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studioghibelli · 4 months

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the end of the world- a joel miller x reader

summary: you had a strict relationship with joel that stuck to the rules. fuck, leave, repeat. it was only a matter of time until feelings were dragged into the mix. when joel leaves at the first sign of love, you're left wondering what you had done wrong. (rated explicit, 18+, mdni)

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, implied fwb relationship, heavy handed on the angst, a whole lot of pining, a lot of flashbacks, and smut. (unprotected piv sex, fingering, clit rubbing, masturbation?, dirty talk, pet names, allusions to slapping/rougher sex, brief biting, a tiny bit of daddy kink.) ended with a bit of fluff

note: i think this is my favorite thing i have ever written. i guess i was in some sort of mood or sumfin. also i absolutely hate spell checking so sorry for any errors. enjoy!!

Joel used to be rough.

He used to imprint his name upon your skin through heavy handed grips and crescent shaped nail marks, left deep into the supple skin of your thighs. Like hieroglyphs on a wall of sandstone, he made sure the world would see what beauty he had left etched into your skin, like a canvas that only he had the privilege of painting.

He used to take you by the throat and kiss you with biblical fervor. He would kiss you so hard the taste of his spit lingered on your tongue for the days following, reminding you who you belonged to, if only for a few hours.

He used to sink his incisors into your neck, suckling at your skin like a vampire in search of an artery. He would leave deep patches of purple beneath your ear, the mark of a man who knew just what you wanted, the mark of a man who was more primal, more animalistic, than he was human.

Then, something changed.

Soft was he, on one fateful night, where his rough palms dragged across the side of your body, gentle waves of pleasure heaving, heaving, heaving, washing over you until you were a shell drowning in an ocean tide, consumed only by thoughts of him.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

A mantra, a promise, a prayer.

Soft was he, his lips molding to yours like cement stuck in the cracks of sidewalks, unwavering and unbreaking, filling you up to the hilt.

Soft was he, as he slipped his cock deep into your pussy, deep and gentle, hitting against every inch, every spot, that made your legs quiver just for him.

Soft was he, as he cradled your face in his rough hands, eyes boring in to your own, the curved bridge of his nose pressing into your rounded cheek, coaxing you, asking you, begging you, to cum for him.

Only ever him.

His hand's had done irreversible damage, taken many lives, and he pushed back the guilt for those crimes long ago, but Joel figured that perhaps holding your face in his hands was worth all the blood, the sweat, the grime and decay. Perhaps touching the skin of an angel was enough to bathe him clean from his past sins, enough to purify the monster which lurked within.

And then one day, he swore you off.

"Can't be around you anymore." He snarled, hand dragging down his face, heavy and hot with the burning poker of shame.

"Says who?" Your voice was cracking, the angry prick of tears stabbing at your eyes, like daggers dripping with bitter venom.

"Me. This ain't.... right. We should never have done this."

"Why isn't it right?" You were begging, trying your hardest to coax put a semblance of an answer from him.

"You're too young for this. For-for me. I ain't good for you."

"Where is this coming from? Just two nights ago you were making love-"

"That's the problem." Joel hissed. "Makin' love." He scoffed spitefully, shaking his head firmly. "It's the end of the fuckin' world and I'm worried about makin' a woman cum, makin' your eyes roll. I should be out fightin', I should be out makin' rounds and doin' my work. Ain't thought of anything like that since I've been with you. I have duties. Responsibilities. I'm too old to be sleeping around like some teenager."

You hated yourself for allowing a tear to slip, hated yourself for showing weakness in his presence. "What about your duty to me?" You cried out, hands tangling into tight fists. You felt your veins pumping with venomous resentment, wondering how you could have been so stupid to allow him respite behind the walls of your soul, sanctuary from the world around the two of you.

"I don't have no duty to you. You're not my wife, not my girl. You're just somebody I was fuckin'."

That was two months ago. Two long, grueling months.

This winter in Jackson was particularly brutal. Perhaps nature had been in tune with your heart, rocking and shaking and screaming in unison with your thoughts, angry and vengeful. Like Poseidon wreaking havoc on the ocean, like Zeus bringing hailstorms of lightning, like Zephyrus playing his hand in an assailing wind; you felt your rage through the soil, the packed snow, the shaking pine needles.

Everyday you would trek to your shop, sit behind the counter, and patiently wait for someone to stop by, wait for someone to ask how your day was (which you would inevitably lie about, tell them how good you were), and wait for someone to barter or trade with you.

A dozen chicken eggs for a woven blanket, a few sprigs of rosemary for some pencils, a handful of sheep's wool for some freshly pressed paper.

It was the same every day.

Rise, work, sit, cry, sleep, repeat.

For the past two months you had lurked around the corners of Jackson with a heavy gray cloud hanging over your head, and each day for the past two months you despised yourself for being so caught up with Joel fucking Miller, for being so upset he left you.

You lived in the smallest house in Jackson. There was no reason for you to take up a big one, no reason for you to have two stories, no reason for you to have a big open kitchen or spacious living room. What was the point? No husband, no children, no nothing.

You had tried to make it yours, and you had tried to make it happier since that horrible, awful, nasty thing happened between you and Joel.

You had bought a thick and oversized crocheted blanket the color of sand with a harvest worth of kale, thrown it over a soft and lived-in suede couch to curl up under. You had bartered a basketful of gourds for two knitted pillows, a brown dachshund stitched into one, and a ginger cat stitched into the other. You had picked up a backpack full of books on a run into the nearest town, settling on classics that you used to read as a young girl, in hopes you could feel that golden peace so often felt during childhood, when the only pressing matters on your mind were untied shoelaces and what mom was cooking for dinner.

A life long ago. A life you could barely remember. You were a small child when the world went to shit, barely starting school, with gaps between your teeth and messy, unruly hair. Still growing out of your sneakers, still biting your nails, still picking up worms from the rich soil with amazement and wonder bubbling in your eyes.

When everything happened, when the buildings were bombed and fields burnt, you were forced to grow up. Forced to toughen up, to be someone you never planned on being at such a young age. You ditched the sparkly backpacks and trips to the library for switch blades and look out towers, for uneasy silence and stale dinners.

Then you met Joel, many years after it first began, and everything seemed a little bit better. It started fast and rough, as though you both thought the world would implode the following morning. And then, when the realization that this was life, that nobody was going anywhere, things grew gentler, softer, more meaningful.

Joel's kisses grew deeper, his touches dragged out for longer, his mouth imprinted upon your soft and lithe skin like droplets of dew on blades of morning grass, gentle and ethereal. His words became breathless, sweet, full of desire and thick with honeyed praise.

"Look at you, such a pretty little thing. Shakin' like this, all for me. Who's makin' you feel like this, sweet girl?" Joel's middle finger was buried to the knuckle in your tight pussy, thumb gently tapping at your clit. A string of saliva strung from your nipple to his lips, where his plush mouth had been covering your hardening bud in gentle bites, sucking like a man on a mission.

"You." Your voice came out as a mewl, quiet and shaking. "You, daddy."

Joel grunted a primordial, brutish grunt that rumbled through the sturdiness of his chest, adding a second finger as his head ducked down to your neck, where his kissing resumed upon the blades of your collarbone. "Good fuckin' girl. Good girl. So fuckin' good, a god damn dream. You know that?"

The wall in front of you was covered in framed images you had found on your travels around Jackson. Some original art you scored in the back of a desolate thrift store, some vintage movie posters you found huddled in the dusty corners of a theatre, some polaroid photos you had taken with old friends.

You blinked the memories of him away.

With each day, you tried to convince yourself it was for the best. With each day, you tried to make yourself understand where he was coming from, why he did the things he did.

"You're just somebody I was fuckin'." You remembered his words like sandpaper grinding against the track of your throat, burning their fiery syllables into your tongue. How true his statement actually was, you weren't so sure.

Joel's forehead was pressed to yours, eyes fluttering open and shut with each deep thrust, hands entwined into your own. Your palms were pressed rigid and unyielding into his, Joel's thick fingers wrapping and molding into your smaller ones, chest rubbing against yours with each masterful movement of his hips.

His hot breath, soaked with the sweet smell of whiskey, fanned across your face, coating you with the ache he felt for you, the love he knew he had growing deep inside for you. Each breath he took was a promise. He was never going to leave you. How could he?

"Joel." You chanted, head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes full of stars.

"What do you want from me, darlin'? Say the word and its yours." Joel's voice was breathless and throaty, coating you in the sweet nectar of his affection, seeping deep into your pores until it filled your soul with yearning,

His cock, thick and veined, was slowly pumping as deep is it possibly could within your walls. You fluttered and ached and wept against him, bodies meshing into one, tight and close yet flowing and gentle, like the Bernini sculptures you saw in an art encyclopedia, a long time ago in Boston. Joel filled you to the brim with his length. You felt full of him, wrapped and wanting and wanton. For his eyes only. Only ever him, always.

"Right there." You begged, nails dragging down the length of his wide, sturdy, strong back, marking him with the love caked beneath your fingernails. That unspoken love that weighed heavy on your shoulders, like a wool blanket in the dead of winter.

When Joel's eyes met yours, hitting against the spot you begged him to touch, he had that gaze glossed over his irises, that heavy, awfully gentle look threaded within the chocolate umber of his orbs, the stare that only a man in love ever carried with him.

The memory stuck to your mind like glue on a school project, drying there with no hopes of ever coming loose.

That night, with Joel so heavy on your mind, you treaded heavily to your record player, sifting through the record's you had collected over the years.

"That'll do." You mumbled with dejected finality, putting the vinyl on the player as you lowered the needle.

Why does the sun keep on shining?

Why does the sea rush to shore?

Don't they know it's the end of the world,

Cause you don't love me, anymore?

As you listened to the sweet voice of Julie London, you looked around your kitchen, the pile of dishes only stacking up, higher and higher. With your hands on your hips you walked over, forcing yourself to do something with your night. You couldn't sit and mope, you had already spent too long doing that anyways.

You let the hot water fall upon the backs of your dainty hands, watching with glass eyes as it fell and dribbled off your fingers, the soapy suds filling the porcelain bowls. You cupped them in your hands, breathing in the citrusy scent, closing your eyes.

Think. You begged yourself. About anything else but him. Think.

Why do the birds go on singing?

Why do the stars glow above?

Don't they know it's the end of the world,

it ended when I lost your love.

You pricked the tip of your finger with the sharp point of the butcher knife, gently twisting it soft enough to only make the hint of an imprint, thinking to yourself. You had lived your entire life fighting, fleeing, hiding, escaping, yet it only ever felt like the end of the world once you lost him.

"Damn you Julie London!" You shouted, voice mellow dramatic and emotive, face planting into your arm which rested on the wooden counter.

"What'd Julie London ever do to you?"

The voice, raw and rough, startled you, awakening you from your trance. Before you could catch it, a puppy like yelp escaped your mouth, sharp and nasty against the ears.

You knew who that voice belonged to. The voice that lulled you to sleep, the voice that whispered sweet nothings as you lay naked and bare on linen sheets, the voice that called you good girl and sweet angel and pretty princess whilst crammed deep into your cunt.

Joel.

Turning so hard you nearly snapped your own neck, you saw him standing in the doorway of your home, tall and brooding, filling the heavy air with the familiar scent of pine needles and bergamot. He held a basket in his arms. A basket he had bought from your shop, many moons ago.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Your voice was nastier than you meant it to be, but you couldn’t help the emotion rising within the confines of your chest, beating at your ribcage like a wild animal locked in a zoo.

“I did knock. You didn’t answer. Took the liberty to walk on in and check on you.” He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, and slowly shut the door behind him.

“To check on me?” You scoffed bitterly, turning your back to him again as you resumed your cleaning. You heard the vinyl come to a stop, the air silent and palpable, moulding to your rage. You took in a deep breath, looking down at the sponge you were grasping ahold of a little too tight. “Two months go by, and suddenly today- of all days- you decide to take the liberty to come and…. check on me?”

Joel’s sigh, burdened with what felt like guilt, swirled through your ears. “Yes.” Was all he said, simple and plain.

Oh, you had a lot more to say than one meager word.

You were too nervous to meet his gaze, too worried your tears would come flooding, soaking through your skin and deteriorating until you were nothing more than a puddle of nothing on the wooden floorboards.

“I….” You struggled for a long moment, tongue twisted and stuck in your own throat. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”

You heard the sound of dense boots against the ground, felt the weight of the air behind you shift. He was close. His scent was coated around the inside of your nostrils, fogging your mind with past memories you swore you’d never ponder on again.

“I know what you want to say.” Joel’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper in the wind. “That you hate me. That you never want to see me again. That you hope I’m ripped limb from limb by clickers. Gunned down by raiders.”

Tears welled within your eyes. You didn’t speak for a long beat, sniffling as quietly as you could possibly muster. “After everything, you know I-…. even after you broke me. I-I don’t wish for that. Never even thought of that.” You admitted your terrible secret with a shaking voice, hand tightening so deeply around the sponge, your middle finger sunk straight through the material.

Joel’s fingers gently traced down the small of your back. An offer. You heard a gentle thump as he set the basket down, followed by his other hand pressing flat into your side.

“I’m scared.” His voice was full of emotion you had never once heard from him. “That’s why I left.”

“What?”

“I’ve lost everyone, ‘cept Ellie. Tess, Bill, Frank, Sarah.” His voice cracked, trailing off. “I couldn’t lose you, too. I can’t watch you…. can’t watch you fall victim to this world.”

You shook your head, dropping the sponge against the metal sink, tilting your head to look out the window which stood in front of you. The night sky was sparkling with millions of stars before you, snow flaking down from the heavens, coating the glass window pane with a copious layer of delicate snowflakes, each so different and unique. It was beautiful.

Joel’s left arm slowly wrapped around you. You wanted to fight him off, wanted to scream and banish him from your home, wanted to promise if you ever saw him again you’d kill him on the spot. But you couldn’t. Not when he was so vulnerable, so warm, so willing.

You shifted against him, leaning back until your bodies were close together. His hand rested taut against your belly, his other arm soon finding solace beneath your shirt, pulling you even closer.

“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the dizzying silence, chin nuzzling into the blade of your shoulder. “I didn’t know what else to do. I- I still don’t know what to do.”

You blinked away new forming tears, taking in a deep breath. “You could start by warming me up.” You were so meek, you were unsure if he heard your words.

Joel’s hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, pressing gently into the skin of your tummy, fingers massaging into the supple skin of your waist, your love handles, drawing circles into the line of skin right above the hem of your pants. Your back fell deeper into his chest as he touched you, felt you, as if he had never known your body before.

You could stand there and argue with him, cry and rage and scream at the universe, or you could let him apologize the best way he knew, let him make it all up to you.

“After this,” you managed to choke out, “am I still going to be somebody you just fuck?”

He wasted no time shaking his head. “You never were. You were, are, the light of my life. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His breath was hot against your neck, his lips pressing kisses, scattered like constellations, into your skin.

“You weren’t thinking.” You moaned a breathless laugh, head tilting to allow him access.

“No, I wasn’t.” Joel’s fingers slipped into your pants, palm cupping your pussy, hot and wet with the promise of his touches. “Damn baby, this horny already?”

“Haven’t been touched in two months. Sure you understand.”

He chuckled a deep, endearing chuckle, nudging his nose into your cheek. “Think I should do somethin’ about this?”

You nodded quickly.

“Words, pretty baby. Use your words.”

“Yes. Please, do… do something about it.”

“That’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you want, I promise.”

You felt butterflies brewing within your belly as his middle finger traced the middle of your green cotton underwear, rubbing where you swollen clit gently poked against. He knew you like the back of his hand, like a map he had spent years memorizing. Giving you pleasure, knowing where and how to make you cum, had become second nature for Joel.

“Don’t be ‘fraid to lean against me. Let daddy take care of you.”You groaned softly at his words, falling back into his body. His strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you up, bicep thick and muscled against you. “Push those down for me.”

You wiggled out of your pants and underwear, bottom half open and exposed for him. His fingers dragged across your mound, brushing against the outside of your pussy that cried out for his touch.

Joel slipped his index finger between your outer lips, finding your clit, slowly drawing circles around your aching bud. You sighed out, once again meshing in to his chest as he touched you, feeling the silkiness of your pink, throbbing cunt.

“I missed this pussy. So wet for me, so needy. You like it when I touch you? Like it when I make you feel good?” His words were hot in your ear, melting into your senses like dripping candle wax.

“Oh, I love it. I love it so much. I love you so much.” You were too caught up in pleasure to understand the weight of what you just said, head rolling against his shoulder as he teased your pussy.

Joel let out a quiet moan at what you just admitted, his hold on you tightening. He was never going to let you go. He sunk his middle finger into your tight opening, slowly hooking it against you G-spot, thrusting it up and down the way he knew made you cry for him.

Your knees were shaking, yet you had no fear of falling. As foolish as it may have been, you had complete trust in Joel Miller. You knew he wouldn’t let you drop. Your walls fluttered around his finger, clit begging to be touched once more. You lowered your hand, gently flicking at your swelling button, moaning out as he added his ring finger to your cunt.

“That’s it baby. Rub that pretty pussy. Cum on my fingers.” Joel whispered m, gently biting down on your ear lobe.

You felt your thighs quivering, belly tightening as your orgasm drew closer. Joel watched you with hawk like vision, relishing in the way your fingers traced and danced across your clit. Before you had the chance to announce your climax, you found yourself cumming on his digits, coating them in you sweet, slick arousal, screaming his name as thought it was the only word you ever had the chance to memorize.

When you came down from your high, Joel slowly removed his fingers, bringing them to your soft lips. “Suck.” He commanded gently. You did, wrapping your mouth around them as you gingerly took them in, all the way to the hilt, sucking them clean and dry, free from any of your cum. “That’s my good girl, my pretty darlin’.”

You shivered against him, your head falling back. Joel gently tapped the counter. “Jump up there.” He whispered.

You did as you were told, grabbing the collar of his flannel, pulling him closer.

“Kiss me, Joel Miller.”

And kiss you he did.

His lips found yours with the passion of ten thousand soldiers, sickly sweet and supple against your mouth. Joel was consuming you with this kiss, torridly leaving his mark into the soft ridges of your pouted lips, blanketing you with the desire he had for you that he so often tried to push down. Your fingers found his graying hair, legs wrapping around his waist until the bulge breaking at his jeans was pressed right into your bare pussy.

You grinded against him, clit still sensitive and aching from the power of your last orgasm. Still, you dropped your hands to his zipper, tugging them down swiftly.

“Want you to fuck me.” You whispered against his mouth, tongue sliding across his. “Want you to cum inside me. Make me yours.”

“You’ve always been mine.” Joel muttered, hand slipping down to remove his boxers. “I was just bein’ an idiot.”

“Then make it up to me.”

The tip of his cock found the slick lips of your pussy, and he slowly pushed himself in through on graceful movement, filling you to the top until your clit was pressed against his stomach. Joel felt your pussy clench against him, and he groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder. He sat there for a moment, relishing in the warmth being inside of you provided, arms wrapped around you like a belt, pressing you hard into his chest.

You gently placed your hands on the back of his head, pulling away to look at him. Tracing over his features, you took every inch of him in. That Aquiline nose you had grown to love so much, the patchy beard littered with charming speckles of silver, that stray curl in the middle of his forehead that never stayed put. Joel Miller was beautiful. He was an enigma of a man. Stoic, masculine, tender, intuitive, full of emotions and worlds unknown to everyone. Everyone but you. He was a crazy, deep, beautiful paradox of a human, and he was all for you.

Joel slowly pushed out from you, before pumping himself back in. He did this a few more times, his eyes never straying from your own. His fingers slipped to your clit, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb against it.

“Think you can cum on my cock?”

You nodded.

A smile lifted the right corner of his mouth. “Tha’s what I like to hear.” He leaned down, kissing you again as he began fucking you, deep and slow, each move methodical and well planned, as if he knew just what he wanted to do to your body.

Your hands fell to his broad shoulders. His broad shoulders. That alone could have made you cum. The tanned slope of his beautiful, beautiful shoulders, collarbones thick and jutted out just right, followed by patchy chest hair, down to his soft belly that pressed into yours so perfectly. He was beautiful. You traced your fingers down the trail of his biceps, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, straight to his wrists, lacing with his long, skilled, well worked fingers, palm rough and calloused, tough as leather against the softness of your sweet, smooth hands.

You drunk his figure in like a lovesick fool. Oh, you were, weren't you? So full of love and affection for this brute of a man, well aware he struggled with his emotions. You watched the crows feet by his eyes crinkle as he clamped his eyes shut, watched the line of his neck pulse as he threw his neck back in pleasure.

He was a Baroque portrait of lust standing before you, dark and brooding, thrusting into your cunt as if it were the sweetest thing in the world for him. He growled into the air with each pump of his hips, nails digging into your skin as he held you close, never to let go.

"Joel." You whispered softly, burying your face in his chest as your second orgasm fast approached. You weren't sure why you said his name, not sure what you wanted exactly, but Joel knew. He always knew. He just cradled the back of your head with his right hand, his other gripping ahold of your waist, pounding faster, deeper, harder, hungrier. You were all he wanted, all he ever wanted, all he ever needed.

Joel bit down onto your shoulder softly as he twitched inside you, and you knew his orgasm was soon to come. He kept the same pace on your clit until you were putty in his hands, legs tightening as pleasure washed over you. You both came in harmony, moans mixing and melding into the air which surrounded you. His cock painted your walls with thick, hot ropes of white, and your tightening walls milked every last lick of it out as your came hard, head dizzy with thoughts of him.

He whispered your name softly as he slowed to a stop, pillowing you against his body. "God, I missed you."

You nodded in agreement, sticky skin pressed together like two puzzle pieces. "I missed you." You pulled away, holding on to him for support as you slowly stepped off the counter. You gently pressed your palm into his chest, feeling his cum dribbling down your thigh. You smiled softly at the feeling before glancing up at him. "More than you know."

Joel gently ran his palm down your back as you slipped your underwear on, quickly following suit.

"What's in the basket?" You asked, pointing to the item he left alone on the living room rug.

"Oh. It was s'posed to be a peace offerin'. Makin' up with you was easier than I thought." Joel joked, and you gently slapped his shoulder.

"Whatever." You giggled, walking over to the present.

Inside were some paintings Ellie had made you that Joel never had the courage to send before, some sprigs of dried herbs they were growing in their back yard, some handmade goats soap from a lady down the street, and a long, narrow velvet box. You picked it up slowly, turning to look at him.

"Now if you don't like that I might as well go out and die in the woods. Took me fuckin' weeks to find." Joel admitted, rubbing his neck nervously. "I remember you sayin' you wanted one of them."

You slowly opened it, met with a shimmering string of pearls. A necklace. A necklace you had spent your whole life yearning for. Your lips parted with surprise. "I-I've never seen one in person. Only in those old magazines they had back at QZ."

Joel walked towards you, nodding a bit. "Spent a whole weekend with Tommy, all the way in Cheyenne. Almost got me killed." He chuckled, hands falling to your hips.

