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shadowsndaisies · 3 months ago

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training slump

a/n: on par with posting wips, comes this next installment of the brightest of lights. timeline wise, it's early on into officially training with hal, but one they've got a little more comfortable with each other!

BUT ALSO I WAS NOT ANTICIPATING THE SUPPORT!! im so excited that so many of you are already interested in this!

main masterlist

brightest of lights masterlist

synopsis: hal jordan is trying his best, okay? and it'd be helpful if someone would do the same.

wc: 2.1k

At this point you were just glaring at the ring. it really didn’t look like much, and you had been pleasantly surprised to find that when you weren’t actively using the ring it would slim down to be less obvious. Regardless, right now the ring was sitting on the coffee table in your apartment, Hal was pacing back and forth, droning on about focus and realizing your power and potential. You were slumped on your sofa debating the repercussions of tossing the ring out the window.

“(y/n)… (y/n)! Are you even listening?” Hal huffed, pausing his lecture as he finally notices your slouched position.

“Unfortunately,” you groan, scrubbing at your eyes, trying to rub away your exhaustion, maybe you should throw yourself out the window instead.

“(Y/n), you can’t just expect this to be a breeze, alright? It takes dedication and hard work-“

“Hal, if this turns into a back in my day speech, I will throw myself out the window,” you huff, voicing your inner thoughts.

Hal’s face morphs into a cross of horror and like he’s questioning your sanity, which; fair. He stares at you like he’s finally noticing the finer details of your slump. The dropped shoulders, slumped back and sinking into the sofa, with dark bags under your eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, suddenly frowning.

“Nothing, Hal. Please resume your explanation at my lack of focus,” you sigh, shifting a bit, hoping to give a more engaged appearance.

Hal quirks a brow and then starts looking around the apartment. You’re tracking his gaze as he analyzes everything. You notice how his gaze stops in the entryway first, eyes focused on the boots at the door, two pairs much dirtier than all the others. These particular boots were covered in grime and dried blood, and Hal’s brows pinch at the realization. His eyes dart to you quickly but he keeps his mouth shut before he resumes his analysis. He scans the the little table in the entryway, your keys are laid in a ceramic dish Cassandra had made for you and Jay when you both settled in here, behind the dish is a small indoor plant. Hal’s eyes don’t linger so you decide he probably hadn’t noticed the three small blades hidden in the pot. His gaze moves on, and you realize he also didn’t pick up on the fact that their were two hand guns magnetically strapped underneath the table, that, or he just didn’t care that they were there. His next focus is the kitchen, it’s obviously well loved, but clean, pristinely so, which you credit to Jason as it’s one of his niches. Despite that, there’s an open first-aid kit on the kitchen and Hal’s brow dips down a bit further, as he finally moves from his spot, walking to the kitchen island and rifling through whatever was left in the box. He focuses in on the first aid box, so you figure he didn’t notice that behind the fruit basket is another gun, nor the fucking katana Jason has some how manage to sheath between the fridge and far wall. Your eyes flicker over the space between you and Hal, counting weapons and hidden gear, but when you resettle on him he’s still frowning at the kit. He’s obviously not happy with what he sees because the next thing he does is open your trash bin.

You bite back the snort and a sarcastic “do you really think we’d leave the bag with our bloody bandages in?” but he turns back to you his expression set much deeper.

“Stand up,” his tone is serious, and you bite back the groan, because a serious Hal Jordan is your least favorite version of the man.

“What?” you ask, tone as innocent as you can manage.

“Stand up,” he repeats, tone void of its normal vivaciousness.

You stand up and fight back the urge to wince, making sure to stand straight and even, trying not to favor your right, despite the pain emanating from your left as you do so. Hal steps closer and raises a fist. Your eyes widen, but before you can react his ring is scanning over you, bathing you in green light for a moment.

Whatever the ring shows him makes him frown more before he finally asks, “what happened?”

You’re debating how to answer, the truth isn’t exactly what you’d prefer to offer, but you do want to shit this down, whatever it is. “Nothing to worry your pretty head about, Hal. Can we resume our talking about why I can’t get the stupid ring to work?” you offer as an attempt to distract.

“(y/n), this scan says you’re suffering through the after effects of severe blood loss,” he states and you refrain from offering a scathing remark but he continues, “your first aid kit is depleted, there’s blood on those boots by the door, both pairs, and I’m pretty sure those are bloody finger prints on the windowsill over there,” he huffs, gesturing to the window.

Your gaze snaps to the window and you can’t help but frown because he’s right. But also because you had missed when he clocked that, the blood loss was making you sloppy. You roll your tongue over your teeth in thought before deciding, “I’d like to invoke my fifth amendment rights?”

“Fifth-! You’re not under arrest!” he shouts.

“Well, frankly, I don’t appreciate your tone, Harold,” you lament, deadpanning at the man.

Hal gapes at you for a second, “oh my god,” he mumbles, rubbing at his forehead in a way that screams tired dad, in fact, you’re sure you’ve seen Bruce do the same thing, though it’s normally targeted at Steph and Tim if you were honest.

When your thoughts start drifting you feel your body sway a bit and realize why your train of thought is so scattered, “Not to add to your internal crisis, but can I sit back down? Because if not, I might pass out,” you tell him calmly, the admission coming a few moments after he had begun to pace a bit and once the room seemed to start spinning slowly.

“The fuck? YES! Sit! Oh my God (y/n)! I- you- what-“ he seems to stutter over how to proceed when you nearly collapse back onto the sofa. He stares for a second before moving closer to check you over, “I’m not prepared to be a dad,” he finally mumbles.

“You’re not my dad,” you offer up with a weak chuckle and Hal freezes as the realization of what you had said settles.

“Are you? Was that a MEME?” he asks, squinting.

“It’s a vine, Hal. Totally different, but gold star for the effort. It went totally over Bruce’s head, and he started pulling up Jase’s adoption paperwork in retaliation,” you admit with a strained smile.

“(Y/n), I mean this kindly, but what the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

You wheeze out a laugh which quickly turns pained, a hand coming to rest by your stitches on your left as you turn back to Hal with a small smile, “you couldn’t handle it, Harold. Plus, B told me to ease you into the whole pseudo-dad-mentoring thing.”

“he told you to ease me into it?” he asks, crouching down next to you, a slightly perturbed expression on his face.

“He was worried I might be too much all at once for you to handle,” you shrug.

Hal sighs before standing and then collapsing into the couch beside you. He runs a hand through his hair, staring at the celling and shaking his head, “he’s probably right, gothic bastard,” he sighs, relenting.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes falling back on the ring.

“Don’t be,” he tells you before joining you in staring at the ring. “But, uh, I probably know why your ring’s not working.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. White Lanterns draw their power from within. You are exhausted, stressed, dehydrated, short of some blood, and probably sleep deprived. Your body just doesn’t have anything to offer the ring right now,” he explains.

“oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out about the blood loss,” you admit softly.

“No?”

“It’s why Jase threw out the trash with our bloody bandages, why we cleaned up this morning, and why he’s not here.”

“Why isn’t he here?”

A lazy smirk takes your lips, “his black eye’s a bit harder to hide than my stitches are.”

Hal heaves another sigh, “how many?”

“Seventeen,” you tell him honestly.

“Seventeen?!” the sound accompanying his question had to be shriek, maybe a screech, definitely in that family.

You shrug, “it’s not the worst I’ve ever had, Hal. Gotta be honest with you.”

“B was right, this is terrifying,” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What?”

“Suddenly giving a fuck about a whole other person,” he says, turning to look at you directly.

“Don’t worry too much. I have Jase.”

“You two seem… close,” he alludes after a beat.

Your eyes narrow, “we are. we have to be,” you defend.

“Sure, but I’ve known Jason since he was running around in green tights. The dynamic you both have isn’t just out of necessity. Trust me, I’ve seen him when B calls him in for JL stuff. He cares about you, kid,” Hal explains.

“I know,” you whisper, because you do. You know in how gently he stitched you up last night, the way he does every time. You know it in the scars he’s received by putting himself between you and a bullet or a blade. In the way he cooks your favorites, and lets you pick movies. You know he cares, and you know he knows that you care just as much.

“Should I be worried?” Hal asks.

“Always,” you say without missing a beat, but then pause and add, “about what specifically?”

“You and Jason.”

You want to snort and insinuation, as if Jason, your Jason, would ever hurt you. Your partner, your roommate, your classic literature loving nerd who re-reads Pride and Prejudice at least every other month, who was so excited for the movie version of Emma that he dragged you to a theater to go watch it, that Jason. As if he would ever do anything that would put you in harms way excessively and unnecessarily. You almost laughed at the thought, because although he was built like a tank, and could bench press two of you, Jason Peter Todd had the softest, kindest heart you’d ever seen.

Jason, who lived through the worst, who had every reason to be as hardened as any random on the streets of Gotham, but took the time to look out for the kids who didn’t have some one, the kids who could’ve been him, and the ones that were. Jason, who made sure to check in with every girl working the streets. Made sure they were at the very least of age and not being forced into it, who made sure they worked for themselves and not some uncaring pimp. Jason, who still went when Bruce called, despite his complaints and their history. Jason, who loves his brothers, who loves Roy, Kori, Bizzaro, and Artemis, and would go to the ends of the earth for them if they asked. Jason, who was loyal, brave, and kind.

Your focus came back to Hal, who was still staring at you, waiting for your answer. “Individually? Absolutely, we both like to play fast and loose with the laws of physics and our grey areas,” you admit. “But,” you add, voice growing soft. “When we’re together, you can worry less. Jase always has my back, and I always have his.”

“I think I’m starting to see that,” Hal admits cautiously.

You sniff a bit throwing a mischievous smile Hal’s way, “You shouldn’t spend too much time worrying about me anyways. It’ll drive you grey and make you crazy, Hal.”

Hal snorts, “it already is, kid.”

Your smile softens, “you know, other than B, I haven’t really had parental figures. It’s nice to know there’s someone else out there who cares if I manage to get myself stabbed on patrol,” you admit.

“Someone who would prefer if you didn’t get yourself stabbed in the first place,” he clarifies, but throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into for a small side hug, mindful of your injury.

“Thanks, Hal.”

“I already told you, I’m looking out for you now (Y/n). I meant it.”

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

dc taglist: @batarella @loninctzencarat @escapenightmare @uh-oh-howd-i-get-here

bol taglist: @mxtokko @myxticmoon @pink-panda-pancakes

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sillygoosealert · 1 year ago

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hiii🌚🌚 you should totally make a little thing where we’re running from danny during a trial and get stuck in a window while trying to vault and yk.. he fucks us from behind and it’s like a “help me step bro i’m stuck🥺” kinda position yk HEHEHE 😈😈😈

Sorry i fell off the face of the earth for a few days i had to like idk reset myself ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ

Never say step bro I'm stuck again I'm not even joking I'll block you, Stinky

Danny Johnson NSFW, raw, has no aftercare, and a little plot but mainly smut, he’s MEAN (cannon bc because he murders people), um actually he's also COCKY (cannon bc he kills people), and he calls you piggy ( cannon because he likes horror and that is a black Christmas reference) knife stuff

Fog whisps around you as you are forced into another trial. Another day another round. Is it day, or is it night? You may never find the answer.

The entity is cruel in your clothing, a skirt to your mid-thigh, and a button down. Nothing to keep in the warmth. Nothing to hide you from the reality that is the cold red forest.

You think your teammates must all be together- not including you, because a generator is done at lightning speed. Then you hear guttural screams, plural, also at lightning speed. Maybe you shouldn't get them, you'll too just die. Survival of the fittest. They won't remember the trial if you let them die, it's like they have a reset- or something.

You're crouching, lurking, and waiting. Not for long, as The Ghostface jumps out at you.

‘Boo’

He's snickering and taunting you. Mocking the screams of your now-fallen teammates.

A jungle gym is in sight, if you abuse the window and stun him, perhaps the hatch could be located. Maybe you're too tubby, or maybe because the entity is against you, but the window gets blocked from the top halfway through. You do not make it, you are stuck.

He’s snorting and making animal noises behind you.

‘What’s the entity feeding you that you can’t get through the windows?’

‘Oh, it’s blocked.’

He grabs your thighs and tries to pull you out. However, his pullout game must be weak as you do not budge.

He keeps his hands on your thighs as he whistles.

‘Can you not get out?’

‘No?’

‘Does this happen a lot?’

‘First time actually’

You're shivering, it's too much. He's too casual about it.

‘I could cut you in half and play magician, that would be rather amusing ’

‘Please don't’

‘Do you have something else in mind, piggy?’

Nothing. Actually, you're crying a little, but you don't say anything.

He starts to coo and awe at your noises, rubbing and kneading your ass.

He goes around to your other side and pulls out his camera. You’re a mess. Wiping away tears from your cheeks and eyes.

‘That's it. Perfect. That's the picture I'll keep of you.’

He’s taking a couple photo’s. More than needed. Maybe he likes it when you cry, the glossy kind of look.

‘Just me and you babe, whatever will we do?’

He snaps the band on your panties. You just realize nothing is left to his imagination from where he is now standing again.

‘Are you scared?’

‘A little’

There isn't any reason to tell the truth or lie to him. But you think he likes it when you're scared, something kinky.

The cold plastic of his mask is pressed into your ass. He's sniffing you..?

You can feel the squeeze of his hands on your thighs, groaning into them.

He takes off the mask, not that you can him. But the feel of his warm tongue is enough to assume he took it off.

But that's not the only thing to come off, as he slips off your panties as well.

Spreading open your folds, you can hear the shudder of the camera as he takes pictures of your pussy.

You know it's wet, it was dripping on your underwear. What lewd photos he now will have. Blackmail material?

He begins sucking on your clit, shoving his face into you.

Messy, unplanned, and purely out of want.

That's not how Danny usually went. Besides all the times he did things out of rage, like the laser tag incident..

After he's mixed his spit into your cunt, he's ready.

Pulling up his cloak and pulling down his pants, he stares at you.

You're pretty. And you have a nice ass.

Maybe you would make a good girlfriend, maybe.

But he just wants to fuck you right now, really hard

He pumps himself before sliding in.

He's thick, but also kinda lean?

You're shaking again, this is much too abrupt for you

Pinching your leg, he pulls out his blade.

‘A little blood never hurt anyone, right?’

He starts to cut into your thigh. His thrust growing more erotic

Putting the knife away, he smacks the place he just sliced up

Yelping, you start to cry, again.

‘I like that- you crying. Sob for me’

‘You're doing good, do you like merely laying there as you get violated? This could happen to anyone, whore or not. Does that scare you?’

A rhetorical question, he just wants you to cry while he scratches your bleeding leg.

He starts to rub your clit, whipping his knife out again.

‘Where do you want me to put my signature?’

‘It hurts- stop, please..’

Caving GF into your back is a blur to both of you, as he is still occasionally slapping your body around while thrusting considerably too hard

He pulls out and cums all over your wounds, covering them slightly in semen.

‘People would be shaking if they saw this. Are you shaking because of me?’

You didn't even realize you weren't stuck anymore. Only after you fell backward you realized.

‘I'm going to let you go back. But I want you to tell them what I did to you- scare them. Let them know they are not safe from me.’

‘Okay, I promise, I'll tell them’

He picks you up and walks around with you clinging to him.

When you are near the hatch, he puts you down.

‘A picture- for you, to keep’

He's sitting with you on the ground, keeping you in his lap. Putting his face right next to yours- actually, you don't remember when he put the mask back on. You didn't get to see his face.

The light hurts, but he gives you a little polaroid with the two of you face to face, cheek to cheek.

It would be cute if he didn't just cut up your legs

Tucking the photo into your bra, he drops you into the hatch. How kind of him.

He waves goodbye, you do not wave back.

It wasn't bad, it was just a lot. Rushed? Scary? Harmful?

Kinda hot, but you really hope he doesn't keep those photos. For blackmail reasons..

🎀

#dead by daylight #dbd ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface #dbd killer #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #dbd ghostface x reader #daisy writes #danny jed olsen johnson #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson x you #jed olsen

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daisydeacks · 2 months ago

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Neighborly

A/N I just realized I never posted this to Tumblr :3 so I'm gonna! Chapters 1 thru 3 under this - John Price x f!reader NSFW Ao3 Link

The two of you had yet to cross any sort of real line other than ‘just really good friends,’ scared to ruin the tightnit friendship.

Just ‘really good friends’ who drunkenly make out on one of your respective couches before muttering about alcohol and influences before retreating back into their respective homes.

Or the dozens of handfuls of times the two of you had been unable to sleep and curl up with the other in the dark of the night. Two touch starved people content to hide away with each other.

You and John Price are neighbors.

Chapter 1

You gasp into your hand as your fingers rub tight circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back as your hips rocked and bucked against your own ministrations, that familiar band growing tight low in your abdomen as you muffle whines into your fist. Your legs begin to shake, your heels digging into the mattress-

Your phone rings suddenly- loudly . A detached wail tears itself from your throat as you lose it, lose the knot in you that was ready to snap at any second. You throw your hand to your bedside table, misty eyes glaring at the screen.

