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lady-ashfade · 2 months ago

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Cantober: can you do Yandere class 1a doing a trick-or-treat contest!

🍬 Candy Competition 🍬

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Yan!Class 1A x Gn!Reader

Fall Tober Day 2

WARNINGS: Yandere, Light-Hearted, Reader being tugged around, short but cute, rushed ending.

GENRA: Imagine/HC’s

WORDS: 1.5k

A/N: where have I been? That’s interesting- I had surprising surgery and it took all my motivation away, so I have been recovering from that….Yayyy

All weeks lead to this moment. All that time you spent putting on makeup in your mirror, saving to buy that costume, and time it spent to get it right- all came down to this moment.

“Has everyone brought a coat?” Iida shouts above your wailing classmates as they all express their excitement. It was a really nice sight to see everyone so happy and not at each other’s throats. The girls complementing one other on their costumes, taking pictures and hyping up the other. While the boys did the same, it was different. Like, some of them had fake weapons and decided to have a soft fight.

Izuku was dressed as…Of course it’s allmight but one of his old suits. He was explaining the lore to todoroki who stood there with a calm expression in a vampire outfit. It was plain, you knew he just walked into a store and then threw on whatever was in the packet. But, he looked lovely nonetheless.

“Love your costume,” a voice popped up from behind you, following with a pair of hands tugging on your outfit. Turning around you see a floating costume — Hagakure was speaking. You smile and slight shuffling away, hoping to not draw attention to leaning away from the touch.

“Thanks! It cost a lot but it was worth it!!” You shout and show it off with your hands as you giggle happily.

It took a minute to realize what she had on before your mouth started to squeak with excitement, “You’re costume is so perfect, it makes it more scary.” if she wasn’t invisible she would have turn a different shade by now. She was going as Raven from teen titans, it was cool to see it just floating and no one behind the hood.

“I also think you look wonderful” a shy but perky voice chirps. You look to the side and see koda with a shy look on his face, red tented cheeks and a avoided gaze. He was dressed up in a white lab coat, well more of a doctors coat plus all the equipment.

You giggled and reach for the bird on his shoulder who graciously allows you to pet its head, “Dr. Dolittle? A little on the nose,” as the bird pushes its head back into your hand while koda freaks out a bit, but you are quick to dismiss his embarrassment.

“Not a bad thing tho! I honestly like your costume, plus you have so many animals— it’s easily my favorite.”

Suddenly everyone went quiet, all eyes turned to you and you awkwardly shuffled. Tension filled the air and you dropped your hand from the bird who whined at the loss. “What? Why are you all staring at me?” It didn’t take but a few seconds before everyone crowned around you, pushing poor koda away before showing off their amazing costumes.

“What about me? You said you loved my costume,” Mina pouts her lips as she plays with her skirt. You quickly tried to comfort her, “So you think I look cute? Awe baby!!” She went to kiss you before Kaminari got in her place in front of you.

“I’m a handsome devil!! Flynn Rider, from your fav Disney movie,” a week before this he begged you to be Rapunzel and even though you declined he still kept the costume. He heard you say flynn was hot, so obviously you think he’s hot now. “Don’t fight it, or the smolder.” And he pulls out the exact face flynn does in the movie….How long did he practice that?

“You helped me make the costume,” Shouji lift up his shoulders and moves is arms- he was Doc Ock. And you did help him when he asked, honestly you picked it out for him. Once you suggested it and he planned on doing what you wanted.

“I believe I get a chance to speak,” Todoroki raises his hand amongst the crowd before people talk over him.

They are all shouting now, each one of them getting pushed, many hands tried to grab you, and yet when they tried to kiss you or flirt it went over your head because something else was happening.

“Everyone stop yelling!” A loud and annoyed voice echoes over everyone, making the whole class stop and straighten up. You sigh in relief, thanking your teacher in your mind for saving you. “Everyone pay attention, you have two hours to complete this area. Who ever gets the most candy wins.”

As usual, The Dekusquad pair up, along with the Dakusquad and the more chill ones group together. “What do we win?” Denki asks while everyone nods.

“Two tickets to see F/B.” Mic pops out of nowhere and announces the prize. You let out a streak of excitement and everyone turns.

“I’m winning this thing!” your obsessed classmate glare at each other, there was only one way to get this right- is to make sure you win! Or, win themselves and take you — either way they wanna play tug of war for your attention.

Everyone including you lined up at the gates and you noticed a timer above the arch. It looks real, you think as you stare at the fake town in front of you. It was to dangerous to have the whole school in the city when you guys seem to have targets on your back, so they built a whole small city inside the USJ!! You heard that some parents are here, actors and even pro!heros who have the time to spare.

As the clock counted down in the tenths you started to fiddle, same as your classmates while getting impatient. “Good luck everyone! Sorry if I happened to get competitive.” you shout just before the time loudly goes off.

You expected to get trampled over so you started to run but the area around you changed.

You were in the middle of the street!! Fake houses to your every turn, Halloween decorations in the small yards. “What hero can transport?” it was a question that you shake off before heading to the house on your left.

Somewhere in the distance your classmates cause hell to find you, and get as much candy as they can to win.

“Two lollipops? What are you, cheap?” Katsuki yells at the old lady who opened the door, his friends awkwardly shuffling in the back. Kirishima tugged him by the back collar away from the lady and back to the path.

“Can’t yell at people man! What would y/n say? So unmanly.” kats just huffs at his best friend and pulls away from his grip. All things considered they have been doing well, their bags are getting full and heavy.

“Look who I found?” A feminine voice speaks out, making the boys turn back around. They see you tripping over your shoes as Mina gives you a little nudge closer.

“Mina,” you whine, “I love hanging out but I have to win! This is F/S we are talking about here, I would sell my soul to get tickets.” You try to stray away from them but they block you.

“We can woke together! It’s no different then going alone.” Denki was at your side and placed his arm around you, getting himself shocked at the touch of you.

“We have so much candy, wouldn’t you like to join in? We have more then you!” Sero tries to manipulate you into staying.

So you sigh and let them take you to the other houses, and soon enough your bag is full but you try and push the candy down to make more room.

“I can’t believe you guys,” you smile, “If I win, I am for sure taking one of you!!”

Green Flash.

The place you were standing in is now empty and no sign of you, a gust of wind shakes their clothes and hair. There was only one person who could have made that struck of green energy…

“Deku!” Katsuki shouts but he wasn’t heard by the corporate.

The Dekusquad had taken you and had no plan of letting you go, they only have ten minutes left to make sure you, or themselves won. And they would be damned if they let anyone else win.

“Come on darling,” a hand stroked your cheek and made your eyes open. You saw shoto looking at you, while izuku held you in his arms. “Can’t win if you have your eyes closed.”

“Yeah!” Shoto was pushed aside by a overly excited Ochako. “We wanted to help you win, we already have three full bags.” Iida, Shoto, and Froppy held up the full bags and your eyes go wide.

“Izuku, you can put me down now.” he was quickly to apologize and let you down, turning bright red and looked shameful.

“Next time warn me,” you get a feel for standing again as iida helps you stand straight without getting dizzy.

Over all you had a amazing time with your friends even if they weren’t easy to handle. And when you walked back into the gates, there was a chance of winning. Thought you didn’t win first place, the dekusquad did and promised you the tickets…

“What, which one of us gets to go…”

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birdiewriteslit · 7 months ago

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“secret keeping”

trevor zegras x f!hughes!reader

masterlist

part 2 to “caught”

summary: you and trevor got off easy after jack caught you together. it wasn’t hard to keep things on the down low for your other two brothers, but when summer rolls around and you’re all in the same house, it becomes more challenging.

THIS TOOK ME FOREVER OMG.

warnings: kissing, suggestive themes, teeny bit of angst, fluff, big brother quinn

It had been nine months since you and Trevor got together. For three of those months, Jack has known about your relationship.

You elected him as secret keeper, mainly because he was the only candidate, and if you gave it a fancy name, he would be more inclined to shut his mouth.

It worked pretty well. With hockey to keep Jack occupied, he didn’t have much of an issue with keeping the secret to himself.

When the season was over, however, it got a little tougher for him to keep quiet. He was constantly calling you up to ask if he could tell Luke, which you always denied. You were glad Quinn was in Vancouver for the time being, and not in close vicinity to Jack, because you knew that if he was, Jack would cave almost immediately.

So, this was a problem, as you would all be in very close proximity to each other for the summer.

You got to the house later than everyone else, so late, in fact, that it was dark out and the boys had a fire going out back.

You set your things down in your room before throwing on a hoodie and heading outside. They sat around the fire, talking amongst themselves. “Hey, boys,” you said, announcing your presence.

Trevor, who hadn’t seen you in a few weeks, grinned widely at your appearance and stood from his chair. He ignored the sounds of his friends greeting you as he made his was towards you.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of you. You embraced him, semi-awkwardly as you watched Jack’s jaw basically drop from over Trevor’s shoulder.

You were the one to pull away, giving him a friendly punch on the arm. You gave him a warning look that said, ‘Remember where we are.’

Jack stood up next, hugging you and whispering in your ear, “That was one steamy hug.” He giggled as he pulled away, allowing Luke and Quinn to hug you next.

You greeted the other guys more casually with just a wave and sat down in the chair across from Trevor between Luke and Quinn.

“So, Y/n, any new installments in your life?” Jack asked, hiding his mischievous smile by taking a sip of his beer.

“What?” you said.

“Anything interesting going on?”

“Uh, work. And school,” you said, subtly glaring at him.

“No new men?” he asked innocently.

“Why are you so interested, freak?” you deflected.

Jack shrugged, a stupid grin on his face. “Just wondering.”

Quinn gave you and Jack an odd look before moving the conversation along. You were thankful to move on, and Trevor, who was making a show of counting stars, was surely thankful too.

Later that night, Trevor snuck out of his room and made his way down the hall to yours. When you let him in, his lips were on yours as soon as the door was closed.

His mouth moved against yours hungrily, his arms making their way around your waist as he guided you backward onto the bed.

The mattress hit your legs and made you sit. Trevor was bending down to kiss you, his hands moving to hold your face.

You held onto his forearms, forcing yourself to pull away and catch your breath. He leaned his forehead against yours as he caught his.

“I missed you, so much,” Trevor said. His hands still rested on your face, which was burning at this point.

“I know, I missed you too.” You guided his hands away from your face, holding them in your lap. He rose to his full height, looking down at you with a soft smile. “But, Trev, you gotta tone it down in front of the guys.”

Trevor rolled his eyes. “It was just a hug, babe.”

“Uh, to quote Jack it was ‘one steamy hug,’” you said.

“‘M sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Trevor moved one hand out of yours and pushed some of your hair away from your face. “I just missed you. I forgot everyone else was there for a second.”

“It’s okay. I know you don’t like keeping this between us,” you said, feeling a little guilty.

Trevor shook his head. “No, baby. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll tell everyone else. I know you like things private.”

“My brothers are so fucking nosy. I have to.” You looked down at the floor, fidgeting with his fingers.

He laughed. “They are so fucking nosy. Of course, I want to let everyone know you’re mine. I want to be able to look in the stands and see you wearing my jersey. I want to be able to have my arm around you when we’re with your family. I want to be able to post you and to be seen with you. I want all of that, but I get that you’re not ready for it yet. In the meantime, I’m fine with this.”

He leaned down again to kiss you again, bringing his hand back up to your face as you held his other one. You leaned into his touch, pulling back after a moment.

You looked up into his blue eyes. He looked sleepy, the hood of his sweatshirt was up and, from under it, his hair was strewn across his forehead.

“Just give me a few more weeks to think about it, then we can talk, yeah?”

He grinned. “Sounds good, baby.”

He then practically tackled you onto the bed, pulling you on top of him. You tried to contain your giggles, not wanting anyone to wake up.

You rested your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around each other. He grabbed your blanket and placed it on top of you. You fell asleep like that.

The next morning, you woke up beside Trevor, his arm resting over your stomach as he laid on his and drooled into the pillow. You watched him sleep for a minute, his back rising and falling with each breath he took.

You turned over and picked up your phone, seeing that it was nine in the morning. Usually the boys slept in, but this was the first day at the lake, and they would want to get a head start on the day.

You heard voices from down the hall and begrudgingly got out of bed, gently lifting Trevor’s arm off of you.

You left him alone in the room, letting him get some more sleep. Walking into the kitchen, you greeted Jack, who sat at the island, sipping his coffee.

Cole was at the counter, pouring himself a cup. He saw you walk in and he grabbed you a mug and poured some for you too.

“Thanks, king.” You leaned against the counter as you drank it. Cole nodded before going to sit beside Jack.

Trevor walked in a few minutes later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He passed by you to the coffee maker, his hand grazing against your stomach. You knew he did it on purpose, based on the way he smirked at you over his mug.

“Hey, man, I woke up this morning and you weren’t in the room. Where’d you go?” Cole asked.

Jack choked on his coffee and coughed violently, pounding his fist on his chest until he recovered.

Cole gave him a look before glancing back at Trevor. You and Trevor made eye contact, and he seemed to connect the dots.

“You!” He pointed at Trevor. “You sister fucker!”

“Jesus, Cole, what’s wrong with you?” you said, your face heating up. You were praying nobody else heard that.

“He’s a traitor,” Cole said, looking at Jack. “This is treason. She’s off limits.”

“Do you idiots actually talk about this?” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Uh, yeah, the first time I met you, I was actually threatened by Jack,” Coke explained. “Which brings me to my next point, did you know about this? How are you okay with this?”

Jack shrugged. “I would’ve liked if he asked for my blessing first, but there’s not a whole lot I can do about it now.”

“For the record,” Trevor cut in. “She came onto me first.”

You smacked him on the arm. “Shut up. We’re not talking about this anymore. Cole, keep your lips zipped. Nobody else can know.”

Cole protested weakly as you left the room. “But there’s so much that I don’t know! You can’t just leave it like that.”

You did leave it like that. You walked back into your room, changing into a different outfit and getting ready for the day, trying to forget about the whole thing.

As you were brushing your teeth, your phone started ringing. You spit out your toothpaste, accepted the call, and put it on speaker, not bothering to look at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Y/n!” A high voice came from the other side of the phone.

“Oh, hi, mom.” You walked out of the bathroom into the room, seeing Trevor laying on the bed on his phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Trevor?”

Your eyes blew wide and you almost threw the phone across the room. Trevor’s head snapped up from the bed.

You checked to make sure she didn’t switch it to FaceTime and saw him on the bed, and sure enough she didn’t. “Who said that?” you laughed nervously.

“Your brother! Jack left me a voicemail last night. He said he just had to tell somebody. How long have you been keeping this from us?”

“Uh, it’s coming up on 10 months,” you said as nonchalantly as possible. Of course Jack told your mom. You were going to kill him.

“Ten months?” She shouted. “If I could ground you, I would. You could’ve brought him to Christmas! Why didn’t you tell anyone? We all love him.”

You sighed loudly. “Quinn and Luke don’t know. Don’t tell them. I kept it a secret because I wanted some privacy. They have literally never been normal about me dating, and they’d be even worse if they knew about Trevor.”

She sighed. “It’s only because they love you. I respect your privacy, but you should’ve told me about this sooner.”

You bit the inside of your lip, looking guiltily at Trevor. “I know. I’m sorry. It got away from me.”

“That’s alright, honey. Call me back later and tell me everything. I want all the details,” she said excitedly before hanging up.

You groaned, flinging yourself onto the bed next to Trevor. “This could not get any worse. She definitely told my dad. He’s not weird like my brothers but he’s gonna embarrass me next time he sees you.”

“I would never find anything about you embarrassing.” Trevor said, setting his phone down and reaching out to play with the strings of your bikini. “It’s not the end of the world. We were talking about telling people last night.”

“I know, but I wanted a few more weeks of just us.”

“And Jack,” he added.

“Yeah, and Jack,” you said distastefully.

Throughout the next week, you had to resist the urge to beat the crap out of your brother. You tried drowning him in the lake the day that your mom called you, but he was a damn good swimmer, and he threatened to yell out the secret to everyone on the boat.

Jack never missed a chance to make fun of you or borderline expose you to everyone. He and Cole had a blast with blackmailing you. At least your brother had one person he could talk to about it. As long as it kept everyone else in the dark, you could do with the terrorization.

Cole didn’t tell anyone Trevor slept in your room every night, but he sure did tease you about it. It was getting annoying, really, and you were starting to care less and less about where you were seen and what you were seen doing.

With the few people who knew already, and your mother practically planning your wedding, you were seriously considering letting it all slip one day.

You were probably going to tell everyone soon enough. You knew Trevor was tired of it. He was only doing it for you.

The two of you managed kept up the charade in front of the boys, although he had a tendency to get a little handsy at times. It was very hard for him to keep his hands off of you when you couldn’t have sex often due to the chance of someone overhearing.

You were on the couch with him one day, the others out on a boat ride. You two stayed behind to watch the season finale of a show you both liked.

Well, you were watching it. Now, you were making out. You were on top of Trevor, straddling him and grabbing onto the back of the couch for balance.

