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just-a-jock · 4 months

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Doctors appointment

You’ve always hated the doctors office and appointments. Something about waiting around, taking off work early or even entirely just to be told to get some rest always bothered you. After getting your new insurance your friends and family kept pressing for you to get your yearly physical and ended up crumbling to the pressure. You looked online for the first appointment that wouldn’t interior your work and found a 7PM appointment with Dr.Hendrix.

You were happy to find an appointment outside of normal working outs and shocked to even see it was available but you immediately booked it. Cut to today where you are walking into the clinic, Hendrixxx MD. You saw on the sign sounds more like a porn studio than a doctors office. After checking in, the abnormally attractive nurse showed you to the patient room.

As you sat down you looked around the room filled with pictures of insanely buff gay men all partying

“All my patients, aren’t they attractive”

You jump in the chair from being surprised and then turn around and see the attractive 20-something in doctor getup.

“Hi, my name is Dr. Hendrix. I’ll be helping you today” he said we a confidence of a high school jock. He reached out to shake your hand as you see his shirt strain with every movement clear sign of someone who buys their shirt once size too small.

“It’s nice to meet you” you respond shyly as he smirks

“Now let’s see you’re here for your physical…. Okay can you please change out of your clothes and into this” he said rummaging through his drawer until he pulled out a small beige color brief.

“Uh…. What is that. I’m not putting that on” you respond with a bit of worry and shock

“This is standard for any physical preformed in my clinic. I have to inspect your body and skin and I can’t do that with your clothes on. If you don’t want to then we can cancel this appointment but you will be charged the channel fee which is 200% of the service without insurance” he responded smirking almost like he’s said this exact spiel before.

“And how much would that be” you respond

“Well a normal physical here cost $550 per session so you would have to pay $1100.”

You swallow knowing you don’t have enough in your savings to pay that. After sometime you decide what’s the worse that can happen you do have to get a physical anyways and you are already here. You grab the pair from his hand as he smirks watching you walk to the small bathroom in the office.

Inside you start to change out of your clothes and take a glance at the brief before you put it on. The material felt like spandex very similar to the speedos those annoying instagays wear while at the beach. On the top right corner near the groin you noticed the brand name “Jake”. Finally you put the briefs on, feeling the slick Lycra material against your skin especially against your cock making you shiver.

As you walk back in the exam room you see the doctor smile.

“Great, please sit down and we can begin” he said patting on the examination chair

As you sit down on the cold table as Dr. Hendrix looked over your body and going back and forth from his clipboard. He begins touching your body all over specify your biceps, pecs and abs. You were about to say something until…

“So unfortunately you do have a condition called male hypogonadism. Basically your body doesn’t produce enough testosterone.”

You look at him with shock. You have always been healthy and your precious doctors have never mentioned anything about low testosterone.

“ just to confirm I’m going to need to take a look at your testicles” he said

“What? No, why?” You replied in shock and confusion

“Due to your testicles being the center of testosterone production it would give me a better picture”

After taking sometime to ponder you decide to go with it as you wanted to avoid anything bad in the future. You pull down the briefs and let him inspect your private area. You looked at the ceiling trying to avoid eye contact while examined your parts. You felt like he was down there for a while until you felt a sharp pain right in your balls. Quickly looking down your eye widen seeing a needle being struck inside your sack. Inside the syringe was a semi-viscous off-white liquid being slowly pushed inside. Before you’re even able to react the entirety of the needle has been injected into your balls. You finally push back the doctor and fall back onto the chair quickly pulling up the briefs.

“WHAT THE FUCK, what did you put into me” you scream at him as he gets up from the ground with a smirk

“Calm down, I injected you with a testosterone booster to help your body produce more testosterone naturally”

“I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO DO THAT, I’m going to fucking report you to the medical board and get to clinic closed” you said putting your hands on the side of the chair about to get up

“You really can’t make this easy” he replied as he pressed a button underneath his desk. 4 clamps came out of the chair you were sitting at and locked themselves around your wrist and legs. You fight against the restraints but seem to be holding you tighter the more you fought.

“Now that I finally have you settled I can explain to you the procedure. Normally have plenty of guys coming to my office looking for testosterone boosters to help them bulk up but you just wanted a regular check up. Well I couldn’t have someone like you be a regular at my clinic and representing my work so I decided to change you to be more like the others that come out of her”

“ You won’t fucking get away with this freak, let me go!” You shout at him and simultaneously asking for help.

“Oh but I had even a better idea. My clinic finally got access to a trail run of this new medication which is Testosterone replacement therapy and that’s what I inject in you. Basically the medication is mixed with DNA and injected into the subject. Slowly the medication will rewrite the subjects DNA into the provided template. Of course I wanted to try this out first so I decide for you to be my test dummy.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he is doing to you.

“Haha yes I inject some of my semen inside your testicle and soon the process will start wor…”

“AHHHH” you screamed as he was caught off. You immediately starts to feel a sharp hot heat radiating from your cock and balls. “Fuck fuck what did you do to me” you say with your eyes closed. Your body starts to involuntarily start to buck in the air.

“I guess the show has started” he responds smirking and siting back in his desk chair

With the repeated bucking in the air you start to notice your cock get insanely hard straining against the speedo. Your balls start to pull like they have their own heart beat. Slowly your cock starts to expand past it’s normal hard state creating a noticeable bulge in the speedo, the growing balls behind it don’t help in hiding it either as it continues to push your cock to forefront of the brief creating a perfect outline of your cock. You feel inside your ball changing as if your old cum is being destroyed. Your cum factories are being invaded and being modified to produce a foreigners substance. The pulsing starts to increased as you knew it has finally taken over and has started to produce the new boosted testosterone. The hormones starts to travel through your body ready to modify the rest to the provided template

“Please…. Stop..” you’re able to squirm before the change continue on.

Next your body hair starts to fall out leaving your body smooth like those typical gay fuckboys you see all over the beach. Though you notice certain areas actually increase in volume and of course the typical fetish zones. Your armpit hair starts to puff up becoming dark and noticeable from a far. And lastly you lock down as your pubes starts to climb up like ivy on a wall until they rest just above the briefs taunting anyone looking at your cock.

As your body hair finishes up the hormone start to target the main cause of gay desire, your muscles. Slowly your legs start to inflate growing large and strong like you have been doing squats since your teenage years along with your ass growing outwards and making your seat a little more comfortable. You do notice your hole slightly relax cementing yourself as the perfect verse . Your biceps grow along to match your new legs until they are the size of footballs. Next you feel the changes concentrate on your core as a set of washboard abs start to manifest on the service of your stomach perfectly completing the exposed pubes from before. You even notice them growing a little more upwards to perfect the change. Lastly came the beautiful set of pecs which started to pump outwards matching the pulses of your balls. They finally create a nice shelf over your abs as your nipples darken and start to point outward. The changes to your muscles settle as your body looks identical to the hot doctor in front of you. You open your eyes and look around thinking the changes are over until your balls start to pulsate once again. The sensation travels up your body until your head feels a massive pressure. Slowly your bone structure starts to morph mimicking that of the doctors. Your lips plump outwards ready to introduce every and all cocks it can find. Your cheekbones move upwards giving you a sharp face and a semi permanent smile. All the fat melts away from your neck leaving behind a jawline that can cut glass and a prominent adams apple. The changes settle thinking the last of it has happened and pleading to the doctor to change you back.

“Please please, I don’t want this. I want to be me” you beg of him

“Oh don’t worry, you’re going to love your life after a while and you won’t even remember your old one” he said pressing another button as the restraints pull you down forcing you to lay backside to the chair as you stair at the ceiling. You hear him opening his drawer again and rummaging around until he starts to walk over to you.

“Now this is the final step before you become the perfect clone” he said placing a pair of oil spill colored glasses. You scream as he slowly places the glass onto your face until they sit perfect. You immediately quiet down as he smirks know it’s working.

Your eyes are forced open as inside the glasses start to display videos of memories foreign to you. All you can do is grunt trying to fight back from these new memories forcing them selfs inside your brain replacing your old. Your mind is completely enthralled and you almost don’t notice the doctor has pulled down your speedo and whispers something under his breath

This will help the reprogramming along. He places something over his….. your cock. You start to freak out knowing the reprogramming has started to take effect your mind not being able to between him and yourself. As he ticks the speedo back into place you notice this foreign object get right around the base of your cock and slowly start to buzz creating an orgasmic feeling making your mind even weaker and more susceptible to the brainwashing.

Your mouth opens as the video starts to play more explicit images and videos. Guys fucking, partying, doing drugs everything typical of a circuit party gay. The buzzing gets even stronger during these parts causing you to moan. Soon your cock starts to produce precum creating a large wet spot at the front of the cream colored brief. Finally with the last of the programming finishing up you finally see

CUM

With that your body shakes as your cock shoots loads of your old cum all over the inside of your speedo which is quickly soaked up. The doctor finally releases you from the restraints as your body gets up you realize you can still hear, feel and see everything but your body does not respond to your thoughts.

“It worked perfectly. You’re a 1 to 1 replica of myself. Now the technology of the reprogramming is still in being worked on so I’ll need you to keep the glasses on for now. Understood”

“yes” your body responds in a foreign voice and against your will

“Great, now here are my keys and I booked you.. I mean me a flight to Hawaii. I’m going to need you to post content on our profile and make sure to tell guys about our clinic. Now enjoy”

Your body leaves the room still in your speedo. The nurse at the front smirks knowing what just happened.

A few weeks later you are staying at a resort working out in the complimentary outdoor gym. You noticed some guy keeps looking at you throughout your workout. He finally comes up to you while you’re working on the dumbbells

“Wow you’re built as hell bro. Got any tips?” He asked

“Haha come to my room and I can show you” I replied smirking as he got the hint.

#muscle #jock #biceps #hunk #jock tf #nerdtojock #speedo #doctor #pecs #himbo #himbo tf #tyler hendricks

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trashmouth-richie · 3 months

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the raven told me of you

eddie x female reader

crafted from this prompt list by: @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing @allthingsjoeq

summary: eddie is released after six months of being behind bars with a false identity, he was never lonely because you were there with him, until you weren’t. now, coming home to a new life with his old name granted back to him. he navigates flashbacks, and trying to settle back in with wayne in private protective seclusion, alone— or is he?

8.1k

tw: 18+ angst. fluff of a new relationship, light smut— s1, s4 canon events with reader inserted into the timeline, mentions of insanity, death, witness protection, government cover-ups etc. this could be a continuation or stand alone fic of your touch but is not necessary to read.

releasing: thursday 3/7

Owens’ worked his charms. The government covered up the mass hysteria and pinned the murders of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred on an accidental chemical reaction from arsenic, radiation and terpenoids. The results left their bones liquified from the toxic lick of acid and torqued before solidifying once again.

The Hawkin’s Post called it ‘a combination of sickly tainted water from the school cafeteria.’

Parents were urged to have their children tested at the local clinic for extra precautions, and thankfully no one else had been affected.

On Thursday the Eighteenth of September, at approximately 1300 hours… an hour into quiet personal time, Mr. Edward Munson, was once again, a free man.

At first he thought it was possibly a mistake, a horrifying joke fed by his many delusions. But when they called him into the warden’s office, he sat across an oak desk from a tall man with a skin bald head, shining like a lightbulb.

He used Eddie’s full name—not the persona he was given— and gave him ten minutes to collect his belongings. It was then he came to realize that maybe he wasn’t crazy after all.

Six long months in the clink with his brain spinning hallucinations beyond his control he wasn’t sure if he’d come out of it without a government issued lobotomy— and in the blink of an eye, it came to an abrupt end.

Prison was cold, unwelcoming in shades of gray coating the ceilings, walls, floors, any service imaginable. As if there was one color sanctioned to the American Prison system and gray was the less costly option.

Concrete was probably more pliable than his bed was. The food was impeccable— if you were a raven on a mealworm diet. It was just shy of hell, and it made the inhabitants calloused to a helping hand or squirreling away from making friends.

Seven months prior, Eddie was in his prime. For the first time in his life he was happy with where he was at, school was almost over and he had a true chance of walking the stage of graduation.

And you, he had you.

Beautiful, charismatic, sweet you.

It was almost like he conjured you up himself with a hard roll against a plyboard table of a twenty sided dice. Mesmerizing eyes that seemed to shimmer in any light, a smile that could soften Medusa’s rocky stare. You were perfect.

The first time his eyes laid on you was across the cafeteria. Everyone moved with the mundane routine, but you were shining like a spotlight had been placed on you overhead.

Your soft skin beckoned him like a moth to a flame. Smooth as silk, and he started to wonder what would your flesh feel like in his hands…would you cower away from their roughness?

His mind raced, and his heart pumped firmly whenever you walked past him, you smelled like ripe fruit, warming by the sun, and Eddie began to understand why Eve was tempted so easily.

And so began the daily task of seeking you out. He was able to spot you like Waldo amongst the boring gray faces of every other girl.

You shone like a gem, a sapphire filled with the darkest of depths, and like an enthusiast to your craft, he wanted to know the breadth of your soul.

His gem.

It was by total chance that he stumbled upon you after months of stray glances. He was walking backwards, yelling to Gareth about being on time for Hellfire that night, when he bumped into something that yelped in surprise.

It was you.

Sprawled and landing hard on your butt. Papers scattered from the collision of your face mashing into a denim patchwork vest.

He stumbled over your feet, falling beside you in a mess of curls and cigarettes, the one between his lips still intact. Your eyes met his for the first time, and that’s all it took for him to fall head over feet, in this case Reeboks, Eddie was a goner.

Your smile spread a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. And your laugh? Made his knees physically weak.

He still didn’t know how he managed to swing it, but he charmed you into agreeing to a ride home. Conversation came easy with you. You were sweet yet comical, a bit of a smart ass. He was grinning like an idiot.

Chatting about books, then music, he bantered back and forth, teasing on your choice of horror, astounded in your tastes— but nevermore, he was enthused, enamored.

Witty and shit giving, you had him wrapped around your finger before the van pulled in front of your place. A permanent dimple pecked into his cheek that wouldn’t subside no matter how hard he tried.

A ten digit number exchanged on lined paper was the start of the end. A corny fist pump and a pep talk on his jaunt back to the trailer park.

Eddie was living on cloud nine.

He called you that night, foregoing any dumb advice he had seen in movies or heard at school at waiting a certain amount of days or hours, he went on pure instinct alone, and almost threw up all over himself after punching the last number.

You answered with your name after saying a proper greeting and he stumbled over his own tongue before choking out that it was him.

“Sorry who?” you had teased, Eddie’s heart fell into his stomach with relief when you giggled on the other end, “are you calling to sell me some boy scout popcorn, because cheddar is my favorite… but for you I might just buy a tin of caramel.”

A heart laugh erupted from his trailer, loud and barking. “Boy Scouts weren’t really my thing, princess.”

“Ah,” you reasoned, “knots too hard?”

He laughed again, that damn dimple achingly prominent as he smiled through the receiver, and you swore you could hear his cheeks squeak, “something like that.”

An hour had passed and Eddie found himself in the snares of coiled phone cords as he wore a pattern from his bedroom to the kitchen, fiddling with things left on the counter. Even going so far as to start a load of laundry and empty the sink.

You too were in the trenches, living solely on the scraps of information of Eddie’s life that he tossed to you like a pigeon in a park.

He was smart, filled with colossal amounts of knowledge on anything from cars, to reading sheet music. He had an ear for rhythm, cocky enough to have you hum a tune so he could pick up on it, and add to it. Eddie was a closeted genius under the untamed curls.

“Shit— I’m talking too much, huh? " he asked after a long winded speech about a campaign he was planning for the freshman in Hellfire. “I get carried away sometimes,” he admitted with a chuckle, a ripple of embarrassment heating over his body in a wave.

“Not at all,” you eagerly replied, “tell me more about Kas!”

“Well princess, I could show you, if you wanted?” He prayed you’d say yes, to whom or what he was praying to— hewasn’t sure, just crossed fingers and pinched his eyes shut in hopes that you wouldn’t think he was some loser yanking his dick to figurines and elf lore.

But you didn’t, you had said yes faster than he finished asking. And from there— it was history.

He went to bed with a spinning head and a heart wrapped in lace, sugar coated with your sweet voice in his ear, the same lopsided grin he had worn since tripping over you at school.

—

Stepping out into the first breath of freedom, the sun felt heavy on his skin. It itched his arm hairs, the heat touching his neck for the first time in years since he grew out his hair. The brightness stung his eyes.

He had become accustomed to the hollowing sag of fluorescent lights paling his skin to almost translucency, a true dracula in the pits of a four walled hell.

A croaked caw is loud overhead, singular— followed by a fluttering of wings, and the bend of a tree limb.

The clothes he wore didn’t feel like him, the ripped cotton Hellfire shirt wasn’t clean coming in and wasn’t clean coming out, Shredded where the demobats feasted on him like a hotdog at a ball field.

His jeans stunk of decay and murky water from the gate. Caked with mud, dried several times in the days of being on the run, the jeans chafed his skin raw, gnawing on his leg hairs until they popped free, giving up the fight.

A manila envelope held his rings, clashing together in a melodic tone. He slotted them one by one on the correct fingers, yet they felt loose, heavy and familiar all at once.

He was ready to pitch the envelope into a trash bin when he felt something else in the bottom, having to rip it apart to get to whatever was inside. When the ground was littered next to his waterlogged Reeboks, and his palm held the small silver item, his eyes brimmed with tears.

—3

The nightly phone calls soon turned to walks around the trailer park, Eddie listening intently as you strolled around the driveway, kicking up little clouds of dirt or catching the occasional rock with the toe of your sneaker.

He matched your steps, learning about your passions after graduation, how you favored sweets over salty treats, and the embarrassing truth of how after your friend Barb went missing, you didn’t have any friends at school.

“Well, now you have me,” he chirped earnestly, dark eyes squinting in the setting sun as he knocked his elbow with yours, a smirk on his lips, “I’ll take care of ya.”

It was as simple as that, and the easiness of it made your nose tingle with a burn as you fought back tears at his kindness.

Weeks of walking with you after school round and round Forest Hills— the scenery started to change.

The emerald grass faded into sharp tawny weeds. Foliage turned the color of autumn and the air began to crisp and chill.

It was then, on a windy Tuesday afternoon, that Eddie invited you into his home, he made sure to kick dirty laundry under his bed, hide the Playboys in the closet behind an old pair of shoes and empty the heaping ashtrays the night beforehand.

A jewel in a shit shack— you equally looked out of place and fit in with the cluttered belongings of his uncles at the same time.

“My castle.” he announced, bending low and holding the door open like a gentleman.

He showed you around the small square footage, taking less than fifteen seconds to point everything out.

“And that?”

“That’s.. my room.”

It was silly then, how nervous he was to let you into his space, even though during your walks you acquired everything there was to know about him.

—

Snow was on the ground when your after school routine of going to Eddie’s was as second nature to you as breathing.

You were sitting on his unmade bed atop the rumpled comforter and soft sheets, socked toes dangling from the side of the mattress. A textbook balanced in your lap, pencil between your teeth. Your eyebrows pinched in a studied strain as you tried to solve a calculus formula.

His voice had startled you, not sure when he had gotten up or how long he was standing at his desk, looking almost sick.

“Got something.. for you.. something dumb that I saw.”

He tried his damndest to be cavalier. But Eddie was everything but.

Ten dollars in quarters, more hours than he had spent in a pizza joint ever, and a hoard of tiny plastic containers from a machine holding costume jewelry, he had finally gotten what caught his eye.

A silver ring adorning a bat with an indigo colored stone in the center. It didn’t come close to the actual beauty you possessed but the blue stone reminded him of the way you moved through the crowd that day, like a rare gem.

Tired eyes focused on him, a nervous little twitch in his body didn’t go unnoticed as he fumbled with something behind his back, a wanton smile smirked on his lips.

You smile, adjusting the book from your lap and rubbing the pressure from your eyes, “a gift? Ed, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t have too,” he charmed, moving closer into your space, his jeans tickling the tips of your toes, “but… I wanted to.”

