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smileysuh · 1 month

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devil's girl

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader I ft. Mingyu & Wonwoo

🔮 preview. “Three hundred years ago, one of your ancestors promised me a descendant as my prophesied betrothed. A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of heaven or hell. A witch who would be identified by the mark of the Devil, drawn through with three lines.”

tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, oral (f receiving), Cheol is low-key pussy obsessed, overstimulation, 5-inch long demon tongue, invisible demon bondage magic, the demon magic can also vibrate her clit a little, bdsm themes, slight choking, squirting, wet kink, massive cock cheol, pussy stretching, impreg/breeding/cum kink, dirty talk, service dom Cheol, consent is a must, begging, multiple reader orgasms, unprotected sex, hand job, dream/incubi threesome with Mingyu & Wonwoo, double fingering, degradation, dacryphilia, etc… I pet names: (hers) little/my sweet, pretty girl, good girl, whore/slut (1), baby, little love, etc. (his) sir, daddy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.2k

🍭 aus. king of hell!Cheol, witch descendant!y/n, prophesy, arranged marriage, yandere/possessive themes, slight kidnapping, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I feel like I need the men I write about every time, but when I tell you I need this man biblically, when I tell you I need him to kidnap me and make me the Queen of Hell and knock me up with demon hybrid babies asap-

Prologue:

It was not a fate that she would have ever wished upon any of her descendants, but there was a price to pay for power, a price to pay for life and a line continued. The old crone signed the contract, bound in blood, with the King of Hell, promising one of her own line as his future intended.

She could not foresee when the prophesied witch would be born, all she could promise The Dark King was that the descendant would bear the mark of the Devil. Somewhere in the world, there would be a girl born with a pentagram birthmark, run through with three lines, and that girl, would bear the task of giving children to the King of Hell himself.

The crone did this to solidify her line would survive the witch trials ravaging the country, the contract would ensure demonic protection from death- none of the King’s loyal followers would allow harm to fall upon any woman who could possibly birth the next Queen of Hell.

As the trials continued, not one of the crone’s daughters were harmed. Years went by, with the crone checking every new grandaughter and great-granddaughter for marks. When it became clear that the prophesied girl would not be born in her time on Earth, she urged all her descendants to be fruitful and multiply, in the hopes that, with a large family line, the Demon King would have a harder time finding the contracted child.

Upon her death, the old crone’s family took her words to heart. Not only did the daughters multiply after the witch trials had ended, but they split. Some became nomadic, others found places to settle down and have whole swaths of children. Many of these descendants took upon new names, as women always took the last name of their husbands.

In this way, the old crone hoped to cheat the devil himself, and for a very long time, she was successful in her evasion of him.

one

“This better be important,” Seungcheol groans, shifting on his throne to assess the two low level demons in front of him.

The incubi exchange looks, and finally one steps forward. “Sir, we found her.”

“You found her?” the King repeats. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“The witch,” the second demon says, fumbling as he also moves forward to address Seungcheol. “The one from the prophecy, with the mark.”

The Demon King feels a twitch of something electric, it makes his finger tips jolt, and he begins to strum them along the dark marble arm of his throne. “What are your names?”

“I’m Wonwoo,” says the first incubi, “and this is Mingyu.”

“Well, Wonwoo, Mingyu, the two of you better not be wrong.” Seungcheol stands up. “Where is she?”

“We can give you the details, only…” Mingyu casts an anxious look toward Wonwoo, “we’re pretty sure she was wearing a high level demon ward.”

“What?” The word comes out as a growl, and in the lava fields of hell that stretch as far as the eye can see behind him, there’s a tremor that betrays the King’s rage.

“A demon ward,” Wonwoo repeats. “An heirloom. It’s a necklace. We tried to get her to take it off, but even while dreaming, she was pretty protective over it.”

Seungcheol can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s been over three hundred years since he’d made a contract with the old crone. Three hundred years of waiting for the ability to sire a line with a witch who would be able to withstand the process. He’d almost given up the hope of ever finding his betrothed, only for two sinful incubi to find her in the dream state. The fact that she’s warded is the cherry on top of this whole fucking thing.

“That bitch,” Seungcheol groans. “The old crone has done everything in her power to make sure our contract would never be fulfilled, and she’s even left warding jewlery.”

If the witch wasn’t in heaven, Seungcheol would pay a visit to her himself to enact his revenge for this final piece of treachery.

You do a service to save an entire line of witches, and this is how they intend to pay back your kindness.

“It’s not the end though,” Wonwoo offers helpfully. “We just have to convince her to take the necklace off, that will break the ward, and you can summon yourself into her room as soon as it’s off.”

“If the two of you do this for me,” Seungcheol notes, “you will be rewarded.”

“We’re just happy we found her for you,” Mingyu says, voice shaky. “It’s been a very long time.”

Too long, in fact.

two

You’re lost in a dreamy haze. Two pairs of lips are on your throat, one man pressed to your front, the other at your back. Hands caress your form, and nothing has felt this real. You’re moaning, eager for the fiery touches.

“We need you to do something for us,” the man in front of you whispers, licking past the shell of your ear and making you shiver.

“Anything,” you blurt out, already reaching for his cock.

A hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. When you meet the stern man’s gaze, you note the darkness in his eyes.

“This is a pretty necklace,” he muses, as the person at your back nips at the chain that encircles your throat.

“It’s a-” you swallow back your lust, trying to form words, “an heirloom.”

“How badly do you want to be fucked, naughty girl?”

“So bad,” you whimper, pressing your thighs together in the hope that you can quench some of your sexual appetite.

“Then you need to promise us that when you wake up, you’ll take this pretty necklace off, only for a while.”

“Huh?” You’re confused, and the man behind you immediately brings his hand to your core, stroking you through your nightie. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel like they’ve asked you to do this before- but your memory is as fuzzy as the vision in front of you, and the men are more than distracting.

“You can do this for us, right?” he presses. “Please?”

“Why do you need me to take my necklace off?” you ask. It had been a parting gift from your mother before you were put up for adoption, and in her note, she’d warned you never to take it off. You can already feel yourself becoming restless at the turn of this dream, what had started so sweet and sexual has turned darker than you’d been ready for.

“It looks like it needs a little… TLC, don’t you think, baby?” One large finger slips into your core, and at the same time, the man in front of you tugs down your dress to access your breast, flicking at the nipple.

“Tell us you’ll do this,” murmurs the one with his mouth on your chest.

Your fingers tangle through his dark curls, keeping him on your breast while he begins to suck on your sensitive bud. It’s practically impossible to say no to them.

“Okay,” you whisper finally, voice shaky. “Just for a little.”

“There’s our good girl,” the one in front growls, adding a hand to his friend’s so he can slip his own finger into your dripping core. They both begin to work you open, and you can’t help the gasps of pleasure that begin to escape you, your grip flying to broad shoulders to keep yourself standing between the two large men. “Now we all get our reward.”

three

You wake up feeling relaxed but needy. You remember ghosted touches as you head for a morning shower, washing your body and remembering strong hands trailing along the same path.

As you do your usual skin routine, your necklace catches your eye in the bathroom mirror, and you’re reminded of the promise you’d made in your dream. Upon inspection, you do think the necklace could use a little refurbishment- you’ve been wearing the chain since childhood, where your commitment to never taking it off had been like life and death.

If you’d had a dream about removing it, if even for a little while, maybe that was your subconscious telling you it’s time to let go of the hold your mother has on you. After all, she gave you up- what do you owe her? What’s the point in still wearing this around?

With a sigh, you reach behind yourself, fiddling with the clasp. There have been a few times you’ve been required to take the necklace off, at hospitals, or the dentist, certain airports- it won’t kill you to remove it for a little while today.

You don’t think much of it as you set the heirloom onto your bathroom counter, in fact, you’re already planning out breakfast. You go to the kitchen, humming to yourself while you open the fridge to look at the contents inside.

As you reach for the orange juice, the hairs on the back of your neck begin to raise, and you feel a powerful energy, as if you’re being watched.

“Goodmorning, sweet girl.”

The sudden voice makes you jump, heart lurching into your throat as you whip around.

There’s a man standing in your kitchen. He’s dressed in all black, with a long silky jacket over top of dress pants and a matching charcoal shirt. His hair is dark too, and he has a smirk on his handsome face.

It only takes you a moment to assess ‘oh, he’s hot’ and one more to decide to throw your juice directly at him.

The man quickly lifts his hand, flicking two fingers. It’s as if the container of orange juice hits some invisible barrier, and it goes flying directly into your sink.

“Don’t be like that,” he tuts, clicking his tongue. “Is that any way to greet a man like me?”

“Who are you?” you ask, mouth going dry as you cower back against the fridge, feeling suddenly very naked in your tiny shorts and crop top.

“An angel,” the man says simply, but the all black outfit is a dead give away that he’s lying.

“Yeah?” you let out a small laugh. “What’s your name then, mister Angel?”

He stares at you for a moment, something dark flashing over his features. When he smiles this time, you notice sharp canines. “Satan.”

Your entire body runs cold. “I don’t…” You lick your lips. “I don’t see any devil horns, or a tail-”

“Would you like to see them?”

“No?”

The man takes a step toward you. “You’re reacting better than I expected, Devil’s girl.”

“Devil’s girl?” you repeat, pressing your back tighter to the fridge in an effort to get away from him as he approaches closer and closer.

“That’s you,” he nods. “That’s what you are. It’s who you were destined to be.”

“I don’t know much about destiny-”

“Why would you?” he shrugs. “It’s been three hundred years since your family agreed to the dept they owe me. In that time, you witches have made it extra hard for me to keep track of all of you. I’m not surprised you don’t know anything about the prophecy, although, I will admit I’m a little disappointed you clearly haven’t stepped into your powers yet. Part of me had been hoping for a bit of a fight.”

“I can still fight you-” you insist, reaching out to grab a weapon from the knife block, brandishing it at the intruder.

He simply laughs, and with the flick of his fingers the knife goes flying out of your hand, landing in the sink next to the juice. “Silly little girl,” he grins. “Power reacts only to power, and though I can see you have power in your veins, it’s clear that no one has unlocked it for you. Don’t worry, I’ll help you get there.”

“Why would I want your help?” You cower back against the fridge, unable to move from where you’re standing. It feels like your feet are weighed down, and you wonder if this is another one of his magic tricks.

The devil puts his hand on the surface next to your head, blocking you into your fate. “Because, silly girl, at the moment, I’m your fiance, and soon, I’ll be your husband.”

“What?” The word comes out as a croak, your heart going a mile a minute in your chest.

“Three hundred years ago, one of your ancestors promised me a descendant as my prophesied betrothed. A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of Heaven or Hell. A witch who would be identified by the mark of the Devil, drawn through with three lines.”

Realization washes over you. The mark on your ass- the peculiar birthmark, the mark you’ve always been insecure about-

“How…” you swallow thickly. “Why now? How did you find me?”

“I had help. Two incubi found you in your dreams. You were wearing an heirloom with a ward against me, but lucky for us, they convinced you to take off the silly little crone necklace. I couldn’t touch you while you had it on, couldn’t be in the same room as you, but now… I can be here with you, and…” he reaches out a hand, dragging a finger along your collarbone, “I can touch you.”

“And if I say no to all of this?” you ask. “If I say no to marrying a man who’s literally Satan?”

“Then I’ll convince you,” the demon leans close, his hot breath ghosting over your throat. “I can be awfully convincing… also, if it makes you feel better, don’t call me Satan.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Seungcheol.” There’s a softening in his tone when he says this new name, and as you stare at his handsome face, you realize that is suits him. “And what should I call you, my sweet?”

You whisper your name and Seungcheol repeats it. You can tell he’s enjoying the taste of it on his tongue, and as you share this close proximity with the man who claims you’re his betrothed, you realize your innate attraction to him, despite the circumstance.

“So…” you lick your lips. “What now?”

“Now, little sweet, I take you back to my Kingdom.”

“You mean Hell.”

He grins, and you once again get a view of those sharp teeth. You wonder what they’ll feel like against your skin, and the thought has your body tingling with lust and shame.

“What if I don’t go with you.”

“Like I said, I’m awfully convincing, but on this one, you don’t have a choice.” He lets out a sigh, playing with a strand of your hair. “There are many religions in this world, little sweet, and in many of them, the King of Hell gets his Persephone. Although, in this case, you have no Demeter to protect you. The witch who promised you to me is long since dead, and your family line got muddled and convoluted in the hopes that it would hide you from me. Unfortunately for them, I’m here to collect, and there’s no one in the world who can stop me.”

“But, I mean-” you search for any way to get out of this. “I have a job-”

“Yeah? Tell me about this job.”

You can’t believe he’s humouring you, a slight appearance of interest appearing in his features. “I’m a full time baby sitter, an au pair, the girls are expecting me-”

Seungcheol lets out a low growl from deep in his chest. “So you’re good with children.”

Your mind goes back to what he’d said not minutes ago: ‘A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of Heaven or Hell.’

Of course the King of Hell has an impreg kink and is turned on by your job as a nanny.

“I can’t go with you,” you insist.

His hand wraps around your throat, thumb teasing your jaw. “It’s not your choice.”

His eyes flare a fiery red colour, and it feels as if the air is sucked out of your lungs. Your hair ruffles, as if you’re in a wind tunnel, and a moment later, you’re no longer standing in your kitchen.

Seungcheol releases your neck, gesturing to the room you’re now in. “This is your new home,” he announces, giving you a moment to take in the black marble floors, scarce furniture, and large bed in the center of the space. There’s a floor to ceiling window that encompasses a whole wall, and through it, you see what can only be decribed as a literal Hellscape.

You can’t help it, you approach the window, mind going blank as you stare out at the fire fields.

Seungcheol is silent as he comes up behind you, pressing two hands to the windowed wall and blocking you in with your back to his chest. You can feel his breath along your throat. “Welcome to Hell, sweet thing. This is all yours now, although, I doubt I’ll let you leave this room too often, not until I know I can trust you.”

It’s funny to hear Satan talking about his ability to trust you- a girl who’s done her best to be good her whole life.

Seungcheol’s lips brush by your ear. “Should we get started, then?”

“Started on what?”

“You know what.” He presses a shockingly soft kiss to your throat, nose nuzzling by your jaw.

“Please, don’t hurt me.”

“I’ll be honest with you, little one, I’m not a nice man. But… I’ll be good to you, if you’re good for me.” One of his hands slips down from the window to grab at your hip, tugging your back flush to his chest. “The way you were good for Mingyu and Wonwoo in your dreams last night.”

The names mean nothing to you, as the men in your wet dream had never given them, although, they must be the incubi he was talking about earlier. The fact that Seungcheol knows about your sinful nightly escapades with two other demons has you feeling shy, your skin heating at his words.

“Even so, demons need consent to enter human bodies,” the King of Hell explains. “Which means, if you withdraw your consent, I’ll be forced to stop. Although… something tells me you’ll consent.”

His hand glides from your hip to your exposed abdomen, and he teases you on what path he’s going to take- up to your breasts, or down to your aching core.

“What…” you swallow back a moan, “What makes you so sure?”

“I can smell your arousal, sweet girl, and there are signs I can see too.” His hand smooths up to your breast, and he squeezes your sensitive flesh, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. “I think you’re well aware that I’m going to fuck you, in a way you’ve never even dreamed of being fucked before.”

Your breath catches, and you bite at your lower lip to stop a whimper from slipping out of you. Your back arches, pushing your chest more into his large palm.

Seungcheol grins against your throat. “I can see how much you want this, little sweet. Do you want to see how much I want you?”

He grinds his front against your ass, and you can feel his hard cock- fuck, he feels big. You shiver at the realization that your betrothed is packing, and Seungcheol laughs at your reaction.

“Tell me you want this,” he commands.

“I-” You bite your tongue.

His hand wraps around your throat, lips moving to your ear. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you admit weakly.

“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol growls. His hand raises from you neck, fingers finding your jaw again. He prompts you to turn your head, meeting his gaze as he leans over your shoulder, looking down at you with a dark expression.

You know what’s coming, and you can’t help yourself as he draws your lips to his own. Your eyes flutter shut, mind going blank as you enjoy the feeling of him. He’s warm, but you suppose you should expect that from the King of Hell.

The kiss deepens all too quickly, and you find yourself turning in his embrace, grabbing at his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.

Seungcheol lets out a growl when your breasts press against his chest, and he leans down, grabbing at the back of your thighs so he can lift you off the marble floor. He presses you back against the window, tongue tasting your own and dominating you as he kisses you like a man who’s waited a hundred years for this- or, strike that, a man who’s waited three hundred years.

There’s a rage in the way he kisses you, rage in the fact that he was forced to wait so long, but behind the rage is something like desperation. His fingers dig into your thighs, his mouth unrelenting against your own.

You’re not sure how long the kiss lasts, but soon, he’s carrying you to the bed. He sets you onto the lavish mattress, tearing at your clothes until you’re naked before him. He towers over you, staring down at your body while you catch your breath.

“Beautiful,” he muses, reaching down to massage your breast, which sends sparks of delight through your entire form. “You were made for me. My sweet. My little queen. My lost witch.”

When he says it like this, something about it feels right.

Something about him feels right, as if your soul has accepted him, even after such a short amount of time.

Then, in the most shocking twist of events, the King of Hell himself gets onto his knees for you. “Come here, my sweet,” Seungcheol says softly, grabbing at your thighs to tug you down the silk sheets toward his face. “It’s time for me to have a taste.”

He leans toward your core, taking in a lewd breath before letting it fan across your skin. Your core throbs at the proximity. Seungcheol grins at your reaction, tongue moving to prod his own fang- which is when you realize, his tongue is like his cock: monstrous.

You suck in a choked gasp, eyes widening. You’d thought he was going easy on you by giving you his mouth first, come to find out his tongue alone is probably as large as most men’s cocks- this must be a Devil thing, but before you can think too hard about it, Seungcheol is licking your slit and your mind goes silent.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching, core pushing closer to his face. Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, his large hands finding your abdomen to pin you in place. “Stay still and take it, pretty girl,” he warns. “Or there will be… consequences.”

He licks at you again, flicking your clit with as skilled a tongue as you’ve ever had. Your pussy is already throbbing with need, and it takes everything inside of you not to buck toward his face again.

You can feel him watching you when you throw your head back, whimpering at the way he circles your clit. Then he drags his tongue down, dipping it into your wet heat. Your body tenses at the intrusion, mind short cirucuiting as inch after inch of tongue invades you, licking at your walls while Seungcheol groans at your taste.

Fuck- a five inch tongue is definitely a demon thing, but you can’t bring yourself to hate it as he begins to literally tongue fuck you stupid.

Not only does Cheol have the largest tongue you’ve experienced, and a willingness to use it, he’s got an eagerness in the way he eats you out. It’s as if he’s trying to devour you, holding nothing back as he growls and groans his way through working you up to your orgasm.

The feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach is hot and all consuming, your muscles tensing with effort as you get closer and closer to your peak.

“Fuck- Cheol-” you whimper, unable to hold it in any longer as your hips push toward his face, one of your hands moving down to grab at his hair-

It’s as if hot, invisible handcuffs wrap around your wrists, tugging them up and over your head, pinning you to the bed while you squirm with confusion and lust.

“What did I say about consequences if you didn’t behave yourself?” Seungcheol asks, pulling away from your core and licking his wet lips with that tongue of his.

“I-” you push at the invisible binds on your wrists. “I’m sorry- I was just so close-”

“So close that you lost your manners?” He taps his fingers along your abdomen. “That’s not very queenly of you, my sweet.”

“I’m sorry-” you say again, tears begin to form in your eyes as you feel your orgasm dissipating. “Please-”

“Please, what?”

“Your tongue- I was so close-”

“Do you really deserve it?”

“Yes!”

“You’ll be good for me?”

“Of course, I’ll be so good-”

“If you’re not good for me,” he warns, “you don’t get to cum, remember that.”

“Yes, okay, I understand-” you fight the urge to thrash in his embrace, and it feels like forever that he assesses you before finally bringing his face between your thighs again.

Just as his tongue is about to lap at your pussy, he stops. “Actually, I want to hear you beg for this. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You’re practically delirious, muscles still tight in preparation for your orgasm, and you’ll do anything he says right now. “Please, please, Sir- please let me cum!”

Seungcheol lets out a satisfied growl. “Sir, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll take that for now, but pretty soon, you’ll be calling me daddy.”

You whimper at his words, core dripping with spit and arousal. “Please-”

He buries his face in your pussy again, holding nothing back. His hands move down to your thighs, squeezing and adding a slight pain that has your entire body tingling. Gasps escape you, escalating in pitch as he drags you closer and closer to your orgasm again-

“Cumming,” you whisper, as the most intense orgasm of your life slams into you.

You do your best not to thrash around, but as Seungcheol obscenely tongue fucks you through your high, it’s the most you can do to stay as still as possible. You push up against the invisible binds on your wrists, gasping and whimpering-

“Fuck, my clit- it’s too sensitive-” you try to tell him, only for Seungcheol to focus more on the sensitive bud.

Your toes curl, a strangled sob escaping you at the stimulus. All you can do is lay there and take the pleasure he’s giving you- you’d thought he was being nice when he’d decided to eat you out, but you see now that maybe there was a bit of sadism in it. He’s clearly enjoying making you cum so hard that you’re beginning to cry, your muscles screaming at you from how tense you are-

“Please, please, please-”

With one final flick at your clit that has you letting out a high pitched squeal, Seungcheol pulls away from your pussy. He blows hot air on your core and you twitch, thighs closing, body shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Look at you, crying and I haven’t even given you my cock yet,” Seungcheol muses, standing up and staring down at your body.

He pulls off his shirt, and even through your tears, you take a good look at his chiseled form.

Fuck, he’s even more gorgeous with his skin showing. His shoulders are broad, arms all beefy and strong- he’s an absolute unit, but you guess you shouldn’t have expected anything less from the King of Hell.

Then he goes for his pants, pushing them down to reveal the largest cock you’ve ever seen in person.

Your mouth begins to water, fuzzy mind trying to figure out just how many inches this man is about to bury into your wet, twitching pussy.

“Think you can take it, pretty girl?” he asks, wrapping a hand around the base and pumping his hard length.

“Something tells me you’ll make it fit,” you whisper, your core throbbing at the idea.

Seungcheol grins. “We just met, and you already know me so well. Guess that’s part of the whole destined to be together thing. Makes shit easier.”

Instead of getting on top of you, Seungcheol tugs you closer to the foot of the mattress, then, with one twitch of his fingers, the entire bed raises, positioning you exactly where he needs you to be in order for him to fuck you while standing up.

He grabs at your breast, teasing your nipple while you mewl. Your own hand reaches out for his cock, and he allows you to grab him. You wipe your thumb across the angry red tip, smearing precum along his shaft to add lubrication, making it easier to pump his cock slowly while he continues to tease your nipples.

His hand begins to decend, and he teases two fingers along your pussy lips. “I guess I can be nice and stretch you out,” he sighs, slipping the digits into your core.

It’s a kindness you’re not sure you expected from him, and it prompts you to squeeze his cock tighter in your palm while he begins to finger fuck you open, scissoring his digits and testing your inner walls.

“I can’t fucking wait to ruin your perfect little pussy,” Seungcheol groans, fucking you even harder. “You’re squeezing my fingers so fucking well, gonna be a good girl and squeeze my cock even better.”

“Yes, Sir,” you whimper, abdominal muscles tensing as he begins to stroke your gspot.

“Should I give you one more before I give you my cock?” Seungcheol asks, thumb finding your clit and making you cry out. “You’re already wet, baby, but I want you dripping when I finally fuck you stupid.”

You pump is cock faster as he pistons his fingers into your gspot, his thumb unrelenting on your sensitive bud. He works you up to another orgasm with deadly precision, your entire body tensing with pleasure before falling over the edge.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol growls, fingers fucking you through your high. “That’s a good girl, squirting all over my fucking hand-”

No man has ever made you squirt before, and the feeling is intense. You’re gasping, crying from how good it feels, like an overwhelming sense of relief washing over you, a warmth spreading out from your core.

The sound of your squirt is obscene too, gushy, spongy noises filling the room with each pump of Seungcheol’s fingers.

“Sir,” you whimper, “need your cock-”

“Yeah? Is my good girl finally ready to please her King?”

You can only nod, letting go of his cock in favor of grabbing the sheets, needing an anchor for what’s about to come next.

“You know what this means, right?” Seungcheol asks, teasing his tip along your wet pussy lips. “You know I’m going to cum so fucking deep inside of you that you’re going to be dripping for days.”

You nod again, whimpering at the idea.

“You want to be bred though, don’t you, pretty girl? You’re practically begging for it now. What happened to the girl who threw juice at me this morning? All it took was a little cock and you’re dick whipped for you King.”

“All it took was a big cock,” you correct him, skin flushing at the words that have just slipped out of him.

Seungcheol laughs, his canines sparkling in the low light of the room. “Biggest cock you’ve ever had,” he agrees. “Biggest cock you ever will have. After this, you’re mine. Completely. Body and soul.”

In past relationships, you’ve toyed with the idea of forever. It’s been a thought that strikes fear in your heart, but for some reason, looking up at the King of Hell, forever doesn’t scare you anymore.

Something tells you he’s going to take care of you, in a way no one ever has.

It’s clear he’s very protective over you. He believes in soulmates, in destiny, in prophecy- you’re his perfect match, and he’s fully bought into that idea… maybe you’ll buy into it someday too.

“I’m yours,” you agree finally, staring up at the beautiful devil.

He bends over you, pressing his lips to your own. With one hand, he cups your cheek, keeping you close, and with the other, he guides his cock to your pussy again, slowly pushing in.

You gasp against his mouth at the immediate stretch of his cockhead in your tight core, your hands flying to his shoulders.

“I know,” he coos, “I know, but it will feel good in a second, I promise.”

You’re happy he made you squirt, because the wetness coating your pussy makes it easy for him to slowly slide inch after inch into your core. He thrusts shallowly, and the movement helps your body become adjusted to his massive size.

You’re shocked at how big he is- it was one thing to see it, and another thing entirely to feel him- to feel the vein running along the underside of his cock while it drags against your sensitive walls.

Seungcheol’s mouth is hot against your own, his tongue seemingly back to a normal size as he licks at your lips. You think he must be trying to distract you from the intense feeling of being stretched out on his cock, and it’s another kindness you’d never expected from him.

When he’s fully sheathed in your core, you both let out groans of pleasure.

The King of Hell straightens again, looking down at you while his hands graze your form. “Ready, sweet girl?”

You nod, licking your lips. “Yes, please.”

He grabs your hips, holding you steady so he can begin to rut into you.

Your view of him is insane. How is his body so perfect? He’s chiseled in the best of ways, his chest looks downright biteable, his biceps bulging as he holds you down, his abdominal muscles clenching with each thrust-

You’re absolutely delirious for him, your own hands finding your chest to tease your nipples.

Seungcheol’s gaze shifts to where you’re touching yourself, and a smirk appears on his face. “Fuck, baby, that good, huh?”

You can only nod and let out a needy mewling sound, pinching at your nipples and making your back arch while he rails your pussy.

Each drag of his cock along your sensitive inner walls has you seeing stars, and when his hand flattens over your abdomen, you nearly loose it.

“This is how deep I am,” he tells you. “Bet having-” he groans, “Bet having your guts rearranged by the King of Hell wasn’t on your bingo card this year, was it, little love?”

“No, sir,” you shake your head, whimpering at the feeling of pressure on your stomach from his hand. God- why does this feel so good? You can feel him everywhere, he’s all consuming, and that familiar feeling of an oncoming orgasm is building yet again.

“I can feel you tensing up,” Seungcheol notes with a laugh, his thumb moving down to find your clit. “Gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl, the title feeling more than natural on your lips.

Seungcheol’s grip on your hip tightens at the word, his thumb applying more pressure to your clit while he fucks you even harder, impaling you on his massive cock with each rough thrust.

“Beg for daddy to let you cum.”

“Please- please, daddy, fuck- I wanna cum so bad, wanna make you feel good-”

“I’m not cumming with you, not yet,” he warns. “As much as I love this position, there’s only one way I want you when I’m filling you with my seed, and that’s on your hands and knees, face buried in the pillows, crying like my good little whore.”

His words have your pussy fluttering around his cock, and it makes his grin widen.

“You like that, huh? Like the idea of being my perfect little cock slut?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Made for me,” he grunts, pinching your clit and making you cry out. “You were fucking made for me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me you deserve it.”

You can’t even fight the command, your body short circuiting, muscles clenching as you follow through with what he wants. Your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, pussy clamping down on Seungcheol’s large cock.

He doesn’t stop, he only fucks you harder as you squeal and thrash against the bed- when you reach out to grab his arms, the invisible binds appear again, pinning your hands above you.

Seungcheol laughs, but there’s a groan in the sound too, and you know you’re probably squeezing him like a fucking vice.

“Good girl,” he growls, and it only makes your pussy flutter harder.

The squelching sound returns, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be shy about the way your body is reacting to him, you’re too overwhelmed by the euphoria surging through your being to think cohesively.

“You’re crying again,” Seungcheol notes. “How cute.” His pace slows, and suddenly he’s grabbing at your jaw, hauling you into a sitting position, your face just inches from his own.

His eyes are dark as he looks at you, then his long tongue is lolling out of his mouth, licking away your tears while you struggle and shiver, his cock buried so deep inside of you that you think you might faint.

“Tell me you’re ready for me to breed you,” Seungcheol growls.

“I’m ready for you to breed me,” you say meekly, core throbbing again at the idea.

The King of Hell presses his lips against your own, kissing your breath away while you claw at his shoulders. Then, as suddenly as he’d kissed you, he pulls away, cock slipping from your core and making you whine.

“Onto all fours,” he instructs.

The bed slowly lowers to an acceptable height while you fumble on shaky legs to get into doggy position.

“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol praises you, the bed dipping as he joins you on his knees behind you. His large hands find your body, skimming along your sides.

Then he grabs the back of your neck, shoving your face down into the mattress.

“Part of me wants to thank you for making this so easy,” he says. “But another part of me thinks you should be the one thanking me for giving you the opportunity to carry the children of the King of Hell.”

“Thank you,” you murmur.

Seungcheol scoffs. “You can thank me when my cum is dripping out of your used hole and you’re still begging for more.”

He slams his cock back into you, and a cry escapes your lips. God, in this position, he feels even deeper- if that’s possible.

Your toes curl at the sensation, and with every rough thrust, his balls clap against your clit, making you dizzy with pleasure.

His grip on the back of your neck increases, skilled fingers finding the arteries that flow to your brain- soon, you’re not only dizzy with pleasure, but dizzy from air being restricted too. It’s a beautiful, tingling feeling, and it has you clawing at the bed, arching your back as you moan like a desperate whore for him.

You feel something on your clit, but both of Seungcheol’s hands are still occupied, one on your hip, one on your neck-

That’s when you realize that whatever invisible magic grip he’d used to pin you to the bed, he can use to pleasure you too-

Now, you truly feel him everywhere.

“Fuck, fuck-” you struggle against the mattress, another orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it, take it.”

“Are you close?” you ask, and from the silence that you’re met with, you’re pretty sure you’ve caught him off guard. “Please tell me you’re close- I want to be full so bad, want you to breed me, Cheol- please-”

He sucks in a shaky breath, gripping your hip so hard that you’re pretty sure you’re going to bruise. His hand moves away from your neck in favour of grabbing both sides of your waist. He roughly pulls your ass back to meet each hard thrust.