"Oh, Joel. It's beautiful. It's.... I've never seen something like this before." You whispered earnestly, gently sweeping your hair up. "Put it on me?"

He smiled a soft, rare smile, gingerly clipping it around your neck. He took a step back, admiring you, soaking you in, memorizing the way it looked on you. "Yeah, that was worth the trouble."

You smiled happily, falling into his arms. He held you tightly to his chest, fingers sweeping through your locks of hair. "By the way..." Joel murmured into your head, pulling away slowly as his fingers found your chin. Your eyes met in a searing gaze, full of summertime warmth that fell over you like golden sunlight. He stared at you long and hard, and you saw something like tears gloss over his gaze.

And when he spoke, his voice was calm, steady, devout:

"I love you, too."

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hellfirexhoe · 2 years

Text

Camping | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Prompt from the lovely @wallpapertown ( i did run with it a little but i hope you still enjoy! )

summary: the group goes camping together, but forgetful minds mean close quarters for Eddie and the reader.

warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, smutty smutty smut, buddies sharing a tent, skimpy clothes, slightly pervy!eddie, groping, fingering, p in v unprotected (who brings condoms to a friendly camping trip), once again jonathan does not exist in my writing, your friends definitely know whats going on in the tent. one use of y/n, pegging joke, pet names.

word count 3.1k words

You’d known about the plans for a camping trip for a few weeks, but in classic you fashion, you’d left all your preparation until the last minute, frantically throwing clothing and snacks into your truck. Certain you were packed, you lifted your cooler from your kitchen with ease,

“Shit shit shit, I need ice!” You ran to the freezer and saw the ice trays empty, meaning you’d have to grab ice from a nearby store. You were so focused on grabbing the ice that you failed to notice your tent was still on the kitchen table as you left the house.

In fact, your forgetfulness didn’t dawn on you until about 2 hours later, when you found the spot Robin had suggested. Steve is the first to notice you pulling up and points out the lack of tent in your truck bed,

“I was so focused on grabbing ice for the cooler that I totally forgot my tent.”

“Jesus, we’re not doing well today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Robin forgot her tent too, she was so fixated on marshmallows for s’mores that she blanked on it. Her and Nancy are sharing. Casa’s Harrington and Munson are looking perfect though.” Steve gestures to the only tents that are standing, Nancy trying to help Robin set up her tent. “Uh, I guess I can sleep with Eddie and you can have my tent to yourself?”

Eddie appears behind you, “What’s that about sleeping with me? I’m flattered Steve but I thought this was a friendly camping trip.”

“No idiot, y/n forgot her tent, so I said I’ll share with you and she can have my tent.”

“Or she can stay in my tent? She stays over at mine plenty?” Steve shrugs and turns back to you,

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

You link your arm through Eddie’s, “I think I’ll stick with my sleepover buddy and let you enjoy your tent to yourself.” As you speak you’re interrupted by the sound of canvas ripping and you turn to Robin and Nancy, Robin has forced a tent pole into a part that did not require a pole and has destroyed Nancy’s tent. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose,

“Alright, Robin and Nancy can have my tent. I’ll sleep on the chairs outside.”

Eddie pats him on the back, “You’re a good dude. Alright, come on, you lets get you set up in the freak shack.” Eddie grabs your bag from your truck and leads you over to his tent. You set up your sleeping bag next to his, grateful that he’s got a large enough foam mattress set up so you wont destroy your back on the hard floor.

“Thanks Eds, I hope I’m not ruining any plans you have?”

“Plans? I plan to get high, eat so many s’mores I nearly vomit and then fall asleep to the sounds of nature; mosquitos flying around, sucking Steve dry for sure, bears fuckin’ beside the tent and a babbling brook. Sounds magical.” You both burst out laughing as you step out of the tent,

“Sorry, what was that about sucking me dry?” Steve glances up at you both from where he’s trying to set up a camp fire, this only serves to make you and Eddie laugh more,