“Should I close my eyes?”

He chuckled, “sure sweetheart, hold out your hand,”

Your eyes shut tight, eyelashes squishing against your cheeks as you giggled, “why am I nervous?”

He stared at the rubber eraser shavings that clung to your bottom lip. The graphite on your fingers, a small hole in your jeans atop your knee, showing a smooth expanse of skin that he itched to touch. You had captivated him since the day you crossed his lazy stare in the lunchroom, and he thought of very little else.

He could still hear your squeals when you opened your eyes and saw the delicate ring in your palm. Still feel the way his heart raced when you jumped up and hugged his middle, squeezing him tight against you, the smell of your hair filling his nose with notes of strawberry, or was it peach?

He didn't realize he had the ring fisted in a vice grip until he felt blood in his palm, salty tears collecting in the thickness of his mustache, his lip quivering.

They’re wiped away in haste at the sound of a police cruiser. The familiar scent of thick gasoline exhaust and a camel cigarette follow with the squeak of his driver's door and release of weight on the suspension.

A towering frame crowds the sun from Eddie’s brow. A thick mustache sits square on an egg shaped skull, sunken cheeks replace a once plump face. But the drawl and cigarette smoke are welcoming just the same.

“Hey kid.”

—

Eddie was nervous.

The time you two had been spending together was making him feel giddy. You hadn’t kissed or so much as held hands yet but the air between you both had become filled with dense clouds of lust induced tension— it was hard for him to see straight.

He didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you only saw him as a friend, but tonight was the night the boundaries would cross, and he stood armed like a Paladin, ready to conquer his toughest quest yet, you.

Ice had built up on the broken concrete steps to Eddie’s trailer and your slick bottomed converse hit the glassy surface just right for you to slip backwards, falling into strong leather coated arms.

“We gotta stop falling into each other princess,” he chuckled, holding you tight with hands wrapped around your waist, “gettin’ too old for this nonsense.”

His scent invades you, encompassing you with hints of camels, a stick of big red gum, and starch powdered deodorant.

Your laugh bubbles out of your throat like a giggly champagne, “damn, you got me, totally do this on purpose, insurance claims. All the rage nowadays.”

He buffers for a bit as you tip forward on your feet and spin to face him, one step higher than he stands. “Only kidding,” you tease, grabbing his chin with icy fingers.

His doe eyes stare into yours, lost in the way you made his heart skip and his bones feel like jello, blood ablaze. He’s searching, searching your face for a giveaway— a sign.

And it happens like clockwork.

Your hands rest on either of his cheeks, thumb sweeping softly over the creamy silk of his skin, an audible sigh slides from his throat, followed by a giggle slipping from yours before your voice narrows to a whisper, “lighten up Munson.”

The salmon tone of his lips have gone more cherry colored in the cold, a little chapped from the frigid temps. Not the usually pinkish orangey hue they drew in warm light when he flustered over History notes and Chemistry study cards.

The apples of his cheeks were rosy like a cherub on a Valentine’s Day card, glittered with fancy text swirling of “Be Mine?”

Coal eyes shone with the bright overhead light from the trailer park. A deer caught in headlights.

Eddie was handsome in a way nobody in Hawkins was. A mane of curled brown locks, eyes to match. He was affectionate, easygoing, and you loved him the minute he crashed into you a few months ago.

Hands still on your waist he pulled you towards him, “Can’t,” he breathes, almost silently, a huff of air between you now, “not when I’m around you, never around you.”

Your fingers tangle together around his shoulders, braided in the hair at the nape of his neck, he shudders at the temperature change on his skin.

A quirk in your brow you tilt your head and wet your lips, “why’s that?”

He joins you on the crowded step, taller than you, peering into your face, heavy hands still on the waist, “for months, haven’t been able to think straight when you’re here,” his hands rub on your lower back making lazy circles under your coat with his blunt nails.

“Hmm..” you tease, twirling a curled lock of of the hair framing his face between your fingers, sultry eyes looking up at him in thick eyelashed innocence, “wonder why that is?”

The opening he was looking for, boundary lines down in overgrown grass as if he rolled a crit hit to whatever creature stood in his path was laid out for him.

His forehead comes to rest on yours, surprisingly warm in the cold, his nose like frost as it slid beside your own, bumping and sharing one breath.

“ ‘cause I’m crazy ‘bout you,” he finally admits, heart loosening, unrestricting, “and I can’t stop thinking what your lips would feel like with mine.”

He feels your smile on his mouth, the bated breath you’re holding teasing his tongue, “find out,” is all you can get mutter before his lips press gently to yours.

—

Hawkins was a few hours drive, longer yet after stopping at the nearest diner for a burger and fries. After staring at a menu for more than Hopper’s liking he ordered for himself and Eddie.

The coffee came in white ceramic mugs, the waitress setting them down in the designated spots that were already stained with rings of taupe, years of wear.

“Wayne’s all set up in a new trailer, living high off the hog or whatever he said during our weekly check-ins.”

Eddie ate in silence, chewing slowly, eating but not really tasting. What was freedom if you weren’t a part of it?

He’d be the first to admit that he talked to you when he was stressed. When he thought he couldn’t shut his eyes without seeing the horrific beings that crawled upside down from our world, he turned to your voice, feeling you wrap around him gave him a sense of hope.

“It’s not in Forest Hills, somewhere a little more private, government owned land.”

Eddie sipped at the bitter coffee, taking the burn in a big swig, letting it hurt. Nodding along as he watched his reflection in the dark cup.

—

Kissing you was like being able to breathe underwater, like the 1986 New Year’s fireworks over Lover’s Lake.

He kissed you at your door before school when he showed up every morning to drive you. He stole more kisses in his van, cursing the 8:15 bell, his hands on your waist pulling you further into him.

Standing by your locker, he kissed your cheeks as you dug for textbooks. He pressed his lips to your ear in the lunch line, making you squirm.

He kissed your shoulder when he sat behind you teaching you to play his guitar. Pressing the delicate pads of your fingers into the strings to play each chord with ease.

He’d groan into your neck, while pressing you into the couch, nipping your skin until his lips were raw.

“Where have you been my whole life?”

Your fingers are entwined in his hair, pulling his weight further into you, your legs wrap around his waist, “led astray, lost, so lost.”

He leans up, dark curtains of hair dangling into your face from your position on the saggy couch in the Munson living room.

He smiles a toothy grin, dimples breaching, “good thing I found you then, baby,” he sweeps a rogue eyelash from your cheek, “can’t escape me now.”

“wouldn’t want to even if I were dead.”

—

“Nope, hasn’t said a word, how do you know he can even talk?”

Owen’s sighs on the other end of the receiver, “he’s tough, but he’s been through a lot, needs time to recover, find out who he is again.”

Hopper takes a long drag of a cigarette, “yeah, don’t know about that one doc, he’s mute.”

Short trimmed nails scratch at a tuft of curly white hair, stationed somewhere in Nevada, “Alright, just get him home, I’ll call the uncle and let him know.”

—

Hugs lingered. Kisses deepened. Bodies pressed to one another in a staticky velcro of magnets, unable to peel apart.

Things were hot and heavy between you and Eddie. Smoky, tingly, a fog that had your blood pulsing places you didn’t know was even possible. You didn’t want to be apart, aching to explore every inch of him.

And he felt the same.

Together you set the plans into place.

He purchased the condoms, made sure his favorite mix of the slowest metal music he could find was ready to go. He washed his bed sheets and lit a dust covered candle.

You had done your own routine, showering and thoroughly scrubbing every surface of your skin, lathering a thick lotion on your body, and planting perfume in the direct places Cosmo described as, ‘irresistible’.

It wasn’t his first time. But it was yours.

Running his fingers through his bangs once more he took a last meticulous look around his room, crossing the trailer to answer the front door, where you had knocked quietly.

You were gorgeous, standing in a pair of light wash jeans and a buttoned red sherpa coat. A bag over your shoulder.

“There’s my girl,” he cooed, holding his arms wide and embracing you in his signature bone crushing hug. His lips found yours in a fevered second and he walked you backwards inside, flipping the deadbolt as he kicked the door behind him.

The duffle bag travels from your shoulder to his arm and he breaks away from your tempting lips. Holding your shoulder he pulls you into him, looking at you as he leads you to his room.

“Got everything you need? Toothbrush?”

You smile a little nervously, “check.”

“Okay, pajamas?” he inquires, “could wear mine if you wanted, you’d look pretty damn cute in my Garfield pants.”

“Packed and folded last night,” you say, tickling

his sides, “you were on the phone with me when I did it.”

He stops before crossing the threshold to his room, hands gently pressed to your cheeks, looking into your eyes in a serious manner.

“Are you sure? Like really sure?” his brows knit into concern, “I want you to be comfortable with this.. with me.”

You tug his shirt with a pinched grip, at his waist, staring back into his eyes, the truth on your tongue.

“I want you.”

—

Gravel spits up from the rubber tires as Hopper’s cruiser pulls off onto the secluded road. Eddie’s head hits the window hard with a thud, waking him from a dream.

“Home sweet home, kid.” Hop grunts, cranking the vehicle to a stop after traveling down a long twisting driveway thick with bordering trees and miles of woods on either side. A safe haven for a man deemed dead.

He could make out the taillights of his van, nestled in the tall grass beneath a willow tree, obscured from view. Wayne’s trusty Ford under the carport.

The overcast sky splayed a gray color against the new Munson home, and sitting on steps that weren’t broken, was Wayne.

The passenger door releases with a groan, and he inhales the fresh scent of dirt and summer grass. Finally, he feels like he can breathe.

Wayne’s familiar thin lipped grin is spread wide on his face, smoke lingering from a cigarette in an ashtray. His wet eyes gleam at the boy he once thought was dead, as he stands to greet his nephew.

“Hardly recognized ya with that short hair, Ed, and that beard?” he says rubbing a weathered hand through his own scruff, “givin’ me a run for my money son.”

He hadn’t seen his uncle since that friday morning in March. Unbeknownst to them both, in 15 short hours a cheerleader would die gruesomely in their living room, sprouting a world of chaos and demons, destruction, uncertainty and more carnage.

Hop had explained to Eddie that Wayne was compensated generously for his grief by the United States Government. He was told the ins and outs of what had happened and where Eddie was, and perched on land in a new house, he was told to wait.

—

Spring had sprung, the hard winter that seemed like it would never end was finally seeing its demise. March brought promises of new growth in the soil, and warmer days ahead.

It was a typical Friday, besides a morning pep rally for the laundry basket team after winning an important game the night before.

A pep rally you never attended.

Your back was pressed against the bathroom stall, skirt rucked up with the help of Eddie’s hand.

“We’re… gonna… get caught.” You rasped out between kisses.

His other hand was interlaced with yours high above your head, “probably,” he teased, tongue licking into your mouth, “it’s worth it though? Yeah?”

His hand travels further to the cotton waist of your panties, dragging them further and further down your thigh, his lips assaulting your neck, vibrating with your delicate moans.

“For you?” you question, hooking an arm around his shoulder, as your panties hit the ground, “always.”

He smiles into your lips as he pushes into your warm center, taking the breath from your lungs as you adjust to him, ass cheeks cold on the metal siding of the stall.

Your legs are wrapped into the crease where his elbow meets, his cock dragging in and out languidly, mouths hung open and tasting each other's ecstasy as your eyes drink one another up.

“Swear I’ve never, ever had someone like you, baby,” he gasped, bangs frizzing from being wet from a morning shower then covered in sweat.

Hips pistoning into you, he can feel your walls clench and tighten, your breath choked before you release, saying his name as if it’s the only word you can make out.

He cums hard. biting his lip and burying his face into your neck, “I love you, fuck I love you.”

It was the first time he had said it. He had known it for months, but today in the girls bathroom skipping a pep rally he could give a shit about, he figured it was the perfect place to say how he felt.

He’s still inside you when you say it back, spend leaking from you and onto the tiled floor. Your own eyes wet with the happiest of tears because no one has ever said that to you, not like this.

But this gorgeous man, in all his reputational flaws that didn’t mean shit, loved you. And you had never felt more emotion flooding through you all at once.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

—

Hopper didn’t stay for supper, patting his barely there belly and saying the missus was expecting him home tonight. He tipped a felt hat goodbye to Wayne and to Eddie, telling them to call if they needed anything.

He still hadn’t spoken, only nodded and waved curtly as the red tail lights danced down the tangled web of a driveway.

“Gonna make pork chops if you’re interested,” Wayne chirped, holding the door open for him as they climbed the same number of steps, “learned how to cook, can y’ believe that?”

He smiled softly, carrying his envelope of release papers and setting them on the table.

Everything from the old trailer was ruined. His guitar, all the band equipment he had stored in his room, the mattress that held more memories with you in them that he’d never get back— all gone, burned to a rancid fiery crisp when the fourth chime rang and Hawkins spread open like a festering wound.

The only thing he had of yours was the small bat ring with a sapphire stone.

Ten dollars in quarters at a shitty pizza place. He should have given you something real.

—

“.. yeah yeah and I was full of shit then,” Eddie grinned as Jeff and Gareth teased him about his graduation timeline. “This is my year, I can feel it.. ‘86 baby!”

He was always a flare for dramatics, dungeon master or not he amped it up for the freshman, acting like DnD was life or death, as if the cult of Vecna couldn’t be missed.

To be fair, he spent months on this campaign, late nights plotting and scrawling into a binder as you sat behind him, playing with his hair.

French braids then pippy styled pigtails, a cute bun on the top of his head with little hairs sweeping against his forehead and at the nape of his neck, perfect curls.

“Ten bucks says Wheeler cries when Vecna makes his return.”

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

Shoving Dustin and Mike with specific instructions to find a replacement player for Lucas, he sits down to his measly little lunch, leaning over to your space and whispering so only you can hear.

“After Hellfire tonight you wanna come over? Wayne bought a frozen pizza and I heard that Family Video finally got some good horror flicks in.”

Stealing a pretzel from his fingers you nod your head yes, “ I’ll get the movie, meet you at the trailer?”

The rest of the day dragged on. One boring class after another, students excited for the upcoming game, teachers unable to keep the roar of amped up Jocks under control, but alas the last bell finally rang. Releasing Hawkins High for Spring Break of ‘86.

Some kids went on vacation, others hunkered down with their friends. And some never made it back to school when classes resumed.

Walking down to his designated selling spot at the forgotten picnic table in the woods, he could have never imagined the trouble he’d be in just seven hours later.

—

Pork Chops seared in a pan with some butter and a chopped onion, Wayne had the news playing on the small tv in the kitchen, listening for the weather report.

The trailer was identical to the one lost to the rotting flesh of the Upside Down. Newer, and a damn sight cleaner, but the layout was exactly the same, except for an added bedroom with an attached bath on the opposite wall of the living room.

The filthy hat collection was replaced by odd cowboy decor and small wolf figurines. Eddie paced around the living room, touching the knick knacks that someone else had picked out not even questioning whether or not Wayne enjoyed this kind of stuff.

He had shown Eddie to his room, a navy blue carpet stretched across the floor, a queen sized bed against the back wall. New new new. Everything was foreign to him.

He would miss the heavy creak of a dresser drawer that didn’t shut properly, his closet door that fell off its track years before. Hell, he’d even miss the itch of the green wool blanket he kept on his bed in the winter months.

“Got your own bathroom too,” Wayne said cheerfully hovering in the doorway, hand rubbing the knob as he stared at the floor, “figured you’d wanna shower ‘fore supper, so I laid a towel out.”

Eddie turned his head nodding while he poked at the too soft blanket folded on his bed.

“It’s good to have you home, Eddie.” Wayne said, finally looking into his nephew’s eyes, “didn’t feel the same without you.”

Wayne wasn’t a coddler, he didn’t want Eddie to feel like he couldn’t be trusted, so he turned to leave, “shower’s got real good water pressure.” He takes a glance back at Eddie, and looks around the room before pulling the door shut behind him.

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, turning away at the last second, avoiding the piercing color of Wayne’s eyes before they could break him down.

—

Ten o’ clock on the dot your car crunched onto the dusty driveway of Forest Hills. Eddie’s van wasn’t parked out front yet, but thankfully the Munson trailer was never kept locked.

The trailer smelled of old smoke and musk from two hard working men. Even if the laundry was never caught up, and greasy wrappers from a quick bite of a burger littered the counter— Eddie’s home was comforting to you.

You didn’t have to fumble around for the light switches anymore, walking in the dark you knew where the table could connect with your hip if you weren’t careful.

Ten steps from the kitchen, down the hall was his bedroom door, five steps back led to the bathroom. He had cleared a drawer for you to keep your clothes in, socks, extra pajamas, some of his favorite pairs of your underwear lived in the top drawer on the right.

The mirror on his dresser held a collection of pictures of the two of you from the photo booth at Starcourt Mall, movie ticket stubs, and the mint condition guitar he kept sacred.

A yawn escapes your tired mouth the warmth of a shower calls to you.

Grabbing a towel from the cabinet, the water sputters under the shower head as it always did, and familiar music floods your ears from the thin walls outside.

—

His reflection is gaunt, different than the last time he looked at himself, the night he struck the mirror in disgust.

He’s too happy to rid himself of the swamp smelling clothes that itched and scraped his skin. The lick of a flame would do them justice, good riddance to the worst time of his life.

The shower is bigger, the head double the size of the one he grew used to. The spray of scalding water hits his head like magma. Burning his flesh, washing away months of isolation, stale air, and stiff clothing.

The water released muscles in his back that had grown crimped from the thin cot he curled himself on. His fingers ran through the shorter length of hair on his head, just above his eyebrows realizing it now was long enough to drip water into his eyes.

He didn’t check the labels before rubbing whatever soap or shampoo it was into his skin, but the slide of it onto his pale and gummy mauled scars felt like butter on toast.

Registering the faint scent of a stixky sweet fruit he couldn’t determine if it was strawberry or peach, but the concoction had him clutching his chest, unable to breathe.

It smelled like you.

You. His best friend.

You. His first girlfriend.

You. The only person he has ever loved— so intensely, it killed him.

You you you.

His gem. All sapphire blues with depths beyond comparison to anyone else who simply peaked on the surface.

Gone.

“Ready whenever you are!” Wayne knocked on the door, “pork chop ain’t no good cold.”

He wipes the tears from his eyes. Regulates his breathing with labored intakes. And finally admits the thing he couldn’t for the past six months.

“She’s gone.”

—

“Sorry for the mess, maid took the week off.”

“You live here alone?”

Murmured voices are muffled under the rush of water from the shower, “Eddie?..that you?”

Shuffled steps get closer and the bathroom door swings open, Eddie’s eyes are wide, wild with excitement as they roam over your form.

He licks his lips, stalking towards you in a lazy manner with dark hooded eyes, “prettiest girl in the whole world in my bathroom?” His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, a breathtaking move leaving you giggly as his hand caresses your cheek, “hope you’re naked under these clothes.”

He presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, dipping you low and swinging you back up, he tastes like Mountain Dew and lingering hints of nicotine, spread with a wicked grin.

“I missed you, handsome,” you say, pressing your lips to his again, “so how was it? Did Mike cry when Vecna came back?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, rubbing his hands together, “think I might’ve seen a single tear fall, but they defeated him— crit hit by Sinclair’s sister.”

“Really? That’s.. impressive!”

“It was… shit, I’ve never been more proud of those little assholes.” His smile fades and you know he’ll miss being DM for them next year.

“Eddie?” A small voice asks from the living room.

Your brow quirks in question and he looks at you voice whispering low, “Chrissy Cunningham wants to buy ketamine.”

“What?!” you whisper back face struck in shock, “seriously?!”

Eddie nods, eyes wide in almost disbelief himself, “wanted a half ounce at first, but then said she needed something stronger.”

Your face pulls concern, honestly astonished that someone who seemed so prim and proper would want something like that. Eddie didn’t sell k normally you’ve been with him on multiple occasions and the only thing that was consistent with your peers of Hawkins High was weed.

“Do you even have it?”

