#i was never under the impression that men would hurt me

[wwwyzzerdd420]

I really just do not get women At All

#understand that i used to 'be one' #i was never under the impression that men would hurt me #i wasn't raised by women so maybe thats why? they never were able to infect me with that paranoia #i never felt unsafe around any man not even homeless men in the streets downtown San Antonio at night #i was never catcalled until my mid 20s #i was never ogled or at least i never noticed until my mid 20s #so i didnt even think that kind of thing happened to women cause it never happened to me #and ngl i was only catcalled ONCE and i was heavily made up with a wig and costume #ive always been too ugly to be harassed #i didnt even experience the trauma of moms picking apart their daughters appearance cause.. never had a mom #the first time i was ever body shamed was by other girls my age who HAD moms who were incredulous - #that i was in 4th grade and not shaving my legs yet (wasnt allowed/taught) #second time ever was in 6th grade after we moved to a predominantly white town and all the rich girlies started ripping me apart #i really truly and genuinely wonder if i HAD someone who cared about me raising me would i even be trans? #would i still be a man if i were raised with a mother and if my older sister took ANY interest in helping me? #would my perspective be different if my main romantic abuser had been a man instead of a woman? #and like. ive engaged in some RISKY behavior #like going on what i thought was a friend date with some divorced loser i picked up as an uber driver #like almost getting kidnapped while delivering pizzas on my birthday #like going to conventions dressed scantily clad completely alone with nobody checking in on me? #would my perspective be different had any of those times gone poorly for me? #or did these incidents not work to make me a paranoid woman because theres some different male wiring going on in my brain? #everything goddamn else traumatizes me so easily so im Genuinely asking here. #im more traumatized from being called bad names on the phone while trying to WORK than from almost being raped by a stranger #is that a bad thing????

[nxuvillette]

“I PROMISE, IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.”

GENSHIN MEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A FIGHT

synopsis: you and your boyfriend hardly ever fight, so what happens when you finally have one?

❥- including : tartaglia (childe), cyno, kaeya, wriothesley

❥- note : hi guys !! sorry if this post is kind of shit, i kind of rushed it. i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, angst, arguing, hurt with comfort, use of pet names (baby), fluff, dumb fights, lots and lots of fluff at the end.

♡ TARTAGLIA (CHILDE)

you and childe hadn’t spoken for much of the day, and this was due to an argument that happened between you two just before you sat down for some breakfast.

it was stupid, genuinely. 

childe had completely misinterpreted something you had said that morning. you were talking about one of your friends and their relationship. for some reason, childe thought you were comparing your relationship to the one your friend had, and it made him question if he was doing enough to make you happy. one thing led to another, and the two of you bickered over the encounter. you tried to explain yourself, but your boyfriend, being the stubborn man he was, didn’t bother to listen and went off on his own accord.

you and childe hardly had any fights. they would usually resolve after an hour or two, but you hadn’t seen him all day. part of you began to grow worried from his sudden absence. did he go out and do something to hurt himself? was he with somebody else? no, there was no way childe would ever cheat on you. he didn’t even look in another woman’s direction when he saw you that day. 

it wasn’t until sunset when childe had finally returned home to you. he had a few scrapes on his arms which seemed like they came from him battling another enemy, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. you were very relieved to see that he was fine. it made you run into his arms the moment he came into the door, which took your boyfriend by surprise. he was under the impression that you were still pissed off at him for the shit that he had pulled early on in the day. he knew he was wrong and he should have apologized, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. sometimes he wished he wasn’t so air headed. 

his arm went around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. the smell of his skin made you calm down. “i thought something bad happened to you..” your eyes didn’t move from the floor. 

childe could sense the worry that was in your voice. he shouldn’t have done that to you. he would never want to make you feel scared or put you under the idea that he would leave you. he wasn’t going to ever leave like that again, ever. “i’m sorry, baby..” he whispered, running his fingers along your backside. “i’m such an idiot.. i shouldn’t have said that shit. i love you way too much to hurt you..” 

you lifted your head to meet his ocean blue eyes. he had this frown on his features. you could see how guilty he felt for putting you in such a position. no matter what, you would always be in love with childe. no small argument would make your feelings for him shift, ever. you knew he could be stubborn at times, and honestly, so could you. all that mattered to you in the end was that you two made up and forget the whole thing. “it’s okay.. i still love you, okay?” you smiled at him, which made his heart skip a beat.

childe couldn’t help but smile, too. he leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your lips. he didn’t ever want to see you frown again. he would do anything to see a smile on your pretty face. “let me make up for it.. how about we take a bath together, hm?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

you nodded your head. “sure..” you grinned.

♡ CYNO

you didn’t expect cyno to get upset earlier. 

cyno was in a bit of a rush that afternoon. he had a lot of things to tend to as the mahamatra, so he typically had a busy schedule. at the time, you had no idea that he had to be somewhere at a certain hour, so when you saw your lover wandering around aaru village by himself, you decided to go and talk with him to ask how his day was.

he kept his responses to you a bit shorter than usual, but that’s how he usually was. cyno was more the type of man to listen more than he did talk, but the more you kept speaking, the more he grew somewhat irritated. he had to meet with candace and discuss something that had occurred on his way there. he had to return as quickly as possible, though, because there were several people who needed his help out there. 

cyno had accidentally snapped at you, which in turn made you fire back at him.

it was very out of the ordinary for him to ever get angry with you. cyno was very patient, and he was especially with you. he was never the kind of man to be rude to you or yell at you, ever, so this threw you off completely. before he could even apologize, you left and went back to the place you two shared together. 

he didn’t return home until later that night. he had been thinking about what he had done all day, and it made him feel guilty for being that way towards you. you were his girlfriend. he loved you more than anybody else, and he managed to hurt your feelings because he was unable to control his very own. cyno hoped you wouldn’t want to leave him. anxiety plagued him the entire day. he wondered if he would return back to you and find that you deserted the home you two stayed in. 

much to his relief, you were lying in bed. you were turned on your side that was facing the window which exposed the vast desert outside. he sat down beside you and watched as your eyes fluttered open at the sudden weight taking over the bed. 

“i’m sorry..” cyno whispered, looking down at you with amber eyes. 

you sat up, crossing your legs on the mattress. you didn’t think he would come back being so apologetic, but you couldn’t help but forgive him. it did hurt your feelings a lot, but he was dealing with so much. it didn’t excuse what he did, but you two never fight. he wasn’t argumentative everyday. “it’s okay.. i just felt like shit for bothering you. i should have considered your schedule..” you didn’t want to look at him, but he tilted your chin to look into your eyes. 

cyno leaned in and hugged you, which took you by surprise. “no need.. i was an asshole for not controlling myself. you didn’t deserve any of that..” he squeezed your body. “i love you.. i hope you can forgive me.”

your hand rested on his shoulder blade. his skin felt warm from the blazing heat of the sun that he was under constantly. “i love you too..” you spoke. “i can forgive you, no worries.”

♡ KAEYA

you and kaeya had been dating for quite a while. since you were his girlfriend, there were some things that you needed to get accustomed to in the relationship.

especially kaeya’s drinking habit.

you didn’t mind that he would go off to the bars some nights to have a few drinks with his friends. hell, you did it a few times yourself with your own friends, but it became an issue when he would come late to your dates due to him being hungover the next day. you knew he couldn’t help but sleep an extra hour or two through the morning, but it had happened a few times and it led up to an argument occurring between you. you claimed it was a bother to you and he wasn’t being considerate of your time and energy.

what made it worse was kaeya usually was the one to make these plans, so for him to just not show up, it felt unfair to you. if he knew he was going to drink a lot, why would he continue to make plans with you the next day? it didn’t make any sense to you whatsoever, and you were tired of him either not showing up or having to go to his house to wake him up.

when you stormed out of his house and the door slammed behind you, kaeya felt immediate regret plaguing his chest. he did everything for you in the relationship and you did the same for him. he felt like he was an idiot for letting his drinking habits get a hold of your relationship. he didn’t have a drinking problem by any means, but he knew when he had too much he wouldn’t want to do anything the next day. you were right. it was unfair of him to miss out on spending quality time with you. he didn’t want to make you feel unimportant or a second priority. kaeya loved you more than life itself. how could he hurt the one person he poured his heart and soul into?

he gave you a bit of time to blow off steam. he knew chasing after you could escalate things further, so he decided to leave you alone for the rest of the day. however, he wasn’t about to let you both go to bed angry with each other.

so, when he showed up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, you were quite surprised. you didn’t think kaeya would even bother making an effort to talk things through with you, but he was standing there with an apologetic expression. “can we talk? i understand if not.. but i just don’t want you going to bed pissed at me.” he clutched the flower stems in his hand, hoping you would hear him out.

you nodded your head, inviting him into your home and watching him step inside. kaeya then turned to face you, handing the flowers in your direction. they were your favorite, lamp grass. you loved the way they glowed in the dark. “kaeya.. i’m-“ you started, taking the flowers from him.

“i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to keep missing out on our dates. i was a shitty boyfriend for keeping up with my behavior, and i shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place.” he cut you off, shocking you. “i love you, (y/n), and i don’t want you to think otherwise.”

you stood there for a few moments in silence. you weren’t sure what to say to him, but you could sense his genuine energy in his voice. “i forgive you..” you said, lifting your eyes to meet his. “i don’t want it to happen again, okay? i love to spend time with you and i don’t wanna feel like you dislike my presence.”

he took your free hand into his, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. he had been a gentleman since day one and it seemed like that attribute of him never left his personality. “i love seeing you more than anybody else, please don’t think you’re a burden. i’d do anything to spend any waking moment with you by my side, okay? i won’t ever do it again.” kaeya replied, stepping closer to where you were standing.

you smiled, pressing a kiss on the side of his cheek. he loved how soft your lips felt against his skin. “i appreciate that..” you sounded much happier, which relieved him.

kaeya wasn’t going to do that ever again. he could never lose you, ever.

♡ WRIOTHESLEY

wriothesley was quite a busy man. it was something you knew you were signing up for when you started to date him a few months back. his job was tiring, exhausting even. he had a huge responsibility on his shoulders to carry, and sometimes it stressed him out more than he would like to admit.

it seemed like that stress began to reach its breaking point, because wriothesley hadn’t been acting right over the last few days. you assumed he was just dealing with his job, so you decided to try and see if venting would have any relief to your boyfriend. you two had done it many times before when things got a little hectic in your personal lives. plus, you both trusted each other greatly. you didn’t think he would have an issue with it.

well, you were wrong, unfortunately.

when you made the attempt to speak to your boyfriend about what was wrong, he had a serious attitude, and things escalated to you two both having a fight. you didn’t like the way he was speaking to you and he was becoming upset with you for no reason at all. all you had asked him was if he wanted to talk, but it seemed like that question alone must have ruffled his feathers. 

you two never fought, so this had completely blindsided you.

wriothesley then left for work, leaving you by yourself in the apartment you lived in. it wasn’t your intention to make him angry with you. all you wanted to know was what was troubling him to make him feel so overwhelmed. that fact crept up on wriothesley immediately after he entered his office at the fortress. he shouldn’t have snapped at you that way. it wasn’t right, nor was it excusable. he was the one person who was supposed to make you happy, not hurt.

a few hours later, he returned home a lot earlier than usual. things were slow at the fortress, so he decided to leave early and try to patch things up with you. he found you sitting on the couch with a book in your hands, seemingly trying to read away what had happened earlier between you. you were a bit taken back to see him standing in front of you, but you didn’t know what to say to him. 

“i’m sorry.. i was out of line earlier.” he broke the silence between you. it was like popping a balloon. “i get it if you’re pissed at me.. i can give you space if you’d like.”

you sat there for a few moments. you closed the book in your hands and placed it on the wooden table in front of you. wriothesley was right. he shouldn’t have been that much of an ass to you. you didn’t deserve such treatment, but you loved him. he was never like that towards you and your friends had told you before that random fights are normal. “it’s okay.. i forgive you.” you replied, standing up to go in front of him. “please.. just promise me you won’t do that again.” 

his hands went to cup your cheeks. his thumbs brushed against your smooth skin. you could see how guilty he felt for doing what he had done. “i promise.. i swear, (y/n), i’ll never do that again. i could never hurt you like that, ever again.” he looked down at you with sincerity on his features. 

you leaned in to hug him. wriothesley inhaled the fresh scent of your shampoo and felt immediately calmed from your touch. he loved you, dearly. he could never do that to you again and he vowed to never pull a stunt like that with you ever again.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work ! #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #childe x reader #childe x you #childe fluff #cyno x reader #cyno x you #cyno fluff #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya fluff #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley fluff

[darkbluekies]

Secrets

Mafia!yandere x reader x hidden brother

Summary: Silas has a brother you've never heard of, who seems to be just what you need, so you decide to escape with him, only to find out even more secrets.

Warnings: mafia, crime, scamming, murder, blood, manipulation, mentions of selling a human, smuggling, nsfw mentions (let me know if I missed one)

Word count: 5.5k

Silas has brought you to his family's summer house on the Greek island of Rhodos for you to be alone, away from everyone. Only you and him for a week. Weirdly enough, it brings you some kind of relief. His men and his work has worn you out.

"Stay here, I have to go get some food for us", Silas says and picks up his wallet. "I'll be back in thirty minutes, baby, so try not to die in the meantime."

"I won't", you promise.

Silas smiles and kisses your lips. "Good. I love you, little thing. I'll be back soon."

He locks the door behind him. You breathe out and finally relax your body. Being all alone with Silas has been excruciating. If he learned to keep his hands to himself, you wouldn't feel as tired as you do now. Every night, he wants to feel you underneath him.

Just a few minutes later, you hear the lock turn. Silas must have forgotten something. But the man who walks in … isn't Silas. You could swear that it was in your first glance. The man looks extremely like Silas with thick, black hair, dark eyes and broad build. This man, however, has a bigger nose and lips.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he gasps as he walks in. "I didn't know Silas was here."

You take a step backwards. When someone knows Silas, it is almost always bad.

"Who are you?" you ask suspiciously. 

"I'm Ares, Silas’s younger brother", he says and holds out his hand in front of him in a pleading way. "Please don't be afraid. I'm not like my brother." He looks around. "Where is he, anyways?"

"He'll be here soon …"

"What's your name? You're Silas’s partner, right?"

You nod hesitantly. There's a bad feeling in your stomach. 

"I've heard about you", Ares smiles sweetly and rolls his eyes. "Or not about about you. Silas never tells anything to the family, but I've heard that he has a partner. There's a rumor."

Ares sits down by the kitchen table. You follow him closely with your eyes.

"How is he treating you?" Ares asks carefully and points at your neck. "He isn't hurting you, is he?"

Your hand shoots up to your neck, remembering the (probably) hundreds of love bites Silas has left on you.

"N-No!" you stutter embarrassedly. "This isn't-!"

"Oh, I see. Sorry for assuming. I just know that my brother isn't a very soft person so I just- … that was dumb of me, I apologize."

"It's okay …"

Ares smiles coyly. You find yourself smiling slightly at the awkward misunderstanding. 

"What was your name?" he asks.

"Y/N", you say.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I didn't mean to intrude like this. I was under the impression that the house would be empty."

"It's fine-"

Your sentence is cut short by the door opening.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ares?" Silas growls and holds out his hand to you. "Y/N, come here."

You walk over to your boyfriend who is quick to scoot you behind him.

"Mom and dad said that the summer house was free", Ares says and crosses his muscular arms — something that seems to run in the family — with a cocky smile. "You didn't tell them that you were here."

"Why should I? They disowned me, they don't need to know about my whereabouts. Now get out. I don't want you anywhere near my partner."

Ares stands up. He walks over to Sials, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"A tip, big bro", he says amusedly with raised eyebrows, "if you break Y/N when you're having sex, you'll be living in involuntary abstinence for weeks. Don't be so rough."

Silas flinches forward upon hearing your name, as if he's about to attack him, but seems to force himself to remain still. Ares leaves, closing the door behind him. Silas turns to you instantly, cupping your cheeks.

"What did he do to you?" he asks quickly, worry glowing in his eyes. "Tell me everything."

"He didn't do anything", you answer. "I'm okay. You never told me that you have a brother."

"Y/N, he's a horrible man, I don't want you talking to him. I hid him for a reason."

Silas's usual jealousy is talking again, you notice.

"Pack your bag, we're leaving tonight."

"Silas, I don't want to go back. I hate it there."

"You're safe at home. Apparently, you're not here."

"Silas, who cares if your brother knows that we're here?"

"No one should know where we are, do you get that? Only my closest men should know about my whereabouts. I don't even trust people in my organization. Go pack your bags now."

You sigh and give in. You notice how quiet Silas is. He throws everything around and glares. With a harsh grip on your hand, he pulls you with him to his car and speeds all the way to the airport. You're afraid of opening your mouth. He's going to explode at any moment … but you can't stand this much longer. The second his private jet lifts from the runway, you decide to try to ease the air.

"Silas, please", you say quietly with tears in your eyes. "You're scaring me."

That seems to snap Silas out of his dark cloud. His eyes dark over to you and soften, as if he's realized that you're there as well.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby", he apologizes and unbuckles his seatbelt. "Come here."

You unbuckle your own and walk over. He pulls you down into his lap and hides his face into your abused neck. You can feel his heavy sigh.

"Why are you crying?" he asks quietly into your neck.

"I don't like it when you're mad .. every time you're mad, you kill someone", you whisper in horror. "I don't want you to be mad. I don't understand. He's just your brother-"

"I hate that piece of shit. Don't call him my brother."

You gulp.

"I will not let him take you", Silas mumbles and tightens his embrace on you. "He's always wanted everything I have. Even when we were kids. He threw tantrums when I got presents on my birthday because he wanted his own. If my dense, thick brained parents hadn't given in ye probably wouldn't he a piece of shit now."

Younger siblings are often like that, you're not surprised. Always wanting what the older one has — to be like them.

Silas lifts his head from your neck and presses his lips to yours.

"You're mine", he tells you and gives you a gaze you can't seem to read. "Say it, say that you're mine."

"I'm yours, Silas", you say hesitantly. "Please calm down, I'm uncomfortable."

He sighs heavily and intertwines your fingers.

"I'm sorry, baby", he apologizes. "Ares just pisses me off like no one else."

"You'll not have to meet him again", you remind him. "You ran into him by accident."

"Yeah, I guess. If I had known that he would stumble in like a fucking pig I would never have left you alone. I don't even want to imagine what he could have done …"

"Silas, I'm okay, right? Nothing happened. He was friendly, you have nothing to worry about?"

He scoffs. "Nothing to worry about? Yeah, right."

"Can we please drop this now? I don't want to sit with you if you're going to be like this."

You're about to stand up, but he pulls you down again.

"Alright, alright, I'll not talk more about it. Just stay."

A month passes. Silas weird behavior has finally toned down and to make up for his extremely overprotective manner, he's agreed to take you out on a car drive. Silas needs to meet up with a "colleague" to trade something he hasn't told you. You don't question that anymore — frankly, knowing will only bring you nausea and headaches.

Silas’s car has many buttons and screens inside, both in the front and behind the seats, LEDs that light up in different colors and heaters under your seat. The car is more comfortable than your bedroom. 

He parks the car in a gas station, making it look like he's supposed to fuel his car, when in reality, he walks off to meet with his contact. Before he leaves, he handcuffs your hand to the steering wheel and locks all doors. Knowing that you can unlock them from inside paranois him. You sigh and look around you for something to keep your eyes on, finding a familiar face in the slot beside you. Ares has parked his red sports car beside the gas pump. He smiles when noticing you and gets out of his car. He looks around in confusion. You point towards the gas station  with your free hand. Ares nods and scurries over to you. You unlock your door.

"Y/N, hi", he smiles. "What a coincidence. I’m so glad to see you. Ever after I was kicked out by Silas, I’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" you sigh and lift your cuffed hand.

"That's easy to pick." Ares picks up something resembling a needle from his back pocket and inserts it in the lock. Just a minute later, the lock clicks open and you remove the cuff from your wrist. “Y/N, you should come with me. I can save you from him.”

Those words ring in your head. I can save you from him. You can finally get away? Ares tugs on your arm and you realize that you have to decide now, before Silas returns. If you decide to leave with Ares, changes are you’ll have to live on the run for the rest of your life. You’re certain that SIlas won’t let you go that simple. And once he does catch you again, you’ll have to regain his trust — that took such a long time to acquire. But you don’t want to stay. You don’t want to have his suffocating presence around you, don’t want to be locked in his bedroom all day every day, don’t want to be present in that kind of lifestyle. You just want to go back to normal … although that will never happen. You’ve stepped into this world (although involuntarily) and now you can never get out — not fully at least. 

Ares helps you into the front seat of his sports car. You find it humorous that two brothers who seem to be so completely different like the same things.

"Let's go", Ares says and hits the gas.

"Thank you", you whisper, in shock over what just occurred. "I don't know how I'll repay you."

"Don't worry about it", Ares smiles and glances at you. "I don't think it's safe to get you home to your family. That's the first place Silas will look. Let's go to my house."

"Silas doesn’t know where that is, does he?"

"No. Just relax, Y/N, you're safe now."

You nod and decide to sink down into the car seat. You wonder how Silas is feeling right now.

Ares stops the car in front of a white house before helping you out.

"Is this your house?" you ask.

"No, I'm just using this as a decoy", Ares grins and rolls his eyes. "Come, I'll show you to the guest room. You must be tired."

You nod. If you are. Ares unlocks the door and you step into an empty hall.

"You have to excuse the empty space", Ares says, closing the door behind him. "I just moved in, I haven't had the time to get all the essentials — but I do have beds prepared."

"That's okay", you sat softly.

"The rooms are upstairs. I decided to give you an upstairs bedroom so that in case my big brother ever manages to find this house, he won't reach you. I will be able to stop him before he manages to get upstairs."

You start to walk up the stairs. 

"But he has many men …", you say quietly. 

"Trust me, Y/N, after growing up with him, you learn how to win feuds", Ares chuckles. "He's easy to read, you know? He acts like a child. He hates to share stuff, keeps unnecessary grudges and plays too hard with his toys." Ares raises his eyebrows teasingly and grins at you. "I see that your hickeys are gone."

Your hand touches your neck sheepishly. "Oh, yeah …"

"If you're ever up for some soft sex that doesn't end up looking like a murder scene …" He holds his hand up to his head like a telephone, "call me."

You chuckle and shake your head. Ares smiles and opens a door to your left, showing you a simple bedroom.

"I hope that you'll be able to recover from my brother's treatment here", he says behind you. "I'll leave you be for now. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to tell me, alright?"

