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rainylana · 5 days

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“It’s just a cut.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: too many times had eddie tended to your wounds and broken heart. he’s had enough.

a potential series if you guys want it! let me know!

warnings: extremely angsty and not for everyone! i tried to make this as real as possible for both sides and it’s not an easy read. please tread with caution. therefore warnings are: physical and emotional abuse by readers mother, wounds and blood, mentions of weighed and irregular eating habits, low confidence and self esteem mentions, language, very angsty fight between reader and eddie, broken nose, lots of tears, reader still loves her mother very much despite her actions. eddie isn’t a jerk, i didn’t try to convey him that way, but this is a heavy subject and it needed to feel real. i dated a jerk and know what some of this can be like. requested by @h-ness1944 i hope you like this dear! i hope i did it justice to what you wanted!

Was he mad? You couldn’t tell. He hadn’t said anything in almost twenty minutes. Your heart was racing. The last thing you wanted was to loose him. You knew it was getting to him, seeing you all cut up and beaten on, but what else was there to do?

Your shirt was off, sitting on the couch in your bra and jeans as you sniffled, tears that had long since dried and left a sticky residue on your cheeks, mascara dark and streaked. Your mom had thrown a beer bottle at you again, a normal occurrence, they just didn’t usually hit you. It had sliced the skin on your back open. Luckily, it wasn’t bad enough to need stitches, but that didn’t matter to Eddie.

You regretted coming over. You shouldn’t have bothered him with it. You could feel the anger and hurt radiating off of him. You had sworn him to secrecy, and you could see the toll it took on him.

Your mom had increasingly got more creative when it came to dealing out punishments. She had ever since she started heavily drinking, when your dad had left her. You loved your dad and missed him dearly, but you didn’t blame him for leaving her. He had to take care of himself too. If he knew what your mom did, he’d surely come back to stop her. You couldn’t do that to him. At the end of the day, you could endure it, you just weren’t sure if Eddie could anymore.

“Please say something.” Your voice was hoarse.

You had your back to him, wincing slightly as he dapped a pad of alcohol on your cut, trying to make sure it didn’t get caught with an infection.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice barely conveyed any emotion.

When you had showed up, blood seeping through your shirt, he’d done what he did every time, debated taking you to the hospital, but your panicked state always talked him out of it. He’d sunk into protective mode, guiding you to the couch and pulling your shirt off, shushing you gently and telling you he’d get you fixed up. That was twenty five minutes ago. He was too quiet now.

His voice brought fresh tears to your eyes. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He sighed heavily, cursing himself. There was no need to be cold toward you. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He squeezed your shoulder. “I’m almost finished.”

He wiped your wound dry, covering it with a gauze and bandage. He’d stocked up on medical supplies a few months ago. One night he had cried when he realized just how quickly it was going. He was terrified for you, afraid one day, you wouldn’t walk through the door needing aid from your wounds. One day it would be Hopper, hat in his hands and offering his condolences. He had thought about going to the police so many times behind your back, but he’d loose you then. Was he being selfish?

“Please don’t hate me.” You cried emotionally, looking down to your shoes.

“Y/n,” He turned you gently, grabbing your chin. “I do not hate you.” His thumb traced your bottom lip, watching as you sniffled and cried, his other hand swiping away some tears that fell down your cheek. “Just calm down, honey.” He raised his chin to you, instructing softly. He didn’t want you to get yourself worked up like you usually did.

You breathed in the hands that held you upright, face beat red and blotchy. You body ached with pain and guilt. You wanted nothing more to curl up in his chest, but you fought the urge. He might not have wanted you too.

“What happened this time?” He said, reaching to the floor to hand you your shirt. “Was she drinking?”

You told him what happened, or lack of what happened. It was never really much of anything. She’d scream at you, call you names that you couldn’t repeat. Throw things and hit you. You said, nothing really, shrugging your shoulders. There was a time where Eddie would have demanded more of an answer, but he grew to realize that sometimes it never really was anything. That’s just how your mother was.

Eddie bit down hard on his lip, looking away from you to the kitchen. “Spend the weekend here with me. I don’t want you going back tonight.” He’d wanted you to move in with him for so long, but you never could leave your mother. He didn’t understand that, and your fought about it several times.

“Eddie?” You grabbed at his knee, eyes fearful and wide. “I really am sorry.”

He grabbed your hand and kissed it, but said nothing as he got up and disappeared into the bathroom. He couldn’t help it. With each time you came barging in during the night, day, whatever, it chipped away at his heart. He’d watched you change over the last year as your mother’s words became more harsh. You accepted the beatings more easily, but the way she spoke to you had taken it’s toll. He could see that clear as a bell.

Your self confidence had plummeted. You didn’t like to reveal any of your skin that you didn’t have to. You were much quieter than you used to be, only really speaking to him or some of the members of hellfire. Wayne, too, of course.

He was washing his hands, trying his best to not smash the mirror in front of him. He was being distant and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. How much longer until you’d have to undergo surgery? How much longer until the words hurt so bad you’d kill yourself just to get away from it? How much longer until he’d be standing by your grave?

He looked up to find tour reflection, tearful and afraid. He knew what you were thinking. You knew what he was thinking. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your lips to his back to hold him. He relaxed into your touch, hands still slightly wet from the sink.

“Don’t worry about me, Ed’.” You whispered. “I’ll be okay.”

His hands held yours above his stomach, staring at your sad reflection. “No, you won’t.” He answers honestly, a small shake of his head that you barely miss. “Don’t lie to yourself.”

You were always crying. You were always sad. You were always so heartbroken, a shell of what you once used to be.

“It’s just a cut.” You defended, causing him to shrivel under your touch and pull away, quickly drying his hands with a towel and leaving the bathroom.

“Don’t start that shit.” He said lowly, entering your bedroom. “It’s not a cut. It’s never just a cut. It’s so much more than that.”

“Okay, okay, well-” You started to rant, mouth opening but falling closed at a loss of words.

He waited for you to speak.

“I don’t know what to say.” You cross your arms defensively. “I just- I don’t want you to worry. I’m sorry I came here. I shouldn’t have.”

No. That’s the last thing he wanted you to think. You were always welcome and he would always look after you. He cursed under his breath, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “Baby, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” He comes to you, grabbing your shoulders.

He pulls you into his chest, you’re a blubbering, whimpering mess. He’s careful to not touch your bandage. “I can’t not worry about you, angel.” His voice is full and close to breaking.

“You don’t understand how hard it is for me to watch you suffer like this. I can’t stand to see you wither away.” His eyes tear up, holding the back of your head. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep quiet, sweetheart.”

You’re sobs increase and you’re grasping on to him for dear life.

“I know you love her, baby, but she’s not good for you.” His voice shakes and so does his bottom lip. “God, I wish I could just take you away.”

You’re too distraught to say anything. You hold him and he holds you.

•

“I’m done, y/n.” Eddie’s got angry tears falling down his face, voice filled with a rage full venom he was dying to take out on something, anything. “I’m done with this shit. Either you go to the police or I will.”

“Eddie, please!” You’re begging him, practically on your knees as you sob hysterically. “Please, don’t! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I swear it!”

“You say that every time!” He says incredulously, flaying his arms about like you’d gone mad. “And every time nothing changes!”

It had been bad this time. Your mom had said absolutely disgusting things to you, taking about your weight, making remarks about the way you talked and how Eddie was crazy for being with you. You’d made the mistake of trying to stand up to her. Your nose was most likely broken from being shoved into the wall, the crunch still loud in your ears that made you cringe from the memory. The blood had dried, but it hurt to breath. Your tears caused you immense pain from the weight of your cries, the heaves from your chest making your face ache.

Eddie stepped back and sobbed softly, holding his head with a hand and cursed. “Fuck.” He couldn’t hold back his emotions this time.

You brought up your hand to your mouth, trying your best to calm down, but it wasn’t doing much good. “Eddie, please!” You whimpered. “You can’t say anything. You swore!”

“I know I did!” He snapped, throwing down his arm. “You swore me to something that you shouldn’t have! Now I’m stuck watching you get beat on every day! Do you know what the hell that does to me?” He was shouting now, tears boiling down your face. You turned away from him and bawled.

In the moment, he wondered if he was any better than your mother, yelling at you and making you cry. Maybe later, he’d hate himself for it, but he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“Look at this picture.” He tore out his wallet and flipped it open, taking out the polaroid of you that he kept in the first sleeve. “Look at how happy you were there.” It was only a few years ago, back when the antics of your mother began. You were smiling with full teeth, wearing a pretty pink dress and face decorated with happiness and joy.

“You see how different you look?” He held the picture to your face. “You’re too thin. You don’t eat. You’ve got bruises all over you. I haven’t seen you smile like that in years.”

Your nose started bleeding again, you could feel the cool, metallic taste of blood on your upper lip. Eddie watched it drop down, his tear falling in sync with your blood.

“You can’t make me keep doing this, y/n.” He said your, shaking his head and grasping at the picture. “I love you too much to watch you get hurt. I’m giving you a choice, darlin’. It’s either you or me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “She won’t survive in jail, Eddie! She needs me to take care of her!” Your chest heaves through tears, a panicked anxiety making you hysterical. “Please, Eddie, please!” You fall to the floor at his feet, grasping at his knees, begging him to forget it all. You had snot and blood, hot tears falling down your face, making your skin red and blotchy.

You pulled at him and sobbed, and Eddie just didn’t know what to do. Both of your hearts were breaking. He held his hands at your head, and he slowly looked up at the ceiling and cried with you. “I can’t do it anymore, baby.” He whimpered. “I need you safe. I can’t wait until it’s too late. I won’t have you dying on me.”

“Eddie, please!” You’re hysterical, squeezing his legs.

“If you hate me it’s okay.” He sniffles, wiping a hand over his face. “I just need you safe. That’s all I need.”

You grow angry at his defiance, pushing yourself off the ground. “I said no, Eddie! She’s my mother, not yours!” You spat, a sudden change of emotion that had him reeling back.

“Y/n, please.” He begged, closing his eyes. “I- I can’t. I just..I just can’t anymore. You’re asking me to do the impossible. Do I have to watch you be killed!” He shouts at the end, eyes burning red with angry, hurt tears.

“I’ll break up with you!” You scream, the ache in your nose making you groan. “I swear to god, Eddie, if you tell anyone we’re done!”

It all went silent. Eddie cried. You cried. Hearts were racing and limbs were trembling. He took a slow, deep breath. “I have to.” It was all he said, keeping his eye on you, but it was enough.

With a cold glare, you were slamming the door on the way out.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #eddie the brave #eddie x reader

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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months

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Promises

Summary: When you wake up to find your house quiet, your first reaction is panic. But after you find Javi and learn what he has planned for you this morning, your mood becomes a whole lot better.

Pairing: Dad!Javi x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K (Y'all I wrote this in like a few hours I was feeling some typa way)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do this pls but also they want another baby), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving) creampie, cum play (ig??), praise kink, the biggest, fattest, nastiest breeding kink (... Don't look at me), ass slapping (but affectionately), mentions of body insecurity post pregnancy, Javi being the biggest menace of all time (this man has a MOUTH on him, lawd have mercy), Javi being the best husband and literally being so in love, it's honestly sickening, Chucho patiently waiting for his next grandchild 9 months from now LMAO

A/N: ... Hey... I'm gonna need all of you to not look at me for the next 7-10 business days after this one.... I'm not sure what's in the water over here, but uh... Yeah. I'll leave it at that. Thanks to @endlessthxxghts for letting me share my horny thots about our favorite dad, sorry for waking up on the feral side of the bed this morning 🥴

Part of the Forever and Always Series!

It was quiet.

Way too quiet.

You couldn’t remember a time in the past 5 years where you had woken up to the house being so silent.

No TV, no commotion, no little squeals and giggles from your girls waiting impatiently for you to get up and out of bed, and if you weren’t already confused enough, you rolled over to be greeted by the empty space where your husband should have been, the usual warmth left radiating after he had gotten out of bed before you long gone.

But the real kicker was that when you turned back over again to peek at the flashing numbers of your alarm clock, your eyes went wide at a number that you hadn’t seen since well before kids.

10:39 A.M.

“Jesus Christ…” You whispered to yourself, frantically rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and tossing the comforter off of your body before scrambling out of bed in distress, as your brain pieced together the worst sort of panicked puzzle as to why it was so late, so quiet, and Javi was nowhere to be found.

You pushed open the bedroom door, peeking into the hallway, just as ghostly and empty as you had suspected, each of your daughter’s bedroom doors wide open with neither of them in sight. Rushing back down the hall towards your stairs before stopping in front of Javi’s office, you paused your search at the sound of familiar, muffled humming coming from behind the door.

Pushing it open, you were shocked to see the image of your husband sitting at his desk, leaning back in his seat with a book in his hand and feet propped up against the wooden surface, quietly humming to himself as he turned a page, seeming completely unbothered by his solitude. As the door creaked open further, it caught Javi’s attention, peeking up from over his book with a smile on his face as he dogeared his current page, pushing himself out of his chair to walk towards you.

“Wow, look who’s up! I was gonna give you ‘til 11:00 before I really started to get worried. How’d you sleep, Hermosa?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in for a hug, pressing a soft kiss into the sleepy tangles of your hair, gently cupping your face and forcing your worried gaze up towards him.

“Javi, what’s- what’s going on? Where are the girls? Is everything ok-” Before you could finish the rest of your thought, Javi’s lips were pressed against yours, the familiar bitterness of black coffee and minty gum still lingering in his mouth as he caught the rest of your sentence with his kiss, the hand cupping your cheek now letting his thumb swipe gently across your soft skin.

“Relájete, mi amor (relax, my love)” Javi laughed, pressing another kiss onto your forehead, smiling down at you, “I know how tired you’ve been the past couple of weeks, and rightfully so. You take such good care of our girls- you are the most incredible mom to them, but it’s only fair that you deserve a break every once and a while, too. So,” he smirked, tightening his grip around your waist, letting his hand creep slowly towards your ass, “I asked my dad last night if I could drop Lucy and Elliot off with him this morning so we could have a day just the two of us. He’s more than happy to keep ‘em for as long as we want, so I figured I'd take him up on the offer and I can get some time alone with my beautiful wife to help her relax and show her how much I appreciate her.”

You could the anxiety and worry instantly wash away from your body, the fear that had been consuming you since you had woken up now replaced by excited butterflies swirling in your stomach, heat creeping through your cheeks as you smiled back up at him, tears welling in your eyes in appreciation for how goddamn lucky you were to have someone who cared about you as much as Javi did.

“Thank you.” You whispered, biting at the inside of your lip to try and keep yourself from crying, Javi immediately tilting your chin up towards him in response, softly swiping away the wetness pooling in your eyes.

“Hermosa…” He cooed, looking you up and down with an empathetic smirk, brushing a stray piece of hair from your bed head out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, “It’s the least I could do. Now, why don’t you go get back into bed. I picked up a breakfast sandwich and coffee for you from Leo’s on the way back from Pop’s place, figured you might be hungry, considering you slept until almost lunch time. And after you finish eating,” He rasped, leaning his head down to nip at your neck, the hot words of his breath dancing against your skin, the shift in his tone instantly sparking a fire in your core, “I think I might be feeling hungry, too.”

“You are a menace, I hope you know that.” You sighed, trying with every ounce in you to keep your composure, the tickle from Javi’s mustache at least providing some relief from the tension as you burst out into giggles, Javi playing along by digging his fingers into your hips, running his hands along your sides until you had exploded into a fit of laughter, flailing and squirming in his broad grasp. “Stop it, you meanie! You can’t just promise me food and sex and then hold me hostage like this!”

Finally releasing you, Javi grabbed your face to pull you in for another kiss, this one slow and tender, an electric energy pulsing between the two of you as your lips brushed against one another, only pulling away after Javi’s hand planted a loving smack on your ass, making you squeal in surprise.

“Go get your ass back in bed, Osita. I’ll be back in a second with breakfast.”

“Okay.” You giggled, turning back on your heels out the door, but not before turning back around to peek your head through the doorway with a sneaky grin on your face. “And you’ll also be back with sex?”

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.”

As you jumped back into bed, tucking yourself back into your sheets, it wasn’t long before Javi was back in your room with the first part of his promised bargain- Your favorite breakfast sandwich and an extra large coffee, grinning in delight as he passed both over to you before settling next to you, wrapping your arm around your shoulder as you demolished the better part of your food.

“Oh my god, I haven’t had one of these in so long. God, I love you so much.” You sighed, taking another bite of your breakfast as Javi laughed at the ferocity at which your sandwich had disappeared. “I bet the image of this is really doing a lot turn you on for the second half of your promise. If I would have known, I would have at least put on cuter pajamas.” You snickered, gesturing down to your nearly finished food and Javi’s worn, oversized shirt and boxers you still had draped over your body.

“Shut up. You know I think you look sexy in anything. I love seeing you in my clothes. Drives me fucking crazy. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.” Javi smirked, rubbing his hand along your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin.

“You just like it when I don’t wear a bra.” You snorted, rolling your eyes at Javi as you crumpled up the wrapper of your finished sandwich, setting it on your nightstand before rolling over to rest your head on Javi’s chest, draping one of your arms across his stomach. “You’re sweet, Jav. Sexy in anything seems like a bit of a stretch, there’s about half my closest I refuse to make eye contact with after having Elliot.”

You let out a quiet sigh, trying to hide the frown pursed between your lips, thinking about how much your body had changed since the first time you had ever worn Javi’s clothes all those years ago. Two kids and lots of time later, you couldn’t help feel a little self conscious about how different you looked from when the two of you had first met. And even though Javi said it to you all the time, it was much easier said than done to always believe it yourself.

“Hey…” Javi replied softly, looking down at you with a frown on his own face, “Osita, you know I’m being serious, right?”

“Well, you’re my husband, you kind of have to be.” You huffed, half forcing your laughter as you immediately began to feel yourself become more and more conscious of your weight laying on top of him, almost trying to shift yourself away before Javi’s hand was wrapped around your back, pulling you over to lay completely on top of him and forcing you to look at his serious expression.

“Out of all the women in the world, you are the only one I ever want. You are just as beautiful, if not even more beautiful than the day I first met you, you know why? Because your beautiful body that I love every fucking inch of has grown and carried our daughters. You’ve made me a dad, you’ve given us a family, you are the most incredible wife and mom I could ever imagine. Baby, if that’s not the fucking sexiest thing, then I don’t know what to tell you.” You could feel the warmth blooming in your chest as Javi looked up at you with his sweet brown eyes, his hands roaming down the sides of your body until his fingers were digging into your hips and ass, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what?” You whispered, an ache beginning to grow between your legs as you could feel Javi’s bulge hardening beneath you, his hands roaming relentlessly around your body, making it hard for you to even think straight.

“Promise me,” He paused, nipping at your neck, the bridge of his nose dragging along the side of your face until his mouth was ghosting over your ear, his words dancing against your skin, “Promise me that you believe me. That I think that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I love your body so fucking much, that I wanna put another baby into it.”

His last sentence had your heart literally skipping a beat, a quiet moan escaping from your lips as Javi carefully rolled your body off of his, flipping you onto your back and caging you under his broadness, planting hot, wet kisses down your neck as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his hands creeping below the fabric to palm at your breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples between his fingers as he waited for your response. Unfortunately, the best you could muster was a soft gasp of his name.

“Fuck… Javi.”

“That what you want, Hermosa? For me to fuck another baby into you, huh?”

Javi knew it was exactly what you wanted, the two of you agreeing you were going to try for a third a few weeks ago, considering he was almost more ecstatic at the thought of growing your family than you were, and that the thought of knocking you up was something that made both of you absolutely insatiable.

With the wet patch in your underwear growing damper and damper by the second, you barely had enough power in your brain to respond, especially now that Javi had pulled your shirt over your head, letting his kisses travel down your collarbone, chest, and now to your breasts, taking the nipples that he had been toying with between his fingers into his mouth, his tongue flicking and sucking at the harden buds as your moans began to grow like the fire in your belly.

“Yes, oh fuck- yes. I want you to fuck another baby into me, Javi. Please.” You whimpered, your body squirming under his touch as he let his kisses drift down your stomach and hips, his fingers hooking over your shorts to pull them down off your legs, gently nudging them to fall open for him as he nestled himself between, admiring the wet, aching mess you had already become.

“Then you have to promise me,” He smirked, draping each of your legs over his shoulders as he brought his face to your soaking heat, gently kissing your clit and letting the strong bridge of his nose ghost over your folds, “You have to promise me that you believe me. That you believe that you’re the most fucking beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Then, I’ll fuck another baby into you, okay? Can you do that for me, Momma?”

“I- I- pr-promise.” Your voice trembled, ragged with want and desperation as Javi’s mouth hovered painstakingly still over your cunt, waiting for you to fulfill your promise so he could fill you with his.

