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velvetti · 6 months

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Taming a wild rabbit.

T/W: dubcon/noncon, gunplay, drugging, not yet proofread.

Remake to: A mole was found

(Fic layout inspired by @miyuuuki ^^)

The sky is clear today, thanks to that, Blake was able to buy some desserts. He was in a good mood after his work, even when the corner of his shirt was stained by a small drop of blood. He bought a few slices of top quality cake from many different flavors, paying with his credit card as if what he bought wasn't extravagant.

He quickly heads home after that, opening the door and greeted by a wide hug from you, your arms wrapped around his torso, the leash of your collar dangels as you move. After recovering from his shock a few short moments after, he hugs you back and you said with a wide smile.

"Welcome back, Blake!"

Blake looks at the collar on your neck before leaning in, saying in your ear, his lips curving into a smirk

"I'm home."

"I don't think it's weird..."

"Don't be stupid, who is it?"

Said the two men, both wearing a suit but one in his mid-twenties while the other look to be at least 60 with white hair and a beer belly. You lean against the wall nearby as the two men talked about your next mission, your arms crossed while trying to come up with any new strategy.

You have officially started your job as a spy about a year ago, at first it seemed like a dream job where you get to be sleathy and wear suits 24/7 but in reality, it's nothing different than a gamble to try to gain even the equivalent of a grain of rice amount of information.

It's nothing different than throwing your entire life anyway for "the greater good" to have a slim chance of actually winning or accomplishing something. You would probably be better off actually gambling with the chances that you have. At least you get paid well for every job you take.

Meanwhile, the two men in suits were still negotiating. The younger man was your agent, you wouldn't usually talk to him unless you need his assisstant, while the older one was your client. The moment your agent opened the suitcase to check the amount of money the client provided you, the older man started saying.

"And you know...There's been rumours going aroun-"

The man couldn't finished his sentence before he gets cuts off by another man in suit, the man's face is covered by a black fedora. He walks into the room casually as he asks "What rumours?". The simple question caused the client to panic almost immediately and turns back with a fearful expression, a bang went off in the horror of your eyes and your agent was shot in the forehead, eliminating him instantly. You grab your weapon and point your gun at the mysterious man as he holds the client hostage by a gun at the older man's cheek.

You yelled at him to not shoot, gaining a simple reply and a smirk from the mysterious guy.

"Do you know me?"

You mutter your reply, your tone is filled with cautiousness, a cold sweat runs down your forehead.

"Blake..."

The man simply looks down at you with an annoyed glance.

"You're only here because I escaped, and my boss is furious."

Suddenly your client started screaming and yelling at the fedora-wearing man, to shut up and let him go. Which you admit, was a terrible choice of action.

"Shut up."

The fedora hat wearing man clicked his tongue, pressing the nuzzle against the client's back and fire.

The man doesn't seem to spare you even after killing both your agent and your client, he aims his gun at you at the exact moment you aimed yours at him. You thought this was gonna be a stand off, just for your gun to be greeted with a bullet, the man missed the shot but at least he managed to knock the gun out of your hand.

He exploits the moment of your shock to push you against the wall, each hand holding your wrists back and looking down at you. You could hear him say very faintly, almost like a whisper.

"You have a cute face"

The words don't move you however, you resist the urge to call him a pervert since in this situation when you're facing a guy with a gun, it's best to not provoke any aggressive chain of behaviour.

"Where's your boss' HQ? Tell me and I'll let you go"

The man said. Did this guy seriously think you'll sell out your entire company just so you could survive? Even if you survive, the company would probably find a way to bite you back even harder. In conclusion, this man can suck your dick and go find the information himself.

You replied with just that, "Like I'll tell you, glasses. Go to hell."

However, that seemed to be the wrong answer as the man doesn't say anything at first, he looks at you with the definition of a blank expression before it turns into a frown. With minimal effort, he knee kicked you in your stomach and held you up by your arm, that kick alone was enough to knock you out. If you were a normal person, you would've coughed out blood from that.

"Stupid boy. I wished I could have killed you."

You woke up in a strange place, the first thing that hit your eyes was the dark coloured wall and ceiling. You sit up and try to rub your eyes, realising that you have now been handcuffed. You look around to see where you are, your head filled with questions but no definite answers. The only clue you had was a few tabs of pills on the table nearby and the black fedora hat that the man was wearing before.

The clues didn't help in finding an escape route but it at least let you understand the current situation a little better.

Your line of thought is quickly cut off by the sound of the shower ending, following the sound of the bathroom door opening. From your surprise (are you really surprised though?), Blake walks out from the bathroom, topless while wearing some black pants, a white towel hanging over his shoulder and one of the identical pill tabs in his hand.

He glances at you, saying with a smiling expression.

"Oh, you're awake? Sooner than expected. Is it because I'm getting weaker or you're getting stronger?"

He doesn't even seem to acknowledge your internal panic as he didn't look at you after saying his sentence, his hand popping a pill from the tab before tossing it in his mouth.

Your reaction speed didn't prepare you for the sudden kiss he placed on you, he used his tongue to force open your mouth and push the pill over to you, forcing you to swallow it by forcibly deepening the kiss in by pushing the back of your head in.

Out of self defense, you bit his tongue harshly, hard enough for it to bleed but it wasn't enough to cut Blake's tongue off permanently. As expected, he pushed you down on the bed right after what you did, but he didn't seem upset. He licks his lips, seemingly savoring the irony taste of his blood and saying again, his voice makes you want to punch him square in the face despite it being the same tone as before.

"You could bite back... How adorable, my little rabbit thinks it can scare me. Just a small warning cutie, your struggle turns me on, so stay still and be a good boy, alright?"

You try to cough out the pill he made you swallow, but it seemed to be too late as your mind suddenly went blank, your vision going blurry as if you've knocked down 20 bottles of wine. Tears are already forming in the corner of your eyes, the effect of the pull caused your body to become all weak and shaking. You mutter a question about the pull through gritted teeth, getting a reply from Blake while he holds both of your wrists up.

"Oh don't worry, I didn't poison you. Ever heard of aphrodisiac, my darling?"

Of course, it is that damn thing, makes sense why the tab pills have 'A' marked on it. You let out a deep sigh, sending Blake a glare out of spite. While you weren't paying much attention, he had already started playing with your chest with his mouth, a single lick was enough to harden your nipple.

You were about to cuss at him, but the moment you opened your mouth, Blake pushed his lips against yours again. Your body was already greatly weakened by the pill, so all you could do was frown and let out a few noises to try to get Blake to quit it.

This situation is way more romantic than imagined, you expected him to be rough and thrust inside in one go without any foreplay, at least you won't have to go through anymore pain.

You were turned on your stomach by Blake after the kiss. Your body got goosebumps upon feeling some kind of cold liquid on your crack, a few drops even getting inside you, gaining a small uncontrolled whine from your mouth. Blake kept quiet, his eyes stayed on your hole and you could hear the sound of a zipper.

Blake thrusts two fingers inside you and leans forward to place a kiss on your nape, nibbling on your neck. The two fingers slide in and out of you, the action is surprisingly gentle for a guy like Blake. When he felt you were ready, he gripped both of your shoulders and held you up, aligning your hold with his length. You plead for him to stop, but it seemed to turn him on more as he pushes you down until his tip is inside you. Then he moved his hands over to your hips, slamming you down deep on his dick, causing you to choke on your saliva for a second.

He bites on your shoulder and buries his face in your neck, leaving back marks of all sizes while also giving you a few seconds to adjust to his size. Until your breath has stabilized, he moves you up and down by gripping your hips at a fairly gentle pace at first. His breath also fastened, continuing to bite your neck to muffle his groans and occasional moan. Both of your bodies are hot and sweaty, harmonizing together despite technically being enemies.

Finally, he pushes you down on his dick, filling you up with semen and letting out a satisfied grunt. He breathes heavily, brushing his damped hair back before he pushes you down on the bed again and caresses your cheek with his hand, saying with a cocky smile and letting out a chuckle at the end.

"Not yet, darling. You don't get to leave me until I'm fully satisfied."

Blake kept his words and kept you with him, both of you fucked like bunnies in heat for the weekends and fucked daily when Blake needs to go to work. He made sure to 'train' you 24/7 in any way possible, using sex toys to please you when he's not with you and abusing aphrodisiac.

A small flame from a lighter lights up the dark alley, Blake leans his back against the wall and huffs out the smoke from his cigarette before glancing at the blond haired man nearby. Both of them are in suits, but in contrast to Blake, the blond haired man seemed much more serious as he approached Blake and said with a frown.

"Where did you take him?"

The question caused Blake to slightly lower his head, the black fedora covering his eyes. Then Blake replies vaguely, his lips curving up to a smile.

"Well... I turned a stubborn brat into an adorable kitten."

"You..."

Blake said before shooting the blond haired man on his arm, glaring at the man.

"He's mine now."

Blake leans down to kiss you on the lips, which you return the kiss with delight, your arms wrapping over his shoulder. He pulls you into the bedroom and ignores the bag of dessert he had dropped.

He grips your hair and pulls your head in his crotch, pushing his dick deeper into your throat with one hand while removing his tie with the other. He glances down at you, his eyes darkened for a short moment.

When he had pushed you down onto the bed, he seemed to be in a rush to relieve his stress since he buries his head in your shoulder the moment you laid your back on the bed, one of his hands playing with your nipple. He muttered about how harsh his day was at work.

When he is distracted, your eyes sharpen with bloodlust. Your hand grips the razor that was hidden behind the pillow and aligns it over Blake's neck. No matter how hard Blake tries, you can never forget what he had done, even then your higher up won't even care since he works for the enemy.

Before you could take action, Blake pointed a gun at your chin and continued to kiss your neck. It started to dawn on you that he expected your retaliation, the timing of the blond hair guy-your colleague and your sudden obedience was too suspicious to pass over. He hums, his other hand continues to play with your body.

"What do you think you're doing? I was genuinely turned on, darling. I saw one of your damn colleagues around this area, the one with blond hair..."

Your eyes widened, the only colleague you have with blond hair is Luka, your highschool best friend. You were about to speak up but he turned you on your stomach and held the gun in front of you, saying with a sickly sweet tone. You recognise the gun as the one he used to kill your client before.

"I was planning on killing you with this, but I missed the shot, I believe that's the best decision I could've made. Now, lick it, darling. If you don't wish for your dear friend to disappear forever."

Having no other choices, you obeyed the order and sucked the barrel of the gun, your body slightly shaking from fear of the trigger pulling any moment. He watched in satisfaction as his other hand moved to play with your underbody, preparing you for nightmare.

After what felt like an eternity, he thrust himself inside of you, but leaving you no time to adjust this time as he focuses on pounding into you like a machine. He holds both of your wrists back to pull you deeper into his cock, ignoring any pleas and any noises you make, even when you are overstimulated and sobbing on the pillow.

When you're on the verge of passing out, he has finally finished but he doesn't seem so tired, just pure satisfaction. He puts his glasses on and before your vision goes dark, you hear the clicking sound of a collar on your neck as well as feeling a kiss on your forehead.

#idk what tags to add #orginal post #vel fic #oc x male reader #bottom!male!reader #bottom male reader #male reader #mlm nsft #mafia au #original character #gun play #x male reader #male reader smut #male reader insert

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noxturnalpascal · 4 months

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Devotion 🖤 Masterlist

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

I. Stronger Together CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

II. Predator or Prey? CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

III. Path to the Future CH 9 CH 10 CH 11

Series Warnings: 18+ MDNI, canon-typical violence/death, death of clickers, guns, blood/injury, references to previous SAs (not described), Reader has low self worth & trauma, this group/cult is not feminist - women aren’t treated as equals, Joel has sexual relationships with other characters (not described in detail), possessiveness, manipulation, stalking/spying on, Joel gets mean, DubCon Oral, Joel gets abusive (verbally, mentally, physically (he hits, throws, and bites), thoughts of self-harm and suicide, talk of periods & pregnancy, unprotected PiV, oral sex (m & f receiving), come eating, DIRTY TALK, brief reference to breeding kink and creampie kink (but reader does NOT get pregnant in this story).

A/N: OBVIOUSLY this is canon-divergent, but it is post-outbreak. The events of outbreak day have not changed (sorry Sarah). Reader does have a developed background that plays heavily in her character arc, so in that sense she is very much an OC. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions.

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

AO3 LINK

*🖤*NOTES ABOUT THE CULT & JOEL BELOW*🖤*

ABOUT THE CULT

The Cult's Core Ideology

Build up a community (and supplies) to return to a thriving society that can keep people safe & find a cure.