"Okay", you nod. "Thank you, Ares. Genuinely. For everything."

"Of course."

He closes the door and you sink down on the mattress, breathing out. For a moment, your entire body goes numb. You really did escape Silas … with the help of Silas's brother. You have to be dreaming. How much more absurd can it get?

You find yourself enjoying Ares's company. You often sit on his couch and watch TV while he plays with his phone. It seems to occupy his every hour. You want to ask about it, but after spending so mu g time with Silas and his demeanor of 'don't ever ask what I'm doing' you hesitate. 

"You've been staring at me five times now", Ares says without looking up from his precious screen. "If you're going to ask something, do it."

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"I'm doing some business. I work mostly online."

"With what?"

Ares looks up from his phone and you freeze. You shouldn't have put your nose into his business. 

"I manage a few companies, just a couple small ones", Ares smiles. "You know — buy, sell, trade. All of that stuff. Why? Are you interested?"

"I just … I don't know. I was just wondering why you were always on your phone."

"Yes, shit, sorry. I'm so used to working all the time. Were you feeling ignored?"

"N-No, not at all. I was just curious."

"That's good. Stay curious. Just not too curious, alright? It was curiosity after all that got you into this situation from the start, wasn't it? You shouldn't have watched what was on that USB."

You gulp, remembering how you and Silas met. You had found a USB in your bag that one of his men had dropped one day. He had tracked the USB ones it had been used … and found you.

"How did you know that?" you ask.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Ares smiles boyishly. "Some of my friends work for Silas. Just under cover, to spy on him a little. They told me. That's how I knew you actually existed. You're just a rumor, but my friends could ascertain that you were real."

The mention of 'friends' brings your thoughts back on your own friends and family.

"Ares, when do you think I can go home?" you ask.

"Not for a while", Ares replies.

"But I've been here for two weeks. I'm bored. I want to meet my family."

"I know, little dove, but that isn't the ideal for now. Silas could take you. We need to be patient."

Little dove? You think that it sounds eerily similar to Silas's favorite pet name for you — little thing.

"Don't call me that", you say quietly, suddenly feeling guilt. "It … reminds me of him …"

"Reminds you of him? I saved you, remember? I'm better than him."

"Yes, yes, I know … but …"

"Come here."

You walk over to him and he takes your hand, kissing it gently.

"You're just overthinking because you're scared", Ares says. "I get that. My brother put you through horrific things. But you don't have to be afraid anymore. You're with me now. Trust me. Trust that I'm doing what's best for you."

You nod, but can't help but feel like his grip on your hand is a bit too tight. You look into his black eyes, searching for some kind of excuse for it — he's just trying to be comforting, it's just how strong his hands are … it runs in the family.

When going to bed that night, you're left with a heavy feeling in your stomach. Ares has been nothing but kind to you, so why do you suddenly feel uneasy? Or is it really sudden? Didn't you feel uncomfortable in his presence the very second you met him for the first time? Before he flashed you that boyish smile of his? Or do you just miss Silas? That can't be it … can it?

You turn in bed. 

Something doesn't feel right. Ares is supposed to be different from Silas, why does everything he does remind you of him? Just being brothers can't be the entire reason. Ares's car is the same type, just in a different color, his flirty behavior reminds you of Silas, just a tad bit different, his strong grip in your hand felt exactly like him and the way he called you "little dove" makes your stomach turn. 

What was it that Ares worked with? Did he ever tell you what he bought and sold and traded? He never told you what companies he owns.

You sit up and look around in the dark room. Ares haven't put in any effort to go out and buy furniture for his new house. The house itself doesn't make sense. Everything about Ares seems so similar to Silas, how come the house is the only thing that separates them? Silas has his black, modern, renovated villah and Ares has … an old, white house? While owning a sports car? While managing so many companies?

Suddenly, you get it all. Why haven't you noticed it before? Have you been trying to pretend that everything is fine so badly that you've missed all the red flags? You scurry out of bed and change into your clothes with shaking hands. 

You sneak out into the corridor, hearing Ares's voice from downstairs.

"No, they're asleep", he says. "Yeah, I'm thinking about doing that … they seem to piece things together and so does my idiotic brother. I can't keep them here. I'm thinking Spain. Silas will never find us there. Last I heard he got banned from entering the country. Or that might have been England. I'm not sure. Bastard's probably banned from half of Europe by now." Ares chuckles. "We'll do just fine in Spain. I know some people there that would pay a lot of money for Y/N. All because they're Silas’s partner, isn't that funny? Everyone has something against Silas and to piss him off, you have to use his little partner."

You freeze. Is Ares planning to smuggle you out of the country to sell you to one of Silas’s enemies? You have to get out of here. Oh, how you wish you were at Silas’s house right now, that you had never accepted Ares’s help. You really do miss your forced boyfriend.

You sneak down the stairs, feeling lightheaded when the wood under your feet creaks. 

"I have to go, mate, I think I have a wandering toddler", Ares says.

You hear him get up from his armchair and suddenly he appears in your vision, right in front of you down the stairs. He smiles sweetly, but you tense up.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Can't sleep?"

"Are you taking me to Spain?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He seems to be taken aback for a second but quickly gathers himself. "Yes, I thought that it would be good for you to change scenery to recover. You'll love Spain."

"I don't want to leave the country, Ares. I can recover here. I promise."

Ares eyes narrow. He must have heard the shaking in your voice that you tried so desperately to hide.

"Y/N, do you believe that I want you harm?" he asks calmly, leaning his hand on the wall.

Your heart starts to beat.

"No, of course not", you lie.

Ares smiles and walks up the steps to you. You fight the urge to flinch, suddenly feeling like you're back in Silas’s house — although you were more comfortable in Silas’s company. You knew him better.

"Let's think about it", Ares smiles and rubs your back. "It's late. Spain doesn't disappear overnight, we have time to come to a decision. Come."

He leads you back to your room and gives you your pajamas before leaving you alone. You change and sit down on your bed, holding a shaking hand over your chest.

Suddenly, you hear the door lock. You rush over, feeling the handle — just to assure you that you didn't hear things. It is indeed locked.

"Fuck …", you whisper. "Oh my God, Silas, help me."

You decide to play along. 

You sit with Ares in the living room every evening, watching the TV. And then, the day comes when you’re supposed to go to Spain. The night before, you know that you have to do something. You don’t want to leave the country. Not with him. 

You put on your clothes and sneak downstairs, finding Ares on his phone as usual. He doesn’t see you sneak by the living room door, over to the front door. You try it once. Locked. This old house needs to be unlocked with a key from the inside — a key you don’t have. You look around quickly, glancing every minute towards the living room. You try the window. Nothing. The only window responding to your tries are the kitchen window above the sink. As quiet as you possibly can, you get up on the counter and pull the window open. WHen climbing out, you accidentally knock a glass over. The sound of glass crashing against metal in the sink makes your heart drop. You don’t wait for any responses. Without a second doubt, you jump down onto the grass outside and run. Past his red sports car, past the gates, down the street. 

From your month at Ares’s house, you’ve learned that the people in the surrounding houses are nothing more than drug addicted humans. No reason to try to get help from them. You run until an old telephone box appears in the distance. If there’s one phone number you’ve had to memorize, it’s Silas. You’re surprised he hasn’t tattooed it on you to make sure you don’t forget. 

You know that you should call the police. You really should … but you have a feeling that they won’t be much help. If there’s one that will help you at all cost … it’s Silas. He will do what it takes. You can’t waste this opportunity on something and someone that might not work.  

You rip the glass door open and grab the phone. 

“A quarter?” you pant in panic, looking around. “I don’t have a quarter!”

To your big surprise, someone must have dropped one while fumbling with their wallet before you. You pick up the shiny coin and press it into the slot before hurrying to press in the phone number.

“Please pick up, please”, you plead, panting. Your entire body is jittering, you can’t stand still. “Please, Silas!”

Finally, the long signals break. Silence.

"Hello?" you pant.

"Y/N?" Silas gasps.

A weird relief flows through you when hearing his voice. You hadn't realized that you had … missed it. 

 "I was wondering who had gotten my private number!" he continues quickly. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

"Ares wants to take me out of the country — to Spain! He wants to leave tomorrow. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you! You were right about him-"

"Where are you?"

You give him the description of the place while he forces his men to track the call. You crouch down while sobbing. Your entire body trembles.

"Don't worry, baby, I will get you", Silas comforts you. "You'll be safe soon, okay? Just hold out for me. I'll be-"

"Deposit another quarter to keep the call going."

"Fuck!" you shout and slam the phone back in its place. 

Everything seems so quiet again. You open the phone box to get some fresh air when you see him. He's standing with his back leaned against the glass cubicle. You freeze.

"You're not a good actor, Y/N", Ares says with a small smile. "You heard everything I said in my phone call that night. You couldn't fool me."

"You were going to smuggle me out of the country and sell me!" you say through gritted teeth. "Silas was right about you. You are jealous of him, want everything he has. But you'll never have that. You're just a copycat."

Ares stands up and takes a step closer. He towers over you like a predator. You force yourself to stand your ground while glaring at him. 

"A copycat?" he asks, raising his eyebrows testingly. You can hear how he's trying his best to stay calm. "How can I copy someone who isn't deserving of anything? He doesn't deserve even half of the things he's gotten. Not his empire, not his wealth, not his reputation, not you."

You gulp, but train your glare on him.

"And you do, or what?" you question.

"I've actually decided to keep you", Ares says with raised eyebrows. "I'm not going to sell you. How could I? Not after you've been so good to me, actually giving me attention for once. Do you know how sick I am of hearing 'Silas this', 'Silas that'? Despite disowning him, my parents still talk about him constantly! It's always been that way. No one cares what Ares does." He points at you. "You listened to me. You had a good time spending time with me — don't try to lie about it — and I'm not letting you go. I'm not going to be alone again. Silas doesn't take care of you in the way I do. In one month, I've fixed what he's destroyed. Unlike him, I give you freedom. I give you what you want. Silas didn't give you a TV, didn't even let you out of your fucking bedroom! He never answered your questions, I do."

"You tricked me. That day you stumbled into the house the only time we were there wasn't a coincidence, was it? Or the day you met us at the gas station? Your friends had told you, hadn't they? Because if they hadn't, how would you just happen to have a lock pick just when I needed one? You pretended that you were nice to lure me away from Silas, but you're just as bad as him."

"So why do you try to go back to Silas, hm? If he's as bad as me? If you can love him, you can love me too, if you are so persistent that we're the exact same."

"Because at least Silas doesn't pretend to be someone else and would never even think about selling me. But since you're so money hungry, Ares, what do you work with? Your companies. They're not legal, are they? None of the money you have is clean, like you pass them as."

"Silas money isn't clean either. If you're going to call me a scum, you better take a good, hard look at your boyfriend. He has people killed, tortured and manhandled. I don't do that. The worst thing I do is put people into debt, I do not kill."

"People die because of that — and that is your fault. You're both bad, don't pretend to be someone honest." Your eyebrows twitch. "For your information, I would never go to Spain with you, even if I didn't know what a total psychopath you are."

Ares smiles a predatory smile that makes your veins turn to ice. "You're going to Spain with me if I have to drag you by your hair."

You give him one last glare before you run. He sets off after you, grabbing you by your arm. He folds it and reaches for the other while kicking the back of your knees. You fall together and give him just enough time to lock you in place. 

He drags you back to his house where his car is already being loaded with bags. A big box is standing on the grass with its lid open.

"If you hadn't been such a pain, Y/N, I wouldn't have to do this", he pants and pushes you into the box, closing it from the outside. "You could have sat beside me in first class, but now you go with the luggage."

You hit, kick and punch. Stars shoot from the pain.

"Let me out!" you shout. "Ares!"

Silence. You can hear the engine of a car starting and disappearing into the distance. And then comes back.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice shouts.

Silas.

You start to kick and punch the wooden box again, shouting back. Soon, the lid opens and you are met by Silas’s worried face. You have never been so happy to see him before. 

"Oh, Y/N …", he breathes out and lifts you up, hugging you tightly. "My baby."

You cry against his body. He squeezes you in his arms, making sure that you really are real. He examines your poor knuckles, giving them a kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asks worriedly. 

"Ares was going to take me to Spain", you sob.

"Yes, you said something about that on the phone. We'll talk more about it later, okay? Now we need to get you home."

You look around in horror. "Where is Ares?"

"Not here, don't worry. If there's one thing about him that he can't change, it's that he's the biggest coward you'll ever meet. I saw him in his car driving past, shouting that you were here. He'd rather blow off his entire operation than get caught."

You breathe out. Silas hangs his coat over your shoulder before placing his arm around you.

"Let's get you home", he says and kisses your temple. "It's about time. Ive missed you so fucking much. I haven’t been able to sleep without you, I’ve been so scared that Ares had killed you. I’ll cut off his hands for touching you. I’ll pluck out his eyes for looking at you, I promise."

“I’ve missed you too”, you admit and wipe your tears. “He tricked me. I’m sorry.”

Silas kisses your lips and caresses your cheek without saying anything. You can see tears in his eyes, for the very first time.

A paper on the ground catches your attention, but before you have time to look at it, Silas asks about what happened and you have to put it in your pocket.

"He has infiltrated your organization", you say as Silas helps you into the front seat. "He has spies in your group who report to him." You tell him the entire story. "He wanted to smuggle me to Spain to sell em to one of your enemies …"

"Bastard", Silas mutters and hits tye instrumental plate with his palm. "He knows I'm banned from there."

"Why?" 

Silas is about to tell you that you shouldn't worry about it, but then sighs. "A murder or two. But that doesn't matter. I'm just happy that you managed to escape him in time to call me. If you hadn't … I probably wouldn't have gotten you back.”

You fiddle with your fingers guiltily in your lap. "I'm sorry for not believing you …"

"Don't be. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you along. I shouldn’t have thought that he’d give up. Ares is a master manipulator. That's why his businesses are going so well. He knows how to manipulate his way into getting what he wants. He played on your insecurities and fears. I should have protected you better.”

“What will happen to him?”

“I’ll let that cowardly cockroach slip away this time. But the next time I see him, I will kill him.” Silas takes your hand with his free one. “From here on, I’ll make sure it never happens again. I’ll get better security and I’ll make sure we can do more stuff … to make sure that you aren’t locked in the bedroom all the time.”

“That sounds nice …” you say quietly. 

You sit in silence for a while. Suddenly, you remember the paper in your pocket. You pick it out and fold it open. For a few seconds, you’re sure that you can’t breathe. 

'I will come back for you and when I do, it’s going to be bloody'

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere fics #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #yandere duo #yandere brothers #yandere male #yandere oc x y/n #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere criminal #yandere scammer #yandere x darling #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot

[imaginesheaven]

Medic!reader x TF 141 - friendship headcanons

Warnings: none really; mention of injuries

Captain Price requests especially you for the team since he got a glimpse at your file and got impressed instantly by your skills.

That’s is actually not really  surprising because you are quite the legend under the medics and soldiers. No one knows how you keep so many of your team members alive but you do with a quite high rate. This skill of yours turns you into the most wanted medic probably in the whole British Army.

The team isn’t quite sure how to deal with a medic in their lines. They never had one long enough to get used to them. So, at the beginning everything is a bit awkward for all of you.

Within the first mission you show them that you aren’t only a medic but also a fighter who will give everything to see another day. You even saved Soap’s ass in a quite sassy demeanor.

“Ha, Sarge. You owe me one.” – You wink at him grinning away while the men just share a quite confused but impressed glance.

With that you earned your spot at the Task Force 141 and the respect of their members for the rest of your life.

You love taking care of the boys, but you would never tell them directly. Your preferred love language for them is sassiness in every single situation you can think of.

“How is Soap?”, Price asks as you patch the soldier up, “He will survive … unfortunately. Which is quite the surprise with so much stupidity in him.” – “Hey! I can hear you, Doc.” – “Great, at least you are not deaf so I don’t have to repeat myself…”

Gaz and Ghost keep snickering in the back before you turn around and throw them death glares, “You two are not better than him.”

Captain Price loves that you have to deal with this shit too now in your own way.

Since you are patching them up quite frequently, they are treating you like the Holy Grail itself. You are probably the best protected member of the British Army the world has ever seen.

One of them is always by your side at the battlefield, “We got your back, Doc. Don’t worry~”

You are never worried about your own safety and health. These men would literally jump in front of a bullet for you to keep you alive.

“STOP PUTTING YOURSELF IN DANGER FOR ME! THIS IS EVEN MORE WORK FOR ME!”

Of course, you love them in a platonic way to pieces that they want to keep you safe no matter the cost.

Once on a mission you get knocked out by one of the rookies by accident, “We need a medic!” The poor boy had no idea what he gotten himself into. The team looks at you unconscious on the ground, “THAT IS OUR MEDIC! YOU BRAINLESS PIECE OF …”

Ghost and Price have to hold back Soap and Gaz before the punch the living hell out of the rookie. The poor boy is scarred and traumatized for his life.

Back on the home base they come to you with the tiniest injuries because you are their favorite medic ever.

“What is it, Gaz?” – “Got a paper cut. It hurts.” – “You got … a papercut. Do you want your band-aid with ponies or spider-man?” … “Ponies…”

You already have your first-aid kit ready when Gaz, Soap and sometimes Ghost do stupid shit together.

“Hey, Doc. What’cha doing?”, Price takes the seat next to you. Without a word you hold up the kit and point at the boys, “Working.” Not a second later you already hear the pained cries from one of them. “I have no idea how long you all could survive that long without me…”

Getting the call sign “Doc” from the team even if you had a different one before. Not very creative, but it is short and everyone got used to it way too fast. So, Doc it is.

They would never admit it out loud, but the thought men are scared to lose you as much as you are to lose one of them.

During another mission the enemy got you good with a bullet to your shoulder. There was no way you could take care of it yourself. Since the evac would be in the morning you had a whole night to bleed to death. There was no other way around to save your life.

You gave them a good description and a to-do list how they open the wound to get out the bullet and to patch up afterwards. The hard men watched you with pure fear in their eyes as you get everything ready for them to be the doctors this time.

“You can do this, boys”, you encourage them smiling, but all of you know exactly that your time is running out. They would lose you.

Ghost takes things into his own hands and will be the one getting the bullet out. The Captain stays by his side to assist as best as he could. Gaz and Soap are way too nervous to do anything except for holding onto each other.

“How about you two take care of the watch?”, Price gives them an order to get their nervous energy out of his reach. Of course, they would watch from afar instead of keeping their eyes on the windows.

The pain of opening the wound to get the bullet out of your shoulder gets the best of you. Nothing comes over your lips as you slump forward unconscious. Nothing has panicked these men ever before like your blacked out form not able to guide them through every little step.

At least you couldn’t hear the wave of curse words washing over you. Of course, they still manage to patch you up quite nicely and take care of you. You are wrapped up in jackets to make you comfortable as they watch you through the night.

“Shit, I have never done something scarier than this…”, Ghost couldn’t believe you are doing this so often never getting tired of it. You already earned all of their respect beforehand, but once again they are reminded how amazing you are.

“Doc didn’t even scream just passed out silently”, Gaz can’t imagine how painful that must have been. Secretly he wished to be tough like you one day.

“… Why are you all staring at me? You are so creepy”, it isn’t the best way to wake up with four men staring at you intensely like they did. Still you are very grateful that they saved your ass.  

Back home you pay for the first round of drinks since you are alive and get to see another day with your team.

#mw x reader #cod x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #mw headcanons #john price #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #simon riley #task force 141 #cod headcanons #mw2 #mw2 x reader #friendship headcanons

[slut4thebroken]

Practice Makes Perfect

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | stepdad!Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | You go to your stepdad for help… with very pure intentions… obviously. (Heheh)

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, innocence kink, corruption, large age gap, but not under age, hand jobs, oral both m and f receiving, spanking, daddy kink technically, also incest I guess?, groping, thigh riding, praise, a sprinkle of degradation and humiliation.

Words | 7.5 k

Notes | I hope it was worth the wait folks. Also ionno how I feel about this gif but whatever lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You liked making men crave what they could never have, that’s why you dress the way you do. But it seemed like the one man you actually wanted to crave you, never did. Much to your disappointment. 

But you liked doing it in a subtle way, where at first glance, it wouldn’t seem like your goal was to get his attention. You’d wear loose, frilly skirts, always on the shorter side, but not short enough to be too obvious, and tight crop tops that were somewhat see-through. You also liked wearing pretty dresses and knee high socks and dainty jewelry and soft makeup. All of which at first glance would just seem like a cute, unintentionally sexy— yet still in an innocent way somehow— outfit. 

Nothing you ever did caught his eye though. Sometimes you’d forego the bra all together so that your nipples were just barely poking through the thin fabric of your top, but you still didn't get a reaction. So you decided to step it up. 

“Mr. Rippner?” You asked quietly, making him look up from the computer screen as you hesitantly walked in. 

“How many times have I told you to call me Jackson.” He said teasingly.  

“Sorry…” You couldn’t help the blush that painted your cheeks when he gave you a soft smile. 

“What's up?” 

“I can come back later if you’re busy…”

“Never too busy for you. Come sit.” He clicked a few buttons on the computer then gave you his full attention. You dragged one of the arm chairs a little closer to his desk, then sat down. 

“I just… had a question— questions. But I’m scared to ask my mom.” You said quietly, nervously playing with the fabric of your skirt. 

“Scared?” 

“I don’t want her to see me any differently… and I’m scared that asking this might do that.” 

“You can talk to me.” His tone was so genuine that it made you want to tell him anything and everything about yourself, even your deepest secrets. His warm smile wasn’t helping much either. 

“Thank you… So, um— there’s this guy that I like..” He just barely stiffened when you said that. “He’s older,”

“How much older?” 

“A little more than twenty years…” 

“He’s in his forties?” 

“Early fourties, yes.” You said quietly, not able to maintain eye contact any longer. You couldn’t figure out what emotion was on his face right now. “But I really really like him, Mr. Rippner, and he treats me right.” 

“Any man going after you who’s that old will not treat you right.” 

“Oh…” You kept your eyes on your lap as your chest ached. Even though this wasn’t a direct rejection it still hurt. “Sorry.” 

“Hey— no, I'm sorry.” His tone was noticeably softer. “I just worry about you, kiddo.” Your whole face heated up at the name, as it always does. “I'm sorry. If you still want to talk, I'm here for you.” 

“Thanks…” When he didn’t say anything, you took that as your cue to continue. “I- I’ve been having.. bad thoughts about him, Mr. Rippner. And I know that it’s wrong, but I just can’t help it. I don’t even really know what he’s making me feel, just that it makes me feel dirty…” His cheek tensed as he clenched his jaw.  

