#how to remove gas from stomach | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dandelionsresilience · 1 year ago

Text

Good News - July 22-28

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Four new cheetah cubs born in Saudi Arabia after 40 years of extinction

“[T]he discovery of mummified cheetahs in caves […] which ranged in age from 4,000 to as recent as 120 years, proved that the animals […] once called [Saudi Arabia] home. The realisation kick-started the country’s Cheetah Conservation Program to bring back the cats to their historic Arabian range. […] Dr Mohammed Qurban, CEO of the NCW, said: […] “This motivates us to continue our efforts to restore and reintroduce cheetahs, guided by an integrated strategy designed in accordance with best international practices.””

2. In sub-Saharan Africa, ‘forgotten’ foods could boost climate resilience, nutrition

“[A study published in PNAS] examined “forgotten” crops that may help make sub-Saharan food systems more resilient, and more nutritious, as climate change makes it harder to grow [current staple crops.] [… The study identified 138 indigenous] food crops that were “relatively underresearched, underutilized, or underpromoted in an African context,” but which have the nutrient content and growing stability to support healthy diets and local economies in the region. […] In Eswatini, van Zonneveld and the World Vegetable Center are working with schools to introduce hardy, underutilized vegetables to their gardens, which have typically only grown beans and maize.”

3. Here's how $4 billion in government money is being spent to reduce climate pollution

“[New Orleans was awarded] nearly $50 million to help pay for installing solar on low to middle income homes [… and] plans to green up underserved areas with trees and build out its lackluster bike lane system to provide an alternative to cars. […] In Utah, $75 million will fund several measures from expanding electric vehicles to reducing methane emissions from oil and gas production. [… A] coalition of states led by North Carolina will look to store carbon in lands used for agriculture as well as natural places like wetlands, with more than $400 million. [… This funding is] “providing investments in communities, new jobs, cost savings for everyday Americans, improved air quality, … better health outcomes.””

4. From doom scrolling to hope scrolling: this week’s big Democratic vibe shift

“[Democrats] have been on an emotional rollercoaster for the past few weeks: from grim determination as Biden fought to hang on to his push for a second term, to outright exuberance after he stepped aside and Harris launched her campaign. […] In less than a week, the Harris campaign raised record-breaking sums and signed up more than 100,000 new volunteers[….] This honeymoon phase will end, said Democratic strategist Guy Cecil, warning the election will be a close race, despite this newfound exuberance in his party. [… But v]oters are saying they are excited to vote for Harris and not just against Trump. That’s new.”

5. Biodegradable luminescent polymers show promise for reducing electronic waste

“[A team of scientists discovered that a certain] chemical enables the recycling of [luminescent polymers] while maintaining high light-emitting functions. […] At the end of life, this new polymer can be degraded under either mild acidic conditions (near the pH of stomach acid) or relatively low heat treatment (> 410 F). The resulting materials can be isolated and remade into new materials for future applications. […] The researchers predict this new polymer can be applied to existing technologies, such as displays and medical imaging, and enable new applications […] such as cell phones and computer screens with continued testing.”

6. World’s Biggest Dam Removal Project to Open 420 Miles of Salmon Habitat this Fall

“Reconnecting the river will help salmon and steelhead populations survive a warming climate and [natural disasters….] In the long term, dam removal will significantly improve water quality in the Klamath. “Algae problems in the reservoirs behind the dams were so bad that the water was dangerous for contact […] and not drinkable,” says Fluvial Geomorphologist Brian Cluer. [… The project] will begin to reverse decades of habitat degradation, allow threatened salmon species to be resilient in the face of climate change, and restore tribal connections to their traditional food source.”

7. Biden-Harris Administration Awards $45.1 Million to Expand Mental Health and Substance Use Services Across the Lifespan

““Be it fostering wellness in young people, caring for the unhoused, facilitating treatment and more, this funding directly supports the needs of our neighbors,” said HHS Secretary Xavier Becerra. [The funding also supports] recovery and reentry services to adults in the criminal justice system who have a substance use disorder[… and clinics which] serve anyone who asks for help for mental health or substance use, regardless of their ability to pay.”

8. The World’s Rarest Crow Will Soon Fly Free on Maui

“[… In] the latest attempt to establish a wild crow population, biologists will investigate if this species can thrive on Maui, an island where it may have never lived before. Translocations outside of a species’ known historical range are rare in conservation work, but for a bird on the brink of extinction, it’s a necessary experiment: Scientists believe the crows will be safer from predators in a new locale—a main reason that past reintroduction attempts failed. […] As the release date approaches, the crows have already undergone extensive preparation for life in the wild. […] “We try to give them the respect that you would give if you were caring for someone’s elder.””

9. An optimist’s guide to the EV battery mining challenge

““Battery minerals have a tremendous benefit over oil, and that’s that you can reuse them.” [… T]he report’s authors found there’s evidence to suggest that [improvements in technology] and recycling have already helped limit demand for battery minerals in spite of this rapid growth — and that further improvements can reduce it even more. [… They] envision a scenario in which new mining for battery materials can basically stop by 2050, as battery recycling meets demand. In this fully realized circular battery economy, the world must extract a total of 125 million tons of battery minerals — a sum that, while hefty, is actually 17 times smaller than the oil currently harvested every year to fuel road transport.”

10. Peekaboo! A baby tree kangaroo debuts at the Bronx Zoo

“The tiny Matschie’s tree kangaroo […] was the third of its kind born at the Bronx Zoo since 2008. [… A] Bronx Zoo spokesperson said that the kangaroo's birth was significant for the network of zoos that aims to preserve genetic diversity among endangered animals. "It's a small population and because of that births are not very common," said Jessica Moody, curator of primates and small mammals at the Bronx Zoo[, …] adding that baby tree kangaroos are “possibly one of the cutest animals to have ever lived. They look like stuffed animals, it's amazing.””

July 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

873 notes · View notes

karaeilish · 1 month ago

Text

★ video games; b. eilish

★ sheriff!billie x bad girl!reader

the thick air carries the scent of strong coffee, sweet vanilla, and the pungent smell of her men's cologne. her presence makes your blood boil under your skin, and your eyes burn with sparks bright enough to set an entire city on fire. she was the reason for your sleepless nights and your endless arguments with your father, when you screamed "but daddy, i love her!" while being admonished about god. your father told you that you were a sinner, that every lewd thought you had about her was a new sin that you'd have to kneel before god to absolve. but it was no big deal when her eyes were fixed on you. no matter how much she denied it, she only had eyes for you.

as soon as a strong odor pierces your sinuses, your head immediately turns towards the door she appears in. billie. to you. to the others she was 'ma'am'. wide jeans hang low, the patch you sewed on her left thigh after she was shot, too stubborn to grab another pair of pants. a large plaid shirt hangs loosely over her body, the sleeves carelessly rolled up, exposing her forearms, covered in tattoos-rather partakes of tattoos inflicted when she was young while drinking beer at john's bar. a polished revolver rests dangerously in its holster, drawing your attention, and her hand hovers over it steadily in quiet menace, a warning, as if it should scare you, as if butterflies flutter in your stomach at the mere sight of her.

"for the second time this week" her voice is as professionally calm as ever, not giving away a drop of the nervousness that actually sat in her heart when she noticed how confidently you look at her. as if she's already yours, body and soul belonging to you. as if you know exactly what you are doing to her, wearing such short skirts and such slutty shirts, exposing your skin that she longs to touch. but she's silent. silent because she has no right to touch you, to spoil you. she's just afraid that she can ruin what seems not to exist.

you sit still, lazily, arms out in front of you, the handcuffs secured around your wrists glistening in the sunset light. billie takes a few steps forward, almost awkwardly, removing a bunch of keys from the loop on her jeans. her hands tremble as she touches you, deftly turning the right key to undo the handcuffs, leaving them lying a few inches away from you. just so you'll always remember them.

"petty theft… at a gas station. are you serious?" she reads your two-page file. as if you were a member of a drug gang instead of taking a few candy bars and a can of soda off the shelf just because you knew the hysterical clerk would throw a tantrum, screaming and calling the sheriff's office about how you'd 'trashed' his precious gas station again. it doesn't matter if you did it on purpose. just to see her beautiful face again.

a playful smile adorns your face, your arms tightening to your body so that you can rest your chin on them as if you were a work of art that came down from heaven instead of an ordinary girl always getting into trouble, to see billie looking at you time after time, skillfully hiding the beating of her heart. but unfortunately for her, your gaze has already fallen to her neck, noticing the frantic beating of her heart.

"i heard that you like the bad girls?" you lean forward slightly, eyes fixed precisely on her own, but even still, you notice how hard she swallows, trying to make eye contact and maintain professionalism without showing you the weakness oozing through her skin. "honey, is that true?"

your body no longer listens to reason, and your hands slide forward until your fingertips meet her skin, soft and hot, drawing a line from her hand to her elbow, causing goosebumps all over her body that can't be hidden even with the greatest desire. billie almost gasps, but after a few seconds pulls her hand away, covering her face.

"you're gonna drive me to my damn grave" she whispers and you can't help but giggle, slowly standing up and walking around the wooden table to be inches away from her body. your hand comes down to touch her face and she looks like she's gonna cry. out of desperation and fear, like she's almost given up, but no.

her body rises lightning fast from the creaking chair, and now her silhouette towers over you until she pushes you against the concrete wall, burning holes in your heart with her gaze. there's nothing in her eyes but a frantic desire to finally shut your mouth with hers, sliding her wet tongue past your lips as you whimper silently, begging for more. but before you both can say anything, her palm shuts you up, preventing you from uttering a word.

"stop. just fucking stop doing that until i lose control."

the game has moved into your hands. and so has her heart.

౨ৎ tags; @billiesbabygirll, @amara-eilish, @st0nerlesb0, @bxllxebxtch @mystiquemm, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @too-sapphic-to-function, @thefeverburningalive, @peytonglazesbillieeilish, @1nn3rthOughts, @thebluediner, @xiletay, @eilishsfantasy, @ariieeesworld

255 notes · View notes

demothers-empty-blog · 3 months ago

Text

idk what we feeling

König’s family lives far, very far. It’s a 17 hour drive from where you guys stay. You, who’s part koala (not really) slept through the entire thing.

No fretting, König was more than happy to make a couple of stops at nearby gas stations to replenish on essentials, making a quick jog there and back because he was worried about leaving you alone in the car.

But you looked so peaceful all bundled up in the passenger seat, he was powerless, the giant couldn’t wake you up even if he really wanted to.

And 17 hours go by.

You stretch and yawn when the car comes to a stop and the movement of being on the road no longer rocks you to sleep.

“We’re here already?” You manage between two yawns, stretching one last time before unbuckling the seatbelt.

“Ja, meine liebling. We’re here.” He sounded tired.

Back to the present, it’s no wonder you now have this hulk of a man sleeping on your stomach, arms secured around you, treating this couch like the coziest mattress in existence.

Completely out like a light.

It’s late in the evening. His sister, Anastasia, sits across from you, with a mug of earl grey in her hand and the tv remote in the other. A wince slips through clenched teeth, she mutters a repeated apology König will never get to hear as she hurriedly lowers the volume down to a respectable five.

After a few seconds, she settles back in her seat with a sigh.

“He hasn’t woken up yet?” She looks at you over the mug before taking a sip.

You detangle the hand that was toying with your partner’s locks and raise it to cup your cheek, feeling the heat settle in.

“Well, I mean-” you stammer, “the car ride was so peaceful and plus, his car smelled so good and I don’t know, he’s such a quiet driver and I just couldn’t help myself.”

No response.

“I fell asleep, sue me.” You spat out defensively.

Anastasia doesn’t seem convinced. She eyes you down with this knowing look and a smug grin playing on her lips. “I don’t know… you’re turning into a passenger princess.”

You gasp like she just bitch slapped you. Quickly removing your hand from your cheek, you smack it across your mouth and peer down to see if you’d woken up the bear snoozing on top of you.

Thankfully, in your presence, König can sleep through anything.

“I…” you tsked, eyes bouncing off the walls of the living room, debating whether to stay down or get back up again.

Instead, your eyes still on the sleeping expression of your lover and you find yourself falling into some memories, fond ones, it’s no wonder König liked being driven around; especially by a trusted loved one. You can have loved ones, but you wouldn’t necessarily trust their driving skills.

He trusts yours, and almost always gunned for the passenger seat whenever it was just the two of you.

Passenger prince, you called him. A gentle, pleased ‘hm’ leaves you at the thought.

“Where did your mind go?” Anastasia finally asks, pulling you from your daydreaming.

“Bah, just thinkin’,” you replied simply, adjusting your grip on the big bear in your arms. “Thinking that you might be right on that account.”

