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syoddeye · 5 months ago

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the warren part three - trouble

price x f!reader | 4.6k words part one/prologue - bait | part two - fix tags: alcohol, animal death (mentioned), animal sterilization (mentioned), weird and unsettling vibes. while this part is fairly tame, this is darkfic. a/n: it's been 84 years. banner by @/cafekitsune. 🔪

“Car trouble?”

You barely miss braining yourself on the hood, swiveling to catch John lumbering up the drive from the hill, pairing a smile with a concerned look.

“You’ve...” he trails, head dipping in appraisal.

Looking down, grime and grease blotches your dress and skin. “Shoot.” You mutter, throat achy with suppressed, frustrated tears. “Yes. Car trouble.” You wipe your palms on your thighs. The outfit’s ruined anyway.

John’s brow furrows. He stares at the engine and hums a ponderous noise before procuring an archaic brick of a phone from a pocket. Punching a number, he jerks his head toward the cabin. “Clean up and I’ll phone a friend.”

You hesitate, thinking of money. “Friend? Like a mechanic? Listen, John…”

“Nik? Got a minute?,” John stares, listening to whomever this ‘Nik’ is on the other end, nodding at the door again as if to say hop to it. Embarrassingly quick, you do.

Inside, the soiled dress goes into the tub, and you furiously scrub your arms and hands in the bathroom sink. The filth stubbornly clings to your arm hair, your nails gumming up with sludge. Over the tap, you hear John call from the front door.

“Mind if I come in? The house, that is.”

You check the lock in the mirror, and shout through the door. “Yeah, sorry. Stuff doesn’t want to come off.”

John’s heavy footsteps announce his path. “My friend Nik’s gonna pop by while we’re out and take a look.”

You rake your nails in small circles over a thick patch of muck. “I hope he’s only looking. I can’t uh, exactly pony up for a repair right now.”

He doesn’t immediately answer, and over the water, you listen to him move around the kitchen. “He won’t do a thing without my say so. Try this.”

Beneath the door gap, you see John’s shadow. This is the second time he’s in your house, first time invited, and you’re in your underwear. You grab a towel to cover up, and, with a breath, crack open the door. A green-blue bottle knocks into the jamb, his hand attached. Dish soap.

You take it, stifling a laugh.

“Heard it works on ducks.”

You glance at the side of his head. It’s sweet he’s looking away. “John?”

“Yeah?”

“Mind stepping into the bedroom and grabbing the orange dress? Should be on the corner of the bed, might be a few things on top of it. Don’t judge the mess.”

There’s a smile in his voice. “Back in a jiff.”

A minute later, the gauzy cotton appears pinched in his fingers.

“Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

“There’s no rush, not like we have a reservation. When you’re ready, we’ll walk down and take my truck.” His footsteps ferry him away, and you hear the swing and slam of the front door.

Despite his reassurance, you hurry, grabbing your bag and smoothing the dress when you emerge. John leans against your dead car and pushes off with a growing smile, clearly taking you in. He lets out a low, appreciative whistle.

“Think I like this one more.”

“Yeah?” you ask, adding a smidge more honey to your voice. It’s been a long time since a man’s admired you, even longer since one’s treated you kindly. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn't mean it. Sunset suits you.” John’s gaze takes its time arriving at your face. “And don’t fret yet. Nik’s got a way with machines.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Early evening birdsong serenades the journey downhill, the slap of your sandals on asphalt punctuating it. The adjustment from living in the thick of it to the middle of nowhere was difficult at first, accustomed to the white noise of sirens and mystery booms, but here, silence prevails.

“How’re the kittens?”

John cracks another smile. “Bigger. Clumsy, but movin’ more.”

“Will they be fixed when they’re older? I saw the veterinary office. I was thinking I’d reach out regarding some of my feline neighbors.”

He huffs, the noise emanating deep from within his chest, as if your question is a personal affront. “They’re not hurting anything, are they?”

A nervous titter of laughter escapes. “The local bird and rodent population.”

You turn onto the road, his store within view. “Sounds like pest control and the natural order of things.”

He picks up the pace, approaching an older, red Chevy on a mission. You’re gobsmacked, with a few butterflies in your stomach dropping stone dead. Growing up watching Price is Right reruns over your mother’s shoulder, a woman who all but canonized Bob Barker, you’ve never met someone against animal sterilization.

Breathe. Not weird, just different.

“I suppose,” You wince at the angry creak of the door as he yanks it open, the sound too familiar. “I’m tired of scraping their work off the step.” You spare a parting glance at the makeshift shelter where the kittens live and climb in.

John snorts and starts the truck. “No reason to permanently alter the creatures. Hunting, killing, breeding. It’s all part of life.”

The certainty with which he says it gives you pause, the seatbelt’s tongue poised over the buckle. Your face burns, thrown by the shift in conversation. Reaching for the pleasantness from earlier, you remind yourself that John’s rough around the edges. You knew this when you accepted, or rather, suggested, the date. Gruff and blunt, yet possessing a homespun charm impossible to feign. You hope it shows itself again. He pulls out of the shop’s row of parking spots as you buckle in. It’s probably fine you’re in his car, not like you have a choice at this point.

You muster a belated response. “Natural doesn’t always mean correct.”

The notion diffuses John’s tension. He chuckles, shaking his head. “You say that now. Few months in the woods will set you straight. I used to think the same. Being out here changed me.”

You watch him search for a station between working the stick shift. “You said you’re retired, but you’re a little young for that, aren’t you? What did you do before running a store?”

“Military, medically discharged.” He says plainly as if that explanation’s enough.

And you suppose it is. Another sensitive subject, one he does not owe you divulgence. It’s not as if you don’t harbor your own secrets, but politeness doesn’t overrule curiosity.

“Right. How long have you lived in Grouse Bay?”

“Years. Where were you before this?”

It’s fair he returns the question. It’s why you rehearse. “Iowa.”

“Field of Dreams?”

“Yessir.”

“And what work lets you spend a summer holed up in a cabin?”

You briefly debate telling the truth and how much. John alluded to Kate’s loose tongue and hasn’t given reason for it not being a reciprocal feed. “I’m between things, but I’m a penny pincher.” You bite your lip to stop yourself from elaborating, taking a page from his book. A shiver of guilt still wracks you whenever you think about money.

“Is that why you haven’t been back to the store?”

“I paid the invoice for the light, didn’t I?”

“By giving Kate the–”

A big, defensive smile curves your mouth, placating in anticipation of anger. “She said she was going to see you.”

“Don’t interrupt.” he scolds. “I meant that you haven’t stopped in since you arrived.”

The way John speaks toes the line between kind and patronizing; maybe with practice, it’d be easier to put your foot down. If he only knew the amount of groundwork you put into this ‘vacation’. The nights spent car camping in parking lots. Rummaging for coins abandoned in vending machines. Sneaking small bills from the offering plate. “I brought some groceries with me. I’m not completely helpless.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s a small town. I’m worried about our newest resident.”

“Guest.”

“Guest. Which reminds me,” He lifts off his seat to fish out a billfold. Without averting his eyes from the narrow and winding road, he pries the old leather open and roots something out. “Been meanin’ to return this, found it on the floor of the shop the other day after fixing the light.” He pinches the corner of a card and holds it out.

Your face stares back at you, and your stomach draws to your spine in a deep, terrified breath. When did you lose your ID? Whatever ounce of pride you felt moments ago dissolves. Rationing your supplies and avoiding town to save money meant you hadn’t opened your wallet in days.

“Thank you.” You take the card, biting your lip at the last name printed next to your first. John must’ve seen it, and if Kate’s given him one name, he knows you by another now.

Worry thrums in your chest, settling into place like one would collapse into a favored armchair. You can hear it practically groan in relief, reclaiming its monopoly on your person.

“Know much about Ponderosa?”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “The basics.”

Before the move, you dug into the town across the lake and learned very little. Although founded roughly at the same time as Grouse Bay, Ponderosa’s the bigger, wealthier sister. The population drain following mine closures impacted both locales for the greater part of the century, but the cheap sale of land in the eighties led to a boom in tourism and development. You waffled between the towns, ultimately choosing Grouse for the lower rent and smaller population. Less chance of being found.

“Ponderosa’s a fine town, though folks are cowing more and more to greed. Greedy shits buying up and bulldozing pristine land to build mansions they call ‘cabins’.” He rants, chewing his words with a pinched expression like his teeth found the gristle. “Very few are decent. Though, you’d be hard-pressed to find better people than those in Grouse.”

It paints a picture you’re familiar with. Decades of architectural character and history replaced by boxy houses kissing property lines. It underscores John’s apparent, deep-seated opinions and judgment. How he wields them as a cudgel and gavel all in one. You’ve never felt strongly about one place or another, at least positively.

“Like vultures, huh?”

“Vultures have their use.”

The rest of the car ride, John fills in the gaps. When there were still children in the Bay, they attended school across the lake. He drives over weekly to retrieve inventory for the store. The single helipad for a hundred miles resides at their medical clinic, also the only one of its kind. It leads to a story. Last year, a hiker went missing for forty-eight hours from Ponderosa, but popped up on the summit of Mount Grouse. Dehydrated and delirious, claiming to have met angels.