“Keep begging.”

“Please, daddy, please- fuck, this is what you wanted me for, right? This is what I owe you? Then give it to me- give me everything, breed me-”

“Cum for me first,” Seungcheol commands. “Cum on my cock so I know you deserve it.”

The magic on your clit suddenly feels like a harsh vibration, and it’s enough to tip you over the edge. You grab at the bed sheets, letting out a primal sound of pleasure as your core clamps down on Seungcheol’s length for a second time.

He lets out his own groan, and a moment later you feel his cum shooting deep inside of you, filling you up in ways you never even imagined possible.

He fucks you through your highs, his grip unwavering on your hips. It feels amazing to be used like this, to feel rope upon rope of Seungcheol’s seed invading you and coating your walls.

And the sounds he’s making- rough grunts and groans- you’ve never heard anything like it. You’ve never been this head over heals for someone before, and the notion shocks you.

Maybe you really were meant for each other- it’s hard to say what’s real as you sacrifice yourself to be his little cum dump, taking every last drop until he stills behind you, cock still buried to the hilt.

He’s breathing heavily, his gasps teasing your back.

Neither of you say anything for a solid minute.

One of his hands leaves your hip, trailing along your spine. “Good girl.”

You can only whimper in response.

“I will admit, I’m still disappointed you’re not adept in the art of witchcraft, although, that’s hardly your own fault.” What a topic change. “I’ll find you someone to teach you, you’ll have lots of time to devote to the craft.”

His palm flattens against the small of your back, and he wordlessly prompts you to flatten onto your belly, pressing his own large chest against you like a blanket. His lips find your throat, and he peppers your skin in kisses.

“Your days will be spent learning how to be a Queen, and your nights will be spent like this, with me.” His nose nuzzles by your cheek. “And tomorrow, I’ll make you my bride, officially.”

“Tomorrow?” you squeak. “Isn’t that a little… too soon?”

“I’ve waited three hundred years for you, little love. At this point, there’s no such thing as too soon.”

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🔮 preview. “Trust me, little love, I haven’t cum in you for months, pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to help myself even if I tried.” With a grin, you allow Seungcheol to cup his fingers around the nape of your neck, dragging your lips to his. He kisses you as eagerly as he had the very first time, pushing you backward with his large form until you bump against the window. “I’ve got an idea,” your husband tells you, his mouth moving to your throat. “I wanna fuck you against this, want you to look at your kingdom while I pump our second heir deep into your perfect little pussy.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, impreg kink, cum kink, oral (f recieving), fingering, demon magic as a vibrator, fucking against a window, fucking while wearing a dress, quickie, biting/marking/blood licking, breast play, dirty talk, praise, begging, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby, little love, little sweet, etc… (his) daddy, sir.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!reader

bonus

Hell is no place to raise a child, and it’s not a place that is easily accessible to witches either- which is why, soon into your pregnancy, Seungcheol made it his mission to find you a safe haven on Earth that you could call home.

Nestled in a small valley, far from any towns or cities, Seungcheol crafted you a home. It’s a cottage, very different from the Hell palace you’d become accustomed to.

Your days are spent basking in the sunshine with your tutor, a witch of a strong family blood line who had long been acquainted with the King of Hell. Your teacher, a woman named Faeble, also acted as your midwife, ensuring your birth with your first child was as seamless as possible, with the aid of magic of course.

She tends to the wards, teaching you about the ways of the witches, and helps you raise your son- she’s become like the mother you never got to have, and your days are peaceful.

In the evenings, Seungcheol appears, whisking you and your son away to the safety of Hell. It’s a simple little life you’ve made for yourself, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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munson-blurbs · 9 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Summary: A disastrous PTA meeting and an unfortunate grocery store encounter have you and Eddie questioning whether or not you deserve each other.

Warnings: a bit of dirty talk (18+ just in case), feelings of unworthiness, Carol Perkins and Billy Hargrove make appearances, mentions of bullying, small allusion to drug use and poverty, arrest, tiny allusion to Eddie's breeding kink

WC: 7.1k

Chapter 13/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special thanks to @girlwiththerubyslippers & @corroded-hellfire for helping with this chapter!

Your Thursday mornings at Hawkins Preschool usually involve a light tap on the door and a blink-and-you-missed-it wave from Eddie; maybe a wink if no one’s looking. Today, he’s stopped by the classroom with a steaming styrofoam cup in hand.

“I thought you only brought me coffee on Mondays,” you laugh appreciatively. You take the still-hot beverage from him, folding back the plastic tab and blowing on it lightly before taking a sip. It’s made just as you like it and warms you from the inside out.

Eddie smiles, crossing his arms over his chest an leaning in closer so his leather-clad shoulder grazes sweater-covered one. “Ah, but the PTA meeting is after school today.” As if you could forget forty minutes of unpaid work that could be spent reading, resting, snuggling up to your thoughtful metalhead boyfriend… “Figured you could use an extra boost of caffeine to help you power through.” He lowers his voice to add, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it. But Wayne’ll be there.” He squeezes your hand quickly just as Abby Carver approaches you.

You pull away so fast that you bang your elbow against the side of the desk, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a yelp. “What can I do for ya, Abby?” you ask, smiling through the throbbing pain.

“Joshua said that he’s taller than me!” she whines, messily swiping at her ruddy tear-stained cheeks. Her dad only dropped her off five minutes ago, and she’s already conjured up a crisis. Unsurprising, but exasperating nonetheless.

You peer over at Joshua Harrington, who is currently constructing a racetrack, unbothered by Abby’s distressed state. Your gaze flits back over to the little girl in front of you. “Honey, he is taller than you,” you gently explain, watching as her bright blue eyes begin to well up again.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t havta say it!” she protests, stamping her sneaker on the speckled tile floor. It’s one that lights up, little red and blue and green twinkles dashing along the side.

You nod, sucking in your lips in a feeble attempt to keep a straight face. “Well, you can just play somewhere else. And we’re gonna get started with circle time in a few minutes.” Time to sing the Good Morning song–again. If the kids didn’t beg for it every day, you would’ve scrapped it months ago, but it keeps them entertained.

Once she scampers off, already zeroing in on a group of girls dressing up some time-battered Barbie dolls, you turn your attention back to Eddie.

“We’re still on for Saturday?” you ask, a subtle reminder of your upcoming date at Enzo’s. It’s a fancier restaurant than either of you are used to, but Eddie had insisted on it.

He nods quickly, scratching at the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous, though you’re not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Y-Yeah, I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I can’t wait.”

At 3:15, you and Will trudge into the classroom that’s serving as the meeting venue. It only takes a moment for you to remember that it’s Ms. Marion’s room, and your eyes scan the walls for Harris’s artwork. You find it easily; it’s the best in the class. It’s a drawing based on the saying, ‘March is in like a lion and out like a lamb,’ and each kid drew a picture of the two animals. Harris has meticulously added details to his. He’s drawn a zig-zag line under the lion’s pink nose to represent his aggression and given the lamb a puffy coat of wool, while the other kids just drew smiling lions and a circle to represent their lambs’ bodies. He’s also included a speech bubble hovering above each of their heads; the lion’s says “ROR!!!” and the lamb bleats “BAAA.”

Will’s gaze follows yours, and his lips turn up into a smile when he sees what you’re staring at. “He’s a talented kid,” he remarks. “We gotta have him sign something now so we can say ‘we knew him when.’”

You nod your head in agreement and return his grin. You’ll have to tell Eddie to have Harris swing by your classroom after school tomorrow so Harris can autograph some drawings.

Wayne comes in a few minutes later, taking a seat behind you and Will.

“How’s your day going, Wayne?” You turn around in your chair and greet him. Seeing the older Munson always lifts your spirits. He’s wearing a flannel, checks of olive green and white, over a white t-shirt that proudly proclaims: My Favorite Person Calls Me Grampa.

Wayne gives a little shrug; for him, it’s the equivalent of a beaming smile. “Can’t complain. Didn’t get too much pushback from Harris when I dropped him at the baby-sitter’s.” He explains that Claudia Henderson still has a bunch of the games her son had played with, and Harris loves going through the toy bin and finding something new. “Well, new to him. That stuff’s gotta be nearly twenty years old by now.” He scratches the white-gray whiskers on his cheek and chuckles. “Jeez, ‘m old. I remember buyin’ those kinda games for Eddie when he was a kid.”

More parents and teachers file in and, eventually, the PTA president stands at the front of the classroom and calls the meeting to order. The idle conversation gradually ceases, and Linda Wright presses her lips into a thin smile and smooths nonexistent creases in her khaki slacks.

“Welcome, everyone,” she begins, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank you all for being here. We have quite a few items to cover today, so let’s get to it!” She’s far too chipper for your liking, and you wince involuntarily as she excitedly announces the upcoming parent-child talent show. It’s an annual school-hosted fundraiser, and apparently a popular one; there’s a soft roar of discussion before Linda wrinkles her nose in irritation and shushes the group.

“Oh, Ed’s gonna love that,” Wayne leans in and whispers to you. “He’ll probably be more excited than Harris.” He sits up straight when Linda clears her throat and glares in his direction.

The president launches into a tirade about kindergarten readiness strategies, handing out little pamphlets to the parents and guardians. The cover displays an overly-enthusiastic teacher surrounded by a small group of students who are closely attending to a fake lesson.

You hear Wayne grumble under his breath: “What is there to be ready for? It’s kindergarten, Jesus Christ.” and you have to stifle a laugh.

Linda luckily doesn’t hear his lament. “I’m opening up the floor to any questions or concerns.” Now is the time that people typically start gathering their belongings and resume unfinished conversations. It’s precisely what you plan to do until you hear an all-too familiar snide voice from across the room.

“Yes, I have a question.” Carol Perkins stands up. She places her hands on her hips and pulls her lips into a smirk. “What is the school’s policy on parent-teacher relationships? Romantic and…otherwise?” Her gaze sweeps over to you, hovering there for a bit, and you realize with a sense of dread that she’s enjoying this. “Because, to me,” she splays her manicured fingers over the center of her chest, “it just seems completely unprofessional.”

The PTA members start whispering amongst themselves, eyebrows raised in excitement as they try to determine the culprit amongst themselves.

You want to crawl into a hole and die. You can feel Wayne’s eyes on the back of your head, as though he’s silently willing you to remain composed. The only other person who knows of your relationship with Eddie is Will, and you can tell that he’s doing everything in his power not to wrap his arms around you in a hug.

At the very least, the principal is not tolerating the dissolution of the meeting into a gossip session. “Ms. Perkins, we can discuss this at a later time. Privately.” Sue Sinclair’s expression is stoic, unreadable, and you’re not sure whether she’s angry at you or Carol. How would she know it’s me? But logic has no reason with emotion taking center stage, and you’re all too grateful when Chrissy Carver shifts the conversation to organize a ticket sale committee. For the most part, it seems like Carol’s little outburst has been swept under the rug. The meeting concludes as some parents leave while others stick around to schedule playdates, but you remain seated.

A hand on your shoulder startles you from your humiliated stupor, and you look up to see Will looking at you. Sympathy radiates from his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he softly reassures you. “I don’t think anyone knows, and even if they do, who cares? Harris isn’t in your class anymore.”

“I-I know.” But Frankie is, which means I’ll have to face Carol every day, I’ll have to deal with her smarmy expressions and backhanded comments. The blood drains in your face when you think about her spreading rumors to the other parents, their amused stares as they drop their children off to be in your care.

Wayne speaks up as he stands, leaning his gnarled knuckles on the seat of the folding chair for support. “Darlin’, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. It’s no one’s business who you’re with.” He brushes some dust off of his dungarees and walks with a slight limp towards the door, the remnants of an old injury that flares up in the colder weather. “I gotta go get Harris, but you keep your chin up.” He gives Will a quick head bob that the younger man returns, having developed somewhat of a camaraderie with the elder Munson during the various post-graduation Hellfire sessions held at the trailer.

Carol says nothing as she leaves the room, deep in conversation with Steve Harrington and his wife. If they don’t know about you and Eddie yet, you’re confident that Carol will ensure they do soon. Dread pools in your stomach at the thought of small-town gossip flying, your professionalism being called into question, the possibility of you losing your job. And everyone will know why.

Eddie’s hands tremor with excitement; his whole body buzzes with energy as he grabs the receiver off of the glass countertop. He dials your number–his favorite seven digit combination in the world–and beams the entire time. As soon as he hears your, “hello?”, he’s practically shouting into the phone. Volume control has never been his forte, especially after years of blowing out his eardrums with loud music.

“Babe, guess what?” He drums his left hand fingertips on the counter, a rhythmic pum-pum-pum to keep his breath steady.

“What’s up?”

He notes hesitance in your tone, but chalks it up to exhaustion from your extended workday. “I applied for that manager position? The one I told you about on our first date?” He hears your soft “mhm,” before proceeding. “And I got it! Ash just told me now!” He smiles, pressing the receiver to his ear with his shoulder as he organizes paperwork into a pile. “Eddie Munson, getting the girl and the job? Never in Hawkins’ wildest dreams!”

There’s a pause on your end of the line before you reply. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. No one deserves this more than you do.”

Though there’s still an air of something Eddie can’t quite identify, it’s woven with genuine pride for his accomplishment. His fingertips keep busy as they graze up and down the phone cord. “Now we, uh, really have something to celebrate at Enzo’s.”

Another pause; this one is so long that he wonders if the line disconnected. “Um, about that…” you finally speak up, and Eddie hopes you don’t hear the gigantic sigh of relief that escapes his lips, “maybe we could just do something at my place? Grab takeout, watch a movie or something?”

His relief evaporates almost as quickly as it came, and he puts his weight on his forearms and lowers his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just been a long week.”

It sounds too automatic, too rehearsed to be true. Eddie doesn’t believe you, but he needs to get to Wayne’s and pick up Harris before his uncle leaves for work. “I really wanted to take you out, show you off, y’know?” He clears his throat, scrambling for words. “We can talk more about it later. Try to get some rest, Sweetheart.”

“Mmkay,” you mumble, and Eddie hopes he’s not just imagining the smile in your voice. “I’ll try. Say hi to Harris and Wayne for me.”

He ends the phone call promising that he will, hanging up hesitantly. What happened between this morning and this evening that had you backing out of the date and retreating into your home?

I shouldn’t have tried to hold her hand, he grimaces, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road towards Forest Hills. That was so stupid; she was at work, and the kids were right there. Way to go, Munson.

Eddie continues to brood about his faux pas all the way until he gets to Wayne’s, slapping a smile on his face as he relays the news about his promotion. The smile becomes less forced the more he talks. He’s suddenly consumed with thoughts of buying a house with a yard, a pool–well, maybe not a pool; he’s not making that much money–but definitely space for Harris to run around and play.

And in this fantasy world he’s created, you’re standing on the front porch, sipping coffee out of a World’s Best Mom mug–possibly the only mug Wayne doesn’t already have nailed to the trailer wall–made just the way you like it. You’re laughing as you watch Harris sprint back and forth across the grass. Eddie imagines it neatly cut, but the reality is that it would probably be more than a bit overgrown.

He’d sneak up behind you, snaking arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses onto the back of your neck–

“That’s amazing, Ed!” Wayne claps a hand on his nephew’s back, drawing him out of his daydream and thrusting him back into reality. He pulls him into a quick hug, not overabundant in affection, but his delight seeps through. “You talk to your girl yet?”

“First person I called.” My girl. The first person I called was my girl. She’s my girl and I’m her man–

“Good.” Wayne responds pensively, smoothing down his unruly mustache whiskers and reaching for his pack of Camels. He shoves them into his side pocket, right on top of the lighter. “She could use some good news after that shitshow of a PTA meeting.”

Eddie’s brows crinkle, pinched together in non-understanding. “What are you talking about?” he asks before calling out his son’s name to bring him from the bedroom. He can hear the bed springs creaking, which can only mean that Harris is jumping on the old mattress. Apparently, breaking his wrist didn’t result in a lesson learned.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” He slams his palm onto the countertop as confusion melts into frustration. Weren’t you past this? Past keeping secrets and masking emotions?

Wayne sighs, weighing his options. Ultimately, his allegiance is to his nephew, so he divulges what happened that afternoon, heart sinking as Eddie’s face falls with each word. “She seemed real shook up,” he concludes the story, digging out the pack of cigarettes. Delivering news that devastates his nephew has him urgently craving a smoke. “I wanted to stay and talk to her, but Claudia had somewhere to be at five.”

Eddie chews on his lower lip, pulling off a bit of dry skin with his front teeth. “Yeah, no, ‘s fine.” He calls Harris out of the bedroom again, patience sufficiently thinned. Of course Carol Perkins would shoot off her big mouth about your personal life. It’s not like she had anything better to do. None of that is surprising.

What worries Eddie is why you didn’t tell him about it. Were you embarrassed that people knew you were together? Is that why you didn’t want to be seen at Enzo’s with him? Would you agree to a restaurant far outside the bounds of Hawkins, or was this shame rooted deeper than small-town gossip?

Wayne can sense his anxiety, and he scrambles to dam up Eddie’s flooding thoughts as he fumbles to put the cigarette between his lips. “It’s pretty damn obvious that you two care for each other. Dare I say, you lo—”

“Wayne!”

“Fine, fine,” Wayne chuckles and grabs his lunch pack. The ceasing of the bed springs indicates that Harris has stopped jumping, and Eddie can hear toy cars clattering into a bag. “But you should just talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.” He lowers his voice as Harris finally emerges. “I know it ain’t been easy to hear rumors your whole life, but this is new to her. Cut her a little slack.”

Eddie looks around the trailer at what was his first real home. He’d bounced from place to place with his parents, dodging angry landlords and their threats of eviction. From a young age, he’d learned to dread the end of the month, knowing that conflict was inevitable. Screaming voices, accusations of hiding money, when anyone with working eyes could see that they’d all but stuffed it in a pipe and smoked it. There was no love; only survival. Wayne was never the cookies and milk, family dinner, Leave it to Beaver type, but he offered Eddie something he’d never had before: safety.

Now, Eddie scoops Harris into his arms and follows Wayne out of the trailer as he locks up. There’s not too much of great value; possibly just the TV, but even that’s on the fritz. And unless a thief had a hankering for hokey mugs and baseball caps, they’d probably leave without taking a thing. “Thanks, Old Man.”

“‘S what I’m here for,” Wayne says, pressing a kiss to Harris’s mop of curls. He pauses, and then does something he hasn’t done in years: he kisses the top of Eddie’s head, too. “Not just a pretty face, y’know.”

On Saturday evening, Eddie finds himself at Bradley’s Big Buy, scouring the aisles until he locates the small refrigerator holding various flower bouquets. The chill hits him in the chest as he opens the door, crouching down to get a better look at the offerings through their tissue-paper wraps. He’s determined to take you to Enzo’s, and he’d hoping this small gesture will show you that he can be the man you deserve.

He finds a bouquet of pink peonies and grabs them from the display case, clutching them proudly. They’re delicate and beautiful, just like you. He raises them up, the petals tickling his nose when he inhales the fresh scent, when he overhears Billy Hargrove speaking in a hushed tone:

“Thought you were stopping by after that parent meeting thing.”

“My idiot husband came home early,” a woman–Carol Perkins, Eddie realizes–punctuates her lament with an irritated sigh. “But speaking of that meeting–I’ve been meaning to tell you: guess who’s also hooking up?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer before divulging the gossip, “Frankie’s teacher and Eddie Munson.”

“The teacher and the Freak? No way.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek and chuckles maliciously. “Didn’t know she was down for that kind of stuff.”

“Keep it in your pants,” Carol huffs, as though she’s not stepping out on her own husband. “But I’m serious! He brings her coffee and leaves her stupid love notes.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes together as he cringes. Billy’s second round of mean laughter transports him back to the time the jock grabbed his brand-new D20 off of the lunch table and used his basketball skills to chuck it into a far-off trash can. The ruby red die sunk into the mountain of discarded lumps resembling mashed potatoes and half-eaten meatloaf, forcing Eddie to trek across the cafeteria and fish it out of the pile of old food. “Love notes? What, is he in high school or something?”

Carol snickers. “Guess he’s making up for all the times he didn’t bother, since he knew no girl in this town would go for him.”

“Looks like he had to go for an import,” Billy jokes, drawing a hideous cackle from his friend. Eddie can practically hear the man’s ego inflating at the way Carol fawns over him.

“And a desperate one at that,” she snorts. “I mean, can you imagine lowering your standards enough to be with Eddie Munson?”

“Let’s hope she comes to her senses eventually,” he agrees. “So, is your husband home now…?”

All Eddie can think is to run, to get the hell out of there before anyone spots him and notices the pink tinging his cheeks and the tears welling in his eyes. He’s so focused on leaving and getting past the two bullies that he forgets about the flowers in his hand, until an infuriated voice calls after him.

“Hey! Get back here!” The manager rolls his eyes when he recognizes the culprit. “Eddie Munson. Of course. I should’ve known that shoplifting isn't too juvenile a crime for you.”

Eddie can hear Billy and Carol poorly stifling their amusement at his misfortune. He struggles to find the proper words to explain himself as his entire body is engulfed in the flames of embarrassment, burning him from the inside out. “No…I didn’t mean…it was an accident…”

The manager shakes his head with a biting laugh. He’s a graying man who should have been retired fifteen years ago when Eddie was actually shoplifting. The liver-spotted creases around his eyes are particularly visible when he sneers, “Heard that one before. Prob’ly from you.”

Anger burns in Eddie’s throat, but he swallows it. “Look, let me just pay for these, and I’ll get outta here.” He starts to fumble for his wallet, but the old man shakes his head.

“Nice try. I let you off easy too many times when you were a kid, and look where it got ya.” His cold hand clasps Eddie’s bicep as tightly as his feebleness allows. “I’m calling the sheriff. He can decide what to do with you.”

“Shit-shit-shit,” Eddie mumbles, yanking himself from the man’s grip. “Y’don’t have to hold me; I’m not gonna run away.”

To his surprise, the manager lets him go, though it’s likely due to his advanced age rather than trusting Eddie to do the right thing.

He’s taken to the back room, anxiously tapping his foot against the floor and biting his thumbnail. A quick glance at his watch tells him that he’s supposed to pick you up in 15 minutes. He breathes out a long sigh, scanning the bulletin board hastily fastened to the wall with a lone flyer advertising medical benefit sign-up. Upon closer inspection, he reads that it’s for the 1990 fiscal year, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s the last time the stodgy old Bradley ever offered insurance to his overworked, underpaid employees.

He says a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening that Hopper is the one who answers the call. The chief will give him the benefit of the doubt and probably tear the old fart a new one for wasting his time.

Purse, keys, lipstick, condoms.

You have everything you need for your date, save for one minor detail–Eddie.

You’d expected him to stop by your classroom yesterday to say good morning like he normally does, but he didn’t show. He would’ve called you if Harris was staying home sick; a brief peek out your window during recess confirmed that the littlest Munson was present. He ran around the playground with one of his friends from the birthday party, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within you.

Eddie definitely heard what happened at the meeting, you realize miserably, and he doesn’t want to deal with the backlash he’ll get from dating his kid’s former teacher. From anxiety blooms visions of the convoluted game of telephone perpetuated by Carol, the story getting more absurd with each retelling.

At 7:30, Eddie still hasn’t shown. He’s not exactly Mr. Punctuality, but thirty minutes is pushing it, even for him. His tardiness does nothing to ameliorate your fears. This was clearly too much for him—you were too much for him.

You’re about to wipe the makeup off of your face and change into your coziest pair of pajamas when the phone rings, startling you slightly.

“H-Hello?”

“This is a collect call from the Hawkins County Jail. Do you accept the charges?” an automated voice bleats, too chipper for the circumstances it’s reporting.

You’re caught off-guard by the question and the tone, and you choke out a strangled, “yes” and the line rings twice.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Relief floods your body until you remember where he’s calling from.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here,” you say, and it’s only when your fingers start to cramp that you recognize how tightly you’re gripping the receiver. “Why are you in–”

He sighs into the phone, and static briefly clouds his voice. “Long story,” he mumbles. “Can you just come and get me? There’s, uh, no bail or anything.”

“I’ll be right there.” You waste no time in grabbing your keys off of their hook, nearly forgetting to shove your feet into shoes in your scramble out the door. You’re ashamed to admit that for a millisecond, you consider the possibility that he’s been busted for dealing, but you shake it off lest it further infiltrate your psyche.

You pull up to the jail exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the fastest you can get there without flying down side streets; the irony of being pulled over for speeding on your way to the police station was not lost on you. Flinging the car into park and killing the engine, you fast-walk through the entrance and hope your nervousness is hidden by the air of confidence you’re faking.

“I’m here to pick up Eddie—er, Edward Munson?” His legal name is clunky on your tongue, like it doesn’t quite belong to him.

The officer behind the desk wears a name badge that reads “P. Callahan.” He puts down his copy of the Hawkins Post and presses his lips into a thin line as he reaches for the walkie attached to his shirt pocket.

“Hop, is Munson ready to be released?” Released. Like a wild animal who needs to be kept away from the general public for their own safety.

The officer on the other end—Chief Hopper, you presume—confirms that Eddie is good to go, and a door opens shortly after that. Eddie trudges out, shame and frustration marring his beautiful face.

You sign whatever paperwork is required before silently taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to the car. He holds it tight, a shiver of a tremor rocking through it.

“Babe, what happened?” you ask once you’re safely outside, away from where the officers can hear you.

Eddie lets go of your hand to throw his arm around you dramatically, leaning with his whole body weight. The sudden force of it has you stumbling, but he catches your fall.

“It’s awful being on the inside,” he whines, trying to lay on an exaggerated pout, but his smile pokes through. “You’ve made me too soft for prison, baby. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you and almost got shanked.”

His joke subtly informs you that he’s not ready to actually discuss it yet, and so you roll your eyes and play along for now. “Poor thing. Locked up for a whole forty minutes.”

“It was more like forty-five,” he protests, “and every second counts when it’s spent missing my girl.”

“You’re so full of it, Munson.” My girl. If he never calls you anything else but his girl for the rest of your lives, you wouldn’t complain.

He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in so your back is pressed against his chest. “Full of longing and devotion!”

“Sshh!” you chastise him lightly through your giggling. “Get in the car, crazy man.”

“Crazy ‘bout you!” Eddie says, booping your nose. As soon as your fingers wrap around the gearshift, he’s resting his hand atop yours. It trembles slightly.

Tell me what happened. Don’t keep any more secrets from me. I won’t judge you or leave you. I’m your girl, remember?

It takes a few blocks before you finally work up the courage to ask, “Is everything okay?” It’s a stupid question; you don’t get arrested if everything’s okay, but the alternative is a more straightforward, Why the hell did I have to pick you up from jail?, so you acquiesce.

“‘M good.” He gives your hand another tiny squeeze and attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You sigh, poorly hiding your impatience for answers you need to know. “Can we talk about what happened?”

His slow release of breath is in sync with your foot pressing on the brake pedal as you approach a stop sign. “Not a big deal. Just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding that led to you getting arrested?” Stop hiding. Stop pretending. Stop acting like this is fine when it clearly isn’t. Stop making me feel like you don’t trust me. The words get caught behind clenched teeth, threatening to ooze through the gaps.

“Yup.” He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes as though giving a sufficient response to end the conversation.

You drive another few minutes before you spot the sign for Lovers Lake in the distance. There’s only one surefire way to calm his nerves; whatever it is he’s keeping from you, there’s a reason he hasn’t worked up the courage to say it.

Eddie sits up and peers out the window in confusion when you veer to the exit. “Where are we—”

“You’ll see.”

Parking in a spot secluded by trees and the dark of night, you turn to him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Can I make my man feel good?” you coo, taking his earlobe between your teeth and tugging lightly. You can feel the small bump where his piercings used to be.

“Shit, baby,” he breathily groans, adjusting the seat so you have ample space to straddle his lap. His hands fly to his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling the leather strip from its loops. Though his pants aren’t as tight around him now, you can still see the outline of his now half-hard cock beginning to press against his fly. “‘S exactly what I need.”

But it isn’t solely the act of sex that he needs, although it would be a farce to imply that he didn’t crave the feeling of you wrapped around him. It was the public nature of it; the way that anyone could walk by and see you on top of him. Could see you choosing him. The teacher choosing the Freak.

You roll your hips, denim-on-denim creating a delicious friction that draws moans from both you and Eddie. Your lips chastely graze his neck, trailing kisses upwards until you reach the prickly stubble along his jawline.

Eddie’s hands grab your ass, claiming it as his. “Feels—mmf—feels good,” he grunts, letting out a soft chuckle when he adds, “gonna make me cream my jeans if you keep grinding on me like that.”

“S’okay,” you shrug, maintaining your tempo. You press your lips to his and he whines into your mouth. “Just wanna ease your mind tonight, Eds.”

“Yeah, but the face you make when you cum? Christ, babe. Makes it even better for me.” He scoots you off of him for a moment, laughing again when he sees your lower lip jut out. “Let me just grab a condom, you needy little thing.”

You bury your head in the crook of his neck and begin sucking on its supple skin as he fumbles for his wallet. “Fine, fine,” you grumble, a teasing lilt in your tone. “The last thing we need is for people seeing that you knocked me up.”

Eddie freezes beneath you, his wallet falling to the weather-mat with a thud. “Wh…what?” His voice is below a whisper, volume compressed by emotion.

“We’ve only been together, like, a month.” It’s too obvious a point to confuse him. There’s no way he really wants a kid with you right now. “We can’t have a baby—”

Eddie vehemently shakes his head, effectively cutting you off. “But that’s not what you said.” You see hurt in his eyes as you try to piece together the puzzle. The fact that you can’t immediately identify the source adds another element of frustration for both of you. “You said that we can’t have people seeing that I knocked you up. Why…why wouldn’t you want people knowing that I…?”

The imagined swell of your belly that he’d hoped you proudly show off, mindlessly caressing it as you walk hand-in-hand with him, is now covered with layers of clothing, even in summer’s heat. You’re tugging a cardigan closed, determined not to let anyone see the shame you’re carrying along with Eddie Munson’s child.

“I just figured you wouldn’t want people talking about you,” you manage, thinking of the rumor that had spread after Harris’s injury. You bring yourself back to the driver’s seat, and it takes another moment before something else dawns on you. “You wouldn’t be upset by people knowing? I mean, not that we’d, y’know, have a kid right now…because you already have one, and this is all so new…” You clamp your lips together to shut yourself up, having already blabbered on for too long.

Eddie shakes his head, tousling his frizzy curls. “Why would I be upset? You’re my girl.” Worry ripples through him, evident through his expression. His doe eyes grow even wider, and he spins his rings around his fingers. One slips and bounces off of the passenger seat, but he doesn’t move to retrieve it. “You still want to be my girl, right?”

“I still want to be your girl,” you confirm, watching his body decompress with relief. “I just don’t want to make things even worse than they are. I mean, you can’t even tell me why you were in jail tonight. That’s a pretty big deal, Eds.” There’s a lump in your throat as you force out your feelings. You hate confronting people, hate drawing information from an unwilling party. But Eddie is your boyfriend, and this is serious. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he mutters, keeping his head on the headrest and eyes trained on in front of him; his unwillingness to look at you serves as an act of defiance. “I had to hear about the PTA meeting from Wayne.”

