#i hope that monster of a response was helpful! :P

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

slipping through my fingers

pairing: ex-husband! leon x ex-wife! reader

tags/cw: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, p-in-v (unprotected), breeding kink, chris and rose make an appearance, exes to lovers, periodic pov switch

summary: previously absent-father leon comes back into reader's life when he decides to step-up as a father to their daughter, june

a/n: this is a commission for @mikadayo !

wc: 5.3k

taglist:

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It was supposed to be over. It was over. You finalized your divorce with Leon and got full custody of your daughter, June. It's hard being a single mom, but making the choice to become one was an easy one. You'd do anything for your little girl, and that includes making sure she has a stable home life, which was something she'd never get with Leon.

He had his chances to see her. You were willing to let him have her on Father's Day and New Years Eve, even Spring Break once, but he never took you up on your offers. Work was always too busy.

Whenever your daughter asks about Daddy, you tell her, "he's busy working to make sure the world stays safe."

"He's gonna make sure there's no monsters under my bed ever."

"That's right, honey. No monsters can get you because your dad is gonna make them go away."

She doesn't know about Umbrella, STRATCOM, the DSO, or why he was sick for a little while and had to go to a special facility before he could come home. ‘Parasite’ is not a word in her vocabulary.

But one fateful Saturday morning, Leon - older and more sober - stands at your doorstep.

With a coffee mug in your hand and slippers on your feet, you open your front door, assuming it's a neighbor who got your mail by mistake or a kid selling girl scout cookies. But, luck isn't on your side today.

"Good morning," he says, all cheery and nonchalant.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

June - who seems to have phenomenal hearing this morning - chimes in, "that's a bad word, ."

"I'm an adult, so I can say bad words sometimes," you say, hoping it will be enough of a response for her, but her nosiness prevails.

Peering out from behind you, she realizes who you're talking to, and pushing past you to see him, she exclaims, "Daddy!"

"Hi, sweetheart," he says, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

Full of excitement, she talks a mile a minute. "I missed you so much. I have to show you my Barbies and my science project and - Oh! we're having pancakes for breakfast because  makes them on Saturdays with chocolate chips and-"

"Slow down, June bug," he says with a smile identical to hers. "Let's do one thing at a time. First we have to make sure that your mommy is okay with me hanging out with you today."

"Of course she is!" June says, turning to you. "Right, mommy?"

You sigh. "Of course I am." You make a face that only Leon can recognize as annoyance. Not anger, just irritation. You wanted him to make an effort, right?

Leon listens eagerly to everything about My Little Pony and the ant farm at school while you clean up breakfast and make yourself slightly more presentable. Leon looks better than you'd like to admit, and whether it's to spite him or to impress him, you decide you need to look decent in front of him too.

"Can I talk to daddy for a minute, honey?" you ask.

"Okay, but only for five minutes because we're gonna watch a movie."

You can't help but laugh at the fact that she tries to hog her father - your ex-husband. A man who was once yours, who you used to love. 

"Okay five minutes," you tell her, as you give Leon a nod in the direction of the kitchen.

From the kitchen, you drag him out the back door, onto the porch and you can see in his face that he is prepared for the talking-to that he's about to get.

"You can't just show up unannounced,” you whisper-yell at him in the way that parents do. 

"I know, but I was in the area and-"

"No. You should've called me."

"I did, but it went to voicemail."

"When?"

"A few hours ago."

"I was asleep."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I always sleep in on Saturdays.” It irks you how he forgets the simplest things about you, and you almost let yourself get consumed by the urge to keep arguing, but then you remember why you’re both standing here. “This isn't even about me. You can't do this to her."

"Do what? Hang out with my daughter? She's happy. Look at her."

"She's happy now, but what about when you leave? What about when I have to calm her down when she's crying because she misses you?"

"Just tell her I'll be back."

"But that's not fucking good enough, Leon! That doesn't mean anything. You've been gone for years."

"What do you want me to do? Leave now?"

You peek inside to see your baby girl smiling to herself.

"No."

"We'll figure something out, babe, I swear."

"Do not 'babe' me. We're not doing that."

"Okay, sorry."

You can't tell if his ‘sorry’ is an apology or a way to get you off his ass for the time being.

Leon knows this isn't the ideal scenario, but he prays that the old adage, 'better late than never' proves itself to be true.

He really is sorry. 

Sorry. It never comes out quite right, his mouth is still learning how to mold itself to fit that word. He hopes the look in his eyes gives way to the fact that he means it. 

Regardless, you cut your lecture short after peering in the window at June who is patiently waiting in front of the TV for him to come back.

Leon rarely ever relaxes. His job puts him constantly on edge, waiting for the industry's latest bioweapon to tear his head off. But, with June in his lap, the two of them both fall asleep while Mulan remains on the TV.

You wake June up for lunch, which stirs Leon as well - he never likes having his sleep interrupted but when he finds out you've made macaroni and cheese (and he's allowed to have some), all is forgiven.

That afternoon, Leon feels you staring him down like he's an inmate and you're a prison guard. He feels a little guilty, though he's committed no crimes. He shouldn't be here, he should be home, away from the sacred space you've created for his little girl. If he loves her, he'll let her go.

No. He said that about you, and so far, it hasn't worked.

If he loves his little June bug, he'll hold her tight.

So, Leon comes back the next weekend, announced, like you asked, though maybe he should've been a bit more specific about his intentions.

"Are you guys gonna watch a movie?" you ask. "Or are you gonna show dad your new toy?"

"Actually," Leon cuts in, "I was thinking about taking her to the fair." 

Leon’s not a man who typically walks around with a mind full of adventures - you were always the one to plan the dates you went on together. This idea came to him when he looked up 'things to do near me with children', and found an article that mentioned the county fair. 

"The fair?" You look apprehensive. 

You were never this way with him, you would go anywhere with him - at least, in the beginning, back when you were absolutely smitten with him. God, he misses those days. 

But, maybe Leon should have considered the concerns that you might have about him taking June to the fair. However, the website he consulted didn't give him any instructions on 'how to convince your ex-wife to let you bring your child here' - the only directions consisted of an address that he could type into his GPS. 

"Yeah, I heard it's this weekend and I think it would be a fun time, you know, we could ride some rides, get cotton candy…"

"Cotton candy!" A voice from behind Leon calls.

"I'm worried about June getting on those rides, I mean, they can't be entirely safe."

"I promise, I'll make sure she's safe."

"Mommy, please." It seems to be June who convinces you, though Leon does mimic her pouty puppy dog face.

"Fine, but you need sunscreen, and I don't want you eating too much junk food." Leon tries his best to keep up with all your instructions, though he misses some, in particular, he forgets your insistence that he "keeps you updated the whole time."

"Got it," Leon tells you, overconfident in his listening skills when he's got an excited little kid pulling him out the door.

"And you better not be taking her on that bike, Leon Kennedy!"

"Can I have your car keys?" he asks sheepishly.

You grab them off the counter and hand them to him. "If you crash my car so help me God-"

"I won't." Not while his girl is with him. He drives under the speed limit with her buckled in her carseat. (You had to help him with that, and honestly, you seemed grateful that he asked you, rather than doing it himself and risking messing it up.) Leon knows you think he’s a fuck-up. 

The fair is a 5 year-old's dream. (Also, a grown man's dream, though Leon would be reluctant to admit that.)

"Can we get a funnel cake, daddy?"

“Hell yeah, we can."

"Mommy says 'Hell' is a bad word."

"She's right. I'm sorry for saying it." Maybe you'll accept a funnel cake as an apology, he thinks.

June gasps, and Leon's protective arm flies out of his jacket pocket to wrap around her, stopping in its tracks when she says, "they have fried Oreos!"

"They make those?" Leon has died and gone to heaven, he's sure of it.

The fried Oreos taste 'fucking amazing', though Leon stops himself from saying that in front of his daughter. They're truly the pinnacle of American cuisine.

The fair is like a casino, both in the sense that it drains your wallet and makes you forget how long you've been there. They have the spinning teacups, the petting zoo, the carousel, everything a child's mind could dream up.

"I remember your mom and I kissed at the top of one of these once," he tells June when they're on the ferris wheel.

"Ew! You could've given her cooties!"

"Cooties? You still believe in those?"

"Yeah, if a boy touches you, you can get it."

On second thought, cooties absolutely exist. His little girl isn't having a boyfriend until she's 25.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot - you can get it when you're a kid, but I was an adult when I kissed your mom, so we didn't get cooties."

He spares her the details of what really happened on that ferris wheel. His daughter will never hear that story.

That Saturday is one of the best days of Leon's life - second only to June's birth.

That is, until he drops her off at home. You are pissed like he's never seen before.

"Oh, you're alive!" You take June in your arms and kiss her on the cheek.

You do not look as happy to see him. "Leon, I was worried sick about y- her!"

He hears the almost slip of the tongue. You. You worried about them both. You worried about him.

"I'm sorry." And, he means it, really.

"Mommy, it's okay," June assures you. "Daddy won me this." She hands you a teddy bear.

"How'd he do that?"

You look at him, almost suspicious, but he gives you a proud smile, and says, "I won the game where you have to throw darts at the balloons."

"No way! Those are rigged."

"Nope. You're just not as good at them as I am." They probably are rigged but Leon's job has given him superior aim and reaction speed.

Your reluctant smile says you're impressed with his skill.

And, that smile widens when he says, "I got you something too."

"Oh yeah?" The look you give him is one he’s always treasured. He’s always dreamed about making your eyes light up like that again.

"Here." He hands you a styrofoam takeout box, and watches you as you open it.

"Funnel cake!" Though you always say June got her smile from him, he swears you smile exactly like she does.

A funnel cake? How are you supposed to stay mad at him like this?

When Leon is about to exit after saying his goodbyes to June, you stop him. "I'm gonna go put her to bed, and then we're going to have a talk."

A lecture. Not the kind of ‘talk’ he likes.

"Mommy, I want daddy to read me a story."

Leon might have a convincing face, one that works on you nine times out of ten, but June's works ten times out of ten.

You give Leon a pleading look - something you wouldn't have expected to do since your divorce - and he says, "yeah, of course."

"I expect you to be good," you tell June when you hug her goodnight. "You know the rules: brush your teeth, put on your pjs, one story, and then lights out."

She nods, though you expect her to push the envelope. And, you expect Leon to cave to her wishes. But you have a date with that funnel cake, and maybe even a beer - you never drink when June is around, but you realize, when you find one in the back of the fridge out in the garage, that you're beginning to trust Leon. If, God forbid, you ever got even the slightest bit drunk, you know he could take care of June. 

Leon finds you on the porch with a half-finished beer and an empty box where the funnel cake used to be. You smile like a child in that you're completely unashamed, or unaware even, of the ring of powdered sugar around your mouth. 

"I thought you'd save some for me," he says. 

"You thought wrong."

"It's kinda funny that you're the one with the beer in hand. It feels like it was always the other way around."

It’s not that funny at all. 

"That's 'cause it was."

He pauses - you half expect him to apologize, but he doesn't. 

"How was she?"

"Good. She fell asleep while I was reading to her."

"The first book?"

"Are there usually more books?"

"Unbelievable! She always begs me for 'one more story', and I'm such a softie. I always give in."

He laughs. A beautiful laugh. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

"She was probably tired from her long day out." You give him the 'you're in trouble' look that June never gets. 

"I'm sorry. We were having a great time."

"I almost called the police, Leon. I thought you two had died."

"Died? She's safe with me. Always." He pats his hip where Matilda resides, holstered under his jacket.

"You brought a gun into my house? Into my baby's bedroom? I don't want that thing anywhere near her!"

"Chill. The safety's on, and she can't get to it without getting past me, and I've got fast reflexes."

"Oh yeah? I could just-" You reach for the gun, but he grabs your wrist. Then, you think you can catch him off-guard with the other hand, but he's one step ahead, immediately grabbing your other wrist before it gets anywhere near the gun. 

"No, you can't."

"You expected me to do it."

"I expected the second hand after the first. I'm just paying attention."

"Let go of my wrists."

"Will you behave?"

You scoff. "Yes." 

You don't want to 'behave', you want Leon's hands pinning your wrists to the bed. You shake off that thought quickly.

To 'prove that you can outsmart him', you try to grab his gun again when he lets you go. Of course, he stops you. You've never gotten past him. Not when you used to 'play-fight', not when you tried to sneak up on him, not now.

"What do you think you're doing?" He's trying so hard not to laugh, you can see his lip twitching. 

"Fine. You proved your point."

But he doesn't let go yet. "Do you wanna know what I told June earlier?" he whispers. 

"What did you tell her?"

"When we were on the ferris wheel," he enunciates every syllable in 'ferris wheel' and you already know where it's going before he says it, "I told her we kissed on one of those a long time ago."

He must see your worry because he adds, "don't worry, I didn't say anything more about what happened."

About how his hands were under your skirt, and his fingers were knuckle-deep inside you.

“You better not have told her about that."

"I've always kept it a secret. Just between us... and probably the guy operating the ride and people waiting in line who saw your shaky legs and blushing face."

"Shut up!"

"That was my line." He lets go of your wrists, and you're too stunned to do anything. 

It becomes a routine - Leon comes and sees June on the weekends. You know it's going to end one day. He'll leave you both behind. He always does. Sometimes it's work, sometimes it's other things (though you always tell June it's work). 

You wait for him the next Saturday. You've never really set a specific time for Leon to come over because that would be setting expectations, and you've learned that with him expectations just lead to being let down. But, he's later than usual. The pang of anxiety is a familiar one. 

Finally, he shows up, and when he pulls into your driveway, you nearly cry. You care because June cares. At least, that's what you tell yourself. 

"I think my little girl should come stay with me for the weekend," Leon says, and you wonder if saying it in front of June is a strategic move on his part. You can say no to him, but not to her. 

She jumps up and down with joy. You'd think she was just told she's being taken to Disney World, not her dad's apartment. 

"I don't know about this..." You try to shut the idea down. "I mean, you don't even have a carseat, Leon, how can I expect you to have a toothbrush for her? Do you even know how to comb her hair? And, what about her allergies?"

"She's allergic to peanuts and bees, I remember. Her blood type is A positive. She likes watermelon-flavored toothpaste. And Chris told me what shampoo he buys for Rose and how he does her hair."

You're impressed to say the least. "And what about-"

"If I need anything, I'll call you. Okay?"

"I expect you to call me anyway."

"June bug, will you remind me to call  if I forget?"

"Yes," she says, standing up straight like a soldier. 

Would you normally trust your five year-old to remember something crucial? No. But, you know she'll want to say goodnight to you. You're surprised she's willing to stay over at someone else's house, let alone excited about a sleepover. She's always been attached to you. You and June have existed as a duo since she was born. 

It takes you at least an hour to pack everything. You fill two suitcases - and admittedly, it is hot to watch Leon carry them both to the car with no trouble. 

But that rush of arousal lasts for two minutes maximum. You watch them drive away and realize June left without hugging you goodbye. She usually hangs onto your leg like a koala bear and you have to peel her off of you. You only got a wave from Leon. 

It's like her first day of kindergarten all over again - when you teared up at the bus stop watching her climb onto the school bus. 

The only thing that gives you peace of mind is that your baby girl is probably over the moon right now.

She is, and so is her dad. 

There's a singular moment of nervousness on June's part when Chris comes over with Rose. His giant frame and resting face can be intimidating to adults, so he's like the boogeyman to children. Ironic because he's a good father figure, one Leon looks up to. 

Leon tries to coax June out from behind him where she hides from Chris, but the one who successfully gets her to feel safe enough to do so is Rose, who is only a bit older, and a bit taller than June. 

“Don't worry. He's not scary. He fights monsters."

"My dad fights monsters."

"He also plays Barbies sometimes."

Leon stifles a laugh. 

"Let the record show that I play as Ken," Chris insists.

June comes out of hiding to announce that, "My dad is Chef Barbie."

"Is that right?" Chris says, shooting Leon a look that says, 'who's laughing now?'. 

"Well, I would've been Lifeguard Barbie but she was already taken."

The afternoon consists of Lifeguard Barbie saving Chef Barbie, who cannot swim, and ends up in the hospital where she is taken care of by Doctor Barbie - played by Rose - and with a grand finale and a costume change, Chef Barbie and Ken get married. 

Dinner is pizza, which Leon did not expect to be as much of a hit as it was. You'd think he cooked a fancy steak dinner if you saw the look on June's face. 

"Mom never orders pizza at home!"

"Really?"

"She says it's bad for you."

"Let's not tell her about it then."

They also agree not to mention the ice cream sundaes that are served for dessert. 

Both girls fall asleep in front of the TV. Chris carries Rose to the car as she sleeps soundly in his arms. He's become accustomed to that, but it's new for Leon to get to tuck his baby girl into bed like this. He can't remember the last time he carried her. 

When the heartwarming feeling subsides a bit, he realizes he forgot to call you. Shit. He's going to be in trouble. 

Leon calls you from his bedroom, so he doesn't wake June. 

You sound eager to hear from them both, and he feels awful when he hears your disappointment that you're only going to get to talk to him. 

"Do you want me to wake her up?"

"No, no. If she's asleep, don't. I'm just glad you guys had fun."

"We did. Thank you for letting me take her."

"Yeah... Goodnight, Leon."

And, he can't hear the sadness in your voice, so he doesn't understand why you end the phone call so quickly. He expected you to want a rundown of the day, but sleep comes over him and he brushes it off. 

It was a bad choice to watch Mamma Mia that night. You have to pause the TV to grab the tissues when they get to Slipping Through My Fingers. It hits a bit too close to home.

Why aren't you like Meryl Streep? Would it be better if you didn't know who June's father was and you moved to a small town in Greece? 

Realistically, no. 

But halfway through the tub of ice cream you devour, you're convinced you've done it all wrong. 

You were the strict parent but you were also the fun parent because you were the only parent. Then, Leon comes around and swoops your daughter up - and with his ever-present charm, becomes the light of her life.

It's the next weekend when your heart is truly broken- when June is supposed to go to your parents house for the weekend. She usually loves staying with them because they live by the lake and she's finally old enough to swim - with floaties of course. Often, it takes some convincing to get her out the door as she's apprehensive to leave her mom behind, but this time, she says something different. 

"I wanna go see daddy," she cries. 

"You'll see daddy next weekend. Plus, you had me yesterday."

"I don't want you, I want daddy!"

Though she's the child, you're the one who sobs like a baby. You consider calling your own mother to calm you down. 

You don't even feel like yourself anymore, you don't feel like June's mom anymore. the woman your daughter looked up to, the person she loved more than anyone. Now, you feel like you're no more than a woman who lives in the same house, a woman who drives her to soccer practice and packs her lunches. Dad takes her on adventures and lets her stay up late. Mom is an evil dictator who enforces bedtimes.

You gave Leon a key to your house the weekend before. A familiar one, one with a keychain that used to be his. He used to live here. He missed it. He missed you. 

He comes over on the weekends for you both, though it takes him time to fully accept that. Leon remembers you saying that June would be at her grandparents this weekend, but pretends that he doesn't. 

When he arrives he lets himself in, and he finds you crying in the kitchen. He's not sure whether to feel better about being here or worse. He wants to cheer you up, but he worries he'll fuck up somehow. He usually does. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, though he knows he'll need to do more than that to drag the truth out of you. 

And he's right. You respond with a simple lie. A classic. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I just had a hard week at work, that's all."

He places a hand on your shoulder, comforting but begging you to turn to him. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

"You're not here for me. You're here for her. And that's all right, Leon. That's how it's supposed to be. You two still have a special relationship, but us - we have nothing anymore."

"That's not true. We might not be married anymore, but you're still my daughter's mother, and I'm still your daughter's father. We have the best baby girl. Both of us."

He looks into your eyes when he says it.

"And, I wish I could take credit for her being the greatest child I've ever met, but you're the one who raised her - up to this point."

He can tell that the last phrase throws you off. You don't cut him off, you don't try to push him away. 

"I want to be involved. I know I fucked up. Big time. I fucked up catastrophically. But, I want to be there for my girl… and for my other girl, if she'll let me."

"I'm not your girl."

But you were, and the spark is still there. The lack of passion was not your reason for divorce. Your immense love is what kept you together for so long. You were - are - head-over-heels for him. Love - it's incurable.

Now, Leon recognizes the situation for what it is, and swears he'll step up and be a father. But people lie sometimes. Leon has a thousand times now. 

Something in the back of your mind says, one more time. Hope, delusion, optimism. 

And, June, as much as her words hurt you, you've never seen her so happy. 

You explain it all to Leon while he holds you in his arms like you're his baby girl. Because you were. Because you are. 

"She doesn't love me anymore."

"She loves you so much. Just because she loves me, doesn't mean she doesn't love you. She's got a lot of love in her heart. She's a sweet girl like her mom."

Somehow, he always manages to make you feel flustered even when you're crying. 

"You're easy to love," he whispers. 

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes, I'm saying it. I lo-."

You kiss him to cut him off before he can say it. You don't want to have to say it back - because you'd be telling the truth, and sometimes the truth is hard. 

At first, he doesn't kiss you back, and you think you've fucked up, but for once, you've caught him off-guard. 

You make out like teenagers on your living room couch until Leon insists on carrying you upstairs. "I don't care if we don't go any further than this, but I'm old - and I want to take you to bed, in one way or another."

With Leon, it never stops at just making out even though you know he'd never pressure you to do more. He makes you feel insatiable. 

"Fuck, baby," Leon groans. "I missed being inside you."

Inside you - without a condom. You love him that much. 

"I missed this too," you say between moans. "I couldn't get off without thinking about you, about what you do to me."

He lifts your legs and hooks them upon his shoulders, and the new angle makes his cock rub against the most sensitive part of you with every stroke. Your mouth falls open and your head falls back onto the pillow as you let out a gasp of pure pleasure.

"Yeah? Tell me what you've been thinking about." He doesn’t stop fucking you while he speaks, the dirty talk only spurs him on further.

You can't tell him anything. The only word you have in your mind is ‘Leon’, and even that gets stuck in your throat. He's reduced you to downright pornographic moans. 

He slows the roll of his hips. "Want you to tell me," he says. 

"Leon," you whine and reach out to grab him - but your efforts are in vain, he has you at his mercy in this position. 

"Tell me."

"Every time I touched myself, I thought about when we were trying to conceive… It was the best sex I ever had."

"We can do that again, baby. Just say the word." 

There's nothing that Leon wants more than to cum inside you, you know this. 

"Please."

"You want me to put a baby in you?"

"Mm-hmm."

He doesn't even make you beg because he can't stop running his own mouth. His filthy, beautiful mouth. "I remember how gorgeous you looked when you were pregnant. God, I wanted to fuck you the whole time."

"I told you that you could have me whenever you wanted me, however you wanted me. I told you I wanted it rough and you wouldn't give it to me."

"I had to be gentle with you, baby. Couldn't risk it."

"You're still being gentle."

"'Cause you're so precious."

"You're not gonna hurt me, Leon. I want you to be rough with me."

And that's his cue to press your legs to your chest - you know he can fuck you faster and harder in this position, but you swear he manages to bury himself deeper inside you than before, too. 

It's a good thing you're alone in the house because otherwise Leon would have to find a way to shut you up. He could easily clamp his hand over your mouth, but he lets you whine unrestrained, begging him over and over for 'more'. 

"You're gonna wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, baby."

"I don't care. I need you."

"Fuck." He snaps his hips into you with increased vigor. He must not care either, not enough to stop. 

You try to tell him how good it feels, and moreover, how close you are to the edge, but it gets lost in a sea of moans. 

It doesn't matter, though, because your walls tightening around him tell him all he needs to know.

"You're squeezin' me, baby. Not gonna be able to pull out if you don't let up."

"Don't pull out."

"Yeah? You sure? You want me to put a baby in you?" 

It's all rhetorical but you nod at every question. You wrap your legs around him, forcing him to stay inside you, and you don't let him go until well after your high has subsided. 

In the post-orgasm haze, you say the words you meant to hold back before. "I love you."

And he doesn’t hesitate to say it back.  

[rrickgrrimes8]

Your Bear Part II

summary: you are found (part I)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x niece!reader

warnings: angst, reunion, violence, infected, happy ending :))

not sure if i like this as much as the first part but i hope yall do. i just want to thank you all for the response to my past few fics (especially your bear). its been unreal. i stopped writing for a while and these were my first ones back so this was an insane response to it! thank you so much for your love and appreciation it really does mean a lot!

also! i tagged basically everybody who left a comment asking for part 2 - sorry if thats annoying idk ive never done a taglist before. thanks for the comments tho :) 

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open

word count: 2.3k

22 Years Ago...

The world around you screamed for help. People ran around, skin on fire, missing massive chunks.

You wailed as they passed, hands tightened around your ears. You just wanted to find help. You wanted to save Sarah. This wasn’t what you expected.

“D-ad,” You cried, hiccupping, “D-addy!” You missed his touch. You missed his voice and his face. His laugh. You just wanted your daddy.

But which way had you come from?

You stood, idle, in an alley way you didn’t recognize, a man lay a few feet beside you. Blood seeped from his neck, running to kiss the tips of your shoes.

He twitched.

Your breath caught in your throat, the hair on your neck stood high. “D-daddy,” You whimpered, quieter than before, “Please.”

He looked at you now. His face grotesque, the shape of jagged teeth marked his greyish skin. White, stringy tendrils extended out of his mouth as he crawled to you – his legs being left behind as he did.

You screamed when his nails scratched against your shoe. In the panic, your bear fell from your grasp, landing in the bloodbath.

You tried backing up from the monster, but his hand stopped you. His claws captured your ankle.

You didn’t realise you were falling until your back hit the wet ground. You let out a shriek as he trailed up your body. “P-please,” You sobbed, “D-ad! D-addy!”

The creature didn’t even flinch. He opened his jaws further, searching for your small neck, ready to mark you just as he had been.

But a shot sounded off and his weight settled on your petite body.

A strong force tugged him off you, the same force pulling you into their arms. You wailed, fighting against the stranger’s grip.