“There’s my good girl.” He cooed, feeling his smug smile bury itself into your pussy, letting a long, broad stroke of his tongue drag through your folds, the satisfying sensation making you shutter, your hips instinctively bucking towards Javi’s face as his grip around your legs tightened to hold you in place. His tongue languidly dragged across your cunt, slowly circling around your clit, soaking up the juices of your arousal that had been pooling between your legs, drinking up every single last drop.

He let the presses of his tongue become firmer and more focused as he unhooked one of his arms, snaking his arm between your legs to gently press two fingers into your soaking entrance, easily sliding through your slick to curl against the soft spot inside you that had you relentlessly crying out his name.

You couldn’t help but feel your bottom half squirm against your sheets, reaching down to tug at the dark curls of Javi’s hair, trying to find any sort of relief to keep from being a loud, moaning and whimpering mess as his tongue worked along your cunt, lapping you up like a man starved. His mouth latched along your clit, sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers pumped inside you, making the tingle at the base of your spine already begin to build in a needy desperation.

“Javi, holy fuck- oh my god baby, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You whimpered, somehow managing to keep your voice just above a whisper as Javi pulled away to respond, still holding a steady pace with his hand as he felt your pussy start to flutter around his fingers.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa. Want you to soak my face before I feel you cum again around my cock. Give it to me, baby. Cum all over me before I fucking fill you up.”

With that, he was back between your legs, relentlessly working along your heat with his mouth as the coil in your belly wound so tightly, you were on the brink of snapping.

“Javi, Javi, Javi, oh shit- Fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaahhhhhhhhh.”

It was barely seconds before your orgasm flooded through your body, pleasure spreading through every inch of you as you clenched around Javi’s fingers, soaking his hand and face with your arousal as you came, screaming out his name as you reached your high.

That’s it, Hermosa.” Javi smirked, squeezing his hand into the meat of your thigh as you rode out your orgasm, still slowly fucking you with his fingers as you came undone around them, your cunt clamping down on the delicious curve of his digits. Javi peeked his head back up as your breathing began to even out, your chest rising and falling in satisfaction as his kisses began to travel back up your body, stopping at your neck to take extra time to nip along your jawline, his teeth tugging at your earlobe as his voice rasped against your skin.

“Such a good girl for me, Osita. So fucking wet. Fuck, I need to feel you, baby.”

Before you even had time to catch your breath, Javi had his arms wrapped around your waist, flipping you over on to your stomach, dragging his hands down your back, stopping at your ass to grab a handful of the plump flesh and smack it, nudging your legs to spread open for him wider, pushing them out with his own.

Javi worked behind you quickly and methodically, shedding himself of all of his clothes to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers, leaking with precum from the minute he had thought of the prospect of putting another baby in you.

He stroked himself a few times, using his other hand to swipe through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick before wrapping them around his cock, now shiny with your arousal as he lined up with your entrance, filling you up inch by inch, almost painfully slowly, until he had bottomed out inside you, his hips flushed against your ass, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch.

“Javi… Move, baby, please. I need to feel yo- Oh fuck!” You whimpered, your words drowned out by your moans as Javi had pulled himself out, only to thrust his whole length back into, gritting his teeth while a groan rumbled deep in his chest, draping his body over yours, burying one of his hands in your hair, gently tugging at the ends as he whispered into your ear, keeping his slow and meticulous pace.

“You wanna feel me too, sweet girl? Wanna feel me fill you up when I fuck every last drop into you? Fuck myself so deep inside you it’ll fucking take? That what you want, baby?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck, yes, please. Fuck, I want you fuck a baby into me, Javi. I wanna make you a Daddy again.”

Another deep moan feel from Javi’s lips, scooping his hand under you to sit in his lap, your back flushed against his chest, one hand palming at your breast, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as his pace began to increase, just enough to hear the wetness between the two of you with each thrust of his hips.

You couldn’t help but let your bottom half grind deeper into each stroke, pushing yourself further and further down onto his cock, the sweet stretch of his fullness making your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, the wanton moans and whimpers babbling from your mouth almost as lewd as the sounds your bodies made as they melded into one another as you let him take everything you had to give.

“Fuck me- That’s what you want, Momma? Fuck, I can’t wait to get you pregnant. See how beautiful you look carrying our baby again. Let everyone know you’re fucking mine with our baby growning inside you.” Letting his hand shift from your breast, he began sliding it up your chest, wrapping it around your jaw to tilt your head over your shoulder towards him, staring into his deep brown eyes before engulfing your lips in a long, wet kiss, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth without ever relenting his pace.

His other hand dipped between your legs to circle your clit, still sensitive and swollen from your first orgasm, now throbbing even harder from his touch and feeling the heat beginning to bloom in your belly as you felt your second high begin to approach.

Javi knew just as well as you did that you were close to cumming again, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around his cock as his hips slapped against yours, breaking from your kiss to tug your earlobe between his teeth.

“Give me one more, Osita. Cum all over my cock and I’ll fill you up. Fill up this pretty little pussy ‘til she’s fucking stuffed and it’s got no choice but to fucking take and I knock you up.”

“You promise?” You whispered, your breath shaky and legs trembling as Javi rubbed tighter, faster circles around your clit, still cradling your jaw to force your gaze on him.

“I promise, baby. I fucking promise.”

Almost instantly, you could feel the coil that had been winding tighter and tighter in your core suddenly began to snap, screaming out Javi’s name as you felt your second orgasm crash through you, consuming every inch of your body in euphoria, feeling like you had turned to Jello, the only thing keeping you up being Javi’s firm grasp around you.

“That’s it, sweet girl. That’s it. Fuck, I’m close too, baby.” He mewled, his pace becoming frantic and sloppy as he held you up, fucking you through your high with reckless abandon, wanting to, no needing, to make sure he made good on his promise- that in 9 months from now, you’d have one more member in your family.

Even though you were barely hanging on by a thread, you could feel Javi’s grip tightening around your jaw, tilting it back towards him, the firm pressure cupping your face enough to force your eyes open to meet the wrecked and ragged expression plastered across his face.

“Eyes on me, Hermosa. Fuck, I need to- mierda- need to see that pretty face when I fuck you full of me. God, I love you so much, I love you so-ahhhhhhh, fuck.” It was then Javi’s turn to follow suit, only needing a few more pumps before he thrusted up once more, keeping himself buried deep inside your cunt as hot ropes of his spend covered your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop before even thinking of pulling out.

Holding you in place still sitting on his cock, you could feel the mixture of the two of you beginning to drip down your thighs, prompting Javi to gently ease you off of him, letting your back hit the bed as carefully lifted your hips to slip one of the pillows underneath your bottom half, briefly admiring the wet mess between your legs before taking two fingers and collecting the arousal that had leaked from your cunt, attentively dragging it up your thighs and pushing it back into your heat, making you gasp at the sensation.

“Gonna keep you full of me all day, sweet girl. Gotta make good on my promise.” He smirked, leaning down to pepper soft kisses to the inside of your thighs before slowly making his way back up your body, stopping at your lips for another tender kiss.

“Given what just happened, I think you’re trying to kill me before you can make good on that promise, Jav. Jesus Christ.” You sighed, your voice riddled with breathy giggles as you playfully nudged your husband, now lying next to you, pulling you in to rest against the warmth of his bare chest. “You think Peña number 3 is gonna make an appearance soon?”

“Like I said, mi amor, promise is a promise.” He smirked, boyish grin plastered across his face as he laid your hand across your stomach, gently rubbing it back and forth across your skin. “Plus, I think the girls will be thrilled to have another sister.”

“Sister, huh? We don’t even know if there’s a baby in there yet you dork, let alone what it’s gonna be.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi.

“Been right about the other two. I’ll bet you all the breakfast sandwiches you want that it is.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, I hope you know that. Thank you for this morning, Jav. The girls and I are so lucky to have you. I love you so much.” You sighed contently, smiling into Javi’s soft skin.

“I love you too, Hermosa. All of you are the best things that have ever happened to me. All of my girls.” He winked, gently squeezing the curves of your belly, gesturing towards the daughter he proudly assumed he would be meeting in 9 months.

“Well, all of us, or your new son and my unlimited amount of breakfast sandwiches.” you snickered, “When did your dad need us to go pick up the girls? We probably owe him a few breakfast sandwiches for watching the gremlins on such short notice.”

“He said any time later today. Which means…” He smiled, caging his body over yours once again, as much time as we need to make sure that I win our bet.”

“Game on, Peña.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

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leclerced · 3 months

Note

lando accidentally sending nudes to his bsf. he doesn’t realise he sent it to her instead of the girl he’s seeing her (he’s only going out with her because he can’t have his bsf). when he doesn’t even know what he did until she comes up to her later saying that “she wanted to send one back but she didn’t know if it was meant for her or not”

i’m cackling ive sent accidental nudes before and gotten that EXACT response from a guy before 😭😭

lando would soo get a notification from her right after and he sees it and expects it to be her just snapping him but it’s her asking if it was meant for her. doesn’t open it because he’s mid jerk off and naps after he finishes, disappointed bc girl never snapped him back. hours later he wakes up and remembers she messaged him so goes to their chat and sees question and can’t remember what he sent. looks at the time stamp and then swipes out of the chat to see if he saved any pics at that time n the only thing is the nude he sent the girl and he goes back to his chats and realizes the girl was left on read and he opens the chat with his best friend and realizes what he did.

he’s immediately panicking bc he sent his best friend an unsolicited nude and he’s always prided himself on not being a weird guy friend or trying not to be obvious about how in love he is. he’s heard girls complain that their guy friends always make moves so he doesn’t make moves on girl’s he’s friends with. he types out a few different responses from “sorry, meant for someone else” to “sorry, i can’t remember what i sent” but none of them feel right. he ends up messaging back and sends a really long message like, “i’m so sorry i really hope this doesn’t damage our friendship you mean a lot to me and i never want to make you uncomfortable, that wasn’t meant for you i just misclicked, i’m so sorry.” and she gets the notification and is kind of upset because she wanted it to be for her and she’s like “haha don’t be sorry, just glad i asked and didn’t send something back” and she means it as a joke to cool the tension so he doesn’t feel bad. he sees it and is overwhelmed immediately bc… she would have sent something back if it was for her? what?

he definitely stares at his phone in shock long enough that she sees she’s been left on read and starts thinking she needs to apologize, until she finally gets a message and he asks what she would have sent. she doesn’t even know how to respond to that because she hadn’t thought about it so she says “idk i was waiting for you to tell me if it was for me or not before i started going through my lingerie drawer”

lando’s freaking out even more when he sees that message and i can see him typing out multiple responses again, asking what color lingerie has, what styles, if she’ll send it now, but he ends up joking, “i can send another if you need help figuring it out.” he hopes it’s not too much, and she surprises him by responding, “actually i think i might need some in person help, know anyone?”

she thinks she pushed too far because she gets left on read again, but within ten minutes there’s a knock on her door and lando’s out of breath because he ran up the stairs when the elevator took too long to make it to the ground floor, and gasps out, “so, i heard you needed help with something?” she giggles and pulls him inside and fetches him some ice water. as he gulps it down, she teases him for rushing and says she thought she messed up bc he didn’t text back and he apologizes for that and is like, “i didn’t get the wrong message, right? you wanted me to come over?”

they hook up and afterwards he’s just thinking about how he’s in love with her and doesn’t want to tell her like this especially if she just saw his dick and wanted to give it a try, so he doesn’t say anything for awhile and they keep hooking up and are so much touchier with each other in general. one day he’s leaving and gives her a little peck, and it totally sets him off because hooking up and cuddling afterwards is one thing but the kiss goodbye feels so domestic. he’s kicking himself bc he’s convinced himself she just wants sex and he thinks the little peck is too coupley for friends with benefits. next time he sees her he apologizes for it and she tells him it’s fine, “lan, we fuck like three times a week you can kiss me goodbye.” and it’s little things like that. he starts giving her more kisses when he arrives to hang out and kisses goodbye, and they cuddle when they watch movies together. play footsie when they go out for dinner. pretty much dating without any labels. both think the other doesn’t want more. and eventually someone asks if they’ve been secretly dating and they look to each other and are like, “uh i mean… are we?” “yeah i guess we are. yeah. we’re going home together right?” “yeah, coming to mine tonight, you left your-“ “yeah yeah they don’t need to know that.”

#ask #anon #ln4

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bangaveragewhitewine · 9 months

Text

Wanna be with you everywhere

Surrounded by your earthly possessions, boxes upon boxes stacked and looming over you in your new home, you don’t know where to start. Steve reminds you that the most important thing is right in front of you (and has a box of his own for you to open).

Word Count: 2.7k

Content / Warnings: This is fairly tame and sweet. Reader is overtired and overwhelmed, but other than that - total fluff. Moving in together, a brief sex mention, Steve being romantic and totally down bad for reader. Maybe a big question is on the cards, idk.

Reader is referred to with one gendered honourific. (No spoilers…👀) I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible 🧡

If you are not 18+ please do press the back button

Author’s Note: Once again, soft Steve Harrington has invaded my brain. This is pretty short and sweet. Oh to feel safe and loved in his big beefy arms, amirite?

I hope you enjoy! Thank you for the love on Clean Slate & Pinch Me recently - it means a lot!!! Once again I had way too much fun on Canva... Let me know what you think / if you catch any typos!

Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

Boxes. Heavy, full and labelled with a blocky scrawl. They are everywhere, stacked by the coffee table you had thrifted, the big squishy armchair for you to read in. You haven’t seen so many since your high school weekend job filling shelves and scanning groceries and wearing your customer service smile until your cheeks ached.

The smell of fresh paint and cardboard combined with the dry feeling that the boxes left on your hands makes you want to peel your skin off. You look around the room with your hands pressing into the small of your back while you stack more tasks on your mental to-do list. The room was empty a few hours ago, a total blank canvas.

The floor calls, grounding you.

With a sigh that pulls from the tips of your toes, you lie back against the cool wood and stretch your arms out by your sides. This is where the couch will go when it arrives. You close your eyes and feel the all-over ache from packing, carrying and lifting. Before the carrying and lifting was days of packing and organising.

That’s when it dawns on you - you still need to unpack them all.

Tears push themselves up and you feel your ugly-cry face break the dazed-but-happy expression you had been wearing all day. All you want is a hot shower and your comfy new bed. And -

“Hey.”

Steve.

Your dry hands cover your face, swiping your wet cheeks as your boyfriend closes the door - the door to your first apartment together - and navigates his way around the boxes to get to you. His presence cuts short your catastrophising.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, sounding almost panicked. “Do you hate it? I know the paint dried a little darker than we thought, but we can redo it. It’ll be okay.” Steve is quick to join you on the floor, lying on his side by you with one arm wrapped over your shaking body. “Babe…”

When you move your hands to look at Steve’s concerned face, you see that he looks as tired as you feel. Despite that, he’s still the most gorgeous person you have ever seen. His hair is crushed under a backwards baseball cap and there’s pizza sauce on his tshirt. His deodorant and aftershave has long worn off but you let him hold you, lying half on top of him on the floor, not ready or able to speak yet. Big hard-working hands sweep soothingly up and down your back. Steve’s good at that, letting you just cry it out, holding you steady and safe when you need to weep. He always seems to know what you need; a distraction or silence, gentle words or just the steady thud of his heart against your ear.

Despite the sweat and dust, Steve presses kisses to your forehead as you slowly settle. The fact that he’s so handsome and nice to you makes you sob shakily one more time.

“Just breathe, you’re okay.”

Steve is calm, but you know that inside that he’s wracking his brains to get to the bottom of why the love of his life was crying in the middle of their brand new apartment while he was waving off the friends who had helped you move. Had he said something stupid, was the paint really that ugly… Steve didn’t let his mind even go near the idea that you might be second guessing moving in together.

When he sees you peering up at him, his heart beats double time like it always does when you look at him. His attention is back on you now, out of his own head. You can see the cogs turning in his head and feel worse for making him worry about you, feel insecure or like he was the reason for your tears.

“Hi,” you whisper. “Sorry. Overwhelmed.”

“Don’t say sorry, honey. It’s okay.”

You rest your cheek on his chest again. His tshirt is stained wet from your tears now too but Steve doesn’t care.

You lie together on the floor, both aching and bone tired. From somewhere, you summon the energy to squeeze Steve as tight as possible, needing him to know how much you adore him. He makes a small happy noise before returning the squish.

“We’re here,” you murmur against his chest, before you free each other to lie side by side in the golden glow coming from the big un-curtained windows.

“Here we are. Welcome home, baby,” Steve says, turning his head to look at you again. He covers your hand and stroked his thumb over your racing pulse. “What’s going on in that big juicy brain of yours, huh?”

“Ew.” You laugh, wincing when your body reminds you that it has clocked out for the day, and meet Steve’s gaze. “All the boxes freaked me out. We still need to unpack everything, and the couch won’t fit if we don’t get some of them out of here -” Your voice shakes and catches and you make yourself take one slow deep breath. Steve squeezes you once, no rush. “I’m just so fucking tired, Stevie.”

Steve gives you a little smile. “I bet. You’ve been running the show today, making sure everything is perfect.” Steve had been up before you, excited to get going, and had spent the day lugging boxes with Eddie, never letting you take the heavy ones. You had caught yourself staring at how his biceps bulged deliciously a couple of times - Steve had caught you too and made sure to come give you some kisses when his hands were free. And he had checked in with you, not wanting you to get too caught up in making everything perfect or taking on too much of the responsibility - you were just better organised than him. The brains to his brawn, though he knew you didn’t like when he thought like that.

He sits up, then stands, groaning like a man older than his twenty-odd years. He holds out his hands to help you up, and he puts his arms around you once you’re upright.

“Everything’s where it needs to be. You and Nance had that list. Everything’s all colour coded.” You had both been armed with coloured markers and sticky notes to make sure the boxes were in the right rooms. “What’s the word? It’s meticulous, baby.” You can hear a smile in Steve’s low soft voice; he’s proud of himself for remembering and of you, for everything. It helps ease the tension bunched in your shoulders.

He kisses your head with a fierce amount of love. “It doesn’t need to be perfect right away okay? We’re in this together and we’ll figure it out. All that matters is you and me, yeah? You and me in our first place together. S’already perfect for me.”

Your heart hurts with how much love it holds for Steve Harrington. He’s right; all that matters is the two of you, boxes of bed sheets and belongings be damned.

Steve starts a slow sway, his fingers tucked into the belt loops on the back of your old jeans as you settle your hands on the base of his neck. He hums a song you both loved, one that had come on the radio in a moment of pure fate when you started the short drive from his old place to your new one together.

I want to be with you everywhere…

The smile Steve had graced upon you then was like pure gold and you turned the volume up loud, rolling down the windows as you sang together.

Now you feel his smile, wide and lovely, against your temple and peel back to look up at his face. “What’s the smile for, handsome?”

“M’happy.” You see that boyish twinkle in his eyes, and when he smiles Steve looks so innocently happy, the little boy who had to grow up too quickly. You press up on your toes, ignoring the burn in your feet to lessen the gap between you. He is quick to meet you halfway and accepts the kiss you land on his smiling mouth. Steve’s joy is contagious and he is as generous sharing it with you as he is with his kisses.

“I’m happy too, promise.” Foreheads pressed together, you close your eyes and let the calm feeling wash over you as Steve starts the sway again. You’re pressed together, head to toe.

“S’okay if you’re not. You don’t have to say you are if you feel shitty.” Steve’s voice tickles your cheek and he chases it with a kiss there.

“I am. We’re going to be so happy here, Steve. I love this place.” You feel the truth of your words deep in your bones, beyond your aches and pains. “Love you.”

Your words make his heart zing. “Love you more,” he whispers, nudging your nose with his own as he kisses his way back to your lips. “M’happy with you wherever we are, I just want to be with you.”

As you hold each other, swaying in the setting sunlight, you let the thought of unpacking shrink and enjoy the moment, calmness washing over you like a balm. Over the next few weeks and days you and Steve will place your things side by side, hang up pictures and clothes and fill the blank canvas. You’ll try the diner down the block for breakfast in the morning as a treat, and do your first grocery shop together. You have already promised each other that you’ll have sex in every room to christen the place (Steve’s idea, you loved it) and in a week or two you’ll invite your friends around for a party. You’ll make up the spare room for when the kids who aren’t kids anymore come to visit. There’s no rush, you have the rest of your lives to feather your nest together, find a bigger one when you’re ready.

You breathe him in, finding that scent that is simply Steve behind the fresh paint and sweat and the lingering smell of the pizza you shared with your best friends to say thank you for their help - the first party of many in your home together.

Steve presses his love into you with his kisses and stroking hands, thinking of the only box that matters to him; a small ring-box housing soft gold and sparkling jewels that reminded him of you. It’s not in any of the cardboard towers, or the overnight bags with the basics for your first night and morning. The little green velvet box sits heavy in his back pocket, plucked from the Beemers glove compartment while he was waving Eddie and the girls off (all of them had whispered their good luck while they hugged Steve fiercely tight).

Seeing you in tears made him second guess his timing, but as he sways with you now he couldn’t be more sure that you’re the one he wants to marry.

“Hey. Lemme take a picture of us,” he whispers, “The disposable still has a few shots left on it. Stay there.”