The contents of your stomach curdle like milk in the sun. “You’d just told me about your promotion,” you stumble, unable to find footing in your meek protest, “I didn’t want to—”

“So, yesterday? Or today?” he pushes, a tango of anger and hurt dancing in his darkened pupils. “You could’ve called me.”

You could have; you’d certainly considered it more than once, but you didn’t want to bother him. It seemed like such an asinine complaint: Oh, Eddie, a grown adult bullied me, another grown adult, at the PTA meeting. Did I stand up for myself? Nope. Just sat there and tried not to sob like one of the kids I teach. “I thought if you knew what people were saying, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. You’d think I was too much of a burden.”

“You?” Eddie gawps, nearly choking on the word. “You think that you’re the burden? That you’re the reason why people are talking about this?” People. Not just Carol. The information slips from his lips, but he doesn’t catch it. “Nah, Sweetheart. In the equation of ‘Teacher’ plus ‘Freak,’ you’re hardly the problematic variable.”

“‘Teacher plus Freak?’”

“Teacher,” he says slowly, pointing to you, “Freak.” He brings his forefinger to his own chest. “I’m kinda used to it; just sucks when it affects other people.” He looks at you through his soft brown eyes. “People I care about.”

You’re unsure how to respond, so you say nothing. You vaguely recall Jess telling you about his high school nickname, but you had no idea it had stuck after all these years.

Eddie sighs, shifting his position to get slightly more comfortable. “Tonight, I was at the store getting some flowers for you. And, um, I heard Carol and Billy Hargrove talking about how you had to be desperate to be with me. That you’d realize you’re too good for me and leave.” His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lowers his head. You watch a tear slide down his cheek, and he sucks in a messy breath as he tries to control the dam of emotions threatening to burst.

“Too good for you?” The notion is almost comical, and you have to hold back an incredulous laugh. “Too good for the man who rescued Grandma after she locked herself in her room? Who came to her funeral? Who gave me another chance after I made an ass out of myself?” You use your pointer and middle fingers to tilt his chin upwards until his gaze meets yours. “Too good for the man who would do anything for his son?”

“No,” Eddie shoots back, “too good for the guy who grew up being taunted because he played Dungeons & Dragons instead of basketball. The guy who abandoned his pregnant girlfriend to go on tour. Who treated you like shit just to avoid getting close to you. Who…who got arrested for accidentally taking flowers from Bradley’s because he’d stolen from them so much that no one believed him when he said it wasn’t on purpose.” He recalls swiping candy bars, jars of peanut butter, and the occasional six-pack of Pabst during his rebellious teenage years. After he’d schlepped back to Hawkins, proverbial tail tucked between his legs, there was more than one occasion where he’d ripped diapers from their boxes and tucked them into his jacket pocket, walking as casually as he could until he was a safe enough distance to exhale and run.

You take a sharp breath in. “That’s what happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says; the admission is a sack of bricks being lifted from his chest. “Those schmucks got in my head, and I walked out the store with the flowers like a fuckin’ idiot.” He replays the scene in his head, inwardly cringing at his desperation to flee the premises and inadvertently drawing everyone’s attention to him. He starts to laugh, but anger, sadness, and relief all brew together and the dam bursts completely. One tear multiples to two, four, eight, until he’s simultaneously choking on sobs and laughter, the overlapping emotions wreaking havoc on his nervous system.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he manages through another half-laugh half-sob. He swipes at his cheeks with open palms, and you reach for the travel box of Kleenex you keep in the glove compartment and hand him a tissue. “Thanks.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for crying,” you murmur, barely audible as you press a kiss into his mess of curls just behind his left ear. “I want–I need you to be able to show me what you’re feeling.” Eddie blows his nose, loud and honking, and your lips turn up into a small smile. “Why do we let them get to us?” you wonder aloud, a question more for you than for him.

“I was thinking about that,” Eddie muses, stuffing the used tissue into his jacket pocket. He’ll try and remember to toss it later, but part of him knows he’ll find it there tomorrow. “Like, I didn’t give a damn what they said about me back in high school, but now, as an adult, I do?” He takes a deep breath through his mouth. “And I realized…it’s because I never cared about what they thought of me. Not really. But, fuck, I care about what you think of me.” He swallows before stroking your cheek. “I want to be enough for you.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, letting your lips linger there longer than necessary to ensure the feeling of belonging becomes entrenched in his pores. “You’re enough, Eddie. You’ve always been enough.” Your hands find his, and you lace your fingers together. “I have an idea. Why don’t we grab some takeout, maybe pick up a bottle of wine, and bring it back to my place.” You immediately worry that you’ve proven his point of not wanting to be seen with him, so you quickly backtrack. “We can still go out to dinner; I just figured…after the night you had…”

He silences you with a kiss of his own, nose nudging the side of yours. “I’d love that.” Before you can start the car again, he says, “what Carol said at the meeting…did it really make you think I wouldn’t want to be with you?”

You nod solemnly, breaking his heart all over again. “You already have so much on your plate. I didn’t want to be another problem to deal with.”

Eddie’s expression hardens, but his frustration isn’t directed towards you. It’s for anyone who has ever made you feel like loving you is a chore. He does the only thing he can think of doing: he takes your face in his hands, fingers tucked behind the smooth skin of your ears, and peppers your face in a flurry of kisses.

“Eddie!” you cry out through a fit of giggles. Your eyes squeeze together as his lips tickle your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin.

He only pulls away to take a breath, and when he does, he’s smiling through shiny eyes as he continues holding your face. “You are not a problem. Never.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “We make each other happy. And if anyone tries to fuck with that, we’ll just…sic Harris on them.”

The gray clouds that were scattered across your brain dissipate at the mere idea of the boy charging at Billy and Carol like a miniature rhinoceros. Insecurity still hovers over you, waiting for the perfect blend of sadness and vulnerability to strike, but it’s not quite as heavy as it was before.

You aren’t too much for Eddie, and Eddie is enough for you.

And you’re everything to each other.

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springfaekohaku · 4 months

Text

Warning Shot

It was only supposed to be a warning shot.

Steve Harrington found himself staring face first into the barrel of a gun, held by none other than Nancy Wheeler — his girlfriend.

Said girlfriend was shouting at him, while Jonathan Byers stood at her side with matching bandages on their hands, the boy looking just as shocked as Steve. His voice echoing around them and getting lost in Nancy’s booming voice, a side he never saw from the girl that he fell head over heels with. Steve could only hold his hands up in a surrendering gesture, he was officially freaking out.

It was chaos. Steve didn’t even know what to think, he arrived with the intent to figure out what was going on with the two of them, Tommy and Carols voices taunting him in his head that something was going on. But this? He was being screamed at, demanding he’d leave and get out of the Byers residence, while Christmas lights were flickering on the wall with an alphabet drawn into it; he felt like he was having a fever dream.

Until the walls started to tremble and shake, Nancy’s voice got desperate and in a panic at Steve’s insistence to know what the hell was going on, he just wouldn’t leave. Jonathan’s panic at the escalation and the added pressure of Steve being in the midst of their plan, making everything go astray. Nancy had to do something to get Steve to leave, she felt herself building in pressure and like a rubber band; she snapped.

Just as the roof was being sunken in and the lights bursting, a loud BANG! rung through the living room and it all went silent…

Steve felt like his ears burst and could only hear ringing as he stared at Nancy. It was like things were in slow motion and his brain didn’t catch up to what just happened until he felt a burning sharp pain in his right hand and turned his head to see a hole in the middle of his palm. That’s when it all set in and realised what the fuck just happened.

He hears both Nancy’s and Jonathan’s voices.

“It was only supposed to be a warning shot. I-It, I…I aimed above I swear. I didn’t mean to.”

“What did you just do?! You shot him! You actually shot him, whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—”

Steve finally felt everything coming back and clear as the ringing subsided, the adrenaline wearing off and he truly feels the agony and pain in his hand. There is a hole in his hand. In the middle of his palm.

There is a fucking hole in his hand.

And Nancy Wheeler, his girlfriend was the cause of it. Pretty sure it was Ex-Girlfriend now.

He hears the two teenagers shouting in panic and stress, while Steve checked out, only feeling blood pooling out from his wound down his arms and off his elbow. So he releases his hands from the air and cradles his injured hand with his other one, it hurt but his mind was somewhere else and everything seemed to collapse on itself. In his mind and currently in the Byers living room. However, he had a rude awakening as he felt Jonathan call out his name like trying not to spook a wild animal that’s been injured. His name was soft and gentle on his lips. Steve could see the desperation and panic in his eyes, like they were running out of time.

And they were. They were given a moment of peace until hell broke loose again. Only this time, the roof does sink in on itself, with a monster phasing through it and Steve was right under it. He could only look up and see what appears to be a claw, almost puncturing through the roof like it was made out of flesh and stretched skin.

Jonathan didn’t waste a second, discarding the initial plan to coax Steve into safety, they ran out of time; so he lunges for Steve. Grabbing his uninjured arm, tugging him and both jumping over the bear trap and to the room with Nancy ahead, opening the door for both boys and her last, locking it and standing guard.

Steve was walked to the bed and Jonathan sat him down. He had to find something to bandage Steve’s wound, which felt fruitless because there was no medical supplies in this room. So he figured the next best thing is a thin layered shirt that he can tear up and use as a makeshift bandage. It seemed like luck was on his side because he found exactly that. It was a disposable shirt too, it wouldn’t be missed, so he got to work. He had to act fast, he could hear the monster finally break through and its heavy body hit the living room floor. He kneels down in front of Steve and sees the other boy holding his injured hand and trembling. He coaches Steve through it and tells him it’s going to be okay, that it’ll hurt but that he’s here. Maybe it was also to get himself together too. He’s not leaving. As scared as he is, Jonathan knew the monster smelt their blood and now Steve’s fresh flesh wound, he didn’t want it to get any worse than it already is.

They had a plan. It’s all gone to shit and haywire.

Now, they just need to figure out how to trap the bastard and keep it from the others. They can still do this, they need to do this.

Jonathan looks at his handy work and deems is satisfactory for now and turns towards Nancy, meeting her eyes, he sees her guarded, her eyes were stormy and face littered in a ripple of emotions. But it seems like she also has the same conclusion, get it together and focus on the plan; no matter if it’s skewed and ruined.

So, she meets Jonathan’s gaze. She doesn’t even have it in her to look at Steve. Her boyfriend. The boy she shot.

They can still execute in the next phase. They just need Steve to be hidden in a secure place, away from danger.

Away from Nancy and her gun. Which was unsaid but it was spoken in her mind.

Nancy nods, standing guard and Jonathan nods in return. Standing up to guide Steve to a wardrobe, taking everything out and placing him in. Jonathan didn’t feel any resistance, he can clearly tell Steve is still in shock and internally dissociating. He notices that far-away look and how pliant he was with being essentially manhandled into the wooden wardrobe. Sitting him down, Jonathan can only offer a few words of reassurance and telling the older boy they’ll be back for him when it’s over. He wasn’t able to wait for a response as Nancy signals Jonathan and Steve feels the sense of safety and warmth leave his space. A feeling he’d never thought associating with Jonathan, it was new but he couldn’t help but feel his lingering touches, gentle yet firm.

He doesn’t even notice the wardrobe doors close and all he knows next is darkness and being left alone with his thoughts. He can’t help but think back to his and Jonathan’s spat, how Steve taunted him and called him names, said awful things about his family and yet…the younger boy grabbed him and took his hand into safety and out of danger without a second thought. He can’t help but also think about how in their fight, or well, Steve’s beat-down, how Jonathan being on top of him sparked a feeling that felt dangerous and unknown, yet familiar. How he straddled his hips and felt his hands on him and like moments ago, instead of his touch hurting, he was gentle and kind. He felt butterflies in his stomach. It made Steve and his entire world go into turmoil and it seems like he’s come to two conclusions tonight:

Monsters are real.

He’s pretty sure he’s having a Queer awakening.

He didn’t have time to dwell more in the closet, haha, because the sound of gunshots, the sound of like a banshee screeching, Nancy’s voice and Jonathan’s grunts could be heard; Steve had to get out.

So he does.

Steve breaks out of his hiding spot and opens the door, he rushes to the scene of commotion and sees Jonathan pinned down by the monster, which looked to be made out of flesh, its mouth opens like a flower with petals that has razor sharp teeth inside — all wanting to bite into Jonathan’s face as the boy tries to fight against it. Nancy fired shots but it seems to not deterrent the monster, not even bothering it and she seemed frozen and unsure what to do next.

Enter Steve who spots the nailed bat, so he leaps over the bear trap again, grabbing the nail bat and as the adrenaline fills his entire being once again; he doesn’t even feel the pain as he grips the bat in a death grip. He gets close enough and shouts at the ugly bastard. He gains its attention and it screeches at him, now smelling the fresh blood from Steve’s hand and detached itself from Jonathan. It stood and towered over Steve but Steve didn’t feel anything but anger, rage, the instinct to protect and keep them safe.

He twirls the bat to get a better grip and positions himself into a stance to fully swing at the monster, using all his strength and power, he hoped playing baseball for a while payed off.

So he swung, the monster staggering and Steve was hitting blow after blow and that’s when Nancy and Jonathan recoup to see Steve backing the hideous creature into the bear trap. It was working.

Holy shit, it was working.

Steve knew it fell into the trap as it screeched in a guttural scream that he hasn’t heard before.

That’s when he hears Jonathan’s voice shouting at him to stand back and he sees the boy throw a lit lighter into the gasoline which Steve didn’t even notice until it was engulfing the floor and racing towards the trap. Eventually engulfing the creature and the three teens watch as the creature screamed, tried to break free of the trap and even tears off its leg to escape.

Nancy was caught off guard at the unexpected movement and backed away and tugged Jonathan back with her. Eyes trained on it as it advances towards them but then Steve, Steve being the reckless idiot he was, uses the last of his strength and takes only a few strides and twists his body, elbows up and shoulders squared; his feet planted and he swings.

The nails pierced the monsters head before the rest of the bat followed, connecting with the head ripping it clean off its shoulders. The screeching stopped at its decapitation and only the sound of fire burning its flesh remain and the flicker of the lights finally stop and the room stopped feeling like it was going through an earthquake. They stare at the monsters corpse and sees it disintegrating under the flames, taking the heat with it and only leaving scorch marks behind.

Everything was still.

It was over.

Or was it?

TBC…

Next chapter —>

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astrologylunadream · 6 months

Text

Who is in love with you +why?🧸🍑🌸♡ (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hellooo it's Lunadream💌 I will show you right now who is currently in love with you and what made them so! hope you find your message🌸💫

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🍂💗

Pile 1🌸

Pile 2🍮

Pile 3🤍

Pile 4🎃

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 💕

Pile 1🌸

Sign energy: School, Heir, Sloth, Sleep, Care-taker, Sun, Venus, 12th house, 6th house, Taurus, 🛩🌹🖤🐭

🧸Your energy: Hellooo my pile 1's are very cute >w< The dreamy type, loves to take cat naps. May have venus in 12th house or taurus in 6th. I'm seeing a youthful appearance for this pile, you take good care of yourself and often engage in skin-care routines, healthy diet, ect. Make yourself very beautiful naturally💗 You have a feminine aura about you, very soft and angelic. You are very quiet at times and may seem half-asleep due to your peaceful nature. You have such calming vibes, very pleasant and beautiful. I feel like this pile have many suitors or perhaps secret admirers you aren't aware of!! I'm getting royalty from another country/land vibes~ may be a descendant of royalty or simply lots of money, the kind rich girl/boy in your social setting.🛍 Some of you are/were very popular in school. Genuine sunshine vibes <3 You just have such a sweet shining appearance, and your personality is like a little flower so graceful and delicate.🌻 Taurus, Libra, Leo, Pisces, Virgo are signs for my pile 1. You could have venus in Pisces or Taurus/Libra. You may be into the color black or feel drawn to people who wear black, like the dark to your light aesthetic kind of thing~☯💗 You love romance and dream of it often, love daydreaming and drifting off to sleep as you imagine the perfect love story. Cinderella vibes♡ Some could be year of the rat or have a pet mouse/rat.

🍑Who is in love with you: Scratch, Accident, Privacy, Rose colored lenses, 8th house, Cancer, Saturn, Taurus, Capricorn, 5th house, 🤗📌🏖⁉️ Alright my pile 1's this is someone you may know already!! Such secret admirer/hidden crush vibes rn💞 This person has a lot of scorpio/plutonian energy, very intense. Cancer, Capricorn, Taurus and Leo placements, they definitely have Scorpio somewhere in their inner planets. Their aura is magnetic and mysterious and almost dangerous in a sense. They are very private and keep to themselves, they avoid huge crowds and parties, they prefer to be alone.👤 They like being in the comfort of their own home, doing their hobbies and things they enjoy all by themselves. This person likes feeling safe, in a quiet environment, and doing whatever they want. I'm getting that they like going to the beach at night lol. They may have injuries or scars, might have glasses due to eye sight issues and this could be contact lenses aswell. They have restricted themselves from romance for a long time, they just spend time alone because they don't trust or believe in having a relationship with someone, they are hesitant to give it a try. So they just stick to themselves and do most activities alone.☹💔 They tell themselves that they don't need anyone, loner mentality. They may have had past experiences believing in love and seeing everything through rose-colored lenses and it ended terribly for them and it stabbed them in the back, leaving them with trust issues and resentment for having any sort of bond with another person. :( I'm seeing a slow warming up to my pile 1 as they finally start to fall into love again when they look at you, it's like their world is being shown in color, reminds me of the wizard of oz...😩😫💌💞 and they're like "tf is this?!?! What am I feeling rn?? Is this love?!!!"⁉️💗

🧁Why they love you: Trust, My love, Mouth, Drama, Name, Water, Capricorn, Cancer, Eros, Earth, 🆕️🟪👎📸 Okaaay I'm sensing a situation right now, you guys definitely stepped into this person's life and they were like 😳🤯🎆 It just hit them, and like this person has a lot of drama around them. So much crap they deal with and you just came in and I feel like you stuck up for this person lmao I feel like pile 1 just finally stood up for this person and just 🤚 to all those who were stirring up drama for this person💀 I feel like you were there for them when they needed it, and when everyone didn't even care about this person and you stepped in and said the truth, you said what needed to he said and your person LOVES you for that just know my pile 1 like omg they find it so attractive and just so empowering.😍😫✊ They felt like they finally found someone genuine, someone they could trust. And it made them so emotional too they felt like they could open up finally, like a new beginning for them.♡ They feel so safe with you by their side, and omg your name is a huge turn on for them btw they love your name and love saying it (and other ways too...😳) They love how compassionate you are to them and everyone who needs it💗 You ground them, and they feel so secure with you. The biggest reason they love you is because of how safe you make them feel and how much they trust you because they trust you a lot my pile 1's and this person does NOT trust easily I'll tell you that.😩 They love how you care so much for others, they know you have a big heart and this attracts them to you even more!!

💌Messages from your person: Tell me your secrets, You don't owe me anything, I wanna marry you, You keep doing this, I know your secret (What is the secret pile 1??? They're so serious about you!!🥺💍💖) Extra cards: Unheard, Mystery, Attraction, Pain, Hobby, North node, Leo, Venus, Gemini, 7th house (Literally they see a future in love/partnership with you the cards speak for themselves you guys!!)

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💫🌸

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the blossom emoji~🌸 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💗🌸💗🌸🎀

Pile 2🍮

Sign energy: Chest, Purple, Emotions, Passion, Stage, 3rd house, Eros, Mars, Virgo, Moon, 🔮📵🎤🛸

🧸Your energy: Heyyy we have a pretty person in this pile!! Your energy is radiating I'm getting lots of Virgo, possibly Gemini, also Aries/Scorpio and Cancer for you guys. Okay so let's see I'm getting really spiritual and uplifting vibes from my pile 2's, you are so emotional and that's what makes you so beautiful🥺💖 Singing/performing may be your passion, or you may really have a thing for music. I'm seeing lots of devotion to music like I'm hearing it's your life omg, You have a lot on your mind, and you think and feel a LOT too. You are at a point in your life where you are very self critical and strive for the best, you are willing to do anything for what you love, including love itself. My pile 2 is very protective over their heart and you guys are not letting it get broken, you have an amazing talent for speaking for your feelings. Your playlists say more about you than you ever could😂😭 You love comforting voices/asmr. I feel like you have really soothing voice aswell <3 You have a lot you stress about when it comes to relationships, my pile 2 should just have more trust in themselves, trust the process take it slow and be open to recieving love because you guys deserve it and it anyone can be loved it's pile 2.🥰⭐ You have a passionate mind and spirit and you put a lot of energy into everything you do, if I could give your brain a hug I would lol it sounds so funny🤣🤣 but seriously, take care of yourself and your mind because you tend to overthink and over feel a lot🥺👌💓

🍑Who is in love with you: Yandere, Winter, Chase, Love letter, Height, Capricorn, Vertex, 6th house, Mars, Uranus,🤙😒🐈🍓 Wow... just wow this is quite the person in love with my pile 2's... where do I even start-😫🤯 Okay you guys this person is really into you I mean REALLY into you... the vibe is just almost suffocating with this person's feelings towards you. Yandere is coming through so yeah they've got extreme ride or die feelings for you guys. Virgo, Capricorn, Aries/Scorpio and Aquarius could be in this person's chart. They could be above average height or have a strange height. They are most likely taller than you, they often tower over you or stand next to you in a way that asserts dominance so to speak. This person is someone you see often, they could be a co-worker/classmate or such. They could be born in winter so Capricorn and Aquarius are likely signs for them, also you may have met this person during winter. They are head over heels for my pile 2's and definitely very into them romantically, they are very masculine by nature and act that way toward you. They express their love in a more assertive/forward manner to you. I'm getting kabedons, grabbing your wrists and chasing you down lmao this person is so into you for real. They may send you love letters often or even daily. They are super committed to you and a little clingy too, huge simp vibes🤭💌

🧁Why they love you: Intuition, Toy, Careless, Flirt, Honest, Taurus, Fire, Air, Venus, Pluto, 🐚🤲🏖🌪 They love you because of how genuine, honest and true you are to yourself and others. They are actually obsessed with this aspect of you and the way you are truly yourself. They really went with their gut and just fell into loving you my pile 2's lol this person can actually be pretty quick to fall in love I'm getting. They don't think things through and just let their feelings take over🤭 They love your feminine energy and passionate nature. Honestly this person can't get enough of you😍😭 They are in love with how you show your emotions and how strong and sensible you are with them (even if you don't think so <3). This person may have started to fall for you after being flirted with/flirting with you. For some of you there may have been a very subtle flirting but they took it so so so serious and now they're like, obsessed with you🙃 Lol they love how you speak and your voice made them fall in their seat lmaooo they love how comforting and sweet you are. And that little spark within you that always keeps you going, they really love that about you.❤ They might have realized how cool you are and just brush things off not letting it effect you all that deeply. I'm getting for the most part this person just really enjoys the chase with you and is in love with obsessing over you guys🤣 Watch out cuz just because someone loves you doesn't mean they're "the one" (be careful pile 2 I'm getting some really unhealthy obsession vibes from this person with you and this could even be someone who finds you easy to manipulate/control so always trust your own judgement!!) They got really into your giving energy/soft aura and now they're hooked.

💌Messages from your person: Stop thinking about me, Stop ignoring me, I can't hide it from you, Am I perfect for you? You can't hide your feelings for me (They are definitely thinking about you rn) Extra cards: Society, Amusement park, Luck, Words, Favor, 6th house, Pisces, Chiron, Gemini, Sun

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💫🌸

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the flan emoji~🍮 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💗🌸💗🌸🎀

Pile 3🤍

Sign energy: December, Feelings, Seduction, Feet, Caution, Taurus, Neptune, Water, Venus, Moon, 🌇🔚📿🧍‍♀️

🧸Your energy: Feminine aura is prominent in this pile, I'm getting alluring siren beauty vibes🔱🖤 Such powerful seductive qualities and you guys are so attractive😫💋 May have Taurus in 12th house so Aries rising is likely. May have venus in water sign (Cancer/Scorpio/Pisces) or Venus conjunct moon placement. Some of you could love winter or winter clothing, could be born in winter specifically december. You are very charming and beautiful, ahh I am loving the vibe of this pile🥰 You are very cautious of love, it both intrigues you and scares you at the same time. You may worry about sharing your emotions so closely with another person, or wearing your heart on your sleeve. You have a heavy heart and a very fragile one, you know this so you keep it safe and guarded at all times. You don't open up from fear of being vulnerable which has led to you seeming cold or apathetic, but you do feel emotions quite strongly actually. You have a soft imagination and you wish to be beautiful (spoiler: you already are😇). You feel as if love purposely trips you making you fall harder than you would have liked. You may live in the city or love watching sunsets, you love when the sun sets and the moon rises. Jewelry looks great on you, pearls and onyx probably looks godly on you🥺🖤 Some of you are a bit of a loner type, waiting for someone to step in and say "hey why are you alone? You look too gorgeous to be all by yourself"😫😩😭💞 Omg I hope that's the person who loves my pile 3 lmaoooo

🍑Who is in love with you: Affection, High standards, Blame, Hug, Socialization, 3rd house, Lilith, 12th house, Sagittarius, Fire, ☀️🤐🤵☄ OMG I'm sensing a hot couple with you two JUST SAYING😭🥵 Omg we haven't even started yet I need to calm down!!! They got that look about them omg... they're really popular and liked by so many people it's like, who doesn't like them?! Wide smile, messy hair, dangerous eyes...💀 Omg pile 3 why am I freaking out so much this is great- Their voice makes you high that's what I'm hearing LMAO you wanna hate them but then you can't omg I'm hearing this persons a catch like others would KILL to date this person...🤯 This person lights up the room I mean set it on fire🔥 They have a way with words, and omg they have a knack for telling dirty jokes at parties and like they're so smooth about it-😳 I'm just gonna say it this person is probably really hot my pile 3 the person in love with you is HOT. But you wanna know what?? The worst part of all is they just wanna give you a hug!! They don't want a wild night or some naughty crap they just want to make you smile😭😭😭 They seem like a bad boy/girl but for you they're so sweet I can't...💓 They just wanna make you laugh and talk about your interests. They find you so amusing and exciting to be around, some of you may have a bad impression of this person. So you could be really on the fence about them, or shutting them out completely because you think they're bad news. I'm hearing "don't blame me" you may blame them for some reason!! They could be someone you like and blame them for your feelings😝💕

🧁Why they love you: Past, Magnetic, Acceptance, Passion, Dare, Chiron, Scorpio, North node, Pisces, 2nd house, 😭⁉️😟🦥 Awww I feel like they saw you and was like 🥺!! Like when you see a little cat on the street and you just melt😫💓 I'm getting fast attraction vibes with this one, this person probably fell quick for my pile 3's. I feel like they were like "wow who's this hottie?" Or something like that omg just like such raw passion🥴🔥🧲 Mars in 1st house overlay vibes~ It could have been a dare from their friends to try and win you over, but they just fell deeper in love with you😍 I feel like it was first physical attraction that led them to seeking more about you, then once they saw the deeper shades of your heart they felt even more inclined to love you!! They love your magnetic aura and how you're healing yourself from damaged emotions. They think you're so strong and your endurance is very attractive to them, they have much passion and respect for my pile 3 and just overall so much love!❤ They want to he that shoulder to cry on when you finally open up to them, and they love the true you, the emotional and vulnerable you. They love your chaotic little mind, they also really fall in love with you when you cry. It makes them feel drawn to protect and be there for you, to experience everything you are feeling. They're the type to put themselves in your shoes, just so they know exactly how you feel. They love watching you grow and heal, and transform into the the strongest most powerful person you can be.🤧🖤

💌Messages from your person: Sing to me, I thought it was all in my head, Focus on me, I wanna kiss your neck, You make me so happy (Ahhh so cute😍❤) Extra cards: Angel, Out, Cafe, Girlfriend, Innocence, South node, 11th house, Scorpio, Leo, Fire (My pile 3 they wanna ask you out on a date <3)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💫🌸

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the white heart emoji~🤍 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💗🌸💗🌸🎀

Pile 4🎃

Sign energy: Accusation, Admiration, Fear, Company, Fit, Gemini, Lilith, 9th house, 5th house, Saturn,🧚‍♀️🌇✌🦋

🧸Your energy: You give ethereal fairy/pixie vibes, you probably dreamed of becoming an air pilot as a kid😆 You enjoy having people over in your home. You felt restricted in your early years by others, so you admire those who can live freely and live in chaos and fun. You desire change in your life and all you want to to have a good time, others have tried to dampen your fun and good vibes. For some you may have had an older sibling that got on to you a lot, or told you to be more responsible😞 Could have been told you don't fit in with your family, because you are different. But my pile 4 you are so special, you are like a fairy!!😉 So magical and joyful~ you are a child at heart no matter the age, and you probably believe in fairytales at least a little🤏😇💫 You have changed a lot over the years and learned so much, you have many role models. Your child-like nature is both a blessing and a curse, many people hated you for being so light and joyful. But so many people love this about you, those who gave you a hard time felt bad that they couldn't face life as bright and care-free as you do. You truly are a gift to this world⭐

🍑Who is in love with you: Ability, Inactivity, Change, Soft spot, Friends, 2nd house, 8th house, Moon, Uranus, Chiron, 💄🤹‍♂️🌻😚 Omggg this is someone you know pile 4, this could be your best friend or a friend of yours. Could be friends of friends also, lgbtq+ vibes with this person, they could totally be a friend that has a secret crush on you!!🙊 This could be a childhood friend, perhaps someone who always cared for you all along. They are deeply in love with you pile 4 and they are so delicate with you, the way they speak is like a flower so calming and still. Could be Cancer, Taurus, Scorpio or Aquarius placements. I just realized the juggling emoji with the rainbow so that's another confirmation for any lgbtq+ in this pile :D This person loves you in such a pure adorable way, they light up when you smile. And they have the means to truly heal you my lovely pile 4, I mean they could really treat you well. They want to take care of you and probably always did/do.💝 I'm getting that if this is a childhood friend situation that they always cared for you like tend to your injuries, gave you bandaids, shared their lunch, honestly so sweet😭🥺💗🩹 You guys may not have a label for your relationship or it could be very confusing for you both, "are we friends? Do they like me? What are we??" What I'm hearing. This is a very emotional and empathetic native, they are so involved in your comfort and care. They want to check up on you a lot and ask if you're okay <3 This person is genuinely out for your best interest.

🧁Why they love you: Think outside the box, Devotion, Practical, Capricorn, Happiness, Earth, Scorpio, 5th house, 9th house, Saturn, 🌅🧤🎓🗻 I think they realized how smart and capable you are and just how you showed everyone that you aren't childish in a bad way and can actually achieve whatever you put your mind to.🤗 This person is in love with your perseverance and dedication for the things you care about, they love your care-free and fun yet able mentality. They especially love how dedicated you are to being happy and creating your own happiness, that really makes them fall in love💘 They find your mind so interesting and unlike any other, your ideas and beliefs are so unique and innovative to them. You are their little box of happiness awww and they wanna take you with them everywhere they go🥺 They think you're really smart and you never stop amazing them. Every little thing you do inspires this person, and makes them fall deeper in love with you. I feel like they try to think rationally about their feelings for you, because they wanna be thoughtful and rational just like you can be. But of course you make them so emotional and just so many feelings are ignited within this person for you. They love your success and all that you have achieved with your will. They are in awe with the things you do and say, your happiness makes them feel safe. They fell in love with your bright eyes and strong personality.🌈

💌Messages from your person: Cheer for me, No one makes me feel this way, It's karma, I have no boundaries with you, I've changed (I feel like you've inspired this person to keep going and stay strong!! You have shown this person how to be strong and believe in themselves and they honestly adore you for that🥺💓) Extra cards: Show, Interpretation, Sight, Conflict, Softie, Pluto, Jupiter, Neptune, Vertex, Sun

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💫🌸

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the pumpkin emoji~🎃 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💗🌸💗🌸🎀

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

Text

Northern Attitude

Next chapter

a/n guilty... guilty... guilty... I caved in. I own up to my weaknesses. Promised myself to never write for this man and here I am now. This is my first time so be gentle. 🗡️🫧

summery: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: injuries, blood, bleeding out, alcohol, needles, death, trauma fun stuff.