He was holding onto your hips, his hand occasionally roaming to squeeze your ass. His lips were hot and rough on yours. He already took your shirt off, the heat being too much for you.

You hands slipped under the fabric of his shirt, silently urging him to take it off. You got lost in the feeling of his warm skin against your fingers.

You heard a crash and a very loud, “What the fuck?”

You lifted your head off of Trevor’s and spotted Luke over the coach, his mouth wide open and his plate shattered on the floor.

“Put your damn shirt on.” He begun picking up bits and pieces of the plate.

“Jesus Christ, Luke. I thought you were on the boat.” You grabbed your shirt from beside you. Trevor made a noise when your leg dragged across his crotch as you got off of him. He covered it with his hand and his face with his hat.

“I wanted to watch this too. Thanks for ruining it. Just because everyone is gone doesn’t mean you can defile the couch like this,” Luke said, completely ignoring Trevor and focusing on you. “Quinn’s gonna kill him.”

“Well good thing Quinn doesn’t know, right?” you said warningly.

“Of course, but if he were to find out. . .”

“I’d kill you, then. Don’t be a menace.”

“Don’t fuck on the couch, fucking freaks,” Luke scoffed, and headed outside, saying nothing more about it.

“He didn’t seem to care much,” Trevor muttered.

“He doesn’t care. He just likes to terrorize me. You wouldn’t take him for the demon the he is with how quiet he is all the time, but he’s the fucking devil, so watch out. It’s why I didn’t want to tell him.” You thought back to the time where he “accidentally” pushed your ex boyfriend down the stairs in high school. It’s safe to say that you didn’t want to relive that.

“Well, he certainly knows now,” Trevor said. “That’s two out of three brothers and probably the rest of the house at this point.”

“I’ll tell Quinn soon, just not today,” You promised. “And preferably not when you’re within close proximity to him.”

For the next couple of days, it became clear that Trevor was right. The whole house knew except for big brother Quinn.

They weren’t being super subtle about it either, but good thing Quinn wasn’t great at picking up hints.

You and Trevor were getting sloppy with hiding it since you didn’t have to fake anything in front of most of the guys, but when Quinn was in the room, things were tense between you, but very enjoyable for your other two brothers to watch.

Three days after Luke caught you on the couch, you were all on the boat going for a sunset cruise.

You kept up steady conversation about this and that. Trevor was telling a story that you weren’t really listening to until you heard him say your name.

“So then Y/n was all like ‘What’s the deal with this shit?’ and I was like ‘I have no fucking clue,’”

“Wait a minute,” Quinn interrupted, lifting a hand from the steering wheel. “Why was Y/n in Anaheim? I thought she was with her friends for spring break that week.”

Your heart literally dropped to your ass. This was not how you wanted Quinn to find out. You wanted to sit him down in a space away from Trevor and break the news to him delicately. Not on a boat that he was driving in the middle of the lake.

Trevor stared at him before stuttering out an excuse. “Uh, she wasn’t. I was wherever she was and we ran into each other.”

“She was in Cabo. You said this happened at Disney Land. You’re talking about a Minnie Mouse parade. Are you on something?”

Jack was looking at you like your hair was on fire and Luke was staring at the floor. The rest of the boys were pretending like this wasn’t happening and distracting themselves with miscellaneous objects on the boat.

“I’m not on anything. I’m stone cold sober.”

Nice one, Trevor.

“Y/n, why were you in Anaheim with him?” Quinn asked calmly.

You were about to speak when you made eye contact with Jack (who looked like he might explode), and he took the liberty of doing it for you.

“They’ve been together for basically a year, and a few months ago I caught them together, and now everyone knows but you, and it’s been really stressing me out,” he said quickly.

“Oh my god, Jack, you can’t keep anything to yourself!”

“Everybody knows!” he protested.

“He doesn’t!”

The boat was approaching the dock, and Quinn didn’t say anything as he lined it up. “I don’t care who you date, Y/n. Just be responsible.”

“You really don’t care?” You were a little bewildered that he was so chill.

“Nah,” He said, looking over you, making sure that Luke was ready to jump off and tie it up.

Once the boat was secure, you all filed out onto the dock.

“Trevor, come here for a second,” Quinn said.

Trevor looked at you and you nodded. “I’ll be in the house,” you said, gesturing to the guys who were almost there.

Quinn wasted no time walking right up to Trevor and shoving him off the dock. He landed in the water with a big splash and resurfaced looking shocked with his hair in his eyes.

Your mouth fell open and Quinn brushed past you on the dock. “Quinn! What the hell?”

“I thought Jack told him to stay away from you. Guess he’s not too smart if he can’t do that.” He didn’t look at you, continuing to the house.

“Quinn, stop!” He did, and he turned around. He looked angry. “I’m the one who wanted to keep it a secret this whole time, don’t blame him.”

“Seriously, Y/n, you could’ve chosen any man in the world to be with, and that’s your pick?”

“It’s not my fault! I really didn’t mean to!”

“That’s reassuring,” Trevor muttered, grabbing onto the dock and hoisting himself up, rolling onto his back. He coughed a few times before getting up and grabbing a towel from the boat.

Trevor tried walking past Quinn but he grabbed his arm. “If I hear one complaint from her about you, when I shove you in the lake, I’ll make sure you drown.”

Trevor nodded. “You got it, boss.” He ran into the house, catching up with Jack and Cole, who were trying very hard not to laugh at him.

You sighed, watching him go. “You didn’t have to do that, Quinn.”

“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t have to if I knew about it sooner.” He paused, running a hand over his face as he thought of what to say. “You should’ve told me. I thought we agreed you could trust me with anything.”

“I do trust you, Quinn, but you guys always do this. You, Luke, and Jack always give the guys I date shit and it never works out. Pretty much every one of my exes broke up with me because they were scared of you three, as fucking stupid as that is,” you confessed. “I didn’t want it to happen with Trevor. You don’t get it. He’s different.”

Quinn looked you up and down, taking in the look on your flushed face. “You love him.”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll back off,” he said earnestly. “There are worse guys that you could be with.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. “So, are we good?”

“If you’ll let us be.”

You nodded. “Of course. Let’s go inside now, Quinny.”

He followed you into the living room where everyone else was, they all tried to act like they weren’t paying attention. Trevor stood from the couch, looking at Quinn before looking at you.

“We’re all good,” you said. “He’s not gonna harass you, don’t worry.”

“I will if she wants me to, so watch out,” Quinn said.

Trevor grinned as Quinn came over to shake his hand. Jack snorted and tried to cover it up with a cough.

Quinn took Trevor’s spot on the couch and you nodded your head toward your bedroom. Trevor followed you there, ignoring the whistles from the boys.

He shut the door behind him, letting the towel he was using drop to the floor. He hugged you, getting your coverup wet as his damp curls tickled your neck.

“Free at last,” he murmured into your skin, making you giggle.

“Okay, get off. You smell like the lake, you gotta shower.” You pushed his chest away from you.

He grinned mischievously. “Only if you shower with me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that made its way across your face as he reached under your coverup to pull at your bikini strings. “I don’t see why not.”

#birdiewriteslit #birdiewritesfics #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl #trevor zegras oneshot #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras blurb #tz11 #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes #hockey imagine #trevor zegras x you #trevor zegras x y/n

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 10 days ago

Text

Timeline of Rumors

Pairing: Paul Mescal x Reader [SMAU]

Warnings: sweet moments, laughter giggles, just general fluff

a/n: IGNORE THE FACECLAIM they're placeholders just picture what you like!

SEPT 1, 2023

iampedro'sloyalsubject BRO PEDRO AND Y/N ARE AT THE SAME RENAISSANCE TOUR NIGHT AS ME HOLY SHIT I CAN SEE THEM.

y/n’swife ARE YOU SERIOUS PROOF

joelmillersbitch I’M SO FUCKING JEALOUS ARE YOU SERIOUS!

iampedro'sloyalsubject I knew they mentioned going to the concert but I assumed in New York not fucking LA.

pleasebemywifey/n MY FRIENDS GOT TICKETS FOR THIS NIGHT AND WE SAW THEM COMING IN ALONG WITH SARAH PAULSON AND PAUL MESCAL

paulsoulmate …what. PAUL IS THERE?!?!?

pleasebemywifey/n YES!! I TOTALLY FREAKED SEEING Y/N WITH PAUL

A new video by loyalservantofy/n.

The footage shows two girls dancing to the preshow music dressed in silver beside the barricade. The girl holding the camera's face drops when Pedro Pascal is walking alongside Sarah Paulson from the background for a brief moment.

“PEDRO!” The girl screeches turning the camera so it is facing the walkway gaining the male actor’s attention and he sends a smile their way along with a wave which makes the pair of girls fangirl even more.

“I love you, Sarah!” The other shouts to Sarah who smiles and mouths back, “I love you too!” Their excitement only grows from fangirls of Pedro to a full breakdown when they see the coming behind the pair is Y/n L/n dressed in an outfit inspired by Beyonce’s Dangerously In Love Album Cover followed by Paul Mescal who is dressed in all black the pair talking amongst each other while being guided by security.

“Y/N I LOVE YOU!” The girls screech and the young actress sees them sending them a dazzling smile and blowing multiple kisses.

“You guys look gorgeous!” You shout to them over the music and other fans take videos and flashes of cameras. The girls squeal still in awe that they had this insane interaction with these famous stars.

A new video by pedrobbygurl: Didn’t even realize during the Mute Challenge who was behind us!

In the video during the song ‘Energy,’ the crowd bumps to the music as a girl records herself singing along to the words. In the background are Pedro and Sarah singing swaying to the music and beside them are Paul and Y/n singing to each other, mainly Y/n singing to Paul as he smiles looking down at her.

“Look around everybody go mute!” The crowd instantly goes silent and in the background, Y/n rushes to cover Paul’s mouth a wide grin on her face as the whole stadium waits for Beyonce’s cue.

“Look around it’s me and my crew!” Beyonce sings and the crowd roars and you remove your hand from Paul’s mouth as he starts laughing.

“Big Energy!” You both scream before continuing to dance to the rest of the concert.

PedroPascalMessiah Everyone say thank you to Y/n for making sure Paul didn’t fail the Mute Challenge.

ynlover THANK YOU MY WIFE 🙌🏼

paulmescalbby THANK YOU Y/N! Also, y’all noticing how often Y/n and Paul have been hanging out since they were seen together at the Met Gala?

cassiebeans no totally! Like I don’t want to assume anything especially with Paul so secretive [since the Phoebe drama] and we rarely hear about Y/n’s dating life.

kazmourner SPEAKING FACTS! Like I think they might just be friends because of how close she is with her male co-stars and friends. Like I fully thought she and Freddy Carter were together until he got married to his wife. But I'm down with it they would be super cute together

paulmescalbby Did y'all see how he was looking at her?!?! That doesn’t scream friends. BUT ALSO DAISY AND PAUL MY LOVES

A new story post by theeey/n_l/n

The first story is just a photo that has a selfie of the four of you. Sarah and Paul have regular smiles while posing for the picture, you have a bright smile that even through the photo can show how excited you are to be there and Pedro makes a shocked expression eyes glazed in wonder at the concert not even looking at the camera. The caption on the photo just says in all caps ‘BEYONCÉ BEYONCÉ BEYONCÉ!!’ with everyone in the picture tagged.

The next story is a repost from Sarah’s story, Crazy in Love is playing the camera shows Beyoncé and her backup dancers performing before it pans to Pedro who starts faking crying before screaming into the camera, “I’m fucking dying oh my god!” You can hear Sarah’s laughter behind the phone before it pans to Y/n and Paul behind Pedro dancing singing along to the lyrics.

“Y/n! Paul!” Sarah shouts getting your attention and you turn mouthing the words to the camera as Paul raises his beer to the camera his arm wrapped around your waist. You turn your attention to Pedro grabbing his arm the two of you screaming the lyrics to each other before bursting into laughter then the camera moves back to the stage.

DEC 15, 2024

A new post by y/nownsmysoul: OMG I MET Y/N WHEN VISITING FAMILY IN MALTA AND SHE WAS AN ABSOLUTE ANGEL

The post is a selfie of this girl and Y/n outside a cafe. She was dressed very casually a pair of sunglasses pushing back her hair as the pair smiled at the camera.

The next on the slideshow is the full video interaction of the pair. The camera is mainly pointed at the floor and you can hear a girl mumbling encouragements to herself before the sound of footsteps.

“Excuse…Ms. Y/n. Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you but would you mind getting a photo with me? I understand if not,” Her voice trembles before a sweet voice fills the video.

“Of course so nice meeting you what’s your name?” You ask and the girl lifts the camera using a video to take photos while it still records. Moving your items to one hand allowing you to wrap your arm around her waist.

“It’s Nicole,” She says and Y/n smiles as the camera is raised to show them both, “That’s my sister’s name I love that! Okay, smile.” You say and the two of you do a couple of poses but then your phone rings and the person calling can be shown on the camera. The contact says ‘Paul<3’ and the photo is a never-before-seen picture of Paul drinking a Guinness and getting a foam-stache.

“I gotta run Nicole but it was so nice meeting you! Please tag me in that.” You say and Nicole nods watching you head down the street answering the phone before she turns the camera to face herself a shellshock look on her face.

“Holy shit I just met Y/n.”

y/nownsmysoul LOOKING BACK I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE WHO CALLED HER.

mescalluver OMG THAT PIC! I just fell to my knees in the middle of the street

y/nmescal ‘Paul<3’ BITCH THEY ARE LOVERS NO DOUBT!

y/nsandpedrosbitch What is she doing in Malta? Is she there for Pedro and Paul?! I NEED ANSWERS 🛐🛐🛐

DEC 19, 2023

A new post by theeey/n_l/n

liked by pascalispunk, bigbreadpedlar, and others

theeey/n_l/n Reunited with my favorite guys

tagged: pascalispunk and bigbreadpedlar

pascalispunk I’m shredding your plane ticket you aren’t going back to NYC

theeey/n_l/n fine by me P as long as you're paying my flight back.

pascalispunk ….no

bigbreadpedlar So glad you came <3

theeey/n_l/n ofc! Had to see you in action.

jospehquinn Betrayed…I thought I was a part of the ‘guys’ Y/n. I thought we had something.

theeey/n_l/n I still love you JOSEPH!

cocoullrich The three musketeers together.

DEC 31, 2023

paulsbitch THEY CONFIRMED HOLY FUCK 😀

y/nwife BRO I FELT MY SOUL SHATTER MY LOVER IS NO LONGER MINE! 😦

joelmillerswife.soulmate I FUCKING KNEW IT SINCE THE MET GALA THEY HAD SHIT BREWING 🥳🥳

HusabandtoY/n.Paul BRO THEY BOTH ARE SO HOT. IDK WHO I’D RATHER BE.

A new post by entertainmentweekly: "Star Wars and Gladiator 2 Stars finally confirms the relationship we’ve all been dying to know. View the article to learn of the full timeline."

A new post by theeey/n_l/n

liked by pascalispunk, bigbreadpedlar, bella ramsey and others

theeey/n_l/n So happy to enter this new year with you. So excited to see what is in our future💕

tagged: bigbreadpedlar

bigbreadpedlar love you mo chroí ❤️

theeey/n_l/n 🥰

pascalispunk I’m so happy for you guys making my old heart sing.

theeey/n_l/n awww i love you P 🫶

pascalispunk ❤️

bellaramsey Stop you two are literally so cute together!

nicoparker I second that ☝🏽

zendaya Absolute cuties

A new post by bigbreadpedlar

liked by theeey/n_l/n, pascalispunk, 19irmcas, and others

bigbreadpedlar: To my favorite person — you made this year feel like magic. Can’t wait for what’s next.

tagged: theeey/n_l/n

theeey/n_l/n I love you, you big sap 💕

bigbreadpedlar I love you more

pascalispunk I’m getting cavities on how sweet you two are.

19irmcas You both are so hot

cocoullrich correct

josephquinn paul you better watch after her that is my unofficial sister!

theeey/n_l/n don’t remember our parents getting married but I love the sentiments

#paul mescal fanfic #paul mescal x reader #paul mescal #paul mescal x y/n #pedro pascal x platonic!reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator movie #star wars

195 notes · View notes

sematarygirls · 3 months ago

Text

The House On Peachtree Lane — Rafe Cameron.

pairing: serialkiller!rafe x fem!reader

summary: the abandoned house across the street had always given you the heebie jeebies, its crumbling foundation, and overgrown lawn looking like something straight out of a horror movie. however, when you began to notice a dark figure sneaking in and out of the house at odd hours of the night, you started to wonder if the house across the street was really abandoned at all.

warnings: very dark; viewer discretion adviced, male masturbation, sexual fantasies involving violence, icky rafe, stalking, mentions of murder, degradation, reader is a little freak, some manhandling

word count: 5.6k words !

a/n: starting off october right, yall. i have a strange fascination with writing characters that are actually batshit insane

The abandoned house on Peachtree Lane had a looming presence that seemed to overshadow the other houses on the residential street. Perfectly manicured lawns with each blade of grass a blindingly vibrant shade of green and cut to a perfect two and a half inches—never more, never less—lined the street of white picket fences and pristine white two story homes.