The Cult Operates by its 3 Tenants:

How Joel does it (what he "preaches")

I. Build Trust (We are Stronger Together)

Makes people feel beautiful, important, HEARD

Shares the wealth (food, shelter, women)

Seeks Power & Control to get others to help him

II. Us vs Them (The Predator Vs The Prey)

FEDRA is the enemy, do not trust them

Assimilate or Destroy all other people/groups

Attack them before they attack you

III. Gather & Prepare (Create a Path to the Future)

You can never have enough, always take take take take

The community you create now will determine future society (fair, honest, hardworking)

Once you are well-prepared and rebuild, you can work on finding a cure

🖤

Notes about Joel and the Cult:

He and Tess began this community together in 2010 after they met Bill and Frank and they felt that the QZ was becoming too dangerous and unstable. They settled in a small, remote town in the mountains of Vermont. Tess helps him "run" the community but she has a submissive role. (Their dynamic here is different from canon.) Tess has his respect probably more than anyone else does but she is not looked upon like an equal by anyone in the community.

Timeline/Ages:

This takes place in the fall of 2012, so It’s been 9 years since outbreak day. Joel is 45, my HC for Reader is Early 30's (Tess is 39/40). Reader's exact age isn't given, but she was in her early 20's on outbreak day and I wanted her to have experienced a fair taste of an adult life before the world ended. I didn't want to write the reader as inexperienced or with too large of an age-gap, although I think 11-14 years is still pretty significant. She has a history that plays a significant role in her personality (wary, untrusting). She has been hurt/abused by men - both those that took advantage of her when she was young, as well as by those that she trusted/loved. There are very few physical descriptions but she is very much an OC. Note that her age is not something that's explicitly mentioned because I did want to keep it inclusive. I hope everyone who wants to read this can use their imagination to fit themselves into the story in a meaningful way.🖤

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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seulszn · 2 months

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Tongue Tied

Camp Counselor Ellie x Camp Counselor Reader

Warning; this story will contain, stupid decisions,loser Ellie, gay humor, bratty annoying little kids, mild sexual content, Ow*n, harassment,fights, Straight men.

A/N: this is based off of my first camp leader experience that I recently just got back from so a lot of the stuff is true (like the chants, and other things) and a lot of it is just made up. I also Made Y/N have multiple face claims so you can be able to see yourself or imagine yourself in Y/N.I also got this small idea and layout from my moot @astralnymphh so if you want me to change it let me know

Chapter 1: Welcome to Camp Waskowitz

Chapter 2: Get into the camp spirit./ These kids have Parental issues

Chapter 3: Meet the mean girl

Chapter 4: The Adventures of the Legendary Toe Tickler.

Chapter 5: The 6 Hour Hike

Chapter 6: Who is Smokey the Bear

Chapter 7: The Bear Tracks

Chapter 8: The Music Withdrawals

Chapter 9: The Polar Plunge

Chapter 10: Closing Campfire

[chapters may be subject to change!]

MOODBOARD 1. Meet Your Camp Counselor. Snippet 1. Snippet 2

#ellie williams #abby anderson #the last of us #tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie william x reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x y/n #abby the last of us #abby tlou #seulszn

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miyaur · 6 months

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7 minutes in heaven ⟢ with the hsr men !! (ii)

— synopsis. your friends play a game, and force you to join, and just so happens the bottle lands on you, and you forget you're playing 7 minutes in heaven with them, and the bottle lands on your dear trailblazing friend too.

— a letter from the author. using this layout instead of usual one, just for nostalgic (and lazy) purposes :p, also happy 1.9k followers yaayaaaya

— warnings. eww kissing!!!! also err i guess confessions, character is implying they like you, idk, SPOILERS FOR MAIN QUEST IN HSR IN LUOCHA'S PART

— matchmade in heaven. argenti, & luocha (dr ratio and yanqing next !!)

argenti

i read a little bit on his wiki that he's described as forthright, and forthright implies straightforwardness, honest, direct, and outspoken. so i think while in the confined space you both, he'll get straight to the point about his feelings, maybe a lil blush here n there.

trust me though, when argenti, a literal knight of the knights of beauty, is in love, he's in love. like he means everything he does for you in the best way possible. oh and his love language is definitely words of affirmation, and acts of service.

type of guy to hold your hands and get real close to your face to say all he has to tell you

and you know how it mentions in his story that he's very loyal to the missing aeon of beauty, i know, i just know as soon as he finds the one, he'll stay with them for a long time, even if its just one sided, because he knows that you were the one, even if you didn't think he was for you, he just knows his heart, and his soul (or at least a big part of him) that he belonged to you

kind of similar for the way he feels about the aeon of beauty iykwim. but he definitely is a loyal man, that's all i'll say. ok back to the 7mih stuff

saw the clip of him getting onto the astral ship thingy so i like to think the trailblaze gang made allies with him and like

ok well just go with it, march knows about his lil thingy for you, even if to others (himeko, dan heng, and welt) it seems like he just cares about you a lot, more than others. march just has a sixth sense for love (especially if its mutual pining, which is both of you)

march definitely put a little bit of metal on the bottle and put a little magnet on the floor to the both of you cause that bottle never landed on both of you at the same time sighhh

anyways, like i said, straightforward, and honest confession, just one kiss in that closet though.

actually even if it was only one, if you accepted your confession, expect to receive more later, and in the bedroom.

oh but march is proud, happier than ever

luocha

i have a lot to say about this pretty man, very similar to welt + argenti, experienced dilf, great kisser^3!!

its dan heng + sushang as your matchmakers today!! definitely met you while dan heng was looking for the trailblazing gang, sushang js thought you n luocha were cute tbh

the same as argenti, will love you for an eternity, and will stay loyal even after death and in life now.

why.. how.. who convinced bro to play 7 minutes in heaven with these goofballs (astral gang)

it was sushang and dan heng and march btw!

definitely planned this for it to be on midnight in the last days of december............ corny!! ok but to be fair luocha was pretty set on the plan too, just hoped the bottle would land on you when it landed on him.

first 2 minutes in the closet, silence and awkwardness till he speaks up

the way this man confesses..... SO SWEET MY LITTLE BABY UGH,, not necessarily straight to the point, beats around the bush a little, kind of is just like 'so ive been wanting to tell you something for a bit but idk if i should'

'promise you won't be mad?'

once he actually tells you everything, it's kind of like a word puzzle because he's very poetic, he's been preparing for this moment for more than just a few weeks, credits to sushang

asks to ring his arms around your waist while he's behind you in this dark closet

and then asks if he can kiss you while he does

maybe more than just one kiss was shared in there, but 5 minutes wasn't enough for this poetic man's long ass confession and his plans (to make out w u)

sighh

march and sushang would be jumping like the sheep in my dreams jumping over a fence when the lil smirk on luocha's face when you both get out

lol wait sushang as a sheep

#hsr imagines #hsr scenarios #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #argenti x reader #hsr luocha x reader #hsr luocha #luocha x reader #luocha #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #star rail x reader

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pinkrelish · 2 years

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𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶Cold to the bone, delirious, and scared out of his mind, Eddie is guided by the group through the woods. "Where are we going?" he asks.

They spare him not a glance. "The Safe House."✶

NSFW — one bed trope, cuddling, hurt/comfort, eddie munson needs a hug, drug/alcohol mention/use, wingman steve + robin, 18+ overall for smut, canon typical gore

chapter: 10/15 [wc: 7.7k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 10: The Safe House

His skin was rubbed raw from the damp clothes he’d been wearing for hours on end. Shoes coated with dirt, socks soaked from lake water, and feet covered in blisters. Cold everywhere. No sleep for days; only sporadic glimpses when he felt safe in the sunshine under the blue tarp in the boathouse. At night, it was fear. Fear of being hunted. Shaking, and starving, knowing he wouldn’t have the energy to put up a fight. Just running. Running, stumbling, tripping, like he did now. But, unlike before, when he was abandoned, Nancy reached out her dainty fingers, and helped him with strength beyond measure.

Eddie was surrounded by friends, if they allowed themselves to be called that. Brave friends.

It hurt worse to walk, but he was encouraged to do so by Max, of all people. Vecna’s target, marked for death, and yet she bumped past his shoulder with her chin held high in the full moonlight breaking through the twisted branches of budding trees. She gave him a curious once-over, and nodded for him to follow, thinking he’d gone dizzy and lost his way. Dustin was courageous too, acting as the navigator at the front of the party. Guiding them to some unknown destination.

Steve grasped him around the bicep, and steadied him out of his stupor. He could tell Eddie was rattled after what he’d been through. Two gruesome deaths, traversing a literal hell. Still, it was Steve, with his neck torn to shreds and hobbling with gaping wounds, who comforted Eddie. “We’re almost there,” he said with such a strange glint of his teeth, as if he were grinning. But he wouldn’t be, right?

“Where’re we going?” Eddie asked, having been subjected to wandering through darkened woods for days. From the pitch-black Upside Down, to nighttime Hawkins.

“The Safe House.”

“The what?”

Dustin waved his compass up ahead, and whispered-shouted at the two men lagging behind. “If you two don’t get a move on, we won’t make it in time for dinner!”

“Twerp,” Steve muttered under his breath.

For once, Eddie focused on anything other than his abject misery. “Dinner?”

No one volunteered to answer him.

Too preoccupied from yanking his leg out of the dense bramble, Eddie also missed the shifty looks shared amongst the group, and the big blue sign outside the building they were approaching, and the orientation of the layout–particularly, the long stretch of rooms, and especially, the corner unit with an extra window facing the edge of the forest.

——Three Days, 7 Hours, 29 Minutes Prior——

Reefer Rick’s address flashed on screen. It wasn’t a perfect lead, but it was the best they had. Understandably, Steve nabbed Family Video’s master keys from under the desk, and ushered everyone towards the door, while Robin checked for customers in the aisles. Max was ready to get out of there too, until she realized another set of footsteps did not follow.

Dustin’s gaze remained glued to the phone sitting before him.

“Come on, dude. What’re you waiting for?” Steve spread his arms wide in annoyance at the gall of Dustin to be the one keeping them from finding his friend. His super cool older male role model friend who listens to loud music, dresses however he wants, and runs his little nerd game, or whatever the f–

“Finding Eddie is important, but..” Dustin’s curls bounced as he grabbed the phone and ran off with it to the manager’s office. “There’s someone else we should call! His girlfriend! She can help us.”

Steve choked back a laugh. “Girlfriend?” When the girls didn’t join in on the joke, he pursued Dustin with a vengeance. “Eddie “The Freak” Munson has a girlfriend?” He expected Robin to be just as bewildered, but she was in her own world, gathering the other phone to her chest and dialing 4-1-1.

Dustin nodded. “She goes to Penn State–”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “She’s in college?”

“I met her when she played DND with us,” he explained.

“She plays Dungeons and Dragons?” Steve’s voice couldn’t get higher.

“Yeah, she’s really cool!”

“And she’s cool?” he squeaked. It actually could go higher.

Ignoring him, Dustin turned his attention to Robin.

“Hi!” she said, full of cheer to the withered directory assistant. “What’s the area code for Penn State–Uh, Pennsylvania State University?” After a second, she spoke aloud for Dustin. “8-1-4? And the weather is mild, uh.. Okay. And oh, neat, we’re in the same time zone.”

Dustin punched the buttons on his phone for the local operator. 814-555-1212. “Hello, fine sir, I hope you are having a swell day.” Someone should tell him the fake ‘adult’ persona he assumed did little to convince anyone he was an actual grown up. “I’m in search of the contact information for.. Uh.. Someone in charge at the dorm for the women’s athletic teams at Penn State?” he finished quickly, sounding not unlike a balloon losing its air. “I’m looking to speak to an athlete for a.. report. Project. Thing. For school.”

The static funneling through the phone went silent.

After a stretch of heart palpitating seconds, the man spoke up, and gave Dustin the number for the Resident Adviser for the dorm.

Steve made an indignant scoff at them, and leaned towards Max. “Did you know Eddie Munson had a girlfriend?” She gave him a weird look, and shrugged. Righting himself, he asked Robin, “Is this really necessary? Eddie could be, well,” –He dragged his thumb over his throat– “by the time we wrap up this little game of Telephone and hit the road.”