“Inappropriate thoughts, you mean?” He clarified and you nodded in response. “I see. And before I respond, what exactly is it that you’re asking me?” 

“I- I want to impress him… but I’ve never done.. anything. I’m scared I’ll make a fool of myself, so I was hoping… you could help me?”

“Help you?” He choked out. You nodded and bit your lip. “Let me just make sure I’m hearing this right. You want to fuck a man twice your age,” you blushed at his crude words, “but you’re nervous about it… so you’re asking your step father, who’s also twice your age, to help you practice so you feel more confident?” 

“I’m sorry, this was stupid.” You muttered as you got to your feet. 

“Sit down.” His voice was technically still soft, but you could hear the underlying sternness in his tone, so you lowered yourself back down in the chair. “Why me?” 

“I just… I trust you a lot, Mr. Rippner— more than most. I know you’d never do anything to take advantage of me.” You said, even though you hoped he would. 

“And what about your mom?” That made you frown. 

“I didn’t mean it in a cheating way. Just for you to show me what to do— to teach me. That’s not cheating.” 

“Sweetheart…” He started, making your frown deepen. “You understand why this would be wrong other than that, right?” 

“…No.” You did. 

“Not even talking about the fact that I'm twice your age— I’m your step father. This is not something that step fathers teach their step daughters.” He explained gently. 

“Oh.. I guess you don’t have to, then. I can just… ask him to teach me or something.” 

“Absolutely not.” He said sternly, startling you. “Telling him that will practically give him the green light to manipulate and coerce you.” 

“He wouldn’t do that.” You frowned. 

“Yes he would. Every man would.” 

“Clearly not every man.” You muttered. 

“Look,” he sighed, “I do want to help you, kiddo, but it’s more complicated than that.” 

“It doesn’t have to be..” 

“But it is.” 

“Are you not attracted to me?” You asked suddenly. “Is that why?” He sighed again and looked away from you, making your stomach churn. “Oh.” You felt like you were about to cry any minute now— this is not going how it was supposed to at all. You felt stupid and embarrassed and you wished you never came in here. 

“I…” he sighed, “It's not that. I shouldn’t be attracted to you, honey. It’s wrong.”

“…But you are?” He said ‘shouldn’t’ so maybe that’s a good sign. 

“It’s doesn’t matter if I am,” 

“I’m attracted to you, Mr. Rippner.” You said quietly, waiting nervously for his reaction. “It doesn’t feel wrong.” He let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes as his head tilted back a little. You watched him carefully, trying to figure out what he was thinking. When he suddenly leaned back up and opened his eyes, they were significantly darker, the pretty, pale blue almost gone now. “Mr. Rippner?” You asked when he didn’t say anything. 

“I’m not going to show you, but I’ll tell you. How does that sound?” You frowned and looked away. 

“Okay… If you think that’s best, I trust you.” You said, silently praying for him to do more than talk to you. 

“Let’s just start off with you telling me what you do know.” 

“Um… Well, I’ve seen people kiss.. and I’ve tried to practice, but it feels awkward and I don’t want it to be weird when it happens.” 

“You never kissed anyone?” His eyebrows were raised as he stared at you in poorly concealed surprise. 

“…No.” You said, voice small. 

“Okay,” he cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, “okay. What else?” 

“I mean… I think I mostly know how the rest of it goes? The part where.. I don’t really do much. It’s the other parts that I don’t know.” 

“You mean foreplay?” You nodded with a blush. “And you know how to practice safe sex, right?” 

“A condom?” 

“That’s the most common way, yes.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy breath. “Okay. I think I can help you out with some of it, but the rest you might just need to practice on your own. 

“But I have!” Your blush deepened when you realized what you just implied. 

“You have?”

“I- I mean.. I just— It…” Nothing you could say would save you. 

“Dirty girl… Do you have a toy hidden somewhere?” He said teasingly and you didn’t know how to respond, not when the real answer is so much more embarrassing and perverted. 

“Something like that..” He examined you carefully, making you feel like he was uncovering every secret you've ever had. 

“Oh I see.” He chuckled. “Creative little minx, aren’t you? What’d you use?” You looked down and bit your lip, feeling far too embarrassed right now. “Hairbrush handle? Cucumber?” 

“Stop teasing me, Mr. Rippner.” You pouted and he gave you a small smile.

“I’ll stop teasing once you stop calling me that.” When your gaze stayed on your lap, he continued. “Where'd you use it? Your mouth or your cunt?” Your head snapped up with a gasp at his vulgar language. 

“Mr. Rippner!” You scolded him, but your cheeks were far too red to uphold the sternness of your reprimand.

“It’s just a simple question, kiddo. You’re going to have to get used to those words if you want my help. I can’t really explain it without saying it.” 

“I- I know. It just caught me off guard is all and um… mouth.” You muttered, not able to maintain eye contact. “But I couldn't do it, it was too hard.” 

“What’d you try to do, sweetheart?”

“I dunno… just— anything that I thought might be right. I didn’t really know what to do.” You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Need someone to teach me…” 

“You know that I can’t.” He said softly. 

“But how else am I supposed to learn? Why can’t you just help me?” You pouted, making him sigh. 

“I am helping you.” 

“But….” You were going to beg again, but so far that’s gotten you nowhere, so you decided to try something else. “Fine— I’ll just find someone else!” You said, standing up and turning around to walk out. 

“Sit down. I won’t tell you again.” He said sternly, making you freeze, but not turn around yet. 

“Mr. Rippner…” You finally turned back to face him, but you couldn’t look at him, “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day,”

“You really don’t want me to tell you again.” He warned and for the first time, you felt a little afraid of him. It was flustered fear, but fear nonetheless. You slowly walked back over and sat down again. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to help you, but you’re not going to tell anyone. Especially your mother. Do you understand?” You couldn’t help the smile that creeped up on your face as you nodded. 

“Come here.” You got back up and walked around the desk, waiting awkwardly for the next instruction. “On your knees.” Your stomach fluttered and you could feel the ache between your legs that you usually get when you’re near him. Slowly lowering yourself to the ground, you placed your hands on your lap and looked up at him as he rolled his chair back and faced you. 

“Do whatever you think is right. I’ll stop you or tell you what to do if you need help.” Even though that made you nervous because there was a higher chance you’d embarrass yourself, you agreed. 

Shuffling forward, you settled between his legs and reached for his belt. The bulge in his pants was already making your mouth water and you pressed your thighs together without thinking. His breath hitched when you accidentally brushed his crotch, but he let you continue until his pants were open enough for you to pull them down a little and reach inside to take out his length. 

You gasped at the size of him and stared at it with wide eyes and slightly parted lips— how is this ever going to fit.. anywhere inside you when it barely fits in your hand? He brushed your hair out of your face and you swallowed thickly as you forced your eyes away from his length to look up at him. 

“Y-you’re… Are they all this big?” You asked nervously, making him chuckle quietly. 

“Not all, but I’m only a little above average.” 

“Oh.” So the average is only a little smaller? That didn’t ease your nerves at all. 

“Just take it slow, kiddo. Don’t rush into it, go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” You were struggling to get yourself to follow the soft demand because of how badly you wanted to impress him. “Start with your hand.” You nodded and swallowed down the lump in your throat as you reached for his length. Tentatively grasping it in your hand, you stroked him slowly, looking up at him for confirmation. “A little harder, love.” You squeezed harder, but immediately pulled back when he winced. 

“I’m sorry,” 

“That’s okay. Here,” he took your hand in his and wrapped it around his cock, moving it slowly. “Like this, okay?” When you nodded, he let go for you to continue on your own. You noticed that his limited reactions seemed to mostly happen when you were at the tip, so you focused on that, rubbing your thumb over the bead of clear liquid on top, making him curse under his breath. 

“You know what that is?” He asked, almost breathlessly. 

“…Precum?” You were terrified of embarrassing yourself by saying the wrong thing, but you vaguely remembered learning that somewhere. 

“That’s right.. good girl. Have a taste.” With a blush from the praise, you tentatively brought your hand up and sucked your thumb into your mouth. “Do you like it?”

“I think so. It’s… watery but a little sweet almost?” He laughed quietly and you gave him a small smile. 

“Keep going.” You started stroking him again, keeping the pace a little slow as you got used to it. “Do you want to try using your mouth now?” You looked up at him nervously, but nodded anyway. “Okay, just suck on the tip while you keep stroking it.” You shuffled forward even closer and placed your free hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you leaned up a little. When you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, he let out a shaky breath and put his hand on top of yours on his thigh. 

“Suck it and flick your tongue over it,” you obeyed and he let out a low moan, “there you go… Keep using your hand.” You hadn’t even realized you stopped stroking him until he mentioned it. 

“Atta girl. You’re a natural, kiddo.” You couldn’t help the whimper that slipped out at the praise, even if he was just teasing you. You continued stroking his length while mouthing at the tip, not sure what to do next. Thankfully he seemed ready to help you with that. 

“You want to draw it out a little so how about you practice kissing, hm?” You perked up at the thought of finally being able to kiss him, but almost pouted when you realized he didn’t mean on his lips. You gave the tip and quick kiss, then looked up at him, asking a silent question of what to do. “Kiss all over it, sweetheart.” You obeyed, working your way down the underside of his cock. “Good girl. Keep going down.” You were quickly reaching the base and you looked up at him in confusion. 

“You didn’t think you were just going to suck my cock, did you?” He chuckled, making you frown. You did think that… What else would you suck? “Start with kissing and licking my balls.” That made you pull back as your eyes widened. 

“Your— But… Is that,” 

“You’re not going to impress any man with a mediocre blow job. I’m trying to help you, baby.” You didn’t know that was a thing you had to do… and for some reason it felt dirtier than everything you’ve done so far. He picked up on your apprehension and his teasing smirk dropped into a more serious expression. 

“Hey, we don’t have to.” He said softly, genuinely. “The second you change your mind, we’re done, no questions asked. I can make you some hot chocolate and put on that movie you like and we don’t have to mention this ever again.” 

“I…” You swallowed the lump in your throat as your gaze shifted between his eyes and his cock. “Can we still do all of that after we do this?” You asked timidly, making the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile as he reached out to pet your hair. 

“Of course we can, kiddo. I’m pretty much done with work for the day so I’m all yours until it’s your bedtime.” You flushed at the mention of the silly rule he was so adamant about implementing. You told him that you’re an adult and adults don’t have bedtimes and he said that he just wants what’s best for you and that getting a good night's sleep is one of the best things you could do to take care of yourself. You didn’t protest again after that— mostly just because you liked the idea of him having that power over you. 

“Since it’s Friday… could we maybe.. extend my bedtime?” You asked coyly, staring up at him with wide pleading eyes. He raised his brows as he looked down at you for a moment before letting out a breathy laugh and looking away. 

“You’re getting too spoiled. I might as well start calling you princess.” He said with a sly smile, making you blush. 

“If I’m your princess, does that make you my daddy?” You asked innocently, making his breath catch in his throat, but he recovered quickly and decided to tease you a little. 

“Now where did you learn something like that?” Your blush intensified and you couldn’t maintain eye contact any longer. 

“Heard some classmates talking about it…” 

“Aren’t you a nosy little thing? But no kiddo, that doesn’t make me your daddy. I’m still just plain old stepdad Jackson.” He said with a small shrug. 

“But… if I want you to be?” You asked nervously. He let out a heavy breath that turned into a quiet chuckle. 

“If you want me to be… Then, we'll do a trial run tonight, how does that sound?”  

“Good. Thank you, daddy.” You decided to try it out immediately and it was strange how natural the word fell from your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his cock twitch. 

“Okay, princess. You do a good job and I’ll reward you by pushing your bedtime back an hour.” That made your face light up, but you were feeling bold right now. 

“…Two?” 

“Thirty minutes?” He asked, in the same tone as you, making you pout and accept his original offer of one hour. “Pick up where you left off.” He spread his legs to give you more room to shuffle forward and lean your face close to his length, but instead of aiming for his cock, you went lower. You did as he instructed, kissing and licking them gently. It felt dirty and wrong doing this, but somehow, at the same time, like the most fulfilling thing you've ever done. 

“Now suck one into your mouth.” The second your lips wrapped around one, he cursed under his breath and let out a sigh of pleasure, but it quickly turned into a wince, making you pull back instantly. “Gotta be gentler, honey.” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” You rushed out, face flushing with shame, and he shushed you. 

“It’s okay. Just do it a little softer.” You hesitantly leaned forward to try once again, now much more apprehensive this time. “There you go…” He cooed, “Few more seconds, then do the same to the other one. Don’t forget to use your hand on my cock while you do this.” You blushed at the crude words but wrapped a hand around his length again to start pumping slowly before releasing him with a loud pop and moving to the other one. His sounds gave you confidence and you flicked your tongue as you sucked, then pulled back to keep licking and kissing while you stroked him. It was hard to multitask though with how overwhelmed you were getting from his scent and his hand holding yours on his thigh and just his closeness. 

You tried not to get too embarrassed when your spit kept building up until it was covering your lips and chin, making you feel even dirtier. But you realized that you like how it feels. You like feeling filthy as you make him feel good. 

You kept mouthing at his balls, occasionally sucking on them, and he placed his free hand on your head, stroking your hair. 

“Fuck… Look at you— Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” He asked teasingly, not giving you a chance to reply before speaking again. “There’s no way this mouth belongs to my innocent little girl.” You blushed, feeling shy at the compliment. 

“Daddy…” You whined against him, never stopping the movement of your hand or mouth. 

“It’s okay, kiddo. You just keep sucking on my balls and stroking my cock. Don’t need to do anything else.” You whimpered and squirmed at his feet, quickly growing uncomfortable with the weird feeling between your legs. 

“Daddy, it hurts.” You didn’t want to disobey him by stopping right after he told you to keep going, so you barely pulled back enough to get the words out. 

“What hurts?” You whined quietly and pressed your thighs together. His gaze traveled down your body curiously. “Your cunt?” You mewled and blushed at the vulgar word, but nodded in agreement. 

“You’re a proper whore, aren’t you?” He chuckled, making you frown and pull back. 

“No…” 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, baby. If sucking balls is what gets you off, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Stop making fun of me.” You pouted, making him smile. “And ‘m not a whore.” 

“Of course you’re not a whore, princess. You’re my whore.” Your entire face heated up and the ache between your legs got infinitely worse. “Isn’t that right?” You whined quietly and he chuckled. 

“Y-yes…” You whispered. “Yours.” 

“My what?” Your expression turned into a pout and you averted your gaze. “Hm?”

“Your— your whore.” You choked out as tears welled in your eyes from the humiliation of it all.  

“Good girl. Keep going.” 

“But,” He gave you a warning look so you ignored the fire in your belly and leaned back in. Your hand picked up again as you tried new things with your mouth on his balls, making sure to repeat the ones that drew any sounds from him. There was even more saliva now and you could feel some of it dripping down your neck to your chest.

“Go a little lower now.” 

“W-what?” You choked out, trying to pull back, but he used the hand on your head to hold you there. “Relax, kiddo. Just a little bit.” He explained, but you were still apprehensive. He pushed you down until your chin hit the chair then pulled you closer, burying your nose into his balls and holding you there. 

“Lick.” He demanded, but you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be licking. Since you weren’t able to question him, you just stuck your tongue out and moved it as best you could with how close he was holding you to his body. “There you fucking go.” He groaned, bucking his hips against your face. 

“So fuckin’ filthy.” He said through a breath. Despite the degrading words he used, his tone was full of admiration and pride. “Covered in your own spit as you lick my taint.” He chuckled, voice a little darker now. “Work your way back up slowly.” He lessened the pressure on your head and you gave one last lick before moving up to his balls, mouthing at them for a few seconds, then kissing up his length until you reached the tip. You pulled back and looked up at him, waiting for the next instruction eagerly. 

“…I’m on the fence about teaching you this.” You furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“What is it?”

“It’s not necessary for a good blow job, you can leave a guy plenty satisfied with what I’ve taught you so far, but this just makes it even better.” You wanted to make him feel even better so there wasn’t any doubt in your mind. 

“Please teach me?” You asked, even though you still weren’t really sure what he was talking about. 

“Are you sure?”

“Please, daddy.” You whined. 

“Okay, princess. Hands off.” You let go of his cock and placed your hand on his thigh. “Open.” Your mouth fell open and he adjusted so he was gripping your hair, then slowly lowered you onto him. 

“First I want you to show me how far down you can take it.” He kept his grip on your hair, but let you move freely. Slowly forcing yourself down, you looked up at him for a moment before taking a deep breath through your nose and closing your eyes to concentrate. This is what you’re not good at. You kept going down until he brushed the back of your mouth. When you tried to move down even more, you gagged and had to pull off. 

“Good girl. Almost halfway.” You all but beamed at the praise. “I’m going to try holding you there. Pinch my thigh if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded and he gave you a small smile. “Take a deep breath.” You inhaled and let your mouth fall open, waiting for him to guide you down onto his cock. He pushed your head slowly until he reached the back of your mouth, then held you still. You were fine for a few seconds as you breathed heavily through your nose and focused on suppressing your gag reflex, but once it started, you couldn’t stop it and you had to pinch his thigh. 

“That was good, kiddo. You’re already getting better. Just try to keep your mouth open wider so your teeth aren’t touching it, okay?” 

“Okay. Sorry…” You looked away, feeling embarrassed. You didn’t know how you were supposed to open your mouth any wider when your jaw was already starting to ache because of his size. 

“Don’t apologize. You’re learning, you’re bound to make a mistake or two.” He said, easing your nerves. 

“Can I try again?” 

“Whenever you’re ready.” You sank down on his cock voluntarily this time and took deep breaths through your nose as he held you there. You didn’t want to gag, but you could feel it coming anyway. When it happened, you squeezed his thighs to keep yourself from pinching him, wanting to hold out a little longer. He shushed you and used a hand to pet your head while the other held you down as your body instinctively tried to pull up. 

“Good girl. See if you can control it.” You squeezed your eyes shut with a strangled whimper and tried to breathe slowly. “That’s it… I'm going to pull you up a little so you can take a breath.” He lifted you only an inch or so up and you heaved in a shaky breath before he pushed you back down. You weren’t expecting him to actually only let you take a single breath, so you gagged again the second he hit the back of your mouth. This time though, you gagged hard enough to make you feel like you could throw up if it happened just one more time so you pinched him and he pulled you off. 

A string of saliva connected your lips to his cock and you panted heavily, trying to catch your breath and push down the nausea. 

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo. You’re doing amazing.” It didn’t feel like you were doing amazing, but you blushed at the compliment anyway. 

“Thank you.” You rasped, giving him a small smile. He cupped your cheek, rubbing the saliva on your lips around a little as he returned the expression. 

“Keep this up and I might consider pushing your bedtime back two hours instead.” Your face lit up at that and he laughed under his breath. 

“Really?” 

“You deserve it.” You smiled and his thumb swiped over your lips again, so you took it into your mouth and sucked lightly. “Christ— You’re going to kill me, baby.” He groaned, making you blush. “Do you think you can try something a little harder now?” 

“I think so.” You said quietly, after reluctantly pulling away from his thumb to speak. 

“I’m going to push you down farther, okay? You’ll probably gag, but I know you can take it.” He pushed your hair out of your face and gave you a reassuring smile. You nodded and moved closer to his length, taking a deep breath and waiting for him to push you down. He did it slowly and stopped once he reached the back of your mouth. Placing both hands on the back of your head, he applied more pressure, but did it quickly. You gagged instantly, but it cut off into a garbled whimper when he breached your throat barrier and pushed you all the way down until your nose was buried in his pelvis and your chin was resting on his balls. 

“Fuck— good fucking girl.” He said through a moan. You tried to stay there despite the intense need to gag, but it was quickly becoming too much. “You feel incredible, baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing him curse under his breath as you choked. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you pinched his thigh and he hesitated for a second before letting you pull off. He stroked your hair as you coughed and tried to catch your breath. You looked up at him through teary eyes and his other hand moved to cup your cheek and brush his thumb over your lips that were slick with even more saliva now. 

“How you holding up?” He asked softly and you cleared your throat before responding. 

“Good I think..” 

“Do you want to stop?” Kind of… but at the same time you wanted more. More of this— more of him. 

“No- no… I want to keep going.”

“Don’t just say that because you think it’s what I want to hear,”

“‘m not. Wanna keep going.” You whined. 

“Do you want to keep doing this or go back to what you were doing before?” He seemed to like this the most and you wanted to practice so you could get better for him. So even though your throat was already sore, you said yes. 

“This.” 

“Okay, baby. Whenever you’re ready.” You cleared your throat again and tried to even out your breathing before wrapping your lips around the tip again, waiting for him to push you back down. He moved you slowly until he reached the back of your mouth and you braced yourself for what was about to happen. 

Even though you were anticipating it, you still gagged when he applied more pressure, and then choked when he finally entered your throat. You were coughing and sputtering around him, each time forcing more spit out of your mouth, making your face heat up when you felt more of it roll down your neck to your chest. 

“That’s it… Good girl.” The moan that escaped you because of his praise sounded more like a garbled, incoherent sound rather than anything else. “Fuck— I’m gonna come, baby.” He groaned, making your stomach flutter. 

You wanted nothing more than to pull off so you could breathe and cough, but you wanted to let him finish. So you squeezed his thighs hard enough to make him wince and his hips flinched up, burying his cock even deeper. 

“When I pull out, keep your mouth open.” He rushed out and you could only make a strangled sound in return. His hips were rutting up into your mouth now as he kept a tight grip on your head, not letting you move when your body reflexively tried to pull away. He cursed under his breath, then let out a loud groan, and you felt heat in your throat until he pulled out. You coughed, but tried to keep your mouth open as he stroked his cock in front of you, making more come land on your tongue and around your lips. When his sounds quieted and his hand slowed to a stop, he stared down at you as he panted. 

“Swallow.” He demanded softly. You reluctantly closed your mouth and swallowed, then he swiped up the come that landed on your face and put it on your tongue for you to swallow as well. 

You tried not to let it show in your expression, but you weren’t expecting it to taste like that at all and it caught you off guard. Especially because you were expecting more of the sweet taste that the precum had. 

“Everyone tastes like that?” You asked quietly, making him chuckle. 

“I wouldn’t really know, sweetheart, but I would assume so.” He wiped your tears and the spit from your chin and your stomach fluttered again at the soft, simple action. “You did such a good job. I’m so proud, kiddo.” Your whole face flushed at the compliment, but you didn’t understand why he said it since it didn’t seem like you improved much. 

“Thank you..” You said anyway, making the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile. 