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You two hated each other. That was a fact, and there was no way around it. It was scowling glares, sharp jabs during training if you two were paired together, and bitter remarks thrown here and there. And the joy of it all was that Price had granted you a shared room on the base. First, the excuse was that there was simply not enough room; the team had grown. Then he said he wasn't having a team that was up on biting each other's necks out. So in conclusion, he had set it up on purpose.

Did it help? No. It was a disaster. The man was insufferable. And, in all honesty, you had no idea what you had done. You had thrown a sexist card at him multiple times because you simply couldn't find another reason for his unmeasured dissatisfaction as to why you shouldn't be here. Never had he said anything nice your way. You got it; the guy was secretive. You didn't need to look far. The fact that he never took his mask off was proof enough. But to be so against someone you didn't even spend time with?

"Clean your mess", Ghost huffed, dropping his wet towel on the bed. You lifted your head away from your book. At least you two had separate beds on the opposite sides of the room. "It's on my side", you said, pointing to the white line that Ghost had drawn on the floor like a kid the first night you dragged your stuff here. The rule was simple: you stayed on your side, he on his. The bathroom was the only exception. "Yeah, I have to look at it, don't I", he grumbled, tossing the towel into the laundry basket. You paid him no mind, your eyes turning back to the pages. "Poor you, does it mess with your posh tea time?", you chuckled under your breath, earning a growl from the other side of the room.

And that's how it went. More than not, you considered any word coming out of Ghost's mouth a win. Because a new tactic the asshole had adopted was pretending that you weren't even a thing. You were an actual ghost, and Simon didn't believe in the paranormal clearly. You fastened your vest, double-checking that your on-hand weapons were right where you wanted them. "Do you need me to do a touch-down for you?", your head darted up, only to be met with a smug-looking scot. Soap. You couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle. "Do you think that if you keep asking, the answer will eventually change?", you snickered back, shaking your head. Soap shrugged. "You tell me, bonnie?", the man teased back. Leave it to Johnny to joke around right before a mission. You hummed, "Maybe I'm more into you undoing it", Gaz snickered somewhere in the back. Soap's smirk grew even bigger. You knew that it was all good fun. Neither of them would make a move. They respected you. To most, you were like a sister. They had become your family. One you never had. Before Soap could say anything in return, the back door swung open, and in strolled Ghost. God, he looked good. Six feet of pure muscle. And when this man was in his full gear... You allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the way he looked before dropping your gaze. Suddenly, you were way more interested in the guns on the table than anything else.

Johnny came to stand next to you as the team gathered around the table. Price loved to gather everyone around before it all went off. John was like a father to most. You were no exception. You liked to tease the boys that you were his number one. His girl. And well, by law, you were. Considering that he pulled you out of the foster home, you owned this man a lot, even if he said that it was all in the past.

"You know the drill; go in, grab what you need, and get out. Try to keep it clean", Price said, pulling three sheets of paper and scattering them around on the table. "Soap and Ghost, you're together. I'll go with Gaz. Sugar, you're alone on this; we will clean the path for you, though". It was supposed to be a joke that name. You wanted something cool. Something as cool as Ghost, but Johnny was quick to remind you that his nickname was soap "And sugar", He had said, "That's quite literally white death". So it stuck.

You nodded your head, only to find Ghost shaking his. "Got something against it, LT?", you snarled. His eyes met yours over the table. With the war paint, his eyes were even more radiant. "She can't go alone. She doesn't know how to hold herself back and will do something stupid", now it was your turn to growl. Scratch the fact that you found this man attractive. You will suffocate him with a pillow in his sleep when you return to base. "Want to go with her, Ghost?", Price said calmly, knowing full well the answer would be a hard no. "We meet in the safe house afterward", Price continued without acknowledging the death glare Ghost was wearing, "Come back in one piece, you bunch". Everyone nodded quietly, reaching for the masks, double-checking the cartridges and radios. You were all climbing into the motorcar when Soap nudged your shoulder. "I'll hold you to the undressing part", he winked, hurrying to sit down. Your anger simmered down as you flipped him off in return, his laughter booming. It was Ghost, whose unimpressed eyes followed you two, gripping the gun in his hands tightly as he chose to stare ahead.

It was nothing—the mission. The base that needed to be checked out was pretty much abandoned. A couple of kills. A smoke bomb here and there. It was easy. Simple. They laid a clear path for you to do your thing. Your small frame was what they needed here. Air vents weren't the best of friends with hulky soldiers. "Do your worst, Sugar", Price had muttered into the radio some time ago. Your response was a cold, "Copy". The four of them were left to watch over the main entry points. Yet sending you into the belly of the beast felt wrong. At this point, Simon had lost count of the number of times he had reached for his radio, ready to call out to you. But he talked himself out every time.

"Got it", your voice pierced the silence. Ghost's shoulders drooped. "Good girl, bring it home", Price called back. Soap looked out of the window, "We should go meet them at the-", but his voice was cut by the cracking that came from the radio. Then it all died down. Silence. Soap locked eyes with Ghost. "Price, you copy?", Soap called out. Silence struck again. "All good here, you copy?", the captain called out. "Positive", Ghost muttered into the radio. Gunshots echoed deep within the base. It was you. The noise had to come from you. Ghost felt his heartbeat picking up. He had to find a way to get to you. To cover you. Yet the rational side of his brain screamed at him, saying that there was no way for him to do so.

The crackling filled the air around him once more as they rushed toward the spot where the team had agreed to meet. "Abort", your breathless voice came through the radio. "Get your asses out", you were panting. Ghost could hear you reloading your gun. "Sugar, what's the situation?", even Price's voice sounded more panicked. And the old man kept his cool. They all did. This whole shit could have been a setup for all they knew. Even outside, the sound of bullets pierced the silence didn't ease. Simon wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but your labored voice still twisted at his heart, "Get. Out."

The safe house had never felt so quiet. Usually, at least Soap was a never-ending chatterbox. Now the male stood in front of the window. Not moving. His eyes were glued to the forest in front of him. Price was half a bottle down on the bourbon. Gaz's leg hadn't stopped bouncing. They all had minor bruises, but that was expected.

"We need to go back", Soap said, rubbing his palms together. "You know that we can't, Johnny", Price puffed out a cloud of smoke. He was no doubt thinking of ways he was going to break the news to his wife. "She wouldn't fucking leave us", Soap snarled back. You would expect a handful of army men to be able to hold their composure in situations like this, but... You had dragged them all out of a dark pit. You were undoubtedly good at what you did, yes. But you offered much more. The safety blanket. A proper homemade meal when there was time, and that was a lot for a man who had been stuck in the base for months, missing home. There had been so much more laughter and smiles since you joined the force. As if you had breathed back humanity and a sense of life into their ice-cold bones. And now they all had to go back to...

The handle of the back door creaked. All four of them reached for their guns in unison. But no one besides them was supposed to know where the keys had been stashed. A lucky coincidence? The odds were too slim. But the door jerked open, and they all lost the breath they were holding.

"What a fucking greeting", you muttered, dropping your helmet to the side. Soap moved toward you first. Simon would have loved to beat him to it, but he found himself sitting back down, his legs suddenly feeling wobbly. "Here", you yanked the chip from your vest, pushing it into Soap's hand. "Mission complete, captain", you eyed Price. Before moving to undo your gear. "How many?", John asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. The blood on your forehead was crusted. But the sound of drops hitting the wooden floor was constant. "Six", you breathed, moving to undo your vest, and that's when the first growl left your lips.

"You're bleeding", Johnny breathed, reaching for your shoulder, but you pulled away. "I'll lick my own wounds", your tone was cold. It was colder than it usually was. Ghost watched you slowly walk towards the stairs, but not before you had reached for the Bourbon. "I'll come to stitch you,", Price had called out, only to be harshly cut off with a harsh, "No".

You locked the doors behind yourself. Your vision was going hazy. You had managed to get away. You had no idea how because there had been a moment when you were sure that death was standing right behind your back, breathing at your neck. You had killed before, had blood sprayed all over you. Yet something about this felt different. Maybe it was the fact that there was a moment where you weren't the one in control. When they had managed to yank you across the floor by your ankle. You shivered at the image of a knife being jabbed on either side of you as you dodged blow after blow.

Your hands gripped the sink. You will do this. You will patch yourself up. Swallow a couple of pills and go to sleep. You knew there was no way you were getting your shirt off, so you wasted no time as you sliced the fabric with your pocket knife, wincing. Slowly peeling the damp material from your shoulder. Would this be easier if someone else did it for you? Yes. But you didn't want anyone's hands on you. Not now. Not when your brain was still fuzzy. The trickle of blood ran down your chest and through the sports bra you had on. You knew what followed next. You've done it multiple times. Drink bourbon. Splash some on the wound. Dig the fingers in to fish for the bullet. More bourbon. Stitch it up. You ran yourself through the steps one more time. One more look in the mirror before you force yourself to do just that.

Simon's hands were gripping the chair he was sitting on. Every little whimper from upstairs ripped at his composure. Stubborn girl, never knowing how to accept help. And a whimper, a whimper he could handle, but when a loud cry filled the quiet space, Simon was up and going. Every other step was skipped, and he was right in front of the second-floor bathroom. Hand on the handle as his shoulder hit the locked door. "Open up", Ghost banged his fist into the surface. "Go away", your voice was barely audible. Too long. He had sat downstairs for too long. He should have come barging in the moment you tried to play a big girl. Should have carried you back downstairs. "Don't make it bloody difficult", Simon's voice was husky. His own body ached, but he wasn't about to sit back and watch you bleed out.

You didn't answer him. "Sugar", he called out, "Open the fucking door, or I will break it", he wasn't even sure why he was bargaining with you now. But he respected your privacy. He always did. Even in the room you shared. His face was always facing the wall when he knew you were taking a shower. Just in case you had forgotten your clothes and would need to quickly get to your side of the room, this was different; his stalling could cost you your life. So he doesn't say anything else. Backing a couple of steps back, Simon braced himself for the impact. The hinges were old, so one shove from him was enough to break them; the rest he could handle with his two hands.

Ghost's breath hitched once more. "Stubborn, bloody woman", he hissed. The floor was covered in your blood; there was not a single clean towel. Your figure was slumped by the bath. "Price", his voice was more of a roar that made even you jerk your head up. "Get out", you breathed, trying to put distance between you two. "Like fuck, I will", Simon grunted, reaching towards you, his palm pressing into your shoulder. You cried out, your nails digging into his wrists, but the pressure didn't ease. "Fucking hell", the captain called from behind, "Get her downstairs".

"No", you hissed as Ghost lifted you, "Get away". But you knew that it was over now that they'd seen you. Simon tried to lower you down, but you whizzed in pain. "From the back", you say through gritted teeth. "What?", His eyes searched yours; you knew he was struggling to understand you. "The bullet", your breath, "from the back". Simon's eyes darted up to John, who slowly nodded his head, "Keep her up, then", and you could feel him pulling the rest of your shirt off.

"Liquid courage", a bottle was dangled right in front of you, and you could just about make out Soap's shaky hands. "I don't need it", you muttered, feeling the way Simon's chest rumbled with a disapproving growl. "Don't fight it, kid", Price called out from behind you, "You know how it's done". He was looking through the medical bag, no doubt making sure that he had everything he needed on hand. You open your mouth, and Soap quickly takes the hint, tilting the bottle upwards.

"Bite this and hold onto Simon's shoulders for me", the captain delivered his words like an order, but you still shook your head. "Jesus women, do you have a death wish or something?", Ghost muttered, hands moving from your legs that were still wrapped around his torso to your hands, pulling one of them over his shoulder and the other, the injured one, across his torso, so Price could work on it easier. But your palms stay pushed away from his skin. So does your chest. He was too close. You couldn't. Simon doesn't like his personal space being occupied by anyone.

"Deep breath for me", was the only last warning John gives you before you feel a pain like no other ripping through your back. And that was all it took. All it too, for your hands to clamp around Simon. Nails were in his skin as you yelled out, trying to pull away from whatever Price was doing. Simon's big palm cupped the back of your head, guiding you down onto his shoulder. "You got this, love", he muttered against your ear. The grip he had on you did not falter, not even for a second. "Almost there, Sug, just a bit more", Price said through gritted teeth. You could feel him digging through your back. The burning icy cold now.

Your body was working on its own accord. Hand reaching for the side of Ghost's face as another wave of pain ripped through you, making you holler out. Simon didn't pull away. And maybe you were high on pain, but you could swear you felt his lips against your palm. Kissing your skin through the material of his mask. Your breathing got shallow. You wanted to pull back to look up at him. Into his eyes. At least one more time. But your body felt heavy. Your fingers gently caressed the side of his face. The smell of him calmed you. You pressed a weak kiss against his neck, feeling a shiver running down his back.

"Keep her talking, Simon,", Price grumbled in frustration. Something probably wasn't going how it was supposed to. But it was okay. You had made your peace with it. "Come on, look at me", Simon pulled your limp head away from his shoulder, tapping your cheek a couple of times. "Keep your eyes open, eh? Or I'll leave my wet towels all over our room for the rest of the month", there was a tinge of something new in his voice. Some kind of light worry. Frustration. You blinked a couple of times, the corners of your lips turning upwards. "You wouldn't dare", you rasped out, your mouth feeling way too dry all of a sudden. "Why is that?", Simon asked straight away, his eyes not leaving yours. You let yourself breathe for a bit; you didn't have enough strength to answer right away. "I'll get you pink sheets and...", a cough made your body seize, and Ghost's grip on you tightened instantly. And there. There it was. A flash of worry caught his eye. "A fuzzy rug", you finished finally. Simon's palm ran over your sweaty forehead. "I'd like to see you try, darling", he breathed out, but there was no amusement in his voice.

"She's too fucking pale, Price", you heard Soap's voice from the side, or at least it sounded like it. "Shut up, Johnny,", the captain grumbled. "Don't close your eyes, Sugar", you felt another nudge from Ghost, making you blink up at him once more. "It's cold", you muttered, feeling your hand slip down his torso, falling limp by your leg. "John", Ghost said in a warning tone. He was trying to make you hold back on him, but your hand slipped away every time.

It was the way your hand limped against Simon's face that sent the last wave of panic through him. Your clammy skin pressed against him. And he was back there, back in the house where his family was killed. No, he couldn't lose you. Not now that he had found you. Not without you knowing that he also cared, just like everyone else. "Y/N", he called out softly. He had never called you by your real name. Never had a chance to see if your eyes would shimmer when he did. "Don't do this", he breathed again your not injured shoulder, "Don't you dare fucking die on me". But he was met with nothing. Only then did he realize that he would have to live with nothing but regret and your blood on his hands. All because he couldn't find a way to let your light shine through his cold demeanor. All because he was afraid of the fact that he had found himself caring again.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost cod image #ghost cod x reader #cod imagine #cod x reader #simon riley x reader

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xxblairexxss · 7 months

Text

Who are you p.3

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Word count : 2.2k

Part 1 Part 2

Is the country’s gem boy turning into your knight in shining armour? Was it a coincidence or on purpose?

I wasn’t really sure about this one but at least it’s something for the Charles’s girls after what happened last night. Anyway, CarLando healed my broken heart! 🥹🥰

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"What do you want?!"

"I accidentally called you." Charles laughed, propping his chin on hand with the good angle of you rushing to get your makeup. "Wait, don’t end the call. I would like to see."

"There’s nothing interesting to see here." The pointy finger that was a second away from the end call button was drawn back as the phone was propped against your dressing mirror while you went back to your makeup to not argue any longer because you only had 40 minutes left to get ready.

"I would like to see if you would make it on time to work." He gave a smile when you glared while your hands went to clip your hair back. "You look pretty, though."

"I haven’t done my makeup yet." Your gaze went back to the camera when he didn’t say anything, only to find him staring—more like gawking at you with a silly-looking smile.

"Still pretty. I like how you do your hair."

The morning was silence; no podcast from Linda regarding her ex-boyfriend because you didn’t know how, but the gem boy is staying on the video call with you, not so discreetly staring at you like a creep.

"Do you.." His voice came, halting the silence contest.

"Do you always get ready in silence? Like completely mute? You always had something to say. Even when I accidentally hit you, your mouth was still moving nonstop." He saw you scowl and shrug before continuing his words. "Gotta keep on reminding you I didn’t hit you on purpose."

"Do you always drive fast? Because, you know, you drive fast cars for a living." You asked the question you had been wanting to ask ever since you knew he was a Formula 1 driver, thinking this could be the perfect time to ask the question since he didn’t look like he had anything to say other than looking at you. The foundation brush was pulled back a little so you could look at him.

"Not really. Sometimes, yeah, but I know my limit. Why?"

"I have this one colleague who loves to—sorry." The sparkle in your eyes was gone when you saw him looking away, seemingly distracted or unbothered with your attempt to talk.

"No, sorry. I always have trouble ripping this off. Finish the story. What happened to your colleague?" The newly opened protein bar in his hand was half gone as he took a bite.

"My colleague, he—" The coral blush in your hand made a soft thud sound against the dressing table as you burst out laughing.

"Yeah, that’s funny." His sarcastic laugh pulled you back to your senses as you went back to the blush, no longer in the mood to talk.

"Okay, okay! I’m sorry. But let me join you laugh! What happened to your colleague?" Another chunk of the protein bar was bitten off as he fixed his way of sitting, eyes still on you.

Though it was early in the morning and he had no obligation to wake up this early, he was listening to every story of yours, laughing whenever you laughed and smiling when he found you got carried away with your emotions. It was adorable to him.

"Are you going somewhere?" You asked, and the cap of the MAC lipstick was closed back as you pressed your lips together.

"Me? Nah, I’m going back to sleep after this." Charles replied, his eyes going back to the second protein bar.

"Am I keeping you up? I’m almost done." You stood up, getting your files, bag, and phone still in hand as you headed out of the house. "You can go back to sleep!"

"Do you have any plans tonight?" His voice came again through your phone speaker while you put on your heels.

"Yeah! I’m going out." The key pass was slipped into the bag as you headed to the elevator.

"With who?"

"My colleagues! They asked me to join them for a night out. It’s my first night out with them." After months of moving here, you would have thought you would get at least one friend from being born loquacious, but the language barrier set a limit to your friendliness.

"Where?" Charles asked.

It felt like being interrogated by your parents. The questions sounded like they were subtly wrapped in worry, but you were pretty sure he asked because he wasn’t expecting you to have friends. "Tch, it’s not your problem."

"Y/N, where?" His stern voice cut you off from your bantering mood.

"Jimmy’z! Got to go. Bye!"

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"Y/N! How will you go home?" You turned back, a little lightheaded from going over your limit today.

"Me? I’m going to walk! It’s not that far." You giggled, having been fully influenced by the alcohol.

"See you next week!"

"Bye!" You had your hand cave around your lips as you shouted back before waving to your colleagues before a soft thud from your back pulled your eyes away. "Oh, my bag." You mumbled, bending down to get your handbag that slipped off your arm, and let out another giggle.

There wasn’t anyone else in the street. The light barely shined bright enough to light your way. The time on your phone stated it was 15 minutes past midnight. It was a little scary for you to still be out here in a foreign country with a language you could barely speak at this hour, but at least you wouldn’t bump into strangers on your way home.

"Hey!"

You stopped, frowning, but still kept your gaze straight.

"You! The girl in the dark blue dress!"

The black-coloured sedan stopped by the side of the ride, moving a little as it copied your pace. "Me? Oh, hello!"

"Where are you going?" The window was rolled down as he peered from inside the car.

"I’m going home!"

"Do you want me to send you home?" The car was still left on, but he had hopped off and strode all the way to approach you.

"Oh, it’s okay! I can go home myself." His grip on your arm stunned you a little, but you were too drunk to fight back.

"I live nearby. It’s okay. Let me send you home."

"Oh, you live nearby?" He nodded to the question, which made you squeal in delight. "Okay, sure!"

The guy wasted no time and helped you get into the car while you kept on swaying, leaning against his body. You excitedly got in the car, thinking you were so lucky to not have to walk all the way home, when you realised your bag had fallen off, left at the side of the road where you were standing earlier.

"Wait, my bag." Groaning, you pushed the body that was hugging you earlier just so you could pick it up, but someone snatched it quicker than you. "Oh? It’s my bag! Give it back! Give it back, asshole!"

"I know! I know, it’s your bag, Y/N! Geez." Charles winced, and his free hand went to grab your wrist to stop you from hitting his chest.

"Charles Leclerc? Wait, you knew her?"

Charles switched his gaze from you in his arms to the guy who was standing at the car earlier. The guy who made him run like a crazy guy. Long gone was the smug on the face that he saw earlier, the guy be looking surprised to see him there.

"She actually came with me, so I’m taking her home." He replied, remaining calm with a smile while you leaned on him, mumbling whatever words he could barely hear.

"I thought she came alone; I was going to send her home. I’ll get going then." Charles saw it in the way he clenched his fist as he walked back into the car. Frustrated, probably, but he was too stressed to say anything because at least you were safe. No cut, no scratch.

"You scared me to death, Y/N." He heaved a sigh, eyes shut, while he tightened his grip on you. You had stopped punching, hitting him as he gave the handbag away, so he knew you might be falling asleep, more positive from your calm wave of breathing. His heart was still beating like crazy, too scared to imagine what would happen if he didn’t choose to go with his gut feelings tonight.

"I’m sleepy.." You whined, mustering every strength to push yourself away from the embrace so you could make your way home.

"I know. I know, Y/N. Let’s get you home." He spared no chance and picked you up as you leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a good thing there weren’t many cars or people on the road at this hour. Not that he didn’t want to be seen with you. In fact, he was actually happy to see candid pictures of you and him taken by the fans being uploaded on the Internet, but if it were at this hour, it would have caused everything but something beneficial, knowing very well you were here for an internship. He didn’t want to ruin anything involving your career or reputation.

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He jumped back when you sat up as soon as he put you on the bed. It was a good thing he managed to find your access card in the bag, or else he would have no other option than to bring you back to his apartment, and he was pretty sure if he did that, he might wake up the next morning barely alive because he wasn’t sure if you would remember what happened, and if you didn’t, he didn’t think he would have enough time to explain before your fist landed on his eye.

"Y/N, where are you going?" He grabbed your arm as you stood up, your head still too heavy for you to walk straight.

"My makeup!" You stumbled your way to the bathroom while the driver followed behind. His grip on your arm still stayed, though it went loose once you leaned your body against the sink.

He laughed, flipping open the packaging where it stored your makeup removed pad after seeing you struggling with it, and leaned against the sink, his arms folded as he looked at you in the eyes.

"Stop looking at me!"

"I have eyes. What am I supposed to do with it other than staring and judging people?" The driver leaned closer, now with a smirk plastered on his face as he saw you getting flustered.

"Okay, but I don’t need you to judge me right now."

"You are red." You took a step back when he moved his face even closer.

"I always get hot when I’m drunk." The cotton pad in hand was thrown into the small bin as you pushed him aside so you could wash your face.

"No. I don’t think so. I think you are red because you like me." He shrugged, and before you could walk out of the bathroom, he pulled you back by your waist, making you crash back into his body.

"Let me go! And I don’t like you. Maybe a little, but not much." The smirking face that was staring at you intensely with his arms around your waist made your knees weak. You would have dropped down on your knees here on the cold floor if he hadn’t held you up.

"Don’t do me like that anymore, Y/N. I’m serious."

You were going to step away from his embrace, but his words and his shift of tone snatched your full attention. "Do you what, driver?"

"Don’t scare me like that." The truth was, he didn’t have any other plans tonight. He was supposed to be in his apartment, playing truck simulator with George, but something in his heart kept on whispering, forcing him to head to Jimmy'z, and when he got there, he saw a guy tugging on your shoulders with a smug face that told him he had no other intention than to take advantage of your state. He nearly tripped; his face nearly fell straight on the path as he saw you getting in the car without any second thoughts, with a freaking smile on your pretty face, but thank God, your handbag slipped off your arm the last second before the car door closed. He didn’t know what he would do or how far he would go if he had to chase after you in the stranger’s car.

"Did I scare you?" You blinked, unable to grasp what he was trying to say.

"A lot. I kept on thinking about what would happen if I was a second late." His gaze on the bathroom floor was brought up to yours, and he ended up smiling after seeing your clueless expression.

"Would a hug help?" You were a little lost, actually, because you were so sure you didn’t do anything. Except for being blessed meeting someone who offered to send you home for free, but he looked fully disturbed by that, so you extended your arms, offering a hug.

"Yeah. A hug from you would help a lot." He brought his body closer, engulfing you in his arms, where he finally let his wall down. Charles brought one hand on the back of your hair, stroking it while he dipped his face on your neck, smiling when he felt the soft pat on his back from your hand.

"Thank you for taking me home." You mumbled against his shirt before breaking the hug.

"I’ll call you tomorrow. Get enough rest. I would like to hear your annoying little chatter about your first night out with your colleagues." He sent a reminder before taking his jacket back and heading out of the apartment. You were expecting a smirk and a cocky look on his face from earlier, but as he turned back, looking at you, you saw a smile. A genuine one that tugged at the strings of your heart.

✧.* tag list for p.3 @styles-sunflower @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @lexiecamposv @formulas-bitch

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff

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acourtofchaos · 2 months

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A LITTLE DEATH (snippet/teaser) | Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader x Theodore Nott

Summary: Your best friends offer their help when they find out that you've never been able to finish with anyone you've been with. 18+

A/N: this is unedited and probably absolute trash but I was hoping to finish the fic today and that hasn't happened, so I thought i'd post a little snippet instead. I've still got a little bit to write before I edit which knowing me will mean adding another 1-2k to the word count 😂

Song inspo: A little death by the neighbourhood

But for whatever reason, you couldn’t say no to the offer they'd laid before you.

It could have been down to the cherry vodka coating your brain in cotton wool or the firewhiskey burning warm through your chest - running hot in your blood.

The way you were high on having them both so close after another long month apart. How it always felt like you'd been missing pieces of yourself and only realised the hollowness that clung to your bones when they returned to you - a gold rush feeling chasing away the shadows as they slotted back into the places you'd carved out for them.

Maybe that was what was making you ache for them even closer, pressed up against you without an inch to breathe.

Or maybe it was the way Theo’s gaze roamed over your face, his hesitancy at war with his want until he watched the way you followed the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip with a hitched breath, your own mouth parting slightly at the action and drawing his undivided attention.

The way Mattheo’s eyes had grown darker than the night surrounding you, ink black and hungry, his features sharp with a tinge of desperation - that insatiable need of his to indulge you in anything and everything you asked for.

Despite it, their faces still held that touch of softness that told you if you declined they would swallow down whatever feelings had arisen from their offer and never let them show again. That no desire would ever come before your comfort and trust in both of them.

So maybe it was because you knew with utter surety that if anyone could take care of you properly, it was them.

You let out a shaky breath, your hearbeat somewhere up in your throat but your mind made up, as you whispered. “Yeah okay, show me.”

You weren't sure what you were expecting when the words left you.

You’d seen both of the boys in action plenty of times during your time at hogwarts, the parties thrown by your housemates that practically promised an endless night of sin and debauchery.

You'd seen the way Mattheo and Theo had grinned like devils, dirty and wicked, in a pretty girl's presence when they knew they had them exactly where they wanted them. Witnessed how both of them kissed, all rough and fast and messy, hands fisting into hair and at the silky edge of a too short dress.

But there was none of that now.

Not yet at least.

Instead, Mattheo released a rushed breath of his own and slowly stalked towards you, walking you back until you met the firm heat of Theo’s chest.

Ringed hands pulled you in tighter, gentle as they curved around your hips, thumbs slipping beneath the hem of your shirt and pressing maddeningly slow circles into the skin there as Theo’s cheek brushed against your own when he bent to trail sweet kisses over the slope of your shoulder.

You were dizzy from the attention almost immediately, overwhelmed in the best way with how good it felt to sink into one of your best friends hold and let him take care of you like that, eyes fluttering shut and head falling back against his shoulder as his kisses grew bolder.

When the air in front of you subtly shifted you knew Mattheo had drawn close enough for you to feel him despite the fact your bodies weren't touching. That the heat that swept over your skin was from his gaze devouring every inch of you, focusing on all the places Theo touched or kissed that made soft little noises catch at the back of your throat.

It made the ache that had started as dull thrum in your veins grow into a wild, gnawing thing. Every inch of you electrified, teetering on an almost painful edge as you waited to feel him too, to see if the slow approach he was choosing to take would change once he got his hands and mouth on you.

But then Mattheo closed the gap, pressing himself into you until you were wedged tight between them both and you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping, eyes flying open to lock on his.

The hand that wasn’t tangled in Theo’s hair shooting up to twist in the fabric of his shirt, whether to steady yourself or pull him closer you were unsure, but Mattheo let you grip him like a lifeline anyway whilst his fingers ghosted the lengths of your arms, sweeping up,up,up until he held your face between his calloused palms.

He dipped his head and nudged your nose with his, close enough that each breath he exhaled was a warm huff against your lips, and when you started to think that he was attempting to steal the very air from your lungs and drive you insane he finally murmured your name.

Curled his tongue around the taste of it like it was something holy. Divine. Like it was a prayer. “You going to let me kiss you?”

Theo groaned, lashes fluttering against your neck as the hand you had threaded through the soft strands of his hair tightened, his own coming to rest lightly against your neck, thumb pushing lightly against your jaw to keep your eyes on Mattheo and a messy kiss planted beside it when you made to look at him instead. “Answer him, dolcezza.”

Salazar save you.

"Yes.” You rushed out, voice hoarse. “Please, Mattheo–”

His mouth was on yours before you could finish.

#im so desperate to finish this because these two are ruining my sanity #mattheo riddle x reader x theo nott wip #mattheo riddle x reader x theo nott #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle x reader

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corruptedcaps · 26 days

Text

Nurse Stacey

Stacey’s first day as an interning nurse wasn’t going well. How was she suppose to know she had to provide her own uniform? Although the rest of the girls from her class seemed to know as they were all dressed and ready for work. She knew it was somehow Bree’s, her bitchy classmate, fault.

Bree was clearly jealous of Stacey’s innate smarts and aptitude for the job but Bree also made it no secret that she was studying to become a nurse just so she could sink her claws into the richest doctor available. She didn’t want anyone taking any spotlight away from her in anyway so constantly set Stacey up to fail.