“Dunno” he shrugs, lips in a frown, “told her I did because it’s an easy thirty bucks, but I could just crush up some tic-tacs… she wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Eddie? Did you find it?” Chrissy calls out in a nervous pitch.

“I can talk to her while you find something?”

“That’d be great,” he kissed you once more, lips buzzing, “two minutes!” He practically skips to his bedroom and shoots you a wink. Leaving you in a flight of butterflies lining your stomach. Helplessly in love.

—

Inhaling the hot cooked meal that didn’t taste like warmed up roadkill, Eddie sat in silence in a clean pair of clothes that weren’t his, listening to Wayne talk about what he’d been up to since they had last seen each other.

He burned with questions, needing, wanting, aching to know but the only thing he could blurt out came choked and almost suffocating on the use of his vocal cords.

“I need to see her.”

Wayne simply slurped his iced tea, setting the glass down heavy on the oak table, ice shifting. “Figured you would… want me to drive ya?”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head, “I need to go alone.”

With instructions from Wayne on the less traveled roads back to town, Eddie’s van sputtered to life in a cloud of backfiring smoke. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the passenger seat, he knew what would be there, and what wouldn’t.

Nothing was the same. Not anymore.

—

The boat floor was cramped, quite literally packed like sardines in a can, you were somehow lulled to sleep by the sway of Lover’s Lake waters and the even breathing of Eddie’s chest.

Your head tucked beneath his chin, he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could without crushing your bones.

Rick’s offered little comfort for an empty stomach outside of a moldy fruit bowl, an expired beer and a singular can of spaghetti o’s. But you were both safe for now. And that’s what mattered.

The kids, Steve Harrington— of all people— and Robin promised food and any information they could find without seeming suspicious. He was gracious for their companionship, needing something to keep him busy while trying to hide his own slip to insanity from you.

Your tears were endless, soft and steady one minute and the next you were wrecked, in a choked fit clinging to him for dear life.

Eddie’s mind played on replay of your trembling screams when Chrissy’s bones snapped like twigs and her eyes vacuumed out of her skull. Vecna, a made up character that he had been obsessing over for the past couple months for DnD was real.

Killing teenagers for what? World domination? Eddie and yourself were the ones on the run, knowing all too well how a dead cheerleader in his trailer would look to any cop with half a brain.

He’d run forever if it meant not losing you and killing Vecna for good. Everything he had ever known, books of fantasy and creatures that he drew for campaigns, it was all real, and these kids have been fighting it for years now.

The sound of tires crunching on the driveway had his ears perked like a guard dog, followed by three slamming doors. Instructions were given, and he could only imagine that whoever it was was in Rick’s house and it was only a matter of time before they noticed the boat house just like Mayfield had.

The walkie talkie Dustin left was clutched in his hand, you were both fucked, and needed help— now.

—

The Roane Hill Cemetery was eerily foggy, dew coated the hot blades of grass from the sweltered heat. Wayne drew a map on what section you were in. Apparently the number of people lost in the “earthquake” were in the upper digits now, and they were running out of land to bury the deceased.

Those not recovered were given markers slotted into the ground with accompanied by silk ribbons to symbolize hope. They were nestled up under a thick tree line, complete with a wrought iron fence.

He bubbled out a laugh when he crossed by his own empty grave. The headstone was covered in graffiti of wishes to burn in hell. Typical. His death date marked as ‘March 27 1986’. But that wasn’t true.

Lots of people passed that day when hell itself opened a crimson quaking flood. but not him. Although he wished he had.

Pushing forward, he knew had to be close now. The air was thick in the foggy whiteness— blinding him. A high pitched croak screeched from the sky, and he stumbled backward, landing on his ass with a wet thud, a spattering of grass grown wild in tender dirt.

His chest cavity sunk in, gasping for breath but coming up empty. Each threatened choke chipped away at him as his fists tore at the soft ground.

His girl. His gem. Laid to rest.

—

The Winnebago rocked on uneven suspension as Steve winded down the Indiana highway back to Hawkins. It was eerily quiet. Even Robin was silent, planning her mission in her head? You couldn’t be sure.

Tightening the bandana around Eddie’s curls you ask him if it feels okay.

“Yeah, course.”

Days of running. Hours of growling stomachs, unable to keep down food— you prayed this plan of Nancy’s would work, that Max would be able to lure Vecna with her vulnerable mind, that Eddie could distract the bats long enough to have the others attack his paralysis ridden body—it had to work— right?

Eddie sits and pulls you onto his lap, adjusting the spear made by the same eleven year old girl who defeated his campaign a few nights before. Erica, you learned, was a warrior.

“Nervous?” you asked throwing an arm around his neck and whispering into his ear.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “little worried.”

You believed in the plan, in the younger kids, in Steve Nancy and Robin who had been fighting stuff like this from a different dimension for years. They were trustworthy and intelligent.

“It’s gonna work babe,” you encouraged, stroking his cheek, “we’ll clear your name, graduate, and then leave this hell hole, together.”

He looks at you with strained eyes, wetter than usual, “you and me?”

Staring back at him you press your lips to his in a gentle kiss, “forever.”

—

He laid there until the sky turned to ink. Speaking to you in his head, knowing in his deepest of hearts that you could hear him. Telling you how he had missed you, how your beautiful smile played like a film in his brain. How he loved you. and hours have told you sooner, more, every day.

He told you how he wished he was gone too. Would you like that? It could be so easy to do.

Tracing his fingers over the formal font of your engraved name. He smirked at the silly spelling of your middle name.

It was comforting.

Eddie hadn’t felt this sense of calm since the day you hadn’t come back to him in the mirror, and he thought whatever magic spell was broken until you reached for him one last time, promising to never leave.

But you did, and he was alone.

Standing upright, he let out a sleepy yawn, “can I come by tomorrow?” he asked, “would you be okay with that?” He smiled, and bent at the knee to press his lips into the stone above your name.

“Oh,” he remembered, fishing your ring from the breast pocket of his borrowed flannel shirt, “look what I found.”

He held it to your stone, “this belongs to you, baby, I want you to have it.”

Placing the small ring on the smooth base of your tombstone, he gets back up, knees clicking like he’s years older than he actually was.

“See you tomorrow, my sweet gem.”

—

The night air shifted on his drive home, blowing a chilling breeze from the north that whipped his hair around his ears. The van struggled on the drive home with each gust that blew against the metal frame.

“Think we’re in for a storm tonight.” Wayne said when Eddie breached the front steps, straightening his arm, “ol elbow’s actin’ up.”

“Kinda cold for September, right?”

“All of a sudden it dropped about thirty degrees, somethin’s a brewin’.”

Wayne had his truck keys wrapped around a finger, “I gotta go check on Miss Pam, her husband died in the uhh.. anyway, she’s not doing well and you remember how those damn lights always went out? I’ll be back after while.”

Eddie grew a smile, “should I wait up?”

Wayne stopped in his tracks, talking around a smirk hiding a laugh, “don’t get smart with me.”

They both share a glance and laugh softly, and Eddie still has a smile even after the rumble of Wayne’s pickup gets carried away in the wind.

He locked up, pulling the vinyl shades and unhooking the curtains, pitching the trailer into darkness right as the rain pelted the window panes.

Wayne must have made his bed when he was in the cemetery. A small radio was perched on a nightstand and after slipping into starched pajama pants, from the fancy dresser, Eddie fiddled with the knob until the faint guitar sounds filled the room.

Thunder grumbled in the distance, but what he heard next was repetitive, growing louder. Shit, maybe Wayne didn’t have a house key.

“Ya know,” he says, walking to through the kitchen to the front door, “you tel me not to wait up but then you bang on the door because you don’t have keys? C’mon!”

The door swings open with a final gust of wind. Mud sloshed on his feet, Rain splattered his face. But that was not a concern.

A beautiful face, covered in Earth. Eyes he hadn’t seen outside of a mirror in months. You wore the same thing he last saw you in, same tattered wear that his Hellfire shirt had, but it somehow looked soft.

“I promised you forever.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #ziggy writes #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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mavrintarou · 1 year

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[9:37 A M] Sakusa Kiyoomi

Just a short drabble - short, sweet and smutty Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Warning: smut; fluff . Only very few have ever seen Sakusa Kiyoomi’s teeth.

Haters will say he’s got a mouthful of crooked teeth. That’s why he’s always hiding behind a mask or has resting-asshole-face.

Little do they know…

Sakusa Kiyoomi has the straightest and whitest teeth.

Any dentist would beg to ask him to be their model for their clinic.

Throughout your three-year relationship, you possess only a small collection of photographs capturing those rare split-second instances when Kiyoomi flashes a smile, showcasing his teeth. However, these precious images remain exclusively for your eyes, as you have chosen to keep them private.

You had set a particular photo as your lock screen, and during a romantic couple’s getaway, your girlfriend momentarily caught a glimpse of it. To your surprise, she gasped, her voice filled with suspicion, “are you… cheating Y/n?”

The accusation caught you off guard, and a frown formed on your face as you responded firmly, “no.” The question offended you; you took your relationship with Kiyoomi seriously and would never entertain the thought of cheating on him. Ever.

“Then who is that man on your lock screen? That’s not Sakusa-kun.”

Your head cocked to the side. “What?” And then it hit you; they have never seen your boyfriend smile with teeth. “It’s… no, I’m not cheating.”

She wasn’t convinced. “Cheating is bad, Y/n.”

You burst out laughing, “I’m not cheating, I promise.”

Fortunately, she let the matter go, ultimately placing her trust in you and believing you were faithful to your boyfriend.

Later that night, you muffle your moan with one hand as Kiyoomi slams his hips into yours. He knows you love it when he stuffs your pussy with his entire cock. He finds it as exhilarating as you do to hear the lewd sounds of skin slapping and echoing in the whole room.

His strong arms hook behind your knees, and he presses them into the futon. With your flexibility built up from doing yoga for years, Kiyoomi loved bending you in all ways possible to feel deeper and closer to you.

“What’s wrong?” His chest is pressed against yours. “You’ve been quiet all evening after dinner with your girlfriend.”

You thread your hand through his curls before locking your arms around his neck and shoulder, “Ina saw my lock screen, and it’s a picture of you and me, and she didn’t recognize you. She thinks I’m cheating on you.”

Kiyoomi frown; hips stop pounding into you. “What picture?”

You reach over to grab your phone, showing him the picture on your screen.

As he caught sight of the photo, he burst into laughter, recalling the time you had jokingly mentioned how he seemed like a different person when he smiled with his teeth. Teasingly, he asked, “but are you cheating on me, though?” He rolled his hips in a slow deep thrust, making you moan.

You pull him down for a kiss, “I suppose I’m cheating on you with smiling Omi.”

Kiyoomi flashed one of his smiles with teeth and dimples – one that he knows always makes your heart flip. And pussy clenching.

The following day, Ina’s eyes narrowed at the fresh red mark on your neck.

“Stop staring.” You muttered, cheeks heating up. You had explicitly told Kiyoomi not to leave a mark in the most conspicuous spot, yet there it was, a noticeable mark right where you had warned him not to leave one.

“You and Sakusa had a good night,” Ina’s boyfriend laughs. He nudges Ina, “this girl knocked out as soon as her head hit the pillow.” He looks at the empty spot beside you, “where is he?”

“He’s coming.” You answered, adjusting the scarf around your neck.

“Who?”

The three of you glance up to see Kiyoomi without a mask. He smiles at everyone with his teeth. “Morning, guys.”

“Mor �� morning…” Ina muttered, eyes bulging. She looks at you, “that picture on your home screen is Sakusa-kun?”

. . .

E/n: nothing edited - it's a long day of work for me so I needed to release some stress. Yes, I need to get back on Wipe Your Eyes lol

>>>@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermnethooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @omissanitizerlol

#haikyuu sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa smut #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x you #kiyoomi sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut

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sunshine-theseus · 6 months

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Photo Roulette | Chloe Kelly x Reader

Words: 1.6k Summary: Media day has Chloe finally revealing her relationship. Warnings: Angst, fluff, suggestive themes (I know degrees like PhDs take super long but for the sake of this story please either pretend they don’t, or that she is super smart and managed to cut the time in like half.) Requested by - @charligrantismygirlfriend

After graduating from Oxford with a bachelor’s degree and PhD in Cellular and Molecular Biochemistry, I made the move to Manchester as a clinical biochemist. Falling in love with a professional footballer was not on my list of things to do when I moved, but when a new work colleague insisted I take their extra ticket to a “derby match” as they called it, I took the chance to broaden my non-existent Manchester social circle.

And somehow, I caught the eye of the blonde forward. The number 9 jersey found it’s way into my hand with a signature and phone number and by 7pm that night, I had a date set up.

We went on a few before Chloe and I made anything official. And with making it official, came a set list of rules regarding our relationship and her work, number one was that it didn’t exist to fans. Well, it did, but no one would know who the mystery girl was. It was a tough rule to follow, it meant whenever we hung out, we had to be hyperaware of our levels of affection and what we discussed. Dates had to be at home or in a very secluded corner of a high-end restaurant with a name no one knows how to pronounce, because that means no one there would care who we are.

I was, and forever will be grateful that those places weren’t an issue for us. Both with rather lucrative professions, my starting salary slowly increasing the longer I stay, and her’s naturally growing with the popularity of the game. It also meant it was easier for us to find a more private area to buy a house, 1 ½ years without a single issue of fans knocking on the door or press waiting for some big news story to break. The perfect paradise.

No one knew who the famous Chloe Kelly is dating and had no way of finding out. Until media day.

“Have fun! I won’t be finished at the lab until late, so maybe we’ll get takeaway for dinner?” I kiss Chloe goodbye as I pick up my keys and bag from beside the door.

“For sure! Have a good day staring at cells. At least it’s not jail cells.” I chuckle and make my way out.

My day is in fact consumed with studying pathogens within blood and other bodily fluid. It’s nearly 6pm when Filipa taps me on the shoulder, breaking my concentration and reintroducing me to my surroundings. She helps me pack everything away, we say our farewells and I head home, picking up a vegetarian pizza on the way.

“How was media day?” I ask, plopping down on the couch next to Chloe, who rests her arm around my shoulders.

“Bloody weird as usual. I did this “go through your phone” thing, but it was all good fun. I did some mini games with Yui as well. She wants us to come over for dinner again sometime.”

“Absolutely. I miss her oh my god.” I take a bite of the pizza and rest my head on her shoulder, images on the telly flashing in front of us, neither one paying attention.

“How was your day at the lab Dr Spencer Reid?”

“You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again?”

“Mhm.”

“Spencer and I are two different types of doctors.”

“Mmhm.”

“I mean we both have the honorifics but his is like, not the same. Well it is but… never mind.” I can see Chloe’s lip twitch upward as I try to explain and lightly nudge her.

“I love listening to you get defensive about your title. You deserve it more than anyone in the world.” Her lips press gently to my hairline, then to my cheek, and finally land on my own lips.

“Plus, I love calling you doctor, it’s kind of hot.” My face flushes and I smack her arm.

“Behave!”

“Sorry… doctor.” To make it brief, the night didn’t end there. It ended much, much later, with both of us panting, the cotton sheets covering her soft skin while I splash my face with water in the ensuite.

~~~~~

I don’t give the results of Chloe’s media day another thought for a very long time. Until a month later when Fillipa, in similar fashion to the day of filming said content, breaks me from my work and places her phone on the desk in front of me.

I give her a rather confused look, but she just points to the screen and presses play.

“Well, the next part of Unlocked is one of my favourite bits; Photo Roulette.” The guy who sits next to Chloe explains the rules.

“Fillipa what is this?”

“Just keep watching.” I watch as Chloe scrolls through the thousands of photos stored on her phone, until he tells her to stop.

Her finger lands on a photo, one that no one can see yet, and she lets out a hearty laugh.

“’S it a good one?” he claps his hands together and waits to see the results. There are a few moments of silence before Chloe explains the picture, showing it to the host.

“It’s a picture of my girlfriend, Y/n. I was trying to teach her football and she comes out in this goofy old kit of mine that’s like 4 sizes too big for either of us, socks rolled all the way up with a huge grin on her face.” The smile that shines on Chloe’s face as she recounts that day makes it hard for me to feel the anger boiling in the pit of my stomach. The picture shows up on screen, taking up the whole space, and now the secret is revealed to everyone who we worked so hard to hide it from.

“Is this the secret girlfriend you’ve been hiding the identity of for over 2 years? You finally decided it’s time.” He lets out a laugh after the comment, but I can see the recognition in her eyes and the smile fades from her face. She doesn’t say anything.

It takes me 32 minutes on average, to drive home. On any other day. But when I get into the car, I have to decide whether I should take significantly longer, or cut the time in half, to confront my girlfriend with my findings.

I arrive home at 5:21. With the combination of leaving work a few minutes early, and the somehow blessed lack of traffic, it’s nearly 15 minutes earlier than usual.

“You’re home early!” a cheerful shout echoes down the hall, blissfully unaware of the rage bubbling beneath my skin.

“Just thought I’d get home before the fans tracked me down and swarmed me.” I seethe through my teeth as I kick off my shoes and make my way toward our bedroom.

“What d’you mean?” it’s almost precious, the confused look and the head tilt that greets me.

“Well now that everyone knows who I am, I didn’t want to risk being seen.” I see the moment of realisation.

“Oh fuck I completely forgot! I didn’t mean to I swear. I’m so sorry it just slipped out.”

“How do you slip up like that Chlo? That was our one agreement, our one rule. Fans would not know. God I’ve seen how cruel people are to player’s partners, I’ve seen couples break up because of fans. Chloe what the fuck!” I fall forward onto the bed and scream into the pillows.

“Well you never asked how I feel about having to hide my girlfriend from everyone! I get you want privacy and security of fans not knowing but I want to be able to celebrate with you after wins, or just rest in your arms after a loss, without worrying if someone will see. I want to be able to take you to big games and pull you onto the pitch and kiss you in front of everyone and show them how much I love you. It’s not fair that I have to pretend you mean nothing!” A tear leaks from my eye, and I soon start to sob. My shoulders shake and I can feel the puddle of tears get soaked up by the pillow.

I feel the dip of the bed beside me and Chloe’s arm wraps around me while her lips press light kisses against my back.

“I’m sorry. I want to be there for you too. Show the world I love you. I’m just scared. I’ve never really been seen by people outside of academics. I’m scared to just… be seen.” I roll over and pull Chloe down to rest her head against my chest, running my hands through her hair, untangling the small knots.

“I will love you no matter what. If you decide to continue keeping it private or if you, break up with me.”

“Chloe I will not fucking break up with you. I think- I think I want people to know. I want to love you properly.” Her head tilts up and I lean down, pressing a kiss to her lips.

~~~~~

“Chloe Kelly takes a shot… AND IT GOES IN. SHE SCORES THE WINNER IN THE 92ND MINUTE!!” I yell from the friends and family section as Chloe practices shots in front of me.

She turns dramatically toward me with a glare on her face, but I poke out my tongue and she breaks out into a smile. She makes the short jog over to me and pulls me into a kiss. A rather passionate one if you want to be specific. I grab her by the shirt and pull her close, kissing her harder as people around us jokingly cheer.

“See you after the game baby.” she pecks my lips once more before running back to her teammates who clap her on the back and tease her.

“That’s my girlfriend!” I scream and point, and the same people laugh along with me.

Thank god for media day.

#woso x reader #womens soccer #woso #wsl #chloe kelly #chloe kelly x reader #woso fanfics

368 notes · View notes

badnoahmens · 6 months

Text

I Took Your Keys, It Was Me - Part 4

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: approx. 3.7k

A/N: This fic has been a sloooow burn, so maybe it’s time to change the pace? Thank you to everyone who has kept up with these updates to far, I’ve been uninspired and your kind words have been the only reason I have been writing this 🖤

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The noise of sirens rang in your head, bouncing in your skull. It took minutes before the blur from eyes started to fade away, the sounds of the world coming into the correct frequency.

There was something sharp and uncomfortable poking into your side which made you squirm, still unable to fully open your eyes.

There was a crackle and some movement to your left, murmurs growing louder as each second ticked by. There was a trickle of warmth running down your face, your arm, and now that you think of it, most of your body.

