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thaleleah · 6 months ago

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𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓞𝓷𝓮)

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Nun!Reader

Warnings: ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Dark!Billy, Virgin!Reader, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, P in V, Corruption Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Masturbation, Wet Dreams/Sex Dreams, Seduction, Emotional Manipulation, Religion and Religious Beliefs, Explicit talk of gunshot wounds, blood, and the bullet's removal (kinda? Idk if it's explicit explicit, but its a little more than just mentioned), Mention of physical abuse/child abuse (not from Billy), Childhood Trauma, Mention of alcoholism, Moral/Religious conflict within one's self, My bad Spanish, Nun breaking her vows, Probably too quick of a healing process to be fucking someone but I'm not a doctor so 🤷🏻‍♀️, Using the word "drawers" instead of "panties" which is kinda cringe to me but I wanted to be somewhat accurate

Word Count: 9.6K

A/N: Billy's passed out for most of this but I hope y'all like it anyway. Please know I'm posting this and then running away. Okay, byeeeeeeeeee

Summary: When Billy stumbles into your clinic, hurt and in desperate need of care and refuge, you don't hesitate to help him. Perhaps this is God's will. Perhaps He has brought him into your life to help heal the parts of him that the cruelness of the world has soiled and broken. You are a healer by trade, both of the physical body and of faith. If this is to be God's mission for you, then it shall be done. How could you have possibly known that the young man who begged for help that fateful night would turn out to be the devil himself?

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Translations:

Por Dios - Oh my God

Que Dios te bendiga - May God bless you

Qué sorpresa! - What a surprise!

Y él no quería que su mamá lo supiera. Así enterró la carne en el jardín - And he didn't want his mom to know. So he buried the meat in the garden

Pero el perro la desenterró y ella se descubrió de todos modos. Tuvo que lavar platos él solo por dos meses - But the dog dug it up and she found out anyway. He had to wash the dishes by himself for two months

Ese niño - That kid/child

Parece que era un buen amigo - Seems like he was a good friend

Sí, él era - Yes, he was

De nada - You're welcome

Gracias, Hermana - Thanks, Sister

They say the devil can take on many forms.

He is a demon figure - with the face of a goat, horns, hooves, and a blade pointed tail.

He is a great dragon - large and terrifying, destructive and formidable in the power he holds.

He is a roaring lion - hungry and fierce as he stalks God’s children, waiting for them to fall into his trap before he attacks them like prey.

But the devil was once God’s favorite angel, amazingly beautiful and wise. The angel of light, God’s morning star - a traitor now, a trickster . . . evil.

The Lord teaches love for all, compassion and understanding despite another’s upbringing or current situation. All humans are God’s children, all made in His perfect image, brothers and sisters in unity under His loving and eternal care. You are thankful to know this, grateful that you can feel His presence coursing through your veins despite the horror that you’ve come to face daily while working at the clinic. His gift to you is your endless drive to help those in need, sitting by the bedsides of the sick and dying, applying a cool rag to their sweaty foreheads, or spoon feeding them soup to give them strength when they are too weak to do it themselves.

It is a taxing life, and the sorrow you feel when you cannot nurse someone back to health is ever present in your heart, but the Lord is clear in your life’s mission and you will be forever thankful for the lessons you learn in this lifetime.

He has made you a healer, using you as a vessel for His healing touch for all you come across - regardless of wealth, status, religious affiliation, or criminal record.

Which is why when he stumbles into the clinic during the late hours of the night, face pale and hand pressing hard to his side where blood is streaming through his fingers despite the pressure, you don’t hesitate to help him.

You think you should have - should have let him bleed to death on the clinic floor. Would God have abandoned you if you had?

“Sister Maria!” You cry instead, running to the injured man and looping his arm around your shoulders to help him lean against you. “We need fresh towels and water! And sutures! Hurry!”

Sister Maria runs in the room, bedsheets still cradled in her arms from where she had been turning over a recently discharged patient’s room. She gasps at the scene, dropping the linens on the floor as she rushes to the main utility closet. You guide the man to a bed, helping him drop onto the thin mattress with a tortured groan. One of your hands splays over his, helping to maintain pressure on the wound until Sister Maria can bring in the needed supplies. Your other hand lays gently on his sweaty forehead, thumb caressing the straight line of his nose trying to soothe him.

His baby blue eyes stare up at you through their pained haze.

“P-please, help,”

The devil can take on many forms and carry many names.

And yet, despite all you’ve heard about who he is and what he’s done, you never once considered Billy the Kid to be one of them.

Misguided and uncared for - sure, but never evil.

He’s so young. You can’t even imagine what horrors he must have had to go through to lead him to the path that he’s on now.

Perhaps it’s fate that you’ve been brought together, an opportunity for you to spread the healing power of your Lord’s love and mend not only his body but his bruised heart as well. You’ve seen too many times where hardships have hardened the minds and spirits of others, caging them off from God as they struggle with their wavering faith.

“Don’t you worry,” You say. “The Lord is here with us. He will see you through.”

Whether he groans from your words or the pain, you’re not sure.

Sister Maria is quick to grab the supplies, dumping them on the side table. She dunks a clean cloth in the water, wringing out the excess, but pauses when she sees his face.

“Is that— ”

“Nevermind that!” You hiss, pulling the cloth from her hand.

You lift his shirt, exposing the injury and the dirt dusted skin framing it. It looks horrible, blood seeping from the laceration in a steady flow and a part of you is thankful that the sight of blood doesn’t make you immediately drop to the floor like your cousin, Paul. He gasps when you touch the cloth to the wound, blood immediately seeping into the white of the cloth and marring the pure color.

His fingers dig into the fabric of his trousers, gripping it tight as he clenches his teeth against the pain. Your free hand rubs lightly against his forehead, trying to soothe him as best you can while you clean the wound.

You think it must be God’s mercy that he passes out before you can pull the bullet out. The pain of the forceps digging into his body as you pulled out the thick ball of lead and the shock that would have come with it would have surely dragged him under had blood loss not gotten to him first. It’s better this way - he’s safer cradled in sleep’s loving hold rather than crying and jerking about as you try to save his life.

Sister Maria holds a small bowl out in front of you with one hand while the other delicately holds his wrist, feeling his pulse between her dainty fingers.

The bullet comes out easy, your forceps finding the lead and guiding it out of the wound’s entrance with ease. It clanks as you drop it into the tiny bowl, and you send up prayers of thanks for allowing such a quick and simple removal. The grace of your Lord has certainly just saved this man’s life.

With quick fingers, you stitch him up, practiced movements securing the wound shut before covering it with a generous dressing of cloth to keep it clean from any dirt and debris.

His sleep isn’t restful, the pinch in his brow and the way his cheeks twitch in the flickering candlelight of the small room make that clear. Your own brows pinch as you reach a hand out to trace the furrowed skin, smoothing it out with a gentle thumb. You don’t like seeing people suffer, but it’s more often than not that the people you come into contact with while working in the clinic are in pain, or suffering, or at Heaven’s doorstep. You help who you can and pray for the souls of the ones you can’t so they may be guided to God’s kingdom where they can live in an eternal paradise by His side. It always hurts when you can’t heal someone, the feeling of failure is a stark reminder that ultimately it is the Lord who chooses to give us life, and he can choose to take it away just as quickly.

It feels different this time though, somehow more personal in a way you can’t understand. The young man before you still has his whole life ahead of him, still so much to do and so many lives to touch. The sins that he’s committed thus far can be forgiven, if only he lifts them up to Him and asks for forgiveness. You can feel it, deep in your bones, that you need to save this man. You can’t fail.

He’s alive, for now. And you can only do your best to make sure he stays that way.

“He cannot stay here,” Sister Maria says quietly, gathering the red stained water and rags. “They will find him.”

You nod, gathering the small bowl with the bullet remnant and the sutures kit. “We’ll keep him here tonight and move him to the back room in the morning after he’s rested a while,”

“No,” Sister Maria says. “He cannot stay here. Helping an outlaw is punishable by death. They will hang us,”

“God will not abandon us,” You say, firmly. “We are all His children, servants and outlaw alike. He wouldn’t want us to toss him out on the street to die.”

You look over your shoulder towards the sleeping man again. His brow is furrowed again, the sweat on his face glistening in the light. You sigh before turning back to Sister Maria. “Don’t worry, Sister. I’ll think of something,”

The pacifying words seem to offer Sister Maria no comfort, and her worried eyes snap upwards as she looks towards the ceiling, voice cracking as she breathes a pleading, “Por Dios,” up towards the roof.

The room is silent to her plea.

You don’t leave Billy’s side the entire night, sitting in the chair directly next to the bed, dabbing at his heated face and neck with a damp washcloth and changing his bandage when the first one had soiled through. He wakes a few times during the night, icy blue eyes fluttering open and locking on yours for the briefest second before slipping closed once again, a quiet sigh escaping through his slightly parted lips.

This is the hardest part - the waiting. Waiting to see if your hard work to heal someone was enough. You keep a close eye on him, looking for signs of pain or illness, keeping an eye on the injury site to try and prevent infection. You flushed it with alcohol during the dressing change, having found an extra bottle hiding in the supply closet while grabbing some fresh cloths. Supplies like alcohol for disinfecting, while needlessly abundant in saloons and brothels, are difficult to acquire for the clinic. You think it's foolish, wasting something that can be used for healing purposes on something as pointless as getting drunk. Your father had been a drunk, drinking away his cares and woes, his only goal was to make it to the bottom of a bottle.

You wish you would have found it sooner so you could have actually disinfected the entire wound instead of just the outside and stitches, but this is better than nothing, you suppose. The smell as you pour it over his wound makes your stomach turn, reminding you of all the times your father came home reeking of the stuff, belly full of poison and his mind, hazed with drink, still evil enough to find your mother and make her suffer as if she were the reason he deemed himself a failure in life. Billy lets out a pained moan in his sleep, body subconsciously tensing in pain as the alcohol flushes the stitched up skin, but thankfully he doesn’t wake. You don’t want him to be in pain, but there’s a part of you that selfishly thinks he’s sharing your own pain, the memory of your childhood trauma somehow seeping into his brain as you recover his wound.

You know it’s not true, but you’re thankful he’s there with you anyway.

When morning arrives, you’re beyond exhausted.

The night shift always takes more out of you than the day shift and your eyes have been threatening to close since the first rays of the sun started spreading across the dust covered floor of the clinic.

Sister Ann and Sister Catherine arrive before the sun does, the first rays of it only starting to spill over the New Mexico horizon line when their footsteps echo through the entryway. You lean forward in your seat at the sound of them, glancing over at Billy’s still sleeping frame as Sister Ann’s gentle humming of a nursery song her mother used to sing to her spreads throughout the clinic. Quick footsteps cut through the song, the humming stopping entirely as frantic whispers sound from the entryway. And then three sets of running feet are getting closer to the corner room.

“Oh, good heavens,” Sister Catherine breathes, eyes locked on the special patient taking up the small bed.

Sister Ann has a dainty hand clasped against her mouth in shock and Sister Maria nervously wrings her own together from behind them.

“He was hurt,” You say, immediately defensive of the injured man. “We couldn’t leave him to die. The Lord says–”

“You don’t need to preach to us, Sister y/n,” Sister Catherine interrupts. “It’s the right thing to do. The Lord is on our side.” She’s confident in her words, and it gives you comfort you didn’t know you needed to have your beliefs validated. But she pauses, eyes flickering once again to Billy before they meet yours - the fear in her brown orbs clear as day. “The law, on the other hand, will not be.”

“We need to move him,” You say.

“To where?” Sister Ann whispers frantically. “The sheriff and his deputies are sure to show up here. They know he’s been shot, it’s only a matter of time.”

“It is a blessing they have not come already,” Sister Maria adds.

They’re right. With Billy injured, they have to know he couldn’t have gotten far. Their only saving grace is that the Sheriff more than likely would have never believed Billy would have come to the clinic for medical attention if on the run from the law. Perhaps holed up in some abandoned alley, bleeding out while propped up against a wall. Or maybe they think he tried riding out of town, desperate to get as far away from the people hunting him as possible before inevitably succumbing to his injuries and falling off his horse in a nearby field.

You rise from the chair, leaning over the bed slightly to rest a gentle hand on Billy’s forehead. It’s still clammy against your palm and he shivers slightly in his sleep, subconsciously pressing his head a little harder against your hand looking for comfort in his pained state. He needs to get away from here, away from any prying eyes because if he’s found, his life on this Earth is over. He is in no position to run or fight for his life. The road to recovery for him is a long one if he hopes to heal well enough to regain his strength and usual mobility. The only thing he will have to look forward to if discovered before he can is a necklace of rope and a quick fall.

“Help me get him to the back room,” You say, sternly. In moments of uncertainty and panic, someone needs to be the guiding light. Your fellow Sisters are still as stones in their spots, all in various states of distress as they look at the man who, if discovered under their care, could very well be the catalyst that marks the end of their missions here on Earth. The Lord brought Billy to you - you need to protect him. “He can stay in the alcove until we can figure out where to take him.”

“He cannot stay in the clinic!” Sister Maria exclaims. “They will surely check every room searching for him!”

“Trust me,” You soothe. “Please, Sister. We need to move him before they come or we will all surely pay the price.”

There is a short pause, but to your frantic brain it feels like an eternity before Sister Catherine nods and gently nudges Sister Ann to the opposite side of the bed.

“Let’s hurry,” She says, reaching to pull away the thin blanket you threw over Billy’s shaking frame at some point during the night. “I fear we don’t have much time left.”

Together, the four of you lift Billy from the bed. It’s a struggle. Even for multiple women to carry a fully grown man, it's a task and a half just to get him from the small patient room to the back area of the clinic. He whines in his sleep, his wound jostling and stitches pulling from the regretfully poor stability you have on his body as you carry him. But, somehow, he doesn’t wake.

The back room is small, but comparatively large compared to the patient’s rooms. The entire width is the size of two patient rooms combined, but that’s not giving it much grace. It makes you sick sometimes, to see people with money spending it on lavish items, large houses and grand parties just to show off their wealth when there are people in need all around whose lives would change if they only had a fraction of the wealth the ones in good standing do. As it is, the back room of the clinic is despairingly bare - limited backstock of supplies, linens, and food are scattered among the wooden shelves lining the room. If only those wealthy men who think to only fill their pockets would hear the Lord’s call to give to the needy instead. It would make your heart happy to see these shelves filled just once.