You let the curly haired girl gloat over being right, the two of you watch tv in silence.

But there’s more to this driving thing, you blurt the idea out the moment it came to you.

“I’m thinking we go on a road trip. How about it?”

239 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Can I request an Older! Eddie x reader (can you do another Hargrove! or Carver! Reader one?) but maybe more fluff/smut? Like Reader being in a secret relationship with Eddie, so her dad doesn't know, but Eddie teases her a lot, he tells her what If you father knew about us? and he knows she'll get nervous bc he hates Y/N's father (you can add more things!!)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Daddy's girl

When Y/N and Eddie met for the first time, a year ago, neither knew how complicated the relationship would become. Y/N was an adult, allowed to make her own decisions. And dating the older man she met at the bar wasn't a regret. Eddie caught her eye as he sat at the bar, having a beer. His dark hair, brown eyes, and chiseled jaw, coated in dark facial hair, looked memorizing underneath the downtown lights.

A few drinks in and she made her way over to him. A few more drinks and she was in his backseat, steaming up the windows as she clawed at his seats. His hands on her hips, his mouth on her back, and his cock buried in her.

They hooked up for months before they realized how deep their connection was. The complication occurred when Y/N learned her father was Eddie's enemy. She knew her dad was a dick, and wasn't surprised to hear that he made Eddie's life hell in high school.

Eddie couldn't help but feel smug about the fact he was dirting up Carver's daughter. He wished he could see Jason's face when he connected his precious baby girl called Eddie Daddy all night long. But also to shove it in his face that after all these years, someone fell in love with him. He wanted to brag and brag that someone as amazing as Y/N wanted to be with him.

But Y/N did not want her dad to know about the relationship, which Eddie understood. Jason wouldn't hesitate to destroy the relationship they created. Plus forbidden love was always a turn-on.

~~~

"You're so hot," Eddie mumbled against Y/N's lips. They stumbled into his house, lips locked and their bodies heaving.

"So are you," Y/N said as she shut the door behind them with her heel. Her hands worked on Eddie's belt as he unbuttoned his dress shirt.

"What time do you have to meet your dad for dinner?" Eddie asked as he dropped his shirt to the floor.

"In an hour, but it's at that gross pizza shop he knows I hate," Y/N rolled her eyes as she tugged Eddie's pants down. He stepped out and kicked them to the side then removed his socks.

"Better make sure daddy's good girl is well-fed then, huh?" Eddie smirked as she whimpered at his words. Her stomach flipped and her thighs clenched.

She dropped to her knees and watched as Eddie took off his boxers. His hard cock inches from her face and she drooled at the sight.

"Ready?" He asked, his thumb swiping across her bottom lip, her obedient eyes watched his every move. He loved how submissive she was when it came to him. Just one snap of a finger and she'd run away from her life and follow him.

"Yes," she said and opened her mouth. She clenched her thighs as he gripped his cock, he placed his lip on her tongue. She moaned at the familiar feeling as he pushed himself down her throat.

He pulled her hair back and held it, he moaned as she began to move her head up and down as she sucked him off.

~~~

Y/N sat in the hot car as Eddie filled up the car with gas. A road trip ahead of them to the beach, bags packed in the back. A romantic getaway that she could not wait to start.

She smiled as the door opened and Eddie jumped in. His tattooed arms glistened in sweat from the short time outside, his tank top sticking to him. He started the engine and the AC blew and released them of the hot weather. He pushed his sunglasses into his hair and pecked her lips.

"Oh look it's your dad!" Eddie said, pointing straight ahead. Y/N snapped her head to look through the windshield, her dad stood filling his tank.

"Oh my god," Y/N whispered, she quickly ducked her head down and hid.

"I think we should go say hi," Eddie teased with a smirk as he looked down at her.

"Not funny," she snapped, slapping his thigh. She jumped when Eddie honked the horn, a growl leaving her lips as she smacked him again.

"Oh, he's looking! Say hi to your daddy, don't be rude." Eddie teased again, loving the way she looked up at him terrified, yet pissed off.

She didn't move a muscle, she watched as he flipped her dad off and quickly grabbed his hand.

"He's gone," Eddie said, Y/N slowly peaked over and sighed when her dad was gone.

"You are such an ass," Y/N shook her head as she buckled herself in.