RESTRICTED NUMBER

Oh. Oh no.

You flush deeply as you realize that you’re panting, the hand that was once nestled between your thighs quickly wiping against your stomach as you move to sit up in your bed. You swallow air as you adjust yourself, ears almost ringing as you press the green answer button on the screen.

“H-hello?” You cough, adjusting against the headboard as the stickiness between your legs starts to become just noticeable enough to be mildly irritating.

“Y/N?” The voice- his voice- comes through the speaker with a richness you’ll never adjust to. A shiver rolls through you as you smile.

“John,” You reply before forcing yourself to sit up straight on your bed, legs crossing. You smile as you hear his gentle sigh, followed by a just as soft laugh at the sound of his name from you.

“Did I catch you at a bad time, sweetheart?”

You feel yourself warm at the pet name. Your smile softens as you press the phone closer to your ear, your free hand falling down to pick at your sheets. Need to wash these tonight the voice in your head mumbles as a quick thought.

“Mm, not bad enough that I didn’t answer.” The frustration from earlier was rapidly melting with your conversation; you knew it was him as soon as you saw the number was hidden. “How are you doing?”

“Ah,” He sighs, and you hear him shuffle on the other end of the line, papers being moved and rustled in the background, “The usual, I s’pose. Paperwork and the matter at the moment.” He’s silent for a few moments. “Should be home in a few days,” he adds quietly. You arch your eyebrows at that, teeth immediately sinking into your bottom lip. Your stomach does an anxious flip at the thought of seeing the man again.

John was a neighbor of yours in the building, his little slice of personal space located just across from your own. The two of you met when you were originally moving in.

He was leaving when you first ran into each other, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder as he shoved himself through his front door. He somehow seemed entirely too large for the regular sized door, the sight of him and the bag squeezing through the frame causing you to bite back a laugh as the man cursed lowly under his breath.

You had stopped in front of your own door to watch him, your arms carrying a cardboard box. Your gaze immediately zoned in on his toned biceps, arms and shoulders flexing almost obnoxiously under his thin shirt as he threw the bag back over his shoulder while he attempted to lock his door.

He had glanced back at you with a breathy laugh, blue eyes a beacon under the oh so silly tilly hat placed on top of his head, teeth bright against his beard. “Ah, sorry,” he straightened as he turned towards you and it was then you could really admire his height, “‘m John. You must be the new neighbor, yeah?”

You felt your face burn as you stared up at him, your eyes wide as you took him in. You blinked after a moment, shoving a hand out awkwardly from under the box in your arms. “Y-Yes! Yes, I’m Y/N,” You rushed out, a nervous smile tugging at your mouth. “It’s nice to meet you, John.”

John’s grip on your hand had been gentle yet firm. From there the two of you were almost inseparable when the man was home or on leave, although the two of you had yet to cross any sort of real line other than ‘just really good friends,’ scared to ruin the tightnit friendship.

Just ‘really good friends’ who drunkenly make out on one of your respective couches before muttering about alcohol and influences before retreating back into their respective homes.

Or the dozens of handfuls of times the two of you had been unable to sleep and curl up with the other in the dark of the night. Two touch starved, lonely people content to hide away with each other.

You felt another wave of warmth wash through you, this time of comfort.

“A few days, huh?” You can’t hide the smile in your tone, the hint of relief.

John hums through the receiver. After a beat of silence he speaks again. “ Been thinkin’ about that chicken soup you made that one time last year.. .” His tone is innocent as he trails off.

You roll your eyes as a blush burns at your cheeks and ears before you focus on the window in your bedroom. Fat droplets of water continue to splat themselves against the glass. You could make it again for him, the weather was right for it and it was easy enough- just left to simmer all day in your crock pot while you were at work or cleaning.

“Oh?” You hum as you prop your chin on the palm of your hand, elbow digging into your leg. “Have you now? The MREs not cuttin’ it anymore?” Your tone is teasing as you grin. John groans and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out from your chest at how broken the sound is. The two of you are quiet after a few moments before you sigh softly. You hesitate before you speak again. “I miss you.” Your voice is quiet; you were always nervous to admit that to John, unsure of where you stood in his life.

You hear a similar dejected sigh come from the man on the other end of the phone. “ I miss you too, love. ”

Your lips twitch in a sad smile at the response, your sheets shuffling as you move to bring your knees to your chest the best you could. You frown as you stare at your pruney fingers, your previous acts almost forgotten. You get off of your bed with a huff, the frame creaking under the shift in weight.

“ You already in bed? ” John questions, hearing the sound of your bed frame. You hum as your cheeks flush again, exhaling sharply as you bend down to pick up your shorts that you had discarded earlier.

“Just sat down when you called.” The lie leaves your mouth easily and he hums in response. Sounds of shuffling reach your ears again from his end. “Why are you still up? Isn’t it late for you?”

You sense John’s hesitation and you pause your own movements, waistband of your shorts slapping against your skin quietly as your fingers let it go.

“I missed you.” He finally responds. His voice was low, tone soft. “Wanted to hear your voice, talk to you. Worth it to stay awake a bit longer for that in my opinion.”

You ignore the weight in your chest, the tears that want to prick at your eyes.

“Yeah?” It comes out as a whisper. You’re afraid your voice would crack otherwise.

“.. Yeah.”

You pull the phone from your ear as you inhale with a stutter, eyes still burning with unshed tears as a sad smile pulls at your mouth. “Well, I’ll get the makings for that soup and we can have it when you’re back,” you leave your bedroom, wandering towards your bathroom, “how’s that sound?”

John breathes out a loud exhale, that beautiful, breathy laugh once again invading your senses. It almost sounds relieved.

You can almost smell the cigar smoke that follows him like an aura.

“You spoil me.”

“Mm,” you shrug as if he could see it, “well, you kinda deserve it for staying alive this long, I guess. Doing what you do and whatnot. And who else is gonna?”

He didn’t tell you much of what he did, couldn’t from what you understood, but you knew it was a Captain in the military and that he was damn good at what he did.

“ Astute point.” He snorts and you smile at the sound, tears quickly drying in your eyes.

A knock is heard from his end of the call and he sighs. Your smile wavers. “Gotta go?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His voice is quieter. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Your smile returns. “It’s okay. Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” The call ends and you’re left shirtless in your dark hallway, millions of different emotions rolling through you like a storm.

Chapter 2

It’s late into the night, almost early morning as you lean against your kitchen counter, a warm mug held in your hands as you stare blankly at the cabinets across from you. You adjust the towel that sits atop your head before bringing the mug to your lips, the smell of chicken broth filling your senses. You inhale deeply, eyes slipping shut before you sip at the liquid. You swallow with a content sigh, a few exhausted tears slipping from your eyes.

You’re like that for a while longer. Sipping, sniffling quietly, upset that you can’t sleep and that you’re still awake, but thankful your soup was still in the crockpot and ready to peck at. You’re skimming more broth off the top when there’s a soft knock at your front door. Your stomach flips at the noise and you almost wonder if you’ve imagined it until your phone buzzes on the laminate counter.

John 3164 minutes ago: That smell coming from you?1 minute ago: Guess I’ll find outNow: Knock knock, I hear you paddering in there

Your eyes widen at the missed messages and you hurry to the door through the dimly lit flat, fingers quickly flicking the locks on the door and swinging it open.

John’s looking down at you with a tired smile once he’s in your sight, the circles surrounding his bright eyes more noticeable than usual. You return the smile, stepping aside to allow the man in.

“I made soup.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you lock the door behind him, and John hums softly, easily trailing behind you through your living room and into the kitchen. The only light comes from the dim bulb above your stove, casting the small space in an almost orange glow. “Garfield or cow mug?”

You hear a chuckle, and a warmth appear behind you as John looks into your cup cabinet over your head. “‘Now to inject a little humor.’” John reads aloud. The mug has Garfield in a little red cross nurse’s hat while holding a comically large needle, fit with his regular smile. You hear another huff in amusement before he rests a hand on your shoulder, fingers massaging for a moment before they drop. “I’ll take the cat, that’s pretty good.”

You immediately miss the warmth of his hand. A blush burns at your cheeks and you nod and reach for the mug, a smile tugging at your lips. It almost feels foreign after sitting slack faced for so long. John grabs a spoon from the silverware drawer in your kitchen before leaning against your counter next to you, and you arch an eyebrow as you pass the mug into his hands.

“Make yourself right at home, why don’t you.” It comes out as a tease, and you grab your own mug and return to his side. John feigns a hurt sound, almost betrayed, his elbow gentle poking you in the ribs. You look up with a laugh, relief flooding you at the sight of his smile crinkled eyes. “You know-”

“I know you’re kidding.” He finishes with his own chuff before sinking his spoon into the soup he now held. “Don’t think you could get rid of me now, though, dear,” he hums as he sniffs at the soup, “this smells way too good.” He’s side eyeing you as he opens his mouth, and you watch with an insane amount of focus as the spoon enters his mouth, how his tongue is lapping at the bottom of the spoon-

You snap out of the trance as his lips close around the spoon. A moan erupts deep from his chest as his eyes slip shut and you gasp and smack his arm, causing John to cough with a sputtering laugh. “Jesus Christ, John!” You hiss, your cheeks feeling impossibly warm. “It’s fucking soup, I can’t imagine it warrents that -”

“Oh, dear, it does .” John groans again and you scoff a laugh, your chin dropping to your chest. You shake your head before leaning back against the counter, John copying your movements. You hesitate a moment before resting your head on the side of his arm, bringing your mug up to your mouth.

“Well,” you take a sip of the broth before looking up at John, a nervous smile wringing at your lips as how close he was, “I’m glad you like it.”

John’s looking at you with something in his deep blue eyes you can’t quite place, his lips twitching under his beard. It has your stomach lurching, your muscles frozen, almost afraid to move; to lose the moment. You both seem to swallow at the same time before he’s leaning down, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You close your eyes, your body almost immediately melting against him. You can feel his smile against your skin before he’s pulling back, hand bringing his mug of soup towards his mouth.

You open your eyes when he pulls away, watching him eat the soup with a small smile of your own before leaning against him once again.

The two of you spent a good amount of time like that, enjoying each other’s company, murmuring back and forth about your respective days, how the weather is becoming colder, that more rain was to be expected.

John returned to his own flat after a while, and you crawled into your empty bed with a sigh, face buried into one of your pillows.

You’re not sure how long you were like that before you heard your phone vibrate from where it rested on your blanket. You throw your hand over, heart racing as you squint at the screen.

John 316Now: Still can’t sleep. You?

You gnawed on your bottom lip, deciding your next move.

Your fingers sent the short message easily.

Nope.

You felt your ears burn as the message was immediately marked as read, a little thought bubble soon appearing in the corner, signaling his typing. It then disappeared before there was a knock at your door once again. You stumbled out of bed and throughout your dark flat, easily navigating to your front door before you opened it. You squinted as the hall light peered in from behind John, the man quietly slipping in your door before closing it behind him.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, eyes adjusting once again to the dark. John’s tongue ran across his teeth, his eyes focused on you as if he were considering something. You clenched your own jaw before flicking your eyes towards your hallway.

The two of you had discussed before how touch starved you both were (although, those exact words were never used); how hard it was sometimes to sleep alone. Those conversations normally happened on nights like these, where the two of you could wake up in the morning and pretend you didn’t have such honest conversations with someone who is supposed to just be your neighbor.

That night neither of you said a word as you walked quietly back to your bedroom, John close behind you, his warm hand enveloping yours. The two of you hesitantly curled up together in your bed, his face in your neck, your fingers in his hair.

In the morning you woke to the sound of muffled snoring along the back of your neck, John’s heavy arm still holding you close to him. You panicked for a moment before the late night memory returned to you and you relaxed, your hand resting atop his that held you around your waist. His warm breaths caused goosebumps to raise along your skin and you allowed yourself to sink back into him, eyes slipping shut once again.

A smile tugged at your mouth as his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer to his broad chest. Your chest felt tight for a moment before you shook your head, closing your eyes once again, telling yourself that you would worry about the consequences later.

Chapter 3

It had been over two weeks (18 days, to be exact, not that you were supposed to be counting- you told yourself) since you had heard anything from John. The last time you had spoken to him he had said he’d be home in a few days, secret promises of continuing your faux partnership once he was back lacing the short conversation. After the first week of no sign of John your stomach hurt. A few days- seven was more than a few, wasn’t it? A constant feeling of unease and nausea gripped at you tightly, your stomach and head almost always aching. You weren’t sleeping, less than you already did at least, and you silently wished you took John up on that emergency contact offer once the second week officially came.

“Just in case,” he had said, his calloused fingers massaging at your head gently. The two of you had been curled up in his bed, your head on his chest.

“I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy, John.” You had (stupidly) responded. You opened your eyes, twisting in his hold to meet his curious gaze. “And if something did happen, how would you help from wherever you are?”

John had frowned at that, but he knew you had a point. The two of you returned to sitting in silence as you held each other, some World War II documentary playing from the laptop on his lap.

After officially two weeks of no contact your nausea had turned into anxiety ridden vomiting, and eating when you could stomach it. Anytime you thought of John you were rubbing your eyes with frustrated tears threatening to spill out. Each passing minute you wished you had agreed to getting the phone number from him; you were lying to yourself at the time, trying to convince each other you weren’t as important to the other as you let on.

One of your coworkers (and friend, you supposed), Vicky, had noticed the bags under your eyes, how exhausted you seemed mentally. She rolled up next to you at your desk in her swivel chair, her shoulder bumping against yours as she slid to a stop. She watched as you continued to stare at the un-answered messages on your phone. She decided then that whoever that John was, he was missing out. You were a catch!

“Let’s go out!” Her face was suddenly invading your personal space, her tone all too chipper for being at work. You bit back the grimace that threatened to paint your features, your phone dropping to your desk before a shaking hand grabbed your mug of tea. You hid behind the mug as you forced a sip in your mouth.

“What?” You managed after swallowing, eyeing the woman cautiously.

“Look at you,” Vicky sighed, leaning back in her chair as she looked you over. You frowned, glancing down at yourself. “Let’s go out tonight. It’s Friday! And a three day weekend! You’ll still get your weekend if you don’t have fun.” She arched her well manicured eyebrows as she stared at you pointedly, not really leaving room for you to decline.

You hesitated, glancing at the time and date in the corner of your computer screen. Your teeth start to involuntarily gnaw on your bottom lip. What if John came home tonight while you were gone?

The sound of your name from Vicky causes you to jump, jolting you in your seat. You return her stare briefly before looking down into your tea.

“Fine, I’ll-“

“Good!” Vicky squeals and you do grimace at the sharp noise, hands tightening around your mug. “Dress slutty! We’re goin’ out!” She giggles and hugs you, and you stiffen under her touch before she’s scooting back to her own desk. You just rubbed at your head as you sighed.

After work that night you got ready. You’re not as put together as you would be regularly, but you look better than you had been. Black dress, some make up, your hair washed and done. You’d be lying if you denied feeling even a little better just being slightly dolled up.

The night is fast paced, Vicky’s hand constantly in yours, pulling you from bar to bar, your legs uneasy in your heels. Something you notice about Vicky, though, is that the moment a drop of alcohol touches the tip of her tongue, she’s babbling away about anything and everything. You didn’t mind it too much, really. It kept you from having to think of things to say as your thoughts grew slow and garbled as the night went on.

At some point, in some bar, the two of you had found a little table. One of those ones with the ridiculously tall stools you have to fight your way on top of. And after about 30 seconds of staring at each other your co-worker breaks into a sloppy grin.

“I gotta… piss.” Vicky giggles the word before she hops off her seat and quickly waddles away into the crowd. You snorted a laugh into your drink before you took the chance to dig your phone out, fingers tapping away on the screen. You open your text messages out of habit, and your vision seems to zero in on your unread messages, everything else around you suddenly blurry and out of focus.

About a week ago they had stopped delivering altogether. You were sure it was just his phone was dead, but part of you wondered if he had secretly moved and blocked you away from his existence- or even worse, not just his phone was dead, but him-

You felt tears burn in your eyes at the thoughts racing through your mind. You clenched your eyes shut as you locked your phone, shaking your head. You’re drunk , you angrily told yourself, hand coming up to wipe your cheeks as a few fat, wet drops fell over your lash line. It wasn’t unusual for John to disappear sometimes. That came with his line of work.

Why should you care so much anyway?

You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there before Vicky comes back out, but you know the night’s ruined. You’re stuck staring at those messages, your vision just getting blurrier the longer you stared, and that fucking lump in your throat was not helping.

—

John’s hand shook as he glared down at his cracked phone, the rectangle heavy in his palm. It was cold, the dead battery logo blinking at him mockingly each time he attempted to turn it on. He let himself lean against the handrail in the elevator, eyes slipping shut in frustration as his head thumped against the metal panel wall. It was just after three in the morning according to his watch when he was dropped off by a cab in front of the building a few minutes prior. As soon as he entered the building he had made a beeline for the elevator, his stomach twisting with nerves as he jabbed at the button for the third floor.