However Bree had ‘modified’ her uniform to make it so eyes were always on her anyway. Her tight uniform showed as much skin as was possible under the rules, so bullying Stacey at this point was just a bonus. By lunchtime on her first day Stacey was pulled aside by the head doctor, Lawrence, and told she needed to find a uniform that was white and red like everyone else’s by end of day otherwise she would be let go.

“I’m sorry Stacey but I’ve had complaints from some of the other interns that you aren’t taking your time here very seriously and it’s reflecting poorly on them so please find something appropriate to wear otherwise I’ll have to give you a failing grade.” He said leaving her alone to fume. Her? Inappropriate? Bree was the one with the ‘modified’ uniform, her tits practically dripping out.

“But by the end of day? How can I possibly do that with the rest of my work?” Stacey said to herself after Lawrence walked away.

“Maybe you should use your lunch hour, god knows you could lose a few pounds.” Bree said cruelly chiming in.

Stacey stormed into the locker room to try and find some nurse scrubs, even dirty ones but came up empty. Frustrated she banged against the lockers but felt them shake more than normal against the wall. That’s when she realized they weren’t up against a wall, but a door. Curious, she pulled out the set of lockers to reveal the door. It had been painted over but it was clearly a door and even had a name plate too.

Sliding the plate off she scratched and chipped away at the paint until it revealed it read ‘Head Nurse’. It was only then that she realized that the hospital didn’t have a head nurse. It wasn’t unusual for a hospital not to have one but it certainly was strange for a hospital to have an office for one that didn’t exist. However Stacey also realized that this may be the solution to her problems. Any good head nurse would have a spare change of scrubs in case of emergency.

Pushing the paint covered door hard enough until it gave in, Stacey fell inside to find a long forgotten and dusty room. It was sparsely decorated and had little furniture. What furniture it did have was odd. For example it had a rather plush looking bed and velvety sofa. It looked more like a room to entertain than one to work in but her eyes were soon drawn to a clothes mannequin in the corner. This would be what she needed.

However as she got closer to it she saw that the outfit was far from what she expected. Instead it looked like some sort of slutty Halloween version of a nurses outfit. It was made of white and red spandex and was incredibly short and looked like she wouldn’t be able to breath in it despite it’s flexibility. Stacey would never wear such a thing even as a joke let alone for work but as the end of the day was looming she realized it was her last hope. If nothing else it could buy her time to get a proper uniform after work somewhere.

Stripping down to her underwear she eyed the outfit and realized that she would need to be totally naked to squeeze into it. Locking the door to the office she then removed the last of her clothes and stood for a moment looking at her reflection in the large mirror in the corner.

She was by no means ugly but she was certainly out of shape and unkempt looking. She just never had time to work out and primp herself due to all her studying. She had sacrificed a lot to be where she was and now she was on the brink of losing it because of some gold digging jealous bitch. Her anger spurred her on. She pulled the outfit off the mannequin and held her breath as she slipped into it and zipped it up.

It was the tightest thing she had ever worn and yet she didn’t feel uncomfortable. There was a certain safety she felt by having it close to her skin and yet at the same time it felt as though she were naked. It gave her a weird sense of power, like the outfit was a kind of armour. Taking a moment she looked at herself in the mirror and strangely didn’t think she looked silly as she thought she might have. She didn’t feel shy or reserved either, she felt sexy. Even the antiquated hat looked good on her.

“Wow a head nurse wearing this? I imagine all all the staff were eating out of the palm of her hand, especially the hunky doctors looking like this.” She said to herself in admiration of the previous owner of the outfit. She felt light headed wearing it, like she didn’t have a care in the world which she quickly put down to the outfit cutting down on the blood circulation. It wasn’t tight everywhere however as the outfit was clearly meant for someone with a much larger cup size.

“Even though I don’t fill it out perfectly I think this should keep me from being fired today.” She said to herself preparing to leave but suddenly hearing a voice in her head.

“Fired? Who would dare fire the head nurse?” The voice purred in her mind.

“W-who said that?” Stacey said looking around seeing no one.

“Why me of course, your uniform. I am designed specifically for the head nurse. That’s you of course, correct?” The voice replied. Stacey thought she was losing her mind. Maybe the uniform was cutting off more blood to her brain than she thought.

“Eh yes I’m Stacey, the new, eh, head nurse.” Stacey replied trying to humor her own delusion.

“Stacey? No no no that won’t do, that’s not commanding enough. No you will be Anastasia from now on. Now let me get started.” The voice continued.

“Started with w-?” Stacey began but suddenly felt an intense heat begin in her stomach and reverberate outward. However it wasn’t unpleasant and in fact was quite pleasing making her involuntarily moan.

“Whhhhaaaaat arrrreee youuuuu doooooing?” Stacey groaned as the feeling intensified.

“Why I’m remaking your body of course, didn’t you read your head nurse contract? It’s standard procedure for all new head nurses to undergo a bitchification process. You need to be strong and tough to have this job after all.” The voice said matter of factly.

Stacey felt the uniform crunch in her stomach and her body moulded to its sleek and curvy contours. Her hips flared out, her butt became plump while her waist shrank. It felt good.

And yet she knew what was happening was wrong, she wasn’t the head nurse and pretending to be one would only land her in hot water. She needed to take off the uniform even if it was the more pleasurable thing she had ever felt.

“Noooo stop, this isn’t right. I’m not the head nurse.” She groaned while the changes continued. Hot red nails shot out from the ends of her fingers as her lips inflated into soft kissable pillows. Her tits grew bigger and bigger until it felt as though they’d rip the uniform.

“Of course, it’s perfectly normal to feel that way during this process but the next phase should put you at ease.” The uniform replied to her in words and then in actions as Stacey suddenly felt a barrage of information be thrown at her mind.

Expert medical advice was downloaded in an instant to her mind, knowledge that would have taken a lifetime to learn was suddenly as simple to her as two plus two. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad she thought to herself, she could make a real difference with a mind like hers now.

Just as she was having this altruistic thought, however, she heard bitchy mantras and creeds echo in her head.

Profits over people.

Power is Queen, the Queen will have power.

Serving the hospital so you will be served.

Greed, beauty, excess, fear.

They repeated over and over again in her mind, it was clear that the head nurse wasn’t there to help the patients, she was meant to help the hospital. Stacey was disgusted but the more she heard the words the more she was nodding along. She tried to resist but the conditioning was too strong.

She didn’t want to become a bitch but the temptation was getting hard to deny. Why should she have to work so hard when sluts like Bree walked all over her. Thinking about what a spoilt bitch Bree was ironically sealed Stacey’s fate. Knowing she’d have the power to command Bree to do whatever she said made Stacey unbearably wet. She wanted that more than anything.

“Yeesss you’re right, I was just doubting myself. That’ll never happen again. Insecure nurse Stacey is dead, confident, gorgeous head nurse Anastasia has arrived.” She purred with a new bitchy tone. She expected the uniform to reply but it said nothing. Having completed its job it went back into a dormant state.

Anastasia meanwhile walked over to the upright mirror and took in her new form. She looked every bit the wet dream she felt. Her outrageous beauty was complemented by her steely cold gaze, a duo that would give her the ultimate power over the staff and patients of HER hospital.

However she needed to make it official and there was one person she knew who could rubber stamp her new position and she would make it so he would beg her to be head nurse.

The next morning, the staff of the hospital were gathered outside Lawrence’s office after being summoned there 20 minutes ago. They weren’t certain but some could have sworn that they heard grunting, moaning and spanking.

Bree arrived with her cohort just as Lawrence exited his office, with his tie askew. Bree looked around and was happy to see Stacey not present.

“Guess poor Stacey didn’t find any spare uniforms. Such bad timing that we had offered to wash all the spares this morning, we could have given her one.” Bree smirked satisfied to herself as her friends giggled knowingly.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I’ll make this brief. I’m proud to announce that starting today we have a long over due position returning. The position of head nurse!” Lawrence declared and the staff broke out into a murmur.

Bree and her friends broke into an excited chatter. This could be the stepping stone Bree needed to bag herself a rich doctor. If she became Head Nurse she would work intimately with the upper crust of the hospital. Sure there were more senior nurses but she had a way of getting what she wanted.

“After a long decision process I have decided to fill the position with one of our newest nurses. I know this might irk some of the senior staff but I believe a new position needs new blood.” Lawrence said and Bree felt his eyes land on her. Could she be getting her wish so soon? Of course, there was no other answer.

“So will you all please welcome your new head nurse, Anastasia.” Lawrence announced loudly as a brunette beauty strode out from his office. The staff were completely gobsmacked by the reveal of Anastasia, clad in the tightest uniform they had ever seen.

“Now that is no way to great your new head nurse, is it? Applaud. ” Anastasia said with a long stare that sent a shiver down everyone’s spine. Slowly they began to clap and Anastasia basked in their fearful reverence.

“Now Anastasia will get reacquainted with everyone over the next few days but for now back to work.” Lawrence said and looked over to Anastasia for an approving look but finding only her cold withering stare. Nevertheless he became aroused and quickly left to do his rounds along with most of the staff. Most except Bree and her gang.

“You might have Lawrence fooled with these fake tits, and slutty makeup but I know you’re still a loser Stacey and I’ll have your job by the end of the week.” Bree said defiantly. Anastasia smiled at her unnervingly and slowly clopped over to her in her high heels. As tough as Bree fronted she soon cowered before her new head nurse as she was backed into a corner with her friends.

“That’s head nurse Anastasia worm. You can be as insolent as you like but I now control your passing grades. If you don’t do exactly as I say I’ll fail you, all of you, and blacklist the lot of you from working in any hospital in this country. No job, no hot doctors, no life of luxury.” She said bearing down on the frightened young women.

“But follow me, learn from me and I’ll recommend you as Head Nurses to our sister locations. They’ll be some ‘training’ involved of course but you’ll earn yourself a uniform like mine and the power that comes with it. Understood?” Anastasia said in a cold purr that had all of Bree’s friends nodding enraptured.

“Good. Now off you go, training begins tomorrow.” Anastasia said standing back and allowing the women to escape. But yet again, Bree stood in rebellious rage.

“Screw you slut, my daddy is rich and is on the board of the hospital, if you think your theatrics intimidate me you-” Bree began but was quickly silenced by Anastasia who grabbed the girl by her neck and lifted her off the floor with ease, the uniform granting her super human strength.

“Silence, I heard just about enough of you. I know about your daddy and the power he had over the hospital. Who do you think gave Lawrence the go ahead for my promotion? Your daddy is under my thumb now and he will do exactly as I command, something you’re going to learn to do starting now.” Anastasia cackled as she dragged the young nurse to her office and threw her to the floor.

“Now loser you’re going to clean this place too to bottom. I want all this dust gone by the end of day, if you don’t consider your future as a nurse ended.” The bitchy head nurse said smirking down at Bree.

“By the end of day? How can I possibly do that with the rest of my work?” Bree said to Anastasia who just looked at her as if she were an ant.

“Maybe you should use your lunch hour, god knows you could lose a few pounds.” Anastasia said smirking cruelly at Bree.

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #corrupted clothing #twitter remake

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

Text

Princess

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), spanking, fingering, PinV, choking, brat taming, slight bit of name calling (slightly dubious to have sex with someone after rescuing them from a kidnapping but we'll ignore that)

Summary: Reader is the daughter of a prolific genral who's been kidnapped while she was trying to party it up with her friends. Ghost and Soap are recruited to rescue her, and soon find out that reader's attitude might be more of a challenge than the gang they're trying to rescue her from.

(No use of y/n)

A/N: I can't get Ghost out of my head and tbh I kinda feel like he'd be so good at dealing with your bratty nonsense if he had to.

- 👑-

You were sure you were going to die.

Not because your family didn’t have the money, not because there weren’t enough resources to save you, or even because of your own natural pessimistic tendencies. No. You were sure you were going to die because your father had made it abundantly clear long ago that you didn’t matter to him.

You weren’t a man. You couldn't carry his title on and you’d grown up learning that that was mostly all he cared for. His legacy. It was one of the few things that cold man spoke of fondly, always lighting up at the mention of your brothers but never you. And as a result you’d grown up living for even the smallest chance at spiting him for it. You partied and drank and slept around with boys that made even your friends curl their lips at you sometimes.

So, you were pretty sure that once your kidnappers realised that, that could only mean one thing. One of those big guns they were carrying was going to end up pointed right in your face then…bang.

It was enough to leave you disoriented, you weren't taking in much. Not that there was much to take note of. Your eyes were shoddily covered over with a scrap of harsh, scratchy cloth and you could only see little slivers of things here and there. Your hands were duct taped to the arms of an office chair and your mouth was similarly covered so as to prevent anymore screams and curses.

You watched sets of boots as they echoed around the frigid room, and saw gun barrels and machetes, men roving across a scuffed up concrete floor. You didn’t catch anything that made you want to see more. Especially when you heard the taunts they slung at you in their thick accents.

“Don’t worry precious, I’m sure a spoiled little rich girl like you will get a good ransom, you’ll be home soon.”

“Bet you’re used to guys with big guns like this, daddy’s men must love you.”

“She’s a cute little thing, we should have some fun with her before we send her back.”

“I’ve heard she likes to have lots of fun, bet we’d slip right into her, fucking american girls.”

If the blindfold came off then that would only mean one thing. They were going to make good on the salacious threats they were now casually slinging your way. The fantasies they were now trading back and forth as they returned to speaking their own language. That was a small mercy at least. Not having to hear about how the last few moments of your life would go.

You could feel your body shaking like an addict in withdrawal and your poor heart was leaping around in your chest like a caught frog. It didn’t help that you were riling yourself up either, imagining what the newspapers would say. Flashing up in your mind like something out of an old batman episode with a blaring brass section accompanying them.

Daughter of a notable general killed in shock kidnapping

Holiday in Cancun turned nightmare as General’s daughter taken in the night

You couldn't even be sure if you were still in Mexico. For all you knew you were in all those other countries that you’d been too busy crafting a reputation to learn about in school. What were they again? Guatemala, Cuba? You were sure those were somewhere close by. Funny the things the mind distracts itself with when you’re stuck tightly in a chair surrounded by leering wolves.

If only you hadn’t been drawn in by that tattooed man with the big arms. If only you’d been a good girl and enjoyed your holiday and stuck close to your friends instead of going out on the hunt for attention from bad men covered in tattoos and cologne that smelt like bad decisions. You could practically hear your father’s growly voice echoing through your mind.

Stupid little girl.

He’d been saying that for as long as you had memories of him. He’d be satisfied now, you lamented. You’d proved him right in the end, he’d always said your lifestyle would catch up with you and you’d be wishing that you’d just behaved for once sooner or later.

At the very least, you figured, you wouldn’t have to hear him say I told you so.

- 👑-

You weren't sure how much time had passed. It could’ve been a few minutes, or it could’ve been hours, but as your breathing grew more ragged behind the tape you knew you were experiencing the last few precious moments you had left.

The men were sounding more and more pissed off as they rattled off curses to each other, filling the room with sharp hisses. They weren’t getting the results they wanted. They’d even removed the tape at some point and had you screaming out for a video, but apparently that wasn’t getting them anywhere either. They got tired with your cries and slapped an even thicker strip back in place.

You were starting to cry, feeling the stiff cloth go damp against your skin and irritating it further. It was so thick and itchy over your eyes, you wanted nothing more than to pull it off. You needed to see, needed to breathe. You were panicking. You needed out, you needed air, you needed to feel safe again.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

You were chanting it in your mind, it rang through your head like a death toll. It seemed like those would be your last thoughts. You’d die panicking and snotty and covered in dried salty tears that mixed into a sludge with your thick mascara.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the-

Thiew.

Crack.

Thud.

Every muscle in your body froze as you heard an alien sound zip through the room. Then suddenly everything erupted.

The men’s shouts turned into screams and barked orders and suddenly you were being wheeled around in your chair in the dark like a shopping cart. You were whizzed past men that were running and crouching into your limited vision, aiming their guns and returning fire as more bullets wailed into the room. And finally you found yourself slamming into a corner somewhere, banging your knees against a rough drywall.

You screamed behind your gag and listened out as more men hit the ground and the guns grew into a cacophony of bangs. Death’s orchestra played for a solid few minutes, ringing in your ears and distorting the sound of your thrumming heartbeat as it crawled up through your throat and into your head.

You were sure you were going to die.

The battle raged on for a few moments more until suddenly the men’s shouts silenced and the bullets grew sparse. All you could hear was the echoes of gunfire and shrill ringing from your unprotected ears.

What was that?

You swore you could hear voices coming toward you.

“It’s alright, lass.”

You jumped as you felt someone touch your shoulder and cursed behind the tape in your mouth as the unidentified man tried to soothe you. It wasn’t until he pulled your blindfold down and you were greeted with his bruised face and ruffled mohawk that you calmed down, focusing your gaze on his icy pale eyes. He wasn’t one of the men who took you.

“I’m gonna take this tape off, ye good wi’ that?”

You frowned at the man, unsure if he was speaking english. You weren’t used to that accent, what was that accent? Scottish? Irish?

You only had a few seconds to look up at him blankly before he gave up on getting a response and ripped the tape from your mouth, drawing out a scream with it.

“You motherfucker!” you shrieked, feeling a layer of skin peel from your face.

“Easy! It’s ok! What's the sayin’ agian? Best to rip it off like a band-aid, yeah?” he chuckled.

“Not when it’s fucking duct tape over my face, you- you stupid- oh, oh no, my god, oh my god look out!”

You screamed as you caught a giant man emerging through the shadows and through the doorway into the dingy room you’d been wheeled into. A skull mask obscured his face and a massive gun was braced in his hands, he looked as if he could take on an entire army by himself. He was fuck off sized and ready to kill.

Your rescuer whipped around and raised his gun at your shout, body bracing and ready to defend you. Though, as he faced the hulking behemoth behind him he relaxed and lowered his gun again, cursing you through gritted teeth. Though, he turned back around to you with a smirk.

“He might be a scary lookin’ bastard, but that ones on our side,” he explained, slinging his gun behind him and getting to work on the tape on your wrists. “Sit tight and I’ll get you out of this in a sec, ok?”

“Is she hurt?” the masked man asked, flicking his dark gaze over your slumped body.

“Nah, doesn’t look like it,” the first man replied.

“She is scarred for life actually,” you huffed out, clutching your one freed arm to your chest. “What the fuck happened? Who the fuck are you two?”

“Settle down, princess. For now we need to get you out of here and back to your father, quickly and quietly, yeah?”

His accent was different from the other man’s, though to you it was just as difficult to make out through that thick gravely timbre. That one was definitely english, you thought, it sounded like ones from TV shows you’d watched when you were younger. It made you wonder what the hell the two brits were doing rescuing you when your dad was an American general.

Did he find them on Craigslist or something?

Typical of him to find a couple of brutish thugs to come fetch you rather than calling on one of the teams that he worked with, you thought sourly.

Though, as both your arms were free and you stepped onto wobbly feet you grew to appreciate his choice in rescuers more as they both towered above you. Even if they weren’t American they clearly knew their way around a fight.

“We’re gonna need you to follow us and do exactly as we say, ok? There’s still a few men lurkin’ about and if you want to get back to your family in one piece, we’ll need to avoid them,” the first man said, putting his hand on your tensed shoulder.

“You haven’t even gotten them all?” you hissed, escaping from his hold and backing against the cracking wall behind you.

The room was unfinished, crumbling from bullet holes and exposure to bad weather from the open windows. It looked like something straight out of a movie set, Soderbergh eat your heart out.

“We’ve gotten most of them,” the Scottish/Irish man shrugged, reaching around to secure his gun in his arms once again. “Some probably ran off durin’ the fight, but we can’t assume they aren’t hiding somewhere waitin’ for us.”

“Just be a good girl and do as you’re told, ok princess?” the other man growled, turning away from you and walking back out of the room.

Your mouth dropped open and just as you were about to fire off another retort, it died in your mouth when you heard a shot ring out from the hallway.

“All good, LT?” the first man called out, ushering you behind him.

“Solid, Soap,” the other man replied.

Soap?

That’s just great, you thought, you were stuck with a man named soap and his big ape of a friend wearing a spirit halloween special across his face. You could practically feel your chances of survival drop through the ground and into hell. You could feel the hot flames licking at your feet already, biting at your toes. Or perhaps that was the fact you’d been stuck in heels for an inappropriate length of time. Who knew?

“Alright, lets get movin’. Remember to stay close and stay quiet. We don’t know where these guys are hiding,” Soap reminded you. “Stick to my back and we won't let anythin’ happen to you, alright?”

You were out of sass for the time being. You could only nod your reply as you followed his orders, too afraid of him leaving you behind as he started advancing out of the room.

You might have felt annoyed at the fact they were treating you like a stupid little girl, but you were too wrapped up in the adrenaline of the situation to object anymore. You’d heard the gunfire, could still hear the echoes of it pelting through your ears. You knew you couldn't afford not to listen to the two incredibly patronising soldiers before you.

“Try to keep your eyes up, lass,” Soap whispered, gazing back at you briefly before heading through the doorway.

“Why do I have t- oh fuck!”

You could’ve thrown up as your eyes connected with the bloody corpses that littered the hallway like flies on a roll of catcher paper. There were so many of them. You could feel the bile fighting its way up your gullet as you stopped against the wall and closed your hazy eyes. Bodies. Actual dead bodies.

You’d never seen one before. Yet here you were surrounded by them, queen bee of a dead hive. It was too much. Staying up felt like fighting gravity and you were reduced to a pile on the floor in no time, huddled on a relatively blood free patch and stuck still against the rough chalky grey wall to your side.

“Ghost, we’ve got a problem,” Soap muttered, staring down at you with a worried look.

There were a few seconds of blessed silence where you closed your eyes and everything was ok for a second. You weren’t in a shithole crack den building in god knows where and instead you were back at the hotel, getting ready to go to bed with your girlfriends. Yes. You were going to put on pyjamas and take some painkillers and peace the fuck out till noon the day after.

“Fuckin hell.”

The growl brought you out of your daydream and soon you were looking up at the cold crocodilian eyes of the now named Ghost. Had he expected you to do better in the hallway of a thousand corpses?

“Alright, princess, up you get.”

You whimpered and expected him to offer you his hand to get you to your feet again, but you were taken by surprise when he leaned over you and enveloped you in his huge arms. You weren’t sure what the hell he was doing at first, but all became clear as you were hoisted over his shoulder and sprawling down his back like a chef’s tea towel.

“What the hell, dude! Put me down,” you growled out, thumping your fists against his thick layer of tactical gear.

“Quiet down, sweetheart. It’s not like you’re much use in those heels anyway,” he growled out, tugging on one of your silvery strappy shoes for emphasis.

“You can’t just pick me up like a sack of fucking potatoes!” you protested, continuing to feebly fail to fight your way out of his grasp.

“Apparently I fuckin’ can,” he chuckled, rumbling in that horrible patronising voice of his. “Now…Settle. Down.”

And with that he started moving again, taking you past the tour of bodies that you’d folded at moments before, stepping through them like you might do through a botanical garden. The men were poked full of bullet holes and some even had knives jutting out of their skulls, but it didn’t seem to phase your rescuers. They were in their element. You were decidedly not.

You felt like you were going to be sick and wondered briefly what the terrifying man would say if you were to throw up on him. Would he drop you as revenge? You quivered in his arms as he moved through the halls, following his partner faithfully in the shadows, only seeing by the light of the moon in some sections of the house.

Not soon enough, after being thoroughly traumatised for two lifetimes, you emerged out of the house you were in. Only hearing two more men be taken out before you were free to breathe fresh air again. You cleared out the disgusting smell of coppery blood and gulped in huge breathfuls of clear night air.

Air. Moonlight. Stars. You were in a barren front garden in the middle of nowhere. You could see out for miles toward that inky black sky on the horizon.

It wasn’t like something out of a nightmare anymore, this was real. And it was a new kind of scary. It was night and it was cold and your shivering renewed again as the giant placed you back down on your feet and let you stand on your own.

Why was it so fucking cold?

“You see anyone else?” Ghost asked his partner, sticking faithfully by your side.

“Negative. Think we’re good to move out, LT,” Soap said, giving his surroundings one last careful scan.

“Thank fuckin’ god. Might even get back to the safehouse before mornin’ at this rate.”

Safehouse?

What?

“Um, what do you mean safehouse?” you prodded, feeling the cold start sinking into your clattering teeth.

“It’s a house that’s safe,” ghost ‘helpfully’ provided.

“I fucking know that,” you said through gritted teeth, “what I mean is, why the fuck are we going to a safehouse? I need to go home. I need to get to an airport or something or like- like you should be calling me a helicopter or something! Why would we go to some safehouse and stay here any longer?”

“Your dad ordered us to take you there once we had you secured,” Soap said, staring over at you with a calculating gaze. “Now are you going to come get in the car yourself or does Ghost need to pick you up again?”

Fuck you.

You didn’t give either of them the satisfaction of answering.

- 👑-

“He’s doing this to punish me isn’t he? It’s fucking typical you know! Only he would pull this shit, only my dad would find out I got kidnapped and send in two fucking random Englishmen and not even want to get me home-“

“Whoa! Watch it!” Soap shouted, interrupting you mid rant. “You can call me a lot of things, but don’t fuckin’ call me English, sweetheart.”

“English, Scottish, Irish- whatever the fuck you are! Point is he should be here! He shouldn’t be letting me stew in some random safe house with you two…two- two strangers,” you whined, throwing your arms up in the air. “For all he knows you could both be serial rapists!”

“We’re two strangers that just saved your life, princess,” Ghost grumbled from the front seat. “And if your dad is punishing you, then I think I’m beginning to see why.”

Your mouth dropped like a lead weight and you stared daggers into the mirror, catching Ghost’s cold eyes in the reflection. He was still wearing the mask.

You were driving on country road that stretched almost limitlessly into the horizon but for some reason he was still in disguise. Not that you cared to see his face! No, if anything, you hoped you’d be out of their company much sooner rather than later for him to reveal himself. Though, that wasn’t going to happen it seemed, so you resolved to make that everyone’s problem. Share the burden of being abandoned to Mexico.

“In case you haven’t realised; I’m not exactly accustomed to dead bodies and I’ve just come from the midnight showing of night of the living fucking dead here! I should be getting wheeled into a therapists office right now, not getting bundled up into another strange house, spending the night with Micheal Myers and groundskeeper fucking Willie,” you growled out, penetrating your gaze into Ghosts very soul, hoping he’d feel a shred of pity for you.

However, you weren’t doing a very good job of that. Instead of knocking sense into the big brute you only made him narrow his eyes at you. And to add even further insult, Soap choked back a laugh. Though, he composed himself quickly after casting a glance at the leuitenant and focused his eyes back on the road.

“You’ve got a funny way of sayin’ thank you, princess.”

And that was the last thing he said to you before ignoring you completely. No matter how much you moaned and groused and demanded to be taken back home, neither of the men would answer your cries. Typical men!

They left you to marinade in your own self pity - in a dish that was endlessly deep. Afterall, how could your father not appreciate how stressful your ordeal was? Sure, you both had your differences, but you’d have thought that even he would put his malice for you aside on account of an actual real life kidnapping!

After a few more miles of barren road you found yourselves coming to a small village, and started to slowly roll toward a modest concrete house on the outskirts.

It was two floors high and painted a sandy cream colour, with a small sheltered space to park the car and protect it from the elements. It seemed as if it might just fit you and Soap through its tiny door, the ceilings didn’t look that high. And it was the thought of Ghost being stuck in its old wooden frame that made you finally crack a small smile for the first time since you’d been taken.

“Any complaints about the exterior before we step in, sweetheart, or would you like to save your scathing words for when you’re inside?” Soap teased as he opened the car door for you.

“Very funny,” you huffed, smile disappearing you made sure to knock into the door as you stepped out. “Maybe you can go make fun of some terrorist victims next.”

Soap raised his brows, but didn’t bother to dignify you with a reply. He closed the door behind you instead and walked up to house and unlocked it for you, ushering you inside. Not that there was much to walk into.

There was some basic furniture, a ratty old couch, a table and chairs, a kitchen that hardly seemed stocked and an old orange cloth rug that looked like it had seen better days. The place smelt like old newspapers for some reason, and all in all, it didn’t inspire much hope in you for the rest of the house. And just as you caught yourself thinking that, you knew you’d already proved Soap right. You had many, many, many complaints.

“Well, I drove. So I bagsy first shower,” Soap announced, trailing off toward the creaky wooden stairs at the end of the hall. “Try not to cause world war three while I’m gone.”

You balked as you felt Ghost brush past you, successfully getting through the door. Who had Soap directed that last order at? Jeuss. You were the kidnapping victim and somehow you didn’t qualify for washing up first? What was this?

Chivalry was truly dead. Though, it wasn’t like they’d rode up in white horses when they’d come to get you, no they emerged through a cloud of bullets and snatched you out of the house like a drug bust they could trade in for on the sly.

“And what am I supposed to do now, hm?” You said, turning to the man now shedding his gear like a second skin onto the couch.

He didn’t give you a response though, instead he just finished off pulling the various packs and armaments off of himself until he was left standing in his uniform and mask. He looked a few pounds lighter, but he was still massive compared to you. The equipment didn’t bulk him out quite as much as you’d suspected.

“Is there a phone I can use?” You finally asked, exasperated with the silence.

“No.”

He grunted as he took a seat on the couch and rolled up his sleeves, exposing his thick tattooed forearms. You couldn’t help but feel that that was some kind of threat. Though, your suspicions were eased as he shuffled around and crossed his arms around his head, lying down and closing his eyes.

“So, what? We’re just waiting to see when my dad magically shows up?” You needled.

“You asked If there was a phone that you could use,” he reminded, glancing over at you with slitted eyes. “Why don’t you go get some rest princess, there’s rooms upstairs that you can whine in in peace.”

What!

You clenched your fists at your sides and growled out in frustration. How was it that you were stuck with one of the most insensitive men in the world right after you got kidnapped? In fact it felt like you were being held hostage all over again.

Well you weren’t going to sit there and take it this time!

Before you could think about how bad an idea it was, you marched straight over to the sofa and started digging through Ghosts things. You crouched and moved aside all the smaller pouches and sharp pointy things trying to find anything that might resemble a phone. Though you didn’t get much of an opportunity to look, you were swiftly dragged up to your feet by the masked man and knocked away from his stash.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He barked, not sparing a single decibel from piercing your already abused ears.

“I need to use a phone! I need to call someone!” You screamed back. “I need to tell people I’m alright. My friends must be worried sick and you’re treating me worse than a prisoner! E-Even prisoners get their phone calls!”

You tried desperately to fight against his hold, and screeched and hit against him like a banshee. However the man was solid, his hands were digging into your skin like a bear trap. And even as you tried to scratch at him, it didn’t deter him any. He just held you against him, making you smell the sweat off of him, the bullets, the smoke, you breathed him in as he pinned your hands flush to your body and screamed out as it became too much.

“In case you’ve forgotten, princess, we’re hiding out in a safe house right now because you’ve just been bloody kidnapped! You can’t call anyone because we need to keep the line clear and wait for word from back home. This isn’t fucking vacation, sweetheart, this is a fucking mission,” Ghost roared.

You froze at his words. Your body felt like it had been hit by lightning and all of a sudden you could feel the storm in you shifting. All of the adrenaline was draining from you and just like that, you went from fighting like a rabid dog to blubbering like a baby. You broke down in his arms and felt the tears flowing freely back down your cheeks and fell back against him defeated.

“Oh Jesus,” Ghost muttered to himself.