“Steve I look so gross,” you whine - but you have to admit it’s a sweet suggestion. His lips meet yours and he pecks the pout away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says in a murmur against your lips. “We can show our grandkids someday. You’n me, young and cool in our first place together.”

Steve’s heart beats double time at your grin and he makes your nose scrunch up when he dots kisses all over your face. “Wait there. The light is..” He kisses his own fingers with an over exaggerated ‘mwah’.

He leaves you laughing as he dodges boxes on the way to quadruple check the ring and fetch the camera.

You had both been snapping pictures all day, pictures that would end up in a photo album with little annotations of the date and who was in each shot; Steve & Robin hugging outside their apartment before hopping in the moving van, Eddie in an Iron Maiden tee with the sleeves cut off sticking his tongue out as he carried a box under one arm, you and Nancy deep in conversation on the sidewalk, you and Steve stealing a kiss in the empty kitchen (Nancy was stealthy with that one). There were three clicks left.

When Steve arrives back you’re poking through a box of books and thinking about how you’re going to stack them on the shelves (which will be dropped off tomorrow). Your smile when you see him lights up the room already glowing with the setting sun. You both think ‘how’d I ever get this lucky’ and find your way to each other, sharing another kiss before getting your picture taken.

Steve stands in front of the windows, tucking you under his arm as you both make the most of the golden light illuminating your tired smiling faces. After the click, he rolls the film on.

His heart beats hard and quick with anticipation, but he’s not nervous - he has never been so sure of a decision in his entire life. You are the one; his one.

Steve places the camera on the windowsill before taking your hands. “You’re the love of my life y’know?”

You look up and nod, squeezing his hands. “Mhm. And you’re mine. I love you so much I could scream.” You mean it too, thinking about how you could open up the window right now and shout to the city that you love Steve Michael Harrington.

He presses a single soft kiss to your forehead. “The best day of my life was the day you smiled at me in that little dive bar, baby. Ever since then, I knew I was a goner.” He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. “I don’t ever want anyone else. Waking up next to you every day, and going to sleep with you every night... I feel like I’m dreamin’ sometimes. Like, how’d I get this lucky?” Steve squeezes your hands three times ‘I love you’. “You’re my love, my best friend.”

Your face hurts from smiling, about to quip that you promise not to tell Robin or Eddie, but instead you see Steve lowering himself down onto the floorboards - dropped down on one knee.

For a moment your mind goes blank until you see that little green velvet box, which he flicks open to show you the ring inside.

Steve says your name so quietly as he gazes up at you, “Will you marry me?”

All capacity for speech evades you. Your focus is all on Steve, barely comprehending the gorgeous ring winking at you in his hands. Every cell of your body is screaming S T E V E. You manage to nod as more tears press and push up and spill down your cheeks.

You let him take your hand to slide the ring on. A perfect fit. If you could think straight you would remember one of your favourite rings going missing for a week a while back - the culprit kneeling in front of you.

You pull him up this time, crushing your body to his as you babble ‘yes!’ a thousand times, even as he kisses you with his own wet cheeks pressing to yours.

Everything feels soft around the edges, luminous and dreamlike, as you see Steve and his smile and his love for you in bright high definition. You take his face in your hands - the left one ever so slightly heavier now - and you bring your faces together.

“Hi Future Mrs Harrington,” he whispers, each syllable filled with an almost-giggly bubbling joy.

“Hi Mr Harrington,” you whisper back, feeling his hands squeezing your hips. You kiss him again, smiling too much to make it last pass a few slow romantic pecks and you’re just holding each other, glowing.

In that moment everything is perfect, your previous sense of total overwhelm replaced by utter joy. Tired and still a little sweaty, dust on your jeans and your hair coming undone, you’re still the most beautiful creature Steve Harrington has ever laid eyes on - even more so now with the promise on your hand.

Steve reaches out to take up the camera again. “Still got two more. Engagement pic for the grandkids?” he asks, and you practically squeal with delight when you realise he had it all planned.

As he angles the camera in front of you both, hoping the light is still okay and that he’s not chopping off his own head, you hold your ring up to make sure it’s in frame. That picture, and the next one of you two sharing a kiss with diamonds glimmering in the dipping sunlight, will take pride of place in that little album of the day you moved in together, the day Steve Harrington asked you to marry him.

Likes, comments and reblogs are absolutely cherished and adored!

Bonus next day diner breakfast Steve for the girlies - thank you for reading 🩷

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starandcloud · 10 months

Text

42!Miles Headcannons

I am on a kick of Spiderverse, so Tumblr gets it-

Miles has separation anxiety with you, which got a lot worse when you started dating, him being the prowler and all

He cannot handle the sound of guns, it makes his anxiety race.

He'd never admit it but he genuinely likes your company, like he'll deny it then go out of his way to find stupid reasons to hang out with you. Which his mom plays into. Miles: Aye, Idiota. Come over. My mom misses you. Y/N: Ooookay? Rio, hugging Y/N: Y/N I've missed you, how've you been? Are you feeling okay? Have you been eating enough? Y/N, laughing: I'm okay Mrs. Morales, thank you for worrying about me though Miles: *Absolutely smitten by how you interact with his mom*

Leaves you gits randomly, like if he's out on a job with his uncle and he sees something he knows you'll like he'll swipe it (and leave money) and either leave it on your desk or put it on your window sill. You've yet to catch him

He HAS stopped and watched you sleep when he left you a gift, not in creepy way more like a "God... They're so perfect..." His eyes, hidden behind his lil mask, softened on you. He only left because the hallway light flicked on and he panicked. That was the loudest he had ever fled from somewhere, he didn't even close your window.

He is really artistic too, he has dozens of sketches of you in his sketchbook. You're his favorite thing to draw

Don't get me wrong, I'm a sucker for Miles wanting to kill someone for you. But he would only think it, he'd never actually act on those thoughts. He couldn't bear the weight of taking a life, even if it was for you. He's a vigilante, remember

As terrifying as he seems, Miles is a HUGE baby when it comes to getting hurt. He'll act like he's fine, but when he's with his Uncle or Mom he cries. Like ugly cries, he's a huge baby-

Has Trypanophobia (The Fear of Needles), hates the sight of them and cannot handle it when he has to get shots

When he cannot handle anything anymore he goes to his dad's Mural and just sits there, he doesn't talk or make any noise. He just sits against the brick, sometimes he cries, sometimes he doesn't but he's always there late at night so no one really sees him

He doesn't talk to anyone he actually has a crush on, like he's flirty as hell with everyone but the person he actually likes he's really blunt and distant. Like a dumbass

I can 100% see Miles being Omni, like he could like anyone as long as he's close to them

We all know Miles' sleep schedule is FUCKED, he's a Vigilante, he doesn't get to sleep much due to everything being at night. But he still gets good grades and sleeps when he can

This is literally one of his posts on Twitter and you CANNOT tell me otherwise-

He isn't really bothered by people who're taller than him, or people who are a few inches shorter. But if you're below his chin he's wary, he's heard enough from Ganke not to mess with people that short. "They have to climb to get things, I don't wanna mess with someone who climbs counters.

I can see him being taller than 1610!Miles, cause 1610!Miles is 5'8" so I can see 42!Miles being anywhere from 5'9 to 5'10". Like it's not a noticeable difference if you're not paying attention, ya know?

Miles does Photography, but it's more of a hobby. He doesn't plan on turning it into a career, but he does it when he's got the chance, his posts look like this

Bubbly_Rose and Vanilla.Coffee.Addict. Are both his mom, different accounts to support her son. Best mom 100%

Miles has dozens of playlists on spotify, most of which are for his friends and family.

Cat person but has a german shepard named Luna

Had dreads ONCE and decided he hated them, so he stuck to his braids

Miles can cook, really really well. His mom and him used to bond through cooking and now it's something he does when he's stressed or upset

Depending on how tired Miles is, is how he sleeps. If he's just a lil sleepy, his legs are kinda bent and his arms are by his head, HOWEVER, if it was after REALLY tiring job with his uncle he kinda just falls onto his bed and sleeps like that

He usually doesn't go to anyone for comfort and comforts himself unless it's really bad then he goes to his mom or (if he really REALLY trusts them) his significant other

Miles has a tendency to flinch/move away from any form of touch that's not from his mother. He gets pins and needles if he's not expecting a touch and it is almost painful, I wouldn't say he's touch-starved but with his mom working so much it's easy to see that he would be

The one thing that brings Miles' to tears is watching his mom work herself to the bone and never being able to take a break. It makes him so mad that he can't help her, without it being obvious, that it reduces him to tears

He cries when he's mad

He hates it when people go through his things or move them. He has everything in a place, everything has to be perfect. Major OCD when it comes to his room, it's his space and he wants it perfectly clean

Miles takes really good care of himself, he keeps himself in shape (outside of being the Prowler) and makes sure to eat and hydrate right

Miles. Is. A. Huge. Softie for little kids. He acts like he can't stand them but the minute he's flashed a toothy smile from a little kid, he can't help but smile back

He considers a few people who aren't family, his family like Ganke

His idea of "A Perfect Vacation" is going anywhere with his mom and Uncle. It could literally be a trip to his Paternal Grandmother's house, and as long as his mom isn't working he is perfectly content

Miles tends to bite his nails and chew on his lips when he's nervous

By FAR the strangest thing Miles has ever seen was one of his classmates straight up touching their eyeball, that happened when he was 13 and it still freaks him out

Miles accepts advice relatively well, he doesn't show it but he does

He hates most pictures, but there was a few that his version Gwen took of him.

He is horrible at talking to someone he's got a crush on, like worse than 1610!Miles ;-;

Miles wakes up before his mom, when she's home, and makes her breakfast, he eats, showers, and goes to school, comes home, does his homework, goes to his boxing class (curtesy of Uncle Aaron), and depending on the day either goes on a job or goes to sleep

He has a few scars on his face from one of the first few jobs he was on when he wasn't far enough away from a bomb when it went off

Ocra. He CANNOT with the texture of it.

He loves stormy weather, its relaxing to him

He loves Fall and winter, the crisp air makes him smile

As a way to waste time, he goes to the gym or draws

When Miles wakes up from a nightmare, he kinda just lays there until he puts his headphones on and falls asleep to whatever song he's listening to

Miles collects little doo-dads from the street, it gives him something to fidget with

Miles knows English, Spanish, and French. He had to take a second language class and he COULDN'T take Spanish, so he's relatively fluent in French

Miles is the type of person to give someone the tightest most affection hugs, like even if he's just friends with the person. Hugs are like "I love you"s for Miles, they're sparing things from him

If Miles had three wishes from a genie he'd wish for: 1. His mother to either be paid more or for her to work less 2. His city to have less issues 3. To talk to his dad again

CROSSOVER: Miles is a gryffindor, with a Kingfisher Patronus and an 11.25 in Applewood wand with Unicorn hair ((I don't support J.K. Rowling))

Miles saw you in his clothes once and it MELTED him, he physically leaned against the wall and smiled stupidly

If you don't typically wear glasses (despite needing them, like my dumbass) and you wear them around Miles. The first time he saw you in them, he was distracted enough he walked into a wall.

Miles will protest being called cheesy things likes "Babydoll", "Pumpkin" "Sweets", "Bubba", "Light of My Life", "Tater Tot" (this happened ONCE, "Sunshine", "Dumpling", "Bambie", and "Babyface". He genuinely loves it when you call him that. Specifically: Babydoll, Pumpkin, and Sunshine. He still likes the other ones but loves those more.

#earth 42 miles morales #atsv #atsv drabble #beyond the spiderverse #miles morales #twins au #the prowler #atsv prowler #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #miles morales headcanons #earth 42 miles morales headcanons #miles morales earth 42 #miles g morales

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emeraldiis · 1 year

Text

all yours (Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader)

A/N: haha just kidding i’m posting this horny garbage right now saddle up

EXPLICIT/MDNI

AO3 Link

Summary: After a nightmare leaves you crying out for your boyfriend, he comforts you in the way you need. Also he gets his hair pulled a lot.

dom/sub, switch!leon, switch!reader, most subby leon tho, hair pulling, leon never shuts up, and is a very loving but very horny boyfriend

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fairly graphic description of a panic attack, a few lines about leon’s death when describing the nightmare

It was dim in the room when your eyes snapped open, the morning sun just barely passing through the blinds. Panicked breaths wheezed from your lungs as you lurched into a seated position. Instinctively, your hand flew to the left side of the bed, to safety.

All you found was cold sheets.

Fresh tears spilled from your wild eyes as adrenaline surged. A frantic shout started in the back of your throat, but all you managed to produce was a soft whimper.

Sucking in a strained breath, you tried again. “L-Leon!”

Hurried footsteps thudded in the hall the second the yell left your throat. When the door burst open and Leon walked into the room with long strides and a furrowed brow, relief flooded your chest.

But it wasn’t enough.

Your lungs burned from how hard you were gasping for air, your eyes stung from the salty tears coating your face. Wordless, you reached out to him, sobbing when he scrambled onto the bed and knelt in front of you.

Warm hands found your cheeks, Leon swiping gently at the tears with his thumbs. He caged you in with his large frame and spoke softly, hushed. “What’s wrong, honey?” His blue eyes shone with worry, searching yours. “What happened?”

You shook your head and tugged at his wrists. With a frown, he reluctantly let go of your face, making a soft noise of surprise when you threw your arms around him in a desperate hug.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured. His arm circled your waist while his other hand came up to stroke your hair. “Here we go, come on,” he said as he maneuvered the two of you until he sat with his back to the headboard and legs splayed out.

He cradled you in his lap like you were made of glass, leaning down to whisper soothing words into the top of your hair. “It’s okay, I’m right here. I gotcha.”

Your fingertips dug into his shoulders as you clutched him desperately. It had felt so real: the chill of his skin, the dull blue of his lifeless eyes as his blood soaked your hands. “You were dead,” you whimpered into his chest. The fabric of his shirt was already saturated in tears, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when all that mattered was his beating heart against your cheek.

“Hey, look at me for a sec’.” The deep rumble of his voice broke through the haze of fear, and you turned your head up to meet his eyes. He smiled warmly down at you, gaze softening. “See? I’m okay, it was just a dream.”

Your sobs paused as you let yourself melt under the blanketing reassurance in his stare. Slowly, you sat up, bracing your palms flat on his chest. His hold on you stayed firm, fingers running soothingly up and down your back. For a moment, you let yourself breathe.

Leon was here. He was alive. It was just a dream.

Like a mantra, you repeated those words over and over in your head, until your eyes dried and your breaths slowed. Leon held your gaze, mouth parting into a relieved chuckle when the tension eased from your muscles.

“There you go, baby.” He pulled you in to nuzzle into your neck. A brush of his lips against the sensitive skin below your ear made you freeze. It was the last reaction you’d expected to have at the moment, but you felt the first sparks of arousal burst across your body.

You figured you could blame it on the hormones, the lingering terror of losing the love of your life making you desperate, needy, possessive. Your skin crawled with the urge to take and take and take until only Leon filled your every sense.

“Leon,” you said, voice breaking and coming out as a whisper. Soft hair tickled your chin as your boyfriend trailed kisses down your jaw, unaware of the fire building beneath your skin. Fingers twitching with impatience, you brought a hand up to thread gently through his hair. “Leon,” you tried again.

“Hm?” He hummed a distracted response as he pressed himself closer to you.

Every movement he made set off fireworks in your nervous system. Your strung out body shook with the intensity of it, and your hold on your restraint was slipping.

Impatience bubbling up, you tugged sharply—not too hard, just enough to command attention—on his hair. “Baby.”

Leon’s head snapped up, reaction instantaneous. Maroon heat surged up his cheeks and his breath hitched, the sound deafening in the quiet of the bedroom. His eyes were glassy when they met yours, but cleared back into focus with a shuddering intake of breath.

“What was that for?” He asked. His tone was meant to be scolding, but the effect was lost when his mouth twitched up in a soft smile.

It was hardly playing fair, going after one of Leon’s biggest weaknesses. But you were on a mission, fueled by a need to claim him as your own, keep him safe in your clutches so no harm would ever come to him. Running on pure emotion, you slammed your lips into his. You kept his hair wound in a tight grip around your fingers; mostly to keep him from retreating, but also to ground yourself.

Your head spun as your teeth clacked against his in a messy rush. He hesitated, caught off guard, for a fraction of a second, then returned your kiss with fervor. Despite his initial surprise, he was far from pliant. Leon kissed like he fought: straight for the kill.

But you were not in the mood to let him devour you.

When his tongue pressed itself to the seam of your lips, you lunged forward to sink your teeth into his bottom lip. His mouth parted in a breathy gasp, and you took the chance to slide your tongue across his and eat him alive.

Leon allowed you to kiss him senseless for a minute before his hands slid up your back to your shoulders. He tugged lightly at them, just enough to get your attention. With a parting nip, you drew back reluctantly, untangling your fingers from his hair and resting both hands in your lap.

He looked gorgeous like this: lips swollen and red, blush covering his cheeks, and eyelids sunk low. He took a breath to collect himself. “Christ, babe.” With a soft laugh, he let go of one of your shoulders to drag a hand down his face. “Warn a guy.”

The composure in his voice despite his dishevelment frustrated you. It wasn’t fair that you were imploding in slow motion just from being near him, you wanted him to want you that badly. To need you that badly. Impatient, you readjusted yourself on his lap, then paused. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, hips shifting to try and angle the tent in his sweatpants away from you. Unsuccessfully, given that your thighs were locked tightly on either side of him, keeping your ass firmly in his lap. Leon’s eyes darted to the side, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Talk about a messed up reaction to your girlfriend crying.”

The frenzied lust bubbling in your chest calmed, giving you a moment to slow down. “Was it the crying, or was it when I pulled your hair?” Your voice sounded wrecked, raspy and breathless.

Leon met your eyes again, looking guilty. “Honestly?” He paused to laugh nervously. “I just can’t handle you being in my lap like this.” His hands found your thighs, squeezing lightly. “Does things t’me.”

“Needy,” you teased. It was hypocritical. If anything, you were the needy one, barely holding yourself back from jumping his bones.

Shoulders relaxing when he realized you weren’t going to scold him for his…reaction, Leon tilted his head up to kiss you again. It was softer this time. Less frantic, but just as passionate. Like before, he instinctively tried to take the lead, but backed off considerably when you resisted. Almost as if he sensed your need for control, he leaned back against the headboard and allowed you to ravish him.

Both of you were panting when you tore your lips away and brought your hand back to his hair. You took hold of it; not pulling, just a light pressure. Leon got the message instantly and tilted his head back, giving you space to mouth at his neck. He sighed at the attention, then broke off into a near-silent whine when you bit down and sucked.

“That feels so fuckin’ good,” he said, voice rough from arousal. His hands tugged at your hips, encouraging you to roll them. “This what you needed, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you growled into the skin of his neck, soothing the fresh love bite with a swipe of your tongue. Clad in only a large tee and panties, it was easy to find friction when you ground your hips against his. The soaked crotch of your underwear slid deliciously against the twitching bulge in his sweatpants. Whining at the burst of pleasure, you braced your free hand on his shoulder and settled into a rhythm, continuing your assault on his neck. “Keep talking,” you mumbled into the spit-slick skin.

Choking back a moan, Leon’s fingers tightened on your waist. “Yeah, you like it when I tell you how good you make me feel?” He hissed when you tugged softly at his hair, eyelids fluttering. “Fuck, ‘m s-so hard. Gonna—mmh—gonna make you see stars.”

God, the things his voice did to you. Leon’s habit of running his mouth translated beautifully into the bedroom. If his mouth wasn’t between your legs, it was moving, spouting filthy praises and lust-drunk promises. It never failed to drive you insane. And he was always so responsive, hips straining up into you and voice breaking when your teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot. You wanted to hear more.

“Lay down for me,” you said abruptly, detaching your mouth from his neck and lifting yourself from his lap. He frowned at the loss of attention, mouth hanging open in a wordless protest. But he complied. Once he was settled back against the pillows, you fell onto your hands and knees and crawled until your head was level with his chest. “Shirt off,” you directed as you admired the collage of love bites adorning his neck.

Lip caught between his teeth, Leon sat up slightly to tug off his shirt, tossing it to the side. “You, too. C’mon,” he urged, reaching down to pull at the hem of your shirt.

Instead of immediately complying, you took a selfish moment to rake your eyes across his bare chest. Sculpted muscles tensed and jumped when you trailed featherlight fingers across them, and Leon’s breath stuttered when you leaned down to kiss just below his belly button, where soft hair led down below the hem of his pants.

If not for your semi-breakdown only minutes ago, you would have been pinned to the bed and stripped bare by now. Leon was easy to rile up, easy to tease, but prone to snapping and taking what he wanted once he’d had enough. Even now, you could see the brewing hunger behind his eyes. Your heart surged with emotion at how hard he was fighting his very nature, just to give you what you needed.