The sharp pain to your left grew stronger, causing you to lurch forward and scream, the sudden pain contorting your insides into an excruciating puzzle.

The buzzing grew louder, and the lights surrounding you shone brighter than a second ago. There were noises of people and machines and cars and just about everything else that made your head spin even more, making the dizziness unbearable.

Without thinking, you twist to the side, upheaving the contents of your stomach onto the floor, leaning through an opening that wasn’t there a second ago.

You could feel arms pulling and twisting at you, and you couldn’t do anything but succumb to their will.

As the tugging of limbs pulled you from a twisted metal cave, the trance of consciousness wavered, and eventually fell silent.

The incessant beeping is what awoke you, the tight restrictions of medical tubes wrapping your arms came next. Your eyes blink slowly, bringing into focus the white clinical walls that surround you. A shadowy figure was by your side, details of their face too distorted from your blurred vision to make out who it was.

As you begin to twist, the figure moves, coming closer to you, making it easier to make out their features. It’s your friend, the one you haven't seen in weeks, the one you thought that you should tell about your dates with Noah, the same friend who came to the Bad Omens show with you way back when - all of two weeks.

Her face looks like fear being masked by a fake sense of confidence, it was easy to tell that she was putting on a brave face as if not to scare you.

She calls your name, and you respond with a slight smile.

“What on earth happened?” she asked, voice laced with worry, a hand finding their way to rub soothingly on the bare skin of your arm.

“I think…. My car… I pulled out in front of someone?” you ask, still unsure yourself, finding it difficult to make sense of the flash of memories from that moment.

She takes a moment, looking over your bandages, the tubes sticking out of you, and the drip that steadily held the pain at bay.

“Well that was kind of a stupid thing to do” she laughed, and gave you a look that you were all too used to.

You chuckle in response, her humour was something that always made you smile. The sarcastic jokes between you two growing up had become the love language of your friendship.

It was in this lull of silence that there was a knock at the door. Both your heads tilted to view who entered in.

You have a fond smile, as much as you could manage in this state, to Noah as he walked in, who looked like his eyes almost fell from their sockets. With a quick few steps, he was by your side, sitting opposite your friend.

If Noah looked shocked to see you, your friend looked like she just saw a ghost. He face didn’t move a muscle, eyes glued to Noah as she watched him take in the image of you in the hospital bed.

It was then when it clicked; you still hadn’t told her about everything.

It had all happened so fast, and you thought you were doing the right thing. Keeping your meetups private was you trying to be respectful of Noah.

Right now though, it would probably be best if your best friend had known what you had been up to.

Noah calls your name, bringing you out of the daze you were in. He looks at you with a worry stricken face.

“It’s okay, I’m okay… I think” you trail off. Your hand pats the top of his, that was hesitantly wavering on the side of the bed. Just as you feel the awkward silence begin, a doctor enters, flashing a glance between the three of you.

“You’re mostly right” he said, referring to your comment. “Lost a bit of blood, got a few cracks in the ribs, and you were severely dehydrated.”

The doctor seemed very relaxed about the state you were in, giving a strange sense of comfort. If he was calm, then you should be too.

“You’re going to need a hand moving around though. Your abdominal muscles will hurt like hell for a while. Is there someone who can assist you with daily tasks?” He asked, flicking through the clipboard of notes that hung by the end of your bed.

“Yes, she’ll be looked after” Noah responds, before even letting you speak.

“Great! You’ll be discharged soon. Take it easy and come back for a check up in a few weeks” the doctor stated, then exited the room.

“Noah…” you look at him, but he simply shakes his head.

“I’m the reason you’re here, I’ll be the reason you’ll recover just fine”. He sits back in the chair, glancing at the machines by your side. His jaw clenched as he looks away again.

“It’s not your fault” you say almost sternly, shifting as you try to sit yourself upright. The pain that tears through your abdomen makes you gasp and fall back, wincing and squeezing your eyes shut. It takes a moment for it to settle, and once it does, you let out a shaky breath.

As your eyes peel open, you look back at your friend. It was as though she was frozen. A statue. Eyes still locked on Noah, mouth slightly ajar.

“Is he the one who hit your car?!” she whispered, looking at you in a not-so-hushed tone. Her expression looked almost angry as she glanced at him again.

“No! No that’s not it!” It almost made you laugh, which hurt your chest.

“After the show the other week” you wince again, pushing in your arms to straighten yourself up. “Noah and I got talking. We've been talking.”

Her eyebrows raise in disbelief and she leans in close to you.

“Are you telling me you went on a DATE. And this has been going on for WEEKS?!” She attempts to whisper again, failing to hide her shock from Noah.

“We caught up yesterday… and today…”

Her reaction was yet again priceless. This time, along with the wide eyes, a smile graces her face, seemingly overcoming her star-struckness as she leans back in her chair.

“Do you know how insane this sounds? Like, this is actually crazy” she was now talking as if Noah wasn’t even in the room. She continued, “so, you’re dating the frontman of our favourite band?”

Your smile was all the answer she needed. She squealed in excitement, bouncing out of her chair to readjust her legs.

“You have to tell me everything about-“

She was cut off by Noah clearing his throat, a smug smile on his lips, even if he was still avoiding eye contact.

You mouth an “I promise” to your friend, who nods understandingly. She then stands, gathering her things into her bag and propping it over her shoulder.

“I’m only a phone call away. I mean it. If you need anything.” She stated matter-of-factly. You nod, squeezing her outstretched hand, before she bids her farewells and exits the room.

“She seems like a great friend” Noah comments as the door closes.

“She is. Been by my side forever” you say. Toying with the flimsy white hospital blanket. “You know you don’t need to help me. I know tour is still going and-“

“There’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s all been handled” he says calmly, intertwining his hand with your fidgeting one, looping his fingers between yours.

“Thank you” you say with a shaky voice. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were scared.

Over the next few hours, there are a few more visits from nurses, making sure that the injuries weren’t serious and that you were in the clear to leave. They seemed relieved when they saw the way Noah held out his hand for you to steady your balance. Despite a feeble attempt to walk on your own, he was insistent, and you couldn’t deny that it was indeed helpful to have him there.

He helped you into a cab that was ready and waiting, and you gave the directions to your home.

The cab ride was quiet, but Noah kept his hand in yours. He was careful as to not squeeze too hard as to hurt the bruising, and rushed as fast as he could to hold the door open for you when you finally arrived home.

You step from the cab and gather your belongings in a small bag, which Noah promptly takes for you and slings over his shoulder. You huff in response.

“I’ll need that so that I can unlock the front door.” You hold out a hand expectantly, but Noah ignores it. Instead, he runages through the tote, shuffling back the phone, wallet, even a stray tampon, and then raises the keys triumphantly. A few silver keys dangled, paired with your old key ring and the key to your car.

“I remember these!” He said happily as he reminisced on the story of how you met.

“That seems like forever ago” you reply, following as Noah walks towards the door, swinging it open and motioning his hand in front of him.

You step through the threshold and into your living room, glancing around to see the scattered mess that you had left pieces of clothing strewn carelessly by your bedroom door, after the fiasco that had made you be in such a rush earlier that morning. It was a little embarrassing, but with the feeling of drowsiness starting to set in, it didn’t really bother you that much.

Noah walks past you, placing your bag of belongings into the small island that was the center of your kitchen. He notices the yawn you let out and walks over to you, gently placing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a hug.

Your arms curl up to his chest as you rest your shoulder on him, his heartbeat steady beneath his shirt. Your eyes close, and you let out a breath, feeling content for the first time in hours.

“You should probably get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” His grip tightens, and then loosens, as if to gesture to you to do as he says.

And you were not in the mood to argue. “Make yourself at home” you say, looking up at him drowsily, and he offers you a sweet smile back.

Without anything else said, you turn, heading straight for your bedroom. With the door closed, lights off, and finally under the covers, it didn’t take long to fall into a deep sleep.

It might have been the pain killers, the dark room, and just because you were flat-out exhausted, but it was hours later when you finally woke up.

There was no way of knowing what hour it was, your phone was somewhere else and the sky outside was a dark veil of a blue-black. Tip-toeing to the door, it creaks open, the light from the kitchen and living area still alight.

The clock on the wall shows the hands pointed at 12:45AM, and the TV continued to play a show that you hadn’t seen before. You walk towards the lounge, trying your best to be quiet on the hardwood floors as you could see an arm slung sleepily over the edge of the lounge, but fail once something twitches inside you, tugging at the injuries. You let out an involuntary yelp, falling forwards, arm only just catching the back of the sofa. Your other arm curled around your torso, clutching as though you were trying to hold yourself together. Tears started to well up and you were breathing heavily, huffing to try and control the searing pain that was starting to spread.

You startle Noah as he jolts upright in a panic, his hair completely strewn. His eyes are still half closed as he stumbles to his feet over to you, tripping over his feet a little. When he reaches your side, he helps you, taking a hand in yours, the other hand resting on your shoulder, semi-carrying your weight to lead you to sit down.

He steadies you as you lower, sitting while letting out a shaky breath. He still had your hand, clutching your fingers between his as your heartbeat finally started to come down to a normal pace.

Noah’s face was still covered in shock, processing what was happening around him. He looked concerned, hesitant to move, to touch you or help in any other way.

“I’m…. so…. sorry…” you huffed between breaths.

“S’okay” he murmured in response, clearly still half asleep.

“I can’t believe you’re still here” you say, looking at Noah, who met your eyes. It was an attempt to fill the silence growing in the room, and to distract you from the throbbing still occurring in your ribs.

“I wasn’t going to leave you here on your own.”

“You have things to do, shows to play. You can stay here, of course, but don’t you need to leave soon?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” It was the casualness that he said it, that made you worry.

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, and he smiles, looking down at your hands.

“Everything has been sorted.” He comments, wriggling his fingers, turning your hand over in his.

“You’re awfully vague for someone who has everything planned out,” now you’re watching your hands, Noah begins to trace the lines of blue veins he sees under your skin.

“You didn’t cancel, did you?” It was almost embarrassing how fast you came to that conclusion, but he chuckles.

“No, the show is still happening. It’s not that far of a drive. Everyone else is heading in earlier, and I’ll meet them before the show starts.” He places your hand down, lifting his arm to rest over your shoulder. “And so will you.”

You look at him, unsure of what he was going on about.

“I don’t ha-“

“Like I said. It’s sorted.” He gives a small eyebrow raise as if to imply ‘I win’.

You, on the other hand, determined to flesh out as many details, pressed on.

“So how will we get there?”

“Car.” Noah was quick to respond.

“Who’s car?”

“Hire.”

“How long of a drive?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

He was looking smug now. You thought quickly to come up with more questions.

“What about after the show?”

“I’ll drive you back.”

“You’re not doing that.” You demand. That was too much on him.

“Yes I am.” He sounded like a stubborn child.

“It’ll be too late.”

His head rolls to the side, looking directly into your eyes.

“I’m a big boy, I can drive at night.”

It might have been the confidence that oozed from his voice, or the fact that he just called himself a ‘big boy’, but you felt something flip inside your stomach, a heat rising up to your chest, red bow flushing your cheeks with a hot glow.

All you could offer was a smile, looking back into his dark oak eyes. The way he was looking at you made you feel the safest you had ever felt.

Something came over you, and you held your breath, eyes slipping closed as you lean in, ever so slightly to Noah.

It could have been a hug, a kiss on the check, or something more mundane, but Noah knew this was an invitation. One he happily and needily accepted.

His lips meet yours, keeping his pressure light, but you needed a little more than that. You leaned more into the kiss, and he read the message loud and clear. His body shifts so that he’s facing you, leaning back and pulling you with him to sit atop his lap. Your lips are moving a little faster now, starting to part ever so slightly, so much that you can just feel Noah sweep his tongue over your lip. You reciprocate the action, holding onto either side of his face with your hands, knees now pinned on either side of his torso. Your lips part again, this time offering your tongue, and Noah opens needily. His breath is hot on your face as he tries to hold back every nerve in his body from taking this too far.

His head shifts closer to you, doing what he can in such confined space to bring you closer to him. His mouth moves with intent, like he was controls g each micro movement of his.

With the slightest tilt of your head, Noah’s lips crept to the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of fire where his lips and tongue darted across your skin. His hands gripped at your waist, digging into the sensitive skin being exposed from your shirt being tugged up just a little. His thumb rubbed carefully as though to say sorry, even though he wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.

All your mouth could do, while Noah’s lips were now starting to run down to your collarbone, was hang open. The sensation, the heat, and the overwhelming fire inside you made it impossible to move, just in case if you did then all this would stop.

Noah watched the way you were falling apart, and he loved every second of it. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, he wasn’t going to hold back anymore.

When his mouth returned to yours, you followed his lead. Tongues were dancing intricately and intensely with each other. Heavy breathing would waft in brief periods when either if you needed a second to catch your breath, so the other would find something else to do with their mouth.

His hands are tight on your hips, fingers trailing up and down under your shirt, leaving the slightest of red marks from the pressure. It took everything in you to ignore the glaring pain that burned in your ribs, the feeling of fire ripping from both sides made your breath stop. Your head lifts a little, slowing down your passionate kiss, but Noah raises his head with yours, although as to make the moment linger for just a while longer.

You hated to do it, but there was no choice. The already existing bruises and injuries, paired with the lack of oxygen from not breathing properly was enough to make you lightheaded. You would have doubled over if you hadn’t already been laying horizontally.

You pull away, shifting so your hands are in fists on either side of Noah, bundled up and pressed into the thick fabric of the lounge. Eyes are tightly squeezed shut to focus on controlling your breaths.

Noah watches as a panic starts to rise.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“Noah, shut up.” You bark. His rambling makes it harder to will yourself to sit upright.

You push yourself back, now kneeling back in your legs, perched on Noah’s lap. Brushing your hair from your face, it takes a moment to steady yourself, but after twenty seconds, your eyes open. The pain is starting to subside.

Noah looks like he was in trouble. He held his hands up in surrender beneath you. Eyes blown wide as he took in the sight of you sitting precariously close to a certain something he had no control over in his pants.

He begins to shift beneath you, pulling himself up onto his elbows, eyeing you warily.

“Was that too much?” He questions.

One of your hands goes to rub the side of your face, eyes droop closed. You nod in response to him.

“It just hurt a little.”

You hadn’t noticed the tear that slipped out until it rolled down your cheek and fell onto Noah’s white shirt. His hand rubs up and down your arm to comfort you. With another shaky exhale, you open your eyes. Noah is being careful, despite his own desires at the moment, he looks at you as if to find the answer to what you need in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you finally say.

“For comforting you, or for kissing you?”

“…is it too weird to say both?” You both chuckle at the awkward remark. “I guess making out while you have injuries from a car accident isn’t the best way to have your first kiss together.”

Your legs slip off Noah, standing slowly and straightening out the clothes which had become so very twisted in the moments before. Noah sits up too, tugging at the sweatpants so they sit better, before reaching for a pillow, placing it gently on his lap.

You raise an eyebrow at him, before letting out a gutsy laugh. His eyes widen and looks to be shy all of a sudden.

“What?! I’m trying not to ruin the moment!” He states, but you can’t respond, still laughing at the innocence contrasted with the reason.

“Look, there’s other ways to get rid of it” he murmurs beneath his breath, teasingly, yet cautiously. His eyes are on you, wondering if the lewd joke had pushed the boundaries.

There was no denying the fire of lust burning in you, the way he made you feel made you weak at the knees.

“If it weren’t for these injuries, I’m sure we’d be finding out what those ways are.”

The somewhat directness from you caught him a little off guard, and it turned him on even more. He had to shift in his heat and readjust the pillow just to make his arousal a little less obvious.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state, and the way he looked away from you when you turned to see his reaction. He even raised his hand, biting down on a finger in an attempt to distract himself.

You laugh again, knowing full well nothing else could happen. These injuries were cockblocking you to the extreme. As inviting and tempting as he was, the pain wasn’t worth it. He knew it too.

After the moment had passed, Noah shifted again, moving the pillow so it sat by his side. He padded it, and you lay down, placing your head on the pillow. His fingers start to tangle with your hair, pulling and twirling the loose threads that were strewn across your face.

The low murmur from the TV was enough of a lullaby, paired with Noah’s careful caressing, that you drifted off to sleep soon enough. Noah stayed awake for a little while longer though. He watched the way your eyes fluttered behind their kids. The way your face would twitch or twist as your dreams u folded before you. He also noticed the way your body relaxed when he gently placed a hand on your side, thumb rubbing careful circles to sooth you.

Just as he was about to fall into a slumber, we was on the brink of a dream state himself, when you utter his name. A loving smile graced your face, and it made Noah’s heart swell tenfold. He knew, after this moment, he would do anything in his power to keep you.

Part 5

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens band #bad omens fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens fan fics #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fan fic #bad omens cult #noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian fan fiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #badnoahmens

276 notes · View notes

gegewrites · 1 year

Text

Dr.house- Encore(smut)

Pre leg, no Stacy.

Again not edited.

2/24/23

Houses pov-

I lightly bit down of the inside corner of lip, my fingers dancing over the keys of the piano. i don’t like Mondays, by the Boomtown Rats filled the apartment. (Y/n) was coming home late, she was teaching a night class at the hospital. Transplant lecture, sounds boring. Since the clock on wall said it was 10:05 she should be back any minute.

My fingers trailed off from the original tune to just playing the keys in random Rhythms. I started to loose track the time, falling into the music.

The moment of peace was cut off by the sound of the door opening and closing.

“How was it?” I asked as the lock latched and I heard her shoes getting kicked off.

“Only four of the kids are going places.” Her arms slid over my shoulders to sit on my chest , as her chin sat on my right shoulder. I felt her weight relax onto me.

“Seems like the right statistic.” I remarked, leaning my head onto hers. I let my fingers trail to a stop, my right hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. She let out a hum, starting to stand she kissed my temple. Her fingers trialing up my shirt and sat on my shoulders for a second.

“I’m getting out of these clothes.” I watched her as she started walking away.

“Need some help?” I offered and she shook her head with a light chuckle as she turned the corner to the hallway.

Your pov-

I walked out of the bedroom, and padded down the hall. in his Death Valley shirt and a pair of panties. I was gonna go to sleep In a bit, but I wanted to talk to him first.

He was still playing the piano, that’s the one thing I’d never argue about.

“What’d you leave off with?” I asked as I turned into the living room, walking behind the couch.

“Should be discharged in the morning, he’s on observation for the night.” He took his hands away from the piano and straddled the bench as I came closer. His hands sat on my hips and slid to my ass as I sat down on his lap.

“Good.” I placed a small kiss to his lips which he leaned onto, holding me tightly against him. As arms draped over his shoulders. I pulled my face away from him,”I have another class Saturday.”

“Late?”

“Ends at ten.” I pecked his lips . His hands slid further down my ass, holding the bottom of it in his palms. I could feel his fingertips against my skin, his thumbs rubbed soft and tight circles on the fabric of my panties, simultaneously squeezing it.

“Do you really prefer lecture to clinic duty?” He leaned forward snd I tilted my head. He pressed his lips against my skin, the slight stubble he had on his upper lip and chin tickling it.

“Hell no.” I giggled, feeling his teeth start nipping at my neck,”but it gets me a bonus when I get paid.”

“Didn’t know about that.” He pulled away from me. his brows furrowed, his right brow cocked slightly.

“I just found out.” My hands slid to the back of his head and moved his head back to my neck,”makes it worth it.”

I pushed my body into him a little bit more, his hand left me, taking hold of the Fall and shut it over the pianos Keys. His tongue swiped over my pulse point, I tugged at his hair trying to get him to divert from the area. Not a very professional thing, and I happen to like my reputation at the hospital. He didn’t move away, his teeth made contact with my skin as his lips sucked on it. His pressure getting harder, wanting a dark colored mark.

“Are you being serious right now?” He popped off my neck and placed a kiss to the area and leaned back a bit to look at me.

“So a hickey is considered unprofessional in your book, yet being on your knees under my not private desk…isn’t?” He raised his brow, his hands trailing up from my ass and under my shirt, his index and middle fingers hooking into the band that sat along my hips.

