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inknopewetrust · 5 months ago

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𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐲

Summary: Tyler’s always wanted to show you something he loved—it just took some bad weather for it to appear. [Tyler Owens x Reader] [WC:2.6k}

Warnings: language, college-aged Tyler & reader, fluff, romance, this is a comedy? Idk folks. No smut though—sry :/. Just good ole fashion kissin’ in the rain. And what if I said this story was my real life experience, then what?

Quick Links: Masterlist [including other twisters fics]

“Where are we going?”

The tires of the truck were clunking along the rocky path to… well, nowhere. Thick trees surrounded you; the sun barely peeking through them as it began to decline in the sky and yet the truck kept tumbling along.

Shit. You thought for a brief moment as he didn’t reply. He might murder me.

“I told you,” his voice rang through your mind like a pinball machine. “It’s a surprise.”

“What if I said I didn’t like surprises?”

Tyler glanced at you as the truck hit a rough patch. Your hand was white-knuckling the grab handle above the window and your face was torn up in concern for the locale.

“I’d say, ‘honey’,” he put a hand on your clothed thigh. “I ain’t gonna murder you.”

“Well now that makes me think you are gonna murder me.”

Tyler laughed, squeezing your thigh joyously.

He was a maniac—Tyler Owens.

But he was also many things you did not know of yet. The first time you laid eyes on him was around eight months back when he walked in two minutes before the chemistry lecture. Every seat in the room was nearly filled except for the lone seat on the inside of the lecture hall beside you.

And when he sat there, you couldn’t focus on one goddamn thing.

It was silly—being twenty-one and having a crush on a guy in your science class. You weren’t in high school anymore but you sure as hell felt like it. When he asked for an eraser, you were too eager to provide it. One day he forgot his computer so he asked for some paper in the notebook you elected to use.

Each day you’d arrive a minute earlier than before with a childish hope that he would too and you’d be able to talk to him, learn about him. You weren’t in the same lab section so it was growing increasingly difficult to manifest a semblance of potential when it only occurred twice a week for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Fuck college schedules, is what you had concluded when he wouldn’t show up twenty minutes early to class.

Yet fate had a funny way of dictating what happens when.

Three months into class, your roommate suggested getting out and heading to a frat party one Saturday night and it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him there. And out of some kindness, he went out of his way to say hi to his “lecture buddy” who’d helped him in times of need.

Every class that followed grew something in you. He came early to lecture to talk to you, joking about anything but the subject and going on and on about what he wanted to do when he graduated. His smile was contagious, as with his laugh. Bellowing and loud; Tyler Owens was everyone’s friend and everyone’s crush and you happened to be lucky enough to sit beside him until it was all over.

The semester ended and your interactions with Tyler ceased.

And it made you feel a little crazy for feeling down and out about your luck. Your roommates and friends tried everything to get you on the market: going to parties, joining strange clubs, playing trivia at the bar on Wednesday nights but nothing.

It was all nothing until something caught your eye.

You saw a flier for a meteorology seminar with a guest speaker from your local news. The premise wasn’t overly exciting for any one student at the university but for you, it was interesting enough to attend on a vacant Tuesday evening.

Like fate had promised before, it dealt you a winning hand.

Tyler spotted you as you walked through the door and waved you down. In your dumps, you forgot to think his attendance was a possibility even after he mentioned time and time again that he’d love to be on television, that he’d die to help people protect themselves.

So when he got ready to leave after the lecture, you weren’t going to die without facing a fear. You had to protect yourself from another six weeks of imaginary mourning and asked for his number.

And six weeks later you concluded he was going to murder you in some remote location in the plains of Arkansas.

“I’m not gonna murder you, alright?” He chuckled. His eyes were illuminated with a mischievous glow you couldn’t escape. You saw his eyes in dreams and knew you’d never want to imagine a day without them.

Fuck, you thought. It was way too early to be thinking of that.

“Then tell me!” You looked over at him with reason. “This road is so shitty I can’t imagine what’s on the other end!”

“Paradise, baby!” He smiled. “When I was a kid, my pops used to take me and my brother down here to go fishing. It’s this picnic area that I think,” he glanced at you with raised eyebrows, “no one else knows about. So don’t go runnin’ and tellin all them about this, ok?”

Oh.

It was personal.

“I won’t,” you promised.

“When my grandpa died I was,” he thought back on it as if it were long ago. “Nine and I came here with my mom and just sat. We stared out at the water and watched the ducks and the birds fly over until the sun went down. This was his spot and he passed it on to me.”

You suddenly felt an urge of regret pass over you as the comments from before soured.

“Tyler,” you said solemnly. “I didn’t—“

He brushed the nonverbal apology away.

“It’s alright,” he reassured. “There are plenty of reasons why you could have felt that way.”

It was heartwarming that Tyler didn’t dismiss your fears. There were so many guys, barely men, who would have called you crazy for a lot less. Tyler never made you feel that way.

Being with him was like chasing a high of the greatest strengths. Everything he did revolved around his ability to be free and willing to do what scared him the most and it was enchanting.

You could feel the sparks hit your heart.

“I’ve never taken anyone there before.”

“No?”

“You’d be the first.”

The two of you let that sit in the air as the road became more suitable for driving. The smoothness was welcome as his admission settled between you.

The first. He thought you special enough to be the first person to witness this place. You could have been ten feet tall at that moment. Never had anyone ever made you feel so special.

As the roads improved, the clearings of trees and bushes began to open up to a wider area with a paved lot on a taller hill.

It was beautiful.

Only the fairy tales could conjure a place like that. Billowing pines and lush greens on the bank of a river cut off by a large damn. The rushing water filled your ears amidst the squawking of wildlife uninterrupted by human activity.

It was so peaceful, charming.

The sun’s orange rays twinkled down onto the water and made it sparkle. Flowers in bloom, the buzzing of cicadas at the arrival of a hot and early spring warmed your cheeks as Tyler put the truck into park.

He watched you take in your surroundings of pure nature. A slight awe in your eyes, shallow breath at the sights. You were a vision in his favorite place.

“I thought we could have dinner here,” he tipped his head to the back seat where he had plastic Walmart bags full of food, unprepared and prepared for whatever fit your fancy. “And then, if we’re lucky, maybe it will rain.”

“Rain?” You turned to meet his eyes and they crinkled at the sides. Endearing, charming—just like this place.

Tyler hummed. “You mean to say you’ve never heard of rain?”

His words quickly became a joke. You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. It was solid under your touch and you were reminded that he was real. It wasn’t a fairytale and you were very much living it.

“Ha-ha,” you replied dryly.

“I’ll keep that one as a surprise.”

“I checked the weather before we left and,” you pointed to the sky. “No rain.”

Tyler unbuckled himself and opened his door.

“They just don’t see what I do.”

“And what’s that?” You asked him but he shut the door, moving to the backseat to take out the bags of items he procured, and then as ever the gentleman, opened your own door.

“Magic.”

You laughed but he was being serious. His eyes still gleamed with the same sly nature he was born with, but his touch was comfort. Hands carefully guiding you to a spot that he had meticulously planned out—even if this appeared to be a spur of the moment outing for you.

Everything was planned. Tyler wasn’t going to take just anyone to this spot. He’d be a fool to lie and say he hadn’t spoken to his mother about his plans just to hear her perspective on whether it was creepy, brilliant, or just plain sad.

However, he carried on to face his fears of bringing someone he liked to a place near-sacred to him. Tyler wasn’t a fool of love, he just hadn’t found anyone worth sharing these bits of him. And he also didn’t expect the feeling to come about so quickly.

Those fears he let simmer never truly came about in the reality he lived.

You were smitten. Absolutely fallen into this little spot in this tiny corner of the world with a man who was opening up before you. Tyler made the puzzle pieces of a perfect date fit together wonderfully.

The food, the drinks, the atmosphere—he hit an apex of the paragon of “partner,” “boyfriend,” or “lover.”

And you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as the sun began to truly fade.

You took a sip of your drink, coming down from a high of laughter at a story Tyler shared at his brother’s detriment. The sky was a shimmering shade of reds and deepening blues now; orange melting away for the sake of night.

“No rain,” you pointed out. He shrugged his shoulders, moving from a lounging position on the worn blanket to a lying one. His arms perched behind his head.

Tyler stared at the stars beginning to form.

He could see the shapes of the clouds, the movement quickening and the air cooling. It was as special as this place, his talent for finding the storms. Whether they brew inside or out, he found them and chased them with a passion—unrelenting and fierce. He sought the thrill.

“The night’s not over yet,” he said coolly. “Don’t count me out.”

“I’m not counting you out,” you defended, moving scraps of discarded food away from you to lay next to him. You shuffled to get comfortable in his vicinity.

“How often do you stargaze?” Tyler asked.

“Not often. I don’t think there’s an opportunity for it when I have nowhere to go.”

He agreed with a grunt. “I think you’re lookin’ in the wrong spots, honey.”

Oh those godforsaken nicknames. The country in him seeped out at their mention.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he removed his arms from the back of his head and pointed to the now appearing stars the darker it became. “See here?”

You moved closer. “Not really.”

“There,” he pointed again. “Right there in the middle of those two clouds.”

There were two stories at play here: one of him proving that rain was coming in the guise of stars and the second of you trying to be aloof in order for him to touch you.

You’d spent the last hour with him. Watching him talk, eat, smile, and laugh at anything that brought him joy. Those lips begged you to kiss them. They beckoned you like a ship lost at sea and in the clouds, the water would find it.

You shook your head innocently.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at, Ty.”

“Here,” he took your hand in his and pointed to the stars. “Look.”

In the sky above, a faint outline of the Little Dipper appeared in your vision. You smiled lightly. His hand with his finger pointing was still outstretched and connected to yours which made it grow wider.

You were giddy.

Tyler moved his finger to fully cup your hand but as you kept looking at the sky, he looked at you. You could feel his eyes on you, the turn of his face and the low breaths he released through his nose.

“What else do you see?” He asked lowly.

You breathed in deeply. It was just too beautiful to explain one thing. The clouds grew thicker, dense in the night as light was swallowed up by the moon. The air was now cool enough to send a chill down your spine and wish the blanket was more than a thin excuse for a sheet.

“It’s getting cloudy,” you observed. “There are more stars and it’s cooling off.”

“Anything else?”

“It’s just beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”

“I’m can—“

You stopped mid-sentence at the sensation that hit your cheek.

It wasn’t air or breath or a bug or grass but a wetness that could have come from only one place: the sky. You waited for another to fall and it did not a second later. A third and fourth drop followed until it was a hundred drops or more into a steady downpour.

You scoffed in disbelief, sitting up to feel the rain in your palms and Tyler sat up too. His laugh was one of joy that followed yours.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed as the water began to drench the area around you and your clothes.

“I told you!” Tyler shouted over the rain falling harder and harder. You blinked at him.

“How’d you know!?”

“Just did!”

“And what’s so magical about getting rained on?” You asked him.

He didn’t have a solid plan if it rained. All he knew is that he had seen this in the movies. A downpour catches two people in the rain and it creates one thing: magic. It’s innocent and daring, carefree and transparent. Rain makes lovers fall in love. It binds them to one spot, one moment in time where all the elements line up to craft one singular point that would forever be cemented in their memory.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.

Tyler positioned one hand to lean on behind your back while the other cupped your face. The rain dropped onto his hand but you were warm against the coldness of his hands. Your eyes glistened at him as the movies described.

“I don’t know what’s so magical about it.”

“Me either.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked him. It wasn’t a question, per se. He was going to kiss you.

Tyler nodded his head, leaning in to meet your lips as the rain fell harder around you both. The sound of the rain disappeared when his lips met yours. Only the beat of your heart, the rush of your blood flooded your ears and body. You lifted a hand to grip his arm as he tilted his head, using his leverage to position you the way he wanted and deepened the kiss.

You could feel the tendrils of a story weaving in your bones. The place, the time, the kiss… it was a fairytale.

You dropped everything and kissed him in the pouring rain in a spot now forever implanted in your history, you felt the sparks fly higher.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and your reactions motivate us greatly!

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens #tyler owens twisters #twisters #twister 2024 #glen powell #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens fic #tyler owens imagine #twisters movie #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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warping-realities · 1 month ago

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All For The Family - Part I

That was the only part of his job that Brian dislike, even though it was necessary. To justify what he had to do, he told himself those folks deserved it, that they should’ve been more careful with their own bills and the loans they took out, and paid their mortgage right. It wasn’t his fault. He was just there to deliver the truth they were probably expecting anyway. He tried to adopt a “don’t shoot the messenger” attitude while also showing he felt for their situation, even though he still had to do his job. That rarely worked in the two years he’d been doing that gig, and this time was no different. The blonde 24 years old man, rockin' a sharp suit that fit him like a glove on his skinny frame paired with his glasses, he was supposed to look classy and confident. Which clearly didn’t have the intended effect on the crowd he was facing. Standing in front of him with his arms crossed and a look on his face like he just sucked on a lemon was the biggest man Brian had ever seen in his life.

“You gotta understand, Mr. Abernathy, that the promissory note’s overdue again. If you don’t cough up the cash, the bank won’t have any choice but to foreclose and take your land to auction.”

“I get it, kid, but it seems like you’re the one refusing to understand. Tomorrow, I’m getting another hand to help with the harvest, and we’ll pay up all the back dues and even get ahead on a few!”

“Mr. Abernathy… Roy, can I call you Roy?” Brian asked with a smile he hoped was friendly and not showing the frustration he felt at that moment.

“My friends call me Roy, kid; you ain’t my friend.”

Brian let out a sigh at that response and decided to drop the pleasantries, taking a more hard-nosed approach.

“Well, Mr. Abernathy, I hate to break it to you, but if that promise of yours doesn’t pan out, I’m afraid that come the first of next month, you and your family are gonna have to vacate this property.”

“Save your worries for yourself, kid, while you hightail it off my land, ‘cause for now, I’m the one who decides who comes and goes around here.”

“If you weren’t planning on negotiating at all, why’d you make me drive all the way out here?”

“‘Cause there are some things that need to be said and done face-to-face, son.”

“Well, next time, just call me if you got something important to say!”

With a huff, Brian turned his back on the older, muscular man and headed toward the sports car parked behind the big barn that flanked the simple but well-kept farmhouse.

As he watched the kid walk away, unaware of the wave of golden sparks emanating from him, Roy murmured to himself, “Next time we talk, you’ll take whatever I say as important, boy!” He said, flashing a wide grin before turning to a figure that was approaching. “Is it done?” he asked, his smile widening at the answer.

That spat with the Abernathy family patriarch left Brian pissed off. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that it might be through his work that those folks would lose everything. At the same time, he knew that if it were his older brother knocking on that door, dressed in his cop uniform, the treatment would’ve been a whole lot different. Of course, he could never pull off Lucas's job. Lost in those gloomy thoughts, he took a while to realize that the gas tank he filled up that very morning was nearly empty, and it was only when a beeping alert rang out that he noticed.

“Damn, how is this possible?” he exclaimed to the empty car as he pulled over to the side of the road and weighed his options. Looking at his cell, he found he was out of signal. The nearest town was miles away. The only option left...

“Damn!” he yelled again, getting out of the car and shrugging off his suit jacket, heading toward the Abernathy’s place, wondering what kind of reception he was gonna get. No matter how much empathy he might have started to feel for those folks, it surely wouldn’t be mutual. Halfway to the farm, the already bad situation took a turn for the worse when rain started pouring down, soaking Brian's expensive clothes.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he was being punished by some higher power for doing that job, and he was sure of it when he ran smack into the person he needed but didn’t want to see: Roy Abernathy in all his bulk! He was standing in front of an old Ford pickup, arms crossed again, but this time with a grin that Brian would’ve usually taken for some petty celebration, but at that moment it seemed to him to have more sincerity than he was used to seeing from “clients.” The man was with someone who could only be his son, given the huge resemblance between the two. Those behemoths made for a frightening sight for Brian, leaving him speechless. However, he didn’t even get a chance to speak, as Roy started the conversation for him.

“Looks like you need a little help, son. Where’s your fancy car?”

“I… the gas…”

“Oh, I get it; it’s real reckless to be out here with an empty tank.” The man said, still grinning, and Brian initially felt like he was just saying that to mess with him. But quickly, a small voice in the back of his mind disagreed; the Abernathys weren’t stingy like that. That new, dissenting voice made him hold his tongue and respond more calmly than expected.

“I don’t know what happened; I left town with a full tank. And… I… um… I’ll need some help, yeah.”

“Sorry, son, what was that?”

“I said I need help, if you could… please?!” He replied louder, though he was pretty sure the man heard him.

“Of course I can help, son. Out here, we all pitch in, no matter who you are.” Another jab, and once again something made Brian hold back; he deserved that treatment, the little voice said, and he would take it like a man, like the man he was. Roy smiled again, apparently noticing that the young man was holding back from snapping back.

“Thanks, sir. Now, if you could just follow me to the car and get me some gas…”

“No, son, you’re soaked through. Let RJ and me take care of that; you go to my house and talk to my wife; she’ll get you some dry clothes and a hot meal.”

“I’d rather go to my car…”

“No arguments, kid; do what I said!” Roy replied, his face turning serious.

“I… I… fine!” Brian said, biting back his anger and trudging down the road.

“That one’s a bit rough around the edges.” RJ commented to his dad as he watched Brian walk away.

“Oh, but he’s starting to behave, and there’s nothing wrong with him being a little rough, son, as long as he uses that attitude in the right way…”

“Dad, are you sure? This mumbo jumbo sounds crazy… and the risk we took, messing with that guy’s car. What if he noticed?”

“What are the odds a guy like that knows how to handle a car, Junior? At least for now.”

“Dad, what you’re talking about doing… it’s impossible…”

“Son, you’re gonna have to trust me on this; believe me, it’s already started. Tomorrow at this time, we’ll have the help we need and one heartless drone less in the world.”

“But how? How can you be sure? Have you done this before?” The young man asked.

“No, Junior, I haven’t.” Roy replied, looking quite uncomfortable and avoiding eye contact with his son. “But since you apparently doubt your old man’s word, maybe you should trust your own eyes; take a quick look now, and you’ll see something unique.”

“What the hell? What is that, Dad?” The boy asked, seeing the golden sparks surrounding the man who walked, seemingly unaware of anything strange.

“That, my boy, is the solution to our problems; now hurry up.”