Sitting up on your knees, you slipped off your shirt, exposing your bare breasts to open air. Leon immediately reached for them, but you tutted at him and backed up. “Don’t be impatient,” you said as you stepped off the bed to hook a finger into the waistband of your panties. Feeling bold, you decided to push your luck.

You could feel Leon’s eyes tracking your every move from the bed as you spun around. Bending slightly at the waist, you slid the soaked fabric of your underwear down your legs, then kicked them the rest of the way off.

“Holy shit,” Leon breathed from behind you.

You turned back to him, smiling mischievously as you clambered back on the bed. “You’ve seen me do that, like, thousands of times.” It was true. And every time, he acted as if it was both the first and last time he would ever see it.

His eyes were dark as you situated yourself over him again. “And it drives me crazy every fuckin’ time.” Greedy hands reached up to grope at your ass, pulling insistently. “C’mon,” he urged, tongue peeking out to swipe over his lips in excitement. “Come up here, lemme taste you.”

You could feel your cunt throb in response to his demand, and for a moment you considered it. He always knew just how to take you apart with his tongue, to leave you trembling and panting his name like a prayer. But as your eyes flitted down to the damp spot on his sweatpants, a combination of your arousal and his, you decided against it.

Knees dug into the bed to keep him from manhandling you, you shook your head. “Maybe later, if you’re good.” The irritation that flickered over his expression almost made you giggle. He opened his mouth to complain, but all that came out was a startled moan as you reached down to palm him through his pants.

“I’ve been good,” he mumbled weakly, hips pushing up into your hand. “At least let—shit, keep doin’ that—at least let me touch you. I wanna feel how wet you are for me.”

One hand still stroking firmly between his legs, you sat up a bit and slid the fingers of your free hand through your dripping folds. Leon watched, transfixed, nearly drooling in anticipation as you coated two fingers in slick, then offered them up to him. He lunged forward to close his mouth around the digits, moaning when his tongue slid across them. His cock throbbed under your palm as he sucked, hips angled up to earn as much friction as you allowed.

The hands that had been palming your ass traveled up and around your body to your breasts, and you arched into the contact. When he ran his thumb across a perked nipple, you breathed out an airy moan, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth.

Leon looked as ruined as you felt, bangs sticking to his forehead and chest heaving, lips swollen and shiny with spit. He whined and chased your fingers when you withdrew them, then fell back into the pillows with a frustrated sigh, only to nearly jump out of his skin when you slid your soaked fingers down the front of his pants. “Oh, god,” he groaned, throwing his head back at the wet glide. Your hand wrapped tightly around his straining cock, starting into a quick rhythm. “Don’t you fff—haah—fucking dare make me cum in my pants-“ he cut himself off with a strangled noise as you thumbed at the leaking tip.

“No boxers?” You asked teasingly, your voice surprisingly steady for how wired you felt. The slight power had gone straight to your head, and you suddenly understood why Leon fought so hard for control. It was dizzying to take someone apart like this, and he looked so pretty when he was desperate for your touch. Especially when those narrow hips flexed up, and those taut abs twitched as he tried to fight the rising tide of his climax.

“Easy access,” came his slurred reply. His hands slid down your stomach and over your thighs, then back up, as if he could distract himself from the slick friction your hand provided. “‘m serious, don’t, don’t—“ His breath caught as his muscles went tense, and you granted him a small mercy in the slowing of your hand.

You felt mean, teasing him like this. But it was exactly what you needed. Every gasp, every buck of his hips, every beat of his heart that you could feel in his fucking cock, reassured you that he was still here. He was in your bed, hot blooded and alive, and he was yours.

“Don’t what, don’t stop?” You asked innocently, grinning down at him as your hand continued its steady motion.

Leon growled, jaw clenched tight. His hand flew to your wrist and yanked your hand away from him, holding it suspended in the air as he squeezed his eyes shut. The bulge in his pants twitched, and he took a long, shuddering breath before his frame finally relaxed back into the bed. “Just fuck me already,” he panted.

It was jarring, the way a simple phrasing could send you reeling. He hadn’t asked to fuck you, he wanted you to fuck him. You couldn’t resist.

You tugged your wrist away from Leon’s grasp to slide his sweatpants down to his calves, freeing his cock. It shone wetly at the tip, a string of precum dripping down to spill onto his stomach. You positioned your shaking thighs on either side of his hips and reached behind yourself to guide him to your fluttering hole. His hands held you steady at the waist, fingers pressed into your skin. You moaned as the tip slid past your folds and into the tight channel of your cunt. With how wet you were, it was an easy fit, but you still paused before taking him any further.

“You’re mine,” you said through gritted teeth. A brief surge of embarrassment colored your cheeks as you realized how possessive you sounded. But it faded as quickly as it had come when Leon nodded his head frantically. His hips pushed up while his hands pressed down, desperate to bury himself inside of you. “No,” you snapped, moving up to prevent him from slipping deeper. “I want to hear you say it.”

Leon didn’t need much convincing. “I’m yours, baby,” he said. “All yours, just please, let me—“

Twin cries of pleasure filled the room as you sank down until your hips were flush with his. You whined at the dizzying pressure of him stretching you out, so deep you could feel him in your stomach. Panting wildly, you managed to say, “Good boy.”

Time stopped. Leon froze beneath you, shackling you in place with his stare. His pupils were blown, jaw tight, grip on your waist tight enough to bruise. When he finally spoke, it was steadily, slowly. “On a level of one to furious, how mad would you be if I fucked you into this mattress right now?”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Every part of him was tense with restraint, hands trembling in their iron hold on your waist. You eyed him hesitantly. “I don’t think that’s something I’d get mad at you f—“

The world spun as you were flipped roughly onto your back, Leon’s arms falling on either side of your head and caging you in. You had time to register the desperate kiss he pressed to your lips, and that was all before his hips were snapping into yours. A breathless cry tore from your throat at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. Every thrust forced out a whimper, and your hands flew to his back to claw marks into his skin.

“S-sorry, honey,” Leon managed to say, breath hot against your ear. “Mmmh, fuck. Couldn’t—couldn’t help m’self.”

Truth be told, it was impossible to mourn the loss of your control when he was so deep inside of you, fucking up against your sweet spot so accurately. It tore shameless noises from you, high moans of his name and pleas for more. “D-don’t stop,” you pleaded, turning your head to bury your face in his neck.

Praises and words of adoration fell from Leon’s lips, broken up by strangled curses and whiny moans. With how fast he was driving his cock into you, you were amazed that he still had enough breath to ramble on.

“So t-tight, fuck, you feel good.”

“Keep grabbing onto me like that, yeah, mmh, mark me up.”

“‘m yours, I love you so much. So ff-fucking pretty.”

It was too much. You were too worked up, had put off your own pleasure for too long. Your walls pulsed around his cock as the heat built in your stomach, and you nearly sobbed as you clutched onto him for dear life. “‘m gonna cum. L-Leon, please.”

His hips stuttered in their rhythm as he felt your cunt tighten, but he steeled himself, more worried about your pleasure than his own. With a cry of his name, your back arched and you tumbled headfirst over the edge. Your eyes snapped shut, legs trembling, body convulsing as pleasure flooded your system. Needing an anchor, your fingers slid up Leon’s back to tangle in his hair.

He whimpered desperately, shaking his head. “W-wait, I can’t—hah!”

Driven by pure instinct, you tugged hard at the strands of hair in your grasp. Leon choked out a frantic moan, pinning you to the mattress with his body weight and stopping his sharp thrusts to grind deep and desperate into you. Your cunt throbbed again, the aftershocks intensified by the sudden weight on top of you and the rough drag of his cock so far inside of you.

His body shook on top of yours, breaths choked. “So cl-close, gonna—oh, fuck, fuck, m’ gonna—“ With a shudder and a harsh shout of your name, Leon stilled, cock pulsing as it spilled rope after rope of cum into your pussy. His abs flexed and his hips twitched as he whined and gasped his way through his release.

Almost recovered from your own peak, you stroked a hand up and down his back as he shivered with the last few waves of pleasure. “Okay,” you wheezed as his breaths finally slowed into a somewhat normal rhythm. “Get up, you’re crushing me.”

With a soft laugh, Leon rolled to the side, giving you the chance to suck in a much needed breath. “You callin’ me heavy?” He asked, words slurred from post-orgasmic bliss.

“Yep.” You reached over to pat his head lovingly.

He pouted and shrunk away from your hand, shaking his head. “I’m gonna ban you from touching my hair,” he grumbled. “I wasn’t planning on finishing that soon. Wanted to make you cum again first.”

A sadistic thrill shot through you at his admission. It hadn’t been your intention, but you were beyond pleased to hear that you could unravel him with something as simple as that.

You sighed happily as you sank into the soft pillows, snuggling into Leon’s warmth. All traces of your nightmare had been flushed from your head, all your fear burned away by his touch. “Thank you,” you murmured, running your fingers down his arm.

Leon shot you a look, then rolled back onto you and slid down your body until his chin was resting on your stomach. “You know I won’t let anything happen to me, right? I have a pretty girl to take care of.”

Bright blue eyes gazed earnestly up at you, reaching into the deepest parts of your heart and cradling it, keeping it safe. “I know,” you murmured, unable to help yourself from reaching down to stroke his hair again.

He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow at you, but said nothing about the gentle touch. Even so, something playful glinted in his eyes, and he grinned sharply. “Now, I remember you saying something about me getting to taste you. Y’know, if I was good.” He pressed an open mouth kiss to your lower stomach, and his gaze was dark when he looked back up. “I think I’ve been a pretty good boy, don’t you?”

#leon s kennedy x reader #smut #resident evil #my writing #leon x reader

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redhairedwolfwitch · 11 months

Text

the story of us - Aitana Bonmatí x Reader - part 4

a/n: got stuck on this part for a while because i was not sure about the ballon d'or at all... but i figured it out and thus you get part 4...

///

“How heavy do you think the trophy is?” Jill laughed, but you were quick to open Whatsapp, asking Alexia how heavy the trophy was. Your former captain had won the award twice, so she would know if you would drop it.

“What if we drop it?”

“Do not drop it.” Poppi warned you, but she had a smile after that still left you nervous, so you began to rationalise.

“Not going to drop it, because I’m not going to win, thus everything is fine.”

“You keep flip-flopping between thinking you’re going to win and thinking you’re going to lose.” Jill deadpanned, but you let out a sigh.

“I’m being rational and analysing all outcomes, plus it means I’m either right, or pleasantly surprised and panicking because I have to go up there and make a speech in front of a lot of people, including my ex. I’m surprised she’s even attending, she didn’t go last year when she was nominated the first time.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the plastic table in front of you, your eyes drawn to the way the rain was pelting down the bus windows.

“Because it was obvious who would win last year?”

“How did we get nominated?” You began to spiral again, but you were cut off with a certain reminder.

“You won the world cup!”

“It was a team effort!” You retorted, flinching as the rain got heavier, “are you sure we’re going to be able to fly?”

“Stop trying to get out of going to Paris, you picked out an amazing outfit and everything.” Jill replied, but you had stopped talking, your fingers tapping in more rapid succession than before.

“Everything is fine. Aitana will win, I just have to avoid her for the entire night then hope Wolfsburg never play Barcelona ever again.” You murmured, your fingers still tapping until Ewa reached over to stop you.

“Or anyone here could, y’know, you were the golden boot winner of the UWCL-”

“You won the World Cup and the golden boot at the World Cup.” Ewa pointed out, but you still slid down in your seat, “and the UWCL with Barcelona…” you flinched at that memory, how Barcelona was two goals down by half time, Patri and Rolfö eventually turning the tides to swipe the victory from the German team. The team you went to after you could no longer take being haunted in Barcelona for another moment.

You had texts from Jana and Alexia, but you couldn’t read them. Not when the bus finally reached the airport, or in the airport, or on the delayed plane due to the weather, or when you all finally landed in Paris.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Your voice was quiet, staring at the outfit you were wearing for the event in the mirror.

“That colour suits you.”

“Thank you.” Meeting Jill’s eyes in the mirror for a moment, you hid your shaking hands by folding your arms, trying not to crease your outfit but the nerves were getting to you.

“You came this far, you won nearly everything last season. Don’t let your fear of her ruin your big moment.”

“When did you become so wise? You get a PR crash course after that drama before the final?” You wished you had bitten your tongue instead of saying that as Jill flinched, but she knew what you were talking about, and what she had said back then had upset a lot of people.

“I know you just wanted to be with Jana.” As close to an apology as she would get, Jana was your best friend at Barcelona, so you knew the Dutchie well enough now too.

“We should meet up with the others. You know Jana misses you?” The Dutchie diverted the conversation.

“I miss her everyday. But I don’t miss Aitana.”

///

The red carpet was almost too much, the bright lights, the clicking of cameras. Your hands shook as you clenched them momentarily, you had no one to hold your hand, but you didn’t need anyone. You’d convinced yourself of that, you would never open your heart again after Aitana ripped it out of your chest and crushed it in her palm.

You avoided as many rumours as possible, but the possible head to head in points between you and Aitana made your stomach churn. You’d already gotten one glance of her, sticking close to your Wolfsburg teammates instead.

The seating for the actual award ceremony was what scared you the most, in case they had you and Aitana nearby each other. Your fingers tapped rhythmically on the arms of the chair you were guided to sit in. Right at the front, in view of the cameras. You moved your arms down to your sides, almost sitting on your hands to hide the nervousness.

The entire ceremony sounded like white noise to you, your heartbeat in your chest running at a rate that would be alarming for any medical staff monitoring it. Taking a deep breath, you went over the mantra that kept you going after that dreaded day. You deserved better, something that hurt to recognise on any day, but Valentine’s day was a stab to your already breaking heart.

“The winner of the 2023 Women’s Ballon d’Or is…”

Hearing them say your name, the world around you came into focus, standing up to accept the award, you already knew what you wanted to say.

“I never thought that I would get this far, to be standing here surrounded by such amazing players, nominated for such a prestigious award. I would like to thank each and every person who believed that I could do this, who believed that I could achieve new heights in my career through the Champions League and the World Cup, and hopefully further now with Wolfsburg. But I also want to thank the people who didn’t think I could get this far, for providing me with the motivation to prove you wrong.”

///

Luckily you didn’t need to pretend you were busy after the ceremony, everyone wanted your attention as you stuck close to your Wolfsburg teammates, keeping an eye out for a certain person you had made a dig at during your speech. Standing alone in the crowded room, you focussed on not tripping over your feet and/or dropping the heavy trophy you had somehow won.

It had been close between you and Aitana, but she was doing her best to avoid you, holding her pride like she had held you once. Maybe one day when recounting the story, you’d explain how you were losing your mind from the moment the nominations were published. Your heart still pounded in your chest, especially when you spotted your former teammates at Barcelona who had been nominated wanting to approach you.

But the congratulations never happened, as you were ushered away by Wolfsburg staff to head back, worried about delays due to the storm.

Her face was blank as she watched your retreating figure, how you were holding the award close to you and trying to not look down at your feet, as you disappeared out of Aitana’s sight.

Barcelona had never heard a silence so loud as you walked away, but even though Barcelona had won nearly everything last season, the story of you and Barcelona still had a tragic ending, because Barcelona had lost you.

#aitana bonmati x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #aitana bonmati imagine #barcelona femeni imagine #vfl wolfsburg frauen x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagines #woso imagines #vfl wolfsburg frauen imagine #vfl wolfsburg frauen imagines #aitana bonmati imagines

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gumnut-logic · 5 months

Text

Incidental

Sparked by this prompt, this is for all the Scotty whump fans. A random ficlet giving our eldest boi a hard time...but then John spoke up. Johnny has a lot to say today :D

Many thanks to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for reading through and discussing this insanity.

I hope it makes sense. I may have hit him on the head one too many times. Also language warning, Johnny gets potty mouth. His brothers really are going to be his downfall.

-o-o-o-

There was smoke.

It was everywhere.

But other than that, there was silence.

No, not silence. Someone was talking.

In his ear.

Calling a name.

His name?

“Scott! Virgil is on his way. Sit down and stop moving!”

What?

He turned slowly and the world turned with him. Somewhere in his midriff, something complained and he clutched his hand to his belly as if to hold it in.

But he didn’t stop turning.

Or did he? The world certainly didn’t, parading smoke blasted landscape around and around him.

“Scott please!”

John.

The voice was John. A beloved space brother ever watching over them, keeping them safe. “I love you, Johnny.” His voice was little more than a rasp.

“Scott.” His brother’s voice was ever so soft, caring and strong. “Please sit down. Virgil is coming as fast as he can.”

Virgil? Fast? Scott snickered and that something in his middle complained again.

He groaned.

But he clung to the amusing thought of his biggest little brother doing anything fast. Virgil never did anything without thought and planning. That was his job. That was him. Reliable, strong, and always there.

But not now.

Scott tried to turn but his head decided to join his belly in complaining.

Where the hell was he?

Smoke drifted past in grey shadows. It obscured the sun.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, his military training kicked in. It was like a switch being flicked, changing the world around him.

Smoke meant fire.

Or detonation.

Or collision.

He took a few steps forward, one hand swiping at the tendrils of smoke floating past, trying to swipe them away.

They danced more, but mostly ignored him.

So he had to walk further.

“Scott, please.” There was a pleading emotion in his brother’s voice, a desperation.

“I’m okay, John. Don’t worry.” It was automatic.

There was a curse in a language Scott had no hope of recognising. But he didn’t have any time to consider it as the words that followed were clearly in English.

“Fuck! He’s still alive. Scott, move!”

Scott blinked, confused. “John?”

“Threat at two o’clock, Commander. Move!”

No thought, just response. Scott threw himself to his left and rolled across the dirt to end up in some dry grass he hadn’t seen.

“Tracy! I know you’re here! I don’t die that easy. You’ve gone soft.”

That voice.

Cold seeped into his veins.

That voice.

“Come on, Tracy, you have to have more than that. You have all that tech and that’s all you can do?”

Do? What had he done?

He fought his foggy head. There had been a callout. Virgil had been painting something.

Something.

Something for Grandma.

So Scott had taken the call.

To his left an engine engaged and something moved in the smoke.

That voice yelled, panicked even.

And was suddenly cut off.

There was a hiss in his ear.

“John?”

“It’s okay, Scott. Threat neutralised.” An indrawn breath. “Virgil is on approach. Stay where you are.”

And he could suddenly hear his brother’s ‘bird. The smoke parted, the fire of VTOL and green cahelium took over from the grey. Reassurance welled inside.

Scott pushed himself to his feet as he stared up at Thunderbird Two, dropping to a smooth landing not far off.

John cursed in his ear. “For the love of-“

Scott ignored him.

Because the smoke had cleared to reveal…

A man lay limp in the grip of a pod, one of its big grippers, used for moving heavy objects. A gun lay discarded on the ground. The remains of a building, the obvious source of the smoke, lay beyond.

But the man…

“Scott!” This time it was Virgil’s deep voice in his ear. “For the love of god, sit down!” Out of the corner of his eye he could see his uniformed brother running towards him across the scarred landscape.

But the man…

Bereznik. The bastard had lured him here. He stared at the scarred face. Lured him. Or his brothers. It could have been Virgil answering the call.

It usually would have been.

But Scott took it instead.

The chances?

Fired burned in his belly, an anger, a hate. This man haunted his dreams, tortured him in his sleep.

Now here was here.

A hand landed on Scott’s arm.

No!

He struck out, pushing the hand away, stepping back from the face, the scar that…

“Scott!” Another face suddenly blocked out everything. Virgil, his hair askew, his eyes desperate brown, his heavy lifting hands gripping Scott’s shoulders and moving him gently. “Sit down. You are injured.”

Those eyes fixated on his. They wouldn’t let him look away.

“Virgil?”

“I’m here. You’re safe.”

Familiar words. Words that often followed his nightmares.

“Virgil-“ But his head was caught between dream and reality, protect and defend. “He can’t have you.” He struggled in a breath. “He can’t.”

The hands on his shoulders gently squeezed. “He won’t. I promise.”

Brown eyes, ever so faithful.

“Virg-…I…” Words were too hard.

Strong arms were suddenly holding him and gently lowering him to the ground. “I’ve got you, big brother.” A breath in his ear. “I’ve got you.”

The ground was softer than he remembered. Virgil immediately started muttering medical words to their brother in the sky. The medic poked and prodded Scott’s belly, lighting fires that took away thought.

A sting in his thigh and he was floating away.

He was consumed by the roar of his brother’s ‘bird.

-o-o-o-

He was woken by soft snoring.

A blink or two and he discovered white sheets and a mop of dark hair.

Virgil.

His brother’s name sparked a sudden fear, a need to protect. He-

A strong but gentle hand held his shoulder down on the bed and Scott turned his head to find John sitting on his other side. “Keep quiet. He’s been up at least thirty-six hours. He’s as stubborn as you.”

“Wha-?” Scott swallowed. “Situation report.”

Did John roll his eyes?

“You are in hospital. They had to remove a bullet out of your intestines.”

Scott blinked.

“Virgil?”

“Virgil is as much an idiot as you.” John relaxed back a moment letting out a breath. “He’s fine. Evacuated you, been fretting ever since.”