“Get up here, princess.” You immediately got giddy at the thought of being so close to him and you eagerly climbed onto the chair and straddled his legs, putting your hands on his shoulders. He rubbed up and down your thighs slowly, teasing you. 

“Do you think you’ve learned enough?” You tried not to frown at the thought of this ending so soon. 

“No…” You muttered, looking down. 

“No? What else can I teach you, baby?” He chuckled. You knew his question was rhetorical, but you answered anyway. 

“I- I don’t know how to… touch myself.” You said with a blush and his eyes widened a little. 

“You don’t touch yourself?” He asked through a breath, almost completely frozen. 

“I’ve tried… I just end up feeling awkward and dumb so I stop. But I need you, daddy, it hurts. Make it go away.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes and a frown. He cursed under his breath and closed his eyes for a moment, his grip tightening on your thighs. 

“Fuck— fuck, okay. I’ll teach you, but after that, no more.” 

“Okay.” You agreed, even though you knew you were going to be begging him to keep going when he decided to stop. He took a deep breath and you waited anxiously for him to do something. 

“You have to start slow, build up to it. Women are different from men, they need more than we do to get started.” His hands dragged up your thighs— over your skirt— to your hips, then up your waist, and sadly back down again. 

“Don’t wanna start slow.” You whined, squirming in his lap. 

“You told me to teach you and that’s what I’m doing, princess.” You huffed and looked away from him with a pout. When he suddenly grabbed your cheeks in one hand, then turned you back to face him and pulled you closer, your breath caught in your throat. 

“I don’t want any attitude from you when I’m the one doing you a favor.” He said lowly, but you were distracted by his breath fanning your lips and his grip on your face. “I control how fast or slow we go. Do you understand?” There was that fear again, only this time you subconsciously tried to grind against him. 

“Y-yes.” You whispered, staring at him with wide eyes, getting needier and needier. “Please,” You whined, squirming again, but stopping when his hand moved down to your throat. 

“What did I just say?” He gritted. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry— But I can’t take this anymore, it’s torture!” You cried. He stared at you with a dark look that made you nervous and you waited anxiously for what was next. 

“Fine. Up.”

“Daddy…” You whined, but it cut off then he roughly grabbed your hips and lifted you to your feet. He didn’t even give you a demand before pulling you forward by your hips so that your legs were on either side of one of his. You gasped when he pulled you down and reached for his shoulders to steady yourself. “Grind on my thigh.” 

“W-what?” You choked out, eyes widening even more. 

“If you want to act like a bitch in heat, that’s how you’ll be treated. Hump my fucking thigh or we’re done for tonight.” He menaced, making your whole face heat up. You’ve never heard such degrading words before, especially not aimed at you, and even though you were probably supposed to be upset that he basically just called you a dog… you started moving your hips anyway. 

“You need to learn,” he landed a hard smack on your ass, making you cry out and tighten your grip on his shoulders, “when to fucking listen.” Another spank, this time on your other cheek. “I didn’t have to let you suck my cock, but I did…” When he hit you again, you felt tears brimming in your eyes. “I didn’t have to teach you how to deep throat,” you let out a choked sob when he hit you again, the hardest so far, “but I did.” He growled, spanking you twice in quick succession. 

“I’m sorry!” You cried, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Look at the fucking mess you’re making.” He roughly fisted your hair and forced your head down so you could see the damp spot on his pants where you were grinding. You whined, getting so overwhelmed with the feeling between your legs and his words and his hands and just him. 

“Get the fuck up.” He suddenly said, making your heart drop. Was he going to leave you like this? All needy and achy?

“Daddy, ‘m sorry.” You whimpered, staring at him with puppy dogs eyes and a pout. In response, he just lifted you off of him by your hips and stood up. You protested with a whine, but it cut off when he pushed you in front of the desk and roughly forced your chest down on it. You tried lifting yourself up, but he just placed a firm hand between your shoulder blades and forced you back down. 

“Stay.” He growled, making you stiffen. He flipped your skirt up and you squirmed with a low whine. “No shorts?” He spanked you again and you quickly scrambled for purchase on the desk. When he roughly groped your ass, you let out a quiet moan and squeezed your thighs together, but he kicked your legs apart, not letting you have any relief. 

“Daddy…” You whined, but it cut off into a yelp when he spanked you again. He roughly cupped your sex and you mewled in response as you pushed your hips back. 

“Such a needy fucking pussy for a virgin.” He gruffed, making you blush, but it only intensified when he pulled your panties to the side. 

“Fuck…” He muttered, then dragged a finger through your slit, spreading your arousal. “Fuck!” You jumped at the sudden increase in volume. Was he mad? He sounded like he was quickly losing his composure and you weren’t exactly sure why or how you could help him. 

“Daddy?” 

“Shut up.” He hissed, roughly gripping your underwear and pulling until he ripped it off of you. “Just shut the fuck up.” 

“Mmph!” He shoved your panties in your mouth before you could even register what was happening. He ignored you and roughly groped your ass again, pulling you apart to spread your holes and cursing under his breath. When wetness and heat replaced the chilly air on your clit, your hips flinched back toward the pleasure as a surprise moan escaped you. 

He licked over you slowly, still having a firm grip on your ass to keep you spread open. Moving up to your hole, he licked and sucked, making a loud, vulgar slurping sound that had you whining from embarrassment. 

You whimpered, hiding your burning face in your arms. He lapped up your arousal for a while before going back down to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. You choked on a whimper at the sudden, intense pleasure, making him chuckle against you. 

Your knees shook and you moved your hands to grip the desk, trying to ground yourself, but it was just so fucking intense. Eventually, your legs got too weak to hold you up and all of your weight was resting on the desk with the hard wood digging into your hip bones painfully. 

You whimpered, feeling your stomach tighten with arousal even more, but let out an anguished sob when he suddenly pulled back. Your head was spinning with how fast he lifted you off of the desk and sat you down on his chair, removing the makeshift gag.

He pulled your hips to the edge and dove back in eagerly. Your hands landed in his hair as you rocked your hips against his face, moaning and whining at the new feeling— you could already tell you were getting addicted. Moving down to your hole, he lapped up your arousal and rubbed his thumb over your clit, making your stomach feel even tighter.  

“If you let that… that fucking pervert anywhere near you I swear to god you won’t be able to sit for a fucking week.” He growled and you moaned at his words as well as the sudden possessiveness in his tone. “This pussy is mine. Do you understand?” You mewled and tugged his hair, trying to pull his mouth back on you, but he was stronger. 

“Y-yes. Yours, daddy.” You whined, tugging harder. “Please!” You cried, when he still wouldn’t give in. “It’s yours, daddy! I’m all yours.” You sobbed out, grinding your hips in hopes of getting the stimulation back. 

“Pull your shirt up.” He gruffed, only leaning back down after you obeyed. His mouth took over his thumb again and he reached up to grope your breast as he sucked on your clit in an almost feral manner. “Who’s tits are these?” He mumbled against you, starting to toy with your nipple now. 

“Yours.” 

“Who’s allowed to see them?” He switched hands, giving your other nipple the same treatment. 

“Only you.” You said through a breath, feeling the coil in your stomach get impossibly tighter. 

“Who’s allowed to touch them?” 

“Only you, daddy. Please!” He didn’t respond, he just worked harder and faster on your clit until you fell over the edge. You sobbed out a moan and pulled on his hair hard enough to make him hiss in pain. But that was overshadowed by the feeling flooding your entire body, making you tremble and writhe as you rutted against his face. You weren’t lying when you said you don’t touch yourself, but now that you know what an orgasm feels like? You might start trying honestly. 

Once your body sagged into the chair and your sounds died down, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. You were panting, still trying to calm down even though you were practically dizzy with pleasure. You felt warm hands running up and down your thighs, soothing you, and you gave him a dopey smile as your eyes fluttered open to look down at him. 

“You’ve got quite the grip on you, kiddo.” He chuckled, making you blush and loosen your hands in his hair. 

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly, trying to rub his scalp a little to soothe the ache he must be feeling from you pulling so hard. 

“You okay?” He asked and you nodded wordlessly. “I… I didn’t mean to get so harsh. I just worry.” 

“I know, it’s okay. I won’t go near him.” It felt like you were hit with a wave of exhaustion all of a sudden. Is that what orgasms do? Make you sleepy?

“Good girl. You tired?” When you nodded, he chuckled quietly. “Let’s get you cleaned up really quick. Wait here.” As if you could stand on your wobbly legs. You thought with an internal scoff. He left the room and returned with a damp washcloth a minute later. He started with your face, gently wiping the mascara from under your eyes and the dried spit around your mouth, trailing down your chest. Once that was cleaned up, he went even lower. You jolted when the cloth brushed over your folds. 

“I’ll be quick.” He said, trying to soothe you. He wiped the area gently and you couldn’t help the quiet moan that slipped out when he brushed your clit. “None of that.” He reprimanded you softly and with a smile. When he finished, he pulled your top back down and fixed your skirt. 

“Do you still want that hot chocolate and movie?” You nodded with a lazy smile and he chuckled before picking you up and carrying you to the living room. He set you down on the couch gently and laid a blanket over you, then kissed the top of your head. As he was walking to the kitchen, your brain was already starting to come up with new ways to get this to happen again. You still have so much to learn, after all. 

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[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 16

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 16/? 9k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Frustrated by inconclusive endings, Eddie takes a seat behind the wheel. 

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: general angst, paternal angst, drug mention

Thursday, December 12th 1985

Before the first morning bell, Eddie gave Judy at reception his best impression of Wayne over the phone. He wasn’t totally lying, he was in fact, quite sick. Sick of all the taunting looks from meathead jocks. Sick of the way Ms. O’Donnell cleared her throat every five minutes. Sick of waking up so goddamn early. Sick of wasting his time. So after hanging up the phone, he stuffed a few essentials in his backpack and made for the door. 

Like clockwork, Wayne always came home at around 8:10 AM, and though it would be far from the first time he’d skipped school, Eddie would rather not have to explain himself. Besides, he could use a change of scenery. There was no denying winter anymore, the ice he scraped off his windshield made sure to remind him. On a typical hooky day he would drive down to Lover’s Lake and toss open the rear doors, catch a breeze, light a joint, sit back and take in the ripples on the water and the rustling leaves. But that had all frozen over, so unless he intended to burn through his whole tank of gas, he would need to get creative. 

That was how he found himself at Benny’s at 7:58 on a Thursday morning, setting up camp in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He ordered his usual — bacon, scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes in addition to white toast. Tossing his fourth emptied sugar packet beside the leaning tower of creamers, he sat back in the sticky, padded seat and took his first deep breath all morning. 

The diner was bustling lowly, a handful of regulars perched on silver, spinning stools at the bar. From the frosted window leeching cool air beside him, he watched the funeral procession of headlights down Washington under a mournful sky. Just another day for the upright citizens of Hawkins, Indiana. From his cozy booth, Eddie sipped the top off his very full mug and smiled to himself. 

Sprawling his belongings around the piping hot plates, he popped on his headphones, cracked open his monster manual, and got to work. The first hour flew by like his pencil across the graph paper. Between the bacon bits that had leapt from hand to page, a formidable lineup of foes was taking shape. Bottom line; the boys were in for a world of hurt tomorrow. He did his best to resign the grease to the flimsy napkins, but by the time he was finished, syrup tacked the gargoyle and gorgon pages together. 

“Anything else I can grab for ya besides the check?” Sheri—according to her name tag—asked with a tired lean as she reached to clear his plates. 

Eddie glanced down sheepishly at his freshly topped off mug. “I uh, think I might be staying for lunch.”

Sheri forced a hot pink smile, catching the fork with her decorated finger when it threatened to slide off the plate. “Y’ want me to get a room set up for you too?” she joked with a wink of her spidery lashes. “Just teasin’ sweetie. You just flag me down when you’re ready.”

Switching out his tapes, Eddie shut the cassette player and stared out the window as the men at the bar tossed their napkins and fished out their wallets. Snow was falling in lazy clumps, clinging to his windshield. Somewhere behind the overcast clouds, the sun was rising steadily. It was dismal, a fitting backdrop for the opening track of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Of all the seasons, winter belonged to metal. Like it was made for cruising down a quiet, snow-covered street in the middle of nowhere. Made for drowning out Bing Crosby crooning from the speaker in the corner above him. Tinsel glittered on the small tree perched on a cloud of fake snow beside the cash register. Ornaments on swags swayed to the thump of footsteps passing. Eddie sighed and stared into the changing street lights.

Glancing at his watch he figured you were probably wrapping up the film with second period, knitting your brow and drawing your pen across the papers you were grading. He wondered what you’d think when the bell rang for fourth and you found his seat empty. Would you think he was upset with you? There was a small part of him that hoped so, and another part that hoped you would understand. After all, he was giving you the space you asked for, was he not?

Like a siren, your story—tucked between his notebook and the magazines he’d exhausted twice cover to cover—called to him. Cracking open the plastic spine, he dove headfirst into the typewritten pages.

For the whole narrow path into Rower’s End, Cybelle had sat in the front of the caravan, breathing the briny air unhindered by a barrier. Lazarus admired the brilliant fullness of her smile as she watched the seagulls soar overhead, under the clouds she had only ever seen from above. The sunlight had graced them then, beaming down in golden rays, glinting on the distant waves as they approached the sleepy seaside town. 

Eddie could feel the corners of his mouth tug as Lazarus regaled Cybelle with a story of a time when he’d accidentally taken a crab home with him after spending a day at the beach, followed by an explanation of what a crab was. Cybelle seemed delighted with the prospect of seeing one, even more-so when he told her how he’d discovered the little hitchhiker when it pinched his rear in bed that night. Eddie noticed the way Cybelle leaned closer whenever Lazarus told stories, the way her hand came to shield her bare face with a giggle when he mentioned his rear. The way her delicate, copper fingers lingered over the soft skin of his forearm when she checked beneath his bandage. The wound was healing nicely — no sign of infection and not a thorn in sight. She warned that it might scar, but Lazarus did not appear concerned—rather the opposite actually—as if a strange part of him was pleased with the idea of having something to remember her by. 

As they dipped over the final hill toward Rower’s End, Lazarus told her another story. A dream, rather, of a little cottage in Shantiglade with a full sized bed, and a garden, and a goose egg omelette big enough for two. A dream that would likely never come to pass. Cybelle seemed equally enchanted by it. Sitting back against the boxy, wooden seat of the caravan, she breathed in the salty air and imagined how good it would feel to do so every day. To experience the feeling of sand between her toes, of the ocean at her ankles, of propping her elbow against their shared kitchen table and gracing Lazarus with a naked smile before trying whatever an omelette was. It was good like this too — bumping along under a clear blue sky as Turnip plodded down the scarcely trodded path, watching the wind caress the wild grass and Lazarus’ even wilder curls, hearing his tales and his laughter.

Around the time he would be slumping into his desk in the back of your classroom, the bell dinged over the door of the restaurant. Eddie cranked the volume on his headset to drown out the chatter of a family of four clambering into the booth in front of him. The little boy had brought a pair of plastic drumsticks with him, beating a rhythm on the steel-rimmed table much to the annoyance of his little sister, who was clutching her book the way Eddie was yours. Dipping his few remaining fries into the smear of ketchup, he wondered why they weren’t in school on a Thursday afternoon. As he focused back on the type-written letters, he figured he should be the last to judge. 

Eddie felt for Lazarus, he really did. The way he looked at Cybelle as she emerged from the cave, cradling the ghostfern like a pale, translucent child. The scene was as beautiful as it was somber — waves lapping at the rocky shoreline as the setting sun cast its deep orange hues on both of them. The rocks—slick with algae—had Cybelle stumbling, but Lazarus was quick to offer his arm. She accepted without hesitance, clutching the plant like a bouquet as her deep earthen fingers braced the pale angles of his. He lead her down the cascading stone as if it were a chapel aisle, slow and steady until they reached the flat edge of the water. There—in the golden remains of the day—seagulls dipped and soared over the glittering ocean, clasped hands swayed in the lapping wind, and for a moment, they had everything they came for.  

After what seemed like both a small eternity and an aching second, it was Cybelle who broke away, tracing the ridges of his fingers as hers fell, stating out loud what both of them knew — that night was coming soon. 

The journey back to Torgaard proved easier than the journey out, at least in terms of natural foes. No fenfinks or villainous vines, but the sky seemed to hang much lower. Dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, casting its pale grey light over the moss curtains outside of Fenwood, over the verdant  forests that shuddered in the gusting wind. There was a tension, a dread looming on the horizon that grew with each passing day. Even Eddie could sense it — the way Cybelle stared out into the swath of shifting green like she was attempting to soak up enough for the rest of her life. The way that Lazarus’ jokes were swallowed the creaking of the caravan. How nights that were once spent laughing over a roaring fire were now spent silently watching its crackling embers.

One day—just a few outside of Torgaard—the sky came crashing down. It sobbed in sheets, heavy enough to soak through Cybelle’s coat, to find the tear in her tent and make a lake of it. Lazarus ushered her inside the wagon, offered her a shirt that fit like a dress, offered to sleep on the floor. Assessing the size of the bed, and then the hard, narrow walking path, it was Cybelle who insisted they share it. She was small enough, or at least that was what she rationalized out loud. Lazarus did not argue. Her logic—unlike her tent—was water-tight. And so she climbed in between the soft linen sheets, tucked herself under the weight of the down blanket, and rested her damp, weary head on a pillow that smelled just like him.

Eddie glanced sheepishly around the restaurant, shielding the binder with his arm as Lazarus climbed in beside her. He hinged on each type-written word, lingering over the ones that stirred a fuzzy feeling. Written with careful attention to the way Lazarus’ chest rose and fell, how stiff their bodies were in hyper-awareness of the nearness to each other. How solid his shoulder felt under Cybelle’s cheek when the corner of pillow no longer sufficed. Slowly, they relaxed into the feeling. Not enough to sleep, but enough for Lazarus to free the arm that she was crushing. Enough to wrap it around her shoulder, to relish in the feeling of her cold nose in the warm crook of his neck.

It was good like this. Better when her fingers draped across the landscape of his pecks, felt his chest rise and fall like waves. Best when they awoke in the morning to the sun steaming in through the small, stained glass window above them. When their giggles shook the wagon. When their eyes met, closer than they’d ever been before. There, in the dim cocoon far outside the turning world, the smile that she had hidden for so long finally grew brave enough to capture his. And by the time they reached the towering stone walls of Torgaard, there was nothing more to hide from one another. 

Eddie flipped the page to find only a black, plastic pocket. He rubbed it with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t sticking to another. When it failed to separate, he sat back and fumed. That was it. There was no more. No ending, no closure.

Sheri leaned against the top of the booth seat opposite him, hand on her hip, shifting between her dirty white sneakers with a tired sigh. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got ten minutes left of my shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta cash you out before I leave.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, almost 2:00. “Yeah—yeah, no problem. Sorry for the trouble.”

“’S no trouble, just the way it goes around here. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said with a wink as she dropped the check. 

After six hours and two meals, Eddie had gotten his fill of watching the world turn through an old, frosted window. His head was spinning enough on its own. With a frustrated huff he peeled his graph paper and manual away from the sticky table before shoving them into his backpack. Slugging it over his shoulder, he grabbed the grease-stained check and made his way to the register. That was when he noticed it — the lonely, half-eaten omelette on the bar.

“Alright that’ll be ten seventy-five,” chimed Sheri. 

Tinsel glittered on the tree. Red, metallic bulbs swayed in the echo of his footsteps. Judy Garland caroled on about a merry little Christmas and he wondered if your characters would ever enjoy anything over their shared kitchen table or if that dream would be abandoned for their duties as well.

“Sir?”

Snapping out of his trance, he fished for his wallet and palmed her a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered before turning toward the door with a hoist of his backpack.

Her jaw hung open. “Oh my word, are you serious?” she called to his back, but the bell above the door was the only answer she received.

______

Main Street Vinyls was a ghost town on a Thursday afternoon, and Eddie preferred it that way. Aside from Jerry at the counter, it was just him and his noisy thoughts, accompanied by the slow plod of his own heavy boots as they weeped against the carpet. At least in this store he could escape the onslaught of Christmas tunes. Jerry—old hippie that he was—at least had some sense. Sometimes even sense enough to play some halfway decent rock music, but today Eddie would settle for Neil Young over the jingle bell garbage blasting through every speaker in Hawkins.

Glancing down the rows of plastic cassette spines, Eddie perused the M section as he kicked himself for giving away almost ten dollars. There was an album by a new band he’d only read about in magazines called Megadeth. Turning the tape over in his hands, he examined the cover. Everything about it spoke to him — the skull with its mouth chained shut surrounded by knives and candles, the title — Killing Is My Business. Flipping it over to the back, the phrase continued in haunted red letters …and Business Is Good! 

The change he gave away in a fit of blind stupidity would have easily afforded it and left him with some to spare. With a bitter sigh, he shoved the tape back in its slot, knowing for a fact that the cash register at Benny’s had eaten the last bill he had in his wallet. Padding slowly down the aisle, he began his calculations. 

He had a few regular deals lined up this weekend but would need to dig into his “savings” in the bottom of an old tobacco tin and pay Rick a visit before any of that happened. He might make eighty bucks if he was lucky. Maybe eighty more over the course of the week between the deals at school. Nobody wanted to spend too much time outside this time of year, so the park bench location was always iffy depending on how bad it was. He would resort to other classic meetup spots, like under the bleachers or the back of his van. 

If he networked enough he might have some left over after helping Wayne with the bills. Scanning past the Tina Turner and T-Rex tapes, he wondered how much Wayne suspected about his little business. Surely he had to have some suspicion. Gig money, odd jobs, and oil changes for neighbors couldn’t possibly afford the kind of gear he had, or the ink in his skin, or the cash he contributed monthly. Wayne was sharp, and though he was no saint himself, he shuddered to think what he would say if he discovered his nephew was straying down the same path his brother took.

Peering back over his shoulder, he eyed the Megadeth tapes again—only three in stock—lined up like gifts wrapped in cellophane. They were such tiny things. Small enough to hide beneath his palm, to slide into the pocket of his coat with room to spare. Glancing up at the angled surveillance mirror in the corner of the store, he saw Jerry at the counter, humming obliviously as he stuck price tags on a fresh shipment of tapes. Over the tall shelf that separated them, he expected to meet his own eyes, but instead saw another man. A man he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

Eddie remembered finding a G chord for the first time; how big the fretboard felt in his small hand, how awkwardly his fingers had to stretch, how a larger set of hands had helped him find it. He earned a broad smile when the chord rang out, one he would search for again and again with every strum. 

