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princessbellecerise · 2 years ago

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Late Nights

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Steve’s had a long, long night. And the only thing he wants to come home to is you

warnings | soft sex, soft!steve rogers, slight somnophilia (reader is awake but steve doesn’t know it), creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of size difference and kink, soft slow and romantic, tummy bulge, consensual sex, 18+ NO MINORS

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

You feel the bed sink but you don’t say anything. He’s late again, of course, but you can’t even bring yourself to be mad, just grateful that he’s here and he’s alive, especially in his line of work.

Steve thinks you’re sleeping, so he doesn’t say anything and tries to be as quiet as possible as he stumbles around the room trying to get out of his ripped uniform. He curses a few times before he actually manages to do it, throwing the tattered fabric in the corner and hoping that he doesn’t have to see it for a while.

He’ll ask Tony to repair it in the morning, but for now the only thing he cared about was crawling into bed with you and feeling your warmth. Something he missed terribly during his cold mission to Siberia.

You have to say Steve is right to think that you were asleep, because honestly you weren’t all that much awake. You were just lucid enough to know that he was there, to feel his presence. But yet, your body was so tired from staying up all night waiting for him that you couldn’t find it in yourself to fully drag yourself from sleep.

Instead, you decided that you were content on teetering between sleep and awareness, not rising from your position. Eventually, Steve crawled into bed, giving a small hum of satisfaction as his skin pressed against yours.

He was warm, just like he always was. And he wasted no time before he cuddled up to you, head nestling in the crook of your shoulder. He peppered kisses along your collarbone to which you responded with a sigh, but even with his super hearing, Steve was too tired and too distracted to notice.

He had missed you of course, but what he didn’t tell you over the numerous phone calls was that on this particular mission, he was filled with a different kind of longing for you.

Steve missed you. He missed your laugh. He missed your smile, god he missed your very presence. But the one thing he just could not stop thinking about was your cunt, and how good it had taken him right before he left.

The sex replayed in his mind like a nonstop recording, Steve’s brain taking notes and savoring every single detail. Every kiss, every moan of his name had all been lingering in his mind and he hadn’t been able to make it go away for an entire week. The entire week that he was away, the only thing he thought about was coming back home to you alive, and what would await him once he did get back.

Of course, you guys always had amazing sex when he returned from his missions, but usually he didn’t show up this late. And since you guys were in different time zones, you had been staying up later than usual just so that you wouldn’t miss his calls.

This caused your sleep schedule to become a little messed up and Steve knew he would feel bad if he woke you, especially if it was just to have sex.

He couldn’t do that to you — especially not after seeing how adorable you looked with your mouth slightly parted open, soft pants leaving your lips.

He couldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t wake you, but what he could do was assume that you wouldn’t mind if he still had a little fun. So, Steve decided to do something that you had always asked him to do.

At first, when you first proposed the idea of him fucking you in your sleep, he had been a little taken back. Not to mention worried about the consent lingering around it. After all, Steve was extremely old-fashioned and fucking your wife in her sleep wasn’t exactly common during the times he grew up. Sex in general was a very sheltered topic, so it came as a surprise to Steve that you were so open and willing to talk about it.

He had been hesitant before, but now feeling how desperately he wanted you, how bad his cock throbbed and ached for your body, he figured that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try.

So, leaning his chest against your back, he pulled you as close as he could against him before gently tugging on your leg and throwing it around him. Steve wanted your legs open so that he could pleasure you first before he fucked you. That way when the time came, there would be no question if you could take him or not.

Steve knew he was big, and often times if he didn’t warm you up, it was nearly impossible to fit himself inside of your cunt. You were just so tiny compared to him; but nevertheless, you were always eager to take him anyways.

This time though, you weren’t awake to strain yourself against his cock, so he had to do all the work himself.

Taking the hand that was most available, Steve used the pad of his fingers to trace your body and greet all the curves that he had missed so desperately.

He could feel your warmth as his hands traveled all over, sometimes tracing your stomach, sometimes your breast, and other times dipping dangerously close to your exposed heat.

Steve was in no rush, so he decided to savor everything, even inhaling your scent before his hand finally dipped between your legs.

The first moan that you let out was so sudden, Steve merely thought that you were groaning in your sleep. He didn’t consider that you were half-awake so he didn’t stop, using his long fingers to brush up against your clit and feel between your wet folds.

Even in your sleep, you were eager for him. The thought made Steve smile, loving that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It made his cock throb to feel your arousal and he wanted more. So, he positioned a single digit at your entrance, and lightly pushed it in.

“Mhmm.”

Even half-asleep, you felt the intrusion, but your body welcomed it as it always welcome Steve. With no resistance, allowing him to push the digit even deeper until it was buried in your cunt.

You let out a quick breath, but by this time, you were sure that Steve thought you were asleep and you didn’t want him to stop if you woke up.

So, you stayed still, lightly biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud. Meanwhile, Steve decided to add another finger and you had to clench your fist to keep yourself from telling him how good it felt.

Slowly, he began to move the two digits in sync, pumping them in and out of your cunt at a delicious pace.

It wasn’t his cock, but Steve’s fingers were still thick enough to fill you up and definitely long enough to hit all the right spots, making your body jerk even in your ‘sleep.’

Steve smiled as he noticed the reaction, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of your face before slightly picking up the pace. He pleasured you just as he would have had you been awake: slowly, so that you could feel everything. It was no secret that Steve liked to take his time with you, and this was no different. He wanted to gently pleasure you and take it slow because you deserved it. And even though he was eager, his cock throbbing painfully against the curve of your ass, he had to be patient and get you ready for him first.

Otherwise, he knew he wouldn’t fit.

Such a delicate little thing you were — and so pretty as Steve observed your sleeping face. You were relaxed, no hint of stress or worries clouding your beautiful face. Dare he say it, you almost looked like you were…enjoying his pleasurefull assault, which only made him sink his fingers deeper, curling them inside of you and hitting that delicious spot over and over again.

It made it extremely difficult to stay still, and you found that part of your body thrashed even though you tried your best to keep still.

Even though you tried, your legs still shook, your core still clenched, and it was a miracle Steve didn’t figure you out when you came, seeing as the moans that escaped your lips should’ve alerted him.

But alas, you were glad that they didn’t as you were craving what was to come next. You could feel Steve shifting behind you, panting slightly and almost painfully as he slowly removed his fingers from your sticky core.

You felt empty, but you knew you weren’t gonna be for long. Steve scooted down and gently opened your legs even wider. He positioned himself right between them, grabbing his cock to line up it with your entrance.

And then, he pushed in.

You couldn’t help yourself this time; nor stop the mewl that left your lips as Steve sheathed himself inside your cunt, stretching you until he bottomed out. He was as deep as you could take him, and you could sort of feel your tummy bulging as your pussy struggled to accommodate him.

It had been a while; a week since Steve had felt you wrapped around him. Entirely too long in both of your opinions, and he almost came right when he entered. But he had to remind himself that he wanted to make this last; he wanted to make this special into make up for the time he was gone.

So, Steve paced himself, slowly snapping his hips back-and-forth while low grunts left his pink lips. Euphoria almost immediately began to cloud his vision as he dragged his cock along your walls, the squeaking bed hiding your moans.

You buried your face until your pillow as Steve fucked you from behind, brain beginning to wake up as well as your body. And honestly, you didn’t even care if he heard you anymore as you began to cry out. You just missed him so much that the feeling of him inside of you was driving you insane. You needed to wake up so that you could fully feel him, so that you could relish in the way he was touching you.

Opening your eyes, you started to rouse just as Steve began to pound against your sweet spot. You moaned again, the feeling making you see stars which clouded your vision. It almost felt like you were being blinded by the pleasure that Steve was providing you.

Your sweet sounds began to mix in with his, and Steve brought his lips down to kiss your neck while he quickened his face.

You could almost imagine the face he was making as his lips attached to your skin; nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrowed as he focused on not just his pleasure, but yours as well.

After so long together, Steve knew the exact ways to work your body. And he knew that kissing your neck was a sure way to rile you up. He knew that bringing a hand down to rub your sensitive clit was enough to make your knees buck; enough to make your hips jerk in pleasure as your body tried to run from the overstimulation.

He knew just how to cloud your senses, and he knew well enough that he had to keep you in place as the intrusion of his cock and the pleasure on the rest of your body sent you into a frenzy.

You cried out, a hand instinctively going behind you to grip Steve’s arm. You needed to ground yourself as you started seeing stars again, flashes of white hot pleasure traveling straight to your core.

Steve knew exactly what he was doing as he fucked you, and you found yourself trembling as your orgasm approached you once again. Again, Steve was going to make you cum, but it wasn’t like you had any objections as the coil in your stomach tightened.

Faster and faster, Steve began to rut into you like he would never have the pleasure of feeling your cunt again. He began to grow desperate, his own release creeping up on him, but not before you came he reminded himself. He was determined to make you come undone once more, and as the last of his strokes hit your G-spot, that’s exactly what happened.

Your body began to unravel from all the pleasure, your lips opening and sweet sounds escaping as you quivered. White hot and blinding, your orgasm took over you. And before you knew it, you were clamping down on Steve’s cock for dear life as you came with a cry.

You squeezed him and God, your pussy had never felt better; you had never sounded sexier as your release washed through you, swiftly prompting his own.

As your chest heaved, and as you began to come down from your arousal, Steve finally allowed himself to let go — stilling inside of you and filled your cunt to the brim with his cum.

He didn’t care at that moment that he forgot to put on a condom. He didn’t care that you weren’t even on birth control. All he cared about was the feeling that rippled through his body, the coils that snapped and caused him to almost fall over in his moment of pleasure.

Steve didn’t care about anything other than the way you wrapped around him, and in that moment it felt like he would never care about anything else.

Nothing else was as important as this: you pressed to his chest as you both came down from your highs, heavy breaths and scattered moans still lingering in the air.

Nothing else felt like it would even come close to you. No mission, brief or assignment.

And as he thought of this, Steve leaned over to survey your face, taking in the glow that seem to surround you. Finally, it seemed like he acknowledged that you were awake as your tired (e/c) eyes met his. Gently, he caressed your face and brought his lips to kiss your head again before cheekily saying,

“Well good morning, sunshine. I hope that was a good enough wake up call.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #captain amelia #captain america x reader #captain america smut

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shybluebirdninja · 3 months ago

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Broken Claws and Tender Hearts

Summary: In the dark corners of a crumbling city, aging mutant Wolverine, James Logan Howlett, finds himself gravely wounded and abandoned. Rescued by Y/N, a compassionate woman trapped in an abusive marriage, Logan’s gratitude evolves into deep, forbidden love as he witnesses the brutal toll of her husband's violence.

The city was a mess, like it had given up on itself a long time ago. Streets were littered with trash, and broken glass crunched underfoot like a constant reminder of the decay that had set in. In the darkest corners of this dismal place, where even the streetlights seemed to flicker with disinterest, James Logan Howlett—known to the world as Wolverine—was barely hanging on. Once a fierce mutant warrior with an unbreakable spirit, he was now just an old man with unhealable wounds and a broken heart.

Logan, as he was known, was a far cry from the invincible fighter he used to be. His claws, once sharp enough to cut through steel, were now dull and rusty. His body, scarred and bruised from countless battles, was failing him. Pain was his constant companion, a relentless reminder of his mortality. As he lay slumped in a filthy alley, the cold seeped through his tattered clothes, mingling with the sweat of his suffering. He was beyond exhausted, teetering on the edge of consciousness, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, this is one hell of a way to go,” he muttered weakly, his voice barely a croak. His usually fierce eyes were now clouded with exhaustion, and the alley seemed to close in around him, a concrete tomb waiting to claim him.

Just when it seemed like things couldn’t get any worse, a pair of footsteps echoed through the alley. Logan's dimming senses barely registered the sound at first. But the crunch of boots on the grimy pavement drew closer, and his survival instincts kicked in, if only just. He tried to lift his head, but it felt like it weighed a ton. He managed to catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure approaching.

“Jesus Christ!” a female voice called out, a mix of shock and concern lacing her words. The figure moved closer, and Logan could make out the silhouette of a woman. Her face was partly hidden by the dim light, but the earnest worry in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Hey, buddy, you look like shit,” she said, crouching down beside him. “What happened to you?”

Logan tried to muster a response, but the effort was futile. Instead, he gave a weak shrug and a bitter laugh. “Just another day in paradise,” he rasped, struggling to keep his eyes open.

The woman, whose name Logan would soon learn was Y/N, didn’t seem deterred by his sarcastic tone. She looked him over with a practiced eye, noting the severity of his injuries. “You’re in no shape to be lying here. We need to get you out of this mess.”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna be any trouble,” Logan mumbled, his voice tinged with irony. “I’m practically dead weight.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Y/N said, her voice firm but gentle. “Everyone deserves a chance, even you. Let’s get you out of here.”

With a strength that belied her delicate appearance, Y/N helped Logan to his feet. It was no easy task; he was barely able to support himself, his legs unsteady beneath him. She wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to steady him as they made their way out of the alley. Each step was a challenge, and Logan could feel his energy draining away with every movement.

“You’re really doing this?” Logan asked, glancing at her with a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “You know I’m not exactly in the best shape.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse,” Y/N replied with a faint smile. “You’re not the first person I’ve helped, and you won’t be the last. Just hang in there.”

The journey to Y/N’s home was slow and arduous. The streets seemed endless, stretching out like a labyrinth of shadows. Logan’s breathing grew more labored with each step, and he could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness. Y/N kept a steady pace, her determination unwavering.

When they finally arrived at her modest apartment, Logan was barely aware of his surroundings. The building was far from luxurious, but it had a certain homeliness that contrasted sharply with the desolation he had just left behind. Y/N managed to get him inside and guided him to a makeshift bed in the living room. The space was cluttered but warm, with a few personal touches that made it clear someone lived here.

“Alright, let’s get you settled,” Y/N said, her voice gentle as she helped him lie down. “I’m going to get some supplies and see what I can do for you.”

Logan watched as she moved about the small apartment, gathering medical supplies and setting them out with careful precision. Her movements were efficient but calm, as if she had done this many times before. Despite the pain, Logan found himself oddly comforted by her presence.

“Why are you going through all this trouble?” Logan asked, his voice weak but curious. “You don’t even know me.”