Scott looked over at the mop of dark hair. Virgil was still in his uniform, though his baldric and harness were draped over a chair on the other side of the room. A breath. “Situation report.”

Another sigh. “The GDF have secured the site. Lady Penelope is negotiating the retrieval of our pod. Thunderbird One is back in her hangar, safe and sound.”

Scott blinked again. His ‘bird? An image of smoke clearing and her silver hull gleaming in the dull light. Something settled inside of him. She was safe.

His family was safe.

But…

“What about-“

“Colonel De Falco is dead.”

The name etched itself into his chest. “John-“

John’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” His brother reached out and rested a hand quietly on Scott’s shoulder.

“How?” He fought his foggy memory. An explosion. The realisation. The anger.

The fear.

But Scott was a different man now. De Falco didn’t know who he was up against.

They had fought. There had been a gun, but Scott had subdued him.

Subdued him.

The pain in his belly.

The threat.

“It was you.”

Aquamarine blinked at him, calm and controlled. “He wanted you. I couldn’t let him.”

“You killed him.” His throat hurt.

John shrugged. “Incidental. There was no choice.” His brother held his gaze, unrepentant.

Scott swallowed. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, big brother.” John’s expression softened a moment, looking away, before frowning just a little and turning back to him. “Just…” Those eyes flickered to Virgil and back. “Just rest, okay?”

Scott stared at him. “Okay.”

His space brother wilted a little, tense muscles relaxing where he sat.

“Thank you.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #nuttyfic #one day I'll start writing proper fic again #this is just random

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welcometomyoasis · 6 months

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I'm already home with you | wen junhui

🪧 100 event: "are you serious?" + junhui | @addicsvt Synopsis: a story where you run away from your parent's house to where your home really is, with junhui. Junhui x gn! reader | non idol au, angst, fluff | approx. 500 words | warnings: toxic family, mentions of abuse (no explicit descriptions), reader runs away from home A/n: Ari! Thank you for the request! and when you said i could choose to make it angst, i did kind of 😂. i hope you enjoy it!

"Junhui? Are you serious?"

"Of course. It doesn't matter what time of day or what I'm doing. Whenever you are ready to run, I'll be there."

Today was supposed to be the day you ran away, away from the judgment, scrutiny, and abuse that your parents had inflicted onto you. But somehow they found out, and were intent on trying to keep you bound to the shackles of their control.

Narrowly avoiding your mother’s hands that were trying to grab you, you hurriedly ran into your room. You slammed the door, locking it and holding onto the handle tightly as you felt someone on the other side try to force their way in. Frantically throwing your window open, you hesitated a little when you saw the height that you would have to jump from, but when you heard your door being busted open, you hardened your resolve and jumped.

Landing on the grass with a loud thud, you ran towards the side street where your boyfriend, Junhui, was waiting on his motorcycle. Upon seeing your panicked form approaching with two figures emerging from your house behind you, he revved the engine in preparation to allow you both a swift escape. Once you swung your legs over the backseat and clung onto his waist tightly, you were off.

For a while, you both rode in silence. Then, the adrenaline, your inner conflict about whether or not you should have left, the built up emotions of fear, pain, and most of all, relief that you were finally free bubbled over. Unable to keep your tears from streaming down any longer, you buried your face in Junhui’s back and sobbed. Feeling the wet tears on his back, he pulled over to the side of the road. He twisted himself so he was facing you and pulled you into a tight hug.

When your tears finally subsided, you muttered a soft, “thank you Junhui, for really being here, for helping me to run away. I know you were busy and I was asking for a lot.”

Humming, Junhui cupped your face and used his thumbs to swipe away the last of your tear drops. As gently as possible, he replied, “hey, I was serious when I said I would be here regardless of what I was doing.”

Giving your forehead a quick kiss, Junhui continued, “So, now that you are free, where would you like to go? We could go anywhere. We can go for a drive, grab a bite, or if you prefer, we could go home?”

Home. You haven’t had the feeling of being at home in a long time. Home is a place you feel safe, loved, protected. You always wondered where home was. But now, being with Junhui, the one who had helped to swoop you away, the one who was looking at you with tender eyes, you just knew.

Leaning into Junhui’s chest, you said, “It doesn’t matter where we go. I’m already home with you.”

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff

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vermillionsappho · 7 months

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MISS AMERICANA | ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

MISS AMERICANA | CHAPTER THREE

"Leave with my head hung, you are the only one Who seems to care"

-Still reeling from meeting Ellie at the party, and seeing her again, Y/n now is dealing with complicated feelings and thoughts of Ellie, all while getting closer and forging a friendship with her.

2.0k Words | sfw

Content Warning: Cursing, drug use, anxiety, slight homophobia, lmk if I left anything out!

Tags: @pillowprincessleia @milahnoz (reply to post to be added <3)

Semi-proofread

“You want me to stay with you, hon? I can stay for like an hour or two.” Oliva offers with a small smile, and you shake your head before smiling wryly.

“It’s okay, Liv, I’m okay. I’ll see you around.” You say softly, turning around to walk up the steps of your house. Olivia watches you go up steps, your feet heavy and your head hung and she frowns, but still begins to reverse out of your driveway, waiting for you to get inside before pulling off.

The house is dark when you get inside, and the air is still, which is expected; but it always throws you off anyways no matter how used to it you are.

You lie out on the couch, thoughts racing.

Is Ellie a lesbian?

Is Ellie a lesbian that’s interested in me?

Does Ellie want to have sex with me?

You’ve heard things about Ellie before, but they’ve never stuck in your head, and you never been one to truly engage in gossip and drama; not to mention you had your own shit going on.

You heard your friends whisper about her, you heard neighbors and parents talk about her and condemn her.

The things they say about her are awful; and it’s all because she’s a lesbian.

And now she’s a lesbian that’s possibly interested in you, which could make sense actually. No one’s done anything nice for you out of the goodness of their heart since freshman year. Everyone’s always trying to work an angle with you, play the long game, figure you out and use you. It would make a lot of sense if Ellie defended you, and was so nice to you to get into your pants.

But you’re not a lesbian, though.

You’ve been dating Grayson since you were both thirteen (courtesy of your mom and his); but even then, you’ve never even thought about another girl in a romantic way. You know who you are- and some random girl you just met can’t uproot that and “turn you out”.

But still, you can’t stop thinking about it, or her in particular. Ellie is pretty, to say the least. Truth is, she’s gorgeous, even with the mullet; and the tattoos, scarred pink lips and slit brows only add to her charm. Ellie’s not like any girl you’ve ever met…she’s not like any person you've ever met either. If there’s a slither of a possibility that Ellie defended you because she’s a good person and is being friendly to you because she wants to be your friend, a part of you wants to believe that.

For another hour, you drive yourself insane thinking of Ellie before you turn the tv on to drown out your thoughts of her.

Until you flick the tv onto another channel, and your once favorite show is on.

And you start to think of her, your mother.

All of sudden, the television isn’t interesting anymore, and you quickly turn the tv off, before stalking off to your room; burrowing in your bed and forcing the heavy duvet over your head as you will yourself to take a nap.

You dream of Ellie while you sleep.

You dream of her freckles, the dots on her creamy skin, and her skin against yours. Her scarred lips on your lips, and her tattooed arms and hands, holding yours. Ellie laughs in your dream, a soft laugh, and it brings a smile to your face.

But somehow, it sends a chill down your spine, and you’re shooting up from the bed like it’s on fire, covers splayed across the floor and a sheen of sweat on your forehead and chest.

You’re panting, and panicking, sitting down on the floor as you swipe your hand through your messy hair, gripping at the strands as you try to think clearly but to no avail.

You dreamt of her.

You dreamt of her kissing you, holding you, smiling at you and it sent the butterflies in your stomach in a tizzy.

“Fuck no, fuck no. That was a nightmare, right?” You whisper to no one, trying to gather yourself, but the panic isn’t subsiding. You sit up on your knees, trying to lean and reach your phone, feeling for it and pulling it off the cord when it’s finally in your hand.

You unlock your phone with shaky hands, and you’re incessantly tapping on contacts as you search for Ellie’s.

You call her, without any hesitation, and when she picks up, you switch to speakerphone, your breathing heavy and audible.

You think of what to say for a moment, but it doesn’t matter, because nothing can stop the words from flying out of your mouth when you finally speak.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You ask heavily, the words said quickly and the moving on the other side of the phone pauses.

“Pretty girl? What the hell are you talking about?” Her raspy voice finally fills the space in your room, and you can’t ignore the flash of weirdness you feel at the sound of her voice.

“Why do you call me that, Ellie?” You ask, exasperated and she chuckles.

“I don’t know, ‘cause you’re a pretty girl. You don’t like it?” She asks and you close your eyes for a second before sighing.

“No, I- I didn’t say that.” You say softly and you can hear slight crackles from her end of the phone before her voice becomes clearer.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Ellie asks, her voice softer now, a tint of concern in it and you lean your head against the wall.

“I don’t know, really. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t have called, I’m sorry, I’ll go now.” You say, about to hang up the phone but she interrupts you.

“No, stop. Don’t do that, I told you to call. I’ve got a joint, I can come over and we can smoke if you’re comfortable with that?” She suggests and you smile a little, taking a deep breath before responding.

“I thought you told Grayson you don’t let just anybody smoke your stuff?” You ask and she chuckles.

“You’re not just anybody, Y/n.”

You open the door for Ellie, and she steps in smoothly. She’s wearing a wife beater, and a pair of shorts, her muscles on display, and you get that feeling in your chest that you had the first time you saw her, all over again.

“Make yourself at home.” You say quietly and she nods and sits down on the couch, before reclining, propping her feet up.

You hover, not really sure what to do or how to move, your body rigid and she looks at you and laughs, before patting the empty space next to her.

“I’m not gonna bite you, I promise.” She says with a grin and you nod before plopping down next to her, glancing at her for a quick second before averting your eyes to a random wood spot on the coffee table.

“So, what was all of that about on the phone? Are you okay?” She asks and you groan, moving your hands over your face.

“That was so stupid, I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I called, but I definitely don’t know why I asked you that. I let my friends and Grayson get in my head, or whatever.” You say, panicked, and she leans forward before turning to face you.

“What did your friends and Grayson say?” She inquires and you finally meet her eyes.

“Grayson said that I shouldn’t hang around you…I guess because you’re a lesbian or whatever; and my friend said that you probably want to have sex with me or something, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You say quickly, shaking your head and Ellie laughs before scoffing.

“Y/n, I’m not blind, you’re a pretty girl, why do you think I call you that? But I’m not some creep trying to get into your pants. I want to be your friend, if I wanted to fuck you, I’d literally just ask if you wanted to fuck.” She says, shrugging and you nod slowly, her words seeping into your brain.

“I swear, people in this town are so bored. Still talking about me being a lesbian like it hasn't been years since I came out.” She says and you put a hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t care…if you like girls or anything. You’re a nice girl, Ellie, what you like doesn’t change anything for me.” You say softly, and a blush blooms beneath her freckles and you smile at the sight.

“I appreciate that, pretty girl. Now, ready for this?” She asks, pulling a baggie out of her pocket and a lighter.

Ellie helps you like she did the first time, placing the joint between your lips and lighting it for you, while she coaches you through the process so you don’t hurt yourself. When you finally get the hang of it, she takes it back to take a hit herself, and you finally get comfortable on the couch, spreading out.

“How’d you get this scar?” You ask, lazily moving your hand up to touch at the scar, hands moving on the soft skin of her lips, sending shivers down Ellie’s spine.

“I-I got into a fight. He got me good, but I kicked his ass.” She says softly and you hum at her response.

“Are you always fighting people?” You ask, scanning her face with lidded eyes and she gazes at you before blinking.

“Only people who deserve it.” She says, taking another hit of the joint before giggling absentmindedly.

“Why are you so nosy?” She teases and you giggle yourself before cocking your head to the side.

“Just curious about you, that’s all.” You say softly and she nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed like she’s deep in thought.

“Everyone already seems to know everything about me.” She says quietly, and you shake your head before moving closer to her, closing the space on the couch.

“Fuck everyone, Ellie. Everyone’s full of shit, they don’t even try to get to know you.” You say wholeheartedly and she leans her head back against the cushion of the couch, her eyes closed.

“You’re my friend now, Ellie. You were the first person I called, and I know I called for a stupid reason, but it means something to me.” You say softly and she opens her eyes again, turning her head towards you.

“That means you have to beat people up for me, now. Like I was going to do for you at the party.” She jokes, a small smile on her face, and you nod your head profusely.

“I am so ready; I will beat everyone up for you if I have to!” You say, giggling and she passes the joint back to you, to which you accept, taking a hit.

“Nah, but I’m just joking. I don’t want you getting in trouble and shit for me; only one of us can be a fuck up.” She says, smiling softly and you blow the smoke out.

“You’re not a fuck up. Ellie, trust me when I say this, you can go and leave all of this shit behind. It’s never too late.” You say earnestly, before passing the now short joint back to her. Ellie doesn’t respond, only getting up to dispose of the joint, and you sigh.

“This was fun, but I should head home; but I really did have fun, seriously.” She says, hovering by the door and you smile, biting your lip softly as a swell of affection grows in you.

“I’m glad you had fun, but should you be driving right now? Aren’t you high?” You ask, concerned and she shakes her head.

“No, my tolerance is pretty high, and you’re not a smoker so I didn’t bring anything strong. I’m fine, I promise.” She says and you lean over the couch, putting your hand out.

“Pinkie promise? Don’t make me worry about you, Ellie.” You say, sticking your pinky out and she chuckles, smiling warmly as she approaches you.

“Pinkie promise. I’ll text you when I’m home, okay pretty girl?” She says, locking your pinkie with her and you nod. She grins at you, waves, and walks out the door, leaving you more confused than ever.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

WHOOO CHAPTER THREE YAYY! I'm actually excited because things are finally picking up and going in a good direction. I'm so excited to expand more on Y/n and Ellie's personal lives and add more to their friendship!

lmk if you enjoyed this chapter, and like always, like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this chapter <3

#Ellie Williams x reader##Ellie Williams smut#lesbian#the last of us fanfiction#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie x reader#ellie x you#ellie williams #wlw fiction#ellie x fem!reader #bisexual #vermillionsappho #vermillionsapphoworks

#vermillionsappho #vermillionsapphoworks #lesbian #abigail anderson #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #the last of us fanfiction #wlw fiction

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grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks · 1 month

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One More First Kiss - Chapter 3

There were a lot of instances, really, that could be considered their "first kiss."

Continuing on with my fic for @jonmartinweek! Chapter 3 features post-kidnapping hurt/comfort, and another potential first kiss. Check it out on AO3, or read below:

It was daytime when Jon stepped through Helen’s door and into the living room of Georgie’s apartment. It had probably been daytime when he’d stepped through the door in the House of Wax, but he couldn’t be sure. There were no windows where he was kept, and his own internal clock had gotten quite badly out of whack.

When he turned around, the living room wall was blank and bare again. There had never been a door there.

He supposed that was only to be expected. It wasn’t as though he’d been planning to invite Helen in for a cup of tea. But it was unnerving, being alone so suddenly after so long spent in that place, surrounded at all times by a hundred waxwork figures – most of them inanimate, some of them not. Judging by the angle of sunlight coming in through the window, it seemed to be about midday, so Georgie was almost certainly at work. Jon was alone.

He went to the kitchen and found Georgie’s charger plugged into the outlet as always. He plugged in his phone. It had been maddening, feeling the weight of it in his pocket the whole long month, feeling it buzz and buzz until its battery gave out, knowing that the means to call for help were so very, very close, if only he could get his hands free.

When his screen blinked to life, he was almost instantly bombarded with notifications – work emails, and facebook friend requests from people he hadn’t spoken to since uni, a chipper notification telling him his screen time was down from his average this week, for some strange reason. And several missed calls from Martin.

His thumb moved without any real input from his brain, swiping left to return the call. He raised the phone to his ear numbly and listened to it ring.

“Jon?” Martin asked as soon as he picked up. “Thank God, I was getting worried – Where have you been?”

“I–” Jon’s voice came out choked and hoarse. He sounded panicked. Was he panicked? He couldn’t tell quite what he was feeling, just then. “I was kidnapped.”

“Again?” Before Jon could respond, Martin quickly corrected, “Sorry, I didn’t mean– Look, where are you? Are you safe?”

“Georgie’s flat. And– A-And I’m not sure.” He’d been here – just a few feet away from this spot, in fact – when Nikola had threatened him. If she wanted him back, he doubted there was much he could do to stop her.

“Who’s Georgie?”

“An old friend. I’ve been staying with her since– since Leitner…”

“Text me the address, I’ll be right there.”

“It’s a workday,” Jon muttered helplessly. If he was more in his right mind, he wouldn’t have argued – he wanted to see Martin, desperately, needed to have him near – but his trauma-muddled mind fixated on the detail. It was the middle of the workday, Martin couldn’t just leave.

“Sod work, Jon, you’ve been kidnapped!” he sputtered. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait, don’t hang up!” Jon said. “I-I’ll text you the address, just– could you just stay on the phone with me? I don’t want to be alone, right now.”

Martin sighed into the microphone, sending a pleasant murmur of static over the line. “Sure,” he said, sounding marginally less frantic. “I can do that.”

Jon put his phone on speaker while he sent the text. It took a few tries to type it out correctly – his hands were shaking quite badly – but he managed. Martin monologued to him while he did. He seemed to catch on quickly that Jon wasn’t up for saying much, just listening, and he shouldered the burden of keeping the conversation alive with admirable smoothness. He filled Jon in on his day, what he’d missed at work, what had happened in Martin's life in the month he’d been gone.

“Mrs. Mei, my neighbor across the hall, just moved into a care home last week,” he said. “I can’t believe it – she’d been living here since the 70s, I think, I can’t even imagine this place without her…”

Eventually, the call cut out when Martin lost reception on the underground, but before it did, he assured Jon he’d be there soon.

“Google says 15 minutes,” he said. “Just hang on.”

It stretched on for an eternity. Jon’s skin was still slick with moisturizer, and crawling with the memory of being touched by cold, plastic hands.

He took out his phone again. Georgie always kept her phone off at work – she couldn’t risk it ruining the audio – but it wouldn’t hurt to leave a voicemail.

“Hello, Georgie, it’s Jon. I’m alive. I’m at the apartment right now, and if all goes well and I’m not kidnapped again, I will be when you get home. Call me back when you get a chance.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the knock on the door. (That would be easier now, he suspected – his skin felt like it had been loosened over the past month.) His instincts screamed at him to throw open the door immediately and let Martin in, but he fought them long enough to check the peephole. Now was not the time to throw caution to the wind.

Martin stood on the doorstep, anxious and alive.

Jon wrenched the door open.

“Martin!”

“Jon!” Martin’s hands were on him in an instant, roving over his shoulders, his chest, his sides – checking for injuries, or perhaps just assuring himself that Jon was real. “God, I’ve been sick with– I knew something was wrong, I should have looked for you, I should have–”

“It’s alright, Martin,” Jon said, though he was shaking.

Martin stepped inside and shut the door, then resumed his frantic once-over. “Did they hurt you?”

Jon shook his head. “No,” he whispered, and he was almost being honest.

“What happened?”

Jon explained, as best he could. He was calm enough at the start, or at least he thought he was – he felt oddly disconnected from himself, like his emotions were somewhere to the left of him. At the very least, his voice was level and his hands were only trembling the slightest bit. The more he spoke, though, the more real it became – that he had nearly died, and that he was alive – that he was safe now, and that he hadn’t been safe in a long, long time – and he couldn’t finish for a wave of wracking, choking sobs.

Martin pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him as though he could ward off all the dangers of the world.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered nonsensically, because he’d always hated making a scene. Martin just shushed him and squeezed him tighter.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” he murmured softly. “You’re safe.”

He pressed his lips to Jon’s temple, right at his hairline, and Jon shivered at the contact.

They stayed like that for a very long time, Jon crying into Martin’s shirt while Martin all but held him upright and whispered reassurances into his ear, until Jon finally calmed. His breathing steadied and his heart rate slowed and he found himself possessed of the strange, unsteady calm of someone who had just had a long-needed breakdown.

He didn’t bring up the kiss. He didn’t ask why Martin had kissed his forehead; he didn’t even ask him to do it again. He just straightened up, and slipped out of Martin’s arms, and whispered a hoarse, “Thank you.”

He didn’t know what else to say.

#tma fanfic #tma fic #jonmartin fic #jmart fic #jonmartin fanfic #do not archive #jonmartinweek 2024 #jonmartin week 2024

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dingbatnix · 6 months

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Deity (part 1)

So I got to thinking one day, about how everything would have effected Goggs, Sapnap, Karl and Dream after the events of Deity. I mostly wanted to focus on George, cause honestly? He's more fun to write when he's freaking out, and I wanted to mess with the dynamic that is 'Dream is XD,' i.e., Dream is a god and doesn't know how humans work, but he's trying.