Sometimes in the late evenings as he crept past Wayne with a lunchbox full of drugs while he was watching reruns of Bonanza on the couch, Eddie would tell himself that at least he wasn’t stealing cars, or drinking himself half to death, or rotting behind county bars. At least he was still in school, something Warren Munson couldn’t say even at sixteen. At least Eddie could say he was trying.

With a bitter shake of his head, he continued down the aisle, leaving the tapes behind for the record bins that lined the walls. Mindlessly he walked his fingers over the cardboard spines, glazing past titles he’d seen a dozen times. Nothing new. Nothing different. Few things ever were in Hawkins. Every day he’d wake up and slog himself to a different type of prison, sit in a classroom for eight hours and actively feel his brain rotting. He would crumple up his failed tests and shove them in his backpack, endure the stares from kids whose parents cared enough to give them a ride to school, day after day. And every day he would come home and see the twinge of pride on Wayne’s face for the fact that he’d gone at all.  

There were a few perks to sticking around, like running his club, and saving lost sheep, and seeing his friends everyday. Like having a swath of potential customers all in one place. It was safe and familiar, like a cage. His little business might be dangerous and criminal but at least it could afford him one thing he valued even more than ink or gear — freedom. Time, for another thing. Flexibility. It sure as hell beat making three dollars an hour flipping burgers or having to answer to some corporate boot-licker telling him what to do. Eddie huffed sharply, wondering what you would think if you knew. You, with your tightly buttoned blouses and endless patience. You, the very last person he wanted to disappoint. 

The last look he’d seen on you destroyed him when he thought about it; the pain in your eyes and bitter line your pretty lips became. You were just about the only reason he had left to show up to class anymore, and now that was getting in the way of the one thing that actually had potential in his eyes. Way more potential than a stupid piece of paper that says, congratulations, you’re a real member of society and not a complete disappointment. 

You had asked him a question back when you’d first made the arrangement to help him, one that rattled around in his brain ever since. Why did he want to graduate? If his memory served him, he’d given a relatively bullshit answer: to prove all the assholes in this god-forsaken purgatory wrong. It still held a fair amount of truth, but when he glanced up at the surveillance mirror again and saw himself this time, the real answer was abundantly clear. But was proving a point worth the risk of losing you?  

The smell of cardboard and cellophane kissed his face as air puffed between each record falling forward. Each a different picture, some repeats of the same. Rock gods wielding wicked weapons, bathed in holy stage lights somewhere in New York or Los Angeles probably. Somewhere important. Sometimes at the Hideout he would close his eyes and imagine he was on one of those stages, but when he would open them as the last note rung out, it was always the same — just Bill and Drunk Sam, maybe a couple of bikers perched at the bar with their backs to him. Empty stools and sticky tables. A weak applause.

Eddie stepped back from the record bin with a heavy sigh and glanced at his watch. He’d killed about thirty minutes in this store, which meant he had at least twenty more before he could return home without triggering Wayne’s suspicious questions. The walls were starting to close in around him — posters like windows into a world far out of reach. Every million dollar strum reverberating through the speakers like a mocking reminder. With a half-hearted wave to Jerry stocking shelves, he left the store. Empty handed. 

The drive down Randolph was always dismal, especially in the bleak winter light. Storefronts with yellowing signs that hadn’t changed in twenty years selling mattresses and televisions. A gas station with a rusted awning, dusted with snow. Architecturally speaking, the church was about the most interesting building, but only because it was brick and made up of more than just four flimsy walls. Even that was being generous though. The most exciting thing to happen to Hawkins since the housing development over by Factory Lane thirty years ago was the shopping mall that opened this past summer. Thrilling. 

No matter where he drove within a fifty mile radius, it was all the same — a tomb where dreams went to die. 

Gripping the steering wheel, he watched the car in front of him make grooves in the dirty slush, hypnotized by the spray off the sides of the tires. It wasn’t until he saw the high school approaching in his peripherals that he even looked up. It always felt good to be on the other side, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be. He could almost see you in there; brushing the chalk off your hands, shifting between your tired feet as you glanced at the clock, gazing out the window with a longing he’d seen in his own reflection — caught sometimes at night in his drivers seat window as he cruised the highway, dreaming of where it could take him. 

As the squat fortress faded in his rearview mirror, he pictured you five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Wasting away in front of that chalkboard. Rattling on about stories written by dead people while your own collected dust inside a closet. While your talent withered like the dead, crumpled leaves under the snow; buried and forgotten. 

With a hard right onto Prospect, he set out on the final stretch towards home. Sometimes he liked to imagine what might happen if he just kept going, just drove into the sunset and only stopped for gas. He had a vague idea from the movies and the maps that swayed in the wake of Ms. O’Donnell’s lumbering footsteps. Sometimes in the height of his boredom he would lose himself in them, imagine he was at a diner in the desert on his way to a gig with an actual sound system. Because somewhere out there—beyond the flat horizon—there were mountains, and canyons, and cities where names couldn’t follow. 

______

“How does it end?” Eddie asked you on Friday between the fourth and fifth period bells. You glanced up from the stack of papers on your desk, cocking your head with narrowing eyes. “Your story,” he clarified.

“Oh.” Blinking, you sat back to ponder. “You know, I don’t think I ever fully decided. Cybelle is in a difficult position. The whole reason she set out on this adventure was to save her brother. I imagine she would want to fulfill her quest, but if she returned to Myrne, it may be difficult to leave again. Plus, she may receive some sort of punishment for leaving in the first place. I had written the laws to be quite strict, if I recall. And then if she chose not to return, her mother would lose two children. No matter what, she loses.” 

Eddie furrowed his brow, shifting between his boots with a pained sigh. “I would hardly call a life with Lazarus losing. She seems happy with him.”

“Right, well, of course that would be ideal, but…” you tsked, “it’s complicated, and honestly that’s partially why I abandoned it. I really wrote myself into a corner. Well, that and student teaching started to eat up my time. Then it was finals, and moving, and then after that I met…” you trailed off with a bitter shake of your head. “Anyway, I guess life got in the way. It has a way of doing that, I’ve noticed.” 

Eddie looked at you, really looked. You, in your cable knit sweater with pen on your hand and sandbags under your eyes, casting them down over your work with the same amount of hope he’d seen from players rolling threes with even fewer hit points to spare. He racked his brain for something he could offer—a dramatic death speech or a new character sheet—but you weren’t playing and he wasn’t prepared. Any words of comfort forming on the tip of his tongue were swallowed by the ringing bell, and he exited your classroom feeling the same as when he entered; unsatisfied. 

______

It was starting to close in around you — the colored lights and ornaments, the mall Santas and fake green swags draping from shop windows. It was the first Christmas you’d truly spent in Hawkins since you graduated college, outside of day trips for visits. Surprisingly little had changed, the main thing being the fact that there even was a mall for Santa to post up in. Duplication must have been one of his many powers because he was still at Sears too, at least he was on Saturday when you dragged yourself out of the oppressive quiet of your apartment and into the bustling chaos. 

You had no idea what to get your relatives for Christmas. You never really did, but this year it seemed insurmountable. This year you had no one to bounce ideas off of, and the constant mental chatter left little to no room for inspiration. As you scanned the shelves of cookware and appliquéd dish towels with snow men and reindeers, nothing really seemed to jump out at you.

What did jump out at you—or rather, jumped out at his sister—was a little boy across the aisle hiding in a circular rack of women’s bath robes. Pressing apart the terrycloth like curtains, he would retreat into his makeshift cave to the complete oblivion of his mother, who seemed more preoccupied with the price tags on a set of lingerie than with the whereabouts of her children.

A fantasy tugged at the corners of your mind, more sinfully indulgent than the one you had in class last week involving your desk and Eddie’s tongue. This time the set was the same as the scene before you, only the little boy had a mess of dark curls and Eddie was diving in after him. Not to scold him, but to play. You could almost see those fraying knee holes widening from contact with the carpet. Almost hear the giggles and the shushes and the click of his rings against the metal pole in the center of the rack for balance. You could almost turn around and see them popping out at you, feel the laughter ripple up through your very full belly and into the corners of your eyes as you feigned surprise to both of their delight. You could almost feel the glares from the other shoppers, the regular people eager to get on with their Saturday in peace, same as any other. It wouldn’t matter though, not in your little world.

The real mother in the real world did eventually turn around, grabbing the boy by the wrist and demanding he stay by the cart. Turning a dish towel over in your palms, you lowered your eyes to the machine-embroidered stitching of a corn cob pipe and a button nose as the fantasy disintegrated. You left the store shortly after, your cart just as empty as when you’d arrived. 

On Monday it was hard to look him in the eyes. It was easier to meet Diane’s. At least this week you could hold a conversation without crumbling like Ms. Click’s half-eaten fruitcake up for grabs in the teachers lounge. But the coffee was bitter on your tongue, like a lie you were telling yourself. 

In accordance with your wishes, there had been no rap of knuckles on your door frame after school, no screeching of chair legs dragged across the tile, only the dull thud of folders sliding into your bag, the surprising click of a magnet under the flap. 

On Wednesday you left behind footprints in the parking lot before it had even half cleared, only to be swallowed by the emptiness of your apartment. You filled the space with what you could manage — an early dinner, and an early bedtime. Sleep seemed to be the only thing that quelled the battering ram thoughts, the scales tipping back and forth so much it made you queasy. You would lie there and dream of swirling smoke and plush lips, of arthritic fingers punching numbers on an office phone as you sat and accepted your fate. You would toss and turn, back and forth until your sheets became a tangle, and when you faced the mirror Thursday morning you barely recognized the person staring back. 

When the final bell rang on Friday, the hallways cleared out like someone had yelled fire. A mass exodus of students and staff, flowing into the parking lot like a tidal wave outside your classroom window. You watched them as snow fell in clumps, as bright colored backpacks disappeared into the back of sedans, as cars peeled out like a parade into the street. 

Assessing the paper mountain range framing your desk, you made an educated guess at how you would be spending your two week break. In hindsight, it might have helped to make the due date for the senior creative writing project last Friday instead, but deep down you knew you would have hardly made a dent by now. 

When Ms. Click popped her head in to wish you a merry Christmas on her way down the hall, she seemed surprised to find your hand still moving across paper, not swaddled in mittens like hers. You brushed it off with something casual, the type of thing any regular person would say before the holidays. That it was too much to take home. That getting work finished now would leave more time with your family. You omitted the more personal details like how empty your apartment felt and the small, naked tree your mother brought over last weekend. This seemed to placate her, and with a cheery wave she left you in the silence of your classroom with only the ruffling of paper for company.

It was eery how quiet it was, but it afforded you a small hill of graded papers in the last hour, double what you would typically accomplish in front of the television. Thumbing through what remained of that stack, you counted each staple. Five, six, seven… you stopped when a certain name jumped out in MLA format. 

Eddie Munson American Literature — 4th Period 20 December 1985

No title. 

Papers fluttered to the desk as they fell from your hands, leaving only his. You held it gingerly between your fingers, as if it was alive. As if it could feel you, or rather, you could feel him through every type-written letter, through the thumb-sized grease stain in the top righthand corner. You could almost hear him too, shifting into a deep, dramatic narration.

Mount Myrne loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. Towering over the bustling docks of Torgaard, it disappeared beneath the ominous clouds with a formidable presence. Merchants scattered about, hauling their wares in heavy crates and barrels onto the many zeppelins. 

This was where Lazarus first met Cybelle. In his mind’s eye he could almost see her stumbling about in her clean silk boots and glimmering gold coat. But her appearance today told a different tale. Her boots were caked with mud, her coat was splattered with muck and tattered by claws, her mask hung crooked on her face. Those large eyes that once glimmered with hope and wonder now stared off into the distance with oppressive sadness at the looming mountain. 

This was where he was supposed to leave her. This was what they had agreed upon many moons ago. Cybelle just stood there, shifting back and forth between her tired feet as she dug her thumbs under the straps of her heavy knapsack that now held the rare and precious ghostfern. She finally had what she came for. Any moment now she would be moving those muddy boots toward the docks and use what little coin she had to barter a one-way trip back home.

That was the plan anyway..

Cybelle was frozen though. Fearfully, woefully, bitterly, she gazed upon her gold gleaming home in the sky with a sadness that was only dwarfed by Lazarus looking down at her. He looked at her beautiful face like it was the last time he was ever going to get the chance to. He memorized it in his mind as he shuffled his own dirty boots against the cobblestone. He didn’t have eyes for anything else. Not the zeppelins, nor the merchants, nor the mountain. Only her. After a moment that felt like an eon, Cybelle took a step forward.

“Wait.” said Lazarus. Cybelle turned around with surprise but also a hint of relief. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cybelle looked up at him with a mournful frown. “Of course I do, my brother will die if I stay here.”

Lazarus shook his head bitterly. “No, he will die if the ghostfern stays here.” he said.

Cybelle sighed as she looked out across the docks, “But how is it going to get there if I do not deliver it? No one is allowed within the city walls if they are not from Myrne.”

Lazarus furrowed his brow as he watched the merchants at work, hauling their wares aboard the large, formidable aircrafts. Suddenly he had an idea. “There are docks in Myrne, correct? And Myrnish merchants who take goods into the city?”

The gears were starting to turn in Cybelle’s head. “Yes, there are.”

“Well then, can we send the plant with like, a note or something? Some instructions and directions for the merchant to take where it needs to go?”

Cybelle thought for a moment. “I do know a few of the merchants by name. Arturo and I grew up together. He was my neighbor for a long time. He would know where it needs to go, and my mother would know what to do with it.” The brightness in Cybelle’s eyes dimmed suddenly as she had another thought. “But… I would never seen them again. My family.”

“Never say never, Cybelle.” Lazarus said. “Do you know that for a fact?”

Cybelle frowned heavily, “The laws in Myrne are very strict.”

“What if in the letter you told your family to meet you on the docks some other time? Perhaps in another moon or two once your brother has recovered?” Lazarus offered.

Cybelle sighed bitterly, “Only merchants are allowed on the docks. It is strictly prohibited. I was only able to come here because I snuck inside a crate. It was a miracle that they didn’t notice me.”

Lazarus kicked a stray pebble and huffed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I cannot tell you what to do, Cybelle. Only you can make that choice. But what I can do, really the only thing I can do, is tell you how I feel.” 

All of a sudden there was a knot in his stomach. Because if he was going to say anything he knew that this would be his last chance.. 

“All my life I’ve dreamed about that cottage by the sea with the garden, and the bed, and the omlet. When I saw that pendant you were wearing I knew that it would be my only shot at ever getting what I wanted. Magic tricks are….. not exactly lucrative. And actually, if I’m going to be totally honest here, I figure you should know the truth about me. The whole truth.” Lazarus sighed, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat at the mention of the truth. He was going to be honest though. Maybe for once in his whole life. “This is difficult for me to say, but I owe it to you if nothing else. I’m a thief, Cybelle.” 

Lazarus winced at his own words and Cybelle’s fallen expression, but he bravely continued..

“I confess that for a moment when I first saw you I thought about stealing that pendant, but once I heard your story and saw so much of my own I simply couldn’t. There is a goodness in you that I admire, how selfless and pure your cause is. Over the course of the last few moons I have had the privilege of spending with you, I have come to discover how beautiful the woman beneath the mask truly is. How kind, and curious, and patient you are. I have been all over this land. Traveled far and wide, through forests and over mountains. I have swam in lakes and oceans and gazed out over countless valleys. But never has the world looked quite so hopeful than when I saw it through your eyes. It made me believe that if you could see the beauty there, if you could see the goodness in me, then perhaps I can as well.”

It was startling — the tear that leapt over your lash line. Violently enough to hit the page, to blur the Os in goodness. 

“If you choose to stay I promise you that I will never steal another coin or pocket watch. It may leave me poor for the rest of my days but if they’re spent with you, then I would be the richest man of all. It is all that I can offer you. My honesty, and a promise that I will show you more beaches, more mountains, more of the world than you could ever imagine. And since I intend to keep my promise, here is my honesty: I love you. Regardless of what you decide.” 

With a trembling hand, you turned the page only to discover there was nothing on the back. Sitting back in your seat with a ragged sigh, you stared out into your empty classroom. Your nose stung, fluorescents flaring in your tear-blurred vision. Separating the pages with your thumb, you flipped back and read it again. The last paragraph. The last two sentences. Those three type-written words. Over and over, wedging in the cracks of your armor as your sniffles echoed off the tile. 

The sun was dipping below the treeline, flooding the near-empty parking lot with a wash of somber pink. The snowfall had ceased, settled into the footprints and tire tracks. Glancing up at the clock and back down at the papers, you tried to imagine lifting another, scanning over sentences and writing in the margins like you hadn’t been completely upended by the one that trembled in your grasp. You couldn’t. 

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you donned your coat, as you shuffled overstuffed folders into your satchel and slung its weight over your shoulder. You swiped at them with your scratchy wool sleeve, flicking off the lights and shutting the door.

The soft pink had cooled to twilight blue when your boots met the blanket of snow, leaving tracks in the clean, fresh powder. Your breath trailed behind you in heavy clouds. It was quiet here too, barely a scattering of cars in the parking lot. Not even the wind disturbed the limbs of the orderly saplings between the curb and sidewalk, dusted with a glittering powder. 

Your hands found your keys, and the key found the hole, and soon you were sliding into your frigid leather seat, tossing the weight of your satchel on the passenger’s side with a dejected thump. You sat there a moment with only your breath for company before flicking your wrist at the ignition. 

Nothing.

Stomping on the break, you lurched forward with conviction this time, as if you could convince it you were serious. All it awarded you was a weak, persistent click. It’s fine, you told yourself through gritted teeth as you lunged again, snapping your wrist with a startling anger, like the seal had been cracked on a two liter pop bottle that had rolled around in the trunk for a week and a half. Still, nothing but a pathetic click. A split second thought crossed your mind—that the ferocity of your stomp might actually damage the car—but the logic was quickly snuffed out by your rage. The hard plastic key bit into your numb fingers. Over and over — stomping, twisting, cursing. Cursing yourself most of all for being stupid enough to let this continue for months. You were paying for it now. 

The tears were already waiting, primed behind your eyeballs, hardly dried on your cheeks when you left out the back door. They spilled over again, cooling as they dripped past your lashes, down the slope of your nose. One more time, you begged. Just one more time and I’ll be good, I swear. But the white Chevy Nova sat unmoved, offering only a vacant whine where there should have been a roar. You tossed back in your seat and huffed, chest heaving, filling the cramped space with the furious steam of your breath. 

Snowflakes glittered in the floodlights, shining like flares through the blur of your tears. It might have been beautiful on any other evening — one where the engine was warm, and your mind was clear, and your heart didn’t sink like a pit in your chest. It was hard to notice anything outside your bitter sobs, most especially the shadow that appeared in the window beside you. The rap of rings on the glass had you jumping, whipping your head to face the set of eyes you’d been avoiding most of all. 

“Need some help?” Eddie offered, bracing his knees in a crouch, eyes brimming with concern. 

Your stomach twisted with relief, then embarrassment, then a million other things rolled into one, sick knot. Wiping the evidence from your cheeks with a futile swipe of your sleeve, you cranked down the window with your left hand. You must have looked like an absolute basket case, jerking your arm in tight circles as the barrier lowered with the urgency of a tortoise. When where was enough space for him, Eddie braced against the top of your door and ducked his head inside. 

“Hey.” The warm sigh of his greeting kissed your cheek, thawing the sting of the cold. 

“Hey,” you mimicked, sounding just about as stable as you felt when it came out. “W-what are you doing here so late?” 

“Hellfire,” he stated simply. “You know, I could ask you the same question.”

Despite how true it was, it still felt pathetic when the answer left your lips. “Just… trying not to take so much work home with me.” You said it as casually as you could muster, but your voice betrayed you. Your cheeks were still cooling from the remnants of your tears, framing the heat from your dripping nose. 

Eddie suddenly looked very serious, splintering your armor with his softness. “You ok?” 

You gestured dejectedly at nothing, offering a hollow laugh. “No.”

Eddie filled the cabin with his sigh, eyes narrowing like he wanted to lunge through the window. Instead he just thumbed at the rubber and tipped his head closer, creaking your chest plate with the weight of his gaze. “You know, I could hear you clear across the parking lot,” he joked softly. “The car—I mean. Mostly. You leave your lights on or something?”

You shook your head. “It’s been doing this for months, ever since it started getting cold. I should have taken it to get checked out, but it usually starts after a couple tries.” 

“Sounds like it might be the battery, or maybe the starter. I won’t know unless I try and jump it. I’ll swing around—if—if that’s ok.” 

The wind ushered a curl toward his lips, and you clenched your hand to subdue it. “Yeah, it’s ok,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Eddie ducked out of the window and pivoted swiftly on his heels. From your side view mirror, you watched him make tracks in the blue snow with his heavy boots, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced left and right, the ghost of his breath trailing closely behind. The seat creaked as you sat back and blinked like the cursor on a computer monitor; processing. One glance in your rearview mirror told you how disheveled you looked. Even in the twilight there was no masking the puffiness around your eyes, the mascara bleeding toward your cheeks. You swiped at them again, this time with a napkin from your glove box.

With a yank of the frigid handle, Eddie slid across the plaid and pleather padding into the drivers seat of his van. He froze for a second, glancing in his rearview mirror toward your small white sedan. Butterflies tore through his stomach, churning like a tornado as he flicked the ignition. Out of all his ridiculous fantasies, he hadn’t entertained this one. Not exactly anyway. One where you were the damsel in distress. One where he got to be the hero. 

The parking lot was vacant enough to drive across the lines. Ploughing through the naked patches where cars had spent the afternoon, he rumbled up beside you. Your stomach did a summersault when he stepped out, plodding around to the front of your car with jumper cables slung under his arm. 

“Can you pop the hood for me?” he asked.

The summersault rippled south through your abdomen. Reaching down under the console, your fingers found the leaver and obeyed. You felt kind of useless, just sitting there while he propped the hood onto the stand, shielding him from vision. Before you could form another thought, your hand was moving on its own, finding the plastic leaver of your door and opening it to the cold evening air. 

Eddie gave a shy look from behind his curtain of curls before stepping back with a nod. “Well, good news, there’s no monsters,” he joked. 

A smile cracked across your face, so genuine it almost felt foreign. You tucked your hands into your pockets, stepping closer to assess the engine like you knew what you were looking at. Your aura prickled with proximity, like his heat could thaw you even from where you stood. Eddie’s glance was soft and quick before procuring a small flashlight from his inner coat pocket. He held it in his teeth, flipping up the red and black plastic covers on the battery terminals. 

“I have hands too, you know,” you said with a smirk.