There’s a small alcove in the back of the room that you and the other Sisters use when times prove most trying. On the days when things are difficult, emotions are too much for you to handle alone or a patient isn’t doing well and there’s nothing you can do other than wait and pray for their recovery, you visit the alcove. It's been adorned with simple yet revenant items, a small yet beautiful cross nailed to the center of the wall, a small ceramic dish holding a wooden beaded rosary placed on the floor below it, resting on a pleasantly fluffed up pillow - ready to help guide their prayer.

Resting against the side wall of the alcove is a folded up cot. It’s not uncommon that one of the Sisters might have to sleep at the clinic during their off shift. More often than not, they are able to return to their lodgings to sleep and reenergize for their next shift. But there are times when too many people are injured, too many of the townspeople have fallen ill to whatever flu or illness that’s crossing through the town and all hands are needed here. The foldable cot is their home away from home, and while it might not be the most comfortable, you are thankful the Lord was able to provide it lest you be made to sleep on the floor behind the extra blankets neatly folded on the shelves.

You all adjust your grips on the young man allowing for Sister Maria to release her hold and pull back the thick blanket shielding the entrance to the alcove. You grunt under the presence of the additional weight, the awkward grip you all have on him unhelpful in the way his limp body bears down on you all. Sister Maria is quick in tying back the privacy blanket so that it stays to one side, and works to wrangle open the finicky cot. Once it’s unrolled, you help in depositing Billy down onto the makeshift bed, quickly checking his wound to make sure no stitches accidentally ripped in the journey back here before turning to accept the fresh blanket Sister Ann hands you from the shelf.

Billy’s brow is furrowed again, breathing a little harsher probably from the pain of being jostled. You lay out the blanket over top of him and pull it up to his chin, your hand reaching out to smooth the wrinkled skin between his eyes again.

“What do we do now?” Sister Ann asks, and Sister Catherine pulls her hand away from where it was plucking nervously at the skin at the sides of her fingers.

“We wait,” She responds, cradling Sister Ann’s damaged hand delicately between her own. “We won’t be able to move him out of the clinic before the Sheriff arrives. We’ll have to keep him hidden here until then and pray they don’t find him.”

The thought of the Sheriff and his men finding Billy here makes your stomach churn. The undeniable fate that waits for you if he’s discovered is one that you’re willing to sacrifice. He’s come here for help, God has brought him here to you for your healing and protection and you can’t fail Him just because your humanity makes you fearful of your end. It’s supposed to be a beautiful thing - death. The moment when your soul on this Earth fulfills its mission here and your granted eternal life at the side of God in the Kingdom of Heaven. It’s what you’ve wanted your whole life, a life of peace and serenity that seems so out of reach here on the soil. Fear will not keep you from looking forward to it. But you’re not done here yet, you have many years left of helping others and spreading His love to those in need. This is not your end. But if it is, it’s worth the sacrifice to try to save Billy.

You’ll hang with him, if need be.

Your fellow Sisters though . . . the thought of them hanging for your own choice, regardless of if you think it was the right thing to do, makes you sick. Your decisions are your own, and they shouldn’t suffer for your choices.

Billy’s forehead unwrinkles under your gentle fingers, and you can feel your heart break as you look down at him. He’s so young still, a young man just at the beginning of his life. He has so many fine years ahead of him. He’s handsome, fit and strong - he would make a fine husband for some lucky lady, a dutiful father for his children. He’s not as evil as they say. You’ve learned to trust your instincts when it comes to people. Sometimes the most misunderstood people are the kindest, and you can’t help but think Billy is the most misunderstood of all. You can’t sense a single whisper of badness in him.

You stand up and pull the privacy blanket back in front of the alcove, hiding Billy from sight in the safety of God’s makeshift altar. Together, you and the other Sisters make your way out of the back room. A few rooms down a sickly man is coughing up a storm, and from how hard and continuous his coughs are, you know his throat is raw. Sister Ann shoots the rest of you a worried look, but turns to grab a water carafe off of a side table before rushing down the hall towards the coughing man and away from the current situation.

“You can head back, Sister Maria,” You say, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. “Get some rest. It’s going to be a long day and we’re going to need you for the night shift.”

You can tell she’s torn, both wanting to stay and help in any way she can but seeming to know that there’s nothing she can do. All there is to do is wait. After a few moments, she nods, her own hand coming up to rest on top of yours. “Que Dios te bendiga,”

You watch as she makes her way towards the front, pushing open the wooden door before jerking to a halt. “Sheriff Garrett! Qué sorpresa!”

Her words sent a spark of panic through you. It’s so soon! You knew it was coming, but it’s still so incredibly soon. You had hoped for at least a while longer to try to gather your thoughts and think of a plan of where you can take Billy, but it feels like time moves slowly as the Sheriff and two of his deputies step into the clinic.

“Sister,” Garrett responds, respectfully tipping his hat.

Even through your panic, you still feel a twinge of irritation. A gentleman would take off his hat, but you suppose it’s better than the two men standing behind him who do nothing but trail their eyes around the clinic's entrance suspiciously (and with a clear bout of judgment).

You know for a fact these men with gold lined pockets have never given so much as a dime to the clinic.

Sister Maria turns back to look at you and Sister Catherine, desperation clear in her eyes and you're glad that none of the men are looking at her anymore or you think her obvious distress might have given you all away.

“Have a good rest, Sister,” You say, urging Sister Maria away. Thankfully, she listens, nodding to you and then Garrett before scurrying out the door.

“How can we help you, Sheriff?” Sister Catherine asks.

Garrett takes a few leisurely steps along the entryway, observing the interior of the clinic with the aura of a man who thinks he can see everything. You suspect he sees nothing at all.

“I apologize for the interruption, Sisters. I know you’re hard at work," He says. “But we’re looking for an outlaw on the run.” He pauses, looking over at the two of you with pointed eyes. At your silence, he continues. “William H. Bonney, otherwise known as Billy the Kid,”

“Oh, dear,” Sister Catherine gasps.

You feign concern also, bringing your fingers to your mouth as a sign of shock. Garrett nods in agreement at your supposed horror.

“As you no doubt know he is a very dangerous, very unlawful, man,”

“So we’ve heard,” Sister Catherine says, nodding solemnly. “Is that what brings you in today?”

“Yes,” He says. “There was an altercation last night between him and I. I was able to shoot him so he is very hurt, but he got away before I could arrest him or finish the job.”

“Kinda stupid to come to a clinic when you’re a wanted outlaw, Pat,” One of the men behind Garrett grumbles. “We’re wasting our time here.”

You can’t help but agree, despite that being exactly what Billy did. But maybe that’s what makes it smart. You're hopeful that Garrett will listen to his friend, will assume that Billy couldn’t possibly be here and leave the clinic without investigating it.

The small spark of hope dies as Garrett laughs without mirth. “The Kid’s not stupid. But we’re covering all our bases,”

“Helloooooo,” A voice calls from another room opposite the patient still occasionally coughing up a lung. “Can someone please pay attention to the sick people around here? Hellooooooooooo?”

Sister Catherine smiles tightly. “Mr. Taylor,” She says by way of explanation. “A rather problematic patient here. He’s a good man, just impatient.”

Sister Ann’s voice can still be heard attempting to soothe her own charge, so Sister Catherine has no choice but to tend to Mr. Taylor. When she disappears from sight, you turn back to Garrett, trying your best to deter suspicion.

“I can assure you, Sheriff, that we haven’t seen any sign of Mr. Bonney around here,” The lie leaves your lips far too easily for it to feel like the sin that it is.

Garrett nods, and you can tell he believes you, but puts his hands on his hips all the same, one hand pushing aside his coat to rest freely on the hilt of his gun. “Mind if we have a look around?”

You force a smile on your face. “Not at all. As long as you don’t bother any of the patients. They need their rest,”

“Certainly,”

You lead him around the clinic allowing him and the deputies to search the rooms for their missing outlaw. When they get to Billy’s old room, the room they just vacated not minutes before the Sheriff arrived, you tell them that a patient was recently discharged and that you hadn’t had the time to turn over the room yet.

“Why is there blood on ‘em?” One of the deputies asks, nodding to the blood stains still covering the stark white of the sheets.

“A cooking accident,” You reply. “An incorrect knife hold can sometimes do that,”

Another lie. You feel this one a little more than the first.

Eventually their search comes to the back room. You can’t keep them out, that would be too suspicious, so you allow them to walk through the half filled shelves. It's more than clear that there’s no place to hide anyone here other than the alcove and you're naively hoping they won’t even realize it’s there.

It’s a large blanket hanging on the wall. Of course, they’re going to notice it.

And, sure enough, one of the deputy’s eyes cut to the blanket. He heads towards it with a gruff “What’s behind here?” but you intercept him, rushing over to stand between him and the alcove.

The Sheriff and his deputies have their eyes on you now, each one closing in closer to you and the alcove, much too close for comfort.

“Sister,” Garrett says, voice stern with authority. “What’s behind the blanket?”

“It’s our place of prayer here,” You say, voice calm despite your nervousness. “Our altar.” You can’t mess up now. If you show any sign that you’re being untruthful, both you and Billy as well as your fellow Sisters out front will be on a one way trip to the courthouse. You’ll all die hanging from its top banister. “When healing doesn’t seem to be enough, it helps to have a place dedicated to God to call upon his everlasting power to perform miracles.”

Garrett nods. “Mind if we take a look?”

“Yes, actually. I do,” Your quick denial clearly catches him off guard, his eyebrows raising towards his hat. “Just as God bids us to modesty with our clothing, we must also show privacy and modesty in our places of worship. They’re sacred spaces. Surely you understand that, Sheriff,”

The words feel like poison on your tongue. Using worship and prayer to cover up a lie is the catalyst that makes bile feel like it's rising in your throat. It’s not a lie, you have to remind yourself. It is a makeshift altar, you do use it as a place of worship and prayer. Just . . . not right at this moment.

The reality of the situation is catching up with you, and you hide your slightly shaking hands by folding them together in front of you. You haven’t lied in years. You lied a lot as a child, a necessity of living with a father who’s anger could strike at a moment’s notice. You resented having to do it back then, forced to sin for the sake of trying to keep peace in the home. It’s much like the situation you find yourself in now, having to lie to try and protect another person. To protect yourself.

When you found refuge at the convent all those years ago, you were told you would never have to be untruthful ever again.

“God is granting you freedom from your woes,” You were told, and you remember how light those words had made you feel. “Thank him for His good graces with your undying loyalty and strive to always be who He guides you to be.”

You hadn’t lied since, no matter how tough things seemed. Sickly patients lying on their deathbed, scared and begging you for any kind of reassurance that it wasn’t the end for them. You wouldn’t give them false hope. Instead, you would tell them to turn their worries to the Lord, clasping their hands in yours and praying with them.

“Your soul is strong, bright and ever-present,” You would tell them. Sometimes you would let them hold your rosary so they can find comfort in it. “The body is a temple, and we do our best in our life to care for it. You’ve done that. If it weakens now, it is because God is calling your soul back to Him.”

The guilt is clawing at your chest, but you force it back as best as you can as you meet Garrett’s eyes. “I ask that you don’t force us to desecrate that,”

Garrett just stares at you, an unreadable expression on his face. One deputy just looks between you and Garrett, uncertain with how to proceed in the face of defying authority, and the other deputy that sneered at the thought of Billy even coming to the clinic scoffs at your words.

“Listen, lady, the law–”

“John, enough,” Garrett interrupts, voice shockingly hard as his eyes cut to his deputy. “She’s a Sister and you’ll show her respect.”

You feel a quick spark of satisfaction at the way the deputy’s confident, power hungry facade dies under the Sheriff's ridicule. He mumbles a quick apology to which you accept with a nod despite how insincere it sounds.

Garrett nods his head towards the door, silently gesturing for the other two to head towards the exit before he tips his hat at you directly, thanking you for your time and apologizing for any inconvenience their visit may have caused.

You want to tell him it was no inconvenience at all, but you’ve already sinned enough today and you can’t bear the thought of intentionally adding to the tally without justified need. Instead you settle on curving your lips into a convincing smile, thanking the men in return for their brevity and understanding and wishing them a good rest of their day as you usher them out of the back room and towards the front entrance.

Every single muscle in your body relaxes once they are completely out of the clinic, relief washing over you as you whisper out a quick prayer of thanks to God for allowing everyone to get out of the overwhelmingly dangerous situation unscathed - at least for now.

Sister Ann and Sister Catherine peek out of their respective rooms when they hear the front door swing shut, their wide eyes mimicking the relief you know is shown in your own.

“I can’t believe they didn’t find him,” Sister Ann admits, and it pains your heart to see tears begin to well up in her eyes. “I thought this was truly the end for all of us.”

You have her in your arms in an instant, cradling her small frame against your chest as she begins to cry in earnest. For as scary as it’s been for you so far, you can’t imagine what she’s been going through. Sister Ann and Sister Catherine have only known about Billy for less than no time at all. And yet, despite the short period of time between finding out about Billy, getting him into the alcove, and the entrance and departure of the Sheriff - you’re sure it probably felt like an eternity to her.

“Hush now, Sister,” You whisper, running a soothing hand along her back. “You’re safe, I promise.”

Sister Catherine places one of her hands on Sister Ann’s back as well, but she’s looking at you when she speaks. “He still can’t stay here,”

You know that. You know. You got lucky that the Sheriff didn’t find Billy this time, but who's to say that he won’t come back when he’s unable to find his missing outlaw anywhere else? Covering all his bases, that’s what he said. He’ll come back again when he sees that his other ‘bases’ have turned up nothing but dead ends.

Your older brother, Joe, has a cabin just outside of town. It’s a hidden place, specifically built for peace. No visitors. He lives alone, no wife or children to keep him company and he prefers it that way.

“If I’m alone, I can’t turn into him,”

You're positive he wouldn’t. Your brother is far from being anything like your father, but the task of trying to prove that to him seems to be out of your skillset. He tells you he’s happy with his life, that he’s chosen the path he feels he needs to be on just as you have. Who are you to pass judgment?

Joe likes the solitude, that much is certain. But he also has an adventurous spirit which guides him on lengthy trips from town to town, exploring all the world has to offer while never having to be tied to one place. He’s away now according to the last letter he sent you, planning to stay in Chihuahua, Mexico for a while and that he’s not sure yet when he’s going to be back.

“It’s dangerous,” Sister Catherine pushes, taking your silence as reluctance.

“I know,” You say. “I know. I think . . . I think I have an idea.”