Y/N paused her work and looked at him with a thoughtful expression. “It’s not about knowing you. It’s about doing what’s right. No one should be left to suffer like this, not even someone who looks like they’ve been through hell.”

Logan chuckled dryly, a sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m kind of a mess. I don’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“Everyone has their own battles,” Y/N said softly. “Yours might be different from mine, but that doesn’t make them any less real. I’ve had my share of struggles, too.”

As Y/N cleaned his wounds with a gentle hand, Logan winced at the sting of antiseptic. Despite the pain, he appreciated her care. It was a stark contrast to the harshness of his usual existence. For once, he wasn’t fighting, wasn’t on the run. He was just lying here, vulnerable and at the mercy of someone who seemed to genuinely care.

“You know, I’m not exactly the type to get all mushy,” Logan said with a faint grin. “But this...”

Y/N cut him of and glanced up at him, her eyes warm. “You don’t have to be mushy. Just be grateful that someone’s here to help. That’s all I’m asking.”

Logan nodded, his heart heavy with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “I don’t know how to thank you. You’re giving me a chance when I don’t even deserve one.”

“Everyone deserves a chance,” Y/N replied firmly. “Even if they don’t think so themselves.”

As the night wore on, Y/N continued to tend to his wounds with meticulous care. Logan watched her, taking in the details of her face, the determination in her eyes. It was a rare sight—a glimmer of kindness in a world that had long since turned its back on him.

Despite the pain and fatigue, Logan felt a strange sense of calm. For the first time in a long while, he was allowing himself to be cared for, to be vulnerable. It was an unfamiliar but oddly comforting feeling. He had spent so many years fighting, surviving, and pushing everyone away. But here was someone who was willing to stand by him, even in his darkest hour.

“Hey, Y/N,” Logan said softly as she finished her work. “You ever wonder why we end up in places like this? I mean, I’ve fought a lot of battles, but this... this is a different kind of fight.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “Sometimes, I think we end up where we need to be. Even in the darkest places, there’s a chance for something good to happen. Maybe this is just one of those moments.”

Logan nodded, his thoughts a tangled mess of past regrets and hopeful possibilities. As he drifted off to sleep, the warmth of Y/N’s care was a small, flickering light in the midst of his darkness. It wasn’t a cure for his wounds or his broken spirit, but it was a reminder that there was still some good left in the world

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

Y/N’s apartment, though modest and cluttered, was a sanctuary of sorts for Logan. As days passed, he began to recover from his severe injuries, thanks in no small part to Y/N’s dedicated care. The old Wolverine, now fragile and more vulnerable than ever, found himself in an unexpected role—patient rather than warrior. It was a role that didn’t sit easily with him, but Y/N’s unwavering kindness made it bearable.

Y/N’s daily routine revolved around caring for Logan. Mornings began with gentle cleaning of his wounds, followed by a carefully prepared meal, usually something simple yet nourishing. Despite her own exhaustion, she never missed a beat, always wearing a brave face even when her eyes betrayed her fatigue. Logan noticed these details—the way her hands shook slightly when she applied ointment, the forced cheerfulness in her voice, and the way she always tried to keep things normal.

One afternoon, while Y/N was in the kitchen preparing lunch, Logan sat on the bed, feeling the stiffness of his muscles. He was starting to regain some strength, but moving was still a struggle. He could hear Y/N’s soft humming and the occasional clatter of pots and pans. Just as he was about to call out to her, the sound of the front door slamming shut cut through the quiet.

Logan tensed, recognizing the unmistakable sound of anger. Y/N’s face, when she returned to the room, was pale and strained. Her eyes darted nervously towards the door. Logan could sense the tension in the air, a sharp contrast to the calm that usually filled the room.

“Everything alright?” Logan asked, his voice hoarse but concerned. His eyes, though tired, were keenly observant.

Y/N forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, just... Marcus had a rough day at work. Nothing to worry about.”

Logan didn’t press further, though he could tell there was more to it. He knew from experience that some things were best left unspoken, but the bruises on Y/N’s arms, which she tried to hide with long sleeves, spoke volumes. Each mark was a silent testament to her struggles.

The days turned into weeks, and the tension between Y/N and Marcus became increasingly palpable. Logan overheard snippets of arguments through the thin walls of the apartment. Marcus’s voice was harsh and threatening, full of disdain for mutants and a general aggression that made Logan’s skin crawl.

One evening, as Y/N was bandaging a fresh wound on Logan’s side, the door burst open with a violent crash. Marcus stormed in, his face twisted with rage. “What the hell is this? You’re still wasting your time on this mutant freak? I thought I told you to get rid of him!”

Logan’s eyes flared with anger, but he held back, his body tensing. Y/N’s face flushed with a mix of fear and frustration. “Marcus, please, just calm down. He needs our help.”

“Why should I give a damn about this piece of shit?” Marcus spat, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “He’s nothing but trouble. You’re bringing this mess into our home.”

Logan could see the strain on Y/N’s face, the way she struggled to keep her voice steady. “Marcus, I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. This man is hurt and needs help. I can’t just turn him away.”

Marcus’s gaze flicked to Logan, his eyes filled with contempt. “And what about what I need? You’re always putting others before me. I’m done with this crap.”

Logan remained silent, his claws itching to come out, but he knew better than to escalate the situation. Y/N’s shoulders slumped as Marcus’s angry words continued to fill the room, each one a fresh wound to her already battered soul.

Finally, Marcus stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Y/N stood there, shaking slightly, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. Logan’s heart ached for her, and he struggled to keep his voice calm as he spoke.

“Y/N... are you okay?” he asked, his tone gentle despite the anger bubbling inside him.

She wiped her tears and nodded, though it was clear she was far from okay. “I’m fine. It’s just... the same old stuff. Marcus doesn’t understand, and he never will.”

Logan reached out, his hand brushing against her arm gently. “You don’t deserve that, you know. No one does.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “Thank you, Logan. I know it’s not your place to say that, but it means a lot coming from you.”

The days that followed were a delicate balance of tension and care. Y/N continued to nurse Logan back to health while trying to manage the chaos that Marcus brought into their lives. Logan’s own recovery was slow but steady, and he found himself growing more dependent on Y/N, not just for physical healing but for the emotional support he hadn’t realized he needed.

One night, as Logan lay awake in the dim light of the living room, he heard Y/N sobbing quietly in the next room. Unable to ignore her distress, he carefully rose from the bed and moved to the door of her room. He knocked softly, hoping not to startle her.

“Y/N, it’s me. Can I come in?”

There was a brief pause, and then Y/N’s voice, strained but soft, replied, “Yeah, come in.”

Logan entered to find Y/N sitting on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. The sight of her, so vulnerable and broken, stirred something deep inside him. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice a rough whisper in the quiet room. “You want to talk about it?”

Y/N looked up, her eyes red and swollen. “It’s just... everything feels so overwhelming. Marcus is getting worse, and I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Logan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle despite the rawness of his own wounds. “You’re stronger than you think. You’ve been handling all this shit with a lot more grace than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Logan. It means a lot to hear that, especially now.”

As they sat together in the dim light, Logan found himself opening up in a way he hadn’t in years. He shared fragments of his past, stories of battles fought and lost, of the loneliness that came with being a mutant. Y/N listened intently, her presence a comforting balm to his wounded soul.

“I never thought I’d be in a place like this,” Logan said quietly. “Hell, I thought I’d be dead by now. But... there’s something about this place, about you, that makes me feel like maybe I’ve got a reason to stick around.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the weight of their respective burdens seemed to lift. “Maybe we both needed this. A place where we could find some kind of solace, even if just for a little while.”

Logan nodded, feeling a strange sense of peace despite the chaos around them. He realized that his feelings for Y/N were growing stronger, and he admired her more with each passing day. Her strength in the face of adversity, her kindness despite her own suffering—it all spoke to him in ways he hadn’t expected.

One evening, after another particularly brutal argument with Marcus, Y/N sat down beside Logan, her face etched with exhaustion. She had a new bruise on her cheek, a stark reminder of the violence she faced at home. Logan’s heart ached at the sight of it, and he reached out, gently brushing his fingers against the bruise.

“Does it ever get easier?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern.

Y/N shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “No, it doesn’t. But I have to keep going. For me, for you... for everyone who needs me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. It’s not right.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. “Maybe someday things will change. Maybe there will be a way out of this mess. Until then, I have to hold on to whatever hope I can find.”

As the days continued, Logan’s feelings for Y/N deepened. Her resilience in the face of Marcus’s abuse, her unwavering dedication to helping him despite her own suffering—it all made him see her in a new light. He found himself drawn to her not just as a caretaker, but as a person who had become an unexpected beacon of hope in his life.

One evening, as they sat together after Marcus had stormed out, Logan took Y/N’s hand in his, his touch gentle but firm. “Y/N, I want you to know something. I’m here because you gave me a chance when no one else would. And... I care about you. More than I probably should.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat. “Logan, I—”

Before she could finish, Logan leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that I want to be here for you. I want to fight this together.”

Y/N’s eyes were filled with tears, but a small smile touched her lips. “Thank you, Logan. That means more to me than you can imagine.”

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

Logan's recovery was a slow grind. The days were punctuated by a relentless rhythm of pain and progress, his wounds mending bit by bit. Y/N's care was both a balm and a burden; she was always there, her hands gentle and her demeanor kind. But as Logan's strength began to return, another kind of strength was being tested—Y/N’s.

Every day, Logan saw the bruises she tried to hide. He noticed the way she flinched when Marcus’s name was mentioned, the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of concealer could mask. It wasn’t just the physical pain that she wore like a second skin; it was the emotional toll that was etched into every line of her face. Logan could sense it, even when Y/N put on a brave face and forced a smile.

One evening, while Y/N was preparing dinner, Logan was lounging on the bed, his head resting against the headboard. He heard the all-too-familiar sound of the front door slamming, followed by Marcus’s booming voice, filled with venom. Logan’s jaw clenched, his claws itching to come out. But he knew better. The last thing Y/N needed was another problem on top of the one she already had.

Y/N’s footsteps were quick and hesitant as she moved around the kitchen. Logan could hear her trying to keep her voice steady as she spoke with Marcus, though it was clear from the sharpness in her tone that things were far from calm. Logan’s concern deepened with every shouted insult and the occasional crash that echoed through the apartment.

He struggled to stay put, his anger boiling beneath the surface. It was maddening to be so powerless, to hear Y/N suffering while he lay here, barely able to move. He wanted to confront Marcus, to show him just how outmatched he was, but his weakened state kept him tethered to the bed. It was a cruel irony that the very strength that had once made him a force to be reckoned with now left him helpless.

The door finally swung open, and Y/N walked in, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. She carried a tray with a modest meal, her hands trembling slightly. Logan’s heart ached at the sight of her, and he tried to offer a reassuring smile, though he knew it probably looked more like a grimace.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Everything okay out there?”

Y/N set the tray down on the small table beside the bed, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. “Yeah, just another argument. Marcus had a rough day and... well, you know how it goes.”

Logan’s gaze was intense, filled with concern. “Y/N, you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t deserve this.”

She sat down next to him, her shoulders slumping as she took a deep breath. “I know. I just... I don’t have a choice. If I leave, things will only get worse. I’m trying to hold on for now.”

Logan could see the pain in her eyes, the way her hands shook slightly as she picked up a small bowl of soup. He wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort, but he felt powerless, his own strength a mere shadow of what it used to be.

“Y/N, listen,” he said, his voice rough but earnest. “I know I’m in no position to make demands or offer solutions, but you’ve got to know that you don’t deserve this. Marcus is a piece of shit, and you’re better than this.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and she looked so tired, so weary. “It’s not that simple. Marcus is... he’s unpredictable. If I push too hard, it’ll only make things worse. I have to tread carefully.”

Logan’s anger flared, his hands curling into fists. “You shouldn’t have to live in fear. No one should.”

Y/N gave a small, bitter smile. “I appreciate that, Logan. I really do. But sometimes, just getting through the day is enough. It’s all I can manage right now.”

As the days went on, Logan’s concern grew. He noticed more bruises on Y/N’s skin, more shadows in her eyes. The arguments with Marcus became more frequent and more vicious. Logan found himself wrestling with a deep, gnawing frustration. He wanted to protect her, but he felt like a caged animal, unable to do anything but watch.

One night, after an especially brutal argument, Y/N came into the room, her face bruised and her lip split. She tried to hide it, but Logan saw the truth. His heart pounded with a mix of rage and helplessness.

“Y/N, what happened?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She sat down beside him, her movements slow and pained. “It’s nothing. Just... another fight. I’m okay.”

Logan’s eyes were fierce, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re not okay. This isn’t right, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to put up with this crap.”

Y/N sighed, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation. “I know, Logan. I know. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t just leave. I need to keep this place together, even if it’s falling apart.”

Logan’s anger simmered, his frustration boiling over. “I wish I could do something. I feel like I’m just... useless.”

Y/N shook her head, her hand reaching out to touch his. “You’re not useless, Logan. You’ve given me more hope than I’ve had in a long time. Just having you here, knowing you care—it means more than you know.”

As they sat together in the dim light of the room, Logan felt a deep connection to Y/N. Her strength, her resilience, even in the face of so much pain—it was a stark contrast to the brutality she endured. He realized how much she had come to mean to him, and how deeply he wished he could change her circumstances.

Despite the growing attachment and the undeniable pull he felt towards her, Logan remained bound by his own limitations. He could only watch as Y/N continued to endure Marcus’s cruelty, his own feelings of helplessness mixing with a fierce, burning desire to protect her. Every bruise, every tear she shed was a reminder of the pain she was enduring and the brutal reality of her situation.

Logan’s internal struggle was a constant battle. He wanted to be the hero, the one who swooped in and saved the day, but he was stuck in a role that felt more like a spectator than a savior.

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

The night air was heavy, thick with an oppressive silence that seemed to press against Logan’s chest. He lay in bed, the shadows dancing across the walls as the soft hum of the city outside filled the room. Y/N had been unusually quiet tonight, and Logan's senses were on high alert, a growing unease gnawing at him.

He could hear Marcus’s booming voice from the other side of the apartment, each shout like a hammer pounding against Logan’s already frayed nerves. It had been a rough night, and Y/N’s attempts to calm her husband had only seemed to make things worse. Logan could feel the tension in the air, a sense of impending violence that made his heart pound and his skin crawl.