As father and son climbed into the old pickup, an oblivious Brian, unaware of their plans for him, arrived at the farmhouse door. The moment he raised a hand to knock, the door swung open suddenly, and he found himself facing a beautiful woman with bronzed skin and black hair streaked with gray, whose age he couldn’t quite pin down, though he knew she was Abernathy’s wife. The woman looked at him with a warm face that, for some unknown reason, sent a shiver down his spine.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A lost kitten? How can I help you, sugar?”

“Um… I’m sorry, ma’am. I… Mr. Abernathy told me to come here and… hum… change clothes while he looks at my car.”

“You’re soaked, poor thing! Come on in, come on in. I’ll ask Debra to get you some of RJ’s clothes. Be a good boy and wait right here; I don’t want my carpet all wet!” The woman said in a whirlwind, pulling him inside the house and leaving him standing at the threshold. Brian, for his part, had to control himself not to run back out into the rain, as something urged him to get out of that place as fast as possible. Holding himself back, he waited until the woman returned with a young girl about his age, just as pretty as the mother, in a floral dress.

“Debra will take you to RJ’s room; you can dry off and wear some of his clothes until the boys bring your car back. Meanwhile, I’ll whip up some dinner; a big boy like you must eat as much as my husband and son!”

“I… actually…” Brian started, but he gave up announcing his intention to leave as fast as possible upon receiving a look from Mrs. Abernathy that simultaneously showed expectation and reprimand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Great, now let’s go, let’s go! You’re soaking my carpet!”

Brian followed Debra up to one of the rooms on the second floor of the house. Upon entering, he was surprised to find it was a double room. Did the Abernathy kids, brother and sister, share the same room?

“I’ve set aside some of RJ’s clothes for you; they might be a bit big, but at least they’re dry.” The girl said, smiling between the two beds in the room. Brian couldn’t help but ask.

“You sleep here with your brother?”

“God, no, eww! That bed’s for my other brother!”

“I didn’t know that… wait… there’s no record of the Abernathys having another kid in the paperwork given to the bank!”

“Shhh… relax; there’s no need to stress about that, it’s not important. You city folks with your data, your records, your… contracts. Life is so much more than that, you know? So why don’t you chill for a bit, dry off, and head down? Dad’s gonna want to talk to you.” The girl replied and left the room, leaving a very confused Brian behind. He was still pondering the family’s strange behavior as he undressed and wondered what the hell Roy Abernathy would want to talk to him about. He wasn’t fooling himself thinking it could be something good for his job, not after the confrontation they had just had.

After drying off and getting ready to put on RJ's much larger clothes, the little intrusive voice invaded his mind again. Whatever Roy had to say was important, and he should listen and obey, just like he always had. Before his mind could fight back against that, a beam of golden sparks emanated from his body, and both the intrusive voice and the need to resist it vanished from Brian's mind. In fact, all thoughts disappeared. He couldn't tell how long he stood there, just breathing, with his mind blank of thoughts or worries.

He only returned to reality when someone caught his attention.

“What are you doing just standing there, brother?” A deep voice asked, startling him awake. Turning quickly, Brian found himself face to face with Abernathy’s son, RJ. He’d only seen him briefly on the road, but now he was just a few inches away. RJ lacked the bulk of his father, but that didn’t mean he was small. On the contrary, he was a strong guy, a year or two older than Brian, with a muscular, hairy chest on display. Looking at that figure, Brian felt a strange sensation wash over him, a kind of bond between him and this stranger; it wasn’t sexual, it was something… brotherly, maybe? He knew he’d felt that before, but couldn’t remember when or with whom. As absurd as it was, it was like this guy in front of him was someone very important.

“Earth to you, bro! Get some clothes on and let’s eat; Dad’s waiting.”

“I… uh… yeah.” Brian replied, hurrying to put on the clothes that were lying next to him.

“You coming?” He asked, wanting to stretch the time spent with the other man, even though he didn’t know why.

“Nah, I already ate; I’m gonna crash here. We’ll talk later and figure out how to fix your car!”

“Car?”

“Dude, you really are in another dimension, eat your food, talk to dad, I’ll be waiting!”

Brian headed downstairs and made his way to the kitchen, not even questioning how he knew which way to go, while trying to pin down that feeling of connection to someone he’d just met. As he reached the kitchen door, he found Roy Abernathy sitting alone at a large dining table piled high with food, looking serious and pensive. Brian instinctively stopped at the door, watching the older man. Strangely, all the animosity he’d felt toward the man had vanished, and revisiting his feelings, even the fear he refused to admit existed was different now; it wasn’t fear of violence, but a hefty dose of respect, with a healthy hint of dread. He didn’t even have time to try to figure out what had changed, as Abernathy spotted him and broke into a smile.

“Come on in and grab a bite, son, don’t just stand there like a deer in headlights!” The man said, and while part of Brian’s mind told him he should be anger by that comment, a now dominant part made him smile shyly and head over to the table.

“Excuse me, sir!” He said politely and respectfully.

“Sure thing, son, make yourself at home; things here are simple but done right.”

“Thanks, sir.” Brian replied, serving himself a bit of everything on the table, ending up with a plate piled high, which seemed to please his host.

“That’s a plate fit for a real man!”

“Sorry, Mr. Abernathy; it all looks so good and…”

“No need to apologize, son; that’s a compliment you’re giving my wife’s cooking. And you can call me Roy. That’s what my friends call me.”

Hearing that sparked something in Brian’s mind, some kind of half-forgotten memory, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall it… if he can’t remember it must not be important, right? So, he opted to eat all that delicious food, smiling, again oblivious to the shower of golden sparks surrounding him. But Roy Abernathy couldn’t help but notice, making his smile grow even wider.

Brian devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, time slipping by without him realizing it. He only stopped eating when his belly stretched the elastic of RJ’s shorts, which was no small feat since the man was much stronger than him. Satisfied, he let out a loud burp.

“Burrrpp… sorry, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Once again, that’s a compliment to my wife’s fine cooking, kid; and I already told you, my friends call me Roy.”

“Thanks, Roy… you… you all didn’t have to do this for me, not after… after…”

“After what, son?” Roy asked, with an apparently innocent look.

“After… after…” after what? What did I do to Abernathy? I can’t remember… something about work… my job. “… my job.” Brian mumbled.

“Kid, just ‘cause you’re gonna work for me doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop treating you like a guest.” Roy replied with a smile, sending a shock through Brian’s mind. That information couldn’t be true… or could it? He tried to remember his job, but nothing came to mind; he had gone to college and studied… what? He couldn’t recall. But he knew his job had given him the means to buy the clothes he liked and the car… yeah, his car! There was something about his car.

“And my car…?”

“Oh, right, tomorrow you and RJ can figure out how to fix it. But I gotta tell you, son, there’s only so much an old car can take!”

“Old…? no, no!”

“Oh, I know young folks prefer the term classic, but still… anyway… if I were you, I’d save up for a good reliable pickup, kid! Now head on up; I’m sure you and RJ will want to talk before bed, but tomorrow the day starts bright and early around here.”

“I… I… Roy… there’s something… something…” Brian started as he stood up and headed for the door, unable to finish. He wanted to say there was something weird, something wrong, but he couldn’t.

“Something you wanna tell me, son?”

“Yeah… Mr. Abernathy… Roy…” He struggled to find the right words to express how he felt. “… thanks again!” That was what he finally said, with a fresh wave of golden sparks surrounding him, and any doubt about what he was doing there vanished.

“Thank me with hard work, son; now go to your room.”

Feeling a bit dazed, Brian climbed the stairs and reached the room he shared with RJ. The other man was lying down, apparently asleep, which left Brian feeling a bit down.

He couldn't say why, but he felt the urge to talk to RJ; somehow, he felt like the other man was a special friend he hadn't spoken to in a long time, though that didn't make any sense. He hardly knew the guy; they had barely exchanged words since they met that day... or was it the day his father hired Brian? And when was that? Brian sat on the bed, trying to sort out his thoughts and calm the strange feeling that had taken over him since his car broke down on the road. And why was he on the road if he had gone to the Abernathys to work? He couldn't get very far with those thoughts, as apparently, his movements had woken RJ, who quickly sat up in bed.

“Hey, brother, why didn’t you let me know you were in the room?”

“I didn’t want to wake you; didn’t wanna bother you…”

“Man, it ain’t no bother! We gotta talk about your car, figure out what we’re gonna do!”

“Your dad thinks I should sell it and save up for a pickup!”

“Bro, no way! Dad’s a great guy, but for him, if something ain’t useful for work, it ain’t worth a damn. He’s forgotten what it’s like being a guy our age. And selling a 1969 Ford Mustang? The king of American muscle cars? Only if you’re crazy! I figured with a car like that, you’d know how to appreciate a classic!”

“I… uh… I just didn’t wanna offend your dad, with him being my boss and all…”

“Dude, just be straight with him, and he’ll get it… and forget about the boss stuff… you’re sleeping in his son’s room; you can bet he sees you as more than just an employee.”

“Thanks…” Brian replied awkwardly.

“Come on, enough of that; you’re gonna work with me, hell, you’re sharing a room with me, brother! No need for all that formal junk.” RJ said, grinning before giving Brian a scrutinizing look and asking, “Bro, do you lift?”

“Uh, no… I’ve never been much for working out…”

“So how you ended up working on a farm??”

“Uh… I… went to college… I think, and… I don’t remember…”

“Chill out, brother, I’m just teasing you!But seriously, if you wanna work around here, you gotta pack on some serious muscle.” RJ said, casually scratching his powerful pecs and biceps, making Brian, who had never cared about that kind of thing, feel mesmerized.

“You think… you think I can get as big as you or your dad?” Why was he asking that???

“Ha, dude, nobody’s as big as my dad, and getting to my size is a good journey, but the beauty of the thing is just that, brother; you never settle for the size you are, and I bet with the right training and all the farm work, soon you won’t even recognize yourself.” Hearing that reply filled Brian with a level of contentment he never thought possible.

But before he could try to understand why, RJ went back to talking about cars, and soon the two were discussing their favorite classic models and what they’d do with Brian’s old Mustang. Their conversation flowed like they’d known each other for years and was only interrupted when a very serious Roy Abernathy opened the bedroom door and told the two to hit the hay already, like a couple of mischievous kids being schooled by their dad. Somehow, that thought was comforting to Brian, who quickly fell asleep after Roy turned off the lights and left the room.

He was in a strange place; it looked like a gym. There was a young, skinny but strong guy, as blonde as he was, staring at him. After a few seconds, he realized he was standing in front of a mirror and smiled.

As he dreamed of that, Brian smiled in his sleep on the bed in Roy Junior’s room, his shirt pulled off during the night without him realizing, and golden sparks surrounding him as he moved around happily, unaware that someone was watching him.

“Sleep tight, little brother, ‘cause tomorrow’s when things are really gonna get interesting!”

#male tf #mind change #reality change #mental transformation #musclegrowth

306 notes · View notes

uglypastels · 5 months ago

Text

Halo of the Highest Grade / Logan Howlett x Reader

People tried to warn you about him, but you loved the risk and danger of it all. They prayed for you, but God already knew exactly the type of men you’ve had your spare share of fun with. And the Wolverine was exactly what you had been looking for all this time.

word count: 5.5.k

warnings: SMUT. 18+ Only. MDNI. afab!reader. p in v. no protection [wrap it before you tap it, folks]. cunnilingus. sadomasochistic tendencies: spanking. choking. biting. scratching. hair pulling. face slapping. mutual degradation. makeshift restrain. violence: cage fighting. blood. alcohol. smoking. cursing. not proofread.

gif from banner sourced online but couldn't find the op, all credits to them.

Shoutout to @deceptive-daydreams for helping me come up with all of this.

Masterlist - Requests are Open

They shake their heads

Saying, "God help her" when I

Tell 'em he's my man.

But your good Lord doesn't need to

Lift a finger, I can fix him

No, really, I can.

The shouts and vulgarities of the drunken crowd could be heard from outside the building. Inside, smoke and alcohol overwhelmed the senses whilst the lights shined through the slits in the high ceiling, practically guiding you towards the silver-lit halo that was the cage at the centre of the room. As if in a trance, each element was calling for you to move closer, so closer you came.

The bell indicating the end of the fight rang but was barely heard through the commotion of the spectators. Two men dragged the barely conscious body of the defeated, his red shirt camouflaging his spilt blood.

‘Hey pretty—’

‘Fuck off.’ You hissed at the pitiful man who had appeared by your side, not even sparing him a glance when you walked off, leaving him behind, stunned and confused. Maybe he tried to call after you or spit some expletives your way, but you were too focused on what was happening inside the cage to notice.

‘Gentlemen.’ The host called for the next challenger. ‘In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?’ With an antagonising finger, he pointed to the individual you had already been unable to look away from. His back glistened with sweat from the hot lights above his head. Each calm breath accentuated his shoulder blades. He barely reacted to the scream from the crowd as yet another loser came forward. While the other man approached the stage, you watched the champion take a long drag from his cigar, the smoke billowing around him in long ribbons.

‘Our Savior!’ the host exclaimed, and he exchanged some words of grace with the new fighter. Meanwhile, you kept a watchful eye on the other as he drained his glass of his last drops of golden spirit. With each second until the starting bell ticking by, you found yourself wishing him to turn around and face his opponent. But the bell came and went, and he didn’t move.

The “savior” lunged forward with a kick, pushing your object of interest into the metal wiring. It clattered at impact, and so his grunt was barely audible. Bend over, a dog tag hanging from his neck; he didn’t even attempt to block the punches thrown his way. Unable to look away from fascination, you winced at each hit. In everyone else’s eyes, it was a lost fight. One too many, he should have quit while he was ahead. Surely, he couldn’t take it anymore. But something in you saw the moments ahead. How he got up, fists and teeth clenched.

It was over before you could even blink.

Three punches were all it took. All punctuated with a dull metal sound no one could place but claimed to be the barriers of the fighting stage as the “savior” unconsciously fell to the floor.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight’s winner and still king of the Cage–’ the crowd booed to the harmony of the bell calling the Knock Out, and you quickly sought your escape from the eye of the storm before it formed. From the sound of it, things were gonna get ugly very quickly, and that ain’t the show you had come for.

‘The Wolverine!’ The announcer finished, and you made sure to remember that little nickname as you walked off.

With the majority of the crowd leaving, their losses very much at the forefront of their minds, you settled down at the bar.

‘Give me two of whatever he was having back there.’ You told the barman, cocking your head back to the Cage, and turned on the stool to face the room, a plan already forming in your head. You heard behind you how the man poured the drinks and placed one next to the other at your side.

‘You don’t wanna do this.’ The man chuckled through his warning, fully aware of your intentions. So, subtlety had never exactly been your strong suit, but in this case, you felt it would probably be a great advantage.

‘Now, what makes you say that?’ You reached for the nearest glass and took a gentle sip. The alcohol practically seared your throat as it went down. ‘He’s just like any other man, no?’

‘Lady, that ain’t no man.’, the older man said in a hushed tone, scared as he would be heard by the wrong people, despite of the chaos around you. ‘That’s a monster.’

Those words only sparked more interest inside you. A flash of ruffled dark hair caught your attention between the crowd, and like a shock had gone through your spine, you sat up straight.

Realising he was fighting a lost beetle, the barman simply sighed. ‘May God help you.’

Oh, God knew exactly the type of men you’ve had your spare share of fun with before. Leading the kind of life you had it was the only way to still make things a little bit interesting. And he, the Wolverine, was precisely what you were looking for.

His steps were heavy on the floorboards. The crowd, while still angry, parted like the Red Sea at his proximity, looking away as if scared to be petrified if they got caught catching a glimpse of him. But you didn’t even try and hide your stare as he walked up to the bar. A fact that did not go unnoticed. And neither did the manner in which his eyes glazed over your body, moving up and down across your frame, hovering in particular over a few places.

Although plenty of seats were vacant, he sat down at your immediate right. His mouth had already slipped open with the request for a drink, but you were quicker with your generous gesture.

He looked at it with a mix of surprise and amusement, but didn’t say a word. The liquor disappeared with one heavy swig, and the glass clashed with the counter. Without needing to hear anything, the helpful bartender brought out the bottle and poured him another.

‘Can I help you?’ The Wolverine muttered, looking at you from the corner of his eye when you had not stopped looking him over since he had sat down.

Isn’t he a charmer, you thought, but you also could not deny that his attitude and harsh tone were doing things to you.

‘Just wanted to congratulate you on the fight.’ As subtle as anything else you had done that night, you came closer, leaning towards him. You caught the glance he gave you as you moved, specifically how his eyes once more lingered on your breast. God, how you loved the ones that just didn’t give a shit. Those who were just as blunt as you were in these matters. It made things so much easier.

‘It wasn’t much of a fight.’ He replied, unphased by anything that happened that night.

‘I suppose you’re right.’ You shrugged, twirling the drink in your hand, ‘though I did think you were kind of soft on that last guy. Why let him get you like that?’ Your mind flashed to the fight, to the grunts he had made as his opponent’s fist met his stomach. ‘Surely, you could have knocked him out cold as soon as he stepped into the ring.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ With those words, he finally turned to you, and for the first time that night, your eyes met, and that’s when you saw it. That glint in his eye that told you everything you needed to know about him. How he didn’t get in that ring because he needed to. Maybe the money was a bonus, but that is all it was. He got in there because he wanted to. He let those other guys get in a punch or two before knocking the shit and wind out of them.

He enjoyed it.

The next remarkable thing about his face, aside from the apparent perfect angles of his features, was how truly perfect it was. For someone so eager to brawl, there were no indications of his hobby. No bruises, scars, and even long-term, his nose looked perfectly straight, as did his jaw, never broken or battered.

He just kept getting more fascinating by the second.

‘So you’re one of those thrill junkies, huh?’ you asked ordinarily, certainly not as if you had just lost yourself while looking at his face.

‘Sure, if you wanna call it that.’ He scoffed. He was holding back; that much was clear. The constant glances he threw your way were more than enough of a tell. He took another sip of his drink. Fuck it, now was a better chance than never. You let your leg slowly climb up and down his calf, gently pressing into him. Something in his posture stiffened, his jaw tensed up at your touch, and you revelled in it.

‘I can imagine it’s quite a rush, getting out there, getting the adrenaline pumping all through you.’ Your voice danced around him, only clear mischief at its core. ‘Makes you wonder…’ You leaned in so close you could nearly whisper the word directly in his ear. ‘If there is anything else that would have that effect on a man.’

‘Don’t start playing games you can’t finish, bub,’ he pushed out.

‘Oh, I’m planning on finishing.’ You smiled sweetly. ‘Don’t you worry ‘bout me, big boy.’