He let himself relax for a moment, hand coming up instinctively to hold at the fresh bandage at his side. The stab wound still hurt considerably, but it wasn’t the worst he had ever experienced. His fingers flexed against his jacket as he started to allow his mind to wander.

Thoughts of you, of hoping that you were awake and would answer your door flooded his mind. He furrowed his eyebrows as his eyes began to burn with tears before he straightened up at the sound of the elevator dinging, signaling he reached the correct floor.

John reshouldered his duffle bag and rushed down the hall and the grip on his dead phone tightened as your door came into sight, just across from his, as it always was. He stared at it with wide eyes, his mouth gaping open a bit before he blinked, seeming to recompose himself.

Knock, muppet.

The man huffed at himself and brought his hand up, knuckles rapping against the painted wood of your door.

He’s not sure how long he’s standing there, blue eyes trained on your door. It feels like an eternity, and he’s about to call it and go back to his own flat when he hears the deadbolt unlock. His breath is caught as your door swings open, and he’s met with you, your wide, manic eyes meeting his.

John’s shoulders immediately relaxed at the sight of you, duffle bag dropping off of his shoulder and hitting the ground with a soft thump . You were in your pajamas, your hair wet as if you had just showered not too long ago. His chest felt tight, and his hands felt as if they weighed ten tons.

—

Vicky had gotten you home soon after the water works had started. She said she was getting close to calling it a night anyhow (yes, anyhow . She used anyhow , and it made you giggle ), and graciously took a cab home with you before she took herself home and texted you she arrived safe. Once she’d let you know she was safe you had finally let yourself relax enough to go cry in the shower and get ready for bed. You hadn’t realized it at the time, but your meltdown happened at like, one . That’s late, I don’t care what you say.

You let yourself cry a bit more in the shower- hell, why not, you needed it, and sluggishly got ready for bed considering you were still quite… tipsy? Drunk? Probably drunk with how you just staggered into your sweatpants. And you still felt a little warm. God, why did you even drink again? Oh yeah, Vicky said you would feel better. Fuckin’ Vicky -

Knock knock knock!..

You stilled, your heart racing as your hands froze halfway up your body. That couldn’t have possibly been her door, could it? No.. Nooo…

It was so late.. But that really sounded like her door. You slowly adjusted your clothes as you approached the door, your hands trembling as they reached up to lean against the wood-

Holy fuck there’s a person out there, your could see them through the peep hole!!

Immediately you felt her stomach churn, it was three in the morning , who was-

“John?”

#John price x reader #John price x female reader #John price x civilian reader #civilian reader #limited knowledge on the military lmao #I just wanted to write again #and check on my Tumblrrrr #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty John price #John price fan fiction #daisy writes #modern warfare #modern warfare ii #modern warfare iii #yaryaryaryar

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meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender · 2 months ago

Text

Summary: Stationed on Kamino as a GAR contracted social worker (SW), Bright Eyes is tasked with helping cadets graduate and monitor psychological readiness. What she didn't expect was how deep the abuse runs on Kamino. And then comes Clone Force 99.

A Burning Meteor

The Sergeant

The Testimonial Project

The Mission

Respite or Insanity

Drowning Below

Epilogue

Sweet Respite

@lizartgurl fanart

#whispers of ghosts #hunter x you #hunter x oc #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x oc #sergeant hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #hunter tbb x reader #hunter tbb #the bad batch #TBB #clone force 99 #clone wars #daisy writes

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rjmartin11 · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Kisses

Pairing: Elvis & black!female!reader

Summary: Candy, a young enslaved woman, learns the art of witchcraft from her mistress, Margaret. Along the way, Candy meets the mysterious Elvis, who appears to be more than what he seems. A vampire with an agenda. Candy and Elvis form an unbreakable bond that proves to be fatal.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Witchcraft, vampires, blood, murder, magic, hence the witchcraft, talks of slavery, sadness, forbidden love, smut, death.

Material is not suitable for under 18 years of age. View discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: I'm making this special appearance for a limited time. One of my friends (@powerofelvis) wrote this incredible story about the Vampire Elvis, and I always wanted a prequel to it. Sadly, said friend has quit indefinitely. I'm heartbroken over it, and I hope I do it justice. This is one of my favorite stories written in the fandom. If you enjoy this tale, please like, follow, comment, and repost.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

"These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness, and the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore, love moderately." - William Shakespeare: Romeo & Juliet

1692

Candy toils away in the kitchen as dinner soon approaches. She sweats as the heat of the oven has the room sweltering. She's been working all day to make sure the food is prepared to master's liking. The breads baked to perfection. The roast is honey coated. The mash potatoes are fluffy, the greenbeans seasoned, and the cake's sweet. So she hopes.

Candy wipes her brow as sweat pours down her face from the heated stove. She hears a slight rattling on the table and swiftly turns around to look at the table. Everything is in place as it should be. She takes out the roast, placing on the adjacent bar.

The rattling sound happens again. Candy turns just in time to see a teacup falling to the floor. She's too far away from the falling teacup to catch it, so she does the only thing she can. She stretches out her hand, feeling the energy of her power flow through her. She catches the cup in mid-air. She places the cup back on the table with ease and exhales. Her fear subsides, allowing her to relax once more.

"Very good, young one," Margaret says, stepping out of the shadows of the doorway. "You've been practicing."

"Yes, thank you, Mistress," Candy says, bowing her head.

Margaret walks into the hot kitchen, looking at all the food prepared for the evening's dinner. She pauses, not wanting to take another bath.

"Candy, make it cooler in here, now," Margaret orders.

"Yes, Mistress."

Candy faces the three windows that lead to the outside. Slowly, she raises her hands up, opening the windows. Putting her hands slightly together and widening her fingers, Candy quietly conjures the cool night air to cool down the room.

"Very good, Candy."

"Thank you, Mistress," Candy says, placing her hands back in front of her.

"Tonight promises to be a must eventful evening," Margaret says, looking back at Candy.

"Why is that, Mistress?"

"After dinner, when the men smoke their cigars and have their console. The women will have ours," Margaret says.

She lightly lifts up Candy's chin.

"I will announce you as my apprentice. You will join my council of witches. You will be seen as my equal in a circle where there's no favorites. We will be sisters, and you will call me Margaret."

"Yes. Margaret."

Candy knew, as well as any slave, it was forbidden to cross the line of formal and casual with her mistress and master. Yet her mistress is giving her a direct order to call her by her name as if she's an equal. Candy knows her place. She knows what to say in front of Master Abbott. It was beat into her for the last two years of how to act properly as an enslaved woman. Now that her mistress has commissioned her to be a witch, she realizes she must tread softly.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

As the other servants of the Abbott household, Candy has permission to be absent for an hour. She wastes no time, taking a spare pair of clothes with her, and quietly runs through the woods. Slaves don't have the right to wash indoors, but Candy found a private spring a mile away from the Abbott's house.

Running through the woods is almost as good as running through the palms of Barbados. If she closes her eyes, she can almost smell the fresh salt sea air.

When she reaches the spring, she stripes herself away from the chains of slavery for just a moment. Candy places her clothes on the giant oak tree limbs that reach over the water. Without another thought, Candy dives into the lukewarm water, cleasing herself from the Abbotts.

When she comes up for air, she rubs her left shoulder, where her moon shaped birthmark lies. As she washes her hair, Candy sees the figure of a man in the distance. Candy gasps as she back strokes in the water.

"Who are you?!" Candy asks, covering herself with her hands. "What are you doing here?!"

"Who are you?!?" The stranger asks, the bass of his deep voice sends fear to Candy's heart.

"Never you mind!" She shouts, realizing he was a white man she swims back to the shore.

Not caring if he sees her naked body, Candy rings out her wet curls and puts on her clothes.

"You're not a shy one, are ya?!?" He shouts to her.

Candy looks over her shoulder then walks away. She was hoping for a peaceful bath, but she was interrupted by a stranger who could possibly get her into trouble.

"Wait a minute!" He shouts to her.

Candy stops in her tracks, knowing the rules. If a white man, woman, or child asks her to do something, she's supposed to do it without question. Fully dressed, he makes his way in front of her.

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"W-which question was that, sir?" Candy asks, looking into his eyes.

Something behind his eyes captures her heart. His eyes were as blue as the waters that surrounded her home island. Behind his oceanic eyes lay a rushing wave that spoke to her lonely soul.

"Who are you? You're different. You have fire in you that most slaves would fear to have."

"I'm... Candy."

"What family do you work? Candy?"

"I'm a slave in the Abbott's household," she answers, crossing her arms shrinking away from him.

"The Abbotts... fine company you keep."

"Sir, forgive me. I have to get back to my mistress."

"I never liked the thought of slavery. In fact, it makes me sick to my stomach," he says, lifting her chin. "You're the first servant that's looked me in my eyes since I've been in town."

"Sir, please..."

"Elvis. My name's Elvis, little one."

"Master Elvis..."

"It's just Elvis... Candy."

Candy knew with one breath she could knock him down on his back. But the law would kill her for exposing herself as a witch.

"I have to go... Elvis."

Candy runs past him, heading to the Abbott house. Once back in the house, Margaret escorts her to the ladies' quarters. Inside, about fifteen ladies fill the room, seven of which are black. Light illuminates the quarter as the candles flicker. It sparks that fire Elvis was telling her about earlier.

Margaret and Sarah Barnett bring Candy the coven wine gauntlet.

"Sisters," Margaret starts. "Let us welcome our new sister, Candy, to the coven."

The ladies individually say their hellos and greetings to Candy. Margaret gives Candy the gauntlet of wine and whispers to her instructions on what to say in her induction speech. Candy smiles, taking the gauntlet in her hands.

"I... I drink of my sisters, and I do so entering this unbreakable circle with perfect love and perfect trust. Never putting no one above my sisters and this coven."

Candy raises her glass in a toast and takes a sip. The ladies applaud her, then one by one, kiss her cheeks, welcoming her into the coven. They asked for a small demonstration of her powers. Candy levitates all the candles in the room. This act pleases the coven.

The evening goes on with light wine and conversation. The ladies speak of secrecy and discretion.

"First and foremost, we are to remain quiet about who we are. We also must watch out for vampires," Sarah instructs.

"What are vampires?" Candy asks.

"Our true enemies. They are the enemies of those who produce warm blood in their veins," Sister Miraim squabbles.

Mistress Sarah gently places her hand on top of Miraim's hand, calming her.

"If I may," Sister Beth commented. Beth was the slave of Lord and Lady Blacksmith. "As Miraim more spiritly put it, vampires are our enemies, yes. But moreover, they are undead creatures that look and speak just like us with minor misconceptions. Other than drinking the blood of the living to survive, they sneak through the shadows of the night like evil spirits. They can't walk in the daylight. The sun is a holy relic that burns their pale skin. They are unholy creatures. If they feed on a witch, they gain ten times more strength and speed."

"Vampires are our enemies, and they will be disdained as such," Candy stated.

As the meeting drew in for a close, Beth pulled Candy aside for a small conversation.

"Just between us, Candy. I'd love it if you joined our small group of enchantress," Beth said.

"Enchantress group?" Candy questioned.

"You must never tell your mistress. All of the enslaved women here are a part of it. They may see us as equals here in this room, but once outside those doors, we are mere slaves yet again," Beth states.

"I know this to be true," Candy acknowledges.

"Do you know of the Well's family?" Beth asks.

Candy shakes her head.

"They were absent tonight, but they have a slave by the name of Renée and she's also from the island of Barbados."

"My cousin? Here in Salem? We were separated during the auction two years ago. I feared I'd never see her again."

"Never say never, Sister Candy. She's a part of our coven. Will you join us at your leisure tomorrow?" Beth asked.

"Yes. I will be there."

The next day, Candy reunites with her beloved cousin, Renée. Seeing Renée brought a great joy to her, she thought she'd never experience again. Candy and Renée reconnected, building a strong bond of blood and magic.

Because of this, Candy pledged her undying loyalty to this secret black coven within a larger coven. Together, they formed the Coven of Black Enchantresses. Reading and writing were outlawed for slaves but the sisters taught each other how to read and write. Margaret secretly tutored Candyin her spear time from the Book of Spell Casters.

Two weeks later...

The churches harvest ball was quickly approaching. The autumn leaves were falling, and the weather started to cool. Candy cleaned the house from top to bottom with the assistance of her cousin, Renée.

"Candy, this harvest ball sounds so exciting," Renée said, striking up a conversation.

"Yes. Too bad slaves can't participate."

"True. Can we just imagine, though?"

Candy looks back at Renée's eager face. So full of hope for things to come. Being that Renée is her younger cousin, Candy obliges her whim of imagining a life better than their current one.

"Let's make a small circle, Candy. We're alone," Renée says, grabbing her hands.

Candy and Renée breathe deeply, chanting small incantations. As the circle forms, they open their eyes to look at one another.

"What are we imagining, Renée?" Candy asks.

"A life without servitude, cousin. A life away from this hell."

"Home..." Candy whispers as she imagines the waves crash against the shore of her home.

"Candy, you are of age. If things were different, you could have on one of those pretty gowns and fall in love tonight."

"That's not in the book for me."

"Imagine. Don't break the circle because of things that may not be. Close your eyes as I conjure you up the perfect night," Renée says.

Candy obeys her cousin and allows her imagination to run as wild as horse on a prairie.

"You have on the most beautiful dress of all the eligible women at the ball. Every eye is on you, but one bachelor catches your eye. Oh my. Candy, he's handsome."

Renée says these words, and those pair of blue eyes come back to her mind. The fine cut jawline exquisitely complements his brood shoulders. He's built like a god of legend. He lips... cover a smile of sharp fangs.

"Elvis!" Candy shouts, breaking the circle. Fear covers Candy's soft features.

"Who's Elvis?" Renée asked.

"I wish I knew," Candy says, taking a breath. "Come, let's finish up. No more imagining for today."

The Harvest Ball

The entire town of Salem, with a few residents from surrounding areas, has come to celebrate. All the lords, ladies, and their children are dressed in their Sunday best. They make conversation, sip on libations, and nibble on snacks as the light hymns play.

Candy was excused from the duties of the event. She quietly watches from the window outside. A part of her wishes she could be in there dancing with a handsome stranger. She wishes she could be the bell of the ball. But no, she would rather go for a swim.

She goes to get Renée, Beth, and Phadrea to go for a swim. Originally, her spring was supposed to be a private place, but she'd not dare keep it from her sisters.

As they walk arm in arm through the quiet town, they hear growling like a pack of wolves have surrounded them.

"Those are vampires," Beth says. "Be ready to defend yourselves, sisters."

The three witches fight with their might. Candy turns to her left and sees a pair of red eyes in the dark. Fear seeps within her veins, and her heart races at the face of this loathsome creature. She takes a deep breath and chants her incantation as dark smoke springs from her hands. She throws her hand up, slamming the vampire hard against the side of a house. He laughs with evil delight as Candy gives herself strength to pick him up and throw him. He hits the ground with a thunderous thud. He looks over at Candy, his demonic eyes glaring back. She's ready for him.

Then Candy hears Renée scream at the top of her lungs. A vampire on top of Renée, ready to sink his into her flesh.

"RENÉE!" She shouts, using her energy to throw the off of her.

The vampire Candy turned her back on, grabbed her neck from behind, throwing her to the ground. He growls, exposing his sharp fangs to her. Candy places her foot in his abdomen, flipping him underneath her. He rips the top part of her dress off her shoulder, showcasing her moon shaped birthmark.

"The cresent moon," he says, looking into Candy's eyes. "Little one?"

Candy backs away from him, holding the top of her dress. He stands and shouts at the other vampires. They all scatter in different directions except for him. He glares at Candy for a moment, revealing his human face.

"Elvis," Candy breathes.

Elvis smiles and races into the darkness of the night. Candy exhales for the first time since the first initial attack.

"Candy?" Renée says, coming to aid. "Are you alright?"

"I... I think so," Candy says.

"We are not safe, sisters," Beth states. "There are vampires in Salem. We must inform the heads of the council."

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

The next day, Candy cleans the house from top to bottom, trying to get that image of Elvis out of her mind. Ever since the first time they met, Candy knew there was something about him. Something different. She never dreamed it was that he was a vampire.

Candy finds time later in the afternoon to make her way to the spring. When she arrives there, it's as silent the grave. She quietly walks to the edge of the water, bracing herself for the unexpected.

"I hoped you come," Elvis said.

Candy throws him up against the base of the oak tree, holding him there.

"We need to stop meeting like this, Candy."

"Why should I trust you?" Candy asks.

"Because, if I wanted you dead, I would have killed you last night."

"I don't trust you. Vampires are the sworn enemies to witches!"

"We don't have to be. I don't want to hurt you."

"What do you want, Elvis?"