Also, I might have gone too heavily into the, 'George is freaking out o gosh,' but idk. The fic grew its own legs.

It's not g/t or anything btw.

Anyway, I think that's enough rambling. Onto the fic!

Word Count: 5,513

Warnings: Fear, Flashbacks, Panick Attacks, I think low-level PTSD/trauma, descriptions of gore, injuries, ectcetera ectcetera.

There had to be at least twelve zombies stumbling after him. Now, normally, they wouldn’t have been a problem for George to handle, (he was an excellent swordsman, and an even better bowman) but as of right now, he was running on about three and a half hours of sleep. The last time he’d rested in any sort of meaningful manner was well over a week ago, and that was only because he had knocked back a weakness potion strong enough to lay a ravager out flat.

Sure, his friends were worried about the possibility of him overdosing on potions (he’d be fine, he only ever drank them on the really bad nights!) And sure, maybe it was an unhealthy way for him to combat the near-constant night terrors, but what else was he going to do!? Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Sapnap’s fear-stricken face disappearing behind a jagged black maw, all he could hear were his own screams of terror mixing with his friend’s, all he could feel was the slick, oily flesh closing around him as he plummeted down, down, down to where he could hear Sapnap’s shuddering cries of despair far below him. It had been months, and he still couldn’t get away from the vivid, mind-crushing images of his death. Not-death. Whatever.

George ducked beneath the rotting hand of a zombie as it swung clumsily at his shoulder, stumbling over his own feet and barely managing to dodge the swipe of another undead hand. He raised his sword and brought the blade down through a pair of brittle knees, sending one of the zombies crashing to the ground.

While he still felt sluggish, he hadn't lost too much of his motor control, and he was still able to defend himself. Unfortunately, he was quickly losing steam in this seemingly endless fight.

George had been exploring the land around the edges of his, Sapnap’s, and their other friend Bad’s house in a desperate attempt to evade the cold, grasping claws of sleep when he had been ambushed by an enormous congregation of mobs. He had some armor on, thank the Go…thankfully, an iron chestplate and a helmet that he had snatched up out of a random chest before he left the house, but it wasn’t enough to really defend against the amount of gnashing jaws and greedy fingers chasing after his flesh.

He had taken out a lot of them, but their numbers would have overwhelmed even Dr—Sapnap, and while George was normally up to par with his arsonistic friend, the sleep deprivation was getting to him, grasping at his limbs with clinging, sticky tendrils and tripping up his every step.

A sudden, heavy snap jarred his entire left arm and shoulder, and he stared in dismay at the jagged, broken line splitting his sword in half clear down to the crossguard. He continued to wield it anyway, unwilling to drop his only weapon, and it lasted through several heavy hits until the bisected blade shattered in a spray of shrapnel. George dodged the shower of sharp metal with a fervent cry, scrunching his eyes shut and scrambling backwards.

In the back of his mind, he heard a horribly familiar, horribly fond voice telling him that it was terribly dangerous to go exploring at night without backup, and that George should let him know if he ever planned to do so. George shivered, pushing the overbearing, seemingly sticky presence away from his mind and tried to focus on the fight.

Rotting fingers snagged on the rim of his chestplate, and he felt more than heard the snap of leather as one of the straps keeping the iron together broke under the sudden pressure of the zombie pulling at it.

Above him, he heard the shriek of a phantom, and then, horribly, the answering call of another. George blinked back the exhaustion stinging at his eyes and shoved at the rotted bodies crowding in and snatching at his limbs. Putrid flesh split under his fingers as he stumbled away, leaving a gross, oily residue on his hands that didn’t quite come off when he swiped his hands against his trousers.

Greedy claws scratched at the back of his neck as he scrambled to run, and he felt his helmet being ripped off by what could only be one of the phantoms following after him from above.

George found himself driven to the top of a cliff. It was relatively small, maybe only about thirty feet high, but there were many, many trees scattered at the base. Some of the branches reached up near to the cliff’s edge, and George warily considered jumping as an escape option. He’d probably break a couple of bones, and at the very worst, be impaled by a stray tree branch, but it'd at least get him away from the slow, shambling force of zombies dogging after him.

His gaze flashed back to the monsters trundling steadfastly behind him, a small line of tension loosening in his shoulders when he saw how far they were. It wouldn’t take them long to catch up, but he had at least a moment of breathing room.

He twisted back around, grateful for the lull in mobs, and stared down at the intimidating drop to the distant ground. If he aimed for that small patch of bushes, maybe, or tried to grab onto that thick branch just a little further to his right—!

Something slammed into his back, screeching against his armor and sending him plummeting face-first off the edge of the cliff. George screamed, flailing as he crashed into the rough upper branches of the trees. Sharp leaves and sticks scratched and tore at his face and clothes, and he had to bring his arms up to shield his face, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to protect them from the painful debris.

A branch caught on his chestplate, slowing him for barely a moment before his weight and momentum had the remaining leather straps holding it together snapping with an awfully final sound. He shrieked, pawing uselessly at the armor that was already high out of his reach as the impact spun him around midair, sending his mind whirling with nausea.

George hit the ground shoulder-first with a harsh whoomph and a gradual puff of dust that drifted away from his body. He cried out, curling inwards as his new injuries rapidly made themselves known. Scratches along his sides and arms and even his neck stung, and various bruises littered all across his body were throbbing in unison. His entire right side was on fire, and he couldn’t tell if any particular part of his side was hurt worse than anything else.

He forced himself to flop onto his back with a choked, muffled scream, the singular movement causing agonized waves to radiate down through his side. He forced down the unwanted tears burning behind his eyes and attempted to suck air into his lungs, mentally counting through the numbers Bad had recently coached him through.

Nothing felt broken, at least, but George was sure that some of his ribs had popped out of place. Every time he tried to breathe in, starbursts of light would fill his fuzzing vision, and a horrendous pain stabbed through the side of his torso, where his ribs were.

He could not move his right arm. The sudden realization froze George in his tracks, and his breath hitched up. The accompanying spikes of pain made it stutter back into a shaky, weak rhythm, but that did little to console his mind.

Either his arm or shoulder was severely dislocated or…severely broken. Either option was very unpleasant for George’s near future. George swallowed, nerves and sudden apprehension drying his throat. If he healed it, it would hurt, but if he left it as it was, it would get worse.

With the trembling fingers of his left hand, he pulled his last, already mostly used-up regeneration potion from his pocket, thankful that it hadn't shattered when he landed, and downed the last few sips remaining in the bottle. He felt something in his right arm crunch back together immediately after, the sudden flash of agony whiting out his vision, but then he could move the limb again, albeit carefully. It didn’t do much for the rest of his wounds, for there was far too little of the potion and he had far too many injuries, but it took enough of the pain’s edge off that he could sit up.

The motion had him gasping in great lungfuls of air, sweat beading along his temples as he pushed through each flare of pain rolling from his ribs. He curled forward and tried to force air into his lungs, wishing he had Bad with him. The demon always knew how to help, be it with panic, or with awful, debilitating injuries.

George bit his lip, trying to distract himself from the throbbing ache pulsing throughout his body. He had to get up, had to get moving. He needed a shelter of some sort, so he could collapse, nurse his wounds, and wait for dawn. Then, he could start making his way back home.

Holding in a whine, he worked himself up to his feet and braced against a tree. The effort it took to stand alone nearly made him black out, and if it weren’t for the support of the tree, he would have fallen back to the ground. George swayed in place, vision spinning in a sickening dance of motion as he breathed deep and slow.

Out of nowhere, he heard the worst sound in the world. The slow, shambling steps of multiple zombies, and even the telltale hiss of a creeper flooded his ears, sending panic and no small amount of despair crashing through his system. Why couldn’t the universe cut him a break? Why did he have to suffer?

Frustrated tears stung at the edges of his vision, and he swung his gaze up to glare at the newest obstacle in his road to survive. Four zombies straggled towards him barely two meters away, and beyond them, the mottled yellow of a creeper slunk, lagging several meters behind.

His fingers curled around the only weapon he could find, a loose piece of bark sticking slightly out from the trunk of the tree he was using for support. He tore it free, managing to break off a piece as long as his forearm and about as wide as his hand, and brandished it at the approaching mobs. If nothing else, he could go out fighting. There was no way he’d survive against four zombies and a creeper in his current state.

Unless…but he shook that thought off. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Just the mere thought paralyzed his throat and made his heart stutter.

As the zombies converged on him, George managed to gut one with the sliver of bark, necrotic flesh tearing open easily under the jagged wood. Intestines spilled out, and then George was being slammed back against the tree trunk, putrid jaws snapping at his limbs and rotten hands scratching at his face. George cried out when teeth fastened themselves into his left elbow, making him lose his grip on his piece of weaponized tree bark. He tried to pull free, horribly aware of the hissing creeper that was steadfastly approaching, but cold, almost completely bone fingers tore at his right bicep, pulling him off balance and nearly sending him to the ground. He yelped, the sudden movement jarring his injuries and making them flare with pain.

Desperation filled his chest, and he realized he only had one, awful option. One awful option that he dreaded, one awful option that might just save his life. He didn’t want his help, though, not at all. He didn’t want to call for him.

…He had to. It was…it was that, or die, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to face the void, wasn’t ready to do that to his friends. He wanted to live, even if it meant calling for his worst nightmare. Would it be better than dying to mobs? He didn’t know. He didn’t have time to debate what might happen next, not while he was seconds away from his gruesome end. Sucking in a breath, George did the only thing he could. He called for Dream.

“Dream!” He screamed, viciously fighting and shoving away the decayed fingers that were chasing after his arms and throat. “Dream, please, I need help!” He felt ridiculous, screaming for someone who probably wouldn't even hear him, for someone who might not even care about him, truly care. George didn’t know if Dream was capable of such a thing. How could he? He wasn’t mortal. He was a God. What God would truly, truly care for something so…so insignificant, when compared to what the heavens had to offer?

George tried to push those thoughts away and attempted to focus on breathing past his burgeoning panic. Dream wouldn’t…wouldn’t do that to him, right? Wouldn’t he…?

Suddenly, there was a crack of booming light, and then a dry, staticy wave of heat that had George and his assailants tumbling backwards. He hit the ground with a choked wheeze, skidding several feet over the mossy, leaf-coated ground. Dizziness swirled through his head, and his elbow and ribs and shoulder screamed in agony. Despite the pain, George propped himself up on his side, panting heavily as he tried to process.

The quick, whistling sound of an iron blade dancing through the air reached his ears, and he managed to glance up to see a blur of yellow plowing through the converging mobs. Not even a minute later, the entire group of monsters was disintegrating in the slight breeze that had kicked up, and the golden blur had solidified into a broad, tall shape that was approaching him.

"What are you doing out here? Alone! At night!?" Large hands closed around his bruised biceps, pulling him to his feet, and George suddenly found himself face-to-face with a gleaming white smiley mask. "You know the mobs are more dangerous in the dark! Prime knows how many times I've warned you!"

He had never been more aware of how tall Dream was until this exact moment, when the man–god–was standing a full head-and-a-half over his own skull, towering over him. The grip on his arms was gentle, but firm, and half of George’s focus was on how strong the hands were, on how fast they might turn to bruising and restraining.

He saw the flash of Dream's teeth as the ma–god–spoke but he didn’t hear the words. All he could think of was what might have happened if the gaping black maw he'd been tossed into had had those sharp incisors. An image of his and Sapnap's mangled, crushed bodies, guts and bones and gore spilling from their split skin flashed through his mind, and his breath hitched.

For a moment, George swore he could feel the thick, oily texture of saliva coating his skin.

George shoved out of Dream’s grip, hands burning where they pressed against the blond's chest, and stumbled backwards, nearly falling as his heel caught on a mossy ridge on the ground. His back hit the trunk of a tree, hard, and he found his fingers digging into the ridged bark to ground himself, both against the waves of pain that jarred his body from the impact, and from the realization that Dream was here, physically present, right in front of him.

"Don't–don't touch me," he managed to gasp out, eyes watering as his breath hitched faster and faster. George tore his hands away from the tree bark, clutching at the collar of his shirt and scratching at his throat as he panted. He couldn’t–wasn’t—he couldn’t breathe!

His knees failed him, and he slid down to the ground, rough bark scraping through his shirt and shredding his skin, but he didn’t notice, couldn’t notice, not when his throat felt like it was closing up, not when it looked like the night sky was bleeding down to rip away his vision.

He was aware that Dream was still in front of him, still looming above his head, but the fact was a distant, dull idea that he couldn’t quite grasp, not when it felt like teeth were closing down around his chest, not when he couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe—

George could swear he heard Sapnap screaming below him.

“I wouldn’t—I would never hurt you, George. I won't. Ever.” The form in front of him shifted, and then all he could see through the fuzzing cloud of darkness was a wash of bright, nearly fluorescent amber blocking the night air.

Two hands, larger than George's own, reached forward and, so incredibly gently, grasped his trembling fingers between wide palms and pulled them away from his raw, seemingly swollen throat.

“George, hey, hey, can you breathe with me? I think you’re having an attack, c’mon, try to breathe–” The voice was muffled, and George barely noticed it. All he could focus on was the warm, nearly hot hold that entrapped both of his hands. His fingers twitched as the buzzing in his ears increased, burying nearly every other sound present. George couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat. Why couldn't he hear his heartbeat?!

“Hhnnnnnn–” George wheezed, desperately trying to jerk his hands free from the impossibly firm grip. The long fingers curled more securely around the backs of his hands, around his wrists, and two thumbs moved to press against George’s palms.

More words were being said, but he couldn't hear them. It felt like his entire head had been forced down underneath the waters of a violent river, and he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe—no matter how hard George struggled, he just could not shake off the invisible hands forcing his head under the rapids.

His hands were suddenly pressed against something soft, something warm, rising up and down in a gentle swell, and he could feel a steady bup-bump, bup-bump, bup-bump pounding beneath his palms. He latched onto the constant pulse, breath hitching up again in concordance with the sudden, unwavering rhythm.

His fingers curled against the warm fabric, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to focus on the phantom touch of muscles crushing around his body. He forced himself to breathe, shuddery as it was, in tandem with the beat of the heart against his palms.

Bup-bump. Bup-bump. Bup-bump. His chest stuttered, but he pushed on. Four, five, six, seven. Breathe out. He wasn’t in a prison of fleshy death. There was bark pressing into his spine, digging stinging pin-pricks into his skin, leaves and grass crinkling under his legs as they quivered. Two, three, four. Breathe in, ignore the hitched sniffle, and breathe out. There were sounds all around him, the noises of the night crickets and the frogs, the hollow, lonely hoot of an owl, the hushed, hesitant murmur of reassurances and instructions from the presence in front of him, of the body his hands were resting against.

George breathed, and slowly, oh so slowly, gained back control of himself. He kept his eyes closed, unready to face the source of his panic.

He’d had episodes like this, many, many times after the incident. Sapnap had them as well, but not nearly as often, nor as intensely as the brunette did. Bad had coached them both through ways to cope, of ways to bring themselves back to reality after their minds plunged them down into the horrible depths of wet–dark–NO—

It was so, so difficult to do on his own, especially when the cause of his spiral was right in front of him, but he had to get himself under control. He forced his head above the violent waves despite the sheer, paralyzing dread, despite the disquiet that filled him down to his very bones, and gasped for air.

He had to face his problem, had to overcome it, Bad had said. If George let it fester in his mind, it would cripple him, it would eventually kill him, the demon had warned. He’d given George a lot of advice. It was probably time George started taking it. He didn’t want to be like this anymore. He just wanted everything to go back to normal.

He pried open his raw, puffy eyes, cheeks glistening with the wet of his own tears, and grasped at his blurry vision, forcing his gaze to focus. His fingers tightened, then relaxed, then clenched again as he worked up the will to look. He inhaled, too fast, and coughed, throat sore and body shaking. It’s like ripping off a plaster. He had to do it quick, or else he’d never manage such a daunting feat.

George breathed, and forced his eyes to actually see.

The offensively bright yellow of Dream’s cropped hoodie crossed into focus, blocking most of George’s view, his own trembling hands clutched against the center of the deity’s chest. Large hands clasped his, the thumb of each running soothing circles into the backs of his hands. The god had sunk down to the ground along with George, knees pressed into the mulchy floor of the forest, grass and twigs squashed up against the dark fabric of his trousers.

George risked a glance up at Dream’s face, terrified of what he would see. Would it be the face of his long-time best friend, or…or would it be the face of the deity who had eaten him?

He was afraid, but he forced himself to look anyway. He had to.

The god’s mask was pushed aside, and Dream’s wide, sparkling hazel eyes sought his own. George flinched, immediately avoiding his gaze and instead focusing on the mossy grass crawling along the roots around his knees.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. All he could see was the face of the creature that had nearly not-killed him.

A hand detached itself from the cradle around his own and appeared just under George's chin, one long finger resting under his mandible and tilting his head up. “Hey,” Dream breathed, voice soft, gentle, even. “It’s alright, George. You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

George’s back stiffened when his gaze was pulled upwards, and his breath hitched when he finally met Dream’s eyes.

Warm hazel shone, a faint, glittering blue light swirling from behind the amber-tinted irises. They seemed to draw George in, and unconsciously, the tense line along his back released, and his shoulders slumped.

His body felt oddly numb, like he had dosed himself with an intense painkiller. He couldn’t really feel the pain that should have been there from his previously accrued wounds, and a distant, vague part of him was…shrieking in alarm. Why did he feel so calm all of the sudden? He recoiled suddenly, yanking his chin out of Dream’s grasp and tearing his eyes away from the god with a gasp. What the hell was that?

“George, are you…okay?” Dream sounded so concerned. George’s gut clenched, mind reeling, and he chewed at the inside of his lip. No. No, he was not, but the crux of his issues was the god sitting right in front of him. George wasn’t about to tell Dream that he was the reason he was freaking out so badly. What if he got mad? What if he decided to actually…

George cut himself off and decided to ask a question of his own in lieu of answering. He…he was not ready to deal with that particular issue. Whatever spark of courage to confront his problems that had struck him earlier had withered and died, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. So, he deflected.

"Why'd you come?" He croaked, words catching in his raw-feeling throat. He coughed, trying to clear the roughness of his voice. “Why…why are you here, Dr-Dream?”

The god paused at his question, thumb faltering in its rotation on the back of George’s hand as the rest of his fingers tightened slightly in their grip. "You…you called for me? You needed help, George. You were gonna…the mobs would have killed you!”

George’s chest stuttered at the reminder, and he flinched when he bit down too hard on the inside of his cheek. The taste of coppery blood flooded his mouth, and he had to swallow it down with a disgusted grimace so that he could speak.

"I didn't think you'd actually…I didn't think you’d actually come, Dream. Why? Why? I’m just…I’m just. Me.” He swallowed again, sucking in a deep breath of the cool night air through his nose. “And you. You’re a. A God. What—why the hell would you come for me? Why do you care?”

He was crying again, hot rivulets of saltine tears streaming down his face to drip down his jawline. His lips twisted into a wobbly frown, and he wiped a damp cheek off on his shoulder. Dream still had a hold on both of his hands. He didn’t know if he wanted the deity to let go.

Dream’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His face morphed into one of sad surprise, and his shoulders slumped. His fingers jittered across the backs of George’s hands as he worked his jaw, brow furrowed and eyes perturbed. Finally, words escaped his throat, a tone George couldn’t quite identify coloring them.

“I…I'll always, always come when you call, George.” The blond breathed, reaching towards George again with his free hand. He paused and drew his hand back when George flinched, but his fingers still twitched as if they wanted to grasp onto something. “I couldn't live in a world without you." He confessed, voice low and just slightly wavery.

A quiet, muddled “Oh,” was all George could muster in response. He felt…it was like a yawning hole had opened up beneath him, and he didn’t know what to do. What did he say to that? That Dream would always want to be there for him, he could…attempt to understand, but. How did he explain to Dream that the m—god’s mere presence nearly shut down George’s ability to function?

He blinked heavily, trying to clear the misted haze that seemed to settle behind his eyes. He was so tired…

Dream’s face softened, and he slowly reached up to brush a thumb over George's cheekbone, right underneath one of the deep, dark bruises hanging below the brunette's eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

“I…four…four days ago…” George trailed off, his throat closing up as the most recent nightmare leeched back up. He’d been endlessly falling, dropped by the hands of huge, indecipherable shadows. He hadn’t been able to see, and the only thing he could hear had been the laughter. He’d woken up after his body had smashed and split open onto a giant, gold gilt dinner plate.

He jerked his head sharply, breaking away from both the memory and from the gentle brush of touch on his face. He didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t want to remember any of it, but it kept coming back. He just wanted everything to be normal again. Was that too much for him to ask?

He finally turned to meet Dream’s gaze, staring the god in the face unflinchingly for the first time since he appeared. His eyes seemed a touch blue-er than they were since George last looked, but that may have been an effect of the sleep deprivation George was suffering from.

The blonde looked worried, and something about his expression pulled oddly at something inside of George’s brain.