“Damn it,” Logan muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. He struggled to push himself up, but his weakened state made it a Herculean effort. He needed to do something, anything, but he was still bound by the limitations of his own frailty.

Suddenly, a crash echoed through the apartment, followed by Y/N’s scream. Logan’s blood ran cold. Without a second thought, he threw off the covers and stumbled toward the door, his heart racing. The anger and fear coursing through him felt like a storm, threatening to tear him apart.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and desperate. He reached the door and yanked it open, the scene that greeted him was something out of a nightmare.

Marcus was towering over Y/N, who was curled up on the floor, her face streaked with tears and blood. The rage in Marcus’s eyes was palpable, a fury that seemed to consume everything in its path. Logan’s instincts screamed at him to act, but he was frozen for a split second, caught between his own fear and the raw, primal need to protect.

“Get the hell away from her!” Logan roared, his voice a guttural snarl. He forced himself to step forward, his hands trembling as he tried to summon the strength to intervene.

Marcus’s head snapped around, his eyes locking onto Logan with a mixture of shock and fury. “What the hell are you doing here, mutant? Stay out of this!”

Logan’s claws extended with a sharp, metallic hiss, his rage boiling over. “You’ve done enough, you piece of shit. Leave her alone.”

Marcus sneered, his face twisted into a cruel smile. “Or what? You’ll claw me to death? You’re pathetic.”

In a burst of adrenaline, Logan lunged forward, his claws slashing through the air. He was fueled by a mixture of desperation and anger, the need to protect Y/N overriding every other consideration. The chaos that ensued was a blur—Marcus lunged at Logan, and in the ensuing struggle, Logan’s claws struck out, his aim wild and frantic.

Time seemed to stretch and warp as Logan’s claws found their mark. Marcus fell, a look of disbelief and shock etched on his face. The room fell silent, the only sound the ragged breaths of the two remaining people in the room.

Y/N was still on the floor, her body trembling as she stared at the lifeless form of her husband. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Logan stood there, his own breathing heavy, his claws retracting as he tried to process what had just happened.

“Oh God,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking. “What have you done?”

Logan took a tentative step toward her, his heart aching at the sight of her pain. “Y/N, I—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice sharp and filled with anguish. “You didn’t have to kill him. I—I didn’t want this.”

Logan’s heart twisted at the sight of her tears. “I didn’t mean to... I was just trying to protect you. I couldn’t stand seeing him hurt you like that.”

Y/N’s sobs were ragged, her hands covering her face. “It’s too late for that now. I don’t know what to do...”

Logan knelt beside her, his voice soft and full of regret. “Y/N, please. I know this is a mess. I never wanted things to end like this, but I care about you. I care about you a hell of a lot.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes red and swollen. “What are we supposed to do now? What happens next?”

Logan reached out, his hand gently touching her arm. “We get out of here. We leave this place behind and start fresh somewhere else. I’ve got a stash of cash, and we can find somewhere safe. I just—”

Y/N cut him off, her voice trembling. “And what? We just run away? We leave everything behind and hope for the best?”

Logan’s gaze was intense, his voice pleading. “It’s not just about running away. It’s about finding a place where you can be safe, where you can be happy. I know it won’t be easy, but it’s got to be better than staying here, right?”

Y/N’s eyes searched his, and for a moment, Logan saw the flicker of hope amidst the pain. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Okay. Okay, let’s do it. But we have to be careful. We can’t just jump into this blindly.”

Logan nodded, a mixture of relief and determination in his eyes. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll figure things out together. I promise.”

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

The first light of dawn seeped through the cracks in the dilapidated building where Y/N and Logan had spent the night. They had barely slept, huddled together in a small room with only a threadbare blanket for comfort. Y/N's eyes were red from crying and lack of sleep, and Logan's face was etched with exhaustion, but beneath it all, there was a flicker of determination.

“Jesus, what a fucking mess,” Logan muttered as he rolled out of bed, wincing at the stiffness in his body. His voice was rough, a mix of weariness and frustration. He glanced around the room, taking in the dusty furniture and peeling wallpaper. “This place isn’t exactly a five-star joint, but it’ll do for now.”

Y/N sat up, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve. “We can’t stay here long. We need to move, find a place where we can lay low and figure things out.”

Logan nodded, his gaze fixed on her. “You’re right. The longer we stay, the more chance we have of getting caught. I’m sure Marcus had connections and surely he talked about me. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who kept his mouth shut.”

Y/N rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of her nightmare-filled sleep. “I just can’t believe it’s really over. That we’re actually doing this.”

Logan moved closer, his voice softening as he spoke. “It’s real, alright. And it’s probably gonna be rough as hell. But we’ve got a shot at something better, Y/N. We just gotta keep moving, keep our heads down.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes full of a fragile hope. “And what about you, Logan? How are you holding up? I know you’re hurting, too.”

Logan grinned wryly, a hint of his old self peeking through his exhaustion. “I’ve been through worse. I’m still kicking, aren’t I? It’s not about me right now. It’s about making sure you’re safe.”

She smiled, a small, grateful curve of her lips. “Thank you. For everything. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“Hell, it wasn’t easy for either of us,” Logan replied, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But that’s the way it goes. You deal with the crap life throws at you and hope for a bit of luck.”

They packed what little they had, their belongings hastily stuffed into a couple of old duffel bags. As they prepared to leave, Logan took a moment to glance back at the room they were leaving behind, a reminder of the chaos and danger they were escaping.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before someone shows up,” Logan said, his tone low and urgent. “The city’s not exactly safe, and we’ve got no time to waste.”

They made their way through the empty streets, their movements cautious and deliberate. The city was waking up, and with it came the hustle and bustle of a new day—one that neither of them had any intention of being a part of.

Y/N walked beside Logan, her hand occasionally brushing against his, a silent reminder of their shared journey. The streets were eerily quiet, the weight of their escape hanging heavily in the air. The city’s familiar sights were quickly becoming distant memories, replaced by the uncertainty of the open road ahead.

“So, what’s the plan?” Y/N asked, her voice breaking the silence. “Where do we go from here?”

Logan glanced at her, his eyes focused and serious. “We head north. There’s a cabin in the woods a few hundred miles away. It’s not much, but it’s off the grid. We can lay low there for a while, figure out our next move.”

Y/N nodded, absorbing the plan. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Good,” Logan replied, a hint of a smile on his lips. “We’ll make it. We just need to stick together and stay smart.”

As they continued their journey, the reality of their situation began to sink in. They were fugitives now, their past lives left behind in the wreckage of Marcus’s wrath. But amidst the uncertainty and danger, there was a growing bond between them—one forged in the fires of their shared struggles and the hope for a new beginning.

They traveled through small towns and rural areas, staying off the beaten path and avoiding any unnecessary attention. Each night, they would find a place to rest, whether it was an abandoned house or a makeshift campsite. They made do with what they had, finding solace in their shared strength and resilience.

One evening, as they sat around a small campfire, Y/N turned to Logan, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames. “You know, I never thought I’d be here. On the run, hiding from everything. But having you here... it makes things a bit more bearable.”

Logan looked at her, his gaze softening. “You’re not alone, Y/N. We’ve got each other, and that’s something.”

She smiled, a small but genuine expression of warmth. “Yeah, it is. And it means more than you know.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire their only companion. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with challenges and obstacles, but for the first time in a long time, there was a sense of hope—a belief that, despite everything, they might find a way to make it through together.

#hugh jackman #james howlett #james logan howlett #logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #wolverine #hugh jackman wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x female reader #logan wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool movie

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kingofbodyrolls · 6 months ago

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End of the World (m) | myg | teaser

→ Summary: Your government has been telling you to prepare for war, just as a precaution given the recent political changes around your country. Did you listen and prepare? No. Are you paying the price now, friends all but gone, and your city burned to pieces? Yes. Survival instincts kicking in, you search for a place to rest, nourish your battered and hungry body, only to find yourself at the porch of a stranger. Will he help you, or leave you to your own demise? → Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: science fiction, apocalyptic, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers, forced proximity (because love that shit) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: still writing (approx 10-20k) it’s a one-shot! → Author’s note: hiya. I’m currently writing this apocalyptic story with Yoongi, because… well. I’m fucking scared. So this is me working through and with my fear for something that I’m afraid is actually going to happen. We don’t need to talk about it, because a lot of bad shit is happening all over the world 😭 This is purely a story, though made up by my fears, yeah. Anyway, it’s okay if you’re not into it! The vibe for it is like The Last of Us and maybe a bit Fallout, I think if you enjoy that type of stuff, you’ll enjoy this one too. But it’s really heavy, but there’s a decent amount of fluff to balance it out, because, it’s still a fanfiction and it wouldn’t be that without some good old fluff and smut 🥰

You know you must move, but before you leave, there’s a promise to fulfill for Yuri.

You relieve yourself and step back onto the road, eyes fixed on the distant horizon that seems miraculously untouched by the ravages of war. That glimmer of hope pulls you forward. You have to reach it. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles, you must get there.

It’s your only chance.

You walk and walk—days blur into weeks. Your clothes hang off your frame, tattered and too big. Bombings have become a constant backdrop, each explosion a distant rumble you barely acknowledge. The earth’s violent shudders no longer faze you. Hunger gnaws at you, a relentless companion, its grip tightening until you can’t even remember your last meal. Water, your only steadfast ally, has kept you moving; without it, you’d have long since fallen.

You trudge along the desolate highway, the city a distant speck on the horizon behind you. You have no sense of how far you’ve traveled, only that the remnants of your home have shrunk to a mere dot in your vision. The road stretches endlessly ahead, a bleak reminder of the ground yet to cover.

Dizziness is your constant companion now, your throat as parched as the Sahara despite your efforts to hydrate. Water is scarce, and you’ve been rationing it for days. Hope feels like a distant memory, and though the elusive horizon you’ve been chasing for weeks appears closer, it still seems maddeningly out of reach.

Your body feels like lead, your feet swollen and throbbing with every step.

Sleep is a distant memory, haunted away by visions of blood-streaked faces, final breaths, and echoing cries. Bloodshot eyes and a disheveled appearance mark your struggle; you’re still in your tattered nightdress, stained with blood and reeking of fear and sweat.

No food, no shower, just the relentless march through this wasteland.

You’ve lost track of time—is it still September?

The biting cold cuts through you, your torn and ruined shoes barely offering any protection. You trudge onward, desperate to find shelter, weary of hiding in the bushes from strangers who might wish you harm. Paranoia grips you; every rustle in the distance, every shadow makes you jump. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. You feel like you’re unraveling, teetering on the edge of sanity.

When your eyes land on a solitary house down a side street off the main road, you can hardly believe it. You’re nowhere near your end goal, the neighboring city, yet here it is—a lonesome house in the middle of fucking nowhere. You chuckle, convinced you’ve lost your mind. Why would there be a house out here, untouched by the chaos? You blink repeatedly, but the house remains. Your feet carry you forward, despite your spinning head and the jumbled mess of thoughts in your mind.

The house, partially concealed by tall trees and lush bushes miraculously untouched by the war, seems like a relic from a forgotten world. An old jeep, battered but intact, sits beside the porch with its white picket fence. You approach cautiously, every step feeling surreal, and lift your hand to knock. Your bloody knuckles leave crimson smears on the pristine white door, a stark reminder of the nightmare you can’t escape.

You lose track of time standing there, every second stretching into an eternity, before the door is abruptly ripped open. You find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Who are you?” a male voice demands, harsh and suspicious, but the words barely register. Your vision blurs, darkness encroaching, and the last thing you feel is the hard impact of the porch floorboards against your head as you collapse.

→ Do you want to join Yoongi on a quest for survival as the world crumbles around you? Let me know and I’ll tag you when it drops 💜

Also please let me know if you’re interested, excited about it— otherwise I’m probably just gonna post it on my ao3 only, lol. I’m scared 🫣

Read the second teaser + book cover [here]!

It's been posted!!!!

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gojo-mochi · 11 months ago

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Thinkin about a very mean Yandere dom :(

TW: noncon. yandere. Foot stuff

He wants you to feel pleasure, he wants to be the one to control that pleasure. Force it upon you. You should want it too, but you’re just too dumb and stupid to realize that right now, he just have to teach you that he’s the only one that can make you feel good.

Your struggles and cries mean nothing to this burly man, he easily tears away at your clothes until your left in a tattered shirt, your bra pulled up so he could grope freely at your chest and your bottom half laid bare for his hungry eyes.

He throws you to the ground as you sob and beg for him to stop, this only fuels his anger more. Barely taking his time to coat his fingers in salvia or spitting on your cunt before he sticks two fingers in right away.

You fight and claw back as best you can, trying to crawl away. Only to be met with a huff and a grunt as he grabs your flailing arms with one hand. Cuffing you by the wrist and pulling you closer to him. His thick fingers still plunging inside your poor cunt.

You thrash your head and shake and he gets so annoyed that he sits down on the ground, pulls you in and extend his foot down on your neck. Choking you with the pad of his bare foot, as his fingers works on your pussy, unfortunately your body reaction as his thumb starts to press and flick at your clit.

Coating his fingers in your arousal, wet noises filling the air along with your choked sobs and whimpers. He has a wicked grin on his face, seeing your body finally reacting the way he wants it to. Curling in his fingers so cruelly in that way that it always hitting your most sensitive spot.

As he feels you near an orgasm, he steps down a bit harder on your neck so you’re practically without air when you do finally come. Your vision almost going blind from the lack of air. And his fingers doesn’t stop either, it keeps going, thumb flicking at your swollen clit to the pain of oversensitivity.

“See what I can do for you, when you just behave?”

“Your cunt knows now.. and I’ll make sure she’ll remember.”

He pulls another orgasm from you with his fingers, it teeters from overbearing pleasure to pain. Your body shakes and trembles from the aftermath and he finally takes his foot off your neck, only to stand up, lift your knees up to your chest. And start rubbing the pad of his foot directly on your pussy…

#IM SORRYES SJDJD I DOJT KNOW WHAR CAME OVER ME #tw noncon #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere scenarios #softy spice #Softy Writes ( ˘▽˘)っ♨#I’m writing this at 5am and I-#yandere male

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velvette-creations · 6 months ago

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Death's Bride

Interview with the Vampire: Santiago x fem!reader

Companion Piece of "To Be Loved by Death"

Rating: Mature

WC: 1.0 k

Prompt: Temporary Death for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Vampirism: lots and lots of blood, feeding, turning

A/n: This old white man has me in a chokehold, what can I say? Ben Daniel did wonders with Santiago. Also there’s a little easter egg in the fic for all those who are fans of the original film ;)

Summary: Santiago turns you

The coven had unanimously voted to let you join, though Armand seemed reluctant in his response. You learned he had never created a vampire in his five hundred years. There was something about him that you didn’t trust, but Santiago led the coven now, and his sights fell upon you, so no one dared argue with him. You half expected Eglee to rip your throat out, but you had no qualms about sharing Santiago with her. You even allowed her to feed on you from time to time.