‘Is that right?’ He leaned in to fill the gap you could not match from your position. You had caught his full attention, his empty glass forgotten on the countertop bar.

Though he faught with a bare chest, he had layered up since and now wore a wifebeater tanktop, covered mainly by a blue button-up and a dark brown leather jacket. As he looked at you, he saw a little black dress that fits you like a glove and just called for attention, and that matched with some knee-high boots and your hair all done up just like the boys like it. You had the intention of getting out of this shithole with someone, and you had set your target. Now, you were so close to catching him, too.

‘Mmm,’ you took the final sip of your drink. ‘So what’you say we get out of here?’

He chuckled at your suggestion, turning back to look at his hands. You noticed how even his knuckles did not have a shadow of a blush on them. ‘You sure you wanna do this, honey?’

‘I know what I’m doing, honey.’ You got up from your stool, placing your hand on his thigh. He immediately tensed up, but only momentarily, as he relaxed once your slowed down the graze of your nails against the inner seam of his jeans. ‘C’mon, let’s have some fun.’

Your hand moved across him to reach for his, and the simple touch was enough for you to know you had won. At least this round. As soon as your fingers touched, his entire body gave in. Not that he would have admitted it, nor was it that obvious at first glance. You, however, picked up on those things. How he leaned into your touch and practically let you walk him out of the bar. But you didn’t have to do or say anything for him to place his other hand over your hip, let it fall comfortably over your ass.

As soon as your body was greeted with the cool winter air, you spun around, pressing yourself against him until his back hit the brick wall. From then on, everything turned to instincts. Like the bartender knew to refill his glass without a word or glance, this man knew how to kiss you. His hands found their positions on you, keeping you steady as his lips explored yours. You could feel the scruff of his beard, the taste of it all: the alcohol, the cigar. None of it should have had any appeal to you, but mixed with his touch, it simply made you melt away. The kiss kept going until your lungs ran out of breath, and even then, you leeched onto him until you couldn’t any longer, not-so-gently pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you pulled apart.

‘Got a name, gorgeous?’ He asked, almost innocently, lip pink and plump, though mostly exhilarated through your actions, and so you told him, to which he replied: ‘Logan.’ He kissed you once more, deeper, harsher, before continuing his introduction. ‘Just so you know, I’m not one to hold back.’

‘What, like you did with that guy back there?’ You teased, letting your fingers brush through his hair.

‘That was just a warm-up.’ Was it meant as a threat? A warning? Whatever it was, it made your knees weak. ‘So don’t get scared if I get a bit wild.’

‘Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.’ You moved your hand down, brushing over the side of his face, down his collarbone to trace the silver chain that peaked from underneath his shirt.

‘Just be careful what you wish for.’ He nearly growled before pressing his lips back onto yours.

⦻

You had rented a motel room nearly across the street from The Cage bar and though fairly short, your journey back had turned into one big blur. All you remembered was Logan nearly throwing you into his car, a somewhat sluggish and overrun pick-up with an even older caravan attachment, and pulling you out with as much force. He had practically carried you up to your room, and if it wasn’t for the sake of the other motel visitants, you had a feeling he would have taken you right there and then, up against the green door with a steel 28 hammered into it.

But ever the gentleman, he pulled himself back, only slightly hurdling your attempts at unlocking the door as he let his hands roam all over your body. You threw your head back into the crook of his neck, your hand returning to its place in his messy hair. At the feeling of his lips on you, peppered kisses on the side of your neck, you couldn’t help but tug at his roots. Unintentional, but in hindsight, a revolutionary advance as Logan’s moan heated up your skin, and the thrust of his hips could only be described as untamed.

There really was a monster inside of him. And for one, you couldn’t wait until it got out.

The key finally clicked in its lock, and Logan was the one to push the door open. You spun on the tips of your toes to face him, unable to hide the playful grin on your face. He leaned in for a kiss, but you quickly avoided it with a step back. He stepped forward, kicking the door shut behind him. Just like that, the room fell into darkness, with the exception of the neon sign peaking through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings in glowing streaks of blue.

With a gentleness you had not shown before, you reached for a kiss. A feathery touch that left Logan needing more, the yearning visible in how his body followed you once you let go. And you let him. In fact, as you made your way to the bed, you hooked one finger through one of his belt loops, pulling him along with you. You took small steps backwards until your shins hit the edge of the bed and sat down with a squeak of the mattress springs. Standing in front of you, Logan towered over you.

A perfectly placed streak of light hit him, showing you just how dark his eyes had turned with need. How his chest was rising heavily as he shook his jacket off, throwing it aside. You watched it pile under the button-up he threw along with it, followed by your coat. Once you looked back at him, the sight of his bare arms had your mind wandering off into the most dark and corrupt places. No thoughts, just pure need pushed your legs open, so far the most inviting of places to Logan.

He wasted no time falling to his knees. You pulled him by the hair for another kiss. Everything got messier by the moment, hungrier, filthier. His hands settled on your thighs, spreading your legs further, then pulling one of them up over his shoulder, giving him space to do whatever he wanted with you. Admittedly, you could have kept kissing him forever, but when his lips attached themselves to your inner thigh, you let yourself fall back on the bed in bliss.

Logan moved closer with each peck. Closer and closer until he reached your panties—the arousal evident from the moment you had revealed yourself to him. You didn’t think the two of you could get any closer until, with a harsh tug, he pulled you up against his face, the bridge of his nose tracing over the soaked material. A shaky moan escaped past your lips, and the hold you kept on his hair tightened. Putting the underwear on started to feel like your biggest regret that day as Logan got comfortable placing sloppy kisses over them, sending shock after shock of elation through your core.

Your back arched at the sensation of his cold hand on your hot skin, climbing up to the spot where your bodies connected. Still, through that damned lace, he pushed a finger over your slit. The pleasure slowly began to form into agony as you couldn’t take it much longer. But perhaps neither could he, as not long after he had started those teasing strokes, he grabbed at your panties and, with a pull, ripped them to shreds. The sound of the material ripping was harsh and startling but not half as much as the feeling of his hot breath against your pussy, or his tongue finally pressing against it.

‘Fuck,’ you cursed, to which he responded with a muffled moan, of which the vibrations only added to your pleasure. Logan was undeniably in his element at your feet. The intensity of his movements was proof enough that he enjoyed every single moment of it. The taste of your juices was like ambrosia, and he couldn’t get enough.

Your hips bucked up in a moment of his more expressive movements. The broken record in your mouth was stuck on a mix of profanities and his name. You couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of his fingers on you, how you wished he would have done more than just tease you, but it wasn’t needed for you to feel the tight twist in your stomach. Your whole body began to tense, including your thighs. It took the sound of Logan’s deep groans for you to realise that, in your desperate state, you had started to squeeze your thighs together, practically locking his head in between.

But, unlike your first thought that had made you want to pull away, his groans had not been worrisome. It was full-on pleasure that he was displaying. To set aside any of your doubt in the case, he held on to your leg, keeping it exactly where it was, and when he glanced up, your eyes met that same exact spark you had seen in the bar. That same hunger and insanity of a man in despair.

Immediately, an idea bubbled in your mind. How you had still been able to form any coherent thought was a mystery, and even more, how you had managed to execute it. It was most likely not possible without his help, as you were sure if he was steadfast in his current position, there would be no way of you getting him to move a slight inch, but with a swift manoeuvre, you pulled yourself off the bed, and flipped yourself, as well as Logan, for you to position yourself on top of his lips.

‘You readin’ my mind now, princess?’ the nickname alone brought back the tightness in your stomach, accentuated by the nick of his teeth against your inner thigh after his remark. There was a moment of slightly awkward shuffling as he pushed himself and you up onto the centre of the bed, but once set, there was no going back.

Instincts took over once more as his tongue moved over your folds. For that extra friction, you began to move in tandem over his features, grinding into him in a heat of need. Now, you had been with a number of guys, each freakier than the other, but none of them had ever let you ride their face like a fuck pillow. He would have been obsolete if not for the fact that he was getting off on sucking your clit.

‘So fucking desperate,’ you moaned between thrusts, and since his mouth was a bit preoccupied, Logan’s response came in the form of his hand firmly smacking across your ass. The lingering sting burnt through the rest of you just long enough for you to start missing it and that’s when he struck the sensitive skin again. Your moans turned higher in pitch with each time he did, and the actions of his tongue got more ferocious. Without saying a word, the message was clear: who’s the desperate one now?

And the answer was very simple. You both were. That’s the only reason you had walked into that room together to begin with. Both of you had urges that had gone unkept for too long. Urges where just sex wasn’t enough. There was always something missing. Until now.

All this time he had made sure you stayed right on top of him. Long and tight enough to make you wonder if he had actually had a death wish and was planning to go out in style. But evertime you looked at him, he seemed to almost be at peace, completely focused in the delicious task at hand. When he did finally pull you up from his lips, it was only to introduce the last puzzle piece into the game.

The curses rolled of your tongue as he pushed his fingers into you. Long and thick, already stretching you out. He left kisses up on your clit, sloppy and wet just to keep toying with the nerves. You could feel the callouses on his thumb as he traced and pressed over it.

His other hand was again on your ass, this time digging into the soft flesh to keep you at bay. You were stuck in the rapturous stance, ready to burst at any time.

‘C’mon, baby, fucking cum on my tongue,’ he growled before placing himself right back where his demand would be met and this time, as the tightness pulled at your body, you couldn’t control it. Not a minute later, were you gasping out his name as you let the pleasure take over all of you.

You rode your high out to the final moment where he kissed your thigh again, eyes heavy and faint smile adorned his lips. While both your breaths were evening out, you slipped down over his body to see the full picture. Even in the barely-lit room, you could see how his face was glistening with your juices, and it just kept going down his neck, drenching the top of his tanktop. It was a sight for sore eyes—and legs. What you would do to see it over and over again.

With a soft laugh that only spelled out “trouble”, you started to softly trace the lines of his beard. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, awaiting an explanation to your actions.

‘Told you I could handle it,’ you smiled, smacking his cheek. Not viciously or even that hard, but firmly enough to wake him up from his pussy-drunk state.

And wake him up, you did.

‘They call it foreplay for a reason, sugar.’ He smirked and suddenly you grew very aware of his hold on you. The next second, you felt yourself move through the air as he took his turn in flipping you over. You nearly got the wind blown out of your lungs as your back hit the mattress for the second time that night, this time with his weight on top of you.

There was the sound of a belt unbuckling. Your eyes automatically searched for the source, ready to see what he had been packing below, but Logan was quicker, cupping your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks so you’d have no choice to look up at him.

‘Eyes on me.’ His voice was as soft as limestone, fine and effervescent in the most rigid fashion. Then his hand moved down, pushing you by the throat into the soft pillow underneath. He leaned forward, placing his mouth over your ear to whisper: ‘Gonna be a good girl for me?’

You nodded as best as you could with the stiff hold he had on you.

‘Use your words,’ he growled and squeezed.

‘Yes,’ you choked out weakly, exactly like he had wanted you to.

The release of his hand reopened the next floodgates in your body. You could still taste the result of the last time on his lips and tongue when he kissed you. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. And the most painful part of it all was that you knew just how close you were to getting what you wanted. You could feel the loose belt buckle against your thigh.

‘Logan,’ you gasped as an ending to the kiss. ‘Please.’

‘What did I just tell you, hmm?’ And yet, he still pulled at your dress to push it up over your hips. ‘Use your fucking words.’

‘Fuck me.’ You tried to reach for the top of his jeans, but there was no moving from the position he had you in. ‘Need you inside me.’

‘But yeah, I’m the desperate one,’ he mocked before sitting up. You watched with anticipation at how he unzipped his trousers, and pulled his dick out from his boxers. There was no surprise that he was completely hard by now, and even the size, considering the rest of him, was not a revelation. This had been exactly what you had been counting on when you saw him in that cage. Seeing him stroke himself in front of you was nothing but validation.

‘Just look at you,’ he said as he kept his hand on his cock, ‘Opened your legs up for me the moment you saw me.’ His other hand reached for the top of your dress, stretching it down to reveal your breast. ‘Bet you would have let me fuck you in that cage, huh?’

‘Can’t deny, the thought had crossed my mind.’ You admitted, letting yourself think back to how attractive he looked back in there. Drenched in sweat under those cold lights. That animalistic glint in his eyes. Not much different from now, truth be told.

That had been all Logan needed to hear. You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath in expectation until the feeling of him entering you finally took over. Your lips formed a perfectly blissful O as he stretched you out.

‘That’s right,’ he beamed, ‘gonna fill you up. Nice and tight.’ And he didn’t waste any time, pulling back right after he had reached your depths. In seconds, he had a pace going that left you shaking underneath him, the grunts that accompanied his thrusts recoiling through your nerves. You hands clutched around for a something to grab onto as you started to feel like you were going to sink into the bed from the power at which he fucked you—for that’s what it was, nothing but a brutal and rough fuck.

You searched the sheets for grip, but Logan had other ideas. Taking you by the wrists, he pulled your arms up over your head, holding them against the paneling of the bed. The dull banging on the wall could have very well been your own headboard or the angry fists of your neighbours from the other side, but either way, you were too preoccupied to pay them any mind.

This had been what you were waiting for. What he had promised. The untamed animal that worked off of nothing but impulses. Anything to suffice that pure need for pleasure.

His grip on your wrists was tight, and to say it didn’t turn you on even more than anything else he had done before would be a blatant lie, but your urge to touch him was stronger. You tried to wiggle your hands free, but there was no way of doing so. Not with a man like Logan in control, that much he had made clear.

‘This not good for ya?’ he huffed out, but before you could respond, he pulled you up by your arms until you straddled his thighs, chest to chest, an angle which pulled him in even deeper.

‘Oh my god,’ your eyes rolled back at the sensation.

‘No god will help you now,’ he said against your lips before bringing you in for another kiss. You wrapped yourself around him, finding comfort in the softness of his hair once more while he began to guide your hips into a steady motion to fit the pace at which he moved. Testing the waters again, you pulled at the hairs on the nape of his neck. The smile on his face as his head rolled back was unmistakable even in the dark of the room.

You pulled harder and there it was. That pure moan you had been waiting for and once you got a taste of it, you couldn’t get enough.

And neither could he.

With the goal set, you dragged your nails over his shoulders as you let your hips roll over his.

‘Fuck yeah,’ he moaned in ecstasy, ‘use me, baby.’ The words came out airy and made your head spin at their contrast. How could he be acting like your little plaything while still taking full control of you? It made you feel grand and tiny in his arms at the same time, but mostly, it was so incredibly hot.

He hissed at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin. ‘Don’t you dare fucking stop.’ He stressed each word with a thrust, dotting it with a sharp kiss. And so, you did as you told, pushing yourself onto him in all ways you could. You didn’t know if you had it in you to draw blood, but it sure felt close to it. You were waiting for Logan to scream out, pull you off of him, but it only seemed to rile him up more.

That’s a monster. That’s what the man in the bar had called him. Monster. And there was a sense of truth to it. There was a beast hiding inside him, ready to attack. Maybe he thought he had found a victim when he saw you, but as you clenched around his length, you were quite the opposite.

You were no victim. No damsel in distress. No princess.

You were a hunter, and you had just caught your grand prize.

‘I’m gonna—’ you were unable to finish the sentence before the rapture. You screamed his name in elation as the second flush satisfaction washed over you that night but it wasn’t enough for Logan. He kept on rutting into you, his grunts filled the room, until you felt it all spill out of you.

Once he had caught his breathing under control, he sighed out a contented “fuck,” which you wholeheartedly agreed with as you pulled yourself off him. The emptiness you immediately began to feel was disquieting, and you could feel that need for him bubbling up in your stomach again. The only thing that slightly helped was the sight of him when you returned from the bathroom, jeans on the floor next to the pile of clothes you had formed through the night.

You took all of him in with wonder as you slipped your dress off your body.

They shook their heads

Saying, "God help her" when I

Told 'em he's my man.

But your good Lord didn't need to

Lift a finger, I can fix him

No, really, I can.

Woah- Maybe I can't.

You awoke to the sunbeams bursting through the curtains. Sore all over, you tried to stretch across the bed, mindful of the presence next to you.

Except, when you stretched out your hand, you were only met with the soft material of the bedsheets. The mattress had gone cold and reformed back to its natural state, having forgotten any weight that might have laid there the night before. If you had looked outside, you would have seen an empty parking spot beside yours. The only sign of there ever having been someone in that bed with you was the ghostly presence of the smell of cigars and aftershave.

You smiled to yourself, nails digging into the sheets as you let your mind wander back to the realm of dreams.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox with your thoughts. I'd love to hear what you thought of it. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

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vivian-pascal · 9 months ago

Text

But Daddy I Love Him

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: You've been seeing Joel for a while now, when your dad first introduced you to him, you knew you both could never get enough. But when your dad finds out, things take a turn.

warnings: piv (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, fluff, description of what reader wears, angst

authors note: hey folks! when i first heard this song on Taylor's new album I just KNEW I had to write about it! and this is the idea I had in mind, I hope you all enjoy!

(I definitely recommend listening to the song while reading!)

now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned

screaming "but daddy I love him!"

"I'm having his baby"

no I'm not but you should see your faces.

The warm, tingly feeling of his rough calloused hands sliding along the inside of your thigh making you whimper as his hand slowly makes it way between your legs.

The rough pull of his hair as he collides his drooling mouth with your clit. Licking and sucking like a feral animal devouring its meal.

"Joel." You moan when he inserts his tongue into your seeping cunt. Pushing deeper and deeper until your back arches off the bed.

"Yeah, just like that baby." The deep rumble of his voice vibrates along your pussy and only makes the sensation better. Licking and sucking your cunt until you simply can't hold it any longer and let go. The rush of your orgasm makes him physically eat up your whole pussy. Making sure there are no drops wasted.

Your back finally hitting the bed, he rises from between your legs and he already looks fucked. The dampness from your arousal has drenched his beard and face. His messy hair from all the pulling and tugging you've done only seems to have gotten worse.

He crawls up your body with a big grin and instantly meets your face with his lips. You moan into his mouth as he begins to undo his jeans. You giggle as the zipper gets stuck and decide to help him out.

You pull sharply on the zipper and it instantly goes down. He smiles at you as he removes his pants and his boxers. Your eyes widen at the size of him. You've imagined this moment for years and you've know that he'd be big, but you never knew that he'd be this big.

He crawls back up your body as your back hits the bed once more.

When you first met Joel, you were only a teenager with a wide range of imagination. He was handsome, had the sexiest voice you've ever heard, he was kind, etc. But one thing about him just didn't seem right.