She rolled her eyes at him and took the phone from Dustin to talk to the dweeby sounding Resident Adviser. “Hello, my name’s Robin Buckley. I'm a reporter for the Hawkins Post inquiring to speak to one of your athletes for a story about her coming from a small town and making it big.” Pressing the phone to her shoulder, she whispered to Dustin, “She is from Hawkins, right?” He gave a thumbs up. “Yes!” She spoke to the self-righteous, self-important voice on the line. He must’ve refused, because her face dropped. But so did her voice, as she abstained from making eye contact with anyone else in the room, twirling her finger around the phone cord. “If you patch me through, I’ll..”

In unanimous effort, the rest of them tuned her out, until she shoved the phone to Dustin’s ear.

He listened to it ring. And ring. And ring. And finally..

A gravelly, “Eddie?” answered.

Steve and Robin smashed their faces on either side of his, eavesdropping. Fully invested.

“Riddle Master Valendrei!”

“..Dustin?”

Way too enthused, he gasped, and clutched his chest. “You remember me! And what a coincidence you brought up Eddie! So, listen, he’s uh, in a little bit of a situation, you could say.”

There was rustling in the background. A lot of movement from what could’ve been bedsheets, followed by the metallic click of a purse being popped open. Point blank, tired, and weary, you inquired without a second thought, “How much is his bail?”

Steve snorted in approval. “She definitely knows him, all right.” Dustin smacked him from over his shoulder.

“It’s not that. Rest assured, nothing like that. It’s, ah.. Well. It’s worse. Can you come down here, like, soon? Extremely soon?”

Many responses started and died on your tongue. It was obvious you were pacing, probably wringing your neck with how it distorted your words, “Worse? H-How serious is it? I’m not on Spring Break yet, and I have midterms next week. Is there any way this can wait?”

Robin spoke up, “Probably not something you want to wait on, but we can do our best to keep him safe.”

“Safe?” you cried. “Goddammit.. Okay, uhm, give me a day or two and I can be there. I need to take care of a few things first, but–Jesus Christ, Dustin–tell me what’s going on before I have a panic attack. Where’s Eddie? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, so, last night..”

——Present Day——

Eddie was steered in the direction he should go. A hand pressed into the middle of his back, the owner’s warmth sinking through his jacket. He had the wherewithal to recognize he was delirious, but not the competence to divide his fleeting attention. Just when he’d grasped he was staring at a gray painted wall, he was shoved into a line. Someone was in front of him. Who? Too obscured by the shadows of the short building to tell. They were disappearing through a hole. A black square hole. Where to? Where.. Where to?

The owner of the hand on his back said something in his ear. Steve? Or maybe it was Lucas, and they pushed him forward. It was his turn to climb through. He complied. Not because he was brave, but because he was forced.

Nothing greeted his unadjusted eyes by sight, just the shuffling sounds of people moving out of his way. Using their hands to guide him into a packed place. Snug with bodies crowded around the entrance, whispers bouncing off the nearby walls.

“Is that everyone?” a kind, but stern someone asked.

“There’s a conga line of about twelve mosquitoes waiting to get in if you don’t close the window,” Steve said.

Eddie was lost in darkness. Until his Light found him.

A lamp clicked on by the turn of a knob. Eddie’s big, brown eyes grew. Familiarity, and a stark realization, greeted him. He was standing in the same room he’d been in half a year ago. The queen sized bed, two nightstands, an array of sitting chairs with one table near the front window next to the door, and a chest of drawers at the end of the bed balancing a large mirror.

The rest of the audience meandered to give space for the two wayward halves to reconnect.

His gaze landed on you, and his bottom lip shrugged.

Eddie was more prone to showing his vulnerability than most other men, that much you knew–wearing his sensitive heart on his sleeve around those he trusted–but you didn’t anticipate his relief to be so visible, knocking the air from his lungs. Stuttering his breath with every dragging step. Long strides of aching desperation to close the vast distance between you once and for all.

To anyone else, it would have been underwhelming, but to you, your world becoming his dirty hands reaching for you was a life of eternal pleasure incarnate. You knew not to expect him to hug you, and maybe that was for the best, because the simple act of his fingers curling in, and you accepting his weight against your knuckles, had your knees wobbling.

His gaudy rings dug into your bones. Flakes of blood and dirt and ash and decay grimed on contact. You kept him steady by the extraordinary opportunity of being able to touch him. Skin on skin. You could cry as he shivered into your body heat. Leaning into the unique embrace until nothing else existed. No sound outside two overworking hearts.

He’d never been this close on purpose. Where the tense expanse of his shoulders dropped into a relaxed slouch, and his head dropped forward, foreheads a suggestion apart. Eyes drifting half-way closed as he let go of his inhibitions, and studied you up close with the tantamount enthusiasm you examined him in–like neither of you could grasp the concept of being within arms reach after drifting apart one missed call at a time.

But did you ever really drift apart?

The trembling fondness in your matching grins proposed otherwise.

Attentive to the mild abrasion on the corner of his jaw, you spoke with such hushed awe, even he strained to hear beyond the hard consonants. “You’re okay.”

He was worse at keeping his voice down, but he tried for the sake of the moment, without losing the absolute cloying affection in his whisper. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Your eyes greedily drank in the other’s appearance, and when satisfied, they met. Gazing across the months of solitude. Of pain, and loneliness, and longing. Watery, and sweet.

“I missed you.”

“M’ssed you, too,” you said.

And the moment came to a close with his snuffed out smile as reality sank into his features.

Fascinated, Robin said in quiet amazement, “That was the most sensual fist bump I’ve ever seen in my life.” And Steve added a breathless, “Yeah.”

Eddie pointed a strict finger at you and rounded on the people he considered closer than family under recent circumstances. “Why is she here?” The group straightened their spines against the teetering vitriol laced in his clipped words. A dangerous balance between restrained anger, and denial. Daring them to confront him.

He zeroed on one person in particular. “Dustin? Don’t tell me, man..”

Robin stepped in. “We thought you could use your girlfriend here for support, Eddie.”

“We’re not dating,” he interjected.

Lucas pulled a similar expression to those around him. “What do you mean you aren’t dating? You literally never shut up about her–”

You smacked Eddie’s hand out of your face and shoved your way past him. “I’m here to help you, you idiot.” Rounding the corner of the bed, you reeled at the sight of Steve, blood slipping down his throat, wearing Eddie’s vest and surely staining the inside with the pool of gore seeping from his abdomen. “Jesus.” He fixed his mouth in a slant and shrugged.

Eddie was quick to claim your attention by following you on your heels. “This isn’t a goddamn sleepover with your best friend like it's the good ol’ times. I don’t know what they told you, but I’m a wanted man. You can’t be here. Hey, are you listening to me?” He cornered you at the other nightstand, fuming at your back while you sorted through your purse without a care in the world. “I’m wanted for murder! If you get caught, you’re harboring a fugitive. That’s a prison sentence! Think of your future. Your degree. The Olym–Huh?”

You cut off his ranting by sweeping your arm across his chest, moving him to the side so you could speak to the group. “Here’s the key for the black car parked across the street. If anything goes wrong, there’s about four days worth of food and water in the trunk to feed.. Well, some of you. I’m not made of money.” You lifted the mattress and produced two sheets of dirty metal. “Fake plates are already on. I got the car from a rental outside of Indy who doesn’t ask too many questions. If anything happens to it, it’ll go on Sasha Pennermen’s record.” Answering the puzzled glances around the room, you slid the thin piece of plastic off the nightstand and held it up. “My fake ID.”

“Fake plates, fake ID. How do you get this stuff?” Steve asked, catching the jangling keys and pocketing them.

“I live in a college town,” you shrugged it off like a duh? and put your illegal items away. “Same ground rules as what we discussed earlier. One: no talking to cops. Two: if you need to call me, use a payphone on the corner, not the ones attached to a store. They’re startin’ to put those freakin’ cameras everywhere. Can’t have any fun these days.”

Nancy made herself heard from where she shrank into one of the chairs, hugging herself. “A little late for the ‘don’t talk to cops’ speech.”

“That’s not all,” Erica confided with an accusatory glance around the room, crossing her arms. “I imagine we all have targets on us after we ran away from them.”

You were clasping your hands so tight, they shook. You clapped, turned your palms up, and clapped them again, smiling through your grimace. “A room full of wanted people. Great. Looks like we have our work cut out for us, then. Hiding from the police smack dab in the smallest town on the planet.” A few of them had the good graces to appear remorseful.

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet.

Moving on, you apologized to the worn-down, fatigued group squeezing into any comfy spot they could fit into. “Sorry, I would’ve been here sooner. Had a few things to sort out before I could leave.”

The pinch of confusion concentrating between Eddie’s eyebrows subsided. His posture wilted, then stiffened. Jaw set. Grinding his teeth, pulsing the muscle there.

“Dinner should–ah!” The phone rang. You answered, and spoke briefly in, “Yeps!” and “Okays.” Pulling your wallet from your purse, you counted some cash, and made finger guns at the door. “Be right back.”

Eddie stopped you. Imposing his unassuming stature like a brick wall; expressionless, eyes glinting fragments of amber in the dim lamplight. Tone eerily calm, “You have Nationals in two days.”

“How do you even know that?”

“Nationals? I thought you said you had midterms this week?” Dustin recalled.

If looks could kill, Dustin would burst into flames under the ire of your glare, and you would be in the fifth circle of hell from Eddie’s.

“Midterms?” he repeated, turning his face away from Dustin to you, ever so slowly, pinning you with repercussions of his stare. “Midterms?” The incredulity spat from his lips. “Midterms?” He sounded in danger of hyperventilating. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“It doesn’t matter, Eddie,” you stressed. You dodged him, succeeding two paces towards your exit.

He trailed you. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Of course it matters! Wait–Why wouldn’t it matter?” He caught the sleeve of your flannel, pulling the unbuttoned shirt down your shoulder, showing off your black muscle tank underneath.

You saw the question in his eyes. He saw the answer in yours.

“Why don’t your midterms matter?”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“..You dropped out?”

His weak whisper begged you to deny it. You pressed your lips in a nonnegotiable reticent line, and continued walking away, to where Robin and Steve observed you two at the table. But Eddie wasn’t done. When he was determined, he dug his hole to bedrock. Stubborn. Hounding you until you grasped the door knob, saying the one thing he shouldn’t.

“Please tell me you’re joking? You quit college to come here? Your entire future is planned out for you! I refuse to let you throw your life away for this!” Eddie collided with a force to be reckoned with. Whatever he was going to say on that next intake of breath was suffocated under your knuckles.

Initially, you intended to stab your finger at the center of his chest, but he failed to slow down at the same time you experienced a wave of confidence, so you eviscerated his hope by eliminating the space between your bodies, planting your fist firmly on him. A monumental touch.

The toe of his shoes nudged yours. His heartbeat swelled under your mighty hand. There was a gloss to his eyes, now, knocked from his outburst and coming to accept the gravity of you being here.

Your gaze bore into his. Unwavering, unflinching. Devoted and devastatingly honest. “I have earned the right to this life through blood, sweat, and tears,” your voice quivered. Channeling a lifetime of unworthiness into the cut of your words, leaving no room for argument, “I’ll do with it what I want. I’m not leaving you again, Eddie.” Any rebuttal vanished on those pink lips of his the moment you lifted your finger to his chin, dragging it across his stubble. “And I’d appreciate a thank you next time, sweetheart.”

At that, you were gone.

Eddie’s stomach clenched at the closed door.

“I like her,” Erica admired from her perch next to the TV, and Max agreed in an impressed, “Yeah.” Lucas shifted uncomfortably between them.

“Goddamnit, Goddamnit, Goddamnit.” Eddie paced, running his hands through his hair, exhaling repetitive expletives. Combing, raking, worrying until his oily fringe stood on end, and his short curls frizzed into a mane. God-fucking-damnit. “She.. Oh, fuck.”

He came to a forced halt.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve caught him in the curve of his arm–winced at the impact stretching his wounds–and turned their backs to the rest of the room with the exception of Robin, who offered Eddie a gentle smile.

Controlling his voice so only his chosen trinity heard, Steve thought it was time to give Eddie a heart-to-heart similar to the one he gave him in the Upside Down.

“Now, I acknowledge my privilege in regards to women willing to jump into a lake for me, but I’ve never seen anything like that with these optimistic eyes of mine,” he said in the same cadence Eddie used on him. Sparing a glance at the door, he clicked his tongue. “I’ve never known someone who’s just a friend to sacrifice the amount she has to be here today. We told her you were in trouble, and she came running. College education, whatever the hell Nationals is for her to have delts bigger than mine; nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing else mattered in the world except for protecting you. And that, that, is more than casual friendship, dude.” He leaned in. “To be honest, I’m jealous. If I were you, I’d have put a ring on her finger, like, yesterday.”