“He scared the shit out of a hunter checking on traps,” John chuckles. “But he was alive. Got airlifted to civilization and last we heard, he’s recovered.”

You laugh uneasily. Once, as a kid, you were separated from a babysitter—but that was at the mall for half an hour. Alone in the woods, on a mountain? You shudder at the thought.

Eventually, the road evens out into well-maintained asphalt. A sign crops up around a corner, Ponderosa sticks out in big gold letters, flanked by meticulously carved trees. John turns the dial down, the crackling rock and roll station fizzling into silence. He cranks the manual window down and drapes an arm out. Not for the first time, you admire the muscle beneath his slightly tanned skin and hair.

The view of the main street steals your attention. John slows to cruise down the block. Like the vantage outside Grouse, downtown Ponderosa looks like a postcard, albeit hedged by construction and development. It’s the July spread in a calendar celebrating Americana. Barely June and ribbons and banners decorate pristine storefronts for the Fourth of July. Sunset paints the promenade in sherbert oranges and pinks while old-fashioned street lamps buzz to life.

If John finds your gawking amusing, he doesn’t mention it.

The sign for The Echo Diner gleams, a fresh coat of crisp white paint stylized with red highlights to make it pop. The building’s pristine, too, with symmetrical flower beds along the walls. It's nothing like The Foxhole, beyond its glory days. Ponderosa, it seems, is as moneyed as John described.

The entry funnels into the fairly crowded restaurant, a sea of capped heads and wraparound sunglasses tilt in conversation or up at the big screens mounted above the bar. A woman hunches over a jukebox. Nobody pays you any mind until John steps into the small space behind you, his hand finding your shoulder. It takes a gentle nudge for your feet to move, wary of the several sets of eyes suddenly pointed in your direction.

“John, good to see you.” A man cracking open a couple of light beers nods as you pass, attention bouncing off you as if you aren’t worth seeing.

“Likewise.” John rumbles, the single word breaking the spell, allowing the other patrons to return to their conversation and game.

He’s a regular. Ambling for an empty table beside a porthole-style window, you angle toward the side that looks out into the restaurant, but John’s hand flexes on your back.

“I’ll sit there. Can’t eat comfortably unless I can see the door. Old habit.”

Who are you to argue? You’re the outsider, and with the awkward tension brewing since you left for dinner, you’re eager to make nice with John. You take the opposite seat, offering a placative smile as you bump knees. He manspreads, bracketing your legs with his own. You try not to think of how much space he fills.

The familiar nostalgia you felt riding into town resurfaces. The diner is charming, from the tacky checkered floor to the billiard lights over the laminate tables. Classic. Not a hint of intentional curation. Even the cracked, boomerang-pattern vinyl booths inspire a strange fondness. It all speaks to its age, its lived-inness. What it’s seen and weathered. The name of the feeling arrives with the single-page menu John hands you.

Homesick. You’re a little homesick.

It’s ridiculous, the notion. There is no main street to recall. There isn’t a house to miss. What you have is a series of cheap apartments that run together in your memory, with leaky pipes, roaches, and thin walls. Yet you relish the borrowed sentimentality. It’s a balm. Raised on a diet of neglect like a dandelion pushing through cement, you reach for whatever good thing comes your way. It’s how you ended up in—

The waitress interrupts to take your order, just yours. She knows exactly what John wants, boredly reciting the tab, minding a crossword instead of the ticket. As she shuffles behind the counter, the bartender approaches, placing a pitch-black pint glass on the table in front of a pleased John.

“The usual.” The bartender hovers, his grin beaming beneath his mustache.

John’s eyes flick between him and you. “Thanks. Get my girl the cherry cider.”

You stiffen, automatically reaching for the bartender, and blurt a correction. “Wait. No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. Water’s fine.” Your fingertips graze the stranger’s elbow, and he jerks away as if burned.

The immediate vicinity falls quiet. You didn’t raise your voice or stand, but doubt blooms when the bartender freezes in place. The men at the counter closest to you peek over their shoulders, and another waitress stops refilling a napkin dispenser, watching sidelong. You scan the odd bystanders, whom you notice are not looking at you. They look to John. So you do, too.

That same intensity from earlier is plain on his face. Mouth drawn tight in a line, blue eyes flat but focused. You think he means to insist until he nods. “Water it is.”

The bartender’s chipper grin reappears. The others go back to their business.

“Great. One minute.”

The unease returns tenfold, smothering whatever daydream you entertained. The smile you offer is conciliatory. “Sorry, I don’t drink on first dates.”

It softens him. “First, huh?” John smirks. “That a hard and fast rule, the drinking?”

It is one of the only things your father taught you. Shy of fifteen, mistakenly mumbling a hope of attending a school dance. Sadie Hawkins. There was a boy, you don’t remember his name now—another blur, a collage of faces—who introduced himself on your first day and tempered your latest bundle of new school nerves. Your father set upon you like the Spanish Inquisitors you’d read about in history. You were in shock, too stupefied by his sudden interest in playing parent to remember anything beyond: Girls don’t drink on first dates, makes them loose. Surely, it came with a postscript, but that, too, is lost to time.

“I’m afraid so.”

John huffs a short laugh, the sound enough to flip your belly.

Heat spreads across your face, which makes the bartender’s timing especially helpful. Your requested glass of ice water appears, and relief creeps through palm-first. John introduces you, prompting a polite smile, only for it to swiftly fall. “...and she’s staying at the old Warren place. Darl, this is Alex.”

You nearly kick his foot. Telling a stranger, another man, where you’re staying?

Above, Alex finally acknowledges you, eyebrows lifting as if you suddenly materialize. “Really. Did you meet the cats?”

“The cats?” You blink, annoyance quelled in an instant. “Are you…Are you familiar with the property? Do you know how many there are? I’ve counted–”

“He’s heard stories from Kate. Isn’t that right, Alex?” John interjects, staunching the conversation.

Alex smiles sheepishly, already moving toward the bar. “Yeah. Stories. Heard it's pretty as a picture.”

You pivot to John for a follow-up, but he steamrolls ahead into a different topic entirely: The mystery of what you do all day.

“Nothing interesting.”

He hums, disbelieving. “You’re new meat. Everything you do is interesting.”

You search the ether for words, knowing he’ll badger something out. “I read, though I’m running out of books. I draw, poorly, so don’t ask to see anything.” A grin splits his face and jumps to yours, infectious. “I rockhound, swim, write, apply for jobs…”

“Any luck with work?”

Aside from filling out surveys for pennies and cobbling together speeches for strangers online, no. You tell him as much, leaving out the fact you spend hours each day, digital hat in hand.

John glances toward the door, focus stolen for a second before inhaling deeply through his nose. He straightens, arms folding over his barrel chest, puffing up. “Y’know, I could use an extra pair of hands at the store. Busy season’s here.”

You know you ought to jump at the offer, considering the state of your account. How difficult would it be to help mind a tiny store? Yet, the idea of working with John sparks concern. As an acquaintance, as a date, he’s—assertive, though that feels too weak a word.

“I don’t need an answer now, but if you’re interested, I’ll need to run a background check, given I sell ammunition.”

The world rapidly contracts. The one time you shopped, you focused on necessities. Tunnel vision. You didn’t see the entire inventory. The sip of water you take burns off fast, throat drying and excuses evaporating.

John’s face softens, reading your obvious panic. “Regardless of what turns up, the job’s yours if you want it.”

“That’s not–I don’t–John…” You try to focus on a break in the laminate, on the music drifting from the jukebox. A rich laugh from the bar about turns your head, but John’s hand darts, snatching yours in an unyielding grip. It’s like a bear trap, palm almost completely enveloping yours. It might as well latch into bone.

He lowers his voice, steadily pulling you to lean over the table. “I’ve got an eye for runaways.” His fingers squeeze gently when you flinch. “Sympathy, too. So whatever it is you’re running from—” He ignores your tug. “—you’re safe with me.”

John’s eyes shift, yours follow. A man stands at the bar, a holstered firearm on his hip, a business card proffered in hand. Clearly some type of law enforcement. Your heart stutters, a rock skipped over water, plunging when he, sensing your staring, glances over. You pretend to check the game, swallowing when the bartender takes the card and reclaims the man’s attention. The man dips his head, then wordlessly exists.

Air expels from your lungs in a full-body shudder.

“Skittish thing. Wonder what that was about.” John teases, rubbing a circle into your wrist before releasing it with a quiet chuckle.

There isn’t a chance to catch your breath as the waitress returns with a tray. Your face tightens with forced niceties, accepting your meal with a murmured thank you.

You eat in relative silence. A mercy. There’s more than food to digest.

John focuses on his meal, giving you time to think. Losing your ID was sloppy. Not checking your wallet sooner was sloppier. Yet if John’s kept quiet with his suspicions, maybe you are safe with him. It may not keep him from looking into you, but perhaps the job is worth the risk. He clearly likes you. You can’t bite every hand.