The cabin will be empty. Joe isn’t due back for the immediate future, and even if he does return earlier than you suspect he will, you and Billy won’t be in danger. Joe can be trusted. He’ll help you, if need be. You can’t imagine that the Sheriff would ever know about it. It’s secluded - far off of any of the usual paths. It’s safe there. The perfect place to hide the wanted outlaw for a while. He can rest there, heal up uninterrupted for a few weeks until he can safely move around on his own two feet again.

Sister Catherine listens openly to the idea, but her face is pinched in displeasure.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” She says, reluctantly. “It seems like the best place for him to disappear to until he’s healed.”

You can hear the underlying pause in her agreement loud and clear. “But?”

“The clinic cannot spare two of us. We would lose half of our staff and it is too much for one person to handle alone per shift,”

“I wouldn’t ask any of you to come with us,” You say. No, for as much as you believe God sent Billy into your life for a reason, this was your mission to bear. You’ve already put your fellow Sisters through enough.

“You want to go alone?” Sister Ann sniffles, raising her head up from your chest.

“You need to think about this,” Sister Catherine says, sternly. “You shouldn’t be alone with him. He is a child of God, yes. But he is also an outlaw and a man. Sometimes, one of those is worse than the other.”

They’re being protective. The more rational part of you is grateful for their concern, and you think that if the positions were switched and one of them were in your position instead, you would react the same way. But a part of you is bitter. They’ve heard the stories. You know exactly how cruel men can be and you know exactly what they’re capable of. It’s a risk you’re taking, but you feel called to take it anyway. Billy needs your help, and God would never put anything in your path that you can’t handle.

“The Lord will protect me,” Despite the truthfulness of your words, you can see how they do little to reassure them. Your next words are better. “The Lord will help me protect myself.”

Sister Ann looks at Sister Catherine, once again bringing her hands together to pick at the reddened skin at the edge of her nail. Sister Catherine sighs, and the back of her hand reaches up to tap her forehead as if feeling the temperature or wiping away sweat.

“Alright,” She relents. “How do we get him to your brother’s cabin?”

“I don’t know,” You admit. “We need a wagon. Or a large wheelbarrow that we can put him in and attach it to a horse. I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, but I’m sure I can manage.”

“Where are we supposed to get that?” Sister Ann’s tone borders on exasperated.

As if answering your unspoken prayer, the door to the clinic opens once more, this time revealing a bright faced Samuel Anderson, carrying a crate full of fresh supplies. And behind him, lit up by the sunlight like a bright blessing, is his wagon.

Sam Anderson is the son of local store owner, Edward Anderson, the clinic's top provider for basic supplies that are not strictly medical. While medicine shipments and more specialty items are donated from suppliers farther away, and frankly much less frequent than necessary, Mr. Anderson and Sam never fail to come through with plenty of food for you to make soups and nutritious meals for your patients. On occasion, you even have enough to give away to the families who are stacked together in a small two bedroom on the edge of town. With eight children total between two families, you're honestly not sure how they manage - but you do your best to help when you can.

Seeing Sam walk through the front door is like a beacon of light from Heaven is shining down on him. He’s smiling already, the crate of food handled carefully between his hands as he lets out a cheery, “Good morning, Sisters”. But as soon as he sees your faces, more specifically when he sees the tear tracks still visible on Sister Ann’s cheeks, he’s placing down the crate and across the clinic’s entrance in a second.

“What’s going on?” He asks. His hands automatically reach out towards Sister Ann’s face as if to cup it, but he stops himself. Instead he just looks at her worriedly, his concerned gaze leaving her face for only a moment to glance at you and Sister Catherine before they’re back on her, voice low and gentle. “What’s wrong?”

It’s no secret that Sam harbors some romantic feelings towards Sister Ann. There are days when you feel sorry for him - a young man, good and kind and generous, who you have no doubt would make a fine husband to any lucky woman is in love with one of the four women in the entire county who are incapable of returning his affection. But it’s moments like this when it’s easy to see God’s presence in other people. Sam is as respectful and kind as they come. He accepts his feelings can never be reciprocated and in turn uses his undying love and loyalty to Sister Ann by helping you all at the clinic with anything he can.

Somehow, he doesn’t expect anything in return, never stares at Sister Ann with an ounce of lust in his eyes, and it warms your heart to see the godly quality that’s usually so absent in men so prevalent in him.

“Something’s happened,” Sister Ann tells him, her voice still wobbly with emotion.

“What?”

“Sam,” You say, calling his attention back to you. “I know I have no place to ask this and I won’t fault you if you decline, but– I’m asking.”

“Tell me,” He insists, pulling his hat from his head and holding it to his chest, and God bless how the sincerity in his voice bleeds into his words. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it,”

So you tell him everything. Sam listens with wide eyes, shooting panicked glances at Sister Catherine and Sister Ann when you tell him about the Sheriff’s visit, and he’s genuinely sorrowful when your voice gets caught in your throat as you tell him that you had to tell some lies to get him to leave without discovering Billy. He’s nodding already when you mention your brother’s cabin.

“I’ll take you there,” He offers before you can even ask the question. “My wagon is always at your disposal.”

“It’s dangerous. If we’re caught, you would hang with us,”

Sam lets out a breath, unconsciously glancing over at Sister Ann again. “If the four most wonderful and religiously minded people in town hang for trying to do the right thing, then this isn’t a town or even a world that I want to live in anymore. Please let me take you. It would be my honor,”

A small smile graces your lips as you reach out and gently cup his cheek in thanks. For as many men pull and grind on your nerves with their endless greed and manipulation tactics, Sam is a breath of fresh air - a truly God-fearing man with a good heart.

He’s another person that you’re putting at risk, another life in danger because of the choice you’ve made. You try not to think yourself too selfish. Surely the fact that Billy has turned up in your life is God’s plan, and He does not put obstacles in your way that you cannot overcome.

He tells you that he’ll come back tomorrow. He has a delivery that’s expected in a town over and if he’s going to make it there and back before nightfall, he needs to leave before the sun comes up.

“I’ll stop here first,” He says. “We can load him into the back of the wagon while most people are sleeping and make the trip to your brother’s before I head on my way.”

“Thank you, Sam. Honestly,”

“My pleasure,” He nods his head at you, replacing his hat and tipping it kindly towards Sister Catherine and Sister Ann. “Until tomorrow, Sisters,”

The door swings shut behind him as he leaves and you let out a deep breath, hands smoothing over the dark veil covering your head just to feel a bit more grounded before you pick up the crate of food Sam brought. Billy needs to eat something. You're not quite sure how long it's been since his last meal, but even if he ate a minute before bursting through the clinic’s doors in the early morning, he would surely still be hungry and in need of sustenance by now. His body is weak and it needs nourishment to heal.

Billy’s still sleeping when you peek around the privacy blanket. His head is turned to the side and buried in his pillow as much as he can get it, mouth hanging open as he breathes. Your hand itches to reach out and touch him again, to smooth against his forehead or cup his cheek, maybe place your fingers under his chin to help close his mouth in hopes of him breathing through his nose instead so his mouth doesn’t dry out.

You’re not sure where this desire is coming from. You’re as affectionate with your patients as any nurse should be - kind and supportive, offering comfort when needed, but not overly so that it can be considered inappropriate. You’re all brothers and sisters, children of God - yes. But there are still social norms that must be considered.

It feels different with Billy for some reason.

“I’m going to get you to safety,” You whisper. You’re unsure about if he can hear you in his sleep or not, but you feel the need to tell him anyway. “I promise.”

You fall asleep at some point during the night, slumped against the wall next to the alcove’s entrance.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You remember feeling tired, exhausted by the stress of the day’s events, and how your eyelids were threatening to close permanently more and more with each blink. The soup you had made still sat out in the small kitchen, and you had wanted to stay close to Billy so that whenever he awoke, you would be there ready to help feed him.

Instead, you wake to the sound of Sister Maria giggling to your left and a low, unfamiliar but still soft voice speaking in Spanish to her.

“Y él no quería que su mamá lo supiera. Así enterró la carne en el jardín,” The voice lets out a small chuckle, the smile on his face evident in his tone despite you not being able to understand most of his words. “Pero el perro la desenterró y ella se descubrió de todos modos. Tuvo que lavar platos él solo por dos meses.”

“Ese niño,” Sister Maria laughs. “Parece que era un buen amigo.”

You can’t see his face, but you can hear how he loses the smile in his voice. “Sí, él era,”

Pushing yourself to your feet, you step over to where Sister Maria is kneeling in front of Billy’s cot. It’s only now you see the mostly finished bowl of soup in her hands. Billy’s sitting up slightly, back propped up against his pillows enough to allow him to sit up a bit straighter but not enough to pull too much on his stitches.

At seeing your movement, his eyes snap to your approaching frame, big blue orbs staring up at you and you can’t help the relief you feel at seeing them.

“You’re awake,” You breathe, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Thank the Lord,”

His lips twitch a bit in what looks like a suppressed smile. “Kinda sounds like I should be thankin' you,” He says, and you notice how prominent the shift in his accent is as he seamlessly switches from Spanish to English. “Sister Maria says that you’re the only reason I’m alive right now.”

You shake your head, humbly. “Oh, no. Sister Maria and I work together as a team. I couldn’t have done it without her aid,”

“You show no fear,” Sister Maria insists. “Where I hesitate, you show mercy and strength. It is because of you that we are all alive now.”

“See?” Billy says with a blinding grin, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he is while no longer at death’s door. “My angel,”

You feel your face heat up at the endearment. An angel. Surely the comparison shouldn’t fluster you like it does. You’ve thought of your fellow nuns as the embodiment of angels before, angelic beings put into human bodies by the grace of God to spread His word. You know that’s not exactly true, that you’re just using your belief of what God’s angels would be like and seeing those beings in your fellow Sisters just like Billy is doing with you now, but you’ve never once thought yourself to be comparable to such a holy being and the compliment makes you flush.

You run a hand across your face, feeling the warmth under your palm, and clear your throat. “Oh, well, thank you,”

Sister Maria stands, taking the nearly finished bowl of soup with her. “He has eaten plenty and I changed his covering as soon as he woke up. You will want to change it again when you get to the cabin.”

“That’s great. Thank you,”

“De nada. I’ll go check on the patients and keep an eye out for Sam,”

She nods to you and Billy before she turns to leave, a small smile pulling at her lips when Billy rasps out a soft, “Gracias, Hermana,”

When she’s gone, you take her place in front of Billy, kneeling at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better thanks to you,” He responds, wide eyes trained on yours, a smirk playing at his lips as he continues. “Don’t feel much like I’m dyin’ anymore,”

A small laugh escapes you at his morbid joke. “Well, I’d say that’s a very good thing then,”

“Sister Maria said the Sheriff came lookin’ for me,”

“He did,” You confirm. “The Lord kept us all safe though and has given us an opportunity to get you to safety.”

Billy’s eyebrow raises skeptically. “Sounds like it was more your doin' than the Lord’s,”

You try to not let the slight against God rattle you. You had sensed this was coming anyway. William H. Bonney a.k.a Billy the Kid is an outlaw afterall, and no outlaw becomes an outlaw while still maintaining a positive relationship with the Heavenly Father. He’s gone through many hardships no doubt, and has more than likely deemed his bad luck in life as God’s personal vendetta against him.

“The Lord speaks through all of us, if only we have an open heart to hear him.” You tell him. “Fear can make His words harder to hear, and I’m thankful that He was able to guide my mind and heart enough through the fear for us to get to safety.”

“Hm,” Billy hums, and you can tell how much he doesn’t believe your words. He doesn’t argue though. “And where exactly is this safe place you’re gonna take me?”

“My brother has a cabin just outside of town. It’s well secluded and unknown to most. We’ll be safe there until you’re healed enough to go on your own.”

Billy’s eyes drop to your hand still resting on his shoulder, thick dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks before his bright blue eyes are locked on yours again. “You gonna be takin’ care of me, Sister?”

“Of course, I will,” You reply. “We shall see you well again, Billy. I promise.”

His own arm crosses his chest so his hand can rest on your own, his eyes wide and so earnest as he whispers a quiet, “Thank you,”

It’s only about an hour longer before Sam arrives. It’s still early morning, the sun still a ways away from coming up behind the horizon line, and town is silent. Sam pulls his wagon up to the back door of the backroom before coming around the front to help push it open from the inside. It’s been so long since it’s been opened. The door was once used for the scheduled delivery of goods for easy access to the storage area, but as years went on and the county and surrounding counties became overrun with greed and poverty, the shipments became less frequent. Now, anything needed just comes through the front door. It’s never too much anyway, so what’s a trip or two to the backroom while carrying a crate.

Sam slams his body against the door a few times, the wood groaning in protest under his weight before it finally swings open. Billy watches from his place on the cot, his eyes threatening to close but forcing himself to stay awake. You want to tell him to sleep, he needs his rest to help him heal and recover, but you’re too busy checking your bag to make sure you haven't forgotten anything before tossing it in the back of the wagon. You need to leave before the townspeople start to wake up. If someone sees you, if just one person witnesses you smuggling away a wanted outlaw, then all of this would have been for nothing.

“Sister y/n,” Sam calls, squatting at the head of the cot. He’s got his arms wrapped around Billy’s torso. “Come grab his legs. We’ll do our best not to jostle his wound,”

You come to a kneel at Billy’s legs, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “Do your best to relax, okay? If you tense, you might tear your stitches,”

Billy lets out a harsh breath through his nose, clearly nervous, but he nods anyway, brows furrowed in determination.

Together you and Sam hoist him up. He gasps, groaning as his wound pulls but you can see how he’s trying to keep his stomach untensed. Getting him into the back of the wagon is not graceful, and you find yourself spewing endless apologies the whole time despite the relatively short journey.

Sam’s laid out a bed of hay covered by two thick blankets throughout the entire bed of the wagon. Crates of food and other supplies take up half of the bed, but he’s managed to make it so Billy will have enough room to lay comfortably on his designated side. Billy sighs as he’s laid down on it, one of his legs bent at the knee and his palms pressing into the makeshift mattress as he cranes his neck up to look at you. You ball up a spare blanket, tucking it under his head before you push him back down with a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Rest now, Billy,” You tell him, crawling out backwards and helping Sam slide on the rectangular backing on the wagon to secure it shut. “We’ll be there when you wake up,”

His eyes stay locked on you as you circle the wagon towards the front. Sam helps you up onto the spring seat before jogging around the rear and hauling himself into the driver's seat. You smooth out your tunic, looking around the dark street for any suspicious or wandering eyes that might be peeking out from around buildings or through windows. You don’t see any, even as one of the horses whinnies when Sam urges them forward. The clinic is located towards the edge of town, so it only takes a few minutes of nervous eyes and your head on a swivel before the wagon is passing the final few buildings that mark the town’s end of population and you can relax.