"Yeah, but you love me"

~~~

"I'm going to grab the beers," Eddie said, pecking her cheek as he rounded the corner in the store. She pushed the cart and grabbed hot dog buns from the shelf. She grabbed a few more things before she went to the next aisle. She froze when she saw the back of her dad's head and Eddie's huge smirk.

"I see you didn't become a rockstar," Jason scoffed as he glared at Eddie. "Life must be so unfulfilling. No wife, no kids."

Y/N was mouthing "no" but when did Eddie listen?

"I am so glad you brought this up!" Eddie exclaimed as he smacked Jason's shoulder. "I am not married, but I found someone who will be."

"Yeah right," Jason mumbled, pushing Eddie's hand off of him.

"It's your daughter," Eddie said, his eyes flashing to Y/N's horrified face and back to Jason's shocked face.

"I'm shitting with you man, but you should see your face," Eddie laughed, smacking Jason's chest before he walked off. Y/N raced to hide behind the corner, slapping Eddie the second he was in sight.

To Eddie it was a fun little game, giving his girl a heart attack kept him a child at heart. But the ring in his nightstand reminded him he was all grown up.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #older eddie munson smut #older eddie munson #older eddie Munson x reader #older Eddie munsin x carver!reader #ashwhowrites

628 notes · View notes

luvelve · 2 years ago

Text

husband!mingyu who secretly knows that one of your weaknesses is seeing the band of his underwear whenever he stretches. something about seeing CALVIN KLEIN in all bold letters whenever the giant man stretches his limbs. hanging just below his torso, let it be red, black, grey, or just the classic white calvins, it’d be sure to make your stomach flutter.

how else could he have picked up on this not so little obsession of yours when every time his underwear peaks, your cheeks turn a bright pink hue and suddenly you forget what mingyu was talking about just then.

“though we could get 2 vacuums instead, one for upstairs and one for downstairs.” mingyu says after your mind has somehow turned 7 innocent seconds of him stretching into a short calvin klein montage with some flirty doja cat song playing in the background.

“that’d be smarter and easier for us, right?” he adds, fixing the folds of his shirt. you’re now completely unaware that your mouth is hanging slightly open and that your cheeks are now the same color as mingyu’s favorite pink hoodie.

“yeah, uh huh.” you nod your head absentmindedly, now finally shifting your gaze at your husband’s face. this doesn’t go unnoticed by him though.

“okay, so what did i just say, my love?” his tone playful, deciding whether or not he should tell you that he knows why you’re all flushed right now. he turns his body on the couch so he can fully face you.

he scans your face and he recognizes that look on your face. it’s the same flushed look you had when mingyu first kissed you outside your apartment. the same look when he showed up with flowers and your favorite chinese takeout on a random tuesday. the same look when he brought you to his parents’ house and accidentally said he wants to marry you.

after being married to each other for almost 3 years, mingyu finds it endearing that he’s still able to leave you all flustered. whether it be stopping in his tracks to tie your laces, to removing the strand of hair on your face, and even flashing the band of his underwear apparently.

“uh, we’re getting a new vacuum… and we can get those dyson? ones that you’ve been telling me about.” you shoot him a sheepish smile and it takes everything in him to not kiss you right now.

he pauses and flashes you his signature smile. his canines poking out at the side.

“what?” you say, giggling at the giant teddy bear that is smiling at you for a reason unknown to you.

“baby, i know.” he huffs, closing the tiny gap in between the two of you.

“know what?” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him.

being the gentle giant that your husband is, he wants to lay it to you gently so as not to totally embarrass you, but he’s afraid it’s gonna happen either way.

“my love, i know that whenever i stretch, like when i put my hands up like this and my tummy shows? and so does my underwear? baby, i catch you staring.” he trails off after demonstrating to you and he starts giggling and snakes his arms around your waist. your faces are now practically centimeters from each other. there’s only love and adoration in mingyu’s eyes.

“you-what do you? no, i don’t. babe, i don’t even know what you’re talking about.” you bite your lip in attempts to hide the giant smile that’s about to form on your face.

all mingyu can do is laugh and bury his face into the crook of your neck. meanwhile, your insides are burning from the embarrassment that your husband knows your little secret and your cheeks are turning bright red this time around.

“my love, its okay. so what if you find my underwear hot? i mean i find a lot of things about you hot. like when you pump gas into our car. hot. when your hair’s wet and you wrap it in a towel and you take it out from the towel? hot. oh, when you wear my shirts and hoodies. well that’s more of cute, but you get the point. babe, i could go on and on, you know.” he continues to rub circles onto your waist where his hands are resting.

you’re reminded of how loving and gentle your husband is because only he could rub away the embarrassment of finding his briefs hot.

“how long have you known?” you whisper, the bright red stain on your cheeks fading away. holding his chin between your thumb and index finger.

“i don’t know, i guess when we were having lunch this one time at that fancy place near us. that was the first time i caught you. so maybe a month ago?” his gaze is soft with a hint of playfulness.

“well, there goes my secret, i guess.” a pout forms on your face and all mingyu can do is lean in for a kiss. it’s not rushed, it’s the kind that says i love you. you can feel yourself melt into him as he takes one hand from your waist and places it onto your cheek. both of your arms wrap around his neck to pull him even closer than he was before.

“doesn’t mean i’m gonna stop doing it though.” you break away from the kiss momentarily to say to him. you shoot him a naughty look that he’s all too familiar with.

“that’s my girl.” he replies, leaning in for another kiss.

so this was completely self indulgent, and the first thing i’ve written. this was supposed to be like a 200 word blurb MAX but i got carried away :<

anyways, please enjoy <3

#kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen #svt #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt x y/n #mingyu imagines #svt imagines #svt au #mingyu au #mingyu scenarios #luvelve’s

2K notes · View notes

acotarxreader · 1 year ago

Text

Timing

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Timing works against you and Azriel as a series of unfortunate events lands the two of you alone for the night with a broken down car and a breaking down friendship

Warnings: Angst, Modern, I don't know how cars work, rough draft writing

A/N: My first modern fic for these guys, hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of a more modern setting!

Requests Open!

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

“We're going to die”

“We're not going to die Cassian, calm down”

“We're going to die”

“We're not going to...GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY JACKASS!!!”

“I agree, we're definitely going to die” Rhysand chimes in from the backseat.

“Would you babies calm down for fucksake I know what I'm doi...OI PEABRAIN! YEAH YOU! YOUR BRAIN IS THE SIZE OF THAT GAP YOU LEFT! SHARE THE FUCKING ROAD!.... Bastard”

“Yup, we're dead” you heard Feyre whine from behind you before launching into a prayer. You swerve the car tightly around the corner, the only way you know how, sending your friends in the backseat skewed.

“Fucking hell YNN!” Cassian grabbed the overhead handle whispering his own prayers.

“If you cook like you drive then Gods help us” A now slightly green Rhysand adds, helping Feyre to sit back upright and tighten her safety belt further.

“If we even live that long” you hear Feyre whisper.

“The utter lack of faith that my friends have in me is really quite disheartening….who wants to bet I can make all these green lights before they change?”

“No!” They all scream in unison as you laugh and accept the challenge.

The car hit the curb outside of Azriel’s house, it hardly reaching its stop before Rhysand tumbled out onto the grass practically kissing the ground leaving you rolling your eyes from the driver's seat. Cassian lay across the grass alongside Rhysand shortly after, both thanking the Gods to be in one piece. Azriel laughed from the porch of his home, slogging his rucksack over his shoulder before locking the front door and strutting down to his friends.

“Let me guess, YNN is driving?” You replied with a small wave of your fingertips as you leaned against your car door.

“Nope no definitely not, I'm driving the rest of the way, I refuse to arrive at the camp in a casket” Cassian rights himself again before standing to remove the keys from the ignition, receiving a dirty look from you.

“You’re all such cry babies” you laughed, pulling your bag out from the trunk of the car as the rest of your friends tried to fight off the seasickness your driving provided.

“Shit!”

“What’s wrong YNN?” Feyre rested her head along the headrest of the back seat to meet your eyes on the other side of the car boot. You had begun to pull out the contents of your bag, Rhysand now joining your side.

“I forgot my medication, I have to go back” the group groaned, causing a guilty feeling in your stomach to form. You were all already behind schedule, with a lot of other college students already well on their way to blackout drunk at the campsite for spring break.

“I’ll drive you back in my truck for it, let all the others go ahead so we don’t lose our spot?” Azriel offered

“How unusually kind of you Az” You scoffed

“Fine, die, suits me, I’m on music” Azriel shrugged, throwing his bag on top of the contents of yours in the trunk. The two of you locked eyes, a standoff beginning to take shape. The both of you had a rocky relationship at best, it being amplified when Azriel slept with your cousin when she visited last year.

“Okay but I drive”

“Suits me, I hate driving” Rhysand looked between the two of you, almost certain someone would be arriving at the campsite in a casket.

—-------------

“YN, if you crash my truck we're going to have some serious issues”

“I paid for gas so therefore it's my truck” you chewed out, the wheel spinning through your hands as you went along the mountain trail, a good two or three hours behind the rest of your friends.

“That wouldn’t hold in a court of law” You accelerated into the turn, sending Azriel crashing into the car door with a thud. You had been driving for almost an hour, taking one of Azriel's shortcuts that had taken you well and truly off the beaten path through a wooded area.

“Seriously! Was that necessary!?”

“I don’t want to miss out on any more of the fun”

“It’s not my fault we had a leak in the tyre, I never drive this thing, it was bad timing!” he folded his arms tightly into his chest, regretting his act of kindness. The engine screeched at your harsh handling, Azriel clenching his fists until they drained of colour, his leg bouncing off the floor.

“Stop shaking your leg it's distracting me”

“You’re making me nervous!”

“And you’re making me insane!” Your hand found the knob of the radio, twisting it to release 80’s pop music at deafening volumes to drown out your singing.

“YN! SERIOUSLY! YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE” He moved to turn it down, you batting away his hand as the car ploughed up the steep incline of the hillside before barreling down the open road.

“Driver controls the music!”

“It’s my truck!” Azriel shouted back, you drowning him out with George Micheal. Azriel huffed, reaching for the two-litre bottle of Coke at his feet.

“WAIT A-” It was too late, the bottle practically exploded as Azriel opened it, the speed of your driving shaking every ounce of the liquid sugar.

“HOLY SHIT!”

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!” You finally slammed down on the brakes, skirting the truck off the side of the road into the dirt, the vehicle screaming out to you.

“ME?! IT'S YOU WHO'S DRIVING LIKE WE'RE IN A RALLY!"

“OH MY GOODNESS IT'S FUCKING EVERYWHERE!” You ran your hands across your soaked face, the cabin of the truck now tinged caramel brown forevermore.

“NO SHIT SHERLOCK” He snapped at you

“YOU’RE GOING TO DRIVE ME INSANE!” You shouted down at your ruined clothes. Azriel cautiously lifted the bottle to his mouth as you watched him out of the corner of your eye, infuriating you further and causing you to bat the bottle out of his hands back to his feet.

“Fucking idiot” You scrunched your eyes together.

“We’ll sort it out at the camp, it's only another…three hours” he groaned as you rested your head on the sticky steering wheel before exhaling deeply.

“Its fine, this is fine” You readjusted yourself before turning the keys in the ignition, the truck huffing back at you.

“NO NO NO NO” you banged the steering wheel as the bonnet began to flood with smoke.

“FUCK!” You threw yourself back against the soaked chair in frustration before leaping out and banging open the hood, followed by a string of colourful language as smoke filled the road.

“How bad is it?” Azriel cautiously stuck his head out of the window as you attempted to look past the smoke. You stomped to his window, a piece of hot rubber in your hands.

“Oh...that looks like it's important…”

“Yeah it is...was, it's your timing belt...it was the timing belt. We're fucked! All because you don't do car maintenance!”

“If you didn’t drive like a fucking lunatic it would have been fine!” You gave an exasperated shriek in reply, tossing the rubber to the floor and storming back to the hood of the car, hands on your hips. Azriel texted Cassian before sliding out of his truck to join your side, the smoke clearing.

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news?” You replied to him with a glare.

“Okay okay, they’re already all way too drunk to get behind the wheel and Rhysand called his dad’s mechanic, I sent him our location and he can’t get up here until the morning, it's his kid's birthday” he said almost timidly.

“Fuck” You cleared your lungs of oxygen, your hands lacing together on the top of your head.

“And we can’t fix it? I thought you were good with cars”

“I’m not fucking magic, I can’t just pull a new belt out of thin air” You slammed down the hood before whipping the driver-side door back open, the sweet liquid now drying into a pure sticky mess.

“What the fuck are we going to do Azriel?”

“I guess we’re staying here for the night” He left the rusting hood to circle to the back of the truck, extremely thankful he had put your things in the back of it before splitting the group up.

“We can’t sleep in here, it's disgusting” You huffed, slamming the door.

“No need to break the door as well-” he regretted the joke once he became the recipient of your famous death stare “-we can sleep in the back”

“Maybe you can take a look under the bonnet and think of something, you’re the engineering student” You were becoming desperate, the thought of being stuck in the middle of the woods with your best frenemy as night closed in becoming too much to process.

“I’m doing civil engineering YN” he scoffed, throwing a leg over the back of the truck and spreading his sleeping bag across the freezing metal.

“Oh great so if it was the road we were driving on that exploded you’d be of some use” you laughed, standing up on the tow bar to aid the swing of your leg into the back.

“Precisely” He grinned, offering you his hand to help pull you in.

The two of you exchanged your coke-covered clothing for the spare thicker layers you both had thankfully packed, settling into the small nest you had built in the back of the truck as the stars began to show you their faces in the sky. Azriel dug through his rucksack, fishing out two cans of beer chilled from the night air and offering you it with a smile.

“We don’t have to miss out on all the fun” he tipped the top of his can off of yours as you both leaned on the cabin of the truck, watching the stars twinkle, hoping it would be enough to distract you from the growing cold.

“This day has been crazy”

“Sorry I added to your stress YNN” You rolled your head along the metal of the cabin to smile softly up to him.

“Sorry I drive like a maniac”

“I'm sorry you drive like a maniac too” You swung your hand out from under the sleeping bag to hit him into the chest with a thud as he chuckled.

“Sorry I called you impossible and a bitch YNN”

“You didn't call me a bitch?”