With a playful side-eye, he clamped the appropriate cables onto the terminals. Removing the silver torch from his mouth, he made room for his retort. “Mmhm, best keep ‘em warm. It’s uh, kinda chilly out.”

You shook your head as a laugh escaped your nostrils in a plume. Sauntering over to his van like a dark knight, Eddie leaned in the door to pop his own hood. Your boots made tentative tracks in the snow, drawn like a magnet as he hoisted the metal. From the light pinched in his teeth you could see the expanse of the massive engine, the shadow of his furrowed brow as he unscrewed plastic knobs. What you saw more than anything though—like a filter laid over the scene—were three type-written letters. The hands that typed them fumbled with the cables, squeezed around the thick, jaw-like clamps. When they bit right where he wanted, they released; tendons flexing, knuckles pinking from the freezing air. Reflexively, he wiped them on the chest of his black hoodie peeking out from his open coat. 

It might have just been the cold, but even in the twilight—in the absence of the flashlight he was tucking into his pocket—you could have sworn his cheeks flushed when he caught you staring. “Alright, um, go ahead and start your car. I’ll do the same.”

Following the tether that joined the two vehicles, you did as he told you. Nothing came of it though, just more incessant clicking. Exasperated, you tossed back in your seat before slumping out of the car once more. 

“Shit, it must be the starter. Probably cracked, that’s my guess anyway by the sound of it,” Eddie explained as he stepped around to face your engine again. Clicking his flashlight, he peered into the compartment. “See, if you follow the positive terminal line all the way down, that’s where the starter will be. Only problem is it’s tricky to get to without a lift.” 

You followed his grease-stained finger down the dirt-dusted tangle of tubes, drawing nearer under the subtle guise of interest in your engine. You stopped just inches from his solid leather frame, close enough to brush him with your elbow. “You seem to know your way around a car.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he muttered. “Wish I didn’t.” But before you could comment, he was shutting the hood. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re gonna have to call a tow truck.” 

Your defeated sigh rose toward the clouds as you glanced at the squat school building. The lights were off. Judy’s car was absent from the lot, as were all but a handful, including the two of yours. Glancing at your watch under the floodlights, the big hand tipped past the golden dot where a five should be.

Eddie stepped closer, filling the gap with a heavy exhale before meeting your eyes. “You know I could, um—” he scratched the back of his neck, words evaporating quicker than his breath. What could he do? What could he really do about any of this? For most of his life he’d been a leaf on the wind, scuttling across the pavement toward the gutter, struggling to steer himself away. But you were stranded, and if there was anything he was good for, it was a ride. “I could—I could take you back to your place. If you’re ok with that, I mean. We could—fuck—I mean you could call from there a-and I could—”

There were chinks in your armor, cracking with each bumbling word. You looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson, with grease-stained hands and eyes that pierced like arrows in their pleading. Straight through to the softest part of you, the place between your ribs that cries I want. And oh, how desperately you wanted. Wanted to soothe his worried lips in yours again, to feel his pounding chest again, to be thawed by his heat again. But you just stood there, frozen.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his open coat, he shifted on the balls of his feet as he searched for more words in the snow. “Look, I know you said you wanted space, a-and it probably seems like—shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing with a sharp sigh. “I just want to help you. Will you just let me help you? Please?”

Your chest plate clattered to the concrete, gauntlets falling in a heap beside your greaves. There was no white flag to wave. No sword to relinquish, or shield to discard. Your surrender was nothing but a soft “okay,” barely heard above the howling wind. 

______

A/N: After over a year and 100k words, the smut chapter is finally upon us! Thank you for coming with me on this very long journey and sticking it out. I have no idea how long this next one is going to take me to write, but I can promise you that when it’s finished you will experience every moment in exquisite, delicious, poetic detail. 

You might have noticed that I’ve pulled a few small details like character names and places from Flight of Icarus, but I will not be retconning any of Eddie’s backstory. 

Also random, tumblr decided to make that one paragraph bold once I changed it to chat font with no ability to unbold it, but that wasn't intended. It kind of worked though so I'm not mad.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me #dssctm

[littlewriters-posts]

My Experiment - Cooper Howard/The ghoul x OC

Plot: Cooper finds his way to a little shop on the outskirts of an extremely rough town. When he meets the owner, he's shocked how such a sweet face could survive in such a miserable place. Only he's about to find out exactly what made you the way you are.

Warnings: Er...violence, mentions of sexual assault and I think that is it.

The day Cooper Howard first met Addy, he was in a very bad mood indeed.

Cooper Howard was feared by many people, even those he had never met before. He found himself staring at newcomers with their wide eyed fear in contempt. He didn't want to be feared, not at first, but it did come in handy when he wanted something.

The best way to survive in the wasteland was to make sure you didn't need anything from anybody else. That way you could just live in solitude.

Unfortunately for Cooper, Radway was something he needed, and didn't know how to make.

So there he stood, in a small town shop with a handful of a caps and a devilish grin.

"You know what I'm here for," he said gruffly, and the shopkeeper squeaked in fear.

"Listen, I'm sorry but we are all out," the man seemed to tremble under the gaze of the ghoul. "You'll have to go elsewhere,"

Cooper frowned "Elsewhere?" he asked snidely "I was under the impression you have what I want,"

The man just shook his head. "Please don't kill me, my wife, my kids they need me," he begged.

Cooper raised an eyebrow.

The wife, a stout lady with a wooden leg burst through the door, her hands on her hips.

"Try Addy's." she said gruffly "Up the street about half a mile, turn right when you go past the big oak tree. You'll see it, she hard to miss,"

Cooper tipped his hat to the woman before turning back towards the man.

"Your wife got more balls than you," he commented, before glancing at the woman "Though if you've sent me to some kind of trap, you can be damn sure I'll be back to finish you off,"

The woman sneered "Addy's sent many a men back here with their tails between their legs, but she'll have what you want,"

Cooper nodded, and set off on his way, wondering who on earth this Addy was, and why he had never heard of her before.

The woman was right though, it was hard to miss. A short but long building, kept incuriously clean, with a large pink sign out front.

Welcome to Addy's, come on in!

Cooper's brow furrowed, as his hand found his gun. This place screamed trap, but he needed his radway and would be damned if he didn't get it.

He practically knocked down the door from the hinges as he kicked it open, his gun staring down anything that looked his way.

Not that anything did, the shop was empty. If he could call it that, it was more like an old bar. A long table stood at the far end of the shop, with smaller tables dotted around with chairs like some sort of diner.

"There's no need for that my dear, I'm not going to hurt you," came a sweet voice. Cooper turned, his eyes narrowed at the person in-front of him. She was clean, was the first thing that he noticed about her, her hair seemed washed, her face was smooth and unblemished, and her clothes neatly pressed. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"And you are?" Cooper asked, his gun not wavering from her face. The girl smiled.

"Can't you read honey? I'm Addy. Now why don't you put that gun down and we can get you what you need."

She didn't seemed bothered, nor the least bit threatened by him as she walked behind the long table and retrieved a large box, full of tiny little vials.

"Ghoulie ...I expect you're looking for Radway?" she asked sweetly "Though there's free water by the owl clock if you need," she gestured to a couple feet to his right where a barrel full of purified water sat.

"You're just giving away this shit? You could be rich," Cooper asked, his gun lowering a little.

Addy smiled "And what good will that do me? I've got everything I need - now why don't you sit for a bit, bounty hunter like you gotta be on his feet a lot,"

Cooper didn't need telling twice, though his eyes still darted around the shop, as if waiting for someone to come and attack.

"And you haven't been raided?" he asked eyebrow raised "How many people know about this place?"

Addy shrugged "Couple people have tried, they've never succeeded though," she said nonchalantly, before handing him three vials "First three are free sugar, after that you gotta pay me,"

Cooper dug in his pockets for his caps, but Addy shook her head.

"I don't bother with those bits of junk." she said, scrunching her nose up.

"Then what do people pay you in?" Cooper asked, his hand twitching towards his gun again.

Addy grinned "My, you're not very trusting are you honey?" she said gesturing to where his hand rested on the hilt of his weapon "People pay me in favours sweetheart. Sometimes I need bread, or I run out of milk," she said listing it off on her fingers.

"Well I ain't no farmer sweetheart," The Ghoul mocked.

Addy shook her head "No, but I might need you to find someone for me, everyone got their talents,"

Cooper nodded slightly "So I want eight of these, how much that gonna cost me in favours then?" he asked, still ever so slightly suspicious of her.

Her response was interrupted however, by a loud bang.

Cooper jumped up, gun in his hand, only to find a young girl running across the room, frantically knocking everything in her path.

Addy frowned "Laya?" she asked.

The little girl stopped, staring at the two adults. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old, but what caught the attention the most was the blood running down the inside of her thigh.

"Addy-" she gulped tears streaming down her face "I didn't want them too Addy, they wouldn't stop," she stuttered, her pale face turning a sickly green.

Cooper grimaced, he might have been evil, but he would never even dream of doing something like that, much less to a child.

Addy collected the little girl in her arms "Were your followed?" she asked sternly "It's okay if you were, I can take care of...how many were there?"

The little girl gulped "Five," she whispered "Please don't let them take me again,"

Addy nodded before turning to the Ghoul. "For five vials I want you to take that little girl to the back room back there. Do not let her see anything and do not come out," she said sternly "Not until I call you,"

Cooper shook his head "You want me to believe a small thing like you can take on five grown men? You're gonna need help with that,"

Addy raised her eyebrow "You asked me why I never got raided, and it's not because I had some Ghoulie doing my dirty work," she reprimanded "No go on sweetie, he's not gonna hurt you,"

She gently pushed the little girl into Cooper's arms, and hurried them into the back room.

The little girl immediate ran to the corner, her eyes never leaving the Ghoul in-front of her. She clearly didn't trust him in the slightest, but he paid her little attention.

Instead he looked around the room in surprise. The first thing he noticed again was how clean it was, even the rickety old bed was neatly made up. Dozens of trinkets, old tapes, an even an old TV stood in vicarious positions among the room. But what made his heart stop, was the blue and yellow uniform that hung on the back of the door, adorning the yellow number 4.

Addy was a Vaultie?

He snarled slightly, of course she had more than everyone else, the girl was a vaultie, she probably got sent supplies from people whilst the rest of the people starved.

"Stay there," he said to the little girl, who nodded in fear.

As he opened the door, he quickly ducked under one of the tables as five men walked into the bar, each with sickening grins on their faces. Cooper debating on helping the woman out, but the Blue and yellow uniform couldn't shake from his mind.

"Morning Addy, you haven't seen a little whore back here have you?" the front man snarled.

Addy looked at him coldly "No. I've seen a little girl, but there is no way in hell you are going to get her,"

Then men clicked their guns together menacingly. "And what's a pretty thing like you gonna do to stop us?"

Addy stared at him, "Violence never solves anything," she quipped.

The man sneered "Let's just put a bullet through her head and be off with it," he practically begged the other man. One of the men sighed and nodded.

"Look if you don't let us pass we are gonna have to shoot you," he said feigning sadness.

"I'd like to see you try," Addy replied politely, as if they were just having an honest conversation.

Cooper sighed, realising that this Addy girl was defiantly going to die and he was going to be stuck with a traumatised child to take home.

The man raised his gun, firing before Cooper could react. Addy whirled around, her fingers stopping inches before her face.

Did she just catch the bullet?

One of the man snarled, firing round after round, but Addy ducked under one of the tables, crawling along until she found -

"I thought I told you to stay in the fucking back?" she hissed at Cooper.

"You never mentioned you were a vaultie," he hissed back angrily.

Addy blinked "Oh shit I forgot to put that away - listen I'm not what you think," she said quickly, ducking again as more bullets fired there way into the hardwood. "Just give me five minutes and I'll explain everything,"

"Five minutes?" Cooper scoffed "With these guys?"

Addy nodded "And stay down. I don't need a ghoulie fighting my goddamn battles,"

He watched as the strange woman lept into the air, running along the table and diving off of it, taking down two of the men as she did so.

She snarled at the other three, two of which dropped their weapons in fear. For her face, her smooth dainty face had changed, warped into something they couldn't quite place. Large fangs protruded from her mouth like some kind of deranged animal, and her eyes darkened until they formed black holes.

She swiped at them, her claws scraping across them, cutting through their skin like butter. They howled, falling to the floor in agony, but didn't move again.

When she stood, she found the Ghoul pointing his gun at her as well, a strange feeling in his eyes. He hadn't felt fear in a long time, but this was something completely different. He didn't even know what to make of this.

Addy's face returned to normal, though the blood splatters on her skin did not.

"It's alright ghoulie I'm not gonna hurt you," she soothed "I told you to stay in the back room," she added, slightly annoyed.

"What the hell are you?" he asked his gun never wavering.

Addy groaned "For fuck sake," she said before sitting down on one of the chairs, her head in her hands.

Cooper didn't quite know what to do, his old self would have just shot her, his really old self would have tried to comfort her.

Addy sighed "You're right I am a vault dweller but not in the way you might think. My brother sold me, he wanted to be one of the overseers, so he sold me to Vault 4, the vault run by scientists. They had this sick thing where they wanted to create something half human, half animal," she laughed humourlessly. "Pulled me apart, put me back together until they got what they fucking wanted,"

Cooper lowered his gun. The clogs in his mind whirring, desperate to try and figure out exactly where he knew that girl from. He knew the overseer's of the vaults, or some of them anyway, could she be someone he used to know?

"You're Amy MacLean," he realised. This whole time he knew there was something familiar about her, but he couldn't quite place what. And now he knew.

Amy Maclean was the runner girl on the sets back in his days at Valt-tech, She must have been turning seventeen when he last saw her. Sweet, he remembered, always bringing him something for his dog to eat whenever she could.

Addy looked at him sharply "Haven't heard that name in a long time," she said. "Ghoulies live longer I suppose,"

Cooper frowned "How long have you been on the surface," she didn't appear to be that much older than when he last saw her, sure she was definitely late twenties to early thirties now, her baby-face teen look had shattered completely, but she didn't look 200.

Addy eyed him slightly before kicking her legs onto the table "70 years, I was here before the last bombs dropped on Shady sands," she said "Whatever those people did to me slowed down my aging process,"

Cooper finally lowered his gun "We should check on that little girl," he said, but Addy waved him off.

"Let her be on her own for a bit. Last thing she needs is people crowding round her,"

Cooper didn't dare ask how Addy knew that, he didn't want to know.

"You've been here ever since?" he asked. Addy nodded.

"Learnt how to purify radioactive water, takes a long time but you don't have to do much. I give the village fresh water, chems for illnesses and stuff. In return they don't kill my ass or raid me." she said with a sigh "It's not much, but it's about as safe as you can get round here,"

Cooper nodded slightly. It was impressive, what she had built, but part of him wished he had been there to protect her. She was just a kid, and now she's all grown up, and refused to let her heart harden to the world like he had done to his all those years ago.

"You can take nine vials, in return for the girls safe passing back to her house," Addy said "I'll throw in a hot meal too if you promise not to frighten her,"

"Deal," Cooper said " I gotta ask lady, how are you getting all these vials? These days they're hard to come by,"

Addy smiled up at him "I make it sweety. Radway was made by vault-tech, and when I escaped I stole their Chem book. The ingredients are damn hard to find, but it's an easy make after that,"

Cooper grinned "Well I know where to come back to then," his smile to anybody else would have been deemed threatening, as to anyone else his entire presence would have them quaking in their boots, but the strange girl just smiled up at him.

"You're always welcome here Mr Howard," she said softly.

It wasn't until Cooper left, the little girl trailing behind him did he realise, he had never told her his name.

Part two

#cooper howard #fallout #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard fallout #fallout tv series #fallout series

[shycoffeeland]

'MY GIRL' - SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X F!141!READER (001)

Content tags: Reader is rescued, kidnap, mentioned torture, PTSD, petname of choice is "Love."

All thoughts had left your head as you'd been wrestled to the ground. The butt of the rifle hit you in the temple, and the last thing you felt as your vision went blurry was blood trickling down your forehead, your earpiece going haywire as the team heard it unfold.

When you woke up fully, you were tied to a chair. It was broken in places and the splinters were digging into your thighs. Your braids were coming loose and your hair was sticking to your forehead with sweat. The chair was an old wooden dining chair with armrests, and you were strapped in by the waist, wrists and ankles with multiple rounds of a thin wire that dug into you in all the wrong places. Finally getting a decent look around the room you'd been confined to, it was obvious it was a torture room. No windows, one single light. The walls were dirty, with layers upon layers of grime and dried bloodstains. There were tools on the walls, and it'd not taken long for you to corroborate each one with a mark on your body. The bruised and cuts that lined your arms started to sting as you fully returned to consciousness, and your lower legs began to burn. You couldn't bend down enough to fully see them, but you knew it had to be bad. The pain radiated up your legs, and sank deep into your flesh, a burning ache that only worsened the more you breathed. Every second felt like a minute. Every minute felt like an hour. The nausea crept up your throat only aggravated by the stench of blood and burnt flesh. Did they burn you? You couldn't tell. Everything felt the same anyway. You were about to die.

The door opened, and the single lightbulb above you flickered on.

One of your captors stood before you, your own gun in his hands. You looked over his gear, and saw that he'd also stolen your combat knives and your earpiece. He laughed at you, and squat down to your eye level, taking a hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"I'm impressed. A little girl playing soldiers should've broken by now." His voice was disgusting, like nails on a chalkboard.

You wanted so badly to headbut him and spit in his face, but you had to play this one smart, and no matter how much you wanted to kill him, he had the gun and you didn't. You kept quiet, and he moved his hand, the heel of it firmly underneath your chin and his fingernails digging into your bottom lip. You could smell the dirt and blood on him, and his breath stank something fierce.

'A little girl playing soldiers', knowing full well you probably outranked him. It was unusual to have such a highly decorated female soldier in any kind of specops, and it would always make you a target. Men like him would never be frightened by a woman. Its why they have to resort to taking you, tying you up and drugging you out of your mind while they torture you. You'd never break.

"L/N...," A second, thickly accented voice joined the haze, and you looked over to see another man tear the patch off your tac vest, reading your embroidered surname. Countless years in the service; being known only as your last name, and in recent years the ranks you'd acheived- but it sounded so wrong. Your vision began to clear slightly as you focused on him. "Where are your task force?"

"How the fuck am I meant to know? Do you honestly expect me to know that?" You looked up at him, trying your hardest to focus and not slur your words. You sounded drunk. "I haven't seen or spoken to the team since you've had me here, or even moved from this chair."

He didn't like that.

Somehow it hurt more to get a backhand across the face than the rest of your injuries, it left your head pounding.

"Don't be stupid. Do you think we don't know there's a plan in place? Where are they now?" He almost hissed, his notably rancid halitosis making you almost yak right in his face.

Your eyes fell shut, as the world around you began to swim.

"Plan probably went sideways because you took one of ours." That voice was unmistakable. You could practically see the flag on his cap. Gaz had come to get you.

Your captor stopped every movement as the barrel of a gun was held to the back of his head. The sudden movement caused you to creak your eyes open a little.

Ghost and Gaz had found you, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake as they got to where you were kept. Ghost's eyes shifted once he fully looked at you, and took in the sight of what they had done. He said nothing, his eyes boring holes in the wall behind you as the focus left them. He was barely there.

The man who had been messing with your vest was now slumped in a heap, kicked under the table. The only threat left in the room was cornered by two of the best.

"Ghost, mate," Gaz tried to encourage Simon to let go of the gun. "We need him alive. L/N, you okay? You awake?"

You mumbled, struggling against your restraints.

Gaz spoke into his radio. "Captain? Yeah we found her. She's not in a good way, we need medical." A pause. "Alright sir." Another pause. "Yes sir." A third pause that was longer than the rest. You couldn't make out what was being said. "Understood."

Ghost and Gaz swapped places, Gaz giving him a nod of understanding as they both moved to their respective tasks. Freeing you, and securing the now unconscious militia member.

Through the mask, you could usually make out each detail of his face. Now, you could barely hold onto the sight of his eyes. He said nothing as he worked to free you, his head bowed as he carefully avoided your wounds as he worked the wire back out and away from your wrists and from your ankles. You blinked, and he had gone behind you, using his bolt cutters to get through the thick accumulation of wire that bound you by the waist to the chair.

"Stay with it." You heard him say very quietly. "It's nothing." You couldn't figure out if he was speaking to you, or trying to get through it himself.

When you opened your eyes again, you were being carried. Your face was rubbing against the velcro on the back of his tac vest, the main sensation you focused on as you tried to make sense of the echoing conversation that was filling the empty building. The familiar sound of his breathing managed to calm you down a little, as you unconsciously had grown to associate it with rest and safety. His hold on you was firm, yet gentle, he didnt want to hurt you yet desperatly didnt want to risk dropping you, he knew you hated rescue carries. You were facing the floor, watching the dust and sand moving with each footstep of the two soldiers.

Suddenly, the doors opened, and a harsh light of the morning bled in.

"Fucking hell." You heard the Captain's voice as he caught sight of the three of you. It was distant, but still carried that familiar tone that made you almost try to stand at attention.

"You take her." Gaz kept both hands firmly on his rifle, nodding towards the vehicles that had gathered infront of the building. "I'll make sure that twat doesn't wake up."

Ghost felt you start struggling, and tried speaking to you, adjusting you so you were more upright over his shoulders than dangling off one, you'd fallen off the first time. "I can't put you down yet, just stay still alright? You'll be alright Love." His voice was quiet, but as he adjusted you he moved your head closer to him, a small but comforting gesture.

The medical team were ready to receive you. It took a good while to convince the lieutenant to let go of you. He watched as Price sent in another team to go meet Sergeant Garrick and retrieve the man from the enemy militia. The medics set you down and began working on you immediately.

"Go back to base." Price said, knowing the tone in his voice meant 'go with her, Simon.' Adjusting and reloading his guns, taking a drag from his cigar. "I need someone reliable to hold down the fort. We won't be far behind." He gave him a pat on the back before going to join the others.

The ride back to base was way too long with the supplies that were transportable. He sat in the front of the truck, knowing that the space to work in the back was limited. He didn't want to get in the way. He also couldn't bear looking at you in such a state. He'd barely managed to look at himself in the mirror after what he'd gone through in Mexico. He swore he'd never let anyone he loved go through something so awful, and the last thing he wanted was to be so helpless.

The second they got back, he all but jumped out of the truck, barking orders at anyone who'd listen. The rest of the medical team back at base had everything prepped and ready to treat you as per the reports they received en route. This time, Simon didn't even think. He went in with you, and stayed in the room while the treated you through your fleeting glimpses of consciousness, you could see that skull face, you didn't need to focus on his face, even as a blur, the skull was still there. Your Simon was with you. Everything would be okay.