You blow out a deep breath, meeting Sam’s equally relieved gaze as he snaps the reins and nudges the horses a little faster. You look over your shoulder to check on Billy and you’re expecting to see him sleeping, no doubt still exhausted from the trauma of taking a bullet. Instead, he’s looking at you, head twisting so he can see your elevated frame from his laid out position. His eyes seem to pierce into yours, so blue and intense as he watches you that it makes your breathing hitch in your throat.

You’ve never seen eyes so beautiful before. Like endless pools of glistening water. Surely God must have taken much care when crafting them for him.

You feel your skin prickle under his stare, body straightening in your seat. He doesn’t stop watching you.

“Sleep,” You tell him. “You’re safe, I promise.” And thankfully he listens, eyes trained on your face for just a moment more before closing his eyes. The tingling feeling in your body dissipates with the removed gaze.

Your gaze turns around the front again, looking out to the vast stretch of land before you as you leave the civilization of town behind.

“Sam,” You start, looking for anything to pass the time and distract from whatever unusualness just happened between you and your charge. “How’s your mother?”

#𝑇𝑎𝑙 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 ✎#billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader smut #billy the kid x reader #dark!billy the kid #tw: noncon #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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afewproblems · 1 year ago

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For Dio @flowercrowngods this is late but hopefully a decent little birthday gift! An homage to your beautiful yearning hours.

Steve wakes slowly, registering the hand in his hair first before anything else.

The second is that he's warm, tucked securely into Eddie side. He's talking to Robin, who sits on the recliner across the coffee table, gesturing emphatically in soft tones as he speaks.

They're in Steve's living room still, though it looks like almost everyone else has gone to bed at this point, giving up on their movie night.

The lights are off, the room instead is illuminated by the flickering television in the corner. A movie is playing, but Eddie and Robin pay little attention to it.

Eddie's hand comes up again to card through Steve's hair, so gently that Steve nearly moans at the touch.

They aren't together, but as Steve sinks even further into Eddie's side, he can let himself pretend.

Just for a moment.

He opens his eyes again to find Robin looking at him, she raises a single eyebrow at him before turning her attention back to Eddie --Steve knows they'll be discussing this later, but for now he's grateful she's kept his secret this time.

Steve lets himself drift for a bit, content to breathe in Eddie, the hint of cigarettes and weed that clings to his hair, the old spice deodorant he borrowed from Wayne. They way his voice rumbles slightly as he tries to stay quiet for Steve's sake, it all blends together, warm, nice, loved, safe.

Even if some small part knows he'll wake up alone the next day, that it isn't real, Steve can't help but hold onto this moment with shaking hands.

"I know you’re awake," Eddie hums lowly, drawing Steve out of his thoughts with a start.

Robin's seat is empty now, and the television is off. The only light now sifts through a crack in the window curtains, cutting a silver stream through the room.

"Penny for your thoughts Stevie?" He whispers, his eyes dart between Steve's own.

If only you knew.

Steve clears his throat and begins to sit up, only for Eddie's arm to curl around his shoulders firmly, keeping him in place.

"I think there's a discount if the thought, the uh feeling is mutual, ya know," Eddie says slowly, "like a two for one special".

Eddie winces slightly, looking as though he wants to bolt for the door, but Steve can't help the smile that slowly spreads over his face --even as a baffled laugh threatens to overtake him.

His chest aches with how much he loves this ridiculous man.

"Just kiss already," Robin calls out from the kitchen, making them both freeze where they sit.

His heart hammering in his throat he looks between the kitchen doorway and Eddie, his big brown eyes wide with panic.

All at once, the decision solidifies for Steve.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and releases it slowly through his mouth.

"You heard the lady," Steve hears himself say, but the words sound so far away now as Eddie turns in to face Steve better, as he flushes with an exasperated grin.

Eddie slowly leans in, and Steve lets himself drift once more, basking in the feeling of soft lips against his own and gentle hands in his hair.

#nothing says happy birthday like fluff right?#steddie kisses #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #afewproblems writes #platonic stobin #happy birthday dio

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sparda-ly · 2 years ago

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dio x (intovert) reader

note: i sincerely apologise to the anon that wrote this request! i deleted it by accident, and i don't remember exactly what you wrote, so please let me know if i messed up anything! this is slso very rushed, and yes i can see how badly it is written. i will update it once i have some free time, i promise. once again, i'm very sorry 😞

warnings: none

you didn't really have a lot of friends, maybe one or two, you weren't particularly a "people" person, however, you were kind and polite

you blended in with people, you didn't really stand out from the crowd, just a normal girl who doesn't really socialise unless nessecary

however dio noticed you

despite his fake arrogant extroverted personality, dio often found himself needing a break from everyone.

and you, you were perfect.

beside you he could actually relax and let his guard down

you guys could sit in silence for 7 hours, and then talk like it was nothing

he loved how you didn't talk to a lot of people, his jealous and possessive side definitely was jumping up and down from joy

the whole school was shocked when they heard the news about you guys dating

it probably was the most interesting and unexpected thing that ever happened in the shithole

it was most likely dio who told everyone you're together, knowing the prideful mf he is

while some students were only confused, other were quite... envious

knowing that the introvert girl who always sits at the back of the class and no one literally notices, managed to get the famous dio brando, who every girl had dreamt about at least once

they didn't however know that it is him who is the lucky one

his personality and behaviour is very hard to understand, however just being around you made him open up

your mere present brought him comfort, something that he hasn't felt in years

and he was forever grateful for that

#dio brando x reader #jojo x reader #dio x reader #dio brando #dio x y/n #dio x you #jjba dio #jjba dio x reader #jjba fanfic #jjba x reader #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo x y/n #jojo x you #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos x reader

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odetodilfs · 1 year ago

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A pill

A/N: Hooooly shit is this my kinkiest fic yet, and my first Dio one too, I didn't hold back in this one, enjoy the filth. Also never have I ever used actual aphrodisiacs so I kinda tried to replicate what I see in sex pollen fics.

Pairing: sub!male!reader x dom!Dio Morissey

Warnings: SMUT, use of aphrodisiacs (consensual btw), edging, blindfolds, multiple orgasms, praising, use of "good boy", heavy teasing Summary: Dio decides to use a pill on you, to toy with your pleasure even more than he already does...

REBLOG MY WORK IF YOU LIKED IT, SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS!

Dio was jerking you off slowly while you were tied to the bed. Your stomach rising and falling along with your hips, you squirm in pleasure, trying to get more pleasure out of this, Dio just looked at you with a dominant face as he slowed down even more. You let out a soft whimper. As he rarely brought his tongue to your tip and licked it ever so softly, like an ice cream that’s too cold. “Wait right here” he said as he got up to grab something, you heard him fidgeting with plastic and he came back with a pill in his hand.

“What 's that?” you asked, genuinely wanting to know, “Don’t worry, this isn’t illegal or anything, it’s just something to… make your feelings more intense” he replied, oh, was he talking about an aphrodisiac? He put the pill close to your mouth, getting the glass of water in your nightstand so you could gulp it down, “If you want to, of course” Dio was a kinky guy, but he believed firmly in consent. You nodded and opened your mouth, you barely tasted the pill as he put the glass to your lips and you drank it, “Good boy” he said as he went back between your legs.

A few minutes later your body started getting overwhelmed with a desperate feeling of horniness and a need for release never before felt, “Dio- please-” you were no longer grateful for the slow strokes he gave you, you needed more. He stroked ever so slightly faster, “You want pleasure? Get it yourself” he said, wrapping his hand around your cock as you lazily started thrusting up, fucking his hand. You looked pathetic, which turned Dio on and finally started to stroke you, he brought his head to your tip and started to lick it at it with the most wicked smirk on his face. He started to stroke you as fast as he could, your breath started to get louder and your moans as well. The feeling was building up, you were so close, yes, yes…

No release.

Dio removed his hand from your cock the second before, “You think I’d let you cum that quickly while you’re so desperate? I want to toy with your pleasure” he said as he went back to your twitching cock and started sucking it, taking the full thing down his throat this time. He didn’t choke, nor could you make him choke, your thrusts upwards were too weak. This repeated itself many many times, Dio edged you for hours as the effects of the sex drugs were at their peak, letting you release yourself maybe once. Your mind was melting in horniness...

It had been 2 hours since then, you were aching for a second orgasm which Dio had been edging for the past hour, “You’re so desperate, aren’t you?” he said as he got up and grabbed a blindfold. He put it on you and the lack of a sight amped up your horniness more, he started jerking you off again, knowing you weren’t gonna get that sweet release this time either, you got close to your high, trying to not enjoy too much to be disappointed and he pulled away. He stood up and closed the door, “I’ll be back in a few minutes” Dio said as he left you there, tied up in bed, with a blindfold, your dick throbbing and hard as rock.

You were left there in a few minutes, in extreme horniness, no way of releasing yourself and alone. After what must have been around 10 minutes Dio came back in and opened the door “Dio- please- I can’t- I can’t take it anymore-” your words got into him at last, after the countless pleads you’d muttered as he edged you, he got down and started blowing your dick, giving you a nice, sloppy wet blowjob. He jerked you off as he did this and your moans got super loud, you were so close, and you knew it was gonna be an intense climax.

The feeling started to build up again “Oh- Dio- oh yes- yes-” was all you could moan as he didn’t stop, you couldn’t see his expression through the blindfold. You reached your peak as your vision went white and you experienced one of the most intense orgasms of your life, you were still shaking when you felt Dio untie the last restraint on you and then took off your blindfold, he had prepared to room to not be blinding for you, then he took your face in his hands gently, “Are you okay?” he asked, with genuine kindness. It reminded you of the fact that Dio genuinely loved you and cared for your wellbeing, “Better than ever” you smiled. You spent the rest of the evening cuddled in his arms while he told you you did well and were a very good boy.

#dio morrissey #dio morissey x male reader #nypd blue #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal characters #gay #smut

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

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If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 7

Hello, hello! The pieces are being slotted together and Eddie gets informed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Not only were Eddie’s friends instrumental in getting the things Steve needed for Eddie, they were also accommodating in helping Steve find something to wear so that he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb at the concert.

It was still in Steve’s style, but it wouldn’t look out of place. He ended up buying them lunch as a thank you.

As they were leaving after dropping Steve back off at the video store and his car, Jeff stopped him.

“We know about Eddie,” he said softly.

Steve tilted his head and frowned for a moment before he realized what the other boy was talking about. “Oh. Um, yeah.” He scratched his cheek. “I’ve recently discovered I’m bisexual, so yeah.”

Jeff nodded. “Noted. Just be careful. Indy is more tolerant in some places and less tolerant in others. Just...be careful okay?”

Steve nodded. “Believe me, I have no desire to turn a fun night into a hate crime because I can’t keep my hands to myself. Can’t make any guarantees Eddie will do the same, though.”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Take care, man.”

Steve went over to Dustin’s, vest in hand. He bashfully held it out to Claudia.

“Do you really think you can get the stains out?” he asked, ducking his head to hide his blush.

She took it gently from him. “Dustin said you were hurt really bad when you were wearing this?”

Steve gulped, but nodded. “Road rash combined with a vicious animal bite.”

“Let’s see what we can do, shall we?” She led the way to the laundry room, Dustin and Steve following behind like ducklings.

Claudia laid it gently on the top of the dryer and spread it out. She ran her fingers over the dirt and grime embedded into the denim and rubbed the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. “The dirt will be easy enough to get out,” she said, mostly to herself.

She opened the sides to reveal the underside of the vest. The shoulders of the back were stained as was the front left near the pocket. “This will take some work, but thankfully the front isn’t near the patches and the back is completely covered.” She picked up the vest and held up. “That way if we aren’t as successful at least as far the back is concerned it can still be worn, because no will see it. The front will be harder because we don’t have that luxury. But we’ll see.”

Steve and Dustin nodded.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Steve asked.

“Oh several hours at least, dearie,” Claudia murmured. “If you have other things to do, I’d recommend you do them and come back tomorrow. I’ll have a better idea of how salvageable this is going to be.”

Steve sighed, half relief and half frustration. Relief because it seemed like the stains were going to come out just fine without doing damage to the vest. Frustration because it was going to take time. Time he knew he had but it was still grating.

“Thank you, Mrs Henderson,” he said instead of...all that. “I appreciate you doing this for me.”

Claudia smiled. “Of course, dear. You’ve been so good to Dusty and that other boy, too. It’s the least I could for all of you.”

Steve did his goofy handshake with Dustin and bid him goodbye. After all, he had another vest to work on.

Steve got out all the things Jeff and them had helped him get. The first was a denim jacket. Brian had lent him some special scissors that wouldn’t shred the fabric and told him under pain of death to not let them near anything other than fabric.

Steve had gave him a jaunty salute and promised on his life not to ruin these special scissors.

He carefully cut off the sleeves and tossed them aside. Steve wasn’t good at sewing, but Gareth insisted he didn’t have to be, he just had to make sure that enough the badge was affixed to the vest so it didn’t fall off. The pins were easier.

Black Sabbath, Mercyful Fate, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Dio, and a bunch of others that Steve could only vaguely recognize. But Jeff had assured him that these were Eddie’s favorites and that there weren’t any on here that he didn’t like.

Steve was grateful for the reassurance that they weren’t going to sabotage him in this. He carefully laid out the t-shirt he was going to cut up for the back and marked it off with the white tailors’ chalk he found in the top drawer of his dad’s dresser.

He painstakingly cut the shirt and stitched it onto the back. Once he was satisfied he placed it in the box he had prepared just for this purpose. He wrapped in a single black ribbon.

He stretched and looked over at the clock. Shit!

It was already after visiting hours at the hospital. And he hadn’t eaten since lunch several hours ago. He sighed.

Steve made himself a sandwich and glumly munched away at it. He hadn’t meant to not to visit Eddie today. In fact the plan was to at least spend an hour or so with him. But he had gotten so excited about the vest he was making he had completely forgotten about the person he was making it for.

He ate about half of his sandwich before tossing away the rest. His stomach turned, an uneasy queasy feeling. He wished he could blame on the guilt. That would be easier and far less painful than the truth.

A migraine was coming on.

Steve turned off the lights and turned down the heater so the house was a cool sixty degrees. He got into comfy clothes and took the strongest painkillers he had available. He laid down on his bed and buried deep under the covers.

Shit.

Migraines.