Peachtree Lane was the picturesque suburban neighborhood that you envisioned when you thought of that perfect, upper-middle class lifestyle. Each house was filled with a matriarch that had placed their entire self-worth into being perceived as the nuclear all-American family.

Then, there was that abandoned house. It threatened the image that had been so pristinely crafted to reflect the traditional values of suburban America. It was a blemish on the otherwise immaculate, postcard-worthy neighborhood. It stood tall and haunting in stature, casting a dark shadow over the neighborhood like a storm cloud foreshadowing the eventual fall of rain.

You, like the house across the street, were out of place among the families and elderly couples that lived on your block. You were a single woman in her twenties that had inherited the house after your grandmother passed away—a fact your mother nearly had a conniption over.

Your grass was a dull green, always too long or too short to fit neighborhood standards—both facts that you'd been reminded time and time again to remedy, but you didn't pay the PTA moms much mind. You knew they didn't have anything better to do than fuss over a strangers lawn, especially when they were so desperately trying to ignore the fact that most of their husbands were probably repressed homosexuals or fucking their secretaries.

You felt a sense of kinship with the abandoned house, an odd comfort with the fact that you both seemed to be peculiarly out of place. you often stared at it for hours, observing every detail.

It was a beautiful house with dark, Victorian architecture that stood out among the carbon copies surrounding it. The windows that weren't broken were boarded up, the tall, waist-length grass that surrounded the property and the animal carcasses hidden amongst it acting as a 'keep out' sign for potential trespassers. The roof looked like it was practically caving in on itself, and you couldn't help but wonder why the house was still standing. Why hadn't it been bulldozed and been replaced with another cookie-cutter American Dream Home? It was strange, intriguing even.

Even more strange was the fact that the house, at times, seemed to stare back at you.

Your fingers curled onto the edge of the windowsill, leaning forward and sticking your head out to feel the cool night breeze on your face. Almost instantly, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck perk up, bumps raising on the backs of your arms as the feeling of being watched crept up on you.

Your gaze immediately fell on the house across the street. The pit in your stomach that formed when your eyes darted from each shattered or dirtied window to the next seemed to confirm that your subconscious was almost positive that the pair of eyes on you was in that house.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling dry as your eyes narrowed, trying to see past the darkeness and into the old house. You felt a strange vulnerability despite having checked and double-checked the locks on every door and window in your house atleast ten times that night.

Everyone knew of the serial killer that had been plaguing your town for months, brutally killing the fathers and occasional mother of the exact type of families that lined your street.

Knowing that you weren't his target demographic did little to ease your worry, though. There was always that nagging thought in the depths of your mind that you could be next, and that's what made this uneasy feeling of being watched all the more troubling.

Unbeknownst to you, the house on Peachtree Lane that everyone feared—whispers and rumors of monsters and decaying bodies inside keeping anyone from staring too long at the decrepit structure—was not abandoned at all.

Cameron Development owned the building, and when Rafe Cameron took over for his father, he made sure that the house stayed in his possession and that any attempts to renovate or demolish the property had fallen through.

The house, despite being an eyesore, had actually garnered significantly less attention than one may think. No bored, gossip-hungry housewives or nosey elderly couples with nothing better to do with their retirement than people watch would be intruding on his business and noting his presence if it was perceived as uninhabited.

Any spare glances at the house were brief and filled with distain. No one wanted to look at the rotting wood and trash-littered lawn for longer than they had to, which worked in the man's favor. No one would notice him entering and exiting at all odd hours of the night, nor would they think twice about the sharp, metallic smell that permeated the air around the house. It was the perfect cover.

He watched from one of the battered second story windows, sitting on a metal fold out chair with his legs spread wide, his presence hidden by the cover of night. A camera stood on a tripod in front of him, aimed strategically at your bedroom window.

He had been watching you since you moved in, and he knew that some deeply in tune facet of you was keenly aware of this fact. Subconsciously, like the way your eyes flickered to the 'abandoned' house when you felt your hair stand end, you knew someone was watching you, and he suspected that a part of you even liked it.

The way you pranced around your bedroom in your short nightgowns—fitted with a lace trim and small bows or flowers that made his dick twitch in his pants—and got changed carelessly with the windows open, blinds raised, and curtains parted for anyone to see. You were putting on a show for him; he was sure of it.

His bedside table was filled with pictures he had taken of you through your exposed window. In some of them, you were fully clothed—just having gotten back from work or the gym. In some of them, you were wearing those tempting, delicate little nightgowns that he was dying to rip off of you, and in the rest of them, you were completely naked—or naked adjacent. Pictures of you in nothing but a towel, in your underwear, and even completely nude with your tits or perfect ass on display made up most of his perverted little collection.

Nothing came close to the highs he felt when he came to your photos. He had tried, and failed, to find release in other women, fucking them hard and without reprieve to let out his pent up frustration. He even tried pretending they were you, pushing their heads into his pillows, so he didn't have to see their faces and be reminded that they weren't really you, but none of it worked. You were the only thing he wanted.

He watched your gaze dart from window to window, brows furrowing slightly as you searched for the source of that uneasy feeling that had settled deep within you. Strangely, you seemed more curious than you were afraid. He couldn't help himself as he ran his hand slowly up his thigh, fiddling with the button of his jeans and popping it open before pulling the zipper down.

He had a victim in his basement, probably screaming their head off and tugging at the restraints binding them to the chair, but he didn't care. His attention was fixed on you, and the way you seemed to search for him despite not really knowing that he was there.

He pulled his hard cock from his underwear, spreading his legs wider as he leaned back against the chair. His tip was flushed and leaking precum, just the sight of you working him into a frenzy. He swept his thumb over his aching head, smearing the evidence of his arousal across his hot skin. A sharp hiss tumbled from his mouth as he captured his bottom lip between his teeth, watching the way your gaze lingered on the very window he was in.

For a moment, as he dragged his hand down his throbbing length, the thought that you could see him flickered across his mind, and for that brief moment, he wished it was true. He wanted you to see him, to know that you had caused this.

But, then, just as quickly as your gaze had seemingly fallen on him, piercing into his soul in a way that had him groaning with animalistic need, it had retreated.

He watched with frustration, his movements speeding up, mimicking his inner strife for your actions, as you pulled back from the window and drew the curtains. You were teasing him, and he didn't like it.

Your curtains were sheer, so with the wind blowing in your window and the blinds still hiked up, they did little to actually disguise anything going on inside. This fact only fueled his annoyance because it meant that your act was out of defiance rather than self-preservation. If there was anything Rafe hated, it was when people defied him, especially when that person was you.

He tore his gaze from your house, head falling back and lips parting in pleasure as he continued to work his hand up and down his cock. He let his eyes flutter closed as he imagined all the things he'd like to do to you.

He pictured you, bound to the chair in his basement that so many had met their demise in. He would run his knife along your soft, smooth skin and watch you shudder in a mix of fear and anticipation. He wanted you teetering on the edge of terror and desire, never knowing whether he was going to fuck you or kill you.

He let out a low moan, imagining the tip of his knife dipping into your plush thighs. The sight of thick, hot blood dripping down your flushed skin as he carved his initials into your perfect flesh.

He could practically hear your soft whimpers and cries, his hand moving faster as he felt his pleasure building within him. You would beg and plead for him to stop, looking up at him with teary eyes that would only encourage him to keep going, to see how far he could go before he lost all self-control.

He couldn't decide what he wanted more: to hurt you or to pleasure you? Just as easily as he could see you in the basement of his murder house, he could imagine you laying in his bed, blissfully unaware of his dark side and the hundreds of pictures of you just beside your head. He could mold you into whatever he wanted, filling your pretty head with lies that he knew you'd eat right up.

The combined images flickered back and forth between domestic and depraved finally sent him over the edge with a cry of your name—which he'd learned by looking through your mail—as hot spurts of cum covered his hand and jean-clad thighs.

He panted, picking his head back up to look at your bedroom window. You had turned the light out, your room engulfed in a darkness that signified you had settled in bed and would soon be drifting off to sleep, if you hadn't already.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he let out a deep sigh, his brows furrowing as he tucked his softening dick back into his pants and stood, stretching his limbs as he wiped the sticky, white substance coating his hand onto his jeans. He walked to the door, giving your window one last glance before leaving and making his way down to his awaiting victim.

You had eventually brushed off that intense feeling of being watched after carefully examining the house and coming up empty. You had chalked it up to your paranoia surrounding the serial killer running amuck in your little town and settled into bed, letting your unease be washed away by the comfort of sleep.

It was only a couple hours later when something jolted you awake, your heart racing as your peaceful state was torn from you, replaced by an indescribable panic of unknown origin.

Your eyes darted around your bedroom, searching for any potential threats that could have been the cause of such a violent awakening, but you were greeted with nothing of note. You exhaled in relief as you confirmed that you weren't in immediate danger, trying to slow the pounding of your heart.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed, toes brushing the soft fibers of your plush rug, which provided a sense of comfort that grounded you to reality as you pushed yourself off the bed and into a standing position. Curiosity gnawed away at you with each growing second that you didn't have an answer for what had stolen you away from such a blissful dreamstate.

For reasons unknown to you, you felt a pull inside you, urging you to tiptoe over to the window. You moved slowly, tentatively, as if any sudden movements would somehow put you in harms way.

When you reached the window, curtains blowing wildly with the force of the wind, you hesitantly reached out, pulling back the sheer pink fabric so you could get a good look at the dimly lit street below.

Goosebumps raised on your arms, a cold feeling creeping up your spine from the mix of the chilly night air and the anticipation of what you might find.

You didn't truly expect to see anything. You lived in a safe neighborhood where the greatest crime to be committed was bringing a gluten dish to one of the neighborhood potlucks, but still, in that same part of you that feared being the Kildare Killer's next victim and always knew to look across the street at the abandoned house when you felt a sense of being watched wash over you, you knew something would be waiting beyond those decorative curtains.

You squinted, eyes scanning the sidewalk for a moment for anything out of the ordinary when suddenly, movement in the tall grass beside the old Victorian home caught your attention.

A figure, clad in a dark jacket with the hood pulled over their head, was dragging something heavy toward the street where a large, dark-colored SUV was idling. Your head cocked to the side, brows furrowing in a mix of confusion and curiosity as you watched the person intently.

Even from this distance, you could tell they were tall and, judging by the size of the object they were lugging, strong, which led you to theorize that it was mostly likely a man. You couldn't help but notice how suspiciously human sized the trashbag seemed to be, your mind immediately jumping to the countless news stories detailing the crimes of the Kildare County Serial Killer you'd half-listened to while making dinner countless nights.

You were frozen in place, the rational part of you screaming at you to run to the phone and call the police, but again, that darker side of you prevailed, keeping you exactly where you were as you watched him load the person object into the SUV.

Your trance was only broken when the man lifted his head and looked directly at your window, almost as if he had known you were there. Your eyes widened as you quickly dropped to the floor, not even attempting to get a good look at his face as your self-preservation instincts finally kicked in, and you rushed out of view.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you sat there, waiting for something to happen. You half expected to hear glass breaking or knocking on your front door as the man tried to dispose of the only witness to his crime, but your house remained silent, eerily so now that you were thinking about it.

You stayed on the floor, your knees pressed to your chest, for what felt like hours as you mustered up the courage to peek out the window and see if the man was still outside. When you finally pushed yourself up, glancing down at the street below, you found it completely empty.

A relieved sigh fell from your lips as you braced yourself on the windowsill, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself as you tried to rationalize what you'd seen.

Maybe it was just someone cleaning out the old house. In the middle of the night? Your mind had nagged, despite your best efforts to push your doubts away. There was no way a serial killer was operating out of your neighborhood, and there was no way that you had just seen him. You wanted to remain blissfully ignorant as to what you'd witnessed, deciding against dwelling on it if you could help it.

The next day, around three in the afternoon, you were in your kitchen baking obsessively—your own little way of trying not to dwell on the possible murder aftermath you witnessed the night before—when a knock sounded at your front door.

You huffed, wiping your flour-coated hands on your jeans as you approached the door, expecting to see one of the mom's from the neighborhood that wanted to bitch at you about stuff you didn't care about or one of their children telling you that they accidentally threw a ball over your fence, and you had to retrieve it.

However, your eyes widened in surprise, a soft "oh" falling from your lips as you opened the door and came face to face with a tall, imposing man. He was incredibly handsome, clad in black dress pants and a white button up with the sleeves rolled back to reveal his forearms. His brown hair was fairly short and slightly tousled—a contrast to his otherwise put-together appearance.

"Um, can I help you?" You asked, your words laced with confusion. His smile seemed to widen as he took in your shocked expression, gaze darting to the white powder on your jeans before meeting your eyes again.

"I'm Rafe Cameron," he introduced himself, his blue eyes seeming to search yours for any sign of recognition.

"Nice to meet you, Rafe," you said, brows furrowing and tone uncertain. He found your confusion endearing in a pathetic sort of way, though, he was glad. This meant you didn't get a good look at him last night, and the lack of crime scene tape around the house across the street meant you hadn't called the police. Maybe you were more clueless than he thought.

You hesitantly introduced yourself because, even though you were completely unaware of who this man was or why he was at your door, it was the polite thing to do. You stared at him for a moment, cocking your head to the side as the name Cameron echoed in your mind.

"Do I know you?" You asked suddenly, crossing your arms as you pondered. The name was so familiar to you, but you couldn't quite place it. A flicker of darkness crossed Rafe's features at your question.

"No, I don't believe so. I'd remember a pretty little thing like you," he flashed a charming, disarming grin and suddenly, it came to you.

"Cameron Development," you said, demeanor brightening as you finally recalled where you'd heard his name. That smile he gave you was the same one you'd seen on signs in countless empty lots throughout town. "I've seen your signs."

"Right, yeah," he nodded, visibility relaxing a little bit. "I'm just in the neighborhood asking around about that old house across the street. We're interested in renovating it, but we need to do our due diligence."

"Well, what do you want to know?" You asked. There wasn't much to tell about the house. It was old, practically crumbling, but you could see that just from looking at it.

"Well, have you noticed anyone hanging around, maybe squatting inside the house or loitering?" He asked, watching you with an eerie intensity. "I only ask because it could make our job more difficult if we have to fight with any unwanted guests."

"Yeah, no, I, uh, I get that," you cleared your throat, shifting your weight uncomfortably. You didn't like to lie, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell the truth either. You were, undoubtedly, afraid, but overshadowed by that was this morbid fascination that you'd found yourself having for the house and the strange man you'd seen. "I mean, I haven't noticed anyone," you shrugged casually.

He smiled again, still regarding you intensely, but now, also with a glint of curiosity. He nodded, seeming satisfied by this answer. "Well, thank you for your time," he thanked you, your name rolling off his tongue in a way that made your stomach flutter. He said it so confidently, with a certain familiarity that put you strangely at ease for a reason you couldn't quite place.

"Of course," you smiled at him, your cheeks heating up as he stared at you for a few long seconds, taking in every dip and curve of your face, memorizing the way your lips quirked up and your eyes sparkled. He'd never seen you this close before, and it took every ounce of self control not to push his way inside.

"Have a nice day, ma'am," he nodded politely before hesitantly turning and heading back to his car, which was parked right in front of your house.

"You too," you called after him, leaning against the door and biting your lip as you watched him retreat. Once he reached the sidewalk, you reluctantly pulled back and pushed the door closed, not wanting to be caught staring and be perceived as some kind of creep.

Despite knowing where you'd seen his face, you couldn't shake this sense that you knew him from somewhere else, somewhere other than those advertisements posted around town. There was a strange nausea that settled in your throat as you watched him leave, a feeling of dread that perplexed you.

In the following weeks, that gnawing feeling only intensified as your paranoia did. Little things started to catch your attention, your perception of reality cracking with each slightly opened window or drawer, missing piece of clothing, and creaking noise that jolted you awake during the night.

You weren't sure if it was just your mind playing tricks on you or if something was really going on, but you felt like you were going crazy. You felt unnerved being in your own home, like you weren't safe. The feeling of watched had grown to something thick and suffocating, but for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

You should've called the police. You should've went to your mother's house or a hotel, anywhere to get away from the man across the street that you suspected was to blame for all the out of the ordinary occurrences, but you didn't. You stayed put, letting yourself be the mouse in whatever sick game he was playing because deep down, a part of you—that you wished desperately didn't exist—was enjoying the attention.

It was around two a.m., and you were tossing in bed, a restlessness settling over you. You'd been obsessing over that house, always staring and seeking signs of life now that you knew someone had been there, and it was starting to take over your life. You needed to know what was in there. You needed to know if it truly was a murder scene.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself up, leaning back on your arms as your eyes darted around the room. Were you really going to investigate a potential serial killer's house in the middle of the night? You pondered the question, briefly wondering if this would classify you as clinically insane.