A few days , a few sedatives and some heavy antibiotics later, you woke up to the faint sound of birds and humming at your bedside.

part two coming asap!

#ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #angst x reader #angst #call of duty

[noassparetime]

one more time .

leon kennedy x fem﹗ reader .

warnings : smut﹐ p in v﹐ unprotected sex﹐  creampie . praise kink . dominant leon .

summary : smut and barely a plot . i love ada irl dont hate me .

word count : 1820

NO MINORS UNDER THE CUT . THANK YOU .

---------------------------

leon kennedy . the pretty boy rookie cop turned special us agent . you ' d heard the stories about him and claire redfield surviving raccoon city﹐ and you ' d be lying if you said you weren 't impressed . your track record was just as impressive﹐ having pulled of multiple missions the military refused to take on .

which is exactly why you were the perfect one to be teamed up with him . he was cold﹐ sometimes rude and mostly shut off﹐ not that you minded . you preferred his silence over any other partner you ' ve had in the past .

it was simpler with him﹐ never having to make small talk﹐ never having to come up with smart answers to cocky questions﹐ just a simple nod﹐ a few instruction sentences and a glance would be enough communication to last you hours .

it was a slow night on the mission﹐ so the two of you mutually decided that a drink couldn ' t hurt . you and the blind man headed over to a little place down the street﹐ a chuckle falling from his lips upon reading the name﹐ Scott ' s Tavern . you ' d be lying if you said you weren ' t attrscted to him﹐ he was handsome﹐ strong and knew what he wanted . from what you had been told﹐ his history with women had been less than good﹐ ada wong ' s name popped up a couple of times . god how you hated that woman . she had been the reason one of your missions went south﹐ sabotaging you around every corner﹐ and even betraying you in the end . you were bitter about the subject – but then again﹐ you had every right to be .

leon ' s hand rested on the small of your back as he led you to a table﹐ taking the initiative to glare at all the men giving you disgusting looks . the place wasn ' t exactly the four seasons﹐ but it had alcohol and that was enough . like a perfect gentleman﹐ leon pulled your chair out for you﹐ pushing it back in gently as you sat down . you thanked him quietly as he took his own seat﹐ a waitress making her way to your table .

you didn ' t like the way she looked at him﹐ her eyelids fluttering﹐ laughing at all his horrible jokes that in reality barely constituted as such . you rolled your eyes as she walked away with your orders﹐ swaying her hips ever so slightly .

❛ someone ' s jealous . ❜ his voice broke the silence﹐ his eyes staring into your soul .

❛ i ' m not jealous . ❜ you scoffed﹐ crossing your arms over your chest . your eyes met his﹐ a lump forming in your throat . ❛ why are you looking at me like that﹖❜

❛ like what﹐ [Y/N]﹖ ❜ the agent questioned﹐ feigning cluelessness . his hands were on the table﹐ his fingers intertwined .

❛ never mind . ❜ you dismissed the subject﹐ the waitress making her way back to your table﹐ placing your drinks in front of you . she tried flirting with him again﹐ but he didn ' t seem to give her the time of day .

a few drinks and a few hours later﹐ your confidence grew﹐ you ' d questioned him about his time in raccoon city﹐ his relationship with claire and the one you were most curious about﹐ ada wong . leon had begged you to just drop the subject﹐ yet you insisted . you wanted information on her﹐ something you could use to inevitably be the cause of her downfall .

❛ [ Y/N ]﹐ i ' m warning you . ❜ he spoke sternly .

❛ oh﹐ come on﹐ leon . loosen up a bit . this is the first break we ' ve had in a while . i ' m just trying to have some fun .❜ you groaned﹐ setting your glass on the table . ❛ besides﹐ you ' re way too good for her anyway . ❜

his gaze shifted from the table to you﹐ brows furrowing in confusion as he tried to make sense of your words .

❛ what﹖❜ he questioned﹐ not wanting to believe it .

❛ come on﹐ let ' s face it﹐ she betrayed you﹐ left you﹐ twice . that isn ' t fair . she broke your heart and made you think she was dead – ❜ your words were cut off by his lips crashing into yours . before you could react﹐ your body instinctively reacted to his﹐ kissing back hungrily as your fingers entangled in his hair .

his hands found your face as he pulled away from you﹐ blue hues staring you down .

❛ you talk too much﹐ you know that right﹖❜ he asked﹐ a lught chuckle audible in his tone .

❛ i ' ve been told﹐ but you have one hell of a way to shut me up . ❜ you giggled . your eyes wandered down his body﹐ his black shirt clinging to his figure . fuck he was a sight to behold . his bulge was clearly visible through his jeans﹐ thus sparking the bright idea to tease him and see where it went .

your hand rested on his thigh﹐ slowly inching its way upwards﹐ your eyes reconnecting with his﹐ not daring to look away . his body stiffened﹐ making you wonder how many women have ever taken charge with him before . his hand wrapped around your wrist﹐ gently raising it off his leg . you withdrew immediately .

❛ i ' m sorry – ❜ you spoke﹐ looking down in embarrassment . his fingers caught your chin﹐ lifting your face to look at him again .

❛ bathroom﹐ now . ❜ he tugged you out of your seat﹐ leading you to the back of the building .

as soon as the door shut behind you﹐ your chest connected with the wall﹐ leon ' s hand on your hip﹐ the other already working on the button of your jeans .

❛ you have no idea how long i ' ve waited for this [ Y/N ] . ❜ he spoke as he shoved your pants and panties down﹐ leaving you bare in front of him .

leon knelt down﹐ spreading you open to get a good look at that perfect pussy of yours . jesus christ﹐ what he wouldn ' t give to take his time with you﹐ but there would be another opportunity for that .

slowly﹐ leon sunk a finger into your cunt﹐ feeling its warmth wrap around him﹐ a moan slipping from your lips . he was mesmerised by how responsive you were to him﹐ how your body reacted to his touch .

❛ that good﹐ baby﹖❜ he cooed as he stood up﹐ his finger pumping in and out of you at a torturous pace .

❛ ye – mhm. . . ❜ you nodded﹐ your eyes shut﹐ taking in the moment﹐ but you needed more . you needed him . ❛ leon﹐ please. . . ❜ you begged﹐ needing to feel more .

without a word﹐ his finger slid from your core﹐ immediately tugging at his belt﹐ his pants dropped seconds later . the blond stroked his length as he stepped closer to you﹐ aligning himself with your entrance .

your hands were pressed to the cold wall as you mentally prepared yourself to be split apart by the great leon kennedy .

❛ deep breath﹐ sweetheart . ❜ he whispered into your ear as he pushed in slowly .

leon took his time﹐ seething into you﹐ feeling every crevice of your cunt . a moan clawed its way up your throat as he filled you up and split you apart so easily . he wrapped an arm around your waist﹐ pulling you into him as he started thrusting . slow movements followed as he rolled his hips﹐ reaching deeper than anyone ever had before .

soon enough﹐ his pace picked up and his thrusts became heavier and harder . cervix kisses teased you closer and closer to insanity as he slammed into you . his lips latched onto your neck﹐ marking you as his own .

your small hands gripped onto his arm as a string of moans and profanities fell from your swollen lips﹐ lips he would give anything to see wrapped around cock as he slid down your pretty little throat .

❛ fuck﹐ baby . you sound so fucking good . ❜ he moaned into your ear﹐ praising your actions﹐ encouraging you to be more vocal .

your moans got louder and louder as you neared your climax﹐ prompting leon to clasp his hand over your mouth . the way your body fit so perfectly in his comforted you in a way you never knew you needed .

soon enough﹐ your walls tightened around his shaft﹐ the knot in your stomach growing tighter as he pounded into you . your nails dug into his skin﹐ leaving angry red marks in their wake .

❛ leon﹐ please . . . ❜ you said﹐ barely a whisper﹐ the only thing you got from him was a grunt﹐ you took it as a yes .

once your orgasm hit﹐ your vision blurred as your legs shook﹐ your grip on his arm tightening as you pressed your hips into his . a throaty moan fell from his lips as your cunt practically sucked his cock in﹐ threatening to never let go .

with one last thrust﹐ leon hit his peak﹐ his seed flooding your womb﹐ leaving you breathless as the warmth spread . leon picked you up gently﹐ turning you around so his back was against the wall .

the man slid down﹐ cradling you gently as he held you﹐ comforting you as you both came down from your highs . your head rested on his shoulder﹐ in turn﹐ his rested upon yours .

❛ i should ramble more often. . . ❜

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #re4 leon #re4 remake #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy smut #help idk whats going on anymore #i feel delusional #hope you enjoy #my friend made me write this #youre welcome WG

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 1

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Shooting mentioned, not written. American healthcare system. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Curtis stormed into the manor. Normally he didn’t care for visiting the higher ups, surrounded by their opulence but this wasn’t normal circumstances. He headed straight for Steve and Bucky’s office, the folder Jake compiled for him under his arm. As much as Curtis wanted to act on this he knew he had to get permission first, as Mace kept reminding him. 

As soon as he entered the office, the Bosses greeted him. 

“The nieces are okay?”

“Yes,” Curtis replied. “We did a priority background search on the would-be thief. Found no connections to other families so he was likely just an idiot trying to get some quick cash.”

“And the guy who took the bullet,” Bucky asked.

“She is currently in the hospital,” Curtis felt his fists tighten, thinking about her situation. “It wasn’t life threatening, just a quick surgery but she’s not gonna be allowed to walk for a few weeks.”

The bosses nodded their heads, “you made sure Beck is her doctor?”

“Yup. But there’s a hitch that I need permission to fix,” Curtis took the folder out from under his arm. “She got fired for missing some big meeting. First person she called was her boss, to explain what happened, and the asshole fired her over the phone. Now she’s trying to leave the hospital way too early because she’s scared of not being able to afford the care.”

Steve and Bucky looked astonished at this information. “Who the hell fires someone for that? Especially when she has the proof to back her story,” Bucky huffed. “You got that information, right?”

“We got it months ago when she first started tutoring the nieces,” Curtis affirmed. “Had to make sure she wasn’t someone playing the long game.” He handed the folder to Bucky who opened it. The men took a few seconds to find her boss’s name. Curtis was pleased to see Steve’s eyes go steely with anger. 

Steve looked at Curtis, “I’ll make sure he gets handled.”

Bucky cut in, “for now, work with Huffman to get the paperwork settled. Officially, she’s been employed by us, as a tutor, for months. We’ll make sure the backpay gets added to her account. Beck and Jensen can work to make sure her insurance goes back as well.”

Curtis nodded his thanks and left to go back to the hospital. Hopefully she hadn’t succeeded in leaving.

“Please,” you plead through tears, “please just let me go home.”

Dr. Beck shook his head, “that would be wildly irresponsible of me. You have no emergency contacts, which tells me you have no one to help you out at home. You need to stay off of your leg for at least a week and you need help to do that. If that means keeping you here for that week, so be it.”

“I can’t af-” 

Dr. Beck interrupts, “I’ve been in touch with some people, namely the family of those two girls you rescued. You’re not paying for anything and they insist you get your full rest here.”

“I…” you’re flabbergasted at the news. Jake and Jefferson had always been kind but you never got the impression they were so well off they could cover someone else’s medical bills. You can’t stop crying. It’s been a tumultuous day.

There was a knock outside the privacy curtain and a deep voice asking, “is it okay to come in?”

“Yeah, come on in,” Dr. Beck replied. “Been expecting you.” He turns to the source of the voice. Walking to your bed is a tall, muscular man with a buzz cut, beard and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen. You blink back tears and try to compose yourself. Crying around medical staff is one thing. Crying around strangers who might not be used to tears is something else.

“I’m Curtis,” he holds out his hand to you.

“Hi,” you shake his hand, confusion written all over your face.

“I’m here to inform you that you do, in fact, have medical insurance. You also have backpay.” Curtis starts putting paperwork on the patient table in front of you. “You’ve been tutoring my nieces for several months. The least we could do is make sure you’re being paid for your time, complete with benefits. Just need you to sign a few things.”

“What?” Far from answering your questions, you find yourself even more in the dark. “I…I don’t understand…”

“You helped my family,” Curtis replied. “Not only did you offer your time and patience, you’ve given your health and well-being. The least me and mine can do is take care of you.”

“I, uh,” you hesitate, trying not to insult, “are you sure you can afford this?”

“Yes.” There was no room for argument in Curtis’s tone. His face was stern and you discerned no cracks indicating he was lying in any way.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

“Don’t say anything,” Curtis tells you. “Just sign here, here and here.”

With a look to Dr. Beck, who gives you a reassuring smile and nod, you take the proffered pen and shakily sign where Curtis tells you to.

“And, with that,” Curtis gently smiles, “you were officially hired by us three months ago as a private tutor for two of our nieces. When you’ve recovered, you will return to your work and we may have more for you to do.”

Ransom was having a great day. His ugly assistant missed a big meeting and he finally had grounds to fire her. She'd been hired by his grandfather so he couldn't just get rid of her without a reason. He even encouraged her remote work so he wouldn't have to look at her. Now he could hire an assistant on his own and actually pick someone easy on the eyes.

It's not like the job was difficult. He needed someone who could research stuff he needed to know for his writing. Anyone could do that. He could, too, but he didn't want to and could afford to hire someone else to do it for him.

He was in the middle of writing up the job ad when the door to his office slammed open, making him jump. Steve Rogers was glaring at him as he strode into the room.

“Rogers,” Ransom smiled. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Did you hear what happened to the nieces today?”

“Jake and Jefferson's girls? No.” Ransom was genuinely concerned. Those girls were spoiled by everyone in the families but they still managed to be the sweetest people he knew.

“There was an attempted robbery at the shop,” Steve continued, walking closer and closer to Ransom. “They were nearly shot by the idiot. Thankfully, they were rescued and someone else took the bullet.”

As Steve sat down on the desk Ransom started putting some pieces together. He wasn't an idiot. The nieces almost being shot and his assistant actually being shot? It would also explain the rage emanating from Rogers.

“The woman who took the bullet requires a lot of medical care. But, of course, she can't afford it since her asshole of a boss fired her.”

Ransom gulped, “I can hire her back. Say it was a moment of anger, a mistake that never should've happened.”

Steve stood and pulled up Ransom by the front of his sweater, forcing him to stand on his toes. “Do you remember,” Steve growled, “why we had to send Lloyd into exile?”

“Too many casualties?”

“Close. He viewed people as expendable. This family got started by helping others. Helping the Unions. Supporting the communities. So when you treat someone like that, you disrespect all of us.”

Steve let go of Ransom’s sweater, setting him on his feet. Without warning, he punched Ransom in the stomach so hard he doubled over.

“You are on notice,” Steve told him. “You've been straddling the line for some time now. But one more slip, and you're gone. Understood?”

Ransom coughed, “yeah, I get it.”

“And you don't have to hire her back. We got her a much better boss.”

Part 2

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#curtis everett x reader #mafia!curtis everett #mafia au #curtis everett x plus sized!reader #plus size!reader #mob!curtis everett

[suchagreatimetobealive]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 ~°•*'▪︎

Fem!Cosplayer!Reader x Pm!Dazai Osamu

- I live with random inspirational drabbles that won't take me nowhere.

Your cosplay is perfect.

The tie is tied tightly, the black coat on your shoulders secure, the bandages around your arms are tighten not to unravel, the ones in your neck loose not to hurt but at the same time secure not to collapse with every breath you take. The one in your face itches way less than you thought.

You are ready.

Near your home, in a little park very pretty and kept clean, your group of friends organises every saturday a "themed party", in which any cosplayer can join to have fun with others, make new friends with the same interests and generally spend a good time socialising. Today is one of those days, and you choose to cosplay someone you never did before; Dazai Osamu in his port mafia era.

Last time you went you cosplayed Tsukasa Yugi, and you want to make an easier cosplay this time (and also because you are madly in love with the former executive).

As expected, when you put feet there, you find other cosplayers with the same character as yours; some cosplaying Dazai from his present days, others mafia and one you met also had a red scarf around his neck, bandages on the other side of his face, which means Beast.

As you reach for your friend, the cosplay of one of the genshin impact characters sticking out, so colorful that it seems to just attract your gaze onto him, your feet reach the spot as a big smile frame your face.

"Oh, Yn! How are you doing? I'm glad you could come" he smiles politely as he takes a bite of the sandwich between his hands "Did you eat anything?" He asks then, before you could have any chance of answering.

"No, I will go now. Just wanted to stop by, you having fun?" You raise an eyebrow as you hit your friend on the elbow "You managed to cosplay who you wanted at the end? You won't bother me anymore now right?" His gaze totally tells you otherwise.

"...I'll just go eat something" your defeated toned makes him laugh as he begs you from behind your shoulders to forgive him.

As your hand grabs a sweet from the table, a hand tap your shoulder softly, almost not wanting to startle you. The touch makes you raise both eyebrow in curiosity as your head turns around to look.

First impression; a teen, just like you.

Second notice; bandages. Okay, must be cosplaying Dazai.

The teen is slender, very very thin, long fingers took behind their coat as their gaze flies sceptically on your form, brown, lifeless pupils engulfing you whole, as if they can grabs your cosplay and tear it apart; not to get you exposed and naked for some men impulses, just to want you out that outfit.

If this is a Dazai cosplay, it really is very authentic. You smirk "Woah, careful. Your cosplay is so real I could've mistaken you for the real Dazai Osamu there." you joke, keeping the sweet between your fingers, having the intention to wait for them to go away so that you can eat in peace.

Your words seems to make them beam, a sparkle that doesn't really come from their sincere soul appearing in their eyes. "Oh."

Simple.

Unimpressed.

Hollow.

Oh.

You blink at the unenthusiastic teen as they blinks and glances around in unease. Your limb flinch from the impulse to drag them out the party, since they don't seem to want to be here. If they didn't want to come, why did they bother so much to cosplay neatly?

"Do you.. want me to bring you out of here?" You doubtfully speak out, your hand placing on top of their shoulder, rough fabric rubbing under your fingers as you gently firm your grip.

Their head snaps towards you, a new light adorning their features before quickly dissipating itself as if it never existed. Their gaze is so empty, you can swear if Dazai Osamu ever were real, these eyes would be his.

After realising you asked them something, they carefully nods their head.

You stop with them in a more silent spot, maybe safer, before sitting down on the sidewalk, hearing their shuffling steps behind you before the figure appears, dragging itself down to sit on the spot next to yours.

"Are you okay?" You ask, tilting your head to the side.

This is not a good way to start a conversation, that's what your mind tells you.

"Yes, I am. I was bored. I heard a lot of music and laugher and happen to be curious" they answer, voice shallow, like a broken record playing itself in loop.

Your glance back at them "...so this is not a cosplay?" They blinks.

This time their vacant eyes rest on yours, so full of emotions, so different. "...yes, yes it is supposed to be." They don't seem too sincere, and now you don't really know what to think.

"...I mean, some bungo stray dogs outfits, if not all of them, can be used for the everyday living so I mean I get you if you casually decided to use them not to cosplay but in general. You just are one of the most proper cosplay of Dazai Osamu that I have ever seen. Way better than mine, my feminine face doesn't fit his features at all, I don't really have such a sharp jawline. Not that he has it that sharp but—" you stop yourself from talking, realising you are speaking with a stranger and not all of them are glad to hear you go too much talkative.

Their head turns to look at you after a few seconds, blinking eyes of a deer caught in the light as they tilt their head to the side with a frown "Why did you stop?" Such a simple question worked to ease the nerves on your stomach, even if it isn't strong enough to silence the voices in your head.

"Sometimes I tend to go overboard with talking, so I stop."

"Such a foolish thing to say. If we have a voice, better use it to the fullest, right?" They don't sound like they believes their own words.

This kid is giving you so much mixed signals it's making your head spin.

"...yeah. You are right" you softly smile as you glance back at the street, empty and free from any car passing. No one really take streets from this direction since there's nothing interesting in the zone where you live. It's not impossible but rare for cars to come this way.

They seem to be intentioned into asking you something, opening their mouth and closing it a couple of times before permanently keeping it shut, stuffing their chin on top of the knees, eyes dropping closed.

They look so tired.

You take a breath, imitating the position, one brown eye following your movement soundlessly. "...this feels peaceful" you mutter, a gentle smile grazing your lips. You don't drag your gaze towards theirs, who closed their eye after you stopped moving.

A phone start vibrating.

Once, twice, a grumble comes from the teen next to you they take out the device, placing it next to the ear; "Yes, boss?"

Boss?

Helplessly staring at the ground, the brunette often hums in understanding. "Got it. See you later. Byeee" shutting down the call they sighs dramatically, a note of their childish antics being shown for a fraction of second, before standing up looking like someone else rudely took them from their shoulders, forcing the motion.

"Looks like you gotta go" you smile, getting up as well as they turn their back to you. They don't talk. They don't even look at you. You just stands there, watching as their back disappears from the reach.

Realising they -or better he at this point- isn't a cosplayer will take you all the day, just as you are in your bed, stuffed between matress and blankets, you blink your eyes staring at the wall. The way your veins freeze, your breaths becoming uneven.

You hope with your whole being to never ever see him again.

#bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #bungo stray dogs fanart #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungou stray dogs headcanon #dazai osamu x reader #bsd x reader #pm!dazai #pm dazai #dazai pm #port mafia #port mafia dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x y/n #dazai osamu x you

[lcandothisallday]

Hi sarah!! I was thinking what if you wrote Jeremy and reader being enemies to lovers but Jeremy never hated her, in fact he always liked her since high school and would try to impress her but it always went wrong which is why she thinks he hates her. Like him trying to show off in the gym at school and accidentally hits reader in the face with the ball and thats just how it all starts. 😮‍💨 That was alot but I think you could write this very well. If not, that’s okay too.

- 🌎anon

i fully didn’t do this request justice and it’s not edited properly so i apologize to all of you😩

Fool for you - Jeremy (WMCJ) x f!reader

You couldn't help your cringe as you entered your new gym. Money was tight so you had to downgrade which wasn't all that bad truth be told, but the sleezy men who kept staring at you and making crude comments as you walked by irked you beyond compare.

With a sigh, you put in your AirPods and play your music before you begin with the stairmaster. As you're climbing, from the corner of your eye you notice a man walking around with a massive bag and bottles of drinks that did not look FDA approved what so over.

You watched in curiosity as he stopped in front of every member, holding the drink up and promoting it like his life depended on it. It wasn't until you got a closer look at who the man was that your eyes widened.

"Oh hell no," you mutter under your breath, slowing down on the stairmaster. There he was--in all his odd hippy glory--Jeremy from high school, the same Jeremy that hated your guts and you never understood why.