“Relax Harrington, I meant the mosquitoes. Our sexual chemistry isn’t coming to a head just yet. I’m more of a slow burn man myself.” It’s already starting to get dark but finally, sparks fly and the campfire is lit, Robin comes running over, hands full of treats, gleefully grinning as her and Nancy start setting up s’mores and passing them around.

~~~

A couple of hours pass and you’ve all got a nice contact high from Eddie and are now getting sleepy. Robin and Nancy go to bed first, with you and Eddie sloping off to his tent shortly after,

“Alright Steve, I don’t want to feel you climbing into my sleeping bag with me at 3am.” Eddie nudges Steve who is pulling blankets over himself and nods at him,

“I can’t promise anything, not if I hear ‘bears fuckin’ beside the tents’.” Eddie pulls his shirt off once you’re both in the tent and starts undoing his jeans, you look away, his habit of undressing in front of you never really seemed to bother you until you had realized, with a certain degree of horror, that you had caught feelings for one of your best friends. Now, you had to look away, afraid he’d catch you ogling and be creeped out.

“Alright, I’m decent now, you prude.” Eddie is in his sleeping bag, leaning on one elbow and watching you intently. “You gonna get ready for bed or what?”

“Turn around pervert. No free shows.” Eddie rolls over, back turned to you as you unzip your bag you silently curse yourself. You’d thrown in clothes not really paying much attention, and since you’d thought you’d be alone you had just grabbed the first pyjama set you found.

Unfortunately this meant you were now faced with the prospect of sleeping in either the jeans and t shirt you’d been in all day, and would definitely guarantee a shitty night’s sleep. Or you could wear the black lacy, almost see through shorts and matching tank top you had grabbed in your haste. You weigh up your options and look over your shoulder, confirming Eddie is still facing away from you.

As long as I stay in my sleeping bag, zipped up tight, he won’t know what I’m wearing. You reason with yourself as you quickly undress and put the skimpy pyjamas on. You wriggle into your sleeping bag and zip yourself in,

Eddie rolls back around unprompted,

“Well hello there, come here often?” You snort,

“Can’t say I do, what I wanna know is how we’ve been friends for so long and I never pegged you for someone who liked camping, or even owned a tent.”

“Well first of all darling, you’ve never pegged me, not even once. And second of all, Wayne and I used to go when I was younger, when my dad went to prison for the first time. Said it’d be good to get me out of the trailer. I forgot how nice it actually is to just be outside, listening to the world, breathing in that camp fire smell.”

Your cheeks feel hot from Eddie’s nickname, and you feel guilty at all the sordid thoughts running through your mind while your friend is opening up to you. Fortunately, Eddie is saved from hearing you make a bad joke by a strange, animal noise from outside. You hear a chair fall and assume Steve has hopped up so quickly he’s knocked his chair over.

“Uhhhh Rob, Nance? Do you guys think I could squeeze in? Pretty sure I just heard a bear.” You hear grumbling and a zipper being undone as Steve joins their tent.

“Shit do you really think he heard a bear, Eddie?” You shuffle closer to him, in an almost wormlike fashion since you’re sealed in your sleeping bag. Eddie chokes back a laugh and wraps an arm around you,

“Well, I’d keep you safe if there was, but between you and me... that was a deer, not a bear.” You snuggle into Eddie’s arm, enjoying the bonus warmth radiating off of him.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

“Well, get in my sleeping bag then, I’ll keep you warm. No funny business though, I’m a honest man.”

“No, its fine, this is fine.” You tap Eddie’s arm that’s around you,

Eddie huffs as he presses a hand to your face, “Nope, you’re freezing, you’re getting your ass in this sleeping bag with me even if I have to unzip you and pull you in myself.”

“Okay, okay. Just... look away for a second?” Eddie places a hand over his eyes and shifts back so there’s room for you in his sleeping bag. You climb in, trying not to let the fabric of your pyjamas touch his skin, you fail miserably at this due to the fact that a single man sleeping bag is not designed for two people.

“Jesus christ, what are you wearing right now?”

“Just some pyjamas...”

“Bull. ‘just some pyjamas’“ Eddie mimics your voice as he turns up the brightness on the lantern and whistles when he is able to see your clothes. “Did you think this camping trip was code for orgy or something?”

“No, I just wasn’t paying attention when I was packing.”

“How come you never wear stuff like this when you sleep over at mine?”

“Well first off, imagine poor Wayne if he bumped into me wearing this while I was just trying to go to the bathroom. And second, its not really appropriate clothing to wear when you’re sleeping in your best friend’s bed.” Eddie wanted to disagree, while he loved you in his over sized shirts and your long pyjama bottoms he couldn’t help but want you in this when you next stayed over. Absentmindedly he starts tracing the patterns in the lace around your hip,

“What are you doing?”

“ ‘s pretty. Do you want me to stop?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, leaning back onto him, feeling his warm chest touch your cold back.

“You’re freezing, silly girl.” Eddie chastises you gently, wrapping his arms around you, you try to wriggle away a little when you feel your butt touch his crotch but he’s having none of it, “You’re not getting hypothermia on my watch. Just sit still and warm up.” You both stay like this for a while, Eddie pretending the whole situation isn’t making him hard as a rock and you pretending you can’t feel his erection pressing into your ass. Eddie shifts slightly to ease a small cramp in his leg and accidentally rubs his cock across your clothed ass, and a small moan escapes your lips. You quickly clamp your jaw shut and pray he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile Eddie, who definitely did hear you has a grin like a cheshire cat,

“You okay there?”

“Mhm.”

“Then what was that little moan I heard?” Eddie whispers into your ear, “You’re wearing this skimpy little outfit, pressed up against me, and now you’re moaning? Must be trying to start something, or drive me crazy.” Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire,

“Eddie, I...”

“Relax. I’m not blind you know. I do see the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you. I just wish you could see that I’m looking at you the same way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, dumbass,” Eddie pauses to kiss your cheek, “I like you too. And I’m here if you want to do something about it. Or we can pretend that everything’s fine and we’re just best friends. But at some point one of us will get hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either, but then that leaves us with one option.”

You roll over to face him,

“You want this? I mean you want to be with me?”

“God help me I really do.” Eddie’s hands are stroking your face, his big brown eyes are soft as they look into your eyes, before his gaze drops to your lips and he leans in slowly, giving you time and room to back away, you close the distance quickly, pressing your lips to his, he gasps into the kiss and his hands travel down to your waist, pressing your body flush against his. Your hands grab Eddie’s and bringing them up to your chest, you place them on your breasts and he pulls away from the kiss,

“Okay you must really be trying to drive me crazy.” Eddie starts kissing and biting your neck as he plays with your breasts over your shirt. Keen to return the favor you start palming him through his underwear,

“Baby.” Eddie speaks between kisses, “How far do you want to go right now, bearing in mind our friends are literally meters away and tents are not known for their soundproofing?”

You pull away from him and scoot to the tent’s entrance, peeking out through a small hole you’ve unzipped, the tent next to yours is dark, they’ve turned their lantern off and you can’t hear any voices.

“I think they’re asleep Eds...” Eddie kneels beside you and peers out, listening intently. Without warning, you turn his head to yours and pull him in for a kiss before pushing him down to lay on his back, “So I think we can do whatever feels right.” You rock your hips on his bulge, unsubtly getting your point across. Eddie nods and his hands come to your shorts and a loud tearing sound follows,

“Eddie!” You gasp as he rips your clothes from you,

“What?” He asks nonchalantly, kissing your neck as your top suffers a similar fate, “Not my fault these are so fragile.” Eddie rolls you over so he’s on top of you and runs his hands over your body, almost possessively,

“Liking what you see?”

“Its better than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams.”

“Dream about me often Eds?”

“Only every night.” He returns to kissing your neck, as his left hand tangles in your hair his right hand is tracing a path further down your body until his cupping your bare pussy, “Can I please play with you?” He’s almost pleading with his tone,

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” Eddie smirks and slowly runs his finger over your clit, hissing as he feels how soaking you are, tracing an almost painfully slow pattern until his fingers are just ghosting over your entrance, “I bet you feel incredible inside.” Eddie whispers in your ear, continuing to tease you with his fingers, waiting for you to ask him nicely.

“Why don’t you find out?” Eddie laughs,

“Nope. You’ve got to be a polite little lady about it and ask me.”

“Please?”

“Please what?”

“Eddie please please please touch me.”

“I am touching you?” He pretends to be confused for a moment before he slips his middle finger into you, making you gasp, “Only because you look so pretty when you beg.” He kisses you again, muffling the moans coming from your mouth. He feels you tightening up and adds another finger, stretching your pussy out more, and making you whine as he starts curling his fingers inside you, rubbing your g-spot mercilessly while his thumb traces circles around your clit.

“Eddie, fuck, Eddie you’re going to make me cum.”

“Good. I want to watch your face while you cum all over your best friend’s fingers.” He says with a wicked grin, his fingers working relentlessly until the knot that’s formed in your stomach is untied and Eddie’s having to clamp his hand down on your mouth to muffle the filthy sounds coming out of it as your orgasm wracks through your body, your pussy clenching around on his fingers, your thighs and butt twitching of their own accord.

Once you’ve calmed down Eddie takes his hand off of your mouth and slowly removes his fingers from you, admiring the strings of your arousal on them, before slowly and deliberately sucking each of his fingers clean.

“Well I was right about two things.” There’s a smug edge to his voice,

“And what would those be?” Your voice is still shaky,

“One, that you would feel fucking incredible inside. And two, that you would make the filthiest sounds when you cum. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about both things.” Eddie admits, shamelessly. “There’s only one more thing I’m still pondering.”

“And what would that be.”

“How fucking incredible you would feel around my cock. Am I allowed to find out tonight?”

You nod, eager for more, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“You sure? We don’t have to. I don’t have any condoms with me so it would be, raw you know.”

“No condoms?”

“No, I was under the impression this was a friends-only camping trip and didn’t want to seem like I was hoping for a group sex in the woods kind of weekend. So, we do not have to have sex tonight if you want us to use protection.”

“There’s a pharmacy somewhere around here right?”

Eddie shrugs, “Must be, why?”

“Because I’m going to need the morning-after pill tomorrow.” Eddie catches your drift immediately and starts easing his underwear down, he presses the tip of his cock at your entrance,

“If you need me to stop or change your mind please just say okay? I wont be mad, I promise.”

“Eddie, please just fuck me already.” Eddie chuckles and slowly slips himself into you, biting his bottom lip to hold back a loud groan as he feels your silken walls stretching around him. You have to hold back a similar noise, though you choose to bite down on his shoulder to hold your own noise back. Once he’s got you full to the brim with his cock he looks down at you,

“Ready?” You nod and Eddie starts pulling back slightly before slamming back into you, keeping the rhythm slow and deep, you’re panting and trying to hold back so many erotic sounds,

“Baby, you’re taking this so well, and you’re doing so good at being nice and quiet for me.” Eddie kisses you, letting you moan into his mouth as he continues his pace, the depth of his thrusts making your back arch off the mattress. Eddie has to break the kiss to catch his breath so quickly covers your mouth while your eyes roll back slightly.

“Good fucking girl,” Eddie praises you non-stop while he’s fucking you, his words coming out in quick whispers as he holds back his own moans while you’re tightening around him,

“Eddie ‘m getting close,” You pant, “You need to do something so I’m not loud.” Eddie has picked up his pace now, slipping in and out faster and harder than before, relishing as you struggle to stay quiet. He’s getting close too, he’s barely hanging on but desperate to feel you finish around him. Your pussy is getting so tight he almost has to stop fucking you and your breathing is getting erratic as the warm glow that started in your lower stomach is spreading, pleasure completely wiping your brain of any logical thought, or any consideration to the current situation, so that when you do finish around Eddie, its with a loud scream of his name, which makes Eddie finish inside you with a similar cry of your name.

Eddie crashes down beside you, completely spent, sweat running down his body,

“Well we tried to be quiet? That’s got to earn us some points right?” He’s still breathless as he speaks.

“No, they’re going to be hell when we have breakfast tomorrow Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie fucking munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #munson-trashcan #eddie munson friends to lovers #smutty saturday

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doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months

Text

Pilot | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 4833

A/N: This is gonna be the slowest of burns. Every Saturday, these will publish at 3:00 PM CDT! I hope you all enjoy. Taglist/Requests are open!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

A trail of men disappearing spanning decades had brought you to Jericho, California. It seemed it would be a pretty standard hunt. From the moment you arrived, though, you knew this would be different.

You’d run into other hunters on jobs before, but none as strange and belligerent as John. John was all you knew him by. He was rough around the edges, and in all honesty, a complete dick. You had unintentionally gotten into an unspoken race with him to see who could finish the hunt first. Both of you refused to back off and go find another job; you just out of spite and him… you had no idea why a guy old enough to be your father was being so petty and territorial about this hunt. And perhaps that’s what fueled your fire to finish this hunt before John could. You thought maybe he knew something you didn’t about the hunt, and you were desperate to find out. But then… he disappeared.

About a week into the “competition” you were having with John, he disappeared. You didn’t see him around Joseph Welch’s house, the Breckenridge Road home, or the Centennial Highway Bridge. It was completely puzzling. He didn’t seem like the type to up and leave in the middle of a job, but you brushed the unsettled feeling you had aside to keep pushing through your hunt.

You had torched the body of Constance Welch the same night you guessed John left. You were just about to leave town, and then, Troy Squire ended up dead by what you assumed were Constance’s hands.

You pulled up to the Centennial Highway Bridge in yet another stolen car.

‘One of these days I won’t keep putting a neon sign on my back by stealing cars and actually find a way to buy one,’ you thought.

Almost as if on cue, another car pulled up next to yours. Except this car— a black 1967 Chevy Impala— was way nicer than the shitty sedan you’d copped for the time being.

Two young men in the most layers you’ve ever seen anyone wear in the California sun stepped out on either side of the car. You pushed aside the thought of how attractive the shorter of the pair was and kept walking toward the taped-off part of the bridge where a few officers were milling around a crashed car.

“Is that Troy’s? Oh, my God,” you shook your head, making sure the officers could hear you.

“Ma’am, you are not supposed to be here,” an officer told you, trying to keep you from walking any closer to the car.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just—” you sniffed, “—I’m his cousin. We were really close growing up, and I, uh, just had to see this for myself, um, do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“We were wondering the same thing,” a deep voice called from behind you, making you wheel around.

‘Fuck. The Impala dudes.’

“And who are you?” the officer you’d been speaking to asked.

“Federal marshals,” one said, flashing a badge.

‘Goddammit, more hunters.’ You held back an eye roll, doing your best to stay in character.

“You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?”

The one you’d found attractive initially flashed a smile. “Thanks, that's awfully kind of you. You just had another one just like this, correct?”

The officer you’d been speaking to didn’t seem too convinced by their story, but replied anyway. “Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.”

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?”

“No. Not so far as we can tell.”

“So, what's the theory?” the taller guy asked.

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?” The officer seemed to remember you were standing there as he spoke. “Ma’am, I really do need you to go.”

“I was just about to—” you started, before the shorter guy cut you off.

“What kinda crack police work are you doing; talking about sensitive information in front of townies?” He was cut off with a grunt; apparently the other guy had stepped on his foot.

“Thank you for your time,” you told the officer, suddenly feeling very awkward. You turned on your heel, hurrying away.

***

After the bizarre incident with the other two hunters on the bridge, you went down to a local diner to get something to eat. You were puzzled as to why Constance was still around after you torched her bones. You flipped through a few pages of your journal when you saw the two hunters from the bridge walking in with two goth chicks.

‘What the fuck. First John, and now this.’

The shorter one of the pair caught the glare you threw their way over your shoulder. He had a smug look on his face you couldn’t quite read as he sat down in a booth with the girls and his partner. You did your best to listen in on their conversation as you sipped your drink.

“I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did,” you heard one of the girls lament.

You recognized the voice of the taller one. “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?”

“No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—” the girl laughed, “—with all that devil stuff.”

“Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.”

“Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries,” the other guy’s voice broke in.

You held back a small laugh. You hated to admit it, but he was pretty funny.

“Here's the deal, ladies,” the pretty one said, “The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything… What is it?”

Your eyebrows drew together, your back still turned to the group.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk,” a new voice chimed in.

“What do they talk about?” the two boys said in unison.

It got a little harder to hear as one of the girls quieted her voice. “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago. Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

‘Yeah, yeah, I already know that. They are way far behind me in the process.’

“Well, thank you for your time, ladies,” the voice of the taller one spoke amidst some rustling. You figured they were getting up to leave.

You dropped a twenty on the table, let the door shut behind the group, and stood to follow the boys out. You hung back a little while you watched them head to their car.

“I know you’re back there, sweetheart,” the pretty one called without turning around.

“I know you do. I was just testing you,” you said, walking closer. “Look, I’ve already got this one covered. You guys should find something else.”

“Not a chance,” the pretty boy replied.

“Look, man—” you started.

“We’re just looking for our dad,” the taller one cut you off. “We think he’s working this same job.”

“Wait, is your dad’s name John?” you asked, surprised.

Both of them started toward you, their shock and confusion evident. “How do you—”

“Whoa, easy,” you giggled. “He was here a few days ago and then he just, pfft,” you imitated a puff of smoke, “disappeared.”

The pretty boy ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated, while the taller guy continued talking to you. “Was he working with you?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, “we were kind of in an unspoken competition to see who could smoke this bitch first when he disappeared. And then, Troy ended up dead a day later. I thought maybe he was connected to Troy’s death some kind of way.”

“I don’t think so,” the taller one answered. “I’m Sam, by the way. This is my brother, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N),” you shook Sam’s hand. When you reached for Dean’s, though, he rolled his eyes at you without taking it.

“Oh-kay,” you muttered.

“Sorry about him,” Sam told you. “He’s—”

“A bit touchy?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed.

“I can hear you two, y’know,” Dean snarked.

“I know,” you quipped. “So, what’s your theory on your dad?”

“We have no idea,” Sam said. “We were hoping you might know.”

“I have nothing for you,” you shook your head.

“Well, do you know anything about the case?”

“A lot, actually. Chick’s name is Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white. She lives at the end of Breckenridge Road. I talked to her husband, and he definitely cheated on her. He buried her in a plot behind her house. I went there and torched her. I was just about to leave town when your dad disappeared, Troy wound up dead, and you two showed up.”

“Then, there’s gotta be something else keeping her here,” Sam told you.

“Okay, then what?”

***

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive,” Dean said. The three of you looked over the railing of the Centennial Highway Bridge. Sam had been nice enough to force his brother to let you tag along.

“Okay, so now what?” Sam asked.

“Now we keep digging until we find Dad. Might take a while,” Dean responded.

“Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

“What’s Monday?” you asked.

“I’ve got an interview with law school.”

“Oh, shit, no way!” you smiled.

Sam smiled back at you before Dean cut in. “Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?”

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam cut back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

“No, and she's not ever going to know.”

“Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean kept walking down the bridge.

“And who's that?”

“You're one of us,” Dean said.

Sam hurried around him. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

You felt really awkward doing what felt like intruding on a private moment. Your eyes began to scan the railing of the bridge opposite you.

“You have a responsibility to—”

Sam cut his brother off. “To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

You were doing your best not to listen in on their conversation when Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge railing.

“Uh, guys—” you started, your eye caught by what looked like Constance standing on the railing of the bridge.

“Don't talk about her like that,” Dean grumbled at his brother; ignoring you.

“Guys!”

“What?!” Dean turned to face you, stopping when he caught sight of Constance. Constance then stepped off the railing.

The three of you broke off in a sprint toward the spot she’d leapt off. You searched the water below. “Where'd she go?”

“No idea,” Dean answered.

Your visual search was interrupted by a bright light coming on in the corner of your eye. Dean’s Impala’s headlights.

“What the fuck—” Dean trailed off.

“Who's driving your car?” you asked him.

He responded by pulling the keys out of his pocket and jingling them.

“Oh.”

The car jerked to life, heading straight for you and the boys. You broke into a sprint yet again, doing your best to outrun the car; a task that proved impossible.

“Jump!” you screamed, and the three of you threw yourselves over the side of the bridge. You thankfully caught a bit of the bridge that jutted out over the water and pulled yourself back up, groaning.

‘My arm’s gonna be sore as a bitch in the morning.’

“Dean?” Sam yelled down to the water below. “Dean!”

“What?” came his aggravated response.

You looked down to see a mud-covered Dean crawling out of the water. You couldn’t hold back a laugh upon seeing him.

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he called up to you.

“My name’s (Y/N),” you answered. “Don’t call me sweetheart. It weirds me out.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

“Guys, you can argue later. You okay?” Sam called down to Dean.

“I’m super,” his brother responded.

You and Sam climbed back over the railing of the bridge while Dean made his way up to you. The car had stopped only a few inches from where the three of you dove over. Dean busied himself inspecting the engine while you sat with your back leaned against the passenger’s side door.

“Your car okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now.” Dean shut the hood. “That Constance chick, what a bitch!”

You chuckled to yourself at his antics. “Alright, well, I don’t think the bridge is what’s tying her here. What now?”

Dean raised his hands in frustration, flicking mud off his hands in the process.

Sam caught a whiff of his brother. “You smell like a toilet.”

***

Your next stop was a motel. When you went to check in, the clerk informed Dean that another man under the last name on Dean’s card had bought out a room for the whole month. And so, you and the boys went poking around John’s room.

Every surface was covered in newspaper clippings, magazine articles, photos, hastily scribbled notes, and bits of red tape tying some of them together.

“I knew John was weird, but this is a whole new level,” you commented, slightly in awe of the frantic scribblings covering the wall.

‘'Don’t talk about him like that,” Dean grumbled. “I'm gonna get cleaned up.” He started toward the shower.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam stopped him.

His brother turned around.

“What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry—”

Dean held up a hand, cutting him off. “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam laughed. “Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“You guys are strange.”

Dean rolled his eyes at you before disappearing into the bathroom.

You started looking around John’s room. A closer look at the walls of information revealed pages on demons, witches, possession, and other bits of newspaper referring to mysterious deaths unlike anything you’d heard before. One was an obituary clipping from 1983; taking you aback. The picture was of a gorgeous blonde woman named Mary Winchester who died in a house fire. Her picture was surrounded by other house fire deaths and linked by red thread to multiple of the demon and witch articles. You walked over to his dresser where there was a picture of a much younger John holding two boys who you assumed were Sam and Dean.

“You guys were cute kids,” you told Sam, showing him the picture.

He smiled sadly at it.

After a brief melancholy pause, you spoke up. “So, what’s your deal? College? Law school? Part-time hunter? That doesn’t add up.”

“My, uh, my dad raised us as hunters after my mom passed,” he explained.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, sitting on the bed next to him. “Was her death the reason your dad became a hunter?”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly sure what happened; I wasn’t even a year old yet. Dean remembers way more than I do, but he said our dad was never the same. Anyway, two years ago, dad and I got into a fight. I wanted to go to school, and he wanted me to stay and hunt. So I left.”

“Dean said you got a girl now? Was that the voicemail you were listening to a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah, actually. Jess. She’s— she’s amazing. I’m excited to get back to her.” You could see how much he loved her just in how his face lit up talking about her.

“I’m sure you are,” you smiled.

“So, what about you? What’s your story?” he nudged your shoulder with his.

“Meh, not much to tell.”

“Aw, come on—” Sam rebutted.

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “I’ve just always hunted. Never knew anything different.”

“I know that’s difficult.” His tone became serious again.

“Nah, it’s not so bad. I enjoy it. Brings me a little peace, y’know?” you shrugged.

“You sound like Dean.”

“Speaking of which, he’s taking forever and a day in the shower,” you joked. You bounced over to the bathroom door, leaning your ear on it about to knock. “Hey, princess—”

You were cut off by the door opening and stumbled into Dean’s chest.

He caught you by the shoulders. “You were saying?”

You shoved off him, annoyed by his smug smile and quirked eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“Anyway,” Dean began, “I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?”

“No,” Sam said.

“A burger would be great,” you told him.

“Wasn’t asking you,” Dean said.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Aframian’s buying, anyway, so what difference is it to you?”

“Nothing, it’s just fun to rile you up.” He winked and smiled at you, amused at your aggravated expression before closing the door behind him.

You shook your head. “Dick.”

Sam laughed. “You get used to him.” He went back to his phone, relistening to his girlfriend’s voicemail. He furrowed his brows before pressing it to his ear. “What?” He stands up, catching your attention. “What about you?” He huffed when he hung up the phone, rushing over to the closed curtains to peek out.

“What, what is it?” You crossed your arms.

“Police got Dean. We need to leave.”

“Shit.”

Sam quickly pulled away from the window which you understood meant you had company. You hid under the bed, anxiously waiting to see the officer’s boots make their way into the bathroom. You began scooching yourself out from under the bed frame, and when he’d slammed the door to the bathroom open, you and Sam snuck out of the room. Thankfully, Sam had Dean’s keys, and the two of you sped away from the motel in Dean’s Impala.

“Well, shit,” you breathed, your heart still beating quickly.

Sam huffed out a laugh, still recovering from the adrenaline.

***

You and Sam were headed to Breckenridge Road to hopefully figure out how to stop Constance. Since you had torched the body, then maybe something in her house was keeping her alive.

After Dean’s arrest, the two of you were intent on getting Dean and getting the hell out of Jericho before anyone else had a run-in with the cops.

Sam’s phone rang, and he answered quickly. “Hello?” He tossed a look your way. “Actually, it was (Y/N)’s idea.” You had no doubt he was referring to the fake shooting you’d called in to the police department so Dean had an opportunity to escape. You motioned for him to give you the phone.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you told him once you had the phone to your ear.