“Yes, the hickey lasts for a good week, you can see it. Blowing you only lasts 7 minutes and you have blinds in your office.” I informed him and he nodded slowly. His blue eyes drifted from mine to my neck.

“Might wanna wear a turtle neck to work.” I rolled my eyes in annoyance as his hands started slowly pulling my panties down. Because I was straddling him he wouldn’t be able to get them off, so I moved off of him.

When I stood, he moved closer to me, still on the bench. I slowly slid my panties down my legs and kicked them away. His hands reached to my thighs, pulling me closer to him, still standing. He looked up at me for a few seconds, his finger tips brushing over the front of my thigh before cupping my pussy.

“You get wet very easily. You must really like me.” He commented, his middle finger running through my slit, pressing in deeper till he was rubbing from my clit to my core.

“Mmhm.” I hummed, placing my hand over the one holding my hip under my shirt, the other holding his shoulder.

He stood up, letting his finger drag over my clit, his hand grazing over my side as he became taller. Quickly his hands moved to my ass as he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine and I responded quickly to him. Moving my lips in sync with his as he grabbed my ass harder, kind of pulling me up to my toes. Suddenly I heard the bench get pushed back and his weight shifted as his lips left mine.

“Jump.” He said against my lips so I did. He held me against him, one arm holding under my ass the other around my waist. My legs were wrapped around him, and I leaned down to catch his lips again.

He held me there for a minute, heatedly kissing me before turning, bouncing me up to grab under my thighs.

I felt the cold wood of the pianos lid on my ass and I gasped into the kiss and he stood between my legs, holding the back of my knees and pulled away. I leaned on my arms which were propped behind me.

“What are-“ I was cut off my him promptly.

“Please let me do this.” He pleaded, his tone wasn’t Whiny, still had his serious tinge to it. It sounded almost like he was about to preform a risky procedure that would save my life. It probably will.

“I’m not cumming on a ten thousand dollar piano Greg.” My eyes widened at him and he stared at me blankly.

“Why not cum on a ten thousand dollar piano?”he asked me as if he denying it was insane.”you have not once fantasized about this?”

“A couple times yeah, but I’m not ruining it.”

“You’re not gonna ruin it. The keys are covered and the lids shut. Nothings gonna get into it and you’re definitely not gonna break it.” He leaned closer to my face,”so lay back cause I’m doing it anyways.”

He pulled my knees up and placed them over his shoulders. He looked at me with a face of impatience, and I sighed as I laid back on my forearms. His hand left my leg and pushed me down by my chest so i was flat on the lid.

His stubbled tickled the inside of my thigh as his hands held into the top of my thighs, keeping the held open as he kissed his way to my wet slit.

He placed a kiss above my clit before licking a broad strip over my lips. His tongue coming back down to slide back up, spreading my lips apart. I let a breathy moan when his tongue started to swirl around my clit. My body fully relaxed onto the piano, my fingers curled over the end of the piano, holding onto it. His tongue started flicking at my clit, slowly become more languid. Reaching my slick dripped core. the tip of his tongue dipped in before coming back up to my clit. his lips tightened around it, giving it a harsh suck, ripping a moan from my throat as my thighs flexed, my knees trying to press his head in between them. But, his bruising grip on my thighs kept them open.

He kept his pattern going; his tongue dipping into my core, licking back to my clit and giving it a few harsh sucks, and repeating.

“Oh god ,Greg.” I moaned out, my shoulder blades pushing down onto the piano, my back arched and a hand went into his hair. My chest started rising more visibly, deep fast breaths. I felt my spine tingle every few seconds, the feeling of my slick dropping down my skin, his stubble scratching against the inside of my thighs absorbed my brain.

Then two long fingers slid into my core, he wasted no time to start pumping them in and out. Moans escaped my lips, the sounds ringing through his ears causing him to groan around my clit.

“Oh my god.” My voice shook through the whole phrase, I felt a knot forming inside of me as his fingers worked faster. His tongue lapping at my clit.

I could feel how wet I was and I could hear it. I pushed my hips into his face, my grip on his hair tightened and he didn’t fight it, he kept his actions and speed, except for the deeper curl in his fingers, rubbing right against my gspot.

“Ye-yes!Goood, just like that!” My abdomen tightened, my eyes were shut even tighter, they haven’t been open since my body first relaxed. When I felt like I was gonna cum he slowed down, snd I let out pathetic whimper. Rocked my hips into his face again, try to get him back to his previous pace.

I stopped doing that when i hard a minor key on the piano play. He was still standing, his fingers still inside of me, my lips and tongue still working my clit. But now he was also starting to play the piano…with his face buried in between my legs. My moans grew louder, the louder I got the harder he pressed the keys, the more into it he got.

His fingers made their way back to the original pace, and Soon enough he had me cumming on his fingers and chin, my heels Dug into his back, my nails scratching at the back of his skull. A near scream of a moan left my throat my my hand flew over to cover my mouth before it could really rip out, muffling it into my palm. The music helped to silence it more, the neighbors would definitely rather hear the piano then me.

He slowly came to a stop, his tongue left my clit and his fingers slid out of me. The music stopped. My hand slipped off my face snd My back finally touched the lid of the piano again and I heard him Hum, i looked at him through half lidded eyes, licking my cum off his fingers, his chin and upper lip wet. I propped up on my forearms.

“Still regret saying no?” He bent down, moving the bench under him and sat down, I could still see his face. Something I like about Greg is his height. Six foot two. Hard to not see him.

My legs were still over his shoulders, his eyes focused on the keys he was playing. This was a new song, something random he started playing.

“Holy fuck.” I sighed, laying back down on the lid, my eye lids were heavy and I let them close. I could almost feel the vibrations of the piano in my pulse. I let myself fade into the music, listening and feeling it. It was perfect for coming down.

I noticed when the music started slowing down, my eyes opened after it stopped completely.

“Piano still works.” He noted, I heard the fall close and my legs rides as he stood up. He took hold of my knees and slid my legs off his shoulders,”come on, sit up.”

He grabbed my wrist and I turned it in his grasp to take hold or it from the underside. With his help I sat up, he grabbed my waist and lifted me off the piano.

My legs nearly gave out the minute my feet touched the floor.

“Oh shit!” I yelped, thinking I was gonna fall, I didn’t though, his grip slid to my ribs in the process and he pulled me onto him.

“Just cause you can’t walk already does not, in any way, mean we’re done.” His arm wrapped around my back, his other coming down to take hold behind my knees, picking me up bridal style,”seeing you limp around the hospital tomorrow is going to be very amusing.”

“The piano Greg.” I reminded him as he started walking away from it.

“Yeah yeah, it will get cleaned.” He rolled his eyes at me as he turned into the hallway, aimed towards the bedroom.

“Tonight.” I stressed.

“Tomorrow, I’ll even polish with my tongue, how about that?” He pushed open the door with his foot.

I let out a laugh and his lil curled with a grin before tossing me onto the bed without warning. My back contacting the blue sheeted mattress with a slight creak from the bed frame. He started undoing the buttons from his shirt, taking his time. His eyes slowly looking me up and down before looking around the room.

“What?” I asked furrowing my brows lightly.

“Where’s my harmonica? Time for an encore.”

#gegewrites #fanfiction #smut writer #dr house smut #greg house #greg house smut #greg house x reader #dr. house #house md smut #house md #house md fanfiction

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dfortrafalgar · 2 months

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I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This story is over halfway done now!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 17

[Prev] [Next]

It had taken about five hours for your body to fully pass the miscarriage, and during that time you were transferred into a more private room in the emergency wing where a labor and delivery doctor from the hospital’s maternity ward assisted with the pain management. Not like you were psychologically there, and neither was Law. You had repeated your behavior from previously, your mind’s go-to defense mechanism being to completely shut down, forcing your eyes closed in a feeble attempt to crawl out of your skin and escape reality. The reality being you, sitting on a toilet in the tiny bathroom of the private room, a bedpan under your body and the L&D doctor, who you wouldn’t speak to, occasionally offering shallow words of support as you hunched in pain with each agonizing cramp that washed through you. Law kept his eyes trained on your face the entire time, every exhausted contortion of your muscles as ripples of cramps waved through you throughout the seemingly endless seconds of your time in the private room.

When Law saw it, what had left your body, his lunch evacuated from his stomach into the nearest garbage can. Maybe it was the way it looked, or the fact that the doctor from L&D was holding it in a cold metal bedpan of all things, or maybe the stress of it all finally caught up to the jaded heart surgeon and he settled it by losing his stomach contents. You didn’t look at it, keeping your eyes closed, desperately wishing to be in your bed at home.

It was clearly going to be a human. All of the early human-like traits were there. Two arms, two legs, a head, a body, but it was still so far away from actually being a person. It barely had what could be called skin, if anything its external appearance seemed more like a glass frog, only a fleshy red color and not green. That is to say, Law could see the beginnings of organs inside the shape that rested in the chamber pot.

Law started to judge the gravity of calling the fetus an ‘it.’ The doctor holding the bedpan said it was going to be a boy, based on what she called the ‘Nub Theory,’ and was about 12 weeks along, before she cleaned you up and took the almost-boy away to be discarded somehow. Law’s mind flashed back to the young boy in the CICU who had passed away a few months ago, and the mother who was so distraught that she left Law with a bruise that took two full weeks to fully heal.

He wondered if you cried like that in the ambulance when he wasn’t there to help you.

He wondered if you would’ve hit him, too. No… you would never. Not even in your most distraught, vulnerable state would you do that.

Law felt his stomach twist once more for even thinking about you in such a way.

But when he looked at the almost-human in the bedpan, he had to remind himself that the fetus was yours. That would have been your son. That would have been his son.

And the actions of that mother in the cardiac ward, hearing her son pass away surrounded by nurses, her screams of agony and despair at having to go home without her little boy, suddenly made a lot more sense to Law.

And for the first time since the two of you had started trying for a baby, he started questioning if he was really meant to be a father.

—

“Give me everything that happened,” Law’s pointed glare and monotone words spoke volumes to Ikkaku and Shachi who sat uncomfortably across the small table in the hospital’s cafeteria. Robin had arrived after her clinic closed to assess your condition, and Law took the brief opportunity to get the details from the two that were with you before he arrived.

“We were eating lunch outside, the group of us,” Ikkaku started. “Throughout the day she seemed like she was in more pain than usual, but during lunch it seemed to be getting pretty bad. She went inside to use the bathroom and apparently fainted in the reception area of the office. We all came back inside when some of our other coworkers were trying to get her to come to, and she started bleeding heavily so we finally called an ambulance. I tried to call your phone but it went right to voicemail, so I called Shachi to meet us here.”

Law’s posture was eerily still. “How was the ambulance ride over?”

Ikkaku was clearly growing uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of her best friend’s husband, but she mustered through her discontent and continued to relay her recent memories. “She woke up when the ambulance got there, and I think she saw the blood in her pants and started to have a panic attack. She was refusing to go with the paramedics so they… kinda… manhandled her onto the stretcher. She was screaming and trying to get away so they tied her down.” The curly-haired woman used her hands to display a crude image of what she was seeing in her head. “They strapped down her legs and arms and put her neck in one of those plastic brace things to keep her still, and all of that was before the ambulance even left the parking lot. She couldn’t even move in the ambulance, but they took off all of her jewelry because they were ‘concerned for her safety.’ I said they were stupid, and they told me to watch my language.”

The black-haired man’s teeth ground against each other in his mouth as he remembered a similar retelling from one of the nurses in your room, the excuse for your wedding ring being missing being out of caution for yourself. Clearly, the situation was a bit more nuanced, but he didn’t wish to strike up some form of argument with his close friends right now. Thankfully, your wedding ring had been returned to him a few minutes before you were wheeled to the private room, and was tucked safely in the pocket of Law’s slacks.

Shachi piped up, keeping his voice low. “When I got here she was still crying and screaming, there was a nurse that came up to her on the stretcher and put her hand over her mouth and told her to be quiet. I honestly wanted to slap her for that. I mean, what kind of nurse tells a crying woman to shut up?”

An understandable question indeed. Law ran an incredibly tight ship in his cardiac ward, with his nurses and fellow doctors being well-rounded individuals who worked incredibly under the high pressure environments in and out of the operating room, and based on what Law had seen and heard throughout the afternoon, he was starting to wonder if his was the only department that behaved somewhat normally.

“Sorry for calling in the middle of a surgery, by the way,” mumbled Shachi, awkwardly rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Don’t be, you couldn’t have known,” Law replied, his own voice low and pensive.

“Law, are you okay?” Ikkaku asked, reaching her hand across the table and giving a friendly pat to the doctor’s forearm which lay across his side of the table.

The man bowed his head, hiding his clearly bloodshot and exhausted eyes behind the feathery wisps of his black hair. He could feel his mouth growing dryer by the second, his nose still sore from wiping away the snot caused by his crying, his lips dry and chapped with the way he gnawed on them in the failed attempt to keep his sobs at bay.

“No, I’m not,” was all he said.

Ikkaku and Shachi shared nervous, anxious glances with one another.

The redhead reached his own hand forward now, tapping it gently against the surface of the table in Law’s field of vision. “Do you want us to bring you anything? Snacks… water… something to read…”

“No thank you, but if you could go and check on Bepo that would be great,” Law muttered, turning down his friend’s offer faster than he probably should’ve. “Thank you guys for telling me everything, I’m going to go back to her room.” He turned his back on his two concerned friends before they had the chance to muster out their goodbyes, hoping that he could hide his face once more to quell the oncoming tears that threatened to fall for a second time.

Law hated crying. He always hated crying. Crying left him feeling more exhausted than a 12 hour surgery. Crying left him feeling weak and defeated, like a dehydrated, shriveling plant that gets left to deteriorate on a scorching windowsill. Throughout his entire life, he had only truly cried a total of three times. Once when he lost his family in their house fire. Twice when his adoptive father figure was murdered before his very eyes.

And three times today, weeping over your form over the baby that was lost. Again.

The hallways of the main corridor were uncharacteristically empty as Law’s feet dragged his fatigued body down the tiled hallways, his shoes scuffing the floor with each labored step. He fought desperately to control his breathing, his lungs feeling like they were filling with water, his body fighting for life. How pathetic he was. You were the one in pain. You were the one losing the baby. So why was he getting so worked up? Why was he letting himself fall?

In sickness and in health.

“FUCK,” Law lost control of his vocal chords as he shouted into the empty hallway, the only witness to his outburst being the LED lights on the ceiling, illuminating his shame. He hadn’t consciously registered the way his body contorted, his hand balling into a fist as he drove his limb into the wall next to him, the force of the blow making him grimace. A sizable dent was left where his knuckles had impacted the drywall, blood beginning to seep from the skin of his tattooed fingers as he let his knees buckle and send him to the floor. He slumped against the wall, gazing at the back of his hand.

D E A T H

Law was an edgy undergraduate. He funneled his trauma, his insecurity, his distaste for life into his studies, drowning himself in textbooks and medical demonstrations, filling the blank spaces in his psyche with music that shared the same disdain for the world as he did. He littered his skin with marks that spoke to him, the marks of his family and the marks of death. He didn’t care if the tattoos on his fingers gave him less chances of getting into medical school, he did what felt was right. He had escaped death more times than a kid ever should have, and the ink in his skin was a testament to that.

You had poked fun at the symbolism on the day you first met him. A doctor with the word ‘DEATH’ written on his hands was an ironically funny image. You had said something along the lines of, “I think I would trust my doctor more if he had ‘DEATH’ on his hands. At least it would make more sense if he happened to kill me.”

Law had scoffed at that. His tattoos were nothing to joke about. But he came back to you because of the smile that rested on your lips as you laughed, the way the skin around your eyes creased with your happiness. You were a magnet pulling him into your embrace. Suddenly, the blank spaces in his mind previously filled with depressing music were filled with the image of you. Your smile, your eyes, your bubbly giggle, the alluring smell of your perfume, the way you filled every room with light, the way you brought joy to the lives of your friends, your nerdy talks, your voice as you sang along to his music in the passenger seat of his car…

Hot tears plopped onto the tiled floor, some hitting the skin of his knuckles, making the bleeding wounds sting with the foreign contact as Law remained slumped against the wall, staring blankly at his hands as the wounds on his fist continued to ooze dark red blood. He missed his mother, his father, his little sister. He missed the way his mother would wipe his tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, kissing his forehead and ruffling his thick black hair. He missed the way his sister would cling to him on the playground, relying on her strong older brother for support. He missed his adoptive dad, the freakishly tall, clumsy, blonde ex-marine reserve who smoked indoors and would leave accidental burn marks on his clothes. He missed the way his dad would pick Law up like he was weightless, singing praises to the child’s accomplishments, even the most menial. Law always told you how he wished his family could have met you, how they easily would have adored you for everything you brought into his previously dark life. He wondered what his family would say to him now, as he sat on the cold floor of the hospital’s main campus, alone, bleeding from his hand.

“They’d be proud of you.”

Law’s golden eyes opened at the sound of the voice coming from in front of him. Shachi was crouched directly in front of him, a soft smile gracing his crooked mouth as he used his shoulder to support himself against the wall in front of his friend.

“I know you. You’re thinking about Cora and your family, aren’t you?” he asked, retaining his cheeky personality but flooding his words with an air of unabashed kindness.

Behind him, Ikkaku stood, her own eyes welling with overwhelmed tears, but standing and blocking Law from the lights that shone down on his defeated form. She too had a small smile on her lips.

Shachi moved to stand upright, grabbing Law’s arm and hauling the taller man to his feet. Law barely stepped forward to pull his friend into a back-breaking hug, releasing everything he was bottling up into the shoulder of his best friend. Shachi’s arms supported Law, hugging the man back and squeezing him with the might only a life-long friend could have.

“You’re doing great, Law,” the redhead whispered.

Nobody spoke a word as the two led the doctor back to your room in the emergency ward. Law’s tears continued to fall, his hand finally clotting.

When he rounded the corner of your room, you were standing upright, your body wrapped in a fabric hospital gown, your own cheeks puffy with the force of your own crying. Robin was supporting your arm as you were about to lay back down on the bed, but as you witnessed Law enter your room once more, supported by your two best friends, you pushed past your doctor and threw yourself into the waiting arms of your husband. His hands circled around you, your personal shield, your knight, holding you against his trembling body as his tears fell into your hair, as his head dipped down to hide in your shoulder and as your own face buried into the crevice of his neck, your unending tears soaking his shirt. The world vanished around the two of you as you stood in his embrace.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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shepherds-of-haven · 4 months

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Hiya! Sorry to bother, I really love SoH and I'm sure you hear this all the time but your writing is so amazing I can't help but come back and reread what's available just for fun! ♥

I have a small wonder, My main MC is going for exRed romance just full steam no eyes for anyone else and it's been a fun ride to watch them be so affectionate yet hesitant I gotta wonder though what the rest of the gang thinks having to watch their ridiculous dance? (I fully believe chase has a betting pool for when they get together.)

In Red's case, I think he's naturally affectionate/subtle/socially-mindful enough to not come off as stupidly over-the-top with his feelings in a really obvious or public way; because he's proceeding cautiously with an ex-MC and deliberately "feeling things out" without wanting to make them uncomfortable/make a fool out of himself, I don't think it'd be as obvious to others what's going on between him and MC unless they went to school with them both and witnessed the history there? (AKA Pan, Neon, etc.). For everyone else, it's:

Blade: literally doesn't think anything of it (unless he's also romantically interested in MC)--from his perspective, Red is equally friendly/comfortable/flirtatious with pretty much everyone, plus it would make sense that their being old friends/former lovers would come with certain closeness. In other words, he's not thinking about it

Trouble: took Red and MC at their word and just thinks they dated when they were teens, does not notice anything remarkable going on between them, but he can be naturally a bit dense in that area (though sometimes he isn't)

Tallys: oh my god just hook up already, the tension is starting to get under her skin lol she's of the camp that they should just jump each other and get it over with

Shery: she's 👀 and watching with bated breath, and subtly concocting excuses for them to be together, like "oh MC I needed to deliver a message to Red in his lab, but I'm "busy", could you please let him know so-and-so while I go do this other thing?"