Sometimes you would casually flirt with him because it was funny and only a joke. Well, not for you. He would laugh it off and tell you to stop and then you would. The amount of control he had over you was insane. More than your dad. You would physically do anything for Joel. Sometimes you noticed that some of your flirting did actually bother him.

Once, you two were in a store and the cashier had thought that Joel was your father. He laughed it off and told the lady that you weren't and you both left the store. But you couldn't leave it at that of course, so when you walked out, Joel asked you to wait in the car while he threw something out and you simply replied with "Yes, daddy."

That seemed to do a number for him. He stopped in his tracks as he watched you walk toward his truck. The car ride home was silent. You tried to make small talk with him but he'd only grunt in return.

Ever since that day, he's been off. So earlier today, you decided that should change. And now here you are, ass naked with Joel Miller.

His nose brushes against yours as he slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the intrusion. "You're so gorgeous darlin'." You moan as he slowly begins to move.

You run your nails alone his back as he kissed you along your jawline. His movements hit each spot inside you just right. Stretching you out perfectly.

His grunts only spur you on as he begins to speed up his thrusts. You moan as his tongue collides with yours. His hands moving down your fragile frame as he begins to circle your clit.

Running your hands along his arms, back, neck. You can feel every strong muscle working its hardest. You pull and tug his hair until he's grunting and panting in your mouth.

His fingers push down on your clit harder and you arch your back and moan aloud when your orgasm washes over you. His thrusts begin to go faster as his hips come to a stutter. You grin when you feel his hot seed seeping into you.

He lays his head on your shoulder as you look down at his exhausted state and kiss his forehead. He smiles softly and kisses your lips. You wrap your small arms along his head as he wraps his strong arms around your small body.

You both cuddle up and stay like that for a while. Yearning for each others love as the time passes by slowly.

Your rudely awaken to a slam of your bedroom door. You quickly sit up and cover yourself with your blanket. When you see who it is, your eyes begin to water as your heart stops. It's your dad.

Joel sits up and his eyes squint at the bright light. When he sees your father standing there, he freezes.

"What the fuck?" Your dad roars as he walks in. Joel begins to pick up his boxers as he quickly puts them on.

"Joel?" He looks up at your dad as he tries to grab his jeans. "You fucked my daughter?" He quickly puts on his pants, leaving them unbuttoned. Joel looks at you. His eyes softening when he sees that your crying.

"Fucking answer me!" He looks back at your dad and quickly nods. Your dad throws his hands in the air and grabs onto Joel's arm. Yanking him out of your room.

You quickly get out of bed and grab your dress, putting it on but not buttoning it up. "Dad! Where the fuck are you taking him?" You scream as you run after them. He throws Joel outside and pushes him.

"Joel, care to explain what the fuck you were doing?" Joel only puts his hands in front of him. "You can't even talk to your best bud huh? U wonder why that is, oh maybe because you were messing with my very young daughter." Joel shakes his head as he backs up.

"Now, we both had consent for this. I didn't force her into doin somethin she didn't wanna do." Your dad begins to laugh.

"As if that makes this any better Joel." Tears flood your face.

"Dad stop! He didn't do anything wrong. Please."

Your dad looks furious. He shakes his head and looks back at Joel. He looks at you with sad eyes and only nods to you as a reassurance that it's going to be okay.

"Go." You turn to face your dad as he looks at Joel." "What? Dad no. He can't just leave"

"Well that's what I'm telling him to do isn't it." You look at Joel as he slowly backs away to his truck. "Dad?" You begin to panic. You hear the truck door open and close.

He begins to back away and looks at your dad. His truck backs off the driveway and that's when you start to sprint after him. Holding your dress up as you begin running. Your bare feet hitting the rough pavement. Tears flying from your eyes. Screaming and crying as you see your Joel leaving you. Forever.

Your pace begins to slow as you realize that he's not coming back. Just disappearing into nothing. You stare at his truck as you hear your dads pants coming up behind you. He puts his hand on your back but your too distraught to take it off.

"But Daddy, I loved him."

tags!!

@morallyinept @mermaidgirl30 @rav3n-pascal22 @mountainsandmayhem @amyispxnk @pinkcrystal44 @guelyury @iamsherloocked @itsokbbygrl @heartpascalispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @brittmb115 @kotourasan123 @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel #pedropascal #joel miller fanfiction

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ladykailitha · 22 days ago

Text

The Last Dragon Slayer Part 1

Hello! I know everyone was hoping to see more Himbo Witch today, but I wanted to also get this story out so you can enjoy this one too!

Summary: Fifty years ago, dragons who had once been scarce had suddenly taken over nearly every mountain, vale, valley, and cove. Humans, frightened of their new neighbors fashioned and trained dragon slayers to rid themselves of the beasts. Sir Steffan, once a prince, is the last of these slayers. He roams the land looking for the dragon that killed his mother on the day of his birth. He's starved, cold, and homeless when he gets the call from King Richard to rid the king of the black dragon Edgewraith.

Fifty years prior to the start of our story, dragons became more prevalent they had had in the many centuries prior. No one was sure what caused it; population boom, force migration, them choosing to come out of their caves as it were. Whatever the reason, the dragons kept their secrets.

But soon there wasn’t a mountain, valley, vale, or fen that didn’t house one of the great beasts. They could be found on every terrain and in every color conceivable. Black, red, gold, silver, diamond, sapphire, you name it and there was a dragon in that color. Some of them came in multiple colors, prism, tri-colors, and dual colors.

But like humans came in different strips of good, evil, and everything in between.

That is where the dragon slayers arose from. Men and women trained in the ways to kill creatures that flew, breathed fire, with large teeth, longer claws, and tough scales. They learned how combat all of them. Their secrets were as dark and as deep as the dragons themselves.

Twenty years prior to our story, Steffan of Harring’s Town was born to King Dylan and Queen Mairwen. Shortly after his birth a dragon tore through the castle killing and eating the midwife and the queen.

King Dylan was so overcome with grief and pain, gave his newborn son over to the first slayer he saw passing through his town. A man by the name Iago. He was a gruff man, worn down from many battles and living on the road.

But he took care of young Steffan, treated him like he would his own, trained him in the way of dragon slaying. Told him the story of his mother’s death over and over to drive home the fact that not all dragons are good and that it was their job to take out the ones who weren’t.

Then as things usually do, dragon slaying fell out of favor as the evil dragons were killed off, forced to leave or go into deep hiding the need for these slayers waned. Iago retired and tried to convince Steffan to do so as well, but Steffan burned with the desire to slay the beast that killed his mother.

And now we begin our tale.

King Richard had a problem. A large black dragon with red underscales, eyes, and claws had settled in the nearby mountain range and began to demand tribute in the form of three sheep a month and no one was allowed up to the mountain. They were to tie the sheep down at the base of the mountain and leave.

This angered King Richard. Yes, his kingdom was known for its sheep, numbering the hundreds, but those were his sheep and he wasn’t going to give so much as one sheep to the slobbering beast.

So he searched around, looking for a dragon slayer. Someone who could take this beast out and return his realm to the glory it was before the dragon filled the air with dark fire. But wherever he looked, he could not find a single dragon slayer. They were all dead or retired to live out their days with their remaining limbs.

All but one.

Sir Steffan of Harington’s Town having been knighted but some poor lord who castle had been sat upon by golden hide dragon with diamonds for eyes and claws. Half the town had been charred and smoking by the time the battle had ended, but most of the town folk had survived and they could rebuild.

So King Richard sent for this last dragon slayer. The last vestige of a dying breed. Once Sir Steffan has sloughed off this mortal coil, there would be no more. But King Richard didn’t care, he wanted the pest gone.

He almost turned the sullen creature away when it came knocking on the castle wall. Sir Steffan, no doubt once of a proud countenance and lithe body was now given away to rough life on the road and most certainly starvation. His eyes were sunken with dehydration and agony. His frame barely held up his armor. And his horse was in worst shape then he was.

King Richard wasn’t sure how the animal held up Sir Steffan’s weight sans armor let alone with. But he brought the knight in, gave him food, wine, a bath, and a place to stay the night. All night the king had his bards sing tales of the monstrous beast who demanded tribute of young maidens and fattened calves.

Sir Steffan nodded. Such was the way with these things. Oh not the dragon. He had already spoken to the townsfolk and they talked about the three sheep a month and the desire to be left alone. No, this was all about the greedy kings and lords wanting him to take out good dragons to steal their hoards.

He would take their payment and ride out of town, never to be seen again, leaving the bastards to tell their people why the coffers were drained to deal with a benevolent creature. But even those were becoming rare these days. And with him being the last dragon slayer, he would be all too easy to find.

So he drank the wine, ate the food, and slept in a warm bed for the first time in ages after having taken a bath in something that wasn’t bracken with sludge. He took his fee and stumbled his way to the top of the mountain.

“Edgewraith!” Sir Steffan called. “I name thee! Come out and face me, beast!” He banged on his shield with his sword a few times to make himself as loud as possible.

The creature that came out was exquisite. His body was long and lean with black glittering scales on top and blood red rubies adorned his underside from the top of his long neck all the way to the tip of his bespiked tail. His head had two horns that curled like that of a ram’s and his claws gleamed red as well. His crimson eyes flickered with anger as he breached the cave opening.

"How desperate King Richard must be," Edgewraith hissed, smoke and spark spilling from his mouth, “to send me you."

Sir Steffan threw his sword and shield to the ground and ripped off his helmet. “I am the last of my kind. Kill me and your kind will never be bothered again. All I ask is that you make it swift. I cannot ask for painless, I do not deserve such boon. Just post my head at the bottom of your mountain, great one, telling all those that dare oppose you that there are no more dragon slayers!”

Edgewraith opened his mouth to laugh at such a request when the knight promptly fainted. The dragon tilted his head to the side and gently scooped the fallen man up between his deadly claws.

Sir Steffan was alive, but barely breathing, so Edgewraith picked away at the armor, flinging the piece over his shoulder. The man looked worse out of the armor, because at least in the armor he had mass. The knight was barely a twig, his clothes hanging off of him as if they once fit, but too little food wasted the man to nothing.

All it would take was a flick of one of claws and Sir Steffan’s head would pop off like a cork on the bottle of wine. It would be done. The last dragon slayer would be dead.

But looking at the pitiful creature in his hand, Edgewraith couldn’t do it. There would be no honor, no joy in killing this man. So with a heavy sigh and cradling the knight close to his body, the dragon slipped back into the cave.

Steffan floated in and out of consciousness, barely long enough to drink and eat. Every night his bedding was changed and slowly he began to be aware of his surroundings. He was a much smaller cave then the entrance suggested. He had piles of silken blankets over him and he was propped up on many soft downy pillows.

He struggled to sit up when the most beautiful man came hurrying through the entrance. He had long wild curls that reached right above his collar bone. An angular face that was softened by the dimples in both of his cheeks. He was slender, but Steffancould tell that real strength was in his bones. His deep brown eyes almost seemed to glow red in the low light of the torches.

“Don’t sit up!” the man called, rushing to his side. “You’re not strong enough for that yet.”

Steffan looked up him with utter awe. “Is this heaven? You are far too beautiful to be of Hell.”

“You can’t be very old,” the man said with a hint of amusement coloring his tone, “if you think there aren’t some pretty vile people in the world that have all the looks and manners.”

Steffan blushed and ducked his head. “I am young to be fair, only twenty and you’re right I was being naive. So am I in Hell then? Does Hell truly hold such beauties?”

“I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell,” the man huffed, handing Steffan the bowl of soup and a spoon, “so it can’t be either. You live though the world believes you to be otherwise.”

Steffan took the soup and began eating. Then he was shoveling it in his mouth. It was so good. It had dumplings and mutton and even a few vegetables. He was almost done when he realized what the man said. “What do you mean? Do people think me dead?”

The man blushed and cleared his throat. “The dragon, Edgewraith has the ability to glamour things to look different. There was a skeleton from before he set up residence that he used to make it look like your head; had me paint the pretty sign that said the last dragon slayer was dead and word has already spread to the neighboring kingdoms.”

“Thank God!” Steffancried and began to sob.

The man got up on the bed and sat down next to him. He placed his hand on Steve’s knee and waited for the crying to slacken.

“Why are you so relieved to be dead?” the man asked gently.

Steffan explained that all throughout his childhood he was told that he was meant to slay the dragon that murdered his mother. That he had no other purpose in life. But at aged twenty, not having another skills that would make him useful for those lean times between bounties had left him broken and wishing for death.

“Do you wish a new name?” the man asked. “You can have any of them for your choosing.” He waved his arm to indicate the vastness of his choices.

But he shook his head. “Steffan is a common enough name that no one would connect Steffan the commoner and Sir Steffan the Dragon Slayer.”

“Fair enough, Steffan,” he said with a gentle smile, “I am Edwin. The dragon Edgewraith has gone hunting and won’t be back until night fall.”

“Edgewraith and Edwin,” Steffan said fondly, “my rescuers. You have my deepest gratitude and once I am better, I will be on my way.”

Edwin blushed. “You don’t have to leave, if you don’t want to. Edgewraith won’t hurt you and I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“If the rest of your cooking skills are anything like this stew,” Steffan said with a smile, “you’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me. I’ve eaten in some of the largest banquet halls of this country and let me tell you, they have nothing compared to this stew.”

Edwin didn’t think he could turn redder, but alas, he was proven wrong with that little complement. “Thank you. It’s not much only what the dragon can hunt and what I can trade in the village. But now that the Dragon Slayer is dead, we’ll be getting a supply of sheep each month which should help with the food situation.”

“Greedy men,” Steffan said sadly shaking his head. “I will never understand them in all my years why they just couldn’t give up what? Three dozen sheep a year? That’s nothing compared to the vast flocks I saw riding up to the castle.”

“Total.”

Steffan cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Edwin chuckled. “The dragon doesn’t eat all three of them in a month. Even for a beast of his size, that is a lot of meat to get through. No, he eats only one a month and the other twenty-four will be the basis for a new flock. That he will tend to himself so as to not bother the towns people for much of anything.”

“Three sheep a month for only an entire year?” Steffan blinked his surprise away. “I knew King Richard was an idiot but good God, that really takes the cake.”

Edwin smiled. “That he is.”

“What will he do now?” Steffan asked, picking at a loose thread on one of the blankets. “Now that there are no slayers to take care of his dragon problem.”

Edwin held up one finger and then left with Steffan’s empty bowl. A minute or so later, Steffan heard a tentative bleating.

Sure enough, Edwin came with a beautiful black sheep. “They have decided their best option would be to give me their black sheep.”

Steffan threw back his head and laughed for the first time in literal years.

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #dragon slayer au #dragon slayer steve #dragon eddie

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acapelladitty · 8 months ago

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Trouble Like A Mugshot (1.5k)

Pairing: Lucy Maclean/Cooper Howard

Summary: After a long day of travelling the wastelands, Lucy is feeling horny and asks Cooper if he wants to have sex with her. A question which is much more complicated than she could have possibly known.

(A/N: I might turn this into a short series of moments showcasing the pairs developing relationship from this to hard nsfw if that's something folks would like to see.)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Lucy Maclean was no stranger to the difficult to ignore feelings which were pressing at her body. Fingers slightly trembling, breath coming in shorter bursts than she would admit to, eyes unable to pull themselves fully away from the lounging ghoul who reclined in his nearby bunk with a relaxed stance; cowboy hat tipped across his face as he feigned sleep.

Lucy Maclean knew herself enough to understand that her restlessness wasn't the radition sickness which had recently started to touch at her peripherals again. Nor was it the fact that it had been weeks since she'd had any time to herself that wasn't shadowed by either her ghoulish companion or some other entity.

Lucy Maclean was horny and she was never one to deny herself a simple, sneaky little indulgence when the mood took her.

"Hey, Cooper." She called, fingers rolling across her bare forearms as she sat with her back to the wall, legs crossed in a neat pile. "You awake and listening to me?"

"Hard not to with those foghorn vocals." A grumpy response, muffled by the hat rang back at her. "What are you yapping your flap about?

"Do you want to have sex?"

In their time together, Lucy had never witnessed Cooper doing anything that her vault lessons had taught her were sexual acts. He didn't touch himself around her, didn't disappear for some self-relief as the boys did, didn't make any kind of pass at her like some of the others had done before her husband had been selected. As far as she knew, maybe the ghoul didn't even feel the same things she did, and that realisation made her roll back on her question almost as quickly as she had asked it.

"I mean, if you can have sex that is. I don't know if your," Lucy paused, unsure how to describe her partners physical state without causing offence, "condition, makes it possible. I don't even know if you have the right parts for it but there's other ways of experiencing pleasure. We could use our mou-"

Cutting herself off as her babbling reach a new octave, Lucy watched as Cooper's body - his frame stock still since she had asked her initial question - finally stirred into action. A reddened hand slowly rose from its position by his hip until it reached the cowboy hat, plucking the leather from his face as he turned to look at his bunkmate and travelling companion with an indescribable expression; various emotions fluttering through his typically stoic face.

"I know your experiences with ghouls are limited, princess." Cooper spoke patiently, voice low as he fired the hated nickname at her, her vocal dislike of the new monkier making it a very quick favourite of his. "But the whole package is still intact so let's get that established before you go telling people falsehoods about my good person."

"Okay. Noted." Lucy held her hands up apologetically and her knees touched as she lounged against the concrete wall which was supporting her. "But you didn't answer me. Do you want to? Have sex, I mean? Last time i did was with my assigned husband and it was good enough, great even, but then he tried to kill me and it was this whole thing."

Mentally filing that information away for future use and subtle further investigation, Cooper lay back fully against his own cot and tilted his head closer in her direction, thankful for the dimness of their shared room as it shielded most of his features.

"As much as I'd love to bury my bone in a new patch of land, I don't think that's necessarily the best choice in terms of this little partnership we've stitched together."

Indicating his sewn finger, he wagged it at her dismissively as a discomforting sensation flooded his stomach, mild arousal at the thought of some tail mixing with something dangerous that set his teeth on edge.

"Why not? It's only sex."

Suddenly feeling older than he had any right to, Cooper fell silent as he mused on her question for a moment.

Lucy Maclean.

Eyes as big as a doe, that girl was built soft but he was lucky enough to see people for what they truly were and the steel which lurked beneath the painful optimism and naivety that shone free of her would make her a dangerous player if she ever truly entered the game. He felt the burden of his own cruelty at times, cornering her into making decisions that would cause her little vaultie friends to vomit if they knew the violence she enacted, but with every difficult choice came a fresh coating to that steel which would see her survive and thrive in the wastelands.