“Yeah, whatever, sweetheart,” Dean’s gruff voice responded.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“And I’ve made it pretty clear I’m not going to listen. Hey, give the phone back to Sam. I gotta talk to him.”

“And why can’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? I’m offended, babe,” you quipped.

“Don’t objectify me.”

“Hey, you started it with the whole ‘sweetheart’ thing.”

“C’mon, (Y/N), give him the—”

“Shit!” you screamed, dropping the phone as the car came to a screeching halt. “What the hell, Sam?”

“Constance,” he replied coolly. He kept a level head despite the tense situation.

You looked up at the rearview mirror to see her in the backseat. “Fuck.”

Constance’s hauntingly beautiful voice melodically flowed from the backseat. “Take me home.”

“No,” Sam answered.

You saw her glare as the doors started to lock themselves. You whipped around to start trying to reopen them. The car began jerking forward.

“What the hell, Sam? Stop!” you told him.

“It’s not me.”

You looked over to see him holding his hands up. The steering wheel was moving itself. You turned back to the door, struggling to get the lock open. Eventually, you wound up at Constance’s abandoned Breckenridge Road house. The car’s rumble quieted and the headlights turned off.

“Don't do this,” Sam pleaded, still holding his hands up.

The ghost flickered, sounding sad. “I can never go home.”

‘That’s it.’

“You're scared to go home,” you realized. When you turned around to look at her, she had disappeared. Before you could even turn back around, you felt the bench seat reclining forcefully.

“Sam!”

Constance sat atop him, begging him to hold her.

“You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!”

“You will be,” she hummed. “Just hold me.”

You fumbled for your gun hidden under your top. Before you could fully aim at her, you felt your back make brief contact with the Impala’s door before flying through the air. You barely registered Sam yelling your name as you groaned in pain on the dead grass beneath you.

You rolled around, trying to regain your wits and recover when you heard the sound of multiple gunshots.

“Sam!”

“It’s me, (Y/N), stay down!” Dean yelled.

Suddenly, Dean’s car burst through the front of the abandoned house. You pushed yourself up off the ground; your joints and back aching in protest.

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean called after the car.

‘I’m fine, Dean, thanks for asking,’ you thought.

The two of you climbed over the rubble to the passenger’s side window.

“I think,” Sam responded weakly.

“Can you move?” you asked.

“Yeah. Help me?” He reached out to his brother.

Dean pulled Sam through the window of the car. “There you go.”

You turned to see Constance looking sadly at a picture she was holding before slamming it to the floor. She glared at the three of you harshly, forcing a bureau across the floor to pin you to Dean’s car.

You groaned in pain once again as Dean struggled to push the furniture off. You stopped your struggle at the lights flickering and the sound of water rushing down the stairs.

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” the echoey voices of Constance’s children sang. They appeared behind her, hugging her as she screamed. In a surge of energy, Constance and her children began melting to the floor. Constance’s resounding scream seemed to get louder and louder with each passing moment, the flickering of the lights becoming more and more intense. You squeezed your eyes shut until the screaming subsided, suddenly feeling the pressure on your stomach relieved. All that was left of Constance and her children was a puddle of murky water on the floor.

“So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean said while you rubbed your stomach, recovering from the pressure of the bureau.

Sam nodded. “That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped his brother on the chest where he’d been injured by Constance.

Sam laughed despite the pain. “Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

“Hey. Saved your ass,” Dean commented, starting to look over his beloved Impala. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you.”

You giggled at Sam and Dean’s banter. Sam and Dean started to get back into the car, and you idled awkwardly.

“Whatcha doin’? Let’s go.” Sam looked at you expectantly.

“Go where?” you asked, feeling stupid.

“I think we make a pretty solid team. You should tag along.”

“What?” Dean asked while you started shaking your head.

“No, no, I shouldn’t—”

“You should. I’m going back to school, and I know Dean’s gonna be lost without me trying to find my dad.”

A slow smile crossed your face. “Thank you. That’d be nice, actually.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything to the contrary. And with that, the three of you set off to drop Sam back off at college.

***

The thing Dean so desperately wanted to tell Sam that he couldn’t tell you earlier was that his dad had left coordinates to a place called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado in the journal he’d left behind in Jericho. John was getting weirder and weirder by the minute.

“AC/DC. I like it,” you said from the backseat.

“Thanks.” Dean cracked what seemed like a genuine, lopsided smile at you for the first time in the rearview mirror. “Sam thinks it’s mullet rock.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better than Kiss and Poison.”

“True that.” Despite the fact that he was agreeing with you about something as mundane as music, his tone was still guarded.

“How far is Blackwater Ridge?” you asked Sam, who was looking over a map.

“About 600 miles,” he answered.

“Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning,” Dean cut in.

Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Dean, I, um…”

The older brother deflated. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam tried to reason.

Dean nodded, disappointed, and returned his attention to the road. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

The mood in the car had turned tense, awkward, and sour, and remained that way for the rest of the drive back to Sam’s college.

“Dude, you go to Stanford?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, sheepishly.

“Alright, smartass, look at you.” You nudged his shoulder with your balled fist.

Dean rolled to a stop in front of Sam’s apartment complex.

You and Sam got out of the car. You gave him a quick hug goodbye before climbing down into the front seat.

Sam leaned into your rolled-down window. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded.

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

Despite Sam’s chipper tone, Dean’s disappointment was clear. “Yeah, all right.”

Sam patted the car door twice before turning away.

“Sam?” Dean called before his brother could get too far. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.”

You felt a pang in your heart at Dean’s indirect attempt to try to convince Sam to stay.

Sam nodded with a half-hearted smile. “Yeah.”

Dean then began to drive off.

The two of you didn’t get any more than five minutes down the road before you felt something was off. You could no longer hear the steady ticking of Dean’s watch breaking through the almost awkward silence. Sure enough, when you looked over at the wrist he had perched atop the steering wheel, the watch was stopped.

“Dean,” you said. You tapped his watch’s face with your fingernail.

He matched your worried glance, immediately turning the car around.

The car had barely stopped before you and Dean were leaping into action. You let Dean take the lead in rushing up to Sam’s apartment.

Dean kicked the door to the apartment open, calling out to his brother in the process. You gasped when you caught sight of flames licking at the ceiling coming out from what you assumed was Sam’s bedroom.

You heard Sam’s voice weakly calling his girlfriend’s name as you rushed to get him out of the smoldering room. You just barely caught sight of a body bleeding from the stomach burning on the ceiling before you and Dean dragged a screaming Sam out of his bedroom and away from the fire. You fought him every step of the way out of his apartment complex.

It didn’t take long for the fire department to show up and the police to start asking questions. A small crowd had gathered to gawk at Sam’s smoldering apartment. Your face was steely as you watched the firefighters carry Jess out in a body bag. You and Dean took the brunt of the questions the police had, allowing Sam as much space as he needed.

You and Dean soon headed over to the Impala where Sam was packing up the weapons cavity of the trunk. Both of you seemed too scared to ask Sam what was running through his head, and neither of you had any idea what to say.

Sam threw a shotgun into the weapons box before muttering, “We got work to do,” and slamming the trunk shut.

You threw a look at Dean, who shook his head in response. Biting the inside of your cheek, you followed the boys into the car. As the three of you left Sam’s apartment in the rearview mirror, you realized the course of your formerly relatively boring life was changing very quickly.

‘Damn you, John. Wherever you are.’

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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n30nwrites · 30 days

Text

Shake (Shifter! TF141 x Male! Reader)

Chapter 5

Good Doggy Masterlist

Warnings - Being Drunk, Lighting a fire, Glitter

Beta Reader: @letmelickyoureyeballs i appreciate you so much.

You walked Soap and Gaz to his house, convinced that he would follow you into yours if you didn't. You were greeted by Ghost. He opened the door on your first step onto the porch. "Get in." He tells both Soap and Gaz. "Price needs to talk to you." He looks at Gaz specifically.

"Tell your Alpha to control his pack." You say, "I've been with Soap for 6 hours."

"Tell him yourself."

You nodded, still looking at his mask. You didn't like looking at his eyes, it made your body feel strange. Ghost could be considered attractive, build-wise. He was wearing a black tank top and sweatpants. He had a multitude of scars covering his body, and a large burn covering the left side. His chest was large, distractingly so.

“Why do you have glitter on you?”

"...," You look down at your chest, it was a strange thing, to glow again. Or more like shimmer, but it did remind you of your old self, just a smidge. "Bye."

So why did you have glitter?

It was near the end of your shift, you had done your side work, cutting up the fruits needed and stocking everything. The club was slowing down, people still being here was a slight surprise, but you guessed it was just that type of town.

Sad drunks, desperate for something, an adventure.

Soap was still with you, which you were surprised about. You thought he would leave a few hours ago, but he just sat in the corner, staring at you.

It was creepy.

"Bartender, another Whiskey Sour!" She's pretty, she has stars drawn on her face along with small hearts, bold makeup, and a small dress. Body glitter everywhere, which made you recall when Maya thought to do that one night.

Since that night, glitter has been banned from your house.

"The bar has been closed down Ma'am." You tell her, making her water. She seemed out of it, enough for you to look around for someone, a friend that could've brought her here. "Drink this."

She drinks it quickly, like it's a shot almost. "Give me another." She coos, "tastes so good."

"Where are your friends?"

"They left." She moaned, "I love this song."

No music was playing.

"We're closing. It's time for you to get an Uber."

"I'll walk." She slurs her words, confident in herself as she chugs down another water. "You're much cuter than the other bartender."

You rub the bridge of your nose, adjusting the sunglasses you had on your face slightly. You felt sad for the pretty girl, her name could be Amanda or Mila.

Really you were just pulling these names out of your ass from actresses you can remember.

She stumbles a bit. Her purse slips off her shoulder and crashes to the floor. She doesn't even seem to register it, nor does she seem to be there herself.

You clock out, and go around the counter. Soap seems to notice as he follows behind. You pick up the purse and she looks up, her eyes unfocused. You grab her wallet and find her license. "Alright Sierra, you seem to live around here so let's get you home.”

“You sure you’re not gonna kidnap me?” She leans on you, stumbling to the side and you grab her. All you can think about is that this glitter is going to stay forever.

“Not the plan.” Soap seems to glare at this girl, “Pull up the directions for her house.” You hand him the ID, watching as he gets on his phone reluctantly.

“She’s 5 minutes fae 'ere” He says, tucking his phone back in his pocket before grabbing her purse and putting her ID in. “Are we taking your car or mine?”

“You’re joining me?” You ask, not surprised at the idea, just surprised he had the balls to ask.

“Of course, gotta make sure you’re safe.”

“Protective doggy…” You tease slightly, “I was just gonna carry her, I don’t have a car.” Soap gives you a confused look, he could’ve sworn you were at the driver side of a Jeep when you first arrived, he didn’t fully understand it but he knew that if he had asked, you wouldn’t have given him the truth.

“Put her in the back.”

You realize you had to make a decision, and you were tired so that decision wasn’t the brightest one.

Which is probably why you were most comfortable standing naked outside in your backyard, with all your clothes in a barrel that was on fire. You were staring at it, the embers reminded you of home, but it wasn’t warm enough. The fire was inviting in a way, but if you kept staring you knew that your father would attempt to contact you, and you didn’t want to deal with that right now. So you turned away and grabbed the hose, turning on the cold water and rinsing yourself off, scrubbing with an unused cleaning sponge as your skin turned a darker shade from how hard you were scrubbing.

Anything to not bring glitter into the house.

Good thing the back door was unlocked.

—

You woke up at 1 p.m. still naked from the morning. You didn’t have an alarm clock, just trusted yourself to wake up before your shift. You shuffle out and grab some boxers from the floor, pulling them up and washing your face before brushing your teeth.

It was your breakfast time.

Walking out of your bedroom, your dog greets you. He laid right outside your door, the only reason he wasn’t in your bedroom that night was because he was lying with Maya and you didn’t want to wake her up.

He stood up immediately and you bent down to pet her, she smiled, which some have described as a murderous smile but that’s just cause shes all fangs. You stand back up and she follows after.

You can hear noises in the living room, voices that make you wary until you hear Maya’s. You trust she can handle herself. She was top of her class after all.

That is until you see who’s in your living room.

“Well, I could’ve put more clothes on.”

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 4 months

Text

Steve sniffled as he cleaned off Eddie's gravestone once again. The town had been saved, the crack closed, and somehow Vecna had been defeated. No one really knew what happened. Only that a mysterious figure with wings had saved their asses. El was still trying to find them, but they were hiding themselves pretty well. Hopper believed he slunk back into the Upside Down before it closed, but no one else believed that, especially Dustin. He didn't say it outloud, but he knew the kid believed that it had somehow been Eddie. Steve didn't want to discourage him or get his hopes up. He didn't know what to do.

All he could do now was to keep cleaning Eddie's headstone. Edward Munson: Now At Peace. Yeah, right. People keep spray painting "burn in hell" across the headstone. He didn't deserve this. . . Even in death, they were still fucking with him. Steve let out a strangled yell and threw the rag.

"It's not fucking fair!" Steve snapped.

Steve breathed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stared at the headstone and did some breathing exercises to help calm him down. Now would be the perfect time to tell him everything, at least, Robin said it would help.

"I never got to really know you, man," Steve said. "And I really wish that I did, though. I wish I could see you play that guitar even at the Hideout. . .to see you up on that stage. I kind of wanted to see you graduate, too. I would have loved to see you give Higgins the finger. I always hated that guy. Fucking asshole. I would have loved to see you DM up on your throne. I'm not sure I would be able to play, I honestly would have gotten distracted. I wish I knew more than that, though. Like, what's your favorite song? Your favorite movie? Your favorite color, man? I don't know. . .anything. I wish you were here to tell me. I just wish. . ."

He stood there for a moment as though he were expecting an answer. Steve sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He went to reach for the rag, but someone beat him to it. A man with a hat over his head and sunglasses on his face was kneeling in front of Eddie's grave. Steve had no clue who it was.

"Let me help, son," the man said in a deep southern accent.

Steve had been spending enough time with Wayne and Dustin to realize that this man sounded an awful lot like Wayne with his accent. He knew it wasn't Wayne, though, because this man was too young and he knew that Wayne was working.

"You didn't do this, did you?" Steve asked.

"I just want to help, boy," the man said. "A handsome man like Eddie Munson doesn't deserve this. Although, I guess you could say he is hot as hell."

"That's a weird thing to say about a dead guy," Steve said, scrunching up his nose. "Did you know him?"

"You could say that. You could also say that I knew him a little too well," he said. "I kind of overheard your speech there, son. I can answer some of those questions for you, ya know?"

"I - would like that," Steve said softly as he grabbed the extra rag and knelt down to clean up the headstone.

"Well, most people would think differently about his favorite song. He loved the song Rolling Stone by Muddy Waters. His mama would teach him how to dance to that song. Sometimes, she would place him on her feet. He loves red, but he also loves the color blue," the man said. "He loves Conan the Barbarian. He used to sneak into the theater with his best friend, Ronnie."

"Ronnie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, she was the first friend he ever made, and she was never more than his best friend despite him making an embarrassing move on her," he chuckled.

"That sounds familiar," Steve laughed. "He told you all this?"

"In a way," he said. "Ronnie showed him the way into leading lost sheep. His uncle gave him the kick in the ass he needed into not giving a fuck what other people thought of him. He still had some learning to do. He was kind of queer in the head, though, despite all of that."

"What? Who cares what he was into?" Steve scoffed. "Are you seriously judging him on that? I'm queer in the head myself."

"Wait, hold on, son. I ain't judging him for that, and you do know that queer also means weird, right?" The man asked.

"Yeah. . .I mean, I forgot," Steve stuttered.

"Should I just forget that you came out to a complete stranger, son? Doesn't matter, I didn't have a problem with Eddie being like that," he said, and then he dropped the accent. "I can't believe you did that!"

He dropped the hat and the sunglasses, slapping his knees as he stood up. Steve gaped up at him. His hair was cut short, but he would recognize those dimples anywhere. He was grinning wildly down at Steve.

"Eddie?!" Steve choked and he stood up.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie said.

It was the first time he had called him that, and it made his stomach flutter. His brain tried so hard to comprehend that it was Eddie, but he looked so drastically different without his hair that he couldn't really focus. He noticed that he was also wearing a hoodie and a polo that looked awfully familiar.

"Hey, that's my polo," Steve said.

"Yeah, I broke into your house," Eddie said. "I wanted to look the least like myself."

"Why?" Steve asked.

"So, that people won't try to murder me, Steven," Eddie said.

"No, I mean, I get that. Why the deception?" He asked.

"Hi, I'm Eddie Munson. I like to be dramatic," he said, and he held out his hand. "Go ahead, take it."

Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie's like he was shaking his hand. His skin was cool to the touch, and Steve couldn't help but stare at it.

"You're real," he whispered.

"Very," he grinned.

"Why is your hand so cold?" Steve asked.

"I'm vampire now so. . . ," Eddie said, shaking his head from side to side.

"You were the mysterious figure that destroyed Vecna," Steve said in realization.

"He tried to make me his little bitch. Wanted me to do all his dirty work and kill of you," Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No thanks. I can't even clean my room when my uncle asks, and I love the man. Do you think I'm going to kill people I care about for someone I hate? Yeah, no."

"You saved us. You saved this town despite the fact that they hate you for no goddamn reason," Steve said.

"Well, my dad conned half the town, so yeah," Eddie shrugged, and then his eyes lit up. "Oh, I saved Higgins! You should have seen the egg on his face. He does know I'm alive, but he probably feels guilty about blackmailing me into dropping out in '84 now."

"He did what?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, crazy story. I should tell you all about it over dinner," Eddie said.

"That was smooth," Steve smirked.

Eddie ran his hand over the vest Steve was wearing and smirked.

"My vest looks good on top of a polo," Eddie said and paused, looking at him softly. "I'm not going to waste my chance this time. Hey, Steve?"

Suddenly, Steve was brought back to the Upside Down, and Eddie had looked at him with meaningful eyes before they parted ways. The memory was soon gone.

"Yeah?"

Eddie grabbed him by the vest and pulled him in, crashing their lips together. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him in closer as he deepened the kiss as Steve gripped his hips. Eddie broke the kiss, allowing Steve to breathe.

"We're kissing over your grave," Steve said.

"Better than walking over it," Eddie cackled.

Steve suddenly began pushing him backward until Eddie's back hit the tree that was next to his grave. He pressed his body up against Eddie's and covered his mouth with his own. He really should care that he was making out in a cemetery, but all he was aware of was Eddie. Eddie's mouth against his, Eddie's tongue making its way back in, and Eddie's hands quickly pulling his polo out of his pants so his hands could press themselves against his skin. All that mattered was how alive Eddie was and how much Steve could feel it. It was like all the lights were turning on inside of him, and it was Eddie that was flipping them on. Steve quickly broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against his, breathing heavily.

"We better stop before we do something else in cemetery that we're not supposed to," Steve said.

"Probably a good idea," Eddie said. "I think we just gave a granny quite a shock."

Steve looked over his shoulder and saw an older woman standing a few yards away, looking appalled.

"My God. She's literally clutching her pearls," Steve said.

"What do you think it is? That we're two men or that we're making out in a graveyard?" Eddie asked.

"Young man, my hearing is just fine! I don't care if you two have dicks! I mind that you two are fooling around in the place where the dead sleep!" She scowled.

Eddie and Steve looked at her in shock for a moment.

"I was not expecting her to say that," Steve said with wide eyes.

"Who would?" Eddie asked and glanced at the old woman. "Alright, time to adopt a grandmother."

"No, Eddie, we have to tell everyone you're alive, especially Wayne and Dustin," Steve said.

"Right. . .Dustin. Shit, I died in front of him. I know this is a stupid question, but how is he?" Eddie winced.

"Devestated but also hopeful that the mysterious figure who saved us all was you," Steve said and took Eddie's hand. "Let's get you home."

They laced their fingers together and walked out of the cemetery, apologizing to the granny as they left. They didn't care if anyone saw them, but after the town nearly went apocalyptic, how could anything else matter? The only thing that mattered was that they were both very much alive.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #bi4bi #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie munson

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l0mljeonjungkook · 1 year

Text

Reward (JJK X Reader)

Summary - Loving Jungkook secretly is what you have been doing for years. Your best friend never left your side, and neither did you. You received the e-mail, you two were waiting for. Granted, you don't wanna leave his side, not now, not ever. So, concluding to give this heart-clenching news to Jungkook, you're here standing right outside his glass window, however, what's in front of your eyes isn't what you expected from him, not today at least.

Guess what worst could happen? When he finds you, drooling behind the glass window? Wrong timings, poor you. You were here to surprise him, except the reward he offers you isn't in the way you desired it to be, however, you can't deny it.

Warnings - explicit sexual content, dom!jk, hair pulling, choking, fingering, spanking, breast play, dirty talk, rough sex, without protection, aftercare, praise, clit spank (a lot of spanking actually) (I'm sorry)

Genre - best friends to lovers

Pairing - Jungkook / reader

Rating - 18+ ( MINORS DNI 🔞)

Word count - 10k+

Masterlist || Wattpad || ao3

You're so heartwarmingly cheery to fill his not only ears with the news but lips with a bright beam that only lightens your day and soul, but the same news shrinks your heart at the same time, why??

Going to University, sure that's what you dreamt of for so long before your heart agreed that the affection you feel for your best friend is not just some care or friendship but - love, but forthwith your dream which you fed with your love, your sweat, your tears, your hard work, and your time is in your hand right now, on your mail.

You certainly want to share it with him, but you aren't sure about it, whether you should or not, surely he'll be the happiest and maybe more than you, and thats what shakes your soul, questioning you.

Are you really prepared for going to the new place where you won't even get a sight of him the way you get right now?

Every day?

The answer is a million times - No!

Are you ready for that? Certainly not!

Will you survive? Not even a heartbeat!

In your heart, you two are together in there living happily ever after with your best friend, who's living next to your apartment, except that there's a wall between your apartments. A bridge of stones between two souls, a dam between two hearts overflowing with love for one another, two friends who are wildly in love with each other yet oblivious.

You two are like one body and two souls, never alone. People know if they saw one of you at parties there's no shadow of a doubt that the second ain't there. Jealous filthy whores, burn on smolder of their burning hearts with envy, on seeing you with the sexiest yet kindest guy at your university, and you ain't less than a fucking bitch, clinging to Jungkook's arms around them made your blood tainted with serene reach to all the ends of your body.

You two, unhesitatingly and tirelessly stood by each other - through every thick and thin, shared every emotion, every little secret which was meant to be buried was ever buried between you two, defending each other not merely in front of douchebags but also, in front of your teachers, and parents too if all else fails.

This is what you treasured since kindergarten, you two had an unbreakable bond. Then why won't anyone be jealous of you two?

But this guy had an issue with you whenever you were in a relationship with someone, Jungkook never let you breathe in peace.

"You've changed",

"you're my best friend first then his girlfriend",

But your favorite to date - those words that still pool the heartwarming rush of warmth between your legs "leave him, we both are enough for one another" and whatnot.

Save for the fact, this guy won't let you stay here after knowing what this really means to you, but he doesn't know this about your mind, you left that dream, the day your drunk neighbor - your best friend confessed what your heart's been alarming you.

That - "I love you, since the day you came in my life y/n when we were friends, then you followed me", he took a sip of wine from his cup, " all the way from Busan to Seattle," he chuckles, "with-- your bags in one hand and the keys in another to the apartment next to mine, since then my-- my life--".

This is what he whisperingly confessed in your ear and all the drunkenness you wooed from boozing six cups of wine all that headed to the hills at those three words. Hereafter, your soul screams at those unsatisfactorily unfinished words and now you curse your bestie Yoongi every fucking night for bringing another cup of alcohol that led him to eat those words back again. You don't get it why is Jungkook has been treasuring those words? My life - what my life, you want to know what all he has in his heart. Those three words, I love you - seeped into your soul, have been living there with your love for him, since then.

But the heart-shattering truth - that asshole doesn't remember at all.

That sometimes soothes you but 99.999% time heats your soul, your skin, and your body to the nuclear level.

Jungkook, still waiting for the news of you being accepted to the University with receiving a full-tuition scholarship, was only making him quiz you every fucking day. This was not solely yours but now his dream too as if he wants you out of his sight or mayhaps... mayhaps is waiting for what you have been waiting and it's better to put an end to those questions.

And the reason why you decide to jump from your balcony to his is that's what you two always do. At any time of the day, whether day or night, though you don't intend to interfere in either's privacy you two haven't learned anything than being the irksome element in either's life. Not banging the doors to meet the other, you two jump from your balcony to the other and bang the windows of either room.

Whenever you peep inside through the window, you either find him eating or playing fucktons of games on his mobile. Presently, you were going to hammer the window to make him know who's here, but, today, it's different, you retreive your hand back as your mouth forms an O, and by different, this is not what you expected him to do.

A fever of epiphany laced with ardor cruised through your skin vibrating all your senses to the core as your eyes couldn't believe what they are beholding, they yearned to see for so long.

Jungkook lying on the bed, his eye shut, his breaths rushing at high speed, his teeth grinding, as you absorb the dark shadow of his jaw and the defined curves of his cheeks. Groans vibrate in his chest as moans claws out of his lips, the way you want to consume them inside you.

His bare chest makes you drool every time you eye him to no length, heaving breathlessly, and his hand... His hand is what your eyes are hungrily fixed at.

His - hand - on - his - groin, actively on a job you dream to do for him every day but beyond that, it's for you. "Oh, boy let me do that for you", you murmur under your hitched breath, choking on your spit.

And seeing him like that, only so much makes you imagine yourself getting wall-banged by your best friend. That look on his face is making you touch yourself as the heat between your legs is pooling your heartbeats that are floating, there's always a but and it is at present too, you're probably standing outside of his bedroom you have two choices either bang his door and ride it.

Or,

Turn around, and follow the path that leads you here, make your way to your room and do what you have been doing for years since you learned about your feelings for him.