Clearly, your survival instincts didn't fully develop as a child because you found yourself pushing the comforter from your body and getting to your feet.

You grabbed a plush throw blanket from your bed and wrapped it around your body for comfort and to keep warm as you traversed through your house, down the stairs, and to the front door. You steeled yourself for what you were about to do, slipping a pair of shoes on.

You sucked in one last breath before unlocking the door and pulling it open. Stepping outside, you found yourself pulling the blanket tighter around you as the chilly air brushed against your exposed skin.

The house looked even more imposing the closer you got to it. In the darkness, it seemed like it could come to life and eat you whole. It made you feel so small, so insignificant in a way as you looked up at the looming structure before you.

The wind whistled, echoing through the silent night, which set you even more on edge, but still, you didn't turn back. Your curiosity was stronger than your fear—an incredibly dangerous thing.

You seemed to shrink in on yourself as you stepped onto the pathway to the front door, the untamed grass reaching across the concrete to grab at you. Grimacing, you pushed the grass aside with one hand, the other keeping your blanket securely around you.

Stepping onto the porch, you were careful to step around the patches of collapsing, rotting wood. The front door stared back at you, daring you to open it and satisfy your gnawing curiosity, and you obliged, shaky hands reaching for the knob.

You turned it and pushed the door forward, a deafening squeak of the seldom used hinges reverberating off the ruined walls. The smell of rot immediately infiltrated your senses, making your face contort in disgust as you stepped into the house, eyes flickering from the delicate ground to the dusty furniture inside.

A deteriorated stone fireplace sat against the left wall, the mantle filled with dusty photos encompassed in cracked glass and broken frames. An old, red cabriole sofa—which looked more like a muted maroon color from all the dirt and grime coating it—sat facing the fireplace, a matching arm chair adjacent to it.

You could imagine how lively and warm the house likely once was, with children's feet pattering against the hardwood as they chased each other through the home, careful to avoid their parent's precious vases and other expensive decorative items.

It made you feel sad that such a beautiful home that once knew vibrance and love was now left to be forgotten to the unforgiving perils of time—all the priceless memories and moments that had happened within the walls obsolete when compared to the true vastness of the universe.

You continued your journey into the home, the scent of decay growing stronger with each step you took toward the unknown. You entered the kitchen, brows furrowing as you saw a small doll laying in the middle of the floor.

You crouched down, refraining from reaching out to it. It was a pale fabric doll with stringy, dirtied yellow hair and big blue eyes. What caught your eye, however, was the big splotch of dried blood on the front of her pink dress.

You shuddered, standing back up straight and letting your gaze wander the kitchen, taking in the beautiful antique architecture and color scheme. The cabinets were a rich brown with green accents, a chunk of remaining glass in one of them indicating that it was once a lovely diamond pattern.

Suddenly, a hand snaked around your waist, pulling you from behind into a hard chest. Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth to scream, but the person behind you quickly clamped their other palm over your mouth.

"You shouldn't be here," the man said threateningly, his breath hot against your ear as he dipped his head down.

Your heart raced in your chest, breath quickening in shock and fear. Your fight or flight instincts took over, unfortunately deciding to freeze instead of doing anything helpful.

Through your panicked haze, you realized that you knew this voice. You had been replaying the short conversation you had with that handsome man since it happened, his deep, smooth voice that made your legs clench and your heart flutter echoing through your mind on repeat.

"What am I gonna do with you, hm?" he hummed, his fingers dancing from your mouth to your neck; meanwhile, his other hand stayed splayed on your stomach, keeping your body firmly pressed against his. His large palm wrapped around your neck, squeezing gently, which elicited a gasp from you.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" You could hear the amusement in his tone as he mocked you. "You're fuckin' sick, aren't you?"

In one fluid motion, he turned you around and shoved you back against the kitchen island. You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth as your back collided with the edge of the counter.

You looked up at him, your eyes widened as your mind raced with conflicting thoughts. You knew you should've tried to run, but when your eyes locked onto his cold, blue ones, you found yourself glued in place.

Your compliance seemed to please him. A sadistic grin tugged at his lips as he looked down at you, reaching out to grab your jaw roughly, his grip bordering on painful. "You saw me the other night, didn't you?"

Your breath hitched, and after a beat of silence, you hesitantly nodded. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you.

"God, you're fucked up," he laughed cruelly, causing your brows to furrow. Was the serial killer who gutted people and staged their bodies for their families to find really calling you fucked up?

"Aw, I'm sorry," he cooed mockingly, leaning so close that you felt his breath fanning your face and could smell the faint scent of beer and a breath mint. "Did that upset you?"

"You killed them," you finally spoke, your voice quiet and shaking with fear and uncertainty.

"Uh huh," he grinned proudly, his voice dropping as he spoke again: "Does that scare you?"

It probably should. You should be shitting yourself right now, screaming and crying while trying to escape. Instead, you were curious—an emotion you couldn't seem to shake lately.

You wanted to know more about him. Why did he kill, and more importantly, why mostly family men and father figures? You wanted to dive deep into his psyche. And, truthfully, the feeling of his hands on your skin was addicting. Now that you'd felt it, you wanted more.

"I don't know," you practically whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up as he regarded you with that same intense stare. His thumb caressed your cheek, feeling the growing heat against the pad of his finger.

He grinned at your answer, his grip on your jaw tightening as he pulled your face forward, smashing his lips onto yours in an aggressive, sloppy kiss. You gasped softly in surprise, allowing him to deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue into your mouth.

Every inch of you was screaming at you to pull away, but you hadn't listened to the rational part of yourself at all thus far, and you weren't planning to start now. Your hands curled into the material of his grey t-shirt, pulling him closer as a small noise of pleasure bubbled up your throat.

His hand slid back into your hair from your jaw, gripping tightly as he tugged your head back a little. His other hand gripped your waist roughly, his fingers digging into your skin through your nightgown.

Rafe had been fantasizing about finally getting his hands on you for months, but never did he think that you'd walk right into his little murder house and practically serve yourself up to him on a silver platter. Something about you knowing what he truly was and fearing him but also desiring him made him want you more than he thought was possible.

When you finally pulled away, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, Rafe's grip didn't let up; in fact, he tightened it the slightest bit, as if he was afraid that you'd change your mind and try to run.

"You know I can never let you go now," he hummed, a hint of smile pulling at the lips. "Can't risk you exposing my little secret."

You looked up at him, your eyes widening slightly as you processed what he had just said. "What?" You asked, lips parting slightly and brows furrowing in confusion.

His gaze darkened as he imagined shoving his dick between your pretty parted lips. "You're mine now, doll," he clarified, leaving no room for argument. "If you're a good girl, I'll let you stay with me at home, but if you try to leave, I'll lock you in this very basement."

You swallowed hard, considering his threat carefully. You didn't want to know what was waiting for you in that basement if you decided to be difficult. "Okay," you conceeded, nodding as you sealed your fate and agreed to your new life under his surveillance 24/7.

As you watched his features soften slightly in satisfaction, you thought about all the barbaric things that had probably happened in this house, all the wonderful memories you'd imagined before now tainted by the sheer weight of what Rafe had done here. How had the once beautiful house on Peachtree Lane, filled with life and love, turned into a house of horrors?

tags .ᐟ @nemesyaaa

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months ago

Text

Nova Genesis

Part Two

Summary: disgruntled with the decision to return to Earth, who knows what the prisoners aboard will do to cling to their false freedom. And who will get mixed up with it | Word Count: 5.5k~ | Warnings: smut, p in v sex, dubcon, choking, degradation, blood, murder, threatening behaviour

She blinked hard, having stared at the blue, intrusive light of her computer screen for what seemed like hours now. Pressing the heels of her palms against her lids provided some relief to the thudding in her temples, but not nearly enough. This place was suffocating. And she briefly wondered how on Earth the prisoners had lasted as long as they had without going completely insane. She closed her laptop in a huff, her report written, a script planned out in her head for what she would tell Dr Dibs. She steeled herself, preparing for any reaction, her shoes plodding on the linoleum floor, every step echoing her growing apprehension, but she knew this conversation with her was inevitable. The dim lights in the corridor flickered as she reached the door. She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before entering.

Inside, Dibs was hunched over a tray of instruments, methodically wiping each one with a clinical precision that made her skin crawl. The doctor didn’t look up, her voice calm, almost detached.

“You’re here to tell me it’s over, aren’t you?”

Even the tone she used seemed unemotional, a stark contrast to the mess she had been when they had first arrived and broke into their systems, destroying samples. She held her breath, “Yes. The investigation is wrapping up. We’ve gathered enough evidence to ensure this project is shut down. The prisoners will be returned to Earth.”

Dr Dibs shook her head, placing a gleaming scalpel on her table before moving to the next. “And you think that’s a good idea? Bringing them back?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

Dibs finally looked up, her eyes dark with something unreadable. “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” she mused, before her lips turned into a small, cynical smile. “They’ll tear each other apart before you even reach the atmosphere.”

Her stomach churned with unease at her words, though she tried not to show it on her face that the doctor had managed to make her uncomfortable. There was, of course, a whispering of rebellion amongst those who didn’t want to go back, she knew that. But naively perhaps, thought it would go no further than a few choice words.

“An announcement will be made shortly. I suggest you prepare yourself for the outcome.”

“Prepare myself?” she echoed, her voice dripping with irony. “It’s you and your team who should be preparing. Once you announce their return to Earth, you’ll be the only thing standing between them and their worst nightmares.”

The prisoners were gathered in the central area of the ship, their eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and suspicion as she stood before them, report in hand, flanked by guards. The air was thick with tension, the kind that makes every breath feel weighted. Each gaze was filled with distrust, hatred almost, all except one, half-lidded with amusement. She took a deep breath, projecting as much authority as she could muster.

“After thorough consideration and investigation from our colleagues, it has been decided that this mission will be terminated, and all of you will be returned to Earth.”

A murmur spread through the crowd, a mix of surprise, disbelief, and anger. Monte stepped forward, his face a mask of barely contained fury.

“I’m not going back to Earth, not like this. You’re sending us back to rot in a cage, to be paraded around like freaks. We’re not going back. Not all of us.”

“This isn’t up for debate. The decision has been made,” she repeated, her voice firm though her heart pounded against her ribs.

Monte's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as the tension in the room thickened. His fury, barely held in check, finally broke through, spilling over like a dammed river and before anyone could react, he lunged forward, knocking over the nearest table with a force that sent equipment clattering to the floor. Other prisoners, emboldened by his defiance, began to move as well, their voices rising in a chaotic blend of anger and desperation. Chairs were overturned, shouts echoed off the metallic walls, and the guards tensed, readying themselves for violence.

“You’re sentencing us to worse than death!” Monte roared, his voice booming above the growing chaos. “You’re no better than the people who sent us up here in the first place!”

No. She thought. I’m a lawyer, I’m helping them. Surely.

She could not think why they would be so desperate to stay. So eager to die up here where nobody could find them, or even know where they were. But seeing the sheer determination in some of their looks, she briefly understood.

These people want to disappear.

Her hand hovered near her comms device, but she knew calling for more backup would escalate the situation further. But the guards, finally springing into action, moved to subdue Monte as he approached, and the other prisoners stepped in, creating a human barrier. The room descended into utter chaos as shoves turned into punches, and the violence spread like wildfire.

Across the room, Ettore leaned casually against the wall, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watched the chaos unfold. His eyes locked onto hers from across the room, and for a brief moment, amidst the turmoil, their gazes held. There was something predatory in his expression, a dark amusement at her situation, as if he was enjoying the spectacle of her losing control.

“You think you can control us?” Monte snarled, his body wedged between two guards. “You think you can just send us back to that hellhole?”

With her heart hammering in her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. She tore her eyes away from Monte’s seething form, only to find Ettore still watching her, his expression unreadable. She turned sharply on her heel, retreating to the relative safety of her team, her mind spinning. In the midst of the chaos, one thought lingered in her mind. Ettore’s smirk, his gaze that seemed to pierce through it all, as if he was waiting for her to slip.

Waiting for the vulnerability he was sure was going to rear its head.

Mink sidled up to Ettore, her expression serious as she glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with concern. “Monte’s losing it. You can see that, right?”

Ettore didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still following the path she had taken as she retreated with her team. The smirk from earlier lingered faintly on his lips, but there was something darker beneath it. He turned to Mink, his voice detached. “Monte’s been on edge since day one. Today just gave him the excuse he’s been waiting for.”

“He’s desperate. Desperate people do stupid things. What happens when she figures out what’s really going on here? If this blows up, they’ll throw us all under the bus.”

"Whether it’s Monte that takes us out or Earth, doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?"

Her jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face. “And what about you? What’s your angle in all this? Are you just going to sit back and watch him burn everything down?”

His gaze darkened as he thought about her, like the snuff of a candle, his blue eyes went near-black. There was something about the way she held herself, the way she looked at him, that intrigued him more than he wanted to admit. She had a confidence, a belief in her own righteousness that he found almost laughable. Yet, underneath it all, he could sense the tension, the fear she tried so hard to mask. He’d seen that look before, on other women, other people, just before they broke.

"Maybe I’ll just sit back and watch," Ettore finally answered. "Or maybe I’ll give her a little push, see how far she can really go before she snaps."

The door pressed shut behind her as she pushed into her quarters for the evening, still dressed even at such a late hour. She carried the day’s stress with the tension in her shoulders. If she focuses hard enough, she can still grip the panic she felt earlier that day when the prisoners had all turned on her and her staff. She kicked off her shoes, the tension in her shoulders momentarily easing as she stretched out her feet. The dim lights overhead cast a warm, soft glow over the small, sterile space. A brief respite.

As she was about to take a breath and unwind, everything went dark. The ship's systems cut out abruptly, plunging the room into an oppressive, suffocating silence. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she was enveloped in complete darkness. No emergency lights. No familiar hum of the ship's engines. Just an endless, empty, nothingness.

She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, the blackness so absolute it felt as if the walls were closing in around her. Panic began to creep in, but she forced herself to stay calm. The air felt heavy, thick with an unnatural stillness that made her skin prickle.

“Stay calm,” she whispered to herself, reaching out for something, anything, to ground her. But her fingers met only empty space. She knew the layout of her quarters, could navigate it with her eyes closed, but the utter darkness was disorienting. She felt her way along the wall, her fingertips brushing against the cold metal, her breath quickening with each step.

The thought that this wasn’t an accident slithered into her mind. Could this be sabotage? A prelude to something worse? The faces of the prisoners flashed in her mind. Monte’s fury. Ettore’s unsettling calm, and a chill ran down her spine.

Her breath hitched as she considered the possibilities. The ship wasn’t supposed to fail like this. Not without warning. Not without backup systems kicking in. She reached for the small comms device, fumbling in the darkness, but the screen remained dead.

She was alone, blind, and utterly vulnerable.

Heart pounding in her chest, her hand gripped the door frame of her quarters as she cautiously stepped out into the pitch-black corridor. The darkness was suffocating, every sound amplified, her senses on high alert. She moved quietly, trying to navigate the ship's labyrinth passageways by memory.

The path she was taking should have led her to the guards’ station, but the disorienting blackness made it impossible to be sure. She fought down the rising panic, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t afford to get lost. Not with people she knew loathed her, possibly lurking about in the adjoined ship.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stumbled upon the entrance to the guards’ station. Relief washed over her as she pushed open the door, expecting to find safety within. Her foot slipped, and the metallic scent of something deep filled her nose, sharp and acrid. It was only when her foot caught on something soft and unmoving that she stifled a gasp, her hand flying to her mouth to keep from making a sound.

She took a step back, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to put distance between herself and the grisly reality. Her mind raced, trying to process the horror of it all. How had this happened? Who could have done this?

With trembling hands, she eased herself to the floor, her hand patting over the body of one of the guards until she found her target. The gun felt too large in her hand as she picked it up. The cold weight of the weapon in her grasp was both alien and strangely comforting. She wasn’t trained for this, but she wasn’t about to be caught unarmed.

“WHERE ARE YOU, YOU BITCH?!”

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The voice was close, too close. And oh so familiar. Her heart thundered in her chest as she gripped the gun tighter, backing up against the wall, her pulse racing. Fear threatened to consume her, but she forced herself to stay calm, to think.

Monte was out there, hunting her.

She could recognize that voice anywhere, the fury behind it unmistakable. He’d gone into her room and discovered she wasn’t there, and now he was hunting her down with a vengeance. Thank God she’d kicked off her shoes. The thought flashed through her mind as she pressed herself against the cold metal wall, her breathing shallow, trying to remain as silent as possible. Without the squeak of her trainers on the floor, she had a chance, however slim, of slipping away unnoticed.

The darkness was both her enemy and her ally. It masked her movements, but it also made every step fraught with the risk of revealing her position. She had no idea where Monte was now, only that he was close, and that his rage was palpable, even through the thick walls of the ship.

Monte’s voice echoed again, closer this time, filled with venom. “WHERE ARE YOU!”

The darkness was suffocating as she crossed into the prison ship, the stale air thick with tension. She prayed Monte wouldn’t think to look for her here. The ship's unfamiliar layout was like a labyrinth of potential traps. Every step felt like it could be her last, each sound amplified in the oppressive silence.