Of course you hadn’t forgotten you’d been kidnapped. You were just dealing with it all in the only way you could. it just so happened, that when you fell back on instinct to get you through hard times it would result in you being, well as your dad put it, a massive pain in the ass. You were sure that Ghost would say the same.

You didn’t even try to compose yourself, you were too upset to think.

So, as Ghost came to that conclusion too, he decided to take matters into his own hands and picked you up again. Though, instead of putting you over his shoulder this time, he held you tightly against his chest and carried you off into one of the side rooms further into the house.

The floor protested with every step the big man took and even over your shaky sobs, you could hear the wood below groaning like a zombie. He checked in the first door, and then the second on the wall to the right, coming to a stop when he found what he was looking for. Through blurry eyes you could see that you were in a small bathroom. A messily tiled room that contained an old wooden cabinet, a sink and a toilet.

Ghost sat you down on the closed toilet seat and pulled some tissue from the roll, pressing it into your limp hands. You looked down at it like it was alien for a second, not sure what to do until you met Ghosts unwavering gaze. You needed to dry your eyes and get control of yourself.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, princess,” he sighed, turning and reaching into the cabinet.

You gulped down a fat sob that had been threatening to come and sniffled softly instead. As much as you begrudged him, you knew Ghost’s logic was sound. You needed to get a hold of yourself and stop crying in front of him. He was hardly the sympathetic audience for it.

In fact it almost made you laugh when he turned back again and his skull mask caught the light. The hard plastic only served to remind you that he wasn’t going to sit and rub your back and make you feel better about it all. It was like he said, this was a mission for him, and his only concern was getting you out of Mexico alive.

“There you go, deep breaths,” he said in a hushed voice, putting his hand on your shoulder for a second.

The warm contact was comforting for a fleeting moment, his hand was gentle yet firm on you before he took it away. He’d fetched a cloth from the cabinet and stepped over to the sink, running it under the water and stepping back to your side. You’d expected him to hand it to you just like he had done with the toilet paper, but instead he took you by surprise and crouched at your level, stepping down from his massive height.

He smoothed the cloth over your cheeks and down your tear tracks, softly clearing up your sensitive skin. When he’d brought the cloth away and refolded it, you’d half expected it to be a muddied black from your makeup but there were only traces of grey. You’d cried most of your makeup off already. Then, after a few more goes at letting him clear up your face you almost jumped out of your skin when a piercing ring sounded out from the living room.

“Stay here,” the soldier softly ordered, handing you the stained cloth.

Ghost ducked out of the room, and you lamely held the cloth in your hand, listening out to what he was doing. He silenced the ring, presumably answering the phone he’d secreted away, and for a second all there was was fuzzy silence and the low ringing that hadn’t left your ears.

“Mhmm,” Ghost grunted, his rumble cutting clear through your tinnitus. “Yeah we’re clear I reckon. Didn’t pass anyone on the way in…no one awake, no curtains twitching…your daughter is-…mhmm…yeah…ok. Well just so you know, your daughter is…fine by the way.”

The gruff man said the last part quietly, and it was that that clued you into the fact your dad probably hung up before he could catch it. He didn’t care how you were, only cared that you hadn’t been killed by a foreign gang. That probably wouldn’t have done his image any favours, you thought to yourself. What man wasn’t able to protect his family? A high ranking general at that. All that mattered was that you were safe and he didn’t have a PR crisis on his hands. How you were doing was none of his concern.

You gulped thickly when Ghost reentered the room and did your best to put on a brave face. He didn’t say anything. He flicked his eyes over your grave expression and took the cloth back from your hands, wetting it under the tap again and handing it back to you.

“Those must be killing you,” he murmured, gesturing to your feet.

You startled when he spoke again, not used to having a conversation with someone who’s lips were hidden behind a skull facade. It was quite unnerving when his rasp broke through the cloth.

Eventually though you nodded, looking down at your feet and finally acknowledging all the blisters that had formed where the straps had dug into you. The shoes had been new, you’d been excited to wear them when you put them on earlier. Now, they were just another regret among many.

“Let’s get them off, hm?”

You nodded again, caught by surprise by the tender way that he was dealing with you out of nowhere. Perhaps out of pity after speaking to the General. You had no way of knowing if he was sympathetic to that type of thing. He was a soldier afterall. They dealt with much worse than emotional neglect and were often oblivious to the cold way your dad treated you. At least in your previous experience of them...

Ghost got to his knees and softly took one of your feet in his hands, turning it slowly this way and that a couple times, until he caught sight of the tiny buckle. He dealt with it like he was diffusing a bomb.

He carefully took the end of the strap in one hand and lifted the buckle with the other, gently letting the catch come loose. Then he slid the shoe from your foot and repeated the process with your other. You had to do a double take. Was this really the same man that had all but snapped at you like a vicious dog earlier?

“Thanks,” you whispered, still uselessly holding the cloth in your hands. “Did the General say when we could leave?”

Ghost frowned as you addressed your dad by his title, but quickly fixed his eyes into that familiar cold stare. He thought to himself for a moment before he answered you. He was probably scared you’d kick off again, you realised.

“He said he wouldn’t get here till evenin’ at least. Said he’d be bringing a chopper though.”

“Ok.”

You didn’t have anything else to say. You’d run out of words, and steam and any kind of fight and all the things that had kept you going before.

You were going to be stuck with the two strangers until almost the next day. There was nothing you could do about it, no one you could complain to, no one that cared. You might as well just accept it.

- 👑-

You’d ended up taking Ghost’s advice afterall. You’d finished cleaning up in the bathroom yourself and painfully trudged upstairs with your swollen feet, searching out the first bedroom you could find along the gloom of the lonely hallway. The lightbulb flickered and danced as you’d made your selection, chasing you into the room as it mimicked the gunfire you’d seen flashes of not hours ago.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, not like you thought it would.

You’d been convinced you’d be left sitting like a character in a movie. Painfully watching the walls in the cold silence and mourning the life you could have had if only you came from a loving home. However, as much as you loved dramatics, you weren’t fit to live up to the hurting girl stereotype.

You realised that when you woke up again and the sun was shining through your room like a big bright fuck you. You thought you were getting a moment's peace? Think again. You were going to be awake for the rest of your internment at the safehouse.

You sighed and scanned the room with your eyes, taking note of the peeling paint and sparse bits of furniture, confirming what you already knew. This room was just as shitty as all the rest. It wasn’t like there was any reason to maintain safehouses beyond being structurally sound and stocked with essentials, but it would’ve been nice to provide some comfort. At the very least they could’ve made it smell better, less musty, less like a place people came to rot.

“You’re awake.”

You yelped when you heard the voice break through the calm and looked over to the door, spotting the looming spectre that stood in your entryway. Ghost. Had he been watching over you the whole time you slept? You didn’t know whether to feel creeped out or grateful for the fact he was so concerned about your safety.

“I am,” you finally said.

“Good. I thought I’d bring you something to eat.”

Perhaps he hadn’t been watching over you after all. Maybe it had been Ghost’s footsteps that had woken you up. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination, he sounded worse than a herd of cows when he creaked across the floors.

You sat up when he walked into the room and caught a glance at the bowl in his hands. Something to eat was a good description of what he’d brought you. It looked like he’d heated some spaghettios. Not exactly the most appetising thing that you could think of, but given you hadn’t eaten since the morning before, you realised that beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Not that you were often, if ever, a beggar. It was easier for your family to give you unlimited access to money and shut you up than it was for them to spend any time in your presence arguing that you should work for it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking the bowl off of Ghost after staring at it for a few seconds.

There was a spoon already shoved into the bowl, and when you picked it up, you found yourself wincing at the burning metal. Ouch. Ghost couldn’t have warned you they were hot? You glared up at him, but he was already retreating back out of the room, seemingly content that you had everything you needed.

But you didn’t feel like you had everything you needed at all.

You felt pathetic admitting it, but you didn’t want to be alone. Your ears were still ringing even hours after the firefight had ended and there was nothing to do in that bland room all alone. And now to top it all off it felt much too hot and sweaty. You felt like you might go mad. You softened your features again and called out to Ghost, praying against all odds that he’d indulge you.

“C-can you stay?”

Ghost paused and turned his head, his skeletal mask caught the golden glow of the sun. It didn't look right. He looked out of place in the sunlight. Though, you knew better than to voice that thought, he wasn’t going to stay if you insulted him again.

“If you really want me to,” he finally replied, tilting his head at you.

You nodded and watched as he looked around and found no alternative but to sit on the end of the double bed, and sighed as he plonked himself down. The bed rippled with his weight, and you almost let the bowl spill out of your hands, but thankfully caught it before it could drop.

That wouldn’t have been good, you thought. You’d already set yourself on eating it all when it had cooled. You couldn’t go without food any longer or your stomach would be gurgling like an alien. How embarassing.

“Did you manage to get some rest too?” you asked awkwardly, testing the spoon in your hands again.

“Some,” he answered, casting his eyes over you. “Soap traded places pretty quick.”

“What an asshole,” you snorted, lifting a spoonful of pasta to your lips and blowing on it.

“That arshole saved your life, princess,” Ghost reminded you, voice regaining its husky edge. “Show some respect.”

“I didn’t-I mean…I just figured you could’ve probably used the rest, I was just joking…Sorry,” you muttered, resigning yourself to eating instead of talking.

Ghost watched intently as you ate every last spoonful, but you ignored him, finding yourself greedily taking on more and more as you recognised your own hunger. You forgot about Ghost’s scolding for the moment as you felt your hunger pangs rattling from deep within you. Though, you felt a little better after finishing the bowl. You were going to eat so much when you got back home, you thought to yourself.

You set the bowl down on the floor and looked back at your rescuer, staring awkwardly at him for a few moments. The silence was making your skin crawl. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Do you ever take off that mask?” you blurted, feeling your cheeks heat up as you said it.

Ghosts eyes took on a glint as you’d said it and if you weren’t mistaken it felt like he was…smiling? You bit your lip and looked away from him, focusing instead on a particularly chipped patch of paint on the wall to his left side.

“Why? Do you want me to take it off?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“I just- I don’t get why you still have it on. The bad guys don’t know we’re here, right?”

“Maybe I’m just shy,” he teased, leaning back on the bed, his forearms rippling as they supported his weight.

You snorted at his answer, folding your arms across yourself. Suddenly you were all too aware of the fact that he was staring at you bare faced, messy haired and still in yesterday’s tiny dress. There was no way that he was shy, and it seemed unlikely that he was ugly under there. He walked and talked like a confident man, like a man that had never questioned himself. How exciting.

“Has Soap ever seen your face?” you asked, picking at the loose threads on the blanket you laid under.

“Why the sudden fascination?” he grumbled. “I thought I was a big scary serial rapist or somethin’?”

You winced as he threw your words from earlier back to you, it felt like you’d been burned with acid. You realised how stupid you sounded now. He’d held onto that.

“I didn’t say that you were one, I said that you could be one,” you corrected, sighing at your own stupidity. “I didn’t know who you both were, in fact I still don’t. I guess- I guess I just got freaked out, is all. Do other people not react a little crazy when you go on rescue missions?”

“Other people tend to be more gracious, at the very least,” he snorted.

You winced again.

You really were a princess sometimes. As much as the nickname had been annoying you all night, the soldier wasn’t wrong to call you it. They’d been good enough to put themselves in harms way and carry you through a sea of threats only for you to turn around and return fire, calling them names.

You put your head in your hands and groaned. You always slung your arrows at the wrong people. Always got prickly with people that tried to help. And they’d helped you more than anyone ever had.

“Thank you for saving me. I know it's a little late, but all the same…thanks for getting me out of there alive,” you murmured, catching a glance at his widened eyes. “And for- um, dealing with me earlier. That was nice of you cleaning me up like that.”

Ghost took a second to recover from you actually thanking him, his eyes staying open and shocked before returning to their usual shadowy state. They looked almost black even even in the sunlight. Though, you supposed it didn’t help they were hidden behind cloth and plastic.

“You’re welcome, darlin’” he rumbled.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Darling?” you grinned, preening at the warmth in his tone. “Am I growing on you?”

“Like black mould,” he groused, “Can’t get rid of your questions, can I?”

“You did not just compare me to mould,” you growled, forgetting yourself - and who you were facing up against - and shooting toward him with a pillow in hand.

Ghost, cast his eyes from you to the pillow and turned, catching you before you could do anything stupid with it and held you against the wide expanse of his chest again. You were held solidly against him, packed in tight and before you could do anything else, you were disarmed and your pillow was plucked right out of your hands and thrown back to the head of the bed.

“What’d you think you were gonna do with that then, ay?” he growled, his mouth dangerously close to grazing your ear.

His breath was warm on your neck and it raised a trail of goosebumps across your flesh. You shivered in his arms, feeling his words send a shock through your body, and felt yourself go limp in his bulging arms. Why was he suddenly so much more enticing when he had you pinned down like this?

“Ay?” he asked again, releasing a low chuckle. “You think you can attack me, princess? Think you can do a bit of damage with those little arms?”

“I think I could do a lot of damage if you let me,” you breathed, scraping your lip under your teeth.

The lieutenant paused and held you very still for a moment, his arms stiffening over your body like he’d moulded to you. Oh no. Had he not liked that, you wondered. Had you just embarrassed yourself again?

“Are you flirting with me?” he asked, voice not losing his amusement.

Oh good. So he wasn’t disgusted with you.

“Maybe…depends on if you liked it or not.”

“And if I liked it?”

“Then, yes, I was.”

You both sat in silence for a second, you stayed trapped in his arms, holding stock still while he mulled over what you’d said. What now? You didn’t have to wonder very long, he released you and turned your body so that you faced him again, balancing precariously on your hands and knees, capturing your face in his hands so that you were forced to look at him.

“You should be careful who you flirt with, princess. It’s like you said earlier, I’m a stranger in a mask, you have no idea who I am…No idea what I’m capable of,” he trailed, letting your own mind take over the implication he was getting at.

Not that you got the point that he was trying to make. If anything the whole thing was suddenly hotter to you. A rough fuck with the giant soldier that just rescued you from a gang of kidnappers and could pin you down like you were nothing? Hadn’t he sensed your issues from a mile off? Maybe he had, maybe that was why he said what he said.

“Maybe I wanna find out,” you whispered.

You shot forward and kissed where you supposed his lips must be and, luckily, guessed correctly. You could feel him tense up in surprise before yanking you off of him and pinning you under him, holding your body down against the bed with his sculpted body, his legs caging yours in and his hands holding your wrists like manacles.

“Give me one reason you want to, other than spiting your father,” he purred, eyes glowing with amusement and curiosity.

So he did know your game.

“You have a sexy voice,” you tried, fluttering your lashes in a way that you hoped would work on him.

“Fuckin’ americans,” he grunted, laughing lowly to himself. “I want somethin’ better than that.”

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to go fishing for compliments,” you snarked.

With that little comment , you were rolled over quicker than you could comprehend and before you could turn to see what he was doing he slapped you on the ass. It was solid, no nonsense. Enough to sting even though he’d done it through the fabric of your little dress. He wouldn't have to do much to expose you and make it hurt more. He’d just have to flip up the fabric.

“Answer my question,” he growled, still holding one of your hands captive.

“Because I want you to teach me a lesson…because you’re the first person in a long time that’s had me minding my manners,” you sighed, using your free hand to give your body leverage enough to rut against the soldier's bulging crotch.

“Fuck me,” Ghost grunted, voice losing its sharpness as you rutted against him.

“That worked?” you grinned, half shocked that it clearly convinced him.

“You could have any cunt from England, princess, and plenty of em’ would sound like me. You think that they could make you beg like I can?” he questioned.

You were tempted to give him a sassy reply, but already knowing you too well, he hit you with a couple more spanks, this time on your bare ass and finally slipped your skirt up so that he could admire the flesh he was abusing. You gasped as he ran his hands over your cheeks and whimpered when he ran a finger over your slit. You practically feel his eyes glowing like laser sights as he connected with your glistening flesh and paused so that he could dip his finger into you and confirm his suspicions.

“Please,” you whined, praying that he’d start moving it, praying for friction.

“Looks like I’ve got my answer,” he chuckled, removing his soaked finger and slapping your ass noncommittally. “Please what, hm?”

“Please,” you cried out, feeling awfully empty as he’d withdrawn. “Please, I want your fingers. Want you to finger me please.”

“Aw, so cute when you’re all needy, princess. Alright. If you ask me nicely, I’ll give you what you want.”

“I did ask nicely!” you whimpered, feeling your body burning with desire for him.

It felt like he was all you could think of now. The kidnappers and the whole resentment thing you had going for your family was a distant memory and all that remained was Ghost. All that remained was burning lust and a need to have him inside of you, possessing you wholly and taking you for his own.

“You’re such a little brat, princess. I just told you that you could have what you wanted and you just had to go spoil it for yourself,” Ghost said, his voice forging into a chilling point. “Looks like you need to be taught better manners.”

You groaned at his words, but you didn’t get much of a chance to work out what they meant. Instead, his hand rained down hard on your already stinging flesh and he spanked you like it was his next mission. You cried out as the smacks began to burn more and more and wriggled in his grasp, fruitlessly struggling against him and fighting his expert hands to no avail.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you chanted, giving him what you thought he wanted.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, accentuating each word with a slap.

They were softer than the ones he’d been giving before at least. Like caresses against your screaming skin, fiery with his rough treatment.

“Sorry…for not asking nicely,” you said quietly, hoping to god he’d just give you what you wanted.

“Sorry, sir,” he grunted, running his hands over your hot skin.

“Sorry, sir,” you repeated quickly, sighing as his gentle touch soothed your prickling burns.

“That’s better.”

You hummed as his nails scratched down your cheeks and settled into the bed, feeling like the stiff blankets were transformed into egyptian cotton as your head grew fuzzy. His hands really were quite skilled, especially since he was so easily able to have you howling one second and then had you curling up like a cat the next.

“You wanna do this for the rest of the day or you wanna try asking for what you wanted again?” Ghost asked, his voice softening as he watched you relax.

“Mmm, would rather have your fingers inside me please, sir,” you moaned, smiling contentedly to yourself.

“That’s better…good girl.”

Your masked soldier grabbed your hips in his hands, making you feel tiny as he yanked you up like you were nothing. Yanked you into a half kneeling position as you kept your head pasted onto the bed, not having the strength to bring it up. Then finally, just as you were about to start begging again, spat on his hand and pierced his finger back inside you.

You groaned at the intrusion and whined as he slowly pumped it in and out, getting you all worked up and turning you into a moaning mess. You were burning for more, your belly tightening as he worked his digit in and out and circled your clit with his other hand like it was an art. You whined and writhed and clutched at the sheets, crying out as he added another finger and increased his pace. You could feel the rumble that caught in his throat reverberate through your chest. ‘

“So pretty. Your cunt’s so wet and you’re clenching on me so hard. What would happen if I shoved my cock in there? Would you cum right away, princess?” he purred.

You whined out at that and felt your need light up anew, could feel it vibrate around your skull and through your gums. Yes. Stick your cock in me. That’s all you wanted, you wanted the big man on top of you, pinning you down and boxing you in like an animal, fucking into you like you were his own personal fleshlight. Fuck.

“Ohmygod, please fuck me, Ghost!” you cried out, “Please, oh my god please, sir! Please fuck me.”

Ghost chuckled and slowed his pace, bringing his fingers to a near stop. It was like hell, the tingles dampening throughout your body, your high being torn from you. You growled out and tried to claw your way up, tried to face him and see the stupid glint that would no doubt be in his eyes, but before you could he shoved you back down and tapped your ass again.

“We don’t have condoms here, princess. It’s not exactly standard protocol,” he teased. “Doesn’t seem like such a good idea.”

“I don’t care! I’m on birth control and I get checked out by the doctor every month,” you whined, fighting against any argument he could make against giving you his cock.

“Well…I suppose that changes things,” he grunted.

Thank fucking god! You were sure you were going to d-

“Fuck!”

Your strangled cry pierced the room as he replaced his fingers and thrusted into you, shattering you inch by inch with his massive cock. It seemed endless, it was torturous in all the right ways, the burn that licked through your body like a forest fire. He was huge, not that you doubted that of course.

“That what you wanted, hm? That feel good, princess?” Ghost said, coming to a stop as he filled you completely. “Tell me, how does that feel? I wanna know if anyone else has been able to make you as fuckin’ speechless as this.”

You whined out, scratching at the bed underneath you like a trapped animal and breathed in thickly, wondering if your lungs would ever recover from the events of the last few hours. Wondering how to answer Ghost. How did it feel? Did anyone else compare to him? What stupid fucking questions.

Nothing compared.

“It feels so fucking good, feels like you’re gonna split me in half,” you gasped, rocking yourself against him. “Need you to move, need to feel you ruin me!”

“Oh yeah? You need me to move? What a slutty girl telling me such filthy things,” he growled, reaching around and grabbing your neck, not quite enough to choke but enough to let you know he was in control. “Tell me, slutty girl, who’s in charge?”

“You, sir!”

“Who gets to wreck this pussy?” he asked, slowly begining to fuck you, rocking himself slowly in and out of you at an agonising pace.

“You, sir!”

“Are you my little whore?” He asked again, building up speed a little, catching you in all the right places and turning your head to mush.

“Yes sir,” you cried out, feeling yourself coming closer and closer to the edge.

“Good fuckin’ girl, princess.”

You screamed as he upped his pace out of no where and fucked you like it was his job. Your eyes lost focus and your teeth gnashed together and suddenly it was a fight to stay upright as he pounded in and out of you and held your neck tightly in his firm grasp. It wasn’t like anyone you’d been with before, this was a new level of fucking you’d never experienced.

“Fuck!” you cried out again. “Gonna- gonna cum.”

“Yeah? Good, cum for me. Clench on my cock, little slut.”

You moaned out and gripped the sheets underneath you tighter, feeling your whole body shaking as his cock forced you off balnce. Just a few more thrusts and-

It felt like bliss, it felt like a high from a drug you’d just taken for the first time. You came with a muffled scream as Ghost clamped his hand over your mouth and gasped wordlessly as he continued to fuck you. In and out, in and out, it was about all your mind could process as your body zipped and sparked like it had been hit by a thunderstorm.

He kept going like that, absolutely relentless, skewering you and turning you to mush below him, making you feel like dirt at his knees. You were nothing, you weren't any kind of princess, you were just his toy. And you fucking loved it. You loved that he could make you feel like that, but still make you feel so fucking precious as he continued to caress your skin and growl affirmations every now and then.

So fucking pretty.

Mine, princess, you’re mine.

Feel so fucking good, you’re so fucking good.

You cried out as he put his hand around your throat again and put on some pressure, making you struggle a little to pull in air, but not by much. It felt exquisite. The tremors of your last orgasm were still bolting through you and now another one was building. You felt so good, felt so impossibly warm as you struggled beneath him. Fuck, you never wanted this to end. But you knew you could hardly take much more.

“You gonna cum for me again? Gonna give me another one before I finish? C’mon, I know you have another one in you, princess.”

You whined and felt your thighs shaking like they were going to collapse and suddenly his fingers closed tighter round the sides of your throat. You gasped loudly a couple times, trying to pant out that you were close, but the sound couldn’t quite form in your mouth. Then, in no time at all it was hitting you again, that high, that euphoria. Another orgasm.

“Fuck!” Ghost growled out.

You clenching around him had sent him over the edge and all too soon, you were both collapsing into the sheets like falling scaffolding. You clattered down against him and he pulled you close. He bucked his hips a couple times as he finished inside you, grunting a little with the increased sensitivity he felt as you shifted against him. It was divine.

You were both wrecked.

Neither of you said a word as you laid there, both keeping your eyes closed and your mouths open as you panted into the arid empty air. There was nothing to say. You just had to soak in the moment and retreat into each other's bodies, accepting the burning, unbearable heat you were both giving off and enveloping each other in it.

Fuck.

“Is that a better way of saying thank you, sir?” you finally moaned, grinning to yourself as you proved yourself right.

That was one way to teach you some respect alright.

#ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod fanfiction

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billskeis · 4 months

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Hi! Absolutely love ur work💕💕 Okay so could you write hcs with all four members (separate) that have a quiet/ shy type s/o?

(Sorry that this req is short but my brain is running out of juice rn, love the work, keep it up😘😘)

ᡣ𐭩 tokio hotel w shy s/o

thank u so much! and don’t worry, you’re doing great! let’s appreciate all my shy and quiet homies out there! y’all deserve some more appreciation in your life.

headcannons down below!

bill

loves loves loves that you’re shy, he thinks it’s so cute

usually one to go for loud spontaneous girls but you’re like a stick in the mud, and that drew you to him

since you don’t talk much you’re a really good listener, and bill is known to ramble a lot

appreciates the fact you listen to him attentively

because of how tall he is, loves the fact that whenever you’re out to meet new people you hide behind him, how you have to peak behind his shoulder once he introduces you to his peers or acquaintances and is always holding your hand through it, squeezing it to ensure everything is okay

hand holding in public gets you super shy but bill loves to show you off in any way possible

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, so will out of the blue compliment you to see how you react

hiding your face, not knowing how to respond, running away from him to only catch up to you quickly

he fucking loves that shit

“aww come on baby, am i not allowed to tell you how beautiful you are?”

tom

just like bill, usually goes for spontaneous girls

but when he saw you at the club and how flustered you became when he hit on you, MANS WAS DRAWN INNN

physical touch all the way, makes you insane and knees weak, and he just lives for that

sudden grabs of the waist, hugging, holding your neck gently to swiftly pull you into a kiss

maybe if he’s feeling bold he’ll sneak a hand on your ass

the eye contact goes crazy, once you look at him and he catches you, he’ll never break his gaze

finds it super adorable that you’re always the one to break the stare down, laughs and pats your head always afterwards

omgosh loves and i mean fucking loves it when you hide yourself in his clothes especially his sweaters when he’s wearing them how you’ll just tuck yourself into the sweater bodies pressed together engulfing like FUCK do this more often he loves it

whenever you go out to get food, you’re shyness doesn’t allow you to take to service workers so he always offers to order for you, eventually it becomes a habit and does it himself

“how’s that baby, i made sure to get your coffee just how you like it.. oh me? a coca cola!”

gustav

introvert x introvert ALL THE WAYY BABEYYY

the way you and gustav show affection for one another usually comes from physical touch or acts of service

communicating with each other isn’t hard, it’s almost like a spidey sense where you just know what the other person wants or needs and can simply do that for them

expect soo many cuddles, movie marathons and baking/cooking sessions, gustav loves to cook and bake with you, the playlist on in the background that the two of you curated for one another simply enjoying each other’s company is enough for the both of you

on the other hand, if you guys wanted to step out of the comfort zone to go outside on a date, expect to play rock paper scissors to see who has to talk to someone to either order food or request a table at a restaurant

you and gustav can also have one on one sessions with each other deep conversing, talking about anything and everything

can immediately notice when you’re uncomfortable or feeling way too shy or nervous in situations

will either step up, say something, or simply bring you somewhere else where it’s now just the two of you

if you tell and express to him how you feel, will fully listen to you, holding your hands together caressing them

“i understand.. we can either leave, or if not, you can sit next to me! i’m right here with you.

georg

is the biggest shit ever

even more than tom, loves to tease you, you can find him tapping your shoulder and running away leaving you confused or whenever you compliment or tell him you love him will make you repeat it loud and clear

but if it comes to that case, will have to beat the shit out of someone if they make a comment about how shy or quiet you are

not much of a talker, but when he does find himself talking a lot more than you in conversations always asks what you think and what your opinion on it is

does it solely just to hear you speak because he loves your voice and doesn’t get to hear it enough ugh y/n what’s wrong w u??

expect him to rest his arm on your shoulder, head on chin, and bear hugs, he thinks that just because you’re quiet he treats you as if you were someone smaller than him

but he this is just how he publicly shows how in love with you he is

constantly compliments you on how you look, the outfits you wear, how good you are at things vice versa nd that

but you finally snap back at him and compliment him even further and woah honey you have him in a chokehold rn

“fuck, i didn’t expect you to say that, can you say it again? please? i wanna’ hear it one more time..”

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel fluff #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz fluff #gustav schafer #gustav schafer fluff #georg listing #georg listing fluff #2000s #fyp

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vex91 · 6 months

Text

Since Yujin's cock is all I think about daily I had to write a thought that's been with me the whole ass day☺ I've been fed with cock thanks to @pupyuj so I'm motivated to give more Yujin's cock🤭

Warning(s): 18+ content, G!P Yujin, Alcohol, Blowjob, Pure fucking because what were you expecting, Degradation because it's me so of course😈

So a little backstory as to how Yujin knew you. You were Gaeul's precious younger sister and as her best friend who came over a lot, Yujin saw you quite a lot too and during all these trips to visit your sister she couldn't help but get attached to you a lot even if you both never really talked much when she was over since you mostly kept yourself locked in your room, studying.

Yujin was the typical fuckgirl of your school. She was extremely popular due to ther looks and the fact she was the Captain of your school's soccer team and girls were immediately drawn to her despite all the things going around the school about her being with girls only to break up with them after sleeping with her. Gaeul knew that and despite being friends she didn't trust her with her sister one bit so she gave her a warning about not touching you from the start.

And believe me Yujin really wanted to listen to Gaeul because they were friends and all but you can't really blame her for not being able to think rationally when she was around you. Maybe you weren't popular at school but you were definitely attractive and Yujin couldn't stop herself from getting hard at the thought of you. Like she could just be trying to fall asleep one second and the next she was pumping her cock desperately mumbling your name over and over because she accidentally remembered how good your ass looked in that god damned short shorts you were wearing when she came over to play games with Gaeul.

She continued lusting over you for months until she finally couldn't stop herself at the party one of your mutual friends threw. At some point some dude started hitting on you and you trying to be nice pretended to be interested in what he was saying but you clearly looked uncomfortable. The whole time Yujin was standing not that far from you, leaning on the wall with a beer in her hand as she glared at the guy. Gaeul was somewhere else in the house and this pushed Yujin even more to walk over when that dude put his hand on your knee.

She aggressively pushed him more into the couch while pulling you up and out of the room. She found an empty one and locked the doors as she kissed you hungrily. She reeked of alcohol but honestly you didn't cared at the moment, not when you could feel a bulge in her pants poking your thigh. The next thing you knew you were on your knees bopping your head up and down, sucking her off as she guided your head by your hair. She switched between praises and degradation.

"Mmm so good"

"Such a slut you are, you love sucking my cock like that while you're sister is right outside huh?"

"Good girl"

Soon she pushed you on the bed and pushed your panties aside, feeling your pussy with her fingers and gathering your wetness "So wet already? You really want my cock so badly huh? Never knew you were such a slut" She licked her feelings tasting your juices before diving right in and eating you out. She was experienced and it was obvious by the way she made you see stars in a few seconds. Her fingers playing with your clit didn't helped either.

And then she was pounding into you like never before. At that point neither you or Yujin cared about Gaeul finding you both like this as she let you scream her name loudly for everyone to hear. Your walls clenching around her cock made her go crazy as she marked your whole neck up with hickeys. You loved the way she filled you up and truthfully you knew you wouldn't be able to just leave and forget about it later, not when she fucked you so good.

With a scream you came all over her cock and soon after Yujin joined you, filling you up full of her seed. The mix of her cum and your juices spilled out as she layed down next to you, not planning to pull out any time soon.

