from kissing you. “Do you want me to stay with you at your place?”

She wanted that, she wanted to make up for the lost time, to have you by her side, but she knew she also needed to spend some time alone. To once again start feeling safe on her own. “I’ll be fine, I promise,” she replied. “And I’ll call you if I need you,” she reassured you, though she would try her best not to call you.

“I don’t like interrupting, but we can go now,” Tara didn’t need to look at Sam to know she had a grin on her face.

“Right, up you go,” you lifted her up and smiled as she made herself comfortable in your arms, and you took her to your car.

~X~

It was her third night back in her house. She was afraid of her own shadow, alone in her house, since Sam had to go to Modesto to handle the life she was leaving behind. She was vulnerable, she needed time to get up, she couldn’t protect herself, or escape if she needed.

Her house was locked, she was safe, she was alone, no one could hurt her. Yet, as much as she kept repeating that mantra she couldn’t calm down. She couldn’t play any music, or watch a movie, fearing the noise would keep her from hearing if anyone was in her house, or if anyone was trying to break in. And she tried to fall asleep, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t handle being caught off guard.

She couldn’t do this. She made it through the first night alone, she couldn’t sleep the second night and only fell asleep when you came to her house in the morning. And now she once again couldn’t sleep. She took her phone for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few hours, once again looking at your name.

She called you, unable to stand the horror she felt. It was one in the morning, yet you answered mere seconds after she called.

“Tara?” you sounded like you were already getting up and getting dressed.

“Please come. I’m afraid,” she whispered, afraid that if she spoke louder someone other than you would hear her.

“I’m on my way, Love,” you didn’t even hesitate, and she vaguely heard you unlocking your doors and then seconds later locking them again. “Do you want to talk until I get there?”

She wanted that, but you would drive, and she wanted you to drive safely. “No, no just drive safely.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes,” you promised her and she nodded, for a moment forgetting you couldn’t hear her.

“Thank you,” she hung up when she heard you getting in your car. “I love you,” she whispered, counting seconds until you arrived. A bit less than five minutes later you sent her a message that you were about to come inside, but she still flinched when she heard ‘Systems disarmed’, her fingers twitched, and she nearly locked her house down once again.

“It’s me!” you yelled and locked her front door once again.

Tara smiled, listening to you running up her stairs. The door handle turned, and you entered her room and that fear vanished from her heart as she moved to the side and patted the spot next to her.

You closed the distance between the two of you and lied down, letting her rest her head on your chest. “I’m sorry, I had to call you,” she whispered, but you just rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. “Just sleep, I’ll be right here,” you told her, and she did just that, she was safe nothing could hurt her when she was with you. Nothing would ever again make her think you would ever abandon her. You were an exception in her life. So, she closed her eyes and fell asleep to the melody your hearts made.

A/N: And so Scream V ends. By the way, when it comes to what Sam and Tara showed in the movie, I think Tara is much more impressive. Sam is shown to be about as capable as one would expect from a woman who likely didn't have much, if any, martial arts training. Tara on the other hand moves with a broken leg, puts up one hell of a struggle in the opening scene, fights back even during the hospital attack, and on top of all that she has asthma.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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velvetvexations · 3 months ago

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Have you seen the interaction between gwemmieee and faggy—butch circling your feed yet? What a mess

@gwemmieee I'm gonna tag you here because your pinned asks that people talk to you when they have issues with what you say. It seems like you might be tired of discussing the subject, though, and I encourage you to ignore this if you would you would rather. It's essentially my take on the first few things you said and why I feel like they weren't great and people were right to be bothered by it, but you don't seem like a terrible person and it's more important that you take care of yourself than throw yourself into endless argument.

@faggy--butch I'll also tag you if this feels relevant to you, lmk if you'd rather I take it out

-----

I generally keep discourse off my feed because if I follow someone who talks about the intercommunity stuff I can handle they inevitably talk about the stuff that's triggering for me. There are several people I'd love to be mutual with otherwise.

I'd heard about it but did not realize it was quite that...extensive. Mm. I'm not sure if my perspective as another transfem would help or not since she seems in a rough place over it. I'll say there her things in her original reply that faggy--butch didn't even mention that I didn't like, like claiming trans men have problems getting access to certain spaces but trans women can't exist anywhere. That's pretty dire and if not for the insistence that she believes in the validity of transandrophobia would probably be enough to get me to be mean to her, but it seems like she was genuinely trying to be negotiable, and that's an important distinction when a lot of people really are treating transmasc issues as so much lesser in comparison to transfems.