She stumbled into the rec room, her heart pounding against her ribs. She backed up slowly, her senses heightened, straining to catch any sound of Monte’s approach.

And then she heard it, the sound of deliberate footsteps. Monte was getting closer. She couldn’t see him yet, but she knew he was near, racing down the hall towards the rec room, the door luckily closing softly shut to note she had not been near. But all the same, the fear lingered.

Backing up, she collided with something solid. Her first instinct was to scream, but before she could make a sound, a strong hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the cry. She was shoved against the cold metal wall, her back pressed firmly against it as a tall figure loomed over her. Her heart raced, terror surging through her.

“Shh,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek.

Ettore.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, the air thick with a tension that was both terrifying and oddly charged. She didn’t dare move, her breath shallow and trembling against his hand. He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered.

“Stay quiet, and maybe we’ll both make it out of this.”

She nodded slightly, in no position to argue or protest. His voice was a low, dangerous murmur, but there was something almost protective in the way he held her, his body shielding hers from the imminent threat. It was a strange, twisted sense of security, and despite the circumstances, she found herself clinging to it.

Monte stormed into the room, his heavy footsteps echoing through the pitch-black space. The door slammed against the wall, the sound reverberating through the silence. Her entire body tensed, a wave of raw terror gripping her as she pressed herself against the wall, wishing she could melt into it and disappear.

She had never been more scared in her life. The darkness was all-consuming, robbing her of her senses. She couldn’t see Monte, couldn’t gauge his distance or his intentions. All she knew was that he was close, far too close.

Ettore’s hand remained firmly over her mouth, his grip steady but not harsh. She could feel the rough texture of his palm against her lips, could almost feel the thudding of his own heart against hers, and she fought to keep her breathing steady, her panic threatening to break through. For the first time, she was thankful for the darkness, for the inability to be seen, but it didn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, blurring what little she could make out in the blackness.

Monte’s voice boomed through the room, a raw, violent shout that made her flinch involuntarily. “Where the fuck are you, you bitch? You think you can hide from me?”

Her tears spilled over, silently sliding down her cheeks, and Ettore’s hand, still covering her mouth, felt the wetness. She didn’t know if it was fear, hopelessness, or the sheer weight of the situation crashing down on her, but she couldn’t stop the silent flow.

She tried desperately to make out Ettore’s face, to find some anchor in the overwhelming darkness, but it was impossible. He was just a shadow, a vague outline she could barely discern, his presence more felt than seen.

Monte’s footsteps grew closer, his breathing heavy and erratic as he stalked through the room, searching for her. She could feel Ettore’s grip tighten slightly, a silent reassurance or perhaps a warning to stay silent. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might give them away.

The sound of Monte’s boots scuffing against the floorboards seemed deafening in the darkness. The tension was unbearable, a taut line ready to snap at any moment. Monte cursed under his breath and turned away, his footsteps retreating as he left the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and the oppressive silence that followed was almost worse than his presence. She didn’t dare move, not even to breathe, until she was sure he was gone.

“Jesus…” she whispered in relief when Ettore’s palm dropped from her lips. She expected him to move away, for them to find some way of escape.

But his hand, once firm over her mouth, slowly slid down to her neck, his fingers curling around the sensitive skin, holding her in place. The touch was no longer just about silence, it was possessive, controlling. She could feel his breath against her ear, slow and deliberate, as the tension between them morphed into something darker, more dangerous.

Her heart raced for a different reason now, a confusing mix of fear and something else, something she didn’t want to acknowledge. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, tracing the line of her waist before cupping her womanhood through her jeans. She gasped softly, the sound barely escaping her lips, but it was enough to let him know that she was fully aware of his intentions.

In the darkness, with Monte gone, the only thing she could see was his outline, and the only thing she could feel was the slow, purposeful movement of his hands. He held her firmly against the wall, his grip on her neck tightening just enough to remind her who was in control.

His hand applied just enough pressure to make her pulse quicken. "You're shaking," he noted, his tone almost mocking. "Is it fear, or something else?"

She could tell from his tone, he was loving this. Amused by her fear and helplessness. He enjoyed far too much the feeling of having someone’s life and control in his hand.

"Tell me, are you scared of what I might do? Or are you more afraid of how much you might want it?"

Her breath hitched, the question slicing through her like a knife. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she finally found her voice, though it was barely more than a whisper. “I'm not scared and I don't want you-”

The lie hung heavy in the air between them, and Ettore chuckled darkly, his free hand sliding down her body. He didn't believe her for a second, and she could tell.

His fingers deftly found the button of her jeans, and with a single, practiced motion, he popped it open. “So if I touch you here,” he whispered, his hand sliding beneath, “you won’t be wet?”

All it took was his fingers to dip beneath her underwear, sliding between her folds to collect her arousal on his fingertips, for her to freeze, the realisation dawning darkly that his presence in the darkness, his grip on her, and his words, were all having the effect she wanted least to happen.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the involuntary reaction that coursed through her as he drifted north to circle her clit with ease.

“You’re not the woman I thought you’d be,” he continued, his tone mocking. “Say you're a professional? You're a fucking liar.”

Once again, she tried to make out his face. Trying to imagine his expression. She was convinced he could somehow see hers as he pushed forward, stretching her hot walls around his fingers to harshly fuck her with his fingers, as if testing the dangerous waters.

Her hand clamped on his wrist. She wanted him to stop. She wanted him to carry on. The darkness was doing her indecision no favours whatsoever, blurring her common sense.

He bruised his body against hers, pinning her even more firmly to the wall. The sound of her moisture clicking against his skin both erotic and a terrifying reminder of how her control had waned.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenged, his voice low, a whisper that curled around her like smoke. “But you won’t, will you?”

Her voice came a shaky whisper, an attempt to grapple back that sense of self she felt was swiftly slipping. But her tone betrayed the conflict raging inside her. “You…don't know me-” she strained to say, wincing as she felt the rough pads of his fingers brush the front of her walls.

She felt his breath, amused against her face. Ettore’s response was a low, mocking chuckle. “Maybe not,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, “but I know enough.”

Her whine was low as his fingers left her, but her heart stuttered in place when he rolled her jeans over her hips, taking her underwear with it. His knee harshly nudged her legs apart so she couldn't close them, before moving his sweatpants down just enough, his breath hot against her neck, where his palm still pressed.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He knew enough about her to know that at this moment, she wouldn't stop him. Perhaps, couldn't. If she even tried. She choked air out her lungs when his chest pressed against hers, one hand pulling her leg over his hip to angle her up.

And the sharp pang of panic when she felt the blunt head of his cock press into her. She felt herself starting to say ‘no’, but all words died on her lips as she felt him stretch her open on his length, disappearing inside her with barely a sound of his own.

It was sharp and biting, the pain initially. If it could have been called foreplay, none of it had really been for her in any case, so she felt every inch of him. And she winced, eyes pressing shut when his pace was immediately brutal, snapping against her hips with commanding intensity.

All she could do was press her fingernails into his arm, try and share some pain with him in some twisted way. That's the only sound he made, was a low groan, his grip around her throat tightening to feel the rapid thrum of her pulse.

She hated it. Hated giving him this…sick sense of control over her. Knowing that he would be much too proud and one track minded to stop until he'd come, she thought, get it over with.

She clenched around him, hard. Wanting him to lose it himself and just finish what he started. And when she felt his breath catch, she smirked in victory, until his hand raised to her face, pushing her head harshly back, her jaw anchored in his grip.

“No you don't, you fucking bitch,” he breathed, low and dangerous in a way that made her heart freeze. “Think you can rush me?”

The smirk that had momentarily crossed her lips vanished as she realised how deeply she had miscalculated. Ettore wasn’t going to simply take what he wanted and be done. He was going to make her feel every second of it, make her pay for that brief moment of defiance.

“You’re going to come on my dick, and when you do, you’ll sound pathetic. Just like you are.”

It was fucking annoying, was all she thought, that when he renewed his pace to borderline erratic, the pain ebbed into sharp pleasure. The hand that held her leg around his waist drifted inwards, clumsily circled her clit, too quickly and firmly to feel entirely pleasurable, but just enough combined with his relentless assault to send her spiralling.

Her breath hitched, and she felt the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, more from frustration and rage than anything else. He could feel it too, how close she was to breaking, how her body betrayed her resolve. Ettore revelled in it, every small tremble, every shaky breath, feeding his twisted need to dominate.

He pressed her sensitive bundle of nerves like he hated her, and it was enough to send a full body shudder from the top of her spine right through her core. He only let out a breath of smug relief feeling her walls clamp him in, tending uncontrollably around him.

The room was silent except for the harsh breaths they both struggled to catch. The darkness around her seemed to close in, the only light left in the room the fading stars behind her vision. As the reality of what had just happened began to set in, she felt Ettore’s body still against hers, the warmth of him inside her chasing away the numbness that had momentarily overtaken her.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, with a surge of disgust and anger, she pushed against his chest, forcing him away from her. Her hands trembled as she scrambled to right her clothes, feeling hot in her chest with shame. Ettore staggered back, and she could practically feel his smug grin in the darkness. He adjusted himself with a deliberate slowness, clearly savouring the moment. His breathing was still laboured, but there was an unmistakable air of satisfaction surrounding him.

“No use fighting it,” he murmured, amusement seeping into every word.

She scoffed, her hands fumbling with the buttons of her jeans. “Dick,” she muttered under her breath, the word laced with a mix of anger and frustration.

Ettore’s smirk only deepened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Call me what you want. You know I’m the only one who can get you through this. You need me. Whether you like it or not.”

The emergency lights flickered on, casting a dim, flickering glow over the room. The sudden illumination was a relief, pulling her back from the suffocating grip of darkness. She could finally see again, the oppressive void around her receding. The sight of Ettore standing there, so smug and composed, sent a wave of shame crashing over her. Disgust curled in her stomach, twisting alongside a sick sense of arousal she couldn’t fully suppress.

But like a cold slap to the face, she knew Monte was still out there, stalking the ship, hunting her down. And now, with the lights on, it would be easier for him to find her. |It was a jolt, reigniting the fear she had momentarily pushed aside amidst the dull haze of thrumming pleasure.

Ettore seemed to sense her shift in focus, his smirk fading into something more serious. "He’s not far," he said, his voice low and measured. “Stick with me. I know a quick way back.”

She didn’t respond, her mind racing. The thought of Monte finding her now, after everything, sent a fresh wave of terror through her. As much as she despised the idea, as much as she loathed Ettore for what he'd done, he was her best chance at survival. But how could she, with everything she knew and everything she had just experienced, possibly trust him?

Was the onus on her? For allowing him to do what he did? For the way she had let him touch her, for the strange, conflicted sensations she had felt?

Before she could dwell on it further, Ettore yanked her forcefully, snapping her back to the present. They had to move quickly. The urgency in his grip was impossible to ignore, and in the rush, she realised too late that she had forgotten to feel for her gun.

They hurried through the narrow corridors, the cold metal walls echoing with the distant sounds of chaos. When they finally reached the entrance to her team’s ship, he pulled her inside with a final, rough tug. Panting, she glanced around the familiar interior of the vessel, trying to steady herself. Ettore didn’t waste a moment.

“Do you have the authority to access the emergency autopilot system?” he asked, his voice sharp, cutting through the haze of fear and confusion.

She hesitated for just a second. “Yes, but what about everyone else? We can’t just leave them.”

“There’s no time,” he shot back, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach drop. “Monte’s not going to stop until he finds you, and when he does, you’re dead. We need to get off this ship now.”

Her hands shook as she moved toward the control panel, the reality of the situation weighing heavily on her. She could feel Ettore’s gaze on her, urging her to move faster, to make the choice she knew she had to make. The ship’s systems roared to life, as did the alarms, signalling their imminent departure from the prison ship. For a brief, harrowing moment, she could hear Monte’s voice echoing through the corridor, filled with rage, mingling with the desperate shouts of others. But then the door hissed shut, sealing them off from the chaos outside.

Ettore was already behind her, his presence looming, suffocating in the small space. “Control Room. Now,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Panic surged through her, her mind racing as she obeyed, her steps hurried and frantic. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t process the fact that a dangerous criminal was now alone with her on her ship. Panic pushed her forward instead. Primal and urgent.

Once there, her mind scrambled for any option, any way to get the ones who wanted to return to Earth safely off the prison ship. “We can’t just leave them behind,” she stammered, turning, desperation clear in her voice. “There are others who want to return-”

Her blood ran cold as she whipped back at him, he stood tall, almost proud, holding a gun to her face. A brief, fleeting thought roared through her mind that she doubted it was loaded, but she dare not entertain it right now. Not when fear gripped her ribs.

Her own gun. She knew the second she went to feel for it.

He’d stolen it during her moment of weakness.

Ettore smirked, his expression infuriatingly smug. “No hard feelings,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Her heart raced with a potent mix of anger and terror. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She had come here with the intention of doing good, of offering these people a chance at redemption or at least a fair trial. And now, what had she done? She’d left behind an entire ship of prisoners, all so she could be trapped here, alone, with him.

She stared at Ettore, her mind swirling with a thousand conflicting emotions. The anger bubbling up inside her was nearly as strong as the fear. How had it come to this? How had she let herself be so easily manipulated, so trapped?

“Here’s how this is going to work,” he said, his tone all business now, as if he were discussing a simple transaction. “You’re going to take me back to Earth, and when we get there, you’re going to make sure I live a nice, cushy life. No more cells, no more guards, just freedom. I’m sure a smart woman like you can figure out how to make that happen.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to argue, but the cold, unyielding barrel of the gun in his hand kept her silent.

“And in return,” he continued, his eyes darkening with a twisted sort of pleasure, “we’ll have some fun on the way back. You’ll make sure of that too, won’t you?”

Anger and fear warred within her, but the sharp edge of reality kept her from saying anything that might push him further. She felt utterly trapped, forced into a role she never imagined she’d play. The man in front of her was dangerous, and there was no telling what he would do if she refused.

Ettore’s smirk softened, just a little, as if he could sense her internal struggle. “You’re smart. You know what the right choice is.”

She wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration and fear. A dark, violent urge flared within her, the impulse to bash him over the head, to kill him and be done with it. But here, alone in the vastness of space, without the guards or anyone else to enforce order, who would hear her? Truly hear her? Her fury would echo into the void, and she would still be utterly and entirely, alone.

His voice was a soft, poisonous whisper. “So, what’s it going to be, little lawyer?”

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

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#ettore imagine #ettore x reader #ettore smut #ettore high life #ettore x fem!reader #ettore x oc #ettore x female #ettore fanfiction #ettore fic #ettore fanfic #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #high life movie #high life 2018 #high life fanfiction #ettore x ofc #ettore x you

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dhampling · 10 months ago

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Your fics/headcanons give me the feeling of eating freshly baked cookies with warm milk while wrapped in a blanket fresh from the dryer. Just so sweet and comforting. Your post the other day about the number of kiddos he'd want got me wondering: how would astarion handle his partner being in labor? I feel like he would be freaking out so badly internally but trying so hard to keep it together for them. Does it get easier with each baby? Does he cry each time? Also, I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute with his growing family and I'm dyinngggg. Thank you again so much for all the wonderful fics sorry this message was kinda all over the place I LOVE YOU. ❤️

hello my sweet angel!!! firstly - you inspired me. I'm inspired. i wrote something based on the introducing the siblings idea. see below!

He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of it.

Feign exasperation, absolutely. Roll his eyes in jest, move things along with the smallest ‘away, away’ of his free hand at the faces pressed against the inside of the kitchen window as you both approach the house in a beleaguered stumble - snout noses and wide grins, breath fogging the glass trying to gain a glimpse. Incredulously sigh at the fact that it’s just a baby.

It looks like a baby. Sounds like a baby. Smells like a baby. The house tends to have at least one kicking about at any given time, gods; there’s absolutely nothing unfamiliar nor noteworthy about a baby dhampir in Baldur’s Gate at this point. If anything, he’d be surprised if the townsfolk weren’t banging down his door come morning with a council-endorsed petition to encourage him to stop breeding the little shits.

Frenetic. He’s still practically vibrating with adrenaline from the birth still. Shaky hands stilled under the weight of the baby basket. Legs flying.

Another girl, obviously. Another ‘A’ name conjured from the recesses of his ancient wisdom. Some variation of a label he saw in an apothecary a week ago - you’re past the point of putting too much thought into their names, a fact that becomes obvious to anyone who lends it too much of a thought.

Apothecary. He ponders the viability of that one. Apothecaria? Apothe. Antiseptic. Asbestos. Arugula.

Fuzzy as the door swings open into the night and the stew-warmth of the kitchen bleeds outside. He holds the door, the carrier containing the baby; hospital bags strapped to his back, the weight of another little thing on his conscience. A pack mule. He pulls a face.

The eldest steps from the sitting room through the parted gaggle of waiting Ancuníns and takes a look at the new addition.

A brief moment passes.