“It’s okay, sweetgirl, you’re okay,” She told you, rushing you away from the scene, “You’re going to be okay; I promise.”

x

You didn’t know what to make of Jackson. It was nice, you supposed. Weird though. It felt like what you imagined before felt like. Not that you remembered much. You remembered how loud cars were, how the TV remote worked, how to strum a guitar.

You remembered your sisters voice, her hair, how smart she sounded even if you didn’t understand a word.

You wished you remembered your dad. He was a blur to you. Like you had missed a chapter of a book and now a new character had no face. You remembered his laugh though. It was sweet, slow. Like a lullaby. You recalled being held to his chest and feeling the vibrations.

You wished you remembered your dad. 

Sarah had settled in quickly, at least that’s what you thought. She was happy to be around people other than her mom (you tried not to internalise it all that much).

In the week since you arrived Sarah had grown attached to the strangers that took you under their wing. You still weren’t so sure. But when Sarah made grabby hands to the older man and all she got was a dejected smile in response a part of you hurt. You didn’t understand why.

They’d kept their distance or rather he had. Ellie came round every day. She loved Sarah. She loved you, even if, like Joel, you were a little rough around the edges.

But for a reason unbeknownst to you Joel couldn’t be in a room with you for longer than five minutes. You didn’t let it bother you too much. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to make trouble and get the pair of you kicked out or worse separated. 

Ellie had come to you earlier that day, smile wide, cheeks rosy. She had a glint in her eyes, a plan. One you really didn’t want to know about nor be a part of.

Excitedly, she told you about the couple who lived across from her and Joel - his brother. Tommy and Maria and the somewhat new addition of Lily, their little girl. Ellie had told them about you - although missing out some of the major minor details. They agreed to have you over she had said. And despite the age difference between Lily and Sarah the older girl was excited to meet her.

So, there you stood, Sarah shielded from the cold into your chest. You raised your hand awkwardly, knocking a little harder than you expected.

A woman opened the door. She was beautiful, smiley, friendly. You couldn’t tell if that was a façade or not. That made the nerves in your stomach stiffen. “C’mon in, sweetheart,” Maria ushered you inside after she confirmed it was you.

You forced a smile for her, “Nice place.”

Maria nodded, looking around the room proudly, “Thank you.” She urged you to take a seat, letting you know her husband, Tommy, was just dressing Lily.

“So, you’re younger than I thought you would be,” She confessed, “Not to be rude or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” You cleared your throat, sitting opposite her, Sarah making a home on your lap, “I’m 27.”

“Wow,” She smiled, “And what about her?”

You stroked the top of Sarah’s head, where her hair had slightly begun to grow, “Couple weeks now.”

Maria shifted ever so slightly in her seat, unspoken sympathy in her eyes, “And the father?” You stilled, escaping her gaze you looked towards the coffee table, taking inventory of the odd books they had. “I’m sorry,” She spoke quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” You cleared your throat sheepishly, “There isn’t... her dad did what he had to.” You still remembered his screams.

“I’m sorry,” Maria frowned, hands soothing over her jeans, wishing Tommy would appear to aid the situation.

“Don’t be,” You said earnestly, “He got us here, right? One way or another...” Maria wasn’t sure you really meant that. The lost look in your eyes told her what she needed to know. As did your shaking knee. You’d give anything to have him back. She bit her lip, somewhat guessing the rest.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” A males voice cut through the tension, “Wouldn’t stop squirming for the life of me.”

Maria chuckled opening her arms to grab Lily, introducing you as she did. He blanched hearing that name. He near screamed seeing that face - your face but so much different, so much more mature.

Tommy blinked a few times, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He whispered your name carefully, as if you were a wild animal, prone for violence.

Maria gave him an odd look, moving Lily over to you and Sarah. “And this is our sweetheart, Lily,” She told you as Lily began fussing relentlessly in her arms, desperate to touch the baby.

“Baby,” She cooed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” You mused, croakily, inching closer to the pair, “This is Sarah, Lily.”

Tommy wanted to throw up. He felt it dancing up his throat, teasing his uncertainty. He felt stuck. He truthfully didn’t know what to do or what to say. Should he straight out ask you? You didn’t seem to recognise him though. Maybe it was a clone? A doppelgänger? Should he run over to Joel’s for safety away from this confusion? 

Joel.

Did Joel know? He had to know. He needed to know.

“Tommy what’s wrong?” Maria called to him. He choked a little, eyes trailing over to the plaque that watched over their new life. The plaque he knew had no place for your name. He knew it. You were here.

Maria followed his gaze, a weird feeling in her chest as she saw her husband so unlike himself. She read Joel’s daughter’s name. Sarah. Was he freaked out because they shared the same name?

She gulped - it wasn’t just the baby whose name was shared but yours too it seemed. You couldn’t be, right? No- You died. Joel was so sure you died and despite all Tommy had told her, all the hope he had for you, she always found herself on Joel’s side. Funny that. Any other situation she would’ve made a point to oppose the eldest Miller.

But now... You were just five. You couldn’t have survived on your own. You wouldn’t have had a life in this world.

But again, hadn’t you said you were 27?

“Go,” She told him, firmly, “Make sure.” Tommy nodded, failing to hide his tears as you watched in confusion and darted out of the room with a sense of urgency that unsettled your stomach.

“Is everything okay?”

Maria’s attention snapped back to you, “Fine... everything’s fine.”

A disconcerting feeling swam under your skin and a sudden resolve to flee hit you. “I- We should probably go,” You mumbled, bringing Sarah to your chest once more.

“Wait, please,” She attempted, “Just wait.”

You shook your head, apologising softly before rushing out of the house. You caught eyes with two men across the road - Joel and Tommy. They stood on his porch, seemingly arguing with each other.

You spotted Ellie watching through the window, a guilty look on her face - what had she done?

The brothers stared at you as you left the home. Their eyes didn’t leave you for a second. Tommy called your name, desperately but when he moved to catch up with you, Joel pulled him back.

He clenched his jaw as you rushed back to your home, out of sight. “She was my niece, Joel,” He scowled, “My fuckin’ family too.”

Joel shook his head, shaking off the shame Tommy was trying to force on him.

“You don’t get to keep this kind of thing from me,” He yelled, “You- You are unbelievable, Joel.”

“Unbelievable?” He mocked, “Is it so unbelievable that I didn’t want to advertise to the whole goddamn town that she was my daughter when, hell, I don’t even know if she really is!”

“Bullshit,” Tommy spat, “You’re not stupid. You knew. Of course, you fucking knew. You knew like how I knew. One look. That’s all it woulda took you. No… you knew. You were just too scared - like always. And that, your selfishness, takes us all down with you.”

“Fuck you,” He grunted, storming back inside.

“Christ,” Tommy mumbled, turning back to his own home. 

You had a baby.

You were here, alive.

x

You steered clear from the group for a little while afterwards. The whole situation made you heart clench. It felt like a game that you didn’t know the rules of, but they did. All of them did and they were careful not to reveal anything. But you wanted to know - you needed to.

You knew it involved Joel or at least you felt like it had to. The way he looked at you when you first met. The way he spoke. The way he shook. It had to be him. He had to be the answer.

You gave up on your attempts to avoid them when you came to that realisation.

The same realisation that brought you here, at his front door in the middle of the night. You shyly knocked a few times - no response. You repeated the action with a little more force, a little too much. The door creaked open on the contact, but no one came to greet you.

You sucked in a harsh breath as you debated entering. The door was open right? Fair game? Silently you forced yourself to step inside.

Their home was dark - one lamp lighting a whole room. You frowned looking over to it. Someone had to be here, right? Where else would they be so late?

And then you saw him. Joel. The contradictory man. He was asleep. His body was sprawled all over the couch, an empty bottle of God knows what lay beside him as did what looked like... a bear?

Shakily, you took a step forward, his name dying in your throat as you saw the bear in a better light.

It was... yours.

Why would Joel have your bear? The bear that when you were a child was essentially an extension of you. The bear that chased away all the bad dreams. The bear that your dad had gotten you - your dad.

You gulped - the bear you hadn’t seen since the night you lost everything. Since the night you almost lost your life.

Joel shifted in his sleep, pulling the bear close to his chest, careful of its head as if it was a baby. Your eyes burned. A gasp escaped your lips. You could read the chapter now. You can see that character’s face - your fathers face.

Different but the same.

“D-dad,” You whispered before you could stop yourself and backed away.

Your back met the door, slamming it shut. The man jolted awake, alarmed eyes frantically searching the room before landing on you. They grew small, weaker, like he wasn’t all the way there.

Joel watched you closely, taking note of your falling tears, he spoke your name. You choked on a sob, hand clasping over your mouth. “Baby,” He shot up before he had a moment to think and approached you.

You didn’t flinch away, like he expected. You didn’t stop crying either. You studied him now. The wrinkles. The scars. The grey hairs. The same look in his eyes.

“How long have you known?”

He flinched at that. Your voice so familiar, so broken. “Since we met,” He didn’t have to try too hard to understand what you were getting at. He felt shameful, though. This shouldn’t have been the way, right? This felt too casual, too unknown.

You wanted to ask more, yell at him. Beg him to tell you why it wasn’t the first thing that he told you. But you didn’t. Instead you put one foot in front of the other, until you were mere inches from him. “Dad,” You shuddered.

He hadn’t realised how much he missed being called that, how much he missed being your dad.

“Babygirl,” He took your face in his hands, “My baby grown up.” He watched you closely, tears welling up, “I’m so sorry, babygirl. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, slamming yourself into his chest, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Oh, baby,” Joel wrapped his arms around you, hand cradling the back of your head.

“With me, babygirl,” He smiled for moment before letting it fall, “Don’t go away again, babygirl, never go away again.”

You smiled into his chest, whimpering softly, “I won’t, dad, I promise.” 

x

@meli-blacky @zaweashtonslover @3zae-zae3 @bbciwp @cloudroomblog @white-wolf-buckaroo​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @myboyfriendisbigfoot​ @mell-bell​ @hummusxx​ @sleepdeprived-barelyalive​ @dilfsaremyfavourite​ @specialagentmonkey​ @slutforstark @lizlil​ @unsaiduglywords​ @ellaprime7​ @aphrcdites​ @zynbsblog​ @imonmykneessir​ @mandowhatnow​ @tomorrowseverything @livelovemusic0996 @icarusthefoolish​ @b-bloop @leemirna​ @hexaecana​ @littleshadow17​ @sgt-morgan​ @adorreeabbie @abbiesxox​ @leviackrmnss​ @eternallyvenus​ @hai-kbai​ @daydreamerblues​ @abbyrxx12-blog @montenegroisr​ @chxosunbound​ @shqwqrma​ @littlemissporter @wonwoosthetic @riri53 @softsakusas​ @prettysbliss​ @katiemars @kik51199 @stupidthoughtsinwriting​ @ellele19 @newavenger @19891213​ @dgraysonss​

[reiderwriter]

Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

[pinkkittysaw]

HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF

title is based off the song hungry like the wolf by duran duran

halloween night of horrors masterlist can be found here!

pairing: werewolf clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: your lover always disappears on the night of a full moon every month and you’re determined to figure out why

word count: 8,331 (don’t perceive me 🫣)

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be blocked) minor plot spoilers, monsterfucking, teratophilia, knotting, blood, choking, established relationship, slight dumbification, minor breast/nipple play, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink, manhandling, belly bulge/pushing, spit, slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, scent kink, scratching, biting, one spank, hints of degradation, praise, pet names (sweetheart, darling, love) reader is wearing a dress

* i want to give a BIG thank you to @strawberrystepmom for answering all my anatomical questions and helping me through my writing process! she also has a werewolf fic of her own if you want to check it out ^_^

a/n: AND I LASTED TEN ROUNDS LIKE A FREAKKKKK LIKE A GGGGGGGGG. this was inspired by the beach scene with clive and jill, iykyk. I WILL NEVER BE NORMAL AGAIN THANKS TO THEM!!truly did not expect this to get as long as it did but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

recommended listening for this fic is MONSTER by lady gaga

divider by @/benkeibear

Waves crash at your toes from where you stand on the shoreline, and the fire you made from scattered kindling on the rocky beach crackles in the background, its golden flame shining bright against the navy blue sky.

You sigh, staring into the dark ether, hoping and praying for an answer to your troubles. The cold water laps at your feet, manifesting a shiver in your spine that flows throughout the rest of your body. Grumbling, you glare back at Metia and the full moon with disdain, acting as if the two of them were in cahoots with each other, taunting you. You huff, shoving your arms to your sides with clenched fists as you continue to bitch, arguing with the moon and stars above.

"You're not even going to help me? Even though you're the cause of all this?"

Your index finger is shoved into the sky, pointing directly at the hunk of rock that floats within it, and it's not long after that gust of wind blows through you, billowing through the skirt of your pale dress, causing it to fly in right your face, a protest of sorts in response to the little tantrum you were throwing.

You fold the fabric back down onto your legs, holding its hem while letting out a snide, "Well, I hope the two of you are enjoying yourselves," before you turn your back in defiance and slosh through the ankle-deep water toward the fire, choosing to settle down on your bed roll for the night.

You shouldn't be surprised. All your prayers turned out to be for naught; it'd be foolish to think that this time would be any different.

You pout and pull your knees to your chest, settling your cheeks on the joints of your legs as you stare into the fiery embers, the sand scratching the skin between your toes as they curl into the seashore. You had long since forgone your sandals, as keeping the granules out of the material proved to be a losing battle.

"This was such a foolish idea," you mutter to yourself, choosing to reflect on the actions that brought you here.

You and Clive had been courting for several months now, and in that time you began to notice a particular pattern he developed. During the three days surrounding every full moon, he always disappeared without a trace, unable to be found anywhere in the hideaway.

It wasn't uncommon for Clive to be away from the hideout; if anything, he was probably away from it more than he wasn't, always coming to someone's aid. As long as they roamed the lands of Valisthea, he'd be there.

But after three separate occurrences of him disappearing around the same set of circumstances, it began to look less and less like a coincidence and more like a habit. The first two times he "vanished," you had attributed the cause to "business as usual," assuming he was off assisting the curse breakers or aiding in the transportation of recently freed bearers, but the longer the two of you stayed together, the more prominent his disappearances became. 

You had confronted him about it once, apprehensively inquiring if he had taken on another lover during his time away. You heard the tale of his time in North Reach before he, Cid, and Jill eventually set their sights on destroying Drake's head. Maybe he'd found a courtesan at The Veil on his returning trip to Sanbreque after word of Isabelle needing his assistance came in.

He immediately shot the notion down, sympathizing with your cause of concern. He reassured you that you were the only one for him, and you believed him, of course. He's been nothing but loyal and devoted to you throughout your whole relationship so far. Even Jill stepped in and vouched for him at one point, stating that "cheating was far beneath him" and that he "treasured you more than anything else in the realm."

Yet he still didn't do much in providing an actual explanation for where he was going, stumbling through an excuse about the Mothercrystals and needing to stay away for your protection, but the risks of danger hadn't stopped him from brainstorming strategies with you before, so why now all of a sudden was he coddling you like a child? If not a secret lover, then what else could be hiding from you? Not even the collection of books residing in the Shelves provided an answer as to why your lover would disappear for three days time every full moon.

The longer this went on, the more you assumed everyone was just taking the piss out of you. Sure, most people in the hideaway were often busy with their own assignments, but you couldn't have been the only person who noticed a similar pattern of behavior, right?

You took to asking people around the hideout if they noticed a change in Clive's demeanor, with most of them stating that he'd been acting as he usually would, nothing out of the ordinary, while some others, mainly Tarja, thought it'd be funny to get a bit cheeky with you, commenting, "Wouldn't you be the one to notice if he was behaving strangely?" She means no real offense, so you try your best not to get frustrated with the more empty answers you're handed. It wasn't their fault that your lover was so cagey about his whereabouts. It's not like they were his keeper, as he was the one everyone answered to. You even took to inquiring Otto about it, though it didn't prove to be any more fruitful as he spat out the same Mothercrystals excuse as Clive did.

Your last and final hope was Jill. She had known Clive the longest—since they were children; if anyone were to have insight on what was going on with him, it'd be her, but you're met with similar responses as Clive and Otto. An apprehensive look crossed her features when you asked her if she knew why Clive was disappearing each month or where he went. She simply shrugged her shoulders, shook her head, and stated that she hadn't noticed anything strange going on with him, which only proved to make you more suspicious. 

Having had enough of the unanswered questions, you decided that the (not-so) smartest thing to do would be to take a little trip during the week of the full moon and not tell anyone. Was it a bit selfish? Desperate? Yes, but you rationalized that if you disappeared during that time, Clive would have no choice but to come out of hiding and look for you, thus leaving you free to discuss his whereabouts. It definitely wasn't the most well-thought-out plan you've ever come up with, but the lack of transparency was beginning to drive you mad.

The next few weeks were spent making preparations for the trip ahead in secret, taking on extra assignments to save up gil so you could spend a few nights at an inn. The night before your departure, you decided to take on all outstanding alliant reports on the bulletin while everyone was asleep so that you could circumvent a scolding from Otto about skipping out on your duties when you returned.

Early to rise the next morning, you gather a small pack of your belongings and shuffle off toward the pier before Clive awoke, careful to slip from his gentle embrace so as to not rouse him from his slumber. You glance down at his sleeping face, taking in how peaceful he looked while resting.

You gather your pack and make your way toward the boats. The sunrise on the open water is a stark contrast to the scowl that Obolus greets you with so early in the day.

"Good morning!" You beam, your smile shining brightly in his direction, as you carefully step onto the ferry.

"Someone's rather chipper this morning," he snickers, preparing to set sail in the blighted waters.

"You could say that," you respond, taking your seat on the wooden boards as the vessel starts to bob in the water and glancing back as the hideaway comes to life, everyone beginning to start their day.

When choosing a destination for this little excursion, you soon realized that there was only one correct choice, so you set your sights on Rosaria, having expressed wanting to return there to Clive before, so if he truly knew you as well as he claimed, he'd have no trouble finding you.

The majority of your time was spent at Martha's Rest, helping her out with the ever-growing cray claw population that seemed to be terrorizing most merchants traveling in the area. It was peaceful, with most nights spent exchanging tales with the locals over pints of ale.

On the day before the full moon, Martha half-joked about keeping you stationed with her, finding your company to be most pleasant, and though you couldn't make any promises, you assured her that you would stop by whenever time allowed.

It was only on the night of the full moon itself that you decided to take to the sea. The salty air and crash of the waves gave you a sense of tranquility unlike any other. It was almost as if you could sit back and forget all the horrors of the world around you.

As you draw swirl patterns into the sand with your finger, you begin to wonder if Clive will ever find you. Maybe he never even realized you were gone, and you'd be forced to return home with your tail between your legs, not having gotten any closer to the answers you so desired.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Clive was actively on the hunt, having noticed your disappearance shortly after your departure that morning. The space beside him in bed was cold and empty when he awoke. Though confused, he didn't think much of it; sometimes people are being sent away as reinforcements without much notice.

His day went pretty much the same as normal, though an underlying discomfort lay deep within him, wishing to share details of upcoming plans with you but being unable to.

It's not until you don't return that evening that he begins to get antsy. Deciding that he doesn't want to come across as overly possessive, he manages to hold his tongue, only voicing his concerns about your absence that night at the ale hall during supper, his dining mates recounting that they haven't seen you but to "not fret as you were probably just sent away on an overnight assignment."

He nods, taking some solace in their words as he sips from his mug, washing down the food. They were probably right; you were just off helping someone somewhere, but knowing that doesn't make his restless nights go by any easier, leaving him to toss and turn in his sleep without you.

It's not til three days go by without so much as a whisper of your whereabouts that he decides to go looking for you, finding one of your undershirts and stuffing the material into the pouch on the back of his belt. He goes out in search of Otto, hoping to find some information in regard to your whereabouts, but it's when he comes up empty in regard to your station that he really starts to panic. He informs the elder man that he'll be out for an unspecified amount of time and to make sure all missives are delivered to his desk upon his return, then storms off to the pier with a look something fierce in his eyes as he demands Obolus take him to where you disembarked. Obolus, not wanting to argue with a clearly pissed-off Clive, rows him to the destination.

You're distracted from your wallowing upon hearing a shrill howl in the distance. Quick to refocus, you swivel your head back and forth in all directions to try and determine the location of the sound. That's when you see it—a dark figure perched upon one of the nearby cliffs. The midnight sky shrouds the size and shape of the creature, though its piercing azure eyes remain distinct amongst the sea of black, piercing right through you from the tall height. 

Just as quickly as you make eye contact with the creature, it lurches from its spot on the cliff, prowling toward you like a predator honing in on its next meal, sniffing as if it smells your fear and your very blood running cold. Only when it's within range of the fire's flame are you able to tell what lingers in the dark. A wolf. Its fur is as dark as a raven's feather, black like soot, and much different from the standard mix of greys and whites of the usual worgens. Rosaria was no stranger to wolves, but they were never of this magnitude; its body was almost double the size of the usual stray. You're confused as to what it was doing so far out from the greenery; was this a newly created breed? Made solely for the purpose of hunting lost damsels wandering the coast at night?

As it draws near, you're unable to look away, its eyes drawing you into a trance, captivating yet familiar, almost as if you've seen them before.

It snarls at you, its ears and lips drawing back to expose the glint of sharpened canines that await you, its tail sharp and stiff, a warning sign: DANGER! DANGER!

You scoot backward in the sand toward your sword, buried in the sand. The wolf is still approaching just as slowly, its bark and growls echoing off the ocean and ringing back into your ears. Was this how you were going to meet your end? Slaughtered and torn to shreds by a rouge wolf, becoming its dinner, never to be seen again while your corpse decays on an abandoned beach?

You feel the cold steel amongst the granules and unsheath your blade, drawing it slowly as you rise to your feet. You do your best to steady your nerves, your heart hammering in your chest so wildly that you're assured that the beast can hear its drum as well. Though skilled with a sword, the circumstances couldn't be more against your favor; the instability of the sand and poor lighting make it more likely that you'll topple over and impale yourself before ever slaying the creature.

It growls once more, rearing its hind legs, ready to pounce. You brace yourself for impact, taking your best stance as the wolf leaps into the air. You're knocked flat on your back on the bumpy terrain, your sword falling from your hand as the air is strangled from your lungs, your body aching from the collision. It stands over you now, nose to nose with the beast that'd be your undoing. Its drool leaks onto your face; puffs of air are exhaled and manifested into the ether as it breathes in and out. You clench your eyes shut as it leans closer, praying that your death will be swift when you feel...a lick?

The long, fleshy tongue makes a slobbery mess of your cheeks and face as the wolf wags its bushy tail back and forth. This was bizarre, but you'd much rather be covered in sloppy hound kisses than be torn to shreds, so you accept your strange fate while continuing to giggle.

"I never expected to make a friend all the way out here," you coo, giving your best baby voice as you scratch the hound behind the ears.

A few moments later, you're blinded by a bright, pale light, transforming the once yipping black wolf into...Clive? Or at least you think it's Clive. It looks like him, the figure possessing the same crystalline eyes and dark shaggy hair, yet he still looks vastly different, as if he were half-beast, retaining the increased height, bulk, and hair as he did in wolf form. The rounded, fluffy ears and sharpened fangs are still present as well. You don't even realize he's naked at first due to the amount of thick, coarse hair covering his body, only being able to tell when you catch a glimpse of the few more intimate scars that lay between the follicles, reflecting in the flame's light.

He falls to his hands and knees, scampering toward you, pulling you close by the arm for a chaste kiss.

"Ouch," you squeak, scuttling backward as something sharp pricks your skin. He's quick to pull away, and that's when you notice the claws extending from the tips of his fingers, curled and sharpened to a fine point.

"My apologies; I'm, uh, not used to touching people when I look like this." He reaches out to cup your face, frowning a little as you twitch backward at the sight of his large hand. His fingers are gentle as they caress the sensitive skin of your cheek and neck, not wanting to startle you further.

"What are you doing all the way out here? Where have you been? What if something happened to you? What if-?" He begins to question, losing himself in the possibility of what ifs

"Clive," you cut him off, raising your eyebrows to stare at him like he's just grown two heads. He tilts his head to the side, perplexed, while you ask, "Are you not going to explain what's going on with you?"

"You're... a beast."

He sighs, sitting back on his hind with a dejected posture. "This," he gestures up and down his body, "is what I was trying to protect you from."

His eye catches a glimmer upon your flesh, trailing from your bicep to your forearm.

"You're bleeding," he mutters, turning your arm in his grasp to get a better view.

"It's alright," you stammer, reaching up to apply pressure to the cut when he looms over you, extending his head and tongue toward the abrasion, lapping at it quickly. You're taken aback at first, quirking an eyebrow in his direction, but soon realize that this is his means of comforting you, in his own dog sort of way.  His tongue also maintained its wolf-like qualities—long, pink, and rough—yet it didn't feel too unpleasant on the skin. The cool breeze against the wet saliva on your skin creates goosebumps along your body.

He continues to tend to your cut til he's assured the bleeding has stopped and the metallic tang no longer gracing his tastebuds. He pulls back, sitting on his rear once again. "You still haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine. I've seen a lot of freaky things in my lifetime, Clive, but this...this requires an explanation."

A beat of silence passes as the two of you sit in front of the fire, illuminated in its orange haze. A small breeze of wind blows through the both of you, the moon and stars shine down from above.

He exhales defeatedly. "I'm... a werewolf."

You scoff, finding the words a bit silly coming out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's true.  I was turned that night at Phoenix Gate all those years ago. It was the only way I could've survived." He pauses, lowering his head and drawing his ears back once again. "I never found the person who turned me—I don't believe I ever will. Though sometimes I wonder if saving me was worth it, seeing as it turns me into a monster."

"Clive..."

He shakes his head, ruffling his fur, a toothy grin adorning his features. "Never mind that."

"Every full moon, I transform into this beast against my will. That's why I'm away so often. That and well..." His words trail off as his eyes make contact with yours across the fire, scanning your face and body.