Yes . Go . Back . And . Toss . Yourself . Off. Is what going on in your head!!!

Your hand ached to be where his hand was, touch it, put it in your mouth and suck it --- "JESUS, enough", you hiss, was that loud? Retrieving your hand which was between your thighs a second ago "I need to learn, whatever this is, it's from my side, probably he doesn't see me more than his friend."

You're not around him, but you can feel his proximity like an electric hum. Just seeing him masturbating, flares a firestorm inside you heating your reproductive organs, making them hungry for him touch, for his mouth.

Oh, that mouth, you saw gasping minutes ago, the same mouth that laughs with you, kisses you sometimes but makes you want to kiss them every time you're with him, his head dropped back and those unholy lips roar your name like no other person ever could, laced with honey syrup, but not right now, presently, not lacing your name with honey but the darkness in his voice, hearing your name from those lips sends a shiver through you. The potency of your name on his lips, his heavy breaths, and his moans rile you up, sending waves of heat down to your core. You feel the dampness between your legs.

Jungkook jacking off his meat, eyes shut, and his lips summoning your name in a countless filthily unholy way. . . decimating the pictures of his innocence from your mind and voices of him calling you awfully sweetly.

But what you just saw cools down the fire to zero and can't be misunderstood because that was the last thing you wanted to happen amongst every other stuff.

"Oh, fuck, did he just see me", taking a step back, you murmur, because face this, your JESUS, enough actually slipped through this glass window across the room to his ears. You wonder why didn't he react, waiting for an honest answer to that question, looking back at him you find him zipping up with one hand, and picking up his phone with another.

Your phone rings in your hand, and you glance at it, dread seeping through your wide alarmed eyes. You look at him, then your eyes fall back on your ringing phone and back at him again.

He's eyeing you, does this call means he knows I saw him jerking off? Holy shit. That heart-stopping grin on his face, tells you nothing more than a yes in return for what you asked.

You meet your eyes on the glass, reflecting the enormous expression of shock in them. The only glass creating a distance between you two, the only thing that kept him from your filthy drooling mouth minutes ago or might change those words to - the only glass that let you watch him like that.

You blink your eyes twice looking directly into his seductively dark eyes through a glass window, that unfamiliar darkness in those brown eyes, his furrowed brows, is alien to you, as you're friendly enough with his puppy eyes. The ringing phone in your hand channels you back. He's still watching your every moment biting his pierced lips, and motioning you over with his fore and middle fingers. God, I want them deep inside me. Shut the fuck up.

You open the door and force your shivering feet into his room, "hey", strengthening your usual way of meeting him like you both usually do, with a bang on his door, letting him know about the storm you are, is at his place to suck away his peace for the rest of the day. But you hate the quiver in your voice.

Today you're every other synonym of dumb, every other name for vulnerable, and every coy term for being terrified as you notice your shaky voice, yet you kept walking towards him, your damp thighs rubbing together transporting you right behind the glass window and your lustful eyes are to be blamed for what is going to happen next, you do want this but never like this, you didn't wish - for this - like this, never.

His eyes track your path to him watching your exposed thighs as you're wearing nothing but his shirt which you took without his permission, last week to be precise, "Ugh, I -- I--", you wave your hand holding the phone, unintentionally showing off the mail, displayed on your phone's screen, gripping it hard to dear life, this is the only moment to let him know why you were here in the first place, "this uh Jungkookie I got--".

"Call me, Jungkook", his voice is rough, as he stands in front of you, holding your unblinking gaze, but that seductiveness you saw earlier is picking up the pace.

Oh shit, is he angry. You don't want this. Speak up you bitch, spill spill spill, god dammit. Sweat trickles down your spine, and you can feel it running down the lane.

Is this his heat-raising gooseflesh on my skin, or his eyes that are poking holes into my soul, or his deep throaty voice to call him Jungkook? But why, he's your friend, it's up to you whatever you please to, you can.

"Jungkook, I can explain, I'm sorry I didn't mean to--"

He saw your phone and probably understood the reason why you were here in the first place, raising his hand between you both motioning you to place your phone in his hand.

I won't, moreover, I don't have to do this, he's probably going nuts, let him be. I'll do what pleases me.

You rather like this Jungkook, pissing him off is now your favorite thing to do every day. You cross your arms around your chest keeping your phone from his sight, you certainly dropped your brain at his doorstep before entering.

"I won't repeat." His voice is above par right now, "Your phone. Right now. On my hands."

"But you'll have to listen to me first Kook, don't assume fucking shit when you actually dont know the real--"

He motions himself closer to you, just an inch away, he leans his face close to your ears, "I said call me Jungkook, and assume? Really Y/N, you wanna know about my assumptions about what I saw, or let's talk about your sight?"

Closing the distance between you two, he moves closer to you, leans and his breathy words melt away all valor from your body turning it into sweat dripping from your forehead, gliding down to your cheeks. He rubs it away with a demonic grin on his pierced lips, "don't get nervous, and don't make me make you go all wet, from head to all the way down your spine, to your pretty toes, princess", he looks deep into your eyes, then his gaze falls on your lips, he grazes your lower lips with his thumb, "now, give your phone."

Without wasting another second you do what he expects. You hold your breath and avert your eyes, "I got selected Jungkookie I--", your voice shivers and you press your eyes shut, just to open them, "I mean Jungkook--"

"I know, and when did you get this?", lifting his eyes from your phone in his hand to your face, his face glowing in the heat of lust you haven't seen earlier - bedroom eyes, drowning in hunger and sin. This is the look I saw when he was in the throes of orgasms -- jerking off, luscious and wild.

"Can't recall", you try to calm your voice, "probably an hour or a few maybe", noticing a wicked glint liting his eyes makes your blood heat and your cheeks daubed in the pink flush and warmth oozing through his body.

Closing the distance between you two, he slowly ominously directed his footsteps towards you. Setting one foot before the other on the move. You abstractedly backpedal, whilst he didn't break the pace, he pursued you.

Touching the ground of your friendship, chasing you - whenever you get angry or trying to invest more of your time in your stupid exes. Since day one, he never let you stay off.

He possesses the power over you, habitually, the language of his eyes is only known to your eyes, he doesn't need to drop the words out of his luscious lips, your eyes are better at unriddling those unavowed words. The main cause of jealousy growing roots and venomous flowers into the sour heart of all the girls out there who are crushing on your best friend, your love, is seeing - the intimacy between your eyes, between you and Jungkook.

You kept backtracking, and he never ceased to advance, his features stern and somber, a heart-halting grin on his pierced lips and his tendons hiding his dark eyes hindering your sight, to eye those sinful gazes.

You swear to god, you saw an emotion you have never seen in his pristine and flawless features, ardor in his lustful gaze.

Bang, your back hit the door to the cage you break into, you gasp, and your hands obliviously uprise in defense. He seizes them and pins them right atop your head.

In an eyeblink, he spins you away. You wiggle with your back to him and your sweaty palms with the heat between you two are flat on the wooden door, "Jungkookie--", you only manage to utter his name before he shushes you.

You feel his chest vibrating against your back breathing roughly heatedly, his lips meet your right ear as a shiver runs down to the south. He blows out a breath lashing at your neck. When he speaks in his deep husky voice, "I said call me Jungkook. You lost dominance of calling me Jungkookie from", his free hand travels from the south of your body to the north - your lips, by tracing them with his thumb, "these precious little lips", you feel his rich baritone vibrating in his chest sipping out and ingress into yours through the seam tangling your body with his.

"I. . . I'm sorry Jungkook, listen to me on--"

He hushes you again, as he leans his face deep, "it's not the correct time to call me Jungkook, either", he commands in his gruffly sexy voice making you lock your legs to keep them from wobbling, "call me what pleases me."

"I. . . don't know, your girlfriend might be familiar with what pleases you, call her to fill yourself with all your needs, Jungkook."

His free hand swims back to your thighs gathering the hem of his plaid shirt around your thighs in his fist, heaving it up just above the waistband of your black thongs, bunching around your waist. "I know, but what if I'm bored with her, her presence, what if I want," he grabs your ass and pinches it, "this, right now", he rubs his lips against your ears, "what if I want every word from your lips."

His hands travel back between your plump thighs caressing your cotton-like skin, his gentle nuzzles are barely a caress, unleashing the beast you locked in you.

Drawing circles between your now damp thighs. Each seam of contact between your skin is nothing more than a hot melting wax on your skin, with just a mere touch it just not burns but bruises, a bruise you want to savor every second of your day, you want to earn from only him.

An unendurable yet satiating pressure pinching inside you, simmering, tingling, intimidating to burst. As you clench your thighs together, wriggling with urgency,"Kook, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt y--"

"You should have thought this before covering this body with my shirt", he leans, as he whispers, "before watching me jerking off", he presses his body against your back, meaning to remind you of your deeds, "stop calling me that, I warn you for the last time", he grabs your ass, "I'm throwing off two options in front of you", he presses his body hard this time, harder for you to ignore, "either daddy or sir, whichever works for you." Words puff out of his mouth laced with a warmish breath that ruffles your hair brushing against your skin.

Your eyes widen at the mere word daddy because you love to call him daddy when you touch yourself. The word sends waves of heat across your ass.

His fingers curl around your waist, touching your skin like it's sacred for him to touch, hooking into the waistband of your thongs but this time you give him what you craved for so long as you yank your butt tight against his thick erection. Your body instantly reacts to his body even though his starched pants failed to separate you two. Heating, pulsing, thumping desperately waiting to explode. You arch your spine, pressing your hips against his cock.

His left hand on your wrist atop your head snakes down your arms, unhurriedly, rising chill bumps to wherever he touches as he grabs your hips. Your flat palm on the door, warm and sweaty, you tightly close your fist, fingernails biting into your palms. You yank open, as your fingernails burry into the wooden door making a shrieking sound.

His mouth goes back to your ear, tracing it with his tongue, sailing down to your neck, teasing and kissing sensitive skin, rousing you with the rush of his heated breath, "told you millions of times before, this is probably the last, feed this in your head - there's nothing between me and Hana."

Tilting your head for him to earn his kisses on every inch of your neck, "your room smells like her", your eyes shut, as you murmur, unable to conceal the ache in your voice, "Probably she'd be on her way."

"She's getting engaged to Minjun next month, don't bring her name right now," he continues kissing and licking your sensitive skin below your lobe, his groans filling his room.

"Mhm"

"So what did you decide," he whispers and the next thing makes you moan as he bites your lobe.

"Kook... Fuck." You breathe heavily as he presses a kiss on the blade of your shoulder, "did you... Did you just say something?"

"Daddy or sir?" His warm breaths tingle your skin.

"Da-- daddy"

"Good girl", his commanding voice vibrates the air around you two.

"Koo--, Dadd--", you submissively shut your eyes biting your lips, he hums resting his chin on your shoulder, briefing you to continue, "Daddy, I-- I'm nervous", you whisper.

"Oh," he bites onto your shoulder blade, "you should be, princess", he kisses you.

Standing right behind you, body-to-body, his chest to your back, his hard dick pressing against your ass and you wish nothing more but to feel - skin-to-skin for his shirt is the only barrier separating you two. He unbuttons his shirt on your skin, motioning from south to north, from the last button around your waist, then the second last, in an unrushed motion. "Y/N", he whispers into your ear.

And you hum, eyes still shut, you don't want this to fade away it looks like nothing but a dream to you.

"Do you wanna know what am gonna do with you", barely the first three buttons left for him to unbutton.

"Ye-- Yes", you choke on your breath.

He halts his motion of unfastening the buttons, sliding his veiny tattoed hand inside your shirt with a thought to unhook your bra, but your bare breast makes him flinch, very unexpectedly.

"I'm gonna tear your pussy in half," his voice raging with heat, lust, and sin.

You groan, trying to hide it you hold your breaths.

"Breathe, princess. Breathe", he whispers into your ear and you do as he says, you take a deep audible breath that makes him rub his dick against your ass.

The next thing is unexplainable, you didn't expect him to do this... Just minutes ago you felt he was doing nothing but playing with you, his usual touching, kissing you on every exposed part that's in front of him, but this... His huge veiny tattoed hand sank into your thongs, Jesus Christ his cold fingers... Fuck his cold fingers slide over your warm clit pressing into your folds, "yesss", you moan shutting your eyes. Your fingers curl harder, messing up for you to stand on your toes.

Coating his cold fingers with your warm wetness as he pulls out his hand, "fucking wet, because of me jerking off?", moving it beneath your shirt, he grabs your soft nipples, between his fore and mid-finger concealing your bud with the wetness he just daubed his fingers into, "Jungkook, fuckkk."

His other hand grabs your throat, yanking your head back to his shoulder, "say daddy". All the while his mouth continues nipping your skin, biting below your lobe, and licking the bruises to calm the delicately sensitive spot beneath your ear.

"Daddy", an unholy grin on your lips, as if calling him daddy satiates you above par.

He's jarring his unseen dark side to your senses, briefing you with all the dark concealed secrets of him, stored in a box and locked, kept deep inside his soul.

"Do you wanna know why?"

"Yes",

He presses his hard groin against your ass, "say, yes daddy," he hisses.

"Ye-- Yes, Daddy", you mirror his words submissively, very unlawful of you.

"You did a great job princess, got selected, and made me proud, so you need to be rewarded and your desires to be satiated. So this is your reward, princess. A reward, I was hungrily waiting to leave on your body, mark on your skin, bury inside your soul and bruise your skin for you to relive every time you feel them on your skin."

"But Jungkook, I don't want to leave this place, leave you here", you are awfully sad about the fact that you won't get a sight of him, after leaving this place, but right now the unworldly lust, thirst, and hunger for him has taken you over from all the other-worldly reasons of you not being with him, only making you focus what you're getting right at this moment.

He hushes you, "be with me right here, right now, I'm not leaving you anytime soon, Princess." He kisses your shoulder, his words akin to your heart, and this time you not only feel the care in his words but a promise, an unbreakable promise.

He flattens your spine against him, his hand leaving your swollen nipple and sinking his hand under your thong slowly teasing you, working his veiny hands and expert fingers on your pretty little swollen pussy, you soak up your damn thongs, as he plays with your slit and teases your opening.

"soaking up your panties, princess", he groans against your hair.

The palm on your throat now feels warm on your skin, keeping your head tucked against his shoulder.

Playing with your dousing clit, you squirm abstractedly as you're bumbling to stand on your toes, his body and the door are the foremost help for your body. Noticing your struggle, he makes it arduous for you to lean onto him as he pushes two stiff yet cold fingers inside you.

Jesus, Your heart halts, vision blurs, knees gave out, and your lungs - cave in.

You have never felt more alive. You wonder if this is a really real heaven.

He's invading you, assaulting you, crashing into you with his heat, stroking you with his touch, his digits sinking through flesh and his thirst consuming your whole being.

The next what he does makes your senses active as he shoves your thongs to your thighs as soon as the cool air around you two hits your warm pussy drenched with all the wetness, he fingers you making you whimper, flooding his pink neon-lit room with your moans and heavy breaths. You ache to look into his beautiful eyes, and you see nothing but the wooden door in front of your lewd eyes, "Jungkook, please", you moan for release this time.

But your please halts his every motion, his breath as you feel his heavy chest paused at your mere please as if waiting to release it, and you know, you know if weakness had another name it would be, please for him at least. Not just right now, but whenever you want something from this guy you just need to utter please as whisperingly as you can.

Then he uncovers your barely covered body heeding to your please, shivers, quivers, shakes, trembles, flutters, you felt everything every fucking thing you ever read in books that made you feel all of the same, right now, Jungkook your best friend gave you every shiver, every quiver, every shock, every flutter by just uncovering your body, a yes sounded more like a moan, escapes through your lips giving him all the thumbs up he wanted right now from you.

He sank his hand back between your legs, teasing you, provoking you for you don't know what. Collecting every drop around his fingers as if he isn't in the mood to waste a dripping drop.

Quivering and naked, in front of your best friend - Jungkook!!! You always had your kind side, helpful heart, and been a friend you never have been to someone else - for him, you never reckoned this, but to be honest, you sure yearned for his touch however, this will come so soon to you is in itself a huge shock.

Throbbing heart or pussy or call it your heart is in your pussy right now, thumping dangerously. You grip the doorknob, staring out of the glass window, allowing the street light to pass through it as the light fills up and mixes with pink neon in his room beside the door. The room in neon sounds wild and looks romantic.

"Fuck, Is this real?" You moan, rocking your hips, riding the thurst of his now warm fingers inside you.

"Looks like a dream to me," he presses his body to let you know everything between you two is for real, "don't wanna wake up from this beautiful dream", he whispers into your ear, "do you?"

"Never, but the most beautiful thing is, this isn't a dream kook," you press hard on the doorknob mirroring his motions inside your pussy. His breaths are heady and savory and spicy to your skin as they burn your skin wherever they touch.

He surrounds you. Arms, hands, lips, and his masculine need, his every touch channels your every sense warning you about him everywhere all at once. Your body reacting to him as though you're made for his touch, for him, for Jungkook, your childhood best friend.

Everything he is doing, every kiss, every caress, is a long exhausting ride in the game of torturing, teasing, and seduction. Meanwhilst, you're craving for him to throw you onto his bed that smells of her, you between his fluffy bed and his warm body, and fuck you in every fucking position right away.

You try to hurry him along, but he ain't allowing it. He pins your hands when you touch his hard dick. Instantly smacking your ass as you ground against him. You want to kiss his lips which are right beside your ears, but he isn't going to give them to you, yet. Man won't let you turn around.

Making you filthy little whore for him, desperate to surrender to his will. So standing still, with holding onto the doorknob with dear life, your feet spread apart, and spine arching back at his pull, licking you, kissing you and torturing every inch square of your naked body.

Dropping your head back on his chest, the support of his arms around your body. He cups and knead your breasts and your breath turns heavier with his every kneading, you always wanted him to touch you perhaps this is awfully better than your visions. He pinches your nipples, outlines your breastbone, and strokes the curve of your neck, "they fit perfectly in mine", his hands fuck yes they are! He says seductively into your skin as you feel his words sinking into your skin.

His steely jaw bruises your temples, while he's resting his fingers on your throat and outlining your lips with his thumb. Your head lay back on him, neck stretching back and exposing the valley between your delicate breast as your mouth opens adjusting heavy breaths.

Whatever he is doing, you're basking at this moment, and whatever he wants to do to you you're happily inviting him. He's gliding his feather-light fingers across your cheeks, into your hairline, and around your throat, and back into your hairline he pauses "tell me how much you want this".

"As much as you,"

He yanks you back with his tight grip on your head, "what did you just say?"

"As much as you," you grin knowing what he wants to listen to however, pisssing him off is your game right now.

"You want daddy to play this game hard on you, no?"

"Da-- daddy", you choke on your spit this time, "as much as you want, Daddy", tears escaping from the corner of your eyes.

"Love these tears on your pretty face," he kisses the corner of your eyes, drinking away your tears.

The collar of his hand around your neck, bruising your skin, the only mark of him declaring that you're his. They ain't hurt you but soothe your skin, sliding over your mouth and cheeks again, and suddenly he yanks you back, as you're now backpedaling, he throws you onto his bed, holy shit as his look at his face expression dark with passion.

Climbing onto the bed, his eyes never leave yours. His tongue pokes inside his cheeks. Thirst dripping through his dark brown eyes and you wonder were they really this dark earlier. The bed dips with his weight on it.

Does sensuality, lewdness, lust, and love shifts the color, or is it just you mayhaps you never looked deeper into his eyes earlier, however, you doubt yourself because even in dreams you know every curve, every outline of not only his eyes but his face and now his body and his every other part.

He straddles your thighs. His erection, oh good lord, his erection right between your thighs, you feel like it's poking a hole through his gray sweatpants, that are soaked up with his precum.

You grin, mouth dries up as if that's what you want to quench your thirst.

He mirrors your eyes, as he looks at his soaked pant, leaning closer to your face he grabs your jaw, "what's so funny about it?"

You're still grinning, "you're all soaked up... I'm thinking about your punishment", you arch an eyebrow, "What could it be? What about girlfriend finds out her boyfriend filling his best frie--"

His grip tightens on your jaw, cocking head, leans to your face, and bites your bottom lip, "shut your fucking mouth, don't make me force my cock into your filthy mouth, is that understood?"

You nod.

He doesn't free his leaking cock nor look at it, his eyes voyage from your exposed wet swollen pussy to your eyes then travels back to your bullet-like nipples and back to your lips. He's currently eye fucking you, and you doubt if he is the same Jungkook who was horny like minutes ago. A shiver runs across your exposed body as the air around you suddenly feels icier than before, and his gaze is desirably hot.

His lips separate with the force of his heavy breaths, eyes drifting over you like a vast ocean, heavy and deep, sinking you in lewdness.

"You can't imagine, how many times I've imagined this past few years, you on my bed naked and beautiful, every time I saw you in that yellow dress of yours, I only controlled myself from not ripping it off and grabbing these precious breasts right away," your hands clench hard by just envisioning what he disclosed on the sheets below your body, he leans forward his hand travels from your waist to your breast pinching your nipples a little hard this time, "I wondered what they would feel like, taste like, how would they look with all the hickeys I wanna give, how pretty they'll look all red and bruised up, or how will they look between my teeth", he leans down taking your right nipple between his lips sucking it for few seconds before biting it to the point, to leave a mark, his mark on your nipple.

"Daddyy", your eyes tear up, arousal between your legs torturing you.

He looks right into your eyes, grinning "I love those tears, on your face, for me, get used to it Princess", his chin just above your breast, he continues, "I was envious of your exes, they touched you when I should have", he places a feather-light kiss on your nipple, unknowingly you moan as your thighs clench beneath him he notices but doesn't flinch a bit. "You're mine, princess."

"I've imagined you, too daddy." You finally blurt out, expecting a reaction from him but he gave none. Lifting your hand to reach for his hard length straining his gray pants.

He catches your wrist and lunges forward, his breath hits your skin, his chest hovering on yours and his voice hoarse, "if you touch me, it's all over. I'm barely hanging on." You chuckle, looking at him switching from daddy to your kook within a heartbeat.

His shaky breaths, but cold hand, traces the outer edge of your breast. His other hand traps in your hair as he leans, his eyes on your lips and yours on his, then he tastes your lips.

Gliding his tongue inside your mouth, voyaging every corner of your mouth and you let him, mirroring the motions of his filthy tongue, but you get nothing, but the flavor of his tongue is familiar, you recall while kissing him as he hunts down your tongue catching it and tangling it with his. You follow him, hands on his head, moaning into his mouth licking your taste from his.

The bed frame creeks as he kisses you deeper this time, pulling you closer, seeking you with his fingers, tongue, teeth, and breaths like you are nothing more than his oxygen, silently demanding you take everything he's giving you like you two have been waiting.

"Dang, you actually know how to kiss", you say breathlessly between your kiss, as he pulls back, "now I'm envious of your exes, who tasted you as I should have already."

He chuckles, and just the sound of his chuckle vibrates your body, lighting your body with the rush of love hidden behind your heart all these years.

He leans back grabs your tits and places another kiss, a soft kiss on your lips.

"You taste like strawberries, daddy" your words invite an evil-like grin on his lips.

"Now I taste like you", his words swarm your stomach with thousands of bees.

He places kisses right below your ear, taking a lungful of your cologne, then on your neck deeply breathing in your scent on your skin, your moans fill up his room, and your hands gently roam on his back to his shoulder, achingly wanting to feel his bare back and the other on his head pressing him into your skin. And suddenly, his kisses turn into licking and then biting on your soft skin, unconsciously you dig your nails into his covered shoulder, and your other hand pulls his hair, "daddy, fuckkk, Jungkook", you whine, at the awfully rousing pain, he just gave you. Your arousal drips out of your cunt, warm.

"I need you, Daddy." Tears flood your eyes, as the words tumble out of your quivering lips breathy and unbidden.

"you have me, princess" he softly says into your skin as you feel his warm breath hitting your neck.

He lowers his head and bites your nipple, you yelp, devoured with pain, shaking against unseeable manacles and heading nowhere.

He chuckles and bites again, pulling on the bud with his unholy teeth until it stretches out of shape.

When he moves to the next one, you hold your breath and shake your head clueing him up to not repeat his demonic act. A grin conceals his kindness, as his lips graze your nipple, torturing and his eyes find your eyes with so much need floating in his dark brown eyes.

"Breathe, princess."

The minute you do as he says, he sinks his teeth. You shriek in ache and agony as you buck your hips. You feel his teeth tearing into your sensitive skin, sucking on it harder and boiling your already heated body to the nuclear level.

"Daddy, sto--, stopp Jungkookie. Fuck", your voice shrieker and breathes heavier than before.

Rolling his tongue, he licks the ungodly, unearthly, unholy burn, his voice rasps, "you really want me to stop, Princess."

You shake your head, because you know this, you wanted this for so long and can't deny the fact only from him.

Tears flood your eyes, body achingly shivers. He leans closer to your face and bares his teeth, "say it, and I'll stop."

You suck on your bottom lip and look down on his covered chest, wishing nothing but to tug his t-shirt out of his body.

God forbid, it feels like he sliced your nipples off, but they're right whole on their position, huge, motherfucking hard and rose red. With no drop of blood, he knows what he's doing.

"Where's my little bratty princess from just minutes ago?"

"You bit my poor boobs!" you whine still in incurable pain.

"You just increased your punishment," his thumb rubs on your cheeks softly, "so, take that upon yourself, if I decide on going hard on you, is that understood?"

Jungkook slides off your thighs, to lie beside you, facing you, and kisses you passionately. The heat between your thighs, makes you squirm and the pain in your bruised nipples transports you back to his sinful deed.

The hand on your hair clenches tighter, and his lips stay with yours, each bite of his teeth and roll of his tongue drops an electric shiver to your tongue traveling down to your heated core, making your hands run between your thighs, as you start circling your clit drenched with cum before you go any further he grabs your wrist harder this time and you know it's going to bruise black and blue.

He yanks your hand, with his placing between your swollen lips, you moan into his mouth, and your moan vibrates in his chest. Your fingers grasping at his shoulder.

The station of his thumb stuns you, and your clit throbs against the fiendish pressure he rubs against it. He sinks one, then two fingers inside you, and you squirm against his hand, "Jesus, Jungkook", he loves to remind you, what you need to call him, as he does by pulling out his forefinger, and pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, the second finger still inside your warmness.

"Fucking say my name again, say", his finger moving in and out.

