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ctrlhope · 21 days

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Butterfly (m)

synopsis: he’s been watching you. waiting, stalking his prey. waiting for you to tangle your pretty little wings into his web. chasing you. hunting you. making you play his games until you realise the truth that lies behind your eyes.

j.jungkook x f.reader

୧ ‧₊˚┊: wc: 3.6k

୧ ‧₊˚┊: genre: yandere, serial killer au, college au, dark content

୧ ‧₊˚┊: content: yandere!killer!jk, dubcon, predator / prey, manipulation, fear play, mask kink, slight sub space, slight knife play, strangers to lovers, “public” sex, drug use (alcohol), mentions of blood / injury, threats, allusions to kidnapping, dom!jk, fingering, rough sex, he’s mean but still sweet, obsessed!soft!jk at the end <33

୧ ‧₊˚┊: notes: found this in my drafts back from halloween and i never posted it! so here you go, to hold you over until my long fics are done <33 halloween fic in april lmaooo

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content

Bum. Bum. Bum.

Your heartbeat is in your ears, pulse racing. It was too loud. Everything is too loud. It’s all you can hear. It’s all you can think about as your heels dig into the harsh forest floor. Your shoes long since been abandoned, mud caking your feet as you try to run. Tries to escape from the demon that had set his sights on you.

Him.

Fuck. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It really wasn’t. It was just supposed to be a fun halloween party! You didn’t really even know if you wanted to go to it or not. But your friends convinced you with the promise of free drinks and guys that were ‘cute enough’ for some random frat.

What they failed to mention? The simple fact that house was in the middle of nowhere. On one side a lake, the other a massive forest.

Like a pretty little trap meant to catch girls like you. Web tangled in the trees just watching for the prettiest butterfly to find its way into. To be caught in the den of monsters that lined every wall of the ancient house.

You were already disturbed when your friend's pretty jeep turned off the main roads, trailing through the woods. Realising just how distant from the rest of society you would be. How every bump of the car sent your little heart into a deeper flutter of anxiety.

Still, you kept your mouth shut. You didn’t want to ruin the night— for yourself or your friends. You trust them. They promised it would be fun. Plus! Their boyfriends were going to be there! So nothing would go wrong!

Yeah. It really wasn't their fault that a lunatic set his sights on you. Wasn’t their fault you started dancing with a man in a mask. Let him lead you to the backyard for a smoke, dumbly followed him deeper into the woods to see his favourite spot. Let him stuff his fingers into your little hole without even seeing his face, knowing his name.

Nah, you did all that on your own. Just a little kitten being led to the slaughter house.

“Okay babydoll…” He breathes into your ear, pumping two fingers deep inside of your cunt. Skirt that was barely covering anything pushed too far up your hips, showing the whole forest just how tight your walls cling to his fingers. How wet you are. How desperate you are for more.

“We’re gonna play a game, yeah?” You’re hardly able to respond, consciousness laced with toxins from earlier that night. Flush to your cheeks evidence enough of just how much you drank— the series of events that led you to this exact moment.

One he had been planning for awhile.

He smiles, throat letting out a low, almost nonexistent laugh. Slowly circling your clit with his thumb, almost mocking the way your back arches. Finding amusement in the way your fingers cling to his arm as his thrusts continue all to slow.

You’re needy, too needy. He knows that well enough. Can tell with the way your hips start to rock, start to squirm. The way your body starts to get bratty on him while your mind is too far in the clouds to realise the position you’ve found yourself in.

You’re cute. Too cute for him to take another second of this. Too cute for him to hold back anymore.

Wouldn’t want you getting too bratty on him anyway, would he? Then his personal treat, the slice of cake he's been waiting weeks to cut into will have to turn into a punishment. Ruin all the fun he’s worked so hard to prepare.

“‘Gonna need you to run into the woods. Fast and as far as you can…” He groans under his breath, the mere thought sending blood straight to his cock, filling his mind with nothing but pictures of you dirty on the forest floor, “And you gotta do your best to stay away from me yeah? Cause if I catch you… I gotta kill you and I wouldn't wanna have to do that… You’re too pretty to kill, you know?”

Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with him? What is he even talking about?

You try to process– try to understand the words that run off his tongue. But it's unfair, everything is stacked against you as he slides the mask off his face. Gives you a first look at his deep brown eyes. Lets you see how gorgeous he is for the very first time.

He didn’t even give you a chance to recover before he started counting down from 30. Doesn’t even move his hand away from your dripping cunt until 20– the expression on your face just pathetic. So close yet so far from the finish line.

Your race was nowhere close to its end. He’d make sure of it.

It wasn’t until his hand found your hip, gently tapping against the skin that your brain even had the chance to attempt processing his words. Figure out the exact meaning behind them while his lips continued to count down with each syllable.

Such pretty pink lips. Maybe he would let you kiss them if you tried hard enough. If you lean up just right maybe he would–

Wait. Wait. What’s happening? What did he say to you?

Your eyes glance down to your thighs, vision dazed as you try to figure out the object that suddenly pokes at your flesh. The sharp tip grazing your soft skin as you take in the metal; polished to perfection. The deep black handle resting securely in his palm, holding himself back.

Your eyes widen, familiarity cresting your features.

Shit. Shit!

You don’t even think about grabbing your own knife until 15, hand quickly reaching for your hip where you keep it tucked away. Too bad he had already taken it, knew the tool you always carried with you well.

Shit, his own personal little Nancy, huh? Perfect for him.

Survival instincts had to take over for you, forcing your feet to the ground. Urging your skirt down as low as it could possibly go as your legs take off in a direction you hope is the house.

Everything is all too much, it’s not enough. Every little sound is getting to you, making you feel like you’re going crazy. Making you feel like none of your senses can be trusted. Like nothing can be trusted except for the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The woods– everything looks the same. You can't distinguish one thing from the next but you know you hear something getting closer. Too close.

If his words meant anything you need to keep fighting, keep trying to live. Even as pain stabs into your toes, sticks break under your feet. Even as you’re stabbed by bushes.

It was like the forest itself was out to get you. Like whatever beast behind it is your real enemy in all of this.

Maybe you can pretend it, maybe in your alcohol-addled brain that’s a little easier to manage than the man running behind you. The one with hunger in his heart that only your soul can satiate.

You try, you really do. But your legs can only move so fast. Can only take so much abuse before they start to slow. Lungs can only inhale so much air before they want to collapse.

Too bad he’s done this before. He can run.

And just as you start to be able to see the lights from the tree line, just as hope starts to fill your little heart, you’re forced into the dirt. Two arms wrap around you from behind, tackling your frame to the ground.

Your back presses against his chest as he keeps you there, his face right next to your ear as he pants. Breathe heavy in your ear, hearing the way it cracks every once and awhile as he tries to catch his breath. Lips almost on your ear while he keeps you there. Keeps you trapped under him.

Everything is starting to conflict in your pretty little head, body telling you to get away. Try to get him off. Wriggle your hand— anything out to try and fight back. Try and get away before he keeps his promise from before.

Yet, with every movement, every slight twist of your spine or kick of your legs under his heavy frame he only presses tighter, deeper against you. Presses his cock against your barely covered cunt. Makes you feel every inch of him that he plans to stuff inside. Make you unable to breathe while the rocks dig into your skin.

You put up a good fight, you really do. Better than anyone else. It’s too bad everything is going just a little bit haywire behind your eyes. The world starting to feel like a burden as you try to push away the arousal rushing to your gut.

Shit, you should be scared. Should be petrified of the psycho that took you into the woods, the psycho that threatened to kill you no more than ten minutes before. One that had a knife pressed to your skin and a scythe around your heart. But the chemicals in your brain are mixing into something that you can’t comprehend, can’t describe.

Everything feels like too much, he feels like too much and you have no clue what to do. Head completely gone to mush.

It’s almost easier that way.

“Almost got away, doll. But don’t worry. I’ve got you now.” His voice is rough, harsh as he tries to catch his breath. Teeth clamping against the crest of your ear, hips rolling against your cunt without a care in the world. Especially not for the state of your head. Not for the little world you find yourself slipping away into.

Too many extreme emotions happening will do that to you, won't they? Make you so confused that you’ll just take whatever you can manage. Even if that means plunging his blade into your pretty little heart or fucking you until your pussy wouldn’t even consider another filling it.

He prefers the latter. Too pretty for the former, huh?

He can feel the shift in your frame– one of extreme discomfort, entirely tense to one of a docile little pet put on display. The shift behind your eyes as everything becomes too much, little too difficult to understand. As you slip away just enough to make any feelings of pleasure elevate to new extremes. Let fear spur you on.

The only thoughts in your head are ones filled with him. The way it should be. Exactly should be.

Your hips move again, their last attempt to break free from his spell. Their last attempt to try and get away from the maniac. Yet it does nothing more than press his cock harder against your ass, the mock of a grind against the surface that leaves a pretty little mewl spilling from your lips. A grunt catching in his own.

Wow, you actually surprised him.

“Shit, not patient at all huh?” He smiles, lip quirking as he removes his body from you. Removes the only warmth provided in this hell.

You won't run. Not if you know what's good for you.

He doubts you do– led you right into his arms tonight. But that's okay. He can take over for you. Take over everything.

Hands grip your hips, pull you back against him. Let you imagine how sweet he could fuck you if you just behave. The soft rocking of hips against your own, the gentle way he moves compared to the way he holds you heavy on your mind.

You can’t help the moan that spills past your lips. The way your back arches to meet him better. No one could blame poor little you. No one could blame your mind turning off for just a little bit. Not when he has you. Not with the rough texture of his pants pushing against your cunt. Not with the ruined orgasm of before.

Arousal makes your panties stick uncomfortable to your skin. A disturbing wet patch forming against his own pants where you meet. A flutter erupting in your gut at the way he groans. Way he moves you with such ease.

He really could kill you if he wanted to.

You’re not sure if the realisation scares you or spurs you on.

It scares you more to know that it's the latter.

“I’m not either.” He huffs, air thick with fog, “Been too patient for you. Too fucking patient.”

He grunts, pushing your hips back. Back arching even farther against the forest floor. It almost hurts, it’s almost painful. Not that that really matters. Nothing matters when he grips the flesh of your ass, pulls the cheeks apart. Gets a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Can see clearly how wrecked his little girl is.

Pretty panties sticking against your cunt, thighs wobbly from all the effort of tonight. Shit, if he just hooks his finger under them, pulls them to the side he’ll get to see you all. Get to see your puffy lips, fluttering little hole. Get to fuck himself inside while you just lie there and take it. Get so drunk on his cock you might just fall in love.

Shit, maybe you already have, huh?

Good.

He forces your underwear to the side, stares in awe at the way your slick sticks to them. Imagines how pretty they’d look stuffed with his cum. How you’d tumble around the house, not letting a drop spill just for him.

Because you would know it’s what he wants.

“All of this for me?” He smiles, rubbing his thumb through your folds. Collecting your essence, spreading it around all messy just how he likes. How he knows you’ll like soon enough.

You can only whimper, clutch the ground as your head spins. Tries to catch up with every little minstration he makes. Tries to figure out what exactly is happening. What words he’s saying. How to get him to stop, if you want him to stop.