Riel: he's actually broached the topic with Red before out of curiosity because the romantic tension was sooooo obvious to him: it was a really brief conversation because Red was caught so off-guard by Riel going "so are you going to tell MC you still have feelings for them/do you want to try things again?" that he just sort of looked at Riel blankly, but they sort of fumbled their way through a conversation where Red was sort of airing his thoughts/asking for advice and Riel was just like clinically listening?? and then they never talked about it again, lol. It's not like Riel ships them, he was just interested in what was going through Red's head at the time, and now he doesn't really care anymore, whatever happens is between them! but now and again Red will look up from subtle flirting with MC, catch Riel's eye, and Riel will have this unimpressed face like 🙄

Chase: gleefully has a (private) betting pool and trolls Red/the two of them as often as he possibly can without entering the zone of over-interference, much like an ecologist trying to observe a rare animal without over-affecting its natural behavior

Ayla: she notices if she's romantically interested in MC, but otherwise shelves their behavior as "things exes/old friends must do, which I wouldn't have any personal experience with, so I guess that makes sense to me" and doesn't give much romantic significance to the way they act around each other, that just must be how it is! 🤷🏻‍♀️ She'd be really surprised if someone like Lavinet was like, "Oh, darling, they are obviously still mad about each other..." Ayla: "oh, I just thought their whole thing was how all former lovers who stayed friends acted." Lavinet and Briony: noooooo

Briony: she is peak shipper for ex!Red and MC, she picks up on things right away and is watching both of them with her ponytail whipping back and forth like she's at a tennis match 👀, she's squealing and swooning internally every time they smile over a book together and is like barely keeping things together out of respect to them...

Lavinet: she's amused and intrigued by what's going on, ex-lovers who reunite years later is so inherently romantic, it's like something out of a drama!!! She's smirking and making sly comments here and there to sort of nudge things along now and then, but otherwise she subscribes to the "leave no trace" observing from a distance mentality rather than an active interference (unless her interference is specifically requested, in which case she's all hands on deck)!

Halek: didn't even realize they're exes, I think because no one told him or he wasn't paying attention, he just thinks they're Like That (as in, they want to bang each other, obviously, he just figures they're dragging their feet about it because they work together or something)

#Shepherds of Haven #Red #MC #feelings about #Red Antiqua

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ultrasoundclinic · 2 years

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#skin treatment #skin care #sweating #essex private clinic #sweating problem

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

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TW: MEDICAL TRAUMA AND GASLIGHTING- UK FRIENDS, PLEASE HELP

Hey, this is a long shot, but do I have any followers in the UK--specifically Scotland, but I’ll take anywhere--diagnosed with MCAS/D with a doctor they can recommend?

My younger disabled brother who I share a lot of health problems with has just been hospitalized at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital (aka 'the Death Star') for symptoms consistent with a prolonged MCAS flare. He's hardly eating, he's got undiagnosable bladder pain, blinding headaches, worsening allergies, and his skin/eczema is so bad he’s at risk of sepsis and losing his eyesight because he’s been left to claw himself raw with chronic urticaria near his eyes that has been brushed off for years as “anxiety.” (Which he was then prescribed diazepam for and nothing else 🙃)

When my mother brought up my MCAS diagnosis over here in the US and how similar my brother’s symptoms and reactions are, the attending doctor said that MCAS “isn’t real” and won’t even prescribe famotidine for what my brother is describing as “suffocating acid reflux”—presumably because this doctor is now on some sort of bruised ego trip over my mother questioning his prognosis that my brother is suffering from anxiety and “a lack of personal hygiene.”

(My brother is severely disabled, and my elderly mother has to bathe and dress his wounds daily, just like she’s been doing for the last 32 years since he was born. This is not a lack of personal hygiene this is a lack of medical care!!!)

My mother is trying her best, but she’s got her own health problems and suffers severely from her own medical trauma, which is making advocating harder. They do have an appointment to see a dermatologist on Friday, but considering it's at the same clinic that said my chronic urticaria was also anxiety (🙃), we're not holding out much hope.

I've managed to find him some OTC meds that might help stabilize things, but he's at the stage where he needs a knowledgeable MCAS doctor to either confirm or rule this out and figure out what the hell is going on.

I'm trying to help, but from 4000 miles away, it's proving difficult and every possible lead I've found so far has been a dead end.

NHS is preferable but it doesn't have to be. I will find a way for him to go private if I have to. Fuck if you are an MCAS doctor in the UK, I'll pay for your petrol to go to Scotland. I'll pay for anything. I just can't listen to my mother crying in the Queen Liz car park anymore because she might be about to lose her second child to the illness that almost took her first.

Thank you. Sorry. I just don't know what to do anymore.

#chronic health tag #mcas #medical abuse #medical negligence #help needed #signal boost

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theostrophywife · 2 years

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unholy.

masterlist (azriel x reader) author's note: once again, this fic is inspired by a song which the full version of actually just released today! unholy by sam smith and kim petras is the ultimate strip club vibes so you know i had to write an azriel piece about it. warning: public stripping, thigh riding, lap dances, daddy kink and mutual masturbation. honestly, take your pick and it's there. summary: tired of being the innocent one out of the inner circle, you show azriel your unholy fantasies.

It started out as a stupid dare.

Get up on stage and dance.

A simple enough task, propositioned by the one and only Morrigan. She didn't think you would actually do it. To be fair, you didn’t think you would either, but against better judgment, you found yourself agreeing. Fueled by strong faerie wine and the company of your friends, you were determined to let tonight be the night that you finally let loose.

What started out as a spontaneous performance with the burlesque dancers on stage somehow snowballed into giving Azriel a very suggestive, very seductive, and very unexpected lap dance in one of the private rooms at Rita’s.

But you were getting to that.

In hindsight, perhaps things had gotten a little out of hand, but at least now no one could ever accuse you of holding back.

Out of your circle of friends, you were always considered the innocent one. The sweet and demure healer who blushed at Cassian’s flirtatious remarks and balked at Mor’s suggestive dares. It wasn’t like you were inexperienced, but your hesitation and reluctance when it came to the inner circle's wilder antics unintentionally created a good girl persona for yourself that couldn’t be further from who you really were.

In truth, you were just a notorious overthinker and it took awhile for you to get comfortable showing others your true colors. The majority of the time, you were perfectly content letting everyone chalk it up to shyness, but tonight Cassian’s teasing managed to get under your skin.

“There’s no way you’re going up there, honey.”

Even the nickname, dubbed by the Illyrian general to commemorate your first meeting at Madja’s clinic when you smeared honey salve on his once tattered wings, alluded to your supposedly saccharine nature. The rest of your friends spurred you on to join the burlesque dancer beckoning you onto the stage. All except the shadowsinger, who offered an apologetic smile on behalf of his brother.

“Don’t listen to Cas. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The remark was incredibly thoughtful of Azriel, but unbeknownst to him, it contained just the right amount of challenge to nudge you out of your comfort zone. You were tired of everyone assuming that you were coy and naive and perhaps showing them a different side of you would change their assumptions, Azriel included. Though the shadowsinger never made you feel ashamed of your more cautious approach, you wanted him to see you as more than the designated innocent member of the inner circle.

“What if I want to?” you ask with a raised brow.

The mischievous grin that spread across his beautiful face sent shivers down your spine. “Then you’d be making every male in this place very, very happy.”

With a wicked smile, you rose from your seat and tossed your jacket at Cassian who stared after you in disbelief before launching into a deafening cheer. Beside him, Rhys and Feyre clapped while Mor whistled. Amren smirked over the top of her wine glass, but Nesta, who was the only friend who had ever witnessed your wild side first hand thanks to your countless girls night out with the Valkyries, simply mouthed a message of encouragement.

Give them hell.

Your skin buzzed with anticipation as you climbed up onto the makeshift stage at Rita’s, sidling in next to the pretty pixie who twirled you around towards the audience.

“And who is this pretty little thing joining us tonight?”

You blushed, blinking under the bright faelights pointed in your direction. The varying colors flashed with every shade of the rainbow. “You can call me honey.”

The dancer laughs in delight as the roaring cheer of your friends echo through the pleasure hall. “Let’s see if you’ve got some sting to you, honeybee.”

With a snap of her fingers, the faelights dimmed and the music filtered through the room. A smoky blue spotlight kissed you with its hazy ring while fog skittered through your ankles. The pulsating beat thrummed through your body, drowning out your nerves with its seductive rhythm. You must have watched the burlesque dancers perform this routine half a dozen times and while it was more daring than your classical ballet training, the music flowed through your body all the same.

Your hips swayed to the beat, losing yourself in the fluid movements of the dance. Leaning forward, you trace the outline of your leg, fingertips skirting along your supple skin, and stopping right above the hem of your dress. Teasing the audience, you allow the skirts to ride up to your thighs, giving them a brief glimpse of the lace garter holding up your thigh high stockings.

The crowd was rambunctious as you winked before turning around and unzipping the zipper on the side of your dress. The dainty floral fabric slipped off with ease, revealing the lace nightgown that you were wearing underneath. You kicked the dress off to the side of the stage with your right heel, eliciting a roar of cheers from the audience.

Mor was full on standing and whistling between her fingers. Teetering beside her, Feyre squealed in delight while Rhysand jokingly covered his eyes. Amren raised an amused brow while Nesta merely smiled. Her mate was the most boisterous of the group, letting the entirety of Rita’s know that it was his friend up there currently stripping for them.

But it was Azriel’s gaze - golden and burning - that pierced right through you. The way the shadowsinger was looking at you made you feel more exposed than the act of undressing in front of nearly half the citizens of Velaris.

Tossing your dark hair over your shoulders, you shot him a quick wink. He leaned forward to the edge of his seat, elbows pressed against the top of his knees while he watched you with unveiled scrutiny. Shadows peered over his shoulders, plunging him into a deeper darkness than the already dim lighting of the pleasure hall.

Azriel had opted out of his usual dark leathers tonight and was instead donning a casual dark button up and black trousers. Thanks to the current heat wave in Velaris, the shadowsinger left the first few buttons of his shirt open, giving you a full view of the sprawling tattoos inked upon his golden brown skin. As if that weren't enough to give you heart palpitations, he'd also rolled up the sleeves to his elbows to showcase his strong arms. Your gaze immediately dropped down to the large veins covering them and immediately felt a bead of sweat slide down your back at the sight. Perhaps it was a peculiar thing to find attractive, but this was Azriel. The male made the act of breathing look like a masterpiece.

The other dancers gyrated around you and the pretty pixie gripped your waist, turning you once more to show you off to the crowd, but Azriel’s eyes remained solely fixed on you. An easy smile broke through his usual cool demeanor and a shiver went through your spine when he rose, those powerful wings of his flaring behind his back as he raised a glass in your direction.

You swallowed thickly as he tipped the glass to his lips, the crimson wine sliding into his mouth and tinting those plush lips of his a deliciously wicked red color. Azriel never once broke eye contact while his pink tongue darted across his bottom lip, licking away the remnants of the alcohol.

It was undoubtedly the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

Perhaps that single flirtatious gesture was to blame for what happened next.

After wrapping up your brief stint as a burlesque dancer, the drinks flowed and the party migrated to the private room reserved for you and your friends at the back of the building. As you made your way through the packed crowd, several people congratulated you on your performance and some even offered to buy you a drink. Never mind that you couldn’t recall the last time you paid a single coin out of your pocket for your countless nights out thanks to Rhysand’s open tab. You wouldn’t be surprised if the High Lord was singlehandedly funding this pleasure hall on the inner circle's supply of wine alone.

Cassian waved off your admirers, drunkenly draping an arm over your shoulder. “Who the hell knew you had it in you, honey?”

“I did,” Nesta announces proudly. “That was tame compared to the moves I’ve seen her unleash at the tavern.”

You blushed, sticking a tongue out at your friend. “That was supposed to be our secret, Nes!”

Mor chuckled, falling in step beside you. “Cat’s out of the bag now. Our honeybee is a certified smoke show. That little striptease was hotter than the Cauldron.” The blonde’s mischievous sights settled on Azriel. “Wasn’t she on fire up there, Az?”

You elbowed the blonde, but she only grinned in response.

“You brought the whole damn house down, honey.”

Azriel’s words swept over you like a torrential wind. His gaze stayed glued on you all night, serving as your own little spotlight and burning brighter than the faelights from earlier.

As you slid into the booth next to him, your body thrummed from post adrenaline rush. You hadn’t bothered to put your dress back on, opting to stay in the skimpy little nightgown that left barely a sliver to the imagination. Goosebumps prickled your skin as you scooted closer to Azriel, arms and thighs touching as Nesta and Cassian sandwiched the two of you towards the end of the table.

The familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar enveloped you on all sides. To your left, Nesta shot you a knowing look which you rebuffed with a subtle shake of your head.

Make a move, she mouthed.

Fuck off, you responded.

The brunette smirked and inclined her chin towards Azriel, who was looking at you expectantly. The boldness from earlier weaned under the intensity of his gaze. Despite Nesta’s urging, you couldn’t muster up the courage to make the first move. You’ve been crushing on Azriel since the moment Cassian had dragged him into Madja’s clinic, fussing and fighting against receiving treatment for a mild injury to his wing.

You’d pulled out a sharp basilisk tooth, threatening to inject him with venom if he didn’t allow you to patch up his wing. Azriel had taken to you instantly after that, often dropping by the clinic to eat lunch with you or walk you home after a long day of tending to gruesome wounds.

You cherished the friendship you had with him, but there were times when you wanted more. Tonight being one of them.

Because in the midst of the loud, crowded room, you only really had eyes for Azriel.

The shadowsinger smiles, draping an arm over your shoulder. A silver necklace peeked out from his exposed chest, settling into the hard planes of his muscles while he scooted closer. “I meant what I said earlier,” he states over the blaring music. “You were great up there.”

“Thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve been on stage.”

Azriel squeezes your arm. “I’m only sorry that I never got to see you perform at the ballet.”

You smile. He knew how much you loved dancing. When you met, you had just finished your stint as prima ballerina at the Velaris Ballet and shifted towards turning your volunteer work at Madja’s clinic into a full time job, though it never really felt like one. You liked helping people too much to consider it work.

“Perhaps I’ll give you a private performance one of these days.”

Just like that, the boldness was back with a vengeance.

Azriel raises a brow. “Feeling daring tonight, are we?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “The night’s still young. Who knows what sort of trouble Cas and Mor have in store for us?”

You nod towards your friends, who were now dancing atop a table at the corner of the room. The wood creaked underneath their weight, but the two didn’t seem to notice.

The shadowsinger chuckled beside you, his fingers skimming the side of your neck. They drummed a pleasant little pattern on your skin as you gulped down a sip of your wine.

“Sorry about their teasing. They can get a little out of hand sometimes.”

“It’s alright, I knew what I signed up for when I agreed to come out tonight,” you glance up at him, cheeks heating from a mixture of the alcohol and your close proximity to the Illyrian warrior. “Besides, it was time for me to come out of my comfort zone.”

“Speaking of comfort zones,” Nesta interjects. “I think it’s time for a drinking game.”

Your friend beckoned her mate over and the rest of the inner circle followed suit. You raised a brow at Nesta, who rarely ever initiated these games. She shot a feral smile at you, which told you all that you needed to know. You were in deep shit.

“What are we playing, Nes?” Cassian asked.

A mischievous smile spread across the female’s face. “Truth or drink.” She lined up the shot glasses in the middle of the table, filling each one to the brim with alcohol. “The person next to you gets to ask a question. You can choose to either answer truthfully or take the shot.”

Mor smirked. “This should be fun.”

Nesta nodded to the blonde, who was sitting right next to her youngest sister. “Looks like you’re up first, Feyre. Mor, will you do the honors?”

The devious smile that spread across the beautiful female’s face was downright wicked as she nodded. She tilted her head, examining Feyre. “Out of all of the High Lords, who do you think is the kinkiest in bed?”

You snorted as Feyre’s eyes went wide. Sheepishly, she mouthed a sorry to Rhys. “Helion, for sure.”

Cassian hooted, clapping his brother on the back. “Don’t take offense, brother. The High Lord of Day would put any of us to shame.”

Rhys grinned. “None taken. Helion can take the prize for kinkiest, as long as I’m still the most handsome High Lord in your eyes, Feyre darling.”

“Get a room, you two,” Amren said with a roll of her eyes. She gestured to Feyre. “Now do us all a favor and ask your mate something to knock him down a few pegs.”

Feyre nodded, determined. “You once told me that you, Cas, and Az measured wingspans. To settle the age-old argument, who has the biggest wings?”

The High Lord chuckled. “Easy. It’s Az.”

Everyone glanced at Azriel, who only shrugged in response. Morrigan raised a brow. “Follow up question, if Az has the biggest wings then does my theory about its correlation to other body parts hold up as well?”

Naturally, your gaze drifted to the shadowsinger who winked in response. He leaned in, shadows wafting over him like smoke. “Don’t tell me you’re curious too.”

“Maybe I am,” you shot back flirtatiously. “For scientific purposes, of course.”

“Of course,” Azriel echoes, squeezing your knee under the table. His hand remained there even as you both drew your attention back to the game at hand.

Rhysand raised the shot glass in his hands. “Now that’s one secret I’ll never tell, cousin.” The High Lord tipped the liquor back and grimaced from the burn of the alcohol.

His laser focus was upon Mor at once, stars winking into his violet eyes. “I think I speak for everyone when I say that this is a question all of us are dying to know. When are you finally going to ask Emerie out?”

The blonde shot her cousin a glare. It had been nearly a year since Morrigan finally felt comfortable sharing the truth about her sexuality and all of your friends had been extremely supportive. On top of that, each of you were particularly invested in her budding romance with the Illyrian female.

“Emerie and I actually already went out last week.”

A chorus of gasps and inquiries erupted from your friends. Derailed by this new revelation, you watched in amusement as Cassian grilled the blonde for details. Sipping your wine, you tried to look everywhere but the hand resting on your knee. The front of your dress had slightly ridden up your thigh so Azriel’s fingers were splayed out on the sliver of exposed skin between the hem of your dress and the tops of your stockings.

The shadowsinger was facing straight ahead, but a hint of a smirk graced his beautiful face as you tried not to squirm in your seat.

“Enough about my love life,” Mor says with a wave of her hand. “It's your turn, Cas. Last Winter Solstice, I gave you custom red leather boots, but I have never seen you wear it once. Were you lying when you said you liked them?”

Cassian’s eyes widened. You chuckled as the Illyrian general dramatically picked up his shot glass, tapped it on the wood, and downed the liquid in one gulp.

Mor gasped, slapping the sticky surface of the table. “You told me you loved them!”

The wings upon Cassian’s back twinged slightly. “No comment.”

“With you two? I thought the boots would get some use in the bedroom,” you say, wiggling a brow suggestively between Nesta and Cassian.

Immediate regret shot through you like electricity as Azriel’s hand inched higher up your thigh. He squeezed gently and you nearly knocked your knee into the top of the table. Shadows pulled your ankles to the floor while Azriel's cool demeanor never once faltered.

While Mor and Cassian duked it out, the shadowsinger leaned over conspiratorially. “It’s not so nice to be on the receiving end of the teasing, is it?”

“That's not fair. You're playing dirty and you know it, Az.”

The grin he flashed was nothing short of feral. “Oh you have no idea how dirty I can get, princess.”

Heat flared through your skin in response. What the hell was happening? You swallowed thickly, trying your best to keep up with the line of questions going around the table. In true Cassian fashion, the Illyrian general turned upon his mate with a downright ruthless smile.

“During your last girl’s night at the House, all of you got drunk and decided to skinny dip in the Sidra. Two of the Valkyries backed out, but the others almost got caught by the sentries posted by the river. Which of you had to run buck naked through the night with only burlap sacks covering them?”

Nesta’s gaze met yours. You gave her a small nod, confirming that it was alright for her to reveal your crimes.