Eddie dragged a hand down his face, and kept his eyes closed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, man. She’s my best friend.”

“Oh!” Robin snapped. “I love rom-coms, let me guess! You’ve been best friends since you were kids and–” She stood, eyes darting as she searched her memory for the hundreds of movies she’d watched. “Yeah, definitely best friends since you were kids, and you grew up together, always there for each other, fell in love with her years ago, and you’re scared that if you confess, either she’ll reject you or she’ll admit she’s been in love with you too, but then there’s the fear of something going wrong in the relationship, and you’d lose not only your girlfriend, but your best friend too! How’d I do? Did I get it right?”

In love with you for years.

The knot in Eddie’s throat bobbed under the eagerness of her beaming grin. Did Robin have a special talent, or was he that easy to read? Either way, his long hair was his saving grace, shielding his red ears from betraying him amidst the second worst week of his life.

“I think it’s sweet she’s wearing your shirt.”

“My..?”

“Yeah,” she answered his confusion. “The tag was sticking out. Your initials are E.M., right? Written with one of those jumbo Sharpies.”

The door knob jiggled. Eddie considered ducking behind a piece of furniture, but he figured his life couldn’t get more fucked than it currently was, and merely blinked at the opening door with disinterest, welcoming his fate.

“Dinner’s here,” you announced, juggling a stack of pizza boxes. The combined anxious energy of the room, and the deathly quiet, alerted you to the man-shaped brooding aura at your side, with his hands stuffed in his leather jacket’s pockets, and head dipped to deliver a condescending remark directly into your ear.

“Exactly what part of this situation screams ‘pizza party’ to you?”

Overflowing with a devious pout, you raised your shoulder to your chin, and batted your lashes at Eddie with a look of pure innocence. “Don’t worry, I ordered a sausage pizza just for you.”

“I’m going to kill you,” he stated.

“Wouldn’t want a second murder charge, Munson.”

“Actually, you’d be the third,” Dustin clarified, opening the top box and taking a slice of pepperoni before you could set them on the table. “He got a second charge yesterday, and now his name’s been released to the public. Got a whole village mob thing goin’ on. Pitchforks and all, probably.”

“Definitely,” Lucas mumbled.

At this point, your brain was too burnt-out from receiving shocking information for one day, so you nodded at them, and said, “Ah.” That’s it. Two murder charges? Wonderful. Police searching for the seven sets of hands clamoring over breadsticks? Lovely. Eddie’s name released to the public? Stupendous!

Life was great.

Yeah, life was great.

You sat on the side of the bed closest to the door, where you left your purse, and leaned against the pillow; and without a hint of communication, Eddie walked around to the other side, and mirrored you, sitting with one leg folded in front of him and the other hanging off the side, body slightly angled away, and scarfing down a slice of pizza. When he was done, you handed him another one. Along with a napkin.

Oddly, his attention seemed to be aimed at the back of your neck, and the tint of rosiness to his cheeks hadn’t disappeared from your innuendo earlier.

Sitting criss-cross on the floor, Robin sighed in bliss, “Warm food feels so good right now.” There was a round of drowsy hums in harmony. Tucking into their cheap, greasy fast food with the kind of melancholic joy of a prisoner eating their last meal.

“So..” you cut through the sounds of chewing. “Is anyone gonna explain why I’m here? Why the cops think Eddie murdered people, why you’re covered in blood, all that?” Considering you were judging Steve and his ability to eat with a gaping hole in his stomach poorly patched over with a strip of sweater, he took on the responsibility of filling you in

“A girl named Chrissy Cunningham–”

“Chrissy? I know her. We took tumbling together at the rec center as kids.” You heard Eddie’s hard exhale behind you, and sneaked a look at him. His eyes were screwed closed, and his face was scrunched in pain, smoothing his fingertips over the bridge of his nose.

Steve continued, a bit more gently, “Well, she was at Eddie’s trailer when she died. Murdered would be a better word, by Vecna, who I’ll get to in a minute, but that’s why the police think it’s him. Anyway, yeah, Vecna’s this dude who lives in a place we call the Upside Down..”

Calm. Calm. Calm. CalmCalmCalm. calmcalmcalmcalmcalm.

Chrissy was at Eddie’s trailer.

Chrissy was at Eddie’s trailer and you could feel the etch of his stare on the side of your face, analyzing your reaction. You gave him nothing but passivity. Resisting the urge to scratch at the sudden itchy sweat dripping down your back. Refusing to take your eyes off Steve, who was going on and on about shit you couldn’t fathom, trying desperately to not dwell on the reason why Eddie cringed when he remembered you knew her. Thinking maybe he meant to pick someone anonymous to date, and this was crossing a boundary. Forcing yourself to hang onto every word falling from Steve’s mouth in order to smother the nagging voices in your head taunting you, telling you he stopped calling because he had a girlfriend.

“And, yeah, the Upside Down is just like Hawkins, but there’s monsters everywhere, and Vecna controls them..”

“Oh!” Robin perked up at you. “You would’ve been great with the Demobats! You could’ve punched them right outta the sky. Couldn’t she, Steve?”

Steve stuttered, “I-I mean, they’re bigger than a normal bat.. And have barbs on their tails. Big teeth and claws. And, uh, stronger than you think.. I could’ve taken them too, if I wasn’t ganged up on by.. ten, or more of them..”

Erica’s judgy sneer spoke for all of you.

You meant no offense to Steve, or any of the kids joining him in explaining this whole other dimension, and girl-with-powers thing, but it was mostly going in one ear and out the other. It was hard to follow along with what nonsense they were spouting when Eddie’s gaze was still on you, and you were ashamed to admit how much it bothered you to know he was dating someone else. Not you. Never you.

“A hell world filled with monsters and a big bad guy that looks like beef jerky, and he’s the one that killed Chrissy and Patrick and Fred, and now Max is next, and all this is connected to a girl whose name is a number. Got it.” You sipped your water.

Dustin quipped, “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“Great,” Steve groaned, pushing himself out of the chair, and unanimously, the rest of the group followed his lead. “Now that we’re on the same page, we should get going.”

“Wait, where’re you going?” Eddie panicked.

Lucas sucked the oil off his fingers, much to Erica’s revulsion, and then wiped them on his pants, much to Max’s dismay. “We have our own Safe House.”

“Yeah, you two get some rest, we’ll be back tomorrow to work out a plan,” Steve said, making his way to the window and opening it for the party to leave through. “Should probably take care of these bites before I die of sepsis. That would be lame way to go out. And your van is still in the woods next to Reefer Rick’s, right? We’ll take care of it for you. Make it look like you left town or something.”

“Is there anything you want us to save in there before we do?” Robin asked.

Many emotions influenced Eddie’s facial expressions. Fond thoughts of his precious amps, a guitar or two, a few stashes of keepsakes that were less important than the ones in his room, but worthy of rescuing nonetheless. “Yeah, there’s uh..” he trailed off. The crust of his sausage pizza went limp in his hand.

He did not need a bunch of children discovering what else he had hidden in the back of his van–namely, the specially ordered magazines featuring women in little clothing, with pages dogeared on the models who resembled someone currently narrowing their eyes at him.

“Actually, forget it,” he said after spacing out. “Do whatever you want.”

Eddie shoved the crust in his mouth to prevent him from saying more.

“‘Kay.. You two have fun,” Steve said, sporting an annoying salute. It was obvious he wanted to imply more, but reading the mood of the room, he let it go, and climbed through the window, shutting it behind him.

“Not too much fun,” Robin chimed in from beyond the glass as the two halves of the curtain united.

The stillness that followed was heavy. Cold. Even when they were quiet, it was impossible to disguise the racket a group of people produced; breathing, swallowing, shuffling their feet, sighing. There was an awareness in the tension remaining. You and Eddie. Sharing the same bed.

And what better way to shush your nerves than by opening the mini fridge. “Now that the kids are gone,” you said, grabbing two ice-cold bottles, and walking them to Eddie.

He accepted the beer with more gratitude than you deserved. “A 40oz? Have I ever told you you’re an angel?”

“Don’t think you’ve ever called me that, no.”

Each step away from him was a deliberate action. Choosing to return to your side of the bed instead of sitting next to him. Sinking into the plush duvet, backs facing each other, playing with twist tops until the other cracked theirs first–tsss. Minds drifting to the same topic, yet declining to acknowledge it. Until the bile burning the length of your chest was too much to ignore.

Staring at the joint where the popcorn ceiling met the wall, you supposed you went over the sentence in your head hundreds of times before you could articulate it casually and without an underlying tremor of jealousy.

“Not that it matters, and you don’t have to answer, but.. What was Chrissy doing at your trailer?”

“It was just a drug deal.” The fact he chose the direct route of correcting what you were implying was not lost on you. He used a strong, swift, powerful voice to allay any worry you had before it could evolve into suspicion, “When Vecna picks his target, they start getting these massive headaches, and have hallucinations. She came to me looking for weed at first, and then asked for something stronger. I knew I had some K at home, so I took her there, where she.. s-she..”

Glancing, you made eye contact with him through the mirror, and when he turned to look at you, you twisted to face him.

“I swear it wasn’t anything more than a drug deal,” he promised softly. Imbuing his words with sincerity, and his wide eyes with naked candor, pleading for you to believe him with more passion than a friend should have, as if it mattered to him that you knew he didn’t have feelings for her. But neither of you addressed that convoluted mess, just like he didn’t question the significance of you crawling across the bed to sit next to him only once you knew he wasn’t dating someone while you were away.

He spread his legs to increase the staggering amount of thigh you had pressed against his in an invaluable moment of overindulgence.

You clinked his beer.

Both of you closed your eyes, put the bottles to your lips, and tipped your heads back, drinking with a sigh.

“In trouble and from darkness you come, Eddie, yet your coming is joy to me,” you said in a wise, old voice.

“Quoting Earthsea at me?” His chest rose with a besotted hum. “Never change.”

Swallowing the bitter taste of alcohol, you asked, “Is what they said true?”

“Never met Eleven, but yeah, it’s all true. Robin was right, too. We could’ve used your help back there. Coulda punched the bats right outta the sky.” He mimicked throwing weak punches while making cartoon sound effects with his mouth.

You snorted into your bottle while taking another gulp. Eddie copied you, downing his with more vigor. No one could blame him.

“Is it, ah..” he started, running his palm over the shredded strings of his jeans stretched over his knee. “Is it true, about school? Did you..?”

“It’s not so cut and dry,” you assured him, figuring he’d been tortured enough for one day. “I drafted my letter, but it still needs the signatures from the rest of my professors, my Coach, all that stuff.” Beer fueled your dismissive hand movements. “I tried to finish my first midterm on Monday, Eddie, I really did, but I couldn’t just sit there and focus on a stupid test while you were 8 hours away, in deep shit.”

In your periphery, you saw his disappointed head shake, causing knotted strands of his hair to fall over his hunched shoulders.

“I still think you’re ruining your future.”

“What if I don’t give a fuck?” He jerked at your abrasiveness. You collected the condensation from your bottle and dried your hand on your thigh, wedging your fingers over the curve of the muscle, and sliding them along his leg. “What if I don’t want to go to college anymore, or work myself to an early grave and not get appreciated for it? Win all the Golds I can hang around my neck, but can’t walk the next morning? What if I want to join the circus and learn to juggle while tightrope walking? What if I die there, instead? What if I don’t know what I want to do with my life? Is that okay? What if New Years was the last time I saw you?” You stopped to suppress the air in your lungs. Holding it there. Not letting it go. Not until the tears stopped blurring your vision. “What if I don’t give a fuck about any of your dreams for me? Not yours, not mom’s, not Coach’s. What if I’m finally doing what I want?”

He stopped wringing his lips together to ask meekly, “And what’s that?”

You released a sad, single laugh, and conceded to the one thought repeating on an endless loop above all others in your head. “At first I was going to say keeping you out of trouble, but I think we both know.. When you’re in trouble, I’m right there with you. I want to be right there with you. Forever, remember?”

Unable to verbalize what he was thinking to give the outer corners of his eyes a delicate kiss of wrinkles, he made a noise of agreement, and cheers you with a dear lean into your shoulder. You braced him. For just a brief second. It was lovely.