What’s wrong, it seemed to say, prodding gently at the back of his mind. Tell me what’s bothering you, and then I can help. It was a vague murmur, a dizzying buzz that clouded his thoughts, and he found himself answering without a single opposing thought.

The words poured out of his mouth, a terrible confession that seemed to rise from his lungs. "I keep reliving—but it's worse, so much worse, because you–you don’t—you—” crush us, you chew us, you kill us–, “and I can't—" It was all too much. He couldn’t—He couldn’t—

George threw himself forward, shoving his forehead against Dream's chest and tangling his fingers deeper into the fabric of the god's hoodie. A long, keening whimper escaped his lips, and a hot stinging intensified behind his eyes.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d never had these thoughts about the Dream before. He’d have trusted him implicitly, but now…every time he thought about him, mind-numbing terror would rocket through his bones, and he'd want to vomit. Or cry, and cry, and cry until he felt nothing at all.

Dream's hands met his shoulders, a heavy, warm presence running down along his back, then up again. George couldn’t help the shiver of fear that thrilled through his gut at the contact. If Dream decided that he didn’t want to let go…

“Oh, oh, George,” arms encircled his shoulders, and fingers ran through his hair as George’s breathing stuttered again, warm tears trickling down to soak into the god's hoodie. His hands would be trembling if they weren’t so tightly clenched.

Dream shifted, slow and easy, as he moved to lean his back against the tree trunk George had been pressed against. His arms stayed around the brunette as he adjusted his position, pulling George against his side, instead of sprawled halfway over his chest. George flinched, then forced himself to relax, attempting to loosen the grip he had on Dream’s hoodie. He wasn’t very…successful.

“I’m so sorry, George. I…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just…I wanted to keep you safe.” Dream confessed, posture slumping against the rough bark of the tree. He sighed, pulling one hand from George’s back to rub at his temples. His face twisted into a grimace, and he glanced up at the night sky through the leaves and branches above them.

"There’s not…I can’t undo what happened. I can’t even stop you from being afraid of me. You…You’re completely justified in that, and I don’t blame you.” Dream’s jaw tensed, the only part of the god’s face that George could see. He tried not to imagine the expression that was decorating the blonde’s face.

Dream continued, seemingly oblivious to George’s strange internal conflicts. “What I can do, though, is help you sleep, if you'll let me."

George startled, at that, and a part of him almost tried to beg at the offer. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, to rest, but he couldn’t. Not when his dreams were so horribly inundated with night terrors and flashbacks.

"You're not going to–to eat me again, are you…?" His voice was hesitant, and it nearly hurt to get the words out. He had to know, though. If that was Dream’s way to help him sleep, then George would bolt, injuries and exhaustion be damned.

The god looked back at him abruptly, eyes wide and brow furrowed, and shook his head viciously. “No, never again, George. I’m not gonna—I won’t do that to you again.” He breathed out a slow huff of air and gently moved a hand over the brunette’s shoulders.

“O–okay, then. Fine.” George mumbled, dropping his gaze from Dream’s. He caught the bright edge of the god’s pleased expression in his peripherals, and tried not to think too hard about what that meant.

"Just lay down, alright? I'll help you sleep. I’ll keep all of the nightmares away."

Dream guided George's head down to rest against his legs, disentangling the brunette’s fingers from his sweater and helping him sprawl on his back over the mossy grass. George had a perfect view of the god's face, framed by the shadowed silhouettes of the leaves above, and, sprinkling through the gaps, the glittering stars of the night sky.

The distant shriek of a phantom sounded high above them, far beyond the trees, and George shrank back against the ground, alarm buzzing through his veins. He pulled his hands up to his chest, fingers tangling together as his nerves jarred though his system. "What…what about the mobs?"

"They won't bother us. I'll keep them away." One of Dream's hands reached down to rest over George's fidgeting digits, while the other rose up to brush the hair away from his eyes.

"Just sleep, George. I'll keep you safe, alright?” The god’s voice washed over him, drawing him deeper into the darkness of the night, and he couldn’t help the overwhelming wave of drowsiness that poured through his body. George’s eyes slipped closed, the afterimage of Dream’s luminescent blue irises fading behind his own eyelids.

His muscles untensed, and he felt…calm. His jittering, pounding heart eased to a slightly-rapid stutter, and the anxious, gut twisting rush that had plagued him for the last several hours drained away. A warmth spread over his entire body, and he couldn’t feel the pain of his wounds anymore.

It didn't feel…natural, but George was too far gone to really care. He was so tired…

So, so tired.

Taglist!!

@brick-a-doodle-do @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @kayla-crazy-stuffs @local-squishmallow @skullsnbruises @munchkin1156 @gt-daboss

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #d'yall mind if i tag this as that?#cause i meant technically ots part of it #if not just lemme know and ill take the tags off #writing #seriously how the heck fo i tag notmal stuff?#mcyt vore #referenced vore #giant!dream #tiny!george #referenced #hmmm #tags suck this time #and yes #dream did use magic to try and calm george down : D #bat's writing #deity

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mysteriouswolf · 2 months

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Welp I've started a new fanfic project, this time with the ranchers, my beloved <3

Inspired by the song From Ashes by Caelen Jester, I'll link it here: https://youtu.be/IgtICTWLYGo?si=lTGtA9ap55VmhqGM

(psst!! Go check it out if you haven't already!! They're so talented and the same one who made the soulbound song!)

The currently-unamed Ranchers fanfic beginning! I'll be posting it once it's done and edited etc on AO3:

“Ahhhh! No! Not like this, not like this!” Tango screamed, fumbling with his sword against the barrage of zombies. Desperately he scrambled up a couple of blocks, swiping his sword in an arch, but alas, they kept coming. Everything seemed to slow down as he heard a hisss from above him, and looking up with panicked eyes, he could only watch as the creeper fell down next to him and exploded.

Tango screamed in agony, everything going black for a few seconds before he opened his eyes to find himself at spawn.

“Ahhh~ Well that hurts.” A voice said, and Tango looked over to his left to be met with…with one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. The fire around him grew hotter as he felt himself blush and he looked away. Everything was aching, and as Tango sat up dizziness rushed through him. He closed his eyes again, giving him a slight reprieve from the dizziness, and when he opened them he was met with two golden-honey eyes staring back into his, concerned. The man had dirty blond hair that was swept to the side, and a few small golden feathers peeking from behind his ears. Tango blushed again, and the man took a few steps backward.

“Ah- sorry. Name’s Jimmy. I suppose we must be soulmates? What happened? Everything was mostly fine one minute, and then…”

Ohmygod I just got my soulmate killed. And he’s hot. Panicking, I winced, and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Why don’t you take me through it?” He asked, smiling gently, and extended a hand to help me up. I took it, and leaned against a tree, my body sore from the death.

“Right…so I was doing some caving, y’know, as- as one does. And then there was this creeper, and this horde of zombies, and a spider and- god, I’m so sorry. Name’s Tango, by the way.”

“Ahhh…ouch. You must be hurting a lot right now. Why don’t we head back to my shack and I can see if I can find my items and get you all fixed up, yeah? It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault,” I started, shaking my head, but Jimmy cut me off.

“It’s not. Trust me on this one, okay? It’s not your fault.”

#team ranchers #jimmy solidarity #jimmy #tangotek #tango #my writing #fanfic #double life #trafficblr #traffic life series #life series #ahhh I have no idea of this is good #it's like 11 at night and I just got INSPIRED but I have no energy to proofread any of this

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blushstories · 2 years

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If you're taking requests and writing for Butcher could you possibly do one where the reader gets very hurt, maybe they lose a lot of blood or something and they're taken to the hospital. Maybe emergency surgery is needed? Butcher is just absolutely losing his shit. Maybe Hughie was with him and the reader, so he's there and trying his best to calm him down until he's able to see you. He sits by the readers bedside and confesses his feelings for the reader. He doesn't think the reader can hear him, but they can. Hopefully there's a fluffy ending, but that's absolutely your call! Thank you so much!!!

hi !! thanks for the request! not sure if confession scenes are my specialty, but i gave it a go!! also made it gn as your request had they/them pronouns <3 hope that's ok!

Billy scans the carnage in the room, collateral from the fight prior to this moment. Hughie heaves, bracing himself on a table with one arm, the other on his hip.

“That was diabolical,” he’s satisfied, having scared away the supe, striding over to Hughie and patting his shoulder. “Chin up, lad. You did good.” He looks around again, his relaxed walk now a little stiffer. “Where’s Y/N?” He asks lowly. Hughie looks up, eyes wide in realisation. His chest stops rising, and he whips his head around.

Billy ducks his head to catch a glimpse of the empty space underneath tables while calling your name, he swipes at upturned chairs and kicks through shattered vases. Hughie calls your name on the other side of the room, voice tainted with panic, before he pauses. “Butcher!”

Usually when Hughie’s panicking, Butcher’s seen it before; his fear operates differently, he’s calm and composed. But when he sees you sprawled on the floor, barely conscious with blood saturating your shirt, something in him snaps.

“What the fuck happened?” His voice is deep and angry, clawing from the depths of his soul. He falls to his knees next to your head, ignoring the crunch of broken glass that’s surely cutting into his knees. He cups your face with one of his hands, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb as he says your name, and then, “Stay with me, love. Keep your fucking eyes open.” His voice is rough, strained, but his touch is careful, as if you might shatter on the spot.

He reaches for one of your hands, but it slips from his grip. Mortified, he pulls his hand back to see an opaque layer of blood on his palm. He immediately presses his hand into the source of the bleeding that you had been holding, never looking away from you as he shouts to Hughie, “Get the fucking car ready!” Hughie fumbles for a moment, starting to leave and coming back.

“Keys?!” He says, voice thick with adrenaline.

“Fucking hell, mate, left pocket! Get a shift on!” Hughie’s hand dips into Butcher’s coat, nabs the keys, and he’s gone before Butcher can say another word.

“Bill—“ He shushes you when you try to speak, eyes unfocused and voice crackling.

“There’s no sugarcoating that this is gonna hurt, love. Hold on.”

Other than the explosion of white hot pain in your side, the scratch of Butcher’s coat against your cheek is the last you remember of the incident.

You don’t remember how tightly he carries you to the car. You don’t remember him losing his temper at every red traffic light on the way to the hospital. You certainly don’t remember his barely contained fear when the lady at the desk told him to wait for a doctor.

The waiting room is empty besides Billy and Hughie when the doctor returns, clipboard in hand. Hughie lifts his head up, squinting at the sudden light of the room that was previously blocked by his hand. Billy’s been pacing, grumbling to himself. This side of him is foreign to Hughie, who hasn’t been able to get through Butcher’s thick wall of panic.

The doctor relays that you’d had to have emergency surgery to correct some internal bleeding. It went well, and they should be able to see you soon.

“When’s ‘soon’?” Billy says, hands curling into fists at his side. The doctor gently raises and drops his shoulders, checking his watch.

“When they’re stable in their room, someone will send for you,” he says simply.

“Look, son. I am not just gonna sit ‘round here waiting for some twat to give me permission to see me —“ he falters, eyes wide, the ending of his sentence coming as a surprise to him. Hughie intervenes.

“Fiancée,” he says confidently, earning a bewildered look from Butcher. “They’re his fiancée, and he’s really worried. Please can we just see that they’re doing okay?” Hughie’s on his feet, and is calm. The doctor seems to appreciate the explanation of Butcher’s anger, and nods slightly, saying he’ll return in five minutes.

The man in question shoves two hands in his hair, shaking it out aggressively with a grunt to accompany the action.

“Butcher,” Hughie begins. “They’ll be fine. They said it went well! They wouldn’t want you to freak out so much.”

“Shut it, Hughie. Tell you what, the hospitals in this country are piss-poor. If M.M were here, we wouldn’t ‘ave to put up with this bullshit.” His blood is boiling, and he’s consumed by the ‘what if’s.

“You’re right. But Butcher, you got them here alive.”

“Unconscious.”

“Alive. Look, someone’s waving at us.” Butcher’s attention is immediately drawn to the woman in the corridor next to the waiting room, beckoning them at the far end. He doesn’t wait for Hughie before launching himself into a powerful walk, coat billowing behind him.

Your eyes are closed, the heart monitor beeps rhythmically, your chest rises and falls gently, and Butcher’s heart breaks. For the first time in forever, he doesn’t know what to do, besides settling in the cheap chair by your bedside and grasping your hand.

He runs his touch over each of your fingers, each knuckle, swiping his thumb over the redness and bruising from the prior fight. But it doesn’t budge, and Hughie has never seen Butcher in so much pain. His eyes are coated in a blanket of tears, red-rimmed and unblinking. He’s afraid to breathe in case it’s a ragged inhale that sends him over the edge, and William Butcher doesn’t cry.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers into the skin of your hand.

The feeling of helplessness is a stranger to him, beckoning him into the deepest part of a dark forest that he may never return from. “You shoulda stayed with Frenchie, avoided this clusterfuck…” wisps of his thoughts dissipate in the fog of his mind when he looks at your run-down state again.

“This…this ain’t the best time to realise something. You know, when Hughie–” he side eyes the man in question, who senses the incoming intimacy and decides to stand guard outside the door. “He told the bloke that you was me fiancee, and,” he hesitates, glancing at your face to ensure you were still sleeping. “It didn’t feel like a lie. I’ve only ever given a fuck about someone like this once before; that’s how I know, that I care about ya…” He trails off, looking around at the empty room.

“Ah, fuck.” His forehead meets the edge of the bed in front of him.

Your hand is hot, enveloped between both of his. The rhythmic beating of the heart monitor falters for a moment, speeding up slowly. Butcher looks up in alarm, should he call the nurse? But then, your fingers twitch.

“Fiancee, huh?”

It’s like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over Butcher’s head, “I didn’t–” “It’s okay,” you say, voice clearer and tone lighter. “Me too.”

Butcher thinks he’s stopped breathing, he might benefit from a nurse at this rate. But the look in your eyes is so loving, he’s more endeared than he’s been in his entire life; weak at the knees and grateful to be sitting down. He uncovers your hand as one might a music box, slowly and carefully. Then, he plants a firm kiss to the back of your hand and makes a promise to himself. A secret promise that he tucks into the deepest part of his heart: he’ll never let you get hurt again.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys #the boys tv #the boys fanfiction #x reader #karl urban characters #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x y/n #william butcher #the boys x reader #billy butcher fanfiction #william butcher fanfiction #william butcher x you #butcher the boys

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aloneinthehellfire · 2 years

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Chapter 6: Monsters and Rumours

Raining Hellfire Series | Season One

Word Count: 5,899 words

Warnings: swearing, flashbacks to past trauma, mentions of blood, being attacked, traumatic experience, taking pain medication, slurs, mentions of sex, bullying, public fight, just angst.

[A/N: There's quite a lot happening in this, sorry if its ridiculously long I just wanted to tell as much of the story as I could]

Monsters and Rumours

Nancy!!

Y/n!!

You could hear Jonathan calling out. Nancy’s screams for him were echoing through the air.

And you were stuck behind a tree… with the creature breathing heavily on the other side.

When Nancy had stepped on the twig and caught the attention of the monster, she ran. Away from the danger. And deep down, you were relieved. But now the creature was stalking, looking for prey. And you knew why it didn’t follow her.

You shifted your leg quietly, holding down a wince. Whatever had dragged you in here earlier had left a nasty claw mark on your leg. And it just started bleeding.

Nancy’s voice rang out, louder this time, as she desperately tried to find Jonathan. You wished you could tell her that he wasn’t here. At least, not in the same dimension as you.

Nancy’s scream caught the creature’s attention and it ran off, searching for her.

“Shit.” You breathed as you stood, your leg was bleeding more now. You quickly undid your scarf and wrapped it the best you could around your leg, tying it tightly. You just needed it to stop the bleeding enough for you to find Nancy and get out of here.

“Jonathan!”

You followed her voice through the woods, hearing Jonathan’s echo every now and then.

The adrenaline was keeping you from keeling over from the pain, letting your legs take you as quickly as you could. The sounds that the creature was making only made you run faster.

You heard a gasp and turned your head, seeing Nancy run behind a tree with the creature stalking behind it. That was just you a few minutes ago.

Y/n! Nancy! Follow my voice!

You noticed light shining through the bottom of the tree just next to the one Nancy currently used as a shield. If she moved, it would definitely catch her. She turned her head when she noticed you, her eyes wide. You glanced between her and the creature. You took a deep breath and slowly raised your bat, nodding at her.

She shook her head aggressively, figuring out your plan. You only pointed to the gate. When she went to argue again, you let out a scream.

“Hey!” You yelled, it’s attention snapping towards you. Your mouth went dry. The creature roared, it’s face opening like a flower that held dozens of rows of teeth, blood still dripping from it’s earlier meal.

“Let’s fucking do this.” You said and you charged towards it, giving Nancy the distraction she needed to run toward the gate and try to crawl through.

Just as the creature swiped at you with its claw, you ducked, swinging your bat to hit it squarely in the legs and it toppled over, rolling in the leaves. You hid behind a tree and you heard it roar again. The gate was so close in front of you. You could still see the light coming through.

But Nancy was still trying to make her way through. The light was dimming.

It was starting to close.

You had a limited time frame to get both Nancy and yourself through before it closed for good.

You grabbed a clump of twigs from the ground and launched them in the opposite direction from the gate. The action caused the creature to lunge away from you and you ran to Nancy, pushing her through. You could hear Jonathan’s voice clearly on the other side, helping. You’d be hopeful if you also didn’t hear the growl growing closer behind you. With one last shove, Nancy was back on the other side.

You sighed in relief and began crawling your way through too. You reached your arm out and felt hands pulling you through. Your head made it through the clearing and you could see Nancy’s panicked face staring at you. Jonathan looked terrified and confused as he planted his foot on the side of the tree and pulled harder. You were almost there when a tight claw gripped around your bleeding leg and you screamed.

It started pulling you in the opposite direction and you felt like you were being torn in half. The pain was searing through your body. You used your other leg to kick at the monster’s arm and prayed that it would avoid it’s deadly face. With one last shove, the creature let go and you practically flew out of the tree, landing on Jonathan.

You scrambled away while Nancy clung onto Jonathan in fear. You watched the gate seal up slowly, bark replacing the vines.

Like it was never there.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Nancy’s voice was quiet. It was the first thing she’d said since you all made your way back to the Wheeler’s.

“I…” You couldn’t find an excuse not to.

When you had showered away the dirt and grime, everything came crashing down on you all at once. You winced against the tiles as the water had hit your leg. One single cut down your calf. It wasn’t very deep, thankfully. Your thick jeans had stopped it from digging in further.

You had wrapped it using the first aid kit Mrs Wheeler had shown you after the fight, careful not to use too much of the antiseptic just in case they checked that sort of thing.

You had been attacked. Dragged through the gate like it was nothing. But you weren’t dead. You were grateful, of course. But confused. Why didn’t it kill you when it had grabbed you the first time?

And after all of the chaos and terror… you just wanted to be alone. To curl up in your bed and cry. Let it all out.

“I just can’t.” Your voice was barely a whisper. It wasn’t a good excuse but Nancy nodded nonetheless. She was too tired to fight with you.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked as you passed him in the hallway. He had quietly grabbed a cardigan and was on his way to comfort Nancy.

“Just… take care of her?” You didn’t want to answer the question. Not today. He quietly nodded and gave you a quick hug which you gladly accepted.

You made your way out of the house, closing the front door softly. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and walked down the path, clutching your dirty bat. You needed to wash it and place it back in the house before your uncle noticed.

As you walked, you breathed a sigh of relief. You couldn’t believe you made it out of there alive.

“No more scary stuff tonight.” You promised yourself, muttering under your breath.

Then something landed next you and you almost screamed.

In fact, you did scream. But it was muffled by the hand clamped around your mouth and they tried to quieten you.

“Y/n! Shh! It’s me! Steve!” He said in hushed tones, causing you to relax in his arms.

“What the fuck Harrington?” You pushed away from him, whispering angrily through tears you didn’t even know were there. You had every right to be terrified after tonight.

“Sorry I-” His face dropped when he saw you, “Are you okay?” He reached a hand out to you but you moved it away.

“No! I’m not okay!” Your hands were shaking so you dropped the bat on the floor and ran your hands through your wet hair. “You just scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?”

“To talk to Nancy… look, you’re not fine. What happened?” He took a step closer and you reacted, stepping away. It was like an awkward dance between you two.

“Nancy doesn’t want to talk right now.” You said, picking up your bat and marching to your house. He followed.

“Why?” He grabbed your arm and spun you around, looking at the bat. He snatched it away from you and inspected it. “What the hell happened?”

“I dropped it.” You yanked it back, continuing your path onto the porch.

“Nancy was meant to call me!”

“Look, I’m sorry to tell you but that has nothing to do with me!” You tried opening the door but it was locked. Shit, you thought, I must have left my keys.

“Just tell me what you were doing tonight! And why the hell was Byers in my girlfriend’s bedroom?!”