Then she smiles as anticipated, nodding her approval - a time-honoured tradition in your household ever since the second was unleashed unto her sister - before falling to the back of the crowd, pulling out a chair for an exhausted you; and resigning from her primary carer duties for the evening.

It’s bittersweet. At this point, Astarion can never be sure if this time, the whole bustling through the doorway in the middle of the night with a newborn thing; will be the last.

But as each previous youngling steps in line to greet the newest addition to their chaotic sisterhood, he finds himself looking over to you fondly. The way your hand still rests atop the round of your belly, the other supporting your head as your elbow rests firm on the table. Cheeks aflush, lids drooping closed with each breath; and yet you sit there instead of retiring straight to bed to watch them.

Their eager faces, hushed whispers; fingers poking and prodding the small exhausted thing presented to them once more. Rolling her name around their mouths to get used to the sound. You watch each movement with a warm heart and dopey grin.

Obviously you want this again. He wants this again. This moment of soft whispers and unfettered love amongst siblings.

No, he resolves;-

this won’t be the end.

i LOVED THAT SO MUCH. THANK YOU.

with regard to the labour:

astarion cries with the first two babies.

after that, he realises it's probably more important to be supportive to his partner at this moment in time.

he can compartmentalise any emotions he's having with the logic that they can wait, honestly.

none of his worst fears are going to materialise, he knows this now. he's done it before.

with the later babies he's a pro.

he even has the nerve to sit there and exclaim at points that he's bored, and that you need to hurry home as he has a client coming to the shop later.

despite both knowing it's a jest, this always earns him a pillow to the face.

THANK YOU NONNIE!!! I LOVE YOU!

#answered #my writing #dadstarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate

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cherry-pop-elf · 1 year ago

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Weasley Siblings Reacting To Your Muscle Spasms ♿️

William ‘Bill’

He can relate.

He has his own issue with them, from his attack by Greyback.

It’s more subtle, and tend to get triggered by stress, but he can be in your shoes.

They DO get worse when the full moon is closer/here. Since a curse breaker, he was able to prevent himself from being turned. But still has side effects.

He doesn’t get startled when you have a bad day, and they get triggered. Nor does it bother him when you both sleep together.

He’s someone who can get it, and often forgets you even have them. When he notices, it’s just another day. He GETS it, and you can have someone to confide in

Charlie

He has them. He has them BAD.

Given he works with dragon’s, and all the time, he has suffered some nerve damage. Amongst just a million other health issues.

He’s turned it into a straight up game on who twitches the most sometimes. Weasleys. You knew what you were signing up for

Since he has his owns, you have a taste of your own medicine of what it’s like to fall asleep with someone who has them.

He genuinely knows what it’s like, and it’s nice to be with someone who gets it. Doesn’t freak out every single time it happens. It’s healing. You two are buddies in this world of muscle tension

Percy

He’s…..anxious. To put it lightly. He’s always been a man that startles easy, which the twins took advantage of, so it’s a lot to get used to.

But, since his older siblings have similar issues, he isn’t going in blind either. He’s the type to be quick to try and learn whatever his partner enjoys/suffers with.

He does get very frustrated, at the start, such as when you have an incident when your knee bumped against the table while he was working. Spilling ink everywhere. He was about to yell, but he recalled a time when Charlie did the same thing. How guilty he felt, and self conscious he was. So, he forced himself to breath, and cleaned up

It’s stressful, but he’s wanting to learn and help any way he can. He finds something like that not a deal breaker. You can’t help it, and neither can his brothers

Sleeping with him is a struggle, and doesn’t happen for a while. Not until you are both deeper in the relationship

Over all, it’s a struggle. He’s an able bodied man dating a disabled partner. But, he grew up with siblings having those similar issues. So, in a morbid sense, seeing and feeling them reminds him of home

Fred

As stated, he has siblings who have similar issues. So he isn’t phased by it nearly. Not to mention he’s most certainly developed some of his own, with being a man that has tested so many wild things on himself for the sake of WWW. Also, ya know, Fireworksexual

He’s the type that teases and would often call you “Jitterbug” or stuff like that. If you weren’t into that, he would be quick to correct himself. Jokes are to make people laugh after all, and tease those that had it coming. You were born/in an incident. Never had it coming

Given his whole aesthetic being a man of chaos, he doesn’t get bothered by you having flare ups at all. Just another day. But he would be always concerned when you have a bad day. Seeing how intense they can get. Even secretly trying to invent something to help

Given how close him and George are, they would often sneak into bed with each other when having nightmares. So having someone who’s spacing in their sleep doesn’t bother him a lick. But he will have his worries

It’s just part of who you are. And it’s part of who he is. Just one of the flaws that make you so beautiful to him

George

Rather similar to Fred, to many degrees, but he is still an independent person. And is a bit more sensitive to it all

He worries about you a bit more, and can’t help but wonder if they ever hurt. Charlie and Bill say they don’t. Unless they hit something, but still. He’s gonna worry about you when he sees the flares

When he loses his ear, after the war, he developed his own spasms from the trauma it did to his muscles and blood vessels. So he has some, and jokes that you two are twinning now. He immediately cried after saying that

Whenever you have a bad flare up in your sleep, expect to have him hold you closer. Kissing your head, in the hopes it some how. It doesn’t work like that, but he’s a wizard. Maybe it does

He’s going to worry, a lot. But it’s all in good faith, and because he cares. He’s going to try and help somehow whenever he can. And you can’t stop him

Ron

Expect to hear good ole “Bloody Hell-“ Whenever you have a bad one. He gets startled easy, like Percy, but is more audible about it. Over the years he gets better, but expect a lot of it

Growing up with siblings have similar, he doesn’t really get bothered. Just startled. Especially since he hasn’t been around his siblings along growing up, due to the age gap.

He secretly has a talent of reading spasm writing though. Since Bill and Charlie write to the family often. And since it’s ink, you can’t really fix it. So you never have to feel self conscious about your flare ups when writing

He will get startled awake, now and again, when you start sharing a bed. But he refuses to ever tell you that. Knowing how brave you are to attempt it. It’s the least he can do to try and make it work in return

When more of his siblings develop spasm, he feels a weird relief. Like if he never dated you, he couldn’t help them like he could with you

It’s new, but he’s a Weasley. Chaos is in their DNA. It’s just something you can’t control, like he can’t control his nervous ticks. It takes a while to adjust, but that’s kinda basic human nature. To adjust to new things. And you are a new thing here wants to keep

Ginny

Given her Qudditch career and lifestyle, she gets muscle fatigue often. So she can relate to having twitches. Course, having them twenty four seven is a whole other ball game for her

Given her experience, she is happy to help massage your joints and muscles. Using every trick in the book to see if they can help you in any way at all

Given she’s the baby, she didn’t really grow up around her eldest brothers, so she isn’t quite used to the concept of another person having them. Even with her team mates, they are far more subtle and they don’t exactly spend twenty four seven together

She sleeps like a damn brick. So you never have to worry about waking her up. But expect her own leg kicks when it’s been a long day on the field

She’s going to care for you deeply, and use all her special tricks to help you. Even though it doesn’t really work like that, the mental health boost it gives you still does numbers. She is trying because she CAN and WANTS to, and that’s all that matters

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thedrarrylibrarian · 1 year ago

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Christmas 2023

One of my favorite holiday traditions it to give a book on Christmas Eve. So hopefully in time for you to cozy up before bed, here is my Christmas Eve gift to you - a rec list!

Just the Two of Us by torino10154 (200 words, rated T)

"I can't believe this is our first Christmas, just the two of us," Harry said as he placed the star on top of the Christmas tree.

Christmas Brunch by @drarrily-we-row-along (583 words, rated G)

Draco wanted to host brunch for his parents on the first Christmas in their shared flat. Harry thought that seemed like a great idea.

But the week leading up to it has been a nightmare, Draco is stressed and Harry's losing his mind. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all.

For Everything a Season by @shealynn88 (1,342 words, rated T)

"Our children are a joy, Harry, but I’m glad it’s just you and me.”

Harry goes soft. “Why’s that?”

“Well, many reasons. But right now, you’re under the mistletoe, and I prefer to take my time, and the children would make an awful racket if they were here to see.”

Draco Malfoy and the Cursed Sweater by @slytherco (1,804 words, rated T)

After falling victim to Harry's stupid prank, Draco finds an unexpected partner in crime.

Underneath the Tree (You'll Find a Piece of Me) by @squintclover (4,435 words, rated M)

Harry and Draco find themselves in a holiday home amongst friends at Christmas. The Secret Santa Hermione has planned is sure to go perfectly. Surely...

Even Children Get Older by @lou-isfake (4,500 words, rated M)

It started with don't wake the baby.

Snow on the Beach by tinaakitten (4,915 words, rated T)

Over multiple Christmas Eves, Harry and Draco find their way back to each other.

Featuring cute Harry Potter obsessed toddler Scorpius.

Deliberate Denial by edaniels0221 (7,244 words, rated G)

Professor Harry Potter can't help but to deny his children's ridiculous notion that he has a crush on the gorgeous new Hogwarts Healer, but as he comes to find out, one can only be in denial about liking Draco bloody Malfoy for so long.

Löyly by @citrusses (10,323 words, rated E)

Somewhere between the steam of a sauna and the icy waters of the Gulf of Finland, Harry heals from a broken engagement and a failed career. Draco Malfoy helps.

25 Additional Scenes for Ain't That the Garden of Eden by @romaine2424 (12,139 words, rated G)

The additional scenes cover missing moments in December, Harry's election, and Inauguration.

Because Cats by @icmezzo (14,589 words, rated T)

Harry has a cat, and Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, and Harry doesn’t. Then Harry has a cat again, but Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, but Harry—OMG HOW WILL IT END.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w (21,941 words, rated E)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Be sure to check out @skeptiquewrites wonderful Happy Hour Rec for this fic!

All I Want for Christmas by CaityCatt (36,509 words rated M)

Harry feels like a bit of a grinch at Christmas, but his true love has a plan to change all that.

The Coldest of Days by Anonymous (54,683 words, rated E)

At thirty-one, Harry Potter finally has it all: four incredible children, a naughty Niffler named Penny, and a brilliant boyfriend who has managed to fill the hole in his heart.

But because Harry is Harry, chaos is bound to follow. On a cold December morning, Draco wakes up with no memory of the war, his children, or his life with Harry.

That, and he’s insisting that he’s been thrown fifteen years into the future.

The Art of Thank You Notes by fictionclaw (82,286 words, rated E)

A few years after the war, Harry receives a ministry notice that Draco Malfoy’s house arrest will soon be lifted and that the wand he has kept may be sent to the ministry. He doesn’t think much of it when he sends the wand directly to Malfoy Manor with a note.

But one letter swiftly follows another and Malfoy sneaks his way into Harry's every day life without either of them minding.

Or; Harry and Draco find reasons to write letters to each other and Black heirlooms and family histories are uncovered while they figure out why that is. Lunch dates, careful friendship, confusing feelings and Draco's art included.

I hope that wherever you are, you know you have a place by my fire and a place in my heart. Merry Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, and the Happiest of Holiday wishes to all!

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corruptedcaps · 1 year ago

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The Mean Manual

“64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69…. Done!” Charlotte groaned as she finished her 10th straight day of her bust exercises. She stretched out her remarkably flexible body and looked lovingly at her big tits. She almost couldn’t believe that two weeks ago she had the body of a flabby no chested geek but that was before she found, the book.

Back then she was know as Charlie, a girl so anonymous you could ask her classmates what she was like and they would reply with, “Who?”

Charlie wasn’t noticeable enough to be bullied, didn’t stand out enough to be noticed, a quiet solitude she had grown to accept. She would spend her free time in the school library, reading her fantasy and sci-fi books away from the crowds.

However that changed when she found, hidden behind several books in the reference section, the ‘Mean Manual’. Its cover was a bright pink that almost glowed amongst the drab covers it surrounded that made it hard for Charlie to ignore.

Pulling it out she blew away the dust that had accumulated over years maybe even decades of neglect. Charlie opened the tome and curiously flipped through its pages. It seemed to be some sort of guide to becoming the ‘Queen of Mean’.

Charlie chuckled to herself as she skimmed its pages, realizing it had to be some sort of parody book. How could it not be with chapters like ‘Spreading lies to get your way’ and ‘The 10 ways to steal a man’. It was laughable to her that anyone would take the instructions as gospel.

Amused by it, she decided to take it home and read some more. It was there that she came across the chapter on ‘beauty exercises’. There was sections on toning your stomach, getting the perfect tan, how to make your body more supple, but what weirdly interested Charlie was the section on breast growth.

As the other girls in school had all hit puberty and grew reasonable and sometimes outrageously sized tits, Charlie had lagged behind, growing no more than an ‘A’ cup. It wasn’t something Charlie ever cared about, most people didn’t notice her anyway, and yet she found herself reading the instructions on how to increase her boob size intently.

“I’ll give it a try, just as a joke of course.” She said to herself with a half hearted laugh as she readied her body. The excercise involved getting on her knees and pushing out her chest 69 times, which seemed intuitive enough if a little juvenile but what was odd was she had to moan each time she did it. She felt a little silly as she began.

However with thrust of her chest her moans got a little louder, a little more genuine. It felt good sticking out her chest again and again, it felt as though her whole body was getting a workout. She couldn’t help imagine how good it would be to have the perfect tight body with perfect round tits, she found herself getting wet with each shove of her chest. She went into a near trance as she went on and before she knew it she hit 69 thrusts.

She panted in pleasurable exhaustion as she shakily got back to her feet, feeling warm and wet between her legs. She stumbled over to the mirror and gasped loudly at the sight. Her meagre breasts were gone, replaced with impressively big tits.

“No freaking way!” She said as she turned each way to make sure it wasn’t some mirror illusion but there was no denying it, her boobs were bigger.

She eyed the book out of the corner of her eye, maybe it wasn’t a joke after all, she thought. She looked at her reflection and couldn’t help wonder what she would look like with the long nails, the silky hair, the smooth skin and everything else it purported to be able to give her. She had to know.

An hour and several exercises later, Charlie was looking at a practically different woman in the mirror. Her body wouldn’t have looked out of place on a runaway, there wasn’t an ounce of imperfection anywhere now. She could bend and flex in ways that would make the Hailey the head cheerleader jealous.

A smile started to cross her lips as the idea of making a bitch like Hailey green with envy suddenly made her horny. He mind went to wicked places as she thought about doing more than making her jealous.

She imagined strutting in to school the next day, in a tight shirt outfit, all eyes on her but she would be focused on only one set of eyes. Chad, Hailey’s boyfriend, was a big block headed idiot but did anything Hailey asked. If she could seduce him, she’d have the school in the palm of her hand.

“When I seduce him.” She corrected herself with a smirk, after all no one would be able to resist her looking the way she did now. She’d take Hailey’s friends, her cheerleading position, her power. It would be so easy and fun.

She started to move her fingers down her body towards her increasingly wet pussy when she stopped herself. Something didn’t feel right, why was she thinking such cruel and nasty things?

As if to answer her, a sudden gust of wind started to flicker the pages of the book back to the opening, where ‘Queen of Mean’ was emblazoned in large letters. Charlie drank in the word ‘Queen’ again and again. It seemed to almost put her in a trance as she put her hand into her panties.

As soon as her hand made contact with her soaking wet pussy a sinister grin came across her face.

“Ohhhh fuck yes!!! More, more! I want to be a fucking bitch called Charlotte not some loser nobody called Charlie. Make me a toxic slut, make me a wicked whore, make me the Queen of Mean!” She moaned loudly as she pumped her pussy again and again, her nerdy persona getting weaker each time she did.

The book began to glow bright pink as she continued and Charlotte had an innate knowledge of what it was doing.

“Yesss take my pathetic soul, make me evil and bitchy, I’ll be hot, corrupt and unstoppable!” She moaned thrusting her chest out as if it was being pulled up. She watched in malicious joy as her soul was ripped from her body and sucked into the book. She felt free of morals and doubts as she began to cum harder and longer than ever before.

As the book slammed shut, a surge of dark energy enveloped her newfound form. Her eyes glowed for a moment a deep crimson before settling back into a cold icy blue. A wicked smile curled on her lips as the transformation completed. She reveled in the intoxicating power coursing through her veins, ready to unleash chaos upon the unsuspecting world.

“Bye bye Charlie you fucking dork nobody. No one will miss you and even remember you when I walk into school tomorrow. It’s going to feel so hawt and nasty taking everything Hailey has, in fact why wait until tomorrow.” She said to herself as she picked up her phone and snapped a sexy selfie of herself.

With an evil grin she started to text Chad: “Hey! I got your number from the school secretary. I’m, like, the new girl in school and she said you would be able to show me around and stuff? It would be totes amazing if we could do something tonight? I’m so alone xxx.” She wrote sending it along with her picture.

She smirked to herself as he quickly replied and made plans to meet up asap. Within the hour she was sucking his dick in the back of his sports car and cementing her hold on him. As soon as she had swallowed his load she dropped her cutesy bimbo act and became more demanding of him. He of course would do anything she asked now.