“And to address the elephant in the room,” you began in a mocking tone, “Yes, that’s my gym bag next to my suitcase, and yes, I can still compete at Nationals if I want to. I haven’t officially dropped out yet.”

“Good to know.”

The conversation stalled as Eddie downed the rest of his beer and sat it on the nightstand with a clunk. You weren’t far behind him. Despite the pleasant tipsiness you both had at this point, the humor of the night dwindled to the circular cycles of grief. Of uprooting your life for someone who unfairly witnessed too much.

“I’ve never been more scared in my life,” Eddie admitted in a whisper. His stare was unfocused. Haunted. Remembering things he never should have been subjected to. “I’ve just been running.. Running away in fear. I can’t even process what’s happening anymore.”

“Mm, I think my brain shut down hours ago.” Probably after your sixth caffeine pill wore off post-midterm and post-packing your car for an undetermined amount of days trip and post-driving in the countryside at night. It was reprehensible enough your first thought upon learning of Chrissy’s death was to accuse Eddie of fucking her instead of mourning her life like any sane person, but you tried to give yourself a break. Nothing about the last few days had been sane, or rational.

Gliding the back of your fingers along the seam of his jacket sleeve to the top of its broken zipper in an attempt to soothe him without direct contact, you reeled at the black goop you collected in the process.

Eddie took the hint. “Guess I should shower now.”

“Yeah, you smell awful.”

“Breaking my heart here, babe.”

Nothing woke you up quite like him using a pet name for you. He might rejoice when his battered body hit the mattress later, but you could cry now. Embarrassingly, you could weep at his use of a term of endearment. Babe. He was so sweet to someone so selfish as you.

He asked, “Will you be asleep when I get out?”