“It was me and honey.”

The room erupted into boisterous laughter. Rhysand narrowed his eyes. “That was you two? The sentries woke me up in the middle of the night to ask if they should go after the streakers.”

Nesta only shrugged. “Your turn, honey.” Her unyielding gaze flickers on your face, examining you with careful consideration. Then, a smile bloomed on her lovely face. “Have you ever had a dirty dream about anyone in this room?”

Shit. You were going to kill her. Nesta was well aware of the answer to that question since you had shared a particularly steamy dream you’d had of Azriel that would’ve made Sellyn Drake herself blush. The shadowsinger’s fingers hovered over your skin, noticing the sudden stiffness of your limbs and the shift in your breathing. You twirled your finger around the rim of the shot glass, deciding your fate.

“Yes,” you finally answer.

Nesta smirks. “Care to share who the dream was about?”

“You only get one question, Nes.”

Your friends groaned, but Nesta only chuckled. “Fair enough.” A vexatious glint shimmered in her eyes while she nodded to your right. “Ask Az a question then.”

Azriel smiled as his fingertips traced idle patterns on your skin. The contact made you clench your thighs together, but the pull of his shadows spread your feet apart so his hand could travel further up your leg.

The Illyrian had a wolfish smile on his face as he whispered only low enough for you to hear. “Better make it a good one, princess.”

You examined the male, grin growing wide as the perfect question came to mind. If Azriel wanted to play dirty, so be it. “Have you ever used the chains and whips in the dungeon for anything other than torture?”

The whole room held their breath as the shadowsinger’s gaze met yours. Those hazel eyes of his beckoned you forth like a magnet, never once leaving your face as he picked up his shot glass. Licking his plump lips, he gave you a wink as he tipped the alcohol back.

Cassian chuckled. “I think that was answer enough.”

Azriel shrugged casually, not a hint of emotion breaking through that cool exterior of his. The game continued with another round of questions and the shadowsinger swept his hot touch over your skin once more. The caress held nothing but promise.

“You’ll pay for that later, honey.”

The threat made you dizzy with arousal. You were barely paying attention to the scandalous information being discussed, too busy with the task of discretely ogling Azriel through the rim of your wine glass. Your hot gaze trailed from the soft dark hair curling around his ears, inky strands caressing the sharp angle of his cheekbones. The glow of the faelights bathed his golden brown skin in a soft halo, hugging the elegant slope of his nose and framing his smirking mouth. With the rim of the wine glass caught between them, Azriel's lips appeared so enticing that it was almost criminal.

Gods, he was so fucking beautiful. It almost hurt to look at him directly.

Azriel squeezed you gently. “See something you like?”

“Mhm,” you murmur. “You’re just so pretty, Az.”

You reveled in the blush that swept over his cheeks. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re the only pretty thing I see here, princess.”

You grin, batting your lashes. The rest of your group seemed utterly oblivious to the game happening between you and the shadowsinger. He inched his way closer to the edge of your panties as you sucked in a sharp intake of breath. The arousal coating the lace fabric had you soaked right through. The scent of it wafted up to Azriel who only smiled, satisfaction written all over his smug face.

“Now be a good girl and ask me another question.”

An hour and two drinks later, you found yourself perched on the shadowsinger’s lap. The longer the night went on, the touchier you both got. It started with you playfully stretching your legs onto Azriel’s lap, which led to him pulling you by the ankles to bring you closer, and eventually bouncing you on his knee so you could hear each other better.

The rest of your friends had joined the crowd outside, no doubt dancing the night away as you and Azriel stayed behind in the private room. On any other night, you would’ve been out on the dance floor partying it up with Mor and Feyre, but right now, you were perfectly content where you were.

Azriel tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You should wear your hair down more often,” he states in a low and husky voice. “I like it this way.”

His fingertips skirt over your collarbone, toying with the strap of your lace nightgown. The flimsy spaghetti strap slides off your shoulder, revealing the blue lace bra underneath.

“This dress,” he murmurs in appreciation. “I like this dress on you, too.”

You blush, tipping your head back in laughter. “Are you just going to keep naming things you like about me?”

“We’d be here all night.”

“You’re a shameless flirt, Az.”

A shiver snakes its way up your spine as his shadows sweep over you, their cool touch caressing your cheek. “Only for you.”

“You seem different tonight,” he whispers into your ear. “Less guarded. More confident.”

“Maybe I’m tired of everyone thinking of me as the innocent one.”

Azriel chuckles. “The first time I met you, you threatened to stab me with a basilisk tooth. You never had me fooled for a second.”

“You know what I mean, Az. I’m the one that always holds back. The one that overthinks everything. For once, I just want to be the fun one.”

“Hence the stripping on stage?” he teases, twirling your hair between his fingers. You rolled your eyes playfully and he tickled your cheeks with the strands. “You are fun, whether you’re undressing for all of Rita’s to see or curling up with one of those smutty books you like so much back at your flat.”

You tilt your head to the side, biting back a smile. “I don’t know. It might be silly, but sometimes I wish I had the courage to be this version of myself more often.”

Azriel’s fingers traced the curve of your jaw. “You know you can always be yourself around me, right? The good, the bad, the ugly. I like every version of yourself that you allow me to see. Tonight is no different.”

Warmth spread through your cheeks and you pitched forward, covering your face within the dark curtain of your hair. “You’re my best friend, Az. You have to say that.”

The shadowsinger lifts your chin, examining your features with tender eyes. Your heart was pounding inside your chest so frantically that it would take a miracle for Azriel not to hear it.

“Friends don’t think of each other the way I think about you,” he says softly.

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered erratically. “And what exactly do you think about me?”

He pauses, taking you in. “I think that you’re smart and sweet and funny. I think that my day never really feels complete until I talk to you because you’re honestly one of my favorite people.” Your heart fluttered in your chest as a hint of mischief flashed through Azriel’s eyes.

With his voice low and his gaze hot, Azriel adds, “And I think that if I told you the filthy thoughts that crossed my mind while you were dancing on stage, no one would ever see you as innocent again.”

A shiver went down your spine. You’d imagined crossing this line with Azriel so many times, but you were too afraid of ruining your friendship to ever pursue it. The flirting and the touching wasn’t anything new. You and Azriel had a tendency to draw towards each other wherever you were, but besides the occasional suggestive remark or lingering touch, neither one of you acknowledged the sexual tension brewing between you.

More than that, Azriel truly was your best friend. You talked about anything and everything under the sun and you just understood one another. It’s rare to find a connection with someone like that. So, you kept your feelings under lock and key, but now Azriel had unlocked unknown territory.

You couldn’t deny the desire rolling off of you in waves. The thoughts running through your head were ones that you only allowed yourself to think about when you were alone. Usually in your bed or in the bath with your fingers between your legs, but now, the male that consumed your thoughts just admitted that you consumed his too. You weren’t about to let this moment pass you by.

Music pulsed through the room and you could feel the seductive beat thrumming through your veins. You rose to standing, perching yourself between Azriel’s thighs. Guiding his hands over your waist, you shot him a seductive grin.

“What are you doing?” Azriel asked, his voice so low you could barely hear it.

“Showing you what I think about when I think about you.”

The dim faelights flickered as your body swayed to the music, hips rocking side to side as you circled Azriel. The glow of the siphons on his hands reflected off the lights, bathing the entire room in a hazy cobalt fog. With the pulsating beat of the music and the sultry lighting, your body moved of its own accord. The shadowsinger's eyes followed your movements, from the way your fingertips traced the soft curves of your body to the sensual pop of your hips as you dropped it low. You slowly rose, bending over backwards and giving him a full view of your backside.

You continued to gyrate, your body flowing as smoothly as the Sidra. Winding and grinding, Azriel craned his neck to watch as you danced around him. You kneeled, fingers twining with his while you twirled back up to standing. Slowly, you pressed your chest against his and let your lips brush against his cheek while the tops of your breasts grazed his mouth. You tugged at the chain dangling on his neck, watching as his eyes fluttered close while you placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He tried to capture your lips in his, but you only chuckled while you turned around and perched yourself on his lap.

Azriel’s tongue darts out from between his lips as the straps of your dress fall over your shoulder. He inhales sharply as you settle between his thighs, grinding against him slowly while your hips rocked in a steady rhythm. The shadowsinger grips your waist in his large hands, fingers disappearing underneath the lacy fabric of your nightgown. Finally, you turn to face him and the ravenous look in his eyes made you shiver with anticipation.

He traced soothing circles against your skin as you settled over his right thigh, your arms hooking behind his head. Deft fingers hike the skirt of your dress up even more until your lace panties pressed against the fabric of his trousers. You rocked your hips over his thigh, moaning as the friction rubbed against your already soaking core.

“Is this what you think about?” Azriel whispers into your ear. “Teasing the absolute hell out of me until I’m so hard that I can’t even think straight?”

“Yes,” you whimper as you buck against him, your arousal coating your lace underwear and his trousers. His fingers lace through your hair, gripping the back of your head with light force. “I fantasize about it all the time. In my bed. In the bath. Anywhere I can.”

“Fuck, that’s hot. Do you get yourself off while thinking of me, princess?”

“Always,” you admit breathlessly. “It’s always you.”

“Do you touch yourself and imagine that its my fingers inside of you?” He groaned, kneading your ass with his hand. “Do you fuck yourself and call out my name?”

You nod, the hazy fog of lust clouding your thoughts. “I do.”

“Then show me, princess.”

Azriel guides your hand towards your lace panties. He yanks them off you, tearing the delicate fabric and exposing your bare cunt to the cold air. The ruined lace rolls off your ankles and he discards them to the floor without a second glance. He lifts you gingerly, sliding out of his own pants so he could feel your arousal against his leg.

“What would our friends think if they could see us now?” The dark chuckle that followed told you exactly how little he cared if anyone were to walk through the door. The risk of getting caught made this that much more enticing.

“I don’t care,” you answer. “Do you?”

Azriel guided your hips over his leg once more and the skin on skin contact nearly made your eyes roll to the back of your head. “My little exhibitionist,” he says with a smirk. “Tell me what you want.”

You bit your lip, thinking. “I want to ride your thigh.”

He chuckles darkly. “Not so innocent now, are we? Is that really what you want? To ride my thigh until you’re nothing but a needy, whining mess in my lap?”

“Yes, Az. Please,” you plead, pouting your lips.

“Come get yourself off on my thigh then, princess.”

That was all the encouragement you needed before you needily grinded against him. Azriel’s warm mouth connected to your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses along your skin. His lips skirted over the hollow of your throat, nipping and sucking all the way down to your collarbone. He pulled down the straps of your dress, letting it drape down your torso as he admired the lacy blue bra hiding underneath.

Azriel inhaled sharply at the sight of your cleavage. He continued kissing your chest while dexterously making quick work of the hook of your bra. Releasing your breasts from their constraints, he cupped your soft flesh before taking a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched as his tongue swirled around your peak and you continued riding his warm thigh, the slick sound of your arousal rubbing against him filling the room.

The sensation on your clit is heavenly and you could feel yourself closer and closer to reaching your reprieve as he hums against your skin. A slick sound interrupted your thoughts and you looked down to find Azriel pumping himself while he watched you get yourself off on his lap. The sight of his hard cock in his hand made your mouth water.

“Touch yourself for me, princess.”

You whimpered, sliding a finger over your clit and rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves while Azriel continued to rub himself underneath you. Two fingers slide into your pussy, coating them with your juices while you and Azriel watch each other masturbate. You bucked against your own hand, imagining that it was his cock underneath you and releasing a loud moan.

“That’s it, princess. Keep fucking yourself against me until you cum.”

The buck of your hips turns erratic as Azriel continues to watch you shamelessly get off on his thigh. Your toes curled, body tensing as waves of pleasure washed over you. The friction made your head swim with incoherent thoughts.

"Azriel," you gasp, moaning his name into the crook of his neck while you worked yourself towards release.

A light tug at the back of your head placed you face to face with the shadowsinger. His hazel eyes glowed with desire, drinking in the sight of you pleading his name like a prayer.

"Say it again."

With your mouth slightly open, panting as the pressure built behind your needy core, you whimpered. "Azriel."

His free hand drifted up to your nipple, rubbing and teasing as you bucked against his touch. Azriel licked the hollow of your throat, nipping at your soft skin and sucking at your flesh so hard that it was sure to bruise. You could only imagine the trail of love bites littered all over your neck.

Azriel grinned into your skin. "Don't cover my marks. After we walk out of here, I want everyone to know who did this to you. Who made you whimper and moan and beg. You're mine, princess. Do you understand?"

You whimpered against his neck. Shadows coiled at the base of your throat, turning your chin to place you face to face once again. The intensity of his hazel gaze burned into your skin like a brand.

"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer." Azriel withdrew his touch from your nipple and you whined at the loss of warmth.

"I'm yours, Azriel," you answer in a breathy pant. "I always have been."

The growl that emitted from the back of his throat was nothing like you’ve ever heard before. Azriel’s free hand tangled through the back of your head as he forcefully pressed his mouth against yours. Your lips melded together, making your head swim with lust as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. The kiss brings you over the edge and a whining pant escapes from the back of your throat as Azriel swears.

“Let go, princess. I’ve got you.”

Azriel kisses you, deep and slow, while you give yourself over to your orgasm. The tension in your abdomen uncoiled and you came all over his muscled thigh. With a growl, Azriel releases his cock from his right hand and plunges his own fingers inside of you. The peak of your release intensified as he curved his middle and pointer finger inside your walls, eliciting wave after wave of pleasure to rack through your body. You whine as he withdraws seconds later, your juices coating his digits. Arousal glistened on his scarred fingers and he brought them to his mouth, licking up every last drop of you.

“You taste like fucking heaven, honey. Better than what I could’ve imagined.” He brought his fingers to your lips. “See for yourself.”

You took his digits into your parted mouth, swirling your tongue and tasting yourself on him. His eyes were nearly black as you sucked on his fingers, releasing them with a loud pop as he pulled them out of your mouth.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“I want to taste you, Az.”

The curses that flew out of his beautiful mouth would’ve made a sailor blush. You smirked, giving him a quick peck before sliding down onto your knees. Above you, Azriel watched with lust blown eyes while you grip his cock in your dainty hands. Lifting his shirt, you greedily licked a trail up his abs while he shuddered at the sensation of your warm mouth.

His wings flared behind him as a moan ripped through his chest. Pure, unadulterated pleasure rocked through his body while his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. “Keep teasing like that, princess and you’ll have me on my knees by the end of the night.”

Satisfied with that response, you pumped him in your hand and grinned. You spit in your right hand, rubbing up and down his length with determination. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you licked his long, hard member from base to tip, catching his precum in your mouth while Azriel gathered your hair in his hands.

Glancing up at him through your lashes, you squeezed him in your hand, slowly pumping his member as you began to take him into your mouth. Tears pricked the back of your eyes while his cock hit the back of your throat. Azriel was bigger than anyone you’ve ever taken. You gagged on the sheer size of his member, your spit trailing down his lap while you fucked him with your mouth.

“That’s it, honey,” he said gruffly. “You can take it.”

Azriel guided the back of your head, helping you bob up and down his length while he moaned your name. He yanked on your hair while you gagged, the sloppy sounds of you choking on his cock filling the room. The filthy swears coming out of his mouth only served to turn you on even more.

“Does my pretty little princess like to choke on my cock?” He shudders, bucking his hips into your mouth. “You’re just begging to have your throat fucked, aren’t you?”

You whined, inhaling through your nose while tears streamed down your cheeks. Saliva dribbled down your chin and you were pretty sure that you’d been reduced to nothing but a slobbery mess, but you were determined to get Azriel off with your mouth.

“Fuck,” Azriel swears, rolling his head back as he spoke. “How are you so good at that? Taking me in so deep like a good girl.”

You hummed while sucking your cheeks in, letting his length hit the back of your throat over and over again. The shadowsinger shuddered, wings fluttering behind him as he came closer and closer to his release.

“I want to make you cum, Az.”

“Not yet, princess. I want to feel how wet you are for me first. I could smell your arousal all night and I want to fucking bury myself in it.”

He released his hold on your hair, picking you up from your kneeling position. Your legs wobbled underneath you, but Azriel steadied you and placed your hands on the wooden table directly in front of you. He swept away the remnants of food and drinks littering its surface onto the floor and hovered over you. Shadows swirled through your ankles, spreading your legs apart with force as Azriel cups your ass.

“Be a good girl and bend over.”

A shock of electricity jolted through you as you leaned over the table, face down and ass up. His fingers traced the thigh high stockings covering your lower half, cupping your ass in appreciation. A loud smack echoed through your ears as Azriel brought his hand down on your right cheek. The action stung and it would no doubt leave a handprint on your ass until the next morning, but your head was reeling with too much pleasure to care. Steadying himself on the table, Azriel lined the tip of his cock on your wet cunt and teased along your slit.

Your pussy throbbed with desire, needy and desperate to feel Azriel buried deep inside you. A whine escaped your lips as you greedily rocked against him. The shadowsinger smacked your ass again, gripping your waist in place.

“I wouldn’t do that again unless you want to get punished. I decide when to put my cock inside you. Do you understand, princess?”

You nod, goosebumps prickling over your skin. “Yes, daddy.”

Azriel chuckles darkly. “Absolutely fucking filthy. My spoiled rotten little princess.” He braced himself behind you. “Now try and be quiet so the rest of the people here won’t know that daddy's about to fuck you into oblivion.”

“I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Azriel eased himself into you, swearing under his breath when he slid into your wet pussy. You were dripping for him and it made it that much easier for him to slip all the way in. He moved slowly, thrusting into you at a steady tempo until he hit that sweet spot within you that made you cry out in pleasure. Encouraged by your reaction, the shadowsinger rutted into you relentlessly and you tried to desperately swallow the moans rising within you. A small whimper slipped out and Azriel leaned over you, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“What did I say about being quiet?” he hissed into your ear, suddenly pulling out of you. The absence of his warmth inside you made you whine in desperation.

“Please, I swear I’ll be quiet. You just feel so fucking good.”

“Look at you begging for me. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Azriel’s hand trails up your torso, squeezing your breast on the way up before wrapping his fingers around your throat. “I suppose I’ll just have to find another way to keep you quiet.”

Shadows clamp down over your mouth while Azriel pounds into you again, squeezing gently on your neck. The lack of oxygen combined with his aggressive thrusts had you reeling with pleasure. Until now, you’d never really understood the appeal of choking, but with his hand wrapped around your neck and his cock buried deep inside you, Azriel was convincing you otherwise.

With your face pressed against the table, Azriel gathers your hair into his fist and leans over so that his chest is touching your bare skin. The cold sensation of his necklace hit the small of your back while he savagely pounded into you again and again.

“My honey’s just so pretty when I’m fucking her senseless.” He presses a kiss on your shoulder, teeth sinking into your skin as he railed you from behind. “Feels so fucking good. Like your pretty little cunt was made just for me.”

The vice grip of your walls pulsed around his member while he hit all the right spots. Your legs were shaking as skin slapped against skin, the tempo of his thrusts matching the pulsating beat of the music blaring through the pleasure hall. If any of your friends walked through that door, they’d see the tears forming in your eyes as you begged Azriel for more. The thrill of getting caught in the act made you moan into the shadowsinger’s hand.

He eased on his grip, leaning over to hear what you had to say. “Fuck me, daddy. Fuck me until I cum all over your cock. Please.”

Azriel chuckled. “Since you asked so nicely, princess. I’ll let you cum first.”

His hands traveled south, settling on your clit while he rubbed circular motions over the sensitive spot. The shadowsinger rutted even more aggressively into you and the sweet nothings he whispered into your hair had you gushing all over him. Turning your head towards him, he kissed you deeply and swallowed your moans into his own mouth.

“That’s it, honey. Just ride it out. Wanna feel you cum while I’m deep inside you.”

The second orgasm rocked you harder than the first. Your walls clenched around Azriel, coating his member with your arousal while it dripped out of you.

“Such a good girl. You want daddy to fill you up, princess?”