You had always thought he was cute all throughout high school, his boyish charm, his curly hair and adorable dimpled smile--mixed with the fact that he was a basketball player, of course you had a little crush on him.

But he always made sure to show you he didn't feel the same. Emphasis on the show you part. There were countless times where you took a basketball to the head, had a drink spilt all over your school work, or simply teased beyond comprehension all in an attempt to embarrass you because he simply hated you.

When Jeremy finished up with one guy, he scanned the room for his next client victim when his eyes landed on you. His breath got caught in his throat as he watched you climb the stairmaster expertly, your thighs and ass taking the full work out.

With a deep breath, his nerves elated, he fixes his shirt by smoothing it down before he slowly begins approaching you.

Ironically, back in high school, Jeremy also had the fattest crush on you. He tried everything to get you to like him but it just continuously backfired because he was always so clumsy or tripping over his words, embarrassing not just himself--but you in the process too.

As you see the curly haired man approach you, you shake your head and immediately turn off the machine.

"Nope." you say sternly, your hand out to stop him in his tracks, cutting him off before he even got the chance to speak. His mouth was agape and eyes wide.

"I didn't even say nothing yet!" he exclaimed in defence. You scoffed and hopped off of the machine.

"I am not in the mood to get hurt today--whatever you're selling, I don't want it. You'll give me food poisoning," you mutter, shaking your head once again.

Jeremy's cheeks went red with embarrassment. "I wasn't uh...wasn't planning on selling you my detox drinks."

You roll your eyes and stare at the curly haired man with your hands on your hips in annoyance. "Is that what you do now?" you ask mockingly. "Given up on basketball and go around dressed like that selling detox drinks to gym bros?"

Truthfully, you didn't mean to sound that rude. You just weren't in the mood to interact with the guy that made your high school experience just a bit more unbearable.

Hearing your insult made Jeremy bite his lip and look down at his feet momentarily in shame. "Well I mean...wasn't exactly my plan...tore both my ACLs and didn't heal properly so I gotta make money somehow," he mumbled in response.

His response made you feel terrible. "Jeremy I'm sorry. That was rude of me," you apologize softly. "I didn't know."

"How could you?" he muttered sarcastically, causing you to frown.

"Look--you came up to me," you argued, crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t get all sassy with me now,” you said while frowning.

Jeremy chuckled and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Look…it’s been a while right? we’ve both matured—so why don’t you come to one of my games?” he suggested. “We can catch up after.”

You look at him in question with a slightly raised brow. You couldn’t deny that the adorable and hopeful expression on his face made your heart flutter ever so slightly. Maybe he has grown.

“Sure why not.”

It’s a few days later and you follow the directions that Jeremy had texted you with the location of where the mini ball games were being held. As you approached the stands and took in your surroundings, you began to feel bad for him. Graduating from highschool, everyone thought he was enroute to playing in the NBA so seeing him have to resort to playing in small competitions to keep his passion alive was something that was a bit disheartening—no doubt the feeling probably worse for him.

When Jeremy saw you take a seat in the first row, his heart beat quickened. “She actually came,” he muttered in disbelief under his breath, not having expected you to show up.

Kamal overheard and chuckled. “That her?” he asked for confirmation, Jeremy nodding. “Bro…no offence but she’s outta your league.”

Jeremy groaned. “Don’t you think I know that?” he whined. “I can never impress her—believe me I’ve tried.”

Kamal smirked as he teasingly patted his friend’s back. “Guess you gotta be on your A game, huh?”

The game went rather smoothly with you watching Jeremy with a smile on your face. He managed to not make a complete fool out of himself and you were impressed to say the least. It was nice to see that he still had game. 

On the final play of the game, Jeremy had the ball. He glanced over at you momentarily, which was possibly the worst idea he could’ve done because his nerves got the best of him and with full force, as he went to take a three, it air balled and hit you right in the head.

Some of the girls in the stands also watching the game, snickered, one even whispering “that had to be on purpose,” to her friend.

With a shake of your head, you begin to walk off, not wanting to give Jeremy the satisfaction. It really did feel like he invited you under false pretences of a truce when in reality his whole plan was to embarrass you again. A sick joke.

“Y/N I’m sorry!” Jeremy exclaimed, running after you and stopping you in your tracks as he gently reached for your arms.

“That one actually fucking hurt Jeremy!” you exclaim, turning to face him which is when he noticed the growing bruise on your forehead. “I get it—you hate me! Does my presence around you evoke some sort of violent behaviour or something?”

Jeremy furrowed his brows in confusion. “I don’t hate you. Your presence actually makes me nervous—”

“Okay well if you don’t hate me then why are you always throwing shit at me?!”

“It’s on accident!”

“Every single time?!??”

Jeremy groaned, “I like you!” he exclaimed in exasperation. “I turn into a Damn fool around you! Can’t talk or walk or play ball—thought I’d grown out of it,” he sighed. “Apparently not.”

You furrowed your brows as you stared at him. He sounded sincere. “You have absolutely zero game you know that?”

“Only around you.”

You tried to keep a serious face but you couldn’t help your small laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” you say with a playful shake of your head. “And the funny thing is I’m actually endeared by you which sucks because I genuinely think if I do something about it—I might end up dead one day with the way you are around me.”

Jeremy cheeks went red and he gave you a shy smile. “I’m hoping that isn’t the case. Let me take you on a proper first date. No basketballs around,” he breathed out.

You can’t hide your amused smile. “One date…to test the waters.”

Jeremy grinned, his hand coming up to access your bruise before his grin turned into a wince in shame. “M’ really sorry about this,” he mumbled.

“You’ll make it up to me.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines #jeremy x reader #jeremy wmcj #wmcj #white men can’t jump #wmcj fics

[unicornsaures]

Schools need to stop ignoring the fact thomas jefferson was a horrible person. Please for the love of god school systems stop ignoring Sally Hemmings. She deserved so much better; she was a CHILD. She deserves to be recognized for what she faced. Just because Jefferson is so important to american history schools blatantly ignore the abuse he put this girl through and INSTEAD talk about how he was against slavery??(my school did at least.)

I hate it so much; like despise it. The founding fathers are not to be idolized. Their achievements can be idolized; but they should not be as PEOPLE. Schools lack the ability to mention the fact that whether they did good or not, most of them were absolutely horrible men. SPECIFICALLY THOMAS JEFFERSON!!! My schools have never once mentioned Sally Hemmings, and honestly they do whatever to avoid ot.

Its upsetting to see, in all honesty. Just because Jefferson and the other founders did good work does not mean they were good people. There are actions that even then were not acceptable(from my knowledge r@pe was illegal during the 18th century)-and those actions are certainly not acceptable now.

Justice needs to be done for Sally, and honestly every person hurt by not only jefferson, but other founding fathers. Whether they founded america or not, they are not people to be idolized and the fucked up shit theyve done shouldnt be ignored for the sole purpose its "innapropriate," or "controversial." Because no, its not controversial. Its a fact.

Jefferson specifically makes me upset because the knowledge of his abuse to Sally is well known. Its not some foreign consoiracy, people know that it happened and choose ignore it. Jefferson was a massive fucking piece of shit and his actions should not remain a "hush hush" topic.

Just because Jefferson is important to US history does not mean he gets a pass on this. Sally needs to be addressed, she needs to be learned about, and shoving into kids heads that the founding fathers were great people is absolute bullshit. This goes for every historical figure, too.

Dont need a whole lesson on it; just one mention. Just one singular mention about Sally and how horrible Jefferson was would suffice if its THAT controversial. Sally was a child. Not an adult. A 13-14 year old girl- Jefferson was over 40. For YEARS i was under this impression that the founding fathers could do no wrong yet here we are after i had to learn about it MYSELF.

I am aware schools lie all the time but my god this should not be something simply glazed over. American schools especially struggle with properly educating kids on topics like slavery and its just..why? Is it so hard to just acknowledge that jefferson was a bad person? The founding fathers are not to be glorified and idolized??

Im sorry for ranting but my god it just takes one brief mention to a class of kids and they have more knowledge on this than at least half of america.

#thomas jefferson #sally hemings #founding fathers #18th century #american history #us history #schools stop ignoring sally hemmings challenge go!!

[aurumacadicus]

I posted the first two parts of minotaur Steve (under same tag) specifically so you all could have some slight background on this scene (because I wanted it to hurt more probably):

"You have to come," Tony exclaims, angry, but there's some genuine panic threading his voice. "We've come this far, you can't just--"

"You dragged me this far," Steve snarls, and only feels a little bad when Tony takes a nervous step backward. "You took me from the labyrinth for your own reasons. It was never to rescue me from living and dying there. Now you want me to die to save you? You're no better than the gods."

Tony looks hurt for a moment, like Steve has taken one of his massive hands and just slapped him, but it doesn't hide the hint of shame that crosses his face. He recovers quickly, though, anger covering everything. "It's not my fault. I'm not the one who made that shitty prophecy. I wanted to solve my own problems. The gods are the ones who decided I couldn't!"

"So you'd sacrifice me?!" Steve bellows, and Tony skitters backward, clutching the Rogers shield to himself protectively. "Like I'm a dumb animal?! You should have taken one of the others. At least they wouldn't know one way or the other." He glares at Tony for a moment. He doesn't know how to explain how much this betrayal hurts, that Tony knew the gist of the prophecy meant Steve would probably die and had strung him along with him anyway. Had probably offered Steve the gift of his body knowing he would never have to fulfill it, he thought, perhaps uncharitably. He doesn't even want that, which doesn't help the hurt at all.

He should have known the world outside the labyrinth wasn't for him, is probably what hurts the most. There was a reason his mother had never brought him outside, even after she'd realized Steve could navigate the walls. She'd never asked him to find the way out so she could show him the sky. She'd known what Tony had apparently known, but hadn't had the heart to tell him--he's a monster, and men kill monsters. There will never be a place for him in open air.

"I hope the Hydra Cult burns your entire forest to the fucking ground," Steve snarls, and it mostly isn't true, but he wants Tony to hurt as much as he'd hurt him.

It works a little too well, he thinks, as Tony sucks in a breath that sounds more painful than helpful. His eyes fill with tears, and his face flushes with shame and embarrassment. There's a moment where he starts to feel guilty.

But Tony rallies quickly, flush turning to anger, blinking back his tears as if they never existed. "Fine. Go back to the labyrinth for all I care. I hope someone kills and roasts you like the beast you are before you get there," he snarls. He throws the shield at Steve's hooves. "I don't need this. I don't need you. I can take care of my forest myself."

"Sure," Steve spits back, glaring, as Tony turns on his heel to stomp down the road. The urge to remind him he had to save him from a few satyrs along the way is on the tip of his tongue, but something in him makes him swallow it back. Probably the part of him that remembers his mother's expression before she'd told him to run away and hide. It would be too low a blow, even for him, even as angry as he is.

He bends to pick up the shield. He doesn't understand how it can be a weapon. His mother had never spoken of it. But then, it had been from her husband's side of the family. He had inherited it because of her name, not because they'd accepted him. They'd only given it to him when Tony had mentioned a prophecy. Humans were scared of being on the wrong side of a prophecy, the village elder had said as he'd passed it over to them. It's heavy. He's reluctantly impressed Tony had carried it as long as he had, too anxious at the sight of the emblem burned into his hip to take it in his own hands.

Was Tony's kind understanding just pity, because he knew he was bringing Steve to die, Steve wonders. Or was he being kind to be kind? He'll never know, he figures, turning to chuck it into the sea.

Then he hears a sound, perhaps the most awful one he's ever heard--agony, and defeat, and dismay, all at once. His mother had instilled a conscience in him. He turns.

Tony is crumpling to the ground. Steve thinks he's tripped, for a moment, except his hands don't go out to catch himself. He just falls, and lies there where he landed, small and unmoving. Like the gods had struck him down where he stood for his hubris.

"Tony," Steve gasps, only half against his will, and thunders after him.

Steve is so careful as he turns him onto his back, feeling awkward and unwieldy. Tony's shaking--seizing, he remembers his mother calling it once, eyes rolled back in his head, saliva foaming in the corners of his mouth. As he watches, a drop of blood begins to trickle from his nose. He cradles Tony's head in one big hand, so he doesn't hit it on anything, feeling helpless, just like he had as his mother had passed away in his arms.

Tony doesn't pass away, though. Eventually, he sags in Steve's hold, eyelids fluttering. He coughs, and a fine mist of blood fills the air in front of his mouth.

"Tony," Steve whispers, pulling him close to his chest. "What happened?"

Tony says nothing for a few minutes, focused on catching his ragged breath. Finally, though, he croaks, "They cut through one of my heartwoods." He coughs again, then sobs, looking up at Steve with liquid eyes. "Steve, they're killing everyone in the east of my forest."

Steve frowns. "How do you know?"

"I can feel them dying," Tony sobs, and somehow he manages the strength to grab Steve's arm, crying in earnest. "I can feel all of them dying around me. I couldn't protect them. I couldn't do enough. They're dying because of me."

"Tony," Steve whispers, cradling him to his chest, as Tony sobs and sobs.

#ideas #stony #minotaur steve

[skyeslittlecorner]

Point to point - Andrealphus

Writing for him relieves my stress, so he will be my scapegoat until February. Sorry dear, love you. You're lucky I can't write smut.

Words: 866

Other parts: On the other side | Promised Land | Point to point | Love is blind (18+)

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Living with a demon is different than you thought.

Is it constant sex and idyll? Neither one nor the other. But that doesn't mean it's not fun.

"Don't touch me by surprise." He asked when he first stepped foot in your house. "I don't want to hurt you."

You tried, but couldn't get used to it. Touching and cuddling was your love language. Even if you managed to warn him, there were times when you forgot and hugged him unexpectedly. He never hurt you, but always stiffen.

"I have an idea how to solve this." Dusting the shelves one day made you inspired. "Let's set a sign!"

"Sign?"

  "Yes! It's about the surprise touching." You reminded him, words coming out faster than your thoughts.

Leaving the cloth, he wiped his hands and came closer.

"What do you mean?"

You stroked his cheek with your finger.

"What do you say to that? I'll remember to pet you more than to talk to you."

With a calm smile, he reached for your hand and cuddled up to it.

"I like this idea, and now..."

He moved your fingers to his own lips, that were soft and hot. Long tongue wrapped around your fingers. The bolt of pleasure rushing through you to the bottom.

"Cleaning can wait."

Point for him.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

He gently bandaged your wounds. The stitched hand already looked good, but you still refrained from hissing in pain. His alert ears picked up on it. Leaning down and gently moving his lips, he kissed your skin over the bandage.

"What are you doing…?"

"Giving you painkillers."

You blushed. Such a strong medicine always worked. Of course, he couldn't see your red cheeks, but you made sure to show him. Rough fingers felt warm on your face. He chuckled, leaned down and kissed you.

Point for him.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

You found a new hobby. What's better than a men's shirt? A men's shirt for sleeping, of course. It's baggy. Comfortable. Smells like him. Touched his body. You could walk around like this all day, and you were going to, if you had the day off. You wondered if he would ever find out. Three days passed, and you felt brave enough to put on the shirt from his uniform and didn't bother with the buttons. He had no idea anyway, right? Excitement consumed your spine and abdomen. 

While you were making coffee this morning, he walked behind you, and you felt a tug on the collar.

"You think I don't know?" He pulled the fabric down. Of course, the unbuttoned shirt came off. "It doesn't smell like you."

You grumbled something under your breath in response, but not very clearly, because his hands landed on your waist and his lips on the back of your neck. Legs buckled beneath you as his grip tightened.

Point for him.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

The bathroom had always been a battleground, and you had the impression that he was doing it on purpose. He could tell from a distance if you were wearing his clothes, but he couldn't smell if he was using shampoo or soap? And this text that "the smell doesn't matter here"? Of course, it does! There are no nettle soaps. But he stubbornly claimed that it was impossible and that you have to show him what's where.

You would understand if you were to stay in the bathtub with him, but that wasn't the case. Sometimes he would just ask you to help him wash his hair. You had a small bathtub, and he didn't want to splash everything by the shower. But he was always polite. Way too polite. Never tried to pull you in. 

But finally, you understood why, when from under the foam you saw beautiful, shiny and black horns.

"Ready?" He gurgled from somewhere below.

"Just a moment. We have to do this carefully."

You changed the angle of the shower and ran your hand through his hair, lazily stroking the base of the horn. He shuddered. You felt it under your palm and saw him hunch his head in his arms.

"I think it is enough…"

"I think not!"

It was too big to wrap your hand around, so you stroked it in a long motion, from the base, through the spirals, to the tip. You put the shower down and turned it off. No water needed anymore.

Andrea was breathing heavily. You could see cuts from his claws on the porcelain where he held his fingers. Suddenly you envied the furniture. These scars should be on your body. And you’ll get them. You leaned in to whisper sweetly into his ear.

"Almost."

Then you started massaging his hard shoulders and ran your tongue over his black horns again. You took the tip in your mouth, it was surprisingly sweet.

"If you don't leave..." He growled throatily.

This threat only awakened your own inner demon.

"Make me."

A strong grip pull you into the bathtub. You were wet, and not just from water. He kissed you deeply before you could protest; hungrily, like his life depended on it. You forgot that you were supposed to tease him, but your blacking memory didn't change anything.

Finally, a point for you.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb andrealphus #he's like this squeeze ball to relieve stress for me #hades boys tomorrow

[granddaughterogg]

Captain John Price comforts you

SUMMARY: You're going through Something (TM) and your commander offers you a hug and some kind words. Wholesome fluff with a tinge of simmering attraction. (Is it mutual? Who knows?)

Captain Price is an extremely perceptive man. He may be quite literally carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but that doesn't mean he can't spot when one of his men (or women) is in a bad way. You were hoping that both your face – unsightly red from all this crying - and your general wet cat aura would have escaped his attention. No such luck.

"A word with you, Private?"

"Yes Sir," you sighed obediently. You have survived a week from hell, and now it felt like you've been called to the principal's office. What could your impressive commander want from you? You didn't particularly feel up to the challenge.

The door of the Captain's office closed behind you with a quiet click, but to your ears, it sounded like the swish of a guillotine.

Price circled around his desk, perpetually cluttered with paperwork. He produced a cigar from his pocket, glanced at it - and then put it back. He seemed to struggle with something, which was strange for such a quick-witted and decisive man.

Finally, he sighed, ran a hand over his face and leaned his shapely bum against the edge of the desk. You waited patiently, keeping a proper distance and staring at your boots.

"Tell me, Private…" 

That honey-smooth voice of his always disarmed you. So rough, so well suited to shouting orders amidst battle, and yet so warm. Like a caress dipped in steel.

Sometimes you imagined him using this voice while talking to his children - two mythical beings whom you've never met. It was meant to stay that way.

"…Are you all right?"

The question blindsided you. You lifted your head abruptly and gave him a wide-eyed stare. You could feel the damn tears already welling up.

You hadn't expected this. You were ready for remarks about the quality of your work, which has diminished lately. For a succinct rebuke even - Price didn't like to prolong such things. 

You didn't expect concern.

He obviously noticed that something odd was going on with your face. It would be hard not to.

"Oh dear." Price stated, cutting you a worried look with those tired blue eyes. "That bad, huh?"

"Sir." You swallowed, desperately trying to cook up some excuse that would be halfway plausible (Something got stuck in my eye.) 

"I'm…"

"I prefer not to pry into things that are none of my business, y'know," the Captain admitted, sticking both hands inside the pockets of his regulation breeches. 

"But it just so happens that you're a part of my squad and therefore you're my business. Your well-being is my business, Private. For the past few days, I've seen you slouching around, bumping blindly into things. You've stopped reacting to Sergeant MacTavish's unsavoury attempts at humour. Yesterday at the shooting range you tried to stick the wrong end of the mag into your rifle. If you go out in the field like this, you'll get hurt."

So he did notice that, too? Damn that old man. Your face was burning.

"So understand well what I'm going to say now, Private…" Price took the damn cigar out of his pocket again and twirled it in his fingers. "I realise that a young woman such as yourself might not want to confide in someone like me. You don't have to confess all your sins, but for God's sake, if you're struggling...with anything, really…then say so."

"Sir." The lump that has been long stuck in your throat finally thawed. Compromising moisture trickled from your eyes.

It was impossible to lie under that inquiring, steely blue gaze. The man oozed with embarrassment. He didn't want to do it any more than you did, but he felt that he should.

Captain Price was such a decent man. It's a shame that decent men are always married.

You decided to repay him with honesty.

"Indeed I have not been at my best lately, Sir," you said in a trembling voice. "Last week's been…difficult, for personal reasons."

"A crisis, eh?" Price sighed and began rummaging through his pockets again.

Your head darted up. "A clusterfuck of crises, if I may say so, Sir."

His chuckle was a raspy little thing. Pleasant. Frankly speaking, every noise that Captain Price ever emitted was pleasant to your ears.

"Eh, haven't we all been there? Here. You could use this."

He extended one of his long arms, firm yet slender, placing an immaculately clean handkerchief in your hand. Like nothing else in Price's possession, it was snow-white and smelled of fresh laundry.

You accepted it and wiped your face in silence.

"I'll give it back as soon as I wash it," you assured him. "And thanks."

"Never mind." He gave you one of those smiles which lit up his whole face, turning those blue peepers velvety and narrow. John Price must have laughed often because he had charming, deep wrinkles around his eyes. 

"Say, Private, would you be interested in a hug?"

You gasped at the idea. On the other hand...

"Yes, please," you declared, smiling at him through the tears. "As long as you don't mind having a wet spot in the front of your uniform."

"My vanity won't stand for it." He spreaded his arms, still grinning. 

"Come 'ere, girl."

You did.

It was a strangely solemn moment. He hugged you slowly, clearly trying his damnedest to avoid any impropriety that might arise. Price smelled like gunpowder, like those cigars of his and some musky cologne – all of the above mixed with the faint undertone of sweat. It was an intoxicating mix. You knew better than to imbibe on it, but it was hard to avoid it while the strong arms of your superior enclosed you in a warm, prolonged embrace. You chased the anxious thoughts away and just enjoyed the here and the now.

"Better now, huh?" He muttered from somewhere way above your head. Price was so much taller than you.

"Yes, Sir..." You whispered into his crumpled green shirt, faded from the desert sun.

"You know, it always feels like the fuckin' end of the world when those things happen...breakups, I mean. But it never is."

He chuckled ruefully. 

"As my ex-wife said when she was fed up with me: It's easy to find a replacement!"

You returned to your quarters fully soothed, warmed up - and stunned by the discovery.

Ex-wife?!

EX-WIFE???

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