#ive x reader #ive reactions #iz*one x reader #izone x reader #iz*one reactions #izone reactions #ahn yujin x reader #ahn yujin #ahn yujin thoughts #thoughts

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danikamariewrites · 14 days

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Ours to Keep

Neris x reader

A/n: Happy last day of @polyacotarweek ! Everyone out such hard work into their amazing pics and I loved reading them. For the last day (like Eris week) I went with vampire!Neris. You can't deny that these two wouldn't make the hottest vamp couple out there.

Warnings: none

Exploring the castle you pull your shawl tighter around your shoulders. It was bone chilling inside the cavernous stone castle, but better than being left out in the months long blizzard ravaging your village.

When winter set in over two months ago your father succumbed to his illness. The same one your mother suffered from over a year ago. Losing your parents gave you a new drive to survive. With nothing left in your village you set out to survive somewhere else.

On your journey the blizzards arrived, slowing you down and forcing you to find cover earlier than you wanted. After weeks of hunkering down in caves and rundown inns the blizzard had cleared revealing a looming castle in the distance. Something in your soul told you to go toward it. You found it was the only shelter, the woods devoid of anything safe for what seemed like days. Reaching the gates of the castle you looked behind you to find the blizzard had picked up again.

Shoving your way through the heavy front doors it only took you three paces to be met with Eris and Nesta. Fae turned vampire. You piqued their interest, being just a human girl and made a deal with you. You could stay, untouched and safe, for two months. After that you had to choose between facing winter on your own again or staying with them forever to be their source for human blood, something they have gone too long without.

At first you distanced yourself from Eris and Nesta. But you were drawn to them which made it hard to stay away. You couldn’t help but be near them. Since the blizzard blocked out the sun they weren’t hidden away at all hours of the day.

The more time you spent with them the more you wanted to learn about them. Something that piqued your interest was how they became vampires. On an afternoon spent with Eris in his study you finally felt brave enough to ask him this question. “It was a punishment for us wanting to be together. Little did the people who forced us into this life know the carnage they were unleashing upon themselves.” The tale gave you chills. It was romantic and horrifying all at the same time, making you swoon for the immortal male.

As you come across an old portrait of them from when they were simply fae you stopped, staring up at them. They were so beautiful here. How have they become finer with age?

With immortality in mind you think about the deal you made with them to keep you safe. Would you join them? Beg them to make you into what they are? You had come to love them, even sharing heated stolen moments with the pair. Your almost kisses with Nesta in the library had heat rushing to your cheeks. Did they talk about you like that?

You need to make a decision soon. Your two months are almost up and you’re not entirely sure you want to leave Nesta and Eris.

Setting out to search for them, you find the vampires in the parlor. Eris was reading by the fire as Nesta softly played a classic piece on the grand piano. On near-silent feet you make your way over to Nesta, sitting next to her on the bench. Nesta smirked, her slender fingers never faltering as she continued to play.

Resting your head on her shoulder Nesta placed hers on top of yours. The cold from her body seeped through your thick shawl. It wasn’t a bone chilling cold like you felt while wandering the castle. It was a comforting cool. Like when you’re too hot on a summer afternoon and jump into the lake.

As the song comes to an end Nesta’s hand travels down the keys, dipping to gently hold onto yours. Bringing your warm fingers to her lips for a small kiss as she stared at you with those sultry silver eyes. You bring her cold fingers to your mouth, pressing kisses across her knuckles. “You’re so talented Nes. I could listen to you play forever.” You sigh out.

Eris watched from his arm chair with a predatory smirk. He beckoned you and Nesta over with a curl of his finger. Nesta dragged you over to the couch, snuggling you between her and Eris’s massive frame. “We wanted to talk to you, dear heart.” You give Eris a curious look.

Nesta cleared her throat, urging Eris to get to the point. “Your time with us is almost up. We wanted to know if you have given any thought to our deal.” You looked between the vampires and saw hope swimming in their eyes. They were tense. Scared you will choose to leave them.

Seeing them like this solidified your answer. “I-I want to stay. I like it here with you two.” Nesta and Eris let loose a relieved breath. Nesta wrapped her arms around your middle, pulling you closer to her body. “Thank the Cauldron,” she whispered. You leaned into her, holding her back.

Eris brushed a strand of your hair behind your rounded ear. “Lately I’ve been thinking about the future.” You admit. “I don’t think I could live without you two and wanted to ask if you’d be open to something?” Anticipation sparked in Eris’s amber eyes. Something in your gut told you he’s been waiting for this conversation.

He was. And Nesta had made him swear not to speak about it unless you brought it up first. Not wanting to force this life on you like it had them. She wanted immortality to be your choice.

“I want to be like you.” Hope shining in your eyes as you looked between them. “I want you to turn me into a vampire.” Eris cupped your face in his large hands, resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed at the comfort of his closeness. “Only if you are truly sure, dear heart.”

You nod vigorously. “I’m sure,” you whisper. You felt one of Nesta’s fingers run up and down the side of your neck. Pressing her lips to your heated skin you felt Nesta’s wicked grin. “I know exactly where I’m going to bite first.”

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ereardon · 1 month

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In The Skies || Ch. 1 [Major John "Bucky" Egan x Reader]

Overview: On a night out in London, you meet fellow American Major John “Bucky” Egan of the 100th. As war rages on, you take a leave of absence during the spring of your third year at Oxford to sign up as a nurse on the front lines in England. Time and time again, you and Bucky find yourselves thrown together in the hospital ward as you tend to him and his teammates after missions gone awry. What happens when you find yourself falling for a man who might never return from the skies?

Pairing: Major John “Bucky” Egan x Reader

Chapter summary: You spend one eventful night with Major "Bucky" Egan after a night out in London. Will you ever see him again?

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, cursing, definitely historical inaccuracies

WC: 2.6K

Masterlist here

“Want a drink?”

“Sure!” Your voice got lost in the crowd. The bar, somewhere in Camden, was packed, a mixture of men in uniform and women with drawn-on hosiery packed like sardines in the tiny room. Music swelled over the chaos of voices, and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears from the sheer volume of everything.

It was exhilarating.

It was the week before exams, and you and two girlfriends had decided to throw caution to the wind, taking the train from Oxford and staying in the city in a flat that Mary’s sister rented, the four of you squished in two tiny beds with one mirror and a bathroom in the hallway.

But the allure of London was such a vibrant change from Oxford. Even during the war, there was something romantic about the city. Maybe, in the fact of everything, it was the potential. To be who you wanted to be. To live a life worth living.

Or, perhaps the real reason your friends had wanted to go to London for the weekend, was the men.

So many military men.

You’d had your share of flings with Brits. There were the other students at Oxford. The townies nearby. You even danced on the edge of a romantic relationship with a professor. But in the end, they all went belly up.

Mary pressed a drink into your hand and you took a sip, eyes darting around the room. You had come to London only a handful of times in the two-and–a-half years you had been at Oxford. It was overwhelming, after the quietness of rural England. The hustle, the sheer volume of bodies, the loud voices and incoherent accents. Almost three years in England and you still could barely understand a British accent.

Mary and Eileen had an easier time adjusting. Eileen was also an American, from California. She looked like a film star, and you envied her sometimes. Mary was more quiet, originally from Dover, with diminutive features.

Barely an hour into arriving, they had both been swept into conversations with handsome men. You waved them off with a smile. That was the purpose of going to the bar, you reminded yourself. Experience life outside of the Ivy-covered halls of Oxford. Throw caution to the wind, just once. In the midst of all the tragedy and the chaos and the death, you were twenty one. You were just starting to live.

“Need a refill?” The voice was unmistakably American. Midwest American if you had to guess. You looked up from where you had been lingering against one dark wall in the corner of the club.

That voice. It was deep and throaty, and belonged to a tall man leaning against the wall to your right, his head cocked to one side, deep blue eyes staring straight at you.

You felt your stomach flip. There was something unmistakeable about his gaze. It cemented you in place, grounding you. He smiled, small lips turning up beneath a groomed mustache.

“I’m fine,” you replied, hating yourself instantly, the empty glass in your hand saying otherwise. He was going to walk away, try his luck with the next girl, and you cursed yourself.

Instead, he stayed rooted in place, nodding. “That’s alright. I recognize an American anywhere.”

“New York,” you replied.

“Wisconsin.” You told him your name. He reached out one solid, large hand. “I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky? You must have messed up big time to get that as your nickname.”

He smirked, his hand warm where it was still enveloping yours. You didn’t want to pull away. There was something magnetic about him. “You’re a long way from home.”

“I’m a third year at Oxford,” you said. He had to lean in closer to hear you above the noise of the club and you could smell the tobacco on his jacket, the musk of whiskey and oranges. “Just here for the weekend.”

“Seeing a boyfriend?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Bucky smiled. “Good.” Despite the noise of the club and the competing senses — boisterous laughter, the scent of sweat and perfumes mixed together, the rush of bodies all around — you found yourself entirely captivated by Bucky. He straightened up against the wall where the two of you were leaning. “Want to get some air?” he asked. “Take a walk?”

“Yes.” He held out a hand and you took it without thinking, not bothering to find Eileen or Mary in the crowd and tell them you’ve left. You simply let Bucky sweep you out into the cool London night.

The air outside was biting against the thin silk of your dress and you shivered almost immediately. He shrugged off his jacket, a fur-trimmed bomber coat and wrapped it around your shoulders without you asking.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “What’s your real name?” you asked quietly. “Unless your mother had an awful sense of humor and named you Bucky from birth.”

He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty street. “John Egan, ma’am.”

“Ma’am,” you repeated, the word slippery on your tongue. “Makes me feel old.”

“You don’t look a day over twenty.”

“Twenty one,” you replied. “Last week.”

Up ahead, yellow street lamps tossed delicate rings of light into the road. It was a T junction. You could go left or right. He stopped underneath the lamp at the intersection and you turned to face him. “Y/N,” he said. “I’m leaving tomorrow. What do you say we make this a night we won’t forget?”

“Do you say that to all the girls?” you whispered. “Or just the ones you pick up in clubs.”

Bucky smirked. “I say it because it’s true.” He paused, his face falling. “And because this time, we might not come back.” There was something dark and defeated in the way he said it.

Again, without thinking, you reached up, trailing one hand over his cheek. He pressed into your palm without thinking, closing his eyes for a second before popping them open. “Can’t let a soldier go off to war without a proper sendoff,” you replied quietly. “Wouldn’t be very patriotic of me, now would it?”

He reached out, pressing both hands to either side of your face, delicately stroking your cheek with his rough, large thumb. “No, it wouldn’t. And you’re a good little American, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“For my troops?” you whispered. “Anything.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours. You felt goosebumps prickle at your skin. He tasted warm, like tobacco and whiskey, and his mouth opened gracefully, accepting your lips across his, his tongue finding yours with soft padding.

Bucky pulled back, sliding both of his large, warm hands across the sides of your face. His slate blue eyes bore into yours for a moment and even though you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk in London, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, and empty space all around.

At the hotel, you slipped off your heels near the door, looking around. It was a small room, just a bed in the middle, a chair next to one wall, and a window overlooking the street. Bucky closed the door. You turned to him, eyes wide. “You ever done anything like this, sweetheart?” he murmured.

You shook your head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“So why me?” he asked. “Why tonight?”

“It’s war, Bucky,” you whispered. “People do things because they can. While they can.”

He stepped closer, his scent surrounding you. He was tall, so much taller without your heels on, and you craned your neck up to look at him. He cupped your face gently. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Might be the last pretty face I ever see.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” He pulled away, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Silently, you admired the way his thighs stretched the dark green fabric of his uniform, how long his legs were as he tapped one brown leather shoe against the carpet. “You don’t know what it’s like up there. Not knowing if we’re ever coming back.”

“Do you have a wife back home?” you whispered.

He looked up, frowning. “You think I’d be here with you if I had a wife?”

“I don’t know. Some men might.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. I don’t have a wife. Or a girl.”

“Tonight I’ll be your girl,” you whispered, slotting yourself between his legs, Bucky’s fingers automatically reaching out, tracing along the lines of your legs covered in hosiery. His fingertips ran along the back seam of your pantyhose behind your knee as you sucked in a breath, winding your arms around his neck.

“Is that a promise?” he asked, voice thick and deep. His eyes pierced yours.

“Are you going to come back safe?” you whispered.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Then it’s a promise,” you murmured, leaning down, pressing your lips to his, Bucky’s hands circling your waist, tugging your body against him, one of his hands threaded in your hair at the base of your neck where it was pinned under. He tasted of tobacco and drink and you let him slide his hands up beneath your dress, gasping as his fingers gently brushed over your bottom, fingertips grazing the snaps of your garter where it clipped to your thigh highs.

“Can’t tell you the last time I touched real stockings,” he whispered. You didn’t have the heart to tell him they were your last pair, and that you had been saving them. Most days, you drew a line up the back of your leg like all the other women, replicating the seam of stockings but going without in order to support the war.

“And how do they feel?”

Bucky looked up, his enormous hands clasped around the back of your thighs where your bare flesh sat between the edge of your panties and the top of the stockings. “Amazing.”

You tipped your head back in a sigh as he gripped your bottom, squeezing the bare flesh tightly. He unclipped the stockings, rolling them down your left, then your right, leg, slowly. You reached out, undoing his tie, his blue eyes watching yours with rapt attention as your fingertips shook while you undressed him.

His skin was warm as you slid your fingers over his bare chest, admiring the smattering of hair in the center of his sternum, the small scar on his left shoulder blade. You couldn’t help but run your hands over his abs, so clearly defined but still soft, the way the muscles melted into each other like rounded mountaintops.

You spun around so Bucky could undo the buttons on the back of your dress. There was an intimacy as he worked his way down your back until the dress peeled off. You placed your hands over your chest, turning around shyly.

“Don’t cover up, baby,” he whispered, voice low and gravely. “Let me see you.”

Slowly, you removed your hands, standing in front of him in only your sheer ivory slip dress. Buck reached up, tracing one hand over your breast, your nipple straining against the fabric, the air in the room full of expectation. You gasped as he slid the lacy strap off of your shoulder, exposing your chest, leaning forward and taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard as you threaded your fingers into his curling dark hair. “Oh!”

He pulled you down against him, rolling you over until your back was against the bed, his head still level with your chest as he kissed across your exposed skin. Your fingertips dug against his back, eyes closing as you widened your hips, letting him sit between your thighs.

You had been with men before. Oxford, for all of its poshness and etiquette, had seen a spike in debauchery since the war broke out. So different from back home. You were different here than you were at home.

But being with those other men was nothing like being with Bucky. His mustache tickled over the exposed skin of your neck as he pressed inside of you, his arms wrapping around your whole body, keeping you warm, holding you as close as possible as you moved together, your fingers tangled in his hair, your ankles curled around his hips, your moans drenching the small gap of air between the two of you.

And as he finished, his forehead pressed against yours as he moaned into the night, hips shuddering against your body, you let go.

You laid in the bed, tucked squarely in Bucky’s embrace, your face close to his chest as he lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from you. His fingertips danced over your shoulder. “So how do you like England?” he asked.

You pushed up off of him, chuckling. “England? Oh it’s fine. All beans and toast and pints. Still not used to the accents. I have to ask my professors to repeat themselves all the time, they think I’m hard of hearing.”

He smiled. “What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

“Biology?” He took a puff of his cigarette. “To do what?”

“Research. I like plants and gardening and animals.”

He reached out, playing with one ringlet of hair that had fallen loose from your updo. “A New Yorker who likes gardening? Never heard of such a thing.”

“We had plants on our rooftop. I used to go out there every afternoon to sit with my schoolwork, reading by the fire escape. Dream about being anywhere else. Somewhere green.”

“England is green,” Bucky said. “Outside of London of course. From up there, it’s all green.”

“What’s it like?” you asked. “Flying.”

“Scary as shit,” he replied and your eyes widened. He stubbed out the cigarette in a bowl on the nightstand. “No matter how good you are, no matter how many times you’ve made it back, you never know what you’re going to find.”

“You’re scared?”

“Fucking terrified.”

You traced one hand down the side of his face. “What if you didn’t go back to base tomorrow?” you whispered.

“I have to. I have my men to worry about.”

“Tell me about your friends.”

“Well there’s Croz. Smart sonofabitch, but sick every time he gets in the air. There’s Curt and Rosie.” He smiled. “And then there’s Buck.”

“Buck?” You frowned. “I thought you were Buck.”

“I’m Bucky, he’s Buck,” he clarified. “It’s a long story.”

“Two peas in a pod, then?”

“He asked me to be his best man,” Bucky said and you saw the way his face turned up in a soft smile. His eyes were far away, like he was dreaming.

“Bet you look good at a wedding,” you whispered.

His eyes returned to yours. He grabbed your hand, pulling it in, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “Be my date?”

You laughed. “To a wedding for two people I’ve never met?”

“They’ll love it. Trust me, it’ll be great.”

“Alright, you promise me to come back home safe, and I promise to be your date to this mysterious Buck’s wedding. Unknown date or location.”

He grinned. “Now don’t go breaking that promise, sweetheart. You’d just about break my heart.” He leaned in for a kiss and you tumbled back onto the bed, a heap of arms and legs and sighs.

In the morning, you crept out of bed. Bucky laid on his stomach, arms tucked beneath the pillow, snoring softly as you rolled on your stockings, buttoned your dress behind you. You sat down at the desk in the corner before tucking the note into his jacket pocket and stepping into your heels.

As you opened the door, you took one last look back. He was handsome. So damn handsome.

You hoped with your whole heart that he would return from the skies.

A/N: This is my first time writing for MOTA or doing anything set in a different period so please bare with me as I work on my period writing skills!

Tagging some people I think may enjoy this:

@gretagerwigsmuse @gigisimsonmars @iangiemae @tgmavericklover @sunny747 @perfectprettypisces @na-ta-sh-aa @ryebecca @kmc1989 @spinning-away @yorkshirekiwi @clancycucumber230

#masters of the air #mota #john bucky egan #masters of the air series #major john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #callum turner

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justagalwhowrites · 9 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 49

Things change in Jackson but the most important things stay the same. The final chapter of Lavender, found in its entirety on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut! No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 7.3k

Sunday, October, 4, 2026

“Hey Joel!” Suzanne, a woman who worked at the clinic with you, ran up to him as he made his way home after an overnight patrol. “Do you know where Doc is?”

“Think all my girls are at home,” he frowned a little. “Not sure, haven’t been there yet since gettin’ back but I’m heading there now… Everything OK?”

“Think we’ve got an appendicitis,” she winced as she said it. “If she’s home, can you send her our way? Save me the trouble of going to look at your place.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Joel said. “I’ll see if I can track her down if she’s not there but it’s Sylvie’s nap time so can’t imagine she’d go far…”

Suzanne smiled gratefully and ran back into the clinic, her ponytail swinging.

Joel was eager to get home to you under any circumstance but even more so after doing an overnight patrol. He’d been away from you too long. He never slept well on patrol, never slept well if he was somewhere he couldn’t touch you, feel you breathing next to him. Whenever he got back, he usually spent five minutes just holding onto you, centering himself on you and the feeling of you in his arms again. But now you’d be running out the door right away. Even though he knew appendectomies were relatively easy and that you’d only be gone a few hours at the most, it was hard to not be a little frustrated by it.

“Hey Love,” you smiled when he came in, stretched out on the couch with a ribbon tied like a headband in your hair and his daughter asleep on your chest. “Didn’t want to risk moving her, both of your kids have been in rare form today…”

Sylvie, now 18 months old, shifted ever so slightly on her mother’s chest, her little features drawn in for a second - as if to prove a point - before relaxing. Her hair was getting long, her thick, dark curls a clone of her father. Her eyes were, too, when they were open. Joel knew them well. It seemed like he’d done nothing but stare at her for months after she was born, the combination of you and him something too beautiful to look away from.

It sometimes felt to Joel that there was some part of the universe that always wanted your child to exist. You got pregnant so fast. He couldn’t be sure but the timing of the day at the lake made sense, like the only thing stopping the creation of you and him together was the power of modern medicine. The moment there was nothing preventing it she sprang into being, all but inevitable.

Joel was surprised at just how much he loved seeing you pregnant. It hadn’t been something that he’d ever considered before now, not something he’d ever been drawn to before now. But looking at you, knowing you were growing his child, knowing your body was changing because of him somehow made you even more beautiful.

Lucky for him, your hormones made you practically insatiable - not that you’d ever had a low sex drive. But it went from sex most nights to sex every night, often twice, and once again in the morning if you woke up with enough time before needing to get yourselves or Ellie out the door. He loved finding new places on you to touch and hold, loved kissing your stomach over where you were growing his daughter, loved holding your swollen breasts as he sank into your tight heat from behind, always cumming deep inside you because it’s not like he could make you any more pregnant.

It took everything he had in him to not try to get you pregnant again. You’d told him, flat out, no. The pregnancy hadn’t been rough but it hadn’t been easy, either. You were tired but had a hard time sleeping, sensitive to all kinds of sights and smells, throwing up more days than you didn’t. It was easier, you said, than your first pregnancy, the one that was lost. But you were 20 years older now, everything was harder on your body now than it was then and the last thing he wanted to do was cause you any pain.

But seeing you be a mother to his children had a tight hold on him. Every time he was inside you he had to fight the urge to plant himself deep, resist the drive to give you another child of his to grow and raise with him. Logic didn’t matter when he was inside of you, all that mattered was you and the primal need to give you as much of him as you would take.

“Both of ‘em, huh?” He asked, coming over and pressing a deep kiss to your forehead and stroking your hair before sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“Yup,” you smiled a little. “Sylvie has not been on board with eating anything but she’s been crying half the day because she’s hungry. Ellie got home about an hour ago and didn’t say a word before stomping upstairs. So yes, your daughters have been in a mood today.”

“Why are they my daughters when they’re actin’ up?” He asked, gently resting a hand on Sylvie’s back, feeling her little chest rise and fall with her sleepy breaths.

“Because that’s when they take after you most,” you smirked a little. “When they’re angels who have never done a damn thing wrong, they’re mine.”

He laughed once and went to scoop Sylvie off your chest and getting to his feet. You frowned.

“I’ve got this little troublemaker since she’s apparently mine today,” he said, his youngest daughter stirring and scrunching her face as she yawned, her plump lips immediately falling into a pout. She buried her face into Joel’s neck with a little whine. “And I’ll go up and check on the other one. They need you at the clinic, appendicitis.”

“In that case, I leave you to be the outnumbered one,” you said, getting up and stretching out your back as you did. Joel took a second to admire you, the added thickness to your hips and legs and softness to your stomach and fullness to your breasts after carrying his daughter somehow making you even more lovely. Before, he didn’t think you could get anymore beautiful. Of course you’d find a way to prove him wrong. You reached up to kiss him, smiling against his lips before brushing Sylvie’s hair back. “Think you can behave yourself for your father since I’m sure he’s tired and hungry after a long day out patrolling?”

She groaned and pushed her little face into his shoulder. He laughed.

“Not like I haven’t dealt with moody girls before,” he said. His heart, he found, hurt less when he thought of Sarah now. The fact that she wasn’t there was still something that was missing. An emptiness and an ache of loss where he knew there should only be fullness and light. But he saw so much of her in Ellie and Sylvie and you. It made it so he could think about her, remember her, without it consuming him. He could miss her and remember her without suffering her loss. “I’ve got this Baby, go save a life.”

You kissed his daughter’s chubby little hand and gave his arm a squeeze before leaving. He looked at Sylvie, her face still in his shoulder.

“Alright Baby Girl,” he said. “We’re gonna try puttin’ you down for 10 minutes so I can talk to your sister, let’s see how that goes…”

He carried her upstairs and set her gently in her crib. She stretched and yawned and pouted, her eyes closed - lashes so long they were splayed across her plump cheek - until Joel tucked a rag doll Ellie’d made her into her little grasp. She tugged it against herself and settled a bit and Joel all but tiptoed out of her room and down the hall to Ellie’s. He knocked gently on the door.

“What.” Her voice was sharp.

“It’s me,” he said. “Wonderin’ if you wanted to talk about somethin’.”

“No.”

He waited a second.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Your house.”

He sighed. Why were teenagers so hard? He opened the door slowly and found her curled up on the bed, her eyes red and her arms crossed, her back to the mural.

“What’s goin’ on, Baby Girl?” He asked gently, coming and sitting beside her on the bed.

“I said I didn’t want to talk,” she snapped. “And I really don’t want to talk with you.”

“Well, I’m who ya got,” he shrugged. “So I’d like it if you did. Want to help you if I can.”

“You can’t help,” she glared at him. “You’ve done plenty.”

“Wish you’d tell me what you mean,” he frowned. “I’m at a loss here, Baby Girl.”

She sat up, crossing her legs and looking him in the eye.

“There’d be a cure right now if it wasn’t for you, wouldn’t there.” She didn’t ask it, she said it. A statement of fact. Joel’s stomach dropped.

“Where’d you get that idea?” He asked.

“That’s not an answer, Joel. Would there be a cure if it wasn’t for you?”

He sighed.

“Let’s talk about this when your mother…”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, she’s not my mom and you’re not my dad. You’re just some assholes who took away the one chance I had to make a fucking difference!”

That hurt, more than he’d have thought it would. It’s not like Ellie called you Mom and him Dad but it felt like she thought of him the way he thought of her. You’d both tried to help her see how important she was, how much she mattered, what a difference she made to the people around her every day. It hadn’t seemed to stick.

“This about Lucas?” He asked softly. She glared at him but he took that for a yes.

Her friend, Lucas, had been killed out on patrol a month earlier. Ripped apart by infected. It was tragic, the first loss on patrol in years. Lucas had been competent and likely kept the carnage from being worse, holding off a hoard long enough to get his patrol partners out alive. Ellie had been distant and sullen a lot since then.

You’d talked to Joel about it and the both of you figured she was mourning the loss of her friend. Neither of you thought it would be something like this.

“Baby Girl,” he said gently. “Why don’t we talk about this when Doc gets home? You can ask us whatever you want, we’ll answer you. OK?”

“Why, want to wait to get your stories straight?” She snapped.

“Not gonna lie to you,” he said. “We’ll tell you whatever you want. But she needs to be here for it, too. Not right for it to just be you’n me, OK?”

“Fine,” she snapped, curling up again. Sylvie started fussing in her room. He sighed and she just looked at him. “Go, I’m not allowed to talk to you until Doc’s here, anyway.”

He fought the urge to fight her on it and went and picked up his youngest daughter, instead.

You’d been right about Sylvie. She wasn’t in the mood for eating anything but kept giving her hungry cry, wailing too much to actually form words, instead toddling around inconsolably. Eventually, he broke into a jar of canned peaches and handed her a sticky slice, the syrupy juice from the jar dripping down her hands. She chewed it, hiccuping, her tear-streaked little face calming.

“You just wanted sugar,” he shook his head, smiling a little. “Should’ve known.”

He found himself glancing at the clock every few minutes, waiting for time to pass, waiting for you to get home. For the first time, he was almost dreading it. Because the conversation with Ellie had the potential to ruin everything. He wouldn’t know how to fix it if she hated him for it. Wouldn’t know what to do if she decided to leave because of it. You’d tried to tell him that you had to explain it when it happened but he’d convinced you to do what he thought was the right thing to do. He’d convinced you to all but lie.

If Ellie left because of it, would you leave, too? To stay with her? She would know it was Joel who wanted to hide it, she was anything but stupid. If she levied an ultimatum, would you leave him and take Sylvie with you? Would he deserve it if you did?

All things considered, you weren’t gone long, home well before you’d either start cooking or head over to the mess hall for dinner. He met you at the door, Sylvie on his hip.

“Hey,” you smiled, making your eyes go extra wide to get a little giggle out of your daughter. “She looks happier, I’m guessing you got her to eat something?”

“Broke into some of the canned peaches,” he said as you put your arms around him and Sylvie, stretching up for a kiss.

“Well if it works,” you said before you frowned. “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong…”

“Ellie wants to talk,” he said, holding you a little closer. “About Salt Lake City.”

You winced.

“Shit,” you dropped your forehead to his chest and took a deep breath. “Well, we knew it was coming eventually. Think Tommy can take Sylvie for the night so we can hash this all out and make sure we’re focused on Ellie?”

“Good plan,” he kissed the crown of your head and gave you a squeeze, some of his anxieties eased. You were here. Somehow, it was going to be OK.

Tommy, thankfully, was fine to take Sylvie and didn’t ask many questions after he saw the look on Joel’s face. Instead, he took his niece inside to play with Jake, his son, and Joel came home to find you and Ellie on the couch. You’d made tea and Ellie was rapping her fingers against the side of her chipped mug. She narrowed her eyes at Joel when he came in, her small body tucked into the corner of the couch, her legs crossed in front of her. Joel sat in the arm chair near your end of the couch. He couldn’t settle back into it. Instead, he sat on the edge of it, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him.

“OK Baby Girl,” he sighed, looking at her. “What do you want to know.”

“What happened?” She asked, staring him down. “With the Fireflies. What actually happened. You’ve never told me the truth about it but I need to know now. I can’t keep living with you fucking lying to me about it!”

“OK,” you said gently. “It’s OK…”

“No, it’s not OK,” she snapped. “And I’m tired of pretending like it is!”

“They were gonna kill you, Baby Girl,” Joel said, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest.

“What?” Her eyes were a little wide. “No, Marlene said…”

“Marlene lied,” you said, your voice sharper than Joel was used to hearing. “Their doctor was purposely vague with me because he knew I wouldn’t go along with his plan…”

“What was the plan?” Ellie asked. “What did they need that would kill me?”

“Your brain,” Joel said. It hurt him to even think about it, to think back to those horrific minutes where he wasn’t sure if he’d get to her in time, where he thought he might have lost her forever. “They needed the Cordyceps that have been in you since you were born and they grow inside your brain…”

“You should have let them!” She cut him off, her eyes wide and teary. “Why would you stop them?”

“Ellie…” he began but she smacked her mug down on the coffee table with a loud thud.

“This was my one chance!” She looked between the two of you. “I could have actually done something! Been something, made a difference! My life would have mattered!”

“Your life matters just the way it is,” you said, tears in your eyes. “Ellie, you and Sylvie are the most important things in the world to us, nothing could matter more than you…”

“What about every other person in the fucking world?” She demanded. “What about…”

“The science was flawed,” you cut her off. “You were the only sample, to even test it would have killed you. Do you know how rarely something works right the first time in science? Basically never. Do you know how many combinations of things I had to try before my treatment worked in testing? Thousands, Ellie. They were going to kill you on the off chance he had it right and then when it didn’t work, what would be the point? That you got to die a noble death? That we lost you for nothing?

“I had notes from the treatment I developed and he wanted to wait to try anything with it until after he took the cordyceps from you,” you pressed on. “He could have said stop. He could have decided to exhaust every other option first and he didn’t. He was convinced he was right and that’s not a good way to conduct science, I couldn’t trust him to do this right. The other option wasn’t for you to save the world Ellie, not really. Yes, maybe it would have gotten there eventually but it was so far from a certain thing.”

“But…” she protested.

“You’re not a parent,” Joel said gently. “But would you have let them kill me or her for that? Or Sylvie? Would you have let them kill your little sister for somethin’ like that?”

Ellie just stared at her lap.

“So what happened?” She asked, her voice thick. “You said the place was attacked but it wasn’t, was it?”

Joel looked at you and you reached out your hand for him. He took it, holding onto you for dear life.