“Maybe not out loud” You laughed to him, finishing off your beer and sinking down further beneath your covers. The night sky was beautiful but the accompanying bite in the air was undeniable.

“We’re going to die out here” you chattered out, the warmth the beer had provided to your system leaking out as Azriel discarded the two empty cans in his bag.

“Probably, but at least it's a nice night” his shivering rattled against the metal mattress.

“Maybe bears will eat us before we freeze to death”

“No bear is gonna catch me”

“Azriel there’s no way you could outrun a bear”

“Who says I had to outrun the bear? I just need to outrun you” his laugh carried through the woods to match yours until the strangely comfortable silence swaddled the two of you until the stress of the day took its full toll, lulling you both to sleep.

The bright sun shone through the slots in the tall evergreen trees, heating the metal of the truck to a cosy temperature until those very rays crossed the path of your eyes, waking you from your deep and surprisingly comfortable sleep.

“OH MY GOD!” You shot upright, the world blotting into focus, your sudden movement causing Azriel’s breath to hitch as he dragged an arm across his face, your legs still slightly tangled in one another.

“For fucksake, its like living with a Chihuahua, what the fuck is wrong with you now Lassie?” His hand crossed his chest in an attempt to slow down his heart rate again.

“Nothing, nothing happened, we were just cold, that's all” you collapsed back down beside him, breath returning to you.

“Would it really have been that bad if something were to happen?” Azriel laughed through his stretch, the metal mattress a cruel mistress for his back muscles.

“If you ever tell anyone about this I'll remove your kneecaps” you threaten.

“What? That you tried to make advances and planned this whole thing to get in my pants? No, I would never YNN” His laugh echoed across the hills again as you thought about his previous comment. You groaned again, running your hands through your hair.

“We were just cold, why are you acting like this is the worst thing to ever happen ever”

“Because it is the worst thing” You sat up again and Azriel followed suit, covering the part of him that showed all his cards.

“Why?”

“WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO-TO INTERACT LIKE THIS! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO LIKE YOU! ” Your hand gestured between the two of you.

“WELL WHAT IF I LIKE YOU?!” his raising voice only matched yours as frustration grew.

“WELL I DON'T LIKE YOU!”

“REALLY!?”

“NO!” In the heat of the moment, you lunged slightly forward, colliding your lips with Azriel’s. His warm hand cupped your face gently as your hands ran across his thighs. You pulled back almost as fast as you lunged forward.

“Oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” You leapt out of the truck, pulling your sweatshirt tighter across yourself and began pacing while Azriel stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Did you just kiss me?” His voice was low as though trying to speak to a spooked horse.

“I-” The slam of a car door caused you both to jump as the mechanic rounded the truck with a smile and perfect timing.

“Right let's get you two love birds back on the road”

“We're just friends!” You quickly shot back, the mechanic giving you a weird look before heading back to the bonnet of the car alongside you. What the hell just happened was all Azriel could think.

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

Whatcha think?!

275 notes · View notes

krysalla · 10 months ago

Text

hide me from the cleaver, i'll hang with you forever! - i

thomas hewitt x fat f!reader

word count: 5.4k

read on ao3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, blood, violence, gore, murder, kidnapping, drugging, body horror

Tommy has been lonely for so long. He's ready to settle down.

You startle awake and you can’t move. Your limbs are locked up, unwilling to comply with any thought or demand that they move, they stay glued to your sides while you try to fight yourself into full consciousness. All you can do is look ahead, up into the vast darkness of this room, and will yourself not to cry. You don’t know what’s going on. You don’t remember checking into a motel, the last thing you remember was the bright sun filtering the the van’s windows, lulling you into an uneasy sleep while your friends chatted amongst themselves toward the front of the van, the feeling of sweat pooling in the creases of your body and soaking your shirt and hair.

This bed is unfamiliar and not a motel bed. The sheets don’t have the starchy smell and stiffness that they would if you were in a motel. It’s a private home. If you were in a hospital, there would be more noise and light. You’d rather be in a hospital.

Whoever put you here, they tucked you into bed like a child with the sheets snug under the outline of your body and a soft pillow under your head. Maybe a good samaritan? Maybe it was a car accident and being out in the middle of nowhere, the nearest hospital must be at least an hour’s drive away. No, that still doesn’t make sense. You try not to cry, but as you keep coming up with ideas about why you’re here nothing clicks in your memory. You whine out in frustration. The how isn’t important, not when you can’t move.

You take a deep breath through your nose and exhale through your mouth, trying to relax so you can jump start your limbs into working again. Your mouth is dry and the taste of your last meal is hot on your breath–a pre-packaged pastry and gas station coffee. Your stomach grumbles. Whatever happened, it happened before you and your friends stopped off for lunch. The room is pitch black so it must be well past nine at night. If you can still taste your breakfast, it must be the same day or at least the early hours of the next day. Pinpointing a timeline makes you feel a little better about your situation.

Your hand flexes and finally you’re able to push yourself up. You rip the blanket off of you and your arms and chest scream out at you. You’re not wearing your clothes. You were wearing a loose shirt and a pair of cut offs. Someone stuffed you into a dress that is at least two sizes too small for you. You feel across your chest, the neckline is low, maybe not for the person it was intended for, but on you it is, you are spilling out everywhere. The sleeves cut into your upper arms and constrain the breadth of your shoulders, the fabric stretches tight over your wide hips and soft stomach, the buttons holding the front of the dress closed are straining against all of you, creating gaps between the edges of the fabric. Whoever dressed you removed your undergarments too, probably to make it easier to squeeze you into this horrendous dress. Your first instincts are your friends, this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve pulled a trick on you, but this feels needlessly cruel, even for them, to strip you down while you’re sleeping.

Your friends–where are they?

There’s no one else in this room, you can’t hear any breathing but your own. You get off the bed and on shaky legs wander blindly in the dark until you see the small strip of light coming from under a door and stagger toward it like a moth to a flame, this will lead you out of here, get you the answers you need. You pull the door open and hiss at the bright, sickly yellow that floods the room. You blink, waiting for the spots dancing across your vision to fade away. The hallway is dilapidated and filthy. The walls are yellow too, it’s not from paint but years worth of smoke build up. You tiptoe through the hallway, trying your best to keep quiet, but the old floorboards creak under your weight.

You get a better look at what you're wearing. The dress is old and well loved but you are ruining it. Your stomach and hips bulge against the fabric and the skirt was supposed to be loose but it’s swallowed up by your thighs and ass. You can barely make a full step.

You pass by three more doors, two of them to your left and one to your right, before you find the staircase.

A woman wails from somewhere downstairs.

You follow the voices even though your gut is telling you not to. The stairs don’t creak under your weight, deceptive given the looks of them. No, you move silently through the house, every sound drowned out by the woman crying frantically. Nothing can be heard over her, not the shifts of the wood floors or the stretching and ripping of the dress you’re wearing. One of the buttons pops and hits the wall.

The front door looks so inviting, it’s the best idea. You don’t know where you are, you’re wearing a stranger's clothes, you have no idea how you came here and there’s a woman howling. This is not a safe place, you need to leave but you can’t. No matter how hard you will yourself to grab the doorknob and slip out unnoticed, you can’t. That could be one of your friends–either Anna or Lucy–and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you left them here. You close your eyes and head towards the chaos you know is waiting for you.

As you get closer, you can distinguish the voices clearly. It’s Anna. Her usual soft tone becomes shriller and more agitated with each passing second, with each step you take. She’s cursing and threatening. A man is yelling now, a woman too. Both sound older. A dog barks.

You peek your head around the corner.

Anna is tied to a chair with thick ropes. Her red hair, her pride and joy, is a mess, tangled like someone had run their hands through it and tried to yank it out by the roots. She fights and tugs at the ropes, rocking the chair with her, a wild look in her eye, the kind you see in a wild animal that’s been cornered and has no other option than to bare its teeth and fight. Around her is a family, you think. An older man stands at the head of the table, holding onto the back of the chair. He looks bored. Another man is in a wheelchair with a small, mangy dog in his lap. A woman sits next to the man in the wheelchair. The table is covered by a lacy tablecloth and set up for a big dinner. The evening meal sits, ready to be served. There are five place settings. You only count four people.

The bored man shouts, “Tommy, get in here and shut ‘er up already.”

There’s number five.

A man lumbers out from the other entrance to the dining room and your mouth dries. He’s huge. You’ve never seen a man that size before. His presence captures your attention, stealing you away from your concern for your friend who is clearly in big fucking trouble. Something isn’t right about his face. It looks off, loose around his eyes and mouth, like there’s too much skin and it can’t hold itself up anymore. He looks so familiar.

“You stay the fuck away from me, you fucking freak!” Anna yells before breaking back down hysterical tears. You hear an electric humming. Then comes the roar. The man–Tommy–has a chainsaw and he wields it without a problem, like the beast of a machine weighs nothing at all to him. You finally take a step into the doorway.

Red everywhere. There’s no hiding from the blood and carnage. Anna is convulsing to the rhythm of the chainsaw ripping through her chest. Tommy rears the chainsaw back and forth out of her body. Blood splatters everywhere, the rubbery bits of her flesh sticking to every surface and splashing into the pot on the table. Her bones crunch and crack in a sickening symphony. You can’t connect this brutality with the domestic setting around you. A family dinner all served up on the table with a frilly tablecloth to protect the wooden table.

You clamp your hands over your mouth. You don’t want to watch this carnage but you can’t move. You’re stuck and you see Anna’s head loll around on her neck until she looks up at you, and you can hardly believe that she is still alive. Her eyes light up, it’s dim but you can see her register you, and she attempts to speak. Her words are garbled and wet, tongue too coated with blood to get her words out properly. The chainsaw pushes all the way through her chest again. Her jaw goes slack and her eyes wide in agony. The chainsaw pulls back. A death rattle, her final breath. Her head drops.

The man, the one who was yelling, cackles and smiles something awful while he reaches out and grabs onto her red hair and pulls her head up to face him. He spits on her face. It’s brown from chewing tobacco. “Ain’t so pretty now, you stupid bitch, huh?”

“Hoyt, watch your language!” the older woman admonishes.

“Now, Mama,” the man lets go of Anna’s hair and straightens up. “Worse things been done at this table than a lil’ bit a swearin’.”

The mangy mutt on the still nameless man’s lap growls at you. Everyone looks up at you.

The man–Hoyt–settles a hand on his hip and looks at the behemoth that carved up Anna. He snorts, “Seems your sleeping beauty woke up, boy.”

Tommy looks up at you and you realize why he looks so familiar. That’s not his face. That’s David, Lucy’s boyfriend. He cut off his face and is wearing it like a mask. You notice the blood around his eyes and on his neck. It’s fresh. David and Anna are dead. Lucy and Bobby’s fates unknown, but you know what yours will be.

You scream.

The man stomps toward you but you dodge him, running toward the door and blessedly, it’s unlocked. You throw it open and bound down the front steps. The moon is full tonight, casting enough light to help you find your way, but that means he can see you too. You can hear him behind you, his hulking weight racing after you and his heavy breaths pounding like a drum in your ear. He’s so close, all he has to do is reach out a hand and grab you by the back of the neck. You duck and weave between the laundry hung up on the line, hoping he will get confused and lose you in the chaos.

You veer left and head towards the thicket of trees. A dirt road runs perpendicular to it. You can lose him through there and follow the dirt road to a paved one. Maybe a semi truck will roll through or a farmer with a truck or anyone. Anyone would be better than this bloodthirsty family you’ve encountered.

You run as fast and as long as you can, but you are not built for it. Your knees and ankles ache, the bottom two buttons on the dress have popped and given you more room to move but only expose you more. You burn in humiliation and anger.

Tommy seems to have disappeared. You thought it would be a relief, but it’s not, he could be anywhere, he has the home field advantage. He knows the roads better than you, probably knows the woods too. Each sound, no matter how soft it is, has your head swiveling around on your neck, looking for the ever present threat of him, the glint of the blade glowing in the night. Blood rushes to your ears. You have to get out of here. You need to get to the police and tell them what kind of freaks are living out here. Are you the first to encounter them? The ease with which they orchestrated and witnessed the carnage of Anna’s death tells you no. That beast’s mask–David’s face–the work around the eyes and mouth and nose, all those delicate features, it was carved clean. That is not the first face he’s worn.

What do you know? You are in Texas. Somewhere between Austin and Odessa. David and Anna are dead, Lucy and Bobby are missing and most likely dead. It’s the dead of night. Which way is west? You have no landmarks to point you in the right direction, at least back home you have the mountains, and you have no idea how to find the north star.

There–the road lies just ahead of you.

You miss the shards of glass on the shoulder of the road. It digs into the flesh of your foot and you wail in pain as it hits bone. You crumple to the ground and hold onto your foot.

He makes his appearance. He breaks through the treeline, shoulder heaving with his heavy breaths, eyes shining in the dark as he stalks closer to you. This is it. You get on your knees and hold yourself up with your hands, trying to push up, but the second you dare put any weight on your foot, your leg gives out. You yell, deep from your chest and swing your head up to look at him. He walks slowly and it makes you angry. He’s playing with his food and you just want this over with. You’re done, there’s nothing left for you to do.

“C’mon, hurry up! I don’t have all day,” you spit out at him.

He dangles the chainsaw in your face when he stops in front of you. You gag at the stench of iron and sight of chunks of Anna still stuck in the chain. He tilts the weapon and presses your chin up with the flat side, smearing her blood over your face as he examines you. You can hear the low hum of the engine. He stares at you from behind his mask. His eyes are dark and wide. He adjusts his grip on the chainsaw and shifts his weight. You don’t lose eye contact with him. You will not be the one to break or bend. If he wants you dead, he will look you in the eye while he plunges that monster through your chest. You are going to meet your fate and he will have to watch you die, you won’t let him take the cowardly way out like he did with Anna.