"To live in a world where slavery doesn't exist. A world where vampires and witches are not enemies but live together in harmony. A world where humans don't fear us. We shouldn't have to hide in the shadows."

"That's impossible..."

"Why? Because you were told it couldn't?"

Something in Candy wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe him. She eases her hand down, releasing Elvis from the tree. Elvis slowly walks up to Candy, never looking away from his eyes.

"Sit with me, please," Elvis asks.

"Why would you want to sit with me?"

"I find you beautiful and interesting. I've been waiting for you to come back here and spend time with me."

Elvis offers Candy his hand, and without hesitation, she takes it. Noticing how warm his touch is, her heart rate raises.

"You're so warm," Candy points out.

"Yes."

"And you're out in the sunlight."

"Yes, I am. Those tale tales were created to throw humans off our scent," Elvis admits.

He sits her down in the grassy meadow. For a moment, they stare at one another. Elvis admires her dark curls and honey coated skin. He finds her absolutely breathtaking.

"Where are you from?" Elvis asks her.

"Barbados. I was kidnapped two years ago. My cousin and I. Sent here. Away from my family. Forced into slavery," Candy sighs.

"You miss it."

"Everyday. I miss the palm trees and the sandy beaches and the blue water, my mother," Candy said, reminiscing about a life stolen from her.

A tear falls from her eye. Elvis takes her hand and places a kiss on her knuckles. An energy radiates from his touch to her soul. For the first time in a long time, Candy smiles a true smile.

For the next week, Candy finds a way to spend the afternoon in Elvis' arms. They share stories about their lives. Soon, Candy finds herself falling madly in love with Elvis. He's never far from her thoughts.

"How's about we go for a swim, baby?" Elvis asks.

Candy stands up and strips her dress off, being completely bare in front of Elvis. Elvis analyzes her body carefully. Every curve and every scar.

She runs into the water, diving into the water. When she comes up for air, Elvis has disappeared.

"Elvis? Where are you?" She calls out.

"Here," he whispers in her ear.

She turns to see Elvis behind her. Elvis grabs her face and kisses her lips softly. There's nothing between them at this moment but water. Candy wraps her arms around Elvis as he kisses down her neck to her arm. He kisses her birthmark.

"Oh, Elvis," she cries out.

He stops short and looks at her.

"What's wrong?" Candy asked.

"I want to taste you."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes, but you'll like. I promise."

"Okay," Candy says, bracing herself.

Elvis kisses her neck then sinks his teeth into her skin. Candy feels a rush as he tastes her blood. Candy sees Elvis' past in quick images. Love. Loss. Death. It makes her want to protect him and guard him from the world. She also feels herself wet as Elvis sips her blood. He pulls back for air and licks her wounds.

"You're pure magic, Candy," he says.

"You're pure love, Elvis," she says, kissing his lips.

Elvis lifts her leg and drives into her with his hardened shaft. She moans at the urgency of it all. Her bud is so sensitive, and she feels so needy for what Elvis can give her. She never truly knew about this connection. The bond among her coven was nothing compared to this. She feels herself expand as he thrusts his cock into her throbbing pussy.

A fire deep within her has ignited and feels like Elvis is casting a spell on her. She grips ahold of him chasing this feeling until finally she bursts. Elvis follows quickly behind her.

"Oh, E. That was spellbinding."

"That was lovemaking, darling."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you, Candy. I'm in love with you," Elvis says, kissing the top of her head.

Thirty minutes later, Elvis takes Candy to his cabin. Their both still pretty wet from swimming, so Candy lights a fire for them. They sit for a while, getting warm from the flames.

Elvis can't help himself. He strips from his wet clothes and asks that Candy do the same. He lays her down in front of the fire and precedes to make love to her once more.

The flame on the inside of Candy scorch her soul as he pushes and pulls in and out of her until once again she cums. They lay in each other's arms for a while until Elvis breaks his silence.

"Marry me, Candy. Be my bride. Let's rule this world as one," Elvis begs.

Candy looks at him. Seeing the seriousness in his eyes melts her heart. She wants nothing more than to be with him.

"What about my sisters?" Candy questions.

"In time, they will come to accept our union. Please, my love. Marry me."

"Yes, I will."

"You will?"

"I will."

They kiss for a moment, and Elvis cuts his arm to unite them both as one.

"Drink. Be one with me. It won't turn you into a vampire. This will make you more powerful than any witch on Earth."

Candy licks his cut from top to bottom. The blood fills her taste buds with a peculiar taste, but the sensation was a delight. She feels stronger somehow. She feels like she has more control over her powers.

Realizing the time, Candy gives Elvis one last kiss goodbye and runs back to town. When she arrives, the coven is all there waiting to her.

"Where have you been?" Margaret asks.

Candy has no words. She can't lie to them, but she can't tell them the truth either.

"Beth," Margaret called. "Make her speak."

Beth stepped forward, placing her palms up and out to Candy.

"Give me your hands, Sister Candy," Berh orders.

Candy hesitates but does as she's asked. She places her hands on top Beth's hands.

Beth sees all that had conspired in Candy's mind. She sees the secrets they have and all of her moments with Elvis. All their private moments.

Beth gasps, pulling away from Candy she slaps her in the face.

"Sisters, she has betrayed us all! She has lied with a vampire, allowed him to drink blood from her veins, and tasted his blood as well!!!"

An unholy gasp spreads across the room.

"Sisters, please. Let me explain," Candy begs, tears falling from her eyes.

Margaret slaps Candy's face, silencing her.

"You have lost all rights to speak!" Margaret shouts.

"I love him."

"You shall burn for your sins against us. Your betrayal has stung us all to the core," Margaret states. "All witches in favor."

"Aye!" Screamed by each witch except for Renée who watches in terror from the back of the room.

For the next few days, Candy remains locked in an upstairs room with little to no food. She cares not for herself but for Elvis. She was supposed to see him at the springs. With little to no way to get to him, Candy falls into despair.

Suddenly, there's a commotion downstairs. Things are being thrown about the rooms, and there's yelling.

Candy has been patient long enough. She blows the door down with one wave of her hand. She runs downstairs and sees Elvis being choked by Margaret. Candy waves her arm and flings Margaret away from him.

"Elvis, darling," Candy runs to him, helping off the floor.

"My love," Elvis says, kissing her lips. "I've come to take you away from this horrible place."

"Traitor!" Margaret yells.

"No! Margaret, I don't want this! Elvis wants to make this world better for us all. He's a great man!"

"Love, she's set in her old ways. No use explaining to her," Elvis says, picking her up in his arms and racing out the door.

For the next week, Elvis trains Candy on fighting and strengthening her powers. Elvis feels a fight coming, and he wants to be prepared. Candy wants Elvis to fight her with all his might because if she could stand against him, she can face anyone.

Elvis knocks Candy down on her back this time. It's hard enough that blood comes from her mouth.

"Did I hurt you, my love?" Elvis asks, stretching out his hand, helping her up.

"Yeah, but I'm tougher than I look, E," she says, giving him a kiss on the lips. "Do you really think I'll be ready to face them? I mean, they taught me everything I know. Before them, I was a slave who couldn't read or write. I own them everything."

"You're ready, and once we defeat them, you'll be my bride, and we will rule this world together. Hell, you're already my bride, Mama!" Elvis says, pulling her close to him. "They will come around. Eventually."

"I'm ready," Candy says.

But she wasn't ready. Two days later, Candy goes to comfort the coven. It was a trap. They tie Candy up, using incantations, they burn her at the stake. She screams and begs them for mercy, but they ignore her.

Elvis witnesses the whole scene unfold. He tries to save her, but his men hold him back as he cries out to her.

"Candy! You can defeat them! You're strong! Don't give up! I LOVE YOU!!! PLEASE!!!" He screams.

Candy sees Elvis trying to get to her, but it's too late. She cries as the flames of hell fire burn her from the inside out. She let's her last words be for Elvis. He hears her whisper.

"I love you," she succumbs to the flames.

Elvis and his clan of vampires are forced to flee away from Salem back into the woods.

A day later, the witch sent Elvis a box. Inside the box is Candy's burnt heart. Elvis hadn't slept all night from heartbreak, and this is what happens.

Elvis loses it and orders his men to attack Salem. His vampires came in droves and ripped Salem apart. Finding every witch they could get their hands on and bleeding them dry.

The Black Enchantresses, led by Renée, fled for their lives out of Salem and from the bonds of slavery. Renée knew the story of Candy and Elvis was to be kept a secret for all time, and so it shall remain.

After his fill of witches' blood, Elvis, heartbroken, carries Candy's lifeless body away. He wraps burial cloth around her body from head to toe. He places her under their special oak, feet away from their pond where they meet mere weeks ago.

Elvis lays her in her resting place gently, placing the box that contains her heart on top of her. He weeps the tears of a widower. For they had only just begun.

As he places fresh water lilies on her grave, a strange feeling comes over him. As if he's not there alone.

"Elvis." A voice of an angel whispers. His angel. His bride.

Elvis turns to see a figure in white standing in the grassy meadow. As his eyes adjust, he realizes he looks upon the face of Candy. Her hair was curly with little flowers, and the sun kissed her skin perfectly.

"Candy?" He breathes.

"Yes," she answers.

"You've come back to me, love?"

"No," she says, a tear trickling down her cheek. "Wait for me."

"How long?" Elvis beeched.

"I don't know."

"It doesn't matter. I'll wait forever for you. I love you."

"I love you, Elvis. Once I return to you. I'll never ever leave you again. Wait for me." Candy sits in the grass as a light fog engulfs her and she vanishes.

Elvis feels sorrow, but in his heart, he knows Candy will return to him. When she does, they will rule the immortal world together. He will wait. No matter how long it takes.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorwforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop @spooky-hazex

Are you bummed at the ending? Here's the link to the original story!!! Better ending.

Sweets For My Sweet by: @powerofelvis (Daisy)

#elvispresley #romance #elvis #Elvis x oc #vampireelvis #vampires #elvis fans #Elvis x black!oc #Elvis Presley x Black!oc #black writers #Daisy Writes #Witches

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stargazerdaisy · 10 months ago

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HELP. I've got a Chenford fic that I desperately need to re-write/edit into a finished product, but here I am outlining not one but two Twisters fics.

THIS WASN'T THE PLAN. But here we are.

#daisy writes #or at least thinks she does #twisters #twisters fic #kate x tyler #the plot bunnies have struck!!!#I'm really speed running through this hyperfixation #please keep feeding it for me

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elenarodriiguez · 1 year ago

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soft like silk chiffon | e.m. & s.h.

summary: a one night stand could destroy most friendships. thankfully stevie harrington and eddie munson aren't most people.

pairing: steve harrington x eddie munson

cw: nsfw, lesbian steddie, transfeminine steve harrington, 18+ content

word count: 2086

read it on ao3

Waking up with Stevie Harrington’s arms wrapped around her, the brunette’s warmth caressing her back and threatening to burn Eddie alive, was a mistake. A glorious, unforgettable, better than anything she had ever dreamed of, wonderful kind of mistake.

“Morning,” Stevie whispered into Eddie’s ear, as if she didn’t want to dare to break the early morning silence of Eddie’s miniscule shithole of an apartment.

“Mmgh.” Eddie responded in all of her songwriter glory.

Surprisingly, Stevie didn’t bother trying to engage any further with Eddie, having known the girl long enough to know that trying to communicate with her before caffeine was a futile mission to take on. Instead, she pulled herself off of Eddie, climbing out of the bed they’d tumbled into the night before, and soon enough Eddie heard her footsteps padding away from the room.

Staring up at her ceiling, Eddie began to compose a prayer to whatever Goddesses were listening into her wavelength at that particular moment in time. It was pretty standard stuff: make sure Wayne stayed in good health until vampirism becomes a thing, give shitheels like Billy and Jason from high school all of the karmic retribution they deserve, ensure that she hadn’t fucked up everything by sleeping with her best friend (who had been the centre of her affections for years now). All of the usual things.

In the midst of the greatest catastrophizing spiral that the world had ever witnessed, Eddie half considered getting dressed and pleading with Stevie to not renounce her and their friendship. However before she could fully get herself dressed, grabbing the only clean pair of boxers that had been unceremoniously stuffed into her nightstand and pointedly ignoring the love heart pattern emblazoned on the fabric, Stevie hip checks the bedroom door, brandishing a mug of coffee and a large tumbler that Eddie would bet her left tit on was full of the caramel iced latte Eddie refused to drink in front of most people.

“Oh my god, I’m in love. How’d you feel about a spring wedding?”

“Not a fall one?” Stevie teased, passing the coffee into Eddie’s grabby hands. “I’d have thought that Halloween wedding shit would be right up your alley.”

Eddie mulled over her response for a moment, taking a long drag of her sugary caffeine as sirens went off in her mind. She oscillated between answering honestly and risking getting heartbroken, or carrying on joking and also risking getting heartbroken.

“It would be, but spring weddings means flower crowns and you wearing yellow because it’s the ‘right time of year for it’. Halloween could never compare to seeing a literal goddess in human form.”

“Eddie, you can’t just say those things!” Stevie exclaimed, her gaze now firmly focused on the mug of coffee warming her hands up.

“Why not? It’s all true.”

There it was, out in the open. For want of a better metaphor, the ball was quite literally in Stevie’s court now. While she waited for Stevie to process, because she always needed time to process even if she wouldn’t dare to verbalise the fact, she sat herself upright on the bed, leaving space for Stevie to sit down should she wish to. Eddie tried to stop her mind from falling into a sinkhole, putting her coffee on the nightstand and fidgeting with her hair until it was in an acceptably messy ponytail.

Once she could no longer hide behind her mane of hers, Eddie turned to look at Stevie, properly looking at her for the first time that morning, and awestruck couldn’t come close to being an accurate descriptor. Here was Stevie, her Stevie, cute little preppy Stevie, wearing the muscle tee Eddie had worn to the club the night before, and some love heart adorned, pretty pink panties. And her eyes, god her eyes were ablaze with want, intensity rolling off of the brunette in tsunami sized waves.

As Eddie went to ask her about her thoughts, Stevie knelt over her, coffee cup now nowhere to be seen, and dipped her head down to kiss her. Even though they had kissed numerous times the night before, nothing could have compared to the way Eddie felt when their lips collided. Her body didn’t even give her brain the chance to flail around, as Eddie’s arms shot around Stevie’s waist, nails digging into her hips, garnering the most beautiful gasps and hisses as Eddie caught hold of some of the bruises she’d left on them the night before.

Pulling away from Stevie’s lips was painful, but the sight of Stevie kneeling above her soothed all of the ache away, especially when Stevie let out an embarrassed squeak and nuzzled herself into the crook of Eddie’s neck. The feeling of soft puffs of air on Eddie’s sensitive skin was almost enough to lull her back to sleep, but she resisted, if for nothing else than to savour this moment.

“So, I take it that means you’re keeping your calendar open for that wedding, huh?”

“Eddie.” Stevie said. “There is no one else in the world I’d rather marry. But how about we try a date or two before we send out Save The Dates?”

“I mean, I guess I could manage that.”

Without giving Stevie any warning, Eddie pressed a kiss to the tip of the other girl’s nose before tugging her down so that all of her weight settled on Eddie. She tensed up on instinct, sucking her stomach in for a moment, at least until Eddie poked her in the side and scowled at her for trying to make herself smaller, when she was already Eddie’s perfect woman.

“Sorry, habit.”

“No need to apologise. Just remember that I would happily suffocate to death between your thighs, under your ass, between your tits. Anywhere really, you’re perfect and I would be happy to die if it meant I was with you.”

Stevie smiled at her, but Eddie could tell that she didn’t necessarily believe her entirely. Rolling the pair of them over, Eddie began pressing open mouthed kisses onto every square inch of skin that was visible, enjoying the way Stevie shivered under the attention. Eddie slowly worked her way down Stevie’s body, delighting when Stevie squeaked as Eddie bit the sensitive scar under her tit, that the stretched out muscle tee revealed for Eddie, only Eddie, to see.

“You’re wearing my shirt. That’s so fucking hot.” Eddie said, her chest heaving as she tried to stay level-headed with this masterpiece before her.

“Eddie, stop.” Stevie whined out, wriggling under Eddie’s ministrations.

“You are so goddamn hot.”

Every word was punctuated with a kiss, the final one crashing onto Stevie’s lips, Eddie biting her lower lip before pulling away with it still between her teeth.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?”

Reaching her hand under the tee, she chuckled breathily when Stevie let out a whimper as the sharp coolness of Eddie’s rings brushed against her olive skin, her nimble fingers reaching to tease Stevie’s sensitive nipples.

“I think that I’ll do this.”

Splaying her other hand over the soft, smooth expanse of Stevie’s belly, Eddie kept her attention focused on Stevie’s nipples, every moan that tumbled from the brunette’s lips incentivising her further. When her moans turned into pleas for Eddie to do more, Eddie let her hand drift lower, hovering over the pink panties that were now damp enough that they had started to turn see-through.

“On or off?”