It's only sex.

In his life, Cooper Howard had enjoyed less sexual partners than many would believe. A sticky fumbling in the upper level of an old barn had been his first, the other party a sweet girl from a nearby ranch who was two years older and knew what she wanted from him. Pretty soon after that came Barb and as soon as he laid eyes on her he never saw anything past her.

War was terrible for the other men and many lost themselves in drink and the women who haunted the barracks and backlines looking for poor souls to feed on. But not him. Never him.

Not when he had to come home to Barb.

Even when married and at the height of his fame, when aspiring young things would throw themselves at him, their perfumes overpowered by the stink of wine and cigarettes, he had rebuffed them politely. He was loyal and he enjoyed the fruits of that loyalty as he held his wife in his arms and basked in the sweet sounds that she would make as they fucked. Hell, she had even given him a daughter and he loved her every day for it.

War never changes.

But he did.

And fuck him if his new appearance and designation as a Ghoul didn't screw him out of any chance of some stress relief as he wandered the wastelands. Might as well have been a fucking leper for all the tail which was now afforded to him and his leathery visage.

Not for Lucy Maclean though.

She, it seemed, didn't care about any of that.

"Did I say something wrong? The leaders explained all acts of intercourse to us so I know what I'm doing and I consent fully."

Lucy's voice, heated with an almost defensive lilt, broke into his musings and Cooper blinked at her as the hole that made up his nose flared while he inhaled deeply.

"I don't doubt that, darling. I've seen how you handle a pistol." Reverting to his typical sarcasm as he looked, truly looked, at her, Cooper sighed at the earnestness which oozed from her features. "But I'm gonna have to decline. Politely."

"Is it because of me? Did i do somethig wrong? I mean, my husband didn't seem to mind but then he was planning on killing me anyway so y'know?" Making a wild gesture with her fingers as she spoke, the casualness of her speech wasn't enough to mask the genuine insecurity which threaded through the questions.

"You're fine. Attractive little thing, even. I think any man would jump at the chance to have you wrapped around them like an old holster."

He wasn't lying- and he wasn't blind. She was a good looking young woman, her innocence flickering like the dull embers of a welcoming fire in the darkness of the wastelands. She was enthusiastic, eager, and damn pretty with those big eyes and curved figure which hid beneath the bulky clothes which she used for protection. More than once he'd caught himself glancing at her as she bent to snatch up things from the floor and the few times he did allow himself to fall into something like sleep featured breathy moans and the feeling of long, brunette strands brushing through his ungloved hands. Mouthy too so he knew she would be a vocal one - probably yowling like a hellcat.

It would be so easy to have her.

A simple yes and she would no doubt leap into action, shedding those clothes as quickly as did her weapons when trying to find peaceful solutions to violent problems. He would treat her right, everh inch the gentleman cowboy and no doubt much better than that shady husband she'd unwittingly fucked. He'd show her things with his fingers and mouth that would have her screaming loud enough to wake up all the devils in hell. Against the cot, against the wall and against whatever furniture she wanted, he could show her how a real man treats a woman as they both burned off some stress.

Feeling a very definite stirring in his groin, Cooper was quick to banish the dangerous thoughts.

"But a bad man like me shouldn't be allowed near a pretty little thing yourself. You're ready for a lot, Lucy Maclean, but you ain't ready for that."

Something almost like understanding passed through her gaze and Lucy nodded, instead exhaling deeply as she tapped the back of her head against the wall behind her.

"In that case, would you mind leaving for an hour so that I can masturbate, please?"

Cursing himself for the little shred of morality which plucked at his heart and refused to allow him to ruin this unknowing tease of a woman, Cooper dutifully rose to his feet and marched to the nearby door.

"You get half an hour." He grunted, barely tilting his head towards her as he stormed out into the nighttime air - determined to get far enough away that there was no chance that he would hear her and break his determined stance.

Besides, he might not be fucking her but as his cock pressed against his slacks, he wasn't masochistic enough to deny himself a similar pleasure and the distance would also give him some much needed alone time.

Goddamn Lucy Maclean.

Links to rest of the series:

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

#fallout #fallout amazon #lucy maclean #cooper howard #lucy x cooper #ghoucy #lucy x ghoul #cooper x lucy #ghoul x lucy #fallout smut #walton goggins #ella purnell #vaultghoul #ghoulcy

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a-twistedheartslonging · 3 months ago

Note

I did it

I put it to words after so much time lol

DEER ROOK HUNT

I keep forgetting to make this and to drop it in

Aaaaa

So, i know that most folks go

"Oh? Rook Hunt? He's gotta be a hunter, a predator type of thing or creature!" Which, makes sense in some aspects BUT it ignores WHY Rook Hunt is so off-putting to his brethren in canon and why he is so formidable and interesting. Firstly, Rook Hunt is a human. A human who is willing to hunt Beastmen, who can hassle Floyd, who even Leona avoids, a human who is incredibly formidable and skilled. Who is sneaky, to the point that Ortho has commented that the only reason he was able to detect the guy was due to his motion sensors. Rook Hunt who even tries to go after Malleus in PE (mainly by trying to mess with him so that Rook can interact with the dragon fae) and has asked Lilia if the bat fae would let Rook hunt him (both fae seem to be a bit irked by him, Malleus for being messed with and Lilia even makes a threat him which i think shows what a curve ball Rook is that he got under the skin of both fae who arguably find most non aggressive interactions amusing). He's human, arguably one of the physically weakest races of Wonderland and he outmaneuvers many of the beastfolk and often hassles the Leech twins (definitely Floyd, at least, who tries to avoid him as much as possible). He's very different from most of the humans and the usual expectations. He uses wit and strength and cunning to outdo his quarry while being one of the races that DOESN'T have the natural equipment that beastfolk with fangs and claws or fae with strength and power have.

In nonhuman au, he wouldn't be a predator species. He wouldn't have claws and fangs, nor brute strength. That's not what makes Rook so intriguing and interesting. He is light footed and suited for rough terrain, for getting through forests and being hardy. He would be something that most expect to be wary of beasts with sharp tooth and talon. He would be a deer. Deer are light footed, they are remarkable hardy, sneaky. They also get into a lot of trouble. But unlike the animal deer and how most would view a deer beast, Deer Rook is able to take down nigh any predator. He goes out of his way to do so. He's stalking down lions and hyenas and anything else that catches his eye. He still needs to rely on wit, hence his bows and arrows, his hunting knife and his skill set. That's how Rook operates and would be most in keeping with his character. Rook Hunt being a deer is also why many still find Rook Hunt so settling in nonhuman au. He's a hunter and predator, a deer who's claws are his arrows and fangs are his skills and wit. A formidable one, that many find a bit odd. It would be expected and understandable if Rook was a type of carnivore, a stalking hunting animal of some kind. But being expectable is not Rook Hunt.

So yeah

Deer Rook Hunt

Aaaa

I've been meaning to put this in lol

Sorry for the time taken haha

Of course, everyone can have their own vision of rook and harpy Rook has wonderful place in my heart but also Rook Hunt as a deer is very fitting and a deer beast hunting lion beasts and hassling others and freaking out everyone is very very funny and fitting lol

Also In keeping with his character and with the animal deer, he is still a curious individual and he tends to get into trouble.

So yeah

Rook Hunt as deer would be very fitting.

I would agree that a deer would be fitting in his case, and a prey animal being a hunter makes an interesting concept. Plus, Rook is already weird and deer and be pretty weird in their own right.

Not a lot of peeps know about them actually eating meat, they even eat baby birds out of nests on occasion, though I would smack any beast boys I catch doing that.

I do wonder about the kind of deer he would be, there are over 60 different species of deer worldwide. Deer are present on all continents except Antarctica. They can live in a range of habitats, from mountainous areas to warm and wet rainforests.

Plus, I wonder how he would deal with his antlers; would he keep them shaved down since they could get in the way of stuff? Would he still wear a hat but maybe a different one? Then there's the shedding of the antlers which happens pretty suddenly, imagine in the middle of class you hear them suddenly falling onto the floor and giving everyone a startle. He prob makes something out of them, I used to have a knife with a handle made out of deer antler.

I'm also curious about him doing mating calls and such...they would likely startle a human that does know anything about deer and make them think there's a creature outside.

youtube

I want to see that silly man do deer hops and I want to see his cute tail and hoof feeties.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ask #asks #nonhuman au #twst nonhuman au #twst rook #rook hunt #twisted wonderland rook

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raya-hunter01 · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do a story on jey about his gf tryna go to bed mad at him and he ain’t having it 🤗🤭

We Ain’t Going to Bed Angry

Jey Uso x Black Female OC! (Jasmine)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy

Summary: Jasmine wants to go to bed angry and in separate bedrooms, but Main Even Jey Uso is putting his foot down.

My first ever request....I hope you enjoy it @mya2real

Pensacola, FL

Jasmine’s POV

“Damn I finally get you alone, and all you want to do is cruise the coast and talk about your man. I hope he realizes how lucky his ass is, cause I really was trying to get your number,” Carmelo said as I laughed.

“Thanks for helping me out Melo you are a sweetie. I promise he won’t come at you with any drama,” I said giving him a kiss on the cheek as I began my walk back to Jey’s house.

I had Carmelo drop me off down the road from the subdivision. I ain’t crazy by no means, I ain’t letting just anybody know where I lay my head at night. Folks can be crazy as hell.

I groaned as my phone rang again looking down, I sighed. Another call from Jey. I knew I was wrong, but I was still pissed so I hit ignore and punched the code to be let into the subdivision. You let a bitch dance all up on you like you're single and shit.

But, oh, but when I leave yo’ ass at the club you concerned. Give me a break you weren’t worried about what I thought when she was twirling all up on your dick,” I muttered continuing my walk. I hate these fuckin’ groupies with a passion.

Jey’s POV

“Jasmine, I know you ignoring me. What you doin'? I know you had betta be on your way home. I bet he trying to fuck you ain’t he? I’mma get’em you know dat right? I’mma hurt him bad Jasmine,” I said ending the voicemail before I dug an even deeper hole.

“Well damn, you just threatened to kill Melo for nothing, Jasmine ain’t that type of woman, and you know it,” Jimmy said shaking his head at me.

“She ain’t, but I know Carmelo likes her. I knew when I brought her to a show last year. He was looking wit no damn shame Uce, and tonight she got into a car wit his bitch ass trying to make me jealous,” I said steaming thinking about Carmelo touching Jasmine in any way.

"Hell, ain’t no tryin’ in it, you jealous Uce" Jimmy said as I rolled my eyes at him.

“This woman gon’ be the death of me,” I muttered as Jimmy snickered. “Aye, sis told you not to play in her face, and you did anyway. Serves yo’ ass dead right,” he said laughing.

“I ain’t played in her face, I was just dancing with a fan,” I said oblivious to what he was trying to say.

“Uce, it wasn’t that you were dancing with her, it was how she was dancing all up on yo’ ass and you did nothing to stop it. Ya’ll was all but fuckin on that dance floor,. You lucky Jasmine didn't show her ass,” Jimmy said as I tried to think back to what happened, and when it finally clicked, I felt like an ass.

“Ok, yea, I admit it was outta pocket, but she ain’t have to leave with his ass to prove a point. She knows I’m wit her, that shit didn’t mean nothin',” I said as I heard the front door open.

A wave of relief washed over me as I saw her beautiful face as she took off her heels seemingly ignoring me. Thank God she was home safe.

“Uh, I’ll let myself out, and let ya’ll talk,” Jimmy said trying to hurry to the door but not before hugging Jasmine. “Glad you ok sis, you had me worried,” he whispered as she smiled rubbing his back. “I’m ok bro, tell Trin I’ll call her tomorrow” she whispered as I tried to keep my cool, at least until Jimmy left.

I felt my anger rising by the second. What had she been doing with Carmelo that she couldn’t pick up the fuckin’ phone? As the door closed behind Jimmy I exploded.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” I hissed trying not to wake up our son upstairs.

“I went for a ride with an old friend, is that a problem?” she asked with a bit of an attitude.

“Aye, chill with the attitude, I’m the one that should be mad. My girlfriend left me at a club to go be with another motherfucka she knows I don’t like,” I said as Jasmine rolled her eyes.

“Well, my man was dancing all up on a ho like he’s single so I guess we even, and can both be pissed the fuck off together then. Ugh, I can’t wait to go back to Georgia, this was a mistake coming here to visit, It just was too soon,” she said walking away as I followed her upstairs.

“What the fuck does that mean? You really feel visiting me was a mistake?” I asked as she stopped walking.

“Jey, all I wanted was to spend time with you, and all you’ve done is spend time with everyone else but me and our son! I feel like we don’t belong here Jey, that’s why I left in the first place!” Jasmine exclaimed as I ran my hands over my face in frustration.

I knew she was right; I had been on the go since they got here, and I had promised I wouldn’t be. I truly had no defense for my actions.

I was in keep-busy mode because that’s all I had been doing since Jasmine had left with our son a couple months ago.

This was my fault, I agreed to host that party at the club tonight knowing they were here. I asked today to be added to the meet and greet for tomorrow instead of enjoying my day off with them.

“Baby, I’m sorry ok can we just talk about it in the morning. I promise I’mma make it right please, I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” I said as she sighed in defeat.

“I’m not mad, I’m hurt and I’m not going in there with you pretending everything is ok when it isn’t. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom. I put my bags in there earlier anyway,” Jasmine said as I frowned at her not believing what she was saying.

Jasmine’s POV

“You ain’t staying in the spare bedroom, that’s for guests and this is yo’ fuckin’ home regardless of how you feel about it. “Jey I’m not,” I started as Jey cut me off firmly. “Jas! You ain’t stayin’ in there and that’s it!” Jey said as I felt myself shiver at his commanding deep voice.

I was speechless looking at him trying to remain unfazed. “You are sleepin’ in our room…. In our bed, and in my fuckin arms 'cause that’s where you belong, nowhere else,” Jey said full of conviction as I shook my head in defiance at him.

“I ain’t doin’ this wit you, I’m going to check on Jayden,” I whispered walking away from him and peaking my head into our son’s room. I couldn’t help but be in awe of him as he slept in his crib.

He’s almost a year old, and I still can’t believe we made his little amazing self; he looks so much like Jey it’s scary.

I felt Jey’s eyes on me as I turned to see him standing now in the doorway of the bedroom, we shared together for the last four years up until four months ago.

His intense gaze makin' me weaker in the knees by the second as I closed my eyes finally breaking eye contact with him, it was too intense.

“Jasmine, we been playin’ this game for four months too long…Don’t make me have to come get you. Tell our son goodnight, and get yo’ fine ass in here so we can go to bed,” I heard him say as I opened my eyes ready to give a smart-ass reply but saw he had already disappeared into the bedroom.

I could hear him shuffling around the room, then the shower started. I blushed to myself at the thought of him getting naked to take a shower. “No, remain strong Jasmine,” I whispered to myself as I went to the spare bedroom.

Jey’s POV

“I know her ass betta be in there when I get outta this shower. Sick of this shit, she knows I love her ass,” I muttered letting the hot water and steam relax me.

Ok, maybe my approach wasn’t the best, but I love my family and if I have it my way they won’t be going back to Ga if I can help it. “Jey, you got to get it together and get yo’ family back,” I muttered to myself stepping out of the shower and drying off.

Walking back into the bedroom I saw Jasmine wasn’t there. “Oh, so yo’ ass think I’m playin’ wit you huh,” I muttered to myself wrapping my towel around my waist, and heading down the hall. I could see the light under the door and as I got closer I heard her on the phone with her mom.

“Hold on mama let me put you on speaker, I'm changing," she said as I heard her mother take a deep breath. "Now like I was sayin' Mama I am trying, we came out here didn’t we,” Jasmine said as her mother laughed.

“Girl, you flew out there with hell in you, 'cause of them thirsty ass Instagram comments on his post he made about being happy ya’ll were flying out to see him. “Mama, I wasn’t mad,” Jasmine said as her mother laughed.

“Baby, he loves ya’ll. I know all the female attention he gets worries you especially since he’s on the road more with them adding more house shows,” she said as I frowned at her words as Jasmine wiped her tears.

“I know he loves us mama, and I love him. I just want him to act like he’s in an actual relationship. I mean stop making these women think they have a shot with you dude, you got a family at home waiting on you. That's why I gave him the engagement ring back and told him we needed space,” Jasmine hissed as I sighed. Damn was I that bad?

“Baby, why do you think that man has been begging, calling nonstop, and flying to Georgia on every off day he has just to come to little ol Warner Robins, GA even if it’s only for a couple hours. He misses ya’ll and wants his family back. You gotta let him in baby, this been goin' on long enough,” her mother said as I felt the need to make my presence known as I opened the door.

Walking inside I saw her standing nervously there in her bra and underwear talking to her mom as she spotted me trying not blush.

Yea, I’m looking at yo’ fine ass. Damn, my baby was fine as fuck, it had been four months too long for my liking. How the hell did I even let her leave in the first place.

Jasmine’s POV

I can’t believe he brought his ass in here, didn’t even fuckin’ knock. He is getting next to my nerves I swear. I see him lick his lips looking at me as if he could devour me whole.

I ain’t gon’ lie, I felt powerful as hell. I could see and feel his need for me, just from his intense stare that seemed to be burning a hole in my soul and it made my thighs quiver at the thought of being in his arms. He knows what he’s doing coming in here in that lil ass towel.

“I love you, sweetie, give my grandbaby my love,” my mother said as I smiled. “I will mama, good night and love you too,” I said rushing to get off the phone.

“Why are you in here?” I asked as Jey began walking closer to me almost like he was stalking his prey. “I told you to take yo’ ass in our room, but you just keep tryin’ me,” he smirked as I shrieked in shock as he picked me up and put me over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?”! I hissed as Jey carried me down the hall back to our room. “What does it look like? I’m takin’ your ass back to where you belong, which is in our bed wit me with yo’ stubborn ass,” he said not missing a beat as I hit his back continuously.

“Put me down Jey! This shit ain’t funny!” I exclaimed irritated as he laughed. “Calm yo’ ass down, before you wake up the baby. I want you to myself da night,” he said slapping me hard on the ass before tossing me on the bed as tried to gather myself.

Sitting up on my elbows, my eyes met his smirking face, and it made me madder. “Oh, you want me to yourself?” I asked smartly rolling my eyes.

Yeah, I do. That ain’t gon’ never change Jasmine,” he said as I got up and tried to walk past him as he growled pulling me close.