Now ten days later and Charlotte was the most feared and popular girl in school. Everyone knew her name now and there was no way she would ever fade into the background with her commanding presence and bitchy hot body.

She didn’t know if she needed to continue doing her stretches and exercises to maintain her evil sexiness but she did them all the same, enjoying the wave of pleasure each would give her. The book seemed to glow happily each time she did as well but she could sense it was growing hungry for more. It had opened one day on a page marked “Beta Bitches”, giving Charlotte the guidance and knowledge with what to do next.

“Hello girls, welcome to tryouts to be my new friends.” She announced to a group of nerdy girls who had all been lured to Charlotte’s house under the pre-tense that Charlotte would stop bullying them if they did. And for some of them that would soon be true. “You are all pathetic losers right now, adrift, invisible. But after today some of you will be getting a new wonderful purpose; worshipping me. Now do as I do and try and keep up.” Charlotte said to a sea of bewildered faces as she began doing her stretches and one by one they each followed suit.

Charlotte’s book began to glow…

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #corrupted book #cc2023

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alxtiny · 7 months ago

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An Art Gallery could never be as unique as you | Kang Yeosang x Reader

Synopsis: where yeosang finds a masterpiece in an art gallery

Pairing: kang yeosang x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of insecurities

Notes: hi :) hehe

masterlist

Yeosang took a deep breath as he stepped into the art gallery, his steps carrying him through the serene atmosphere of creativity. The soft hum of murmured conversations and the occasional click of a camera shutter filled the air, but it was a comforting background noise to him, far removed from the usual chaos of his life as an idol.

He had been waiting for a while for this particular expo to open. He had come across it while looking for something new to add to the empty walls in his room. What fascinated him was the way each piece had been described on their website, as if it were a conversation or a story.

Dressed in minimalistic clothing, a bucket hat pulled low over his eyes and a mask securely covering his face, he hoped to blend in with the crowd and avoid any encounters with fans. Don’t get him wrong he loved his fans but sometimes it could get a bit too much, especially when he didn’t have the others to help him. Today was meant to be his quiet day, he took this as chance to indulge in something he wouldn’t generally look for.

As he wandered through the gallery, his eyes flitted over the carefully arranged paintings and sculptures, each having its own story, which he would read about in the complimentary catalogues. Walking deeper into the vivid space his eyes were drawn to one particular painting, tucked away in a corner. It stood out amongst the others, its presence demanding attention even from a distance. As if it called out to him, Yeosang made his way towards it, his curiosity piqued.

It was different from the others. Unlike the others from a distance it looked devoid of colour. The painting was that of a face, whose expression was mostly obscured, hidden behind a veil of distorted lines and smudges. Yet, despite the chaos surrounding them, there was a hint of emotion beneath the surface – something that wasn’t so easy to decipher. There was a slightly unsettling way the face in the painting smiled, it looked almost like it was mocking the viewer.

And then there was the heart-shaped mark at the corner of the lips, furious red against the monochrome backdrop. It was a small detail, but to Yeosang it felt eerily familiar.

Yeosang found himself captivated by the artwork, his gaze lingering on the details of the piece. He was drawn to it but couldn’t understand why. He flipped through the catalogue, eager to learn more about the artist's intentions but discovered not much explaining the thought process behind it. He wondered what story the painting wished to tell.

Lost in thought, Yeosang stalled in front of the painting, the rest of the world fading away, until a voice broke him out of his reverie, “Do you like it that much? You’ve been staring for quite a while.”

Yeosang blinked in surprise as you approached him, your question bringing back the chatter in the background. He turned to face you, ready to defend the artist and justify his lingering. As he looked at your face, he felt a shiver go up his spine. To him the painting had come to life, and it was standing beside him.

A soft smile graced your lips, so different from the one in the artwork. As he recovered from the initial shock, Yeosang's gaze shifted from you to the painting and back again, his mind racing to make sense of the connection.

Then, his eyes fell on the birthmark next to your lips, red like smudged lipstick, somewhat in the shape of a heart, the same as his own birthmark next to his left eye. The resemblance freaked him out a little if he was being honest. He pointed at you and then at the painting, silently questioning the similarity.

You laughed gently, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yes, that's me. I painted that piece, actually. It's a self-portrait."

Yeosang's eyes widened in astonishment, a mix of disbelief and wonder washing over him. As the realization sank in, An embarrassed flush crept up his neck. He couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that he had been gawking at a painting of the very person standing near him for god knows how long.

It's quite a rare chance to meet the artist of a painting, that has you allured, out of the blue. This was certainly far from the uneventful day Yeosang had wished for, but since fate wanted its way then who's he to deny it.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, eager to learn more about the reason behind the style you chose for the painting and the emotions that had fueled its creation, Yeosang blurted out, “Why did you make this?”, a look of confusion flashed across your face.

Yeosang, realising how blunt and rude that sounded, immediately covered his mouth and let out a muffled gasp. His eyes widened, knowing that he offended you, until an amused smile made its way to your lips as you nodded at him to continue.

Slowly he moved his hands away, “S-Sorry”, he stuttered “I meant what was the inspiration behind it, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” he continued slowly, his gaze downcast.

“Mhmm, I thought as much. Well there’s a long story behind it but I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” you replied.

“No no I asked I want to know,” he said nodding eagerly

“Alright,” you sighed, before flashing a soft smile his way, “but let's not talk here, how about we go to that cafe across the street, I heard it’s really good,”

Yeosang, happy that you agreed to share what seemed like a vulnerable memory with just a stranger like him, quickly agreed, he didn’t understand it yet but he wanted to know everything about you.

Leaving the gallery you walked to the cafe, Yeosang blinked as he saw the familiar café come into view, he came here quite frequently with the guys. “I like it here, its perfect when I’m in need of some inspiration,” you whispered, noticing his reaction.

“I can’t believe we’ve never come across before, I like to come here too, sometimes with company,” he responded shyly.

You chuckled at his bashfulness, as you both walked up to the counter to give your orders, that Yeosang, being a gentleman, sneakily paid for when you were retrieving your wallet, chuckling at your insistence on paying him back.

You took your drinks and headed to one of the farther off tables of the cafe near the windows. You sighed deeply as you settled into the plush chair, deeply inhaling the scent of your bicerin, feeling completely at peace.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you looked up at Yeosang who was watching your actions carefully, his own glass of iced americano sitting untouched, dripping condensation onto the table. He gazed at you expectantly, eyes silently urging you to start speaking. The silence wasn’t awkward or unbearable rather it was comforting, yet you began talking.

“You asked why I made this painting, a valid question…but I don’t think I have a proper answer for it. I guess it was a ‘in the moment’ kind of thing, it’s a rather old piece, from a time when it wasn’t all that great for me. You see this,” you paused, pointing to your birthmark, Yeosang nodded.

“It wasn’t always something I wanted people to see, I usually covered it up somehow, feeling burdened by its presence but later, much later in life I realised it wasn’t something to be so concerned about, it is a part of me and people will talk and talk, so why should i care.”

You went on, Yeosang listened intently, hanging onto your every word. He could feel the overwhelming pain in your voice, the intense emotions behind sharing such a personal experience.

“The painting was a rebellion against those ugly thoughts, I guess around then i stopped covering it up,” you explained, shrugging your shoulders.

“But you are beautiful,” Yeosang suddenly whispered with a frown on his face, “You shouldn’t hide just cause some people said so, they were probably jealous,” a small pout formed on his lips. Your face flushed at his words, a shy smile gracing your lips, “Yeah, so I’ve learned.”

“I have one too, right here,” Yeosang pointed to his left eye, pushing back his hair a little. You noticed the pink smudge, surprised you hadn’t seen it earlier.

“It looks like mine,” you whispered in awe, reaching out to gently trace the discolouration with your fingers. His skin flushes around where your fingertips come in contact.

“I was like you too and I too found people who appreciated me and loved me, we may be similar in that aspect.” Yeosang said with a bitter chuckle. He remembered the time when he himself had experienced moments of self-doubt and insecurity, times when he felt like he wasn't enough. But like you, he had grown and evolved, finding strength in the support of those around him.

Nodding in understanding, you shared a small smile, as comfortable silence fell again. “Thank you for listening to me, Yeosang. I really needed this,” You spoke up with a wide smile.

Yeosang looked up from his coffee, opening his mouth to speak, but he paused, eyes widening in surprise as you mentioned his name. "Wait, how did you know my name?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I know who you are, Yeosang. It's not every day you see an idol wandering around an art gallery in disguise," you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

He blinked, a mix of astonishment and amusement crossing his features. "I guess I'm not as inconspicuous as I thought," he mused, running a hand through his hair sheepishly.

You shrugged, smiling. "It's okay, it's refreshing to see idols enjoying normal things like art exhibits. Plus, it gave me the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with you," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

Yeosang couldn't help but laugh at your candidness. "Well, I'm glad you did. This has turned out to be a much more interesting day than I anticipated," he admitted, a smile tugging at his lips.

The two of you continued to chat, your conversation meandering from art to music to random anecdotes about your lives. Despite the initial awkwardness, Yeosang found himself enjoying your company immensely. There was something about your easygoing nature and genuine warmth that put him at ease.

As the afternoon wore on and the cafe began to empty out, you glanced at the time and let out a small gasp. "Wow, I didn't realize how late it's gotten. I should probably start heading home," you said, gathering your things.

As you both gathered your things and prepared to leave the cafe, Yeosang felt a rush of nervousness tingling in his chest. He shifted on his feet, feeling the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"Um, hey," he begins, his voice a little shaky. "I was thinking... would you maybe want to go out on an official date sometime? I'd really like to get to know you more."

He looks up at you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment but his eyes earnest and hopeful. He can't help but feel a surge of vulnerability, unsure of how you'll respond to his daring question.

You pause, a smile playing on your lips as you meet his gaze. "You know what, I would really love that," you reply, your voice warm and sincere. "I've had a great time getting to know you today, and I'd definitely like to spend more time with you."

Relief floods over Yeosang, the tension in his body easing away and a wide grin spreading across his face. "Really? That's great!" he exclaims hands clasping together, unable to contain his excitement. "I'll make sure to plan something really special for us."

You nod and laugh, returning his smile. "I look forward to it," you say, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your stomach at the thought of your upcoming date.

With plans made, numbers exchanged and hearts aflutter, the two of you bid each other farewell, already counting down the days until your next meeting. And as Yeosang walks home, a spark of excitement fills his chest, he feels a rush in his head, knowing that he's found someone special to share his time with.

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

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lisbeth-kk · 7 months ago

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May Prompts (18) Blanket

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 18)

Summary: Molly gifts Rosie something the teen never thought she'd get her hands on.

Eighteen Years Old

Molly got me concert tickets to Niall Horan on my eighteenth birthday. I was over the moon. Since I was ten, I’d considered myself a Directioner, and the year I turned thirteen, I had my first celebrity crush. Harry Styles, one of the One Direction members, was destined to be my boyfriend someday in the future, no questions asked.

I got over it. Eventually. When Molly accompanied me to one of their last concerts before they split up, it was more important to sing along and enjoy the music than to pine for the darkhaired young Brit.

Niall, who was a previous member of One Direction, had sold out all his concerts in the UK, and I and my two friends, Leyla and Clare, had tried but failed to get tickets. And now, I suddenly had three of them in my hands.

“Molly! I don’t know how to thank you enough,” I exclaimed and hugged her hard and long. “How did you…”

“Shush now. I have my…sources,” Molly said and winked at me. “Give the girls a call and tell them the good news.”

***

Papa tried to insist that one of uncle Myc’s chauffeurs could drive us to the O2, where the concert was to be held, but Dad and I managed to make him see sense.

“I ride the tube almost every day, Papa. The Jubilee Line will take us straight to North Greenwich station, and then we’re practically there. We can’t always make use of uncle’s privileges, you know. It would be embarrassing and attract too much attention as well if three ordinary girls turned up in a…”

“Nothing ordinary about…” Papa interrupted me, while Dad interrupted Papa with a stern voice calling his name, and that was the end of it.

***

Molly had procured us with great Inner Circle tickets and early entry. It must’ve cost her a fortune, and I kept wondering who this source of hers was. (Not that I didn’t have my suspicions.)

With money my grandparents had gifted me, I bought merch. A t-shirt, a few bracelets and a key lanyard.

The concert was brilliant, and luckily, we were already on our way out of the venue when a group of girls started to fight amongst each other over a signed poster of Niall. It got ugly quite quickly. A nail file was put to good use, blood flooded, and hysterical teenagers were running to the tube station.

My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans. A text.

Walk to the parking lot by the Aurora Tower. I will have a car waiting for the three of you. UM.

Clare had started to get a bit freaked out by the crowd pushing on us, and she sighed relieved when I told her and Leyla that we should walk in the opposite direction to be picked up by my uncle, Anthea or just a driver.

“Your uncle is just brilliant, Ro,” Leyla stated. “How did he know? This just happened minutes ago. I’m sure it hasn’t reached the news yet.”

“Not the ordinary news,” I agreed without elaborating further.

When I spotted the car, another text arrived.

Ferguson will be driving you. He already knows Ms. Aldershot and Ms. Carson’s addresses. I hope you had a good time. UM.

Thanks, uncle Myc. You’re a star! Or brilliant as L & C called you. Pick a choice. xx

(Today's prompt is used metaphorically)

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

Also available on AO3

#mayprompts2024 #may 18: blanket #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #mycroft holmes #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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dibidibidismynameisleeknow · 16 days ago

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Twelve Days of Mingyu 🎄 3/12

Day 3 - Letters to Santa

As always, the table of contents is ✨here✨

There was no way you were going to push for it, but after spending this much time at Mingyu’s apartment, a spare key would make a wonderful Christmas present. Although, there wasn’t anything that could compare to the joy on Mingyu’s face when he greeted you at the door. Except this time.

“There you are. What took you so long? I’m freaking out.”

“Hi Mingyu. It’s so nice to see you. I’ve been doing great. How are you?”

Sure, you had just been playfully messing with Mingyu but the moment he stepped aside you saw the reason for his stress. There were childrens toys strewn across the living room, stray snacks and a ruthless toddler running around. Mingyu was babysitting.

“Help.”

Mingyu’s kitchen table was littered with an array of craft supplies from markers to crayons, glitter and stickers, it was a mess.

“I’m sorry. I panicked. I’ve never babysat and really needed your help. I know our third date will be early but I figured we could help this little one write her letter to Santa.”

You shrugged off your jacket and reassured Mingyu that everything was going to be fine and that you didn’t mind helping out. You divided tasks amongst the two of you; Mingyu was on dinner duty and you cleaned up the mess made by the toddler, and tried your best to distract her with whatever Christmas cartoons were currently airing.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why are you babysitting?”

That was when Mingyu gave you the rundown on everything. The child was actually the granddaughter of the older couple that lived down the hall, and their regular babysitter had cancelled on them.

“It’s their date night and I didn’t want them to miss it so I offered to babysit for them.”

“That’s so cute,” you gushed. Mingyu was honestly the most thoughtful person. “Mingyu, you’re amazing. You know that, right? I feel like I don’t tell you that enough.”

“You tell me plenty, don’t worry. But I appreciate that, thank you.”

Thankfully the little girl fell asleep so you and Mingyu were graced with a few more moments of silence. You helped Mingyu cook the last bit of dinner and set the table which brought back the memories from Thanksgiving. If his friends didn’t help push the two of you together you wouldn’t be in this position, and you were grateful, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Are you crying?”

You let out a chuckle and shook your head. “I’m okay, they’re happy tears. I was just thinking about us.”

Mingyu pulled you into the tightest hug you were sure he could manage without hurting you. At least this time you could embrace Mingyu’s affection unlike Thanksgiving, before you admitted your feelings to each other. A few stolen glances and kisses later the two of you finished dinner and woke the sleeping child.

The three of you decided to write your letters to Santa once dinner was over, and the little girl was well rested and significantly calmer.

“So, sweetie. What do you want to write in your letter? What do you want for Christmas?” you asked.

“You.”

“Mingyu, I was talking to the child.”

“I want my grandparents to live forever and a colouring book and a bicycle,” she answered while scribbling on her paper, deep in concentration.

Mingyu hummed as if he was deep in thought himself. “That’s a good idea, I also want those things for Christmas.”

Between the two of you, the little girl’s letter was ready to go by the time her grandparents came back; complete with stickers, glitter, drawn on snowflakes and other doodles.

“Thanks again for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You’re welcome, whatever you need, I’m here for you.” You rested your arms over Mingyu’s shoulders as leverage to press a light kiss to his cheek. “I’d love to stay, but I have to go. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“I lo-,” Mingyu paused to alter his original sentence before he spoke again. “I’ll - uh- I’ll see you later, text me when you get home, please.”