"Daddy," you whisper but sounds like a whimper, your skin hot, sensitive, and bare beneath his sinister-like gaze.

"Good lord, you're so wet," he kisses your jawline, slowly placing butterfly kisses on your neck licking your skin softly to your breast as his lips graze above your nipples you jolt with shock noticing you shake, his heart-stopping grin laces his face beautifully, his fingers never rolling out your pussy.

Your hands slip down to reach for his tee. Daring to uncover him, and he didn't fight you this time. His fingers tickles, dancing over your skin, inching every corner of your skin. He leans closer to your lips sucking at your bottom lip, his breaths into your mouth, and you want him now, you want him more than you'd ever wanted anything in your life, more than every intake of oxygen.

He break away and you moan.

"Please, no daddy," your breath hitched, tears escaping your eyes and disappearing between your hairline, "please don't stop."

You fumble at the hem of his tee, clingingly desperate and wild to see him, but he calms your rushing fingers, taking your hand in his, he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles and guide your hand away. Your stomach turned upside down until you realize his grin.

He hushes you, "I'm going to make you mine."

"Make me yours", slipping your hands down to his erection, trying to stab a hole through his pants, "I want to see... You."

"Soon, princess", he says, kissing his way down to your belly, plucking away from your clingy grip, his fingers dancing around your skin.

Sucking your breath like the last drop of water as his fingers snake around your belly, unhurriedly slipping down your thighs, wittingly snubbing your swollen pussy, his mouth atop your wet pussy wilfully hitting his warm breaths on your hot skin, and your stomach twists with his wet kisses on your left thigh.

He leans closer to your pussy, watching the closeness of his mouth around your vagina your hands move into his hairline grabbing them, "I can smell you, princess. So wet." You moan, when his words slip out of his lips.

"Only for you, Daddy."

Your thighs are hot and clammy. You shake when his finger outlines the slit of your pussy, raising cold shivers across your body. Teasing your sweet pussy with nothing but his breaths, pressing his palms against your thighs, caressing and coaxing you wide for him to inhaling deep lungfuls of your wet.

"Swollen and all wet for me," he spreads you with his fingers. His hands caressing your skin, and yours nuzzling his hair.

Your tender pussy glistens with the pink neon lights and appears in all shades of pink.

Teasing you, like no one, running his thumb around your heated vagina, so gently, touching everywhere but your clit and your ragged breaths feeding him, boosting his lust.

"Daddy, please..." Your whisper.

"I always imagined your pussy, thought it was pretty but this in front of me is beautiful, princess."

"Jungko--... Daddy touch me."

He runs his tongue along your wetness giving your clit the faintest stroke. You shiver, and shock conceals your expression as your hands reach down and hold him to yourself.

And now he won't stop, he kisses you, sucking your wet dripping out as he's moving his tongue up and down, from side to side, in every direction every inch square of your swollen pink clit giving you jolts of currents that climbs your spine, and you arch. His tongue gives wet strokes until you're moving with him.

Jungkook's wet his finger and pushed one inside, but your tight pussy, clenches. You catch your breath. "Relax, princess", he whispers to soothe you. He looks up at you, your eyes are shut.

"Princess, look at me", you slowly open your eyes and met his breathtaking dark brown eyes. And you wish nothing but him to be yours.

"Just relax", he soothes you again, "enjoy this."

He works his fingers so slowly, teasing another inside, but you're so tight he couldn't push it in. He uses his mouth, tickling and sucking in a smooth rhythm until all the tension leaves you.

You begin to grind at his face, however, he continues at the same pace, keeping his moments steady enough for you to enjoy and for him to feel you taste your sweetest offering and the feel of your tender skin.

You crest without dramatics, your whispers, your gasps of breaths, your tensing muscles, and you could feel the tightness in your belly.

You twitch and arch your back, your feet curling and pressing against his back. He pauses and moves away.

Jungkook's hands are on his waistband, sliding his gray pants shaded with pre cum down his thighs.

Your eyes grow wide drowning in thirst to taste him, as you feel his huge cock against your skin. This is gonna be a painful ride.

"Are you on birth control?" He questions.

"No, why would I be?"

"But now you'll have to, princess."

"Yes, daddy," you teasingly innocently blink your eyes.

"Put your hands above your head, eyes on me."

You nod.

"Good girl",

You're nothing but a desperate little cunt for your best friend, wriggling, moaning, wobbling, squirming and aching for him.

A wild mess of hormones with pussy aching for his dick.

And it is heaven.

A demonic heaven, just yours and his.

You're his angel and he's your devil.

"Spread your legs. Daddy needs to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours, spread them," he slaps your thighs, opening your thighs wide for him you're bare to him, beautiful pussy glistening in wetness, you look into his eyes they sure are drowning in lust but there something more in those eyes.

"My submissive little princess, daddy needs to spank your drenching pussy with his hard dick, you have been nothing but an impious wilful brat",

You nod, his words make your eyes flood with tears.

"Take it like my princess."

Jungkook spanks your pussy with his hard dick, one two three and you lose count, as you can't recall the spanks you just received, shivers running across your skin, and breaths are just ragged with thirst.

His touches, his skin rubbing against your skin isn't new, feeling him deeper inside you is unusual.

And when your eyes are shut, he imperiously forces his cock inside your tight pussy. Your eyes are now wide open, "Fuck, daddy I can't take this", you shut your eyes at the pain, "kook,"

Jungkook takes his dick out, "eyes on me princess", he whispers, "calm down, relax princess. We can stop if you want me to, I can't see you like this." Without another word, he starts pulling out ever so slightly.

You look into his deep dark eyes, "No, I want you, I'm ready", you hold his wrist, stopping him before he pull out, you have hungrily waited for this.

"Are you sure? We have a lot of time for this I just need you to enjoy this moment, you get me?"

"Yes one hundred percent," you say with a nod.

He slowly, pushes his thick hard cock inside your hole, your dripping pussy clench around him, and you know your orgasm is near.

"Fuck, y/n relax, don't cum until I say, understood?"

You nod.

He pushes it at a slow pace, slowly in and slowly out. Reading your expression that is calmer than before. He increases his thrusts.

Jungkook presses himself against you, you feel him rub himself back and forth inside you teasing and pushing. It hurt for a moment, and you feel yourself open up. He leans to your neck, and his breath is quick and warm, "That's it, princess. You're taking it well."

You grab his shoulder, nails sinking into his skin.

He moves his hips and pushes against you again, and it hurt again, but then he stops.

You clench and wriggle around him, "Don't stop, Jungkook."

Tears won't stop escaping your eyes, "let me wipe away those precious tears off, for you to look into my eyes", he wipes away your tears and kisses your cheeks, "my princess."

Your pussy squeezes around him, with his words, "you are taking it so well, y/n", he groans, "I'm not finishing until you're red and puffy with pussy dripping out my cum."

You clench around him at the thought of his cum inside your pussy.

"You like the idea of your pussy filled up with my cum?" he murmurs with his breathy raspy voice.

His hips circle, small motions in and out, so gently, opening you up just to push deeper, and he stops again when you flinch.

"Fuck, Jungkook don't stop please, don't", you beg in your raspy voice.

You reach for him, pulling him close, letting him know how much you want him inside you.

"Take me," you breathe.

He kisses you on the lips and pushes. He pushes harder, and it hurts. He thrust again and again, deeper inside to feel you, it hurt but you want it so much, you don't want him to stop not now not ever, "YESSS".

"My princess..." you both are on the edge he can feel you clenching around him. You feel the warmth of his body against your bare skin, you are full of him, you feel him everywhere inside you.

You feel everything, clenching around him as he kisses your forehead. And it felt like heaven, your dream come true, Jungkook - on top of you was all you imagined every single night.

"Fuck," he hisses. "You feel so fucking amazing." He moves his hips and it feels whole inside, your heart filled with love, eyes flooded with his frame, your pussy with his hard dick, hard enough that you hold your breath, but you're so wet, you could hear it. You hear the noises as he slides in and out of your pussy.

You tightly wrap your legs around him and make yourself move, your sore body feeling incredibly weird and really intense but you're on cloud nine, euphoric.

Jungkook kisses your forehead sinking into you as you groan. You look up at him, his dark eyes burning with seductiveness. You gasp as he thrust in harder, but now you don't feel pain, his thick cock is adjusting inside your tight pussy, making your pussy his home, not painful enough like it had been, just him and you, heavy breaths and cock deeper inside you.

A beautifully slow rhythm that is making a home in your heart. He moves and you move with him. You feel him, feel him everywhere, and his everything - his breaths, his kisses, his heartbeats, his skin against yours, and his cock deeper in you.

You feel his breath on your lips, his eyes on yours, and the tension in his legs as he's pushing in and out of you. You feel so close to him, closer than you ever felt not even when you shared secrets that were meant to be buried inside your heart.

He kisses you like you're the only person, like his girlfriend, his lover, a real lover, like he wants you more than anyone else in this universe.

He tilts his hips and that's it. You suck in your breath and feel a flutter inside, and it aches a good pain until it didn't hurt at all.

He grunts and pushes hard, and the rhythm is faster than before. You hear his skin, slapping against yours, a delicious sound, and you can't stop squirming.

"I'm going to cum, princess", he whispers into your ears.

You nod, nod into his neck, pouring a wet kiss on his neck, letting him know that you're ready, his body shudders and jolts, slapping against yours. He hisses out his breath, shoving all the way in and you feel his heartbeat against your chest, and it's mirroring yours, faster.

One push and,

He shoots his come inside you.

You feel him, his warmth, his excitement. You feel the way he needs you, the way he loses control, the way he wants you, and everything between you two.

His breaths are heavy and his skin is hot and sweaty and the weight of his body pins you to bed. He is still inside you, feeling him makes you feel complete.

You are throbbing around him, and he too. You cum with him still inside you. The idea of him cum mixed with yours inside you, tingles you.

He kisses your lips and cheeks and your eyes - heavy with sleep.

He kisses all of you.

He slowly pulls out, carefully, covered with your cum mixed with his, dripping down his dick.

His hot cum starts to drip down your thighs mixed with yours and you're at the peak of vulnerability.

He picks up some wipes beside his bed, carefully wiping you off. You hold his wrist, "it's embarrassing kook, I can do this."

He hushes you, and he inches his body closer to you, tucking you and himself under the covers.

He keeps an arm around your belly as he lay beside you, kissing your shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

"I love you, with everything I am, Y/N", he hugs you and drifts into sleep.

"Kook we need to talk", exhaustion weighs heavily on your eyes.

"Not until tomorrow, right now you need to sleep, y/n,"

"But",

"No buts and ifs, you want daddy to spank you, mhmm", he whispers, a grin plastered on his lips.

"Yes", you mirror his expression.

"I really can, but looking at you seems you're breathing sleep. Sleep, princess."

"Mhmm", you nod.

He tugs you under the blanket.

Waking up at the midnight, with his cold fingers on your bare skin, you look at the side of his bed only to find what time of the night you're suddenly awake. It's 3:30 in the morning, taking a deep breath that shakes your body a little, you try to go back into a deep sleep until you feel his thumb and forefinger drawing your attention to the motion on your abused nipple, pinching it between his tattoed fingers, turning your soft buds to sharp and hard bullets.

You both had an exhausting yet unquenchable night in the history of your life. Body - worn out, pussy - swollen, cock - squishy and limp. To satiate your hearts and soul, maybe this life isn't enough for you two your hunger, probably the next life and even the next of the next might not be enough to quench your thirst.

Your breath hitches, making him wobble, "Has he been doing this for hours." Even though he's in deep sleep, his fingers don't halt for a second. You wonder if you're going to be living with him, you'll have to get acquainted with this habit of his.

Sleep did wonders, and as of now, you're ready for another round with your daddy. You trace his tattoed fingers over your nipples and this time he pinches hard as you gasp for air. Heat oozing out of your pussy maybe summoning his name as you feel him hard against your ass.

Jungkook's warm and tingly breath touches your cold cheeks, giving you chill bumps while prickles run down your spine, reaching to your swollen yet abused pussy for taking him for hours is still thirsty for his unholy touch, for his biting mouth and venomous tongue and more of his filthy hard cock waiting for a quenchable fuck.

Sure you're still a bit drowsy but not enough to not invite another exhaustingly painful sex, with the man you have only loved for years. A roughly sleepy groan vibrates inside his chest, as his tattooed arm on your breast pulls you back against the warmth of his chest. He bites your ear, placing soft kisses down on your shoulder, "why are you still awake?" His hoarse voice sends chills across your skin.

"I just woke up, and now I can't sleep." You breathlessly answer him.

"Why?" He pulls you tight against him, taking a deep lungful scent from your hair, and making you feel every inch square of his body.

You turn around to face him, to look at his sleepy yet flawless face because what you're going to say next you need to drink him in, his cosmos of emotions, which he never lets out. "When you wake up tomorrow, I'll be already gone. So I was just savoring this moment of you being by my side, your warm breaths against my skin, your touch, your everything, Jungkook", you thumb caressing the scar on his cheek.

"How dare you think, that you'll stay there by yourself and breathe peacefully," he pulls you closer, pushing his leg between yours as he places a kiss on your forehead, "I won't let you breathe, princess. Like we always do." His words throw you back into the pool of love you both felt hours ago making your pussy clench at the mere image of being fucked by him for hours begging for release yet enjoying the denial.

"Are you coming with me?" You question his.

"I'll come but not before you come."

"Jungkook", you slap his arm softly, and a giggle slips out of your lips swollen with his hungry kisses.

"I love you, princess"

"I love you, daddy", paying heed to these unholy words from your lips makes him press his lips against your lips and this is only the beginning of another unquenchable round.

2K notes · View notes

snazzyturtles · 5 months

Text

"Somnolent"

asahi x f!reader, nsfw, mdni

plagued by nightmares, you just can't fall asleep- until your roommate decides to help out

somnolent- a state of strong desire for sleep, refer to the state preceding falling asleep.

wc: 10.4 k

tw: roommates, aged up (post-timeskip) , unprotected, teasing, titty sucking, fingering, handjobs, edging, bd/sp, mating press, creampie, pet names (little bunny, princess, baby, sweetheart/sweetie) , implied small/short-er reader (but lets face it asahi is a big boy so pretty much everyone fits in this category) , asahi has a subconscious daddy kink

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

he's tired- that much is clear. it's visible from the bags under his eyes, the way he's covering his mouth as he yawns, the slightly groggy tone he has when he speaks. "what's got you up so late?" you can hear his concern even through the drowsiness.

you turn your head slowly, looking over the back of the couch to stare at his face. his brown hair is pulled into that low bun of his, some loose strands messily sticking out, but he makes it look good. his glasses are low on the bridge of his nose, his gaze sleepy, yet interested.

asahi definitely looked sleepy. lucky.

"i've been trying to sleep all night, but i just can’t… thought a boring movie might help, but it just woke me up even more…” you can't help but frown at the situation. you're normally asleep at this hour, and you always fall asleep before him.

"oh?" he asks as he leans against the doorway, "what kind of movie did you watch? you know that a movie really isn't the best thing to watch if you're trying to sleep." you can tell he's teasing you a bit, but his voice is soft, gentle. "i'm sure that if you try to relax enough, you'll be fast asleep in no time.”

your eyebrows furrow at his response, confused by his suddenly direct reaction. "what are you talking about, asahi?" this was so unlike him, but it was late at night.

"i can see you're also having trouble sleeping, so how about we do something together to distract ourselves?" his tone is slightly pleading but also encouraging at the same time. “a little sleepover- what do you say?" his expression still shows slight drowsiness, but now you can clearly notice the way he's trying to look a little more awake as he offers a little smile.

your breath catches for a second at his response. asahi wanted you to go in his room with him?

"w-wait, what?”

you guess it did make some sense, he's obviously tired and you were only keeping him awake the longer you made noise in the apartment. but at the same time…

his voice suddenly grows a little softer- he's a bit embarrassed after your reaction. "it-it's nothing unusual," he says. "j-just roommates sharing a bed since we both can't sleep. there's nothing more to it…” he sighs at the end and waits for you to answer him. he still looks rather tired, but he's trying to look awake for you.

“i… i guess that might help..." you mumble back. he was bigger than you, maybe he'd be a good space heater for the night. you reach over to pick up the remote and turn off the tv, standing up to look at him. "give me a minute, i'm going to go change into some pajamas, okay?”

"o-okay," he answers, nodding. “'i'II be waiting for you and-," he adds quickly after, lowering his voice even though you're the only two people in the apartment, "we'll just sleep, okay? so don't get the wrong idea."

there's a slight red tint to his cheeks, but he continues to look at you. your eyes widen at his response, quickly turning and shuffling to your room. was he really thinking about stuff like that? with you? you hadn't even thought about him in that way before, not since the apartment complex assigned you two to be roommates, but now your skin is burning bright red as you change into your pajamas.

a soft silence fills the apartment, as if the only sound that was allowed to exist is the small noises of you changing your clothes so you can share the bed with asahi.

"she's getting changed," he mumbles quietly to himself, "she's still tired and we're just sharing the bed. nothing more. nothing more.”

i'm being stupid, you think to yourself.

he's just looking out for his roommate, nothing more.

you change quickly into your pajamas, walking back out to the living room and turning to find asahi. he’s is sitting up, his legs crossed with an arm tucked under his head, trying his best to look awake, even though you can tell he just wants to lay back and sleep.

his expression softens when he sees you back in the room. “ready?” pulling down the bottom of your nightgown, you nod your head and start walking towards him after you shut your bedroom door.

now you're the one making asahi nervous. he shifts slightly, standing up and freezing in place. his tone is quiet and he tries to keep his eyes from wandering to your nightgown for more than a few seconds. don't do anything stupid, he thinks to himself, you're just two roommates sharing a bed, this is nothing out of the ordinary. asahi doesn't say anything more, just staying quiet and waiting for you to stand next to him.

nodding your head, you walk towards him and he pulls you into a deep hug, your body is suddenly squeezed against his large chest. you hug him back when he pulls you in, feeling warm as your bodies press against each other.

he pulls back, grabbing your hand and starts to walk you towards his room.

when he opens the door, you suddenly realize that even though you were roommates, you have never been in his room before. his desk is covered in designs he was planning for work, and the rest of the room is all so clean in contrast to yours.

“whoa…”

staring down at the drawings on the desk, you can't help but gape. "you never let me see any of the designs while you're working on them, these are great asahi…” you notice he's gone silent, looking up to see him staring down at you in an awkward expression. he suddenly seems uncomfortable, not wanting to look in your direction now, yet he still grabs your hand tightly and leads you toward his bed. he's acting slightly odd now, but again, it's probably due to how late it is.

you sit on the edge of the bed and look back up at him with wide eyes as he turns to pull his long hair out of its bun, letting it drape around his face. pulling his t-shirt over his head, your body stiffens at his actions.

he's just trying to get comfortable for sleep, right?

the thought of him possibly sleeping shirtless right next to you makes your heartbeat quicken and the blood rush to your face. this is the first time you've seen his bare chest, and you can't bring yourself to look away. his body is even more built than you thought it'd be, with muscles everywhere you look and even a slight tan. he's a handsome man, you've always thought that, but you can't deny that he's suddenly become even more hot in front of you.

he doesn't say anything, and just gazes at you for a moment. his face, however, has become a little red as he holds his shirt. in other circumstances, his actions would probably come off as flirting and seductive... but this is asahi. he wouldn't flirt with his roommate. he most likely just wants to get dressed for the night. "i-i'm just getting comfortable for sleep," he says quickly after, his voice cracking a bit. "nothing unusual.”

your breath catches, your eyes widening as you slowly nod your head at him. you can't take your eyes off him, and you don't know what to do as he turns around. you don't say anything and your eyes wander from his muscular back to the way his long hair drapes over his bare arms and upper body, revealing more of his physique. as if by instinct, your mind goes to the idea of him in nothing but boxers. he sits on the bed beside you and then lays down, glancing over at you with a slightly nervous expression.

"t-the marks. on your body... what are the bruises from?” after the words leave your mouth, you freeze, realizing maybe you shouldn't have asked that. but you had never really seen him like this before, and definitely not this close. you scramble to cover up what you said quick in embarrassment.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have asked. you... you used to play sports, right? there's pictures at your desk, they must be from that, yeah?” with the light remains of bruises scattering his legs and forearms, it catches your attention and it feels more like you're talking to them rather than him.

he's confused at your comments for a split second before he realizes what you're talking about, and his face becomes red. he suddenly sits up. "don't ask about that, it's not your business," he whispers. but when you mention the pictures to him, he sighs a little and closes his eyes for a moment. "yeah, i'm a former volleyball player," he says, his voice slightly shaky. "stopped playing as soon as i graduated high school.” you notice his shoulders slump a little.

your eyebrows furrow, looking up at him. "why'd you stop? it looks like you enjoyed it in the pictures, and i'm sure you were great.”

you notice that his expression softens a little. "i did enjoy playing, yeah," he says, his voice a bit quieter but still audible. "i wasn't amazing or anything, but i had a lot of fun with my friends.” he takes a moment to rub his eyes, looking tired again. "but then i got busy with life after graduating and, well..." he leaves his explanation hanging. "i don't wanna talk about this stuff now," he whispers, looking down. "i just... wanna sleep.”

“okay…” you whisper out, shuffling how you sit on the edge of the bed and playing with the edge of your nightgown. "how do you want to do this? w-want to lay down i mean. like… who goes where or whatever..." your face is burning again at your slip of words.

he looks over at you, taking in your appearance a little more. now that he's actually paying attention to you, he seems to notice a lot more details, like the way your hair falls over you, and the soft blush on your face, but he doesn't say anything. his only response is a nod as he moves to lay down on his back, leaving plenty of room between the two of you. he looks over at you for a moment and smiles warmly. "you can lay down next to me, if you want?”

you look up, staring at him before nodding and shuffling on the bed to lay down next to the wall. asahi reaches over to the nightstand, turning off the lamp and laying back down under the blankets. the room turns quiet as you fall asleep, dark and still as your breathing evens out and you both lull to sleep.

it's calm for a while, silent before your body jolts as you wake up suddenly, panting and looking around. you take a moment to try and calm yourself down, your mind racing with thoughts as your eyes dart around the room, but everything is dark.

you're suddenly aware of asahi next to you, still asleep with his arms wrapped around a pillow. he's quiet and still, the faint scent of his shampoo lingering in the air. your heart begins to slow down and your breathing, along with your thoughts, becomes steady. your head leans back towards the ceiling, letting out a sigh as you turn to look at asahi.

you tap his shoulder lightly, trying to wake him up. you feel bad doing it, he looks so peaceful and you could tell he was tired, but you need something. someone. him. "a-asahi? are you awake?”

he seems a bit surprised as you tap his shoulder, but he slowly wakes up and looks over at you. his expression becomes a little confused and groggy. "what's wrong?" he asks, sounding half asleep and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. he looks rather tired from the lack of sleep, moving slightly to get a bit closer to you. "is everything okay? do you need something?”

"i-i... i'm sorry, i shouldn't have woken you up. it's nothing.” you scramble back to your side of the bed, turning away and pulling your legs into your chest.

stupid, stupid, stupid…

"it's okay," asahi says, trying to comfort you. "you don't need to apologize for that. we're roommates, you know? do you want to tell me what the issue is?" his voice is quiet and soothing, trying to make you feel better. he seems to notice how you're sitting away from him, your body slightly shaking. "hey, come here, " he whispers, scooting over to make room for you again. "i don't think you need to stay away.”

"i-i keep having nightmares... every night since i've moved... and it keeps happening more and more. i can’t sleep anymore...” you roll over to look up in his eyes. “that's why i was up earlier. i don’t- i can't... i'm sorry.”

asahi thinks about your words for a moment and then scoots a bit closer again in order to put an arm around you. "hey, it's alright," he whispers, his voice sounding soft and caring. "i'm here for you, if you need me. i'm here for you.”

"you didn't do anything wrong, you hear me?" he sounds comforting as he pulls your body a little closer to his. "you want me to hold you? can i do that for you?" his tone switches from formal to much more intimate, catching you by surprise. you nod your head, ducking it and tucking into his chest. he's warm, and even though his chest is covered with muscles, he still feels soft. you feel his arm slip over your shoulders as he pulls you closer to his body, wrapping the blankets around both of you. your bodies are closely pressed against each other, your breathing in sync. after silence settles for a minute with only your breaths being heard, you speak up quietly.

"it's funny, i've been your roommate for over a month now, but tonight was the first time i've ever seen your room, and we honestly know nothing about each other.”

once you speak up, asahi sighs a little. "i guess that's true…" he whispers, his voice full of tiredness. “we’ve lived together that long but we really know nothing about each other, huh...” he smiles slightly and caresses your hair. "it does sound a bit funny, now that you mention it.”

"maybe that's why i keep having nightmares... staying in a new place with someone i don't know…” you whisper it under your breath, more to yourself than to him, but it was the truth. you barely know anything besides how each other look and each other’s daily schedules.

your words seem to have been loud enough for asahi to hear, his hand moving from your hair to your lower back as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer than before.

"maybe that really is the issue." he sounds a little more awake than he was before now, his eyes open wider. "it wouldn't make sense to have all these nightmares if you weren't worried about anything.”

"but that's not a concern at all. " he continues. "i'm not a threat to you, am i?" his expression has gone from being sleepy to a bit more serious, yet still calm. you start to feel how tightly he's holding you in his arms as you bury your face in his shoulder, his body so warm, and his breathing, though quiet, is slow and steady.

your face starts burning in embarrassment even more as you tuck your face further into him. "you did scare me a bit when i first moved here, you look kinda intimidating sometimes.”

"you think i look intimidating? why?" he asks, his voice a bit surprised and confused. "i'm not a scary guy, you know that, right?” he lets out an awkward laugh and adjusts his arm around your waist. “my friends say i’m actually quite the softie.”

a giggle leaves your throat as you finally look up, staring into his eyes. "nah, i’m not scared anymore. you're like... i dunno. a big teddy bear, i guess. bears that look big and scary, but are actually cuddly sweeties, unless you piss them off.”

asahi smiles as you look up at him, his expression now softer. "that's actually a really cute analogy," he says, his voice full of warmth. “guess i see what you mean though," he says, smiling warmly at you. "i am a big guy, so..." he lets out a small snicker again.

his arm moves from your waist to your leg as he places his free hand underneath your head and pulls you closer still.

feeling his hands move across your skin like that makes your eyes suddenly squeeze shut and your breath catch slightly. "d-definitely a big guy…”

"what'd you think of me? what animal do you think i'm like?" your eyes flutter back open, staring up into his. you can almost feel his eyes wander your body, exploring every inch of your skin with a look of interest, as if he was trying to memorize everything about you.