It’s hard for someone to make you feel small. Even if they were taller than you, odds are you were wider, but beneath him, you feel minuscule. He’s barrel chested, shoulders wide and arms bulging with muscles. Everything about him radiates strength and power. You clench your jaw and swallow.

You reach out and grab the saw, bringing the tip right to the center of your chest. You’re aware of the image and if you had been watching this interaction from the sidelines, you’d laugh at the implications of this. You, with your large chest spilling out from the fabric of your dress, on your knees while he towers over you with a weapon that is no doubt phallic pointed right at you. How pornographic. You grab the saw again, fingers slipping against the wet metal to press it harder against you.

“C’mon! Kill me already!” you shout. This show of bravery is a farce. You are terrified. If you thought begging or pleading would save you, you would. But no, you see that no amount of messy pleading and placations will save you. It didn’t save Anna. No human could take a life in that manner and be weakened by bargaining.

His eyes flash up to you. The skin of his mask distorted and warped from the heat and his own sweat. The nose collapses in on itself. You offer yourself up to him on a silver platter and he won’t make a move.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” You grit your teeth and push yourself into the saw. His hand wavers.

The deafening roar never comes. The engine cuts off and the buzzing stops. He drops the chainsaw and instead reaches out to touch you. He cups your face and whines. You drop your jaw at the utterly pathetic noise you just heard come out of the behemoth. He takes that as an invitation and shoves his thick fingers into your mouth. You gag at the intrusion and taste of him—blood and grime and sweat. His other hand presses your top lip up. Under his scrutiny, you feel like a show pig being judged. Maybe you’ll win a prize. Whatever he sees, he nods and pulls his fingers from your mouth, a strand of your spit connecting him to you until it breaks. He wipes his fingers on his dirty cargo pants.

He hauls you up onto your feet, not paying any mind the blows you land on his chest. He ducks and wraps an arm around your thick waist and without much hassle lifts you over his shoulder, he bounces once to get himself comfortable with the weight of you and then picks up the chainsaw and walks you back to the dirt road, back to the house of horrors. You can’t even fight him, too stunned at the display of strength. You haven’t been picked up since you were a little girl.

You go quietly with him. You have no energy left to expend now that the adrenaline has left your system.

It’s only a few minutes before the house comes back into view. The woman and Hoyt wait for your arrival on the front porch, backlit by the patio lights. They follow him in the door, the woman clucking over you, her hands skating over your face as Tommy takes you deeper into the house.

“Now, Tommy, you couldn’t find anything better to fit her? She looks like a hussy in that thing.”

He grunts in reply. Another fact to add to what you know: he is the one who dressed you and presumably the one who tucked you into that bed upstairs. But why? Why would he do that when he slaughtered the others? Why treat you with the kindness of tucking you into bed while Anna was tied up with rope and David’s face skinned from his head. The fifth setting at the dinner table. You didn’t understand why they would set it for someone destined to die. It wasn’t for Anna, the place at the table was for you. He intends to keep you.

He grabs your injured foot and spins around to show it to the woman who clicks her tongue at the sight.

“Set her on the couch, I’ll make some tea.”

He deposits you on the couch and stands behind you. Hoyt settles himself across from you with a sly smile and his arms crossed over his chest. He licks his lips as he devours the disheveled sight of you. You close your legs tight and hold your hands on your lap, hoping to block his view.

“Mhm, Tommy, think I get why you chose this broad outta all of them. Looks sweet as pie, wonder if she tastes as sweet as she looks.”

Tommy grabs your shoulder in what you assume is a protective manner. You can’t see what he does behind you, but whatever it is, it’s enough to get that man to stop looking at you like that.

“Hoyt, ain’t you got your own girl to entertain?” the woman asks as she reappears from the kitchen with a tray in her hand that holds a tea cup and some first aid supplies. Lucy. That must be Lucy that they are talking about.

“She don’t seem as fun as this one.”

“Leave Tommy’s girl alone. My boy deserves something nice and you ain’t gonna get in the way of that.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, arms falling back to his side as he levels the woman with a glare. “Fine.”

Hoyt leaves and the grip on your shoulder relaxes.

“Tommy, go get a blanket for her.” She sets her supplies out on the coffee table and sits across from you on it. She smiles at you, not unkindly but you can see that sharpness in her eyes, she doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re an intrusion. The skin on her hands is thin, veins dark blue and protruding, and covered with spots. Her fingers are knobbly. She grabs your right ankle and pulls your injured foot into her lap. She looks back up behind you. “Tommy,” she says sternly.

You hear him walk away.

“He’s a good boy. Just wants to make sure you’re alright.” She examines your foot and picks up a pair of tweezers. “You got yourself good here. I’ll be quick about it.”

The glass slides out with a little maneuvering and you bite your lip to keep from crying out. The woman’s eyes crinkle behind her glasses. She pulls out another piece of glass slowly, watching your reaction to it. She likes this.

A quilt is thrown over your lap and you rush to cover your body with it.

“She’ll be fine, quit your hovering. I’m tryna work here.”

Tommy makes a disquieted noise.

The last piece of glass comes out, the one that reached bone and you can’t stop yourself. You whine and bury your face in the blanket. Tommy has his hands on your shoulders again, thumbs rubbing circles into you.

“There we go. Just gotta get you cleaned up.” She goes to work on cleaning out the wound and wrapping it up.

You whimper and push yourself further into the corner of the couch. Tommy leans over you, gazing down at you with a soft look. He has brown eyes. Dried blood cracks around the corners of his eyes, you can’t see his lips through the mask but you know he’s smiling.

“Oh hush now, it’s all done now.” She pats your ankle. “Have some tea—It’ll help settle your nerves.”

“I don’t want tea.”

She narrows her eyes at you and reaches across the empty space between you and grabs your chin, fingers digging into the fat of your cheeks. “I won’t take no lip from you, missy. Drink the tea. Ain’t a request, understand?” She shoves your head to the side when she lets go.

“Okay.”

She harrumphs and passes the tea cup to you. You don’t want to think about what she may have put in here. You chug it down. You hand the teacup back. It was a mistake to down it all in one go. You can’t think straight and your body feels heavy. Maybe it’s arsenic. That would be a cleaner way to go.

“Good girl,” she croons. She looks up past you. “Take her to bed.”

You’re in the air again, swinging in his grip as he takes you back upstairs and back into the bed you woke up in. He tucks you in beneath blankets and fluffs your pillow for you. If this was anyone else, you’d think the action was sweet, loving but it’s not, it’s him, the man who murdered your friend. When he’s content that you are comfortable enough, he sits on the edge of the bed, springs creaking under his weight, and he cups your cheek. You blink tears from your eyes and he wipes them away.

“What are you going to do to me?” you ask.

He peers at you through David’s face and leans down to kiss your forehead. You feel his lips part the hole he made of David’s mouth. He kisses you chastely like a parent does a child when they have a nightmare.

You can’t fight the wave of exhaustion and the sedative weighing you down. It would be easier for him and better for you if he killed you in your sleep. It’s a reassuring thought that this ordeal will be over when you close your eyes. You let your dreams take you.

The heat’s much worse in the backseat of the van. You feel more like cargo than a human back here, sitting amongst all the suitcases that didn’t fit in the trunk. You’re by yourself back here, all your friends sit in the front of the van, leaning over each other and chattering away with one another while you sit forgotten with their luggage. It’s all so on the nose that if you weren’t in this situation, you’d be laughing. Physical proof of where you stand in relation to everyone else.

You started to notice it more and more, how separated you are from the other five. It never bothered you much as a kid, just happy to be included by anyone, no matter if it was just the scraps of a friendship. Better to be the doormat than alone. But you’re older now and it’s starting to take its toll. It’s always been there, lurking, the doubt of their love for you, that is nowhere near the same level you gave to them. Time and age have given you a little perspective and you’re just so tired of carrying it all around.

One last trip.

You pluck at the fabric of your shirt, hoping for a little relief from the heat and your own sweat. The air conditioning doesn’t reach back here. Anna and her boyfriend, David, in the front seat don’t even bother to open the windows. They are perfectly comfortable with the steady stream of cool air hitting them directly. You shift in your seat and feel the back of your legs peel away from the leather and can feel the sweat gathering beneath your thighs,on the back of your knees, in the crease of your inner elbow from how you have your arms folded close to your torso.

Lucy and Bobby play a card game and flirt good naturedly, nothing will come from it, they’ve been playing this game since they were fifteen.

David curses and hits the steering wheel. “Almost out of gas.”

You’re alone again when you wake. You’re devastated that you woke up. You curl onto your side and cry until you have nothing left to give. Your eyes are swollen and lips irritated from your dry heaving, but when the tears run out you wipe your eyes and nose and fix yourself straight. There’s no use in crying. Crying won’t find you a way out. Lucy and Bobby are still out there. You have to find them.

The room is bathed in sunlight and you get your first real look around. There’s sparse furniture: the bed, a side table and a set of tall drawers. The wallpaper, a peach floral pattern, is water damaged and peeling. It’s a small room, maybe what was a guest room. On the dresser is a stack of folded clothing.

You rush out of bed, limping on your bad foot, desperate to change out of the dress. The clothes are yours. They were in your suitcase. They have your things. You hurry out of the dress, the rest of the buttons popping off in your urgency. There’s indents all over your body from the tight fabric and you try your best to soothe them before you dress. It’s the most modest outfit that you packed—a pair of jeans and a long sleeve blouse along with your undergarments.

You stand by the door, listening for any signs of life on the other side. Nothing. The house is deathly silent. You pull the door open with care not to let the hinges squeak.

There’s only four other rooms upstairs that she could be in. The one at the end of the hall, the one you didn’t notice the night before, is a bathroom. You peek through the next two doors, both empty save for some furnishing. This last one must be her. You hear the light shuffling of sheets through the door and a weary moan.

Lucy is bound and gagged on a four poster bed with gauzy curtains hanging around her, her arms pulled apart in a spreader bar and her feet tied to the bedpost with the same thick rope they used on Anna. Her clothes are ripped to shreds and bloodied. She’s covered in cuts and bruises and her lips are cracked and there’s a chunk of hair missing close to her hairline. You can’t help but feel lucky. Her and Anna have gotten the worst treatment of the three of you, you’ve barely come out with a scratch, the only real injury you have was one of your own making. It strikes you then that Hoyt may be more dangerous than Tommy with his lecherous stares and bloodthirsty smile.

You lean over her and cup her cheeks. “Lucy! Wake up. Gonna get you outta here.”

She stirs.

“Dumpling? Thought they got you for sure. First one that got hauled away…” she slurs and drops out of consciousness.

“No, no.” You pat her face and she still doesn’t respond. You hope she’ll be able to forgive you. You slap her across her cheek, leaving a stinging, red mark in the shape of your hand. She jolts awake, laughing and crying at the same time. “Lucy, stop. They’re gonna come up here.”

She takes no heed, only attempts to kick her legs out and wrestle her way out of the spreader bar. She manages to shift the bed across the floor by an eighth of an inch in her efforts. You can’t hear over her laughter, they could be coming up the stairs right now and you’d never know and you’d lose the opportunity to escape. Tommy had too much faith in you not to try running again or the old woman didn’t add enough sleeping pills to her tea, probably used to dosing up women who are half your size. You cover her mouth with your hand and use your other to pull the cuff loose.

The door bursts open as she bites down on the flesh of your hand and you cry out in pain. She uses such force that she breaks skin. Heavy steps make their way to you. Tommy is by your side, picking your hand up to examine, whining when he sees the damage done to you. He isn’t wearing the full mask, just a half one that covers the lower half of his face in dark brown leather. You can see scarring peek over the edges of his mask and across his forehead. His dark hair hangs limply around his shoulders. Tommy looks down at the floor, cheeks gone ruddy under your examination.

You notice the cleaver at the same time she does. It glints, casting spots of light along the walls of the room from how his hand shakes around it.

“Look what you did! You stupid, fat cow!” Lucy’s voice pitches up in fear as she spews venom at you, blaming you for her own actions. You could have saved her but she wouldn’t listen to you.

His head whips to the side, looking down at Lucy with narrowed eyes, shoulders stiff as he tests the weight of the cleaver in his right hand. He reeks of blood and body odor.

She doesn’t stop her insults, the same things you’ve heard for years and you walk backward away from her, cradling your hand to your chest, trying to stop the bleeding. His free hand holds onto your shoulder, squeezing twice before gently nudging you to the side.

You hear scurrying steps and out from behind him comes Hoyt. “Aw, now look what your bitch did!”

“What? You’re gonna stand here with these inbred fucks!” she yowls and arches her body off the bed. “Of course the only man that would even touch you would be a freak.”

Tommy takes four quick steps to the bed and raises the cleaver above his head and with one smooth swing and a terrible wail, plants the blade into her skull. He pulls it out with a sickening crunch, but Lucy still hasn’t given up on life, she hangs on by a thread. Her eye is popped and deflated, liquid oozing out of the socket, her insults turning into unfettered rambling. You vomit. He huffs in satisfaction, letting her writhe around on the bed a little more while Hoyt curses and shouts. The blade comes down once more and ends Lucy’s slurred speech.

#thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt x you #tommy hewitt x reader #fat reader #slasher x reader #leatherface x reader #leatherface x you #my writing #x reader

260 notes · View notes

cyberrfangs · 1 year ago

Text

“Hello, Handsome!”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

IN WHICH. . .

After Nick gets his wisdom teeth removed, you, his boyfriend, decide to go and visit him. What happens when he is still a bit loopy and lays his eyes on you?

WARNINGS: male!reader, use of Y/n, use of pet names (handsome)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

NICK had been texting you all of last night, complainants of his empty stomach due to not being able to eat before the surgery along with his endless protests of not being able to sleep. His head reeling with the thoughts of his upcoming appointment, his own mind betraying him with the agonizing counting down of seconds up until his removal of wisdom teeth.

WELL, now it was the morning of. Unfortunately, you were going to be busy with your own errands the entirety of the morning, unable to go with him and his brothers.