He closed his eyes against the throbbing pain in his head. He was going to have to make sure he brought sunglasses and painkillers with him to this concert. The last thing he wanted to do is ruin this for Eddie because his head decided a metal concert was the place to implode.

Steve picked up the vest from Dustin’s. It was very clean and a little worn, but it was perfect.

He gave her a hug.

“Hey, you want to come with me to see Eddie?” Steve asked Dustin.

Dustin shook his head. “I promised Will I’d hang out with him today. Plus I saw Eddie yesterday.

Steve smiled. “Say hi to Will for me.”

“Always,” Dustin replied.

Steve bid them both goodbye and dashed off to his car, trying not to jump for joy. Everything was going to plan.

Now all he had to do is let the person all this was for know this was happening.

He dashed into Eddie’s hospital room and skidded to a stop. There was a girl talking to him.

“Steve!” Eddie said, peering around her.

“Oh, hi,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know you had company. I can come back later.”

The girl turned around and it was Vickie. “Hi, Steve. I was just dropping something off for Robin. She forgot to bring the cookies she made him when she was here yesterday.”

Steve smiled. “She told me. I offered to bring them but she said she had covered. I guess she meant you.”

Vickie grinned. “Yup!” She waved bye to them both and skipped out.

“What amazing and wonderful thing have you brought me today, Stevie?”

Steve stepped further into the room. “You aren’t mad I didn’t come yesterday?”

Eddie shook his head. “I knew you were working and volunteering so I figured you just didn’t have the time.”

“I got a migraine,” Steve murmured. “Otherwise I would have been here.”

Eddie blinked up at him and mouthed ‘Oh.’

“But I did have a surprise for you,” Steve continued.

Eddie looked around him but didn’t see any bags or anything with him. “Like what?”

“I spoke to Dr Hathaway and Eric your physical therapist and they have given me permission to take you out this weekend provided I bring you back on Monday to make sure everything still looks good.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “All weekend?”

Steve rocked back on his heels with a big grin on his face. “Yup. We’ll be leaving on Saturday and coming back Monday morning.”

“And where pray tell are you taking me?” Eddie asked, a small, shy smile on his face.

“Indy.”

Eddie’s eyes widen so much, Steve was afraid they were going to fall out. “And why is it going to be all weekend?”

“There are some things we need to pick up for the main event on Sunday and thought it would be great to just see the city, get the hell out of Hawkins for a bit.”

Eddie opened his mouth but Steve held up his hand. “I’m not going to tell you what the main event is. That’s the surprise. But I have it on very good authority that you are going to love it.”

Eddie eyed him suspiciously. “Whose?”

Steve started counting off on his fingers. “Wayne, and Jeff, and Gareth, and I would say Brian, too, but right now I don’t think he’d even give me the time of day if I asked.”

Eddie chuckled. “He’ll come around.”

“So how about it, Eds?” Steve asked. “You want to come with me to Indy for the weekend?”

Eddie tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Well, I mean since you put so much effort into this it would be a waste if I said no...so...”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “I could take Dustin instead, you know.”

Eddie waved his arms around. “No, no. I’ll go. I’ll be good I promise.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, I wouldn’t have taken Dustin. This is too good for even him.”

“But not too good for me?” Eddie asked.

Steve leaned over the guardrail and grinned. “Oh I think it’s just perfect for you.”

Eddie blushed. “So what are we going to do about lodgings? You Harringtons got some fancy hotel we’re going to be staying in or something?”

Steve laughed. “No. But I’ve spent very little of my own money on this weekend. So don’t you worry about that, either.”

Eddie frowned. “You are being really, really cryptic about all this, you know?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Steve said all faux innocence.

“The hell you don’t, Stevie,” Eddie said.

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

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#My writing #stranger things #steddie #season 4 fix it #ladykailtiha writes

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oftenlyshitposting · 19 hours ago

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wolfwren week day I | sparring + "are you following me?"

sabine hasn't been going out of her apartment much, as of late. she knows she really should, but she doesn't want to. the past couple of weeks have been rough; college and family wise. ahsoka and hera stops by every now and then, checking up on her.

well, more on ahsoka barging in with her spare keys, while hera actually knocks on her front door.

ahsoka and hera lives just across of her apartment, right on the same floor, just on the other wing. sabine, despite having dealt with ahsoka's multiple tresspassing offense the past weeks, is grateful for their close proximity to each other.

sabine doesn't think she can be truly alone now.

sabine rolls in her bed, huffing an exhausted sigh. she'd been awake since her alarm rung at nine, counting only about four or five hours of sleep. the little analog clock on her bedside drawer displays it's a little over twelve now, and she really should get up to eat something. preferably something solid.

her doorknob clacks, and sabine sighs a weak chuckle as ahsoka's voice echoes in, "oye, mija!!"

"aquí, 'soka," sabine drawls, half shouting as she stays slumped face down. she hears ahsoka locking the door and tossing the keys to her key bowls, and the unmistakeable sound of plastic brushing against fabric as ahsoka walks over to her room.

"dios, sabine," ahsoka sighed, sabine guessed from watching the current state she is in right now. or, her room, could be either or both. sabine felt the edge of her bed dipped, then ahsoka's hand on her back.

sabine hums against her pillow. "don't look at me with that look on your face, ahsoka."

"what look, 'bine?"

sabine shifts to lift her face slightly, side eyeing the older woman. "that look. like i need to be coddled."

ahsoka laughs, shaking her head. "i never thought you should. i know you don't." she pats sabine's back, gentle but firm enough as she says, "but, i am worried about you, mija. so is hera."

"don't worry, 'm fine." sabine drops her face back into her pillow. she knows that ahsoka knows she's lying straight through her teeth. ahsoka can't really be lied to, anyways. sabine is stalling.

ahsoka doesn't say anything, sighing. sabine guesses she has the usual sad-ish smile on her face. the bed creaks, and suddenly she felt ahsoka plopping on her back, making her groan at the sudden additional weight. sabine tries to get up, but ahsoka doesn't budge, only laughing at her attempt.

"ahsoka! what the hell are you doing?" sabine yells, falling back with a heavy 'oof'. "get off me!"

"i'm giving you a hug."

sabine grunts. "no, the fuck you're not! you're squashing me!"

ahsoka shifts, and for a second of false hope, sabine thought she was getting up from her. instead, ahsoka puts her entire bodyweight sabine, making the purple haired girl sink lower to the bed under her. "this is how i hug if you won't stop moping."

"gah! how the hell does hera deal with this?"

ahsoka hums, crossing her arm comfortably. "well, she doesn't mope, so she wouldn't know."

sabine grunts, struggling to rolling over so she wouldn't be on her stomach. she manages to partially shift her position to her side, glaring down at ahsoka. the older woman smirks back at sabine, whose face is flushed and hair wild from the struggle.

sabine shoves ahsoka away frustratedly. "you're pressing on my organs, you shit! ow!" she yelled, feeling mild pain when ahsoka's head is pressing below her ribs. "i think that's my fucking pancreas!"

ahsoka glares unimpressedly at sabine's dramatics. "like you know where your pancreas is, mija."

"it's–" sabine heaves through pushing ahsoka away, only to fall off from the bed ungracefully upside down, "wherever the fuck you just decided to squash." when ahsoka snickers from above the bed, sabine glares at her. "i'm gonna tell hera you bullied me today."

"snitch." ahsoka huffs, as she smacks sabine's legs on her bed as she gets up, walking out. "c'mon, let's eat. i brought your favourite."

sabine's head perks up. "spicy wonton soup?"

ahsoka shot her a look. "no. shrimp jibaritos."

sabine groans, and ahsoka merely shakes her head with a laugh as she exits sabine's room. sabine gets up from her awkward position, head spinning slightly. she sighs, stretching her aching limbs and back as she taps on a button. her curtains drew open, allowing sunlight to enter through her giant windows into her room.

she walks to her bathroom to freshen herself up, trying to ignore the tired eyes reflected on the mirror. when she gets out of her room, ahsoka is already sat on her couch, the tv set on a random channel, while murley sits on the armrest as the orange tabby cat gets lazy pats and scratches from her. the food is already sprawled on her coffee table, and sabine smiles a little.

sabine sat next to ahsoka, reaching over to grab the takeout drink, sipping it slowly. she mutters a small 'thanks', which ahsoka returns with a small hum. she eats in a comfortable silence, munching as she absentmindedly watches the tv. she can feel ahsoka eyeing her from the side, probably wondering the right time to ask her what's going on.

"tristan called me a few days ago," sabine starts, still half munching on the crispy jibarito. ahsoka tilts her head slightly towards her, silently indicating she's all ears. sabine sighs, before continuing, "the kid is trying his best, but my parents–well, my mom, really–doesn't even see it. mom said he doesn't want it enough, and still insists i should be the one to take over the company. i don't even fucking want it; i never did."

ahsoka's face remains neutral, but her eyes exhibits something akin to a mix of pity and sadness. she doesn't say much other than, "i'm still here," to encourage sabine to continue on with whatever she needs to tell ahsoka.

"tristan is literally doing exactly what i did, going to business school while taking so much responsibility in the company. he does it willingly." sabine exhales with her eyes shut, calming down her brewing emotional turmoils. "he's doing so much, but my parents stays blind to what he wants and ignoring what i don't want."

sabine threw her head back against the backrest of her couch, her half-eaten jibarito still sat in her hands. talking about her family always makes her lose her apetite and will to do anything. on worse days, sabine teeters on the edge of returning home and does whatever her mother tells her to do, just to stop all the problems and be done with it. but, sabine knows that's exactly what her mother wants.

for sabine to give up running and living her life.

"sorry about the sudden rant," sabine sniffs humourlessly, attempting to lighten up the mood.

ahsoka shook, merely placing a gentle hand on sabine's shoulder in a way sabine known as comforting. "you're alright, mija. you know what you're doing. i'm here to listen to you, and be there for you when you need me."

sabine's lips tugs to a small smile, nodding. ahsoka is right, as always. it gets overwhelming for her to deal with this on her own, having ahsoka and hera as her closest supports makes her more confident in tackling her problems. to have them to listen to her, is something sabine will always be grateful of.

"thanks, 'soka." sabine leans her head against ahsoka's broad shoulder, resuming her eating.

ahsoka only hums in return.

even when sabine doesn't have much of anyone, she still has ahsoka. the puerto rican woman has always been on sabine's side since she was a teenager; maybe even younger. sabine always looked up to ahsoka, someone like the older sister she never had.

ahsoka left sabine's apartment a few hours after they finished eating and did a bit of cleaning duty. she promised to pick hera up from her workplace, and sabine made a teasing remark that they are going on date night, which ahsoka merely responded with a shake of her head.

sabine had taken a well deserved shower and picked up on some of her college works, keeping her busy past dinnertime. she initially decided against cooking, feeling far too unmotivated for the task. but, she'd taken a look inside her fridge, and, well, some of her groceries are starting to get closer to their perishable dates. sabine ended up whipping a decent stir-fry, fridge cleanout style, and had it while finishing one of her essays.

still feeling remnants of stress lingering in her systems, sabine decided to head to the gym down the block to flush it out of her body for good. considering the last time she worked out was two weeks ago, her body has started to get achey and stiff with lack of active use.

the gym was empty by the time sabine got there, safe for a number of people who are either still working out, or are about to finish. it made sense, given it's already closer towards midnight. sabine drops her items off back at the lockers, and head straight to start her workout regimes.

sabine drowned in the routine, missing the gym slowly emptying, safe for her and another woman. she didn't pay much attention to her, too lost in the rhythm of her exercise and music, assuming it's just the night shift staff. she couldn't help feeling her fleeting gazes reflected on the mirrors, though.

sabine was just finishing up her routine, passing the boxing corner as she walks towards the lockers, when she saw her again. unmistakable bone-white blonde hair that's cropped just above her sturdy shoulders, now tied to a tight little ponytail. her eyes meet with stellar greenish-blue, forming faint crescents as a small smile crept up her lips.

"shin, hey!" sabine calls, widely smiling as she approaches the familiar blonde.

shin gestures a smile wave back at sabine from beside the punching sack, levelling her breaths. "hey, sabine," she returned when sabine is in front of her, "haven't seen you lately."

"yeah," sabine chuckles, "been insanely busy. swamped the whole week in my apartment."

"ah," shin nods understandingly, a wolfish smile on her lips, "that's a shame. the other day, somebody had knocked down the punching bag. i thought it was you again, but unfortunately, it was not."

sabine laughs, head thrown back. "oh, come on. still wouldn't let me live that one down?"

"well, it was an interesting event, no?"

"for you!"

shin's smile broke to a grin, echoed by a deep laugh. "okay, okay. i'll let it slide. for a price."

"oh?" sabine quirked a playful brow, shifting her weight to one hip. "what may that be?"

the blonde trainer presents a pair of boxing gloves at sabine, "spar with me?" with another of her wolfish, lopsided smile.

sabine crowed as she grabs the blue pair of gloves. "alright, you wanna add a little bet?"

"a bet?"

"yeah, y'know," sabine shrugs her shoulders, "just to make it a lil' more fun."

shin places a hand on her hip, interested. "okay, what do you have?"

sabine hummed. she wasn't thinking thoroughly and didn't plan this far out. she should settle for something small and simple. shin was patiently waiting for her, so she replies, "if i win, get the best shawarma down the third block with me."

"shawarma?" shin repeated with a humoured laugh, "this late? really?"

sabine raises her arms, chortling. "hey, it's just the idea on the top of my head!"

"okay, okay. agreed." shin nodded, then quirking a brow at sabine, accent slipping as she ask, "and if i win? what do i get?"

"you tell me! what do you want, gata?"

shin's eyes shift up as she appeared to be thinking, and sabine couldn't really help but find this blonde trainer slash gym staff... strangely endearing.

as shin tilted her head up slightly, sabine can note the myriads of moles scattered on her face like stars. sabine also noticed the sharp slope of shin's jawline, and her high cheekbones that highlights her stellar blue eyes. she likens shin to a pretty porcelain matryoshka in her mind.

shin then decides, "i think if i win, i get to have your number?"

well. that was certainly unexpected for sabine.

"m-my number? you want my number?" sabine flushes, repeating it with barely any eloquency.

"oh, um," shin flusters, appearing awkward, "uh, i'm sorry, i think i was a bit too forward. i thought you... aren't straight. i assumed you liked girls."

sabine's bursted out, "oh! fuck, i do! i love women!" she cringed when she registered what she had just blurted out loud, her brain clicking much too fast. "wait, that's not what i meant. i mean yes, i do like girls because i'm not straight. i was just... not expecting you to ask about my number...?"

shin's ears are dusted in pink, and it really doesn't help sabine to calm herself down. with a shy smile, the blonde replies, "i just figured it'll be easier to find me if you ever need to hit the gym during my shift?"