“I’ll take the job. If you meant what you said, about sympathy.”

He dabs at his mouth with a napkin. “Wouldn’t say it if I didn't mean it.”

“Then what would the schedule be?”

John’s eyes crinkle with a grin. “Thursday through Sunday. Noon to close.”

The uneasiness settles some, but not entirely. A lesson yet another man taught you echoes from the recesses: No kindness is free. Everything has a price. You feed him his own line. “And the background check? Is that…a hard and fast rule?” If your worthless car won’t take you anywhere, you hope flattery will.

He polishes off his beer with a contented sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Better than outright refusal. John’s proven stubborn. He doesn’t bend, he gives. Your thoughts flit to the armed man at the bar. It’s probably nothing, probably just the local sheriff making rounds. Despite your mistakes, it’s too soon for the trouble you left across state lines to find you.

John excuses himself to settle the bill with Alex and tells you to get some air. You rest against the passenger door of his truck, mulling over the evening, too distracted to notice the man until a hand plants itself above your head. You jolt, clutching your bag.

“Pardon me miss, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” A voice drawls.

Sandy hair and blue eyes, paler than John’s. A short, straight scar on the cheek with a notched ear to match. His smile is a practiced thing, like he’s had to rehearse it in a mirror. “Name’s Phil. Couldn’t help but notice you inside. You new to town?”

Your expression naturally mirrors his, eyes going big as saucers, but the hair on the back of your neck stands. It takes control to not peek at the weapon on his belt. “Hi, um, yes. I’m new.”

His cheek bulges from his tongue, his stare jumping from feature to feature. “Thought so. Just visiting or are you the newest Ponderosan?”

“She’s with me,” John answers in your stead, coming off the short walk in front of the diner. “Across the lake, that is.”

Fingertips dance on the metal over your head. “Grouse, huh?” Phil smirks, chewing his lip in assessment. “And how’re you, sir?”

“Swell. Darling, get in the truck.” It’s the same tone he used when discussing the cats. It brooks no argument, an order tied with brittle endearment.

You tear your eyes away from John to meet Phil’s gaze, who, after a moment, chuckles and slides his fingers down the car. The tinny squeak of flesh on metal shoots down your spine, then tunnels to your stomach, churning dinner. Your body moves automatically when Phil opens the truck door, forcing you to duck his arm to climb inside.

“Have a nice night.” Phil says as he shuts you in, pivoting to dig out and offer a card to John.

The men exchange words, their voices too low to be audible through the truck’s solid frame. Phil rocks on his heels, enjoying himself; John’s stiff and humorless. The former isn’t small, but he’s dwarfed by your date. The card hovers between them in Phil’s knuckles and remains there when John peels off to join you.

John hoists himself into the driver’s seat, grumbling. You stare at Phil, who shoots winks as he pockets the card. He remains on the curb until The Echo is firmly in the rearview.

“Who was that?” You manage as the lights of Ponderosa disappear beyond trees.

“Haven’t a clue.”

It’s a warning. You’ve heard the line before from another mouth. Different tone, different voice—but the edge is the same. Don’t push it. Keenly aware of where you are, in the sticks with a man scarcely a hair above acquaintance, you don’t. You talk about nothing, instead.

The rest of the conversation is stilted, swimming upstream against a mighty current. John is firmly lodged into the silty creekbed, unmoving regardless of your idle chatter. The source of his ire isn’t clear, so you default to keeping things light. As your new employer and the town’s resident Jack of all trades, the last thing you want to be is on the outs.

By the time the truck swings slowly up the hill to your cabin, it’s pitch black outside. A dozen cats scatter as the headlights shoot over the short drive, landing on the familiar red walls. John idles the truck.

“Thank you for dinner, John.” You linger in your seat, uncertain if you ought to kiss him. It’s been so long, you don’t know the protocol, especially for dates you’d consider middling at best and turbulent at worst.

“My pleasure.” John makes the decision for you. A compromise. He plucks your hand from where it fidgets with the hem of your dress, bringing it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. His mustache tickles and his lips quirk at the sight of your squirming. “I’ll let you know what Nik says about the car.”

“Right. My car.”

“And I’ll sit here ‘til you’re in.”

A second thank you ekes out of your mouth, and you hurry out. From the door, you wave, blinded briefly by headlights, as John turns around. His silhouette raises a hand in goodbye, and then he’s off, the truck disappearing into the dark.

You make quick work of readying for bed. Both dresses go into the laundry to be washed in the morning, and you hunt for your book with your toothbrush still in your mouth. The living room and bedroom turn up empty, leaving the screened porch.

Poking your head through the door, you hum, frowning as you cannot recall where you put the thing down. Just as you pull inside, you freeze at the sudden, low snarling of cats poised for a fight. Your blood turns to ice.

Gravel crunches across the yard, past the exterior light’s range. Your eyes bulge in your skull, trying desperately to adjust to the dark. The toothbrush slips out from between your teeth and clatters to the ground. Another crunch spurs a renewed chorus of hissing and growling, primordial fear straightening your spine. Then, something kicks up rock and dirt, skidding and charging across the crushed stone. The sound propels you backward, scrambling to throw the bolt.

Even through the walls, the sharp, sudden yowling chorus of cats pierces the air. Nails on chalkboard. Earsplitting. You hit the lights and shelter behind the couch, palms pressing to your head until the commotion tapers off.

The ensuing silence beckons like a siren. Tries to entice you back to the front door for a peek. But instinct prevails. You flee.

Only when you're shaking in a ball under the sheets, having barricaded the bedroom door with the dresser, do you remember your cell phone.

Which you left in your bag on the kitchen table.

Outside your window, something scratches at the cabin's walls.

#price x reader #price x f! reader #john price x f!reader #john price x reader #the warren

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leonw4nter · 10 months ago

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I Love You, Without Wax. Forever Yours, Leon

Boyfriend!RE4R!Leon x F!Reader

Leon finally managed to find the keys to the jet ski, making sure Ashley stuck close to him as he fumbled with the slot for the key to try to get it to work. After a few minutes, he managed to get it to run, hopping in first before extending a hand to Ashley to help her get on since she had a slight limp going on. Revving it up, the water mobile got to work and moved them through the murky waters. He amped up the speed, swerving expertly through rocks but a rock he didn’t spot from underneath the water scratched the side of the jet ski, causing it to start taking in some water. They would both die at this rate; the hole wasn’t big enough and the water wasn’t rushing in fast but the weight of two people on the jet ski caused water to do more damage than it originally would. He had to come up with a vital decision: swim to freedom or send one person back home.

“Ashley!” He began. He turns around, locking a stern gaze with the blonde.

“I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say.” She nods, her expression serious and furrowed in focus.

“I’m going to jump from the jet ski and I’ll just see you out instead. This thing’s taking in water and with my weight added, we’re not going to make it. Since you’re lighter you won’t sink but with me, we will so I’ll get out. Got it?”

Her eyes widened, worry drawn all over her features; no layer of grime and soot could mask the fear in her eyes.

“What? Leon, you know I can’t–”

“Trust me, Ashley. I won’t leave you. Your father trusts me, right? I know what I’m doing. I’ll guide you on your way out of this cave. It’s just going to be like that one time we rode that cart.”

She still looks doubtful, unsure of what she’s going to do next with Leon just running alongside her in a matter of seconds if she nods her head. Leon’s right: her father trusts him and she does too. Whatever they did, they always made it out alive thanks to him so they’ll make it out of this one as well. With a shaky breath, Ashley sighs and readies herself to take the handles.

“I’ll jump in 3, 2, 1!” He counts down before jumping, barely making it to the docking area of the tunnel and starts running, making sure he’s running alongside Ashley. Ashley notices the jet ski grow lighter and suddenly a little more of the jet ski’s bottom isn’t submerged in water anymore. With newfound encouragement from this, she takes the handles and speeds off. Though she doesn’t exactly avoid the debris in the water expertly like Leon did mere moments ago, she’s still managing to do well and Leon’s sure her chances of making it out in one piece are high.

“That’s it!” He said. “Keep going until you make it out, I’ll watch you from behind!

She didn’t respond but Leon knew she heard him; she was just focused on trying to keep herself afloat and make it out alive from this hellish place. The island was blowing up, both Leon and Ashley knew that so time wasn’t on their side. Leon’s legs were starting to cramp up, having run at faster speeds without a break and running low on water content. Soon, he saw a tiny sliver of golden light at the end of the tunnel but this is where a serious explosion from within the cave was being set off; he wouldn’t make it in time.

“Go, Ashley! Keep going! You’re almost there! Just keep up the speed and don’t take your hands off of the handles!” He instructed, cupping his mouth to amplify his voice amidst all the booming and popping of explosives.

Ashley got to the ramp and sped up, coursing through the air before hitting the salty seawater with a large splash. Had she not held onto the handles, she might’ve fallen out of her seat when she landed on the water. Cautiously, she peeked on the side of the jet ski to look for the hole that formed. Thankfully that splash didn’t cause more damage, much to her relief.