BUT, you found yourself quickly getting finished with your errands, wanting almost nothing else but to be there for your boyfriend while he was going through this surgery. Not out getting your groceries for the week.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

I stepped through the front doors of the dentists office, walking up to the front desk. A humble smile lingering on my lips.

“Hello, good morning! How can I help you?” The middle-aged receptionist asked me sweetly, her ginger, shoulder-lengthened hair moving as she turned to look at me.

“Hello, good morning. I’m here to see Nicolas Sturniolo, he’s getting his wisdom teeth out today?” I said, trying to match her energy as she turned to her computers screen, supposedly checking the bookings for the day.

“Sturniolo, Sturniolo… ah! Here he is!” She beamed, a few clicks coming from her mouse as her eyes darted around the screen. “Yep! So your going to find him in room 238. You’re going to go up to the second floor using the elevator just down that hallway and take one right and one left, then, he should be there.” She said, turning to look at me as she spoke.

“Alright, thank you.” I said politely, turning to walk down the hallway she pointed to, my shoes quietly tapping the carpeted floor with each step I took.

Soon enough, I reached the second floor after stepping off the elevator, Nicks familiar voice ringing through my ears along with a couple laughs. Most likely coming from his brothers.

I turned to the right, then to the left before I came across a room with the numbers, ‘238’, on an engraved plate in front of an arched doorway. Excited, quickening my pace before I finally got to the doorway, standing beneath the arched, painted drywall as I listened to him speak, his voice muffled by the wads of cotton in his mouth.

“Hey, how’s he doing?” I said as I walked over to Chris, him being the closest.

Chris and Matt both looked over at me, amused smiles on their faces as a giggle fell from Chris.

“He’s doing better, still pretty loopy though.” He smiled, looking back at Nick as he talked. The brunette looking around, seemingly confused at the new voice.

“Who’s that? Who else is in here?” He slurred, his speech still muffled as small laughs came from the other two brothers. “What? Why are you laughing?” He asked, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

A small laugh fell from my own lips, walking over into his line of sight as I grinned gladly. “Hey, Nick. How’re you feeling?” I laughed softly, trying not to look directly down at him as I stood nearby Matt, my back towards the window.

He stood still for a moment, his jaw slightly slacked as it was when I got there. “Hello, Handsome!” He beamed, smiling wobbly at me as the other two bursted out into more giggles, a few falling from me.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

It was a few days after the surgery, and Nick was now free of the effects of the laughing gas. Right now, I was sitting with Nick at their dining room table, carefully spoon-feeding Nick a bowl of ice cream, one small scoop after another.

“Has your head been feeling any better lately?” I asked, looking at the bowl of ice cream before up at him. Finding his eyes already on me.

“Oh, it’s been so much better. I feel like I can actually think now that they’re gone.” Nick chuckled, earning yet another smile from me.

“I’m happy to hear that. Didn’t want you to have to deal with that for too long.” I said, scooping up yet another small spoonful of the sweet treat.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

NOTE:

OKAY, so this is my first attempt at writing something in awhile😭😭. It was pretty short and I feel like I could have done better, but, I had little to no idea how to continue it…

MY requests are open! So, feel free to send something in. Whether it be requesting or just saying something.

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

#male reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #x reader #fluff #mlm #gay #sturniolo fanfic #Spotify #male x male

275 notes · View notes

agneslovestheinternet-blog · 3 months ago

Text

i can crave you, but you don't need to know

minho is desperately touch-starved and running a dangerously high fever . you’re an attentive medjack and have no idea the relief you bring him. 1.8k words, 9 min read time, fem!reader, hurt/comfort, trigger warning: vomit

last night, for just a moment, minho wondered if he was going to die. for several days he had been plagued with splitting headaches, constant shakes, and a general feeling of weakness but had foolishly tried to ignore it. he tried to keep doing his job, but illness can catch up with even the fastest of runners.

he had collapsed onto his cot at sunset, utterly exhausted, but was woken up several hours later by a tsunami of sweat and nausea. his internal organs felt like they were boiling, yet the soft breeze of night felt freezing on his clammy skin. he had laid on top of his covers, tremoring violently and praying to any god that might be out there to make the discomfort stop for what felt like an absolutely inordinate amount of time.

in fact, he hadn’t been aware that any time had passed at all until alby had come to unceremoniously bang on his door and demand to know why he wasn’t in the maze yet. his leader had taken one sweeping glance at minho’s writhing form and had immediately called for help to carry him to the medhut.

minho had felt utterly pathetic being hoisted by his friends like an invalid, but he also knew that if he had tried to stand, he would’ve met the ground in a matter of seconds. his transporters had laid him as gingerly as they could on a cot in the back and that was when you had appeared, your cheeks tinged pink from helping the trackhoes in the garden under the morning sun.

you had hastily ordered everyone away and put up the crude privacy canvas, donning an excessively large gas mask that seemed to have found its way into last month’s box by mistake. you had assured him that the level of protection it provided was probably unnecessary, but that it was the only thing you had to shield yourself from whatever virus minho had seemed to contract.

your next set of orders had proved to be excruciatingly humiliating. you knew that minho needed to sweat this fever out a.s.a.p., no matter how uncomfortable it made him. you therefore demanded that he lose his t-shirt and work pants, but the runner’s limbs felt so leaden, he couldn’t remove his clothing himself.

you had helped to pull his shirt over his head, unbutton his pants and remove them, all while minho fantasized about having the strength to run as far as he could from this situation. you were professional, (your hands never lingered on his skin for too long), and incredibly reassuring about the ordeal but the runner couldn’t stop apologizing for being so pitifully weak and for subjecting your eyes to his nearly-naked body.

did minho sometimes dream about a girl removing his clothes? yes, obviously

but did he ever picture that the removal of these clothes would be done by a medjack to keep him from burning alive? no, fucking obviously not

did it also not help that he happened to find this particular medjack quite attractive? no comment

once he had been unpretentiously stripped, that was when the vomiting had started. minho’s face had gone a sickly shade of grey and his voice had warbled a feeble “i think i’m gonna-” before the onslaught of emesis clawed its way up through his throat and into the rusted bucket you had swiftly handed him.

he spent the following hour in a maelstrom of shakes, retches, dizziness and nausea. he had seemed to empty his stomach entirely, losing not only his lunch but his breakfast, dinner and all remaining bile that coated the organ.

it was goddamn awful. minho was fully aware that he only has memories of the past three years of his life, but he would’ve bet any amount of money that that hour of upchucking was one of the worst moments of his whole existence.

and that was minho’s morning routine today; wake up half dead, get dragged to the medhut, get stripped down, throw up until there’s nothing but stomach acid and lose all your dignity.

it’s noon now, and the midday sun is heating the stale air of the medhut to a nearly unbearable degree of warmth. minho watches your deliberate movements in front of the supply closet with slack eyelids drooping over his blown pupils.

his body is still trembling, this time with an array of goosebumps littering his tanned skin. his exterior is quite literally one hundred degrees but minho fully believes he’s slowly freezing to death.

“how are you feeling now?” you ask, crossing the room to kneel at his cot, beads of sweat visible on the wrinkles of worry that crease your forehead. your voice is muffled by the gas mask.

“c-c-cold,” the runner stammers, his bottom lip quivering.

“that’s good. i mean, it feels awful, i’m sure. but if you feel cold that means the fever’s about to break. i can’t give you a blanket until it does, i’m sorry,” you explain sympathetically, your brows knitting together.

“th-that’s ok-k” minho mutters in responses, silently cursing the faltering in his speech.

“do my hands feel warm to you?” you ask succinctly, placing both palms on one of minho’s damp forearms.

the runner’s breath hitches in his chest. there’s no way to describe the feeling that fizzles in his chest other than relief. despite his significant heart rate increase at your proximity, your touch puts him at ease.

“yeah, r-really warm” he replies breathily, trying to prevent a contented sigh from escaping his lips.

“good. earlier you said my hands felt cold,” you nod, rattling the clunky mask in the process. “just relax, minho. unfortunately now this is just a waiting game,”

as this sentence concludes, you rise from your kneeling position, giving minho a distinct feeling of loss as you lift your hands from his arms. he feels better as you reappear in his sightline a moment later, holding a stool. you place it next to his cot and sit down, leaning forward to start up a conversation that will hopefully distract him slightly from his tribulation.

“so, do you like being a runner? or is it just all work for you?” you ask comfortably, placing one of your hands on each of minho’s shoulders.

“um,” minho mutters, feeling his muscles relax under your embrace, “it’s h-hard but, at least i g-get out of here, ya know?”

“yeah, i imagine it must be nice to get away from glade politics during the day,” you chuckle, deliberately running your hands up and down his upper arms.

minho lets out an indulgent exhale against his better judgement. the heat of your soft hands feels heavenly on his skin. you touching him, in such a small, nonchalant way, is causing a wave of comfort to wash over him for the first time today.

he needs this. like, really needs this.

“is this okay?” you ask, your voice pitching higher on the last syllable. you continue to stroke his skin from shoulder to wrist, feeling the goosebumps disappear and reappear as you go.

“yeah, it-it’s fine,” minho murmurs tersely. he lets his eyelids close with a flutter and gets drunk on the pleasant friction.

no one else in the glade would ever touch him like this. with his friends, a brief hug with a loud slap on the back is as far as their penchant for affection goes. in a society run almost entirely by teenage boys, physical contact is absolutely not the norm.

the feeling of your hands on his body seems to soothe an ache in minho’s chest that he didn’t know he was carrying until today. he had no idea how desperately he needed to be caressed gently until you were doing it. and now that you are, he’s already dreading the moment that you’ll eventually stop.

you take the cues presented to you by minho’s body language and stop all attempts at conversation. the moments pass in snug silence that’s punctuated only by the distant rumbling of other glader’s at work outside.

you roam the runner’s arms easily, stopping to lace your fingers in his several times, running circles over the top of his hands with your thumbs. a small smile plucks at his lips that you take note of, but dare not to acknowledge.

minho looks blissful in this instant. beads of sweat dot his skin and he spasms with discomfort periodically, but the look on his face is pure peace. this is exactly why you like being a medjack. boys need comforting just as much as anyone else but they’re often too proud or too poisonously masculine to accept it. it’s usually only here, in the medhut, hidden by a shut door and your firm orders to stay away, that they finally let themselves receive it.

as the minutes pass, you let your hands peruse other parts of his body. you run them down the sides of his torso, up the curves of his neck, and over the muscles in his thighs. you take great care to avoid his chest, hips and groin, not wanting to make him uneasy by inappropriately groping him.

minho is in heaven. he’s almost completely forgotten about his fever and all the pain and embarrassment it’s caused him today. he’s just touch-drunk on you, letting his mind lull itself into a daze, throwing all rational thought out the window.

how did he not realize how badly he wanted this? how did it take him getting this excessively ill to get treated like this? is this even something he could ask you to do in any other context? hey can you just touch me? not even sexually just like, run your hands up and down my arms or something. please? i promise i won’t be a massive fucking creep about it.

he almost shudders in disgust at the thought and resigns himself to the realistic answer which is patently “no”.

minho chooses to believe he’s doing a phenomenal job hiding his obvious euphoria, but even he can’t convince himself he’s being casual when you move your hands to his face.

you slide them carefully up either side of his neck and cup his cheeks gently. four of your fingers rest easily behind each of his blush-inflamed ears while your thumbs rub his cheeks, back and forth, sending ripples of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. his heart is beating so fast he believes it might be at risk of stopping soon. through his haze of utter pleasure, he finally speaks.

“th-thank you. that feels r-really nice,” he stammers, too contact-high to care about the obvious stutters and dopey tone.

“you’re welcome minho,” you smile genuinely. the runner’s heart soars at your pronunciation of his name.

“and don’t worry,” you add tenderly, leaning in closer to whisper your next sentiment inches from his ears, “i won’t tell a soul about this,”

#minho #tmr minho #the maze runner minho #the maze runner #tmr #the death cure #the scorch trials #minho x reader #minho fanfiction #minho imagine #minho fic #maze runner fanfiction #maze runner imagine

62 notes · View notes

janicho88 · 5 months ago

Text

Know When To Let Go Part 1

Pairing- Dean, x Female!Reader.

Word count- 3,889

Warnings- A lot of ANGST, Dean is a bit of jerk, fighting,

Summary- You almost lost Dean to a heart attack, now after one phone call there is another threat from the past that could come between you two.

A/N-I know this isn't one of my ongoing series, but this has been in my drafts for years. The first 2 parts are a rewrite of the Route 66 episode. I'm trying to get back into writing, I promise. It's been so long since I've posted, I'm not even sure what to use for a taglist so I'm going off the last Forever tag list. If you would like to be removed let me know. Not Beta'd, all mistakes are mine

Sitting in the back of Baby, you think back on this last week, it was one of the worst of your life. During the last hunt Dean had been electrocuted which led to him having a heart attack. Doctors didn’t give him much time, you and Sam worked like crazy looking for some way to save him. Finally, Sam found a faith healer, which turned into another case on its own. Now, Dean was in the motel room saying goodbye to the chick he met on this job. Sam was kind enough to bring her back to talk to Dean. No, you weren’t jealous at all, but does he seriously have to meet a girl in every town you stop in?

Your parents had been hunters and would drop you off at Bobby’s, which is where you met Sam and Dean as kids. Dean was a year older, and had taken you under his wing. When you were twelve, your parents never made it back from a hunt. You lived with Bobby until you turned 18, then you started hunting with the Winchester instead of researching at Bobby’s. Sam was like a little brother to you, even if he shot up taller than all of you. Dean was your best friend and as you grew up, he was the man who stole your heart. You never saw him sharing those feelings so you kept them bottled up. This left you standing by and watching, the constant hookups and flirting breaking your heart a little more each time. Sam has known since you were kids there was something between you and Dean, and often pushes you to tell his brother. You could never bring yourself to do it, and in turn, lose Dean altogether.