The problem is that "transandrophobes bad" is not really a negotiable position. In what way are "baby transfems" being "vilified"? It's not a matter of not being up to date. Some of the things not only transfems but also self-identified TMEs - note that the OP did not say transfems - are really vile and cruel. To jump onto a post saying that to protest that one shouldn't be too mean to them back feels...weird.

Like;

However, if a trans masc wants to hold any baby trans fem to an unreasonably high standard of always knowing what is and isn't OK to say, and what feelings are not OK to voice, instead of engaging in good faith and trying to hear them, validate them, educate them, and NOT control them, that's kinda fucked up.

That's just not happening. That's not what's going on. To say transandrophobes simply "don't know what is and isn't okay to say, and what feelings are not OK to voice" really truly is treating them like literal babies. It may not be what she meant to say but it's so hard to understand a meaning to those initial posts that aren't saying one should never get mad at a trans woman for anything they say or do because being treated like a bad person is traumatic.

She seems to have gone on to have a better conversation about it with others where she understood more of what was being said and was able to clarify her thoughts more, but that still ends with blaming others for coming in too hot and I don't think that tracks at all. Even if she didn't mean to say something, she still said what she said and it's not really fair to turn that around as everyone just misunderstanding her and it not being her fault for that.

#transandro phobia

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eldritch-spouse · 5 months ago

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Good job on making the new wrath demon look terrifying. Legit he looks scarier than Kalymir. Also reminds me of a yautja.

I kind of winged it, I wanted him to be "ugly". I did notice the yautja similarity, but by that time, I was already half-done with it and didn't want to think of something else because it would stall the whole drawing for a day or so.

That's what your breaks are for nowadays. Your coworkers probably feel bad enough to buy you little treats every now and then.

[More asks under]

Again, not a strong deterrent.

One will giggle and twirl a finger around his horns.

The other beats on his chest like a fucking gorilla and grins at you.

Thenk you! I am cursed to keep creating ocs. I literally cannot stop, my brain won't let me, it's like a constantly overflowing bucket of pure brainrot.

Listen. Bayley is great. But what about the stripper variant of that name- Babesley. There we go, corny and horny.

Glonk isn't hitting it. I thought of Mozgrag, because it sounds like something hard to chew, and he looks like he's hard to chew. Moz it is.

[Considering I kind of just baked them, there's not too much to say yet.]

Babesley, commonly just referred to as Babes, is a decently famous masseur, formerly a resident of Lust but now residing in the Common Ring. Naturally, when your masseur is a concubus, you can expect more than a few uhm... Unique techniques. But you sure as fuck will leave relaxed, so you can't say it's not effective. Aside from that, he strips occasionally.

Moz is a clumsy weaponsmith primarily, but also a hunter- Does hunting imply humans and other monsters? Sometimes, yes. By "clumsy", I don't mean to say that he's bad, it's just that Moz has this amazing ability to cobble together a murder weapon out of lint balls and a penny. Scary.

Did they know each other before you entered the picture? No, not at all.

They just happened to be in the same place at the same time. Babes was behind Moz and witnessed the exhange. This led to him being a freak, the same way he was to you in that initial moment, and following Moz to try and get in the other's head about what could have happened back there. In the process, the incubus discovers there's an attraction to you within Moz, and seeing as concubi generally have no issue sharing sexually- He made efforts to keep in contact with the weaponsmith.

Their tentative mutuality begins as a way to fuck with you, get you to submit to them. Although, much to both their shock, it quickly becomes evident they're infatuated, in love even. An unspoken sort of agreement that you would be theirs is formed, even if verbally they constantly bicker otherwise.

Both of them are mid-rankers in the cusp of reaching higher rank, though you can't be blamed for mistaking them as such.

Yeah, it's kind of implied you're getting a two for one.

The same thing happens with the demon girlfriends.

I'll still humor them independently though.

#Retail Hell boys

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writerfae · 6 months ago

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So I read The brooch from the possible future au (this is why it was on my mind when you made that post about Cyrus) and I loved it😭 It hurt, but it was also heartfelt and beautiful and I got really emotional from it so sorry in advance if this rant sounds a little silly.

It was somehow so comforting despite being so tragic.

First of all at the beginning they're just sitting there, being content❤️ (you know I love characters just sitting around (or if you didn't, now you do!)

"Sometimes Aiden still couldn’t believe that this was real. That this was his. He never wanted Talon to stop looking at him like that. "

This says exactly what needs to be said!