Finally, the night of your translation arrived in the true fashion of the coven; it would be a spectacle for the public to behold at a premium price.

“My love, are you prepared to confront death’s beckoning this very night?” Santiago inquired, enveloping your hands in his own before guiding you in a slow dance across the stage.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Louder, ma chérie. The audience needs to hear your answer,” he smirked, his glowing cerulean eyes locked on yours.

“Y..yes!” your voice quivered, the unease palpable in the air. You spoke louder this time, feeling uneasy as the audience laughed at your reaction. His hands were cold against yours, but you didn’t mind it. You had grown used to his cold embrace, the sharpness of his bite, and the nonexistent beating heart. It was hollow when you rested your head on his chest. You had believed you would fall in love with a man of warm flesh and blood, but instead, you found a cold demon had taken hold of your heart.

“Are you ready to be our bride?”

The coven moved into position, clad in white, reminding you of ghosts. They moved in spectral synchronization, swirling around the stage as Santiago danced you around. The fresh bite marks on your neck throbbed. Ruby droplets oozed from the puncture wounds, stirring the base desires in the ghostly vampires surrounding you. You kept your eyes trained on Santiago. He had offered you the dark gift, and you were willing to accept it and live by his side for eternity.

Eglee moved behind you, her fangs ghosting over your neck as her glass nails dug into the threadbare fabric of your black dress. The tattered garment had been a relic of old, worn by how many before you, you had no idea. It was a funeral dress with a high neck and frayed lace, but it portrayed you as death’s bride. The coven performers circled you, their greedy hands clenching at the hem. You twisted in the grasp until, finally, the gown was torn from your body, leaving you bare before the unfamiliar eyes of the audience and the salacious ones of the coven. Santiago beckoned you closer, drawing you into his arms.

“I am ready,” you whispered to him, then repeated your words louder for the captive audience to hear.

“Then it is time,” Santiago announced before sinking his fangs into your neck—a sweet burn, followed by a pulse of pain before it all became dull.

You grew limp as he drained you, as he lifted your weak body and passed you into the arms of the other members before they advanced on you. The curtains fell as thunderous applause and cheers filled the theater. Santiago ordered the others away, his voice muffled in your ears as you descended into darkness, unable to keep your eyes open. Life slowly drained from your body as your blood filled their insatiable mouths. You teetered into the darkness, letting it swallow you whole.

They suddenly pulled away from you, blood dripping from their greedy lips as Santiago loomed over top of you. His glistening nail sliced through his wrist before he knelt and pressed it to your mouth. You groaned as the ruby droplets filled you. Slowly, you gained your strength and consciousness as he brought you back to life. You grasped his wrist tightly as a voracious hunger surged through you.

“Ah, ah, chérie, that is enough,” Santiago scolded, patting your cheek before pulling his wrist away.

You sat up, your hair, longer and thicker, cascading down your naked body as blood clung to your mouth. Your tongue traced around your fangs, and you watched with fascination as your nails lengthed and hardened.

“I want more,” you growled.

“Then I would say a hunt is in order,” Santiago smirked, extending a hand to help you to your feet. The coven bristled in their agreement, and preparations were made. You dressed in leather jodhpurs, riding boots, and a red blouse, ready to tackle the City of Paris. The women of the coven decorated your fingers with ornate silver rings, and Santiago pressed his cigarette against your lips. You inhaled deeply, the smoke wafting around you as you tasted ash. The leather scent of his jacket was thick against your nostrils. Everything felt heightened. Enhanced.

“Come, ma chérie, the night awaits!” Santiago announced with a flourish.

The night became alive through your new eyes, vivid and bustling. You could smell everything: the hot blood pumping through veins, the sweet wine poured into glasses, the pungent smell of sweat, and you wanted to taste it all. Your vision was enhanced, making out the small details of clothing worn by the blurred bodies you passed and counting the cracks in the pavement. As his motorbike zoomed through the brightly lit city, your nails dug into Santiago's arm before letting out a whoop of delight. Santiago’s laugh bounced through the air at your enthusiasm. The coven descended upon a tavern on the outskirts, and the feeding began.

Your fangs sliced through flesh like butter, reveling in the warm spurt of blood that poured into your flushed mouth. You tore the throats of three men, draining them to the brink of death before releasing them. You wondered if you would ever feel full enough.

“You are a true creature of the night, chérie,” Santiago praised as his thumb traced around your crimson-stained lips, swiping the droplets away. He pressed the digit to his mouth and suckled it clean.

“I have never felt more alive,” you breathed, lifting your head to press your blood-stained lips to his, savoring in the intensity of his kiss.

His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you into the air as the slaughter continued beneath your dangling feet. It was finally in death that you felt the most alive.

#fic: iwtv #sweetspicyhc #iwtv santiago #santiago x reader #santiago iwtv #iwtv fanfiction #santiago #santiago fanfic #tw blood #tw vampire

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the-witch-of-one-piece · 1 year ago

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Secrets Kept from Him Chapter 3: Underlying Thoughts WC:3900+ Resident: @enchantedforest-network TW: Past relationship with Ran, Disappearing, Slight Suggestive Themes, Angst, Drinking, Suggestive Language, Masturbation, Making Out, Past Memories, Secret Child He Never Met Until Now, Being Watched(unedited) Synopsis: Your daughter finally meets her father, the only thing is she isn't aware that Ran is her father. He won't tell her right away as he is waiting for the right moment. The more he observes you the more he wants you. You can't deny intimate moments flood your mind with your guy's past but also lead to risky behavior that piques his interest more. Someone is also interested in the person that seems to be catching Ran's eye. MINOR DNI 18+

“Morning Ran.” you opened the door for him. “What's with the flowers?” you asked him.

“One is for you and the other is for D/n. I know you always like flowers in the home. Unless that changes.” He gave you the larger bouquet.

The bouquet had your favorite flowers. “I still do…Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” a small smile appeared on your face. ‘Still as charming as ever..’ “I wanted to do this, there's a difference.” Ran’s eyes looked around the home.

“Let me find a vase to put them in really quickly. I will be right back.” you walked to the kitchen hoping to find a vase. You still were trying to figure out where everything was in the home.

Ran noticed a few photo frames that were displayed on a wall. Looking at each photo he saw a different stage in his daughter's life. From her being only a few days told till her current age.

D/n was so eager to explore the rest of the house that she left her room and went down the stairs. She stopped at the foot of the stairway. Studying the tall man who was looking at the photos. D/n remembered she saw him yesterday when he got off the elevator with the lady. From the side view, he saw something moving. He turned his head to see his little one looking at him.

“Hello there.” He smiled. She stood quiet looking at him. He remembers you saying she was a bashful child. It would take her time for her to warm up to new people. When he finally stood in front of her he kneeled down at eye level with her greeting her with a gentle smile.

When you finally found a vase you walked back to where Ran was to find him with your guy's daughter. You observed from a distance as Ran began talking to her. You were wondering how she was going to react to him.

“You must be D/n.” Ran smiled

Her eyes widened, surprised to know this stranger knew her name. She nodded, “Mhmm.” She softly said as she teetered tattered with her feet.

‘She is adorable.’ Ran thought. “I’m Ran… I’m….” Ran paused for a moment and he wanted to say ‘I’m your daddy.’ But he couldn't say it. All he could say was, “I’m a friend of your mommy’s.” Bringing the flowers towards her “I heard you liked flowers, I hope you like them.”

Her little hands accepted the flowers. “Thank you.” Softly speaking she smelled the flowers. Your daughter got a glimpse of you from a distance, “Mommy look.” She ran towards you excitedly with the bouquet of flowers in her hands. Ran stood up seeing her running towards you.

“Those are beautiful.” Giggling as she held them up to you. “Why don’t we put them in a vase then we can place them in your room a bit later?” making her. Agreeing to the idea, you brought her to the kitchen, placing them into a vase.

Ran watched how you interacted with her. How tender and attentive you were with her, he always had this image of you being like this with your kids. Your daughter didn’t look outside into the back until now to see a swing on a tree.“Mommy, can we go outside?” She asked.

“Of course,”you smiled.

Eagerly going outside you saw her run directly to the swing. Ran stood next to you on the patio as you both saw her swinging in the swing. “She has a lot of energy.” Ran smiled as his eyes watched his little one.

“She does” When you look at him you can see he was deep in thought as he looked at him., "What are you thinking about?” asked him. “Other than my daughter, not knowing who I really am, she just knows me as a friend of her mothers.” Ran said, “But what can I do right now other than get to know her.”

Nodding at his response. Ran made his way to the little girl on the swing.