“Off, please Eddie, I need you to touch me, please Eddie!”

“Well, if a goddess begs me, who am I to deny her?”

Eddie toyed with the idea of pulling the panties off with her teeth, but the horror that consumed her at the thought of clumsily biting Stevie in doing so deterred her entirely. Instead, she tugged them down Stevie’s long legs, pressing kisses and nibbling at the soft skin as she reached the crevice where Stevie’s hip and thigh met.

“Where am I touching you then sweetheart?”

Canting her hips up towards Eddie’s nimble fingers, which drifted over her body, Stevie begged Eddie to just touch her, making the tattooed woman tsk in response.

“Now, now, darling. I asked you where am I touching you, and I expect an answer.”

“My hole, please, please, I need it. I need you.”

Now with a goal in mind, Eddie was a woman on a mission, desperate to make her partner come. She spread Stevie’s legs for her, bypassing her front genitals to leave a feather light kiss on her perineum before focusing on her hole. Eddie fumbled for the pack of baby wipes and lube that they had thrown on the floor hours prior, quickly but gently wiping Stevie before lubing up her fingers and pushing the tip of her thumb into Stevie’s hole.

Her reaction was instantaneous, a loud moan tumbling from her lips, a pink flush slowly descending down her chest as she panted out Eddie’s name. Grinning up at her, Eddie slowly pulled her thumb out, replacing it with a finger, beaming when Stevie jolted at the sensation of cold metal against the rim of her hole.

Eddie revelled in the feeling of having so much power over Stevie at that moment, knowing that her pleasure was in her hands, and boy was it a heady feeling. She was slow to set a rhythm, wanting Stevie to get used to the sensation while also allowing herself the time to get reacquainted with Stevie’s prostate. But when she found it, God did Stevie deliver in her response.

Her back arched up off of the bed, her moans echoing in the tiny apartment, her eyes brimming with tears of pleasure as she pleaded with Eddie to touch it again. And ever so happy to oblige her now-girlfriend, Eddie did as she was asked. She brushed her fingertip against it once more, pressing kisses to the skin her bunched-up tee was revealing at Stevie’s every movement.

As she went to add another finger, Stevie begged for Eddie to come and kiss her, and weak to the doe eyes that Stevie was wielding, she complied, more than happy to kiss her girlfriend until she was breathless. Feeling Stevie’s hole pulse around her fingers set Eddie alight, and she would have happily done this for the rest of her life, so long as she got to hear Stevie’s moans of joy and pleasure on repeat.

Pumping her fingers into Stevie’s hole, brushing against her prostate every few strokes, not quite maintaining a pattern consistent enough for her to predict, Eddie watched as Stevie fell apart entirely. She began tugging at her nipples through the tee, hissing when her twisting them coincided with Eddie brushing past her prostate, and yet she refused to let go of them, begging Eddie to do something more to make her cum.

In the end, Eddie pushed Stevie’s hands away from her tits, telling the brunette to come as Eddie roughly thrusted a third finger into her hole while tugging at her nipple with her teeth. Stevie’s squeals reverberated through the apartment, her face deserving to be immortalised for all of the world to truly witness her beauty, although it was the soft whimper that the girl let out as Eddie pulled her fingers out which truly deserved to be commemorated, as Eddie knew her mind would never allow her to forget it.

Smoothing her hair off of her face, Eddie pecked Stevie on the forehead before speeding off to the bathroom, promising to be back in a moment. Dampening a washcloth, she wiped Stevie down, leaving gentle kisses all over her sensitive body while she tried to snuggle into Eddie. Eventually deciding to give up when Stevie began huffing at her, Eddie threw the washcloth into the laundry hamper, pulling her own come covered tee off of Stevie and throwing that in there also.

“Want me to grab you a sweater or something?” Eddie asked, allowing Stevie to tug her onto the bed and arranging them so that she was curled around Eddie once again.

“No, I’m okay, thanks. Want me to do anything for you?”

“Not right now, honey. I just want to go to sleep right about now, so long as that’s something you’re amenable to.”

Stevie hummed softly, the vibrations settling on the back of Eddie’s neck, and they soon both drifted off as the world began to wake up, with snapshots of bright yellow flower crowns, ball gowns, and love songs dancing through their dreams.

#daisy writes #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things oneshot #stranger things fic #lesbian steddie #transfeminine steve harrington #nsft stranger things fic

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daisies-and-domming · 7 days ago

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Zayne: In Heat! (NSFW)

Right Here, Right Now!

Summary: A new sort of Wanderer keeps appearing around Linkon City, sending the Hunters Association into a frenzy trying to figure out just what it does. When killed, it releases some sort of dangerous “pollen”, but that’s all you’re really cleared to know - other than the clear warning to get back to headquarters as soon as possible if you are hit. Turns out, that’s easier said than done.

Warnings: yes this is an A/B/O fic (the demons got me), afab!reader, omega!reader, alpha!characters, heat, swearing, petnames (Zayne calls you "darling" and "wife"), marking/mating, breeding kink (Zayne), office sex, a little bit dubcon!!

This is Zayne's part to this series! Looking for someone else?

Rafayel | Xavier | Caleb

Or use the tag #daisy's series: in heat!

Let me know if you think I missed anything!! All characters are over 18 :) – – –

It was a simple mistake, you try and tell yourself. You didn’t know the Wanderer was going to explode like that!

But even the simplest of mistakes gets people in your profession killed. Being a Deepspace Hunter, especially a hunter in the UNICORNS unit, meant you couldn’t afford to make mistakes, not when other people’s lives were on the line.

So you don’t go back to headquarters, not yet anyhow,heading straight for the hospital instead.

You know for a fact Zayne’s in office tonight, because you were complaining about him cancelling yet again your plans to hang out. He was your best option right now - whatever you got hit with is making you feel all sorts of weird.

The first thing you noticed was your vision blurring and your sense of smell dulling; like the world was fading into grey. You smack the side of your head, trying to keep yourself in one piece. The hospital was only two more blocks away, and you couldn’t afford to not make it. Even if Zayne didn’t know exactly what was happening to you, hopefully he could draw your blood or send you for an eval in one of the other offices. There’s no one in your life that you trust quite like Zayne, and you’re certain that he can help you with whatever the hell was going on with you.

The second thing you notice, as you draw nearer to the hospital, is the looks. People always look at you, especially when you’re in your hunter’s uniform, but there’s something…different. Some people look sympathetic, like they know something you don’t. Others jeer at you, making comments that made you wish you were off the clock right now and could kick their ass. But you’re a professional - so you hold your head high, and you keep moving.

You make it into the clear glass doors of the hospital, and that’s when the third thing hits - the smell. Your sense of smell had dropped drastically when this “pollen” had originally got you, but there was a mysterious smell coming from somewhere in the hospital that was calling out to you. It smelled like hot chocolate on a winter’s day, the kind that you have right next to the fireplace after having been outside for too long. It smelled like home, and almost mindlessly, you try to follow it.

You’re stopped pretty quickly by a nurse, who mutters something about “heat” and “omega” to one of the passing nurses. You’re led to sit down, but the bright lights of the waiting room are nauseating, and you almost lose your whole lunch as your world spins.

“-you okay? Is there anything we can do for you? If you forgot your heat suppressants, I can direct you to the pharmacy down the street-”

“Heat? What are you talking about?” You respond, snapping your head towards hers, “I’m here to see Dr. Zayne. He’s my primary care physician? Something’s wrong, I just went through a Wanderer attack, and-”

She shushes you, looking over her shoulder (likely for back-up, even you can tell you’re acting a bit crazed right now).

“Honey, you’re in heat. At this point, all we can do is suggest a heat partner. Do you have a ride home?”

You frown, still not understanding. In heat? You’re a beta, always have been. You don’t have to worry about finicky things like “heats” or “ruts”. You move to try and explain this to her, but a voice from behind the nurse cuts you off.

“Is everything alright? What could you possibly be doing here this late - oh.”

Zayne’s voice sends a spike of heat through your body, and you can’t help the smallest of whines from slipping out of your mouth. It’s quiet, but you can tell he hears it, and his whole demeanor shifts.

“Did they tell you what happened?”

The nurse tries to tell Zayne what you’ve told her so far, but he’s not actually listening - all of his senses are honed in on you. He notes your symptoms - visible fever, shortness of breath, pupils dilated - and he motions for the nurse to move, offering you an arm.

“They’re my patient. They’ll listen to me,” he tells the nurse, keeping his composure as much as he can.

He won’t tell her that it’s because he’s merely a man, a selfish one at that, and he can’t stand the burning looks of the other alphas in the room boring into you. To them, you’re nothing more than a good time, a pretty little omega for them to fuck and move on. Something protective rumbles in his chest before he can stop it. The nurse sends him a skeptical look, about to protest, when you grip on to his extended arm, and oh. Your skin isn’t even touching his, and yet it’s like a wet dream come true. You set him alight, and it takes everything in his power not to coo at you as you lean your weight into him.

“Zayne, what’s happening to me?” You sigh, looking up at him with your eyes blown wide.

“Let me get you to my office, okay? I can tell you everything you need to know there, just need to get you away from-” he sends a weary, menacing look to any wandering eyes behind him, “-from all of these heathens.”

“Okay,” you respond, so soft and sweet it sends a sick sort of thrill down Zayne’s spine.

He knows as he leads you to his office it’s a bad idea. He knows, but he can’t help himself. He’ll regret it in the morning, but for now? For now, he can have you, his darling, all needy for him in his office. He imagines bending you over every surface of the room, pushing your bare body up against the glass for everybody to see - and he’s already leaking. If you were a well attuned omega, you would be able to smell the lust rolling off of him in waves, but you don’t know what’s happening to you. All you know is that something about Zayne is sending your body into a frenzy, and you want nothing more than to burn under his touch.

Finally, finally, you make it into his office, where he guides you to sit on the couch there. He hovers for a moment, as if contemplating his next move, before leaving you there to lock the door (odd - you don’t remember him ever locking the door for your other appointments). He’s almost on top of you in the next instant, and his scent makes your brain foggy and your limbs heavy. He smells like warmth on a winter day, and you’re acutely aware, if only for a moment, that you’d let him do anything to you.

He reaches out with a hand, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to look up at him. His other hand brushes stray hairs from your face, before falling back to his side. He looks just as crazed as you feel, his pupils swallowing the chocolate brown of his eyes. If it weren’t for the lab coat he was wearing, you’d be able to see the wet patch he’s leaving on the front of his slacks, his cock already straining for release.

“So?” Yyou ask, eyeing him curiously. You’re a little on edge now, your senses a little sharper.

You may have been hit by something funny, but you’re not stupid. Zayne, in all of his quiet composure, has a tell - the tips of his ears are dusted with a light pink, and he pushes up his glasses not once, but twice (even if they’re not on his face. It makes you giggle every time). He’s holding something back, and you’re worried all over again.

That’s when a terrible pain rips through your body, like your abdomen is being ripped apart from the inside. It feels like something is trying to claw its way out of you, and a sob wracks your body. Zayne rushes forward as your body goes limp.

“Hey, hey, look at me, darling,” he says, urgency lacing his tone.

“Look at me.”

The pain ebbs a bit as he nears, but you can still feel the way the pain tears at your stomach. Barely lucid, your weary eyes find his, pleading and wet.

“I can help, okay? Are you okay with me helping? Just let go for me, darling.”

He’s close - too close - but God, you could care less right now. There’s nothing in the room right now but him, in all of his glory, hovering just inches away from you.

You give him the smallest of nods, but it’s enough. Enough for him to spring into action, hand already working at the button of your pants. You’re so wet with slick that he has to peel them off your skin, but it’s worth it to see you, poised on his work couch in only your underwear.

He thumbs at the waistband of your underwear, fingers dipping under it teasingly.

“May I?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, go ‘head,” you say back, voice gravelly with want.

But he doesn’t take them off like you thought he would - instead, he shoves his face right up against your entrance, lapping at it through the soaked fabric of your underwear. Your hips buck instinctually, and his hands find their way to your thighs, kneading at them. Your legs try to close around his head, but he gives you a warning look over his glasses, and you try your best to keep them spread. A small smirk appears on his face at your obedience, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, because he’s already diving back in for more.

Even through your underwear, he can taste your arousal so potently, coating his tongue like the sweetest ambrosia. He’s sucking it through your underwear like a pervert. All open-mouthed and nasty, but it’s only making the slick pour from your entrance like a waterfall. Watching the usually cool and collected Zayne fall apart at merely a taste of you was dragging you close to an early edge. His glasses are starting to fog at the heat you’re radiating, but he doesn’t care - just dives deeper into you. He wants to taste you on his tongue forever, to keep his pretty, perfect omega satisfied. He doesn’t need anything from you, the bulge in his pants meant nothing to him. All he can think about is drawing those sweet little noises from you.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, and in a pleasure-seeking haze, you grind his face into your entrance. He groans, rich and deep, and it sends pleasant shockwaves through your system. Everything is hazy, like you’ve stepped into a dream, but you keep rolling your hips against his face, chasing your high. You’re heavy eyelids lift long enough to catch him staring up at you reverently, glasses askew and foggy, and that’s all it takes to send you spiralling over the edge. His unabashed worship for you, even now, made you clench around nothing as you came, the universe exploding into a million stars behind your eyes.

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to come back down, but by the time you do, Zayne has you in his lap, your head resting in the crook of his neck. The sensitive spot just below his ear is where his scent is the strongest, and when your head feels like your own again, you shift to nuzzle your nose into it. When that’s not enough, you start to nip at his neck, placing gentle kisses between lips. You can hear him exhale through his nose, and you feel the way he stiffens beneath you, trying not to interfere with whatever you’re doing. But he’s just so sensitive, and the little “anh!” that escapes his lips at your ministrations sounds almost like a whine.

“Are-mnph-are you feeling-ah-better?” He stutters out, his whole body weak to your touch.

“Mhm,” you mumble out against his neck, still not quite sure what you’re doing.

All you know is that he smells intoxicating, and you need more of him. You want to feel every inch of his skin against yours, want to cut him open and crawl inside of his skin so you can feel him everywhere. It makes you sick just how badly you yearn for him at this moment, and you bite down a little harder at the soft flesh of Zayne’s neck, grinning against his skin when his hips buck up against you.

“Mine.” You declare, before you can stop it.

It feels so natural, to call him yours. Almost like it’s always been that way. It twists your gut in a way you don’t understand, so you don’t try to. Instead, you lean back, taking in Zayne under you.

He’s flushed, a pretty red that spreads all the way from his cheeks down his neck, and he looks like your wettest dreams. He’s gnawing at his lip as he looks up at you so prettily, and your eyes flick down to them - a question. As you lean in, you give him enough time to back out, but he sinks into you instead, meeting your lips halfway. It’s a juxtaposition to the filthiness that went on earlier, the way he kisses you like you’re something delicate. You can still taste the hints of yourself on his tongue, and it makes you melt against him, fingers tangling into the short hair at the back of his neck. The moment shifts, and everything starts to feel more intimate. With the worst of the pain gone, you realize this is Zayne, your Zayne, the one who made you little snow seals when the seals at the aquarium made you feel bad. The one who texts you to make sure you’ve eaten lunch, and to make sure you’re not overworking yourself (to which you usually respond “hypocrite”, which shuts him up awful fast). You’re overwhelmed with something akin to embarrassment, and you pull away.

“Are you okay, darling?” He searches your face, concern written all over his expression. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

You hum, a noncommittal thing, still too embarrassed to properly look him in the eyes. He huffs, and squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, dragging you so close that your forehead knocks against his.

“Talk to me.”

It’s not a question, this time. It’s a command, and heat sparks in your stomach anew.

“I just…’m sorry I dragged you into whatever this is,” you say, unsure of yourself.

“I know this is probably just work to you, but-”

“It’s never just work with you.”

He says it with such sincerity you can’t help but lean in to kiss him again, short and chaste. You hope he can feel your love in every move you make against him, that this means something more than just sex to you.

And then it hits again - that twisting heat in your abdomen, like a punch to your stomach. It’s less bad, now that you’re pressed against Zayne, but it still makes you hiss, hand moving to put pressure on your stomach. He moves to pull you closer, looking down at your shaking frame.

“Anything you need, darling. Anything.”

So you beg. You plead until all that’s left of your voice is wispy breaths. You’re not even quite sure what you’re saying anymore, overwhelmed by the raw need to feel him fill you up, to have him carve the shape of himself into you. Your lips find his neck again, and your hands fumble for his belt, buried under the thick weight of his lab coat. His thighs twitch underneath you, and you shift just enough to yank his pants and boxers to his mid-thigh, enough for his cock to spring out of its confines. It smacks heavily against his black button-up, and god, is it glorious.

He’s impressive in length and in girth, the kind of thickness that would just split you apart if you weren’t already dripping for him. A lone blue vein runs up the underside of his cock, prominent and glistening with his own precum.You can feel your mouth watering at the idea of tracing it with your tongue. But when you go to slide off of Zayne to do so, his fingers find purchase on your hips, dragging your dripping heat to rest just over his leaking cock. You both groan at the contact, and you can’t help but press down into him, catching your clit right on the throbbing head of his dick. Heat overtakes your body, and your hips can’t help themselves as they began to rut down into him, your body begging you for more.