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t think you do.

You’re not sure of anything anymore. Only the sound of a zipper running down, the shuffle of pants forced off hips. The hard head of a cock running against your folds like it owns them. Like it was made for them.

The stretch as he forces himself inside. The way it burns, stings with effort. The short, forceful movements as he fucks himself inside. Makes home in your cunt for no one else but him. Makes you unable to think of a soul other than him. Ruin you for all other men that come after.

God he must be big– how fucking big? You have no clue. You wish you could see. Look into those pretty, crazed eyes. Focus on the little mole under his lip as the pain turns into pleasure. Morphs something dark in your brain to like it, to take it just like a good girl. Make you crave him more than anything else.

But instead you stare at the dirt. Hands clutching at the surface as he fucks himself inside. Deeper and deeper with each slow calculating thrust. Fucks you full of whatever twisted definition of love he possess. Makes you see the light, the exact shimmer in his eyes. See that this is the only way to truly live.

“Shit, baby,” His voice is low, deeper than before as his hips finally meet your own. Finally fills you with nothing else other than him. “Been waiting too fucking long for this. Had to make me wait, huh? Fuck.”

His voice harsh, grip bruising as he tries to hold himself back. One last measly reprise he’ll allow you. One last second he’ll give you before he makes you completely dumb. Makes you see what he knows you need to.

“I-I don’t~” You whimper, though the words fall on deaf ears. Not that it mattered anyway, you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. Didn’t know anything except for the way your walls clamp around his cock. Body begging for him, urging him to start and never stop.

He sighs, dramatic, “Little slut, huh baby?”

A harsh thrust punctuates his words, jolting your body forward as you cry. Impatience, ecstasy? He isn’t sure which. Only can notice the way your fingers clench and unclench in the dirt. The way your pussy flutters around him.

“Aww…” He soothes, hips dragging out of your cunt before slowly thrusting back in. The pace slow, antagonising, “Poor thing is having a hard time…” His hips quicken a hair, pretty sounds falling from your lips at the movement.

“Gotta tell me what you need, baby. I can make it all happen then.” A low kiss is placed against your shoulder, the world crumbling around you.

You break.

“Please…” Your voice is soft, too soft, but he hears it. Feels himself cracking as you beg, feels himself lose his mind entirely.

Beg for him. Want him.

His hips suddenly snap, fucking himself into your cunt with force you never thought a human could possibly manage. Fast, hard. Pumping his cock into you to search for his own pleasure. His own release. Forcing you to take it, take all of him while you try to keep up. Try to find your own pleasure in the tangle of limbs.

You hate how easily you do. Or maybe you love it.

“God, fuck.” He can’t suppress his own moans, the feeling of your pussy wrapping so tight around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth is too much. Fills his head with even more nonsense about love. About destiny.

His hips would never even consider stopping. You feel too good. Feel too tight around his cock, feel like he should never stop fucking you. Keep you there forever.

“So perfect. So perfect for me,” His breath is harsh, his heart racing as your little sounds only spur him on. Let him know just how good you feel. Just how far you’ve fallen. Just how much farther you’re willing to drown in all things Jungkook.

“P-Please!” You whine, hips arching further. Moving him into the perfect position to scrape against your g-spot with every rough pound of his hips. No clue what you’re pleading for. No clue what you want other than him.

Don’t even know his name. Nothing other than how incessantly you crave him.

“Fucking brat.” He cusses, eyes pinching into a glare as you somehow clamp down tighter. Walls pulling him back in on every thrust. Milking him for everything he’s worth. Making sure you both know your place in this. Know your place after it, too.

“God, been waiting for this haven’t you?” He groans, hips stuttering. He’s too close, “Been waiting for me to fuck you like the pretty doll you are? Make me take everything from you?”

You can only manage a whine in response, cunt fluttering around him. Obsessing in his praise.

Maybe his words are true. Maybe he’s known the exact type of person you are since the moment he first saw you. Maybe he’s right. This is where you’re meant to be. Meant to be with him.

“Shit, yeah. I fucking knew it.” His voice cracks, “Call you a minx but we both know that isn’t true. Just don’t know how to think until you’re stuck on the end of a cock.”

His thrusts somehow pick up speed. Fuck you harder, deeper. He’s sure he could place his hand over your tummy, feel himself fucking you. Shit.

“My cock.” He growls, voice heavy in your ears.

You can't take it anymore. Can’t take another second of it. Nerves tied tight into knots explode, white dotting the corner of your vision as you moan for no one else other than him. Pleasure courses through your veins, pussy pulling him as he falls apart alongside you. A tsunami pulling you under, making it hard to breathe. Making you feel dead and alive at the same time.

Maybe the forest gods were the ones tormenting you. Making you feel better than you had ever thought possible before. Allowing you to see the light of the stars dancing in the sky, so far above the clouds with his cock still pressed so deep inside. Floating through the air as your orgasm runs through you.

He’s no better. A shell of a man as he slowly fucks him cum deeper into your cunt. As deep as you’ll allow. Marking you. Claiming you. Making sure you know your place, even as you finally collapse onto the floor. Finally come back to reality. Poor body too spent to focus on anything else.

It’s okay though, you don’t have to worry. Not about a thing.

He’ll take care of you. Fix you up nice and pretty for your next lesson. Take you away to his apartment, make you fall in love for real. Keep you there, with him, just like you’re meant to be.

Make all of the sick sides you try to hide come out to play. Make you realise you’re just like him.

He wouldn’t kill you. Ever. Even if he had killed the others, none of them matter. He’s been waiting for someone like you for so long. Itching to bring you home. And finally, finally you had fallen into his trap. His perfect little butterfly, caught in the web. Ready to be corrupted by the vicious spider. Ready for your wings to be clipped.

“Mine.”

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owllooker · 6 months

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I made a charm based on Night in the Woods game! My favourite autumn game tbh

smol

#nitw #mae borowski #my art #charms #acrylic charms #nitw fanart #myart #artists on tumblr #night in the woods #satisfying

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haerin1 · 7 months

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This is like suuuppeerrrr silly but i just thought about it >.<

Scara with reader thats on her period

her randomly approaching scara and cupping his cheeks, then proceeded to sob about how pretty he is!!

Just wanna know how he would react and how he would calm her down 🥰

Could be modern or canon au‼️‼️

꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE.

note: ty for the req !! i hope its ok that i did afab reader, pls enjoy !! :3

[modern au!scara x afab!reader] super fluffy and cute, scara teases a lot, period is mentioned !!

It's a peaceful Saturday night in Scara's shared dorm with his friend, Heizou. You practically live in their dorm at this point because your clingy boyfriend makes you stay so he can see you all the time.

Heizou and Scara are casually playing video games together in their beds when he picks up a sound coming from the bathroom. Scara puts his phone down and sits up from where he was previously laying down.

He remembers you mentioning you were going to go pee but it's been, what, seven minutes now?

Heizou, not looking up from his phone as Scara starts walking to the washroom, mutters, "Need to take a piss again?" Scara rolls his eyes in response. He runs a hand through his soft but messy, dark indigo hair as his other hand lifts up to knock on the bathroom door.

"Open up, it's been a year already," Scara grumbles.

He leans against the door, pressing his ear to the wood as he waits for a response. Scara hears you approaching the door and he steps away. You open it and his brows raise in surprise at the sight of your teary face and the pout on your lips.

"Scara..."

You cry out and throw yourself against him, tightly clinging onto your bewildered boyfriend as you whine, "Why are you so pretty!? It's so unfair!" You sob out, "You have perfect, soft and clear skin and the most gorgeous eyes ever!" You continue sniffling, your tears staining Scara's sweatshirt.

Scara pauses before chuckling a bit, still visibly confused. "What's up with you, idiot," he mumbles, looking to the side as an embarrassed gesture before looking back at you, where you're now hiding your face in his sweatshirt as you cry.

"You're so perfect... whyyy!?"

You cup Scara's face, bringing him up/down (height neutral) to meet your gaze as you frown, "Promise me you won't ever get plastic surgery or... or, or a buzzcut," you sternly say, furrowing your brows together to show Scara you were dead serious.

Scara scoffs, deadpanning at you as he says, "You know I'll never get a buzzcu-" You pinch his cheeks and grumble, "Just promise me!"

Scara winces in pain and sighs, "Okay, okay... I promise I won't get plastic surgery or a buzzcut. Are you happy now?" You pause, squinting your eyes as you look him up and down before nodding. "Mhm..." You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"You can let go now..." The faintest of pink dusts his fair complexion as he glances elsewhere. Scara hovers his hand over your head before patting your hair as an awkward attempt of comforting you.

"You're on your period, aren't you?"

You just nod against his sweatshirt, sniveling softly. Scara rolls his eyes, before he smirks slightly. "What would you do without me? C'mon," He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, mumbling, "You're ugly when you cry."

You huff, "Shut up." Scara chuckles, "Just for the time being. Let's go to my car, I'll bring you with me to buy you some things from the grocery store." At that, you smile in content and cling to Scara like a puppy to its owner as he leads you to the front door of the dorm.

Heizou sits up in his bed, complaining, "Hey, you better get me buldak noodles!" Scara snarls, "This is not an invitation for free things; Only my (s/o) gets that luxury." And he shuts the front door, bringing you along and leaving Heizou in a ticked off mood.

As Scara drives, he keeps one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other one on your lap as you look out the window. He lent you his favourite Artic Monkeys sweatshirt that he was wearing earlier to warm up your stomach and ease down the cramps. He subtly glances at you every so often.

Scara parks into the lot of the grocery store and unbuckles his seatbelt. Before you know it, he's already at your side, opening the car door for you. Shortly after, Scara's pushing the shopping cart, grabbing random snacks he knows you like and puts them in.

"You like this flavor, right?" Scara mumbles, holding a ice cream tub in his hands and inspecting it. You nod, smiling. As Scara places it in the cart and starts pushing it again, you giggle, "My boyfriend's so cute, I might as well cry again."

Scara hisses, "Not in public. I won't hesitate to act like I don't know you." You know he's joking, but you pout and give him pleading puppy eyes as he brings the cart towards the self checkout area. Scara grimaces before sighing as he starts scanning the items, "Whatever..."

You hum in satisfaction and enjoy the sweet warmth of his sweatshirt as he pays for the things and carries the bag, holding your hand with his free one as the both of you leave the store.

You both stay in the car instead of going back to the dorm, snacking on the food Scara bought for the two of you (mainly you) to enjoy together.

"Feeling any better?"

Mitski's new album plays on the car's speakers as you and him eat Pocky sticks. You nod with a smile, "Mhm. I can't thank you enough, cutie." You give him a quick, but meaningful, kiss on the cheek before continuing to chew on your Pocky stick.

Scara lets his Pocky stick rest in between his teeth as he looks at you for a few moments before asking, "Wanna do the Pocky challenge?" You perk up in surprise from his sudden proposal, but you'd never turn down a bold game like that.

You laugh, "Is this just an excuse to kiss me?"