“They weren’t goin’ to listen, Baby Girl,” he said. “I did what I had to do to keep you safe.”

She nodded slowly.

“And that’s how Doc got shot,” she stated it again. “They were trying to protect themselves from you.”

“Yeah,” he said, your hand still tight in his own.

“How many people?” She asked quietly, looking up at the two of you. “How many people died there?”

He clenched his jaw for a moment before he was able to meet her eyes.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I… I was so focused on gettin’ you out, I just did whatever I had to do.”

“So you killed all those people,” she said. “Brought me here… and Doc, you just gave up? You never tried to do anything with all that shit you did? You just let people keep turning?”

“Ellie…” you went to reach for her but she flinched back.

“I can’t…” she shook her head. “I need to think… I’m going to stay with Dina for a bit.”

She got up and Joel did, too.

“Baby Girl,” he said but she shook her head.

“Lucas might still be alive if she’d just done something,” Ellie shook her head. “But she didn’t. Neither one of you did. And it’s all fucking because of me.”

She left and you were staring at the spot on the couch where she’d been.

“Baby,” he said cautiously. He didn’t like the look on your face. “I’ll go after her…”

“No,” you shook your head and wiped your eyes. “No, let her go. She deserves some space from me.”

You got up and went for the stairs.

“Baby…”

“I’m going to shower,” you said.

He watched you go, wishing he could find some way to fix it.

***

Tuesday, May 11, 2027

“Don’t like this,” Joel stood next to you, holding Sylvie, frowning. “It’s too dangerous…”

“I’ll be fine,” you put your palm in the middle of his chest and kissed him. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

He pulled you tight against him, his lips in your hair.

“Mama,” Sylvie grabbed your braid. “Can I go on the horsie?”

You smiled and brushed your daughter’s hair back. She looked so much like her father it made your heart ache.

“Not this time, Baby Girl,” you smiled. “But soon. Promise.”

“You ready?” Tommy rode up along side your horse.

“As I’ll ever be,” you gave him a tight smile before kissing Sylvie one more time and giving Joel a longing look. “I’ll be back soon. I will.”

“You’re not back by Labor Day I’ll come get you back,” he said, voice dark. “Make sure they fuckin’ know it.”

He kissed your forehead and you mounted your horse, heading with Tommy outside Jackson.

The day after Ellie left was your birthday and it was the worst it had been in years. You stayed in bed most of the day, Joel just holding you.

“She’s right,” you said as the sun went down, your husband’s fingers tracing up and down your arm. “I should have done something with it, I’ve just been letting people die by not doing something with it…”

Joel tried to talk you out of it but you were determined then. You pulled Tommy aside and talked him into tracking down old Firefly contacts he had, seeing if he could find Dr. Anderson. After making some carefully placed radio calls over a span of months - much to Maria’s chagrin - he found him, at a hospital in Boise.

“You’re not goin’,” Joel paced your kitchen, his arms crossed. “I don’t give a shit if you can save everyone on the goddamn planet, you’re not goin’.”

“Yes, I am,” you said, sitting at the table, voice calm. “I respect your opinion but you don’t get to make this decision for me.”

“What if somethin’ happens to you?” He asked, stopping in front of you. “You’re talkin’ about meetin’ up with a bunch of fuckin’ terrorists who already damn near killed you…”

“They need what’s in my head,” you said. “They won’t kill me.”

He knelt in front of you, almost the exact place he’d been when he’d proposed years earlier, and took your face in his hands, holding you gently.

“I can’t do this without you, Baby,” he said, his deep brown eyes soft and scared. “Don’t ask me to try’n live without you, I don’t want it…”

“I can’t live with myself if I don’t try,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “Please, Joel. I have to do this. I have to.”

He made it obvious that he wasn’t a fan of the idea but he agreed to it, staying behind to take care of Sylvie and keep an eye on Ellie, who had started coming around again, more to see Joel than anything else. You hadn’t told her you were leaving or why. You didn’t want to get her hopes up in case something fell through or have her feel responsible for you choosing to go if something happened to you out there. But you left a note to her, Sylvie and Joel, just in case you didn’t make it home. Just to be safe.

“Been a while since just you’n me got into trouble,” Tommy said as the gates closed behind you. “Should be fun.”

“Whatever you say, Tommy the Commie,” you smirked.

“Jesus,” he sighed. “Been how long and you’re still on that? Gotta get a new schtick, Kid.”

You laughed. At least you got to go on this damned trip with one of your best friends.

The ride to Boise was uneventful and you made it in just five days. The Fireflies were about as happy to see you as you were to see them, holding the two of you at gunpoint as you rode up to the city. Tommy looked about as happy about it as Joel would be.

“Dr. Miller,” Dr. Anderson said when you came to the hospital, giving you a stiff nod. “Can’t say I ever thought I’d see you again.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” you said, standing up as straight as you could, jaw squared. “You tried to kill my daughter.”

“And you kept me from saving the world for mine,” he said. “So I think we’re even.”

The two of you struck up an uneasy working relationship, Tommy hovering like a body guard for the first week you were there but apparently trusting the Fireflies enough to not kill you for at least a few hours at a time.

You’d brought some vials of Ellie’s blood with you, taken by one of the nurses at the clinic under the guise of running a few standard tests when she was sick with the flu weeks before. It took some time, but you were able to narrow down what you thought at least stopped the progression of cordyceps in her, even if it wouldn’t go as far as making someone immune. By late July, you’d developed an emergency injectable you thought would work to halt the progress of the cordyceps. Dr. Anderson distributed it to the Fireflies who were most likely to encounter infected. Then, it was a waiting game.

It took three weeks to discover that it worked. A patrol was overwhelmed by infected and one man was bitten. They used the injectable at the bite and the spread stopped. He was rushed back to you and Dr. Anderson, where the two of you carefully extracted the cordyceps from his arm.

“It’s not a cure,” you said after the man had been monitored for four days with no sign of infection. “But we can stop new infections.”

“That’s a whole hell of a lot,” he nodded. “We can synthesize it, spread it. It’ll take a while but it’s a start. A start to getting our world back.”

You were excited, of course. Thrilled that your idea had worked, that you’d been able to help begin to stop the suffering caused by infected. But mostly, you wanted to get home. You missed Joel, you missed Sylvie, you missed Ellie. You missed your life with them. You and Tommy left for Jackson the next day.

The ride back to Jackson felt longer than the ride to Boise. Maybe it was because you were so ready to get home and because your husband and daughters felt so close but so far. By the time you got back, you all but jumped off your horse at the stables and ran home.

“Joel?” You called as you pulled open the front door. You heard something clatter to the sink in the kitchen and he appeared in the doorway.

“Baby,” he ran and grabbed you, clutching you close to him, almost knocking the air out of you. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried, I’ve missed you so much…”

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears as he held you to him, kissing every part of you he could reach.

“I missed you,” you held onto him, your fingers in his hair. “But we did it, Joel. We made something that can stop infection…”

“I’m so proud of you,” he pulled back from you enough that he could kiss you. “But I care much more about you bein’ back than anything about infected…”

You laughed at that. He went and got Sylvie from her seat in the kitchen, where she’d been coloring.

“Mama!” She started squirming when she saw you, stretching and reaching.

“Hi Baby Girl!” You took her from her father and tried to keep from crying. She was bigger now than you remembered, her hair longer. You held her to you and breathed her in, Joel pulling you both against him.

“They didn’t have…” Ellie said, coming in the front door. You twisted to see her and you heard something clatter to the floor. “Mom!”

She hurled herself at you, holding onto you tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” she was crying. “I didn’t…”

“No, Baby Girl,” you wrapped the arm not holding Sylvie around her and kissed her temple. “You were right, I should have done something with this so much sooner…”

“I’m just so glad you’re back,” she said, burying her face in your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said that shit, I’m so sorry…”

“Just keep calling me Mom and you can say just about anything else you want,” you said, voice wet. She laughed. “I love you, Ellie. So much.”

“Love you, too.”

October 5, 2029

The first time you heard a plane overhead, you instinctively ducked. The last time you’d heard that sound was the day of the outbreak, almost 25 years earlier, and a plane had almost come down on your head.

You were walking home from the clinic and you ran the rest of the way to your house.

“Joel!” You yelled the second you were in the door, but you didn’t have to go far to find him. He was sitting on the floor of your living room, playing with Sylvie.

“Baby?” He frowned, a doll in his large hands as Sylvie held the bottle and sat on his lap. “What’s goin’ on, everything OK?”

“There was a plane,” you said, breathless, eyes wide. “Overhead, outside. There’s a plane.”

“A plane?” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure?”

“Damn sure,” you said and then you laughed a little. “People are flying again. There was a fucking plane.”

That was when you got your idea. It was probably a damned stupid idea but it was an idea.

Maria and the rest of the council had been getting regular updates from the outside world since the drug had started being distributed. Things were changing, quickly.

Now that traveling was safer, people started moving a bit more freely. Caravans started first, then train lines opened. It didn’t take long for FEDRA to fall and be replaced with a government more closely resembling the former United States.

Now that there were planes running again, you imagined that meant things were stabilizing. And if things were stable - if people could travel across the country - maybe you could do the one thing you’d wanted to do since coming to Jackson: See if Andrew and Jess would join you.

You missed them and Elizabeth and Jonah fiercely. They were still young enough that they could have a childhood here, that they could learn and grow and lead something close to a normal life here.

Talking Maria and the council into it had been surprisingly simple. Jess’ psychology training would be a boon, adding more children to the community was welcome. And you got the impression that, after five years of treating the people here at the clinic, they wanted to do something for you. There was a train line that ran to Salt Lake City from Boston, and you radioed Andrew for the first time in almost five years.

“Holy shit!” He said when Abe got him and put him on the line. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again, I have so much to tell you…”

“I have a lot to tell you, too,” you said, trying not to cry at the sound of his voice. “But I wanted to ask… How attached are you and Jess to Boston? Feel like hopping on a train west and starting over? I promise, where I live? It’s worth it.”

They came out a few months later and you were there, back in Salt Lake City with Joel and extra horses, meeting them. It was the second time you’d been reunited with someone you loved on your birthday.

You recognized Elizabeth immediately as she jumped out of the carriage first, even though she was far taller now than she had been the last time you saw her. You had to stop yourself from crying. Jonah was next, then Jess, then Andrew.

“Hey!” You started running for them. Andrew saw you then, dropping his pack and running for you, the two of you slamming into each other so hard you were sure Joel heard the thud.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said as you clung to him. “Holy shit I missed you…”

“I missed you, too,” you said, choked up. “So much has happened and I kept wanting to tell you fucking everything and I couldn’t and it sucked!”

“Me too,” he laughed. “Me too.”

It took you five days to make it back to Jackson, giving you plenty of time to catch up. Things got worse in Boston after you left. FEDRA’s grip tightened, life becoming more and more locked down. Andrew and Jess did everything they could for their children, trying to give them a normal life but there was only so much they could really do for them. They’d been looking for a place to go when you’d radioed.

Andrew wasn’t shocked that you and Joel had ended up together. He was a little more surprised that you’d had a baby, though.

“I’m so happy for you,” he said, looking a little teary. “You deserve it. You have for so long but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.”

The house behind yours in Jackson was open and they moved in there. After giving them a few days to settle in, you invited them over for dinner and game night with the kids. There were so many people, your kitchen table had never seemed quite so small. You loved it.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said, hugging Andrew goodbye as his family left for the short walk back home.

“Me too,” he said. “The codependency squad is back in the same place and all is right with the world.”

You laughed and the two of you watched as Lizzy twirled with Sylvie on your back deck, Ellie playing guitar perched on the steps, Jonah watching her, enraptured. Joel put his arm around your shoulders and you leaned your head against him as Jess slipped her hand into her husband’s.

“See you around?” He asked.

“Don’t think you’ve got another choice,” you smiled.

Sylvie went down easy that night, worn out from playing with her newfound cousins. You could still hear the quiet chords as Ellie practiced guitar in her room.

“Night Ellie,” you called as you went to close your bedroom door. “Don’t stay up too late, guitar down soon.”

“I’ll take it easy,” she called back. “Night Mom, night Dad.”

“Can’t say I ever thought I’d be hosting a game night for anyone,” Joel said as you both climbed in bed and turned out the light.

You laughed.

“Me either,” you said. “Crazy what five years can do.”

You snuggled up against him and he put his arm around you, kissing your cheek, working his way down to your jaw and then to your mouth.

“What do you think you’re doing there, Mr. Miller?” You teased, your arm going around his waist. He was softer and thicker there now, but you liked it. A sign of the fact that he wasn’t struggling anymore, proof that he was still here to grow old with you, raise your daughters with you.

“Gettin’ my hopes up, Mrs. Miller,” he said, voice low as his hand slipped below your tank top and found your breast, holding you gently, his thumb brushing your nipple.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let you down,” you smiled against his mouth and he pressed you closer.

You hooked a leg over his hip and ground your aching core against his already hard length. It didn’t seem to matter that you were 50 years old now, that you’d first slept with him almost 30 years before, that he was there in your bed every night, you always seemed to want him and he always seemed to want you.

He slipped the straps of your tank top down and off, tugging the fabric to the top of your shorts before kissing down your throat to your bare chest. He kissed along the curve of you there, his lips and tongue and teeth brushing along the tender flesh until he sucked your nipple into his mouth and moaned around you, teasing you with his tongue. You groaned and instinctively rocked your hips against nothing, already desperate and needy for him. He moved to your other breast, giving in the same treatment as he held the first one in his large hand, gently rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and finger.

“Joel,” you breathed, arching your back into him.

“Someone sounds needy,” he breathed, pressing his lips to your sternum and kissing down your stomach - still soft from when you’d carried Sylvie years before. Joel had never seemed to mind.

“I am,” you groaned as he tugged down your shorts and panties, taking the tank top with them, leaving you naked before him. “Fuck, I need you…”

“Can’t let you go unsatisfied now, can we?” He asked, spreading your legs and settling between them. He put your thighs over his shoulders and he teased his tongue along your seam, curling it around your already swollen clit. He hummed in approval.

“Taste fuckin’ delicious,” he said, licking you again. “Can’t believe this pussy is all mine…”

“All yours, Joel,” you groaned as he pressed his tongue into your aching entrance, making you gasp.

He ate you gently at first, his lips and tongue working with his fingers as they softly toyed with your clit. But your husband knew your body well, maybe better than you, and the second he could feel you starting to tighten around him, he was harsher, more eager. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin as he pressed his tongue deep, his nose against your clit as he swallowed up your wetness, two of his fingers hooking inside of you so that they plunged deep as his tongue pulled back, one always replacing the other so you got the delicious friction and push and pull without ever feeling empty.

“Joel,” you panted, your fingers winding in his hair, your hips rocking against his face. You felt the edges of his mouth pull up but he didn’t slow his pace, not even as you exploded around him, your grip on his hair tightening. He ate at you until your orgasm eased and you were left, pliant and gasping for breath, below him.

“That’s my girl,” he said, crawling up your body and wiping your slick on the back of his hand before he settled himself between your thighs. His thick, heavy length brushed against your dripping sex and he kissed you, tasting like toothpaste and your own cum. You looped your arms around his neck as he pressed just the head of himself into you, the stretch at your entrance delicious enough to make your back arch into him.

“I want you,” you breathed when he pulled back from your lips enough for you to speak. “Please…”

“Past wanting you,” he said, sliding himself into you inch by devastating inch. “Past needing you, too. Don’t think there’s a word for how much I want and need you, Baby…”

You whimpered below him as he sank into your body until he was fully within you, your channel feeling so full and stretched but so damn satisfied.

“Belong inside of you,” he leaned down to kiss your throat. “Made to be inside you…”

You wanted to say something back but could only moan as he started to move inside you, his thick cock dragging along your inner walls, his head catching on every ridge of you as he worked his length within you.

He started out faster and harder, your nails digging into his back, the air getting knocked out of you in little gasps with every snap of his hips. Your second orgasm was building fast and, when you began to tighten around him, he pressed as deep as he could reach, slowing is pace so you could feel every exquisite movement.

“You’re gettin’ close,” he panted, hips moving slow and steady, pressing yours down into the bed so firmly you wondered if you were going to have a bruise in the morning. You didn’t care. “Can feel it, you always get so goddamn tight right before, Baby, love feelin’ you like this…”

“Can’t help it,” you were keening below him, doing everything you could to take him deep. “You feel too good, Joel I can’t…”

“Cum for me,” his whole body was covering yours, every inch of him against or within you. “Need to feel you, Baby, need to feel this pussy - my pussy - cum on me…”

“Fuck!” You gasped as your walls fluttered around you and he let out a strangled moan as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s it, Baby,” he sounded almost choked up, straining to hold off his own orgasm for another minute. “Doing so good for me, takin’ me so well, feelin’ so goddamn good…”

Your orgasm faded and he all put ripped himself from your body before pressing his cock head against your clit and spilling his seed over you there, his warm cum making your oversensitive, wrung-out nub throb.

“Fuck Baby,” he collapsed next to you for a moment before he reached into his bedside table and grabbed a clean washcloth, reaching between your legs to wipe away the combination of his spend and your slick. “How are you always that fuckin’ incredible?”

“If you were made for me then I was made for you,” you said, still catching your breath as you rolled to wrap around him. He pulled your naked body tightly to his own and dropped the washcloth on his nightstand, next to the candle you’d made the year before. It was lavender scented, made with oils taken from the plants you’d grown in your back yard. They came from the buds you’d taken from Bill and Frank’s when you first headed west. You’d made several of the candles, liking the fact that the smell helped reduce stress and anxiety. You, Joel and Ellie had seen enough of that in your lives.

Your mind drifted as you lay in your husband’s arms. You drifted through the past 30 years of your lives, the pain of deep loss, the profound connection to the people you’d come to love, the life you’d built with Joel in Jackson. You thought of your daughters that were here with you and the daughters you lost - Sarah and your unborn child. You’d started picturing her as a girl, always a girl. Joel, you were certain, was built for raising incredible girls. He’d done it with Sarah and now he was doing it with Ellie and Sylvie, too. He’d have done that with the baby you lost, too. You could feel it. That feeling hurt less now with Joel beside you.

You thought of Joel playing guitar in your living room, next to the pictures of Sarah and Tess and a sketch you’d made of Ellie and Sylvie. You thought of the way he called you and Ellie and Sylvie “his girls” as though you were everything that mattered to him. You thought of the way that, even as he’d fought to push you away for so long, you kept finding each other again and again because there was something inside of you both that was always reaching for the other. You were made for him and he was made for you. Of that, you were certain.

His lips found the top of your head, his hands splayed wide over your back as he held onto you.

“Love you, Baby,” he whispered in the dark. “More than anything. Always have, always will.”

“Always love you, Joel,” you whispered back. “Until the day I die.”

You drifted off to sleep in his arms, in your home with the family you’d built with the man you were always meant to find. He was yours, you were his and you were happy.

A/N: I can't believe it's over! I sincerely hope you are happy with where Joel, Doc and Ellie wound up in Jackson. They're finally all at a point where they can do more than survive, they can thrive together, just like they were always meant to.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you times a million for reading this story. Your kindness, love and support have meant so much as I've written this piece. I don't think it's possible to thank you enough for that, so I'll just say it again: Thank you.

If you've ever liked a chapter, commented, reblogged, anything at all, please know that I appreciate you. Every notification I got on this fic made me smile. You helped make this journey an absolute joy.

I did start a new fic, called Yearling. It's another TLOU Joel fic and you can find it here.

I'm not great at goodbyes so I'll just say this: See you around. I hope you'll join me on another adventure one day. Until then, take care of yourselves, spread some kindness and share love when you can. I love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot@ayamenimthiriel@ginger-swag-rapunzel@drewharrisonwriter@flugazi @pedropascalsbbg@taoyuji@starstruckmusiciansartghost@splendsay@bigboiseason123@jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10@sloanexx@ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings@arizonadaydreamer@mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy@pedritosdarling@winchestergypsy90@imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@pedrosaidsheispunk@commanderawkward@n7cje@elliesgirlll@tsunamistorm123@spookyxsam@leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3 @pedrobae@fifia-writes@fatima-marisa @acf2023 @1soff@encephalitiskat @ashleymsnodgrass @karlinspace

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #lavender

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quillsareswords · 1 year

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How about a Damian x reader where the reader is friends with Jon and even though she doesn’t like him, Damian gets jealous and it ends in him confessing. And maybe a kiss 🤔🤔🤔🤔

A/N: ...these were all supposed to be under like 400 words...I looked up six hours and 2,520 words later and here we are. anyway sry no kith bc I didn't feel like it 💅

WARNINGS: misunderstanding, language, argument, raised voices

MASTER LIST in BIO

You're nicer to Jon than anybody else you work with, including him. You go out of your way to talk to Jon. You ask him if he wants anything from the vending machine. You laugh at his awful puns.

He hates to say it irritates him, because Jon is a very kind person, and he deserves the same treatment. He deserves soft touch and secret jokes and a bright smile.

He deserves you. Out of everyone in the room at one of these inane hero mixers, Jon deserves you most.

Despite this, the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

(Nevermind that you pick him immediately for missions, or that you already know what he wants from the vending machine and you memorized how he takes his coffee, or that you're the only one who laughs when he cracks the darkest joke anyone in the room can stomach. That probably means nothing.)

He plants himself in the farthest corner of the room and sulks. He catches your eyes a few too many times, so he looks anywhere else. At anyone else.

He decided a few weeks ago that avoiding you would be for the best. Hopefully, his feelings for you would wither without the sunlight of your presence. Hopefully, the bright petals of his heart would lose some vibrance and stop distracting his brain.

It's a ridiculous hope, really. It's been months since he realized these feelings, and he hasn't yet seen a day he wanted you any less. At this rate, he's positive he could lock himself away on the other side of the planet for a few years and still be able to pick your voice out of a crowd.

He'd tried to show you. In his own, roundabout way. He'd let you catch him staring. He'd seek you out when he could. He'd try to brush his hand against yours when you walked together. He wrote embarrassing poetry and hid them among your things. He did things he had seen in movies where the guy always gets the girl, because he didn't know what else to do.

He did everything he could do, except tell you to your face. He tried, once. He could bring himself to do it. He'll never admit fear, but he didn't like to think about what would happen if you didn't feel the same way.

"What are you brooding about now?"

He jerks, scowling already. "Nothing," he snaps. "I'm not brooding."

He very intentionally doesn't look at you, leaning against the wall beside him, but he does catch your reaction. He doesn't have to see you to hear the pause in your breathing, the hesitation before you reply. He's surprised you. He's not normally so curt with you for no reason, and you both know that. If he focuses, he can feel the quick once-over you give him, as if you could find that reason somewhere on his person.

"Drag of a party, isn't it?" you try again. "I tried to sneak you one of those little breadsticks at the snack bar, but I think Impulse would've bitten me."

(He had seen you, actually. Superboy at your side, chattering about something he couldn't hear, you'd skulked around, waiting for an opening, but Impulse was prepared to die defending those breadsticks. He must have skipped breakfast.)

He doesn't reply. He keeps his arms crossed, continues staring past the clusters of chattering superheroes, out the Watchtower windows. If this had been weeks ago, he would have brushed it off and told you that he'd fight for them himself if he got hungry.

You're a strong person. You've drawn lines in the sand for yourself. If you don't like the way someone treats you, you'll avoid them as much as you possibly can. You won't stand around and take it. You told him that much to his face the first time you met him: be nice to be, I'll be nice to you; pull that attitude with me again and I'll let the next guy shoot you in the face. It's how you treat everyone. He respected you for it, which is how you wedged yourself into his good graces in the first place.

Therefore, if he goes out of his way to upset you now, you'll avoid him too.

There's that bitter taste again.

"Is everything okay?" You lean forward, trying to get within his line of sight, or to get a better look at his face. "Seems like you're in a worse mood than usual."

"It's no business of yours," he grunts. "Go find someone else to pester."

At the very edge of his vision, your expression ripples. His resolve does, too. You take a moment before you speak again. "Did I piss you off?"

No. You never piss me off. I'd rather talk to you for a day than anyone else for a lifetime. He swallows.

"Listen, if you had a bad morning or something–"

"I thought I told you to find anyone else to bother."

Bother is a low blow and he knows it. You had a boyfriend last summer who'd called you that just before you broke it off with him. You confided just how much it stung to Damian after he caught you sniffling on a rooftop in Gotham.

He thinks it might have been too far, but isn't that the point? To jab at you just enough that you abandon all efforts at a friendship with him?

Your grip on his arm catches him off guard, and you take the opportunity to drag him to one of the doors at either end of the room.

You shove him out into the empty hall and make sure the steel slab latches behind you. "What is your problem?" you demand, planting yourself between him and the door.

"I don't know what you're talking about–"

"Don't play stupid, I know you aren't." Your tone is metallic in his ears, cold and hard. "You're being a dick. I wanna know why."

He is being a dick. "I am not."

You stare at him. He meets it head on, and realizes that it's the first time in the entire conversation that he's looked at you.

You're good at hiding things from people. You've got a knack for screaming internally and looking bored externally. It doesn't matter what the situation is, you always look like you've got it all under control.

He can see in that one look that you definitely aren't. Your breath is quicker than normal, your eyes are fractions wider, your posture is off-center. Your expression is wide open, waiting to receive whatever excuse he lobbies at you. You're distraught about this.

A realization lodges in his throat. Either you're so upset by him that you can't mask it, or you trust him enough that you aren't holding up that mask at all.

He looks away. Shakes his head. "I don't have time for this."

"Oh, what? Have a busy day of standing alone in a corner and staring off into the distance?" You cross your arms. "If you didn't feel like being pestered, why did you bother showing up?"

It wasn't his choice, actually. He knew you'd be here. His father tricked him anyway. Told him it was, League business, won't take more than an hour. You wanted to see the Watchtower again anyway, right?

You don't give him time to respond. "If you have a problem with me, say that. Don't talk to me like I'm some idiot who can't take a hint. Especially in front of a bunch of coworkers."

"Fine; I have a problem."

"Great, fantastic! He does have a problem." with you." You throw your hands up like you've just discovered the cure to dementia. "What's the problem, Wayne?"

He glares at you. You don't look so out of sorts now, so he holds it. "I'm sure you'd like to know."

You set your hands on your hips. "Well I'd like to know if I can fix it."

So would I. "You want to fix it?" He starts heatedly, scraping together some barbed speech about how you're too focused on what others think of you, but you beat him.

"Yes!" Your expression opens again, like clouds parting for sunlight—except, instead of brightness, he only sees the near-desperate eyes of a woman trying to salvage a friendship she didn't even know was crumbling. "You're one of my best friends, Damian. I don't want to lose you over something stupid if I don't have to."

One of my best friends. One of. Friends. He hangs on your every word, loses sleep over the slightest touch, forgets where he is when he looks into your eyes for too long—and he doesn't even rank at the top of your list. He's not your best friend or your boyfriend. He's one of a few.

On any other day, he'd take a deep breath and remind himself that you don't owe him anything. It's his problem that he did the stupid thing and fell– caught feelings, not yours.

But today? It sets him off.

"I suppose it bothers you so much. Don't you have anywhere better to be? I'm sure Jon would appreciate your company far more than I could," he snarls.

Any hurt in your eyes fizzles into confusion. "What? What are you–"

"You're right, I'm not stupid. I'm not blind, either." His voice is rising, but he's still got enough sense to keep this as private as he can, surrounded by super-powers. "I see how you act with him. I know you love him."

You reel. You can't help laughing, breathy and incredulous. "Love–? What in the fresh hell are you talking about?"

"Don't try to deny it."

"Uh, I am going to deny it because it isn't true."

He steps forward, as if he has a chance at intimidating you into admission. "You're kinder to him than anyone else. You treat him like he hung the sun. You go looking for him first at every opportunity." He's gesturing with his hands, too. "You make it so obvious, I don't know how I'd didn't see it before. Maybe I am blind after all."

"You're so wrong," tell him. You're uneasy again. Twisting away from him by fractions, inches. Just enough to be doing it subconsciously, like a guilty man in an interrogation room. You still don't back away from him, don't let him snatch the reins of the situation. All of this only fuels him more.

"You aren't stupid either. I know that. You know that." He stops for a breath, just one, and you see just how hard he's breathing

He's never been this agitated by something like this before. It's true, when he's pent up and angry about something he can't simply remedy, he goes looking for fights to pick and outlets to unleash upon. But he's never found that in you. His indirect anger has almost always spared you, a few sharp words aside.

"I'm not saying that I do feel for Jon," you interrupt, "but if I did; why would it bother you this much?"

He's never cared before. You know he hasn't—you've gone out of your way to make try to make him jealous once or twice, talking about boys you have liked or flirting with someone right in front of him, and it's never gotten you more than a raised eyebrow or an eye roll.

Something intuitive, grown from too long spent at his side, flutters to life in your mind. An idea, a theory, a hope.

For the first time since you met him, he stammers. He trips over his words once, twice, then promptly snaps his mouth shut. On the outside, his face pinches angrily, lips pressed together grimly. Inside, he screams into the void and scrambles for a handful of words he can stitch into a decent excuse. All the vocabulary of five different languages, half the vocabulary of four more, and all he can come up with are incoherent expletives.

And like the kind, patient person you are—for him, at least—you wait for him. You stand there after he's run his stupid mouth and acted like some bratty elementary schooler, and you wait for him to figure out an explanation instead of turning away from him. He told you he didn't want to talk to you and instead of telling him to get over it or writing him off completely, you tried to fix it.

It sucks all the fight right out of him.

Finally, he says your name in a way that makes your lungs seize. "You have to know," he says quietly. "You must."

You think you might. "Know what?"

Five steps away from you feels too far, so he makes it two. Not enough to crowd you, not enough to hide. "You really don't have feelings for Jon?"

You chuckle. "Jon's…nice. He's really nice, and he's a close friend, but…he's just not the guy for me," you admit. "And for the record, I definitely don't think he hung the sun."

It earns you a little smile. Small victories, you suppose.

You're still watching him expectantly. He could lie his way out of this. He could tell you that he thought Jon was cheating on you, frame it as though he was trying to save you from heartbreak. He could tell you a lot of things, frame himself in a lot of ways.

But he doesn't want to do this again. You didn't have feelings for Jon, but you just as easily could have. You'll have other men groveling at your feet eventually. You'll choose one of them, eventually. He has a chance, right now.

He takes a breath to steady himself. It's full of your favorite fragrance, and he finds that instead of making him any more nervous, it becomes a little easier to breathe.

He thinks of all those terribly unrealistic movies his sisters and Dick watch. He thinks of making out in the rain and dramatic confessions and passionate kisses. He tries to imagine himself there instead. He tries to put together something that you'll remember forever, even if you turn him down.

But he's standing here, looking at you, waiting for him like you always do.

"I'm in love with you," he says. "I'm–...I love you."

It's strangely freeing to say out loud. He anticipated anxiety. In every scenario that ran through his mind, he'd been terrified. In the worst cases, there had been tears or gunfire or both. He'd say it, in whatever way he could conjure up, and it would feel like he was stepping off a cliff.

Now that he's here, and he's said it, you're smiling at him like you're welcoming him home.

"Oh, Damian," you whisper, and your eyes are glittering like a reflection of a sunrise, and your palms are so warm on his shoulders. "I love you, too."

#QFWW #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #quillsfebuarywritingweek #damian wayne #still not rly happy with this but eh

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