“Leon!” She suddenly remembers. She circles nearer to where she came from, looking at the fiery dock. The dock was going up in flames, black smoke billowing from somewhere inside the island. “Leon!” She calls out again.

She moves a little closer to the dock but there is no sign of the agent. She suddenly recalls how his voice sounded more faint before she got it, which could mean he lagged behind and stayed there up until the explosion. But he’s Leon, right? He can’t just leave her like this, he’s got to come back too!

“Leon! Please, you promised that we’d both make it out didn’t you?” She exclaims as fear swells in her heart and threatens to render her lost and directionless.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s a bad day for you today: paper work is piling up, two department heads have already given you a talking-to over the mistake of the juniors under your team, and your fellow seniors aren’t helping you fix anything or get the other papers done. Sometimes you wished you were a field agent, actually going to places and moving around and fighting stead of sitting in a stuffy office and completing the never-ending load of papers dropped at your desk. Despite the strong urge to switch departments and just be a field agent for the thrill of it, you felt kind of guilty for wanting to voluntarily put yourself in physically taxing situations. Your Leon was a field agent once, until he never came back from a mission; he died making sure the president’s daughter got home in one piece. Even if it’s been well over a year since his death and you’ve managed to get back to normal, life still feels incomplete without him and his stupidly charming jokes.

“Y/N, we’re all going to hit the clubs later to look for some guys. Wanna come with–”

“Listen, Emerson.” You harshly articulated. “Instead of hitting the clubs to look for the newest hookup this week, why don’t you and the others get to your desks and actually do something productive. I got fucking yelled at by our superiors for shortcomings that was caused by you and the other little fucks but I took the brunt of it instead and you have the audacity to go out and party.”

“It’s not like I knew–”

“It’s not like you’d know because you’re a lazy piece of shit!” You fumed. The entire office falls silent, only the low thrum of the AC being heard in the space. Emerson’s face contorts into disbelief and slight shock, taking offense to your words even if it’s true. Her friends cross their arms and start whispering amongst themselves, shooting you with a disdainful look. With a roll of her eyes and an irritated huff, she takes a small stack of papers in her arms before heading to her cubicle.

“Damn bitch, I was just asking,” you hear her mutter under her breath.

“I don’t ever want to hear about Valentine’s Day, okay? The love of my life is dead.”

Your own words catch you and everyone else by surprise. Everyone, including yourself, had thought that you’d formally come to terms with the loss of Leon but it seems that there’s still a part of you that will forever subconsciously wish for him to miraculously come back. You promised Leon that you’d always be happy every Valentine’s Day, even without him but here you are: acting like the Valentine’s Day counterpart for the grinch. Everyone in Leon’s department and yours knew that you two were one soul in two bodies; inseparable. To see you without Leon was a huge change for everyone, an unfortunate change that you and they will have to get used to.

With an exasperated sigh, you sit back into your chair and get working. Despite all the tension in the room, you’re thankful that this outburst managed to motivate everyone into doing something for once. With a stretch and a sip of coffee for some energy, you got right into reading reports and signing them for the next few hours until your day ended.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After a day that seemed to drag on forever, you finally got to come home and unwind. Before going home, you made a quick stop at a convenience store to pick up some junk and beer. Sitting in bed wearing one of Leon’s shirts, you reclined into the pillows and sighed deeply; there were still papers that needed reading and signing but they weren’t a huge load like earlier so you decided to let those wait. Feeling a little thirsty, you get up to grab a cold beer from the fridge before moving to find the can opener. The spoon drawer was near you but you didn’t want to bend your utensils even more so you decided to dedicate some time to look for it. After a few moments, you still couldn’t find it despite opening up every cabinet door and pulling on the cabinets. You remembered how Leon had a tendency to hide things on shelves only he could reach so maybe he decided to hide it on top of the cabinets. Moving your beer elsewhere, you get on the kitchen counter and make sure you’re balanced, one hand holding on to a cabinet door and the other feeling around for the tops. Your hands are slightly sweaty, worried that you’ll take a misstep and fall down but you push through anyways; you’re determined to have that drink. After a few minutes of feeling around, you still don’t find it but you feel something smooth albeit a little dusty. Interested, you pull the smooth something back to you and see an envelope; the envelope doesn’t have any exterior markings and is only sealed by a singular waterproof band aid but with a turn of the envelope you see your name written with Leon’s handwriting. Even more interested than you were, you forgo looking for the opener and drink altogether to opt for reading the letter instead. Besides, you miss your boyfriend with each passing day and today is Valentine’s Day so why not cut the pity party and indulge in some totally-not-heartbreaking reminiscing. Heading to your room and getting into bed, crawling to Leon’s side of the bed you take the letter and gently tear the band aid seal off. You open it up and take the paper out; the letter was written at the back of an old document, blue ink strokes creating texture at the back of the paper.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

04-29 To my pearl Y/N, You’re asleep right now after a pretty lengthy breakdown session (not the dancing kind, unfortunately) so I had to sneak out of bed and look around for whatever to write in. I seriously hope you don’t turn around and drag me back to bed, I’ve been meaning to write this for a long time now. Anyways, I find myself drawn into the depths of my emotions and unable to contain the overflow of adoration that fills every corner of my being whenever I’m with you– when you laugh, when you smile, when you cry. How do I begin to express the depths of my love for you? Will an entire lifetime be enough time to show you all that I’ve got for you? How can mere words encapsulate the boundless ocean of emotions that surge within me whenever I think of you? I’m very grateful that you find solace within me, a sanctuary where you could lay bare your vulnerabilities without fear of judgment or rejection (and vice versa: me being vulnerable around you). When you speak my name, the universe pauses, holding its breath in honor of our bond. When we touch, I feel my spirit lifted to dizzying heights and surrounds me in this happiness that defies description. Your essence, your soul is like a beacon of light from a lighthouse in the darkest of my nights and the stormiest of my seas, calling me to the safety of the shore. You are the gem I consider myself lucky to have love and receive love from amidst the vast chaos of this universe. All those flowery words aside, I’m sorry that I kept something from you while you were having a rough time– I’ll be going on a 3 month-long mission to the other side of the world. I just didn’t want to tell you while you feel like the world is against you and I’m really sorry– I promise I’ll tell you really soon. I really don’t want to leave you but I have to, out of a deep-rooted desire to protect the world and to protect you. Three months will feel like forever but please hold on for me, okay? I’ll get you something from Build-A-Bear when I get back :) Though the nights will feel longer, please promise me that you’ll get some rest and live happily while I’m elsewhere (but still think of me too yaknow). If… If I don’t come home then celebrate every single holiday out there because it’ll make you happy. Do something with your life when I couldn’t with mine. Don’t sulk and wallow in self-pity coz I’d really hate to see that if I somehow get turned into a ghost :/ For the meantime that I’m not yet out for work, I’ll keep holding you close to my heart. Wherever I’ll end up, I’ll still be yours– always and forever. I love you :) Without Wax, Leon :) xoxo P.S. (I saw this at a random Almanac) “Sincerely” came from the Latin word “sin cera” which means “without wax”. Dishonest sculptors with imperfections in their sculptures filled in mistakes with wax and when something was flawless, they labeled it as “sin cera”, which is “without wax”. Basically, what I wanna say is that my love for you is real and genuine :) And also it sounds cool right? x

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. MIssing you so much right now,” you whispered as you traced Leon’s name with a finger.

You smiled to yourself, pressing a feather-light kiss to the closing portion of his letter. God you missed him dearly; what you’d give just to have him back. Folding the letter back and placing it back inside the envelope, you kept it near your heart for a bit before putting it on your bedside table. Walking over to your work desk you pulled out a neat sheet of paper and your favorite pen, getting ready to pen a letter that’ll respond to Leon’s though he’ll never get the chance to read it.