You were there for Dean through everything, the rough hunts, Sam leaving for Stanford, fights with his dad, then John disappearing a few months ago which led to picking up Sam who then lost Jess. You couldn’t imagine what losing Dean last week would have done to you. When he was in the hospital, you came close to telling him how you felt when he was holding you next to him in the tiny hospital bed. The two of you had gotten fairly close over the last case, but once again someone else had caught his eye.

The three of you stop at a gas station when Dean gets a phone call and walks off. Sam is standing next to the car looking over a map to plan your route to Pennsylvania, where your next case is. Dean starts heading back to the car putting his phone away.

“I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just east of here. We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought,” Sam calls out.

Dean looks out over the car before turning to the two of you, “Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania”

You and Sam look at each other before looking at Dean. “Where are we going then?” You ask.

“I got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, thinks it might be our kind of thing.”

“What? Who’s the friend?” Sam wanted to know.

“Listen, trust me on this, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us.”

There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, “who is the friend Dean?” He just ignores you and hops in the car.

As you were driving Sam again tries to get Dean to tell him who the old friend is. You are headed to Mississippi, which gives you a pretty good idea of who this friend is and you are livid.

Dean finally says the name you are dreading, Cassie. You had been traveling with Dean when he met her in Ohio, and they had gone out for a few weeks. You didn’t like her then and you really didn’t like her the night Dean came back to the hotel drunk and heartbroken because she ended things. She was a stuck up snob, she absolutely crushed Dean.

“She actually had the nerve to call you and ask for help?” you exclaim. Unfeaking believable, and apparently Dean is still pretending he can’t hear you.

“You never mentioned her before,” Sam is telling Dean.

“Really?” When Sam just looks at him Dean continues, “ Yeah, we went out.”

“Like more than one night? You actually dated somebody?”

“What are you not getting here? Dad, Y/N, and I were working a job in Ohio, she was in college.

We went out for a couple of weeks.”

“What happened between you guys?”

“Drop it Sam,” you really didn’t want to dig up this part of the past.

“Was there more going on?” The dense man kept pushing.

“Yeah, they went out. She was a bitch, they broke up, it broke his heart, and I had to fix her mess.”

“Knock it off, Y/N. That was years ago, and in the past.” Now he acknowledges you, just to defend her. He couldn’t still have feelings for her could he?

“Okay. So I’m sorry about her dad, but why would she call you if he was in a car accident? Not really our kinda thing?” It took Sam a minute, “wait, does she know what we do?” Dean didn’t answer staring ahead. “Dude, you didn’t?”

“He actually told the bitch what we really do, Sam.”

“Watch it Y/N.” Dean gives you a glare through the rearview mirror, and you give one right back.

Sam looks at you curiously. You aren’t usually one for hate unless they deserve it.

“Wait. You told her. You told her our secret! Our big family number one rule, we do what we do and we shut up about it. I never said a word about it to Jess for over a year and a half, instead I lied to her. But you tell some girl you only knew a few weeks, everything.” Dean still didn’t answer, just looking straight ahead. “Dean!”

“Yeah, looks like.” He just pushed down on the accelerator ignoring Sam’s bitchface.

“Witch, didn’t deserve to know anything,” you muttered under your breath. Judging by the glare Dean sends back he still heard you.

There isn’t much talking between any of you after that. You arrive in town and Dean parks near the newspaper building and quickly exits the car. Guess she told him where she works.

Walking inside you see three people arguing and unfortunately recognize one of them as Cassie. One of the men leaves and the other walks away when Cassie turns to face the three of you, giving Dean a grin and calling out his name. Dean gives her a small grin. Why is she so happy? She's the one who dumped him. Oh she just made you fuming mad.

“Hey Cassie.” She doesn’t say anything and they just stare at each other before Dean continues. “This is my brother Sam, and you remember Y/N.”

You would be pretty shocked if she didn’t remember you. After calming Dean down and he finally passed out that night, you went to her apartment and bitched her out. Which is probably why she smiled at Sam and ignored you.

“I’m sorry bout your dad,” Dean started.

“Yeah, Me too,” she answers.

Well, she does talk. This staring is driving you nuts. “You called Cassie, apparently you think you need our help.”

“I didn’t know you would still be around.” She quickly glances at you before going back to Dean, “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“Well, I don’t desert the people I care about.”

Dean glares at you as everyone leaves the building and walks back to the Impala to follow her to her mother’s house. When she gets in her car Dean grabs your arm stopping you. “That’s enough out of you! You don’t have to be such a bitch, you know.”

He climbs behind the wheel of Baby, and you roll your eyes before sliding in yourself.

Cassie brings out tea when you arrive, she settles down close to Dean. She tells you all how her mother has been in bad shape, so she was staying at the house with her. She has been very nervous lately and worried about her husband. When Dean asks why, Cassie mentions her dad had been scared and seeing things, like an awful-looking black truck following him. Sam interrupts to ask who the driver was, but apparently her dad never mentioned one. The truck was always appearing and disappearing. Her father’s car had been dented in the accident, and it looks like something big.

You’ve been watching Dean, and have to hide a laugh when he is giving his tea a weird look before quickly putting it aside on the table. You turn your attention back to what Cassie is saying. The sooner you solve this, the sooner you can leave this town.

“Dad sold cars, and was always driving a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on it before the accident. It was raining hard that night, and mud was everywhere. There was one distinct set of muddy tracks which led from dad’s car to the edge where he went over.” She paused trying to gain control of her emotions, “only his tracks.”

“The first accident, he was a friend of your father’s?” Dean asks her.

“Yes, Clayton Soames, they were best friends, and owned the dealership together. Same thing, a dent, no tracks, and the cops said he lost control too.”

Dean wants to know if she has any thoughts on why the two men would have been targets, but she doesn’t. Then Sam asks her if she thought it was the vanishing truck her dad saw.

“When you say it out loud like that, listen, I’m a bit skeptical about this… ghost stuff… or whatever it is you guys do.”

“Skeptical? If I remember right you said I was nuts.”

“If you don’t believe it, why did you bother calling Cassie?” You cut in after Dean. Getting another glare from the man.

“That was back then, I just can’t explain what happened so I called you.” Her and Dean are back to staring at each other, I just might be sick you think.

“Excuse us a second,” Dean gets up and grabs your arm, pulling you out of your seat across from him and to the corner of the room. “If you aren’t actually going to be any help you can leave, and go wait in the car.”

Before you can reply, Cassie’s mom walks in and she gets up to talk to her. Dean walks away leaving you standing alone. She introduces Dean as a friend from college and Sam as his sibling, you get nothing. Sam sees you hurry outside trying to hide the tears in your eyes, he knows Dean’s behavior has to be getting to you. Excusing himself he follows you outside.

“Sam, you are always telling me I need to be honest with Dean about my feelings. This is why I can’t, he’ll choose some chick who hurt him over me, the person who has been there for him for over 15 years.” Dean comes out and you turn away from him quickly.

“I don’t understand what your problem is, but that was unnecessary,” he snaps at you.

The three of you head back to the motel shortly. It is a quiet ride back, you and Dean aren’t speaking to one another, and Sam doesn’t want to get either of you going. Usually, you share a bed with Dean, but that isn’t going to happen tonight. At least the room has a couch, as bad as it looks it is still better than the floor.

Early the next morning Dean’s phone rang waking you up from the little sleep you had gotten. It’s Cassie, apparently someone else died during the night, same way as the others. Dean is hurrying both you and Sam to get ready and out the door. When you arrive at the scene Cassie is talking to one of the men from yesterday. Dean is quick to walk over, you and Sam following behind.

“Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?”

The man looked at Dean then back to Cassie, “Who is this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, and… his friend Y/N, they’re family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd.”

“There is one set of tracks, just one. Nothing points to foul play here.”

“Mayor, the police, officials, everyone is taking their cues from you, if you are indifferent about this then..”

“Indifferent!” He interrupts her

“Mayor, would you close the road if the victims were white?”

“Are you suggesting I’m racist Cassie, I’m the last person you should talk to like that.”

When Cassie tries to find out why, he just tells her to ask her mother and walks away.

From there Dean drives you all back to the motel room to change into fed clothes. While in the bathroom getting ready you can hear the boys talking, well Sam at least trying to get information from Dean about Cassie

“I’ll say this for her, she’s fearless,” Sam starts, Dean just humming. “I bet she kicked your ass a few times. It’s interesting you guys never look at each other at the same time. You look when she isn’t and she checks you out when you aren’t. It’s an interesting observation you know, in an observationally interesting way.”

Just shut-up about her Sam, you think to yourself. “You think we might have more pressing issues here?” Dean finally responds.

“Hey, if I’m hitting a nerve.”

“Y/N, hurry up we’re leaving, let’s go,” Dean yells for you.

You leave for the docks to talk to a few guys who are friends of the victims, Cassie has mentioned they would be there having lunch.

“Excuse me. Are you Ron Stubbins?” You asked, reaching the two men first. When he nods, Dean takes over talking.

“You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?”

“Who wants to know?” Ron counters.

“We’re with Mr. Anderson’s insurance company, got to dot the I’s and cross some T’s.”

“We were just wondering if the deceased had mentioned any unusual experiences recently?” Sam cut in.

The men are looking at the three of you funny so you step in, “Well visions, hallucinations. It’s part of a medical examination kind of thing. This is all standard.”

“It takes three of you to come down? What company did you say you were with?”

“I’m new, these guys are training me.”

“All National Mutual,” Dean cut in. “Can you tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell are you all talking about? You even speaking English?” Ron asks.

“Son this truck, is it a big scary monster looking thing?” The man with Ron cut in.

“Yeah, actually, I think so.” Dean answers him. The man just nods. “What about it?”

“I’ve heard of a truck like that,” he finally answers..

That gets Sam’s attention, “You have, Where?”

“Not a where, but a when, son. Back in the ‘60’s there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“Did they ever catch the guy?” Dean wants to know.

“No, never found him. Hell, not sure if they even really looked. See there was a time, this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you for your time,” you tell the men as the three of you turn to walk back to the Impala.

The guys start talking while you follow behind.

“This truck,” Dean starts.

“Keeps coming up doesn't it?” Sam fills in.

“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the flying dutchman?” Dean asks his brother.

“That ghost ship? It was infused with the captain’s evil spirit, and basically part of him.”

“What if this is like the same thing here? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, that is re-enacting past crimes?”

“Could be, the victims have all been black men.”

“It’s more than that, everything seems to be connected to Cassie and her family.”

“It’s all, all about Cassie,” you mutter under your breath, but apparently not low enough again.

“What is your deal?” Dean turns to you, “you have been a nag ever since I told you we were coming here! All these stupid little comments. What the hell is your problem?”

“You really have to ask me what my problem is? You are so blinded by what you once felt for her. I was there with you Dean, when things ended, I know how much she hurt you. I absolutely hate her, and so did you before yesterday.”

“She hurt me, me, not you. I never asked for you to help me, it’s not up to you how I handle this. My life doesn’t concern you, stay out of it! Grow up Y/N, I’m sick and tired of your attitude.”

“Maybe it’s just time I did get out of it. If I’m gone then I can’t interfere in your life anymore.”

“Maybe that would be a great idea. I’m over the way you’ve been lately.”

“Fine, after this case, I’m out of your hair.”

“Best thing you’ve said all case.”

“Alright guys, let’s just calm down,” Sam tries to intervene before it blows up, turning to Dean, “you go work that angle with Cassie and her family, talk to her”

“Yeah, I will.” Dean throws a glare your way when he answers.

“You might also wanna mention that other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The unfinished business between you two. Dean, what is going on between you?”

You can’t listen so you walk away to calm yourself down.

“Maybe, we were a bit more involved than I said before.” Sam just stares at him. “Okay so a lot more. I told her our secret, what’s out there and what we do. I shouldn’t have.”

“Come on man, everyone needs to open up to someone at some point.”

“No, I don’t. It was stupid of me to get that close. Just look how it ended.”

“Is that what’s wrong with Y/N? How bad this thing ended with you and Cassie?”

“I don’t know what the hell her problem is, but she needs to get over it fast.”

“Did you love her?”

“Y/N? She’s my best friend, dude I can’t.”

“I meant Cassie, but good to know your mind goes there first.”

“No, didn’t. I’m leaving.”

“You did love her, and you dumped her.” Sam watches Dean for a minute, “Wait, she dumped you?”

Dean walked over to the Impala’s door, “Just get in the car, get in the car.”

“What about Y/N?” Sam asks, getting in and looking around for you.

“She can walk back, maybe it will cool her down.”

You walked around the corner trying to calm yourself down and keep the tears at bay. When you are turning to go back you see the Impala speed by. They seriously left you here? Dean really did want you gone. Looking down, you are glad you didn’t grab the heeled shoes, at least this pair wasn't awful for walking.

You turn back around and start the thirty minute walk to the motel. This time you can’t stop the tears from falling. You have loved Dean for years, and been his best friend even longer. You want to be there for Dean. You were best friends, wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? If you are honest with yourself, you would know it was more than that, he was it for you. It was clear lately, you're not the one for him. Apparently you mean nothing to him. Years ago, when he was hurt by Cassie, he changed and didn’t let anyone, even you get as close as he used to. Maybe you should get your own room tonight, and start adjusting to being on your own. This case couldn’t wrap up fast enough for you to get out of this town.

You arrive back at the motel and the Impala is nowhere to be seen. Either they aren’t back yet, or Dean dropped Sam off and went to her. Heading to the room you plan to grab your things and get another room. Opening the door you think you are alone, until Sam walks out of the bathroom.

“Y/N, I’m glad you’re back, I’m sorry Dean left without you.”

“Don’t worry about it Sam, he obviously isn’t.

”

“What is going on with you two?”

“I think we have just had enough of each other.”

“It’s more than that.”

You let out a sigh before turning to sit on the bed. “Dean doesn’t think straight around Cassie, he never has. I don’t want to see him hurt again, because I know she will. He changed the minute he got her call.”