Scara rolls his eyes, "Even if it was, would it matter?" He places his hand on your cheek and starts biting on his end of the stick. You bite the other end, and this process repeats until finally...

His soft lips gently press against yours, his hands on the back of your neck to close the distance completely.

Mitski's My Love Mine All Mine gets to the chorus at the most perfect timing possible.

You felt like the most loved and treasured person on Earth during this very moment as your (somewhat) sweet boyfriend kissed you in his car without a care in the world. Scara loves you so dearly, even if you cry over the littlest things during your period...

🐾🍫🍮 : © haerin1 (do not translate, steal or take too much inspo from my works)

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

summary: When Ellie is taken by David, Joel breaks open the part of him locked away since his hunter days. As the guilt eats him alive, you try to help him subdue the black dogs of mental warfare.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: Very 18+. It’s giving morally-grey Joel. Depiction of gore, violence, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of David that is a warning in itself. Very vague insinuation of SA as shown in the game. Discontent for Christianity (don’t like, don’t read my dude). Angst, guilt. Hurt-comfort. P in v sex, unprotected sex.

authors note: This got so dark it actually caught me off guard! I am so incredibly proud of this piece. I started it 5 whole weeks ago, and spent up until the night of posting (March 5th) editing and retouching. I hope it does Winter, my favourite part of the game, proud.

tease: “I jus’ need to be close to you.”

Continuous dripping sounds from the radiator, drip, drip, drip. Globs of blood seep down the grooves of the heater, falling when the droplets reach the edge and settling in a pool of coagulated gore. A headless body leans left, slumping against the metal the handcuffs chain it to. What’s left of its skull plasters the walls, the ceiling, and the steel pipe discarded in its lap.

Another lifeless body lays strewn sideways, the chair it’s tied to thrown haphazardly across the floor. Its neck is angled awkwardly; its eyes rolled back so only the whites show.

When you manage to tear your eyes away from the carnage, you can still hear the panicked shouts of the captives before Joel slaughtered them, rattling inside the cavern of your skull. Joel’s callous answer rings in your ears.

“Fuck you, man. He told you what you wanted. I ain't telling you shit!”

“That’s alright. I believe him.”

Snowflakes stick to the window of the home Joel had appropriated as a slaughterhouse, the wooden planks weathered and falling apart after years of neglect. The cold creeps in through the holes in the ceiling and the gaps in the wood, but you find yourself doubting the chill responsible for the goosebumps littering your arms.

Inhaling slowly, you will yourself to speak, but the words die in your throat before they even form on your lips, melting away on your tongue. Your pleas for reason would fall on deaf ears, and you know it—Joel’s far beyond reasoning with.

He’s pacing up and down the room, the floorboards creaking under the weight of his boots as he studies the map gripped between his imbrued knuckles. It’s unlike him, you note, to be so rattled. In the years you’ve known Joel, his steadfast resolution had been comforting, a certain. Not now. The men he’d butchered had mentioned details you could only describe as buzzwords that had Joel’s survivor alarm bells ringing.

David’s newest pet. The Town. Cannibals.

Heaving breaths he expels from his lungs vaporise in the air, still catching his breath from pummelling radiator-man’s brains out. If you couldn’t hear the wheezing in his chest from his laboured respiration, you could damn well see it.

Stepping forward, you wince when the floorboard beneath you creaks. “Joel—“

“They got Ellie, Darlin’,” your partner leaps into an eerily calm rundown of the dire situation despite you having been in the room for the entire interrogation. “They got Ellie, an’ they’re gonna kill her.”

Nodding slowly, you reach across the small distance between you to hold onto Joel’s bicep. Blood splatters the fabric of his brown winter coat, and you can feel his body heat radiating beneath the layers of cloth as his body fights infection. The gaping wounds in his back and stomach from the protruding rebar he was impaled on, thanks to a scuffle with a looter at the university, have stopped weeping puss. However, Joel was still largely incapacitated by the pain — despite the feral display of resilience against these two bandits.

“I know—” you try to ease him, but Joel’s buzzing with adrenaline.

“I gotta go get her; you can’t stop me doin’ this, Darlin’ I have’ta-“

“I know,” you speak firmly, and Joel stops dead in his tracks, clearly not having expected you to green-light his suicide mission, “I know I can’t stop you, which is why I insist upon going with you.”

You expect Joel to make a scene, to lose his temper and tell you that you weren't going anywhere, that it was far too dangerous and losing either of you would crush him. You know about Tess; Ellie told you everything when you joined them in Pittsburgh. She detailed Joel's heartache, despite his desperate attempts to appear indifferent. It's times like these that you can't blame him for being overprotective, knowing he had lost so much.

However, your expectations are not met. Joel looks at you, the whites of his eyes tinted red, and the skin beneath shadowed dark with exhaustion. He nods slowly, evidently realising he cannot compete with an army of cannibal bandits single-handedly with the state he’s in. He surrenders.

Wordlessly, Joel grabs your backpack and begins to sift through the items within. Apparently, he decides you don't have enough ammo, sacrificing his El Diablo pistol and offering it to you.

You accept it without fuss, knowing damn well that leaving with him is out of his comfort zone. Making a scene would make him change his mind.

It doesn't take long for Joel to spread out your limited supplies. Within five minutes, he's lifting his heavy backpack onto his shoulders with an agonised groan. You move out silently, Joel holding the door open for you as you step out into the blizzard.

You hear the frozen grass and layers of snow crunch beneath the rubber soles of Joel’s boots. You set your whole life to the pace of each of his steps, a monotonous metronome. Sometimes, on hot days in the summer, you can smell the rubber melting on the tarmac if you stand still for too long.

It’s bizarre, especially as he guides you into a death trap with an unknown sum of threats, but you find yourself thinking you’d be happy for him to lead you anywhere.

-✩-

Snowflakes cling to your eyelashes, eyes weeping from the cold and freezing the coarse hairs together. It's so cold that you’re convinced that the tears that develop as a result of the stinging cold freeze before they can drip down your cheeks.

Even without the natural eyelash glue, it's hard to see Joel ahead of you in the chaos of the bandit’s town. The blizzard has intensified, casting a light grey fuzzy haze over what you can see— or rather, what you can't. You're not even sure that the shadowy figure in front of you is Joel, but you're too afraid to ask in case a stranger turns around and shoots you in the stomach.

When you and Joel arrived, it was pandemonium already, armed bandits practically running into you as they attempted to reach their battle stations. The whistling of the wind muffles gunshots, and the bell from the church tower rings deafeningly loud across the snow plains in warning. What exactly had happened, you are unsure, but what you do know is that the cracking of the bronze bell will draw in runners from miles away.

You had to find Ellie. Quickly.

"You all right?" Joel calls out above the din, his Texan accent a welcome relief. It takes you a second to find your voice, the cold having momentarily stolen it.

"Yeah!" You shout back, trembling fingers grasping tightly to your gun.

There is a roaring sound on the wind, rising in volume as you continue to trudge blindly through the snow. The gunshots are more frequent now, yet still too far away to be a threat to you. You wonder if Ellie is raising hell or if the infected have already arrived. Neither scenario was good.

An orange glow peers through the blanket of falling snow that distorts your vision. You'd noticed the flaming barrels as you wandered through the town, but this was different. It was huge. The closer you got to it, the clearer the sound met your ears. It was crackling, wood-burning and billowing acrid black smoke.

Joel whistles, the pitchy sound catching your attention over the deafening thunder of the fire. You can't see his expression, but you can vaguely make out his silhouette pointing toward the building swallowed by flames. You were going in.

One step forward and the blaze is singeing your freezing skin, burning the peach fuzz on your face. You swear you can smell your eyebrows smoking, the flames so strong that you're almost scared to step into the building.

Despite your concerns for the integrity of the structure, Joel is quick to pursue the only lead he has to Ellie. He feels blindly all along the entrance, hissing as his palms come into contact with red-hot glass panes. It's a wooden door inset by small rectangular windows. The frame is deep brown and littered with orange, glowing embers embedded within the grain. You're scared, and open your mouth to dissuade Joel from doing anything rash. He doesn't give you the opportunity.

His shoulder slams into the weakened, charred door without hesitation, the windows falling from their frames and shattering on the wooden floor. The blazing heat inside the building wafts over you, causing sweat to bead at your brow.

Desperate, Joel pushes through and stumbles into the building, which you now discover is a diner. The smoke burns your lungs, and your eyes sting so much that you're almost blinded by the tears prickling your waterline. The dark grey clouds are so thick that you're suffocating, unable to take in any oxygen. Had it not been for the noises piercing through the terrifying roar of the fire, you would have aborted the entrance in fear of asphyxiation.

High-pitched grunts of exertion and the sound of metal slamming into wood catch Joel's attention. He looks up, alarmed by the noise and yet scrambles towards it despite the danger.

"Ellie!" Joel shouts out, running on adrenaline as he rushes forward. You let out a sob of relief, knowing that Joel has eyes on her, but the consolation doesn't last long.

When you catch sight of her, you find Ellie in a blind rage. Her bloodied hands hold onto a machete handle with a white-knuckled grip, raising the weapon above her head and bringing it down into the mess of the fractured skull and smashed brains of the body below her. Blood sprays across her face with the sheer force with which she plunges the blade into the meaty mess, tears of fury leaving tracks in the crimson on her cheeks.

"Stop! Stop," Joel wraps his forearms around Ellie’s chest, dragging her away from the mutilated body to a chorus of devastatingly broken ‘no's’. Ellie screams, fighting Joel’s grip and clawing at his arms in an attempt to free herself.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She sobs as Joel hushes her, wrapping his arms around her body and holding her to his chest in a desperate attempt to prove to Ellie that she is safe. He sets her in front of him, forcing the broken young girl to look at him and recognise him.

"It's me," he speaks firmly, trying to access the rational part of her brain as he holds her still, his palms settling on her bloodied cheeks and inevitably smearing the ruddy liquid across her skin. "Look, look. It’s me."

Her tearful gaze settles on Joel, still in a panic as she searches his face. It takes her a moment, but relief swallows her expression and she practically falls into Joel's embrace.

“Oh,” she sobs out, eyes falling to the blood-streaked floor as the shock kicks in, “He tried to-“

“Oh, Baby Girl…” He murmurs brokenly, clinging to her as though he feared the world would snatch her from him again if he didn’t hold her in a vice-like grip. “It’s okay. It’s okay….”

“Joel…” Ellie sobs, burying her face into his chest and soaking his already bloodied clothes with yet more gore and tears. Joel presses his head to hers, repeatedly murmuring that it was okay, that he had her.

As Joel speaks to Ellie, you allow them this delicate moment of solitude. Of course, you were part of this family, but the bond Ellie and Joel shared far outweighed anything you could offer. A found father-daughter relationship that filled the holes in each other's hearts. It wasn’t your place to intrude.

Casting your teary eyes to the ceiling, you catch sight of a rudimentary hanging sign made from a white mattress topper. Scrawled upon it in mostly black paint, the lettering bulky, and only one word is written in scarlet.

“WHEN WE ARE IN NEED, HE SHALL PROVIDE!”