"hmm... what kind of animal would you be? well…” he takes a moment to think. "you're kinda like a rabbit, to be honest with you," he says, his voice having changed from soothing and calm to a bit more intimate. "cute and adorable, with those big, lovely eyes of yours.”

he lets out a soft chuckle again as he continues, "yeah, you're a rabbit." he looks down at you again. "is that okay with you?" his hand moves down your thigh as he speaks, caressing your leg and making his way toward the hem of your nightgown.

staring into his eyes, you can't help the shiver that runs across your body from his touch. "but don't bears eat bunnies?" you whisper up at him.

he lets out a small laugh again at your comment and his eyes travel your body more. as his hand reaches the hem of your nightgown, your skin bristles under his touch. "not this bear," he continues, his voice quiet and calming. “i won't eat you, no. so don't worry about it.” he shifts his body a little once again and suddenly pulls you even closer to him as his free hand slides up your leg a tiny bit further. "shall i show you how gentle i truly am?" he whispers.

"maybe..." you whisper back, your breaths deep as you feel his hands against your skin, trying to calm yourself as much as you can. your face immediately burns red at your own words, embarrassed in anticipation for his response.

his smile becomes slightly wider as he hears your last words, his free hand slowly and softly trailing your leg as his eyes become wider and more intense. "did i hear you correctly, little bunny?" he whispers, his voice barely audible. "do you want me to do that?” the hand caressing your leg moves up a bit more and starts to pet your thigh, his fingernails barely touching your skin.

you nod your head lightly, arching your back and letting out a small whimper when you feel his hand pulling away.

am i seriously doing this?

but he's just so...

"big teddy bear can do whatever he wants.”

his smile becomes wider and his face slowly moves closer to yours. "i’m going to be very gentle with you. very, very gentle.” he whispers, his voice very soft but still a bit more intimate than before.

the sound of the bed sheets rustling and the blankets being adjusted is heard as asahi moves himself closer to you and shifts himself to have better access to your body. his hand moves back up your thigh and touches your nightgown again, making his fingers skim over you.

you can’t help but squirm when you feel his big hands ghosting your skin, fingers playing with your nightgown, staring up into his pretty brown eyes as you nod your head.

“more.”

your words make his smile widen and his eyes look more alive. his touch becomes a little more firm and his breathing becomes a bit heavier. "tell me what to do, little bunny." his voice is barely audible as his body moves slightly on top of you, waiting for your instructions, looking down at you with his hands still on your legs and his breath catching slightly in his throat. a small whimper leaves your mouth as you stare up at him, his long hair hanging down, framing your face.

"want teddy bear to kiss me." you whisper under your breath.

“i can do that," he whispers, looking at you intently. he leans down closer and places a small kiss on your lips, his hand moving up your thigh slowly. his lips are soft, gentle and almost scared against yours. they linger on yours for a few seconds before pulling away.

“what else?” his body moves closer to you once again as his hand reaches the bottom of your nightgown and he starts to lift it up a little. "tell me what you want, little bunny.” he whispers, his voice now sounding just a bit more desperate.

your breathing is getting heavier, your eyes unable to separate from his.

“again.”

your answer makes him lean down and claim your lips for a second time. his hand sneaks under your nightgown and moves it upward, his touch becoming a little more firm. still as gentle as he can make it, but definitely more firm than before.

"like that, sweetheart?" he whispers, his voice sounding more desperate by the second as his breath catches in his throat. his eyes are glued to yours and his body shifts a little bit on top of yours. "do you want me to keep going?" he asks softly.

you nod your head quickly, not wanting him to stop. "uh huh, please.” you arch your back as you felt his hands getting higher while they pull at your nightgown, aiding him as he tries to lift it.

he grins at you and moves his free hand to your thigh before pulling on your nightgown once again. he lets out a soft groan as your body curves ever so slightly from your movements. "you're a really good girl, little bunny." he whispers as he continues, bringing you even closer. "you like when your big teddy bear kisses you, don't you?"

"i'll give you more, sweetheart.”

a long whine leaves your mouth as you feel a sudden chill when the fabric of your nightgown is lifted higher, his flingers tracing lines across your skin, making you want more and more from him. "pleaseee, want you so bad.”

"i love you, little bunny."

as soon as the words pass through his lips his face looks more anxious. "i really do love you, you know that, right?” he whispers as his hand continues to move your nightgown up more and more, his fingertips touching and caressing every inch of skin they can reach within reason. your own breathing is heavy now, as you're barely managing to control your own desires at this point. "do you want me to kiss you again?”

you nod your head rapidly, not wanting him to stop. his lips are addicting, you can't help it.

“more.”

the sound of the fabric moving and rustling is loud in the otherwise quiet room as his hand manages to pull the nightgown just a little bit higher than before. he leans over you and places his lips on yours for a third time, his tongue slowly slipping out and brushing against your lips as his body presses against yours, his free hand caressing your body.

you can't help but moan when you feel his tongue slip in and brush against yours, moving in your mouth in a way that makes you melt in his arms even more. it's like your tongues were made for each other, fitting in the other's mouth perfectly. at the sound of your moans, he smiles widely against your lips as his tongue continues to dance with yours. as if he's been waiting to kiss you like this, as if he's been missing something from his life and you're finally filling that gap.

his hand holds on tight to your body, like he's finally fulfilling one of his dreams. you're breathless, and so is he. "do you want more? little bunny?” you're panting, gazing back up into his deep chocolate eyes. the higher his hands run under your nightgown, the more your body shivers, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you lean up to press a small kiss on his stubbly chin.

he lets out a soft groan when you kiss him, looking all the more hungry as he stares at you. his breathing is more frantic, as if he's just found the missing thing he's been looking for. "god, you're just so damn beautiful," he whispers to you, his other hand starting to move the fabric of your nightgown up higher and higher. he seems to be in a hurry despite already managing to reach your thighs, and the way he glances at you tells you that he seems to be contemplating whether or not to really do it…

"do you want me to take off your nightgown?”

a small breath leaves your mouth when you hear what he says. you knew that the situation was growing heavier, and you couldn't deny that you wanted asahi, but you didn't think that he'd actually ask you something like that.

"d-do you want to?”

asahi looks at you for a moment, his body pressed against yours and his fingers hovering above your clothes. his eyes travel to the nightgown that's barely covering you. the way his eyes dart from the nightgown to your face shows how conflicted he feels, and after a moment of silence, his eyes finally find yours once again.

his voice is barely audible when he speaks, as if that question itself scares him a bit. "i do... i really do, baby.” he closes his eyes and looks away for a moment before opening them again. "but only if you really want it." as he speaks, his hand lightly caresses your leg. "can i take off your nightgown, sweetheart?”

your breathing is heavy, and you stare into his eyes as you nod your head slowly, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards the fabric at the edge of your nightgown.

asahi’s eyes light up when he sees what you're attempting to do, his hand moving slowly as he takes hold of the rim of your nightgown. he takes a moment before slowly starting to lift it upwards, not taking his eyes off yours at any moment. he doesn't pull it off all at once- he does it slowly, slowly revealing pieces of your skin as he goes. with a small smile and the occasional gasps and moans, it's obvious that both him and you like this.

as the fabric is slowly raised, you're exposed to the cold air of the bedroom, and it tickles your skin, making you shiver under his light touch. you can't help but let a small whimper escape your lips as you stare up at his focused expression. he pulls the fabric further and further, allowing your body to become fully exposed to his gaze- your skin bare, exposed, vulnerable.

"do you like this, sweetheart?” asahi asks, his voice more quiet than ever. he moves his face close to yours and gives you a quick kiss on your lips. "i want to see you up close. can i?" he whispers.

a moan slips through your mouth from his movements, his words, everything happening at once. "please.”

he breathes deeply and moves his face away, looking at you for a moment before leaning down towards you again. his voice is quiet, full of affection, and he drags his thumb across your lips as moves his mouth back to your ear. "little bunny, i want you to feel good..." he whispers.

"i want you to feel good with your big teddy bear.” he moves your hair away from your face and leans his face close to yours again, his fingers petting your lips. "can we keep going? would you like that?”

the calluses on his fingers scrapes at your lips, but for some reason, it makes everything even more exciting. you reach your hands up, trailing them over his chest to link around his shoulders, and whisper out a small “yes.”

his heartbeat becomes quicker as you place your hands on his body, his breathing faster and he lets out a small, quiet moan before leaning forward and placing his lips on your own again. his hands slowly move down until they reach your bare chest. his fingers brushing against your skin as he continues kissing you with everything he can pour out of himself.

you can’t help but moan into his mouth when you feel his large hands ghosting your tits, the touches so light it tickles your skin and makes you whine for more.

his lips never leave yours as he kisses you with all his enthusiasm and passion, his hands slowly and carefully mapping your bare skin, as if he's afraid he'd accidentally hurt you. your moans and whimpers makes him feel the need to do even more as he kisses you harder and more eagerly than before, feeling like he's trying to memorize your taste. your fingers move into his hair and you pull him closer.

the feeling of his lips linked with yours and his hands caressing your bare skin sends sensations throughout your entire body. it makes your legs quiver and you struggle to maintain control over your own body while he continues to kiss you. when he finally pulls back to take a breath, you’re panting with your head rolled back, a smile beginning to spread across your face.

"such a teddy bear," you breathe out with your eyes shut, chuckling slightly under your breath.

his face is bright red and his breathing is a bit shaky, but he doesn't feel the need to say anything yet as he places his hand back on your chest and lightly squeezes your tits. "such a good little bunny," he whispers. “i've wanted to do this with you for so long." his voice is still very soft, his smile beaming. “are you happy? can i kiss you again?" he asks, his voice filled with desire.

a giggle leaves your mouth as you finally open your eyes again, looking up at him. you slowly reach your hand up, weaving it through his long hair and smile back at him. "definitely happier now, asahi." you nod your head and lean up until your lips meet, kissing him again.

when his lips once again meet yours, they clash with more intensity than before. his tongue slips out quickly, smashing with yours, his fingers moving down your body once again as he begins rubbing your bare back. "you're so beautiful when you're smiling like that, you know that right?” he whispers against your lips, his voice sounding more like a murmur. "you're so perfect when your voice is filled with little giggles and your face has that cute smile.” his thumb strokes your back as he leans back down, his tongue continuing to map your mouth.

you can’t help but blush at what he's saying, already feeling lightheaded by everything happening, and now feeling even more on edge through the kiss. your fingers tangle in his hair, trying to drag him somehow even closer as you wrap your leg around him. with a little giggle, he lets himself be pulled closer as you continue kissing him. he wraps his arms around your body and pulls you even more, pressing your bodies together more and more the longer the kiss lasts. your breathing is heavy, and the kiss is getting more passionate as your tongues play with each other. small sounds of pleasure escape your lips when he pulls his tongue away from yours. "can i be a bit more... bold... this time, little bunny?" he whispers.

you smile up at him through heavy breaths, trying to somehow think straight. "how can you be more bold than this?”

he grins as he gives you a small, teasing smirk. "there's much more i can do than just kiss you, little bunny. can i please show you what i can do?" he whispers, his voice full of affection and desire. his hands continue to caress your body, moving up and down as he gently strokes you. "can i touch you more? can we go further than just kisses and little touches? sweetheart, please let me see all of you.”

you melt into his gentle touches, smiling. opening your eyes to stare back into his as your nails trail slowly from his scalp, along his shoulders, down his back. "teddy bear can do whatever he wants to do to me.”

asahi lets out a small moan when you drag your nails down his body, his hands continuing to caress you, his voice becoming more desperate. "i want to touch your pussy, sweetie,” he whispers as his face somehow becomes even more red. "will you let me touch you there? little bunny, please? can i see you, all of you?”

a small shiver runs through your body as you hear his words and feel his hands moving across your skin.

this is too good.

"y-you can... if you take off your sweatpants too. so we're even..." a blush runs down your skin at his words and touches, but you want him so much.

his cheeks become a little more red as you say this, but he quickly nods at you and begins removing his sweatpants. "anything for you, little bunny.” his hands move from your body and he slides his sweatpants down, revealing his toned legs and tight underwear. the sight in front of you makes your breath catch- his arms flexing as he pulls his sweatpants off, showing his thick, muscular thighs that make you whimper. as he crawls back onto the bed, it displays his muscles and sends shivers down your spine. he sits down next to you and slowly caresses your body again, his touch a little more intimate now, his gaze filled with love and affection. "sweetheart, can i touch you now?”

when you feel his big hands lightly smoothing the skin on your tummy, your heartbeat starts speeding up- but when you hear him speak and look up into his big kind eyes, you immediately calm.

his touch gets more firm and intimate as his hands move up your torso, towards your breasts. your can feel his hands caressing your skin, gently stroking your tits with his callused fingers, making them move ever so slightly. this time, the sounds coming from your lips sound more like moans than anything.

"they're so pretty, little bunny." asahi whispers as he continues caressing you. as he speaks, his hands continue to caress your skin, as if he’s worshiping your body with every touch. then, once he's close enough, he leans forward and takes one of your tits into his mouth, suckling it lightly. you can't help the long whine that slips from your mouth at the feeling, him rolling the nipple between his lips. when he pulls back, a small line of saliva connects it to his mouth.

"little bunny, your skin is so soft…” his voice is soft with a smile as he continues caressing your body. his touch is still light, but you can tell he wants to do so much more. his hands start trailing lower and lower until his fingers touch the edge of your panties. "can i touch you down there, little bunny? can i touch you there and show you how much i love you?" his words are quiet, eyes glued to his hands as they tremble.

"please, asahi." you whisper out. you can tell he's nervous, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. with a quick nod, his hands move beneath the waistband of your panties, his fingers slowly moving across the surface of your skin as he pulls them down.

"i'll make you feel good, little bunny…” his voice is quiet and filled with desires he's wanted to fulfill for so long. "do you... do you want me, little bunny? do you want me to touch your pussy and show you how good it can feel?" he whispers softly as his fingers continue moving, lightly trailing across your folds, searching for the perfect spot.

your back arches and you can’t help but squirm under his touch, his big, warm hands pawing at you and turning you into mush. "yesss, want teddy bear to touch me." you’re mewling from his touch, his words.

"please, daddy.” you whisper with your eyes squeezed shut.

asahi’s head snaps up to look at you as you call him that, and a huge blush spreads across his face. his voice becomes even quieter than before when he speaks again. "little bunny, can you... call me that again? can you call me daddy, please?”

as he speaks, his long, thick fingers slip into your pussy, sinking deeper and deeper, searching for the perfect spot. he's using so much restraint now, as if he's afraid of moving too fast for you, your sounds and words turning him into a complete mess.

his thumb brushes against your clit and makes your vision go blank, your body tensing up, flinging your head back into the pillow below as you cry out. "there! right there, daddy!”

his breath catches when your voice peaks and your body tenses under his touch. "right there, little bunny?" he whispers, still unable to believe that you just called him “daddy”, and how loud you were when you did it. you were always so quiet, but your moans and whimpers are making him weak on his knees.

his thumb continues to circle your clit, his other fingers reaching deep to rub the inside of your pussy as he keeps up with the movement you like so much. "d-don't stop asahi." you whine out, your eyes fluttering back open to stare at his face. "s...so good.”

"i... i won't stop. i promise.” his hands keep going, his fingers moving with rhythm and a pace that makes you mewl. he presses his lips against your neck and whispers in your ear. "little bunny, do you feel all hot and tingly down there? do you feel it building up?”

"i do, i do!” you cry out, your cunt feeling like it's burning under his touch, your breathing getting quicker and quicker. he tilts his head and takes a small kiss, a little teasing nip on your neck as he leans over you again. "tell me how good it feels…”

"f-feels a-amazing." you stutter, turning into a mumbling mess under his hands. his fat fingers feel like fire against your skin, and he continues to make you feel good, slowly moving his fingers in circles and caressing the same spot over and over again. his breaths become louder as he puts as much attention as he can into making you feel good.

"i want you to tell me when you're about to cum." his voice becomes softer and softer as he speaks. “little bunny, can you please tell daddy when you feel it?" his hands are slightly trembling now as he continues moving his fingers back and forth, massaging your cunt to the sound of your moans.

you nod your head quickly, mewling under his touch. "c-close daddy, i’m close.”

his lips curl up into a smile as he hears your words, his touch becoming more intense and aggressive in attempt to make you feel the best he can. "that's it, little bunny." he whispers. "keep going. keep going. i'm right here…” your body starts trembling and your breaths grow louder. you're so close now, and you might not be able to hold back for much longer.

your body suddenly tenses up, squeezing in on itself as you subconsciously curl your limbs together. a long and loud cry escapes your mouth as you start shaking around his fingers.

“asahiiiii!”

his own voice breaks as he hears you cry out his name. "yes, baby! you can do it!"

"mhm... yes, little bunny..." he leans closer towards you and holds you close, kissing you for a few long seconds before whispering into your ear once again. "let it go, sweetie. let it go." his words and touches are filled with love and affection, your arms clinging to him as your body begins to calm down, whimpers spilling from your mouth as you look up at him with shaky eyes.

he's blushing when he looks back at you with a huge smile. "you did it… good job, little bunny." he whispers, as his damp fingers slowly slipping out and moving to caress your thigh. "does it feel good now? do you…” he slowly sits back on his knees, moving close to you and caressing your hair as your head rests on his chest. "tell me. how do you feel now? was it good, princess?" he whispers, sounding a bit nervous.

you look up at his flustered face and nod in response. "uh huh… yeah.” you stare at him for a while, looking his body up and down before taking notice of something and whispering, "you didn't get to do anything though, did you?”

his face becomes slightly redder as you point that out to him. "eh... n-no, not really... but that's okay! you don't have to do anything for me." he whispers, and the way he's looking at you is different than before. he wraps his arms around your body and hugs you tight, kissing the top of your head. "is there... anything i can do for you? is there anything you want from me?”

you tilt your head up to look at him. “but that's not fair for you. i want my teddy bear to be happy too, like you made me." you can’t help the look of innocence on your face- he deserves to feel like that too.

his blush gets deeper when you point that out to him. "i... no, no, it's okay. i don't need to feel good right now." he whispers, still trying to avoid the situation. but when he sees that innocent look on your face, he gives up and slowly leans down towards you.

"okay, fine! you can… reward me then, princess." his voice becomes slightly breathy by the way you're looking at him. "can i have your mouth then, please?"

a small smile spreads across your face when you hear his response, nodding your head. "anything you want, asahi.”

his lips slowly and lightly press against yours as he leans to kiss you. this isn't the heated make-out session you just had with him- this is slow, tender. one hand slowly trails down from your hair to your back, gently caressing you, his other hand holding you close to his body. his eyes slowly close and his heart flutters with excitement. "you're so beautiful, princess." he murmurs softly as his lips remain pressed against yours.

you can feel his scruff tickling your chin as he whispers, and it makes you giggle lightly. you shuffle around so you can sit up a little better, making it easier for him to reach your mouth without making him lean down so far. it's impossible not to melt into his soft kisses, and it makes you feel like you were almost… connected. he continues slowly kissing you as you move, making sure to adjust his head just right to make you feel comfortable. his tongue slowly touches your lips, teasing them and causing you to smile- this is much more intimate than the other kisses. "do you want to lay back down, princess?" he whispers lightly.

"mmm hmm…” you mumble against his lips, following his movements as he begins to rotate how you sit. his strong arms slide down to wrap around your waist as he lowers you onto your back, towering over you as your lips remain connected. his arms slowly move away from your waist and caress your body as his lips move from your mouth to your neck to press gentle, soft love bites. "you taste so good..." he whispers, his head moving up and down your body. "i want so much more, princess.”

you can’t help but moan as you feel his mouth suck and nibble at your collarbones, the feeling so good as his body heat spreads across yours. "teddy bear can do whatever he wants- it's your turn." you breathe out.

asahi suddenly freezes, looking up slowly and smiling when he hears your words. "do you mean... you'll let me…" he pauses for a tiny moment, a small bit of hope shining in his eyes. “i can do whatever i want? i can play with you however i want?”

a smile spreads across your face and a small giggle escapes when you hear his response. he's so cute.

"yes asahi.”

his eyes light up and his entire face becomes bright red when he hears your giggle. "thank you, little bunny..." he breathes out. his fingers start trailing across your body once more, his movements becoming quicker and more eager. "are you ready, princess? just let me know if it's too much and i'll stop, please tell me if you feel any pain." his words are spoken with so much affection and worry, his eyes lidded as he continues to explore your body.

"i think i'm ready." you say, looking up at him with a smile. "i'Il tell you, i promise.”

his fingers and mouth keep moving across your body, suckling your skin and leaving kisses. "good, princess. good, good…” he whispers, his voice filled with affection. he can't help but feel giddy as he continues touching your body, feeling you react to his touch. his hand goes back up to your hair and he gives it a gentle stroke as he lifts his head. "just tell me if it starts to hurt, okay, princess?”

you nuzzle his hand as it strokes your hair, giving a small nod in response as you lift your legs. hiking them around his back, you begin to tug and play with the waistband of his boxers with your toes.

his eyes widen and a huge smile appears on his face. "oh? is baby bunny helping me with something?" his fingers move away from your hair and he gently grabs and slightly pulls his boxers down. "are you trying to get rid of these, princess?" he whispers, a big smile on his face as he watches you. "do you want me to be fully naked for you too, little bunny?”

"uh huh." you murmur under your breath as you watch his hands grabbing the waistband, slowly lowering your legs back down to the mattress to give him easier access. "daddy bear's being too slow.”

asahi can't help but laugh when you call him “daddy bear". he smiles down at you as he throws his boxers to the side and then sits back down next to you. he leans forwards and gives you a quick kiss on your cheek. "is there anything else you want, little bunny? anything else you need from your daddy bear?”

you reach your hand over and brush some of his fallen hair out of his face, taking your time to look him over with wide eyes. he's big- that was a given though. thick length and a fat sack, you can tell he’s going to stretch you out, and it makes your breath catch for a second. you weren't sure what you were expecting, but he's definitely better than you imagined. "j-just want you to be happy... i want you, asahi.”

"oh, i know... i want you a lot too, princess. is… is that okay? can i have you?" he asks softly. his heart starts to beat extremely fast in his chest, his face bright red as if he's ashamed to ask. when he speaks, he's as soft as before, his voice gentle and filled with love and affection. "is it okay if i have your body, little bunny?” he asks, his eyes fluttering closed to avoid looking at you for a moment.

you slowly reach over towards him, grasping his hand with yours and pulling it from where it sat on his leg. holding your hands together, you stare at him as you slowly reach your conjoined hands downward until your fingers start to wrap around his cock. "yes, asahi." you breathe out.

his voice is soft and gentle as he finally opens his eyes again to look at you, watching as you grab ahold of his cock in a gentle, tight grip. he shivers under your touch, and a small groan escapes him. "oh my- oh, god... oh my god, princess…” he grips the bed sheets tightly.

“good… good, little bunny."

you move your hand up and down slowly, pumping his fat cock to the noises that escape his mouth. the sounds he's making are so hot, you can't help but groan from hearing them.

"is it okay, asahi?” you whisper out, adjusting your hand in attempt to fit fully around his throbbing thickness.

he doesn't respond for a few moments, his breath coming out as little whimpers. "is it okay? no, no, it's okay…” his words sound muffled as his voice becomes filled with desire. he closes his eyes again as his face turns completely red. "it's more than okay, little bunny, it's amazing- i…” his voice stays soft and gentle, but he doesn't try to hide how good he feels from your touch.

"your grip is so s-soft, and it feels... i-i'm gonna…” you start feeling him begin to tense up, and you yank your hand away quickly, stopping the movements immediately.

"no! baby, no, don't stop!” he sounds desperate as he opens his eyes to look at you. "it... i... it felt so good! what are you doing, princess?" he whines, his voice filled with anxiety now. "please don't stop, princess, please! i was so close, it felt so good…”

you can’t help the small giggle that leaves your mouth when you see his response.

he's so cute when he's worried.

"don't want you to finish in my hands, asahi. i think... i think i want you to…" a blush spreads across your face as you look down, unsure how to express what you want to say.

his expression relaxes and his eyes become soft as they look at you, moving his fingers through your hair to reassure you.. "you want me to...? little bunny, do you want... me to... inside you?” his voice is slightly unsure, but excited as he begins to connect the dots to what you want. "i... i want to, yes, but are you sure little bunny? do you think you're ready for it?” he sounds concerned despite how much he wants it, because he's afraid he'll hurt you. if you ask him, he'll give you everything you want, but he's still scared he'll make a mistake or be too rough.

you nod your head quickly in return, watching the emotions change across his face. "i'm ready asahi, i want you." you can't separate your eyes from his. "need you.”

the way you're looking at him pushes him over the edge, and without another word, he quickly rolls over so that he's hovering over you. his legs slowly slide into position and he reaches down to lift your legs up on his shoulders. "little bunny, you're so amazing," he whispers, his eyes still locked on yours as he slowly moves closer to you. he moves his head down to your chest and begins to kiss you passionately at the neck, his breath becoming deeper with each passing moment. "i need you too, princess.”

you can’t help but whimper when his lips attach to your neck again, your legs hiked over his shoulders in a foreign position you’d never been in before. "pleaseee, asahi!" you whine out, his tongue and lips gently licking and suckling your skin as he slowly moves back up your body. his face is right next to your ear, the heat of his breath tickling you as his voice becomes softer.

"yes, princess, i'm right here.” his arms wrap around you once again as he gently pulls you closer to him and kisses you. "can i? can i cum in you, little bunny?" he whispers against your lips, his fingers trailing across your body as he waits for your answer.

you nod your head rapidly, whimpering as you feel his touches. "uh huh, yes, please.” your words are coming out fast and slurred, whining in want for him.

his whole face lights up as he hears your answer and he slowly starts to move himself lower, making sure that you'll be comfortable the whole time. "okay, okay, just relax, princess. just let daddy take care of you.”