"Well, what?"

"Nothing," he smiles, eyes softening as he continues to look at you. "Now it's your turn; what in Founder's name are you doing all the way out here?"

You chuckle timidly, heat flooding your face—the likes of which you hope he can't see as you scoot away from him slightly, wishing you could bury your head in the sand for reacting so poorly.

"It's silly... and dumb," you mumble, trying to wave him off, turning your back toward him in an attempt to hide any further embarrassment. He grabs your hands in his, the size of them eclipsing your own, while he pulls you closer to him.

"It's not dumb, not to me," he says, running a fur-covered finger up and down your cheek. "Besides, it can't possibly be any dumber than me turning into a wolf," he chuckles.

You sigh, closing your eyes in preparation. "I was getting frustrated with the lack of communication, so I decided to just..."

"Run away?"

"Aye." You hang your head low in shame, kicking up a cloud of dust from the sand with your toes, feeling stupid and childish for having reacted this way.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. It wasn't fair to you."

"It's alright."

He cups your jaw, nudging your chin up between his grip so that you're both on eye level, his eyes much sharper than before. "It's not alright, love, we're a partnership. We're supposed to trust each other, and we can't do that if I'm not being honest with you. I'll do better from here on, alright? I promise."

You give him a sickly-sweet smile, nodding in agreement as he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

"So how did you find me? I mean, I was hoping you would, but still, I'm curious."

"You really want to know? It's quite embarrassing."

"Now I most definitely want to know," you giggle, leaning toward him.

"Well, I uhm..." He becomes more bashful as he continues on. "I tracked your scent."

"I pulled one of your tunics from the laundry bin and used that to help me track you down."

"My scent?"

"Mhm," he grumbles, slowly leaning into you more and more, causing you to fall back on your hands as he draws near. "Your musk is very distinct. There's nothing else in Valisthea quite like it." He gets closer and closer, nudging his head under the skirt of your dress, getting incredibly close toward the apex of your thighs before taking a big whiff. "And oh, so addicting." Your eyelashes flutter in surprise, building heat throughout your body. This had to be some wolf thing, right? He never acted like this before.

You place your foot on his shoulder, pushing him back on his haunches, trying to shoo him away from under your dress with a subdued "Down boy."

He snarls faintly before wrapping his hand around your ankle and pulling you toward him, effectively dragging your body through the sand, scratching up your back, and getting the granules caught in your dress and hair. It'd take weeks for you to wash it all out.

He tugs on your leg til you're dangling in the air, holding you up as if you weigh nothing, yanking you higher and higher til your sweet cunt is pressed against his nose once more. He takes another huge whiff of your pussy and relishes in the scent that fills his nostrils. Your body contorts slightly, your abdomen tightening while you hold down the part of your dress that's fallen in your face, only to see him nosing at your underwear, licking his lips, and staring at you like you were a big piece of meat.

"I can smell you, you know," he whispers, licking a broad stripe against your folds through the gusset of your underwear. You can't help but thrash in the air, your back arching as the width of his tongue reaches every crevice of your cunt in one fell swoop. Oh, this was certainly different, but you liked it.

"I can smell your arousal, Founder, your scent is so addicting." He nuzzles into your pussy again, rubbing his nose back and forth over your clit through your underwear, grinning at your desperate mewls and whines.

"You smell so fucking good," he murmurs and delivers another broad lick to your panties, effectively soaking them with his drool. "And taste even better," he winks. "But your scent isn't the only thing I can sense. Your heart rate has increased quite significantly, as well as your breathing." Partly from fear but mostly from arousal.

another broad lick and a sniff

"You're probably debating whether or not it's okay to be attracted to me while I'm like this."

another lick

"Mmm, fuck," he growls as more of your essence pools in your knickers. "But don't worry, I can make the decision for the both of us." He gives an airy laugh.

another sniff

His claws graze the seam of your panties, slightly unraveling the stitching. "Please let me taste you," he pants. "Please don't deny me your sweet nectar."

"I've gone far too long without it," he mumbles as he begins to make out with your pussy through your underwear, while his claws start trailing over the rest of your body as you continue to hang in the air. Clive was never one to shy away from pleasuring you with his honeyed tongue, but this was a whole new level of desperation.

"Please," he pleads.

"Alright alright, just put me down. I'm starting to lose feeling in my legs." He grins and happily obliges, his tail wagging rapidly as he drops you slowly onto the sand by your ankle. You lean back on your elbows so as not to get any more sand in your hair, and spread your legs wide for him. He gets on his hands and knees, crawling over to you seductively before lifting the hem of your dress over your pelvis, exposing your soaking wet knickers to him once again. 

He smiles down at you, admiring the view of your disheveled state while dragging a claw on your inner thigh, making you shiver before he tucks the nail into the crotch of your panties, tearing them straight off your cunt with little resistance. The fabric is left in tatters beside you when you gasp, your slick folds now fully exposed to the chilly evening air.

He groans as he lifts your hips into the air, throwing your thighs over his broad shoulders as he makes eye contact with your bare cunt, all wet, spread, and exposed just for him. Your bum is in the air slightly as he settles himself on his elbows, his large hands wrapping around the plush of your thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh slightly. He gets on eye level with your pussy, the hairs on your mound drenched from his salvia. You look so appetizing to him that he can't fight off the desire to sink into your wetness.

"Do you want to know the real reason I stayed away all this time?" He asks, bringing his mouth closer to your cunt, nibbling on your inner thigh with his teeth, causing a slight blood trail to trickle down from the skin.

You whimper but nod your head in response.

"Your scent tempts me like no other." His rough tongue laps up the blood spilled from the nick he created, leaving you writhing for more pleasure.

"It'd take everything in me not to mount you right where you lay and take you as my mate." You groan at that, causing a chuckle to escape him while he continues to nip and lick at the skin surrounding your pussy, neglecting where you need him most.

"Clive, please," you whine, having had enough of his teasing and desperately wanting him to push you over the edge with that sweet tongue of his, so after deciding that you've had enough, he gives you what you so desperately crave: a long swipe of his tongue from your entrance, all the way to your needy, swollen clit.

You arch your back while he groans at the taste. Something about being in this form enhances his senses and the pleasure he receives from pleasing you.

He gathers a pool of salvia behind his teeth and spits it on your cunt before he pulls you even further into his mouth, swirling the wetness all along your poor neglected pussy. The change in texture brings you heightened pleasure as his tongue drags along your clit over and over, making you mewl and whine in his hold.

Your hips begin to buck against his face, and he's gentle when he pulls the sensitive nub between his sharpened teeth. Your fingers find themselves in his shaggy hair, curling into the roots, where you give a slight tug, pulling him even closer into your cunt. He groans into your pussy as more of your arousal leaks from your quivering hole.

He detaches himself from your clit, moving down to your entrance, where he laps at the escaping juices. It's like a drug to him, one that he simply can't get enough of, so it comes as no surprise when he wiggles his tongue into your tight hole to collect even more of your flavor on his palette. He pushes the warm muscle further and further in, slurping up every last drop you provide, not letting a single one go to waste. It's such a foreign sensation, but you can't deny the pleasure you derive from it when he begins thrusting it in and out of you, effectively fucking you with his tongue.

"Fuck, Clive," you moan as his efforts hasten, greedy for more of your flavor.

Your hips continue to rut against his face, clit knocking against his nose with every buck upward. You're whining, whimpering, and writhing all over the place while his strong, calloused hands keep your hips pressed against his face. He takes over for you and grinds your pussy all over his face while continuing to tongue-fuck you as you're reduced to nothing but whimpers due to the sensations, your cunt beginning to pulsate around his warm muscle as the whiskers on his face tickle your clit in ways you've never felt before.

His rhythm against you is brutal; your legs are beginning to shake and your toes starting to curl. A slew of pleas fall from your lips, begging him to bring you to your sweet release, and he's always been one to please. He growls out "cum for me" before suckling your clit back between his lips, hard.

You wail loudly as you see white behind your eyes, your thighs squeezing around his head tight while continuing to tug on his hair, slowly bucking your hips as you continue to ride out the rest of your high.

Clive keeps up his efforts on your clit, making your hips jolt as he overstimulates your poor pussy. With a simple tap on the side of his face and a muffled "enough," he lowers you back down again, being sure to cover your exposed sex with the skirt of your dress once more.

"That was..." you begin to rave, lifting your head up to meet his eyes only for your attention to be drawn elsewhere, particularly toward the protrusion from his lower half that's now sticking straight in the air.

Heavens above, was that his cock?

Your eyes are diverted once again as he begins licking his chops, swirling his tongue all around where your wetness graced his face. Poor thing, he always did get unbearably horny when eating you out.

You reach out toward him, wanting to provide some relief, when he backs away, shuffling in the sand.

"You don't...you don't need to do that..."

"In fact, it's probably best that you didn't."

"Are you sure? It looks like it hurts..."

His cock looked a lot different than usual. It was angrier, meatier, thicker, longer, his whole shaft red in color instead of the pretty pale yellow tone you're used to, and it was hard, so incredibly hard, with precum leaking down onto the sand below. You've never had anything like it before, but you knew you wanted it, and you wanted it BAD.

"It's alright, I can take care of myself when I turn back, besides, if we do this, I won't be able to stop myself, and I- I don't want to hurt you." He attempts to cover himself up from your wandering eye, but that serves to only work against him as he whimpers every time he bumps into his erection, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

You crawl toward him slowly, your hands and knees sinking into the sand as you move forward. "I trust you, I know you won't hurt me." You settle between his legs, dense, dark, coarse hair covering the base of his cock. "Let me make you feel good too," you mumble, grabbing his shaft with your hand. It's hot to the touch, with way more veins, the base more rounded and bulbous than usual. You pump him up and down slowly as he mewls and growls against your touch. 

"This is your last chance," he huffs. "I won't be able to hold myself back." 

"I want you just like this, Clive," you lean in, pressing a wet kiss to his lips while you continually stroke him. "Don't hold yourself back," you whisper, smirking against him as the two of you kiss some more, both beginning to pant into the other's mouth as the excitement builds.

He emits a low growl and picks you up by your hips, planting you down on all fours in front of him. The hem of your dress is torn by his claws as he lifts it over your bum, your cheeks on full display. His hand comes down with a swift SWAT to your ass, leaving tiny abrasions on your skin from his nails. Your body propels forward from the impact as you squeal, your pussy starting to drool with arousal once again. 

He leans himself over you; his broad body is heavy on your back as it casts a large shadow in the moonlight. You can feel all the hair that covers his legs as he presses into you, the follicles tickling the back of your thighs as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"I'd much rather take you on your back, spread you nice and wide, have you laid out all pretty underneath me like you always seem to enjoy," he murmurs in your ear, trailing his hand from your thigh to knead at your breast through your clothes.

"But unfortunately, your choice of locale for throwing this little tantrum prohibits that sort of thing."

"We wouldn't want sand to get where it doesn't belong, hm?" He removes his hand from your breast and interlocks his fingers over top of yours, where they've sunk into the sand. Though his hand is so large, he might as well be clenching his fist around your own.

He sniffs your nape, then presses a kiss to the back of your neck. "I'll be as gentle as I can til you're ready for more, alright?"

"I'll make this as pleasurable for you as possible," he coos. When he notices your body shivering, though he's unsure if it's due to the cold or nerves, he runs his free hand up and down your side in a soothing manner, in an attempt to help calm you a bit. He plants a sweet kiss and a lick on your cheek, and it manages to pull a short giggle from you, which he smiles at.

"I'm ready."

With your fingers still interlocked together, he carefully begins to insert himself, and it takes all of his will to not buck his hips and go balls deep inside you. The hug of your warm, wet walls on his weepy, swollen cock is almost too much for him to bear.

You bite your lower lip and grunt as he pushes in, feeling like you're being torn open from the inside out. He can sense your discomfort; your heart rate skyrocketing due to the pain. He's quick to move his other hand from your side to your clit, rubbing smooth, soft circles on the bundle of nerves with the pad of his fingers.

His ears pull back at your discomfort, and he nuzzles his nose into your neck further, trying to soothe you through more licks and kisses to your neck.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whimpers, and your heart all but breaks at the sound.

The ministrations on your clit start to overtake the burn of your nethers and you encourage Clive to keep pushing in further. It's a prolonged effort, with him moving in short increments every so often til he was as deep as you could allow, stopping just short of the bulb inflating the base. He was already quite well-endowed, having little to no trouble bringing you to sweet bliss on his cock, but this was a whole new world. His cock felt like it now resided in your guts and that your guts were now in your longs. His girth, the likes of which you've never felt before. Your cunt strangles him with everything it has; every bump against your ridges fills him with pleasure.

Once he's as deep as he can go with minimal resistance, he brings you over the edge by playing with your clit. Sadly, there's not enough prep in the world that would make taking him an easier feat, but he's hoping that the now relaxed muscles in your cunt will make the whole experience more pleasurable.

He continues to coo and coddle you as you come down from your second orgasm of the night. The squirm of your smaller form against his fills him with amusement. There's something so primal about him mounting you like this, caressing your soft skin while making sure to comfort you through lots of kisses and nuzzles as he whispers words of affection in your ear. You're pretty sure your cheek is going to be rubbed raw by the end of this.

"You're such a good girl," he murmurs in your ear. "You're doing so good for me."

He stalls his hips while you gather yourself, collecting your thoughts as you try to bring yourself back into the moment. It's only when you give the go-ahead that he starts to move, taking care to make sure that this part is done with caution as well until you're accustomed to any sort of rhythm with his size.

Your fists dig deep into the shore as the veins of his angry cock drag along every single bump and groove inside you.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," you growl between your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut tight at his slow and methodical thrusts. You knew he was just making sure you didn't get hurt, but it felt like him going this slow and deliberate might actually kill you.

"Clive, you can move a little faster," you pant.

"Are you sure? I don't want to-"

"Yes, I'm sure just-" you clench down on him harder, hoping that will drive the point further. "Just please..."

"Alright then," he mumbles, settling his face on your shoulder, his big, bulky body still encompassing you. He moves his hand down to your hip, where his thumb draws soothing patterns into your skin while his hips start to rock back and forth. It's a slow rhythm at first, which admittedly you're thankful for, knowing that you'd probably regret telling him to go all out once you're forced to waddle to the infirmary and explain to Tarja why your nethers looked the way they did.

It takes everything in you not to groan out in pleasure, and after noticing this, of course, Clive goads, gaining a more steady rhythm, his pace quickening with every passing second.

"There's no one else here but you, me, and the stars, love."

"You can be as loud as you want." After heeding his proposal, you let out a loud moan into the open air, which echoes softly over the ocean.

"That's it," he praises, licking a stripe on your neck. It's not long before you feel the coil winding in your belly once more, signaling your impending orgasm. You attempt to reach down toward your clit when Clive smacks your hand away, replacing your fingers with his own as he rubs fast circles on the pearl.

He's grunting and huffing in tandem with your moans, the two of you fucking like wild animals as his hips snap in quick succession against yours. His cock glides against the soft, spongey spot deep inside you over and over with no end in sight. Your toes curl as your cunt squeezes down on him even harder than before, screwing your eyes tight as you brace yourself for the impact of your oncoming orgasm. The weight of his cock makes you see stars as you reach ecstasy once more.

"Fuck," he groans against you, digging his face deeper into your neck, inhaling the scent dripping off you from your sweat, your body lunging back and forth as he continues to fuck you. You presumed this would be the finale, but soon realize you're dead wrong as he grabs you by both hips again and sits back on his heels, effectively spearing you on his cock as your legs are spread wide over his thick, hairy thighs.

His claws come out to shred at the material of your bodice, ruining the fabric of your dress and making it so your tits bounce wildly with every powerful thrust he delivers underneath you.

Your body is akin to puddy at this point, your head resting against his shoulder as he bounces you up and down on his cock. His fingers come down to pinch at your nipples as you writhe against his body, the cool evening air making them hard as rocks while he plays with the rest of your body to his own enjoyment.

It's not long after that you find yourself on the brink again as you succumb to becoming his personal fleshlight, his thrusts unrelenting while he whispers more sweet nothings into your ear, his fat cock bullying your sopping hole. The crashing waves are the only sound capable of drowning out the squelch of your cunt from him fucking into you so well.

You cum again with a loud cry, your body falling against him as you fully lose yourself in pleasure, becoming weak and limp in his arms while he holds you upright.

"Think you can handle one more?" he smirks.

You nod and mumble incoherently while he stops thrusting, positioning himself on your bedroll to lay fully on his back.

Your legs are spread as wide as possible over his lower torso and hips, your sloppy cunt exposed for all the stars and heavens to see.

You tilt your head slightly when Metia and the full moon come back into view. You mouth a breathless "thank you" to them, as it seems your prayers for having Clive come to your aid were answered.

In your delirious state, he guides your hand down to your lower abdomen, right where his cock lies inside you. He then takes his other hand to the back of your head and eases your neck upward to look at the protrusion, his cock causing your abdomen to bulge out. You go a little cross-eyed at the sight, and he takes your hand under his and presses down on the bulge, which draws out a low whine from you both.

He snarls, "Can you feel how deep I am inside you?" You nod haphazardly, not able to do much else. He chuckles at your disposition and begins to slowly thrust back from underneath you.

"By the end of this, I think you'll be molded to the shape of my cock, your cunt ruined for anyone else." He laughs while you whine and writhe; his slow, languid thrusts not enough to drive you over the edge.

"Awwww, sweet little thing just wants to cum again, huh?" He mutters in your ear, smirking as you mewl, your pussy clenching down on him while he laps up your sweat.

"Alright then, darling, I'll give you what you want," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before increasing his rhythm once more, his bulky arm coming down to scoop underneath your knees and pull your legs toward your chest, allowing him to reach even deeper inside you.

You do something unexpected; in your bliss-induced delirium, you bring his hand that's pushing down on your belly up toward your throat and wrap his thick fingers around your neck slightly. He huffs down at you, his body still hard at work, pounding into your sopping cunt.

"You want to be choked now, do you? This is new. Are you sure this is what you want, sweetheart? I don't want to hurt you." You nod as enthusiastically as your aching body will allow, closing your hands overtop his once again.

"Alright, alright, I get it," he chortles, slowly but surely pressing down on the sides of your neck, reducing the blood flow.

From behind, he starts foaming at the mouth, his thrusts getting more brutal both in pace and intensity. How he managed to last this long is beyond you.

He releases his hold on your legs and moves down to rub quick circles on your clit, his other hand squeezing down tighter as you get closer to release. Your hands come up to squeeze your own nipples, and the edges of your vision get hazy as you start to lose consciousness and feel extreme bliss.

"Cum for me," is whispered in your ears, and all of a sudden, your brain and lungs are flooded with oxygen as you experience the most intense orgasm of your life, letting out nothing short of a silent scream as your body spasms and arches wildly. The rush to both your head and cunt is greater than anything you've experienced before.

Clive keeps thrusting into you as he drives himself toward his own release, the bulb on his cock continuing to knock into you, ever so slightly entering you with every movement.

"Clive, w-what is that?" You rasp, your voice shaky from its extended use over the course of the night. He takes on a much more shy attitude after hearing your question, continuing to groan.

"It's m-my knot."

"Your what?"

"It's a wolf thing; it helps keep me inside after I... you know..."

"It helps with mating, but you don't have to take it if you don't want to."

You shake your head back and forth. "No, I want to. I want to take it."

"Fuck," he growls. "Are you sure?"

"YES," you wail.

"As you wish, darling."

It's a few short, sloppy thrusts later when Clive sinks his teeth into your shoulder, grunting and howling as he stuffs you full, pushing his knot fully inside you while he goes balls deep into your cunt, your pussy swelling and stretching to accommodate the excess girth.

"Heavens above," you cry, your back arching toward the sky as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, ropes upon ropes of his warm spend shooting deep inside you as he's milked for all he's worth.

You both slump against each other in the aftermath, his hands coming up to caress your body. "We're going to be stuck like this for a while."

It's sometime later that you're snuggled up on Clive's body as you lay both bare underneath the stars together. His huge body keeps you warm while you twirl your fingers into his chest hair, his mouth coming down to press multiple kisses to the crown of your head.

"So you won't fully transform back until sunrise?"

"Correct."

"And you've been like this for over fifteen years?"

"Mhm," he mumbles.

"Where do you go for those three days? Clearly, you're not at the hideaway."

"Do you promise not to laugh at me?"

"Who do you take me for? Of course, I won't laugh at you."

He sighs, trailing his fingers up and down your back. "I actually go back to Rosalith. I've got a little den set up there."

"How adorable," you tease, making a kissy face at him. "You'll have to take me to go see it sometime."

"I don't think so," he smirks.

"Wha- why not?" You huff, an adorable pout forming on your face.

"Let's just say that I really wouldn't be able to hold myself back in that instance, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there." He presses a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose.

"Okay, okay, last question. Did you really mean all that filth you spewed about why you disappeared all those times?"

"It's partially true. All my senses are heightened, and you truly do become irresistible to me. Not that I'm any less attracted to you normally, but it's...different." He pulls you closer to his chest.

"Though I suppose I was mostly afraid that you'd look at me differently and that you wouldn't want to be with me anymore."

"Clive, I've watched you prime into Ifrit with my very own eyes; do you truly believe that I'd leave you because you transform into a hound?"

"Wolf," he corrects.

"Same difference," you chuckle, raising your head from his chest to peer into his eyes. A lovesick, dopey grin is plastered all over his face when he looks at you, despite his words of insecurity.

"I'm with you no matter what, Clive. No matter the challenges or struggles you may face. I'll always stand by you. I love you, and that will forever remain true," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, and you swear you can see his pupils double in size as he repeats the phrase back to you.

You rest your head back on his chest once again, enjoying the feeling of contentment before speaking out, "We're going to have a lot of explaining to do back at the hideaway, won't we?"

"Oh, most definitely."

[talkbycolor]

on the other side.

A/N; sigo ardido con la gente cis pero sigo horny

Pairing; "John Doe" x AFAB!Reader

CW; glory wall, ou yea, from here you can already tell this has sex / creampie ofc, unprotected sex, kinda public too, rough and messy / one eye doe my little meowmeow / tentacle hair dick. yes. you heard me. / non-con mgmhgmh

How did you end up in a situation like this? You simply wanted to move to a new city, go to your new job, and have a quiet life.

In The Uncanny Valley? You expected too much.

Your escape from that Mason had been successful but you were trapped in another problem, to be more precise, you had run like a headless chicken, full of fear.

And you crashed against the wall, leaving your body stuck.

It's not that bad, you didn't have brain damage, although the gap was too narrow for you to get out of there quickly.

"It's okay, I'm not afraid, a house tried to eat me, I'm not afraid, there's debris in my hair, I'm not afraid!" You repeated, perhaps in a tone that someone without fear wouldn't say but somehow you had to relax, the situation wasn't… flattering for you.

"Hello! Hello?! Someone, please help me! Help!" You shouted but there didn't seem to be anyone around.

Or so you thought.

Something strange crawled up your leg, unfortunately, you couldn't see it but the only description that could be given was… a tentacle of hair?

"Hey! What the fuck?! WHO IS THIS?! IT'S NOT FUNNY!" You shouted confused.

But there was no response.

The hair tentacles soon stopped, making you sigh, at least they weren't touching you anymore but you knew something was still there.

Then a heavy breath reached your ears, and not only that, a pair of hands with… four fingers? He pulled down your pants insistently, that was finally what broke the glass and the panicked tears came to your eyes.

"ENOUGH! LEAVE ME ALREADY! I-I'M GOING TO CALL THE POLICE! LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!"

He tore your pants, he tore your fucking pants, whatever was on the other side of the wall was going to destroy you and you knew it.

"M-MY LOVE! HERE YOU ARE! I'm so glad Mason didn't kill you~ that would have really driven me crazy, how would I be able to go on without you?!" That voice, whoever it was, knew about Mason and knew about you, maybe a stalker.

A stalker with a very clever tongue.

Huh?

"O-Oh god! Wait! MGH! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THERE?!" you screamed as you tried to kick your legs, it was difficult to hold your body on the other side of the wall but the person on the other side considered it child's play because he held your legs with ease, leaving you motionless.

"D-don't-…! Huff* Huff* Don't worry, honey! After this we'll go home and cuddle together!" That voice sounded uneasy, saying bizarre things so casually, the tone was terrifying.

But it was difficult to think with a tongue pushing into your pussy, it was strange that he sucked the vaginal lips and licked like a dog, sniffing as if he were tasting the best lunch of his life and wanted to remember every detail perfectly, like a hungry stray.

"NO! NO! NO! ENOUGH! I DON'T WANT TO, I DON'T LIKE IT!" It was so humiliating to have someone sticking their nose to your hole while they filled your entrance with saliva, so much saliva as if you were made of honey and it melted them.

The worst part is that you were getting wet.

"I'm going to put it inside, dear! p-please relax" the panting voice requested.

That wasn't a dick, it was hair.

"BUT WHAT THE FUCK?! GET OFF! GET OFF NOW!" You begged between cries, kicking was useless and you tore your throat in screams, hoping that the stranger would have compassion.

A variety of hair tentacles caressed your ass while one of them entered your pussy, it felt so strange and uncomfortable, nausea had invaded you.

"A-After this let's go home and watch TV! I want to hug you all night, s-sleep in your arms!~"

Too loving words for a monster, because that's what it was, the tentacles of hair invaded both of your entrances and pushed violently inside you, causing spasms.

Then you vomited, you couldn't take it anymore, you were drowning in tears while a stranger fucked you.

You were very sure that you were even bleeding, you wanted to escape but you were still stuck in the wall, the kicks you wanted to give were useless and even if you could now you were too weak.

You couldn't faint, you seriously wanted, anything to not have to endure that, not be conscious, not hear, feel, see your vomit.

Then came the first discharge, a mirror and hot strange liquid, you didn't need to know what it was, the feeling of being full was disgusting.