NOTE - I decided to write angst for Valentine's Day but I decided against making it super sad so... yeah. Also I attended a seminar yesterday since every single one of us were required to attend and it was... okay. Like it wasn't super fun but I did speak up a lot and a buncha girls went to me and hugged me ?????? Like that was actually really nice, I need more hugs ( -> touch-starved ). I finished writing this on the 8th and my grades release this Saturday so let's hope I don't die 🙏🙏🙏 Also, I read uhlunaro's fic called "Bone-Chill" and OH MY GOD ?????? IT WAS SO GOOD ???? LIKE THAT THING STUCK WITH ME THROUGHOUT THE DAY-- IT WAS THAT GOOD. GO READ IT GUYS CMONNNN!!!!!! Anyways, I know it's not the 14th anymore but I hope you had a great Valentine's Day and thank you so, so, so, much for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! <33333333

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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venuscxre · 2 months ago

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⌞ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑 ; 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐓 ⌝

summary ; the tristan platoon are supposed to be having a sleepover together, and as the prince’s younger sibling, naturally you’re invited to join them. however, lancelot is there too and he makes it his goal to get on your nerves. but, there’s nothing a good cuddle can’t fix!

request ; “ hii!! i love ur account so much<33 could i request a lancelot x reader where reader is meliodas and elizabeth’s child and her, tristan and lancelot have a sleepover and lancelot and reader end up cuddling each other? tysm <3” — anon

pairing ; lancelot / fem!reader

wc ; 2.6k

tags ; fluff, mutual pining, a bit of angst if you squint, ooc lancelot (?), reader is tristan’s younger sibling, lance and the reader bicker a lot.

notes ; rewriting my lancelot fics as promised :33

𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠

it’s a fairly normal day in the kingdom of liones. the streets are bustling with life as the citizens go about their daily affairs, ranging from shopping, managing their stores or lounging around leisurely in town. You, on the other hand, are out and about doing your normal duties which consists of patrolling the streets, picking up and dropping off some weird magical artefacts and herbs for hendrickson, assisting more villagers. by the time you’re finished with all your tasks, it’s already dusk and you’re covered in grime and sweat.

you wave goodbye to the nice family you were helping out before mounting your horse, alexander, to head back to the castle, your pace is much slower than what you usually go by. you want to get home as soon as possible to take a nice long bath and get something to eat, but at the same time, you longed to watch as the sun descended behind the clouds. it’s not everyday you get to do that with how busy you are nowadays.

your mind wanders as you ride, the cool breeze feeling good against your skin. It was especially hot today, and this nice wind serves to wash away the stress of the day. a strong gust of wind does go by, causing you to shiver and prompts you to speed up your pace. if you catch a cold neither your mother nor your older brother would let you hear the end of it. they’d baby you ‘till you’d rather spend an entire day in hendrickson’s lab and listen to him go on a never ending rant about the new herbs and artefacts he’d gotten his hands on.

speaking of your brother, you wonder what he’s up to. ever since he was officially established as a knight of the apocalypse, you’ve barely seen him. he’s either out doing one thing or the other with his platoon or training to get stronger.

truth be told, you miss being able to do runs like these together; the both of you always spend your younger days in the streets of the capital going on little adventures and what not. the memories pull out a melancholic sigh. you can’t help recount the times you guys would prolong your outings to get some snacks or watch the sunset; sometimes you guys would wait ‘till the sky is filled with nothing but the twinkling stars. your father would always give you both an earful but he gave up after a while seeing as it was reoccurring. it became routine. but now, you can barely say good morning to tristan, sometimes you don’t see him for days on end. it’s lonely but you don’t want to express that empty feeling, he’s busy enough as is. you’ll just spend your days playing with the children of the village to pass time, you suppose.

as the castle comes into view, you slow down once more, taking your sweet time before you’ll have to depart from your beloved steed. “welcome back, your highness,” the guards at the castle’s entrance greet as you trot in. you wave to them as you hop off alexander's back, leading him over to the stables where the horse tender takes him off your hands.

you stretch, popping your back and shoulders as you walk down the large halls of the royal castle, heading up to your room to take a quick bath. by the time you’re out and ready to relax, the sun is out of view and the moon has begun to peek out from the horizon. “the days seem to be going faster now,” you mummer, “winter is closely approaching.”

you shut the door to your room behind you as you make your way to the kitchen. your stomach had been growling throughout your bath and the maid helping you had left to prepare something as per your request. as you draw near to the grand kitchen, you hear hushed whispers and little squeals which elicits a raised eyebrow of curiosity.

you peek into the kitchen, and lo and behold, your brother and his platoon are there all dressed in comfortable pyjamas as they gather some snacks. your snacks. you love your brother, you really do, but nobody takes your snacks.

“i’m gonna whoop his—“

“what’re you doing, princess?”

you let out a screech, your soul almost leaving your body. turning back to face the person who’d come up behind you, your eyes lock with lancelot’s ruby ones. he looks down at you, his arms are crossed over his chest, and he has an eyebrow raised in his typical sassy fashion.

“lancelot, you scared me…” you huff out, standing up straight. you awkwardly scratch the back of your head. this is not a good look for you.

“you should’ve heard me coming up behind you. don’t tell me you’ve been getting sloppy with your perceptive skills, your highness,” he leans closer to you, getting far too close for your liking.

“of course not! i was just… preoccupied,” you lie through the skin of your teeth, turning your head away to stare into the dimly lit hallway. lancelot says nothing in response, but gives you a teasing smile in return.

“sure, princess. sure.” he obviously doesn’t believe you. he pats your shoulder and walks into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets and back hunched in terrible posture just like his dad. god those two are so alike.

“princess y/n!” isolde squeals in delight, engulfing you in a warm hug the minute you step into the kitchen. you can’t help but grin when she scoops you into her arms, holding you off the floor to nuzzle her cheeks against yours. isolde gives the best hugs, hands down.

“hey, isolde. long time no see, eh?”

from the corner of your eye, you see jade waving to you and next to him is chion who just gives you a stare before turning his attention back to your older brother. typical.

“y/n! when did you get back?” tristan is quick to give you his own hug when isolde sets you back onto your feet. you wrap your arms around him and take a moment to relish in his warmth before answering his question.

“about an hour ago. i was in the bath.”

your brother hums in response, giving you a squeeze before he pulls away. “we were about to have a sleepover, would you like to join us?”

a sleepover, huh? that explains the pj’s and the snack theft. but, it sounds like a nice way to unwind. why not? it wouldn’t hurt, right? you follow after the tristan platoon and lancelot as you all make your way to your brother’s bedroom, the site for the sleepover tonight.

“i’m surprised you stuck around, lance,” you look towards the blonde who scratches his nape, heaving a sigh at the nickname. he doesn’t dislike it, really. he finds the intimacy in nicknames quite comforting, but when you call him that, he gets all nervous and jittery. he hates that feeling, it’s too out of character for him.

“didn’t i tell you not to call me that?”

you let out a huff at his comment. he should know by now that you’ll use every opportunity you have to annoy him. “aw but, lance,” you make sure to stress the name, silently snickering when he side eyes you, his face bearing an exasperated expression. “i’ve been calling you this since we were in diapers! why does it matter now?”

lancelot rolls his eyes at you, your shit eating grin serving to piss him off further. however, he makes no move to speed up his walking pace, it’s not like he’s actually mad at you. a little annoyed, sure, but, you’re the only one in the group he can actually stand so he might as well swallow the teasing. “cram it, princess.”

you let out a fake gasp of offence, dramatically placing your hand onto your chest. “lancelot! how vulgar!” you hear tristan snicker as lancelot lets out a loud groan in response to your antics.

when the lot of you finally reach the prince’s bedchamber, jade is quick to run in and flop onto the big mattress, sighing in content as he practically melts into the cotton. you follow suit and cuddle up to one of the pillows. the familiar smell of lavender immediately engulfs you and fills your senses, bringing back nostalgic memories that run as far back to your toddler days.

you clutch the pillow tight, thanking whatever deity that’s out there for allowing you this chance. they must have taken pity on you when you were reminiscing earlier and granted this opportunity. when the space beside you dips, you look over to see lancelot and notice how he still has his shoes on, not caring if the white bed sheets get soiled because of them.

“how crude of you to get on the bed with shoes on. dirty shoes no less.” lancelot’s left eye twitches at the jab you’d made. you’re seriously making him contemplate not being as nice to you as he normally is. so much for being the most tolerable one of the group.

“i suggest you watch what you say to me, princess,” he folds his arms over his chest, kicking off his shoes nonetheless. you cringe when they hit the wall with a thunk.

“what will you do if i don’t, hm, lance?” you egg him on, shooting him a pointed look. he scoffs at you.

“you really want to find out, princess?”

“alright, you two, no more fighting!” isolde scolds from her place at the foot of the bed, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. tristan nods in agreement.

“isolde’s right, we’re here to have fun and relax. put your bickering aside for tonight, please?”

you and lancelot side eye each other but grumble out your respective affirmations. tristan smiles at your compliance.

“now, let the fun begin!!”

remember when you said that partaking in this sleepover wouldn’t be a bad thing? yeah, you take that back. wanna know why? lancelot made it his mission to annoy you tonight.

you’re playing hide and seek? he’s making sure to scout you out first. you’re playing card games? get ready to lose five times in a row. it’s like he gets off at your misery. maybe you should ask his mom to teach you how to conceal your thoughts because this is just getting ridiculous.

“aaaand, i win, again! you really suck at this, princess,” lancelot gives you a smug smirk and it takes all your self restraint to not jump over the table and start brawling with him, but you’d probably lose at that too, so you just pout in annoyance instead.

“that’s just by luck, don’t get cocky!”

“that’s the fifth time you’ve said that tonight, princess.”

sensing that your patience has thinned considerably, tristan is quick to intervene. you really might start a fight with lancelot and that’s the last thing you all need. your father would definitely give you an earful about how “you need to conduct yourself with decorum,” even though he acts the exact same when ban pisses him off. like father, like daughter.

“how about we head to bed? it’s gotten really late,” the silver-haired prince smiles, already packing away the cards.