#12 days of mingyu #mingyu drabble #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #dibidibidismynameisleeknow

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lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs · 3 months ago

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DCA venom au

Chapter 1

The one where the reader goes out hiking and stargazing, but things take an unexpected turn.

alien DCA x human Reader (qpr)

Warnings: pessimistic thoughts, thoughts of death(not graphic), thoughts of war(not graphic), description of sickness

This would be just another day of your life. Would be, if you didn't take a few days off to go hiking in the nearest forest. What were you even doing here? The ground is hard, the campfire smells not as good as people say it does, the forest creatures make all sorts of noises.

And the freaking s'more is just a sticky, sugary disappointment.

You lick your fingers, trying to clean up the sticky goo of the burned marshmallow. Your fingers taste gross. You abandon all hope and go for some baby wipes to deal with it.

A good question. What were you doing out here, so far away from civilization and your favorite small grocery shop that has this wild variety of instant noodles? You wouldn't even consider going away from your work, but this coworker wouldn't stop nagging you. Something about "very good thing happening", or how did she say it? Doesn't matter. She shouldn't be so much into those fancy cards.

A small breath left your lips, the night air was crisp and fresh, making your body shiver a bit. You move a bit closer to the campfire.

This whole trip was a big waste of time, the comfortable routine you've carved for yourself was ruined, and now you also had dirt under your nails.

The night wind blew softly, making the trees and bushes rustle. Almost sounds like a whisper. Or steps of an animal. Spooky.

You wondered for a moment if there were wild animals here. That'd be a dumb way to die: perish only because you didn't check if there were bears or wolves or something else in this area. Not that you'd care if you died. Nor would anyone really. You felt bad for the poor soul that would find your b-

You bite on the fried mushroom and burn your tongue. You hiss, snapping from the dark thoughts and covering your mouth with a hand as if it's gonna help you somehow. You really should learn to wait sometimes.

Fried sausage. Fried potatoes. Fried mushrooms. S'mores. What else do you remember hearing other people eat during camping? … You couldn't remember. Oh well. You were full anyway.

The night sky was clear. Some white dots were visible even when you were sitting next to the campfire. After some thinking, you decided that you don't want to skip the stargazing and threw a blanket over yourself.

You settled on the ground a few meters from the fire. Air felt so much colder already.

But the stars? Oh, they were beautiful.

Your eyes had gazed upon this vast nothingness filled with sparks of light. The human frame so tiny and insignificant in comparison. And yet it felt like this nothingness wanted to crash down at you like a tidal wave. To pull you in, to swallow you whole, to have you amongst its tiny dots.

It was breathtaking, to say the least.

You were alone. So, so alone. All these stars were alone. Millions and billions years away from each other. From you. You were far, far away from everyone. So far away for so long.

You wondered if you still had your light.

Another soft sigh left your lips and the world went dark for a few long seconds.

You tried so, so hard to not let your thoughts drift off and spiral. You were alone and there were a lot of ways to do what the voices in your head would tell you. You didn't want to ruin the day of some random ranger.

You opened your eyes, meeting the stars above once more.

Wait, was it just you or one of the stars became brighter? And bigger too. What's-

In a blink of an eye, the flash brightened the sky before disappearing just as fast. The air shook and made you jump when a loud BANG exploded somewhere to your side.

The war had started, you thought. A missile must've misfired and fallen in the forest. In a few moments you'll be covered by the energy wave, or whatever it's called, and you'll be gone. And no one will know you were here and became one of the victims. You closed your eyes once again, waiting for the worst.

One second. Two. … Minute. Two minutes…

Why is it taking so long?

You opened your eyes when you smelled the scent of burned wood.

A faint, barely visible trail of smoke followed from the depths of the woods. You didn't notice how your body moved on its own. You got up to your feet and went where the smoke was coming from.

Earth was soft and a bit creaky under your shoes. Little pebbles clanked softly with each step you took. You went deeper into the woods, led only by the faint smell of burning. Then, you saw it. The tops of the trees ahead were broken. The black tainted the torn branches. You followed the trail of damaged trees until you stumbled upon….a rock.

You blinked.

The rock was neatly sitting in the crevice of its own making. Some grass around it still had some splashes of red in it, you quickly made your way to step on those sparks. You didn't want animals to die in the fire. The ground was warm, you could feel it even through your shoes. In the dim moonlight you could see clouds of steam come off the rock.

That's when it hit you.

That wasn't a missile. That was a meteor. Or a comet. Or an asteroid. You never learned the difference. It didn't matter anyway. There was a freaking space rock right in front of you. A real rock, right from the skies above. As real as can be.

You could hold in a little squeal of happiness that left your throat.

You quickly stepped closer to this big space rock to take a closer look. You couldn't see it too well, since you failed in being logical and didn't bring a flashlight or your phone. The moon light was all you had.

It had a bunch of holes in it, kinda reminded you of a sponge. You hesitated before touching it, just to see what kind of texture-

You, once again, failed as a human being, as you touched the scolding hot space rock that burned grass around it. Good job.

But you still were able to feel some of it. It was weirdly smooth, like pebbles or glass shards that were left in a moving water for long. You weren't sure what it meant, but guess smooth is better than sharp. You'd be burned and cut. How fun it would be...

....

So, you saw something fall from the sky, but it's not like there's any danger or anything. Go back to the camp and enjoy the last few hours of your trip, right?

Wrong.

You wanted that space rock.

That space rock was calling for your weird fascination with cool rocks. And how cool would that be to have a literal space rock in your collection.

There's only one small problem.

This rock is half your size.

You stood there, looking this boulder over and trying to come up with a way to get it home so it could be a part of your collection. You clearly couldn't bring the whole thing, but maybe you'd be able to bring a piece?..

Oh, what if it's one of these cool rocks that people smash open to reveal pretty crystals inside. Geode, was it? You'd probably die from happiness if that was what it was.

You grabbed the nearest branch that looked sturdy enough. First time it hit the rock with a quiet knock. You hit harder. Nothing happens. You hit once again. The branch breaks, almost hitting you in the face.

Okay, so a stick won't work. Maybe another rock will?

You quickly find a rather big rock with sharp edges. You hold it securely with both hands as you take a stand.

Breathe in. Smash. Again, breathe in. Smash. Once more, breathe in. SMASH.

The boulder cracked loudly and you dropped your tool to pry it open, cursing the hot surface. But there were no crystals inside.

It looked as if you tore a sponge apart, the holes you saw on the surface went all the way through the rock. It was black on the inside. Wait, is it wet?-

....

You woke up when the sun was right above your head, effectively blinding you. You sat up, looking around. You were right where you were stargazing at night. All your stuff just as you left it, you even had your blanket on.

What a weird dream. But no time to dwell on it, you didn't like wasting time out here. Touching grass and watching nature wasn't enough to solve all your problems. You need your job and the comfort of your routine.

Stuffing some leftover fried mushrooms and potatoes in yourself as a breakfast, you quickly gather up your belongings and clean up after yourself. The trip back is long, but uneventful, except some dizziness you felt closer to the end. But you never moved so much before, so you figured that was as normal as seeing dark circles when you stand up a bit too quickly.

Surely, when you make it home, take a shower and have a good 18 hour long nap in your bed you'll be fine. And the management would be so happy to know that one of their nameless employees that took a week off would return only after a couple of days.

….

You make it home in a cold sweat. Your limbs feel like they're made out of overcooked pasta, you're dizzy as if you took a few turns of riding on a rollercoaster and you feel so sick that you think all your inner workings want to escape your body and leave you behind as an empty shell. The work can wait, looks like you've got severe food poisoning.

Damn mushrooms, you knew you shouldn't have trusted them.

The next day comes and goes in a haze. Time doesn't exist as you fall asleep and wake up a dozen times.

You tried eating, but anything that entered your mouth was pushed out by your raging stomach, so you were hanging only on water and bread. You cursed the mushrooms you ate on your trip for a hundredth time as you stood on your knees in front of the toilet bowl.

You'll never accept any food from the coworker that is into taro cards.

You're barely able to stand up to wash your face and mouth, hoping to get rid of the bitter taste. You splash some cold water on your face and then-

"How long is it gonna last?"

You jumped, startled by the sudden voice that came seemingly out of nowhere. You glanced around, paranoid that someone was in the bathroom with you, but you were alone.

"We can't eat, I'm hungry."

You jumped again as a slightly different voice whined in your ear. You were still alone. There was a long pause, before you sighed and whispered. "I guess I finally lost it. I have hallucinations now..."

"Hey, we aren't hallucinations! How rude." The voice calls.

"That's what a hallucination would say." You answer into nothingness. Well, if you were loosing it, might as well make the best of it.

Your left hand moves on its own and lightly slaps you on the face.

"Real enough?" A slightly huskier voice chuckles in your head. Pain feels real. That freaks you out a bit.

"That's my hand." You protest.

"Our hand." Both voices respond.

"Am I possessed by the ghosts of the soviets?"

No answer. For an alarmingly long time.

"No." Was all they answered.

"What are you then?" You ask, wondering what your hallucinations are gonna say.

"We're yours. And you're ours."

You were too sick to deal with it, so you went to lay down in bed and continue being miserable.

"What does it even mean?" You grunt, plopping yourself onto the bed.

"That means you're stuck with us, human." The higher voice called out suspiciously cheerfully.

You just groan. "Great, I'm having food poisoning and a bad trip."

The voice in your head grumbles, as if offended that you didn't stop thinking it was just a hallucination.

"That's not actually food poisoning." The huskier one says. "That might be because of us."

"Yup, your body doesn't want us here!"

"Too bad we can't leave."

"It can't get rid of us! We're bound now!"

You groaned once again, their chirping just making your headache worse. "Can you shut up for a minute?"

"Oh, do you still feel sick?" The chirpier voice asks.

You grunt in response, rubbing your eyes.

"Hm, maybe we can help with it…"

....

You don't remember anything after that.

The only thing you knew when you opened your eyes was that your body wasn't trying to get rid of your organs anymore. When you came back into this world and checked your phone, you noticed that a day was erased from your memory. It takes you some time to process everything, but you guessed that everything was just a weird fever dream.

You turn in your bed and take the phone in other hand to scroll through the news, just to see what you missed while fighting with the sickness. You thought how odd it was that you started hearing voices. It's been a long time since you had auditory hallucinations.

Anyway, you're just glad it's over now-

"Do you feel better now?" The voice in your head calls out cheerfully.

You drop the phone on your face.

#dca #dca fandom #dca au #dca venom au #dca venom au y/n #dca venom au Sun #dca venom au Moon #dca x y/n #dca x reader #mun writes #THAT'S IT FOLKS I'M OFFICIALLY TOO FAR GONE #I'M WRITING SHIT NOW #(that's how you know I'm totally normal about something)#also ask to tag cuz i know very little about triggers #no proofreading we die like men

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cryptic--writing · 5 months ago

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Hiiiii can I request a young Jason Newsted who just joined Metallica meeting a fan who thinks he’s super cute and loves the way he plays bass? Maybe at a bar after a show, and reader is super starstruck but Jason is just surprised that such a pretty girl is talking to him? Have fun with details of the story, go full on creative liberty mode!!! Fluff, smut, general Metallica, whatever! 💗

hihi!!

omg TYSM for my first req ilysm I love this I love jason this is amazing dhsajhdjasdjhsadjhaskd

im not crazy on how it turned out and its kinda short but its still cute and stuff so

(maybe make this into a series?? idkkk)

word count: 1,342

warnings: drinking and just fluff

anyways heres my first real fan fic

JASON “NEW-KID” NEWSTEAD (1986)

The loudspeakers blared in my ears, the electrifying performance of Metallica captivating me and the audience so strongly. Everyone was screaming, cheering, and having a great time.

Only a few months ago did Metallica's previous bass player, Cliff, pass away. Now, it was Jason on the stage. His technique was one I hadn't seen before, and his stage presence was so strong.

Not only that, he was absolutely gorgeous and totally cute.

My eyes were glued to him, and I was so grateful I had floor tickets, being the closest to the stage, watching as he strummed the chords of the bass with his pic with incredible ease and talent.

The song, Creeping Death had begun, the familiar and heavy tune making me feel enchanted, hearing as James belts out the lyrics into the microphone, everyone else on stage thrashing as they rocked their instruments.

Then came the infamous breakdown, though, I had never heard it like this. Jason approached the backup mic, screaming “Die, Die, Die,” into it as James sang the main lyrics.

He had such a strong presence, so aweing and amazing.

As the band played the final half of their top song, Master of Puppets, I watched as they played the powerful chords, James yelling the lyrics into the mic until the final solo began, and Kirk played the familiar and wonderful notes of the solo.

After the show

After the show had ended, I decided to hit up the local bar with a few of my friends who had attended the show with me.

We walked in, sitting down as we ordered our drinks, talking amongst each other, though I thought I saw someone familiar out of the corner of my eye.

Was that? The band?

I nearly spit off my drink, seeing them drinking together towards the end of the bar, leaning on it.

How could one pass down an opportunity like this? To meet their favorite band? And get a closer look at their beautiful new bassist?

I quickly excused myself from my group, though they didn't mind too much, continuing to drink, some breaking off to find guys to flirt with.

I slowly approached them, not wanting to be awkward or embarrassing, so I just stood near their group for a bit, Jason standing next to me.

I tried to be causal, sipping on my drink, both hoping they would and wouldn't notice me as I hoped to speak with them, but I didn't want it to turn into anything odd or awkward.

Jason didn't look too intuned or impressed with the conversation with the band, just nodding and laughing a bit, occasionally adding to the conversation with his words.

I felt completely and utterly star-struck. I had to think of a way to act casual and not freak him out, or the rest of the band out.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves a bit.

I was skeptical at first if that was actually him, but now that I’m up close, it is him, and Metallica.

I took a final deep breath again before I finally built up the courage to try and talk to him until his elbow bumped my arm on the accident.

He quickly looked up at me, a slightly guilty expression he wore on his face.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to dump you like that.” He said quickly before averting back to his conversation.

I was so torn between actually trying to talk to him or just leaving him and the band alone.

This is the first time I ever got to see him so up close. He truly was even more gorgeous in this close-up.

The way his curls flowed on his shoulders, his short bangs that covered his forehead, and his blue and greenish eyes, I'd never seen them in this beauty before.

I sighed, I was fangirling so much in my head, but I had to find a way to talk to him without coming across as a total creep.

Some others recognized the band, various men and women speaking with James, Lars, Jason, and KIrk, now averting his attention from me.

I watched as the band moved from their position in the bar away from where I had moved just to be closer to them, watching as they moved to the other side, leaning against the wall in a corner, not really wanting to garner too much attention.

I took a final sip of my drink, finishing it before deciding that I should try and look for my friends, who were nowhere in the bar to be found, as they probably all left, or went home with other men.

Though, as I searched for them, I couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of my head, even though I tried to disregard the feeling, I couldn't help but try and figure out who was burning holes into my head with their eyes,

I turned my head over my shoulder, trying to glance at whoever the watcher might be.

And to my surprise, it was Jason.

I felt my face heat up slightly, he couldn't actually be looking at me, right?

Maybe he was looking at some other girl or person who just happened to be next to me.

But I couldn't find anyone else who was looking at me, so maybe I was right.

Maybe Jason Newstead was staring at me.

In a bar.

While talking to other, much prettier girls than myself.

I couldn't believe it.

I was at a loss for words as I met his gaze, a small smile on his face. I couldn't help but smile back.

I eventually got enough courage to try and talk to him, even though it seemed and felt crazy.

Probably because it is crazy.

I approached him cautiously, walking up to him.

I had a mini-speech in my mind, I couldn't blow this, I had to seem normal and not like a creepy, obsessed fan girl or something.

“Jason Newstead? Wow, I can't even go on to believe it, I saw your show tonight, and it was amazing! Your technique, and, and, your style, it's everything! You're a great addition to the band, I love it!” I blurted out at a fast rate.

Perfect, I blew it.

I quickly felt embarrassed at my insane fangirling, now I probably seemed like a weird creep.

Instead of shooing me away in disgust, he just gave a laugh, smiling wider, making my heart flutter.

“Well, thank you! It means a lot, especially with being new to the band in all. I love the support.” He added, glad to hear my comments.

I was shaking a bit, but who wouldn't? I'm talking in front of Metallica, and having a conversation with their bassist!

Jason took notice of my nervous and jittery, yet very excited mood.

“You alright? You're a bit. Shakey” He said with a laugh, to which I nodded with a laugh as well.

“Yeah, totally, just, starstruck, I guess.” I shrugged, looking back up to meet his eyes, making eye contact with him as I studied his features, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter a bit.

“You're, well, you're really pretty.” He added with a small, beautiful smile.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, he thought I was pretty.

Jason Newstead thought I was pretty.

I smiled back, feeling my face grow warm at his compliment.

I had to be dreaming.

I quickly mustered up a reply, “Wow, uh, thank you. That means a lot to me.” I said with a smile before glancing down at the floor and back up at him,

“I think you're pretty cute yourself,” I added with a smile, to which his grin widened.

“Thanks, I don't get it often, so it means a lot. Especially from someone as gorgeous as you.”

His words were enchanting almost, I couldn't believe any of this was real, as if the concert wasn't amazing enough already.

I smiled wider, “Thank you, Jason.”

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