You put your whole body into nodding, and answered gruffly, “Oh, yes.”

~~~

Eddie stared at his naked self in the mirror. A bruise the size of a basketball was swelling to fruition along his ass cheek and hip from when he caught Robin during an earthquake. Spinning in a slow circle, he assessed more. Turning this way and that to find scrapes in strange places. Muddy brown blood mixed with unnatural black. Constellations of purple under layers of filth. Traumas to the surface he couldn’t recall earning. He hurt so much, he couldn’t feel them anymore, and scavenging his body was the preferred distraction from where he knew he was retrograding. The inevitable.

Snap.

Twist.

Squish.

Pop.

Adrenaline was a backhanded thing. It aided memory. Thrills you wanted to imprint for a lifetime, and horrors you did not.

Why did he work so hard to swim for air only to be met with the snap of Patrick’s knees echoing across the surface? Jason’s reedy cry when his friend’s mangled body splashed his face?

Why did he keep his eyes open when Chrissy’s popped, and wetness rained upon his cheeks?

Water felt awful on his skull. Drumming like their twisted fingers on his scalp, tracing the ridges of his spine. Running grungy with muck, and never feeling clean. The white soap you left for him was too pure. The shampoo bottle felt wrong under his torn fingernails paling from the strain of his clutch on reality. The cold tile dripped with sludge found at the bottom of the lake as he rested his forehead there, trying to calm himself down.

He tried. He tried. He tried.

Scrubbing himself til his skin blushed pink. Til his tangled hair combed smooth between his fingers. Til the beat of hot water on the tub drowned everything out. Til he didn’t care that he was using your toothbrush after his fourth consecutive day of morning breath.

Wiping the fog from the mirror, he knew he’d lost it.

He didn’t recognize himself.

He did, but he didn’t.

Toeing at his dirty clothes stretched across the floor to be dealt with at a later time, he dressed in his blue checkered boxers, and peeked outside the door.

The room was dark, and you didn’t make a sound.

Creeping further into the short hallway, he saw your back facing him from the bed. Shoulders just a touch above the covers.

Eddie opened the door wider and reached for the light switch. He hesitated, and dropped his hand.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t turn off the light. Too dark. For days on end. The forest surrounding Lover’s Lake, Skull Rock, the Upside Down, and Hawkins. Dark dark dark.

Going to the small TV on the chest of drawers, he flipped it on, and turned the volume down low. Adjusting the antennas, it was with a passing bit of ease he understood what he was watching. The fuzz dissipated. The dampness on his skin dried. The wrestlers slammed their backs on the squared circle. Not popular wrestlers who had audiences flocking to see them. Obscure ones. Still, he knew their names from the hours he’d spent at Gareth’s, insisting he used his cable to watch the weekly shows. Because it made him feel connected to you.

He walked to his side of the bed. Watched you for a moment. Shoulders rising and falling in peace under a loose white shirt. Bedsheet wrapped around your fists nestled to your chin.

You were wearing something different from earlier, and he was mostly naked.

Opening your suitcase, the black muscle tee welcomed him like an old friend. Tattered. Holes along the hem. It wasn’t sleeveless when he gave it to you some odd years ago, you must’ve ripped them off. What a liar. Claiming you returned all his clothes before you moved away. He wasn’t too surprised, though, running his finger over the tag with his initials.

Afterall, he collected many more reminders of you.

Moving on, he dug deeper. Clawing his way through your neatly folded outfits. Searching, searching. Pulling things out at random and holding them up to his body and tossing them. Over and over. He was panicking. Sweating. Couldn’t catch his breath. The inevitable. It was happening. It was happening. It was coming. It was here.

His chest tightened.

He grabbed a dark blue sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. It didn’t fit. The cuffs resisted meeting his wrist. Covered most of his skin. It’d have to do.

He went to his side of the bed again. And stared.

Snap.

Twist.

Squish.

Pop.

“Hey.” It came out as a whimper. “Are you awake?”

The first tear beaded over his lower lashes.

Could you feel it if he touched you? The secrets he kept suppressed for years? Screaming violence in his blood when you got a little too close. When he let you take things a little too far. When he dropped his guard a little too much. When you looked at him for the first time in months, and he got carried away, almost pressing his forehead to yours in a kind of intimacy he’d never explored before. Take, take, take. More, more, more.

He couldn’t. It was inappropriate. Friends. You were just friends. Best friends.

What were you wearing? He couldn’t find bottoms that fit. His legs were exposed. Were yours?

Shaking. Shaking. The ache was getting worse. Building, building, building. Throat constricting. Teeth clacking. Inappropriate, inappropriate, inappropriate.

A tear clung to the corner of his unsteady frown.

“Can I hold you?”

You didn’t answer, sleeping.

His Light. His Safe House.

Snap.

Twist.

Squish.

Pop.

The last of his energy being used to stave off the inevitable vanished. He buckled. He couldn’t do it. Beaten down by his reputation, his cowardice, his inability to succeed, his self-destructive habit of resisting taking refuge in the one person who brought him unconditional shelter without expecting anything in return.. All of it broke at once.

Light.

Safety.

Refuge.

Sanctuary.

With his gaze on the floor, his tears dotted the carpet as he tried between desperate inhales, “N-Need to hold you.”

He pulled back the covers and crawled into bed next to you. Shifting closer, closer. Sliding his arm under your head, throwing his other across your chest, and bringing you to him. More, more, more. It was wrong. It should feel wrong. It didn’t feel wrong. Your sleepy face was pressed into his flexed bicep, lifting your cheek to his nose. To where his lips muttered into your soft skin. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.

He said it in coughs due to his sobs. “Sorry–S-Sorry,” he wept. “I–Sorry. I. I.” His tears slipped over his nose, falling to your cheek in one stride. He shouldn’t be doing this. Holding you like this. Legs tucked against yours. It was wrong. Inappropriate. “Just need to hold you. I’m so sorry. Oh, God. I’m s-so sorry.” He risked more intimacy. Hugging you to his chest with the strength of his dormant urges. Years of cravings stirring in his muscles. Desires coaxing his lips–just once–to discover your jaw as he attempted to control himself, and force his face into the vacancy below your ear, burying himself against your neck, making a small whine when your hand found his safe haven.

You reassured him in a tender stroke along his temple. “It’s okay, Eddie. I’m here. You can hold me.”

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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definitelynotstable · 8 months

Text

Camomile pt. 14 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13, pt. 14

AN: Hello! Sorry for the late update – the pharmacy messed up my meds and I’ve been having withdrawals for the past like 5 days (it’s hell). Anyway! Never back down, never what? NEVER GIVE UP.

Synopsis: Closely follows the “Cartel Protection” mission from mw2 (reboot). Rights to the game developers <3 Word count: 1.8k Warnings: canon divergence, canon typical violence, guns, wounds, swearing, death etc Ghost x gn!Reader (Callsign: Rags)

✧˚ · .

“Where are the civilians?” You pant, following Alejandro through the gate and into the property.

“Gone.” He replies, gun raised as people shout in the distance, “Cartel took over. It’s a hideout now.”

“Good place to keep Hassan.” Soap notes as Alejandro and Ghost come yo a second gate.

They swing it open with a screech and you follow the Colonel, ducking behind a small outcrop of rocks as bullets fly. The houses and makeshift shelters are built closely together, the place is like a maze. With no knowledge of the layout, you, Ghost and Soap follow Alejandro blindly.

The cartel might have the tactical advantage but they are out-skilled by your team, bodies of cartel members now lay strewn through the compound. The lighting is poor and the ceiling’s low, men call out in Spanish but your little knowledge of the language evades you. The structures are poorly made and splinters fly as you watch as Soap shoots several rounds through a door, the man inside the room slumps – dead.

“Room clear.”

“Good job, Hermano.”

“Still no sign of Hassan,” you add, following them round the corner of the narrow hallway.

“Not yet.” Is the Colonels reply. This man is determined.

You step back as glass crunches under your foot – a photo frame. You pick it up, a smiling family portrait stares back up at you.

“What happened to the families here?” You ask, placing the frame down on a cabinet nearby.

Alejandro moves to squat next to the window. “The cartel brings violence, so they leave.”

He grips his radio, sending orders to his men in Spanish.

“Where’s your family?” You ask coming to kneel next to him, grip on your gun tight as Soap gets ready to open the door to the outside. Ghost stands in a shadow in the corner of the room, giving him a good view out the window and keeping him out of sight.

“I keep that a secret, to protect them.”

You nod in understanding as Ghost steps forward. “We have concealment.”

“Let’s move,” Alejandro gives Soap the signal and the door is flung open. “On me Soap.”

You follow the two men outside into the bright sun, Ghost close behind you. Smoke clouds in the street between the two houses and you let it conceal you as you cross. The white villa emerges from the haze and one of Alejandro’s men shoots through the lock on the door. Shots ring out as Alejandro and Soap clear the first floor before moving up to the second. You and Ghost linger down below, providing cover.

“Clear, no Hassan.” Soap’s voice calls out from above and comes through on the radio with a slight delay.

You follow Ghost up the stairs and join Soap and Alejandro in the room above. Soap pokes around in a small room to the left and you make a beeline for the desk.

“They must’ve moved him.” Alejandro says, jaw clenched.

“When?” Soap growls, almost whining.

“Recently.”

You run your finger tips over the desk, the scattered documents in either Spanish or Arabic. You feel a presence and Ghost comes to stand art your shoulder, his vest touches your back.

“Find anythin’?”

“Negative,” you shake your head, leaning over to flick on a lamp. The wall in front of you is illuminated and what you thought was a decorative tapestry comes into the light. “Quds force.”

“That’s his flag.” Ghost says in agreement, reaching to pull it from the wall. It seems like it’s taunting you.

“He was here.” Alejandro spits in disgust.

“Your intel was good,” Soap says, giving the man a pat on the shoulder. “We were just too late.”

There’s a distant hum and rumble of heavy duty vehicles and you inch closer to the window with a frown. Dust has been kicked up by whatever is approaching, concealing them. Alejandro curses and you look at him over your shoulder.

“What is it?”

“The army.”

Ghost straightens up from where he stands by the desk, taking a step forward. “Reinforcements?“

“Negative.”

You turn to Soap who stands with you at the window, eyes widening as you recall what Alejandro had said on the ride here. The army wasn’t to be trusted and there was no way in hell these men were on your side. Alejandro crouches below the window and Ghost leans against the wall, gun raised and ready.

“What are we doing, LT?” You ask, looking between your Lieutenant and the Colonel.

Alejandro answers for you. “Providing cover for my men. Once they’re clear, we fall back.”

You nod, readjusting your grip on your rifle. This will be one hell of a fight.

✧˚ · .

The windows shatter and glass rains around you, you squint through your scope, firing at any movement you see.

“Okay! My men are clear!”

“Then we need to move!” Soap yells back as a grenade flies pas his head and bounces off the back wall, a yellow gas spreading from it as it cracks.

Eyes and lungs burning you follow Alejandro and Soap, vaguely registering a grip on your upper arm as you race towards the shutters on the opposite wall. The two men ahead of you leap through and down onto a small roof below, you hesitate, hacking up another cough.

Hands push you forwards and you can hear Ghost coughing beside you. You trip through the window and roll down onto the roof below.

“Fucking hell.” You wheeze as Ghost lands beside you with a thud, yanking you up and towards the gap in the fence where Alejandro and Soap have just disappeared.

“Move it, Sergeant.” He barks and you wipe your eyes, making for the treeline.

“Army is right behind us!” Soap calls and if it weren’t for Ghosts firm hand in the centre of your back you’d have thrown a look behind you.

“Down the hill!” The Colonel replies, “We’ll lose them in the mountains.”

You follow him through the rocks and trees, ducking as the army spray bullets blindly down upon you. You return fire, relishing in the way your gun kicks back into your shoulder.

“We clear?”

“For now!”

You whip out from your cover behind a rock, following as Alejandro leads you through the trees.

“You know these trails?” You pant, jumping over roots and branches.

Alejandro throws you a glance over his shoulder. “Very well, but so does the army.”

“Brilliant.” Ghost growls from behind you and you cough out a laugh. “We can’t hold off an army, we need extraction.”

Alejandro nods, signalling to Rodriuez who radios something in spanish. A bullet hits a rock behind you with a dull ping and you duck on instinct.

“Get behind those rocks!” Someone calls out.

Ghost crouches beside you, reloading. He inches up over the rocks and lets loose a round before ducking as they return fire. You crawl round to the side, lying on your belly, pausing as a hand squeezes your ankle.

“Don’t miss.” Ghost says, back pressed to the rock, panting. You nod, flashing him a grin.

You spot the men immediately and take a deep breath before pulling the trigger. In a matter of seconds all four are dead, slumped amongst the rocks and trees.

“We clear?” You call to Soap and Alejandro who’d been pinned down by a seperate group of men.

“For now!” Soap calls back.

“Affirmative,” Alejandro says, coming to his feet as he reloads. “They’ll be more, vamos!”

✧˚ · .

The landscape becomes more and more rugged, your hip bruises from sliding down more rock faces than you can count. Eventually Alejandro leads you to a trail along the edge of the mountain. It’s precarious to say the least and you throw a nervous look over your shoulder at Ghost. He meets your gaze with a firm and unwavering expression, but it’s comforting all the same.

“You know your way.” He remarks, directed at Alejandro who laughs.

“We used to cut school and play here.”

“Until the cartels moved in?” Soap asks, jumping down onto a lower ledge before offering you a hand. You take it without thinking.

“Exactly. The narcos changed everything.”

“That’s sad.” You say, picturing the hills filled with laughing school children and daring young boys scaling the cliffs.

Rodriguez gives you a sad smile from where he stands next to you, “Si. Las Almas is not what it once was.”

The man presses himself to the cliff face and edges along, gesturing you to follow. Soap and Alejandro already at the other side. Willing yourself not to look down you follow him, trusting the man completely.

Suddenly, with no warning, a shot rings out. Rocks and shale crack above and scatter around you. You flinch forwards. A firm hand to your left yanks you back against the rock. Rodriguez. He shuffles along faster, an arm around yours, keeping you stable.

“Sniper! Move!” Ghost calls.

“No shit!” You call back, panicked.

A shot rings out again, just as you’re almost at the other side. Blood sprays with a sickening squelch and you cry out as Rodriguez lurches forward, his grip on you loosening.

Alejandro screams his name and you scramble for a grip on his vest as he slumps towards the edge.

“No!”

His eyes flicker, blood already trickling from his mouth. He whispers something in Spanish and you feel your heart sink.

“He’s gone!” Your Lieutenant barks from behind you, “Let him go!”

Another bullet ricochets from the rock, a shard digging itself into your cheek, just under your eye. Ghost is right, the man beside you is dead, eyes unseeing – you’re the only thing keeping him standing; propped against the cliff.

To clear him from the way you have to shove his body forwards and a sob catches in your throat. You feel like you’ve killed him.

Alejandro screams again as his body flops over the ledge and onto the rocks far below. Ghost wraps a gloved hand around your upper arm, to tight it’ll bruise.

“Move!” He barks again and you snap to attention, scrambling the final metre or so to safety.

Soap catches you as you stumble onto the wide ledge and pulls you behind a rock for cover. His hands find your cheeks and he searches your eyes.

“You ok?” His accent is soft and you struggle to meet his gaze. He shakes you slightly and your eyes snap to his. “Rags. Are you okay?”

You’re gasping for breath but the crack of another round of bullets snaps you out of it. You nod, wiping roughly at your tear stained cheeks. Your glove catches the shard under your eye and drags it across your face. The pain is sharp but it brings clarity.

“Yes –” you gasp, “–Yes, let’s go.”

✧˚ · .

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marvelcriminalhoe · 2 years

Text

His Sinful Devotion

Part 5

Older! Dark! Church guy! Steve Rogers x Innocent! Naive! Preachers daughter! Reader

Warnings: Age gap, Dark, manipulation, dubcon-ish, power imbalance, Talks of god, talks of praying, talks of courtship. Steve is hardcore manipulative I’m serious, reader is hardcore innocent, groping, innocent kink(is that a thing???), praise kink, daddy kink. P & V action (but not sex). Naked humping (Is that how I describe this? idk) . I think that’s all? Idk let me know if I’m missing something. Obviously this is very much nsfw and 18+ only

AN 1: I posted this to my second account on mistake :/ so here it is again lol! If you're here for smut, its at the end. If you're here for storyline, it's at the beginning. If you're here for both, enjoy :)

Word count: 3,793 Series Masterlist

The annual church retreats happens every summer, starting during the first week of June. The church owns a small campground with a few single cabins, along with two dorm style cabins, one for the men and one for the woman, and one big cafeteria shared between all of them.