“oh come on, what’s one more round? the princess seems to be dying for another rematch.”

lancelot disregards the glare you send his way with a cheeky smirk. your brother sighs. “y/n, do you want to play one more round?”

you see a flicker of pleading pool in his different coloured eyes and shake your head. you’ll get lancelot back at your own time, you guess.

“aw, scared i’ll kick your ass again, your highness?”

“shut the fuck up or i’ll shove those cards up your ass,” you hiss at him.

“oh, yeah? how crude of you to speak in such a vulgar way, princess.”

your eye twitches in response to his teasing and isolde is quick to hold you back from doing something you would most definitely regret when morning comes.

“that’s enough! to bed, both of you!”

you pout when tristan takes on a scolding tone of voice, grumbling about how lancelot started it. the man in question just shrugs. if all he had to do was annoy you to get so many cute reactions from you, he might as well make it into a habit. you already do this with him everyday, surely you can take what you dish out.

finally, you all settle into tristan’s king sized bed, ready to fall asleep, but there’s one tiny problem. it’s pretty cramped with six people on the bed, making everyone really squished in together. lancelot is right behind you, breathing down your neck. when isolde suggested you all cuddle up on tristan’s bed, you didn’t mind being squished together with your childhood friends and your older brother, but having lancelot behind you was not ideal. it’s not like you hate him or anything, really, you don’t. it’s the opposite actually. you like him, that’s the problem, and you fear that he can hear your heart palpitating or he can hear your thoughts spiralling out of control at how close he is. you can feel his warmth bleeding into your skin. he’s so, so warm.

“can you please stop thinking so loud, princess? it’s hard to get some shut eye when all i hear is how warm i am.” your soul almost leaves your body when lancelot whispers into your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. you want to crawl into a hole and die there.

“…sorry.”

lancelot can’t hold back the chuckle that escapes him and wraps an arm around you. he leans in close enough to give you a teasing peck on your neck, fully aware of how sensitive you are. “go to sleep, princess.”

“would you two shut it?” chion grumbles from in front of you and you scowl at him. even though he’s your cousin, you really want to deck him in the face.

“watch it.”

“no, you.”

“chion, y/n, shut the fuck up. i’m trying to sleep,” jade pipes up with an annoyed groan.

“..sorry..”

you do end up falling asleep sometime after that, but you’re pulled out of your peaceful slumber at the hushed whispers around you a few hours later. it’s too early in the morning, what the hell are they yapping about?

“ahh!! they’re so cute!!”

“sh! not so loud! you’ll wake them!”

“shut your traps,” whilst half conscious, lancelot’s voice come out in an annoyed grunt and his arms tighten around you.

your groan, shifting in bed and turning over onto your other side. strong arms proceed to tighten around your midriff which cause your eyes to flutter open. once you’re able to form coherent thoughts, you come to the realization that you’re pressed against lancelot’s chest, giving you a front row seat to the ethereal sight of the sun illuminating his face just right. wow, he really is a fairy. it’s not fair how beautiful he is, especially so early in the morning.

“like what you see, princess?” lancelot opens one eye to peek down at you, not bothering to let you out of his hold. when your eyes meet his ruby ones, you feel as if you’ve died and reached heaven. he grins down at you. you’re too busy admiring him that you can’t even say anything back, huh? cute.

“good morning to you too, i guess.”

you’re snapped out of your daze and push him away, quickly getting up and making up some half assed excuse before running out of the room. isolde chases after you, fully set on teasing you while the others, with the exception of chion who was still salty about what happened before you all went to sleep, try to make sure the both of you don’t wake up the entire palace. lancelot chuckles, the image of your flustered face will forever be in the back of his mind. yeah, he could definitely get used to teasing you like this.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated. <33

#nanatsu no taizai #nnt #the seven deadly sins #mokushiroku no yonkishi #mnyk #mny #7ds #sds #4koa #4kota #reader insert #the seven deadly sins x reader #four knights of the apocalypse #four knights of the apocalypse x reader #4kota lancelot #lancelot x reader #ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐂𝐗𝐑𝐄 ˎˊ˗#ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 : 𝟒𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀 ˎˊ˗

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totalslvt · 2 years ago

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Escapism

Carl Grimes x Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Implied Sexual Thoughts, No smut though

Summary: Carl had feelings for his best friend, in an attempt to escape his emotions he ignores them. That is until he’s unable to run away from them and he’s forced to confront his feelings.

Word count: 1081

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Carl knew he wasn’t supposed to be thinking of his bestfriend like this but he couldn’t help it, no matter what he did the thoughts came rushing back into his mind. He tried to occupy himself with physical labor, comics, and other various activities but it seemed like nothing would keep these thoughts out of his head. So he resorted to ignoring you, his best friend, the only person in the world that he felt comfortable around.

The first few days of avoiding you were easier than expected, you were busy with chores and so was he. But after five days you noticed he was acting strangely and you tried speaking to him.“Hey Carl, you alright?” You questioned cautiously“Yeah, I’m fine, just busy.” He answered before swiftly walking down the road towards his house, he felt guilty but he didn’t know what else to do, he’d never felt this way before.

As time went on it became more difficult to evade you, you were seemingly everywhere he looked and quite honestly he missed you. The two of you used to talk everyday. You were practically attached to the hip, never going a day without talking to each other. Carl tried to ignore the ache in his heart in your absence but it only got worse the more time he spent away from you.

It came to the point Carl was having trouble sleeping with the loneliness and shame he was experiencing. Evidently the thoughts never went away in fact they only got worse as time passed. Carl sighed rolling over in his bed burying his face into the pillow below his head, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He missed you, your smile, your voice, everything about you was haunting him.

He tried sleeping but the drowsiness wouldn’t wash over his body, he was wide awake. He was shaken out of his thoughts by a sudden knock on his window, he shot out of his bed rummaging through his drawler to find his pistol. Once he’d found the desired weapon he creeped over to his window, peeking through the shades he was met with a familiar figure standing in his front lawn rock in hand.

It was you, Carl felt relief wash over him realizing there wasn’t a threat. He placed his gun back into his drawer and stepped back to his window. Drawing the blinds and opening the window popping his head through the opening. “What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?” He whispered loud enough for you to hear him, attempting to keep the volume down so as to not wake up his father.

“Uh, yeah I know what time it is. What I don’t know is why you’re avoiding me Carl, mind informing me?” You spoke, anger and hurt coating your words.He groaned before opening the window enough for you to hop through waving you inside. You crawled through the small space landing on the ground quitely, you were quite skilled after living in an apocalypse.

“Look, I’m not avoiding you. I already told you, I’m just busy.” He began but he could already tell you weren’t buying into his lies, unfortunately for Carl you could read him like a book.“Busy reading comic books?” You rebutted, placing your hands on your hips like an angry mother. Carl felt guilty, he knew you were upset, rightfully so. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth, it could ruin your friendship if he hasn’t done so already.

“Look Carl, whatever is on your mind you can tell me. You know that right?” Sympathy and understanding laced your words making his tense shoulders relax slightly. He took some time to think about what you said, what he should say. He ended up coming clean to an extent.“Okay, but promise not to hate me?”

“I wouldn’t hate you if you stabbed me Carl.” You joked lightly making the situation all less uncomfortable. “Well, I’ve been having these thoughts about you. Not bad thoughts or anything! Just, I keep thinking about what it would be like if we were more than friends.” He stuttered out to the best of his abilities, but on the inside he was a nervous wreck.

You stood in an uncomfortable silence for a while, Carl could feel anxiety bubbling in his chest regret crashing over him like a wave. He finally looked up towards you, previously having his eye glued to the floor. He was surprised when he realized there was no anger or disgust in your expression, just admiration. The corners of your lips pulled into a small grin and Carl could feel his cheeks heat up.

He waited patiently for a response, but instead you grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly in a show of affection. Carl was sure his hands were sweaty but you didn’t seem to mind, just glancing into his one good eye. You brought your other hand to his face cupping his cheek. Your thumb rubbing into his freckled skin.“You’re blushing.” Stating the obvious, Carl smiled gently at you.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked tenderly, you nodded making Carl's heartbeat speed up. Carl’s never kissed anyone before, nevertheless the girl he’s been in love with for years even if he didn’t know at the time. He carefully and slowly leaned into your warmth, giving you enough time to decide whether you wanted to back out or not, but you never did.

His lips brushed against yours, he just stilled. He enjoyed staying like this for a while, your warm breath tickling his nose, but the wait was starting to get unbearable. He finally kissed you, it was tender and loving, the kind of kiss he’s seen in movies when he was young. It felt exactly how he’d always imagined, his heart was fluttering.

Your lips molded into each other, heads tilting ever so often to get a better angle. You noses bumped together a few times but neither of you seemed to mind, too lost in the feeling of the kiss. It was over as quickly as it began when you pulled away, your pupils were blown and he could see a red tint staining your cheeks. Carl gave a toothy grin exhilarated from the kiss you’d just shared seconds prior.

“So does this mean you like me too?”