“Jey let me,” I started as he took me in a possessive kiss, pinning my arms behind my back with one hand as the other grasped my neck, angling my mouth for better access as our tongues battled for control.

“Mmm, we can’t, we said we would wait,” I moaned against his lips as he released my arms, and I tangled my fingers in his hair. “Yes, we can baby, I got you,” Jey said picking me up by my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist tightly, as his towel fell to the floor. God, it felt so good to be this close to him again, I needed him bad.

“I want you so bad baby; Daddy missed you, and he needs his pussy,” Jey whispered against my lips as he ripped my underwear. “Fuck! I missed you too,” I moaned moving my kisses to his neck as he groaned moving us to the bed.

“Can I have you, it’s been so long Jazzy” Jey moaned gently sucking on my neck as I shivered at his use of his nickname for me.

“Jey, I’m still mad, we need to talk,” I moaned, unexpectedly gasping along with him as he entered me suddenly, both of us shivering at the feeling of our bodies and souls becoming one with each other again after four long months.

“You can be mad all you want tomorrow. Not da night, you gon’ enjoy Daddy reclaiming his pussy,” Jey moaned never stopping his thrusts as my hands clawed at his back as he hissed.

“Jey, you feel so good,” I gasped as my body felt like I was on fire, I bit his neck before attacking his neck with kisses, sucking greedily, applying pressure trying to leave my mark for the world to see. I wanted them to know he was mine.

“Yea, suck that shit and mark me up, this yo’ dick, let’em know I’m yo’ man fuck,” Jey encouraged as I purred at his words as he rolled us over with me now on top. “Jey! Shit! Mmm,” I whimpered scratching down his chest, feeling him so deep from our new position.

“Uh huh, daddy deep in his pussy ain’t he? Come on and ride Daddy's dick and tell him how much you missed him. Tell me how this pussy was made just for me,” Jey groaned grasping my hips as I began riding him slowly enjoying the jolts of electricity going all over my body.

“Mmhmm, it’s made just for you daddy, you hear her talking to you,” I moaned talking my own shit as Jey growled beneath me as the sounds of my wet pussy sinking up and down on his dick filled the room along with our moans of desperation.

“Fuck Yea, Daddy hear, see, and feel her, damn she wet and tight as fuck. Talk yo’ shit girl, you makin’ daddy dick even harder. Give me dat pussy,” Jey groaned slapping my ass before grabbing my breasts with his hands almost painfully squeezing my nipples while meeting my slow deep thrust.

Shit, he knows what to say and what to do to set my body on fire and I loved it. I’m addicted to him, and I didn’t care who knew it.

Jey’s POV

“Yea, ride that shit slow and deep, you know how much I love dat shit,” I panted biting my lip trying not to lose control. “Mmm, I guess you did miss me, Daddy. Shit, you gettin’ even harder,” Jasmine moaned swirling her hips beginning to bounce harder on my dick with wild abandon.

“Fuck yea, I missed you, only you can get me like this,” I moaned not afraid to let that shit be known slapping her on the ass again as she whimpered, her body shivering with anticipation.

"Oh! Fuck, you promise it’s only me that gets you like this…You promise,” Jasmine groaned leaning down, kissing me with all her might as I groaned complete putty in her hands. I held her closer as our eyes met.

In that moment I knew I had to let her know how I felt. “We gon be ok, you hear me,” I whispered as she nodded as a few unshed tears fell from her beautiful eyes as we both were chasing our orgasm.

“Say you hear me,” I said more demanding, sitting us up as she held on to my neck as I gripped her hips helping her keep pace, thrusting her even harder down on my dick.

The feel and sounds of her wetness was driving me insane. “Tell me you hear me Jasmine,” I moaned, sucking on her neck trying to leave my own mark. “Josh, I hear you!” She cried as I moaned in satisfaction hearing my real name fall from her lips in passion as I rained kisses from her neck back to her beautiful lips.

“I ain’t never letting you go, we workin’ this shit out,” I growled holding her gaze as I reached between us rubbing her clit, while meeting her thrust with equal power.

"Oh my God," Jasmine moaned as I knew she was close. “You gon’ cum hard for daddy? You gon’ gush on daddy’s dick ain’t you?” I said, taking her in a deep kiss as she whimpered in my arms.

“Mmhmm!” she whimpered in pleasure as our tongues danced passionately with each other as I felt her nails scratching my back as she fell apart in my arm. “Josh, I love you!” she moaned as I saw the look of ecstasy that washed over her as her orgasm took over.

“Fuck, you are so fuckin’ beautiful. I love you too,” I said feeling my dick get even harder as I kept thrusting. Yeah, you gon’ give me another one and it’s gon’ be big.

Jasmine’s POV

“Mmhmm, I want you to give me another one Jazzy,” Jey growled reversing our position as he now towered over me, playing with my sensitive clit, thrusting long and hard trying to make me cum again.

“Josh, I can't, it's too much,” I moaned as sweat dripped from his face, falling onto my chest as he kissed me speechless “I…Said. Give…It…To…. Me…Now, “Jey growled against my mouth, each thrust more powerful than the last as my pussy gripped him like a tight vice, and I couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Josh! I’m cummin’!” I cried as my pussy quivered and gripped him even tighter as another orgasm rippled through my body.

“Oh yea, that’s what I wanted, shit! Give it all to me baby, I’m cumin too!” Jey groaned loudly as he came inside me. I could only hear the heavy beat of my heart and our heavy breathing in sync as he collapsed beside me holding me close as we came down from ecstasy.

“You know you I ain’t letting you go right? We a family and gon’ stay one,” he said as I smiled. “I know and I ain’t letting you go either,” I whispered as he kissed me gently.

“When I’m on the road all I think about is you and lil man, you ain’t never gotta worry bout, nothin’ girl, I love ya’ll and I ain’t messin’ dat up for nobody he said as I tried not to get emotional. "I know, baby it's ok," whispered as he held me closer.

"I was outta pocket not stopping her from dancing all up on me like that, I promise it won’t happen again,” Jey said as I sighed tracing his arm tattoo.

“I love you and I’m sorry about leaving the club with Carmelo,” I said honestly as he growled. “You had my ass trippin’ I was ready to kill his ass, Jasmine. I don’t even wanna imagine you wit somebody else,” Jey said as I shook my head.

“Can we just drop it for tonight before one of us gets mad again,” I said as he laughed.

“A'ight new rule, we ain’t never goin’ to bed angry in this house again,” Jey whispered caressing my face as I smiled. “I like that rule, no more going to bed angry,” I whispered settling in his arms as we both fell asleep.

The end

Taglist: @reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl @mya2real

#jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fanfic #jey uso fic #jey uso imagine #jey uso smut #jey uso x fem reader #jey uso x oc #jey uso x reader #roman reigns x reader #main event jey uso #jey uso #wwe fanfiction #jeysuso #jey uso fluff #wwe smut #wwe x reader #wwe fic #Jey Uso

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especially-obsessed · 26 days ago

Text

#icanteven

pt. 4

#icanteven - The Neighbourhood

"I can't even, I can't even believe what you did to me You can't even, you can't even say I'm overreacting I can't even, can't even hear your side Shame on me, you fooled me twice"

Summary: series; Sam cheats on you.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: descriptions of depression, guilt, anger, infidelity, fluff, smut (sam x other woman)

Word count: 2.8k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Half a Year

You wake with a start, shooting straight out of bed gasping for air. Your skin was blanketed with sweat.

It’s been six months. Why can’t I get past this? You thought, brain still foggy from sleep. You glanced over at the alarm clock resting on the nightstand, reading 3:16 am. You threw your head back, a low groan escaping past your lips. You aggressively threw the covers off of you and swung your legs over the side of the bed, planting your feet firmly on the carpeted motel floor.

You drudged over to the sink, flipping on the faucet and cupping your hands under the faucet's stream. You brought the water to your lips, sipping from the pool in your hands. The water had a metallic taste, the pipes old and wearing down slowly. You closed your eyes tightly and splashed water on your face.

Instantly, you were brought back to your dream – a woman cloaked with a sheer bedsheet. Her hands were placed down firmly on Sam’s chest. Her body moves up and down slowly, intentionally. Through the sheet, you can see Sam’s member sliding in and out of her. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong. You tried opening your mouth to say something, anything. Instead of your voice, all you could hear were her moans. You opened your mouth again and moths flew out, muffling your voice.

Your eyes flew open as you stumbled away from the sink, gagging on the water you just tried to drink unknowingly. You spit up the water that never made it down your throat and spit it back into the sink.

What the actual fuck was happening?

The images still bounced around in your head as you turned off the running water. Running your hands through your hair, you sighed and pivoted on your heels, grabbing a sweatshirt that was thrown on the table over your computer. You slumped down into the stiffest chair known to man and flipped open your laptop.

Something was tearing folks apart in this town. It was close enough to the last job you were working on that you couldn’t just ignore it. Like you would have anyway. Your current lead was now dead, lying in the morgue. So you were starting back at square one, trying to piece together the missing pieces. The connections.

There was a nagging at the back of your mind, telling you something was off. Something was wrong. But you pushed the feeling down, assuming it was just remnants of your dream moments ago. You shuddered, pulling your focus back to your computer screen, scanning for more evidence on the local PD’s recently hacked website.

Red.

That was all you could see.

Red was everywhere. On you, your clothes, the floor, your machete, the vampire’s head at your feet. The blade fell to the ground, echoing in the now-empty warehouse loudly. The thick liquid coated your hands. A mixture of the vamp nest you just conquered and your own, oozing from multiple wounds.

Somehow you were able to pick up your blade off the ground and make it outside of the warehouse and to your car. You slumped against the cold metal and pulled your phone from your pocket. The screen was shattered but still worked. Kind of. When you touched the screen it went in the opposite direction of what you were trying to do. Eventually, you were able to hit your speed dial, and Dean’s familiar face appeared on the screen. You weren’t anywhere near the bunker, but last you knew Dean was two towns over, working a case. His phone rang and rang, and then his all too familiar voice crackled through your busted speaker.

“Th-s is Dea- other oth- ce- y- kn- … to do”

You gripped your phone in frustration, contemplating chucking it across the alleyway.

“Damnit Dean please,” you plead, tears silently running down your face. You took a deep breath and hit the call button again. On the fifth ring, you were ready to give up and take your chances on foot to the nearest drugstore. Suddenly there was a click and some shuffling on the other end.

“y/n, a- yo- kay?”

A pit formed in your stomach. Even through the crackled mumble, you knew that wasn’t Dean’s voice.

“Hey, uh, I just wanted to check in with Dean,” you said awkwardly. You shifted your weight to a different foot and winced audibly. Loud enough for your phone to pick it up. You quickly piped up, wanting desperately to get out of this situation. “Listen, I have to get back to, uhm, y’know, the job. Vamp nest in Lewisburg.”

“Wai- don- h-...wher- a-...ou-”

“Bye,” you quickly interrupted and tried to hang up. The screen freaked out, going to your home screen and opening your photos app, then opening your text messages. You were still on the phone with Sam, but you were too pissed off to care.

“Damnit!” You screamed, falling into your impulse from earlier and throwing the phone as far as you could manage. A severe pain shot up through your side at the action, and your scream turned from anger to pain. You collapsed to the ground, feeling lightheaded. Your vision began to blur around the edges, and you were pulled into darkness.

Loud footsteps were approaching you, muffled by the loud ringing in your ears. Your fight or flight instinct acted up. You tried to move; tried to move anything. Your eyes couldn’t focus and the poorly lit alleyway wasn’t helping at all. You were completely discombobulated. The only thing you were sure of was that someone was approaching you, and approaching fast. A deep muffled voice spoke close to you and you could make out a blurred outline of them. You built up all of the energy you could and started swinging, neglecting the pain that was screaming from your body.

“No!” you yelled loudly at them. You clenched your eyes shut, knowing that this was a losing battle. Any minute know the final blow would land. This was it.

But it never came.

Instead, the muffled voice got louder, closer, clearer.

You opened your eyes only to see Sam coming closer and into focus. When he reached you, his large hands grabbed at your shoulders and pulled you to him.

“y/n, y/n? Can you hear me?” he spoke quickly. He took your face in his hand and forced you to look at him. “y/n? Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said, trying to get your attention.

But once you saw his face, and felt him touching you, you instantly relaxed.

You felt safe, and your body had just used the last of its remaining energy, and you were done.

“Sam…” you started, not knowing where you were even going with it.

The last thing you heard was Sam’s muffled yell as he shook your body, before losing consciousness once again.

You shoot up from the bed, breathing heavily and arms up defensively. Your eyes scanned the room wildly, not actually seeing anything from their rapid movement.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe,” a familiar voice spoke. Your rapid eye movement slowed, and you focused on him, standing at the end of the bed in front of you.

“Sam?” you questioned out loud, trying to connect the recent events. And then suddenly, it all hit at once. You winced at both the pain from sitting up so suddenly and the instant flashback of the heroic battle fought last night. Your mind was reeling, still not computing why he was in the motel room with you.

“You called Dean’s cell last night, but he left it behind when he went out. When it wouldn’t stop ringing I answered. You sounded like you were in trouble,” he said quietly, innocently. “I didn’t even think about it. I heard Lewisburg and nest and your scream…I didn’t stop until I got here.”

“How did you know-”

“There were only two abandoned buildings in this town,” he said, not letting you finish your sentence.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, baffled by what he had done. You hadn’t seen this man in months, and at the hint of trouble, he dropped everything to come to you. Why would he do that, especially after all this time had passed? You looked away from him, feeling your emotions start to overwhelm you. The bed dipped next to you as Sam sat down.

“So, you took on a vamp nest by yourself?” He asked, lightening the mood a little.

You chuckled and wiped at your cheeks, turning back to face him. Your shoulder bumped into his as you adjusted.

“I handled it,” you responded defensively. “And I did call for backup,” you added. Sam shook his head and chuckled. You glanced up to see the small grin on his face as he ran a hand through his thick hair. You looked away quickly, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“After the nest was already taken care of,” he retorted. Sam watched as you rotated your shoulder, wincing at the movement. “Yeah I uh, had to pop it back into place. You’re lucky, I almost brought you into the hospital. You lost quite a bit of blood.” You just shook your head and sighed.

Sam couldn’t help but glance down at you. Your hair was longer than the last time he saw you, and he didn’t miss the new freckles that peppered your skin. A direct result of your being in the sun, he knew all too well. He recalled when he used to map those very freckles with his finger, tracing images into your skin and naming them. And how you’d giggle when he traced ticklish areas of your body, like your side just above your hipbone. You’d squeal and squirm under his touch, and he’d take the opportunity to place innocent kisses across your face.

Sam was pulled suddenly from his memory as he felt the bed shift from the absence of your weight. He watched as you made your way to the end of the bed.

“Thank you for coming to help me, Sam,” you spoke as fluently as you could, your brain still a little foggy. “I owe you one.”

Sam was taken aback by your words. You were sending him away. His face contorted, unsure of how to respond, then softened. He looked at you with that patented puppy dog look of his. You just shook your head, looking away.

“I can’t do this,” you said quietly, starting to pace from the corners of the bed. “Sam, I can’t. Not after what happened.” And you were serious. You were melting in front of him, falling all over again. The way he had just looked at you, that longing look. It was the same look he gave you the first time you had gone out on a date. The way his eyes watched you adoringly like you were the only girl in the world. You crossed your arms over your chest, mixed emotions clouding your judgment.

Sam stood up and grabbed your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“Focus on me, baby,” he spoke softly. You all but melted into his touch. It was so familiar, so safe. He knew exactly what he was doing, too. He moved backward to the bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. Your legs instinctively straddling his hips, fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces. He placed soft kisses on your temple, moving his way down to your jawline.

“Sam…” you all but moaned as his lips traveled to your collarbone.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against your skin. His hands gripped your hips, carefully avoiding any of your recent injuries. He slowly guided you forward, bringing you dangerously close to his crotch. The feeling was so familiar, so comfortable. You relished in it. You hadn’t felt like this in months, and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief and pleasure that escaped your lips. Sam hummed against your skin.

You closed your eyes, letting the feeling sink in.

And suddenly, the feeling of relief and pleasure is taken over by a new feeling. One that you never wanted to feel ever again. You couldn’t even name it. It was a black hole deep in the pit of your stomach. It washed over you rapidly, a wave of nausea and guilt and fear all at once. The same black hole that consumed you when you walked in on Sam and that woman. And then you were thrown back into your dream, just a bystander in the doorway as she sank down on him over and over again.

You snapped back to reality, roughly shoving yourself away from Sam. You stumbled off of his lap, a look of horror plastered on your face.

“What-”

“I said I can’t do this, Sam!” You yelled at him. Your chest was rising and falling vigorously, your panic and anger growing. You angrily grabbed at your hair, then threw your arms out wide, letting them fall limp at your sides. “I can’t get past this! Whenever I close my eyes, the only thing I can see is you and that woman, that fucking woman! Fucking you! And I can’t just forget about that! No matter how much you might try to explain yourself or how much of a hero you are,” you yelled. Now that you started, you weren’t able to stop.

“I trusted you. I loved you. We were together for two years. And you decided that you would throw all of that away? If you had a problem with me or what I was doing, you break up with me! You talk to me! You don’t just go and fuck another woman!”

“y/n, I loved you, too. Hell, I still love you,” Sam said quietly, standing up and reaching for you again. You ripped yourself from his grasp and clenched your fists.

“No, no! Y’know what, fuck you, Sam Winchester. You don’t get to love me anymore. I’m done,” you spat at him. Your nostrils flared, breathing heavily. You couldn’t believe what you had just said. Here was the love of your life standing in front of you, and you no longer felt a thing for him. Your chest ached, not sure if it was from the hunt or an oncoming panic attack, but you willed it to hold off.

You stared at the floor, unsure of what to do or say. Sam wasn’t sure what to do either. He wasn’t ready for this to end. He truly did love you, that was never a lie. He always thought that if he could just talk to you again; if he could just touch you one more time, then he could fix everything.

Sam’s phone broke the silence between the two of you. His ringtone sounded like a tornado siren with how quiet the room had grown. You both glanced over to the bed and stared at it, lying face up. There was no image or name for the contact, but whoever it was knew Sam’s main phone number; his “call me if you need me there now” number.

“Who would be calling you this…” your voice trailed off as realization set in. Goosebumps broke out across your body and anger set in, boiling deep from within. You set your jaw. “Well uhm, you better get back. You wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.

“y/n, stop, just listen-” Sam started.

“It’s time for you to leave,” you said sternly. The look on your face was blank, void of emotion. You weren’t giving him anything else from you, no matter how hurt he looked.