Bile rises in your throat as you take in the quote reminiscent of bible scripture. It turns your stomach, knowing what this man would have done, what the town no doubt did do to others, all while justifying it with thinly veiled Jesus worship.

It was an odd realisation, one that left you feeling quite numb as Joel helped Ellie from her knees. The comprehension that for the past 20 years, humanity had been coming together to fight the Cordyceps virus in the hope of removing the scourge and returning to normal life. Instead, the happenings in the diner, in this town, proved that the Cordyceps virus had little impact on the real plight.

That humans, people, are the true sickness.

-✩-

You are fearful at first that Ellie wouldn't be able to sleep after the trauma of her ordeal. She had, at first, been delicate on the journey back to the cabin that Joel had been recuperating in since his accident. Exhibiting signs of shellshock, she refused to elaborate on anything she had seen or heard during her captivity, and both you and Joel decided it best to leave her to unpick her thoughts in her own time.

The brass bells in the cannibal town had drawn the attention of a ginormous pack of runners, and you were scared that Ellie would be unable to find it in her to fight for her life.

However, as Ellie often did, she proved you wrong. Perhaps that is why she retreated to a dream world the moment her head touched the pillow. The sound of her steady breathing is the only noise permeating the silence that had settled in the cabin basement.

Joel retreats into the shadows when Ellie finds sleep. Leaning his back against the rough brick wall, he groans in agony as he sinks into a half-comfortable position. You watch him settle, eyebrows pinching together as you witness him fall back into the blackest corners of his mind.

You hesitate. You've only ever seen Joel like this once, distraught by the deaths of Henry and Sam after barely reaching freedom beyond the Pittsburgh Bridge. He had withdrawn into himself for weeks, the guilt eating him alive despite not belonging to any of you.

The black dog of mental warfare was a friend you knew Joel had come to know well. Before Sam and Henry, there was Tess, his hunter days, and of course, Sarah. Each time, the darkness would require him to carry a heavy burden of culpability despite his lack of fault.

"I'm glad," Joel's gruff voice cuts through the silence. He sounds broken, battling an insidious infection that you can't see. Similar to the Cordyceps virus, it encroaches on his mind, turning it against him. “I'm glad she killed him."

Again, you withhold your innermost thoughts as Joel battles to admit his feelings. He looks up at you, resting against the opposite wall. His expression is cold, but his eyes reflect a tragic pain within him.

“I’m relieved she killed him. Because I dunno what I would’a done.”

The black dog has returned, settled at Joel’s feet, and with it the guilt lands in his lap.

"Joel," you whisper, rising to your feet and approaching your crestfallen partner with delicate steps, "It’s not your fault."

Shaking his head Joel refuses to acknowledge your exoneration, beginning to launch into a tirade of self-hatred. "No. No, if I'd‘ve-"

You interrupt him, a firmness quite unlike you seeping into each syllable. "It's not your fault."

This time it appears to strike home, Joel slowly nodding his head in acceptance as you sink to the floor with him, resting your head on his shoulder as you settle beside him for warmth. The following silence isn't as emotionally charged. Joel appears to find comfort in your embrace. The black dog slinks out of the room through the crack in the open door.

You gently press kisses to the soft expanse of skin peeking from underneath Joel’s collar. It's a comfort, one that you regularly award Joel before sleep. He tilts his head in the opposite direction, offering you further access to the skin layering his jugular.

Without question, you continue to pepper his skin with endearment. He wasn't one to regularly ask for it, so you took this as a sign that Joel required some tenderness right now.

"’m sorry," he mumbles, embarrassed by his needy behaviour, “'m just-“

"You don't have to explain anything," you whisper, the curve of your lips dragging against his pulse point as you speak to him. He hums deep and low, eyes slipping shut as you continue your ministrations.

Achingly slowly, you drag lips across his jugular, pressing kisses to spots on his neck that you know are reactive. The soft valley behind his ear, the curve of his jaw, the junction between his neck and his shoulder. They all receive your affection, and you begin to hear Joel's breathing labour ever so slightly.

Joel’s infectious fever bleeds into something akin to fervour, his ribcage rising and falling with heavier, unsteadier breaths. His eyelids flutter closed, the searing, sour pain blending with the pleasure that sparks in him when your lips brush over his pulse point.

“Darlin’-“ He whispers, and it’s utterly broken. Pitchy and cracking in his throat when your fingertips work at his shirt buttons to expose more of his clavicle. His hands are settling on your hips as you swing your thigh over his lap slowly, thumb pads sweeping over your hip bones in delicate patterns.

“What is it you need from me, Joel?” You murmur softly, nose nudging at the bottom of his throat, at the v where his collar bones meet.

“F-Fuck,” he chokes, eyes cast skyward as he attempts to piece the broken pieces of his mind back together and find an answer. “I jus’ need to be close to you.”

He thought he’d lost Ellie. Thought he’d find her strung up with pieces of her flesh scattered about an unsanitary butcher's room. No doubt his mind was spinning with all the possibilities. What if you’d been shot trying to get her back?

Joel needed to be confident you were alive. Needed to feel your pulse thrumming against his palm.

“I can do that,” you promise him gently. You never pledged anything to Joel; nothing was certain. However, right now, you could offer your word. Could swear to ease his trepidation.

“I’m here.” Your words are spoken with conviction, his head nodding slightly as you take his wrist in your hand. “You can feel it. Come here.”

Delicately, you lay his bloodied, trembling hand across your chest. He lets out a quivering breath through his nose when he feels the thump of your heart against the lifeline of his palm.

Your free hand settles on the brass button holding his jeans together, popping it open and exposing the trail of dark, greying hairs that trail down his naval. His eyes flicker to your own, chapped lips parting slightly as you pinch the zipper and drag it down with a quiet ‘zzzp’.

The thud against his palm picks up the momentum as you feel him harden beneath the denim of your jeans, and you catch his lips pull up. A short, single scoff of disbelief- relief- as you gently work the jeans down and over his hips.

“Does this old man really do it for you that much?” He whispers, his fingerprints teasing the stitches of your collar. Your flannel is worn, threadbare and velvet soft, and your skin is burning hot beneath. “Even greyin’ and broken like I am?”

“Joel,” you whisper, pressing a delicate, lengthy kiss to his forehead, between his eyebrows. Fumbling with your cargo pants, you have them over your ass in no time, dragging your panties along with them. “You are the only man alive that makes me feel this way.” Your lips brush against the creases on his brow; frown lines etched deep into his skin after years of misery.

“Mhm,” his rich, oak eyes drag down your form as he watches you undress and expose your soaked cunt, thighs glistening wet in the low lighting. “That ain’t hard when most of the population died out.”

“Joel,” you repeat with a less-tempered tone, nose nudging at his hairline as you wrap your fingers around his length. He grunts quietly, careful to smother any loud noises to avoid drawing Ellie’s attention. “There wasn’t anyone before outbreak day, either.”

“Not even that actor-… What was his name, George Cloo-oh fuck,” his stupid joke dies on the tip of his tongue when you slowly sink down onto the head of his cock, walls fluttering around the stretch of him. His voice is hoarse, whisper breaking into silence as he slowly pushes the crown of his head into the terracotta brick walls.

“No,” you chuckle softly, watching him struggle for logical thought as you take more of him, and slip him further in. “No, not even him.”

Joel grunts, digging his teeth into his lower lip as you take him to the hilt. He nudges your cervix in this position, the sensation almost like a mild bruise, but you love it. Love that it will match the hickeys he leaves on your shoulders- marking you inside and out. Claiming you as his, Death and His black dog be damned.

“Oh C-Christ,” he lilts, and it sounds like a whimper as you squeeze around him, “I can feel it. Can feel your pulse-“

“See? I told you I’m alive,” You muse, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you slowly begin to grind your hips forward in a circle. Joel just nods dumbly, his previously pale cheeks flushed slightly.

No bouncing, no thrusts. Joel is too fragile, his immune system fighting a nuclear war inside of him as his white blood cells try to secure the perimeter of the wound in his abdomen. You focus on rolling your hips instead, slowly inching off his cock and sinking back down onto his velvety length.

“Hoh- uhng, fuck-“ his illegible groans make your heart batter his meta-carpel bones, compelling him to acknowledge your vital signs and their optimal function.

He’s twitching inside you, the slow rise and fall of your hips forcing him to feel you stretch around each ridge and pulsing vein of his cock. Joel looks like he could break down, the sensation of his building orgasm such an overwhelming sensation in his already exhausted body.

Pushing your fingers through his soft curls, you clasp the back of his skull and lean forward to hold his face to your chest. He can hear it loud and clear now, the shell of his ear cupping the cavity of your chest where your heart batters against his cheekbone. His arms wrap around your waist, squeezing you as tight as his septic-fatigued muscles can hold you.

It doesn’t take much for you to work yourself into your own fever. Joel’s cock always manages to find that spark inside you, nudging it and coaxing your orgasm to bloom between your thighs.

“M’gonna cum,” he rasps against your chest, his hot breath fanning across your skin. Joel’s pressing sloppy, clumsy kisses there, exhaling heavily with each roll of your hips.

“Mhmm-“ you muffle your cry by biting your knuckles, focusing on the clench of your walls and the buzz of your orgasm surging up through you. It’s like a whirlpool, pulling you under and drowning you in the wave of bliss that overtakes you.

Joel’s follows almost immediately after, his whole body tending despite the pain as it pulses through him, his cum painting your insides. His hips stutter, burying deep within you and letting out a ragged breath of relief that edges into a moan of your name.

Passing carbon dioxide between you, your foreheads press together as your breath fans over each other's faces. His eyelashes flutter with exhaustion, and you can feel them tickle the peak of your cheekbones. It’s so tender, so unlike Joel.

“I won’t let him take you.” His voice is so quiet the words almost don’t form, just barely leaving his throat in a sigh. His hand, not having left its rooted spot above your left breast, slowly inches towards your throat. You feel his index finger prod at your pulse, sealing his conviction that you are safe.

In honesty, you’re unsure who he means. Death, probably. David is long gone, but Joel’s fever is tipping him closer to delirium than reality.

One thing was for certain; you had managed to stave off the Black Dog for now. It lay at the doorway, stuck beyond the threshold it was forbidden to pass over, waiting until Joel allowed it back inside.

END

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piratefishmama · 8 months

Text

Fake it till you make it | Part 11

“Be careful, Eddie” were Wayne’s words as he hugged his nephew goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t see him for a whole week and honestly still being a little worried about it “if you think even for one minute that something’s off, just… just get out of there, alright?”

“I know, I know, I’ll bolt through the woods and hitchhike my way home, I know the way, Wayne, I got this.” He could read a compass, he’d be able to get a map from any gas station and head home, he was resourceful, an adult, he could handle himself.

“Damn right you got this, son. But… be careful in other ways too, alright? Steve’s a charmin boy, but… remember this ain’t real.” Eddie had bitten his bottom lip at that one, brows furrowed in thought, those big brown eyes of his swirling in emotion, he never did hide his feelings well, it’d always be a little real for him. “Protect this” Wayne poked his chest with a gentle prod, right over Eddie’s heart “okay?”