With a relaxed smile on his lip, you could see he offered to push her on the swing. You leaned against the post on the patio.

~~~~~~~

“Can I have another one?” You mumbled in a soft whisper. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss. “Another” giving him one after another after another.

“Okay okay” you chuckled as both of you were tangled in one another’s arms. The light coming from the window as the moon shines bright. “I love you Ran.” you meant those words every single time you were with him.

You found the one you wanted to be with after prior failed relationships. He changed your mind when you gave him a chance a few years ago. You were a bit skeptical at first because of how attentive he was or the way he spoke so smoothly. The more he was around he broke the barriers from around you.

“I love you too______. I want you to promise me something. Promise me you will always be by my side.” Ran caressing your cheek gently as if you were a porcelain doll. The words I love you hardly came out of his mouth when he was dating people throughout the years; those words were only spoken to very important people. One of them is you, I love you was used often.

“I promise to be by your side.” You softly spoke.

Ran felt his heart flutter at your words, feeling content knowing you would be the one he would spend the rest of his life with. “Say it again.” fixating on the words you spoke. His hand began to slide down to your bare waist. You could feel himself becoming aroused as he wanted to hear you say it again.

“I promise to be by your side Ran.” you cooed softly. It takes him a long time to slide himself on top of you. The YSL cologne still lingered on him as he leaned closer. His lips connected to yours while his body began to sink into you. The kiss travels down from your lips to your jawline to your neck. The shallow breaths escape your lips, with each touch makes your body crave more. ~~~~~~ You stopped yourself from remembering the rest of the thoughts, it’s bad enough you deprived yourself of physical touch from anyone since your daughter was born. It was a sacrifice you made by a decision you made. You could have dated and been offered throughout the years but you couldn’t.

Ran happened to back at you for a brief moment to see that you were in your own thoughts on things. Hearing the happy laughs coming from his child who was swinging higher and higher on the swing. He wanted to know everything about her, he was proceeding with caution not trying to overwhelm the small child. A few more minutes on the swing d/n got off. “Thank you, Mr. Ran.” the bashful little girl spoke. Crouching down “Your welcome little princess. Tell me what else do you like to do?” asked her. “Ummm…” she began to think. “I have tea parties with my animal up the stairs.” Ran and you followed her up the stairs where she had her room set up, the tea set was next to the window on a tea table.

Ran looked around the room on her bed and he recognized a familiar white stuffed rabbit. ‘She kept it.’ he thought to himself. It was the first gift he had got you when you both started dating. It held a lot of sentimental value. It would end up being the first stuffed animal your daughter ever had. He watched his daughter reach for the stuffed rabbit and bring it to her setup.

A few hours would have passed when Ran got a call. When he pulled up his phone he saw Ms. Yamaguchi’s number appear on his phone. He excused himself by taking the call outside. You looked at him through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. You could see the smile on his face as he was speaking on the phone. You could only imagine what he was talking about or who he was talking to. Your daughter was on the counter as she was continuing her drawing, her little hums as she switched to another color. Bringing your attention back to her. From the outside, Ran was a bit annoyed to have gotten the call but the tone he spoke was so calming. The contracts were still in the works making sure this was going to happen for the club. He looked at his watch and he didn't expect time to fly by so quickly, “Of course, I can be there around 6:30pm. I’m currently in the process of doing something else right now.” looking at the window he got a view of you and your daughter at the table you were watching her color. He could see the smile on your face as you were talking to her inside. “Hmp you don’t say… Well, I looked forward to seeing you then." When he got off the phone he had to cut this visit short. Walking back into the room “I’m sorry I have to cut my visit short I have an unexpected meeting.” You and d/n looked at him. “It’s fine,” you spoke. Ran walked over towards his daughter. “D/n it was nice to meet you. I hope we can do something fun when I see you again.” She bashfully nodded. She actually felt comfortable with him; she couldn’t explain that something was different than the other friends she met before. She looked down at the drawing she just finished. Her cheeks were a bit hot when she was deciding what to do next. “This is for you,” she mumbled softly both of you hardly were able to make out what she said to him. She held the drawing towards him. It honestly kinda of surprised you she actually was holding the drawing towards him. He accepted the drawing seeing it was a picture of different flowers she colored. He couldn’t help but smile at the sweet gesture of his daughter. He wanted to pick her up and give her a hug and a kiss but he restrained himself. It was pulling on his own heartstrings not to show the affection he wanted for her. “This is amazing, ya know I have a special place I can put this at, thank you d/n”

She covered her face and mumbled “your welcome.” you couldn’t help but smile how bashful she got when giving him the photo. “D/n I’m going to walk Ran out you can continue to color it will only be a moment.” “Okay Mommy,” she said as she watched you and Ran walk to the front door.

Closing the door behind you that leads outside. The brief moment of silence “You gave her the rabbit I gave you.” he had a small smile.

“She has been sleeping with it since she was a newborn. She can’t sleep without it…It gave her comfort like it gave me.” having a small smile on your face. “I appreciate it that you're taking it slow with her. She seems to like you, which is a good thing.” “Of course, now that I’m a bit familiar with what she likes and how she responds to things I know how to proceed.” He was still trying to figure out if he should proceed to pursue you or not. After the comments from yesterday about the hickey he had covered up this time, he was unsure if you were interested in him after seeing that. “When the time comes she will know who I really am.”

“Yeah…” making eye contact with him... “You might need to get going, sorry I was holding you up. I know you're busy.”

He wished he could cancel this but he didn’t want to hear Rindou complain about it. He had to go to the club later on. “Right…I will call you tomorrow. I may also need to correlate something with Rin to meet d/n but I will talk to him about it.” You nodded, “Either call or text you have my number, and let me know.” “Of course…Till we meet again.” Ran began to walk and he decided to test the waters a bit with you. He stopped slightly turning his body around. “How about a goodbye kiss like old time sake. You kinda owe me one.” the playful manner coming from him. You felt your cheeks become hot by his comment. Ran smirked seeing he could still make you blush with just the simplest comments like those. Composing the blush quickly “Goodbye Ran.” you didn’t answer her question he asked.

“Can’t blame me for trying now.” He turned back around heading to his car. Your hand was on the doorknob. You saw him get into the car and drive off, he disappeared down the street. You made your way back into your home. The thought of kissing him, just a kiss wouldn't have been enough for you. Thinking about his lips against yours you could remember how soft they were, the way his tongue brushed against your lower lips. His hands wrapped around you and your body quivered for his touch. ‘I need to calm down.’ you felt yourself becoming a bit warm. Just a few hours apart Ran was sitting on the edge of the bed, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips. He only has his unbuckled dress pants on his damp hair pushed back. He could hear the shower going in the bathroom. He began to process the thoughts in his mind after an encounter he had with Ms. Yamaguchi. He didn’t want to look at her during the session. He made sure she had her face buried in the pillows. When he looked at her, her face was covered with her hair. His mind began to picture it as you. He could vividly hear you cry out his name begging him to go harder. It sent him over the edge quickly. His mind was messing with him, ‘how quickly she can invade my thoughts like that..’ he thought to himself.

His fingers removed the cigarette from his mouth as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. He heard the shower turn off prompting him to get dressed. He reached for his button and began to place it on.

Ms. Yamaguchi came out in her towel looking at him. “Leaving so soon?” Her eyes focused on the violet-eyed man.

“I have to head out to the club and make sure everything is running smoothly,” Ran responded. “Very sneaky of you to have me come and see you to sign paperwork.” He smirked.

“Well, I think you would have enjoyed this much more than signing paperwork. But I promised it wouldn't be done by tomorrow. There were some delays today.”

“I see. Me and Rin can meet up tomorrow to sign the paperwork.” He made sure he included Rin's name in the topic since he was also the one who was going to be signing the contract.

“Of course. Maybe after the contract signing we can celebrate, how about dinner just me and you?” She asked, walking closer to him.

‘Shit…’ he thought, still keeping his composure. He wanted to see d/n hoping to sign the contracts early instead of later in the day. “It does sound nice but I do have a meeting later on tomorrow. Why don't we plan something later on another day.” He tilted her chin bringing her face closer to his, giving her a sweet smile.

“I will make it worth your wild.”

“Very well, Mr. Haitani. I will hold you to it. So since you are busy tomorrow we can push the signing to the morning.”

Ran made a smooth exit from the hotel room. Making his way to the club. The music could be heard on the outside of the club as he began to enter. People dance, drink, and enjoying themselves. Heading into the VIP room to find his brother there on the large sofa. “How did it go?” Rindou asked him to watch his brother sit down next to him.

“With D/n, let’s say I didn’t want to leave. It was cut short due to Ms. Yamaguchi. I just got back from there.” He closed for a brief moment and sighed. “If it wasn’t for the damn contract still needing to be signed I wouldn’t have gone… ya know I got a small taste of what it would be like to be a dad.”

“Does she know you as her dad?”

Ran shook his head “Not yet she only knows me as her mother’s friend. I got to know her, what she is like, and what she likes to do. She kinda reminds me of you when you were a kid, very shy.”

“Knock it off.” He didn't like to mention his personality as a child. He was a bit embarrassed of it. “What about _____?”

“Other than being the most attentive mother to her, how it took all my strength not to hold her in my arms again. And pretend like nothing ever happened and live like a family… but then I come back to reality and this is how it is. I’m just the man who she once knew or she makes it seem like that.”

Rindou understood how his brother might be feeling that way. “Here, have a drink.” pouring the cold whiskey. “From this point, you have two options as I see it. You continue what you have been doing since she was gone and just be there for D/n as her father” placing the bottle of whiskey down “or if you feel like those feelings for ________ are still there and you want to pursue them you need to show her. This also means forgiving her for leaving like she did and moving forward. This will be up to you how you proceed.” The words from his brother made him think. Looking at his phone he scrolled through his contacts to see your number. ~~~~~~~~~ You were brushing D/n hair and you both sat on her bed. She held her stuffed rabbit looking down at it. You wanted to ask her about what she thought about Ran. “Did you have fun today?” you asked her. “Mhmmm.” d/n respond back “I like the swing outside!”

“I’m glad you liked that. How about mommy’s friend Ran?” asking her. “He is really nice and he smells good. Mommy, he was at the hotel yesterday.” responding to you. “Wait, you saw him at the hotel?” you stopped brushing her hair.

Turning her head she nodded. “Yeah, he was coming out of the elevator with his girlfriend. He was holding her hand. She was really pretty.” You raised your brows “Oh.” maybe your assumption of him being single wasn’t true, maybe he was seeing someone. He didn’t specify it when you both talked yesterday. But today his comment about the kiss was teasing, right? Just to mess with me? All these different questions popping into your mind right now. “You okay Mommy?” slightly tilting her head at you. “Mommy is okay,” you reassured her, you looked at the clock next to her bed. “Alright, it’s time for bed. Let's get you all tucked in.” you began to tuck her into bed. Giving her a good night kiss you put on her night light. Making your way down the hall towards your own room you got into bed. you were going through your phone but you couldn’t concentrate on what you were looking at. You kept pondering on the thought of Ran seeing someone else. He could have been talking to her outside before he left. All the things he used to do with you, he is doing them with her. The various positions you both were in over those years of being together years back flooded your mind. The phantom of your own hand began to travel around your body the way he used to. You were losing yourself in the moment. The lack of sexual contact over the years forced you to figure out a way to satisfy your needs. Your hand travels lower inside your pants. The soft panting coming from your lips. You were so into your thoughts that you became hot and bothered.

The sudden vibrations from your phone went off, startling you. Reaching for your phone seeing it was Ran. Trying to take a collective breath before you pick up. “Hello?”

Ran could hear from your tone you were slightly out of breath. “Hey… are you okay?” He walked into his office trying to hear your voice without the disturbance of the music. “You sound out of breath.”

“I’m okay, I was just startled by the sudden call.” Your heart was racing hoping he didn't catch on to what you were doing moments ago. “What happened?”

“I was thinking of seeing you both tomorrow I will be free in the afternoon,” Ran responded. “If that’s okay?”

Both of us? You were wondering if you heard right. “It should be fine, I'm going to go to the market in the morning with D/n other than that we will be free…maybe I can fix something before you arrive.”

His head perked up “Really now?” He lightly chuckled. The way he chuckled like that turned you on more. Biting your lower lip. “I will be looking forward to that.”

“Ran” You were contemplating if you should just have him come over. You were fighting this urge inside you to not cave into the desire you oppressed for so long.

The slightly needy tone caught his tone. All so familiar to him. He was starting to see what he interrupted. Thinking you may have been asleep but you were doing other things. “Yes doll, is there something you need to ask me? .”

‘Fuck.’ He made your toes curl. ‘No no, keep it together don’t let him come over now.’ There was a brief moment of silence. Ran was waiting for your response. He was waiting for the signal just for you to ask him to come over. But those hopes were shot down with your response. “I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

‘Dammit….’ He ran his fingers through his hair “see you tomorrow doll. Sweet dreams… don’t have too much fun now.”

You quickly disconnected the call with him. ‘God he knows… Why did I pick up the call in the first place… I could have called him back in the morning.’ You placed your phone on silent mode for the rest of the night.

Ran on the other hand, smirking to himself ‘I know what I want…. better yet… who I want.’

~~~~~~~~~ ~Earlier in the Day~

Outside of the home, there was someone else keeping a close eye on you just earlier that afternoon. They witnessed the brief encounter you and Ran had outside the home. They knew it was something more between you both. Pulling out the phone “It’s me…I need you to pull up some information on a person for me. How long will it take? …. I see I will send it right now then." They hung up the phone. Sending the information on the address. They were curious about this woman who knew Ran Haitani. They looked at the home before they started the car and took off in the opposite direction of where Ran left.

@pjmo-ri-ka-wa @rindougf @inupiluv @shycreatorsandwich @awkwardaardvarkforever @the-haitani-baton @bontensbabygirl @thebrownemo @satanlovesusall666 @intheafterall @galactict3a @ratlovecat @niko-ash @kira-rrh @iluv-ace @kosoyumei @nightqueensk @inurmom00 @alexanderlightwoodii @captainmycaptainn @lovenats01 @sintyu @strawberrychrome @missgab @fff2345 @anxious-chick @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @s4dl1 @elmakimaki @heavenly103 @livefromraleigh @kei-b-gurlll @spookiisopium

Interested in joining the taglist please fill out the form below to get a notification of your favorite characters when they are being posted! Link here ->taglist

Chapter Links to this storyline are below! Chapter 1.Chapter 2.

#ran haitani #ran x reader #ran x you #Tokyo Revenger Telenovela #Secrets Kept From Him #Chapter Three: underlying Thoughts #ran haitani x you #ran haitani x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #val's writing

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neverpathia · 7 days ago

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okay guys

so this is for a kinda art trade with @everestgale as i've said before i think

but like

i actually have no idea how well i did on this piece tbh. not one of my best works. but whatever, it's here now. yay.

-- -- -- -- --

He was there. And he was also there. And he was there, and there, and there.

Too many incarnations, scattered across too many lifetimes. Littered with too many wrong choices, wasted chances, horrible consequences, painful deaths. Too much pain, too many scars, borne by himself as well as everyone else. Physical. Emotional. Everywhere—

"Hero?" He was shaken out of his stupor by the voice of a companion. The Paranoid. Yes, the Hero was in the infirmary right now. Okay. Right.

Hero looked up from where he sat on the windowsill and blinked.

The afternoon sun-rays fell about him, surrounding Hero with daylight. His sword lay against the wall, propped on the floor beside him. Across from his seat, Paranoid was hunched over a cluttered workbench, tinkering with herbs and concoctions.

She turned abruptly as she shot Hero a concerned glance. "You spaced out for a second."

"Uh..." Hero clutched at the curtain. "Nope. Carry on with whatever you were doing."

Paranoid shook her head and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "Idiot."

"What?" Hero tried to look as innocent as he could muster.

Paranoid went back to her work, but she only partially turned her attention away from Hero. "You're not convincing me."

"You're only being...paranoid." He offered her an awkward grin.

Paranoid rolled her eyes as she poured some sort of mixture into an uncorked vial. "Fine, I'll trust you. Only a little. For now."

I'll trust you. And from Paranoid, of all people. Hero wanted to laugh.

Hero leaned back against the glass panes. They were warm, almost scalding. He observed Paranoid as she worked, her slender frame bent over the desk in concentration. The apothecary's gloved hands moved to and fro, passing between her crammed shelves and teetering beakers, calculated and frantic. Shaky. Unstable.

She had become like that because of Hero. Of what he had failed to prevent. And then the memories came again: a flickering figure, a porcelain mask, gloved hands and unblinking eyes. That was one of them, only one of the many...

His fault. Another fault. And another mistake, another, another. It could've been averted every single time. But it wasn't. It all swirled around him, amidst him, each sight and step and sound a new reminder. Nails and heels. Claws and fangs. He was only a false Hero, one who tried to save everything but only doomed and doomed and—

"Breathe. You need to breathe."

Memory faded. Presence returned. Paranoid had left her workbench and now crouched some distance from Hero, leaning as a doctor would by a patient's bedside, yet just a bit too far from reach.

"What..." Hero shook his head, somewhat dazed. He noticed a bit of shattered glass on the floor, with what used to be its contents spilling across the table.

Shit.

"Uh." Hero gestured to the mess. "Someone should go clean that-"

"You were hyperventilating." Paranoid's gaze darted back and forth, as if she couldn't decide if eye contact would be okay. She stared with wide, nervous eyes. Her stance was tense.

Hero shifted on the windowsill, sheepish. "Sorry about that."

"You-" Paranoid fidgeted hard with the hem of her own tattered cloak, twisting and squeezing. "Don't apologise. That can't be okay. You're thinking of something. First you were spaced out, and lost in your head, and then after a while you zoned out again."

Hero sighed. "Nothing's wrong. It's just...been a long day."

"And I'm not buying that. Something's wrong, alright."

Hero looked away. "We don't need to talk about it, at least not right now."

Paranoid paused. She clawed feverishly at the cloak before instantly, abruptly, letting go.

And she gave a sudden laugh, nervous and pained. "Hahaha. That's what I say. That- that's what I always say. Don't think about it. Not now, not ever. Just don't. Just don't."

Then her smile faded. "But then it doesn't go away. It comes back and it just stays there. Nagging. Insistent. Worse. So don't give me that shit, Hero, and just tell me."

Hero hesitated. "I don't know about that." He really didn't want to think about it, and he definitely didn't want to bother Paranoid any longer.

Paranoid rolled her eyes. "You do realise that not telling me is just going to make me worry about you more, right?"

Hero was silent for another moment. How stupid of him. To have this breakdown here, in the same room as a friend, as if Paranoid would simply have allowed herself to ignore it. To be led along the same train of thought as ever.

Paranoid sighed. "I could say that I care about you, but that's just going to make it worse, isn't it?"

Hero tried for a smile. "No, it wouldn't."

Paranoid buried her face in her hands. "Oh, for fuck's sake..."

Hero considered for a moment. They were close, after all. How much would Paranoid mind if he confided?

Actually, he didn't want to know.

Paranoid began to fidget again. "Okay. Let's look at this another way. Let's say I'm the one panicking—fuck, I'm always the one panicking—and you were watching it happen. Wouldn't you ask me to tell you what I'm feeling? Wouldn't you try to comfort me?"

Hero avoided looking at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's different. I'm supposed to be the one who's okay."

Paranoid facepalmed. "I- ...Fine. Let's just say I care for you. I really do."

Hero didn't meet her eyes. "I know."