And the monster didn't stop, he continued to hit his hips against your ass, you were sniffling, crying, drooling, maybe your mind wasn't even there anymore, your body and the distant sound of the monster moaning and breathing heavily filled the air.

Just a couple of hours later he pulled away from you, the absence made you moan shakily, your stomach felt strange and a waterfall of semen came out of both your pussy and your ass.

He broke the wall and held your body so you wouldn't fall, he was gentle when carrying your body

"Let's go home, love"

In those kinds of moments, all you could do was nod and try to snuggle into his chest, you were cold, half-naked and in pain.

♡

[3vergr3en]

THAT BOY IS A MONSTER 👻

PAIRING (📞) . collegeau!maki x fem!college!reader

A/N (🔪) . heyy.. hii... please forgive my absence with this maki fic 😣🤲🏼 I feel like a bummy boyfriend begging for my girlfriend (you guys) to take me back 😭 I also wanted to bring some closure to my old ethan landry series with this fic (you shall be forever missed.) ANYWAY. HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS HALLOWEEN SPECIAL <3

ADDITIONAL INFO (🩸) . this fic contains suggestive content!! there will be NO p in v, literally all they do is have a (detailed) heated make-out. DON'T CRUCIFY ME 😭🙏🏼

The red-haired man leans his upper body over the granite counter, "What did he say?" he yells over the blaring music.

"He'll be here in a half an hour!" You yell back, receiving a confirming nod from the male across from you. As Nicholas turns his head away to presumably check out the girls in short mini skirts and corsets, you gently tug at the hem of his sleeve to avert his attention back onto you, "I'm gonna use the bathroom! Oh, and can you grab me a drink, pleaaasee?"

"Sure, but don't be surprised if it tastes weird." He sends you a warning smile before he walks off in his rainbow-stripped long-sleeve and blue overalls. He yells to a person, "Yo! Put that shit down before I throw you out myself!" You still don't know how the guys manage to convince Nicholas to dress up as Chucky, but either way, you loved it.

"Excuse me! Sorry- just let me pass through, thank you!" You squeezed past through the crowded kitchen and down the hallway. Miraculously, you managed to find an unoccupied bathroom which was usually filled with couples making out or in some cases,, a little more. You walk in, shutting the door behind you with a click! But you were just thankful enough to have one all to yourself.

knock knock knock

Oh, you gotta be shitting me.

"It's occupied, sorry!" You shout, fixing your blonde wig in the mirror.

knock knock knock

You curse out, "Oh my fucking god." Shuffling your way over to the door, you unlock it before swinging it open with an annoyed expression. "I said it was-" You stop mid-sentence when you see the famous white mask and black cloak. Okay.. creepy. "Sorry, Mr. Ghostface, but this bathroom is occupied." You sigh, taking a step back to close the door.

But a firm grip on the side of the door halts it. You stumble backward, "Dude, what the fuck?" The person pries it open before walking in, slamming the door behind them with a click. "This isn't funny, you need to get out. Now."

But the person just.. stands there. No words. No movement.

"Alright, this is bullshit." You sigh, "I'm just gonna go." You begin to walk past the person, but they forcefully grab you by your arms, and with that familiar raspy voice, they speak, "Dressed as Casey Becker? How convenient." They tilt their head with a chuckle as you manage to push them off of you.

"Nicholas!" You yell, but you know that it is no use against the loud music outside. You take several steps backward till your back is pressed up against the wall behind you, leaving you cornered. "Nicholas isn't coming to save you." They state.

The person takes a step closer till they're practically right up against you, feeling your heart beating rapidly against their chest. "So, you got a boyfriend?" They taunt, lifting their hand to your chin, forcing you to look up at them.

They reach up behind their head to swiftly yank the mask off. Once they did, they shook their head to reveal your boyfriend who smiled sickeningly.

It takes you a little bit to let the realization sink in, but when it does, your immediate response is to shove your boyfriend as hard as you can. "You fucking jerk!" You curse.

Maki couldn't help but laugh hysterically. "Hey, I'm sorry, okay? But don't lie, you were lowkey enjoying it." He chuckles, cradling you in his arms as he presses kisses on your forehead.

"No, I didn't." But you knew deep down that he was right.

He nods, not believing a word you just said. "Do you like the costume?" He asks with a slight raise of eyebrows, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "..Yeah, I do." You quietly confess.

He has this cocky smirk plastered on his face, "Yeah?" His voice had gotten deeper as his eyes were glued to your lips. And you shamelessly did the same, eyes staring at your boyfriend's plump, pink lips.

"Well, I think we both know that you like it a little more than you think.." He whispers against your lips before moving to your ear, "Why else didn't you push me away when I was right up against you earlier?"

As if your hands had a mind of their own, they grabbed the collar of your boyfriend's cloak to pull him in so you could smash your lips against his.

You can feel your boyfriend's hands gripping your waist through your bulky sweater, pulling your hips to be flush against his. "Up." You hear him muffle in between kisses as he taps your thigh. You quickly obliged, hopping up to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands held you up by your thighs.

He brings you over to the bathroom sink, resting you on top of the marbled counter. His lips never seem to leave yours, not even for a split moment.

"Maki," You breathe out, hands finding their way into his black, soft locks.

Everything was so messy. The way he kissed you feverishly, almost like he had gone days without having your lips on his. His big hands holding the back of your head, causing your wig to slip off. Or maybe it's the fact that seeing your boyfriend in a Ghostface costume has done wonders for you.

His lips trailed down your lips to your chin, planting open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. He breathlessly chuckles, "I find it cute how we accidentally matched costumes."

"You need to wear that Ghostface mask more often."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

heyyy, i hope you're having a nice day! could i request a story about an insecure reader who had a relationship before donna, but got dumped by her partner for being too "boring" so she thinks donna will leave her too so she asks one the dimitrescu sisters for help to try to be more "sexy" or "fun" for donna. the result is reader giving donna a lap dance, although donna, who very much enjoyed it, sees through her insecurities and comforts her after learning about reader past partner and how they made her feel. also jealous and possessive donna mode on after knowing reader's been asking for help to the dimitrescu sisters on how to be sexy.

hope that's okay, thanks!

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Boring

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive themes, Donna being Donna

Word count: 8,055

Summary:  You don't want to repeat your failures...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Um, Donna…” you said.

The nights of passion were a comforting routine, the symbol that your life would never be the same again. It could never be the same with the veiled lady, Lord, doll and nightmare, Donna Beneviento.

After a relationship that still tormented you, your mind didn’t consider starting the journey towards another love again, to let your heart search for a place, a different chest in which to beat.

Your past love affair was a disaster, one of almost catastrophic dimensions. You had no desire for anything. You didn’t believe that anyone could notice a loser like you.

Unintentionally, you attracted the attention of the least expected person, the doll maker.

Meeting her was a journey full of obstacles that she herself placed between you, a dance of blushes, shy questions and funny reactions from the lady's doll, the irreverent Angie.

Your lack of spirit, your innate shame and your shyness were responsible for that previous failure. At least, that's how you saw it, that stupid village girl did see it that way.

When you repeat something many times it gets closer to a real statement, to a truth that sounded more and more convincing. That was what happened to you; part of your insecurities was marked in everything you did, turning the small conversations with the lady in black into pathetic babbling and embarrassed laughter.

Apparently, your reluctance to fall in love again wasn’t the least of a problem for Donna, finding the charm in what you believed to be your greatest flaws, seeing in that shy smile the prettiest one the Lord had ever seen.

That patience, that desire to discover gave you enough courage to unlock the chains that kept your heart imprisoned inside you, allowing it to fly free towards that black dress, to allow yourself the luxury of loving again.

Donna wasn’t the dangerous woman everyone talked about. She was not the monster that, according to the villagers, was hiding behind that black veil.

A beautiful, sensitive, sick but intelligent woman became the new target of your damaged heart. Lord or not, she was the place you wanted to be, the old mansion became your home and her perfume was the veil that served to protect you from harm, from pain, from suffering again.

“Mm…” A lazy murmur came out of her body as she covered herself with the sheets.

“Wait, don't fall asleep yet,” you insisted, shaking the brunette's body, forcing her to look at you uncomfortably. “I have to ask you something.”

“What's wrong, tesoro?” Donna asked, sitting up without being able to hide her expression of disgust.

“Nothing really, but… I-I was wondering if… If you had enjoyed it,” you finally said, playing with the sheets, also covering your body and looking away.

“Mm?” she asked again with a yawn, frowning at your strange question. “Of course I enjoyed it, (Y/N), as always.”

“Oh, okay…” you sighed, but not relieved.

At first, the relationship with Donna was almost perfect. Dealing with her problems, her jealousy, or her insecurities was a complicated task, but one that you quickly mastered. The concern of obtaining something similar to a perfect relationship made you, unintentionally, forget about your own demons.

Your insecurities had been hidden under the concern of being what Donna was looking for, of understanding her past, her sometimes erratic attitude or her exaggerated jealousy. Your way of being modified by the contempt of your former girlfriend became more present as your relationship calmed down.

“W-Wait,” you said hurriedly, turning back on the light that the lady in black turned off, thus ending that pathetic conversation. “Wait a moment, Donna.”

“Ugh, (Y/N), I need to rest, what do you want?” the brunette protested, rubbing her eye with tiredness and discomfort.

“I-I'm sorry... it's just that...” you murmured, moving away from her accusing gaze. “It's just that I haven't felt that... Well, that you've enjoyed it.”

“(Y/N), why do you say that?” she asked, leaning towards you, moving your head with two fingers so that your eyes spoke for you. “Hey, look at me, what's wrong with you?”

“It's probably nonsense but... it's that I've barely heard you and... well, that's something that...” you said with blushing cheeks, intimidated by Lady Beneviento's excessively worried reaction.

“Oh, that's it,” Donna said, her voice soft, with a sad and tired smile. “You shouldn't worry about it, tesoro, you know I don't like to yell,” she said to calm your fears, as if she somehow knew about them.

“I know, but before you… well… you moaned…” you explained nervously, playing with the sheets. “Have I done something wrong?”

“What? No, of course you haven’t,” she answered quickly, shaking her head and grabbing your hand under the sheets. “No, amore mio, you're perfect.”

“Well, thank you…” you whispered, resting your head on her shoulder, letting her arms wrap around your body, serving as a warm remedy for your absurd worries. “But, but…”

“Shh… now let's go to sleep, okay?” the lady said after a brief kiss on the lips, caressing your ruffled hair in a loving way, drawing a finally calm smile from your lips.

Resigned to being left without resolving your doubts, you let her naked body manipulate yours and embrace it in the darkness of the old bedroom. Her warm skin was comforting, but your mind was unable to calm down.

With your eyes open, your mind wandered through that habitual act of passion. Donna wasn’t an expert in love.

Even so, it didn’t take long for her to master the curious art of making love, to give you all the pleasure you didn’t believe you deserved and to receive the one that you were willing to give her. Kisses, moans, gasps, labored breathing, words soaked with desire…

That routine adventure always gave a spicy touch to your life, a moment where silence didn’t dominate the old room, where Donna wasn’t afraid to speak, to say what she thought, what you made her feel with your kisses, with your hands…

But, with the passage of time, that routine began to fade, to become a silent and wet dance. The moans slowly mutated into whispers and discreet gasps, and the end of that sinful act didn't result in many more kisses, in praises, only in a chaste and quick kiss before falling into the arms of Morpheus.

It could simply be the fact of turning those encounters into a habit, into a task to end the day and not as an act of love and passion.

Any rational thought, a logical explanation for that decline in the intensity with which the lady in black claimed you as hers, wasn’t present in your confused mind.

You had already experienced something similar. You had experienced that fading of passion, that passivity when it came to doing something so intimate. Experience told you that this wasn’t a good sign.

The deep breathing you felt on your neck warned you that Donna had already fallen asleep, that there was no danger in rambling about the causes of this different behavior.

One by one, you remembered the kisses, each of the decisions you made that night, each of the places your hands caressed. You didn't notice any change, you never wanted to change your functional way of making love, you never dared to change. So... that lack of enthusiasm on Donna's part... What was the reason?

Yes, the lady in black wasn't particularly communicative. Getting words out of her mouth was still complicated, but much more common than at the beginning. That special way of loving filled your heart, but maybe, just maybe, the way you thanked Donna for that affection, that opportunity, wasn't enough.

Routine always gave you a certain peace of mind. It was the sign that indicated that everything was going well, but you had been wondering for some time now if you were really right. Without wanting to, you remembered your ex. You remembered every insult, every protest…

“You're boring, (Y/N)… You're useless, (Y/N)… You're not funny, I don't like you anymore, I don't love you anymore… No one could love someone as boring as you…”

You had repeated those offensive phrases so many times that they slipped through your mind without difficulty, but doing the same damage to your heart. It took you too long to forget that stupid village girl, but you never really succeeded.

Your heart belonged to Donna, only Donna, it always would, always. You certainly didn't miss that stupid girl, but her passage through your life not only left disappointment and love, but also new worries.

Life with Donna was very calm. It was based on the small things: romantic dinners, walks in the woods, hours and hours of quiet reading on her lap… Everything was perfect for you, everything, but… Was it for her too?

You couldn't help it, for a long time now, every night you fell asleep thinking about the same thing, that apparent lack of interest on the part of the brunette, asking yourself over and over again: Will Donna always love me?

The nights had become a hell of worries and doubts but, luckily, every morning they disappeared with the brunette's lips waking you up in a loving way.

Cuddles in bed, a childish and fun laze, a hot shower next to her... No, nothing had changed between you and Donna.

“You look beautiful this morning, (Y/N),” the lady whispered, lovingly drinking her coffee, looking at you over her cup, masterfully getting a blush on your cheeks.

“Donna...” you said laughing amused, making a gesture with your hand to reassure yourself. “You know I'm very sensitive.”

“Mm, that's why I like you,” she said, winking at you and sighing deeply, without losing that beautiful smile, the one you fell in love with the day she lost her black veil.

“What do you want to do today? We could go for a walk and…” you proposed in a passive way, waiting to know what would be the perfect plan to spend another day with your beloved.

“Good idea, (Y/N), but you'll have to wait for me to come back from the meeting,” Donna commented, lowering her gaze.

“Oh, do you have a meeting? I didn't know,” you said with a disappointed tone, finishing your coffee with an elegant gesture.

“Didn't I tell you?” she asked, frowning and wiping with a napkin.

“Um, no,” you said with a dry voice.

Normally, she had nothing to hide from you. No matter how irrational her thoughts, her worries were, she always talked to you, she told you everything that happened in her life and, of course, she would tell you anything that would break your pleasant routine.

 “Sorry, (Y/N), I must have forgotten,” she said, apologizing for something she somehow knew you didn't like.

“Oh, it's okay, I guess walking in the sunset is romantic too,” you said with a fake smile as you saw the tension build up in the lady's body, the strength with which she held the spoon.

“Hey! Why don't you come with us?” Angie asked, appearing by surprise, as always, to scare you.

“Angie…” Donna hissed, annoyed by her doll's insistence on making your stay in the mansion a bit more uncomfortable. “Leave her alone.”

“Shut up, silly Donna!” the puppet protested, causing both of you to shake your heads, laughing amusedly. “I'm talking to her.”

“Mm,” the lady murmured, lowering her gaze, elegantly moving away from the conversation.

“What do you say, silly, silly? Are you coming with us?” the doll asked, comically tugging at your dress. “It will be funny.”

“Oh, no… I’ll stay here,” you said, rejecting Angie’s proposal to accompany them to the meeting, one that wasn’t the first time she made you. “I don’t want to bother.”

“You never bother, tesoro,” Donna said, tilting her head romantically. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. I’d like my siblings to see how lucky I’ve been with you.”

“No, no, I…” you said, shaking your head again, looking for a place to hide from that proposal. “I’d rather stay.”

“I’d rather stay, blah, blah, blah…” Angie mocked, making unpleasant gestures that imitated you almost perfectly. “Come with us.”

“Angie, I said no,” you said in a harsher tone, thus revealing the fear you felt of the siblings of your beloved and Donna's adoptive mother, the priestess sent to the village by the Black Gods, Mother Miranda.

“Why not?” Donna asked, with an intriguing tone, with one eye shining with disappointment at your unchanging answer. “I want you to come with me.”

“I know, Donna but… I don't think I'm ready to meet… well, to meet them all. B-Besides, I have no business in a meeting.”

“You're my girlfriend,” she said, darkening her voice little by little, studying each of your cowardly gestures. “Come with us.”

“Donna, I…” you said sighing, looking for an excuse that wouldn't betray cowardice. “It's just that I… prefer to stay at home, reading.”

“Reading,” she repeated, crossing her arms abruptly, pressing her lips together to say with her look that you couldn't lie to her. “If you don't want to come, just say it.”

“That's what I'm trying to do,” you whispered unsurely, camouflaging the trembling of your legs.

Feeling despised, feeling that you were ashamed of her was one of the most dangerous things that could happen to Donna, one of the few things that still triggered terrible crises.

“You don't want to come? Well, okay, silly,” Angie said, breaking that tense moment between you two with her shrill voice. “Stay here with your stupid books, you're boring.”

“What? What did you say?” you asked, startled by that accusation.

Angie had called you many things: stupid,  cheesy, Donna-stealer, intruder… But she had never, never said that you were boring, she had never said that word that, just by hearing it, made you invoke all the ghosts of your past.

You didn't know perfectly well the relationship between Donna and her doll. You knew that in some way Angie was part of her, that they were part of the same conscience. If Angie said that you were boring… Donna thought that too, didn't she?

You would do anything so she wouldn't think that way, so that your relationship wouldn't start that sinister path, the one you already knew and that didn't have a happy ending.

“I said, silly, that you are boring,” the doll repeated, with her hands on her hips, enjoying that word that caused your abrupt reaction.

“No, I'm not,” you said, clenching your fists.

“Prove it, come with us to the meeting,” the puppet challenged you.

You, confused and hurt, looked at Donna, who kept her gaze fixed on you, with a serious expression, surely waiting for an answer, waiting for you to reconsider your decision.

“D-Donna, I…” you stammered, seeking help and understanding from your lover. Her face didn't change. “I…”

“It's okay, do whatever you want,” said the lady, getting up from the chair and picking up the breakfast.

“W-Wait, don't be mad, Donna, please,” you said, grabbing her wrist tightly, keeping the upset and offended lady next to you a bit longer.

“I'm tired, (Y/N), tired of you refusing to meet my family,” the ventriloquist scolded you, breaking away from your grip with an unpleasant gesture.

“Are you… tired of me?” you asked with an evident tremor in your voice, bringing your traumas to light.

“No,” she said, with a cold voice, looking away, but trying to soften her nervous attitude. “I just don't understand why you don't want to…”

“O-Okay,” you said, before the pressure led to a pathetic cry. “Okay, Donna, if that's what you want, I'll go with you,” you said, closing your eyes, sacrificing your fears for a greater good, because Donna, as she hinted, won't get tired of you.

“Mm, I appreciate it, (Y/N)…” the lady sighed, regaining her smile and bending down to kiss you softly. “It's very important to me.”

“I know,” you said, relieved by her lips on yours, by the tender smile that replaced the darkness of her gaze.

Reluctant, accompanied by Donna's silence and Angie's mockery, you walked with her through the forest. The black veil indicated that this walk was not just that, it was a journey into the unknown, a horrible, sinister journey for you.

You never wanted to know more about Miranda than you already did. The Lords made the village tremble. They caused nightmares in each of their followers. Yes, you fell in love with one of them, but that didn't mean you wanted to be part of that... strange family.

“Come, sit here,” Donna whispered, bringing you closer to a chair she put next to hers while you avoided by all means meeting the eyes that looked at you with curiosity.

“O-Okay,” you murmured unsure, looking away from the deformed monster of the swamp and the strange and dangerous man who guarded the old factory.

“It's about time, Donna,” that man, Karl Heisenberg said with a sly smile, not wanting to take his gaze away from yours. “I thought you lied about your girlfriend...”

“Shut up, you fool!” Angie shrieked, walking mockingly towards the Lord.

Donna, even more reluctant to speak, defend herself, or make the slightest gesture of communication, stood her ground, bringing her hand closer to yours.

“What a cutie!” Karl squealed, drawing your attention again. “What's your name, cutie?”

“Um, I… M-my name is…” you stammered, noticing the hand of the lady in black in yours.

“Don't answer him, dear. A lady should not communicate with vermin,” a seductive voice interrupted that awkward moment.

Luckily, not all the Lords were so fearsome or distant. You knew that voice, Alcina Dimitrescu.

The lady of the castle seemed to despise the rest of her siblings, but with Donna… with her it was different. Pity or female complicity, you didn't know exactly why, but it wasn't the first time you were dragged to the old castle to spend the afternoon with the tall lady and her… daughters.

“Hey, fat ass! I'm not talking to you!” Heisenberg protested while you took advantage of that defense to get a little closer to Donna, to feel protected by her side.

“Don't pay attention to them, tesoro,” Donna whispered, running her hand over your face, showing her siblings the conquest she had made in your heart, saying with those vague gestures that you were hers. “You are with me.”

“I know, thank you, Donna,” you said with a grateful smile while the discussion between the two siblings became much louder.

Luckily, Mother Miranda wasn’t long in appearing, eclipsing the yelling completely, creating in that sinister place an atmosphere of obedience, of blind faith.

The priestess barely noticed you, wielding a sinister smile when her eyes met yours, but nothing else, nothing that made you think that it had been a bad idea to accompany your lover to those tedious meetings with her family.

“Well, I hope to see you next week, dears,” Alcina said, getting up like the rest of the Lords, talking to the silent Donna, who refused, the whole time, to let your hand go. “You needed wine, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” Angie said, speaking for her owner as usual, making a seductive smile form on the tall woman’s face.

“Mm, great, oh, and bring that pretty girl, my daughters always ask me about her,” Alcina commented before turning around and disappearing, winking at you awkwardly.

The old cathedral fell silent. Donna didn’t move from her seat and you, at last, could breathe easier.

“How are you, darling? Did you have a bad time?” she asked behind her black veil, gently drawing you towards her and sitting you on her lap. “You seemed very nervous.”

“I was very nervous,” you said amused, looking with your eyes for some trace of terror among those walls. “But it didn’t go as bad as I thought. They barely noticed my presence.”

“Mm, do you think so?” the lady in black asked, placing you in a more comfortable position. “I think they did, (Y/N)… I'm sure they're jealous.”

“Jealous? Come on,” you said amused, feeling Donna's veiled lips on your neck, quick and playful kisses.

“Yes, jealous…” the woman confirmed, following her trail of kisses to your lips. “You're so beautiful…”

“You're just being accommodating because I've accompanied you,” you joked, giving her a soft punch on the shoulder, which she countered with a movement of her hand, moving the black fabric away from her face and kissing you wetly on the lips, barely letting you breathe.

“Maybe. But I was taught to be grateful,” she whispered in your ear, bringing her hand to your leg, lightly digging her nails into your skin. “Come here, tesoro…”

“W-Wait, wait,” you said among amused laughs as little by little, the brunette's kisses seemed to deepen more and more. “Donna.”

“Mm? What's wrong?” she asked, with a slurred, marked tone, one that revealed intentions that you wouldn't imagine in normal circumstances.

The kisses had lasted too long and the possessiveness that Donna always showed when the light was dimmer was quite evident in that seemingly wild, out of place attitude.

“Donna, what are you doing?” you asked when the tickling of her hand on your leg slowly moved up your dress.

Uncomfortable, nervous and amused, you moved on her lap, struggling to escape from that sudden passionate attack. You didn't really know what the reason was, but you didn't give it too much importance either, at least until your annoying brain remembered where you were.

“Shh, don't say anything,” she whispered in your ear, sailing relentlessly towards your underwear. “It will only be a moment.”

“A moment… but… but…” you protested, moving more obviously, avoiding the contact of her fingers from touching your skin and ignoring your clothes. “Here?”

“What's the problem? I want to make love to you…” the lady sighed, not struggling with you, but holding you tighter. “You're so good…”

“Yes, but, but, here…” you stammered unable to resist that outburst so uncharacteristic of her.

 Surely that possessive and wet attitude had some explanation that had to do with jealousy, but that wasn't what prevented you from continuing. “Here…”

“There's no one, we're alone,” she said impatient, also playing with her dress, elegantly and discreetly leading your hand under it. “Don't worry about Angie. She's not going to bother us.”

“Angie is not the problem, Donna,” you said, finally getting off her lap, avoiding another of her intense kisses. “It's just that... hey, what's wrong with you? What's this about?”

“I have a wonderful girlfriend who hasn't been influenced by my siblings. She's been good, quiet, obedient... you know that seeing you like this...  It turns me on...” she said, scared by your reaction, with her brow furrowed by your imminent rejection.

“Oh, well, I've already told you a thousand times that I love you, only you and...” you stammered, scratching the back of your neck, avoiding the brunette's attempts to return you to her lap.

“Well, come here, let me show you how grateful I am to the Gods for the opportunity to meet you, come on,” Donna said with a dangerous smile, making a sensual gesture with her finger, one that made you move away, shaking your head.

“No, I can't, not here,” you said with a timid voice, having made the decision long before verbalizing it. “Why don't we go home? We'll do whatever you want there.”

“Mm, home,” she said, leaning back in the chair and crossing her legs. “As always.”

“Yes, well, I'll be more comfortable there,” you explained with a tender, sweet voice, which countered the disgust on the doll maker's face, one she couldn't hide.

“You're so boring, tesoro,” she murmured, slowly getting up and adjusting her veil.

Those words pierced your chest, leaving you frozen as the lady passed by you with an air of arrogance, picking up the inert doll on the floor.

“I'm not boring!” you screamed irrationally, thus emitting a small cry for help, a pressure that you had been feeling for some time and that you couldn't avoid. “I-I'm not…”

The lady in black turned around, probably surprised by your outburst.

“Qual è il tuo problema?” she asked in a dark, but soft, calm voice. “Why are you yelling at me?”

“I'm… sorry,” you said, head down, running to be at her level. “It's just that I've gotten really nervous.”