“Yes Carl, it means I like you too.” You cooed to him, making him melt.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #twd x you #twd x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #carl grimes x you

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love-bitesx · 1 year ago

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Hey, luv ur last Hobie writing it was so good! so like as a request (sorry if my wording is a bit awk ive never requested anything on tumblr b4😭) hobie x fem reader (or not gendered i dont mind) on like what it would be like putting Hobie on music as a reader that listens to a ton of genres and not mainly punk rock- like would he be open minded on it etc. and also what falling asleep w him with music in the background would be like and stuff. like a little one-shot on that (or hc’s!)

: ̗̀➛ OPEN-MINDED

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

gonna hug every anon/req ever i love u lot so much <3 this is kind of just a ranty headcanon one shot. thing. i think. we'll find out. i think im physically incapable of writing a short one shot, i just love this guy too much thank u for the req!!! love u also, this is strictly my headcanon and my opinion, if there's something canon that contradicts this, my apologies!! this is just a bit of fun :)

i think he'd be somewhat open-minded, but he'd have his strict no-nos. pop music being that, or anything on the radio, he tells you it's just propaganda from the 'system'. remember, this guy is an anarchist, plus so much more.

having grown up in england, london specifically, i think he'd be partial to uk hip hop, grime, garage, alt rock, alternative music, etc. anything that sparks a bit of controversy. anything from the streets, the people. plenty of those genres stem from rock'n'roll music anyway, so i wouldn't be surprised.

however.

you're laying in your room one night, it's dark outside, the night crawling in as a gentle breeze drifts through your open window. headphones plugged into your phone, you scrolled through a newly made playlist, brows furrowed in thought as you tried to remember anymore songs you wanted to add.

humming along to the tune echoing in the headset, you were absolutely zoned out. it wasn't until a large pair of hands grabbed your waist, did you crash back down to earth. ripping the headphones off your head, you jumped back in defense.

"what did i tell you about leaving your window open, y/n?" hobie scolded you, a playful smirk on his lips, standing up straight, looking down at you, "could've been any dickhead coming in here, y'know?"

"not just any dickhead can scale 7 floors and climb in through my window, hobie," you rolled your eyes, fixing the mess you made when you threw your headphones and phone on the bed.

"yeah," he leant down, until his face was but an inch from your own, "only the really bad ones can."

with that, and a devilish grin, he pressed his lips against yours, using his advantage to push you backwards onto the bed, climbing on, making himself comfortable on the mattress next to you, holding you close to him. your hands went to his chest, feeling it rise and fall under your touch.

"i missed you," he muttered between kisses, his piercing ice cold against your lips, sending chills down your spine.

"i missed you, too, hobie," you whispered back, welcoming his touch on your waist.

pulling back with a smirk, he reached for the phone in your hand, opening it up.

"what were you listening to so intensely?" he quizzed, but his question was instantly answered at the name of the playlist you had made.

for hobie

"oh."

to say he was stunned, was an understatement. this was new to him, no one had ever made him a specially made playlist before, no one had gone to the effort. his heart swelled. scrolling through, he saw an array of artists that he hadn't even heard of before, mixes of genres that he knew you loved.

"sorry, it's really silly," you dismissed, reaching for your phone at his blunt response, suddenly feeling a wave of insecurity.

his eyes snapped to yours, shocked at your reaction, "what? no, absolutely not."

though his stomach twisted slightly at the thought of listening to lana del rey? whoever that was, he wasn't sure, but the fact you listened to it, thought of him, and thought of him so much you made it into a playlist dedicated to him? well, he'd be an idiot to refuse that.

"i love it, darlin', thank you," his smile was soft, genuine, one you only see him give to you, which is why you loved it so dearly.

"baby, who's kendrick lamar?"

BONUS #1

it was a late night, you were exhausted from working all day, and the 7 staircase climb wasn't ideal, now that the elevator in your block had stopped working. dumping all your stuff in the living room, quickly throwing on some clothes from the dryer and a quick bathroom visit, you nudged open the door to your bedroom.

you knew hobie was crashing at yours, it was more rare when he wasn't.

what you didn't expect was the sound of mellow, soft music coming from inside. continuing quietly, you peered around the door to see your boyfriend, barely under the covers, sound asleep on your bed. eyes scanning the room, you saw his phone, open on the mattress beside him.

silently stepping over, your heart melted at what you saw on his phone screen. the playlist you had made him, shuffled, playing through the speakers on his phone.

chest warm and full of adoration for this man, you leant down to place a kiss on his temple, smiling at the way his body reacted to your touch.

he was an angel, of sorts.

BONUS #2

though you complained about it at first, hobie would definitely need music to fall asleep to. sometimes he was so tired that the second his head hit the pillows and his arms wrapped themselves around you, he was asleep. but mainly, he played music from the speakers in either of your rooms.

the only issue with this, however, is that his music was never stereotypical sleeping music.

whilst only on a low volume, just something to keep his mind from fuzzing too much as he tried to sleep, you weren't a stranger to falling asleep to the likes of ramones, dead kennedys, motörhead, sex pistols, etc.

he loved you for it though, beyond grateful with your patience with him.

a/n: golly gosh i love this man so much

#hobie #atsv hobie #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #hobie my beloved #hobie x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #anon #i love anons #reqs open #reqs

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kiwibirbkat · 3 months ago

Text

You can pry Marcy streamer AU from my cold dead hands

Marcy Wu Streamer AU!

Started streaming as a backup while waiting for her webcomic to blow up

When their account gained traction they used it to help advertise their comic

They do both for a living now

They game on it and sometimes do vlog type streams

She does a lot of charity streams (angsty charity week fic anyone???)

Annual subathons

Lives with the girlfriends (Anne and Sasha)

Sleep schedule? Non-existent!

Anne and Sasha are fan favourites even if they do end some streams early to force Marcy to sleep

She does sub only drawing streams for their comics especially after a hiatus

Or they do public drawing streams of intermission episodes

Anne and Sasha sometimes come onto a stream with them

Marcy has a lot of guilt from Amphibia still :(

(And scars)

Not fully disabled but they need a walking aid sometimes and a wheelchair if the pain gets really bad

They still have traces of Darcy her head but they can't control her they just give advice

Or complain that Marcy won't kill anyone

They can't go to Amphibia but they can call/text through dimensions since Anne gave sprig her phone and Polly figured out how to make more

Marcy refuses any type of therapy (they don't think they deserve help)

But she will break down crying in their girlfriend's arms sometimes

She/they (realized she liked they/them pronouns after everyone referred to Darcy as they seeing as they were multiple minds)

Anne has a pet cat that looks like Domino and she lives with them

Marcy has that gaming posture (atrocious)

They post all of their VODs on YouTube

Marcy has crocheted all of them plushies of their family in amphibia (Sasha with Percy, Braddock and Grime, Anne with Sprig, Polly and Hop-pop, and Marcy with Olivia and Yunan (and a secret andrius plush that they can't look at most days))

None of them have their powers but they do have traces of energy, which is why Darcy stays in Marcy's head instead of just shutting off

Marcy dyes some of her hair green in reminder of when they had cool anime powers

Also, she's worked a lot of aspects of Amphibia into their comic so they have an excuse to make Amphibia merch

Marcy speaks Spanish, French, Italian, Chinese, Thai, Portuguese, and Ukrainian and voice over all of their streams in these languages to post them on their separate VOD channels

Most of their fans are worried about her because she's always up so late

They're trying to learn more (Greek, German, Russian, ect.)

Because of Darcy and her wit powers they learn easier (super brain)

All of her fans theorize on why them and their girlfriends went missing for like a year seeing as frogvasion has been wiped from the media

The calamity trio know most of the Disney protags (Dipper, Luz, Molly, Star, and the other people in included in those franchises)

They all live in the same world (-star, Marco and Tom but dimensional scissors yk?)

Luz reached out to Anne for help building a portal, Dipper and Mabel met Molly while ghost hunting

They have all separately run into Star while researching energy levels that came from Stars weird dimensional travel

Therefore Marco added them all to a discord server and the rest is history

They sometimes guest star on Marcy's channel

June has programmed Marcy a game before

Sasha is planning to propose (shhh don't tell Anne and Marcy)

Marcy has cut contact with her family (I don't care what cannon says her parents aren't good people)

(She would not cling onto any sort of affection this much if their parents loved them)

(Fight me)

Marcy hates going to the doctor or bathing (the bath reminds her of the rejuvenation tank and she just generally distrusts the government after Anne told them about the whole thing with Mr X)

The only doctor they trust is the dentist for some reason???

When asked Marcy just shrugs

And the vet but they aren't the one getting tested at the vet and she cares about Domino 3 too much not to go to the vet

Marcy Wu=autism

Marcy has severe anxiety

Marcy has depression

Marcy streams from bed sometimes just because they're in too much pain to walk and their girlfriends aren't their to put them into her wheelchair but she has that grind set for their stream dates

Marcy has crocheted enough Olivia and Yunan plushies to give a small army

They give them away during giveaways as beta designs for some of her characters

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knyox · 1 year ago

Text

I don't think I've ever seen top! Sae x bottom! male reader, so I'm taking it upon myself to feed our bottom inclined male readers (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

Enjoy~ (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ 🩷🩵

[Warnings: heavy smut, pwp, rough manhandling, anal sex, bondage, denial of release, overstimulation, slight S&M but it isn't the main focus, not beta read, not proofread]

Teammate reader, male reader, friends (?) with benefits

As usual, after a game that had left a tingling and persistent sensation of adrenaline in your spine, longing for more, you had immediately hopped into the communal showers to wash yourself off the grime and dirt and sweat that clung to your skin.