"You probably feel like a burden right now. I promise you're not! Really. Doesn't it hurt? Isn't it hard, keeping all that to yourself, locking it all up? Tell someone. Tell me. It would help."

Hero did not respond.

"And I wish I did know, even if you don't. Just...please tell me. If you can."

Silence at first. Then, finally, Hero spoke. "I'm just so tired."

Paranoid didn't interrupt. She only tilted her head ever so slightly as she let him go on; as she simply listened.

"It's like I'm a liar. A fraud." It came slow at first. The words were forced out. But as soon as Hero had said them, it was like something had burst, and it just needed to be released.

"A hero. That's what you all call me. That's supposed to be my name, who I am." Hero looked down at his hands, at all the faint yet present scars criss-crossing across them. "But what kind of hero am I if I can't save anyone? You know the past. I was there with the Decider, with all of you, every single time. And I could have said something. I could have taken control. I could have...done anything."

Tears began to well up at the corners of Hero's eyes. He looked up, desperate to prevent them from flowing down. "Look at everyone. Look at you. You and Broken and Hunted and Cheated and even Contrarian. You're all so hurt. And if I had just done the right things, you wouldn't even be like this. But I didn't. I...let you become like this.

"And I said things. I turned the Princess into this, into that, into everything at once. It never stopped, never stops now. It's there all the time. Too many memories. I don't want it anymore. I just want to forget. I just want to forget."

He couldn't stop the tears from coming. They broke away. They rolled down. They fell onto his legs. Onto the windowsill. Onto the ground. Little splatters, unguarded, unrestrained; like everything he had never done.

Paranoid's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. And she nodded. And she didn't look away, but she didn't look ahead either; she simply stared in his general direction without staring at him.

She was listening. He was relieved. He was concerned. He was too fatigued to care.

"Can you tell me I'm okay?" Hero asked. "It's...going to be fine, right?"

"No." Paranoid kept her voice soft. "This isn't something logical. I can tell you a million things you did right but it still wouldn't be enough."

Hero gave a weak smile. "Just tell me anyway. It might help, I don't know."

She barely hesitated before speaking. "You've been here since the start. You know all of us, and you're the only one who can comfort us most of the time. And even before all this, you...You were always the voice of reason. The most normal, or at least you forced yourself to be. That's admirable. I don't know how you did it."

Hero tried to feel better. The words did ease him a little. But Paranoid was right, it wasn't enough. He was just doing his duty. It was his obligation. And he had still done too little of it.

Paranoid wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Still anxious as ever. "I love you for it. But that doesn't mean jack shit. I could list a hundred rights, and one wrong would still be so much worse."

Hero attempted to force a smile again. "I can deal with it. I can—"

"Are you so sure you can?" Paranoid rose as she stepped forward, closing the distance. "Or are you just lying to yourself?"

He stopped. The memories came again. It did hurt. It hurt too much.

"Maybe." Hero slumped. "Can you get something for it, like medicine or anything? You always have something for everything."

Paranoid laughed bitterly. "I wish. Maybe for the short-term, yes. Something to dull it for a while. But you can't avoid it forever."

The resignation in her face told Hero everything. Of course he couldn't just escape. She would know.

She shot him a glance as she walked over to another corner of the room. "I'll get a couple of pills for you. Maybe some tea as we speak."

Hero stayed where he was. He tried to wipe the tears from his cheeks, a bit embarrassed. "Alright."

He scooted along the window and tried to hide into the curtains as Paranoid retrieved something from a drawer. She turned and caught a glimpse of whatever he was doing, the curtains barely covering his bulky frame. She frowned.

"Hero?" Paranoid seemed rather disappointed. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He grinned bashfully, more genuine this time. "Uh, nothing."

"Idiot." This one was clear enough.

He actually laughed a little. "Hey, just carry on."

And she did, pouring something into a cup as she muttered and mumbled to herself. Hero contemplated. At least this was nice. The sun filtering in behind him, the organized clutter of the infirmary, and the company of a friend. Even if the friend was a little strange.

She returned with a cup and saucer in one hand, clutching a small pouch with a few pills inside in the other. "These are for later, six o'clock sharp."

He took the pouch from her. "What's in here?"

"A bit of my own medication diluted with something else." She sat on the floor beside him, setting the cup down on the windowsill next to his thigh.

Hero gaped. "Seriously?"

"Remember to tell me if you experience any side effects—"

"No. Hold on." He stared blankly at Paranoid, her demeanour unsteady and frazzled. "You're medicated?"

"So I've worked with medicines for as long as I can remember, and I wouldn't have enough sense to do something about myself. That makes a lot of sense, Hero."

"What the- This is after mental treatment?"

Paranoid shrank back, comically offended. "Does it still seem that bad?!"

Hero laughed again as he stuffed the pills in his pocket. "Still pretty bad."

Paranoid smiled. "Hey, as if you're not bad either. It does help, trust me on this."

And then the moment was over.

"How much does it work?" Hero asked. The turmoil threatened at him again. Coiling and churning and crossing the edges of his brain. Knocking against his temples. About to rupture against it all.

"It should be enough for now, but—"

"Please," Hero whispered at first, unaware as he did, but his voice rose steadily as he spoke, louder and louder. "Can it all just stop? I want it to stop. The expectations, the guilt. Make it stop. Please make it stop! Please, I can't do this anymore!"

Paranoid averted her eyes.

"I...want it to stop too. Hahaha." Her laugh was desperate, and yearning, and pleading. "But it won't."

Hero heaved a long sigh. There was more silence.

Paranoid extended a hand, and he took it. And for one moment, they remained like that.

Sitting still.

Holding hands.

"So..." Hero broke the silence. "Just like that?"

Paranoid gave his hand a squeeze. "All we can do is live, I guess. Or try to live."

"At least you're here."

"...Yeah." She looked up, finally meeting his eyes. "At least...at least we're not alone."

And there was hope.

#okay #this one kinda sucks #like. it actually really kinda fucksucks right now #but okay #uh it's out i guess you guys can read it i guess i don't really like how it turned out! at all! but it's here.#voice of the hero #voice of the paranoid #stp #slay the princess #no more tags i got lazy adieu #nevvey writes #although i will say this.#i love my anxiety wife

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sengardet · 6 months ago

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Dainty Knight's Big Fat Meaty Heart

Gertrude, the delicate blonde knight, gripped her bastard sword tightly as she faced the wall of leering invaders before her. Despite her slight frame, her delicate arms steadied the weighty blade, shifting her lithe body to balance its heft. Her small, dazzled breastplate gleamed in the sunlight.

Beyond the sneering ruffians, Gertrude spied a group of fair maidens huddled into a garrisoned church, their dresses tattered, eyes wide with fear and desperate hope. The damsels cried out to her.

Gertrude's heart swelled with blood and purpose, the mighty organ pounding like a war drum in her chest, flooding her veins with hot crimson. She could feel its bulging mass straining against her ribs, too big and vigorous for her willowy frame to contain. An engine of pure power thundering within her breast.

The men laughed wickedly and closed in, brandishing their weapons. "You dare challenge us, little girl? We'll cut you down where you stand!"

But they underestimated the might of Gertrude's determination, the raw power of her oversized, powerful heart. With a high-pitched battle cry, she surged forward and sliced through their ranks in a whirlwind of flashing steel. Her strokes were inhumanly fast and precise, driven by the panic in the voices of the helpless women, and the desire to rescue those in distress.

Hot blood sprayed and men crumpled before her onslaught until none were left standing. Panting raggedly, Gertrude staggered and dropped to one knee, leaning on her sword. Her lungs burned for air as her massive heart swelled and throbbed against them.

"Fear not, fair maidens," Gertrude gasped out between strained breaths, "I have come to set you free! No man shall lay hand on you now."

Rising unsteadily to her feet, she strode through the broken doors of the cathedral to break the chains of the cowering women, ever the valiant rescuer, even as her legs trembled beneath her.

Gertrude slumped to the stone floor, her sword clanging as it fell from her trembling hand. The damsels she had just freed surrounded her, their delicate faces twisting into cruel smirks.

Gertrude's oversized heart pounded against her ribcage like a war drum, making her frail body quake with each mighty thud. Sweat plastered her golden hair to her forehead.

"I hope you are not harmed, my ladies." she said between labored breaths.

The tallest damsel scoffed, flipping her dark tresses. "Look at her, weak as a kitten! Some knight in shining armor." She shoved Gertrude onto her back with a soft kick.

The other women tittered. "Pathetic." One knelt and roughly groped Gertrude's heaving chest. "Gods, feel how her heart hammers! Like some frightened rabbit."

"Sit on it, Elise! See if you can make the poor dear's heart burst," another urged with a wicked grin.

Elise hiked up her skirts and straddled Gertrude's chest, digging her knees into Gertrude's shoulders. The pressure made it hard to breathe. Gertrude squirmed beneath her, but Elise's weight pinned her down, pressing her soft flesh against the bulging, beating mass of her heart.

"P-please..." Gertrude wheezed, "I can't breathe..." But the damsels only laughed cruelly.

"Aw, poor thing," one mocked in a baby voice while the others snickered. "Is that big fat heart squeezing the air from your little lungs?"

The knight's eyes rolled back as she teetered on the edge of consciousness, lungs compressed in her delicate little chest as her defeated heart lay engorged in defeat.

One leaned down, breathing air into Gertrude's mouth, barely keeping her alive to endure more. "Look at that! her heart just keeps going for us! What a Fighter!"

The damsel on top of her giggled. "It's like a big, squishy toy! Pump, pump, pump... Oops, stopped again! Better keep our hero alive so we can play with her more."

Despite herself, Gertrude felt a shameful throb between her legs at having this buxom beauty atop her. She tried to protest, but Elise pressed a palm over her mouth. "Hush now, sweetling. Just lay back and take what you're given."

Another of the damsels noticed the growing damp patch on Gertrude's breeches. "Well, well! It seems our noble knight is quite the desperate slut. Aroused by a bit of flesh, are we?"

Before Gertrude could reply, the damsel delivered a light teasing kick to her vulva. A jolt of twisted pleasure shot through her. Gertrude moaned into Elise's hand, embarrassed by how much she craved their delicate yet cruel touch. Her weakened body couldn't mount resistance or escape, heart erratically stopping and starting under their torturous ministrations.

"That's it, stay down like an obedient dog." Elise rocked her hips, grinding against Gertrude's straining heart. The organ beat frantically, as if trying to break free of her ribcage and escape this torture.

Gertrude dreamed of rescuing and serving fair maidens, but never imagined some would be so mean and demanding. Despite everything, she adored being at the mercy of these vicious beauties she had saved.

#heart torture #f/f #dark cardiophilia #cardiophilia #ryona

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rikaluver · 1 year ago

Text

Joy Ride - Postal Dude x AFAB Reader

Genre - Smut

This is an old fic of mine, you can find it on AO3 but I don't know where since it was on my old account...Anyways, enjoy!!

The heat hits you like a wave. The sun beats down relentlessly from a cloudless sky, casting everything in a harsh, unyielding light. The gas station is a low-slung building, its faded yellow and red paint peeling in the desert sun.

You get closer and spot a tall man in a tattered black trench coat loitering near the pumps. He’s got a scruffy goatee and a wild look in his eye, and he seems to be muttering to himself as he paces back and forth.

Freak, you think to yourself.

You push open the door, and a blast of cool air washes over you, providing a welcome respite from the scorching desert heat. It’s dimly lit inside, with rows of shelves stocked with snacks, drinks, and other random shit. There’s one other customer inside—an older man. He’s standing by idly, not looking at anything or buying anything. It’s like he’s not even there.

You make your way to the back of the store, grabbing a few snacks and some beer (a lot of it). There isn’t much to do around in this ghost town; you spend most of your time getting drunk or high. As you return to the store's front, you notice a display of souvenirs near the register. Postcards with the Grand Canyon, refrigerator magnets, random shit with the state flag plastered on it, you name it.

The cashier appears disconnected, staring blankly ahead and barely acknowledging your presence. As rude as it is, you snap your fingers before him to get his attention. He blinks slowly and looks at you vacantly before scanning your items. He’s moving in slow motions as if operating on autopilot.

You don’t bother to make small talk; you know he’ll give one-word responses, not registering your words. It’s always the same with the people in Paradise. They’re like zombies.

You finish paying and gathering your belongings, though you can’t help but feel a bit of unease.

You feel the warm sun on your skin and the desert air in your lungs the moment you step outside. You shield your eyes from the sun's rays, waiting for your eyes to adjust.

The people in this town stick around one place, and you rarely see them anywhere else, so when you see the guy there when you entered, smoking, it’s not a surprise. You know everyone’s face (not that there are many people, to begin with), but you can’t recognize this guy. You’re unsure if you’ve ever seen him outside, and you’d undoubtedly remember him considering his height (he’s got to be 6’5” at least).

He spots you after a while and quickly stubs his cigarette out before walking up to you.

“You’re not one of the contaminated ones, I can tell.”

“Jesus, dude, what?”

A manic grin spreads across his face, “You’ve noticed it, haven’t you?”

You take a step back, feeling a bit uneasy. The man in front of you seems like he’s on something. And, unlike everybody else in the town, you can’t tell what his next move will be.

“There’s something in the air infecting everyone in Paradise. You and I are the only uninfected people left in this town.”

You scoff and push past him, making your way back home. You were right to think he was a freak when you first saw him. As animated as he may be, he’s still one of the crazy people around here.

Are you the only one with a functioning brain around?

The man grabs your shoulder and turns you around effortlessly, griping you too firmly. Not only was he abnormally tall, but he was also abnormally strong.

“I know. I know what you’re thinking—you think I’m one of them, right? Different but still crazy, yeah?” His eyes flicker between you and whatever’s behind you (you know there’s nothing and no one behind you). The look in his eyes is one of a man on the edge, teetering between madness and despair. “You can trust me, though. I thought the same when I saw you,” he punctuates each word, his grip tightening.

You feel a sharp jolt of pain through your muscles; the shit he’s saying goes in one ear and out the other. You need him to let go. The pressure is intense, and it feels like his fingers are digging deep into your flesh, leaving a mark you can feel long after he’s released his hold.

“Yeahyeahyeah, you’re right, now let me go!” Your voice comes out more desperate than you’d like it to.

Realizing that he may have been too forceful, the man quickly lets go of your shoulder. “Sorry,” he says, a note of concern in his deep voice. “You’re willing to hear me out though, right?”