“Mhm, I will…” he’d try to anyway. Steve really was… charming. An his kisses? God his kisses… but also... it really was the closest he’d ever been to what romance ought to be, what a relationship ought to be, he never thought he’d have that.

The world didn’t appear to be moving fast enough for him to truly experience romance as most people did.

He had to remember that he didn’t have that.

“Eddie! C’mon you’re in the back with me!” Steve called from the garage door, behind which the car was rumbling, their bags packed into the back, Steve’s parents already inside, ready to go. The longest Eddie had ever been away from Wayne since arriving in Hawkins, was three days during a weekend trip to Indy with the band to play at a slightly bigger venue than the Hideout as a one off.

A favour for his favourite gay bar when a live act they’d scheduled pulled out last minute. It hadn’t gotten them a lot of exposure, but it’d been a fun and enlightening night for the band.

“Best get on, son, I’ll see you in a week. Call when you can alright? Don’t care if you wake me up or about no damn time zones, just call, I’ll answer, an if I don’t, you know the plant’s number.” Tight lipped, strained smile, Eddie nodded quickly then turned on his heel and graced Steve with a brilliant smile, game on.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but... did we miss a turning?” Eddie may have been unusually quiet for the first leg of their journey, nerves having hit him like a truck the second they pulled out of Loch Nora, but he was paying attention to his surroundings.

And those surroundings, were all too quickly, Fort Wayne International Airport.

“You don’t honestly expect rich people to drive the whole way to Canada do you?” Steve’s voice was amused and came from so very close to his ear that he actually jumped, quickly turning in his seat, back plastered against his side of the back seat, eyes wide as he took in and processed what Steve said. “Plus, what would you rather do, spend nearly two days in a car with my parents—”

“We’d make wonderful road trip companions, don’t be rude Steven” came his mother’s interruption

Steve ignored it in favour of continuing his point “—orr… around ten hours in one of those with a brief stop off in Chicago.” Steve leaned inward, uncaring of personal space as he pointed to a plane, ascending into the heavens from the runway.

“I don’t—” he didn’t know. He’d never been on a plane before. Trips like that, across country, they were the stuff of road trip legend, but Steve had a point…

Two whole days of a trip stuck in a car. Or just ten hours. Eddie’s eyes skipped to the window again, to the plane now disappearing beyond the overcast cloud cover.

“It’ll be okay, Eds, I’ll sit right next to you the whole time, you’ll be okay.”

“What if we crash? What if it falls out of the sky? What’ll you do?”

“My best to keep you safe.” It was so earnest, coupled with Steve gently taking his hands and giving them a squeeze, eyes so full of raw honesty, of understanding, it hit Eddie directly in all his soft gooey bits. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole ten hours if you want.”

“Even during the stop in Chicago?”

“Hah, yeah baby, even during the stop in Chicago.”

“They’re a lot more openminded in Chicago too!” Lynda spoke up without turning her head, allowing Eddie to not get stuck on baby for too long “might get a few looks from people passing through the airport but nobody will say anything, and if they do, they deal with us.”

“If we had enough time during the stop we’d have taken a trip around the city, let you boys see some of the sights we’ve seen, but alas, our connection gives us an hour at most depending on everything being on time, and that’s just enough time to get us from one gate to the next.” John added as he pulled into the long stay parking lot. “Maybe some other time, some other family trip, eh Eddie?”

Eddie’s wide eyes turned to the front of the car, then back to Steve again, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Not surprise over the words used, but the feeling those words caused. Family trip. They were including him on future family trips.

Steve’s eyes quickly snapped from him to the front of the car and back again, then a warm smile blossomed on his lips. He lifted his hand and ever so carefully brushed a stray curl back behind Eddie’s ear, and asked so softly as his thumb lowered to brush along his jawline. “Right, Eddie?”

“Y-yeah… yeah I’d… I’d love that.” He turned his head fully toward the drivers seat, he’d never been too good at hiding his emotions, so maybe he was just a little choked up when he accepted the offer “I’d really love that.”

“Great!” The car came to a stop in one of the many parking bays, ignition off, driver side door opened “It’s settled then.” Settled. Eddie would privately mourn the knowledge that it’d never come to fruition, but… on the surface he could pretend he was excited for a future trip for the sake of the ruse. “Now boys if you could get the bigger bags out the trunk that’d be a big help! This back of mine isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.”

“You’re forty-six and go jogging almost every morning, don’t be stupid John.” Lynda whapped her husband with her handbag in gentle, semi-amused admonishment before getting out of the car.

Followed by her husband who, in a hushed tone replied with “don’t tell them that, Lynda, save us the work.” Leaving the two boys to breathe soft laughs between themselves before they too joined the older couple out in the parking lot.

“Steve...” Eddie hissed as they neared check-in.

“What?”

“I have weed” said through his teeth.

“What?” Steve paused.

“I have weed… I have weed in my suitcase.”

“You have what?!” Steve rounded on him, sentence ended with a pointed hiss

“I didn’t know we’d be flying to Canada, Steve, maybe you should tell people when you’re planning on launching them into the troposphere in a death tube!”

“Why would you bring weed on a holiday with my parents, Eddie?!”

“SHHHH, be quiet. I thought I might need it to chill out if I was freaking out at some point during the week like right now, I could really do with it right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Lynda’s voice had them both snapping to attention, eyes wide, caught in the act. Luckily she had no idea what that ‘act’ was.

“Nope! No, uh, Eddie’s just gotta… use the bathroom real quick.”

“Well, there’s bathrooms in the business class lounge he can—"

“No! It’s uhm, it’s urgent, can’t wait, he’s uh…”

“Nerves, it’s uh, it’s nerves, I think imma hurl” she looked between them with a small frown on her face, assessing them both, it seemed like whatever she found wasn’t worth arguing about though, because she waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Alright fine, hurry up. Steven you know where the closest ones are go on now quickly before we’re late for check in, we’ll double check everything here.” John was already pausing to check through all their documents like a regular airport dad, it was the third time he’d done it since entering the airport.

“Alright let’s go, Eds, lets deal with your little problem.” At least he was soft-handed when he manhandled Eddie to the nearest bathroom, patchy suitcase with a squeaky wheel wobbling away behind them. Once inside, he checked each stall individually, before quickly turning on a wide eyed Eddie. “Where is it?” Eddie pointed down at the suitcase, and Steve snapped to action, lifting, and placing Eddie’s suitcase down on the slightly damp row of sinks. “Did you pack any liquid soaps?”

“Uhhh…” Eddie was too busy staring at the flex of Steve’s arms as he just. Lifted that whole very packed suitcase in one hoist. Fuck.

“Any shampoo? Conditioner?”

“I—I feel like my answer is going to make you mad so I’m just not going to answer.” Which on its own, was a pretty damning answer, and Steve’s expression told him as such “I don’t have a twelve step hair care routine like you do, Steve! I just… I have drug store shampoo and conditioner and that’s really only when it’s on a two for one sale! Usually I just—"

“If you say you water it down to make it last longer I’m going to throw the first thing I find in this suitcase at you.”

“Shutting up. I just thought I’d buy it there if I needed it, or just borrow yours, I know you brought some, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I figured that… if I borrowed yours it’d make it seem like I just… wanted… to smell like you?”

“You just made that up.” Eddie just smiled, all teeth and dimples, scrunching his shoulders inwards in an unfairly cute display of mischief. “You’re a menace, Munson. Get your stuff out of there for me. Don’t ever put weed in checked luggage.”

“But—”

“TSA does random checks on checked luggage all the time, an while they’re not usually looking for weed, it’ll get launched and you might get fined. Whereas you can hide weed in just about anything in a carry on, just shows up as vague blurred shit on the x-ray scanners. Just be cool when you shove it through.” Steve was rummaging in the front of his own bag now, “be cool, and act natural.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Mn once or twice, Tommy was a dick, but his cousin worked for the TSA for a few years, gave us all kinds’a neat tricks to get things through the airport.” Tommy’s cousin had gotten fired and a year inside for attempting to smuggle narcotics out of the confiscated items lock up, but that was neither here nor there. “Gimmie what you have.” Hand outstretched, Steve waited until Eddie placed the single baggie containing three roll ups and a few loose buds “Christ Eddie.”

“I knew I’d be nervous! Stop being mean to me!” Steve rolled his eyes before taking the three roll ups out of the baggie

“Your smokes, give em.” Plenty of room in the pack to slot the three roll ups, and as for the buds, Steve emptied out his travel sized bottle of hand lotion into the sink and stuffed the whole plastic bag into the little bottle, then screwed the lid on tight. Nobody would look twice at a rich kids hand lotion. “Now wet the ends of your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair butthead! Wet it, we told my mother you’d be in here hurling your guts up, so… you got some in your hair, it’s a good extra to add to the ruse, now do it.”

“So my own boyfriend wouldn’t even hold my hair back if I threw up? Where’s the romance, where’s the commitment, where’s the care and—”

“Dude you have a lot of hair, I doubt I could get it all in my hand at once.” Although now that thought was in his head… could he? Could he get a good fistful and hold it there? Not important. “I’d drop bits.” A flimsy argument, he wouldn’t drop anything.

“Uh-huh, sure you would, big boy.” Eddie quickly dampened the tips of his hair, and ran a wet hand through his bangs quickly in a bid to fake flop sweat, theatrics over and done with. “Zipper-up, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Part 13

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #lmao this was getting long so i'm splitting it up

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sunonyoreface · 1 year

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He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 10

an: this is my favourite part yet! Thanks for your patience!

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 2700

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language mentions of torture, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

I can still hear ringing from hours of relentless whirling of the helicopter engine beating against my eardrums. Ghost pulls me through the snow with one rough hand wrapped around my arm and the other on his pistol. In the time it took us to fly here, he only riled himself up more. Searing, red anger radiates from beneath his suit. I dread the moment we pass through that door.

Ghost doesn’t clear the safe house. He doesn’t have to. A thermal imaging camera attached to the chopper told him no one’s been there in hours. The night vision lenses reveal to him that no one’s trampled through the slushy snow or left tracks of any kind in days. The tiny cabin is between one of their bases and a large town in Latvia. It isn’t accessible by road. Only a helicopter, ATV, or 40-mile hike from the nearest settlement will get you here. This place isn’t meant to be found. The Ultranationalists won’t have suspected us to leave the country. No one will. Even the other task members have no clue where we are. Only Price. We’re completely alone.

It’s supposed to be safer, but I feel far from safe.

The cabin shakes as he slams the door shut and flips three deadbolts. There’s no escaping him. Even if I somehow miraculously made it out of the cabin, I’d be shot dead before I could make it ten feet away. Inside I am completely blind. There isn’t an ounce of light. Ghost releases me and blood rushes to the spot on my arm he was gripping. I can feel the bruises forming already. He brushes against my back as he steps further into the dark. It’s eerily silent. There’s no traffic outside or music from neighbouring rooms or wind gusts rattling the windows. Everything is completely still. Only my heavy breathing fills the dreadful space.