Sam picked up his phone and made his way to the door. He reached for the door handle but hesitated, tilting his head down. He moved his head, as if to look back at you one more time, but didn’t fully turn around.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He didn’t wait for a response from you, not that he would have gotten one. Not now. He quickly pulled the door open and walked out, pulling it closed behind him gently. As soon as the door latched, your legs gave out from under you, and you collapsed to the floor. You wished that you would have died on that hunt tonight. Nothing could hurt more than what you were feeling at this moment. You clenched your fists to your chest, feeling an ache that you had never felt before.

The night Sam cheated on you, your heart splintered and cracked, opening a wound you never thought would heal. When he left your motel room tonight, he took those broken pieces, and swept them away with him, leaving you with nothing but emptiness.

Series Masterlist

A/N: This felt so choppy with the setting cuts! Sorry! <3 Please let me know if I missed you on the tag list. I am trying my best to keep up! Also, one more part left!

Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:

Tag List: @deviltion @bollzinurmouth @jjkluvcloudsworld @all444amphitrite @fleumurrr @mostlymarvelgirl @barnes70stark @achillesthebambino @i-love-ptv @pressedwater @therealabadoodle @sarahsobsession @fyegall @mrsmckinnon @shadydelusionalvoid @mb1ndzus @crooked-haven @james-bucky-barnackle @stoneyggirl2

#sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester dark #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester i love you #sam winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #spn x reader #spn family #spn #supernatural #supernatural imagine #spn famdom #especially obsessed

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kalpeavaris · 2 months ago

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Jecka

Voice - Themesong - Toyhouse Profile - Pinterest

She'd be the person to look at the late 1990s/early 2000s and say "I was born in the wrong generation" B)

Anyway here's the finished design for my Jessa fankid, Jecka! Read more about her below the cut

Jecka's full name is Jessica, though she doesn't really like being called by it - it had the vibes of "mom's mad" whenever she gets called by her government name.

She's... quite the enigma. Due to Tessa's own code being tinted by her biological data (DNA, memories etc.) it had been quite difficult and straining to even get a compatible match with J in order to produce enough code for a UNN to be established. It took them 4 fails and 1 successful transfer to finally 'conceive' Jecka and even then it wasn't without isse..

Jecka frequently shuts down and has to be rebooted via another Drone's OS to get her starting again - mostly experienced whenever she's stressed or angry (high/intense emotions make her overheat easily... which is unfortunate seeing how much of a hot head she is).

During her later childhood/teenage years she struggled fairly hard with her existance, especially seeing how some folks in her age range would call her "mutt" due to her 'defective' code and the fact that one of her parents was a literal human before being transferred into her drone body. Jecka doesn't take lightly to this and had often beaten other kids up who insulted her or her parents, struggling to cope with the feeling of 'not belonging' or even being 'different' from her peers.

Her only true friends were and still are Angel and Becky, despite her and Angel butting heads from time to time. Jecka's relationship with her mom's is... strained, especially with J. Tessa's 100% her favourite parent and she mainly tries to stay around her while often argueing with J. As J struggles to break out of her cooperate-esque mindset and being very strict with their daughter, Jecka doesn't take well to this. Matching her mom's energy they often fought, even if J does love her daughter dearly.

This worsened when Jecka became aware that J has and is still somewhat struggling with the fact that Jecka shares not only relations (code) but also appearances with Cyn. Jecka doesn't acknowledge Cyn as some sort of parent, she's more like a... estranged aunt to her. They get along, but both sides just don't force interactions.

Despite everything Jecka's a "ride or die" kind of person/friend. She'd do anything for Becky and Angel, especially Angel - since she slowly finds herself developing a crush on them. She might be hot headed, but there's alot of hidden traits Jecka's afraid to openly show due to her fearing that it might be used against her. She only ever truely feels comfortable around Angel and her immediate family.

While Jecka can display the Solver emblem on her visor it's merely cosmetic. Similar to J and the other Disassembly Drones she's a dormant User - able of regeneration and cannot be controlled by Solver abilities like telekinesis, she cannot use it. J and Tessa made sure not to make her into a Solver User herself.

#murder drones #jecka #jessa fankid #jessa #ripping royals #md oc #murder drones oc #md fankid #murder drones art #murder drones fanart #design #reference sheet #artists on tumblr #md art #md fandom #md character #murder drones character #concept art

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twstfanblog · 1 year ago

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Savanaclaw Random Headcanons

Ruggie's grandma actually warned him to not get involved with Leona before he went to NRC. Dealing with royals as a poor folk rarely ends well. He was grounded when he came back on winter break to tell her he was basically his errand boy.

Jack is confused constantly as an upperclassmen. Other first years ask him questions and he just goes 'How would I know that?'

Now he's known as a mean senpai to a few first years.

Ruggie actually made an insane amount of money in his first year by doing cooking challenges. People would bring him things they think couldnt possibly be made into a meal. And Ruggie would prove them wrong and get a free meal and 50 madol.

Leona tried to trip him up by just giving him a knife to cook.

Ruggie just sold the knife and bought some canned soup.

Jack actually ties down his ears sometimes. Just so his emotions aren't being on display 24/7. His tail is a lost cause.

Leona can and will fall asleep in under a minute. Its not a heavy sleep and he can still follow conversations. He does it during dorm meetings mostly.

If everyone thinks he's trying to sleep, the other savanaclaw memebers won't get into so many shouting matches.

Jack is the only one who can handle smelling salt in close range. Never use them on him. But he can at least hold them.

Ruggie has bitten into a rock before and left marks.

Leona sleeps with his hair in a loose bun to act as a pillow.

After his overblot, Leona makes it a habit to have more dorm centered activities to show he cares.

The dorm favorite is the pool party/ BBQs

Ruggie can tell the price of anything you bring him. Only with an error of a penny or two off normally.

Jack has used Epel as a weight before and didnt have the heart to tell him he weighed next to nothing.

It's a dorm rule to eat at least one piece of fruit a day. (To avoid scurvy since all of them would rather just eat meat all the time)

Leona has found Ruggie passed put more than once. He always takes him back to the dorm, and Ruggie will wake up in Leona's room, thinking he fell asleep cleaning his room.

Leona makes a just barely there effort to be nice to Jack since he looks up to him so much.

It's the most basic thing, but it's enough to turn heads of people who know Leona.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst leona #leona kingscholar #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #twst jack #jack howl #savanaclaw #valcorrectquotes

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dreaming-of-lu · 8 months ago

Note

I saw requests are open and I wanted to let you know that I really love your writing! Could you do First and/or Twilight with a reader who sings really well but is self conscious about it? Romantic if possible

I tried to do scenarios, but alas, my brain did not wanna work with that, so hope you don't mind hc's! I gotchu chief.

First

~~ Man, oh man, where do I begin with him? I like to think that their music wasn't really much big in lyrics. It's rare to hear to music with words so imagine his surprise when he heard you softly humming tune. Only for it to slowly grow to normal speaking range.

~~ He happens upon your little tunes while you were foraging. He heard a part, something about "In mountains that are stacked with fear, but you're a king and I'm a lionheart." (King and Lionheart by of Monsters and Men)

~~ Not one to interrupt a peaceful air that surrounded your form. He instead, took careful watch behind a tree, closing his eyes, and listening to the serene song that flitted in one ear and out the other.

~~ He wasn't sure how much time had pass, but the shocked gasp had him up on his feet, hand on his sword and swiveling his head in panic.

~~ With no harm in sight, he breathes only to hear your squeak. He froze when his eyes came into contact with yours. Your voice cracked, "how long have you been standing there?" He duck his head with a sheepish smile, "your voice...it sounded lovely."

~~ He doesn't pressure you to sing to him, only whenever you feel comfortable to do so. Though, he does miss hearing your little hums and the different tunes your home made. It definitely sits in his mind to where he's humming it to himself.

~~ it's only when he had a nightmare of old memories that you sung to him in the shared inn bed quietly. He appreciates the distraction and he loves you for it even as you take a step out of your comfort zone. He cherishes the moments like those.

Twilight

~~ I like to think he loves the folk songs more than what others would actually think he would like. While yes, the bittersweet country tunes make him howl, but the folk songs got his heart swelling, foot tapping and swaying his head alongside to it.

~~ It's definitely a late night, he's on watch and you're up due to brain not wanting to knock out for the night. His ear twitches at the soft hums coming from you causing the stress from his shoulders to relax. He loves hearing your voice, even though he wish for you to get some sleep, the other side is definitely soothed that he's not the only one awake.

~~ He's multitasking! "Tossed his copper, and I watched as it fell, but there wasn't any water in the wishing well." (Wishing Well by The Oh Hellos)

~~ That song...is new... he loves the soft tune, so saccharine to his ears. While he doesn't know the lyrics, he follows along eagerly and sighs in bliss, "mighty tune there, darls."

~~ It stops and he freezes, thinking he said something wrong, he backtracks with a wince, "ah! sorry if I-" "How long have you-" "Til I heard you hummin'." "...want me to continue?" "...if you want to, sugar."

~~ The thought of you only singing just for him, only for his ears to hear, makes his heart flutter. He does the dreamy sigh and it got his ancestor wondering what got him all day dreaming. It's both of your shared secret, one that he cherishes.

~~ Would sing with you, but as you can tell, he's not really a pro at it so he'll let you do the singing. He'll hum along or to himself. Dancing while singing? a swing during a upbeat or a slow sway together on a slow one. Lullabies? when he's down, sick or has a nightmare, know just hearing your voice soothes him.

#.bea's writing #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu first x reader #lu twilight x reader #link x reader #loz link x reader #loz x reader

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snowdropluck204 · 8 months ago

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A Date With Death - Spencer Reid x Unsub Fem! Reader

Hi my lovelies! After a lot of people seemed interested in this story, namely a few that commented who I am tagging below! If anyone wants to be tagged in these chapters from now on, let me know! I am going to try and plan this out okay, I'll post a separate post with the release dates of the chapters! With that! Enjoy!

Also, I'm a Brit writing about America... Specifically Colorado! So if there is anyone from there that would be willing to help me, please do!

Tag List: @vexis-world @inexplicableeee @flowercrownsandtrauma

TW: Murder, gore, blood, vomit, mentions of rapists, pedophiles, abuse, y/n being mistaken for male.

Spencer pov

The BAU hadn't had a case like this for a while...

This case had gotten media attention across the country, further even. All because this unsub was doing things that many a soul had thought about, hell even acted upon, the difference between their unsub and the average person, is that he was getting away with it.

For the last month, bodies had been cropping up all over Denver, Colorado, all with the same MO. People, both men and women, had been found dead in different locations, the only things that the victims had in common were the ways they were killed and that they were all once convicted of a crime. These crimes have ranged from rape, domestic abuse, paedophilia and stalking, but each of the victims had been killed using three consecutive methods.

As the car arrived at the scene of the crime, the body being found outside his own home, I wasn't massively shocked to see the crowd of media representatives surrounding the scene, I was a little perturbed to see a separate crowd of protesters.

"How many of them are there?" I asked confused, "God the street is crawling with them!" Morgan nodded from beside me, as we both stepped out of the car. Hotch grumbled under his breath, "Clearly the local cops didn't secure the area very well." The reporters seemed to have noticed us, we weren't exactly inconspicuous in our suits and sunglasses, but we still flashed the badge, asking them to move as politely as we could.

Immediately we were swarmed, questions being fired at us left and right, "Do you have any idea who was behind this killing?" "What is being done to keep this community safe?" "Why has it taken this long for the FBI to become involved?"

We tried to answer as many as we could without giving away too much of the investigation, including how little had been discovered so far. The police here had no leads, so we were working off of very little, and, until we had analysed the crime scene, we had no working profile of the unsub to make up a suspect list. This was square one...

Morgan walked over to the protesters, myself following close behind, they were all carrying banners or picket signs, they each read various forms of propaganda, 'He's Saving Lives', 'Let Him Live', 'Grim Will Save US.' I tilted my head as we walked closer to the crowd. Derek very clearly hadn't assessed the situation as strongly...

"Don't you worry folks, we'll have this guy behind bars soon!" He called out, trying to get the group to leave peacefully, only to get angry faces and practically being spat at.

"Why? He's doing what our government is too scared to do now! I say let him go!" A woman cried, beginning a chant of, 'Let Him Go.' The chanting became louder, Hotch began seeming more nervous as they advanced. He turned to shout over his shoulder at the local police.

"Can you hold them back please?" At the authority in his voice, the cops quickly rushed to attention, herding Morgan and myself into the front yard. The crime scene.

The body had been placed, almost gently, into the flowerbed in the front yard, some of the blood that decorated his body had even been mopped up. "Do we have an ID on the victim yet?" I asked Hotch, receiving a negative, apparently the neighbours knew of the victim, knew that he lived here, but rarely spoke to him and didn't know his name, so I crouched down to see what we were working with.

This victim's demise, also followed the same MO of the last seven victims the unsub had killed. Each of the victims before this one, had been killed with three separate methods, asphyxiation, the throat was slit and then the victim was garroted. "Reid." Hotch asked from behind me, I turned to look at him, showing him he had my attention, "What have we got?"

I looked back to the body, fiddling with the gloves on my hands, "The victim seems to have been killed in the same methods of the unsub's MO, it's called the threefold death, it's a religious method of killing going as far back as Druid-Irish folklore. The threefold death obviously entailed a person being killed three separate times, in this case, asphyxiation, a form of stabbing and then a mixture of the two... It was said that this method of death was saved and used as a punishment for those who didn't deserve to die only once..." I told them, trying to be as concise as possible.

Hotch nodded, whilst Morgan began taking a closer look at the garrote around the man's neck. Each of the previous victims had been convicted of a crime, violent and sometimes sexual in nature. Each of the garrotes used seemed to be personalised, a single word scratched roughly into the wooden handle of them, this garrote in particular had the word, 'ABUSER' carved into the grain of the wood.

Morgan pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear, "Babygirl, newest victim apparently has a history of abuse or domestic violence, can you work your magic?"

I focused back on the body.

Like all the previous victims, the body was as clean as the unsub could get it, he seemed to have cleaned up any blood that pooled on the skin, before laying them to rest, in an almost respectful manner. Laid flat on their backs, hands and arms crossed over their torso, with a single white lily laced delicately between their fingers. The only thing that didn't seem as respectful, was the plastic bag tired around their face, using the same garrote that was used to kill them. I decided to speak up my thoughts to Hotch.

"The unsub almost seems to have feelings of remorse, the funeral like way of displaying the bodies is another part of his signature, strange for what we would assume is just a spree killer, it's more likely that he was targeting these people, or that there was an extreme trigger involved.

"The white lily represents the transience of life and the emotions of grief and mourning, also strange for your average serial killer. There is the possibility that the unsub knew his victims before he killed them... That could prove that he has anti-social personality disorder, he's trying to replicate an emotion he has seen around death, like copying the process of mourning at a funeral." I finished, even I felt confused...

Hotch nodded along, before the three of us walked over to the front door of the victim's home, judging by the track marks through the blood, the victim was murdered in the home and dragged out to the garden. "The unsub must have been surveying the house and the neighbours, because most of them work nights or have late night activities, the victim was found outside his home at around one in the morning. Somehow, the unsub made his way into the home, killed this guy using three separate methods and dragged the body out of the home and positioned it the way he wanted in a small window of about three hours." I told the room.

Hotch nodded, following the trail of blood around the house, leading to a chair in the middle of the kitchen, the kitchen tile had a clear tarp laid over it, the chair on top, both were coated in a thick layer of dried blood, the knife used to slit his throat wasn't at the scene, so the unsub still had it...

(y/n) pov

The sting in my throat and eyes was horrid as I retched into the toilet bowl, the tears running down my face were falling hot and fast. Eventually, the vomiting stopped, I took a deep breath, now that I could, I flushed the toilet and shuddered.

I stood up, my legs shaking, almost buckling underneath me, I stumbled my way to the sink, looking up I saw myself in the mirror, the blood spattered across my face, my arms, my hands. My eyes were different to how they used to be, they were clouded by this grief, this agony I didn't know how to get rid of anymore. The colour was faded, the whites were blemished with deep red veins and my pupils were so dilated, so scared. Memories of the night flashed behind my eyes.

I was walking slowly, stalking forward, making my way to the front door of the house. I'd been watching the house for the last few weeks, he was a monster. Beat his previous wives, now he was alone. Beat his children, now he wasn't allowed to see them. The bastard was too scary for those poor women and children to keep charging him with the abuse, so now he was a free man...

Once I got to the door, I smiled seeing the electronic lock, I pressed a small device to the side of the lock, hearing a small buzz before the door clacked open. Taking my time, both so as not to alert my target and also partially dreading what I was about to do, I pushed open the front door, sneaking through the hallways, until I found the kitchen. The pig was drunk, he hadn't been home longer than half an hour, and he was almost passed out wasted, beer bottles lying around where he was sat on the couch, staring listlessly at the television.

I wobbled over to the shower, flinging back the curtain, my head reeling, I waddled carefully in, trying not to slip. I turned the shower head on, full blast, almost blistering hot, and began to scrub at my skin as hard as I possibly could. The water ran off of me in dark red waves, before they faded to pink and then clear. Once all the bloody water was sucked down the drain, I finally began to relax, which was a mistake.

I slunk up to the guy, leaning behind him before pulling out a plastic bag, the crunching sound of the bag alerted him. He turned and met my face, hidden by a mask, a cheap, crappy masquerade mask, a candy skull, hiding my face. A flash of realisation on James' face made me fear he had recognised me, instead, he began to stutter. "You're h-him, aren't you? The k-killer, t-the Reaper?" He whimpered. Coward. I leapt forward, wrapping the bag around his face and pulling.

I curled myself into the corner of the shower floor, the hot water making me more dizzy and in a deeper haze as tears filled my eyes.

"Please..." He kept begging, pleaded with me to spare his life as he tried to rock himself back and forth in the chair he was now tied to, "I'm sorry! I haven't gone near my family since the restraining order!" He shrieked, the most pathetic sounding noise. I almost spat at him, "Then your a liar as well as a beater." I growled, once he heard my voice, he realised that I wasn't the guy everyone was thinking of. "You're a pathetic excuse of human life, weak. You target the people who you're supposed to care for, children, your own wife." I snarled, stalking forward with a small, but extremely sharp, hunting knife.

The blood went everywhere, the walls, David James' face and clothes, the floor, me. The smell was metallic and bitter, it made me feel vile, hideous, tainted.