“Shut up!” You finally broke, stepping towards him and standing face to face, “Whatever you think is going on, you’re wrong. You don’t know anything about what’s going on. And you don’t deserve to know! I am tired, and I’m scared and I just want to go to my bed and cry. Okay? Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted?”

Your eyes stung as a tear escaped. Steve just stood there, searching your eyes, not knowing what to do.

“Y/n. Trying to take what isn’t yours again?” Carol’s voice rang out and you could hear Tommy’s obnoxious laugh with her. You glanced to your left to see Steve’s car still running in the middle of the road, Tommy and Carol currently occupying it.

“You should really get back to your friends.” You spat unkindly as the front door swung open, your uncle stood on the other side.

“What’s going on here?” He asked. He finally saw your state and his face hardened. He turned to Steve, taking a step forward. “I think it’s time you leave.”

Steve looked to you but you were already making your way inside. He let out a frustrated sigh and left. You could hear the car drive away.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” Your uncle said softly, eyeing the bat in your hand.

“I need sleep.” You continued past him, finding your room and shutting the door. You were too tired to feel guilty right now.

You curled up on your bed, pulling the covers around you and closing your eyes just as the tears came pouring through.

You knew this year was going to be different. You just didn’t know how painful it would be.

You didn’t sleep that night.

Images of the monster flashed in your mind every time you closed your eyes. The throbbing pain in your leg didn’t provide much comfort either.

After hiding the ruined jeans under your bed, you pulled out another pair, careful to not put much pressure on your wound. As much as you wanted to hide under your covers, you had a lot to do.

Before you had made your way home, Nancy and Jonathan already made plans to grab supplies so you could somehow trap the monster and kill it for good. You knew there would never be such thing as a peaceful night until you completed your mission.

You had told them you’d meet them outside the cinema. First, you wanted to check in with the Party and see if they found anything. After what you experienced last night, you hoped they didn’t.

Walking to the bathroom, you poked your head through your uncle’s open bedroom door, finding it deserted. At least it meant that you had a few more hours before you had to explain last night’s events. You tried not to remember the way you treated Steve. Yes, you weren’t exactly a fan of him. But he looked genuinely heartbroken. And that made you feel awful.

The pills you were looking for were in the back of the mirror cabinet. Your aunt took them when she was ill and your uncle seems to have forgotten to throw them out. They weren’t harmful as long as you didn’t take too many. They were simple painkillers. And the sensation in your leg was begging for them.

Slamming the cabinet shut, you made your way out of the house, making sure to stop and grab the bat again; you assumed Nancy still had your other one. You had asked them to get a box of nails, the plan for your ultimate weapon laid out in your mind.

“Y/n!” Dustin called as you shut the door and grabbed your bike. When you had seen that they were riding theirs, you planned to join them. Hopefully the pills had kicked in.

“Where we going?” You asked, not taking any arguments.

“The Sinclair’s.” Mike groaned, mounting his bike.

“Why-”

“No time for questions. Just come on.” Dustin interrupted as he started pedalling.

“It’s too early for this.” You mumbled and you followed them, wincing as your leg strained from the pressure.

The ride over was quick. The painkillers finally taking effect as you dumped your bikes on the lawn and rang the front door. It opened and revealed an irritated Lucas.

“What do you want?” He spat to the boys, sighing, “Oh. Hey, Y/n.”

“Hey, Luke.” You smiled, waving.

He gave you a small smile then turned back to his friends. “If you think bringing Y/n here will convince me to apologise then-”

Mike sighed as Dustin hit him. “I drew first blood, so…”

He held his hand out and you widened your eyes in amusement. You had no idea what was going on but clearly they handled arguments well.

“Just… get in here.” Lucas shook his head, widening the entrance and stepping back. Mike and Dustin quickly walked in and you followed after.

You were led to the living room where Mike stood with his hands nervously stuffed in his pockets, Dustin pursing his lips in the quiet.

“Nice house.” You filled the silence, taking in the room around you.

“I’m glad you think so.” Lucas smiled weirdly, going to lean his arm but finding there was only empty space there. Dustin pulled a face at him.

“Stop flirting with someone clearly out of your league and just wrap this up, okay?” Dustin sighed, a palm on his face in frustration.

Lucas chose to ignore his comment and started pacing with his arms folded, thinking. You decided to sit down, lifting the weight off your leg for the time being. You figured this was going to take a while.

“Okay. I’ll shake.” Lucas finally said, snapping you awake as you seemingly began nodding off.

Mike held his hand out quickly.

“On one condition.” Lucas continued, arms still tucked away, “We forget the weirdo and go straight to the gate.”

“Then the deal’s off.” Mike was defensive.

“Fine!”

“No, no, not fine!” Dustin intervened, frustrated. You looked at them all, eyebrows furrowed.

“I feel like I’ve missed something…” You said to no one in particular.

“Guys, seriously? Do you even remember what happened on the Bloodstone Pass?” Dustin said, serious-faced.

“Oh my god, what happened?” You asked, intrigued. You were 90% sure that it was the drugs talking.

Lucas and Mike looked at you in confusion. Okay, maybe 96% sure.

“We couldn’t agree on what path to take, so we split up the Party” Dustin sighed, “and those trolls took us out one by one.”

“No.” You were way too engrossed in this.

“And it all went to shit. And we were all disabled!” Dustin flung his arms out dramatically and you shook your head in disgust at what happened. You were 100% sure the pills did a little more than you intended them to.

“So we stick together, no matter what!”

“Yeah, I agree. But this is the Party, right here in this room.” Lucas stated. You were a little honoured that they thought of you as part of their Party.

“El is one of us now.” Mike attempted.

“Um, no, she's not. Not even close! Never will be. She's a liar, a traitor-”

“She was just trying to keep us safe! She didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Wait, what?” You looked between them, settling on Lucas since you knew he’d tell you the truth, “What happened?”

“His crazy girlfriend attacked me!” Lucas cried, pointing at Mike. You just raised your eyebrow at him. “Okay, but she did. She used her powers and threw me into a bus.”

“It was an accident!” Mike told you, pleading with his eyes.

“An accident?” Lucas scoffed.

“Hey!” You brought their focus back to you, “Whatever happened, I’m sure El didn’t mean to.” Lucas tried to object but you just raised your hand, silencing him, “I’m not saying that what she did was okay. It’s not and trust me, if she ever did that to me I’d be pretty pissed too. But El obviously saw you two fighting and tried to stop it. It had to have been an accident.”

“All right, accident or not…” Dustin spoke, “Admit it, it was a little awesome.”

His comment caught you by surprise and you laughed, apologising when Lucas shot you a glare.

“Awesome?” Lucas exclaimed.

“Yeah, she threw you in the air with her mind!”

“I could have been killed!”

“Which is exactly why we need her. She's a weapon! Do you seriously wanna fight the Demogorgon with your wrist rocket? That's like R2-D2 going to fight Darth Vader.”

“Woah, stop.” You said, standing up. “Firstly, El is not a toy, okay? She’s still human… I think. Secondly, I will not take any R2-D2 slander here and- wait. Did you say Demogorgon?”

“Yeah, it’s this monster from-” Dustin tried to explain but you cut him off.

“D&D, yeah, Eddie told me.”

Queen of the Demogorgons he had called you. It was an innocent nickname until the events of last night unfolded. At least you had a name for it now.

“Who’s Eddie?” Dustin looked taken-aback. “Is that a boy?”

“Uh…” You seriously didn’t want to have this conversation now. Neither did Mike apparently.

“The fact is we’re no use to Will if we’re dead!” He yelled, shutting you both up.

“If you two wanna waste your time looking for a traitor, go ahead, 'cause I'm not spending my time on her anymore. No way!” Lucas looked at the boys, shaking his head, “I’m going to the gate. I’m gonna find Will.”

He shoved past them, leaving the three of you behind.

“That went well.” You commented, earning glares. You glanced at the clock. “So… have fun with that. I’m gonna-”

“You’re leaving us on our own again? What happened to the Party stays together?” Dustin protested, blocking the entrance.

“Up until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even realise I was a part of this Party. It was kinda sweet actually…” You added, smiling to yourself.

“Of course you are! You’re cool! And really helpful to us now we know you’re a genius.”

“Can’t believe you only want me for my brains.” You shook your head sarcastically. “Look, I wish I could help you find El but I have important stuff to sort out. Upside Down kinda stuff.”

“Did you find the gate?” Mike spoke up, walking into your view.

“Uh, no.” You lied. You knew that as soon as you told them, they’d be running towards it. Yes, it had sealed up but you didn’t know if it was something that would reopen anytime soon.

“You’re lying.” Dustin stepped closer, peering into your eyes like they would tell him the truth.

“I…”

“We don’t have time for this.” Mike sighed, pushing past Dustin and leaving. Dustin looked between you two and finally sighed, defeated.

“Come here.” Was all he said as he followed Mike outside. He marched to his bike and picked up his bag, pulling out his walkie talkie.

“Just in case we need you. Or you need us?” Dustin offered the radio to you and you accepted, smiling.

“I’ll tell you everything once I’ve completed what I need to do.” You nodded at him and ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said as he and Mike rode off, leaving you stood with the chunky black radio in your hand.

You stuffed it into your bag and grabbed your bike, heading for the cinema.

The last time you were at the cinema was at the end of your freshman year at Hawkins.

It was a place you would always meet up with your friend. When you had moved, you assumed you’d be lonely. But, with luck, you met someone that shared the same humour as you, someone that let you be yourself. The cinema held memories of running through the exit door to catch a movie you didn’t pay for and, eventually, running back through that exit when one of the workers had caught you both.

But those memories were slowly fading. And soon they would be replaced with nightmares from what was to come, tainting the innocence of the cinema. And your friend, who you trusted more than the world, was going to ruin it for you.

Because he chose Tommy and Carol.

“Can’t wait to see the show!” A voice shouted out as you rode past a blue car. You thought nothing of it, pedalling past a few businesses before turning the corner.

You noticed Jonathan’s car outside of a store. Assuming they were still inside, you pedalled on, sticking to the plan of meeting at the cinema.

Weaving your way through the streets, you turned a familiar corner to the Hawk cinema.

“Didn’t know you and Nancy were stars!” A voice laughed as he drove by. You recognised him, Reed something, and you stopped in confusion. That was the second time that had happened.

You spun your head around to the cinema situated on the other side of the street and your heart dropped. There were two movies on show. Movies that had been added to with spray paint. One side read ‘All The Right Moves starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler’.

Your breath hitched as you moved to the next section. ‘Risky Business starring Y/n The Whore since ‘81.’.

You dropped your bike, not caring where it landed. You didn’t even have to think twice about who could have done that. It wasn’t a nickname you haven’t heard before.

You headed straight to the alley where you and Steve used to hang out. You figured he’d be there too considering that he may have a heart attack if he wasn’t constantly attached to the hip of his ‘friends’.

“Here’s the original leading lady!” Carol’s shrill voice echoed as Tommy spray painted the side of the building.

The four of them spun around to you, smirking. Tommy laughed and continued with his art, clearly amused. Carol stepped forward.

“Hurry up and get your tickets!” She laughed.

You weren’t thinking at all. All you saw was pure rage as you lifted your hand and struck her across the cheek as hard as you could.

She looked at you in shock, turning to the others before looking back at you and erupting into laughter. You changed tactics and brought your focus to Steve. He was laughing but he clearly didn’t find any of this funny.

“Why?” Was all you said to him. For a moment you saw his face change, almost guilty. And then it was gone in an instant.

“I don’t like to be played around with.” He shrugged, face hardened.

“So you spray that on a billboard for everyone to see?” You could barely see him now as your tears began blocking your vision.

“Hey, I didn’t do it.” He took his hands out of his pocket and raised them without showing any emotion whatsoever. “I don’t even know why you’re up there.”

“Oh… she knows what she did.” Carol lowered her voice to a growl, walking towards you. Steve looked between you both, confused. You knew exactly what she was accusing you for.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You spat through cloudy eyes.

“No, what is wrong with you? Hm?” She took another step closer and you could see the red pigmenting her cheek, “Couldn’t have my boyfriend so you had to take someone else’s?”

“I never wanted your fucking boyfriend, Carol!” You almost screamed in her face.

Another step forward and you could practically feel her breath.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you fucked him!” She shouted at you, spit hitting your face in spite.

“What?” Steve’s voice spoke up through the silence.

“Maybe you should have better control of him.” You whispered to her. She curled her fist until something behind you caught her attention.

“Aw, hey there, princess!” She chuckled as you turned around. Nancy.

“Uh-oh! She looks upset. We appear to be having that effect these days.” Tommy laughed, turning back around from his graffiti dedicated to Jonathan Byers.

Nancy’s face said everything you needed to know so you stepped aside. She walked right up to Steve and slapped him, hard and fast, causing amused reactions from his friends.

“And that effect!” Tommy laughed again, leaning against the wall.

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy asked furiously.

“What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?” Steve countered, towering over her, “I was worried about you. I can't believe that I was actually worried about you.”

“What are you talking about?” She shook her head and finally caught your eyes, reacting to the mess you obviously looked right now.

“He thinks you cheated on him.” You said, glaring at Steve.

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you.” Carol approached her, “You don't want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?”

“Speak of the devil.” Tommy commented, jumping down from wall. Jonathan joined the group after following Nancy through the alley. Tommy gave him a wave. “Hi.”

“You came by last night?” Nancy realised, “Look, I don't know what you think you saw, but it wasn't like that.”

“What, you just let him into your room to... study?” Steve scoffed. You shook your head in silence. How were you possibly going to intervene this conversation?

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy joked, an arm around his girlfriend.

“We were just-”

“You were just what?” Steve interrupted, walking towards her. “Finish that sentence.”

Nancy stayed silent.

“Finish the sentence.”

Nancy looked at you, not knowing how to respond. You sighed. She was relying on you to help her out. She didn’t know it would be at your own expense.

“Go to hell, Nancy.”

“Back off, Harrington.” You found the courage to speak. You saw a breath of relief leave Nancy’s body as she stepped back.

“Don’t even start with me, Y/n.” Steve glared at you. “I thought finding out that Nancy was fucking that pervert would be the most surprising part of my day.”

“What?” The word slipped out of Nancy’s mouth. She hadn’t seen the other ‘movie’.

“And I thought you couldn’t get any shittier. But here we are.” You shrugged.

“Did you know about that?” Steve pointed to you, asking Nancy. She shook her head in confusion.

“Let’s just say that you aren’t the first slut to tarnish our group.” Carol scowled. “I never thought Y/n The Whore since ‘81 would be such a big influence.”

“Shut up.” You said. You tried to sound confident but your voice betrayed you.

“Come on, guys, let’s just leave.” Jonathan pulled Nancy away. He was the only other person you had told what happened between you and Tommy. He could see how upset you were.

“You know what, Byers? I'm actually kind of impressed. I always took you for a queer, but I guess you're just a little screw-up like your father.” Steve followed you all, shoving Jonathan.

“Ignore him.” You said, basically pleading.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. You know, I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

Jonathan stopped moving. The look written on his face was something you hadn’t seen before.

“Jonathan, leave it.” Nancy tried.

“I mean, your mom... I'm not even surprised what happened to your brother.”

“Steve, shut up!” Nancy yelled, but she was ignored.

“I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but the Byers, their family, it's a disgrace to the entire-”

Jonathan turned, swinging his arm, fist clenched. He perfectly aimed it at Steve’s nose. The contact would have broken it for sure if you hadn’t intercepted it, catching it with your hands and pushing him away.

“It’s not worth it.” You looked in his eyes and saw him lower his arm, taking your advice.

“Woah, I guess you really get it with all the ladies, huh?” Steve continued, causing an eruption of laughter from the three behind him.

“Steve, stop. You’ve hurt us enough, just fuck off.” You say, trying to pull Jonathan away.

“Whores don’t get a say in the matter.”

That was all Steve said when Jonathan turned again, swinging his fist and punching him before you could even react. Steve hit the wall, bracing himself.

“Fuck.” You whispered.

Steve whipped his head around and launched himself at Jonathan, tackling him onto the ground.

“Stop! Steve! Knock it off, you guys!”

“Get off of him, seriously!”

“Kick his ass, man!”

All the chants were drowning out when you heard a set of high-pitched sirens travel through the wind. Your body reacted before your mind could and you sprinted down the alley, away from the fight. You wanted to stay and help Jonathan, you wanted to comfort Nancy. But all your body was screaming at you to do was run.

If you were caught by the cops in a fight, you were done for.

You ran through a few streets, ignoring the glances from strangers. You kept running until you found another alleyway and finally stopped, leaning against the wall and sliding down. The tears came rushing out as soon as you hit the floor. You were too tired to even try to stop them.

Everything was crumbling around you. You could never escape the suffering. From your past, to literal supernatural creatures, you couldn’t hide away. You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You were done being angry. You were done being sad. You were just done.

“Y/n?”

You wiped your tears with your jacket sleeve, turning your head away from the silhouette.

“Go away.” You spoke, voiced laced with bitterness.

“I would but I really don’t want to.”

You slowly adjusted your head, getting a better view of the person. You already knew who it was, the voice had been replaying in your brain ever since you first met him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, keeping your focus on the dirty ground in front of you.

“I saw everything. I… I wanted to…” He trailed off. Instead of speaking, he crouched down in front of you and carefully cupped your face in his hands, wiping away a stray tear. In doing so, he forced you to look at him and your heart swelled from the contact. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to looking at Eddie’s face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You confessed, your eyes threatening another flood.

“Hey. Nothing is wrong with you.” He kept his focus on your face, “This is all them. Those assholes, not you.”

You wish you could just tell him everything. Your past, the Upside Down, the nightmares you can’t quite explain anymore. But if you did, he would be in danger. And that was the last thing you’d ever want for him.

“How much did you hear?” You asked, willing the tears to retreat.

“More than I expected.” He admitted, shrugging, “Carol has this annoying screechy voice thing going for her.”

“That she does.” You let out a sad laugh. He eventually removed his hands from your cheeks, allowing you to rest your head on the wall behind you. But he didn’t move.

“I get why she’s upset, kind of, but I didn’t think it was ‘spray-paint it in giant letters’ worthy.”

“Oh god, you saw that too?” You covered your face in embarrassment.

“It’s not exactly hard, it’s big enough for the whole town to see-” He stopped when he saw the startled look on your face, “Not that they have. I… I was just, uh, exaggerating. You know, now I think about it, it wasn’t that big, I bet no one-”

“Eddie.” You interrupted, attempting a smile. “It’s fine. I would expect nothing less than for a whole town to hate me.” You chuckled sadly. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I don’t hate you.” He said, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think I could ever hate you, Y/n.”

“Why?” You said it with so much disbelief that Eddie took your hand, forcing you to listen.

“Because whatever the hell happened in your past doesn’t matter. You are funny, and smart, and like, the coolest chick I know.” You gave out a small laugh at his words, “Seriously. I… I really hate Hawkins. I’ve wanted nothing more than to get out of this hell-hold but… but I met you. And-and now I couldn’t imagine leaving now I know that you exist.”

You didn’t even realise you were holding your breath. Your mind was racing at thousands of miles per hour but at the same time, it’s like your brain just stopped and you didn’t know what to do. Eddie’s face was slowly faltering the longer you took to react, thinking that he messed up somehow.

“I…” Your words failed you. You had so many things to say but you couldn’t find a way to string them into a sentence.

Instead, you held your hands out and grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss. After all, actions speak louder than words.

He was taken by surprise at first, his lips crashing into yours. Then he relaxed, pulling you closer to him. His hand was gently placed on the back of your head as you kissed. Every nerve in your body was set alight and your mind was finally clear. He was your home.

“Y/n! Come in Y/n! Red alert! I repeat, red alert!”

The voice was muffled in your backpack but loud enough for the kiss to break, your heart wrenching as you pulled away. You sent Eddie and apologetic look and opened your bag, pulling out the radio as static noise filled the air.

“Wouldn’t be us if we didn’t get interrupted.” Eddie chuckled, disappointment in his voice.

“I’m sorry. It’s these kids I look after.” You gave a brief explanation, sighing. Of all the times they needed you, this had to be the worst.

“They’re chasing us! Y/n! They’re gonna-” The static noise drowned out whatever Dustin was trying to tell you. You froze before snapping into action.

“Dustin?” You spoke into the black box. “Dustin?!”

No answer. You looked at Eddie who was staring at the radio with his eyebrows furrowed.

“I…”

“Go.” He nodded before flashing you a grin.

You leaned towards him, giving him one last kiss.

“Thank you.” You whispered, grabbing your bag with the radio still in your hand. Your ran out of the alley, sprinting towards the cinema.

You found your bike in the middle of the paved street. Rifling through your bag, you grabbed some tape you had shoved in your bag from your Design Tech sessions. You hastily taped the radio to the front of your recovered bike so you could reply if they tried to contact you again. Usually you would celebrate the fact that it hadn’t been stolen but the adrenaline coursing through your veins was yelling at you to find the kids. Something was chasing them and the only thoughts flowing through your mind led you to every worst scenario.

If you lost them, you’d never forgive yourself.

Chapter 7: Department Of Energy ->

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