A small table lamp clicks on as Ghost lets go of the chord. The tiny metal chain clinks against the glass base. He paces around, looking completely out of place. We’re in a small room with a burgundy futon, a wooden table with two chairs, a tiny wood stove, and several cabinets on the far side of the wall. This is the only room in the whole building. It’s cozy and quaint; the kind of place new couples spend too much money on for a weekend getaway. There’s also another lamp standing in the corner of the room that Ghost now switches on. The lamps cause two jagged shadows to follow him around the room. Its warmer here than at the base, but not because the heat is on. This building doesn’t have heat, but we’re closer to the ocean so everywhere’s warmer. It’s just cold enough for the snow to stick to the ground in a slushy consistency.

I stand by the door, watching as Ghost undoes the clasps on his helmet before taking it off and placing it on the wood table. His skull mask is still covered in the bloody remnants of our interviews from this morning. Next to it, he places the large assault rifle. He doesn’t offload his handgun or any of the other various weapons strapped to his person. No, he might need those yet.

Ghost pauses for a moment as he scans the room, taking in our surroundings until his eyes land on mine. As much as I want to, I can’t look away. There’s something about his eyes. There always has been. They hold so much depth it’s hard to describe. So much horror I physically can’t describe. A type of desire that I’m afraid to describe.

He silently stalks across the wooden floor, holding my gaze the entire time, holding onto his anger even longer. Ghost stops only inches away. I shift back toward the door to put some distance between us.

“Are you scared of me?” his eyes narrow as he examines my face. Ghost is a well-trained bloodhound. There’s no hiding my fear from him. He can smell it pulsing through my veins. He can hear the muscles in my heart thundering at a terrifying speed.

“Should I be?” already, my voice is unsteady.

“I would,” he says plainly. My throat tightens and my mouth runs dry.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why’d you lie to me?” he ignores my question, jumping right to the very thing that is fueling his anger. Ghost is already standing too close for comfort, utilizing his size just like he does during the interrogations.

“I didn’t lie to you,” I lower my voice. Maybe if we’re both whispering, he won’t start shouting.

“You did,” there’s venom in his voice. I can hear the rattles of a snake hiding in tall grass. If I take the wrong step, I’m sure to be bitten.

“I told you what he said. Just not all of it,” I press my sweaty palms to the side of my thighs. Ghost’s brooding eyes are shadowed by the bloody skull mask. He’s so close I can smell the tangy, metallic scent. I taste it on my tongue as I bite the inside of my cheek. I feel it in my veins as it pulses through my racing heart.

“That’s rubbish,” his brows furrow and his lower lids tighten.

“Is it?” I ask. What would he do if he were in my position? Are my actions truly that unforgivable? “Why don’t you just interview me like you do them? Then, you’d find out.”

“Because you’re not one of them,” he says with certainty. Maybe not, but are we so different? For years, people told me I was just like my father and he’s “one of them”. How different can we be?

“Maybe I am,” I push back. The rattling sounds closer. My mind is warning me to step away from the snake, but some morbid part of me wants to see what’ll happen.

“You’re not,” he states.

“How do you know?” I ask. What makes him so certain? Sure, 141 does their research before kidnapping someone, but maybe I could be an Ultranationalist. Maybe he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks. Maybe I’m the snake.

Ghost reaches into a pocket on his thigh. He pulls out his switchblade and snaps the blade out. My eyes widen as I step further back, trapping myself against the door. Ghost stalks even closer. His movements are slow and predatory. I have nowhere to go as he presses his chest into mine. The hard equipment strapped to his vest hurts as it rubs against my clothes, jutting into my flesh. One hand harshly wraps around my mouth as the other presses the tip of the blade against my cheek.

I jolt away from the pain and try to wriggle from his grasp, but it’s no use. Ghost has me pinned against the door with no escape. The pressure is sharp and I feel the skin threatening to break, any harder and he’ll draw blood.

“Simon,” I try to say his name but the words are muffled. My hands wrap around his forearm and squeeze. Not in an attempt to pull him away, but just to get him to stop. His skin is hot under my cold fingers and his tense muscles ripple beneath my palm.

When I finally make eye contact with him, my heart skips. His eyes are dark and analytical. This isn’t about hurting me. He is simply gauging my reactions. This is a test.

The skull mask leans in closer. “An Ultranationalist wouldn’t flinch. They’d lean into the pain,” he whispers. Ghost releases me, taking only a small step back. I don’t wait to catch my breath before asking my next question.

“Do you like hurting them?”

“I do,” he says with a sense of pride. It’s now that I realize he doesn’t see these men as people. In his eyes, as soon as they joined the Ultranationalists, they abdicated all their human rights.

“That’s sick.”

“Maybe,” he says, taunting. “But it’s nothing in comparison to what they do.”

I ignore his attempt at changing the topic.

“Do you like hurting me?”

“Y/n,” something in his voice changes. It’s strained, almost. I see his brows furrow at the edge of his mask. He leans back at this. “Do you think that low of me?”

“In Price’s office, the two of you mentioned intercepting a high-ranking Ultranationalist’s family member. That’s what you did to me,” I wait for him to tell me I’m wrong. I want him to tell me I’m wrong. That the families of the men they hunt aren’t being punished for their crimes. Deep down, I know I’m not. “Did you know about that?”

“I helped plan it,” Ghost admits. My throat tightens even more and I fight the urge to cry. Of course, he did. It’s all some stupid vendetta. They don’t care who’s hurt in the process. Part of me can’t help but feel betrayed. I should’ve expected it. When I look into his eyes, there’s no regret. I’m just collateral to him. There’s a larger plan at play and my life is just a small game piece.

“Were you there when it happened?” I ask. I need to know. How much of my suffering was directly because of him?

“No.”

“Do you know the things they did to me?” my voice cracks. “How they pumped me so full of drugs I couldn’t stay conscious? And when I was awake, I was sick for hours. I was so drugged up I could barely stand, let alone walk. My body didn’t feel like my own. They locked me in a dark room alone for weeks. The only time I saw another person was when I was fed just twice a day. I didn’t know if my family was okay! I still don’t! I had a bag over my head ninety percent of the time and when I couldn’t keep up, they’d grab at me and push me until I’d hit a wall or the floor. Did you know that, Simon? I am covered in bruises! Even now,” my eyes start to water, but my sadness begins to transition to anger. “You planned all of that, Simon?”

Ghost takes a moment to watch the emotions flicker across my face and weigh his options. He takes a deep breath before saying “It was a part of the plan. You were supposed to believe you were taken by the Ultranationalists, so you’d be more willing to cooperate with us. We contracted the job to one of our Russian allies so it couldn’t be directly traced back to us. The fact that you were looking into your family’s past was just a coincidence. A convenient one, but a coincidence nonetheless,” his voice is reserved. He’s holding back again and it only hurts more.

“You’re no better than them,” I hiss at him. “At least they’re honest about what they do.”

Ghost scoffs at me and when he looks at me his eyes are narrowed and his brows furrowed. “Honest,” he laughs in patronizing disgust. “You don’t know a fucking thing about them.”

“I don’t know a damn thing about you either! Everything you’ve told me was a fucking lie!” I hate to admit it, but I break first. I’m the first to raise my voice and now all bets are off.

“Have you watched the news lately? Don’t you-”

“It’s hard to watch the news when you kidnapped me!” my face is red and I feel a burning rage. I feel like I’m on fire. Like Ghost has soaked me in gasoline and struck a match.

“Shut your fucking mouth for two goddamn seconds,” he snarls. There are flames in his eyes. “Haven’t you seen the bombings? The shootings? The fucking airport attacks? Any of it? That was all them! They’ve killed thousands of people for political power and they’re only getting started,” his fists are balled at his sides as he pushes into me again. I so badly wish I was closer to his size. At least then I’d have a chance.

He’s becoming just as worked up as I am. Good. He deserves to feel what I feel. The anger. The pain. The betrayal. How fucking unfair all of this is. Ghost’s breathing becomes faster as his chest heaves with disdain. I imagine a scowl on his face as he tries to justify his actions. As he tries to justify all of the violence he is responsible for. 141 isn’t as righteous as they’d like to believe. Their hands are caked in layers upon layers of years worth of blood. Their skin underneath is stained a type of red that won’t wash off in the sink.

“If we take out Makarov and his top generals, we can disband the Ultranationalists. We can stop this utter madness from becoming any worse. If we do that, we’ll save thousands of people and stop wars before they begin,” Ghost rests both his hands on the side of my neck, his thumbs just under my ears. His grip is light, but I feel the urgency under his fingers. “I will do anything in my power to see that happen,” he says, reigning himself in as he steps back.

“Even kill my father,” I whisper. His eyes flicker back to mine. He doesn’t need to say anything to confirm my suspicion.

“He’s a bad man, y/n,” Ghost’s voice lowers.

“You don’t know him,” the pain is evident on my face. My heart aches and I miss him.

“No. But I know what he’s done,” he watches my expressions, calculating how much he should tell me. “Last month he coordinated a shooting at a refugee camp. Could call that his specialty. Refugee camps and immigration centers, sometimes homeless shelters. He targets vulnerable people and causes that the Ultranationalists know will get people riled up. Your father is responsible for the death of hundreds of innocent people. Do you know who lived in those camps? Young families. Children who had their whole lives ahead of them. He killed them y/n.”

My face scrunches up in disgust and disbelief. I feel the bile creeping up my throat as my stomach twists itself into an impossible knot. My knees want to give out. That can’t be true. He wouldn’t do that, not the man I know. My father is an introvert who likes to buy loaves of expired bread and feed pigeons in Central Park. He runs my mother baths and cooks too much pasta and kisses me on the forehead every time I visit. He is not that man.

“You’re lying,” my bottom lip trembles. “Everything you’ve told me is a lie, why would you tell the truth now?”

“I have video,” he says coldly. “Four of these attacks alone have detailed surveillance footage of him present during the events. But he’s not always present. Often, they’re planned at a distance. He’ll have coordinated most of them from your home.”

“That’s not true,” I mumble into my sleeve as I wipe my nose. “It’s not,” the tears finally spill from my eyes. It can’t be true.

“So no, y/n, I don’t like hurting you,” Ghost cups the side of my face, his thumb brushes along my hair as he gently guides me to look at him. “But I’d do it a million times over if it means stopping Makarov.”

“Where does it end?” my voice is pleading “Makarov, then my uncle, then my father, and all of their generals. Who else do you have to kill before it can finally end? Me? Am I on that list, Simon?”

“I would never do that to you,” he murmurs as his other hand brushes away my tears. All I want is to lean into his touch. To have him hold me and tell me everything’s going to be alright.

“How can I believe you, Simon? How can I believe you after everything you’ve done? After all the lies you’ve told,” my soft voice cracks.

His thumb soothingly brushes up and down my cheek. With each deep breath he takes, his vest pushes further into my chest. Before the pressure was alarming but now, I find a strange comfort in it. I want him to say that there’s a way out of this. That maybe he was wrong about my father. That when I go home, it’ll be like I never left. Simon leans down and rests his forehead against my own. My mind drifts to the blood sprayed across the white skull.

“You can’t.”