“Mm, you've been really irascible lately, really, how do you say? Nervous,” she said, walking out of the cathedral next to you, next to your sad and embarrassed body. “If something happens to you, you have to tell me.”

“It's nothing, just, just my stuff,” you said, getting a little closer to the lady as you walked, trying to make the grip on her arm mutate as always into an interlacing of hands, something that didn't happen.

“There are no your stuff, (Y/N), you are mine, I am yours, your problems are mine, do you understand?” the lady in black commented in a calmer tone, after a few minutes of walking in silence.

“It's not a problem, it's just that…” you said, finally getting your fingers to join together and Donna's steps to slow down so she could hear you better. “I'm sorry about rejecting you.”

“I'm not mad because you didn't want to make love,” she said, looking away, but keeping her hand in yours.

“It's just that I don't want you to think that… that I'm boring,” you said murmuring, not wanting to say those hurtful words. “It's just that I felt uncomfortable in that place, you know, I prefer something more romantic.”

“Mm, I'm listening, what do you propose?” Donna said, apparently free of any resentment, a shame that your paranoia prevented you from noticing something like that.

“We could have a dinner like the ones before, you know, a romantic dinner with candles, some wine…” you said, leaning on her shoulder, taking refuge from the cold in her arms. “It's been a long time since we've done something like this.”

“I thought you weren't interested anymore,” she commented, making you frown. “But I'm afraid there's a problem.”

“What problem?” you asked curiously.

“We don't have any wine, (Y/N), I told Alcina I'd go to the castle in a couple of days,” Donna explained, stopping walking and turning to face you, stealing a kiss from you. “What an obstacle, isn't it?”

“You're right, without wine there's no romantic dinner,” you said amused, grabbing her waist. “We could go to the castle now for it, what do you think?”

“And when do I work on my dolls?” she asked, separating elegantly, placing her veil and shaking her head. “I can't.”

“Oh, okay, but... W-Well, I could go to the castle for it, so you could work on your dolls in peace, what do you think?” you proposed, seeing in that next romantic dinner the opportunity you longed for to rekindle the flame of what you believed was an extinct passion.

“Mm, do you want to go to the castle, by yourself?” she repeated, with a distrustful sigh. “No.”

“I'll be fine, I promise, besides, I already know Alcina and the girls,” you said with an enthusiastic smile, wanting to take those steps, to be the one to improvise, a role you always refused to have.

“That's what worries me,” she said, coming closer again.

“But Donna, it's our romantic dinner…” you said, clasping your hands, with eyes shining like a helpless puppy. “I want that dinner…”

The lady seemed to hesitate but, after a last kiss, she nodded, walking away from you.

“I'll give you an hour. If you take longer, I'll come find you and you don't want that,” she murmured, moving away from you amid impertinent questions from the doll.

“You're the best,” you said, jumping on the ground and hugging the brunette from behind. She growled in annoyance, but couldn't hide an amused laugh. “Ti amo, Donna.”

“Go,” she said, turning around, making the sparkle in her eye peek through the black fabric of her veil.

The smile at your victory disappeared as you walked. The cause of that improvised plan was a problem you could no longer ignore. Boring, dull, lacking passion... Those adjectives haunted you like the sounds of footsteps in the snow.

Your previous girlfriend was crazy. She always wanted to be with you everywhere, enjoy you and your body anywhere, anytime. You kept up that frenetic pace for a while, but the pranks and love affairs took away part of your health.

You weren't like her. Your modesty, shame and shyness contrasted with that unbridled, lack of coherence attitude. Maybe if you had thought that way you wouldn't have taken that breakup as something deeply personal, as something that you were guilty of.

Donna was calm. She liked to be at home, not to go too far from the normal, from the… boring life. That life had its ups and downs, and had its moments to be wild and to be romantic.

The lack of spark, of that passion at the beginning reminded you dangerously of your previous relationship. The refusal to give yourself to her in such a sacred place, the rejection, her reaction, made you live one of the many situations with that stupid village girl.

Lack of enthusiasm, lack of moans, of words of love… They were subtle signs that something was very wrong.

Maybe with that dinner, with a night of real passion you could get rid of your demons forever, although, to be honest, you didn't think so. Donna was everything to you, you couldn't lose her. You couldn't be the one to blame for the lady in black abandoning you.

Without knowing exactly how, turning over all those thoughts, you arrived at the castle.

“My dear, I wasn't expecting you so soon,” Alcina said as she welcomed you into the castle, passing an uncomfortable hand over your shoulders. “Without Donna...”

“Donna is busy,” you said, clearing your throat to try to dispel the little tension that always appeared when the lady of the castle was nearby. “I've come for the wine.”

“Well, what a disappointment, I thought you were coming to see me,” said the lady in white, feigning something like a sad sigh, but without removing that sinister and homogeneous smile from her face.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” you said, looking away from those bright eyes.

“Mm, Donna is very lucky,” she commented, sighing again and pointing with her head to a small room. “Wait for me there while I go get the wine. The castle is cold…”

“Well, thank you, my lady,” you said, nodding and sitting down in one of the armchairs, with a somewhat nervous gesture.

“You’re welcome, dear…”

Loneliness brought back your paranoid thoughts, although, luckily or unfortunately, you soon realized that you weren’t alone in that warm room. An annoying buzz reached your ears, followed by many more, from a black cloud that formed in front of you.

“Hello, hello, hello…” Daniela Dimitrescu's mocking voice alerted you before she had fully obtained her form and her sinister and bloody smile. “It's (Y/N), Donna's girlfriend.”

“H-Hello,” you said, nervous.

You knew the Dimitrescu sisters perfectly, but whenever you had been with them, Donna was nearby, as was their mother. Being alone with one of them was a bit… disturbing.

“Where's Aunt Donna? Didn't she come with you?” the young vampire asked, looking around you exaggeratedly.

You timidly shook your head.

“N-No, Donna's at home with her dolls, I came alone,” you said in a small voice.

“Ohh, so you've come to see me, right?” she asked mockingly, in a funny way, sitting on the arm of that chair, taking advantage of the absence of the lady in black to get a little closer to you.

“I'm afraid I haven’t,” you said, laughing softly at the audacity of the family. Mother and daughters, they were all the same. “I've come for wine.”

“Wine, oh, of course, yes…” she murmured, looking at her nails. “What for?”

“Well… to drink,” you said in a whisper.

“That's what everyone says,” she snapped at you, putting a thin finger on the tip of your nose. “You're hiding something.”

“Me?” you asked, pointing at yourself, blinking in confusion. “I'm not hiding anything.”

“Save your lies, I can smell it…” the young Dimitrescu hissed, making an unpleasant gesture towards you. “Your thoughts are so loud that my head hurts.”

“Oh, it's nothing,” you said, demonstrating your lack of ability to lie, much more diminished thanks to Daniela's imposing presence. “T-The wine is for a romantic dinner.”

“That's much better, it's not right to lie to your family,” she said, amused, patting your back, perhaps too hard.

“Yes…” you sighed, putting on a face that the vampire found somewhat strange, as she approached you, observing you so intensely that you had to step back a little. “Um, um…”

“A romantic dinner… I envy you so much, (Y/N)…” she finally sighed, leaving your personal space alone.

“Yes, well, it's not that big of a deal, or well it is, or not, I don't know,” you stammered, revealing your nervous attitude, something that made Daniela laugh in a disturbing way.

“What do you mean? Hey, Donna's girlfriend, you're really weird,” she accused you again, with a more formal, serious tone. “Do you and Donna have problems?”

“What?” you asked, startling . “No, no, not at all… I don't think so…”

“You don't think so? Hey, Donna's girlfriend… if you have any problems with my aunt, get ready to have them with me,” she said threateningly.

“I don't have any problem with Donna,” you said, trying to reassure yourself of the truth of your words. “I-It's me.”

“You? What's wrong with you?” Daniela asked curiously, sitting back down on the arm of the chair. “You can tell me, we're friends, right?”

“Oh, are we?” you asked amused, arching your eyebrows.

“Sure,” the vampire said, in a serious, confident way. “What's wrong?”

“Oh, no, I don't know if I could talk about this... with you... don't be offended,” you said, making nervous gestures with your hands.

“Would you rather talk about it with my mother?” she asked in an ironic tone, crossing her arms just as you suspected, offended.

“No, no, no, no,” you said quickly. “Don't say anything to your mother, please.”

“Then spit it out, what's wrong?” she insisted.

It’s not like you had any other choice, besides, what could you lose by asking for some advice from… your friend?

“It’s okay,” you said, speaking quieter, causing Daniela to move uncomfortably closer again. “I’m scared, I think, I think Donna doesn’t… she doesn’t love me anymore.”

“What nonsense, Aunt Donna is crazy about you,” she said, laughing as if you had said something absurd.

“It’s just that I… we don’t… oh, forget it,” you said, regretting telling Dimitrescu your personal problems.

“Now you'll have to tell me... if you don't want me to tell Aunt Donna,” Daniela sang, threateningly. “Spit it out, problems in bed?”

“No,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly. “It's not exactly that.”

“So, I got it right,” she said, satisfied. “I'm the best.”

“Yes, yes... it's just that... it's just that Donna isn't... well, what she used to be. It seems that she doesn't like the way I love her anymore, you know what I mean. It's like she thinks that I... that I'm boring,” you murmured confidentially.

“Boring? You? You've managed to win Aunt Donna's cold heart, I don't think you're boring at all,” Donna said, dismissing it with a gesture of her hand.

Well, you didn't expect Dimitrescu to know your past either.

“But what if she thinks so? I don't want to lose her, Daniela,” you said in a whisper, looking away to hide your anguish. “I need to do something... I don't know, something that gets her attention, that shows that I'm not... boring.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, patting your back hard again. “You want to rekindle the passion, huh?”

“It's not exactly that, but maybe it'll help,” you said, looking at the door impatiently.

 You wanted that wine and to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Well... I'm not an expert in long-term relationships, but if you want some advice, I know something that Donna likes, a lot,” she said, feigning confidentiality.

“Do you know something that Donna likes? What are you talking about?” you asked curiously, extremely curious.

Daniela laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

“Okay, I may not know that Donna likes it, but... it's something that drives men crazy, and women too, I assure you. It never fails,” the young woman acknowledged, awakening your interest.

“Oh,” you gasped, looking away from the door and looking into those bright eyes, which seemed to enjoy the conversation. “What is it?”

Daniela Dimitrescu's advice was something absurd, something you had never considered and that you found terribly embarrassing.

You knew that Donna was a strange woman, with strange tastes. You weren’t completely convinced that this strategy would attract the attention of the lady in black, but your fears were beginning to make you desperate, seeing that option as the only one that could save your relationship.

The day passed slowly, in the middle of clumsy rehearsals for your plan, rehearsals that only managed to make you blush.

Was this really a good idea? Would Donna stop thinking you were boring after that?

You couldn't wait and at the same time you wished that moment wouldn't come.

Dinner passed in silence, a romantic silence in the warm candlelight. The wine made you gain courage, and Donna's gaze slowly dispelled your fears. She deserved it, she deserved your attention, she deserved the funny and sexy (Y/N), not the boring loser you thought you were.

“It was delicious, my love,” you said in a tender voice, distorted by the wine, but firm and sure, grabbing her warm hand with yours, holding the penetrating gaze of her bright eye, of that silent lady you were terribly in love with.

“Mm, grazie, tesoro,” Donna said in a soft voice, not wanting to disturb the comfortable silence that was around you. “But maybe… well, maybe you’d like to thank me properly… under the sheets.”

Her words were sensual, eager due to the especially erotic atmosphere you had created with your choice of dress, with your somewhat exaggerated makeup and the exposure of your slightly shameless curves.

“Oh, yes, but, but first…” you interrupted, with a completely different tone of voice, hitting the table awkwardly as you stood up. “I have something to give you.”

“Do you have a gift for me? You’re so sweet, (Y/N),” Donna said while you were guiding her hand away from the table to the small corner where you used to read. “What is it?”

“Um, wait a minute,” you said with a fake smile, finishing the glass of wine you brought with you in one gulp and turning on a lamp that was behind you, creating a perfectly rehearsed effect.

“I'm intrigued,” the lady in black commented, leaning back on the couch with an impatient gaze, running over your trembling curves.

“Can you...? Can you deactivate Angie?” you asked with a broken voice.

Donna looked at the doll and then frowned at you. Your gaze must have been an open book because, moments later, she guided her hand towards the protesting doll, which begged for mercy.

“No, Donna, Don’t...!” the doll's cries disappeared when it fell limp on the floor.

“What are you up to?” the lady asked amused, leaning forward.

The moment had arrived and, somehow, the confidence you had in yourself rose to its highest levels, placing a hand on the brunette's chest, pushing her back.

“Just watch, darling...” you whispered in her ear, pulling away from her kisses seductively, looking at her intensely before beginning your display.

Little by little, your hips began to sway supported by your hands. Your whole body began to dance to invisible music, making slow and sensual movements, playing with your tight dress, with the parts that the clothes allowed you to show.

“(Y/N)…” the brunette sighed, unable to look away from the leg you were caressing, slowly making the fabric disappear, resting your heel on her knee, letting her see a bit of your exaggerated intentions. “Mamma mia, (Y/N), you're not wearing…”

“Shh, silence, my love, you can't talk, just look,” you said with a hoarse voice, getting a little closer, just enough to make it impossible for her to devour you, pushing her back against the sofa again. “Not even touch me.”

“You're cruel,” she whispered, melting with your hypnotic movements, with your sly smile as you turned around and almost dropped on her lap, almost.

With grace, with a skill impossible for you, you rose before you made contact with her, patting her impatient hands, which tried to grab your curves.

“Silenzio, Donna,” you ordered again, resting your hands on either side of her hips, moving yours and bringing your cleavage closer to her reach.

The sound of the fabric being torn by her nails was the sign that this was working, that an lap dance for Donna was all you needed to prove your worth, to show that you weren’t a boring. It wasn’t a bad advice, after all.

Your hands ran over your skin, framing your figure the way hers would if you let yourself be invaded by her touch. You knew it, she knew it, she couldn’t resist the temptation to look at your tight, covered breasts, to watch the indecent path of your hands.

The lady in black, open-mouthed, followed the movement of your fingers, the swaying of your hips, your teasing approaches, the desire you were provoking with your movements, clumsy in your opinion, but extremely sexy for Donna.

Imagining Donna devouring you, running her lips over the skin your fingers grazed was like fuel for your actions, making you moan discreetly, the same way you did when her lips, when her tongue was on your skin.

The zipper of the dress fell under your hands, briefly leaning on her lap, lifting you up to let the fabric of your dress fall in front of her. As if hypnotized, uncomfortable, Donna followed the path of your dress to the floor, slowly raising her gaze, swallowing to assimilate the lack of your underwear.

“Look at you... I'm sure you're dying to take me,” you purred in her ear, running a mischievous hand over her legs, grabbing her thigh, squeezing her skin.

Poor Beneviento could only nod.

“That’s it? Are you that easy?” you joked, moving closer to her lips, brushing them without actually kissing them. “Mm, Donna…”

“I-I don't know what's wrong with you but... Gods, (Y/N)...” the lady moaned when she felt the cold that your hand left on her leg.

You stopped for a moment, feeling the cold, a confusion. Donna was definitely enjoying this new facet but... Would you be pretending to be someone you're not all your life?

The doubts came at the worst moment, when you also succumbed to temptation and kissed her lips, letting yourself fall into her lap. You tried to separate yourself from your doubts with the warmth of her kisses, but you were unsuccessful. Your body caught your attention trembling and her firm hand on your thigh loosened, pushing you away, looking at you with a strange expression.

“(Y/N), you're shaking,” Donna whispered, looking at you with concern. “Amore mio, what's wrong?”

“Nothing, darling, everything is fine... shall we continue?” you said with a sad smile, with an insistence to kiss her that, once again, revealed the poor ability you had for lying.

“No, I can't, tesoro,” she said, picking you up in her arms to sit you next to her, covering you with a blanket. “I see you're uncomfortable.”

“No, I really don't…” you said hastily but thanking her for covering your body.

“What you were doing to me… it's, it's incredible, (Y/N), I, I was really enyoing it but…” the lady commented, lifting your chin while you struggled to keep your dignity intact.

“But? Did I do it wrong?” you asked scared, seeing how her drooling expression changed to concern.

“No, but, I know you didn't want to do it,” she said, caressing your cheek. “I know you, (Y/N), you're not like that.”

“What am I like? Huh? A boring girl who can't be sexy for you? Is that what I am? Tell me, Donna!” you said, taking out your frustration, yelling at poor Donna again, senselessly, for no reason.

“What are you talking about? Boring? I-I don’t understand you,” she said, frowning again, annoyed by your attitude. “You yelled at me again.”

“Yes, I yell because I’m fed up, Donna…” you said in a calmer tone, clenching your fists tightly. “If you want to leave me, just say so.”

“Leave you? Have you gone crazy?” she asked, in a disrespectful, abrupt tone. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because maybe… I’m not what you’re looking for,” you whispered, letting a tear stain your cheek. “I’ve seen this before, Donna, I saw it with my ex. It didn’t matter how much I smiled, or pretended everything was okay. It wasn’t, nothing was okay.”

“Your ex? What does that stronza have to do with this?” she asked again, grabbing your shoulders so you would look at her face.

“Everything, Donna,” you said firmly, holding her gaze as best you could. “She, she said that I… that I was boring, that's why she left me. I can't stop thinking about the things I did wrong for her to say something like that to me but… I-I guess she was right.”

“No,” Donna said, blinking nervously, holding back her jealousy.

“Yes, I…” you interrupted. “She always wanted to, well, make love anywhere at any time. She pressured me to steal from the craftsmen and to commit mischief that I wasn't ready for. When I agreed, it was all praise, but when I failed… she abandoned me, telling me that I was boring and that I had nothing worthwhile.”

“She was stupid.”

“Maybe, but I see that our relationship is going down the same path. I see that you don't make love to me like before, that I'm not able to please you as you deserve... that I don't give you the life you want, that I bore you.”

“Stop talking nonsense. You don't bore me, you never would,” she said, kicking the coffee table, holding back her rage. “Do you think I want a mean person next to me, a sexual addict? No, (Y/N). I love you because you're calm, good, because life goes by slowly with you, letting me enjoy every moment... I don't think you're boring, for me you're not.”

“Donna,” you sighed, looking into her sincere eye, at the hand that ran over your face, warming it. “Do you really love me... just the way I am?”

“More than my life, tesoro,” she said, grabbing your hands, kissing you tenderly. “I promise I'll tell you every day, every minute. I love you, amore mio…”

“Wow, that's… reassuring,” you said laughing, relieved, feeling the weight of your previous relationship disappear from your shoulders. “I've been stupid…”

“No, don't say that,” Donna said, laughing on your lips, shaking her head as she pulled you closer to her. “By the way, was that why that dance? I have to admit that I liked it, you know?”

“Really? W-Well, at least Dani's advice was of some use,” you said amused, hugging the brunette for a short time, as she abruptly let you go, looking at you with a frown.

“Dani? Daniela Dimitrescu?” she asked hastily, with her eye wide open.

“Um, yes, I…”

“Have you asked Daniela Dimitrescu for advice?! Did she teach you this?” she asked, pointing at you with contempt.

“No, of course not, she just gave me the idea and…” you said, covering yourself better with the blanket. “Donna, where are you going?” you asked, reaching out your hand towards the lady, who was hastily moving away from you.

“I have to make a threat. Stay there, I'm dying to know the end of that dance…”

[cowpokeomens]

Blood Pact

It's me, your favorite monster fucker! Here's another part of my Nocturnal Creatures series, in which you strike a deal with a demon- who goes by Nicholas. Sexy things ensue.

Warnings: Disgusting nasty filthy p-in-v, cunnilingus, lots of mentions of virginity (it's a social construct, but if you got it, flaunt it), Nicholas Ruffilo's monster cock (canon), if you feel I need to add anything PLEASE send me a message! Otherwise, enjoy!

________________________________________________________

You still couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Yet, here you stood, at a crossroads in your hometown. Not just the metaphorical kind, either- an actual, physical crossroads. Mason Avenue and Fisher Street, to be exact. 

Right next to the city cemetery, from which you stole a jar’s worth of dirt.

It sat in your bag, next to some kind of flowering plant you hoped would work, a cat bone (thank goodness for veterinarian friends?), and a picture of yourself, one of the headshots your manager had insisted would help you blow up on TikTok. 

It hadn’t.

You threw everything into a cardboard box, using your shiny, new shovel from the local feed supply store to dig a hole in the center of the dusty dirty roads. The ground was harder than you expected, so your two-foot deep hole had you sweating by the time it was formed. You all but threw the box into the hole, quickly covering it up with loose dirt, and taking a few steps back. Pulling out your phone, you consulted the symbol you saved from a website earlier that week, spray paint in hand. All the stupid Wal-Mart had left was “Cerise Fluorescent,” so you hoped whatever you summoned liked pink. 

Carefully, you sprayed the lines onto the dirt, over where you buried your box. You tried to move quickly, but precisely; Getting caught was almost as terrifying as doing it wrong.

Finally, it was done. You scrolled over on your phone, to the Latin text you hadn’t even dared to read in your head. Stepping away from the circle, you read it aloud now. You could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest, and you wondered one last time if this was worth it. 

“Your Latin sucks.” A voice said suddenly.

You jumped, yelping, and fell directly on your ass.

You were scrambling back when the voice spoke again. 

“Is this a Goetia sigil? In pink? The guys are going to get a kick out of this-”

You stood up shakily, dusting off your pants in the process. You finally saw the source of the voice: Standing in the center of your sigil was the most devastatingly handsome man you had ever seen. 

Long, dark hair; his skin was lightly tanned and healthy-looking. Eyes the color of clouds, that seemed to shift from green to blue to grey before you. He was taller than you, tattoos visible on both hands, and dressed simply: A hoodie, dark jeans, and…

Were those Converse?

You were immediately overcome with confusion. “Um, who are you?”

He fixed those eyes directly on you. “I think that’s my line, doll.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. “You’re Amdusias?”

He winced. “Yikes, with the Scary-Latin-Demon-Name. You can call me Nicholas.”

You frowned. “You don’t seem like…”

“Like a great duke of Hell?” He finished your thought. “Yeah, only angels really like to make a dramatic entrance, that’s why they’ve been banned to stay behind the pearly bars. Too many eyes, too much fire-”

“You’re wearing sneakers?” You said without thought.

He looked offended. “Did you expect me to crawl out of Hell in loafers?”

You scrambled for an answer. “Well, no, but I-”

“TV is rotting your mind. What do you want?” He cut you off.

You felt the color leaving your face. “Well, um, I read that you were responsible for the music in Hell-”

“‘Music’ is a big word, but sure.” He interrupted.

Giving him a look, you continued. “Well, I’m a musician, too! Only…” You trailed off with a frown.

He mocked you with a faux-wince. “Ooh, not triple platinum yet, huh?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to hide your disappointment. Shaking your head, your gaze met his again. “That’s where you come in.”

An eyebrow cocked at you. “Think that because you snagged a demon, you get to be famous?”

You shook your head hastily. “No, not at all! I did a lot of research-” You Googled for 30 minutes- “So I don’t get to demand things without a trade, right?” 

He smiled at you lazily. “Yep. So what will it be, your soul? First born? I love a first born, with a little bit of butter, some rosemary and-”

“I’m a virgin.” You blurted. 

He froze, then his entire demeanor changed. For the first time that night, you felt genuine fear as the air around you went still. “Oh yeah?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, so you settled on a nod.

He took a tiny step towards you. You were rooted on the spot, frozen like a deer in headlights. This was a bad idea. 

Finally, you found your words. “My virginity. For- whatever it is you do. Fame, fortune, I don’t really care, I just want people to hear my music, connect with it-”

“Yeah, yeah, real noble of you.” He snorted, then composed himself. For a second, he almost looked concerned. “You sure about this, doll?”

You nodded, trying to look confident. “Yeah. But- make it organic, y’know, the fame part. I don’t want to look like an industry plant-”

He rolled his eyes, walking closer so that he was directly in front of you. You gaped at his proximity. “You can leave the circle?”

Laughing, he nodded. “I could have left at any point, but you’re pretty-” He leaned in so that he was whispering in your ear, “-For a pathetic little human.”

Your cheeks went hot. You knew it was just to rile you up, make this worse than it already was. At least, you figured, your virginity meant something to someone- it certainly held no value for you. A demon was less than desirable, but he was nice to look at- 

Woah. Not going there, you told yourself sternly. 

Shaking off the feeling, you held out your hand. “Okay, so deal-”

“Uh, no.” He cut you off, again. “I have my own terms and conditions.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

A smirk grew on his face. “My terms. For our arrangement.”

You tried not to let anger well up inside you. “And what would those terms be?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“You come to me.” He said plainly. Confusion must have been evident on your face, because he continued, “I’m not some monster in the night who’s going to show up for your virginity. When the time is right, you’ll come to me.”

“You’re not going to just… Take it?” The question slowly left your mouth.

He grimaced, an ugly look for such a pretty face. “Ew, no. I’m a demon, not a wild animal. Besides,” he cocked his head to the side, looking directly into you. “Virginity tastes better when it comes willingly.” 

Gulping despite yourself, you managed a nod. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come willingly.” As if. 

Holding out an inked hand, he grinned at you. “Then it’s a deal.”

Taking a deep breath, you took his hand in yours, shaking once. “Deal.”

_________________________________________________________

Six Months Later 

You awoke in a cold sweat, the third time that week. Flicking the bedside lamp on, you walked over to the mini-fridge of your hotel room, grabbing a bottle of water. You were uncomfortably wet- again, and not from sweating. It seemed like every time you tried to rest, you were met by stormy eyes where sleep should have greeted you. You chugged the water, making your way to the restroom for a much-needed shower. 

That night’s show had been sold out- the 13th sold out show of your highly anticipated debut tour. Nicholas had held up his end of the bargain; Your album was projected to sell close to a million units by the end of the year. And you had seen neither hide nor hair of him. 