The first retreat is the kids camp, where the all the church kids, ages 7-12 spend 3 nights, learning the layout of the Bible, pushing their bunk beds together to talk all night without getting in trouble, and playing down by the water in the sun.

You loved those times when you were a kid. Those five days were really the only time you had friends all year, since your parents were so strict, and unlike the other kids who all went to school together, you were homeschooled.

The next retreat is the teens camp, aged 13-18. They get to spend 5nights at the camp. They also have more class time, learning more about sin and the devil, how to not be like “the world”. Nights are spent sneaking into the kitchens for leftover dinners, days spent whispering about which boy or girl is cuter while trying to make it seem like you’re singing the right words during worship.

This is when retreat started being a little less fun for you. Cliques start to form around this age, teens usually sticking with the group of friends they have all year, which is something you weren’t accustomed to. But you still had fun, even if you were off reading passages while the other teens were whispering about crushes.

The third week is for the single young adults, ages 19-24. They spend their 7 nights at camp, learning how to navigate the world and help turn more people to Jesus. There’s no sneaking out to the kitchens or whispering during worship. The Young adults that do go to retreat usually want some sort of career in ministry and enjoy the connections they make. They also might be looking for potential spouses, but it’s not as obvious as when you’re a teenager.

The past two years, you’ve got to enjoy this retreat, make some acquaintances with people your age in the church. There’s a lot less games and lots more reading than the retreats passed, but you didn’t mind.

This year however, you will be attending the adult retreat. It’s for ages 25 and up, but if happen to be younger than that and you are courting, engaged, or married, you can attend as well, since a lot of the courses during the 7 night stay are relationship based.

Your parents thought it would be a good idea so you and Steve can attend some of the classes together. Steve also wanted you there, since he would be teaching some of the classes himself. Why would he spend 7 days away from you when he didn’t have to.

It’s been about 2 months since Bucky’s visit, almost 3 months total of courting you, and Steve has you exactly where he wants you. You follow his every word, follow his every command without complaint. He felt like he hit the jackpot with you awhile ago, but now, molding you into the perfect little wife, he knows for sure.

And after this week, everyone else will too, he’s sure of it.

Steve hates the church retreat. Every year, same he attends, and every year it’s as if the single bachelorettes of the church vie for his attention. But this year, with you by his side, he’s almost looking forward to it.

Steve finishes packing his bag and grabs his phone, checking the time. He’s meant to be picking you up in 30 minutes, which gives him enough time to jack off before. He’s not sure if he will be able to sneak off with you this week, the retreat going to be packed with the rest of the adult congregation. He also didn’t think he would be able to stop himself if he had you blow him off on the way there. It’s only a 10 minute drive from your house to the camp grounds, and 10 minutes isn’t nearly enough.

As he washes himself off, changing into a new set of clothes. He grabs his bag and drives to you. He’s quick to knock on your parents door and help you with your bag when you come out.

“You look beautiful angel.” Steve smiles over at you as he gets back in.

No matter how many times he’s complimented you, you still get flustered every time. You still don’t understand why Steve, this extremely handsome, most eligible bachelor of a man, has picked you out of every woman in the church. Steve is great, perfect even.

Sometimes though, you get a little, scared, of him. He’s never done or said anything hatful to you. He’s only ever been extremely sweet and loving. But one Sunday at church, when one of the men at church made you a little uncomfortable, Steve stepped in, and the way his voice got low and dark, paired with the murderous glare he had, sent a cold chill down your spine.

But whenever you think of that moment, you shake it off. Steve is a wonderful church going man. He’s nothing short of perfect.

“Thank you.” You return his smile, “you look very handsome as well.”

Steve rests his hand on your thigh for the rest of the drive. When getting to the camp grounds, Steve kisses you sweetly after grabbing the bags out of the back, handing you yours.

You split off, you going to the woman dorm as Steve heads to his private cabin. You can’t stay in the same cabin, considering you are only courting, so you will be in the dorm with the other women.

You unpack your bag, making your bed on one of the lower bunks, smiling when it’s completed. The bunks are only twin beds, which can be a little uncomfortable when the springs poke into your back due to thin mattresses, but you don’t really complain about it. You have used the same twin sheets and comforter for the camp bed since you were 13. White with pink and yellow flowers embroidered all round. It’s almost like a tradition for you at this point, and it always makes you smile.

As you turn around, you see Sharon at the bunk across from yours, unpacking her own things.

“Hi Sharon.” You greet her.

She looks up from her suitcase, face falling when she sees you, “Oh, hi.” She blinks a few times, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, “I didn’t know you would be attending this retreat.”

“My parents believed it would be beneficial since me and Steve are courting.” You shrug.

“Hmm.” Sharon nods, going back to unpacking her suitcase.

You feel like she’s disappointed you’re here, and it makes you a little uncomfortable, but you shake it off, thinking she’s probably just tired. You bid her a goodbye as you head to the dinning hall, helping set things up for the week wherever you can. When you’re done, you head back to the dorms to wash for dinner, but stop when you enter through the door, hearing what’s being said in the room.

“What is she, a child? Why is all her stuff so innocent looking.”

“I know! I can’t believe she’s courting Steve.”

“Well, she won’t be for long if I have anything to do about it. Steve wants a real woman, not some idiot little girl.”

The woman in the

Tears threaten to spill down your face, making you bump your shoulder into the door panel as you scramble to leave. You’re eye sight is blurry as you stare at your feet, sniffling and trying to get as far away from the dorms as possible.

You know you aren’t the most sharp when it comes to relationships, mostly due to your upbringing, and you aren’t unaware of how people view you as naïve. The kids used to make fun of you, as if you wouldn’t understand the words they would spew. But you did, and this feeling, is not one you’ve learned to deal with well.

You don’t understand why people feel the need to be rude and judge, especially with the fact you only ever really interact with people that are supposed to also be meme era of the same church. Supposed to follow the same ‘do not judge’ command. Sometimes you feel like you’re the only one that actually tried to do that.

Maybe you are naive.

“Hey sweetheart!” You hear Steve’s voice call out to you.

Steve.

You have Steve.

He’s never once been mean to you or judges you. He’s only ever been caring and sweet.

You wipe your cheeks as you look up, seeing a smiling Steve walking towards you. When he gets close enough to see your red eyes and puffy face, his smile turns to a frown, rushing to you and bringing you into his arms, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head, burning it into his chest. The warmth in his arms is comforting, something you’ve found the last few weeks.

“No.” Steve pulls you back, voice hard but eyes still soft on you, “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”

You look down, trying to blink away the tears that want to fall again, mumbling out, “Th— the other woman were just saying some things.”

“Saying what?” Steve asks.

Were they making fun of you?

Steve will not hesitate to hurt anyone that hurts you. No one can make you cry except for him, and he only wants to make you cry out of pleasure.

“They said I’m not a real woman and the—they don’t kno— know why you’re courting me.” You let out in a broken whisper.

All Steve can see is red.

How dare they say such things to you.

How dare they question him, question his actions.

He wont stand for it.

“Come on.” Steve grabs your hand, dragging you back to the dorms. You don't try to pull away, following obediently. Steve doesn't even bother knocking politely to make sure everyone was decent,not caring he wasn't technically allowed in the women's cabin.

When the door swings open with a bang, Steve charging in, the women gasp.

“Steve!” Sharon stands up, ending resting on her chest, “Goodness you scared up.”

He does nothing but glare at her and her little group of bitter, single church woman. He pulls you in front of him, not turning his glare away from the others in the room when he addresses you, “Pack your things up, angel.”

“Oh, is she leaving the retreat?” One of the woman speak up, watching as you move to follow the order.

Steve can hear the underlining amusement in her question, and the red starts to turn to black, “No, she's not. She will be staying in my cabin, with me.”

All the women’s eyes go wide at the harshness of his words, how scary he looks.

“Do you think that’s appropriate?” Sharon speaks up, the only one that seems to not be affected by his tone, acting as if his eyes weren't piercing through her.

Steve smirks darkly, turning to you, having finished repacking your bags and was now watching them all innocently, “Go stand outside sweetheart, I’ll be there in a second.”

“Okay.” You nod.

Steve waits until the door closes behind you before he moves his gaze back to the other four women, “This ends here. If you ever say or do anything the hurts her again, I will not hesitate to make you lives a living hell. And believe me, my hell is a lot worse than the one we preach about. Do I make myself clear?”

The woman all nod their heads, fear in 3 of their eyes, one with distaste. Steve leaves,heading outside and grabbing your bag from your hands and interlacing your fingers together as he leads you to the cabin he's been assigned.

“Come on, sweetheart. Lets go get you settled, yeah?”

“Steve,” You pull on his hand to get his attention, “I can’t stay with you. Its not proper.” Whispering the last sentence.

Steve laughs softly, “It’s okay. I’ll handle it. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

And Steve means that. He’s not letting you out of his sight again.

The cabin Steve was put in is very small, just a small lounge room, bedroom, and bathroom in it. All the furniture, like the rest of the cabins, is old and outdated.

By the time you've unpacked your bag again, it’s time for you and Steve to go to the dinning hall for dinner.

Steve keeps you glued to his side all night, not that you complained. It’s something you've grown accustomed too since courting him. It’s probably normal to always want to be close to your significant other, so you assume that’s why Steve does it.

One of the elders come up and ask Steve some questions regarding the reasoning for you not staying in the women dorms anymore, giving Steve a smile after he reiterates some of the story why, “You’re a good man Steve, looking out for your lady like that. That’s what a husband does.”

“Thank you.” Steve shakes his hand, as the last sentence of the man runs through your mind.

That’s what a good husband does.

You’ve only been courting Steve for a few months, but comments around the two of you getting married have been happening around the church more frequently. You’re not sure if you’re ready for marriage, ready to be a wife.

But then again, it’s the one thing your parents have always tried to prepare you for. How to be the perfect church wife.

It makes since, you suppose, that you and Steve will get married one day. Everything just happening much faster than you were aware.

Are you in love with Steve though?

Sometimes you think you are. You know you at least care for him deeply and you suppose that’s a part of being in love with someone. You do enjoy spending time with him, even when you get a little uneasy when he asks you to do things that seem bad. He always assures you it’s okay though, and you know Steve wouldn’t lie to you.

He has no reason to.

After dinner, Everyone heads to one of the outside chapels to listen to a message and sing some worship songs, before retiring to their beds.

When you enter the cabin, you stop by the couch in the lounge room, “I should sleep here.”

Steve furrows his brows at you, shaking his head, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s more proper—“

“Angel.” Steve cuts you off, “What kind of man would I be if I had my girl sleeping on the couch when there’s a perfectly fine bed 10 feet away.”

You shift awkwardly where you stand, “I just don’t want people to talk.”

Steve smiles brightly, walking over to you and rubbing your arms in what he wants to be a comforting notion, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of anyone that says something bad.”

“Okay.” You say quietly, Steve’s smile growing wider at your acceptance. You both quietly get ready for bed, changing your clothes and brushing your teeth.

You’ve never shared a bed with anyone before, and as you crawl underneath the covers, you can’t help but be a little timid, staying almost on the edge of your side.

When Steve gets in bed, he looks over at you and frowns, “Why are you all the way over there?”

“I— I’m nervous.”

Steve chuckles, “Why you nervous, baby?” grabbing your arm softly and pulling you closer to him.

You shrug, “I don't know. I’ve never shared a bed before. You aren't supposed to.”

“Mmm.” Steve nods, tilting your chin up so you look at him as he tucks some of your hair behind your ear, “That’s true. But it’s okay for us to share a bed.”

“It is?”

“Of course it is.” Steve smiles, “We just can’t have sex.”

Your eyes go wide at his words, putting you in a flustered state like every other time he uses such crass langue.

Steve’s smile turns to a smirk as he gently pushes your back down onto the pillows and bed, moving himself to be positioned on top of you, “Which we won’t. But, since we do get to share a bed this week, we should at least have a little fun, right?”

You blink up at him as his hands move to the bottom of your sleep top, taking it off and throwing it to the floor, his mouth effectively finding your bare breasts underneath. This is something Steve has done before. One of those ‘‘you feel like you shouldn’t be doing’’ things from earlier. But it does feel good, and you trust Steve.

A small moan leaves your lips, making Steve’s dick harden even more. He’s been hard since he he saw you crying earlier. He doesn't like that those women hurt your feelings, but he's not upset about the fact he gets to share bed with you all week, which give him the opportunity to do whatever he wants to you.

Well, not whatever he wants, considering he can’t have sex with you. But he can still use your body for pleasure in other ways.

And he will.

He positions himself better between your legs, making them spread around him as his clothed hips meet yours. His hand massages one of your breasts and his mouth envelopes the other. He moans around your hardened nipple, savoring the breathless gasps from you. He switches to the other, making both your breasts plumb with his mouth.

Once he is satisfied with your breasts, he uses his hands to get rid of your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear. His right hand goes to rub over your mound, making you closing your eyes as you arch your back into him at the feeling. He continues rubbing you over your underwear until an evident wet patch is formed.

His cock is unbearably stiff to a point he can’t handle anymore and he removes himself from you, throwing his clothes on the ground with yours.

You’ve never been bare at the same time, and despite the fact you still have your underwear on, your heart starts beating faster out of the implication of what this might mean.

“It’s alright.” Steve assures you, having seen the fear in your eyes at the lack of clothes for both of you, “Just need a little bit, Angel. Just a little release. We won’t have sex, promise.”

He grabs the fabric of your panties, slowly moving them down your legs, until it’s discarded on the floor with the rest of the clothes. His voice is thick with lust and wanting, a sprinkle of darkness in it you don’t properly hear due to heartbeat in your ears, “Just need a little bit, baby.” He says, looking down at your body. But you don’t think he’s even really talking to you.

He slowly, so slowly you think he’s waiting for you to say something, brings his hips closer to yours, groaning loudly at the contact of his bare skin on yours. He has to close his eyes so he doesn't just dive right in, taking you here and now.

We can’t have sex.

Steve knows that. He knows he can’t just devour you right now. All of his plans would be ruined. But god does he want to. He didn't think anything could feel better than when he has your mouth around him. But this, his dick slowly sliding through the lips of your pussy?

Heaven. He has entered heaven.

If anything, it just makes him harder at the thought of what it will feel like when he can actually be inside you.

Steve rubs himself against harder, his cock finding a home between your lips and he groans, rubbing himself faster. He knows you’re getting something out of the friction too when your low whimpers turn to loud moans. He wants more, and needs a way to ground himself, grasping your wrists, forcing them above your head.

“God, baby.” Steve moans out, cock sliding through your wet lips. Hips rutting against yours almost painfully. His balls slabbing against you with each thrust, “Feel so good. My good girl. So good.”

He looks down at you, and he thinks this is where you look the most perfect, underneath him, completely at his mercy. The friction of his cock rubbing against your clit causes you to shake as you come, and again, like the very first time he made you come, he relishes in the knowledge that he will be the only one to ever know how you look when you do. He will be the only one to ever make you come.

“Steve.” You cry out in a whine as he continues to rub his cock over your clit, riding you through your orgasm. It’s too much, feels like to much for you. But Steve doesn't stop, instead, rubbing himself against you harder and faster.

“Just a little more, sweetheart.” His voice is hoarse as he tries to keep control of himself, “Let me just use you a little more, okay? Doing so good for me.”