You nod, rubbing your shoulder to soothe the soreness, not considering what you just agreed to. And before you know it, the man’s taking you to his house. He introduces himself as Postal Dude. You’re not sure why he’s using a fake name if, apparently, you two are the only ordinary people around.

As you approach his home, you see it’s in disarray, with broken furniture and discarded items strewed outside. It seems The Dude has been living in survival mode, making do with whatever he can salvage.

It’s no wonder you’ve never seen him around.

Once inside, Postal Dude leads you to a small, makeshift living room with only a few small lamps providing light, a worn-out couch, and a rickety table that needs to be flipped back up. You sit on the couch (the only “clean” place) and look at his living conditions. The walls are bare, and the floors are made of old, creaky wood planks that groan at any pressure applied. Stacks of newspapers, empty beer bottles, and discarded food wrappers are piled up in the room's corners. There are a few personal touches here and there, a well-arranged collection of….weapons on a nearby shelf, an old game console (he doesn’t have a TV), and porno magazines! How homely!

He doesn’t sit down with you. He, instead, walks over to the window, peering out anxiously through the blinds. His posture is tense, and you can tell he’s on edge. Jesus, you can practically see the fear and anxiety emanating from him, and you wonder what he’s looking for. You assume the “infection” must make him paranoid and attentive, always looking for potential threats.

“You okay?” you ask cautiously.

After a few moments, he turns back to you, his expression still serious. “We need to be careful,” his voice is low and urgent.

“Uh, yeah, for sure,” you fiddle with your bag. Maybe drinking might get him to calm down (and break the silence). You take out a can of beer, you’re shocked the thing’s still cold, and hold it out to him. “Want one?”

He doesn’t reply but walks back to the couch and grabs the beer you’re offering. You watch as he cracks open a can and chugs it down like it's nothing; he lets out a satisfied sigh and sits down next to you. He seems more at ease. He grabs another from the bag, cracks it open, only taking a sip this time, and begins to ramble about the supposed infection. His tone is urgent; his words spill out quickly as if he's been waiting for someone to talk to about this for a long time.

“It's crazy out there, you know,” he says, taking a swig of his beer. “People are turning into these—these things. I don’t even know what to call them.”

You nod, taking in his words. It’s clear now that Postal Dude is fucking mental. But hey, he’s the most exciting thing around town and will have an actual conversation with you, so you decide to humor him.

"Have you seen them?"

“Yeah, all over the place, they’re slow but fuckin’ insane. If I ever let one catch me, I probably wouldn’t be here to help you. You’ve seen them too.”

“I have?”

"Yeah, back at the gas station. Two of them." He drinks the rest of his beer and goes on a tangent about…stages and stuff…to explain the ones you encountered. You give up on trying to keep track a couple of words in, and the guy talks for what feels like forever. You start chugging beers with him to cope with the total bullshit he's spewing. Nothing he's saying makes sense. You're surprised you didn't see any comic books about aliens invading Earth lying around. His imagination is way too active. Or he's delusional. He's mistaking everyday citizens who work tirelessly for people infected and trying to kill him. It's safe to say you don't believe a single word coming out of his mouth. Though, you're having fun listening to him talk.

The Dude’s voice is deep and gravelly; he speaks in a low, measured tone, as if every word is carefully chosen for maximum impact. Even when he’s slurring his words right now, you like it. When he finally finishes his deviation, you realize how much you miss hearing him talk.

His voice isn’t the only thing you like about him. A middle-aged man with a rugged appearance isn’t exactly who you’d go after, but his looks are eye-catching. His hair’s unkept and greasy, falling in messy strands around his face. His deep-set green eyes draw you in. In fact, he’s one of the few good-looking men in Paradise. Or you’d assume you never paid attention to looks (or sanity). Dick size was the only thing that mattered.

And speaking of dick size…

“So…what do I do?”

He slurs something you presume to be a ‘what?’

“About them going mad and attacking me, what do I do about that?”

“Fight back.” You know the question’s stupid, and so does he, chuckling a little under his breath. “If you'd let me, I don’t mind showing you a thing or two.”

He explains some basic self-defense techniques, stuff you already know. The more he talks, the more excited you get. Something about his voice hits you hard, deep in your gut. It might be the alcohol. Who cares what it is, though?

You lean in closer, catching his lips with yours in a slow kiss. He returns the kiss in a far less passive fashion. He doesn't wait for you to acclimatize to his kiss's more aggressive tempo, brushing his tongue over your lip eagerly. The subtle taste of alcohol lingers on his lips. When he opens his mouth, and his tongue meets yours, the citrusy, bitter flavor is intensified tenfold. You groan, pushing further into the kiss. Postal Dude seems more than pleased to indulge you, playing along with your lead while his hands wander and grope at whatever’s most readily available. Down they go, over your back and shoulders to cup your ass, twisting around to knead and stroke your thighs and hips. It's as if he can't decide which part of you was the most enticing.

After some time, he wraps his hands around your waist and hoists you onto his thigh. You only now realize how tall he is; you guessed he was 6’5” at first, but he’s humongous. So is the tent in his pants!

Your hands trail down between the two of you and unbutton his trousers, and at the sight of his undergarments, you sort of raise an eyebrow. You brush your fingers against the tip of his crotch, and he lets out a hitched breath against your lips.

“You got a condom?” He pulls away from your lips and trails kisses on your collarbone.

You whimper slightly at the contact, “no…is that a deal breaker for you?”

He sighs and mumbles a “yeah” against your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s fine, man,” you shuffle him off your shoulder a bit. When he looks up at you, you raise your hand to his face, cupping his neck and rubbing your thumb under his jaw. “If you won’t fuck me without a condom, I’m down with giving you head or a handjob.”

Postal Dude considers it for a brief second before his face bores the dejected expression it did a minute ago.

“Orrr…” you trail off.

“Or?”

“Or I could ride your thigh while you jerk off.”

That’s an idea that sticks with him. He’s not comfortable letting anyone around his junk. If he’s ever had anyone around his junk, that is.

You watch as he takes himself out of his boxers. You gawk at the sheer size of his dick before taking it all in. It suits a man his height.

You're somewhat grateful neither of you had condoms on you; there's no way you could fit that all in you. Well, maybe you could, but you'd end up in the hospital.

Words can't express how badly you'd love to touch it (whore). But alas, you can't. Gotta respect boundaries.

As he begins touching himself, you find yourself (metaphorically) drooling at the sight. It's, like, really hot. He pants and lets out soft whines occasionally, and you eat up every part of it. After a bit, you realize you're just staring at him and not fulfilling your end of the deal (plus, you're horny as fuck, and you have to take care of that too). You start your movements on his thigh, nice and slow. You let yourself enjoy how good it feels to grind against him, albeit embarrassing. His eyes are on you, and you can't tell if he's judging you or what, but he's undoubtedly enjoying it if the way he thrusts up into his hand is any indication.

It's humiliating.

It's exciting.

With a slight struggle, you wrap your arms around his neck and get closer for a quick peck on the lips.

The “supposed” peck quickly turns to making out, and one of your hands rests on his head, not keeping him there, just finding a more comfortable position. Without realizing it, your fingers run through his ginger hair, and he whines into your mouth, leaning further into the kiss.

You pet him some more, and his hips buck into his hand each time, giving you more pleasure. It’s embarrassing for him but extremely arousing for you.

After a while, you pick up the pace against his thigh. You vibrate as he fucks his hand, admiring how you look. It’s disgusting but oh-so intoxicating. You pant into each other, verging on each other's climaxes. The Dude cums first with a breathless grunt, and you follow, wetting his thigh.

#postal #postal dude x reader #postal 1 #postal writing #creative writing #writing #fanfic #fanficiton #ao3 author

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annaphoenix1994 · 11 days ago

Text

The First Stepping Stone

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

"Good morning, Simon." Bud nodded at him while leaning against the panel that held up the round pen - a pen for working young or "problem" horses by experienced wranglers on the ranch.

"Good morning, sir," Simon replied, looking over his shoulder to ensure Baler was on his best behavior, putting the decision in his head that Baler would have a much harder time earning his keep if he pissed off Kiera's father.

Especially her mother.

"I have a new stall cleaner for you."

Bud arched a brow at Simon before looking at the roughed-up teenager before him - his clothes nearly tattered and stained by dirt and debris from his time homeless on the street. "A little young to be put on the payroll, huh?"

"He won't be working for money, sir. He'll be working to earn his keep."

"His keep?"

"It was Kiera's decision I'm afraid."

"Say no more. I won't get in the middle of that girl's decisions," Both Simon and Bud chuckled, Bud making eye contact with Baler. "Don't take advantage of her kindness, son. It's easy to lose her trust and twice as hard to get it back."

"O-Okay-"

"That's not what you say," Simon warned in a low tone, slightly nudging his arm with his elbow. "It's yes, sir."

Baler cleared his throat, "Y-Yes, sir."

Bud flashed Simon a reassuring and hopeful smile, "What're you having him doing today?"

"Cleaning stalls, maybe cleaning a few saddles, whichever I think might need done."

"Will Kiera be coming down to join us?"

"She said she will later," Simon replied. "She said she will in the afternoon when it warms up a bit."

Bud nodded, "Alright. I reckon I get to oversee Johnny and Teeter today."

"Best of luck to you, sir," Simon chuckled. "Where's everyone else?"

"I have such a hard time remembering your comrade's names except for John, but they're all with him and a few other wranglers checking the fences in the upper pasture before we push the cattle up. You plan on coming with us when we do?"

"I plan on it. This is my last week of work before my vacation time takes over."

"Good to hear. You deserve a break."

"Thank you. I feel like I need more time here to help out Kiera with the kids and around the house."

Bud couldn't help but smile at Simon's response. A true man, he thought, appreciative of Simon's behavior towards his daughter, eager to see how much of a great father he would become throughout the years as well as being an important figure to Baler. Perhaps a father figure. "You'll be off just in time for our annual family get-together, too," He winked. "Say, would you like to come out turkey hunting with me sometime before then? Saw a bunch of 'em on the ridge. A big tom caught my eye, and that bastard is big enough to feed this family twice for Thanksgiving." He explained.

Simon chuckled, "Sure. When were you thinking?"

"Well, I was thinking about going out tomorrow morning or this weekend."

"I'll be off after Friday. Saturday morning?"

"Sounds good with me. Don't make Kiera mad between now and then. She won't let you go!" He poked.

Simon couldn't help but chuckle and shrug, "Nah, she's hardly ever mad at me. I've insisted on staying home so much to help her out, she wants me to go do things for myself."

"I'll have to agree with her on that, son," Bud shrugged. "But I'll leave you to it with our new associate." He poked.

"Exciting, yeah?"

"Very," Bud chuckled, walking towards the hitching post his horse was tethered to, mounting up after adjusting his chaps. "Eva is making dinner tonight. You and Kiera should come. We miss our grandkids... Even though we haven't seen 'em in a day."

"We'll be there."

"W-What about me?" Baler dared to ask Simon as he escorted him into the barn.

"What do you mean?"

"The dinner? Can I come?"

"Do you think you should?"

"I mean... What else am I supposed to eat tonight if you and her aren't going to be home?"

"Do you think you earn the privilege to join her parents for dinner tonight when you took advantage of Kiera's hospitality by trying to break into her truck in the middle of the night just to scout out the same advantage in the home of her parents?"

"N-No?"

"We'll see," Simon huffed, already knowing that he'd be toting along another dinner guest. "The decision won't be made until after your work today."

"What am I doing?"

"You'll start by cleaning the stalls that don't have a horse in them. Then, you'll pick out the stalls with horses in them." Simon explained, pointing to the wheelbarrow and manure rake that hung close by.

"Can you show me?"

"It's not rocket science, lad," He scoffed. "You go in there, pick up the shite with the rake, then put it in the wheelbarrow. That's it."

"What do I do when it's full?"

"You take it out that way and dump it in the pile."

"W-Where will you be while I'm doing this?"

"Don't worry about where I'll be," Simon arched his brow, knowing Baler only asked the question to get by as lazily as possible. Unbeknownst to Simon, Baler had only asked Simon this as he was beginning to worry about earning Simon's respect and trust, not wanting him to see Baler fail in a job that was supposed to be simple.

Baler had never worked before and especially never had to be put into a position where he had to earn someone's respect in exchange for a better life.

"Just focus on getting the job done. You have twenty-four stalls to clean."

"O-Ok-" Baler gulped, watching Simon's brow arch as if he was waiting for a better response. "Yes, sir."

"Better."

»»-------¤-------««

Four hours later, Kiera greeted Simon at the round pen, smiling as she watched him work with his preferred horse on the ground to keep himself busy as well as increase his bond with the horse, thanking the gelding for keeping his mind distracted every time Simon swung his leg over the gelding's back. Horses really are good for a broken soul.

"Turning into quite the horse whisperer, I see." She smiled, adjusting the carrier that was strapped to her torso, effortlessly carrying both twins at the same time - Jacob on her back and Evie against her chest.

Simon looked her way after he heard her voice, receding his body language to inform the horse that he could break from a trot to a walk, the gelding licking his lips as he approached his handler, Simon petting him between the eyes before he walked towards the fence to meet Kiera, smiling as he leant over to press a kiss to her lips as his free hand cupped the back of Evie's head. "Always trying to better my horsemanship, love," He chuckled against her lips. "You're definitely mum of the year for toting them all the way down here by yourself. Although I wish you would've called me so I could come up and help you. Don't need you falling."

She giggled, "This carrier is a life-saver. It definitely takes the strain off of my back. And, it's not so bad of a walk. Helps me maintain my weight." She poked.

"Stop with that bloody nonsense," He warned. "I don't see a thing wrong with you."

"Mhm," She giggled. "I brought you and Baler some lunch."

"What'd you bring?"

"Guess you'll have to find out," She smiled. "Where's Baler?"

"In the barn. Your father wants us at the lodge for dinner tonight."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"What about the kid?"

Kiera furrowed her brows at his question, "Uh... He was going to come with us?"

"Okay."

"What's going through your mind?"

He huffed, "Are you sure you want him meeting your parents after the shite he pulled last night?"

"Well, would you rather him stay at the house when nobody is home?" She arched a brow.

"No."

"I was thinking about taking him into town to get a new outfit. Do you want to go with me?"