Well. Not in the flesh, anyways.

As you started the shower, your mind wandered. You knew it was him, sending you these dreams through his weird demon dream channels or whatever. Even as your body betrayed you, you knew it was not your own thoughts causing such a commotion. 

Still, as you slipped in the shower to wash off the day’s grime, you felt your hand slip lower, between your folds to collect the wetness there. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you circled your bundle of nerves, moaning quietly. Despite your best efforts, your thoughts drifted back to long, dark hair and tattooed hands on your body. Your hand moved quicker, moans growing louder as you felt yourself getting closer to climax. You were on the precipice when a familiar voice made you freeze.

“I knew you’d be loud.” 

Yelping, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, almost falling in your panic. Yanking your towel off the rack, you wrapped yourself as quickly as possible as you threw open the shower curtain. 

Nicholas was sitting criss-cross on the expansive bathroom counter, picking at something under his nails. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped.

“You summoned me, duh.” He said, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Yeah, six months ago. I thought I was supposed to come to you.”

He looked at you then, eyes dragging over your poorly-concealed form. His eyes glinted, looking hungry. “Moaning the name of a demon you promised your virginity to while you rub one out in the shower is a summoning if I’ve ever seen one. Besides,” He looked into your eyes, smirking devilishly. “You were about to come to me, from the sound of it.”

Your face was on fire with embarrassment. “I was not moaning your name.”

He cocked a brow at you. “Uh, you were. Loudly.” 

Rage bubbled up inside you. “I was not!” The words spilled from you now. “I wouldn’t have even been doing that if you hadn’t been sending me all of your weird demonic sex dreams constantly!”

An unnamed emotion flashed across his face, then he grinned. “‘Weird demonic sex dreams,’ huh?”

You huffed at him “Oh, don’t even play coy. Like being dragged back to Hell and tied up by some hot shot demon was my big idea.”

The smile he was giving you was sinister. “Right, right. What else have I sent your way?”

You faltered, unsure of what he was playing at. “Like you don’t know.” 

He shrugged. “I don’t. I haven’t ‘sent you’ shit.” He mimed quotations with his hands. 

Your blood went cold. Suddenly, the bathroom was too small. “You’re lying.” Your voice sounded feeble, even to you.

He shook his head, standing up. Slowly he stepped towards you. “I’m not.”

“But then- that would mean-” Stammering, you stood there helplessly as he crept closer. 

Nodding, he leaned in even closer. “That was all you, doll.” He brushed a stray lock of hair off your shoulder. “What a dirty mind the little human virgin has. You mentioned being tied up- what else did I do to defile you, huh?” 

He was too close, it almost made you dizzy. He smelled like smoke and rain and earth all at once. “Shut up.” You mumbled weakly.

He stepped back, finally. “Well, you know how to find me.” 

There was a crack like lightning, then he was gone. 

You stood there for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure. This was fine, you reasoned. He left. He kept his word. Everything was fine. 

______________________________________________________

Three Months Later

Once again, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed in your master bedroom, you gazed out the windows overlooking the city below. You remembered when you first bought the condo- loved how open and light it was. In the deepness of the night surrounding you, the lights looked like tiny fires dancing in the dark. 

Taking a deep breath, you laid down on your pillows, trying to relax your body. Running a hand over the t-shirt on your abdomen, up to your breasts, you felt your breathing start to slow. Your nipples were quick to perk up at the stimulation, so you pinched one experimentally, almost moaning out at the sensation.

Your nerves were on fire these days. The slightest brush against your skin made you feverish. You tried everything, from quitting cold turkey to bringing yourself to climax three or four times a day. Nothing was working. 

So maybe this would. 

You snaked your hand lower, falling into familiar routine. You had come to know your body well the last three months, knew exactly where to rub, where to pinch. As you toyed with your folds through your underwear, you imagined a different set of hands, larger and covered in ink. Unlike the other times, you allowed your fantasy to overtake you, gave yourself to it willingly. 

“Nicholas.” You breathed, back arching ever so slightly.

There was a slight breeze, then a quiet gasp. 

“Quite the show you’re putting on, doll. I suppose you didn’t say my name this time, either?” 

You pulled your hand away from your core, scrambling to stand up. “No, I- I did.”

Nicholas’ face looked shocked for a millisecond, then an eyebrow was raised at you. “Oh?”

“I’m… I’m ready.” It didn’t sound convincing. 

He scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks. Like I said, I’m not interested in forcing anyone-”

“Goddamnit, shut up.” You snapped. “I said I’m ready, okay? You said to come to you, so here I am. Unless you never planned on following through with it.” It was dangerous to goad him, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

His eyes were pitch black in an instant, staring you down. “Don’t joke about a demon’s word, doll. You’re not ready for that fight.”

Your hands shook, but you felt-

Mortification overcame you as you realized just what you felt. 

Those dark eyes narrowed in on the single bead of slick that was rolling steadily down your leg. Cloud-grey eyes returned as realization dawned on him.

“You want me to debase you.” He took a step towards you as his words filled the room. “You want me to tie you up and have my way with you. Isn’t that right?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth, but it was evident. 

He inhaled deeply, taking another step towards you. His eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled slowly. “You smell ripe. You want this so badly, poor thing- you just can’t admit it to yourself.”

You pressed your legs together, trying to maintain some kind of decency.

He was in front of you now, close enough to touch if you were braver. “Beg for it. Beg, and I’ll give you anything you want, doll.”

Chest heaving with labored breaths, you gave in. “Please.” You whispered.

His hand- the hands you had been dreaming about for nine months- came up to grip your jaw. “I said beg.”

You crumbled. “Please, Nicholas, please, I’ll be so good-”

His grin was minatory as he brought his lips down to yours. 

Your relief was immediate as you sagged into him, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to support you. He walked you backwards toward the bed, still kissing you furiously. 

“How wet are you already, doll? I bet your little cunt is just soaked.” Breaking the kiss, he picked you up and set you on the bed, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “Tell me what you want.”

You panted, unable to form a sentence for a moment. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

He made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth. “Right, you’re just a helpless little virgin who hasn’t spent the last 9 months having vivid dreams about me fucking her.” He looked up at you through his lashes. “Tell me what you dreamed about.”

“Your hands.” You heard yourself say immediately. 

He smirked again. “Oh yeah? What were my hands doing?”

You knew your face was crimson. “They… They were touching me.”

“Where?” The look he was giving you was too intense for you to maintain more than a few seconds.

“Um-” You hesitated. 

“You can say it.” He urged, leaning in.

“My… my pussy.” You finished, staring at the ground.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy now?” He was still staring at you.

“Please.” You breathed, anticipation making your entire body tense. 

“Good girl, so polite.” As you shivered at the praise, his eyes made their way down your body, to where your core was at eye-level for him. “If you want to stop, say so, is that clear?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

Something dark flashed in his face, then he said, “Good girl.” 

His hand came up to run a single digit along your slit, through your underwear. You shook involuntarily at the contact. 

“Oh doll, you’re starved, aren’t you?” He murmured, almost to himself. “Let’s get these ruined panties off of you.” 

You went to shift your weight so that you could shimmy the garment off, only to freeze as Nicholas tore through it like a piece of paper. 

He didn’t even look apologetic. “Hope you didn’t like those too much.”

You didn’t have time to consider it as you realized your cunt was fully visible to him now, slick with your own juices. 

He sighed as he stared at your core. “Women are the best thing that bastard ever accomplished.” Then he looked up at you. “I’m gonna use my mouth, that okay, doll?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was hoarse from disuse. You felt like you were vibrating in your skin. 

He leaned in slowly, as if to not startle you, before running his tongue from your hole to your clit.

The moan you let out was guttural and animalistic. 

“There it is.” He said quietly, before diving back into you. 

Your head fell back onto the mattress as he lapped at your clit, tongue occasionally diving into your hole. Tears welled up in your eyes at the relief it brought, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. Your hands tangled in his long tresses, and he moaned against your pussy. Your hips were bucking into him involuntarily, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it. “Nicholas, I’m gonna- I’m so close-” You practically sobbed. 

“Shh, I know, doll. Let it happen.” He said soothingly before going back to his ministrations. You came with a primal moan, back arching off of your sheets. 

 You were still panting when he stood up, surveying you. “All better?”

“Fuck me.” You demanded. 

His expression went stoney. He leaned over until you were caged in by his arms on either side of you. “I don’t fuck demanding brats.”

You lost all your bravado. “Please?”

He sighed softly, but not sincerely. “How bad do you want it?”

You could have cried. “Please, I’m sorry Nicholas, I’ll be good, please fuck me- you don’t know how bad I need it-”

“I just had your greedy little unused hole grinding against my tonsils.” He sneered. “I know exactly how bad you need it.”

Your face went hot at the profane nature of his words- but he was right. He saw firsthand how bad you needed this. “Please.” Was all you said. 

“Well, I guess since you’re asking so nicely.” He mocked as he stepped back, unbuckling his pants as he went. He slid off the trousers, his erection visible through his briefs. You suddenly felt nervous, looking at the size of him. 

He stopped, seeing your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just- is it gonna fit?”

He pulled the briefs down at last, finally freeing his cock. It was big- even by supernatural proportions. The tip was an angry shade of red, veins pulsating on the shaft. He huffed a laugh at your face, pulling his shirt off, too. “I bet we can find room.”

Your eyes devoured the tattoos that covered him, tracing the planes of his body as you went. You almost didn’t notice him slinking over to you, crawling onto the mattress in one, fluid motion, landing on top of you. 

“I’m gonna touch you again, okay?” He looked at you expectantly. 

You nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, tongue sliding against yours. You whimpered when his fingers were back on your pussy, running along the folds. As you adjusted to his touch, two fingers slipped inside your hole.

“Fuck you’re still so wet,” He muttered, rocking his fingers back and forth inside you. You gasped at the sensation, his fingers so much larger than your own. Moving his mouth down to your neck, he began scissoring his fingers, stretching you out- a preparation you were thankful for.

You felt your second orgasm approaching as he continued his movements, moans growing higher pitched. “Nicholas, I-”

“Think you can hold on?” He asked. It was a genuine question, you knew whatever answer you gave would be correct. 

You considered it for a second. “Yeah, I can- I can wait.” Your legs were still beginning to tremble, though. 

He placed a kiss on your temple, pulling his fingers out. “I’ll go slow, but we can stop if you want to.”

You nodded an affirmative. He stared at you blankly, and you remembered yourself. “Yes, sir.” He tapped your nose, a gesture that was oddly sweet, as he said “Good girl.”

You felt him line up with your entrance, the tip slowly sliding in. It was still a stretch- but you found that you liked it, liked the feeling of being filled up. He went slowly, thrusting shallowly, each time going a little deeper. You could hear the noises you were making, but couldn’t stop yourself from making them. He paused three-fourths of the way in. 

“Doing okay?”

“Yes Nicholas, please don’t stop.” Came your gargled reply.

He smirked, thrusting a few more times until he was fully sheathed in you.

Your back arched clear off the bed as he bottomed out, his tip nestled against something inside you that made you feel feral.

“Like that, doll?” You could hear how smug he was.

“Please, Nicholas, please-” You whined.

“I know, pretty, I’ll give you what you need.” His hands tightened their grip on your waist as he pulled out and slid back in quickly. You let out another carnal wail, your hands coming around to grab at his shoulders. He pulled out again, slamming into you, continuing on until you felt like a puddle on the bed.

“So wet and tight for me, such a good girl.” He grunted as he fucked into you. You nodded pitifully, not sure why, lost in the pleasure. Over and over again he slid against that sweet spot inside you, making you feel like you were on fire. Your orgasm soon approached you like a freight train.

“Nicholas please, I need- I need to come-” You stammered, close to sobbing. 

“I know, it’s so much, I know, you can come, doll.” His words opened a dam as your orgasm overcame you in a powerful wave, making you all but scream as he fucked you through it.

He pulled out shortly after, jerking himself to completion on your stomach. You were gasping for air, legs quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as hot ropes of come covered you. 

You felt disgusting, in the most delicious way possible. 

Nicholas disappeared around the corner, returning with a rag to clean you up. He had used hot water, you noted, so it was warm to the touch. 

“So that’s a deal?” You asked when he had finished cleaning you. 

He looked sad, but the expression was quickly gone. “I suppose it is.”

He set the rag on your bedside table, already going to collect his clothing.

“I have a question, before you disappear again.” You called over his shoulder.

“And what is your question?” He turned around to face you as he pulled on his briefs.

“If I wanted a Grammy,” You began, cocking your head to the side. “What would your rates be for that?”

He gave you a grin, understanding your implication immediately as he dropped his pants back onto the floor.

“I’d be open to negotiation of terms.” He murmured as he made his way back over to the bed, lips slotting against yours once more.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Regret

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Tribrid!Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~5.3k

Warnings: major angst, no humanity!reader, forced turned into a vampire and werewolf, feeling betrayed, heartbreak

Request by anon: Hey Jordan can i request a imagine based on No Humanity Hope Mikaelson? Where the reader is a tribrid and half angel daughter of Michael or Lucifer and is dating Dean and Sam and for someone reason she chose to turn off her humanity and her boyfriends trying to she became herself again?

Summary: You're the first of your kind and the only one of your kind. Michael created you to help create new angels without asking if that's what you want to do. In order to make new angels, you have to fully become a tribrid, and you're only a witch. You don't want to turn but Michael makes it so you don't have a choice.

Square Filled: holy oil (2019) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: the anon asked for the reader to be dating both sam and dean, but i just made it for sam!

x

Heaven is slowly breaking down and your dad is doing everything he can to prevent it from completely collapsing on itself. After Metatron kicked all the angels out, Michael got out of the cage and took over command. Most of the remaining angels have turned back over to Michael but there have been a handful who want to rebel. He has been tracking every single angel not on his side and getting rid of them.

Michael has one of those angels in Heaven tied up while you’re sitting sideways on your throne with your phone in hand.

“I’m giving you one chance to come clean. All I need are the names of the angels in the rebellion. Do you really want to go down for their mistakes?”

“Michael, please. I don’t know anything. They don’t tell me what they’re doing or who is on their team. I already told you everyone I know.”

“That’s not good enough for me. This is a good teaching moment, Y/N. I’ll show you what happened to angels who don’t deliver.” Michael looks back at you only to see you giggling like a schoolgirl on your phone. “Y/N!”

“What, I’m paying attention,” you say without looking up.

You and Sam Winchester have been dating for a few months and all you want to do is be near him. You’re in the “Honeymoon Phase” of your relationship. If your dad wasn’t such a strict person, you’d be back on Earth with Sam and Dean.

“Y/N!”

“What?” you gasp and finally look at him.

“You need to start paying attention. This is your legacy. This is who you’re meant to be so stop messing around with that Winchester and do what you were made to do.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Michael glares at you and turns to the angel who thought he was going to get off scot-free. Michael grabs the holy oil and covers the angel with it. The lower-level angel pleads for his life but Michael has already lit the match. The angel screams as he burns alive, and your dad turns to you with a deadly glare.

“You knew what you were supposed to do the second you were created.”

Don’t you know it. He tells you all about your responsibilities every second he gets, and it’s pissing you off. You were created by his grace so you’re half angel, but he took the DNA of other monsters to create the perfect tribrid: vampire, witch, and werewolf. Both your werewolf and vampire genes are dormant so you’re only a half-witch, half-angel right now. If you were to die or kill someone, you’d activate the other parts of you.

You refuse to let that happen.

Michael created you this way since you’re meant to be so powerful that you can create other angels. If you don’t activate those other two parts of you, you can’t create new angels.

“You never let me forget it,” you sigh and sit upright.

“I am trying to make Heaven what it used to be. We are running on limited angels and if they all perish, Heaven will cease to exist.”

“Yeah, and the smart choice is to kill off more angels. I see where you’re coming from.”

“I am weeding out the bad so that only the good remains. What good is this place if we have rouge angels running amok here?”

You get up and put your phone in your back pocket.

“I am not interested in killing angels only to make new ones. I am not a killer. I am a witch who never wanted this. If you can figure out a way for me to make new angels without activating my other sides, I am all for that. I am not going to be your puppet in this sick game you’re playing. I can’t care if you’re my dad. I am not activating my other sides to become a full tribrid. Frankly, you can’t make me. Even without those sides, I’m still more powerful than you. Don’t let your arrogance be the death of you.”

You storm out of the room before he has a chance to say anything back to you. You don’t want to be here anymore. There is only one person who can make you feel better and he is on Earth. As soon as you land there, you immediately find him at some high school he and his brother were at while on a case.

Seeing Sam after all this time makes your heart flutter and your worries dissolve.

“Sam!” you grin.

“Y/N!” You run into his arms and cling to him for longer than necessary. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad pissed me off. I had to come see you.”

“We just got done with a case. We’re about to call it a night and head home tomorrow. I can get a separate room for us if you want to talk.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile. “Hi, Dean.

“Hey, kid. Don’t wear out Sammy like last time. I kind of need him,” he jokes.

“It’s not like that. Don’t be so crude.”

Dean found a relatively cheap motel to stay the night in but headed to the bar instead of his room. You and Sam got the conjoining room for yourselves, and you sit on the edge of the bed with a tired sigh.

“What’s going on? What did Michael do now?”

“He’s hell-bent on killing any angel who opposes him. Heaven is already struggling with the amount of angels now. He wants to kill off the bad so I can make more for him.”

“Make more? I thought only God could do that.”

“Michael made me with not only his grace but with the DNA of a witch, vampire, and werewolf. If I were to turn full Tribrid, I’d have enough power to create his angels. He wouldn’t need God.”

“What happened up there?” Sam asks and sits next to you.

“He was killing them. He wants me to activate my vampire and werewolf side. I’m not a killer, Sam. I don’t want this. I’ve never wanted this. Michael never cared about me. He only cares about what I can do for him. I don’t want to do this,” you sniffle.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Sam pulls you closer so that you can cry against his chest. He doesn’t care if your tears stain his shirt. “He can’t force you to turn.”

“I’m afraid he might be able to. All I ever wanted was to be normal. I never wanted to hurt people,” you cry.

“You won’t. Look, Dean and I are really good at hiding from angels. We’re branded. Michael can’t find us. Stay with us for a while.” You pull away from him to look into his beautiful hazel eyes. “He won’t be able to find you.”

You don’t tell him that he would be able to find you. Michael is relentless. He will do anything to get what he wants, and that includes hurting Sam and Dean. Still, you don’t see the harm in staying with Sam for the night. 

Michael is seething with anger over your fight. He doesn’t know how to make you see that you need to do this for the greater good. All he ever wants is to remake Heaven into what it was before. He can’t do that without new angels. You’re the only one besides God who can make new angels, and it’s not like his dad is going to show up anytime soon to help.

The mess of the angel’s death has been cleaned from the room that Michael is pacing in. He doesn’t know how to make you see that turning full Tribrid is a good thing. The door to the throne room opens and Lucifer walks in apprehensively.

“Wow. The entirety of Heaven heard your fight.”

“She’s being a child. She’ll come around.”

“Will she? She was pretty adamant on staying out of this one.”

“We need new angels, Lucifer. Dad’s not winning any ‘Father of the Year’ awards. We can’t rely on him to help us.”

“I agree,” Lucifer shrugs.

“Maybe I’ve been too harsh on her.”

“No, don’t give me that sympathy bullshit. She is the only one who can make new angels, right? Force her to turn. Force her to help.”

“She’d hate me.”

“As if she doesn’t already,” Lucifer scoffs. “The way I see it,  you got two options. Force her to turn and help make new angels or kill off the ones who rebel, leaving only a handful of angels to keep Heaven running. One of them gets you what you want.”

Michael stares at his younger brother in thought. You were created for one purpose and one purpose only. He hates to take away your choice but this is more urgent than your precious free will.

“What do I have to do?” Michael asks and Lucifer grins.

Lucifer tells Michael his diabolical plan which the older brother isn’t too fond of but knows it’s necessary.  Both of them go down to Earth to gather what they need. Lucifer gathers two burly humans who want nothing more than to be angels in Heaven while Michael gets two of his most trusted angels.

“What will you have us do, Lucifer?” one of the humans asks.

Lucifer grips the left shoulder of one of the men and the right shoulder of the second man so that their attention is solely on the archangel.

“Stan, you’re going to let Y/N kill you. You’re going to do whatever it takes until she kills you. Elijah, you’re going to kill Y/N and let her feed on you until you die. Only until your missions are completed, you’ll be allowed in Heaven as my brother’s trusted angels.”

Michael doesn’t tell them that he can’t make them into angels. Only you can do that but that’s neither here nor there at this point.

“I won’t let you down,” Stan says.

“I know you won’t.”

“You two,” Michael says to the two angels, “are going to make sure Sam and Dean aren’t going to be in the way. Do what you have to do to make sure they don’t interfere.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the angels nods.

Michael hates it came to this but if this is the only way you’ll have enough power to help, then so be it.

You gave yourself an extra day to be with Sam and Dean before you have to go back to Heaven and face your dad again. You’re hoping this space would have cleared his head a bit. If you work hard, you might come up with a solution that makes you powerful enough to create new angels without activating your other sides.

Sam and Dean stopped at a bar on the way back to the Bunker to hang out and let off steam before channeling through the last portion of the drive. Sam is teaching you how to play pool against Dean who isn’t going easy on you.

“Come on, Dean, can’t you be a bit more easygoing?” Sam asks.

“No, don’t do that. Let him go as hard as he wants. It’ll hurt more when I beat him,” you smirk.

“You got jokes, huh? Alright, bring it on,” Dean smirks and racks the balls.

People come and go from the bar all night until there aren’t a lot of people left. Whoever is still inside are the stragglers who try to get as much alcohol as they can before being kicked out, and those who have nowhere to go.

You two play as much as you can before the manager announces the bar is closing. You three pack up your things and leave the bar, passing by two men who are watching you.

“I told you, Dean. Don’t be too cocky.”

“Yeah, yeah, it won’t happen next time.”

You’re about halfway to the car when you hear someone behind you make a crude comment about you.

“Nice ass, sweetheart.”

You stop and turn to face them.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Come home with us. We’re much more fun.”

Sam is about to step in when you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I got this,” you smile and turn to the men with the same smile. “I think you’re drunk. Turn around, go home, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

“Now why would I want to do that? Hard to forget someone with an ass like that.”

Sam and Dean are about to step in when two more men show up and grab them. Angels. Your dad must have sent them. Wow, he really doesn’t take no for an answer.

“Okay. I get it. Michael is punking me, right? Testing me to see what I’d do? I’m not doing it. Go home before you get hurt.” You turn to face the angels when Stan grabs your shoulder and yanks you back. You swiftly face Stan and grab his collar in anger. You might be sweet and soft for Sam but you have your dad’s temper. “I said beat it before you get hurt.” You shove Stan off you and turn to the angels with fire in your eyes. “If you knew what was best for you, you’d let go of them.”

Before they have a chance to say anything back, you’re pushed violently to the side. If you didn’t have quick reflexes, you’d be on your ass in seconds. Stan sees the fire in your eyes but doesn’t back down from you.

“What are you going to do about it? A small thing like you is gonna get herself a bruise for talking back like that.”

Okay, now you’re pissed off. You stalk toward him and land a punch to his face, and he goes flying into the side of the nearest car.

“You were saying?”

Stan growls and charges at you, hell-bent on taking complete advantage of you. He’s a much bigger man than you with muscles packed on but he doesn’t have angelic grace running through his veins like you do. You dodge every one of his attempts to hit you, you make sure he doesn’t get a good hit in, all the while you are landing every punch to the side of his face and his stomach.

“I’m warning you now, man, walk away while you still can,” you growl.

“Nah. I’ll have my friends here force your little boyfriend to watch while I take every bit of innocence I know you have swimming in there,” he smirks.

If Michael is behind this, he wants you to get angry but there is something about the disgusting yellow teeth that Stan has that is making you see red. You charge at Stan and slam him into the side of the car as hard as you can, and the sickening crack of his skull is enough to put everyone into silence.

He falls to the ground with blood pooling out of his head, and you stare at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“Let me go!” Sam struggles against the angel.

“No, no, no, no,” you mutter and get on your knees next to Stan. “Don’t be dead. Do not be dead. Please don’t be dead.” Tears are streaming down your face as you check his pulse but it’s clear that Stan is no longer alive. “No! Please wake up!”

Almost immediately, you can feel your body begin changing since your werewolf side is activated. You hunch over Stan’s body and yell out in agonizing pain. It’s not a full moon but your body needs to feel the effects of your werewolf side since your DNA is changing.

“Y/N! Don’t touch her!” Sam cries out.

“You don of a bitch!” Dean struggles.

You look up at Sam with bright yellow eyes that hold so much pain. One little mistake and your entire life is changing. You look back down at the ground and yell out in pain once more, not paying attention to Elijah who is sneaking up on you.

“Y/N! Behind you!”

Sam can barely get the sentence out before Elijah shoves a knife into your back and into your heart. You gasp as the yellow in your eyes dies out. You’re not a vampire but because you had vampire DNA when you were created, you have vampire blood running through your body constantly. If you die with vampire blood in your system, you become one.

Maybe that was the goal all along.

You fall to the ground over Stan’s body. It’s then that the angels let go of Sam and Dean. They’ve fulfilled their mission so they fly out of there as soon as possible so as not to face the Winchester’s wrath. Elijah backs away from your dead body as Sam rushes over to you.

“No, Y/N! What the hell did you do?” Sam yells at Elijah while cradling your body.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean demands to know.

“I’ve fulfilled my mission,” Elijah says in a trance-like state.

“Dean, what do I do? She’s not breathing,” Sam cries and looks up at his older brother with tears in his eyes. 

Dean doesn’t know what to do either. He’s never had to deal with something like this.

“We gotta get her to a hospital. They’ll know what to do. They’ll fix her.”

Sam is about to scoop you into his arms when you wake with a gasp. Elijah walks over to the broken glass from the car that Stan was slammed into and grabs a big piece without no one noticing him.