Also, I love how much Talon's smiling in this (in the beggining of it)

"Too valuable for someone like me, he thought, but didn’t say it, because he knew Talon didn’t like it when he talked like this."

I don't like it when you talk like this! But it's so cute because it implies that Talon and Aiden did have talks about this!

"Wherever you are, my heart is with you"❤️😭

Now, you probably expect me to scream at you for the second part, but I won't because like I said it is somehow still heartwarming for me.

See, now I want to start quoting again, but then I'd put nearly the whole thing here, so I'll say this:

Every word describes the whole situation so perfectly. It feels like there's not a word out of place, like they are all emphasizing a point that I think isn't really the tragedy, but the love they have for each other.

I also love how much affection Talon is initiating here, trying to comfort both of them.

The fact that Aiden tries to give back the brooch. The fact that Talon doesn't let him, and that THIS comforts Aiden somewhat.

But I do have to quote my favorite part!

"A small sob escaped him as Aiden held out a small object to him, hands trembling. “I think… I think you might want it back. Give it to… give it to her.”

And the last part... it was so hard seeing Aiden like that so I won't go into much detail here. He reminded me of Milan a little.

And if you'll indulge me I would like to go on a little rant about my story and angst:

I don't know if I emphasize this enough but I NEED you to know this:

All the (canon) Ákos angst comes with the inevitable end of Ákos ending up all right. With someone comforting him, helping him, or him realizing that it's okay. Otherwise, I wouldn't do it to him.

You see, the thing is that Ákos is an incredibly strong person. More importantly he has people around him to support him (his parents and siblings).

The reason I talk so much about post story Ákos angst is because aside from those small things that fade with time Ákos goes back to being normal and happy!

He goes back to following Endre around everywhere.

He goes back to exploring the castle a houndred times with Moss.

He goes back to reading in Adél's room.

And when he's not able to do something that he used to be able to do, when he's scared, there's always someone to help him through it.

There's this moment in this holiday special thing (THAT I SWEAR I'LL BE SO SAD IF I CAN'T WRITE THIS YEAR) where they're walking in the winter woods and he wants to run off and look around, but he's a little scared, and Adél notices and follows two steps behind him so he doesn't have to worry. And then, after a while, he doesn't enen need Adél to do this.

Whenever he's having a problem, there's always at least one of his siblings to swoop in and help.

And like I said he's not always having problems!

Also this goes without saying but he will realize that it wasn't his fault.

Most importantly Ákos didn't lose his curiosity which in my opinion would have been the most tragic thing that could have happened (it happens in the villain Adél au). Sure he becomes a little more cautious (especially at first) but no less confident.

I might have mentioned this already but Ákos has always been interested in the Black swamp. And he didn't let what happened to him ruin this.

When he grows up, he will (probably, the specifics of this may change) research history with a special emphasis on the Black swamp, and he'll love it.

Ákos took this horrible experience that he had and made something positive out of it. Something that interests him, something that makes him happy (that down the line even ends up helping others).

Ákos' strength comes from two places:

One is that that's just what he's like

But more importantly because he was influenced by each of his siblings. He has a little bit of each of them in him, plus his own stuff!❤️

I hope you didn't mind this little rant🙈 I was just hoping that knowing this about Ákos gives you at least some fuzziness even if it is bittersweet like the ones I got from reading your short story.

I finally got around to answer this! Thanks so much for your patience 😌

I’m feeling really flattered that you liked The Brooch so much you wrote this ask!

Though I know the possible future au is a very painful one for us Taiden stans, it is really dear to me. And I loved writing this short story for it in particular! Both part one and two!

Part one really is mostly hurt, but it has lots of comfort in it too. I wanted to make the meaning of the brooch for both of them clear. I think I managed that quite well and to be honest, I did tear up a bit while writing the breakup part and the one where Aiden told Ash…

Also you’re not wrong, Aiden in the last bit is a bit like Milan, which is sad if you consider that it’s pretty much what Aiden always feared.

You’re always welcome to rant a little about your story to me!

You really don’t need to justify your Ákos angst to me. I know I complain about it (in a very fond way btw, never in the negative sense), but this is your story and you can do whatever you want! And don’t worry, I’m very aware that Ákos will be alright in the end. And I’m really glad about it ^^

And it’s great his siblings will help him through it all. That’s one of the best things about stories like yours!

(I’m very glad my boy Ákos will be alright in the end btw!)

#writer speaks #writeblr

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