PT11:

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #simon riley fanfic #cod ghost #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #COD MW2 #cod imagine #cod ghost imagine #MW2 #MWII #mw2 imagine #mw2 fanfic

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hughesurdaddy43 · 4 months

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fear and fridays

Summary: simple complication, miscommunications lead to fallout

pairing: quinn hughes x fem reader

notes: everyone thank taylor swift and zach bryan for this one

You pace back and forth in your living room. Quinn said he wanted to stop by after his game so naturally, you turned your television on and watched from the beginning to the end. The Canucks won, which didn't come as a surprise to you. Captain Quinn Hughes always led his team to victory.

Even though he has a key to your apartment, Quinn knocks, waiting for you to let him in. You come to a halt, feet glued to the floor and fingers trembling. You know why you're so nervous. You haven't seen Quinn since you admitted your feelings to him. His words were on repeat in your head, like a broken record. "If I ever get married to a girl that's not you, I'd pray to God that you'd stand up and object."

Another knock on the door brings you back to reality and you begin to make your way to the slab of wood thats keeping the two of you apart.

There's a smirk on his face when you swing the door open, and he lifts up a brown paper bag with grease staining the bottom, you're worried that whatever is inside will tear apart in a matter of seconds. "I bought some burgers, thought we might treat ourselves to a night in." Your heart does a flip and you shoot him a smile while moving to the side to let him enter. It isn't unusual for Quinn to stop by with dinner after a home game, especially after they win, but you aren't sure how to feel about how normal he's being.

You follow Quinn to your kitchen, taking a seat on the barstool at the counter. He starts with grabbing plates, heading toward the dishwasher instead of a cupboard because he knows that you hate putting dishes away. Then he heads toward your fridge and pulls out two beers, and they aren't your favourite but you make sure to keep them in stock because they're his favourite.

The two of you sit in silence, enjoying your burgers and beer. Wind crashes against your living room window, and everything is taking you back to that night, which feels like forever ago. You haven't talked about it, trying your best to push it to the back of your mind, but still those words are on repeat.

Quinn laughs, causing you to look up from your burger and at him instead. "Jack and Luke said you're lame for not answering their texts." You shake your head, pulling Quinns phone out of his hand. You open up the camera and sport a pouty face before clicking the button to capture the photo and send it to the Hughes brothers group chat. "Thats only because half of the time I never know what the hell they're talking about. And, they keep harassing me, asking if I'll go to the lake house this summer."

You start to hand Quinn his phone but freeze once his phone starts to ring. Its her.

His eyes are already on yours when you look up at him, the both of you unsure of what to do. It's not like you guys are sneaking around, but everything is different now, and you're wondering if she even knows that her boyfriends best friend is in love with him.

In a swift movement, Quinn grabs the phone from your hand and slides it into the pocket of his shorts. "I'll give her a call later." He mumbles. "Anyway, back to the rug rats, you should come to the lake house this summer." He changes the topic and it makes your heart drop. You begin to wonder if you're becoming his secret.

"I don't know, Quinn. I'm not sure I'd want to third wheel, and as much as I love your brothers, I don't think I can survive spending all my time with them." You both know that's a lie. Jack was your friend first, but the moment you two started to drift due to busy schedules, Quinn swooped in. "Why would you third wheel?" He asks as he begins to clear the countertop from your plates and now empty beer bottles.

You frown at him even though his back is facing you. "Well, I assumed you'd be bringing..." You pauses, afraid to say her name out loud. "I assume you'd bring your girlfriend along." Quinn scoffs, "Please, Trevor would be all over her. I wouldn't do that to her." It's a lousy excuse, you know that, but you still want to push it. "So you'll let me tag along and fall victim to Trevor Zegras?"

The two of you laugh at the same time. You like Trevor, but he's like an energetic puppy that doesn't understand basic commands like "Shush" and "No"

"No, no definitely not." Quinn turns around, leaning on the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest. He's wearing a tight black underarmour t-shirt and you can't help but let your eyes roam his arms. You usually aren't attracted to guys with muscle, but Quinn pulls it off so well. "Trev knows you're off limits." He tells you.

Your eyes shoot up to his, and you're sure that this time, he's looking at you the same way you look at him. Quinn Hughes is in love, and it's not with his girlfriend.

"Yeah? I'm not so sure 'off limits' means much to anyone anymore."

Quinn smiles at you, running a hand through his hair, and you smile back because you know the ball is in his court.

"I should probably get going, Nat. Early practice tomorrow, Captain needs his sleep."

You desperately want to tell him that he can spend the night, like he usually does. Half of your closet is filled with his clothes anyway, but instead you hop off your stool and walk him to the door.

"Thank you for the treat," You tell him, and there's still that damn smile on his face that is driving you insane, because you made him smile like that, and you know what it means, but the two of you won't say anything more. You open the door for Quinn, but before he steps out, he grabs your hand, pulling you close to him.

He places his hands on your cheeks, and before you can react, he kisses you. One, two, three times.

Neither of you say anything before he starts to walk away, leaving you in your doorway, swooning and dumbfounded.

You shut your door, knowing what you should do next. It's like deja-vu, the way your fingers are trembling once again. You pull your own phone out of your pocket and open up your messages. Jacks contact is first, a text he sent a few hours ago, staring right at you. Your fingers are on a mission to send a simple text.

ill see you at the lake house

#quinn hughes #hockey boys #hockey blurb #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes #nhl fic #luke hughes #hughes brothers

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eddiesxangel · 6 days

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Take Me to the Lakes | E.M x reader part 5/6

Summary: This summer was supposed to be the summer to work at your favourite place in the world with your best friend. But things take a turn when it isn’t your best friend you end up working with.

Master list

cw: angst, dirty smut and more angst. 3.9k words

You’ve been grappling with yourself for days. The emotional turmoil is akin to a never-ending struggle. You are torn between two opposing forces—one driven by love, passion and desire to be with Eddie while the other grounded in reality. You know that leaving this idyllic bubble of happiness will mean facing the challenges and complexities of real life, which is causing you mental and emotional anguish.

You do, in fact, love Eddie. You have ever since you laid eyes on him. Even back then, pure infatuation turned into lust, which in turn made you fall in love with him all the same. This makes this decision that much more difficult to swallow. Your pride and reputation meant everything to you, but how could your two worlds coexist?

You played along, pretending to ignore your worries when you were around Eddie. You wanted to take advantage of all the time you had left before summer ended. Only a few more weeks, time was running out, yet it stood still when you were with Eddie. Eddie made you feel safe and wanted. Eddie makes you feel alive and free. You always felt a sense of calm whenever you were with Eddie. There was something about him that made you feel like you could be your true self around him without any fear of judgment. You never had to put on a façade or pretend to be someone you're not.

Eddie was your well-needed reminder that you don't have to be perfect to be loved and accepted. He appreciated you for who you were, flaws and all. Being with him was a source of comfort and reassurance you could always count on.

No matter how much you try to push it away, that little warning bell in your mind keeps ringing. It reminds you of all the things that could go wrong. It's like a constant companion that never leaves your side, always lurking in the back of your mind.

The fear of the unknown was overwhelming and paralyzing at times, especially at night when you were alone with your thoughts, making you feel helpless and trapped.

With Eddie, you felt like you could let your guard down and be yourself. Eddie was also judged and tried; he was nothing of the man everyone blamed him for being, but you were only you; you couldn’t make the town see him for who he truly was. Or maybe you could? But the burden would be too much, ruining the status you’ve built up your whole life. Was it worth the risk? You know Eddie would risk it all for you, but deep down, you wouldn’t be able to do it for him…

—

Today, you were on Field duty with Robin, Ashton and Eddie. Not much had happened besides the four of you supervising the soccer game between your groups. So when you and Eddie asked them to cover for you for about twenty minutes, they reluctantly agreed.

You and Eddie snuck off to the barn because you were running out of places to have sex. The cabin was mysteriously boarded up the last time you tried sneaking off, so you needed to get creative.

“You’re always so horny” You giggle as he grabs your ass.

“It’s not that I’m horny…you’re just that sexy, I can’t help myself.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” You giggle.

Eddie presses you up against the raw wooded planks of the barn wall. It was stuffy and hot in there, but you only cared about Eddie. Eddie made you feel alive, wanted, and protected. You wanted him to feel the same. All thoughts are thrown out the window. You don’t worry about getting caught; you don’t worry about life after camp; your entire being is absorbed by thoughts of Eddie.

“I want you in my mouth.” You moan as Eddie kisses you deeply. You’ve made it to the barn and pulled him into a dark corner.

“You wanna get on your knees for me, Princess?”

“Mmmmmmm,” you drop down, quickly taking off the tiny green gym shorts of the camp uniform.

You could smell Eddie when you pulled down his shorts; the pheromones made your head spin. Sure, it was hot and sticky, but you needed Eddie's sweaty balls in your face. The stench of the barn didn’t even phase you as your mouth watered for him.

“Sucha’ good girl, f’me,” He praised as you took his hard cock in your mouth. Slowly, you swirl your tongue around the deep pink head before taking more of him in your mouth.

You pine for his affection, his touch, but mostly his words.

You and Eddie discovered you were both pretty nasty when it came to fucking one another. Eddie loved that you could keep up with him and his dirty fantasies.

“You always wanna be a good girl for me, don’t ya, princess.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You say before going back onto his throbbing cock.

Eddie’s head falls back as your lips latch back onto his leaking cock.

“Fuck that’s good” Eddie slowly thrusts his hips into your mouth so his cock hits the back of your throat. “You’re perfect, Y/N.”

Hearing him say your name makes you pine even more; the butterflies it gives you only makes you want to be all that much better for him, to him.

“Thank you, Daddy,” You hum, pulling away to work his cock with your hand.

Eddie can’t hold off any longer. You didn’t have much time, and someone might walk in any second.

Without warning, Eddie quickly stands you up and walks you over to the back wall. You let out a small whimper because you aren’t done yet.

“You were being such a good girl, don’t make me punish you.” He growls low in your ear. “You want your little cunt fucked, or not? Want daddy to make you feel good?”

You nod your head silently.

“I know, baby girl, you just need your little pussy to be played with, huh. Is that it?” He caressed your cheek before manhandling you onto the hay bail in the corner of the barn.

You squeak when Eddie flips you and covers your mouth with his large hand to keep you quiet.

“Shhh, we can’t have anyone walking in now, can we?:

You silently shake your head no, and Eddie's hand falls from your mouth to grip the fat of your ass.

“I want to do bad things to you,” He growls.

“So do them” You push your ass into him.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” He tugs on your cotton shorts.

“You’re not wearing any underwear?”

“Better for you, no?” You smirk.

A low curse leaves Eddie's throat before his hands dip lower.

“You always get this wet from sucking my cock?”Eddie glides his hands along your wet folds. “Yes, Daddy,” you gasp as his fingers make contact.

A loud screech is heard in the distance, probably a camper playing tag, but you and Eddie freeze. You both are brought back to reality; you don’t have any more time to waste.

“I want your cock inside me, please” You reach as you look back over your shoulder to kiss him.

“We might get caught.”

“Good, then everyone will know I’m yours,” you smirk.

“You freaky little minx” Eddie slides his cock between your soaked folds before slowly pushing his way inside. Inch by inch, he stretches you out.