“Y/N!”

You moan out in pain and roll onto the street so that you’re the only thing holding yourself up. Your breathing is heavy, your stomach is in knots, and your head is pounding.

“God, I’m so hungry,” you groan.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean mutters.

“You two gotta get out of here.”

“No, we’re not leaving you,” Sam says.

“Sam, I’m not joking.” Stan’s blood is making your head spin fast and you're not sure you can hold back any longer. “Get the hell out of here.”

“No. I want to help you. Tell me what will make this better.”

“This will.” Elijah cuts his neck with the broken glass and you look at him with deadly eyes. Fresh blood is so much different than dead blood. “Come on, kill me. Kill me so I can die and be with Michael.”

You’re already on your feet but pause when you hear your dad’s name.

“What did you say?”

“My mission is to kill you only to die by your hand. Michael will accept me as an angel in Heaven.”

His mission? Michael sent them? You knew that much, but he really forced these men to trigger your vampire and werewolf side? The smell of blood is too strong for you to resist so you rush over to him and sink your teeth into his neck. By drinking human blood, you have completed your transition into a vampire, thus turning yourself into a full Tribrid.

You drink every last drop Elijah has to give you and he drops to the ground, dead.

“Y/N?” Sam asks carefully and stands up.

You turn to the brothers with blood dripping down your face and tears in your eyes.

“He forced me to turn. He forced me to be this monster after I told him I wanted nothing to do with this. I never wanted to be this.”

You sob loudly at the fact that your own father betrayed your trust like this. Your emotions are heightened so when you get pissed, you’re in a vengeful rage. When you get sad, your heart breaks. You smash your fist into the window of a parked car but it doesn’t work to get the frustrations out of you.

You go around smashing windows and denting every car you see but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“Whoa! Y/N, calm down! We’re here to help you but you need to calm down,” Dean tries.

“Baby, I know you’re feeling hurt right now but you need to calm down. Use us. Let us help you,” Sam begs.

“I can’t handle this!” You fall to your knees and cry loudly. “He betrayed me. He took everything from me.”

“I know. I know you’re feeling hurt but I’m right here to help you. Don’t give up hope now. We’ll get Michael but you need to calm down first,” Sam says.

He wants to bring you into his arms but he doesn't know how you’re going to react to that. So for now, he’ll keep his distance.

“I don’t want to feel this way. Please make it stop,” you cry.

You’re not sure how vampires can manipulate their feelings. You’re not sure how one turns off their humanity. Is it a choice? Is it a thought? Does your body choose for you? Being a vampire is so overwhelming that it hurts. The betrayal you’re feeling from your own father hurts you like you’ve never hurt before. He knew you didn’t want to be a full Tribrid. All he wants is to use you for his own gain and nothing else.

Your body does what it needs to survive and makes the decision for you.

“Just come with us back to the Bunker. It’ll be okay.”

“Yes. It will be.” You look up at Sam and Dean with your vampire face--veins underneath your eyes, yellow eyes, and both sets of fangs out. “You just won’t be part of it.”

You use your vampire speed and run over to Sam before biting into his neck. You don’t want to kill him so you take enough to render him unconscious. Dean is no match for you but he tries to fight you off. You give him the same treatment and watch as both boys are knocked out on the street.

There is only one place you want to be and it’s not on Earth.

If your dad wanted to turn you into a tribrid so bad, you’re going to show him what a mistake that was. You’re going to make him regret it.

You step foot into Heaven and immediately know something is off. Michael knows you’re here. He knows Stan and Elijah died. He knows the mission is complete. He knows you’re a tribrid. So where the hell is he?

“Yoo hoo, anybody home? Big bad vampire out here,” you announce loudly.

You walk the halls until you come to the throne room. You slam the doors open with your magic and see Michael and Lucifer standing in the middle of the room. Both of them see the blood on your face. Both of them know you’re a full Tribrid now.

“Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in,” Michael says.

“Cut the bullshit, Michael,” you growl and walk closer to them. Lucifer does the smart thing and backs away. Luckily, you’re not here for him… yet. “You did this to me. You sent those men after me and forced me to turn full Tribrid. Now you have to pay the consequences. I told you I didn’t want to be this way but you didn’t listen. You want a loyal army of angels? You won’t live to see the next sunrise.”

Michael puts some distance between the two of you and begins to beg for his life.

“I only did this because I needed you this way. You can help follow through with my plans--our plans.”

“I never wanted this!” you yell at him. “You forced me into someone I never wanted to be!” He hides behind the throne but you use your magic and shatter it to pieces. “There is nowhere on Heaven, Earth, and Hell where you can hide that I won’t find you! You never loved me! You never wanted me! You only wanted what I could do for you!”

“No, that’s not true.”

You walk over to Michale and grip his throat tightly. He claws at your hand but he’s not strong enough to get you off him.

“Guess what, Dad, turning me was a big mistake. You’re going to die and never see how I rip Heaven apart one angel at a time until I am the only one standing. I’ll make new angels but ones that will stand for everything you don’t.”

You see Lucifer disappear at a moment’s notice out of the corner of your eye. He’s going into hiding but you’ll find him eventually and drain the life out of him like you’re going to do with Michael.

Your eyes shine bright white and allow your magic to fully encase Michael. You’re not even sure how to use your powers but you let your emotions do the talking for you. You let go of Michael but he falls to his knees when your magic starts pulling his life force from him. Grey and white smoke comes from his body to your mouth as you breathe in his power.

“Y/N, please don’t do this,” Michael begs. “I never wanted this for you. I’m so sorry.”

“You should have thought of that before you sent them to kill me.”

“It was Lucifer’s idea!”

Huh, looks like he’s dying next.

“Thanks for the tip. You’re still dying anyway.”

When the last bit of smoke leaves Michael’s body, he drops to the ground, dead. Lucifer is going to be one hard person to track, especially since you don’t have control over your powers yet, but he’ll die at the hands of you eventually.

You’re not finished yet. You were serious when you told him you were going to make an army of angels all on your own. You have to get rid of the current selection first, starting with the rebellion and ending with Castiel.

“Any news on where she might be?” Sam asks his brother and Castiel.

The wound on his neck hasn’t fully healed from when you bit him. Castiel offered to heal it for him like he did Dean but Sam wants it there as a reminder. He saw the look in your eyes. He saw how betrayed you felt through the pain in your eyes. He doesn’t know much about vampires or their humanity, but he knows when you’ve flipped the switch. 

You're such a loving and caring person that he was shocked to see no hope in your eyes.

“If I had to guess, she’s in Louisiana.”

“If you had to guess?”

“She’s killing angels off one by one starting from the east coast and making her way to the west coast. I hear them over angel radio. She’s leaving no angel alive.”

“She’s lost hope,” Dean says.

“No, she’s hurt. Michael betrayed her trust and turned her into something she never wanted to be. Her emotions are heightened and she’s letting her pain guide her. She knows Michael wanted nothing more than to rebuild Heaven with new angels. She’ll make new angels but it won’t be for Michael,” Sam comes to your defense.

“That still doesn’t excuse her slaughtering all angels.”

“I’m not saying it does. All I’m saying is don’t give up on her. She’s under all that hurt and pain. It’s the only thing keeping her going right now.”

“How are we going to find her? She can kill hundreds without us knowing and already be moving onto the next state,” Dean asks.

Castiel is about to answer when he gets a splitting headache. He puts both hands to his head and leans over the desk as he waits for this to pass. Sam and Dean look at each other in confusion but allow the angel to gather himself before questioning him.

Angel radio statics in his ear before he hears a deadly calm voice.

“Prepare the Winchesters or don’t, but I’m coming for you next, Castiel. You're the only angel left standing, and I won’t let the Old World conflict with the New World. Michael and Lucifer are dead. Tell those Winchesters if they don’t want to end up like you, they won’t get in my way.”

“Cas, you okay?” Dean asks.

“I don’t think we need to find Y/N, she’s gonna find us. She’s coming for me,” Castiel sighs.

“What? What did she say?”

“Michael and Lucifer are dead. I’m the only angel left. She wants to start over. She’s coming for me.”

“We’ll be prepared,” Dean says.

“Dean, you don’t get it. She killed Michael and Lucifer, two of Heaven’s most powerful angels.  How am I to protect myself against her?”

“You have us,” Sam says. “We’ll get through to her. We’re not going to let you die.”

The Bunker is the safest place on Earth against monsters but it’s no match for you. Sam and Dean are waiting with Castiel as you expected but they’re outside instead of inside. Maybe they don’t want you destroying their home but you don’t care. You’ll kill Castiel tonight.

“I hope you know I’ll kill you two to get to him,” you state.

“Then you’re going to have to kill us,” Sam declares.

You see the wound on Sam’s neck from where you bit him and you pause. No, you can’t think about that, or else your entire world will come crumbling down. You raise your hands and Sam and Dean go flying halfway across the field. Castiel begins running at you; you have to give him credit for his bravery.

He slides an angel blade out of his coat sleeve and swings at you when he gets to you, and you put your hand up to block the attack. The angel blade slices your palm and you hiss in pain. You blast Castiel back from you and fling the angle blade out of his hands so he can’t use it on you. You produce your own with your magic and stalk toward him like he’s your prey and you’re a deadly predator.

You raise the angel blade to bring down on him but Sam jumps into action before you can.

“No!”

Sam runs to you and fits himself between you and Castiel so that if you were to bring the blade down, it’d strike Sam instead.

“No, Sammy! Don’t do that!” Dean groans.

“Don’t do it, Y/N,” Sam begs. “I know you’re still in there. Where is the woman I love?”

“Get out of my way, Sam, or I will kill you.”

“Then you’re going to have to kill me because I am not moving. This isn’t who you are.” You have a better view of Sam’s neck wound and remember the moment you bit him. You’d never do anything to hurt him. Tears line your eyes and Sam realizes that you didn't turn your humanity off. You’re acting out of hurt and betrayal because you don’t know how to yet control your emotions. “Y/N, look at who you’re about to kill. It’s Cas. He’s family.”

“God, I can’t do this,” you sob and drop the angel blade. “Sam, it hurts. Please make it stop.” Sam immediately brings you into his arms and you collapse onto the ground in a fit of tears. “I can’t do this.”

“You’re not alone, Y/N. I will help you through this. You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to be this person,” you sob.

“I know. You won’t be this person. You’ll do and be better. You’re not alone.”

Sam doesn’t know how to make you feel better in this moment but he does provide a comforting arm around you. Your sobs are heartbreaking and can be heard for miles around you but you know this is the first step in healing.

And that’s all you want to do. Heal.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[incomingalbatross]

"Everyone already perceives Elsa as a scary monster, just let the audience share the general Arundelle perspective instead of giving us the inside scoop on Elsa actually just being Misunderstood."

You'd also have to change Anna's opinion since she always viewed Elsa as simply misunderstood too. Or at least have her come to believe she was wrong somehow.

Okay so this is the part of the Make Frozen Better concept in my head that I completely neglected to articulate and, in fact, may have contradicted in places. :P Hang on...

I think what I'm imagining, here, is that Elsa looks like a monster/Evil Queen to everyone, including the audience, except Anna. And we the audience quite genuinely don't have the information to decide if Anna's right and her journey is saving her sister, or if she's wrong and her journey is about saving her kingdom.

Very, very rough outline:

Elsa is Anna's older sister who she barely knows - remote, reserved, always closing herself off from others but from Anna especially. Anna loves her. Or she wants, rather desperately, to love her. But she barely knows her.

At the opening of the plot, they interact a little and it's unexpectedly friendly. Anna feels a surge of hope that Maybe Her Sister Loves Her Too.

But then everything goes dramatically bad. Hans signs up to rescue Anna from her lonely life via marriage, they tell Elsa, and Elsa freaks and reveals her powers in a dramatic surge that brings down the storm. Then she vanishes.

It honestly looks pretty villainous and the people who are going "Queen Elsa...is a witch? Queen Elsa wants the kingdom to suffer?" actually sound like they have a reasonable case. (Edit the confrontation scene as needed to make Elsa's motives and responses look more villainous.)

But Anna is the only one saying NO, that's her SISTER, she's not treating her like a monster, she's gonna go and talk to her! She's not writing her off!!

She sets off. Other people point out - first at court and then on her journey, where she meets a married couple - that she's not being really rational about this. She's staking the kingdom, her kingdom and her people, on her faith in a sister she admits she barely knows. She clings to her love of her sister.

(The married couple also questions her engagement, which here can maybe play into "Anna's a hopeless romantic" instead of writerly self-sabotage? Also a good segue into a speech about Love in general.)

She meets with Elsa. They have, like, half a productive conversation maybe? But Elsa is afraid to try and be a Queen or a sister when she's already failed and, to the audience, this comes across as selfishness. She ends up cursing Anna.

Anna's faith in her breaks. She looks like a confirmed villain now, even if she wasn't before. The only hope is to go back to Hans - and Hans doesn't let her down. Not exactly. The kiss doesn't work but he says her sources must have been wrong, and the only way to end Elsa's curses is going to be to kill her.

Anna, shaken and disillusioned and beginning to doubt any type of love is as true as she thought it was, doesn't stop him.

They're lined up to kill Elsa, who is overpowered really surprisingly easily.

At the last minute, Anna remembers or is helped by the couple from earlier and the things they discussed about love. Love is an act of faith, but it's also a choice and a willingness to extend something to another person whether they deserve it or not. She realizes again, for good, that she loves her sister even if she is a villain, and she's not willing to kill her even for the "greater good."

She gets in front of the ax. Else tells her to get out of the way. They argue, and Elsa reveals that she just wants the curses gone and if dying is what it takes, she wants to die. She let herself be captured so they could put an end to her. Anna yells at her. They both cry.

Some climactic moment where they're both trying to shield each other, either from the execution (Hans's true priorities are revealed as he tried to go through with it anyway) or in some more abstract way.

Burst of light.

The light clears, they're clinging to each other, Anna's curse is gone, and winter has made way for spring.

(My OWN take would also have Elsa's hair going from white to blonde, with the reveal that her powers were a curse and needed an act of fearless love to break them. Or at least to unleash the uncursed, unfrozen, controllable version of her native powers. I realize this would be hard to fit in with Frozen's whole empowerment thing, but if we're centering this story on Anna learning how to love people properly and Elsa participating in her journey, I'm not sure magic as self-acceptance really fits in here anyway. So I'm parking that bit here, under probation.)

Anyway this is now a story about Disney Princess Anna looking like she has to learn lessons about Responsibility and Discernment and Judging People Rightly, but then reveals that while it is about those things (see: Hans), it's also about validating her pure heart and steadfast love for her sister, and showing how she learns to add wisdom to that childlike faith instead of rejecting one for the other. That's the goal anyway.

[cheriedies]

Naoki Urasawa's Monster in real life

So, I spent my holidays in Czechia and realized it would be a good opportunity to try and find the real life references and inspirations for one of my favourite anime series - Monster (haven't gotten my hands on the manga yET). After a bit of research I found that @fuckyeahjohanliebert has already done this almost a decade ago and their account has been extremely helpful. I also used the websites that I've linked at the very end of the post and you should definitely check them out as I didn't get the chance to visit every single location. It is honestly incredible how much work this person has put into their research. With that being said, here is what these places look like as of January 2023, alongside some tips I wanted to share in case you decide to visit them during your stay in Prague!

Let's start with the easiest location: Charles Bridge. It is probably the most visited place in Prague and so it can be quite crowded, especially around NYE.

Next, we have a shot of a tram in front of what today is the Palladium, a large shopping mall. Location: Nám. Republiky 1078/1, 110 00 Petrská čtvrť, Czechia

Okay, this one was a bit tricky because I wasn't able to find the exact reference for the Tri Zaba (Three Toads) sign. Most sources pointed me towards Hotel U Tri Pstrosu (Three Ostriches) which is right besides the Charles Bridge. However, a reddit user posted a picture from U Tri Capu hotel (Three Herons), and someone mentioned it being a possible inspiration in the replies. Therefore, I took pictures of both and upon looking at them closely I honestly cannot be certain about which of the two served as the main inspiration, maybe it was a mixture of both? Looking purely at the shape of the sign the Three Herons (Far Right) seems to be the closest. The positioning of the three ostriches on the other hand (Middle) is more similar to the way the toads are positioned. If you have any sources I've missed pls link them!

I also found this detailing you can spot if you are walking by the Vltava River. A thing to note: I could find this specific fencing only of the side of the river that is next to the Ministerstvo průmyslu a obchodu, If your cross the bridge the design is completely different. Location: Petrská čtvrť, 110 00 Prague 1, Czechia

Now onto the Red Rose Mansion. Fans figured out that the Břevnovský klášter (Brevnov Monastery) served as the main inspiration for the Red Rose Mansion. Unfortunately, the monk that is responsible for the visits was sick during my stay in Prague, and would not be coming back until after I left. You can see the exact room that was referenced for the murder scene in the websites I've linked below. I was a bit sad that I wasn't able to see it with my own eyes but I hope he has a speedy recovery. After all, this gives me a reason to visit this wonderful city again! Tip: Don't be an oblivious zoomer like me and bring cash with you to leave a small donation at the Bazilika svaté Markéty Antiochijské (Basilica of St. Margaret of Antioch). You can get a postcard with the picture of the monastery for about 10 koruna and I'm sure it helps with the maintenance of this beautiful place. Also, there is a small, cozy cafe on the territory and they have really tasty Medovnik cake!

The Rose Garden at the Mansion actually has no roses! It is actually a Cherry Garden, and can be visited at the Orangerie right behind the Monastery (tip: as far as I know it is only open on weekends and closes at 8pm). During this time of year it is obviously not blossoming however it was nice to visit nonetheless and walking in between the tall shrubs made me feel like I was Nina :p

As a bonus I wanted to add this picture of a hanging Sigmund Freud that absolutely startled me on my first day in Prague. Many fans have speculated that the character of Franz Bonaparta was inspired by him, given their similar looks and involvement with Psychology

I hope this was enjoyable and I hope you visit these amazing places if you ever happen to be in Prague! Once again, I'd like to highlight how grateful I am for the research fans have done and as mentioned above here are some of the websites I used:

[salty-croissants]

Could u write a fluff fic where the reader comforts ramon/rayman after a rough night or bad dream :3

I love this kinda scenario and would love to see it in your writing 💗

Thank you for the request ! 

A comfort scenario for my favorite limbless man ? Yes please :,) ❤️

I really enjoyed writing this , I’m always down to give him some well deserved affection ! 

Hope these turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

presence of mild swearing in Ramon’s part and general angst with following fluff  

Rayman 🧡

< Oh Rayman … are you seriously that stupid ?

We gave you one job , one simple job , and you managed to mess that up too ? >

< I … I’m sorry … > 

Rayman fearfully looked up at the silhouettes of the Directors towering over him …

What did he even do wrong ? He couldn’t bring himself to remember … 

He always did a good job , didn’t he ? 

his performances were always met with enthusiasm by the public , weren’t they ? 

< And to think that we gave you everything you could ever want , lifting you from the dirt when everyone thought of you as a monster … how ungrateful can you possibly be ? > 

< I-I know that - 

Just please , tell me what I did wrong , I’m sure I can fix it ! > 

There was a moment of silence , before the Directors begun to fade away in the darkness , leaving Rayman completely alone .

< No - wait a second —

Please , PLEASE give me one more chance ! Whatever I did - I won’t do it again , I swear !!  

DON’T LEAVE ME HERE !!! > 

He tried to run behind them , hoping , praying that he would’ve been able to explain himself , but even though it felt like he was getting farther and farther away from where he was before they were just … gone . 

< No … no no no … why is this happening … > 

Rayman felt completely lost and abandoned in that moment … but the second he realized a familiar silhouette was approaching his eyes widened and a glimpse of hope appeared in his troubled mind .

< y/n !!

Oh thank god … thank god you’re here ! I’m so happy to see y - > 

Then he saw it … the way you were looking at him : the sheer disappointment in your eyes made that little glimpse of hope crumble to dust … but could he really blame you ?

He knew that without his job and his fame he was nothing , so now that the Directors had thrown him out why would someone as wonderful as you want to be with a limbless freak ?

Those thoughts finally caused him to crack , and Rayman took a few steps in your direction to then drop on his knees , the sound of his tears falling on the ground and his helpless sobs filling the endless darkness all around …

< I’m sorry … I-I’m so sorry , y/n … I wasn’t good enough … I know I don’t deserve you , I know I don’t , but please …

P-please don’t leave me … don’t … leave … > 

< Ray … ? > 

The sound of your voice and the sensation of your hand gently caressing his cheek made Rayman slowly wake up from that terrible dream , and as soon as he saw your face he managed to calm himself down …

< H … hey , y/n … 

Sorry , I didn’t mean to wake you … > 

, he whispered , smiling at you weakly as an attempt to avoid making you worry about him .

< It’s okay sweetie , you don’t have to apologize , but … > 

You stared at your boyfriend with concern while your fingers wiped away a few more of his tears .

< Are you alright ? > 

Rayman sighed in response , leaving a kiss on your palm .

< … I’ve been better … > 

< Wanna talk about it ? > 

< Mm … maybe tomorrow . 

You need to get some more rest , and I gotta be ready in time for that interview . 

It’s not a big deal anyway … don’t worry about it too much , okay ? > 

You weren’t exactly convinced by what he said , but still you nodded , locking him in a tight embrace and giving him a kiss on the nose .

< Okay … sleep well Ray , I love you … > 

Those words were exactly what he needed to hear after what he saw , and as Rayman placed his head against your chest he couldn’t help but feel a beautiful peace melting all his fears away …

You were the only person in the world who could make him feel that way .

< Thank you … 

I love you too y/n , so , so much … ~ >

Ramon 🖤

The sounds of shots being fired all around him was almost deafening , and as Ramon ran through the battlefield he just couldn’t bring himself to stop : 

he needed to get out of there , far away from Eden … he needed to lead the both of you to safety , no matter how many of those assholes he would’ve had to kill . 

< Come on y/n , this way ! 

We’re so close - > 

When he turned around it took a few seconds for him to realize the fact that you weren’t behind him anymore … 

And his heart sunk . 

< y/n … ?

y/n where are you ?? > 

Ramon instantly turned back , despite the knowing full well that it was probably a death sentence for him …

He had to find you .

That was all that mattered . 

< y/n !! y/n where - 

Agh - get off me you bastard — 

Y/N !!! > 

His voice was barely audible among the chaos … he couldn’t even think straight anymore , just shooting whoever tried to get in his way and moving forward while unsure about where he was going .

… then , he saw your silhouette laying on the ground , and he immediately rushed towards you , a strange mixture of panic and relief overwhelming his every thought .

< y/n - y/n I’m here ! 

I’m here love , you’re gonna be o … kay … > 

When he got a better view of you , Ramon felt as if time around him had just stopped , leaving only him with that terrible vision of your bleeding body : 

it looked like you had been shot all over … many , many times , and you didn’t seem to be moving anymore . 

< No … no … ! > 

His shaky hands held you close to him , as he found himself unable to hold back his tears .

< Oh god please no … not them … n-not them … 

y/n , please … please come back … I need you , I-I need you so much … > 

The last thing Ramon could do before everything faded to black was just scream , a terrible , devastating despair shattering him from the inside …

What was he even going to do now … ?

He had lost you , his beloved partner , his everything … 

Was that … the end ? 

Ramon gasped , getting into a sitting position with his heart pounding in his chest , and he immediately turned around to check if you were next to him …

And you were , thankfully : 

you had started to wake up when you heard your boyfriend muttering your name in his sleep , and now you were looking up at him with a worried expression , wondering what he had seen .

< Ramon , honey … are you oka - > 

He didn’t answer , he just laid back down to hold you in his arms , his breathing still sharp and abnormally fast .

< Please , please don’t … I can’t talk about it now .

I just need to feel you here with me , y/n … that’s … that’s all I need … > 

Your gaze softened as you hugged him back , caressing his hair with one hand and feeling his tensed body slowly relax thanks to your loving gestures …

It wasn’t the first time Ramon had a nightmare , his nights were often tormented by visions of Eden finally catching up to the both of you , and while you couldn’t exactly make his fears go away completely you were always able to make him feel better . 

< That’s fine … here , try to breathe a bit slower , okay ? 

I got you Ram , I’m not going anywhere , I promise . > 

He opened his eyes for a brief moment to look at you , before leaning forward to place a small kiss on your lips …

< Thanks … 

I … don’t know what I’d do without you , my love . > 

[midnight-pluto]

This has been on mind but if you're feeling more relaxed to do this since I made a back to back request, but what about a Sea monster Percy Jackson x any gender pirate reader.

Format: Song fic (Davy Jones and Calypso - True Duet on YouTube by Si Ditris)

Trope: angst and unrequited pining

AU: Godly?

Plot: Let's imagine that Percy exists in Ancient times or the past when pirates roamed, they meet and reader is immediately swooned over seeing Percy and falls in love, but seeing that Percy is almost immortal (long life span), never accepted reader's affection, this led to an argument that caused reader's ship get sunken and regret now piles on Percy for what he just did.

(I immediately knew this was so much, so to make it short, SM Percy knows that P reader is inlove with him but since he has a long life span, doesn't out right reject them but just subtly ignore them which leads to an argument that ends with reader's ship sinking)

Note: Hope your doing well and continue to manage your mental health)

DROWNING — percy j.

TROPES: unrequited pining, angst

UNIVERSE: “godly”

PAIRING(S): percy jackson x gn!reader, mentioned!percabeth

WARNING(S): death, alcohol, survivors guilt(?)

A/N: i was supposed to post this by the end of November— WHOOPS

“Cruel and Cold like Winds on the Seas, will you Ever Return to Me?”

AS A PIRATE, you never stay in one place for too long — the waves calling your name and luring you in better than any siren ever could. Especially when you were the captain of your crew.

Having the title of captain held a lot of weight on your shoulder, but it was nothing if it meant allowing your crew to return to their homeland safely. Being constantly out at sea was bound to make you encounter multiple types of creatures. Some being sirens, isolated islands, and on this rare occasion: immortals — very, charming immortals.