"i agree," sabine laughs, entertained. "alright then. best of three wins?"

shin had already hopped onto the ring, smiling confidently down at sabine. "sounds good to me."

when they sparred, it's a lot more playful and less intense as their first time. sabine had picked up more of shin's stances and fighting cues, reading her better than the first time. shin is still as acrobatic as always, but sabine managed to keep up with her this time. at some point, just before sabine's muscles gave out, she cornered shin and pinned the blonde by locking her arms and legs with her own.

"wanna yield?"

sabine's lips were right next to shin's exposed ears, her arms locking the blonde's shoulders. they were both breathing heavily, skin to skin close on the boxing ring's mat. sabine noticed shin's face and ears flushed red, but didn't think much of it, assuming it was caused by the heavy breathing from getting locked on top of sabine.

shin, surprisingly, managed to handle herself out of sabine's lock. with a swift motion faster than sabine could've anticipated, shin had reversed their positions, this time pinning sabine down on her stomach with an arm on her back and another above sabine's head. with bated breaths and a triumphant smirk, shin replies, "do you wanna yield?"

sabine's brain is all scrambled; the way shin had pinned her down and the distance from the blonde trainer's lips from her ear aren't helping her form any thoughts or whatsoever. she could only tap her pinned hand on the ring's floor, signalling defeat. only when shin lets her grip go, sabine admits, "i didn't think you'd flip the switch on me. how'd you do it?"

"you had your tricks, i have my own," shin cheekily replies, skipping backwards to grab a water bottle. "you put a good fight, but that's one to one already."

"damn," sabine jumped back to her footings, head tilted in disbelief, "really? that fifth kickflip didn't count as my second point?"

shin laughs, carefully tossing the water at sabine. "unfortunately, no. i didn't yield, did i?"

sabine drinks the water, briefly remembering shin had drank from the same bottle as well, causing her brain to short-circuit momentarily. through her brain-fart she manages, "are you always this stingy?"

"only when i'm sparring with pretty woman." shin shrugs nonchalantly, lifting the bottom edge of her tank to wipe sweat off her face. the motion revealed her toned stomach, which sabine had to fight tooth and nail to not stare for too long.

"um…" sabine began lamely, her mouth definitely haven't caught up with whatever thoughts formed in her lagging brain. she tries again, "so… i guess another stalemate, then?"

"looks like it." shin sighs, a small smile on her lips. "sparring you got me beat, actually. i would love for another round to see which of us could win, but i've got to clock out."

sabine, finally catching her charisma again, cheekily returns, "aw, shame. i'd love to pull your own little trick on you."

"you'll get your chance."

sabine stayed until shin finishes cleaning up and clocking out, walking out the gym with the blonde trainer towards her go-to shawarma place down the block. they exchanged stories, learning more about each other and their day to day's over two chicken shawarmas.

at the end of the night, after parting with shin at a crosswalk, sabine has a new contact in her phone.

and after that, sabine began finding shin in a lot of other places she goes to in the city. all by chance.

tuesday morning, at an indie coffeeshop downtown. sabine was there to grab a cup of coffee and the best (in her opinion) lox bagel within three mile radius. shin was at the counter picking up her order; a cup of honey cinammon tea latte.

(sabine told her the brown-butter croissant would go heavenly well with shin's drink.)

the thrift store two blocks down from sabine's. it was a friday afternoon and sabine was out looking for another heavy flannels because ahsoka doesn't seem like she'd return her (favourite) grey heavy flannels. just as she was heading to the jackets' aisle, she bumps into shin, who was trying out a patchwork denim jacket.

(shin laughs when sabine said that the patchwork denim jacket isn't gay enough for either of them.)

on a wednesday evening, sabine was just riding her bike towards a park, mildly stressed out and in need of a cigarette break. at the smoking area, shin was there, sitting with a lit stick twiddled in her fingers. when the blonde trainer met sabine's gaze, she laughs with a shook of her head.

"didn't think i'd find you in this janky park, too," sabine quipped teasingly, lighting up a stick.

"be honest with me now," shin replies with an equally teasing note, earning a humoured eyebrow raise from sabine, "have you been following me, sabine?"

sabine laughs out loud, head thrown back. "does it really look like i do?"

shin nods her head, taking a drag of her cigarette. "it does. so, are you?"

"i don't even know you smoked too!" sabine refuted, pointing at their lit sticks, smoke rising slowly. she tries her hardest to not stare at the way the damn cigarette sits so prettily in shin's slender finger. she then adds, "i swear, it's like i'm just gonna run into you anywhere."

"okay, fair enough," shin agrees, raising her hands, before cheekily saying, "but to be fair, i am eastern european. we and the balkans chainsmoke like steam trains, you know."

sabine chokes midway dragging her smoke, combusting a choppy laugh-cough. "shin!" when shin only mirrors her laugh, she nudges the blonde's shoulder. "you're ridiculous."

"sorry?" shin offered jokingly. she took the last drag before tossing the stubbed filter to the tray next to her, leaning down to meet sabine's face. "seriously, though. i don't think of you as someone who smoke as well. you okay?"

"yeah..." sabine exhales a huff of smoke, offering a tight-lipped smile back at her, before shrugging unsurely. "i dunno, 'm just been hella stressed. i usually hit this park after riding around at night."

shin shifts closer to sabine. "you ride?"

sabine nods. "custom made triumph."

"wow, you're even more ukrainian than i am."

sabine laughs. "seriously?"

"oh, yeah. definitely." shin flashes a wolfish smirk (and by god, it made sabine's chest race because it's so unreasonably attractive).

"i think it's 'cause i'm gay, shin," sabine joked, which the blonde returned with a humoured chuckle.

"that much, i can see."

"so," sabine began, stubbing her dead stick, lighting another one she fished from the pack beside her, "why am i finding you in this janky ass park? you got something goin' on, hermosa?"

shin shrugs, contemplating. she then sighed, curt and tired. when she spoke, her accent was heavy, "college assignment deadlines catching up on my ass. i've got this... what do you call it? survey-based research paper thing... it's kind of hard to gather the right pool of people to ask. it's just that, really."

"ah," sabine understood, knowing exactly where shin was coming from, "yeah, i feel ya. i had that too for my statistics lecture back in my fourth sem. kicked my ass so bad for a week, 'soka had to search and rescue me from my own apartment."

the frown on shin's face dissipates into a laugh; carefree and sweet kind of chuckle, which doesn't really help much in easing up sabine's stomach butterflies. sabine's cigarette long forgotten, ashes falling softly from where it was lodged between her fingers, opting to study shin's face instead.

shin's greenish-blue eyes meets sabine's.

"qué lindas…" sabine murmured under her breath, not really conscious or mindful about her volume.

shin smiles. "mmm… gracias."

sabine blinks. "you speak spanish?"

"not really, but i have a pair of eyes and a brain."

"i– okay, fair enough."

shin tucks a stray hair behind sabine's ear, sending static down her spine. the blonde's accented voice was barely above a whisper as she says, "як мило."

sabine doesn't understand, but damn.

that did things.

well, shit, sabine thinks.

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flowercrowngods · 1 year ago

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honestly the things y’all say about my steddie week fic leave me speechless and humble and honoured. thank you for liking it so much, thank you for sticking with me and trusting me and just. idk. thank you 🥺🫶

#it’s grateful dio hours #steddie week fic #i’ll have some pizza soon and then work on part 6 potentially #my mama says hi to my internet friends that keep me from family time lmao so HI FROM DIO MAMA

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tanema123 · 7 months ago

Note

Vaggie hurts her paw or something and its like the first time she seeks out carmilla who is grateful but also is like you are not leaving my side until you're an adult

Vaggie: i am an adult!

Carmilla is not convinced

I should just make a separate comic to my comic for all the Vaggie Carmine shenanigans. 🤣

Carmilla is a large cat competed to most, she thinks everyone small is a kitten.... With few exceptions... *looks at cursed cat Alastor and Lucifer* Therefore, to her, Vaggie is always a kitten.

Here is a little something for you fans. It ain't a pic. But it will have to do.

JUST FOR TODAY

Vaggie was walking down the mossy road. Her mind was caught on the recent time decline of extermination attempts. As she took the next step a sharp pain has spread through her left paw. She clenched her teeth, so she doesn't let out that loud meow. Lifting her paw she had a lot to see. Glass shard was stuck in her left paw, staining it a shining golden colour.

She knew she had to hide quickly as to not alert other cats of this predicament. There weren't many peop...uh cats she trusts with her secret. She sighs as she thinks of her options. There was only one. She looked around for any leftover piece of cloth from humans and tied it around her paw. Then, she started strutting.

...

An hour has almost passed when a building finally catches her vision. The paw has started to hurt more and more as the time passed. Cursing herself for her incompetence she approached the large door and yowled as loud as she can. Almost instantly a large cat with reddish pink eyes has jumped from a nearby open window.

Carmilla smiled upon seeing Vaggie again, but it didn't last. Upon noticing Vaggie's limp and a cloth covering her paw as well as a faint smell of blood, her eye became fierce, "Dios mios. Who hurt you, pequeña?"

Vaggie scoffs. She feels her eyelids getting heavy by a second. Despite that she still glares, "No one. I cut myself on some glass."

Carmilla let's out a sigh of relief. At least she doesn't have to murder anyone today. She gets closer to Vaggie to inspect the wound. She removes the cloth away with her fangs, revealing the still filled glass cut on Vaggie's paw. Carmilla gives Vaggie a reassuring look, "Kitten, don't worry. Mama will take care of it for you."

Vaggie growls, "I'm not a kitten!". Carmilla then proceeded to grab Vaggie by the scruff of her neck. Despite Vaggie being basically an adult, Carmilla easily brought her inside the building.

As they entered through the window, Vaggie was placed inside of a nearby box. The enclosed space almost instantly brought relief to Vaggie. Cat instincts are really weird to her. Carmilla goes away from a second and returns while carrying a human bag in her fangs. Vaggie watches as Carmilla rummages through it, various bottles flowing out. Finally, she seems to have found what she was looking for as she brought some bottle nad a bandage roll to the box.

Vaggie just watched Carmilla inspect the wound once again, "This is gonna hurt, gatita. You need to relax as much as you can."

Carmilla's purring noise filled the room. The feeling was almost instant on Vaggie's end as she felt her body relax into the sounds. Carmilla quickly pulled out the glass, It was hard to do with her paws, but she managed it without leaving any shards behind. Vaggie meowed in relief as the glass left her paw, not being able to contain herself after Carmilla's purring effect.

If cats could blush, she would definitely be now. Carmilla meowed back as a response. Vaggie doesn't understand the meows that much, but she knows, this one means, you will be ok. Carmilla continued to care for Vaggie's wound, applying anaesthetic and bandaging it as best as she can.

Vaggie finally spoke in a tired tone, "Are we done yet? Can I go?"

Carmilla didn't answer at first, instead prompting on getting inside of the box beside her and cuddling Vaggie beneat her, "No kitten. Stay. Recover."

Vaggie wanted to argue, leave, but the wound has made her exhausted. Instead she succumbed to her sleepy state. As her eyelids slowly dropped, she couldn't deny it. Carmilla's warmth felt really nice against her... Maybe she can be a kitten, just for today.

#vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin #carmilla carmine #hazbin au #hazbin overlords #alternative universe #alternative universe hazbin #vaggie #cats #cats au #my au #wound #hurt #comfort #cat #fanfic #fanart #fanfiction

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rose-and-thorn-fanfics · 3 months ago

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“A Far Fall From The Heights Of Heaven” A Dio Brando x Self Insert Fanfic

The sun set like red gold over Cairo, and I watched my older sister Denise get in her wedding dress. I remembered saying she was crazy for wanting her wedding all the way in Egypt. But to be honest? Now I was grateful. Egypt was magical. I could feel it in the air.

We were in the crammed storage rooms of an old church, where she was getting ready before she walked down the aisle. I got emotional thinking about my sister all grown up and married!

The ceremony went well, and the wedding vows were moving, but it was all quite overwhelming, and after my mom made a crude comment to my aunt about me being unfuckable and certainly undatable, I felt like I needed fresh air and a place to run off too.

After Denise left with her new husband, I left through the back door. I wandered a bit down some streets, crying a bit, when a convertible pulled up in front of me. I froze, unsure of how to proceed. The men in the car offered me a ride, and I got the sense I was dead if I didn’t take it, considering my cornered situation. My heart was racing as I took a seat in the back. They drive through the streets to more lavish areas. Hours into the drive I felt like kicking myself, but to be honest? I was too tired to try anything drastic like jumping out of the car. It seemed silly anyway. The night breeze lulled me to sleep, and I woke up when the convertible stopped abruptly in front of—an Egyptian mansion looking structure? what the heck?!

The men got out and pulled me roughly from the car, dragging me into the well guarded mansion, which was pretty much a fort in its function. I figured things weren’t looking too great for me, so when they brought me through a maze into a lavish lounge room I was relieved they let me rest, collapsing on the floor from exhaustion. I didn’t bother lifting my eyes from the floor where I lay until—

“What’s this, gentleman? You seem to have treated our guest quite poorly. She looks exhausted.” A smooth voice overtook my senses, and I became well aware of a presence on one of the ornate lounges. His hair was golden blonde, and this man… no… surely more than a man, this god was handsome beyond my wildest dreams. He reclined on his side, shirtless (revealing beautifully defined muscles). I blushed, suddenly aware that my bridesmaid dress was barely staying up on my chest. “Bring the sweet mademoiselle to me so I can… be more hospitable.” I felt my tired body lifted and laid down next to him on the velvet upholstery. It felt good to lay down, I knew it was reckless and stupid to comply, but I’d been on my feet all day attending to my sister’s wedding, and this felt good.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the handsome god said. I shivered, my spine tingling as I felt his breath on my exposed neck. He gestured for the men who had brought me there to leave. “You may call me Lord Dio.” He explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world how close we were to each other.

I nodded, looking up at him with wonder. “Yes, my Lord.” I whispered.

Dio looked satisfied, taking a sip from a glass of…wine? No… this was too thick for wine. I should’ve freaked out by now. ‘This seems like a cult’, I thought.

“I can offer you many things, beautiful.” Lord Dio explained charismatically.

My heart dropped. ‘Yeah, definitely a cult.’