“I-fuck-I need t’feel you, need it, alpha,” you pant out, already forgetting your desire to taste him.

His eyes roll back in his head, fingers digging into the meat of your hips, hard enough to bruise. Something inside of you purrs at the idea of him marking you up with the kind of bruises that leave no doubts about what happened tonight.

“Darling I-hngh!-can’t hold b-back anymore,” Zayne starts, heaving as your hips refuse to slow down, “I have to have you. Can I? Please, can I have you?”

You can barely nod before an obscene rip echoes in the room. Between Zayne’s fingers is the tattered remains of your underwear, a lewd string of slick connecting it to your entrance still. You watch in awe as he presses the ripped fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. His tongue darts out, and a groan rumbles out of his chest when he gets another taste of your slick, his dick twitching pathetically against your now bare entrance.

And when his tip just barely catches against your entrance? It’s over, his cock already spurting hot cum against you, coating his abdomen.

“W-what a waste, darling,” he murmurs, muffled by the underwear still pressed to his face. “Should-hah-should’ve been i-inside.”

And his free hand moves from its place on your hip down to his release, scooping up some of the sticky mess onto his fingers. Before you have a chance to question him, he’s pressing his fingers to your entrance, forcing his cum inside of you. The feeling of his thick fingers stretching your entrance has your head falling back and your mouth falling open in a silent scream. His fingers reach so deep, and you wonder, briefly, if you’ll even be able to take his cock. They escape your entrance once again, just to messily smear more cum into your hole, mean and unforgiving.

If you weren’t so lost in your own pleasure, you’d be able to see how Zayne couldn’t look away from your entrance, now dripping with a mix of your slick and his release. He was hypnotized by the way you can’t help but grind down on his fingers, begging for more of him. He curls them just right, and his breath catches in his throat when you fall forward into him, moaning out his name. No pleas, no “alpha!”, just Zayne.

A sick, twisted part of him hopes it takes. He can already see it - how beautiful you’d be all round and heavy with his pups - and it makes him burlly another finger into your entrance, trying to dig his cum deeper into you. All he can think about is you, his sweet little darling, all powerful and strong, reduced to his little housewife.

“Can’t take it anymore,” you whine, snapping him out of his perverted daydream. “Want your knot, want to feel you fill me up, please.”

And something mean twists in Zayne’s gut, something sharp twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at you. He slips the tattered underwear into the pocket of his lab coat, and his now freed hand moves to tilt your head to look at him.

“Are you sure, darling? I’m not sure I believe you,” he responds, eyes glowing with mirth, “Beg for it.”

What a cruel alpha he is, making a heat-riddled omega beg for his cock. But the idea of him not filling you up sends you into a frenzy, frantic pleas falling from your mouth as you squeeze around his fingers pathetically.

“No, no! Need it, promise I do. C-can’t you feel how-ahn!-wet I am? Please, ‘m drippin’ for you, need to feel your cock fill me up, need you to mark me as yours-uhn! I’m yours, aren’t I, Zayne?”

At the sound of his name, so sweet falling from your lips, Zayne rips his fingers from your entrance, fumbling to grasp at the base of his aching dick. It’s flushed red and he’s not sure how long he’s going to last inside of you when you’re looking at him like that. Like he’s the only thing left in the world, like you love him.

But neither of you can even think once his cock slides into your entrance. No amount of fingering could have prepared you for just how thick he truly was, and tears bead at the corners of your eyes at the stretch. And it just keeps going, keeps sinking into your heat until you feel him all the way in your stomach. His tip is kissing your cervix so sloppily, and it makes your walls clench around him.

And suddenly you’re in the air. You’re dizzy and disoriented as you move, his dick sliding impossibly deeper in a way that has your legs locking behind his back, keeping him there. His teeth dig into your shoulder at that, trying to keep his sounds down, but it’s impossible when you just feel so good.

With one hand, Zayne balances you against his body, and with the other, he sweeps the papers and trinkets off of his desk, not caring where they end up. He cradles your head as he drops your back to meet the cold surface of his desk, always worried about your safety, even when he’s balls deep in you. It makes your heart squeeze in your chest, an unfamiliar warmth flooding your body.

You don’t have much time to think, though, before he’s pulling his hips back until only his tip is still inside you. He stays there for a moment, loving the way you pulse around his sensitive head, before his self-control fully snaps, and he’s bucking into you wildly. The desk creaks under you, shifting under the raw power of Zayne’s thrusts, until you hear it roughly thunk against the wall.

You’re certain the whole wing can hear you two, bodies sliding and humping at each other like animals, but you don’t care, not when his cock is slamming into that spot that makes you see stars. Your body surrenders to the heat overtaking it, surrenders to him, and you’re limp in his hold, forced to take until your body is satisfied.

“Z-Zayne, mark, pl-uhn-please?” You beg between moans.

And this isn’t really consent, not when you’re so deep in an unfamiliar heat, and the back of Zayne’s mind is screaming at him to stop, don’t give in. But when your head falls to the side, baring your neck to him so submissively, how was he ever supposed to resist?

His canines sink into the delicate flesh of your skin, right in the juncture where your scent gland rests, and it’s like fireworks explode behind your eyes. It feels like your souls are intertwining, a metaphysical connection that fills your entire being with the warmth of a thousand suns. Your body convulses under him, but that just makes him dig his teeth into your skin harder, the metallic taste of your blood filling his mouth. Only when your convulsing turns into weak twitching does Zayne’s jaw unlock. He presses gentle kisses into your shoulder, licking at the blood dripping from his mark, unable to stop his hips from still bucking into your sensitive body.

“You’re mine, mine, you hear me?” He babbles, not even realizing he’s saying anything at all.

“My omega, my perfect little darling, a-aren’t you? Fuck, ‘m gonna fill you up so good, make you-mhm-round with my pups, make you a pretty momma, knot you again and again and again until i-it takes. Do you-hah-want that, darling? Want to be my perfect little wife?”

Your head is filled with cotton and your limbs don’t feel like they’re even yours anymore, but you blink your weary eyes up at Zayne. His silhouette is blurry from the tears you can’t seem to control, but even blurred he’s still a sight to behold.

His glasses are barely still on his face, askew and only really still hooked on one of his ears. He’s still almost fully dressed, but his collar is mussed, and his pants and boxers have made their way around his ankles. His belt, still looped through his pants, clanks against the floor with every harsh thrust of Zayne’s hips, mixing into the symphony of moans and squelches filling his office.

It’s obscene and sloppy, everything is dishevelled in a way that is so markedly not Zayne, but it makes you clench around him nonetheless. Only you get to see him like this, make him like this. It sends a thrill down your spine, and a rush of heat floods your abdomen, your walls fluttering around Zayne’s girth.

“Darling, darling, feel so good for me, are you going to let go? Let go, let me feel you cum around me.” Zayne coos, looking down at you adoringly.

You frantically shake your head. You’re close, unbearably so, but you want-need Zayne to come undone with you. So you lift your feeble hands to grip at the hair at the back of Zayne’s neck and to pull his collar to the side. With the last of your strength, you yank him down to you, right into your eager mouth. He gasps as your teeth sink into his scent gland, and that’s all it takes - the base of his cock swells, and you can feel his knot start to take. The pathetic whimper that escapes Zayne’s mouth as your teeth sink deeper into his skin is enough to tip you off the edge, and you cum hard, biting into Zayne’s neck in a weak attempt to muffle your noises. It doesn’t matter anymore, really - the slam of the desk against the wall and the wailing you did earlier was certainly enough to tip anyone off to what was happening in here. But as you start to come back down to Earth, a wave of embarrassment overcomes you. This was your best friend. You just had sex - you just mated - your best friend, and an embarrassing part of you doesn’t even care. You’ve just claimed and marked the illustrious Doctor Zayne as yours, and he’s going to have to walk around the hospital after this, smelling like you and wearing your mark on his gland.

“It’s going to be a while before my knot goes down.” Zayne says, his voice still strained but mostly back to his normal matter-of-fact tone.

His knot. It all floods back to you - how you pleaded for his knot, how you begged him to mark you - and you fluster under his watchful eye.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, still unable to really even look at him, “I shouldn’t have forced you to do this, to…to mark me.”

You say it with so much contempt that it makes the ever-stoic Zayne frown, concern written in the creasing of his eyebrows. The hand thumbing at your hip moves to cradle your face, and he leans closer to you, wincing at the way his sensitive cock shifts inside of your gummy walls.

“Do you…” he ponders for a moment, “Do you regret it?”

He looks at you, searching your eyes for even a hint of anger at him, but all he finds is guilt. Like somehow you were at fault for all of the sick things Zayne did to you when you didn’t know what was happening to you. It makes something in his stomach flip, sadistic and cruel. You were so sweet, thinking that any of this was somehow your fault, and it makes him want to bite into your scent gland all over again. It was likely that the effect of whatever hit you would soon fade, but a little voice in the back of his head hopes that the mark he left doesn’t fade with it. That when you have to go back to work, all of the people that so much as glance at you can tell that you’re his, that you’re off-limits forever. In every lifetime, he’s given himself up to get even a taste of your love, and a certainty settles into his gut that he’ll never be able to let you go again, not after he’s had you.

“Do…do you regret it?” You ask, still carrying that heavy guilt in your eyes.

“Of course not,” Zayne responds, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I could never regret anything if it’s with you.”

– – –

ehehe thank you for reading!!! I don't have a sylus part planned, buuuut if anybody wants it please let me know! I just unlocked him and I wouldn't be opposed...

(also if you have other ideas for LADS send them in! I am so feral about them right now I will write just about anything)

#daisy writes<3 #daisy's series: in heat!#lads smut #love and deepspace smut #lads a/b/o #a/b/o #omegaverse #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #zayne smut #zayne x reader #yes i'm on my freak shit again i'm so sorry

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prettydaisygirl · 20 days ago

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boyfriend!James Potter x fem!reader who thinks he's cheating ✿ 1.8k words

cw: fem reader, reader thinks James is cheating (he isn't), James is a professional athlete and kind of a himbo, reader is jealous/a bit possessive of James, Sirius and Remus back reader up, angst with a happy ending

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

James Potter. Your beautiful, wonderful, oh so sweet boyfriend. He is the best man in the world. Except he has one flaw.

He is way, way too trusting.

You believe it’s because of his heart, too big for his body. He carries his emotions like a badge of honor, wanting to be good and see the good in others. And because of this, your boyfriend can be a little naive.

“Jamie, I just don’t think it’s a good idea-“ You’re trying to reason with him, but as lovely as James is, he is also stubborn.

“I just don’t see why you are making such a big deal out of this, angel.” James is wiping down plates, setting them aside for the team dinner tonight. “Olivia is a part of the team, she asked if she could come!” “She’s not a part of the team, she’s your social media manager.” You argue, rolling your eyes, but James doesn’t let up.

“She told me she thinks you have something against her.” You stop for a moment at James’ words, placing the towel you just finished folding aside. You raise your eyebrows at your boyfriend.

“And her words are so much more important than mine?”

James seems to know he struck the wrong cord when his shoulders sink a bit. “That’s not what I said. But you did ignore her the entire dinner last week.”

“I told you when you came home from that meet in Florida, James. She was all over you, I watched it on tv.” You hate the way you sound, you know James doesn’t see Olivia’s actions the way you do.

“You haven’t really met her, my love. I promise once you do, you’ll see that she is just our social media manager, and she wants us to look good so we get more sponsors!” James makes his way in front of you where you sit on the couch, kneeling down to meet your level. “Just give her a chance.”

You really rather wouldn’t. You’d rather James listen to you when you tell him about your concerns. But you know tomorrow’s meet is important to your boyfriend, so you decide to swallow your pride and nod.

“Fine.”

You regret agreeing almost immediately.

Your house swarms with tall, athletic men. You don’t know when your home became the pre-meet dinner spot, but you don’t mind. You find great pride in helping James and his team do well.

Olivia shows up after the rest of the team has arrived. When you open the door, her grin falters for a second before she reaches out a hand to greet you, squeezing too tight. She eyes you up and down and you decide to attach yourself to James for the evening.

You latch yourself onto his side, arm around his waist. His own settles around your shoulders and for most of the dinner you can keep the green jealousy monster at bay. Especially when surrounded by his teammates, laughing and joking at the dinner table.

The best part about James’ team is that the others have seemingly adopted you. Remus and Sirius especially, given their lifelong friendship with your boyfriend. You’re always with them, and you consider them very close friends.

You’re chatting with Remus about his new favorite novel when you realize James has been in the bathroom for a long time. Remus sees the moment he loses your attention, your brow furrowing as your eyes scan over the room, looking for James in the small crowd of his teammates. He isn’t there.

“Are you looking for James?” Remus asks, eyes darting around, and your expression changes, mouth pursing a bit.

“And she’s gone too…” You whisper, under your breath but loud enough for Remus to hear. He seems to put the pieces together right as you stalk off toward the staircase.

Your heart pounds as you make your way upstairs, toward the bathroom. You feel your head spin when the door is open and the light is off.

Things get worse when you hear James’ voice. You can’t make out what he’s saying but it comes from the bedroom. You step closer, and the next words you are able to make out definitely come from Olivia’s mouth.

“Why does she even need to know?” The words sound sultry, spoken slow and sweet in a way that makes every hair on your body raise up.

The door is cracked open just enough for you to see the two of them. She is sitting on your bed, her perfectly manicured hand wrapped tightly around your boyfriend’s wrist. You can’t see James’ face and you’re glad for it.

“Olivia-“ His warm, rich tone reaches your ears but you’re gone before you can hear anything else. You try to flee silently down the hall, down the stairs, and past the team. You’re two feet away from the door when Sirius steps into your path and you bump into him.

“Hey-“ He starts to greet you with a smile but it drops the moment he sees your face. You don’t know what you look like. Frantic, maybe? Are you flushed? Crying? You aren’t sure, all you feel is the need to get out of here. “Woah, are you alright?”

“I just-“ You take a heavy breath and move to step around him. You can definitely feel tears pooling in your eyes now and you shake your head. “I have to go.”

The last thing you see before the door shuts behind you is Remus approaching Sirius with a questioning look on his face, looking toward the door where you left.

You walk for a while, nervous to go too far. You turn off your phone, just wanting some space and to be left alone for a while. You stay in familiar areas, especially given how the sun has fully set now. Eventually you reach the park near your house and take a seat on a bench.

Your mind races. You didn’t see or hear anything that explicitly suggested your boyfriend was considering having an affair with the team’s social media manager. But her voice, the way she was holding his wrist. It’s obvious that’s what she was asking him.

There are two different possibilities here. You couldn’t see James’ face, only his back and the way he stood in front of her. Either he was going along with it, or he wasn’t.

You know James. James loves you, and he is not a man who is afraid of showing it. He’s always getting you flowers and little gifts, leaving you small love notes. Before he leaves for every practice he gives you an extra long kiss to your lips, then your forehead, and he whispers, “I love you, angel.” You know James.

So, why hadn’t he pulled away from her?

It was that thought that kept you on the bench. You sit there longer than you should. Any other night, any other circumstance, if you were out this late and James couldn’t reach you, you know he’d be worried sick. Your legs are stiff and your lower back aches when you finally stand. The walk back to your house is miserable, your soul heavy with anticipation. You don’t know what you will do if this somehow ends with you losing James.

The lights are still on when you approach the house. The only car left in the driveway is James’ so you know all of his teammates have gone home. That means Olivia is gone too.

Your feet drag as you move up the steps to the front door. You know it’s unlocked but you get your key out and move to unlock it anyway, just to delay this for just a moment. Every second is heavy with possibility, your heart aching.

The door creaks open and you step inside. James sits up on the living room couch and the two of you lock eyes immediately. The first thing you notice is that his eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, they probably ache as much as yours do. You hate the thought that he has been crying here by himself.

James stands, and he’s in front of you before you can blink. He gathers you into his arms like you’re something precious and you feel the warm heat of his breath on your neck as he exhales shakily. You wrap your arms around him too, grasping gently at the fabric of his shirt.

“Angel,” He breathes into your skin, and you find your eyes closing. His scent is warm, familiar and comforting. For a moment, just a moment, you let yourself go, focusing only on how wonderful it is to be in his arms.

His voice pulls you out of it, rough and scratchy from crying. “I’m sorry I really didn’t think-“

You open your eyes to blink up at him when he pulls back. This is the worst conversation the two of you have ever had and it hasn’t even really started yet. You hate fighting with him.

“Jamie-“ You start to say something. To tell him that you just need him to tell you he loves you. But you don’t get the chance, he’s already speaking.