His words, his praise, the fact he hasn't stopping with his attack on your clit, all push you over the edge again, making you shake as practically shriek at the feeling of your second orgasm. You have to close your eyes due to the black spots in your vision.

It pushes Steve over the edge, seeing you lose yourself like that, his head dropping down to your neck again as his finishes with you. His come spurts out over your stomach, thighs, and cunt, mixing his wetness with yours.

He looks down to you as he starts to come down, blissed and covered in him, it makes him hard again, but he has some of his self control back. That control doesn’t stop him from rubbing his come over your breasts and stomach, mixing his own scent in with yours. He hums when he’s done, leaning down to give you a soft kiss to your lips and releasing your wrists. You’re desperately trying to stay awake, the festivities of two orgasms exhausting your body.

Steve lays back down on his stomach, not bothering to clean either of you up.

He wanted to mark you.

He pulls you, so you’re laying on his chest and chuckles when you try to stay awake, “Sleep, sweetheart. We have all long week ahead of us.”

And Steve can’t wait for it.

********

Taglist: @mansaaay @sofi1sstuff @sidechrisporn @namelesssav @spencerreidsthings @withasideofmeg @sidechrisporn @dontbescaredtosingalong @katiebby04 @emberenchanted @1-800-punch-a-pimp @siriusjohnpotter @evanswife1918

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borahaerhy · 1 year

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Dealer (6) - myg

Summary: Your boyfriend seemed like a dream come true: always wanting to be around you, making sure you would get home safe, never taking his hands off you. These little comforts became your whole world, and then the only thing you were allowed to have left in the world. Luckily, your boyfriends drug dealer turned out to be a much nicer guy.

Pairing: DrugDealer!Yoongi x Female!Reader

Genre: Mafia/drug kingpin au, Y/N coming from nothing, found family, Eventual smut

Warnings: LOTS OF UNALIVING BE PREPARED, so many guns, pew pew, Yoongi is intimidated, Hoseok is absolutely terrified, Yoongi threatens Jungkook, Jin has a plan, Jin's plan gets fucked up, Jin makes a new plan, more secret tunnels, Jin's backstory, the layout of which brought to you by the lovely @roxy1205 , go give her a (consensual) smooch on the forehead. Also, where the hell is Y/n in the chapter?

Word count: 2.9k

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Note: If you are sensitive or triggered by abusive relationships or manipulation in any way, please do not read this fic, it can be very triggering. It will also be referenced that Y/n used to self harm, and has self-harm scars. This is fic is going to cover a lot of intense topics, and there will be a lot of drugs.

“Okay, so Jay-” Seokjin, who had finally worked out all the kinks in his plan, was about to present it to the rest of the group, stopped mid-sentence because he heard something. It was small, something no one else in the room noticed, but it was definitely there.

Everyone else stared at him, his finger pressed to his lips as his eyes swept the room for any signs of someone being there that wasn’t supposed to be.

There it was.

A shadow under the door, a shadow that was completely unaccounted for. He looked at Namjoon, gave him a small nod, before he returned his sight back on the door. Namjoon understood what Jin wanted him to do, and moved quickly and silently.

“Jay’s the bosses son, and the one we ultimately need to go after,” Jin spoke again, only seconds after he had taken a pause, not wanting the person behind the door to know that they knew he was there.

As he continued to speak vaguely as Namjoon had started pulling guns out of a compartment in the floor and handed them to everyone, already loaded and ready to fire.

Seokjin took another pause and made his way over to the door, before pressing the gun just handed ot him against it, just below where his own forehead would’ve been, and pulled the trigger.

Jin didn’t let any time pass before he threw open the door and started firing, swarms of men in the hallway distracted by the death of their fallen comrade.

But even with guns firing and men yelling and falling to the ground, the only sound that seemed to flood Seokjin’s ears was an all-too familiar sound of distant screaming.

“Ah, Jin, thanks so much,” Jin nodded his head slightly, a small smile peeking out from under his shy persona as he stood at the door to one of his new clients' houses.

“No problem, hit me up next time you need, I’m available 24/7,” The man nodded and thanked him again, the door opened just enough for Jin to see a woman in the background, cleaning up what seemed to be the messiest house he’d ever seen.

He didn’t think much of it, he wasn’t exactly the most experienced seller, but messy houses were quite common for addicts, and someone trying to clean up a little to make it look presentable seemed pretty normal to him.

Over the next couple of weeks, this new client of his bought from him several times, and Jin had made more money off of him than anyone else he sold to.

“Hey, man, why don’t you come inside?” Jin nodded and smiled shyly, his hair hanging down in his face as he walked through the opened door. He took a look around, and the house was actually cleaned up a considerable amount from the last time he had been there. He walked over to the couch with Ben, his client, as they took seats opposite each other.

The conversation started slowly and awkwardly, but when the topic changed to what video games they’d been into recently, the conversation grew exciting as they went back and forth talking about their favorites. The conversation also grew a bit loud, something Jin hadn’t really been known for being, and it drew out the woman he’d seen the first time he was here out from the bedroom.

A sweater and jeans barely hung off of her, both looking several sizes too big for the admittedly tiny woman in front of him. She seemed very unsure of herself, hands fidgeting and clasped together with her feet pointed inward as she walked.

“Ah, Jin, I don’t believe you’ve met my girlfriend yet. Rose, this is Jin, he’s a good friend of mine,” Jin waved awkwardly, trying to make himself smaller on the couch as she sat in the tiny available space next to her boyfriend, and still seemed to have room to spare.

She spoke the smallest “Hi” Seokjin had ever heard come out of someone that wasn’t him, and soon, the man he’d just sold an unprecedented amount of percocet to resumed his monologue about Apex.

But Jin wasn’t paying near as much attention as before; his eyes kept darting to the small figure next to him, and the thoughts in his head were all blaring sirens with bright red lights, screaming at him that something wasn’t right here.

Jin had always had one hell of an intuition, but this was something new; something he hadn’t ever experienced before. The anxiety that always seemed to have consumed him was put into overdrive as he sat across from her, her eyes glued to the folded hands in her lap as the uncomfortable energy coming off of her was almost unbearable.

“Well, thanks for coming in, man, I’m glad Rose finally got off her lazy ass and cleaned up enough for me to invite you in,” Jin was stunned, to say the least, but he simply smiled, and left.

He spent the next several days with that overwhelming anxiety flooding him, unable to even get out of bed most of the time as he felt that something was seriously off with her, and the man who so blatantly degraded her in front of him. He all but completely neglected his job, ignoring most of the people who wanted to buy from him, but he never ignored Ben.

He’d be out of his door mere minutes after he received a message from him, and he’d be at his doorstep not long after.

Rose wasn’t usually there. She stayed in the back room most of the time, but every time he’d seen her, he wished he hadn’t.

Cheeks even more sunk in, heavy dark bags under her eyes and clothes even more loose fitting than the previous time he’d seen her. His heart broke every time he saw her, but he just didn’t know what to do.

He’d spent a lot of time researching what to do when you suspect someone is a victim of domestic violence. The signs were all there: low self-esteem, overly apologetic, fearful, extreme weight loss, etc. She almost seemed that if she were to ever show any emotion she would be in trouble.

But the advice on how to help didn’t exactly work in this situation.

He couldn’t just strike up a conversation with her when he wasn’t there. He couldn’t help her come up with a safety plan or a safe word, or even be there to listen to her because there was no way for him to reach out to her, not while Ben wasn’t there.

He almost called the cops a few times, but then stopped himself. There were never any physical signs of abuse. No bloody lips or black eyes, and she always covered up every part of her body except for her face and fingertips, so he couldn’t look for any signs of bruising.

Just after he started getting back to normal, after his anxiety would calm down to the point where it was manageable, and the sirens stopped blaring out of control, he went back to his normal life. He’d start selling to all his other clients again, coming up with lame excuses on the spot as to why he wasn’t answering them.

But one day, months after his first encounter with Ben and Rose, he went back over to sell to them.

This time she had a wrist brace on and a bloody and bruised lip.

“She got into a car accident, thankfully she’s okay.”

Only Jin knew she didn’t have a driver's license, something Ben had brought up a while back because she was too ‘untrustworthy’.

This time he knew he had to do something, and the red lights and blaring sirens came back stronger than ever, but this time they meant something: She’ll be dead if you don’t do something, and do it fast.

But he didn’t know how to handle this situation, and the anxiety was so overwhelming he couldn’t even think of a course of action until hours later.

“Hello this is 911 what's your emergency?” Jin swallowed thickly, his entire body shaking with the anxiety spilling out of him, about ready to explode any given second.

“I need to report a suspected abuse,” his voice was so shaky it was barely comprehensible, his voice moving up toward the end of his sentence as if he were asking a question. He told them the address, and the names of the abused and the abuser before they said they’d be sending a patrol car out immediately.

He sat for a moment after hanging up the phone, on the cold bathroom floor of his crummy apartment. His plan was to stay there, stay there all night and drink away the voices screaming at him to do something, but he couldn’t.

He got up and left, quickly driving over to the house that several squad cars were already parked haphazardly outside of.

He didn’t even have to shut his car off or get out of it to hear the screaming from inside the house. The voices of the cops screaming at Ben to put his weapon down, and of Rose sobbing so loudly he feared he’d never get the sound out of his head.

Several loud bangs ensued, guns being fired inside the home that made Jin’s heart stop.

For a moment, the world went still.

The birds chirping suddenly stopped.

The wind rustling in the trees came to a halt.

Rose’s screaming was gone.

And suddenly, the sirens in his head faded away.

For the first time in months, everything was still and silent, almost peaceful even.

The sirens were gone, and so were the flashing lights. The anxious pit in his stomach had finally subsided into the most blissful feeling of nothingness he’d ever experienced. He was free in that moment. Free from worry about what would happen to her and if she was okay.

He watched as Ben came out in handcuffs, shoved into the back of a cop car that was driven off before an ambulance pulled up in its place. They rushed in with a stretcher that reappeared minutes later, a black body bag zipped up and laying flat on it; no one in a rush to get it anywhere, to get her anywhere safe.

The blissful nothingness he’d longed for months to feel was replaced by something much worse than the anxious sirens begging for help. Now they filled with the guilt of not reacting to them sooner; and the sirens had been replaced with her screams.

He sat outside that house for hours, knees pulled into his chest as he sobbed the loss of a woman he knew practically nothing about. The only thing he ever knew about Rose was that she needed help, and he’d be the only one that could’ve given it to her.

And yet, here he was, sitting alone in a car perfectly safe, a car he could’ve taken her to many times over but didn’t.

In Jin’s line of work, he’d come across many more people like Rose. Soft, sweet innocent people that just needed a way out. And everytime he’d met one of them, her screams would come back to haunt him, reminding him of what would happen if he didn’t step in.

And you were no exception.

Jin had taken down six men by the time Yoongi was able to take down two. He’d never seen anyone able to focus so quickly and perfectly on killing people; but he tried to focus on saving his own life from the man currently charging him rather than how well else was able to pull the trigger.

Both Taehyung and Namjoon were mowing down people, more people than anyone would’ve thought possible to fit in the narrow hallway; the floor now covered in bloody bodies.

Hoseok, however, wasn’t used to all of this. He wasn’t used to people dying and guns shooting, and to be frank, neither was Yoongi. Not to the extent the rest of the men in the room were, at least.

The two of them fell back in the group, Hoseok’s hands shaking violently as he held the gun, and Yoongi only shooting when necessary to protect himself and his clearly out-of-it friend.

They were able to push the hitmen in the hallway back, Seokjin and Taehyung leading them to push everyone back, as far away from the plan and as far away from you as possible.

A door to the left of Yoongi suddenly burst open, Jungkook stepping through with a gun in each hand as he started taking down more than even Jin.

With Jungkook’s help, they were soon able to take down everyone in the hall.

“Everyone, back!” Seokjin whisper-yelled, and everyone moved; retreating back into the the room they’d spent all day in.

As they got back in and closed the door, Yoongi realized something that made his blood turn cold. If Jungkook was here, who the hell was watching you?

Jin had already opened up the wall, which was apparently a door, and was trying to usher everyone inside when Yoongi grabbed Jungkook by the collar and shoved his against the wall, gun falling to the ground with a thud as all eyes fell on the two of them.

“Where the hell is Y/N?” Jungkook’s expression never faltered as Yoongi stared him down, worry consuming his features.

Jin calmly walked up and placed a gentle, steady hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “She’s safe, she’s in a secret room no one can get to. She’ll be fine, Yoongi, but we have to move,” Seokjin’s voice remained calm and smooth as he spoke.

Yoongi’s eyes darted back and forth between Jin and Jungkook for a moment, before he slowly let go of Jungkook’s shirt.

He stepped away from him, nodding his head slowly at Seokjin. Jungkook pushed himself back of the wall, and they all filed into the room Jin had opened for them, the tense air consuming them.

“All right,” Jin started as he closed the door behind them, typing something into the number pad beside it before turning around, locks clicking into place as he turned to address them. “The plan I came up with is going to need a few alterations now,” he paused, his brow furrowed as he thought hard.

Namjoon and Jungkook busied themselves getting equipment - bulletproof vests - and started handing them out, before sliding them on themselves.

Yoongi was on edge, his hands and arms shaking as slid his vest on. He had killed before, sure, but never like this.

The first time was in self-defense. A man trying to mug him coming at him with a knife when he learned Yoongi didn’t have his wallet on him.

The second time was when someone he sold to had a mental break when Yoongi told him he was out of Xanax, and was forced to shoot him before getting shot.

The third was with you, when a man broke into his home to take you from him, to take you back to Zeke.

Now, he didn’t even know how many he’d killed. He spent the past several minutes aiming down the scope of his gun and pulling the trigger. He killed maybe ten? Twenty people? He had no idea, the faces of all of them hidden behind masks and blurring together.

“They’re here now, only god knows how many there are. We can assume that we took out at least half of them in that hallway, but even then, we have a much bigger problem on our hands than I had initially anticipated.” He paused for a second, before shaking his head, pulling himself from his thoughts. “We’re going to split up, three groups. We’re going to surround the room Y/n’s in now. Yoongi and Jungkook will be the ones to get her, the rest of us clearing the path for them to get the the garage. Hoseok and I will be in front of you, Namjoon and Taehyung will be behind,

“We’re going to take two cars, Yoongi and Jungkook, you’re going to get her, get her to the garage, and into the civic, and then you’re going to wait there. The rest of us will get into a different car and leave first, distracting everyone to make them think we have her. You’ll leave four minutes later, exactly four minutes, and we’ll meet up at the getaway house, got it Jungkook?”

Jungkook nods once, and Jin continues.

“You’ll be as inconspicuous as possible. Drive the speed limit, stay off major roads, make a pitstop at a touristy hotel, and whatever you do, make sure she isn’t seen, am I clear?” Jungkook nods again as he reloads his guns and makes his way over to a door that Yoongi presumes the two of them are about to walk through.

Hoseok looked scared as Namjoon handed him his gun back reloaded, and pushed him toward Jin, who was getting ready to walk back out the doors they’d entered through. Taehyung followed Namjoon over to a door on the opposite side of the room as Yoongi and Jungkook were, looking much more cold and emotionless than any of the rest of them had ever seen him.

With his back leaned against the door after everyone had punched a set of numbers into their respective key pads, Jin let a slight sly smirk spread across his almost scarily cocky face.

“See you on the other side.”

Taglist: @pamzn @fvcuidk @cybm1n @limiworld @scuzmunkie @hyunjingin @nellyboosworld @giselleg7784 @zaeve @lovelgirl22 @rosquilleta @kooliv @bangtannie7 @strawberryjimin13 @anjoellamorte @limitlessdespondency @lalaoise @roxy1205 @lavender-ivy @orangecarrotlemon @billy-jeans23 @jwlmnbt @artemis1862 @namjoonsbuspass @luaspersona @wittyreader @be0mluver @acquiescence804 @dustyinkpages @damiiworld @cynicalbitch666 @rosiejunnie @dahliasbouqet

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