"I'd rather go with you," He sighed, knowing that he couldn't compromise with a decision she had already made. "I don't want you to have to worry about keeping up with our two and something happen with him. Not on my watch."

"Okay, well have him finish up whatever he's doing and meet me back at the house."

"How about you wait here and I'll escort you back to the house?"

"That works. Then you two can sit and eat your lunch before we go into town."

Simon nodded, leading his horse behind him as he walked behind Kiera, entering the barn and watching Baler hastily move to the side to let Kiera and Simon through. "Hi, Miss Kiera."

"How are you, Baler?"

"Working." He nodded, licking his lips of nervousness as Kiera and Simon together made him more nervous than just Simon alone. Even though Simon wasn't as suffocating when he and Kiera were in the same room, but Baler sensed a presence that he didn't want to interfere with.

And that was the presence Simon presented when he and Kiera's babies were in the room. I wish my dad was as protective over me, Baler thought, frowning at the distant memory of never feeling loved and appreciated throughout his childhood.

Kiera nodded as she began looking at the open stall doors, nodding her head in approval at the work he had done, leaving no manure behind as it was clear he was focused on leaving as much shavings behind with no manure left in the stalls. "I, um, I also refilled the water buckets after I finished cleaning out the stalls... I left the doors open so that he could check my work." He explained.

"You did good, lad," Simon complemented, watching Baler nod as it was clear Baler had rarely received complements throughout his life. "How many more do you have left?"

"S-Six, sir. The six being with the horses still in there. I-I was going to do them first, but I'm nervous around horses..."

"That's okay," Simon nodded. "You're done for right now."

"Sir?"

"Let's go. We have to go into town."

Baler nodded, wiping his palms against his jeans as he followed Kiera and Simon towards the house, nervously standing at the front door as he watched Simon help Kiera with the babies, watching how a soft smile spread across Simon's face as he held his son in his arms, watching as Simon seemed to turn off the switch of being a domineering and direct man turned into a soft and supple father, seeming to handle his children as if they were made of glass as he gazed at Kiera with loving eyes, seeming to appreciate her in every moment for not only being his, but being the mother of his children.

It was then that Baler regretted coming off to a bad start with Simon. He didn't want to be rejected by him nor did he always want to fight for his trust and approval.

"Um, Miss Kiera? Where are we going?"

"We're taking you into town to get some clothes. You're coming with us to dinner tonight at my parent's house." She smiled. A mother's smile.

"I am?"

"You worked hard today for your first day. You've earned it."

He forced himself to hide a genuine smile, "Th-Thank you."

"You're welcome. We're going to get you a couple of pairs of jeans, shirts, and socks. Simon will go with you to get your basic stuff." She explained.

"I am?" Simon questioned.

"Well, I don't know anything about underwear and deodorant for boys." She scoffed.

"You sure know about taking mine off." Simon mumbled under his breath, earning a playful smack to his bicep.

"You keep that up and I won't for a while." She glared playfully, watching him roll his eyes at her remark. "That's what I thought."

He smirked at her, gently putting Jacob into the car seat he had sat on the counter, using the overhead light to his advantage to ensure he secured him properly and to keep him off the floor as Kimber was notorious for trying to get into the carrier with either Jacob or Evie. "Can you help Baler get freshened up before we leave?"

"How is he going to freshen up if he doesn't have a change of clothes?"

"Well, there's an extra stick of deodorant and an extra toothbrush in the closet. When we get him new clothes, I'll show him where the shower is so he can get ready for dinner tonight."

"Alright," Simon nodded, adjusting Jacob's carrier closer to the inside of the table to reassure himself that he wasn't too close to the edge while Kiera sat Evie into her carrier, smiling down at the infant as she adjusted the socks on her small feet. Simon gestured towards Baler, leading him towards his and Kiera's bedroom before putting his hand out and telling him to wait at the door while Simon proceeded into the bathroom and to the closet, returning with a stick of deodorant and a new toothbrush. "This is yours. Freshen yourself up before we go into town."

"O-Okay. Where do I go to brush my teeth?"

Simon sighed as he led the kid towards the guest bathroom that was within the hallway, hating the fact that it was next to the nursery, the primal instinct of not wanting Baler too close to his children until he earned his complete trust, knowing that it was going to take a lot of work to break down the wall of trust Baler broke down in the worst way possible. "We're leaving in ten."

"Yes, sir."

Simon nodded, returning into the kitchen to offer his assistance to Kiera. Seeing that she had secured Evie into her car seat, he smirked as he carefully wrapped his arms around her tender abdomen, pressing a kiss to the crook of her neck. "Been waiting to do this all day."

She hummed in amusement, leaning her head to the side subtly to invite him for more kisses to her neck, "Sounds like he respects you more already."

"He's nowhere near having my respect yet, he's just on a stepping stone."

"I think he's growing on you."

Simon scoffed in disagreement.

"You say that now, but you know he's growing on you."

"Like a weed." He joked.

"I mean, I think he's growing on you like Soap did..."

#simonghostriley #simonriley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #callofduty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #cod #ghost cod mw2 #cod mw2 ghost #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod

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circlique · 10 months ago

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Avatar: Threads of Power

Prologue/Chapter 1:

Overall Rating: Mature (this chapter, Gen)

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen, Multi

Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender

In the era of Kyoshi, a scrap of ancient history was discovered. Faded by centuries of dust and neglect, all that could be discerned from the tattered parchment was the words, "Dai Li's agents brought balance to the chaos of Ba Sing Se." It is from this that Kyoshi would find the inspiration to establish a new police force in Ba Sing Se in her era. But what of the original Dai Li? Thousands of years before Kyoshi, Kuruk, and Yangchen--a history all but lost to time--the world teetered on the brink. Nations one incident from all out war, environments destroyed by the greed of man, and spirits angered by the insolence of humanity. The spirits threatened to wipe them all out, unless the humans could make a change. From this chaos, a man named Dai Li attempted to unite the world. With his charismatic aura and strange bending abilities, he all but compelled his followers to complete devotion. His power spread, commanding total submission. His daughter, however, would ruin his plans. After his first fall, Dai Li, thought dead, faded into obscurity, and his daughter, granted a strange power by the last Lion Turtle, rose to fill the void of the absent Avatar. Ten years later, Dai Li would rear his head again, and Juno, knowing humanity under Dai Li's rule would have no humanity at all, sought out her own band of benders to take on her father. With all their differences and flaws, she will have her work cut out for her as they face Dai Li's enigmatic cult, their own demons, and the Avatar of whom no one speaks.

Yay, it's here! I hope you'll give it a read and stick along for the ride with me!

Click to read on AO3!

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ashcal99 · 2 years ago

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Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale~

Prologue

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Not sure how many parts this will be but yahhhh. Comment if I missed any warning or anything plz thnx.

Soundtrack

Series Masterlist

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January 22nd, 2005

Snow had always amazed Camila. The way that each flake was so diverse in size in shape. It was quite like people she had thought. All beautiful is their own unique way. As her eyes focused on a particularly tattered looking flake she thought that must be how she looked. Fragile and so ready to melt away from this world. Just teetering on the edge of existing.

She wasn't used to snow, had only seen it a couple of times in her entire life. You didn't get much snow in Orlando. None to be exact. But her world was going to be different now. Everything in her life had been uprooted because her body couldn't do the most simple thing in the world; live. The majority of the world's population had so much life to live, years to make mistakes and find their purpose, to find their happiness. She didn't get that privilege, however, not since she got sick.

So there she was, in the back seat of her mother's mini van staring at snow falling on her window for the past ten minutes. It had been just the year prior Camila had found that her body was failing her. Leukemia. A disease she had known little about before all of this. So many doctors, so many tests. She often wondered if this was all worth it. Moving their entire lives across the country for her health, when she most likely would never recover. Cancer was expensive and the odds of her survival weren't looking too good. She practically had one foot in the grave as it was. What was the point of dragging on another year of her life if it meant piling on medical debt?

She knew her parents would never see it this way, so she had always kept those thoughts to herself. In reality, she had come to term with dying not long after being diagnosed. It was too mentally exhausting dreading the inevitable.

Of course she had to put on a brave face for her mother and father. Dying was simple for the dead, you take your last breath and you're done, you're free. The real tragedy was with the people who were left to mourn the dead. To have someone you love so dearly be ripped away before your eyes, the pain was unimaginable.

So she endured the treatments, the testing, although she knew in the end, it wouldn't work. She would get another year at best. Most likely less. She had low expectations for her life now. She knew, as much as it hurt her to her core, she would never get to go to college, get drunk, get married. Her whole dream of a life had dissolved with her diagnosis.

Her parents seemed to think otherwise, hence the move. They had heard of a doctor in a small town in Washington. They had hoped that he could help. Naive wishes, but Camila wasn't about to take that away from them, no mater how much it hurt to see them waste so much money on her deteriorating health.

She could see it, her body starting to wither away. Her once curvy stature had began to whither away to skin and bone. Her eyes, once bright and joyful had turned dull, filled with pain. In fact everything had turned dull, her eyes, her skin, hell, her life. She had a future before everything, and now she had nothing but a ticking clock on her life. Her bones constantly aches and she was always covered in bruises, sometimes it even hurt to breath.

A small sign blurred by her window, welcoming the small family to the town. Finally, signs of civilization were starting to appear as the drive further into town. They had been driving along empty road for what seemed like years, so she was relieved to see some life finally.

The van slowed to a stop in front of a house suddenly. The house was a small homey looking thing, painted a dull yellow. Ugly, but still cute in a weird way? They had to size down from their house previously, having so many medical bills to pay off. Luckily, they weren't a huge family. Just her mother and father besides herself.

Her parents had wanted more kids, having Camila at a young age, but after years of trying, they were met with no success. Who knows, maybe they would try more after Camila died. A second chance at being parents. She hoped they would, they were good parents. The best she could have ever asked for. She was truly lucky to have them.

Ignoring the aches in her joints, Camila stood slowly from her seat onto the cracked pavement of their new driveway. She circled around the car to meet her father at the trunk. They had left most of everything behind to make the move easier, deciding to buy cheap used furniture instead. "What can I help bring in?" Her voice croaked, groggy with fatigue.

"Nonsense, sweetheart. Your mother and I have got it." Her father tutted shooing the teen away. She huffed, laying her hand out in front of her.

Her father looked questionably at his daughter's palm. "Well, I at least need the keys. Don't I?" She laughed, rolling her eyes sarcastically. Receiving a low chuckle in response, he dropped a small silver key in her hand.

"This one can be your copy." He smiled down to her.

She made her way into small house, floorboards creaking beneath her feet as she walked into the family room. The house was only one story, this having been a selling point to her parents as their last house had been two floors. After being diagnosed, it had become too difficult for her to walk up the stairs to her bedroom on a daily basis. There were only two bedrooms in the house, the master, and her own room, so it was easy enough to avoid getting lost. She swung the door open to her own, the hinges whining in protest.

It was small, but freshly cleaned. She could smell the faint scent of pinesol in the air. The wooden floors were bare except for full sized mattress that sat against the far left wall. Her mother had already made a deal with their realtor, making sure that she had acquired a bed before they got there, so Camila could go to sleep early like she often did as of late.

Fatigue often riddled her withering body, but at that moment she was more alert than usual, ready to set her room up and decorate to her liking. She walked to the small window that sat to the right of the mattress and drew the thin white curtains back. The ground outside was stark white with snow and bare besides the trees that lined the edge of the forest. At least she got a nice view.

Once her boxes were carried into her room for her, she began unpacking. She went through piles and piles of her clothing, most of it being many sizes too large. After losing so much weight, she had refused to go out and buy anything new. What was the use when the new clothes would stop fitting within a few months anyway? She did have to buy a few new items, like underwear and a few pairs of pants, but for the most part, she made the baggy shirts work and wore a belt when necessary. If anything, it would hide how unhealthily skinny she was becoming.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she finished hanging the remainder of her clothing in the cramped closet. She pushed the last few boxes aside, opening one to grab some clean bedding and a pillow. She struggled, bones starting to ache fervently and she stretched the last corner of the fitted sheet onto the mattress. She huffed as she threw the blankets and pillows in place and stepped back to look at the finished product. She shrugged, deciding that it looked comfortable enough.

She sluggishly pealed her clothing away from her body, exhaustion suddenly hitting her like a ton of bricks. Pulling on the old worn sweatpants and t-shirt she had set aside, she plopped down onto the plush mattress, already feeling her eyes droop with sleep. She decided she would push her shower off until morning, knowing it wouldn’t go well if she was so lethargic. The last thing she needed was to pass out in the middle of showering.

January 23rd, 2005

The warm stream of water poured over her fragile body, trailing down her thin frame. She let out a contented sigh, relishing in the comfort that it brought to her aching skin. She looked down at herself, taking the sight in. Her hands were becoming much bonier than before. Her old rings no longer fit her fingers, sliding and rotating anytime she tried to wear them. Her hip bones jutted out, no longer having a layer of fat to cover them.

She had used to be a little chubby, always wishing she could have a flat stomach. Now, she would do anything to get her old body back. It was odd how that worked. You really didn't appreciate what you had until you lost it.

Her thoughts were cut off, the once warm water turning to ice. Shit, she thought, jumping out and engulfing her rigid body in a fluffy towel. Guess the hot water ran out. She wrapped the towel snuggly around herself, walking swiftly to her room, locking the door behind her.

The sun peered through the crack in her curtains, leaving a beam of blinding light streaming through the mostly empty room. Rummaging through one of the boxes labeled with her name, she grabbed her hairdryer and plugged it into the outlet next to the one mirror she had brought from the move. She didn't like the way it made her hair frizzy, but she also didn't want to go to her first day of school with wet hair. She definitely didn’t need to get sick with a cold on top of everything else.

School. Forks High School. She didn't enjoy the fact that she would be entering halfway through her junior year, but she refused to let her parents keep her home any longer. She had begged them to let her go, her lack of a good immune system being the reason they had taken her out in the first place. She wanted to experience some kind of normal high school life before she died. She wanted friends again. So she had decided to try and conceal her sickness as long as possible. She didn't need people's sympathy, she'd gotten enough of that, she just wanted some sense of normalcy. Luckily, her hair hadn't started falling out from chemo yet, so for the time being she could act as if things were normal.

But in the end, it would be the farthest thing away from a normal high school experience.

Next Chapter

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