You nod, biting your lip. Azriel’s veiny, tattooed arms came down on either side of you as he released a shaky breath. “Cum inside me, Azriel. I can take it.”

It was all the encouragement Azriel needed to hear before spurting his seed inside of you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to mask his moans of pleasure. The shadowsinger sighed in contentment, turning you over for a kiss. His forehead dipped down to yours, a shy smile spreading across his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. It sounded so different from the confident, authoritative male from a few moments ago.

You smiled, nodding your head. “Never better.”

Azriel scanned the room and took in the mess you both made, the food and bottles littering the floor, the ruined underwear hanging over the booth, and finally, your disheveled sex hair. The two of you looked at each other and the gravity of what you’d just done hung in the air. A line had been crossed and you could never uncross it.

Slowly, the shadowsinger breaks out into a grin. The gesture was contagious and you found yourself mirroring the act until the two of you were both bursting with laughter.

“This isn’t what I had envisioned when I finally told you how I felt.” Azriel finally says.

“Oh yeah?” you ask teasingly. “What did you have in mind?”

The shadowsinger chuckles, pulling the straps of your nightgown back over your shoulders. He gathered his pants and pulled them on quickly. Retrieving a small cloth from his pocket, he wiped up the remnants of his orgasm on your leg and set you down on a clean surface of the table. Azriel raked through your hair, wiping away the beads of sweat on your temple and setting a comforting hand over your shaking legs. He kneeled, slipping your heels back on and ensuring that they were properly strapped around your ankles. You couldn't even recall when you'd taken them off.

The gentle manner he took in your aftercare made you smile gently as he kissed your cheek.

“Well, I was thinking that I’d take you out for dinner. Pick you up from your flat and fly into the city. I even planned on buying you a bouquet of irises. Your favorite.”

You beamed as Azriel smoothed down your hair. “Did you think you’d get lucky after our first date?”

“I’d feel lucky just being with you.” Your heart squeezed in your chest. He winked, a mischievous smile spreading across his beautiful face. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope that you’d invite me up to your flat at the end of the night.”

He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “I would have waited for you, though. However long it took.”

“Haven’t you heard, Az? Waiting is highly overrated. If I learned anything tonight, it’s that you should just go after what you want. You never know how it might turn out.”

Azriel grinned. “How did it turn out? Hypothetically speaking?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I wish I had taken the leap out of the friend zone sooner. Hypothetically speaking, I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” you pause, biting your lip as you consider your next words. “Hypothetically speaking, I should have told my best friend that I was crazy about him ages ago.”

Azriel was smiling so widely that it tugged at your heartstrings. “Factually speaking, your best friend is crazy about you, too.”

He gathered you into his arms, lifting you off your feet as he kissed you gently. You savored the taste of him, the remnants of you on his tongue mixed with the wine from earlier was enough to make your head spin. Azriel pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours.

“What do you say, honey? Will you go on a date with me?”

“I’d really like that, Az.”

The shy smiles on both of your faces made you giddy with excitement. You couldn’t wait to explore this new territory with Azriel. He kissed you softly, feeling him grin against your lips. The two of you were so caught up in one another that neither one heard the door swing open.

A drunk Cassian stumbled in, his eyes glazed over as he leaned against the ajar door. “Where have you two been all night? It’s a party out there.”

Azriel shrugged, casually retrieving your ruined lingerie from the corner of the booth and slipping it into his pocket. “We’ve just been talking. Did we miss anything fun, brother?”

Cassian nods, gearing up to tell you all about the antic he most likely caused outside, but then the Illyrian general paused. His eyes narrowed at the both of you, sniffing the air.

“What the hell happened in this room? It reeks of sex in here.”

Azriel stared at his brother for a split second. Then, he leans over to you dramatically, “Honey?”

“Yes, Az?”

“What do you think about going on that date right now?”

A grin spread across your face. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all night.”

With that, Azriel takes your hand in his and faces Cassian again. “Sorry Cas, no time to talk. I have a date to go on.”

If it was possible for someone’s mouth to fall to the floor, Cassian’s would’ve currently been sitting on the sticky linoleum under your feet.

“I can’t believe you seduced our sweet, innocent honey, brother,” Cassian says, half-surprised and half appalled.

You patted your friend on the arm. “Actually Cas, the lap dance was my idea, but it kind of just spiraled from there.”

The surprised choking sound coming out of Cassian was the only thing you heard before Azriel led you through the door. You both looked back at the male, who was currently gaping at the wall as though he’d just received realm shattering news.

Azriel only chuckled, kissing your cheek. “Looks like you do have some sting to you, honeybee.”

tag list: @despoinasstuff @lahoete @mulansaucey @moony-thoughts @fangirlworld46-blog @percyjacksonspeen

#this...kind of got out of hand #alexa play freaky girl by nicki minaj cause azriel is a capital F R E A K #acotar #azriel #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acomaf #acosf #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel smut #acotar smut #masterlist #jess writes

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siilvan · 10 months

Text

bloodsport – I

prologue | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: day one of your imprisonment brings you face-to-face with the enemy.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, minor descriptions of blood/injuries, light manipulation?, makarov fucks w/ reader's head (╯д╰)

word count: 3.3k

note: listened to makarov’s voice reveal while writing this and felt my brain chemistry change immediately <3

the first thing you notice after waking up is how uncomfortable the bed you're sleeping on is. the mattress is thin and bare, sitting low to the ground on a wrought iron frame that had seen better days. your body aches, muscles burning and begging for reprieve as you pull yourself up to sit. you carefully swing your legs over the edge of the bed and wince from the effort.

you're not in a hospital, not even a temporary clinic set up for emergency treatment. the walls are made up of weathered stone and brick, akin to an old prison built to withstand a siege, and the iron bars across the room confirm your suspicions.

you've been captured.

the air surrounding you seems to grow thicker, heavier, threatening to steal the oxygen straight from your lungs. during your career, you've dealt with a great number of challenges: being shot, stabbed, abandoned, betrayed, and even nearly killed. you've been captured as well, but only for planned operations. torture was never a threat.

several parts of your body are neatly wrapped in surprisingly clean bandages, reminding you of the incident that led to your capture. the missile, konni's presence in the city, makarov. did he take the sergeants captive, as well? are they here with you?

you force yourself to stand and try to ignore your knees almost buckling as you cross the room, heading towards the door. a glance through the bars provides little information - the cell across from yours is empty, and the only sound you can make out is meaningless chatter between the guards patrolling the hall. they're speaking in russian, preventing you from eavesdropping on their conversations. it's probably nothing important, anyway. while searching, you start to consider the worst case scenario.

soap and gaz may not be here. they could be lying dead in the sand, either killed by their wounds or by the enemy.

you shake your head and step back into the middle of the room, not even daring to entertain that train of thought any longer. you can't afford to doubt your team at a time like this. they're alive, either in cells of their own or recovering somewhere else.

the voices in the hall suddenly go quiet. they're soon replaced by footsteps, languid yet purposeful, expensive shoes padding against the stone floor and steadily drawing closer. your eyes stay glued to the door, unmoving from it despite your instincts telling you to run. you have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. your only option is to face the person approaching directly.

advice from your team swims through your mind. although the sergeants have never been locked up and tortured, price and ghost have. you can remember price's stories clear as day, as if he told them only yesterday. ghost was more private about his experiences, but after las almas, he slowly began to open up about his past. the two echoed the same advice to the sergeants and yourself.

do whatever is necessary to make it out alive.

you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply, attempting to calm your buzzing nerves and racing heart. panic will do you no good in this situation. when you open your eyes, you're immediately greeted by one of the guards - a man in black clothing and gear, his face obscured, unlocking the door at the far end of the room. he steps away a second later, leaving you staring at the man you dreaded meeting through the bars.

his gaze is trained on you, dark eyes burning holes into your skin, rendering you immobile. you try to maintain a confident demeanor nonetheless, refusing to give him the satisfaction of intimidating you.

"turn around," he says, his voice flat as he gives you the simple command. "hands on the wall."

you hesitate, pride briefly overtaking your rational senses. after a short-lived staring contest, however, you silently concede and turn to face the wall. you press your palms to the cold stone and listen as the door creaks open and shut. gloved hands wrap around your wrists shortly thereafter and pull your arms backwards, forcing them behind your back. cold metal replaces his touch and binds your wrists.

"seems a bit excessive, don't you think?" you ask. your voice wavers just slightly, hoarse from lack of use. "i'm already out of commission, thanks to these injuries."

he gives you no response, though you catch a glimpse of his apathetic expression when he reaches past you to grab a metal chair that rests in the corner of the room. it scrapes across the floor as he drags it away, and you turn once more to watch as he sets it down a few feet from the side of the bed.

"sit down." he looks at you and motions to the bed. you wordlessly follow the order and stumble forward before settling on the edge of the mattress, hands clenched into tight fists. he sits on the chair across from you and leans back, looking completely at ease while taking in your current appearance.

"do you know who i am?" he speaks again, eyes flicking back up to meet yours. you feel like a prey animal locking eyes with a predator, waiting for them to tear you apart. you don't dare to look away.

"makarov." the name leaves your lips in a low murmur. "leader of the ultranationalists. konni's commander. the 'world's biggest threat,' according to some. i've heard plenty about you." you stiffen as the edge of his mouth twitches, an eerie smile playing on his lips.

"i'm sure captain price had a great deal to say, lieutenant." he folds his hands in his lap, nodding towards your bandaged body. you're still in your uniform, albeit without your dirty and damaged outer layers, and your gear is long gone. you feel vulnerable under his gaze. "my men found you in quite an... unfortunate state. i must admit that i'm impressed. surviving a direct missile strike is no small feat."

"where is my team?" you demand, fighting against the restraints. they don't loosen in the slightest, of course, and makarov merely tilts his head to the side at your struggle. "there were two men with me. where are they? what did you do with them?"

he blinks at you, refusing to respond. you open your mouth to repeat the question, before he interrupts you. "they didn't put up much of a fight. it was disappointing, really." his hands unfold and he shifts in the chair, chuckling to himself. "i expected more from price's so-called 'elite task force.'"

his comment pulls an involuntary gasp from you, a stuttering breath falling from your lips. "they didn't... you killed them?" you ask, voice dropping to a near-whisper. it can't be true. soap, gaz– surely they're still alive. they have to be.

"i never said that," he replies, shaking his head in a low-effort attempt to placate you. "whether your teammates still live is not my concern. my men left them to their own fates."

your eyes narrow, though your shoulders slump just a little at his answer. they could still be alive. "what is your concern, then? i doubt you've taken me captive just to talk." you remark, racking your brain for any reason why he'd take you over the rest of the team. convenience, perhaps? you were defenseless, and of the options readily available, you held the highest rank.

"nothing gets past you, does it, lieutenant?" makarov leans forward, prompting you to sit up straighter in order to keep a comfortable distance. his voice lowers, as if he was hiding his next words from any curious souls just outside the room. "i think we can help each other. i have information that you need, and your allies have the resources to take care of a constant thorn in my side."

"are you saying we have a common enemy?"

he nods, reaching into his pocket. "it appears we do." he pauses, pulling out a cellphone and scrolling for a moment before turning it towards you. you lean closer, studying the image on the screen as he continues. "this should look familiar to you."

you furrow your brow at the blurry picture, but the subject still stands out. it was a man laying dead on the ground, wearing combat fatigues that looked out-of-date, surrounded by several corpses dressed in similar, yet mismatched uniforms. their bodies have no visible identification, reminding you of the americans you encountered working with konni and al-qatala.

"i remember them. we thought they were random mercenaries hired by your men," you say, shifting your focus back to makarov. "i take it they're not working for you?"

"the men you encountered were not mercenaries. they worked for a man, not a company. your team knows their employer well." he pauses long enough for you to nod your head, urging him to speak. the satisfied smile that briefly crosses his face is enough to make your blood boil beneath your skin - he's enjoying making you beg for information. "the american general. shepherd, was it?"

"what?"

"did you really believe that you could trust him, petra?" he asks with a quirked brow. hearing him utter your callsign in such a casual tone only serves to make you feel hotter, practically burning with rage; at shepherd or makarov, you're not sure.

the situation doesn't make any sense. why would shadow company launch a war with konni, only to ally with them in secret? based on the intel that laswell gathered during your time in las almas, about shadow company losing the missiles to the group, shepherd should want to burn the organization, not assist it. you frantically search for an answer, but come up with nothing. grudgingly, you look to the man sitting in front of you.

"tell me more." you mutter, managing to subdue your anger for the time being.

instead of elaborating, he stands from the chair. you watch him cross the room and stop in front of the door, casting a glance in your direction. "we can discuss the details in due time. for now, come."

you stare at him, confused, before rising to your feet and following him. he leaves the cell and starts down the hallway with you in tow, doing your best to keep pace as the momentarily forgotten pain quickly settles in again. a pair of guards follow the two of you from a small distance, close enough to intervene in an emergency but far enough to not indulge in your discussion.

if you can even call this a "discussion." a madman and his captive audience is a more accurate description.

you try to take in your surroundings. the corridors greatly resemble the cell you were in, dark stone and brick walls that looked in dire need of repairs. the barred windows you pass look out onto different fields, courtyards turned into vehicle and weapon storage. you have to restrain yourself from gawking when you see a small collection of tanks in one area, accompanied by smaller APCs scattered about.

makarov has a small army that somehow slipped under your radars. you're well aware of konni and his affiliation with other powerful groups, but you've always assumed they were disorganized, using guerilla tactics and thrifted gear. this is something else entirely, you think. he's preparing for war.

you hear a soft rumbling in the distance. at first, you mistake it for one of the vehicles, until the sound disappears. it reappears seconds later, and you quickly realize that it's thunder.

"petra," he addresses you suddenly, drawing your attention. "tell me, do you consider yourself a good person?"

your brows knit together at the question. it feels out of place, and you wonder for a moment if you misheard him. your step falters, causing one of the guards to grumble something about "keeping up" until you catch up again. "i, uh– i guess i do, yeah. what are you getting at?"

there's a storm approaching, the thunder sounding closer now. the sky grows dark as grey clouds begin to form and block out the sun, casting shadows across the exterior grounds. it's a melancholic scene, although fitting considering your circumstances. you reach a set of doors that another pair of guards pull open, allowing you to step outside.

a cold breeze sweeps past you almost instantly, forcing a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rise to the surface of your exposed skin. makarov says something to the guards that you don't quite catch and the doors shut behind you, leaving you alone with him. you're standing on a small balcony overlooking a bustling area full of soldiers and mercenaries alike, training and organizing their forces.

"you consider yourself good, even though you're responsible for innocent lives being lost?" he remarks, stepping towards the balcony's edge and placing his hands atop the stone ledge.

"innocent lives– you are the one responsible for that!" you exclaim, striding across the balcony and glaring daggers at his profile. "my job is to save people, and that's what i do. i've spent years hunting down threats just like you with the sole purpose of making the world safer for the innocents!"

he turns to face you with the same apathetic expression as earlier, when he first entered your cell. he doesn't look at all affected by your words, dark eyes staring straight through you. if you didn't know better, you'd think he was seeing into your very soul. his response - or rather, the lack thereof - is enough to make you go quiet. a beat of silence passes between you, only broken by the encroaching thunder and sounds of his soldiers training in the field below.

"what of the missiles used by your allies? the ones that they lost." he mutters, earning an exasperated sigh from you.

"you mean the missiles that your men killed them for?" you flex your hands in the restraints and shake your head. "i'm not allied with the shadows or their commander, but even if i was, those missiles were going to a good cause."

"and, where were they going?"

your eyes flit from his own, focusing on the distant horizon. you can tell exactly where he's going with this line of questioning, but the frustration continues to build up inside of you.

"if i had to guess, they were probably heading straight for your doorstep." you grumble, shifting from one foot to the other. standing for so long is nothing short of agonizing, given your current state.

he clicks his tongue, making a 'tsk' sound at your reply. "you cannot claim to be fighting for a good cause, if said cause considers civilians another price of war." makarov huffs. from the corner of your eye, you can see his gaze still firmly locked on you. "the lives that you save will never outweigh the damage you've done. they'll never cleanse your hands of the blood that stains them. every time your allies fire off a missile to kill someone like me, so, too, are they killing innocent–"

"you're one to fucking talk–"

the words tumble from your lips as your back is slammed into the wall, your skull knocking against the stone from the force. you wince, eyes temporarily falling out of focus and head spinning from yet another injury. makarov leans in dangerously close, one of his hands wrapped around your throat uncomfortably tight, restricting your airflow. you can still breathe, but just barely, sucking in short gasps of air.

"watch your mouth."

the warning is a low growl next to your ear, his voice dripping with such an intense venom that it makes your skin crawl. you try to nod your head despite his hold, finding it impossible to form any words with your lack of oxygen. your brain is firing off warning signals, desperate pleas to eliminate or escape the threat in front of you.

after a couple seconds, his grip loosens, allowing you to fully inhale and exhale, chest heaving with each ragged breath. he's still standing unbearably close, enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. it's an unwelcomed reprieve from the damp breeze that makes your weary bones ache.

finally, he releases you and steps back, giving you space to come down from your brief adrenaline rush. you blink away any remaining disorientation and fix your gaze on him, sinking down on your heels and slumping against the wall.

he looks completely calm - a stark contrast to his demeanor from just moments ago. an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach as you watch him collect himself, fixing the rolled cuffs of his dress shirt and straightening his suit jacket.

"you wanted to know more about general shepherd." he mutters, eyes finding yours and holding your gaze. you worry the inside of your cheek and nod in return.

"the men working for him are not mercenaries, nor are they from any private military group. they're ex-soldiers." he begins, crossing his arms behind his back. "operatives from the CIA, to be precise. he has attempted to send several men undercover, and he's failed every single time. once discovered, they are... taken care of."

you lower your head and squint, struggling to follow. "i understand sending one man undercover, but why more? what is he trying to accomplish?"

"come on, you can figure that one out."

you want to sneer at the condescending tone, but instead you close your eyes and try to think. shepherd is still in the wind after las almas, and the only person that has a chance of knowing his location is graves. judging by the latter's cooperation with urzikstan, however, you can safely assume that shepherd is lacking in resources.

"he's attempting to start a war. reestablish himself and shadow company as an invaluable military asset," you mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling apprehensive about revealing this to the man in front of you. "if he can prove his worth, he can find forgiveness for his crimes. he'll try to use his position to pin it on the one-four-one, too."

"very clever, petra. i'm impressed." he chuckles at the glare you shoot his way, clearly annoyed with his praise.

you bite your tongue and push yourself off the wall. "i need to relay this to my team as soon as possible. shepherd can't be left to his own devices." you roll your shoulders back and mentally prepare for the uphill battle that the you'll be facing. the one-four-one's relationship with shadow company is already fragile, and you're left to ponder if graves knows about this plan. he could very well be involved.

"no need to fret over that. i have people for matters such as this."

makarov saunters across the balcony and places his hand on the door handle. you narrow your eyes at him, confusion plainly written on your expression.

"i thought you said we could help each other."

"haven't we?" he asks, swinging the door open. "ah, i can see what that pretty little mind of yours is struggling to understand. you believed i was going to let you go, didn't you?"

a bright flash emerges from the storm clouds blanketing the sky, illuminating the crooked grin on his face. you stumble towards him, fatigued body threatening to collapse under its own weight. you should have known better, you shouldn't have trusted that the situation would end in your favor.

"you– you fucking asshole–"

before you can lunge at him, use the last of your strength to do something, the guards from before appear in the doorway and restrain you. their hands dig into your skin, aggravating fresh wounds and setting your sensitive nerves ablaze, ripping a pathetic pained whimper from your lips.

"as much as i would love to stay and indulge myself," makarov starts, stepping aside to allow the guards to force you back inside the stronghold. "i have somewhere i need to be. as do you."

"go fuck yourself–!" you snap, fighting the guards in a last-ditch effort to free yourself. as they drag you down the hall, back to the prison cell you had already grown to hate, he keeps his gaze on you.

"i look forward to getting better acquainted with you, lieutenant."

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#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #sylph.writes

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