“Eternal beauty, riches, and lots of pleasure.” Dio continued.

“Who are you, Satan or something?” I joked timidly.

Lord Dio frowned. “No, a bit different. You’re religious, I take it?”

“Not a whole lot. I used to be… but, well, it felt so hollow.” I explained, watching Dio regain his amused demeanor.

“I can give you something better to worship. But it will come with a cost.”

“I’m broke so…I’m not really in a position to be paying—“

Dio flipped me to face him parallel, and pinned me there. “Now you are. This is a great position for what I desire.”

I realized what he wanted in that moment, and a little rebellious part of me wanted to give it to him. To prove my mother wrong about being unfuckable.

Dio gently placed his hand on my waste, and I tried to stifle a sigh as my body pressed up against his. “May I, mademoiselle?” He whispered in my ear.

“Yes.” I swooned. Screw safety. I needed this. “But I should warn you I’m a—“

“Virgin? Yes. I figured as much.” Dio said, completely unzipping my dress. “You’re too sweet to be anything else.”

My dress fell away, revealing my figure. Dio didn’t waste any time, his lips went straight to my neck and his hands…. Oh god, I was not prepared for the sensation of his hands traveling up my thighs, fingering my pussy, and teasing my clit until it was gaping with pleasure. Then he pulled his fingers out and dug them into my waist til I bled small droplets of blood. I winced, but I could tell the pressure he applied was very calculated so as not to be too painful and outdo any pleasure he was giving me with his mouth.

Lord Dio kissed and caressed my breasts, carefully making his way down to where he had drawn blood from my plump folds of flesh at my waist. The way he lapped up the blood with his tongue sent shivers down my spine and had my breathing become heavy with lust. This was better than any sexual act I’d read about in my favorite smutty books. This was the real thing, and Dio seemed to know every physical and sexual weakness I had. Weaknesses as a first timer I was completely unaware of.

Then he repositioned me on my back and spread my legs further apart. He smirked as he saw my wide eyed expression.

In between panting I gasped, “Shouldn’t we use protec—“

His giant hard cock rammed into my soft pussy, and I let out a cry of surprise. Dio persisted in pushing it further, no matter how tight it was for his large length. I shed tears, but got no sympathy, only the sound of his own groans and growls of ecstasy. I braced my body as he pushed it in and pulled it out repeatedly. I was drooling with overstimulation until finally he left it in, filling me with an absurd amount of his cum.

Then Dio did something unexpected, repositioning and holding me close, his dick still deep inside me. He rubbed my back and held me tightly, in a comforting way. “There there…” he soothed me with his low voice, as smooth as liquid gold. I took this as a sign to press up against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and cried softly, my teary cheek pressed against his pecs. He laughed softly, acknowledging my vulnerability with a kiss on the top of my head and a quiet moan of satisfaction. I fell asleep in his arms, exhausted from all the sexual excitement.

When I woke up, Dio was still asleep. I had to check the clock on the nightstand to see what time it was as there were no windows in the room to let in light that indicated whether it was day or night. I covered my mouth to suppress a yelp of shock. It was afternoon of the next day. I was supposed to be helping my mom set up the wedding reception venue!

Dio stirred, rolling over and opening an eye to observe my distress at the time. He mumbled about how it was too early to be awake, and I should join him back in bed.

I sighed. I couldn’t say no, gazing at his sleepy expression. Even a bit disheveled Dio looked like a fucking king. I climbed back in bed. Who’s to say I had to show up for the reception? It was more my mom’s event than my sister Denise’s event. My mom had taken full control of all the planning and didn’t let my sister have a say in anything. Besides… I had been kidnapped! I was practically… helpless.

I sighed, curling up against Lord Dio. “Are you going to put me up for ransom?” I asked, beginning to dose off.

Dio laughed heartily, nuzzling the back of my neck affectionately. “Over your dead body.” He said, then proceeded to yawn and falling back asleep.

TYSM FOR READING! Reblog if you enjoyed it!

TUMBLR FANFIC TAG-LIST!

Comment Rose to join and Thorns to leave!

@sflame15-blog

@rottent33th

@armyangxls

@darkangel4405

@promiseokza

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#fanfic #writing #dio brando x oc #dio brando x reader #dio brando fanfic #dio brando #jjba dio #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader

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tumbluuurp · 6 days ago

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Taco Bell Meets Stomach Virus

Jessica’s stomach hurt, and she knew that even though there were pangs of hunger, something wasn’t quite right. The catered Taco Bell was her only option, so she scanned the spread looking for the least greasy, spicy option.

“Everything okay?” Her colleague noticed her hesitation.

“Yes! My stomach just kind of feels weird, I’m just being nauseous- er, cautious, rather!” Jessica tried her best to laugh off her slip of the tongue. But deep down, she was concerned, was nausea slowly creeping up her throat?

“Well, hopefully not the first, with the tummy flu spreading!” Her colleague chortled before walking away towards the nacho tower.

Jessica’s stomach gurgled, she had to eat something or the burning ache would get worse. Nervously, she settled on a few tacos and her colleague insisted on sharing a heaping helping of nachos covered in gloopy queso.

The first few bites seemed to satiate the hunger in her belly, the gurgling felt less angry and turned more into a digesting rumble. Was it just her, or was the aching going away too?

Grateful, Jessica accepted a deluxe chalupa, hoping the extra bites would further satisfy her belly. And, when she got up from the table, she felt the meal slowly drop further into her stomach, settling like a brick.

She groaned slightly, not looking forward to another few hours at work. Her groan didn’t quite cover the loud squelch from her abdomen, though, and a belch escaped from her lips before she realized what was happening.

“Ay, dios mio!” Some of her Hispanic male colleagues laughed. “Los frijoles…the beans! Too much on your belly!” They laughed again, rubbing their beer bellies mockingly.

Jessica rubbed her own stomach defensively, “hey, I ate my fair share!”

An hour later though, she very much regretted eating at all, much less her fair share.

Jessica knew stepping up for team members who’d been ill with the stomach virus was risky, and assisting amusement park guests suffering from the same was even worse.

Now, after dinner, her stomach was making the same uncomfortable gurgling noises she’d heard from the man who vomited on the tram, and the woman who’d begged for the nearest toilet with tears in her eyes.

It had been hours since she’d eaten, but it all felt like it was jammed into her lower belly. The miles she’d walked since eating had almost helped her dinner digest, but it felt like her bowels were a bubbling cauldron of lava.

The pressure in her lower gut was nearly overwhelming. She hadn’t eaten that much, had she?

Suddenly, she remembered that late the night before, she’d helped a sick young woman. The poor thing had been clutching her stomach, eyes darting, before thrusting her face over a stinking trash can and releasing a stream of chunky vomit. Through retches and gasps, she’d wailed “I’m not drunk, I promise, I’m a kindergarten teacher, I’m sick…!”

The pale young woman threw up what seemed to be endless, concluding by grabbing her stomach again, “hoooohhhh, that came out of nowhere, it must be norovirus,” before releasing another splash of half digested stomach contents.

Jessica closed her eyes and winced, remembering how she’d waited with the ill woman until she was well enough for the nurses station. Now, she knew the dreaded virus was in her stomach, mixing with the fast food.

Except it was too late for her meal to come up. She felt it pushing downwards in her tummy…

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karolamurdock · 9 months ago

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SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.4

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: No excuses. Let this chapter, full of Miguel, make up for the long time I was gone. I will keep the reader's background rather ambiguous, but it is implied that they also speaks Spanish.

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mild violence, subtle references to depression. As always, english is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 2.6K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Impassive white eyes stared back at you with disdain. You looked with abject curiosity at the spidery pattern on his red suit, the white glasses and the sharp claws, and you couldn't help but wonder...

Who makes a spider suit for a cat?

Undaunted, the animal yawned loudly and stretched lazily over the railing before leaping onto the pristine marble floor, completely silent and oblivious to your anomalous presence. He waved his orange tail and stretched the red patterns that hugged his hind legs.

You did not have the opportunity to entertain yourself with her pretty pink pads. A gloved hand brushed your shoulder, and you turned your masked face to observe your guide's own grim expression.

"Come with me." Miguel said. "I'll show you around before introducing you to the rest of Society."

Silently, you nodded. The man walked two steps ahead of you. His broad, imposing figure was like a bronze spur, parting the sea of arachnid entities that watched you with open curiosity.

As he made his way through the crowd, you quietly followed in his footsteps. Grateful for the foresight to keep your mask in place, you analyzed the discordant structure of the building that surrounded you. You noticed the long corridors and open configuration: designed to facilitate mobility for your kind.

Miguel moved forward, and you watched his impassive figure with stern eyes. You wondered if he too had become Orpheus in his willingness to claim you back, and now feared to look back and lose his Eurydice. Perhaps the anguish in his gaze would be enough to draw you into the shadows and lose you forever. Would he then be blessed to work and move the gods with craftsmanship born of his terrible grief?

Was it so for you? You could not claim that your deeds after his death were unselfish and sincere: you did not seek to soften the wind with your tender weeping, nor to drown the rushing waters with the song of your heroic prowess. The resolution of your vengeance was your reward: an analgesic balm to numb the turmoil of your burning soul.

Together, you entered the lift... You watched the changing landscape. On the glass, you saw Miguel's ponderous silhouette, stern and rigid. The pattern of his suit resembled your own. But your own profile was outlined with sharper lines, and your web shooters were not exposed, but hidden in the webbing patterns on your wrists.

The door opened, and you followed him through large, well-lit rooms, through huge recreation rooms, and through small, immaculate, familiar laboratories. You carefully analyzed the information he gave you along the way: where to find the scientists in charge of certain labs, the optimum hours for accessing the training rooms, the menu in the main cafeteria (a burger with Miguel's mask on it? Santo Dios...). Finally, he took you to his own office. On one of the top floors, of course. Just like your universe.

When the lift stopped in his office, your mask retracted. Miguel did a quick double take, pursed his lips and looked up; you followed his gaze to see a red light flashing rapidly on one of the screens above the platform.

You heard Miguel's grunt as Lyla appeared over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before turning to face the man:

"An anomaly is causing trouble on Earth-1048. Homeworld Spider-Man is already on the scene, but he's limited to minimizing the destruction around him."

"Copy that." Miguel said. He ran a hand over his face, holding the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut, and the gesture seemed so familiar that you almost let out the breath you were holding between your lips. "I have to deal with this. I'll talk to Jessica, she can show you the room you can use as your own."

"I can go with you." You finally spoke.

Miguel looked at you in surprise. But he quickly frowned and replied:

"No, it's too soon. I'll be able to show you how we deal with the anomalies once you're settled in and we know more about your universe."

Your universe. Like a wave crashing against rock, you felt heat coursing through your veins and burning in the pit of your stomach. You felt that in your rage, the marks on your suit might be burned into your skin forever.

You blinked. Ignoring the fire in your chest, you responded:

"I could settle in better if I knew what I was dealing with."

Miguel studied you. His red eyes scanned your face: your steel eyes, your unbending brows, your closed lips, and he said no more. Sharing a last look with Lyla, he nodded with finality, and she took it upon herself to open the portal for the two of you.

"Let 's go, then."

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

It was a cold morning in Harlem. The white sky barely hinted at the day's pale rays, and the streets were shrouded in a thick, damp gray haze. As you and Miguel landed on a lamppost overlooking the East River and the small buildings lining the street, an ominous silence settled over the scene at your feet.

You sat back on your heels, scanning the nondescript landscape, and Miguel followed, his back stiff and his hands clenched into fists as he exhaled:

"The signal seems to be coming from this warehouse." He gestured with his chin, and you peered intently at the gray silhouette of a building surrounded by tall grills and long containers. A cloud of gray smoke rose through the haze, and with a mighty leap you launched yourself in its direction, hearing Miguel's nets snap past you.

Soon you were perched on the railing of a neighboring building, with a clear view of the ruined courtyard. Sparks rained down from the ruined batteries; small fires burned and cracks in the concrete marred the once peaceful scene.

Rubble crunched beneath your feet as you landed in the courtyard. In the distance, you heard a muffled, heavy thud. You glanced cautiously at a large metal curtain to your right as a deafening screech pierced the jealous silence. Beside you, Miguel brought his knees to his chest and the two of you jumped away just as the door shot in your direction.

A red figure flew through the air. With a start, you threw your nets around the man's torso, jumping just in time to catch him before his body slammed into a large metal container.

"Nice catch." Gasped the Spider-Man in your arms. "Rhino's got an arm."

"Does he throw you often?"

"Well, yeah." The young man cleared his throat, pulling himself to his feet with a little help. "But I don't usually get caught by..." He tilted his head to the side, curious.

"Spider-Woman." You conceded.

Her white glasses widened comically as he whistled under his breath:

"Awesome!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Miguel's orange nets wrapped around Rhino's massive arm, and you spun on your heels as the beast slammed into the tower Miguel was standing on.

"He's really mad!" Spider-Man exhaled as he rushed to your side. "I don't understand, according to my intel, Aleksei's transfer still hasn't been coordinated. He is still in the custody of the police."

"He's not Aleksei Sytsevich!" Miguel shouted. He had dodged a large stone and landed next to you. "His name is Alexander O'Hirn. He is the Rhino of dimension 26496."

"Oh!" Spider-Man exclaimed. "I knew you weren't my Rhino! We've always had this connection, you know?"

The man lunged at you, furious. You caught a glimpse of a crane with a container suspended in the air, and you pulled the arm of the crane just as the man was passing underneath the box. The container landed on top of his armour with a clatter that made your ears ring.

"Watch out!"

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you out of the way of a huge chunk of concrete.

"Not one, but three Spider-Creeps!" he growled.

"Hey, that's not very nice of you." Spider-Man landed a kick to the chest, but Rhino didn't move. He grabbed the hero's legs and slammed him into the wreckage of the crane. Taking advantage of the distraction, Miguel jumped up and punched him in the face, the only exposed part of his body.

Rhino let go of Spider-Man and took a step back. With a leap, you stood on a low beam and surveyed your surroundings. As the man jerked and rammed into Miguel, you activated your drones; small winged spiders that flew over the villain's head, firing electric shocks that immobilised him with a scream.

"His face!" you exclaimed, and Miguel leapt to your side to dodge the rocks Rhino dropped as he stomped on the concrete.

Spider-Man, snapping out of his daze, noticed the same thing you did: the small visible part of his face was hyperemic and sweaty. "His suit must be restricting his ventilation!"

So this would be a battle of endurance. Good, you thought to yourself. You've been doing this for years.

With a nod, Miguel and Spider-Man squared up firmly and jumped into the fray.