He was gasping, struggling for breath as I wrapped the bag around his face again, pulled out the garrote, bound the bag taut around his neck and began twisting, the wire digging painfully into the deep gash already across his neck. Eventually, he stopped struggling, stopped breathing. I let go of the garrote, the handle provoking me with my own handwriting, PAEDOPHILE. Taunting both David James, the beater and myself. (y/n) (l/n), the reaper.

I placed him in his car, and drove the short while down to the cemetery, I huffed as I pulled James' body out of the trunk, dropping him rather unceremoniously outside the gates, in a patch of half dead grass. I closed his eyes through the plastic bag, crossed his arms over his chest, and threaded a single white lily through his hands. After I had finished, I stood slowly, bowing my head, a moment of silence for the deceased, however undeserved it may be.

I left the shower, the water still dripping off of my body quickly becoming cold. I knew there would be little to no physical evidence that I was at the scene. I shuddered once again, the shiver continuing down my body. I quickly got changed and curled up in my bed, trying to remember who I was doing all of this for...

Spencer pov

After examining the crime scene, we all went back to the station, Garcia's face appearing on the laptop screen as we began to review the case, what we knew so far. Gideon was writing on the whiteboard, pictures of the victims taped to the surface, annotations lining them. Elle was pacing the room, fiddling with a pen as she asked about the scene and, in turn, the unsub.

"The protesters outside, they sounded like they were supporting him, how popular is this unsub?" She asked, Garcia quickly typing up on her computer, finding the information in quick keystrokes.

"Oh, he's huge, most of Denver population believe that he's saving their children and friends, he's only killing off people who were convicted of a crime, there's never any witnesses, never any tips called in. These people believe that the government was wrong to get rid of capital punishment in Colorado, that these people deserved it.

"A lot of people also think that the unsub deserves the death penalty too, but that he's some sort of public figure, he knew the risks and the punishment, but took out those who were a risk to their society. The unsub has a lot of names, The Grim Reaper, Charon, The Wraith, lot of mythological connotations..."

I sat, stuck, staring at the whiteboard. "What's going on in that big, beefy brain?" I heard Garcia ask, I finally looked up at the team, all looking at me worried. I felt my brow furrow further as I stood and walked quickly, over to the board. There were seven victims up on the board, the ones we had found, who knew if there were more. Now there was an eighth.

"None of this makes sense." I murmured, "All of the evidence contradicts itself, we can't make a linear profile of the unsub..." I trailed my hands along the pictures, "The unsub should be someone who shows little to no emotion, but he sets his victims to rest in a nice place, with flowers, almost mourns them. He gruesomely murders his victims with an ancient religious process, only to have no showing of any other religious motif or ritualistic killing.

"They clearly have been watching their victims, their neighbours, their homes, but there is no physical evidence of that! The places the victims are left were proved by relatives to be special to them, so the unsub leaving the bodies there shows some sentiment and that, somehow, the unsub knew them but none of the victims had ever met each other and have no social circles in common with one another!"

I had never felt so frustrated and confused. Hotch patted me on the shoulder as I sat down again, running a hand through my hair. He began a pep talk that always begins the investigation, "True remorse from the unsub might only be capable if they were compelled to commit the killing for reasons unknown to even them, or he's being forced to..."

#cute #love #fanfiction #romance #x reader #comfort #open requests #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x fem!reader #murder #unsub!reader #angst #cw: gore

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year ago

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Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 1: It Starts In A Bar

summary: your friends take you out to a local pub when you would much rather be grading assignments. a/n: hello! big surprise, me writing for john price! I don't know how long this will be, but I definitely have a general idea of where I want this to go. I hope y'all like it!

thank you @lethalchiralium for dragging me into the clubhouse kicking and screaming LMAO << Previous | Next >>

Why did they pick this place again?

Ah, right. “It’s a hometown pub, a staple to the community,” they said. That was clear from the couple dozen men and women, ranging from middle-aged to elderly, scattered about, and a few younger folks peppered into the crowd. It wasn’t run down by any means, just…a dive. You mindlessly picked at the peanuts and pretzels in little bowls, elbows perched on the edge of the sticky table, for hours. You chatted and occasionally laughed at the stories they shared about their homeroom students and the shenanigans the other grades got up to. You’d been teaching year thirteen for a while, students taking their A-levels in history.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, spent with a stack of papers to grade, surrounded by glowing candles scattered around your apartment accompanied by soft white string lights stretched across the ceiling. Instead, your friends somehow managed to drag you out of your cozy home to a dark dive in town. You loved them dearly (really, you did), but you had a routine. Your ideal Friday night wasn’t in a damp bar.

Your kids could be challenging at times in their late teens. They occasionally cause trouble, known for getting into fights, interrupting class, or bringing drama into the classroom. Nevertheless, you’d never had a set of students that was more than you could handle. They turned their work in on time and were always nosy about your personal life, which – much to their chagrin – was uneventful. Your love life was stale, to put it nicely. And your friends tried everything in their power to set you up on dates, every single one striking out miserably. It didn’t feel natural to meet some guy at a restaurant for a blind date.

One of them talked about themselves the entire time, barely letting you get a word in. The next ordered about three more drinks than you and a meal that cost twice as much as yours but demanded you split the cost of the date. You were all for splitting the bill but on the first date? Not a good impression.

The rest were uninteresting and immemorable.

“Seriously? You haven’t been on a date since – Oh, what was his name again?”

“Zachary,” you pointed out, taking a long sip of your drink. “You should know; you set up the date.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t realize he was such a bore one-on-one.”

“Thanks for that, by the way. Loved talking to myself for two hours.”

You all laughed at the memory, starting to finish drinks and gather belongings. “Let’s get to the next spot to find you a man!”

Bar hopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you knew better than to resist. It would all be over much faster if you just went along. Your companions were much quicker on their exit, considering the nearly-full drink that you felt like you just bought, and they were already moving on to the next dig. You threw the rest of your drink back, flinching as the big gulp of alcohol burned down your throat, and hurried to catch up with them. You took one of their outstretched hands, giggling as they just about pulled you into the circle exiting the pub–

“Excuse me, miss!” a deep voice called out. You’re not sure why, but you turned, feeling like the man was calling out to you. Your assumption turned out to be correct, and a tall, dark-haired man with a beard and a soft smile approached you. “Sorry, you left this.”

He held your cardigan to you. You must have abandoned it in your haste.

“Oh! Thank you so much. That’s kind of you,” you said, taking the garment back and draping it over your forearm. “I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached,” you added, tapping your temple with a soft chuckle.

“Quite alright.” Behind you, an elbow nudged your spine; you barely caught yourself from making a face and snapping at whichever acquaintance decided to egg you on. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it seems you’re heading out.”

He certainly was handsome. His beard was well-groomed, just like his hair. It looked like he went to a barber fairly recently. He even dressed well, in a cream, ribbed polo tucked loosely into his jeans. Dark chest hair peeked out where the top two buttons were undone. It was an enticing offer…

“Um, yeah, but….” You looked over your shoulder and met expectant glances. Some looked like they were about to bust apart at the seams with glee, which made you roll your eyes. Clearly, you wouldn’t be missed. “I could hang for a little while longer.”

The man's smile grew, and his stance shifted to open a path toward the bar. “Are you sure? Y’don’t have to,” he amended, his hands in his pockets. His energy was warm and soft but still masculine. He held a confidence that not many people carried, at least not the men you’d been on dates with recently. And the Liverpool accent? Maybe things were starting to look up.

“No, no, I honestly need another drink.” You flashed your teeth back to him, folding your arms over your chest with your sweater in hand.

“In that case, after you.”

Before taking his arm, you realized you’d yet to even ask for his name. “Thank you…?”

“John.” John’s right hand hovered before you and he flashed his bright teeth. His hands were clean, nails neatly trimmed. Although, one nail bed was bruised.

Man, he’s pretty for a grown man.

“Y/N,” you replied with an easy grin. He kept a steady hold on your gaze, carefully examining the bright twinkle they held. You didn’t know it, but John had just returned from a long mission. One that had left him yearning for a shower, a haircut, and somebody to come home to. He’d never had anything to look forward to and stay alive for; no affection or comfort after a rough assignment, no one to care for and spoil.

And he wanted that.

“A surname to that, John?” you asked, sliding your hand through the loop he created with his elbow. Holy shit, he was strong. Your hand rested on the soft but well-built muscle of his bicep. You figured he must have a labor-intensive job, or he goes to the gym frequently. John didn’t seem like the type to spend hours at the gym in his spare time, so you went with the first option. You’d keep that in mind when making small talk later.

“John Price.”

“Very regal name.”

John scoffed but laughed nonetheless. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

John couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were unbelievably bubbly, especially for interacting with a stranger who only gave back your forgotten cardigan. He’d been watching you from his spot at the bar, laughing with your friends but zoning out every once in a while. He was no stranger to giving himself a mental break, particularly in a hectic environment like a packed bar on a cool, Friday evening.

“I’ll call you when I need a ride!”

You and John watched the giggly group exit the pub, happily waving as they piled into a cab. You waved back with your free hand, your other palm still pressed against his warm skin. They didn’t embarrass you too badly, thank god. You met John’s eyes, a dark color twinkling with mischief.

“Your friends seem chipper.”

“I’m so sorry. They’re just happy to see me talking to a man.”

“Oh? Is that right?” he chuckled, nodding to your previously held table. John broke away briefly to retrieve his unfinished drink and denim jacket from the bar.

You followed his lead back to the booth, attempting to keep control of the flush you felt beginning to heat your cheeks. “They’ve set me up on many an unfortunate date. Not saying I don’t get along fine on my own, but–”

“It’s rough out there?” he finished, sliding into the cushioned seat across from you. When you nodded in return, John smirked. “Believe me. I get it. My career makes it difficult to find time for much of anything.”

“Yeah, well, I have sixteen kids.”

The man sputtered, choking on what looked to be an old-fashioned. Possibly a bad joke, but it was such a great opportunity; you were feeling frisky, and you couldn’t help the giggles that erupted following his reaction. “I teach history for year thirteen.”

“Oh, thank Christ.” John wiped the cocktail off his lip with the back of his hand, shaking his head at your laughter. “You had me going there. Five minutes into our date, and I’ve made a mess of myself.”

You quirked a brow. “So this is a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, I would consider it light conversation. Getting to know each other.”

“That’s a date.”

“Mmm, I’d say it’s more casual than that.”

“I’m not looking for casual, love.”

You paused, examining his calm demeanor. He didn’t seem cocky, but honest, a welcome change to the pattern you’d observed over the last few months. None of your dates had been so bold as to know what they want and make their intentions clear. Especially not so quickly. It was refreshing.

“Me neither.”

“Good.”

You both sat in peace, pausing your conversation for the waitress. You ordered another drink, as promised, and folded your hands on the tabletop, fingers laced. “So, what do you do, John?” you asked, tapping your thumbs together.

“I’m in the military.”

You paused, expectantly waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence.

“Care to elaborate?”

He tutted once with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “I would love to, but I can’t.”

Interesting. Normally, resistance like that would be a red flag. On the other hand, his job could be “classified” or whatever is said in the movies. No alarms went off in your mind; your intuition told you that John was trustworthy, so you let it go. The pretty brunette dropped your new drink off and another for John.

“I can tell you that I’m a Captain.”

“So you have pretend kids too?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he hummed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. A slight tinge of the citrus notes from the expressed orange peel wafted across the table. John’s laugh was distinctive, chesty and rumbly, inviting. “Of course. Mine are bigger, though, I’m sure.”

“Oh? They’re not scrawny little soldiers?”

“No. One’s almost two meters tall.”

“Jesus. How many?”

“Five. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alex, and Farah.”

“Well, I for one can’t wait to meet them.”

“Likewise.”

You fussed with your hair for about the thousandth time in your bathroom mirror and huffed when it wouldn’t settle right. John was to meet you in about fifteen minutes. Knowing him, that meant he would be buzzing up to your apartment any second. You’d been on a few dates and knew his date habits pretty well. If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late. You had been out to dinner, grabbed coffee once or twice; you even grabbed an ice cream. So, it was a surprise when John suggested a trip to the museum. It didn’t seem like his thing, but you weren’t about to turn down a trip to the history exhibit.

As you expected, a familiar BZZT BZZT reverberated through your flat, signaling his arrival. The first time he picked you up, you let him into the building without using the intercom. You tried explaining that the speaker broke and your landlord had yet to fix it (shocker), but John wouldn’t hear it. You could have been letting in a random creep pressing buttons until some tenant unlocked the door. He insisted on creating a little system, so you would know it was him downstairs and not a kidnapper. From then on, he always rang the bell twice.

You gave up on your hair, switched the light off, and paged him in. Your unit was on the first floor (which wasn’t ideal), so it only took John a few seconds to reach your door. When you heard a knock at your door, you peered through the peephole (as promised) before unlocking the deadbolt, revealing a very well-dressed captain. John’s hair was a bit shaggy, but it suited him well. Your heart fluttered helplessly at the bright smile that appeared when he laid eyes on you, his gaze obviously taking in the sight before him.

It was a weeknight, and you didn’t have time to change between school and your usual errands. You threw a plaid skirt, thigh-high socks, and loose sweater together; just a sliver of skin showed between the top of your socks and hem of your skirt. You felt underdressed compared to John, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

“Hi,” he said, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You look lovely.”

“Same to you. You always clean up well.”

“If you saw the state I’m usually in at work – you’d understand why.”

John kept a watchful eye to make sure you turned both locks for your door before guiding you outside to a waiting taxi with a hand on the small of your back. He held the door to your building and the car open for you. The drive was short, but the weather was starting to catch a bit of a chill, and you didn’t want to walk too far.

Ever the gentleman, the captain followed closely behind you up the steps to the gallery. Even if he weren’t perceptive, with years of experience reading people, he could tell you were excited to be there; however, he wasn’t so experienced in the ‘romance’ department. John honestly couldn’t even remember the last time he visited any museum, let alone a dedicated history exhibition. But when he suggested it and assured you that he would have a good time, he was only being partially truthful. Secretly, the man just wanted an excuse to listen to you talk. What better place to bring you than an exhibit where he knew you would talk his ear off for hours?

You slowly worked your way through each exhibit, explaining some pieces you recognized and their significance to the period; at displays you weren’t familiar with, you both quietly hovered closer to the title cards, reading through the description. While that kind of date wasn’t John’s usual cup of tea, he was glad he planned it; it helped him figure out how to slow the fuck down and try to be normal outside of a military setting or a pub.

His breath nearly stuttered every time you laid a gentle hand on his arm and drew his attention to the next section, beaming as you animately but quietly pointed out the tiny details in a Renaissance painting hung on the wall. The man couldn’t help but stare at how your lips curved at every syllable, wide eyes glued on the intricate scene portrayed. John hadn’t spoken much so far aside from the occasional affirmation that he was listening; he was very much in his head, unsure if you were excited to be there with him or just excited to be there. But, standing in front of the big painting, you went quiet. You met his gaze, and his lips pulled into a lopsided grin, which you returned before you both shifted back to the artwork. It was peaceful, absorbing the atmosphere and just existing together. Suddenly, John was jolted out of his reverie by the feeling of something brushing the side of his palm.

You were itching to hold his hand all night but were too nervous to take that leap. What if he rejected you? That wasn’t likely after so many dates, but still. Your nerves got the better of you for the better half of the self-guided tour. Regardless, you had managed to work up the courage, cautiously grazing your pinky against his wrist and hand before wrapping it around his. You didn’t look away from the illustration, but he did, moving to you, then down to your hands.

He simply stared for a moment, surprised but positively giddy at the same time. Surely enough, John took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and leaning just a bit closer to you. He could stand there forever, basking in your warmth and energy, the sound of your voice sinking into his every thought–

“Oh no,” you said, breaking the silence. You looked up at him worried, wrinkles forming between your brows. “I-I’m sorry. I was teaching again.”

He immediately gave you a reassuring squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Don’t be. I like hearing you talk.” Jesus, did he have a way with words. He liked hearing you talk? With that accent, he could spew nonsense, and it would still draw you in. But hearing John Price give you compliments and praise? Flattery? You were a goner. “Tell me more about the next one?”

As if he could get any more fucking perfect.

“Okay.”

#captain john price x f!reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #john price x teacher!reader #call of duty #captain john price #cardigan as is above so below #as is above so below #cod mw #mw fics #call of duty fanfic #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #teacher!reader #john price x afab!reader

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starcrossedxwriter · 9 months ago

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Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times.

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity.

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated.

“Rough night, dear?”

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt.

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?”

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?”

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered.

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?”

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?”

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.”

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke.

He did what??

“Are you alright, dear??”

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.”

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply.

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door.

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox.

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed.

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back.

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on:

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that.

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael.

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you.

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her.

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation.

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did.

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears.

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in.

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side.

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice.

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview.

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so.

“Thanks, appreciate that.”

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?”

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.”

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves.

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…”

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.”

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-”

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.”

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called.

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over.

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.”

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens.

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake.

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special.

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.”

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.”

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about.

“Rae? You busy?”

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in.

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?”

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?”

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts?

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.”

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good.

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways.

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer.

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?”

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless.

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.”

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.”

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?”

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.”

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.”

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.”

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.”

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.”

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.”

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.”

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.”

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.”

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.”

“She is… and I hope she knows that.”

“So tell me about…”

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into.

There has to be more than this, right?

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully.

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes.

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.”

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.”

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name.

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?”

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.”

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?”

“Too many…”

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.”

“Tiff…”

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear.

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.”

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly.

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?”

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.”

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem.

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves.

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold.

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back.

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside.

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home.

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster.

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space.

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him.

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence.

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.”

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak.

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat.

“Why what?”

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?”

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.”

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell.

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?”

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet.

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.”

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely.

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?”

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it.

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.”

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her.

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door.

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back.

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home.

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence.

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember.

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up.

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together.

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept.

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box.

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s.

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious.

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope.

To Raven on your 18th birthday

To Raven on high school graduation

To Raven after your first love

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation

To Raven on your wedding day

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom.

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three.

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one.

To my sweet darling girl,

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did.

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it.

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you.

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things.

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved.

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter.

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it.

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word.

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all.

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about.

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen.

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with.

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards.

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.”

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?”

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family.

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.”

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.”

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words.

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for.

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.”

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter.

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.”

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack.

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.”

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??”

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff.

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.”

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at.

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early.

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be.

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world.

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on.

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.”

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.”

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?”

“Yes. Is it too late?”

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone.

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.”

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?”

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

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A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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