“So, when do you plan on setting back out to sea?” Percy called out to you, sitting on a rock watching you swing your sword as your feet danced with the crashing waves into the sand and returning to your original stance. “Or,” he began, standing up and walking over to you, gently placing his hands on your waist to fix your posture and straightening out your arms as your grip on your sword tightened, “Do you plan on this being your final stop?”

Biting your bottom as to silence a nervous and surprised gasp at his actions, you narrow your eyes as to regain your focus, “No ship nor crew can be without it’s captain.” You swing your sword downwards, causing it to reflect the setting sun’s glow before it’s shine being shunned by its sheathe, “We will leave in the afternoon, our supplies have already been replenished and I’d rather us not overstay our welcome.”

Looking at his playful pout — eyes bright thanks to the sun — you assure him, “Don’t worry, I— we, will return as soon as we can.”

“Hear my Voice Sing with the Tide, my Love will Never Die.”

Placing the last remaining crates into the storage compartment, you watch Percy dust his hands off with a smile, “Thanks for helping out. Not many of our stops help out us pirates, especially be as willing to give us supplies as you were — I appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve had any visitors, almost a decade went by and no ship in my line of sight,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair before sitting on one of the crates he helped come aboard, “It’s pretty lonely, being alone with nothing but fish to keep you company. Of course, there’s the occasional dolphins and whales but I normally have to seek them out first.”

You merely hum in response, sitting on the crate right next to Percy as he just sat and kicked his feet out as they weren’t touching the ground, “If it makes you feel better, people don’t really like pirates and the ones who do we barely even get to stop by once more since y’know — we’re always traveling out here.”

After a moment of silence you both decide to head back up deck and to set sail once more. “It was a pleasure meeting you Percy. Trust me, the crew and I will be returning,” you held out your hand for him to shake with a smile, trying to remain professional in front of everyone. He took your hand and gave it a firm shake before waving the crew goodbye and walking back to shore.

Stepping onto the quarterback, you tell the crew to raise the anchors. Once the anchor has been raised and steadied into a place, you spin the wheel as your ship starts move. As it’s moving further into the see, you catch a glimpse of Percy’s silhouette still standing on the beach making your lips to curl upwards once again. “Seems like he caught the heart of our captain,” a crew member observed causing you to steer the wheel more aggressively in response to their teasing.

“Over Waves and Deep in the Blue, I will give up my Heart for you.”

Six months had passed since your last visit, and in those six months Percy had never left your mind. Even in different stopping points no matter how well they treated you and your crew, you had always compared it to treatment Percy had given you. Percy wouldn’t have done that, Percy would’ve done that better, they aren’t like Percy at all.

That’s when you decided to chart course back to Percy. When you announced your decision some of your crew members looked and smiled at you knowingly but never commented on it which you were grateful for.

As your ship had appeared on the horizon, Percy could recognize it. He smiled to himself — you had kept your promise — and dived into the water to eagerly swim to your ship. Using the water he was able to climb aboard onto the main deck with no water dripping from him in sight.

Your eyes widened in shock at his sudden appearance, grip on the wheel loosening slightly. His eyes scanned the main deck, looking over the other crew members agape mouth and immediately looking up at you on the quarterdeck with a beaming smile and spoke words that made your heart flutter: “I’m glad you’re back!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly reply, steadying your grip on the wheel once more, “I promised after all.”

“Ten Long Years I’ll Wait to go by, my Love will Never Die.”

Walking along the sandy beach, you see Percy sitting on the sand — legs crossed with his black hair still wild as ever and green eyes now lost in thought staring out into the starry night sky. Your shoulders relax at the gorgeous sight of him when he notices you — eyes brightening back up again — and beckons you over to sit next to him.

Crossing your legs next to him, you look to your left to observe how the stars and moon light up his face that now had a light smile on it. Before the silence could become to intimidating you ask him: “Did you want to talk about something?” Noticing his raised eyebrows now staring back into your eyes, you try to save yourself, “If you don’t then it’s fine— I just thought that since you aren’t with the rest of the crew you just—“

“Nah,” he shook his head, chuckling slightly at your words, “You read me correctly. I was just thinking about… us.” You could nearly feel your heart stop at his words; was this it? Was he going to confess to you that he had thought about you just like you thought of him? Non-stop and with adoration?

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m confessing to you or anything,” he elaborated as you swallowed thickly, mentally chastising yourself for thinking that someone like him would ever think of you that way or for getting your hopes up after just two small interactions with him. “I was just thinking that, I’d like to come aboard your ship, captain.”

Pausing at his sudden declaration, you bury your disappointment deep within your heart and give him a grin, “We can make some space on our ship for you.” You didn’t think Percy’s eyes could light up so much, but you got proven wrong when he launched himself at you — embracing you in a tight hug in thanks.

“Come my Love be one with the Sea, Rule with me for Eternity.”

As per tradition — at least aboard your ship that is — the crew always stays one extra night at your stop to celebrate a new crew member. Everyone is welcome aboard for that night, free to talk, dance, sing, and drink. Unfortunately, since Percy was practically alone on the island there so it was considered as more of a bonding between the whole crew.

Putting your mugs together and towards the sky in cheers, you gulp your rum all down in one go. Percy watches your actions in amazement, imitating you but ending up choking on the sweet liquid. Laughing softly at him, you gently pat his back as he coughs, “You alright? Wouldn’t want your first experience on board to go horribly.”

Lifting his head back up, Percy looks back at you with a shy smile and cheeks red from embarrassment, “Yeah I’m alright, I’ve been through worse.” Pausing at his statement, your face immediately softens — remembering that he’s lived for a while yet still remains to appear your age.

Ruffling his already messy hair, you smile at him, “Well I hope that us welcoming you aboard will be one of the good memories in your long life span.” Turning away from him, you look towards the makeshift bartender sipping their own drink, “Hey! Another round over here for us!” you grin as they nod and get to work.

Soon enough, they return with your mugs refilled as you gulp down your fresh rum with Percy. Loudly cheering along with the other you could barely make out the words Percy says with warm eyes, “This is already one of the best ones yet.”

“Drown All Dreams so Mercilessly, and Leave their Souls to Me.”

The rest of the night seemed to pass by like a blur, as you were unknowing as to how you and Percy ended up in the crow’s nest. You were gazing up at the twinkling stars as Percy had his head down observing the waves in the ocean. The rest of the crew seemed to have been passed out and the ones who hadn’t, their voices you could barely make out or distinguish.

“So, have you been anywhere else? Or have you just stayed here?” you ask softly, turning to look at Percy. He was resting his body on the railing, elbows pressed against the bar, and his hair obscuring his face — only the pale moonlight illuminating his silhouette.

“I have,” he muttered, tone more serious rather than the light and playful one you were used to, “Me, her, and my friend’s adventured and travelled the world together. Y’know, slaying monsters and stuff since we’re basically monster bait.”

You paused when he differentiated ‘her’ from the rest, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know but your curiosity got the better of you, “Can I know more about ‘her’? Only if you’re comfortable of course.”

“Annabeth,” he replied with a loving tone and a smile, “She was, everything, to me. My best friend, my lover, my princess, my wise girl.”

“Play the Song you Sang Long Ago, and Wherever the Storm may Blow,”

Feeling your smile falter, you turn back to gaze at the stars with merely a hum of acknowledgement. Maybe you shouldn’t confront these feelings of yours, a pirate was nowhere near close a princess after all.

“I could only wish that I could’ve rejected that offer from the start, but of course I just had to have said yes the moment I heard it come out of his mouth,” Percy spoke, the waves now seeming more restless, “I just had to have been selfish.”

Gripping onto the railing, “Who has the ability to offer you immortality and mean it?” you whisper in an attempt to stop your voice from cracking, knowing that asking more questions would only worsen your feelings but just couldn’t.

“Zeus,” he murmured, spitting the name out as if it were profanity, “I had fought countless battles for the gods, that time so happened to have been a war. The countless amount of people — children — that had died for the gods to win the war was in vain, I had accepted their offer. I didn’t do good on a wish I could’ve chosen to have granted. I let their sacrifices go to waste.”

“I see,” was all you could manage to rasp out, before the silence over took you both once more. “I hope you won’t think that I’d regret inviting you onboard just because you told me this,” you place a hand on his shoulder, heart beating fast but your voice was steady, and looked at him, “A captain never looks down on their crew no matter their actions or their past. That’s just how things work around here.”

“You will find the Key to my Heart, we’ll Never be Apart.”

Things have never been the same since that night between you and Percy. It was hard to tell if it was in a bad way or not.

You both had grown closer to one another and in Percy’s eyes, it was amazing. He had finally found someone who knew of his mistakes and yet still welcomed him with open arms — he wasn’t entirely sure if the rest of the crew would do the same though.

In your eyes though, it was just a tantalizing reminder that you will never have a chance with him and yet he inadvertently makes things better and worse. Fondness glimmering in his eyes make your heart leap and fall down onto a spike when in reminder that it’s purely platonic.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to keeping secrets of course, everyone on your crew had them. They all have a nasty past in one way or another and your ship was their place of escape, with their secrets under lock and key.

But why were you doing so badly and keeping in your own?

“Wild and Strong you can’t be Contained, never Bound nor ever Chained.”

Standing together in the crows nest gave you deja vu. The sun was setting and the wind had a gentle blow as you inhaled through your nose. It was a familiar feeling, except you both being sober and you pouring out your own secret instead of him.

“You said you wanted to talk about something?” Percy tilted his head, hair swaying with the wind.

“I have feelings for you,” you say, trying to hold back your voice from shaking.

Percy’s eyes soften, “You know I can’t accept that.”

“Does being immortal really mean you can’t get over someone?”

“Wounds you Caused will never Mend, and you will never End.”

The waves around the ship become increasingly harsher, rocking it back and forth as Percy’s gaze becomes sharp. “What do you mean by that.”

“Percy,” you sternly say, “I know that you’re immortal, I know that you’ve been through a lot, and I know how much she meant to you — but for gods sake! You’ve been alive for so long and after one relationship that didn’t even fail, you now are afraid of any and all relationships?”

“I’m not,” he retorts, storm clouds now forming over the open ocean.

“The only on your ever talk to daily on this ship is me. We’re supposed to be a crew, y’know, tightly knit friends almost akin to family because some of us no longer have one to go home and visit.”

Apparently you had stricken a nerve with your words, as the last thing you see are bubbles floating to the top of the water.

“Cruel and Cold like Wind on the Seas, will you Ever return to me.”

Percy that night had come to the conclusion that you were right. The first people who had reached out to come and help him since the death of the seven — that’s what they called themselves — and his other friends he had treated terribly and taken for granted.

He had returned to his island in shame and in tears with a newly found sword in hand. It had been the one you trained with on this very shore, talking to him with a smile on your face.

Oh how me missed it.

Once the sun rose on the horizon once again, he could finally see it in all of it’s true glory. It was a glittering bronze blade with a leather hilt, it’s edges chipped and worn down from its use he assumed. There were words carved onto the blade which he had never noticed before — Riptide, that was the swords name.

Wiping a tear from his eyes he could only wish that he had taken the time to observe and appreciate you just how he had just done to your own blade. That sickened him, treating a blade better than its master — how foolish.

A/N: my stomach hurts

[raquellemonsta]

toxic boy mom (bokuto koutarou x reader)

masterlist

this idea just randomly came to me. I love bokuto and domestic stuff so I hope you enjoy this too! sorry for any errors :p

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your bed is so much more comfortable than you remember. that's what makes it so hard to get up in the morning, especially when your husband's warmth is still present even when he's gotten up to go for his morning run. for a moment, you feel peace, and it's almost as if you're a kid again, waking up on the weekends and having no responsibilities.

a high pitched squeal breaks you out of your immersion from a life you haven't known in years. the truth is that you do have responsibilities now, to both your husband and your children. reluctantly, you leave the warmth of your bed and head out of your bedroom right across the hall, into your son's room.

the blankets on the bed are rustled, and the bed itself is empty. the crib on the other hand is still housing your littler baby. when he catches sight of you, he excitedly kicks his feet while he begins to drool and babble 'mama', making other noises too.

your beautiful 14-month old, koushin, can be quite the noisy baby (he's more mellow than his brother, however). his facial structure and eye shape reminds you of your own, while he has your mom's eye color. that doesn't mean you can't tell he's a bokuto ; he's always hungry and always laughing. you pick him up and kiss his face all over, causing him to giggle happily and squeeze his mama.

you hear the television from downstairs playing some saturday morning cartoon, and decide to go see how your other son is doing. carefully making your way downstairs with koushin, you catch sight of your other little boy: wrapped up in a blanket and sprawled out on the sofa.

your older son kenji is nearly an exact replica of his father. he has dark hair with bright, golden eyes. the only way you can tell he's not just your husband but tiny is the small birthmark beneath his left eye. it's a little dot that if you look closely enough at is in the shape of a heart. sometimes, you still see him as that little baby that first made you a mother five years ago. he's much bigger now, of course. both of them make your heart swell with love and appreciation for the little family you've created.

"good morning kenji, what are you up to?" you ask. you rub koushin's back which causes him to snuggle closer to you.

"watching tv mama. i'm hungry" he tells you. you set koushin down on the floor in front of his brother, making sure that both of them will be safe and entertained. kenji is always good about looking after his brother, so you aren't worried. you smile and kiss kenji's head before making your way to the kitchen.

your boys love pancakes, so you make the mix and pour it into a pan. you decide to fry up some sausage as well, and while waiting you take the milk out of the fridge and pour it into a glass and sippy cup.

a certain someone makes it back from his run just in time for breakfast. the first thing koutarou notices after taking his shoes off are his two sons in the living room, playing with each other. he can't help but grin at the sight.

"hey hey hey! how are my two favorite guys?" he yells, picking up koushin and tickling him. the baby laughs wildly at all of the excitement his dad brings.

"dad come play cars with us!" kenji begs. bokuto sets his younger son down and grabs a monster truck before making overexaggerated car noises (you can't convince me he wouldn't be this kind of dad).

you laugh at the sudden spike in the noise level, something you've become used to being married to koutarou for several years (and having known him for even longer). right now, you're setting up the high chair for koushin, where you've put cereal puffs and cut up the sausage into small, bite-sized pieces. it's usually not a good idea to set his food down after he's in the chair, because he's known to become quite rowdy and throw the food off of the tray (which was something you learned the hard way on spaghetti night). once you were done setting that up, you made sure everyone else had plates out.

"breakfast is ready!" you shout, almost immediately hearing fast footsteps over to the table. by the time you turn around, kenji is already in his seat and koutaro is holding koushin again.

bokuto sets koushin in the high chair, where he immediately grabs a handful of cereal puffs and shoves them into his mouth. he chuckles before turning to you, expectantly. you give him a deadpan look and wait for him to make a move towards the kitchen to fix his plate, but it seems he's doing the same.

"make your plate yourself koutarou, you're a grown man" you tell him as you walk over to kenji and make sure he has what he wants before you sit next to koushin. normally you would have no problem getting his food for him, but you're preoccupied with the kids right now and he is entirely capable of serving himself. like you told him, he's a grown man.

you swear his hair nearly deflates as he immaturely pouts. you don't back down, though, and turn your attention to your kids. koutarou unwillingly goes to make his own plate. one thing is unfortunately clear to him: koutarou is jealous of your children.

he loves his kids more than anything of course (except for you who he loves just as much), he just doesn't understand why you show all of your attention to them nowadays and not as much to him. he actually does understand that part, because he has the cutest kids in the world. it's not that he wants to be jealous of them, it's just sometimes he misses when you weren't spread so thin.

what he doesn't understand is that it's not your choice to be showing him less attention. motherhood is tiresome, since your kids demand your attention every waking moment. since you've started working from home to be able to take care of your children, you've been engulfed with tasks around the house. you're tired all of the time no matter how much sleep you get, and you feel like you haven't had time to yourself in forever. it's something that your husband doesn't seem to notice, though he's always been painfully oblivious. he hasn't even noticed you haven't gotten a plate for yourself in an effort to make sure your kids are taken care of.

that is until after he starts eating from his plate, and notices you still watching koushin.

"honey, aren't you going to get a plate?" he asks. you look at him in slight surprise that he even noticed.

"in a minute" you say, though he can tell from the tone that you definitely won't be moving a minute from now. he pushes out his chair and heads to the kitchen, plating some food before making his way back to the table and pushing it in front of you. you look up at him and he can see the exhaustion written in your face.

"go lay down my sweet. breakfast in bed! i'll take care of the boys" he tells you in his happy-go-lucky tone. your eyes fill with surprise and you look to your children before shifting back to your husband.

"are you sure?" you question him seriously.

"of course. only the best for mom" he gave you a kind smile, the very one you had fallen in love with years ago. it's always able to make you feel better. somewhat reluctantly, you take your plate up to your room and head back to bed, shutting your eyes peacefully.

unbeknownst to you, bokuto is going to work downstairs. while the kids are preoccupied, he pulls out the vacuum and starts to deep clean (or at least the bokuto version of a deep clean), putting dishes away and picking up toys. it takes him several hours, but the house looks perfect by the time he's done.

"hey boys, want to help dad make dinner tonight?" he yells to his two sons, who both excitedly agree. he decides to make something simple but that he knows you'll enjoy. he's no chef, but he's willing to push his limits for you.

he lets kenji help out more than koushin (because what kind of dad would he be making a baby cook dinner? actually that could be interestin-), and soon enough they have dinner plated and ready to bring upstairs.

kenji carries the plate, while koushin brings a flower from out back. koutarou knocks on the door as a formality before opening the door to see his beautiful wife, reading a book. you place a bookmark in it before looking at your little family in shock.

you encourage them to come closer so you can see what they've made. the plate looks wonderful, and your heart feels full with love for your adorable babies.

"oh my goodness, this looks amazing! did you do all of this for me?" you ask. your little ones nod, causing you to smile even brighter. you pull the two of them into a hug before kissing both of their heads.

"my perfect, sweet boys" you rub their backs before looking up and meeting eyes with your husband. similarly to breakfast, he has an expectant look on his face.

"and you too bo, i guess" you joke, pretending to add it as an afterthought.

your children burst out laughing at the dejected look on their father's face. he nearly had tears in his eyes and a huge pout.

"you're toxic! toxic!" he suddenly points and sticks his tongue out at you.

"kou i'm not a toxic" you say. you can't help but shake your head at his antics.

"yes you are. you're a toxic boy mom and you can't tell me otherwise."

"i can't be a toxic boy mom if we only have sons?"

"i don't care. you're a toxic boy mom who favors your boys over me" he pouts.

"you're a big baby sometimes, you know that?" you roll your eyes in disbelief. you can't help but laugh at his ridiculous behavior, but it's one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. you give him a kiss before digging into the dinner they so graciously made for you, while your kids start teasing their dad that you like them more as he argues back.

sometimes it feels like you have three kids in this house.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

also did we tell you guys we made a new au wherein one single alternate stan unofficially adopts every single ford as his brother/s

his original dimension became unstable and started to collapse. he was able to get out on account of ford forcing him through a rift, but he never saw if his brother or the niblings or soos or anyone else got out before the dimension ceased to exist. he’s pretty pessimistic about it until he meets a group of alternate fords trying to survive in an alien dimension. he helps them out for a while, they give him some equipment, and he leaves. and comes across another ford. another one with an alternate mabel and dipper with him. an alternate ford and alternate stan. the multiverse is a dangerous place, and he never saw his brother get out in time, but there’s a fuck ton of other versions of him surviving somehow in literal hell. and some of them have alternate versions of other folks he knows with them. so he tries to have hope

over time, he collects a pretty useful assortment of tools and weapons and clothes and uses them to help any fords he comes across as best he can. he treats them like he would his own ford, regardless of whether or not they already have stans with them. surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, a large majority of them are pretty receptive to this. again, regardless of whether or not they already have stans with them

there are a literally infinite amount of fords due to the nature of the multiverse. he becomes the brother of all of them. he breaks them out of prisons, gives them medical aid and survival tips, gets them to safer places, and just generally helps out. sometimes that means hunting down an alien doctor to stick his brother’s limbs back together, sometimes that means just sitting with him and chatting for a while

sometimes it means helping him capture some sort of tiger sea monster thing just because he asked you to and please stan please i just want to look at it close up p l e a s e

at some point, he starts running into fords that recognize him and that he recognizes. he’s never going to admit it, but the absolute delight he gets as a response every time is worth everything to him

[xbraveheartx]

WARNING !! Contains spoilers for Lies of P! If you haven't beaten the game, be warned! This is just a first draft !! I might change it... I might not. I'm just testing the waters and seeing how far I'll get. I think I'll just post the prologue for now and then proceed solo in google docs after. But I wanted to see how people are feeling about the idea ♡ I'll upload the rest most likely on AO3 A "I don't care what canon gave us, I'm bringing Romeo back" fic that'll end up in a romance between our favorite real boy and his bestie ♡ It takes place post-canon!

Prologue

The sun had barely risen when they set off on their mission, a gentle shower coating the city of Krat in sleek rain that took little time to drench every stone and tile. Only once they had reached their destination did the skies suddenly open, a hint of blue smiling down on the otherwise desolate buildings. One couldn’t avoid puddles under such conditions, but there wasn’t any true concern to be had over them.

There were far greater things to worry over. He only hoped they were still there.

“Jeepers. It sure is creepy being back here again.” Gemini chirped, effectively breaking the silence that blanketed Krat Central Station. “Now that the monsters aren’t as much of a problem, everything just feels kinda…” He trailed off, causing the boy’s head to turn just slightly in an effort to toss back a glance in the lamp’s direction. “... Spooky? Haunted is the word, maybe? Almost like something is hiding just around the corner, ready to just– Jump out at you!”

“You’re being dramatic.” Slender digits rose to tuck a long, grey lock behind an ear, palm rubbing a stray droplet of water from a freckled cheek.

“And you’re being careless, pal!” Gemini countered, ignoring the eye roll given in retaliation. “I’m just saying, even if we can’t see the monsters all around like we used to, I’m sure there’s bound to be some still lurking around! Just be more careful, okay, Carlo?”

There was a pause in his steps, the echo of the last dying out shortly after as nothing but the dripping of water and creaking of pipes met their ears.

Carlo… it was still strange, hearing that name, and while he felt it was just right, it felt strange in the same breath. It was familiar yet foreign; He was still learning.

He felt his heart beat.

“Did I say something wrong?” Came Gemini’s chirps once more, the sound coming off as one of concern. Carlo shook his head, lashes fluttering rapidly as he came back to himself whilst lips tugged into a slight smile.

“No, no. Sorry, just… Thinking.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Gemini seemed to accept the excuse regardless, trilling gently in a way that Carlo could just picture a real cricket practically vibrating with eagerness.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go! Er– b-but! … Y’know!... Carefully.” The guide seemed to beam, and Carlo couldn’t help but beam right back, hopeful that their journey would be fruitful in the end.

There, in the dimly lit station, was their target. Track C, train number three– The Blue Fairy. It was funny, looking back on it now, but there was no stopping to admire any form of happenstance. The train itself had been subjected to all manner of bile and questionable fluids, but otherwise, remained intact. The boy hesitated just before entering, hand rising to touch the door frame as he stood at the entrance and listened. When nothing but silence rose to greet him, he pressed onward, stepping over forgotten luggages and shattered glass.

“You really think something like this’ll work?” Gemini spoke again, chirps blending with the crunching of a wineglass underfoot.

There was no immediate response, not until they had made it to the back of the train where a familiar chair sat in the middle of the aisle. He stepped around it, choosing instead, to make his way into the hidden workshop behind.

“I don’t know.” Carlo confessed, fingers trailing across abandoned notes and papers left atop a messy desk. Blueprints were among the litter, notes bookmarking heavily written pages of journals, their fine leather covers worn and frayed. He gathered it all, leaving nothing he deemed important behind. One of many discarded suitcases was chosen among the piles, and with its original contents discarded, was used to house the very legacy his father had left behind. “But I have to try.”

Venigni thumbed through the blueprints, eyes roaming through Geppetto's old notes that had been laid out before him. It was a daunting task, to say the least, and they both knew it. 

"This is... beyond my field of expertise."

The moment of silence to follow after felt far too long, seconds seemingly to stretch into hours that didn't exist. Finally, the boy's lips parted, voice heavy with newly gained emotion that unashamedly manifested as a beg.

"I believe you can do it." Came the quiet encouragement, brows drawing together to further accentuate his plea. "Please?" Yet another pause followed after whilst muted blues fell for but a moment, until finally, they resettled on Venigni. "For... a friend?"

The sigh of defeat to follow the request said enough.

"I shall do what I can, but I make no promises, compagno!" As if a switch was flipped, suddenly a black gloved hand rose with a snap. “Pulcinella! Some fresh parchment, if you would! I must get started immediately! And you!” Once more did the man’s head snap in Carlo’s direction, a finger dramatically being pointed all the while. “You still carry the most important component, do you not? All that’s left is the body– Go and bring it back here. I will give it my all, for I am the Incredible Lorenzini Venigni, and I will settle for no less than my one-hundred percent!... But again, no promises.” 

The emotion to grip at his heart was almost overwhelming, the heavy THUD THUD of the organ pounding against his chest in a mixture of anticipation, joy, and above all else, hope.

“I’ll be back.” He announced with a nod, though he made no move to leave just yet. Instead, he gave the man a smile, brighter than any he had expressed in the past. “Thank you, Venigni. I appreciate your help.” The words were met with a nod and something akin to that of a mutter and a hum. Already was the other absorbed by the notes before him, ink meeting paper in rapid scribbles from the very moment Pulcinella had provided the writing tools.

“Let’s go get your pal… pal!” Gemini chimed in, spurring the boy into motion with a nod. “Leave the technical stuff to the professionals! Rosa Isabella Street awaits!” A trip that would surely be a bit more eventful than their visit to the train station, knowing full well that the puppets would still be prowling around their fallen king’s domain.  Please let this work… The silent prayer was sent skyward.