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

As the portal to your dimension closed behind you, silence fell. Michael's gaze was on the horizon, and yours was on him. It was not his red eyes that you caressed with your thoughts, but you could taste the sweetness of his cheek beneath your lips. His hair was shorter, but his curly eyelashes were thicker than yours: a feature that made you playfully envious in the past.

In the warm, brief light of the streetlamps, his face was just as beautiful. His bronze skin was a ghostly contrast to the impassivity of the bustling nightlife, a backdrop to his stern profile.

He looked at you too. And his pupils wandered over the arch of your lips, your eyebrows and cheekbones, the slope of your neck and your bare ears. And you thought he was reflecting the same doubt that plagued you: because he is Miguel, but not your Miguel. And you were never his wife, but your smile is the same, and he only replaced your name with silence, and the space he occupied with you was filled with melancholy.

"You did a good job." Miguel said after a prolonged silence.

"Thank you." You replied with a small smile. "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Hm." He snorted. With a hand on his hip, he arched an eyebrow and looked you up and down, half mocking, half stern. "Now you know what we're up against. You can run away now. We won't blame you. I certainly wouldn't."

You moistened your lips and took a slow breath. So close, your arm inches from his shoulder, you felt his warmth, the energy of his holographic suit, his solid build and musky scent.

"You wouldn't reach me." You finally replied, and your heart skipped a beat as a grin revealed his sharp fangs.

"I already did."

"I was distracted."

"Sure."

He straightened up, and you took advantage of the brief appraisal that he was giving to the red horizon to revel in his presence... just one more time.

In your solitude, his face is your guest. With his presence, an outdated image shatters beneath your feet. This new precision is yours. And even if he were to leave you that night, his voice muffled by the wind, Miguel would not leave you. His eyes would remain in the burning sunset and his posture in the steadiness of the stars.

When he looked back at you, your expression was already composed. Silently, you tilted your chin in the direction of the busy streets, and when he raised a questioning eyebrow, you spread your arms wide and threw yourself into the void.

Your mask returned to your face and your wings spread from your arms. Behind you you heard a faint scream and a short curse in Spanish. You felt, before you saw, his broad, imposing figure leaping from the edge of the building, and you used the air currents to move across the city with ease.

The buildings blurred at the edge of your vision. Though your mask filtered out the piercing whistle of the air, you still felt the pressure in your ears; and you didn't look at him, but felt his presence, imagining him dodging antennas, aerial surveillance and flocks of birds skimming skilfully across the crowded sky.

You locked arms and landed in a somersault, legs cramped and right hand braced against one of the buildings, halfway across a complex of tall glass towers.

"Look."

Below you, the city lit up like fireflies in the night. Thirteen hundred feet away, the cars and streetlights looked like tiny fiery wisps traversing the busy, colorful streets. And in the distance, the black silhouette of Alchemax stood out against the red horizon.

"I recognise this place." Miguel said, leaning over to stare in awe at a small purple-roofed shop on the side of the road. "It used to be a very popular artisan bakery in my universe."

"It's quite popular here too."

"I still have fond memories of their vanilla cake. I would get it for all... my events." He finished lowly.

"I used to buy the orange bread," you hummed understandingly, shaking your head disappointedly. "And now I can't eat citrus."

He looked at you in silence... and then laughed, shaking his head in astonishment, "Neither can I."

In the privacy of your mask, you smiled back. And with the first dark brushstroke on the horizon came your resolution.

"I can help you." You began, looking away from the night to stare at his cloaked profile. "But I will not be part of the Society."

He bowed his head, listening.

"I have work to do here." Your work at Alchemax; the company you were leading was just beginning to take a course that you could be proud of. Being Spider-Woman; a full-time job you couldn't give up: you were already the symbol of your city. An embodiment of hope, perseverance and goodness. "But... I understand that your work with the multiverse is an even more arduous and complex task, and I offer you my services as an advisor. If you ever need help... you know where to find me."

A hero must be impartial. And to you... his mere presence would be a constant challenge, an exercise in moral skill tested in the crucible of your everyday life. How could you not choose him? The strange man with your husband's voice. The friend whom you love the most, the one who lives in the moments of your delirium.

Because, after him, living seems distant. You have no anger left... only pain. And although your better judgment led you not to get involved with the Society, you could not find the strength within yourself to ignore him. Even though this Miguel is not yours, letting him go is almost like losing him again.

His mask pulled back and you watched him run a hand through his hair, tousling his auburn locks as he nodded slowly.

"I understand."

He stood to his feet. He held out a hand to you, and you followed as he took one last, searching look over your city.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. He gave you a long look, and in the end he just said:

"Then I'm counting on you."

You remained standing, staring at his silhouette, even as the portal swallowed his dark figure.

"What have I just gotten myself into?" you whispered into the empty air.

@alicefallsintotherabbithole @digipaw2-0 @sunshowernaps @qiaipia @luciiferian @saltyllamakidwombat @amnmich @autismsupermusicalassassin @miggyyyyohara @oscarissac2099 @songbirdlully

#marvel #miguel o'hara #atvs #miguel o'hara x oc #miguel o'hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #oscar isaac #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #itsv #spiderman itsv

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pullhisteeth · 2 years ago

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hi my love! i have a little request if that’s alright with you <3

so eddie is taking reader on a date. reader dresses fem (skirts, dress, pinks, whites) so eddie rents some cassettes from family video such as madonna, cyndi lauper, the bangles etc. however, once eddie lets them know they have free range of the music, they move all the rented cassettes out of the way and pick up eddie’s own casettes such as metallica, iron maiden, dio etc and get super excited over them. just some super cute fluffy stuff about eddie falling so much more in love with reader?

thanks if you do darling 🫶🏻 x

hi my love! thank you for another lovely lovely request, this was fun! hope you like it

contains fem!reader, fluff [1.9k]

If he's completely honest, Eddie has no idea how he got here.

There's a black spot in his memory, hours and days of lost time wherein he must have done something to end up in this diner, across the table from you. He knows that there were two more dates before this, but even those are beyond his belief, and the fact you said yes to a third is entirely unreasonable.

He can't believe his luck. He's struck silly, your pretty face looking at him softly from the other side of the booth. You're all sparkly and he's convinced you're glowing. There's no light in here really, just the neons on the walls and a couple spotlights over the counter, but he thinks you look divine.

"Eds?"

His eyes meet yours and finds them wide and expectant.

"Huh?"

You smile. Pretty.

"Lost you for a minute there."

If he told you the truth, it'd be that he can't possibly concentrate on what you're saying and the cherry you've got between your finger and thumb. You keep dipping it in the whipped cream, bringing it back to your lips and licking it clean, and there's no way he can't watch.

"Sorry, sorry," he breathes, shaking himself loose. "What were you saying?"

The giggle he gets from you is holy, tinkling like windchimes, silver on silver.

"I said, we should go see a movie some time," you repeat, smiling.

"Right, yeah," Eddie responds, grateful you haven't lingered on his lack of focus. He rests an elbow on the table, beside his half-eaten burger, and holds his chin in his palm. You shuffle, leaning your own elbow just like his, holding your chin the way he is. You smile at him, your expression turning silly with your eyes fluttering closed. He watches your lashes kiss your cheek and the way your lips curl up, the cherry still dangling from between your fingers. You bring it to your lips again and stick it between your teeth, eyes still closed, pulling it off the stem. His eyes linger on your mouth, the sugary red of the cherry stuck to them. There may as well not be another soul in the diner, because all he can focus on is you, lit up with a wash of pink light and soft like nothing he's ever seen before.

Soon enough the waitress appears, lacquered fingers reaching over to take plates and your glass. As you leave he drops twenty dollars with the lady at the register, and you loop your arm with his to pull him out of the door.

Your palm smooths down his jacket sleeve, reaching his hand just as you get to his van. Opening your door, he helps you inside, the sound of your laugh and baseless objections ringing in his ears while he jogs round to his side.

As his hand curls round the handle he stands for just a second. This is it, he thinks. This is the moment he's prepared for. You're going home with him, three dates in and smitten with one another; he gets to drive you there, show you around like it's not a two-room trailer and let you kiss him as much as you want because there's not a soul around to see.

Pulling the door, he jumps into the seat and turns to you.

"Seatbelt?"

"Check," you respond with two fingers to your forehead in a salute. "The goods are safe."

He laughs a breathy sound that he doesn't know is making your head spin. Starting the engine he stretches his arm over your seat, around your back, looking over his shoulder to reverse. It's driving you wild, though he doesn't know it, how your spaces are slowly seeping into one another. The distance is closing, boundaries blurring; he moves into yours without so much as thinking about it anymore.

Gravel crunches as he floors the accelerator and screeches through the lot and onto the street. Town is quiet, it's late, and there's only one place he wants to be.

His radio's playing an Indiana metal station. It's soft, the volume kept low so he can hear you chatting to him about which movies are playing next week, but he gives in to the urge to change the station anyway. You stop speaking when he does, watching his fingers fiddle with the frequency dial, but you pick up where you left off when he settles on a random charts station.

"Here she is," he says flatly as he holds his front door open for you. You pass him, looking around the room.

"My shoes okay here?"

Eddie's home isn't exactly very conventional. If anything, it's a little frowned upon, even though Forest Hills stretches so far back it's nearly half the size of Hawkins itself. In any case, he's not used to people being worried about the thredbare carpet.

"Uh," he drones, lost at your question. "Yeah, sure, wherever."

You crouch down to undo your laces and pull your shoes off, lining them up neatly, toes by the wall. As you stand he closes the door behind himself and kicks his own boots off. Taking your hand, he pulls you through the untidy kitchen, hoping you're not paying too much attention, into the sanctuary of his own room.

It's tidier than usual, though you don't need to know that. You follow quickly behind him and release his warm grip to show yourself around.

He steps slowly over to the bed, sitting in his usual spot against the headboard to watch you flit around the room, eyes darting everywhere and hands even worse. You're pawing at his magazines, staring wide-eyed at the posters, strumming his guitars gently. He can't help but look at you, bewildered that someone so pretty, in a dainty pale blue sundress and white cardigan, is here, in his room. Your pristine tennis socks look so out of place against his grubby carpet.

"You can, uh, stick some music on," he says, nodding to the tape deck on a table in the corner, "if you want."

Beaming, you look at him and then to the deck, bouncing softly across the room on the balls of your feet. His eyes follow you, heart thrumming with anticipation. Its steady rhythm falters, though, when you move the small, intentional pile of tapes to one side and pick up something from underneath. This one's worn down, plastic case cracked and littered with smudged fingerprints.

"You can play whatever you want, sweets," he calls. With your back to him he can't see your expression, but he can see that you're sorting through his tapes, the ones he likes. And he sees when you settle on one of his favourites: Metallica's Kill 'Em All.

The steady crescendo of drums begins, ebbing as you toy with the volume dial, but he's not really listening, worried instead that you're doing this for him. When you turn around you're grinning, bobbing your head lightly, treading over to him slowly.

"You didn't have to put this on," he tells you.

"What d'ya mean?" Your eyes are wide with confusion, expression malleable as you settle beside him, seated on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in yours.

"This is my music," he says. "You don't have to listen to it just 'cause you're in my room."

"I like this album," you tell him honestly, face plain, and your naïve intonation makes him choke a laugh.

"What?!" you ask through the beginnings of a smile.

"I just-" He's laughing, rubbing his free hand up and down his face, pinching his nose. "I bought you all those tapes, I just assumed, I-"

"So that's why you have Cyndi Lauper over there!"

"I just assumed that's what you listen to, y'know-"

"I did think, wow, Eddie Munson, Cyndi Lauper, unexpected-"

"-a pretty girl like you, must listen to prettier music than me-"

"-imagined you holed up in your room, 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' on blast when no-one's home-"

"-hey!"

His fingers at your sides cut you both off, pulling a screeching laugh from you, your giggles blending with his as he wrestles you onto your back.

"Eddie, Eddie! Stop it, I-"

"I cannot believe you'd think I listen to Cyndi Lauper!" he yells over you, his assault unrelenting until you bring your knees up under him to kick him in the stomach. He huffs out an umph and stills, flopping down beside you.

As you finish giggling and catch your breath, you turn on your side to face him. He's lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling and hand splayed across his chest, feeling the drum of his heart beneath. Turning his head to look at you, he finds you looking back at him, your hair more tangled than before and face flushed pink.

"You did that for me?" you ask him, voice quiet like you're uttering obscenities.

"Did what?"

"Bought all those tapes. There's even Madonna over there."

He laughs, his warm breath on your face making you scrunch your nose. Though he wants so badly to kiss it, he holds off.

"Yeah," he finally admits. "I guess I just- I dunno, I never pegged you as a metal girl."

"How judgemental of you, Munson," you tease.

"Can you blame me?"

"I like being unpredictable," you tell him.

"That's one word for it," he says with a laugh, sitting up. He twists and holds his hand to you, pulling you up with him when you take it. He likes the way the rush of air lifts your hair. "You really like this?"

You hum, nodding, and sing along playfully. Standing quickly, you turn to him and scrunch your face, hands out in front of you as though you've got a guitar in them. The sight of you, in your pretty clothes, all rosy and smiley, playing air guitar to Metallica, fills him with that funny, fizzy feeling that's been pestering him since your first date. It's like firecrackers in his bloodstream, or static down his nerves, and it makes his fingers tingle.

He reaches his hands out to take your waist. As he pulls you in you stop the air guitar and let him move you as he wants: his palms smooth down your hips and to your thighs, where they urge you onto his lap. Your arms wind around his neck as you find your balance.

With his hands back on your waist, he looks up at you.

"You," he whispers, "are so pretty."

He relishes in the way your face warms at his words, the coy expression that flashes over your face, and reaches up to kiss your cheek. Your thighs are warm as his hands roam up and down, and he begins to litter kisses across your other cheek and onto your jaw.

"Eddie," you breath over him, eyes fluttering closed.

"So pretty," he repeats. "I'm so fucking lucky."

"You're pretty too," you giggle.

"Why, thank you," he says, smiling into your throat.

"So," you begin, "will you play me some Iron Maiden?"

"Christ."

"What?"

"It's like you're trying to kill me."

"What do you mean?!" you ask with another laugh, one so light it feels like there's a breeze in his brain.

He emerges from the crook of your neck and looks at you. Your face is still warm, your eyes sparkly and wide, and he wants to commit every square inch to memory.

"You're perfect," he tells you.

#💌 request #thank you! <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #Eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie fluff #eddie x you #em x you

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