“No, listen. I’m so sorry, I should have listened to you,” The look on his face breaks your heart, and when his eyes turn glassy, you can’t help but find your own burning again. “I thought she was just being nice, that she wanted to do a project for the team. I didn’t- when she said ‘we’, I didn’t think she meant her and I, I thought she meant the team, you know?”

“Jamie-“ Your quiet, shaky voice barely breaks through his rambling explanation. His hands move to cup your face.

“Sirius and Remus already chewed me out, and I know I messed up.” He says, his voice cracking a bit. His expression is raw and a tear slips down his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words are barely out of your mouth when he kisses you. You don’t know if it is the intensity of the situation or the buildup of emotions but you find your knees weak and your grip on him tightening.

“Jamie-“ You whisper against his lips, a silent plea.

“We fired her.” He whispers back, lips disconnecting from yours as he leans back just enough to look in your eyes. “As soon as I realized what she was asking me, I shut her down.”

“I know.” You tell him. And you do. You know James loves you, and you believe him when he tells you nothing happened with Olivia. “I shouldn’t have… run off. I just needed some time to think. And now you have your meet tomorrow and-“

“Don’t worry about me. I just need you.” James brushes his lips against your forehead before placing another lingering kiss to your lips.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you too, Jamie.”

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#daisy's writings #boyfriend!james potter #james potter au #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter drabble #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter fic #hp marauders #james potter x self inset #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fanfiction #marauders era

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spideysquake · 2 months ago

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death of a bachelorette

⋆˙⟡ series masterlist ⟡˙⋆

drew starkey x costar!reader

summary: two of the hottest stars in the industry get cast in one of the most highly anticipated films of the year. as the movie films and the press tour goes on, the public falls in love with the two actors' chemistry. but they may not be the only ones falling in love...

death of a bachelorette synopsis: a half slasher, half romantic comedy about persephone (percy) moore and elliott (eli) lewis, who meet at a wedding and hit it off, only to find themselves running for their lives from a vicious serial killer.

⋆˙⟡ moodboards⟡˙⋆

⋆˙⟡ table of contents ⟡˙⋆

one

two

three

four

five

inspired by: @sworeidnevercompromise's pillow talk series

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x costar!reader #drew starkey social media au #drew starkey smau #drew starkey x reader social media au #drew starkey x reader smau #drew starkey #social media au #daisy writes

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shadowsndaisies · 3 months ago

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death, who?

a/n: staying true to the resolution! the largest folder in my wips is probably the crossovers. way too many possibilities for someone entrenched in too many fandoms. but, nonetheless, here we are. also big shock! i still write for other fandoms, not just dc.

main masterlist

prompt: A; hold on you died?! ... B; yeah, well, it didn't stick.

synopsis: what if a hunt brought you and your older half-brothers and guardians, Sam and Dean Winchester, to Beacon Hills, and what if, you get in a spot of trouble with your new friends, and need to call for a ride.

wc: 2.7k

Black.

Everything is black.

You feel your body being torn apart, excruciatingly slow, and suddenly it all snaps back together, muscles, veins, tendons reconnecting and attaching, skin growing back.

Flashes of light, bright, discombobulating.

And then your eyes open.

You shoot up, bodies hovering over you.

Someone screams, someone else is crying.

You choke on nothing for a second, and then you push yourself back to your feet.

Hands grip onto you, frantic, and finally everything fits back into place.

You blink and turn, coming face to face with two boys. Not your brothers, a piece of you panics, but the memories come quick, and you force yourself to relax.

Stillinski and McCall, your brain supplies as you stare at the two. Both are watching you with wide eyes, lips parted, slightly pale. There’s a girl behind them with tears in her eyes. The redhead, Lydia you mind supplies after a second, looks especially distraught.

The choking feeling comes back and this time when you cough, something falls from your lips, a bullet.

You stare at the brass for a second, “seven fucking hells,” you hiss, bending down and picking up the bullet.

It’s deformed, likely the exact bullet that had killed you mere minutes before. Deformed from where and how it had impacted against your body.

The memory of being shot comes back fast and painful, your whole body flinches as you jerk to check your side. There’s blood, and your brow furrows as you push off your jacket and then pull your shirt off, wiping at your side, until you clear away most of the blood.

No wound.

“(Y/n)?” Stiles’ voice cracks as he says your name, and your head snaps back to the others.

They’re still staring at you like they’re all about to be violently sick.

“Hey,” you say, swallowing thickly as you calm your heart rate.

Who brought you back? No Angels nearby… Crowley didn’t have the pull anymore… Leaving… Billie? Or… Chuck?

You shudder at the thought, you hoped it was Billie.

You reach into your pants pocket, and pull out your phone, but your frown deepens when you realize it’s broken, screen cracked, totally toast— kinda like you were.

“Damn,” you mutter, turning back to the four still staring.

That was a problem.

“Can I borrow a phone?” you ask, voice hoarse, but they’re all still staring at you. You roll your eyes, and snap your fingers startling them. “Phone? Please?”

Lydia reaches a shaky hand into her purse and pulls her out, holding it to you.

You’d just dialed Dean’s number when Scott comes back to himself.

“Hold on,” he begins, “you died,” he states.

Newbies, you scoff internally.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stick,” you lament, raising the phone to your ear.

It rings, and rings, and keeps ringing, until you’re met with “Agent Plant, FBI, leave a message.”

“Damn it,” you mumble, dialing Sam’s number next

It rings, and rings, and rings…

“Agent Page, FBI, leave a mess-”

You don’t wait for the end of the message, and instead hang up, biting your lip you try the last active number you knew of.

It rings, and rings, and rings…

“This is Agent Jones, FBI. Please leave a message and I will-”

“Chuck’s sake,” you grumble and then freeze. There was more than one way to call Cas.

“Your tattoo is gone,” a voice interrupts and your head whips back over to the other teens.

“Fuck, are you sure?” you ask tilting your shoulder in to look at the blade. “You’re so dead, Chuck, stupid things hurt like a-”

“What is she talking about?” you’re vaguely aware of Stiles’ muttered question, but you force yourself to take a deep breath and refocus on the task at hand.

“You were dead,” Lydia finally speaks up, as you hand her phone back.

“Yes,” you nod.

“We did CPR,” Scott adds on.

“Explains the pain on my ribs,” you note, looking around, eyes perking when you spot your backpack.

“It didn’t work,” Stiles.

“Yup, got that,” you confirm half-heartedly, as you pull open the bag, rummaging through.

“I heard your heart stop,” Scott adds, and you pull a spare t-shirt, the one you’d used for gym class, out triumphantly.

“Make sense, since I was dead,” you nod, tossing the shirt over your shoulder, and looking back into the bag.

“I felt it,” Lydia adds, you shudder slightly at that, Banshee premonitions were an entirely different beast.

“Sorry about that,” you say uncomfortably clearing your throat as you pull out the small container of hand sanitizer.

You grab the bag and walk back over to the other three, they’re still starring wide eyed, and you refrain from rolling your eyes again as you reach down for the bloody shirt. You reach to your ankle and pull out your switchblade, using it to cut up the shirt, taking the clean parts, and then dousing it in the hand sanitizer, using it to remove as much blood from your skin as possible.

It leaves the skin sticky, you wrinkle your nose at the feeling, but once content, toss the bloodied clothes in a pile, and wipe your blade before putting it away.

You toss the mostly empty hand sanitizer back in your bag, and run your finger over the bullet again before putting that in your pocket. You pull on the gym shirt, it reads Beacon Hills High School, across the front, and is made of a stiff cotton polyester blend that scratches at your skin, and well, it smells like gym, but you’ve had worse, that’s for sure.

You swipe back your hair and reach into another pocket producing your lighter. You crouch down, and set the bloody clothes on fire. It burns quick, hot, and bright. Especially once it catches on the cloth that had the hand sanitizer. You watch the flames quickly until your blood is gone, and then you stamp it out.

Finally, you swing the bag back on your shoulder and you turn to the other three, really taking the time to take them in. This time you do roll your eyes.

“Yes, I died. Tragic, I know. And yes, I’m back, shocking is an understatement I’m sure, but can we please move on?”

“You died!” Stiles repeats again, and you let out a long sigh.

“And it didn’t stick. It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last,” you admit, but that seems to be the wrong thing to say because the three of them seem to raise into higher hysterics. “Right. okay! You process this, however you need to. Let me know when you’re ready. In the meantime, I gotta… make a call.”

The three offer jerky nods and you huff, walking ahead of them. They follow in a daze as you guide them out of the preserves and back to the main road. You look up and down, and quietly you close your eyes and pray.

Cas… Castiel, I could really use a hand right about now… Please?

You peek an eye open but are disappointed by the lack of blue-tie-trenchcoat-wearing angels.

You cave after another few minutes of silent prayer.

You drop your bag and walk into the street, “CAS! CASTIEL!!!” you shout.

Stiles flinches so violently he trips over his own feet, the three staring at you as if you were a lunatic, which; fair, but now was so not the time, to go into the angels and demons of it all.

“CASTIEL!” you try again.

“What is a Castiel?” Scott asks, eyes wide and concerned.

“CASTIEL,” you begin, shouting his name once more for good measure, before your lips turn into a deep frown, “is a no-good, older-brother preferring, utterly useless contingency plan,” you huff out, before looking back at Scott and shrugging, “apparently,” you add clearing your throat.

“Right,” Scott nods, but nothing about his response inspired his belief.

Again, fair.

You huff again, “guess we’re doing this traditionally,” you mutter, turning to the three. “No chance any of you has chalk?” you ask.

“Chalk?” Stiles repeats, spluttering. “What like sidewalk chalk? What are we gonna do hopscotch our way back into town?”

You deadpan at Stiles unimpressed, and he shifts under the weight of your stare.

“So no chalk?” you ask, and he huffs. “Fucking townies,” you mumble under your breath, but the look you get from Scott tells you he heard it.

“No chalk,” Lydia confirms. “But, chalk’s mostly made of the shells of single-celled organisms, like coccolithophores and foraminifera,” she explains and your brows furrow.

“What?”

“It’s found in most sedimentary deposits,” she continues.

You blink at her.

Her shoulders sag a bit, “Limestone rocks would work,” she relents.

You perk at that. “Wait here,” you tell them, taking off back the way you’d come. “I saw some limestone on our way out!”

By the time you make it back to them, the three are huddled, whispering quickly and casting weary glances around. They pause as you come back but you barely pay attention, instead, you focus on chalking the ground, delicate and precise marks as you use the limestone on the asphalt.

Once happy with the markings you stand outside the drawing, and toss the leftover limestone aside, wiping your hands on your jeans and standing at full height. You crack your neck, and turn to the markings.

“Amaymon, Amaymon, appear now, by the power of the Angelical Keys, I summon thee, Castiel,” you begin, voice loud and clear. It pulls the other three’s attention. Stiles ready to interrupt when you began again. “Rah ah gah ee oh es, Castiel, Rah ah gah ee oh es,” the three were now staring with wide eyes, on your second pass of the Enochian chant, your voice seemed to reverberate through the preserves, sounding less and less human. “Amaymon, Amaymon, appear now, by the power of the Angelical Keys, I summon thee, Castiel,” you repeat a final time.

You hold your breath, waiting, seconds tick by and finally your eye twitches. Fucking Castiel, you appear whenever Dean calls, bastards, all three of you.

“Fine,” you huff, throwing your hands in the air. “Prayer didn’t work, neither did calling nicely, or an official summons, so I guess that leaves me with threats! I hope you’re happy!” you shout at no one, and you catch the look Lydia shares with Stiles.

“(Y/n) maybe you should-” Scott begins and you wave him off.

“CASTIEL, YOU GET YOUR WINGED ASS HERE RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR ON MY NAME I WILL NEVER LET YOU HAVE ANOTHER MOMENT OF PEACE YOU WINGED RAT!” you scream, causing the other three to flinch.

And then a man in a trenchcoat materializes right behind you, and the three lose their shit.

“WHAT THE FU-”

“WHO?”

“WHERE DID-”

You whirl around and the Angel stands stiffly as he stares at you.

“About fucking time,” you huff, glaring at him.

“I find your demanding tone off-putting,” Cas decides and your eye twitches.

“Off-putting? Are you kidding Cas? I’ve been trying to get in contact with Dean and Sam, no one’s answering their phones!”

“Which numbers did you try?”

“Plant, Page, and Jones, FBI,” you counter.

“We deactivated them.”

“No shit,” you hiss.

“You are acting like a-” he stops himself, sighing.

the audacity.

“Like a what, Cas?” you press.

“Like an ass-butt,” he admits and you have to scrub your hand over your face. “I do not appreciate it,” he adds on.

You open your mouth with a sharp retort but you stop yourself, count to ten in your mind and let out a deep breath instead. Reminding yourself, you can’t talk to Cas the same way you would to Dean and Sam, it was counter-productive at best.

“You’re right, I apologize Castiel. I’m… flustered,” you admit, levelly, jaw clenched and eye twitching as you do.

“Is it because of these three?” he asks, finally addressing the others hovering just a few feet away.

“No, these are friends Castiel,” you huff.

“Why then? You are usually the most put-together of the three Winchester siblings,” he questions.

Isn’t that a low bar? The 17-year-old little half sister is the most put-together when compared to her two adult older brothers.

“I was shot, and killed about an hour ago Cas, I can feel where they sliced me open down in hell, and smell like a mix of death, blood, and high school gym class. I would very much like to know where my older brothers are, right now,” you explain, once again keeping your voice in that forced level tone.

“I see. One moment,” he says and before you can disagree he disappears.

“Oh, Fuck me!” you shout again.

“I have so many questions,” Stiles speaks up from where he and Scott are still stood.

“Sliced you open?” Lydia repeats, voice pitching up.

“Yeah, and Hell?” Stiles tags on, funnily enough, his voice did the same thing.

You glare at the two. Chuck’s sake, it was going to be such a pain to do the whole tip of the iceberg speech, at least they already believed in the Supernatural.

“Just-” you pause for another deep breath. “Please, let me find my brothers first,” you request instead.

Luckily you don’t have to wait long, because only a few minutes later you can hear an engine coming up the road, and you sigh when you catch sight of the Impala.

The car’s moving fast, and it screeches, skidding a bit, as Dean throws the thing in park. Both of you brothers rushing out. Dean gets to you first, hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down.

“The hell happened?” he asks, voice gruff.

“Hell,” you answer shortly.

“That’s not funny,” Sam counters.

“Neither is radio silence,” you shoot back.

Both of your brothers share a look.

“Fair,” Sam concedes, when Dean stays resolute, he hasn’t let go of you yet.

You feel Dean’s grip tighten and you sigh, “I’m fine, seriously,” you relent, voice softening far more than it has since you woke up.

“C’mon let’s get you to the motel,” Dean decides, keeping one hand on you as he starts pushing you to the Impala.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam calls after him, a nervous laugh paired with a clearing of his throat.

“What?” Dean barks the question over his shoulder, walking you forwards.

“She’s got friends,” he reminds him and you shrug at Dean who finally turns and stares at the the three who have been watching your brothers with curious eyes.

“Ah shit, more teenagers,” Dean frowns. “Fine, pack it in,” he huffs, opening the door.

Sam smiles nervously and gestures for the three to slip into the back row. You on the other hand, end up sandwiched between your two big brothers. Sam casts another look over you once he’s back in the car, and Dean’s pulling a U-turn.

“You sure, you’re okay?”

You sigh, and reach into your pocket, pulling out the bullet, and then dropping it in Sam’s hand as a response.

“Sorry I asked,” he backtracks.

You roll your eyes, and lean back into the leather seat, “Someone has to redo my tattoo when we get to the motel,” you speak up.

“Damn, total wipe?” Dean asks looking over at you.

“Not even a scar,” you mutter.

“That’s not too bad, I mean that wendigo last fall caught you pretty bad, right? Scar’s gone now?” Sam tries to point out but both you and Dean level him with a look.

“I thought we agreed to no bright sides on death, hell, torture, and resurrection,” you mutter mutinously.

“We did,” Dean agrees.

This time Sam rolls his eyes, “Alright, I’m sorry I tried,” he huffs, settling back as well.

“So many questions,” you hear Stiles repeat, and you groan in despair.

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

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sillygoosealert · 1 year ago

Note

WAITTTT…..Bi Hans baefy has him wrapped around their finger so what about Bi Han introducing him to the earthrealm crew like Johnny and Kung Lao and yknow Johnny being Johnny tryna get in them panties so Bi Han starts going off on him and reader is just like “don’t do that” and whispers something in his ear so he just hangs his head low and begrudgingly apologizes

Beefy man with beefy arms

DOWN BOY DOWN

Bi-Han being silly (he was upset), fluff (??)

Holding hands, you walk with Bi-Han and his brothers to a place you have yet to be

He changes his hand placement, putting it on the small of your back instead

They're there for a meeting but brought you along to keep him sane

However, before the meeting, a few people wanted to see you

Was it that shocking he could possess feelings for another soul? Perhaps

They are diverse, to say the least

A blind swordsman, who is quite nice

A humble hero

A not humble not hero

And a movie actor

A cocky movie actor, but he is a friend of Tomas’s, so you can not say much

But he has a lot to say, too much one would enunciate

‘Damn baby, you might have to give me mouth-to-mouth because you just took my breath away’

A crude, disgusting comment that does not need to be heard through your pure ears

That's what was going through Bi-Hans head

‘You imbecile, such- such fowl words. Do not talk to her like that, as you have no respect behind your words.’