“When are you going to tell my brother you are in love with him?”

“I’m not Sam, I told you last night, he doesn’t share those feelings. Hell, he wants me gone, out of his life, and maybe that isn’t a bad idea.”

“What are you saying?”

“Our friendship is barely hanging on by a thread, I’m not going to cut that final one by telling him how I feel. He wouldn’t wait for this case to even be over before he made me leave. It’s clear I’ve overstayed my welcome with you two.”

“No, you haven’t. I think we all just need a break after this. You and Dean aren’t thinking straight right now.”

“I’m going to grab another room. I don’t think we need the three of us in one tonight.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“It would be better if...”

“No,” Sam cuts you off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, but Dean is with Cassie, we need to figure out how this relates back to her family. I don’t know when he’ll even get back tonight, so don’t worry about another room. Everything will be back to normal in a day or two.”

“Sam, I’m leaving when this case is over. I need to be on my own for a bit. You will always be my not so little, little brother, but I can’t stay around him anymore.

Y/N, come on. It’s just a fight, you guys will be fine in a few days.

“I’m going to hit the shower.” You don’t want him to try and talk you out of this decision.

Walking into the bathroom you quickly turn on the water so Sam won’t hear you cry. After 18 years of friendship this is where you finally part ways from the man who has been there for you since he was 8 years old. Dean doesn’t want you around and you can’t keep watching him sleep with all those other women. The knife in your chest twists a little more every time. Getting out of the shower you get ready for bed, sleeping on the couch again because you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep in the bed that smells like Dean, even if it would be the last time. You know Sam is asleep and you don’t fight the tears that surface once again.

Part 2-coming soon

Thank you for reading!

Taglist-@winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie

@deanwanddamons @emoryhemsworth @atc74 @sandlee44

@akshi8278 @fantasydevil2002 @writercole @440mxs-wife

@nervousfandom @lunarmoon8 @thoughts-and-funnies @katelyn–renee

@lyarr24 @pineapleavocado @siospins2 @deans-spinster-witch

@ariesbabe1993 @graciebear73 @stixnstripesworld @spnbaby-67

@treat-winchesterswith-kindness @charmed-asylum @winchestergirl2 @jawritter

@hobby27 @amyzombie1013 @sexyvixen7 @leigh70

@krazykelly @nancymcl @candy-coated-misery0731

@kmc1989 @supraveng @hearteyes-j2

#supernatural #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean angst

64 notes · View notes

pplatonic · 7 months ago

Text

hey tptm-ers. the speech on the ??? page felt like just a bit too much to request of in hellsitegenetic's askbox out of nowhere so i did it myself, count this as an archive of the text i guess

Despite everything, I don't believe you. you can't understand how I feel or what I've been through. Maybe life just isn't for some people, and I'm one of those people.

Stop. Stop talking for once in your life and listen. You think you’re the exception? You think you’re special? That you are, somehow, the only person in human history to escape the bounds of being a social animal? You don’t think that’s conceited? Unreasonable?

You engage in wishful thinking for the diminished soul. You’re acting out fantasies of emotional masochism. You’re self-fulfilling the prophecy. Nobody is asking this of you but you. Nobody else is slobbering over your grief, your pain, your misery, but you. It’s unbecoming of you. Do you know what you look like from the outside, when you ask to be unloved? To let go of everything good? Because you sure as hell don’t look like the person you think you are. Your frugality is selfish, your lack of connection to the real world a cry for help in itself. The people willing to love you, to want you, to cherish you; they watch you do this.

We are no different from deer traveling in groups, fish latching onto bigger fish, egrets removing ticks from the skin of cattle for food. Yes, even in this age, you cannot fight the natural need to be loved, to prosper.

If you want to kill yourself, I can’t stop you. You have control over your own future, your own body, mind, and soul. Do whatever you please. But if you’re going to keep living, please, for your own sake, stop fucking living like this. You don’t have much time. You know this. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life devoted to loneliness, kneeling at the altar of your suffering?

Talk to your doctor about this. Find a local group that caters to your interests. Make a friend. Whatever you do, do something to prove to yourself that you’re still here. Every interaction has meaning if you let it. Everyone is connected. You can still do your part, you know. It’s not too late. Love is everywhere. It’s in the organs that keep you alive, in the synapses communicating these words to your brain, in the ache of hunger in your stomach, in the purple and yellow and green of a bruise healing, in the sound of blood rushing when you cover your ears. It’s all within you, asking to be shown, to be appreciated. It’s time you started listening. Please. If you listen to anything in your fucking life, please, I’m begging you, let it be this.

String identified:

t tg, . ca t ta at tg. a t t, a t.

t. t tag a t. t t t? t ca? Tat a, , t a t t ca g a c a aa? t t ta cct? a?

gag tg t. actg t ata ta ac. g t c. ag t t. g g, a, , t. t cg. at t t, a t? T t g tg g? eca a t t t a. gat , ac cct t t a a c t. T g t , t at , t c ; t atc t.

a t tag g, atcg t gg , gt g tc t catt . t ag, cat t t ata t , t .

at t , cat t. a ct t, , a. at a. t gg t g, a, a, t cg g t. t a c t. t. a at t t t t t , g at t ata g?

Ta t c at t. a ca g tat cat t tt. a a . at , t t t tat t. tact a ag t t. cct. ca t at, . t t t at. . t ga tat a, t a ccatg t t a, t ac g tac, t a a g a ag, t g c a. t a t , ag t , t acat. t t tat tg. a. t t atg cg , a, ggg , t t t .

Closest match: "Zebrafish DNA sequence from clone CH211-247J24 in linkage group 21, complete sequence"

It is a zebrafish / Danio rerio :)

#tptm #the post traumatic manifesto #weevildoing

77 notes · View notes

thatacotargirl · 1 year ago

Text

Shadows and Surprises (6)

Part 6 of Azriel x Reader fanfic!

Summary: Azriel meets y/n at Rita's and spends a single night of passion with you before heading your separate ways. Only, the Mother had different ideas.

Warnings: none.

Tag list - @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @minnieoo @st4r-girl-official

@courtofjurdan @mirandasidefics @lilah-asteria @nyxbranwenn @impossibelle

@mybestfriendmademe @hauntedstudentobservationus @julesofvolterra @acourtofbatboydreams @rogersbarnesxx

@skylarkalchemist @sidthedollface2 @aehllitas-blog @fullmoon-94

Azriel's POV

"There is nothing that needs to be done, Azriel".

Rhysand was trying to reassure the pacing Azriel that you were, indeed, safe in Velaris. He had provided you with unconditional refuge in the city in case your father or uncle tried to have you removed back to Illyria.

"She has refuge here, and they have no claim to her anyway. She is safe in Velaris, as is the child".

Azriel still felt the panic deep in his bones, and felt them shake when he was reminded of his child. It wasn't only you that needed protection now, it was his sweet unborn baby.

"Neither Darius nor Devlon can do anything about this", Cassian reassured him, but it didn't stop Azriel's pacing.

"We need to do something about this Rhys, he injured her, he cut off her wings".

"Az, believe me, if we could go and take them to the Hewn City right now I'd do it in a heartbeat - but we need to do this strategically. And we can't hurt y/n in the process".

Azriel knew Rhysand was right, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. However, fighting with his brother wasn't going to help him either, and he needed all the support he could get right now, even if he found it hard to admit that. He let his head sag in resignation that, right now, he could do nothing more.

"I need to speak with you both, actually".

Azriel raised his head to look at his High Lord, who looked paler and more withdrawn than usual.

"Feyre is in Velaris".

Y/N's POV

After another morning spent training with Cassian before he went for a meeting with Rhysand, you were exhausted. Cassian was careful to make sure you stayed within your level of comfort and kept hydrated, but there was no denying that being pregnant and trying to exercise with an Illyrian warrior was a tough feat.

You walked through the House of Wind to find it surprisingly quiet; with Azriel having joined Cassian in Rhysand's office for the meeting. It was a rare opportunity to find yourself in peace and quiet, with the three males doting on you every time you walked into a new room, so you figured you'd make the most of it and enjoy a quiet afternoon in the living room with a book.

You walked in and froze. There, sat on one of the sofas, was a female you had never seen before and who looked equally as petrified to have run into you.

"Hi, I'm y/n", you offer, keeping your distance from the female whose fear scented the air so strongly you had to hold back a gag.

"Feyre", she replied.

"Are you here with?....." you gesture behind you, trying to figure out why she was currently sat in the living room.

"Rhysand".

"Ah".

You avoid each other's eyes as you stand in awkward silence, not knowing how best to address the situation. It was at that moment that your unborn baby decided to make a move for the pair of you, and gave you a gentle kick. It didn't feel like much, maybe just a gas bubble, but one discernible enough that you knew it was the life inside you. You gasp and your hand flew to your stomach. Although your belly was hidden under the jumper you were wearing, you knew the scent of pregnancy was noticeable to everyone, and you watched as Feyre jumped into action.

"Are you ok?", she asked, reaching out towards you but not quite touching you.

"I think, I think the baby moved, maybe, or maybe it was gas, or both? I don't know I don't know what it's meant to feel like", you laugh as you hear your voice getting higher and higher with excitement and panic. Moments like this made your pregnancy feel so much more real.

You looked at Feyre, whose eyes had softened and fear had dissipated. Her hand was still outstretched in the air, so you decided to reach forward to take it and place it on your bump. At that moment, your baby decided to throw in another kick, and Feyre gasped as she too felt the very, very tiny flutter of your stomach.

"You're the first person to feel the baby kick", you smile at her. She returns with a warm smile of her own, her hand still resting on your stomach.

It is sometime later, the two of you sat engrossed in conversation, when the males walk into the room. You peer around the edge of the sofa and see Rhysand standing tall, shoulders back, face pale. He looked worried, stressed, and you can only guess it is because of Feyre. You giggle, the mighty High Lord being taken for a loop by the small female sat opposite you.

"I see you've met Feyre", he says, walking to stand in front of you both. Azriel and Cassian follow.

"I have, she's wonderful!", you exclaim, giving Feyre a beaming smile, which she gladly returns. Feyre looks at the Illyrians with apprehension, but you're pleased that the scent of her fear is nowhere to be found - if not for her, but for your own nausea.

Rhys looks pleased that you seem to have taken Feyre under your wing.

"Feyre will be staying here for the foreseeable future".

You sense a tension in the atmosphere, but you don't pry. It's not your place if they don't wish to talk about why Feyre is here and why Rhysand is standing before you both looking constipated. Cassian must notice the tension too, because he jumps into the conversation.

"Dinner, anyone?"

Mor wasn't around, so dinner was solely for the 3 males, you, and Feyre. You deliberately sat Feyre at the edge of the table with only yourself next to her, if only to comfort her. Azriel sat opposite you, Rhys opposite Feyre, and Cassian at the head of the table. Conversations were kept light, no mention of Feyre's sudden appearance in Velaris was made, nor any mentions of yours and Azriel's relationship. Feyre hadn't asked who fathered your baby, and you had no idea how to explain the situation, so you were grateful it hadn't come up.

You were talking to Feyre about a book you had both loved, when you felt a wisp of something in your hair. You reach your hand up and pull it back with surprise, as a shadow had wrapped itself around your wrist. You looked at Azriel, who looked equally as shocked.

Suddenly, a flurry of shadows entangled themselves in your hair, around your limbs, and brushing up against your stomach. You could see Azriel trying to draw them back, becoming more and more frustrated at their ignoring him, and you couldn't help the laugh that came out. Watching the notorious Spymaster of the Night Court flustered because his shadows were disobeying him was funnier than you cared to admit. You could see Rhys and Cassian trying to stifle their laughs, and Feyre watching intently as the shadows drew your hair up into different hairstyles and played with your necklace.

"They're ok, Az. Let them be", you cooed, letting the shadows dance around your fingers. Azriel gave up trying to command them back to him, and instead indulged in watching the way you interacted with them, almost like you were playing with them.

A few darted off out of the room and came back a few moments later holding onto a purple paper bag. You saw the way that Azriel paled and lunged for the bag, but the shadows dodged, dropping the bag on your lap instead. You looked up to Azriel, his eyes wide, and thanked the shadows for bringing it to you.

"Is this for me?", you asked. He nodded, but you could clearly see he was uncomfortable. You decided he'd been through enough tonight.

"Thank you, and thank you sweet shadows" you cooed at them, placing the bag on the floor. If it was a gift, Azriel clearly wasn't ready for you to have it, so you weren't going to embarrass him by opening it at the table in front of everyone.

"Dessert?" you asked, smiling at Feyre, trying to change the conversation. Azriel looked at you gratefully as Cassian pounced on the chocolate marble cake that appeared on the table.

You had subtly handed the bag back to Azriel at the end of dinner before departing for your bedroom. You were even more exhausted now, having not been able to get in an afternoon nap. You showed Feyre to her room, gave her a few of your favourite books that she hadn't read and a glass of water, and had settled in to your own bed. Just as you went to switch off your light, you heard a knock at the door.

"Come in", you called, thinking it might be Feyre. The Illyrian wings that filled the doorway told you otherwise.

"Az?" you asked, sitting up in bed. Azriel was standing in the door, clutching the bag in his hand.

"You can have this now. I didn't know when to give it to you, but I guess the shadows want you to have it today". He handed you the bag and you took it happily.

"They've never done that, you know".

"Done what?"

"Disobeyed me to go to someone else. They've never done that. They seemed enthralled by you".

You chuckle.

"Maybe because they know I'm carrying your baby?". Azriel looked away wistfully, before nodding.

"Yeah, that must be it".

You pulled the tissue paper out of the bag before your hands touched soft fabric. You pulled out a small bundle of black and unfurled it to reveal a teeny, tiny baby grow. The back had small slits to fit small wings and it adopted on a celestial pattern - with the words "Our Little Star" in silver embroidery on the front.

"I know you wanted the first piece of clothing the baby had to be special, I hope I didn't overstep".

The tears that had lined your eyes now spilled, and you opened your arms to engulf him in a hug.

"You didn't, Az. This is beautiful, thank you". You stayed like that for a few minutes, holding each other, before Azriel stepped back.

"I'll let you get some sleep".

"Ok, thank you again Az".

He smiled and left your bedroom. Your eyes fell to the beautiful baby grow and you held it to your chest, feeling more love than you had ever felt in your entire life. As if feeling it too, you felt another little flutter, and smiled to yourself.

You carefully placed the baby grow on your dresser and settled back down, your eyes heavy. As you lulled into a deep sleep, you felt the gentle caress of a shadow stroking your arm and, once you were asleep, it nuzzled itself into your open hand.

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger x reader #acotar fic

279 notes · View notes