Even though you’ve been fucking like rabbits, your body still needs time to adjust to its size.

“You okay, baby?”

You bite back hiss; it burns so good.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.

“Don’t think we have a minute, Princess.”

“What? You going to blow your load already” You giggle, only making your already tight puss get tighter around eddies cock.

“No, we are running out of time; Birdie and Rooster will kill us if we don’t hurry.”

“Fine, then fuck me like you mean it.”

The brush of Eddie’s thick cock on your inner walls was something you would never get used to. He would make you forget about everything and everyone that wasn’t solely him. Not your life outside the camp, not the pressures you felt of being perfect, not the way you are made out to be the Princess of Hawkins and certainly not the weight you felt in your chest when you think of life with Eddie after summer is over.

All those hours you spent dreaming about being with Eddie, you never thought it would come to fruition, so you never thought about the consequences if it did happen. Now that you’ve claimed you both have claimed each other as their own, you’re struggling with what to do once you return to the real world.

Would your parents accept him? No. You knew for a fact that they worked hard to get you where you are today, and they would never understand how loving Eddie makes any sense.

But none of that mattered right now; none of that even crossed your mind because Eddie had a way of making you feel like you were floating on a cloud of euphoria.

“You still with me, Princess?”

“Mmmhhmm,” you bite down to keep from moaning.

“You know I love those sounds you make, baby, but we gotta stay quiet.

“I’m so close, baby, please.”

Eddie came to know your body almost as well as you did. He knew you needed extra attention to help you get over the edge, so he reached down to work your clit with his rough, calloused fingertips.

“Shit, baby, you’re so close. I can feel your pretty little pussy squeezing my cock so good.”

“Please,” You beg as you grab Eddie’s wrist to brace yourself for your orgasm.

“Come for Daddy.” His breath brushes past your ear, and you melt under his grasp. Your body quivers as your pussy clenches, and your brain spits out endorphins through your body.

Eddie’s not far behind; the grip in which you clamped down on him was so delicious he couldn’t help it. Without thinking, he came inside of you, making sure all of it was pushed up far inside.

“Did you just?” You ask breathlessly.

“Fucking take it” He thrust every last bit of his seed into your pussy.

“Eddie,” You whined.

“What baby girl?”

“I—I’m going to be all messy; I don’t even have panties…” you can already feel it dripping out of you.

“Good. I want you to be thinking about me for the rest of the day.”

You want to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. You would have to walk around with a puddle at the bottom of your shorts…

“There you guys are!” It’s been like thirty minutes, so let's go!” Robin scolded, and you hiked up your shorts around your ankles.

You hear a “gross” as she walks away, and you and Eddie can't help but laugh.

“I’m so done covering for you guys; this is getting way out of hand.” Robin said as Eddie rejoined his campers and Ashton by the creek.

“Birdie, I’m sorry, we got carried away.”

“You always get carried away.” She rolls her eyes.

She was right. Your relationship with Eddie was distracting you from your responsibilities.

“I’m sorry, I promise. We won’t sneak off again. I owe you so many times. Whatever you need, I got it.”

Her facial expressions soften. “Fine. Only if you really do promise me?”

“Cross my heart.”

“What about lover boy?”

“I also promise he won’t do anything to misbehave.” You smirk “during camp hours.”

“You think we have time to stop by the cabin quickly before dinner?” You mumble.

“Yeah why?” She glanced at her watch

“Uh… I need to change my shorts.

“Ugh gross, ”

—

As the weeks passed, your and Eddie’s relationship became more serious. He would like to take you on dates after hours. Even if nothing was around, he thought of ways to get creative. Much of it involved stealing from the kitchen and borrowing the projector from the supply cabinet for movie nights, but none of that mattered to you. What mattered was that he put in an effort you could only dream about.

Last night, you snuck off to his van. There was a mattress, blankets, and some pillows. Eddie insisted you sleep together all night and set an extra early alarm so no one would notice you’re not in the cabin.

It was risky, but you caved. How could you say no when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear while also telling you what exactly he would do to you in the privacy of his van? Eddie had a way of getting you to do anything, not that you minded. The last thing you wanted was to get into trouble, but you wanted to sleep next to him. To feel his body next to yours, to hold you.

As you awaken from a deep slumber, you feel surprisingly well-rested. You slowly open your eyes and squint as the sun's bright light peeks through the van's windows, illuminating the small space. You realize that you're tangled in the sheets with Eddie, and a wave of happiness washes over you. As you take in the sight of him sound asleep beside you, you can't help but smile.

However, your joy is quickly interrupted by the nagging thought of the alarm that was supposed to go off. You push it to the back of your mind and take a moment to appreciate this peaceful, intimate moment with Eddie. You know that time is running out, and you must make the most of the time you have left together before it inevitably comes to an end.

You've realized that this time together is incredibly precious and fleeting. The pressures of reality are beginning to weigh heavily on you, and you understand that things won't always be this easy once you return home. With only two weeks of summer left, it's important to treasure every moment together.

You hear your name being yelled out in the distance, and you panic. snap up quickly, reaching for Eddie's writs to see it is already 9:45 am. You’re supposed to be on the clock.

“Get up, oh my god.” You find your shirt and pants while Eddie stirs.

“Baby, get up! We are late!” You shake him some more, and Eddie snaps awake.

“What?? what?!”

"It’s almost ten we slept in!” You yell, throwing his shirt at him.

“Bambi?!” You hear your name yelled along with Eddies.

“Fuck” you’re freaking out as you scrambled out of the van, Eddie following close behind you.

When you stepped out, Billy was there.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He smirks.

“Billy, please, don’t say anything.” You beg.

You knew Billy had not gotten over things. He would still comment when Eddie wasn’t around; he tried more than once to get you to come with him instead of Eddie.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s already camp hours; everyone has been looking for the two of you, and it seems you’ve been fornicating on Camp Murdock’s dime.”

“Billy.” You warn.

“What’s happening?” Eddie joins you once he is fully dressed.

“You tell me? You and you’re little whore here—“

Billy didn’t get to finish before Eddie charged at him. He tackled him to the ground. You scream for him to stop, and you beg as you watch the two men roll around in the dirt, watching their fists make contact with one another’s faces.

Your screams must have been heard because Robin and Steve came rushing over, along with a few others, including Carol.

“Please stop! Eddie, baby, please, he isn’t worth it!” You cry.

You watch Steve and Ashton pull the two men apart, holding them back.

“What on earth is going on here!” Carol yells once the commotion stops.

“I don’t know, boss? You tell me,” Billy smirks. “Found these two playing hooky, and the next thing I know, I’m the one getting sucker punched.”

“You little—“

“Stop,” Carol cuts off Eddie before he can continue. “Is that true?” Carol turns to you with a look of disappointment in her eye.

“Not—No, not exactly… our alarm didn’t go off, and we accidentally slept in…” You look down ashamed.

“Our?” She raises a brow to you.

“Uh— mine and Eddie’s…”

“How exactly did that happen?

“We didn’t sleep in our cabins,” you mumble, embarrassed that you were dumb enough to risk this.

“I’m very disappointed in you Y/N.”

“I’m so sorry; it will never happen again,” You try to speak, holding back your tears.

“You’re right; it won’t happen again because you, gentleman…” you watch as she turns to Eddie and Billy, “Are you going home.”

“What?!” They say in unison.

“You can’t seem to be civil; we can make do with only a week and a half left.”

“But Carol—“

“That’s final!” She turns to you.

“As for you, young lady, I’ll give you a warning… I like you, Y/N, and seeing as your little boyfriend is leaving, I would like to think the tardiness will correct itself.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” You bow your head in shame.

This was not like you; you don’t break the rules, you don’t disappoint people, and you definitely do not get into trouble.

“I don’t want to waste any more time. Get back to work...and boys, pack your things. I want you out by lunch."

—

You rush over to Robin to return to your campers, whom Nancy and Cassie are looking after.

“Girl, what happened.” Robin looks at you worried.

“We slept in; Billy found us in the van and called me… it doesn’t matter— and Eddie attacked him.” You sniffle.

Robin hugged you and tried her best to comfort you, but it was useless. Everything was ruined.

You went through the motions the rest of the morning until lunch. You decided not to eat so you could say goodbye to Eddie.

Billy had already packed up and left while Eddie brought his stuff to the parking lot.

“Baby,” you whisper, trying not to startle him as you walk up to him from behind.

“Hey.” He sounded annoyed.

“I’m sorry, I tried to tell you we would get in trouble, but I—“

“I get it, it’s my fault, and now I’m being punished. It is what it is.” He flung the duffle into the mattress where he made love to you the night before.

“Eddie, listen to me,” you beg.

“What?” He snaps at you.

“Oh my god, this is exactly why we can’t be together when we go home. You’re too unpredictable, and your temper is too hot.” You snap back at him.

"What do you mean we can’t be together when we go home?” His face fell.

“I—I”

“You were planning on breaking up with me when summer was over?! Was that it? Perfect little Princess can’t be seen with the town freak! God forbid I taint your reputation.”

“Eddie—wait.”

“So what was your plan exactly? Make me fall for you just so you can rip my heart out? You’re sick, y/n.”

“No— please let me explain!”

“I care for you, don’t you get that!

“And I don’t!? God, Eddie, I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen.”

"If you told me that yesterday, I would have believed you… but now…. I feel like I don't even know who you are."

"Believe me, please.” You beg, “I love you."

“Then act like it!”

“I can’t, don’t you get it? I can’t be me at home. Have you ever seen me like this in Hawkins?” You pause for his response, but he stays quiet.

“Exactly, no. and there is a reason for that!”

“This isn’t high school anymore; the world is much bigger than Hawkins. You can be whoever you want. You don't have to please mommy and daddy anymore.”

“I can’t”

“Why? Give me one good reason.”

“I—I—just…I can’t.” You really couldn’t. Eddie was right, but you were so scared. You were a coward.

“Fine, I’ll save you the trouble. We are done. That’s what you wanted. You’ll return to your perfect life and move on without me.”

“Eddie, please,” You cried. Tears were blurring your vision as you watched him get into the van.

None of this was supposed to happen this summer. You were supposed to be with Ashley, getting over Eddie Munson and not falling more and more deeply in love with him, only to break your own heart.

You made a terrible mistake.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I have a long trip ahead of me.” he slams the door shut.

“Baby, please,” you grabbed his door handle to open it, but it was already locked.

“Let go.” He tells you when he rolls down the window.

“Can’t we talk about this? Please, you need to understand,” You begged.

“No, I understand it perfectly, baby; you don’t want me.”

“Baby, please, I am so sorry. I love you. I didn't mean it!” You cry.

You cry and cry, and Eddie can no longer watch. He is hurt, he is broken, and he can’t watch you sob any longer, so he puts the car in drive. He didn’t believe you when those three words fell from your lips.

You froze as Eddie drove off without so much as a goodbye. This was not how you wanted things to end. You didn’t want things to end. Eddie was the best thing to happen to you. You needed him in your life. You could not go through life without him now that you’ve had a little slice of heaven with him this summer. You fucked up; you fucked up badly and needed to fix things.

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