He's fuming, steam is practically coming from his ears

You put a hand on his shoulder

‘Don't, it's not worth your time. He should not be riling you up this much.’

What you say is true, but a feeling of pride is also running through your thoughts at his immediate defense of you

He grunts like some caveman, maybe it is code for something you haven't figured out yet

After staring at Johnny for a good minute, he formulates something

‘My..apologies for lashing out Cage. Please understand I did not mean offense in my words’

‘I get it, I would say the same thing, man. We're cool’

he cackles, slapping his knee as he quickly defuses the situation

Do you think he has ill intentions? Not at all, he's just a guy trying to lighten things with awful jokes and pickup lines

Maybe you could shed that light on Bi-Han later, show him your perspective

He likes it when you do that, talk to him

Maybe it's not obvious, but he loves talking

To you at least

Late-night chats as he lays his head on your thighs

But right now he just wants to get everything over with, and that's fine

It's fine now, no harm is done and no one is upset and saying something about it

The rest of the day goes smooth

You talk to Bi-Han when the time is right

And he sees your view on it, and you see his. He feels better after the talk

He handled it well, you're proud of him

What should have happened 😔🎀

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hiduprakyat · 2 years ago

Text

what if i wrote a pantun berkait with the iambic pentameter and it was a symbolism of being caged and chained in the format

#revisited #pantoum for chinese women #and felt feels #anyway #daisy writes

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daisydrabbles · 7 months ago

Text

Maybe it's the Moonlight

- Theo Nott x Female Reader

Pairing: Tutor!Theo Nott x Good girl!female reader

ⓘ When I write within an academic setting it’s a university au and therefore all characters are over 18!

Warnings: slight dubcon, dirty talk, fingering, corruption, praise, mild degradation, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex (there’s literally nobody around but still it’s a public place)

Summary: Theo has been assigned to tutor you in astronomy, but his methods are a little… unorthodox (they involve fucking)

Word count: 3.1k

‘I didn’t take you for the type to sneak out past curfew, doll.’

You looked up from your seat on the edge of the Astronomy Tower to see your devastatingly handsome tutor staring down at you.

As one of the brightest in your year, it was incredibly frustrating to you that you were almost failing astronomy. What was even more frustrating was that Theodore Nott, the infamous man-whore who’d probably never stepped foot in the library (for reasons other than making out behind the bookshelves), was top of the class.

When you requested additional help, you expected to be partnered with someone like Hermione Granger - someone as studious and academically motivated as you. Yet here you were, meeting with one of the most attractive yet most troublesome boys in school.

You two were the definition of an oxymoron: you; good, innocent and studious, juxtaposed with him; bad, corrupt and carefree.

‘I’m normally not,’ you said defensively, ‘but I really need to pass this class.’

‘And you want my help.’ he smugly added as he sat down next to you.

Immediately, you felt some weird tension between the two of you. Why did he look so happy to be here? And why was he wearing such a predatory smile on his face?

Maybe it’s the moonlight you told yourself, as you made a mental note to reschedule your next session for a more civilised location, despite the fact that this one was undeniably practical - what better time and place to study the stars?

You cleared your throat and flicked through the pages of your textbook, feeling rather shy, and desperate to get this study session over with as soon as possible. ‘So, what first?’

Theo tutted and plucked the dusty old book from your hands, before he carelessly chucked it over his shoulder. ‘What’s first is I wanna hear you say it: Theo I need your help.’

‘Hey I needed tha- what?’

He was already having fun with your new dynamic. Whilst you were disappointed with your assigned tutor, he was pleased. In astronomy, the only class you shared, he would watch you intently - in a way not dissimilar to how lions stalk their prey. You were too perfect… he thought often of inviting you over and corrupting you; fucking you senseless and leaving enough marks on your body to prove it. However he knew you would never agree to hang out with him outside in a social setting - his academic arrangement was a perfect way to get you alone.

‘You heard me, miss high-and-mighty, I want you to say the words.’

‘Why?’ you crossed your arms in protest. You didn’t want to admit to needing anyone, especially not Theo Nott.

‘Cos you think you’re better than me,’ he said simply, ‘yet here you are about to fail astronomy, expecting me to help you pass it. You almost sound entitled really, maybe I should just go-‘

‘Fine.’ you cut him off, which only made him grin and look at you expectantly. ‘Theo I… I need your help.’

‘Good girl.’ his grin widened hearing you say those words, whilst simultaneously your eyes widened hearing his response. What did he just call you?

‘Why did you want me to say it so badly?’

He shrugs. ‘What man doesn’t want a pretty girl to say she needs him?’

Cheeky bastard. Nevertheless, you felt your cheeks heat up against your will. He thought you were pretty. Not that that should’ve meant anything, coming from someone like Theo Nott. He was notorious for being a womanizer. A playboy. A man-whore. You so badly wished his reused words had no effect on you, but they did. Looking down at your lap you prayed that your flush wasn’t noticeable in the darkness, for you were almost embarrassed at how he could fluster you with so few words.

It was very noticeable.

At least, it was for Theo, who had been seeking such a reaction and had therefore picked up on it immediately. He wasn’t entirely sure if you even wanted to study at all when you suggested meeting in the Astronomy Tower, with it being a primarily regarded by students as a hookup spot. It surprised him that you actually brought textbooks and came with the intention of learning.

He had other ideas.

He was sick of girls throwing themselves at him, this time he wanted a challenge - but he didn’t just didn’t want any challenge, he wanted you.

He wanted to shut your smart little mouth up with his own; he wanted the satisfaction of taking someone so smart and fucking them dumb. The dirty-minded boy found it cute that you’d so innocently suggested the meeting in the middle of the night - that the impure thoughts he was thinking hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Clearly you hadn’t considered your choice of clothing either. He didn’t miss the way the wind was causing your little pleated skirt to fly up, nor the way your tight blouse clung to your curves and accentuated all the right places. Places he’d love to touch; to kiss.

Alas, he would have to settle for letting his mind wander for now. As badly as he wanted to fuck you, he did also commit to helping you. His hands would have to wander later. Wander up to your perky tits, down to your sensitive cunt…

‘Anyway,’ he shook his head to rid himself of his horny thoughts, ‘is there an area of study you’re particularly struggling with?’

‘Star charts.’ you admitted, your shoulders slumping.

Theo looked as though he was trying his hardest not to laugh at you. ‘Star charts?’

‘You’re supposed to help me, not mock me.’ you deadpanned.

‘I’m sorry,’ he chuckled, ‘I just find it amusing that someone as intelligent as you can’t read a fucking star chart.’

‘I can read a star chart just fine. I just can’t…’

‘Use it to navigate the sky?’ he offered.

‘Exactly!’

Unable to help himself, he dropped his voice to a low and seductive tone and leaned into your ear. ‘Well I’d be more than happy to make you see stars.’

Theo’s hot breath on the side of your neck combined with his dominant tone caused a gush of wetness between your legs. Discreetly, you squeezed your thighs together, silently willing yourself to break free from whatever trance he’d put you under.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Theo, who was thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm.

‘I- if you don’t wanna help me that’s okay but I think maybe I should-‘

‘Believe it or not,’ he cut you off, his tone surprisingly gentle, ‘I’m actually trying to help you.’

A puzzled look appeared on your face. ‘You threw my textbook away when I tried to open it.’

‘Well, let’s not live in the past.’ he waved off your statement, holding out his hand for you to take. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘With what?’ you eyed him skeptically.

‘Jesus are you always this tense? It’s a yes or no question, doll.’

After a moments hesitation, you answered; ‘Yes… yes,I trust you.’ and took his hand.

That was all the confirmation he needed to yank you onto his lap, causing you to let out a little gasp. Sitting on Theo Nott’s lap was not how you envisioned spending your study session, but you were hardly complaining. The faint aroma of cigarettes and the sound of his racing heart should be distressing - a sign of danger, even - but you felt oddly calm. Your back was towards him so you were both facing the night sky as he asked, ‘Can you point out Andromeda for me?’

The feel of his hardening bulge underneath your ass had momentarily stunned you, and you stuttered trying to answer his question.

‘Just relax…’ his fingers caressed your exposed thighs comfortingly, slowly working their way upwards, meeting the hem of your mini skirt.

‘What are- shouldn’t we study first?’ You grabbed his wrist to stop his fingers going any higher.

When you said first, implying that you would be interested in having sex with him later, he felt his cock twitch. Finally, you were granting the opportunity for him to make you his. Luckily for the both of you, Theo was great at multitasking.

‘Tut tut, do you want to get better at astronomy or not?’

Well yes, but you couldn’t see how him touching you was going to help with that. ‘I-‘ you were cut off by your own whimper as you felt Theo’s fingers graze over your clit through your underwear.

‘Then let’s try again. Where’s Andromeda?’

At first, his fingers lightly circling your clit were too much of a distraction. It was obvious he had experience, because he knew exactly how hard to press to satisfy you but still keep you coherent. After a moment of getting used to the sensation, your brain was clear enough to answer his question so, using your finger, you traced the outline of the constellation in the sky.

‘That was correct, clever girl.’

‘Wait, really?’ you bounced up and down in excitement, making the boy underneath you groan at the feeling of you pressing on his hard cock. ‘How did you teach me to do that without teaching me anything?’

‘Your problem is you think too much. I thought if I helped you… relax, you’d be able to focus on astronomy a little better. Clearly, I was correct.’ Theo moved his hand inside your underwear and slipped a finger inside your wet hole. ‘Well done.’

Your mouth falls open at the feeling of his long finger deep inside your tight cunt, stroking your inner walls. As determined as you were to not be another one of his silly hookups, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny the pleasure he was giving you.

‘Fuck, doll, who knew a good girl like you would be this wet for someone like me.’

Theo’s finger teased you for the next twenty minutes as he asked you various Astronomy-related questions, which you answered correctly. He was right, you were clearly thinking too hard at something so simple, and his fingers pleasuring you rid you of all the unnecessary thoughts, allowing you to focus solely on the stars. Every now and then, Theo would increase the pressure on your clit or thrust his finger deeper, just to see you cut yourself off mid-sentence with a moan or a whimper induced by his touch.

‘Theo…’ you whined after answering a dozen questions about constellations, looking up at him. You were asking for something, but you weren’t quite sure what. Just something more.

He pushed a second finger inside you, curling them upwards into you slowly as his palm pressed against your clit. Watching you writhe on top of him and hearing you moan made his dick throb in his trousers, as he internally tried to decide between bringing you to your climax on his fingers first or just freeing his cock and fucking you raw right away.

‘Yeah, amore? You like being finger-fucked out in the open?’ he whispered, even though there was no chance of you being seen or heard by anyone at this time. His words went straight to your core and his previously slow pace started to quicken as he felt you clench around his digits. ‘Fuck- yes right there.’ you cried, feeling his long fingers hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

Not long after, he retracted his fingers, smearing your wetness on your clit teasingly before removing his hand from your underwear altogether. The new, empty feeling made you whimper.

‘Why’d you stop?’ you pouted breathlessly whilst you turned around in his lap, now straddling him.

Locking his eyes on yours, he brought the two fingers that were previously buried inside you to his lips and licked off all your juices. ‘So sweet.’ he muttered to himself, probably not intending for you to hear. ‘Because,’ he said louder, ‘I want to make you cum on my cock, if you’ll let me.’

Your eyes flick down to his now rock-hard erection, still trapped inside his trousers. ‘Yes, please…’

‘Atta girl… but first, let’s get these clothes out the way, shall we?’

You nodded frantically, tugging at the hem of his t shirt as he unbuttoned your blouse to reveal your tits sitting perfectly in a lacy white bra. ‘These are fucking gorgeous.’ he palmed them before reaching round to unclip your bra. ‘I can’t want to watch them bounce as I fuck you.’

He pulled away briefly to discard his own shirt before flipping you both over. How he revelled in the sight of you underneath him, all exposed and desperate. Theo knew that you weren’t like him; you weren’t the type to sleep around. He was honoured to be making you feel this good, and he wanted to make sure you had as much fun as he knew he would have.

After pulling off his trousers he guided your hand to his bulge, making you feel him through his boxers. ‘Can you feel how hard I am for you, amore? How desperate my cock is to sink itself into your pretty little cunt?’

He leaned down to give you a passionate kiss, his thumb finding its way to your clit. Your fingers found his waistband and tugged on it, indicating that you wanted him to discard them. He obliged.

Pulling away from the kiss, your jaw dropped as you saw his erection finally spring free, hitting his stomach. It was bigger than you could’ve imagined, and you suddenly found yourself conscious of how large he was in comparison to you.

‘Theo that is not gonna fit inside of me.’

‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ he yanked your skirt and your underwear down with one harsh tug, leaving you entirely on display for him. With one movement of his hips the tip of his cock found your dripping wet entrance, and he pushed it in it in ever so slightly. The stretch makes you moan; his cock was way thicker than his fingers. ‘See that, doll, your warm little cunt is practically pulling me in. I told you I know what’s best for you.’

Tugging at his brown curls at the back of his neck, you hum in agreement. ‘Please… I need you.’

‘I didn’t even have to ask you to say it that time.’ he grinned before he bottomed out inside of you making you cry out. A bulge was visible in your stomach where is cock was deep inside you, still whilst you adjusted to his size. ‘You okay, pretty girl?’ All you could do was nod, not trusting your mouth to form coherent words with the boy who was meant to tutor you buried to the hilt in your dripping wet cunt. ‘Words, please.’ he commanded as he grabbed your jaw to bring your face closer to his.

‘Yes I’m- I’m more than okay just please…’

‘Please what?’

‘Please fuck me.’ you said in a small voice, surprised at yourself for saying it outright. At your request he started to move, making you bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sensation.

‘Don’t hold back, amore. Your sounds are as cute as your face, I wanna hear them all.’

And with that he began to pound in and out of you, immediately picking up a harsh pace. His large hands pinned your wrists on either side of your head so you could make no attempt to cover your flushed face or muffle your breathy moans. He was no hypocrite either, groaning into your ear letting you hear just how much he was enjoying fucking you raw.

It was even more erotic than he’d imagined. He’d managed to turn a tutoring session with the schools resident good girl and turn it into a scene straight out of a porno. The sight of your tits bouncing as your tight, warm cunt took his thick cock was one he wanted engrained in his memory. Fuck, if you weren’t on a hard wooden floor he’d be tossing your little body around in all sorts of positions. And god, how he wanted to taste you; to suck on your sensitive little clit and lick up your sweet juices. The opportunity hadn’t arose in this particular occasion, but it only motivated him to get you in bed again.

‘You feel fucking incredible.’ he groaned, earning only a whimper in response. ‘Bet you couldn’t answer any astronomy questions now, hm?’

You shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut as he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. ‘N-no, I-‘ his pace didn’t falter as you felt yourself clenching around him, orgasm building up - if anything, it quickened.

‘Cos I’ve fucked you senseless, haven’t I?’ Although you could hear him, you couldn’t respond. His voice was muffled and your vision was clouded, your pleasure was so overwhelming, you couldn’t think straight. ‘You like going dumb on my dick?’

Theo could tell you were close, so he brought a thumb to your clit, adding pressure in circular motions. That’s all it took for your orgasm to come crashing over you. ‘Theo, I’m-‘

‘Do it. Let go. Cum for me.’

And you do. Just as he promised, you swore you saw stars whilst he fucked you through your high and chased his own. He didn’t slow down to accommodate your now increased sensitivity - his need almost became primal as his thrusts got sloppier the closer he got. ‘Gonna fill you up with my cum, doll. Real deep.’ he grunted in your ear, feeling his own orgasm building. The pressure from your tight cunt felt like heaven to him, but mostly it was the way you were looking at him that pushed him over the edge, like he’d just taken you places you didn’t know you could go.

You both moaned as you felt his hot cum spill into you, marking you as his. And you were his, now. He’d ruined you for anybody else; he’d moulded you to fit him perfectly.

After pulling out, he laid down on his side next to you, tracing mindless circles around your navel.

‘That,’ you inhaled shakily, ‘was amazing. Are you okay?’

His eyes, which had previously been fixed on the sight of his cum leaking out of your hole, snapped up to you. By the looks of it, people don’t normally ask him that after sex, and you immediately felt as though you’d said something wrong. That was, until you felt his hand cup your cheek. ‘Careful, doll, you’re really making me want to keep you.’

‘What?’ you roll onto your side to face him.

‘Nothing.’ he sighed in content. ‘I’m great, are you okay?’

‘Amazing. Same time next week?’ you attempted to joke.

‘Same time tomorrow.’

#୨ৎ daisy writes #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut

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