Sae was there, too. Exchanging a brief look, no words had to be said.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Barely even a door away from Sae's condominium unit, he had pushed you against the wall of the hallway, your tongues immediately tangled in a firey dance. You had stumbled your way to the entrance, with Sae pushing you along, still locked in a fierce kiss, fumbling with his keys to unlock the door.

It was a mess from there, both of you kicking off your shoes and shrugging articles of clothing one after the other, leaving a trail from the living room all the way to Sae's bedroom.

He wasted no time pushing you onto the bed and getting on top of you, his mouth immediately finding your neck, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses from your jaw, trailing lower, sucking marks on your chest where no one else could see. You softly moaned at each ministration, at each touch, your fingers carding through locks of red hair in encouragement. Your responsiveness to each of Sae's touches sent burning arousal straight to his dick, straining against the fabric of his underwear.

Sae lifted up your hips with a free hand, using the other to pull off your sweatpants along with your boxers, almost ripping them with how impatient he was. You shuddered as your cock was freed from its confines, hard and dripping pre-cum down your stomach. Without breaking eye-contact Sae lowered himself, taking you into his mouth. Your back arched at the familiar heat enveloping your dick, a loud moan leaving your lips as the fingers you had on his hair tightened in their hold, and he let out a groan in response, the vibrations of that sound made you buck your hips impatiently.

Sae began sucking, hollowing his cheeks and taking you deeper at each bob of his head, popping off to breathe and licking from the head down to the base and vice versa, teasing the tip before taking you into his mouth again. Your moans reverberated across the four walls of the bedroom, music to Sae's ears as one of his hands trailed under you to cup the plump cheek of your ass, squeezing. Your thighs were closing in on his head, your whines growing in volume and he knew you were close. Just when he felt your cock twitch in his mouth, Sae pulled off with a resounding pop, licking his lips and you almost cried. You were so, so close.

"Not yet baby." He said, kissing your cheek in apology as you glared at him through teary, frustrated eyes. Your hand came down to touch yourself, but he stopped you, taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them above the bed as he reached for the nightstand, rummaging through the drawers and pulling out a bottle of lube and handcuffs.

Sae not so gently turned you to lay on your stomach, ass up, repositioning your hands behind your back and cuffing them there. He simply couldn't resist, delivering a hard smack to your butt and watching the tender flesh redden, your choked moan in response eliciting a slight smirk form him. Pretend as you might that you hate being denied release and the discomfort and pain that comes with it, he knows just how much you crave getting hurt. He's happy to indulge you in your dirty little masochistic tendencies.

Delivering one last smack, Sae massages the flesh, nails slightly digging into it and marveling at how pliant it is under his hands. You send a glare over your shoulder, telling him to hurry up, and just to spite you, delivers another spank that pulls out yet another moan.

Finally, finally, Sae grabs the lube, pouring a generous amount on his fingers and some directly on your hole, the cold of it making you shiver. His fingers circle your rim before pushing in slowly, the familiar tight heat of your insides enveloping his digits. You sigh in relief at the intrusion, clenching and wiggling against his fingers, signaling him to hurry. He shushes you, telling you to be patient before he adds a third finger, pouring more lube. His fingers move at a languid pace before slowly increasing speed, watching your reactions for any sign of discomfort which there were none. Sae's fingers purposefully graze against those bundle of nerves that drive you crazy, cock twitching upon hearing your high pitched moan. He assaulted that spot for a while, watching as your back arched further, peeking to the side of your face and watching you drool as those sweet sounds left your lips.

You were both getting impatient, so Sae pulled out his fingers, shucking off his last remaining article of clothing and lathering his dick in lube before roughly pushing in, burying himself to the hilt in one, hard thrust. He relished in the sound of your pained but pleasured moan, the way your hands clenched into fists pitifully as the cuffs prevented you from moving your hands anywhere else. You were completely at Sae's mercy, and you loved it, relinquishing control.

Sae set a brutal and punishing pace that left you breathless and drooling into the pillows, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room, only your sobbing of Sae's name overpowering it. He lowered himself further onto you, his chest pressed against your back, one arm on your waist and the other over your chest, hand on your neck and jaw, forcing your head to be tilted up as he groaned lowly into your ear, biting the lobe. You were utterly consumed by his form, and you could feel him so deep inside you, hitting your prostate repeatedly with each thrust.

"Close... close close close... ngh~ 'm so close~ Sae... Sae.." You chanted over and over again like a mantra, feeling that familiar coil in your stomach, eyes rolling to the back of your head as drool dripped from your chin and onto Sae's hand on your jaw.

"Fuck.." *He growled, pulling out of you and you almost sobbed until he roughly turned you to lay on your back, lifting your thighs on his shoulders before roughly thrusting back in, resuming his brutal pace as he leaned down, nearly folding you in half. You could feel him impossibly deeper and you almost screamed, your restrained wrists struggling behind your back against the cuffs, fingers now tightly gripping the sheets. "Cum for me baby. Wanna see you cum on my cock... So good. So good (y/n)... taking me so well like a good slut.." He groaned into your ear, kissing and sucking marks onto your skin.

That sent you toppling over the edge, hot white pleasure clouding your senses as your cock twitched, thick spurts of cum staining your stomach and chest as you came with a loud cry, body convulsing with the force of your release. Sae moaned as he felt you clench and tighten around him, but he was far from done and you both knew it. He slowed down the pace of his thrusts after you rode out your orgasm, observing as you whined, weakly moaning as you caught your breath, his hands coming up to rub comfortingly at your skin.

Once he deemed you were okay enough, he resumed the brutal pace, chasing his own release. You were so sensitive still, and the attack on your prostate made your body jerk sharply, thighs trembling as you whimpered, feeling the overstimulation start kicking in. You had barely recovered from your orgasm, cock laying soft against your stomach, and you whined, begging Sae to stop. You both knew you didn't actually want him to.

You sobbed, tears slipping past your eyes as the painfully pleasurable sensation assaulted your senses at every one of Sae's thrusts. You had practically screamed when he grabbed your soft cock, jerking it in tandem with his pounding. It started to harden in his hands, and you were losing yourself in the overwhelming sensation, babbling mindlessly for him to slow down and stop, begging and crying and whining and Sae relished in how utterly debauched and fucked out of your brains you looked. Drool on your chin, tears on face and bangs sticking to your sweaty forehead - it drives Sae absolutely insane. He's close, he could feel it. He jerks you faster and harder, the pace of his thrusts becoming erratic as he lost himself in your body and your sounds. You came once again, screaming his name and Sae is sure his neighbors could hear. The feeling of you tightening and convulsing around his cock was too much and Sae followed suit after a few hard thrusts, releasing inside of you with a groan.

You felt so warm and so full, utterly fucked into the next universe as your body twitched and convulsed. You whimpered in pain when Sae pulled out, the overstimulation becoming too much. He gently lifted your body up slightly to uncuff your wrists then layed you back down, massaging the red marks that had formed from struggling against the cold metal.

"You did good. Are you okay? Did I hurt you too much? Y/n, can you hear me?" Sae cupped you face, wiping away the tears and brushing your hair out of your eyes. You managed a weak nod, struggling to catch your breath. Sae may be a cold man, but he's not heartless. He gently kisses your forehead, telling you to wait a moment as he runs into the bathroom to grab a washcloth to wipe you down. He gently glides it over your body, wiping off the stains before helping you drink a glass of water.

"Sorry. Didn't ask if I could cum inside. Wanna shower? I'll help you up."

You shook your head in response, voice coming out hoarse as you spoke, "It's okay. Felt good." Was all you could manage, still recovering from the intensity. Sae gave you a kiss on the neck before covering you up with a blanket as he hopped beside you, enveloping you in a warm embrace as sleep slowly consumed you.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

You stared into the mirror, your reflection staring back at you. Then you met Sae's gaze through the mirror, then back at yourself.

"Sae what the fuck." He had unconsciously left marks on the visible parts of your skin - your neck and jaw.

At least he had enough shame in that cold heart (affectionate) of his to look slightly sorry about it.

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

A/N:

whew. 1776 words :3

Not very dialogue heavy. porn without plot - the only plot here being friends with benefits and teammates. oho... if the media spots the hickeys on y/n's neck when the paparazzi stalking him uploads pictures 🤭

I hope you all enjoyed! English is not my native language and I pretty much only write what I think sounds right hehe (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

It's also my first time writing smut, so I hope it's satisfactory! To those that read and stuck around this far, thank you for reading!

🩵🩷🩵🩷

#sae itoshi x male reader #itoshi sae x reader #x male reader #itoshi sae smut #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut

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