"just tell me if i’m doing too much, okay, baby bun?" his voice is soft and gentle as he tries to calm you. if this is what you want, and you're okay with it, then he's okay with it too.

"i-i will, daddy.” your voice comes out like a whisper, yearning for his touch as you watch him line up. he shivers when you say "daddy", and you see his legs tremble a little once he's finally in position. his fingers run through your hair as he takes a deep breath in.

"okay. i'm... i'm ready, princess.” he leans forwards and kisses you gently, his eyes closing as he moves closer. "just... breathe, okay, little bunny?”

your breath catches when you feel him push forward and into you, your eyes rolling back and clenching shut at the wide stretch. “a-a-asahi!"

he lets out a quiet groan when he hears your voice break, his body quivering and his lips trembling as he stares at you affectionately. he pushes in slowly, allowing your body time to adjust to the sensation as he feels you clenching around him.

"is... is everything okay, princess?" he asks softly, his own voice shaky with nerves and excitement. he's moving very slowly in an effort to be gentle, wanting to take his time and try not to hurt you. "are you okay? does it feel good, little bunny?” he whispers, his fingers moving back up your body to massage your hip. "just tell me if it's too much for you, okay?” he looks down at you as he slowly begins to pull back. "just... breathe, baby. just breathe-"

"s-so..." your mouth hangs open, panting as you try to compose yourself. “you…you’re s-so thick, asahi…”

his face becomes completely red as soon as he hears your words and he freezes up. “p-princess? p-please? don't say that aloud..." his head is shaking and his eyes are wide, filled with embarrassment at your words. he slowly reaches up and covers your mouth with his large hand to keep your voice down. "we don't... no... we don't talk like that out loud, little bunny, alright? do you understand?" he whispers, his voice sounding so flustered.

he's so cute when he's embarrassed

a whimper escapes your mouth, opening your eyes to look up at him. "i-it's okay, asahi..." you try to speak from behind his hand, muffled from his attempt to make you quieter.

"i... alright..." his fingers slowly leave your mouth and travel back down your body, his hand moving to your ass and squeezing it as he starts to move his hips.

"what do you need, little bunny?" he asks gently, his head leaning down to rest between your breasts. "i want to give you anything… just tell me and i'll give it to you.”

you try to steady your breathing as you get used to how he feels, relaxing and becoming less tense under his touch. “i w-want you to feel good.”

tilting your head down to look where he rests on your chest, you reach forward to stroke his hair. "you can do whatever you want, teddy bear.”

his eyes flutter open and he sees how close your bodies are, how gently you're touching him. he slowly moves his hand back down, wrapping it around your waist and pulling you closer. "i'm feeling more than fine, yeah? i feel amazing already." he smiles, moving his head back up towards yours again. “do you want me to go faster?"

you nod your head, staring back at him with a small smile creeping across your face. "that sounds good.”

"oh, good, because i'm going crazy." he chuckles, his voice filled with hunger for more of you. he pulls back before thrusting hard into you again, letting out a small, satisfied moan.

"you're so... god, so... tight..." he whispers, his voice shaking as his body quivers. he starts to rock his hips slowly, making sure he stays at a pace that'll suit you best. “is it okay if i suck on your neck, princess?" he whispers, looking at you with adoring eyes as he waits for your answer.

you can’t help but giggle back at him. "you really like teasing my tits and my neck, don't you teddy bear?”

"i do..." he murmurs softly, quickly leaning in to nibble the skin of your neck. his tongue gently licks the skin, leaving a trail of light, playful bites on it. "i just like playing with you, little bunny. i feel like i could play with you forever…” he whispers with a soft smile on his face.

he moves up and he continues to kiss you, his hands pressing down on the back of your thighs to keep you folded as he starts to thrust harder and faster. you can’t help the loud moans that escape your mouth from the actions he's making- his bites, his kisses, his hands, his thrusts. "ughhh! you're so g-good, asahi!” you whine with your head thrown back against the pillow.

his face blushes again, his eyes closed as he tries to focus on pleasing you. he can feel your cunt tightening and fluttering around him, and it makes him move a little faster, the pace finally accelerating to the point where he’s panting.

"little bunny, i'm getting close..." his voice is shaky, filled with excitement, eager to hear you.

you start nodding your head frantically, murmuring "uh huh~" over and over again under your breath. your breathing is heavy as your body starts to shake, whining nonstop. "do it, daddy! want you so bad…”

"little bunny, if you say that again, i’m gonna-!" he stops himself from saying anything else and his face flushes with embarrassment. “i-i'm close, princess…” he whispers, his voice quivering. asahi moves his head up to yours and he looks at you again with a worried look in his eyes. "i'm sorry, i can't- i can't hold back...”

he's so close now.

"pleaseee! asa-!" your loud whines are cut off with a choked cry as your body tenses up, your cunt walls fluttering and gripping his cock, squeezing hard, trying to pull him in deeper.

his whole face lights up with a smile as he wraps his arms tight around you and moves his face closer to yours. "h-holy-oh.." he slowly lets out some air and he snaps his hips faster now. "ah-ah-aha….. ah…” his face is a mix of multiple emotions by this point, so much going through his body at once. "oh god... oh my god, princess... i... i'm so close... i-”

his body tenses up as he lets out another loud moan of pleasure and freezes, his cock pulsing and twitching inside your pussy as he fills you with his hot cum. asahi’s face is completely red as his body trembles with pleasure, and he looks down at you with adoring, loving eyes. “p-princess... little bunny~.. oh my god, i…” he's so overwhelmed with everything, he just can't look anywhere other than your face, his mouth is hung open as he struggles to breathe properly.

you can feel his big hands that grip your arms shaking, his long hair dangling in your face and tickling your skin. both of your breathing is heavy and uneven, and you can’t stop staring up into his handsome face as you slowly lower your legs. "a-asahi? a-are you okay?”

he pulls you even closer to him, burying your face into his chest as he wraps his arms tightly around you once again. you can feel his heart beating rapidly, his body still in shock at what just happened, and he just can’t let go of you at all.

"little... little bunny..." his words come out in between deep breaths as he looks down at you with loving eyes. "i'm okay. never been better.”

you lay there, your head tucked into his chest for what feels like hours as your breaths grow even. stroking your hair, tight grip around your center, you were glued to his warm body."i don't think i'm going to have nightmares anymore…” you whisper out.

even as you feel his thick cock softening inside you, asahi never pulls out, and you stay connected as you finally lull into a state of calm. pulling on the blankets to cover the both of you, smiling softly and pressing a kiss on your forehead as he wraps his arms tighter around you. “you're my princess, okay? i'm here for you... forever,” he pulls you as close to his body as he can. "you're mine, and i'm yours to keep and love. we were... well... it was bound to happen.”

you can’t help but snuggle into his scruffy neck, your breaths slowing as you fall asleep against his warmth.

"sleep well, little bunny." his voice is calm and soft as he runs his fingers through your hair and pulls you even closer to him. he's your teddy bear, and he'll always take care of his little rabbit.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

a/n: sorry this one turned out so much longer than previous things i've written, i have no idea how tf it did lol. side note- i'm currently writing two other fics rn, and have another one in the "setup/planning" phase as well, so i guess look out for those soon haha. tag list (leave a comment if you wanna be added for future fics!)

@tsukiran @msbyomimi

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happy74827 · 6 months

Text

Burning Bridges

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Upon an incident that was out of your control, Dexter comes to the realization that it wasn't just a coincidence.

WC: 1951

Category: Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort

I forgot how much I missed this show (him), so I decided to write another. It's been so long since I last wrote for him that I actually see the difference in my writing. It's wack.

『••✎••』

Dexter was many things… a brother, a son, a pro bowler, a serial killer… but what he lacked was being a good friend.

He didn't understand friendship or its value. It was something that he simply couldn't grasp. Sure, he was able to fake it well enough in order to make sure that people liked him and didn't find him too creepy or strange, but there was never any real emotional connection. In his mind, everyone was either someone he needed or someone he didn't need, and he would treat them accordingly. The only exceptions to this rule were his sister, Debra, and you.

The two of you had met back in college, having been assigned to be each other's partners for a group project. It was a poetry class and a course that Dexter hadn't really wanted to take, but a general education requirement and the promise of an easy A convinced him to at least show-up and suffer through it. Well, for a guy who had to fake every single aspect of his personality in order to fit in with society, it turned out that poetry didn’t come quite as easily as he thought it would.

He had always found the art form to be rather silly, with all the emphasis on metaphors and flowery language. There was no purpose or goal other than to be creative and artsy, and it bored him to no end. The first time you had sat down with him to discuss the project, you could tell how much he didn't want to be there, and the look of complete disinterest on his face as he tried to figure out what your poem meant was the most hilarious thing that you had seen in a while. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound of which made him sit up and give you a quizzical look.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, confused.

"Nothing," you replied, still giggling. "It's just that I can tell that you don't like poetry."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you haven't said a word; you're just sitting there, staring off into space and twirling your pencil between your fingers," you told him, and he glanced down at the utensil as if he didn't realize that he was doing that.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess," he apologized, his tone making it clear that he was actually a little annoyed at having been called out on his inattentiveness.

"That's okay. I like poetry, so I'll be happy to do most of the work," you offered, smiling sweetly, and his eyebrows raised.

And that you did. In fact, you loved it so much that you majored in English and planned on getting your Masters, while Dexter got his degree in criminology. It was a nice trade-off because while he struggled in poetry, getting down into the debts of his feelings that were nonexistent, you struggled with chemistry, unable to wrap your head around the subject no matter how hard you tried.

So, the two of you had a mutually beneficial agreement. You did all the work for the poetry class, and in exchange, he tutored you in chemistry and made sure that you got a decent grade. Once the class was over and done with, the two of you stayed friends, though you had very little in common. Dexter had no interest in books, and you had no interest in criminology. He was a loner, and you had plenty of friends. You were a romantic, and he was completely unromantic. He didn't even have a girlfriend, and you had been in three different relationships over the course of the two years that you had known him.

Still, the two of you got along well enough. You were one of the only people that Dexter could actually stand for more than five minutes, and he was the same to you. So you went out to the bar sometimes, hung out with his sister, and did your best to keep him company while also doing your best to try to set him up on dates, hoping that one of these days, he'd actually find someone. It eventually did work out when you found him Rita, but as of right now, she had broken up with him, and he was back to being a lonely bachelor which it didn't bother him much until now.

You were in the hospital, your head wrapped and bandaged like a mummy. You were apparently attacked outside the grocery store, and if it wasn’t for the small instructions he had given you for self-defense, you most likely wouldn’t have survived.

At first, Dexter didn’t think of it as anything important in terms of his line of work. He believed it to be a coincidence, a random crime in the night. But it turned into something more the night he decided to visit with some cake.

“How’s the head?” He asked as he came inside, seeing you propped up reading. Of course, you were reading.

You shrugged. “Like I’m wearing a sweater hat, but it doesn't hurt, so there's that." You paused, setting down your book and glancing at him. "I’m still salty about my groceries. Almost two hundred dollars I spent on that stuff. Gone. Wasted. Poof."

Dexter had to chuckle a bit. "Hey, I can't do much about the food, but I brought you something," he said, revealing the white box.

"Is it chocolate? If it is, I love you," you joked.

"No, it's just vanilla. But, here."

He opened the lid and showed you, and you immediately lit up.

"Awww, Dexter! You are the best friend ever," you gushed, giving him a warm smile.

He smiled back. "It's the least I could do."

He was cutting it up for you when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t seem to notice, but out in the hall, a shadow passed by the window. His body went on alert, eyes flickering towards the door. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out an elderly man with gray hair and a beard.

Dexter's face remained unchanged, though his body language betrayed him as he sat the cake knife down. He knew that look. That look in a man's eyes when he was looking at prey. This was a predator.

"Hey, uh, what was that description again? Of the man who attacked you," Dexter asked, his tone a bit distracted.

"You mean Santa Claus on drugs? That pretty much sums it up. Why?" You looked up, confused.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing."

But it was something. The man had apparently come back to finish the job, and Dexter's jaw clenched at the thought. He was already planning his death in his mind. It wouldn’t be pretty. He gave you a piece of cake, swearing that he’d be back soon before going after the man. He stopped at the lobby momentarily, informing Angel to keep an eye on you, which, of course, the cop complied with.

Angel was a good cop. He was loyal, smart, and a damn good shot. But there was one thing that made him a great cop. He cared about his city and the people in it. He would protect the innocent no matter the cost, especially when it came down to those he was closest to. He was the kind of guy who would risk his life without a second thought if it meant saving others.

This is why Dexter liked Angel and why he was the only one that he trusted with this job.

Finding the man was extremely easy on his part. Dexter already knew what the guy’s plan was, so he stuck around outside the parking lot, watching the shadows. After a few minutes, the man appeared, heading towards the entrance once again.

He never got that far.

A hand was clamped over his mouth while the other dragged him away from the double doors and towards the side of the building. Dexter didn’t pull out his knife, though, only resorting to his arms as he applied pressure against his throat. The man fought, trying to break free, but he didn't get the chance. Dexter didn’t kill him, no, not yet, but his arm was still strong, and he had no plans to let go.

“Listen closely. If you so much as look the wrong way, I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Understand? Nod if you do," he threatened, his voice calm and even. The man nodded, terrified, his eyes wide.

"Good," Dexter replied, “Why are you here?"

The man was quiet, but he was breathing heavily, and his eyes were watering.

"Talk. That girl, why are you after her?"

"I’m not—”

"You attacked her, and now you came back to finish the job, did you not? Who sent you?"

The man was sweating; his face was flushed and red. Dexter was pressing too hard, and his victim was starting to lose air. He didn’t care.

"Who?" He repeated.

The man choked, unable to speak.

"Last chance. Who sent you? And don't lie to me."

The man didn’t answer, and Dexter tightened his hold. That finally did it. The man began to squirm violently, trying to break free, but it was too late. His face started to turn purple, and Dexter had to adjust his grip and pull him closer.

“It wasn’t personal! I had to! I didn't have a choice! It was just a job!" He gasped out, struggling for air. “I got paid to do it. I was just doing what I was told! Please, please, don't kill me."

"Who was it?"

"I—I don’t know. It was some lady. I met her at a bar. She didn’t give her name, but he wasn’t American. She gave me ten thousand dollars and told me that the job was to attack this chick in the parking lot and make it look like an attempted robbery. Said it had to be done in a couple of days. Listen, man, I didn't want to do it. But the money—"

"What did she look like?" Dexter cut in.

"Dark hair. Young. I don't know! I don't know, I swear. She wore sunglasses the whole time. Please, don’t kill me. Please."

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The Dark Passenger was roaring, the realization washing over him like cold water.

Lila.

Everything made sense now. The way she had suddenly showed up out of nowhere, the incident outside the bowling alley, her sudden interest in you. It all made sense. She was behind it. She had done it.

Dexter wanted to snap the man's neck. He wanted to rip his throat out. He wanted to take his knife and stab him over and over again, to punish him for what he had done to you, but he refrained. He had the answers he needed, and the cameras around were still running.

He dropped him and watched him collapse, gasping for air. He didn't move, too scared and in shock to do so. Dexter didn’t say a word; his anger was silent, but it was boiling beneath his skin.

He was going to kill her. He was going to hunt her down and end her, and there was no place on Earth where she could hide.

“You ever, and I mean ever, come near her again; I will tear out your spine and make you choke on it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

Dexter didn’t say anything else; he simply walked off, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had a lot to think about.

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turndecassette2 · 10 days

Note

I do remember those magic knight people! Every once in a while I go back on your blog to try to track down those drawings because I like them and the concept in the description so much. I would love to hear more about them. Do you have a story planned out?

yeah, vaguely. so for the cosmology; there's this dystopian city I desperately need to draw a map of built above the fossilised remains of an ancient hell. the city mines the hell for 'hell-flesh', a semi-sentient magical substance that's kind of the physical container of the souls of the damned. I suppose this is like fantasy rare earths for fantasy compute or w/e. this has been going on for a while and the city is, kiruna-style, gradually falling down the pit. also as more of the hell is laid bare, semi-autonomous demonic creatures are let loose, maybe as a kind of immune response against human incursion.

(imagining this sort of thing + branching passages. but in the middle of an italian intra-feuding city-state w a population ca modern day singapore)

a kind of grid of bridges and fortresses has been built above the pit to protect the fancier, upper parts of the city from the decaying/descending bits below. the lower city is mostly miners etc & due to the fucked up mutagenic influence of living near a hell & touching hell stuff all day the people in the upper city treat them with suspicion. there's a 'join the US navy-army-whatever to get health insurance & education & basic human dignity' or like french foreign legion situation where by joining the elite magic army manning the little fortresses, ppl from the lower city can gain some access to the upper. in the reverse I guess for the upper city ppl it functions a bit like 'the wall' in asoiaf where criminals, noble bastards etc go to maybe redeem themselves or die horribly.

the fire magic used by the guards to fight demons etc is derived from the burning corpse of a god that is said to have been there since before the founding of the city (presumably the entity responsible for the hell situation in the first place). by swearing fealty to this dead(-ish) god one gets the ability to summon his divine flame but you forfeit your chance at an afterlife, or maybe you go to hell (no-one is quite sure). everyone kind of assumes once the body is fully burned the god will return/reincarnate (and either save or destroy the city, depending on who you ask).

the politics part; at its founding the city was part of some empire that has since collapsed (pretty recently). the city is dependent on trade to stay viable/fed and to appease the new warring states/mini-empires that have sprung up around it. the current ruler is a reclusive young queen & she has her favourite lord/advisor, an ageing academic who is sort of trying to liberalise the place or make it superficially less fashy. other lords dislike this & are working to either find her a proper king or hasten the return of some deity or other that will return the place to its former glory.

I guess the story? has this noble child bastard protagonist from a shady family* of word-mages who is sent to the 'centre' fortress & works her way up to become the apprentice of some hero-knight demon slayer guy with a possibly shady past (I think rn the name I have for the guy is Chaimé & idk if this is a good name? like the spanish jaime but w more e, & the tiny bastard is Myia I think). I imagine her being the sasuke to a happier, more popular girl who saves her from a demon (embarrassing) then is outed as a half-demon herself (she's the redhead in the drawings) & Myia warms up to her as she (demon girl) becomes increasingly isolated from the outside city (being supposedly dangerous or too powerful? I don't think Myia has much natural magic or w/e in her aside from being a nerd & very persistent).

sorry there's a lot here that would be SPOILERS if I ever actually made this into something coherent enough to be an actual comic ha ha. the knight/mentor guy gets dragged into a kind of fantasy 'business plot' & I guess part of that would be like, seeing to what extent he goes along with it & if he's actually a good person ha ha. + there's a bunch of other characters w stuff going on that I haven't figured out the looks of yet but. they're important in my head. the big bear-ish bf guy who gets sent on an expedition down the pit etc

* I have a distinct image of these people living hidden away in some gormenghast-style estate. they've habsburged themselves into being mostly deaf but the only ones around who can fully read/write the divine language that lets them do word-based magic & the other houses kind of have to put up w their weirdness. also scheming nobles in dune using sign language is 1 of my favourite things in the new film adaption & I like the idea of outsiders being forced to learn to sign (or else being cut-off from higher level magic) as some sort of power move? I don't think they involve themselves that much in politics since that's below them but are def part of the 'bring the gods back' thing, for better or worse. anyway after 'avas demon' (GUILTY PLEASURE I know it has such pretty colours but comes from such an unhinged part of the internet, will never stop apologising for this) started posting again I realised it had a character w the same look & vibe so will try and re-design protag girl to look more like this cute person I saw in a fashion post on IG

... let's see how this goes. came up w all this BS after some viz lady at comicon asked me if I wanted to make them a manga but it's grown from being too little to being too unwieldy to pitch. will see after I finish up my current projects. how much blood, swearing & genocide can a story have before it stops being YA. I think chainsaw man is sort of YA but dorohedoro isn't

#I started reading dorohedoro as a teen & I turned out OK #I mean I draw comics I live w my parents in the woods like a medieval peasant etc but that's no worse than the rest of society #these days #god this is a mess #16 yo me loved the bas-lag books #an ask #sorry abt grammar etc this is a lot of words

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vodika-vibes · 2 months

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Can you write a Crosshair x reader and him with his shaky hands like we saw in season 3 and maybe reader comforting him...

For The Love Of A Bounty Hunter

Summary: Crosshair goes missing while dealing with your family. You have opinions about it.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Bounty Hunter Reader

Word Count: 1919

Warnings: Mentions of torture

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I decided to make this story a sequel to one of my Event Fics, I'll add the link so people can find it easily. Also, there are no spoilers here, because I haven't watched TBB at all. ^-^

For The Love Of A Sniper - Part 1 of this Mini Series

You stare, blankly, at the calendar on the datapad in front of you as you draw another red X over another day.

Three weeks.

It’s been three weeks since Crosshair went to deal with the PI who was looking into you on behalf of your family. Three weeks since he vanished.

You carefully set the datapad down on the table and release a shaky breath. Carefully shoving the burning rage down, for now.

Crosshair would sooner cut his own hands off than betray you. You know this. You know him. He would never tell your parents where you are. And, the fact that they haven’t shown up at your ship, is proof enough that Crosshair didn’t tell them anything.

The bigger question is, is Crosshair still alive.

Stars, you hope so. You’re not sure the galaxy will survive your rage if he isn’t. You’re not sure you’ll survive your rage if he isn’t.

You jerked out of your thoughts when your holo chimes.

For a moment you consider ignoring it, you’re not in the mood for chatting. But, in the end, you cross the room and hit the button to answer the holo, “I’m not accepting any jobs at the moment.” You say bluntly.

“It is me.” Tech’s image flickers to life above the holo, “I have the information you asked for.”

You blink, “Oh. Sorry.”

“No harm done, I know that you are stressed.” He looks down at his datapad, “I am sending you the information I have.”

You pick your datapad back up as it chimes with the information he sent you. “Are you sure this is accurate?” You ask, as you see the information, “Last I heard the people who took him are wealthy.”

Tech sniffs, “Very sure. According to what I have found, they used to be wealthy. But then spent most of their fortune looking for their missing child.” He pauses, “That would be you, I am guessing.”

“Right in one, Tech.” You reply with a grimace.

“I am sure you had your reasons.” Tech says after a moment, “If Crosshair is anywhere, it is there.”

You scan the image that Tech sent you. Figures, it would be your childhood house. Not home. Never home. “Thanks Tech.”

“You are welcome.” He pauses, “Are you quite sure that you do not require aid? We can be there in a couple of days.”

“I have it.”

“They are your family.”

“Not all families are created equal, Tech. And this,” You hold up the datapad, "has been a long time coming.”

Tech sighs, “Comm when you have him back. And if you should think that you need our help-”

“I’ll be sure to let you know. Thanks for the intel, Tech. I mean it.”

“You do not have to thank me. Crosshair is my twin brother. I want him safe just as much as you do.”

“Even so. I know you’re not my biggest fan.”

Tech is quiet for a moment, “I will concede that, perhaps, I was too quick to judge.”

“Yeah, well…so was I. Water under the bridge.”

Tech smiles at you, a small smile, but a smile all the same, “I think I am beginning to see what Crosshair sees in you. Happy hunting.”

You flash a small smirk, “Yeah. Right back at you.” And then you kill the holo. You look back at the datapad, and swipe through the information.

“Hold on, Cross. I’ll be there soon.” You whisper to the empty ship.

“It’s a simple thing,” Crosshair rolls his eyes at the massive Devaronian looming over him, “All you have to do is tell us where the little mistress is.”

“I told you the truth weeks ago,” He drawls, “I can’t help you.” He grunts in pain as a large fist slams into his stomach, “Kriff-”

“Mistress,” The guard says with a frown, “I’m beginning to think that he’s telling the truth.”

‘Mistress’ is a slender woman with white blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Though slender isn’t really the right word. Crosshair would personally call her skeletal, but the first time he asked how they managed to make a corpse walk and talk, he was electrocuted, so he’s learned to hold his tongue.

“He has to know,” The woman’s voice is cold. “Why else would he have gone to the PI?”

“Because you’re offering a hell of a lot of credits, lady.” Crosshair lies.

“You do not speak to the Mistress,” The guard snaps, taking a menacing step towards Crosshair.

“No. Leave him. I tire of this.” The woman says, before she turns to the side, “What do you think, darling.”

‘Darling’ is her husband. Just as thin and skeletal as his white, though his hair is more of a golden blonde than the silvery blonde of his wife. If Crosshair had to guess, one of them bleaches their hair, though which one isn’t something he cares about.

He’s also crueler than his wife.

Crosshair will likely have scars from the stun batons that ‘Darling’ used against him. If he hates ‘Mistress’, then Crosshair absolutely despises ‘Darling’. How either of these people could parent someone like his Princess is beyond him. Maybe she’s adopted.

He glances to the side when the door to the dungeons slams open and a trembling twi’lek hurries his, “Master! Mistress!” He gasps, “The Little Mistress is here.”

The room falls silent, “Are you quite sure?” The Mistress asks.

“Yes ma’am,” The Twi’lek bobs into a bow, “She consented to a DNA scan. It’s her. Would you like me to bring her down?”

“No, we’ll-”

The door slams open again, “No need. I thought I’d come and say hello.”

Crosshair has always thought that his Princess is stunning, but seeing her standing in the doorway, clad in tight leather, and with her short hair falling into her eyes…she looks like an avenging angel and he’s never been more attracted to her in his life.

Impressive, since he can hardly keep his hands to himself as it is.

“Sweetheart!” The Mistress takes half a step towards her, “Your hair…your face! Why are you so fat?”

Princess closes her eyes for a moment, and then she turns and blatantly ignores everyone in the room, “Are you okay?” Her voice is soft, and for a moment, Crosshair can pretend that they’re on the ship and it’s just them.

He slides his arms through the bars of the cell, and holds out his trembling hands, “Better, since you’re here.”

Her sharp eyes linger on his trembling hands, on the burn marks on his arms, chest, and stomach. Her gaze lingers on the bruises covering his face and his torso.

And her eyes go cold.

“Sweetling, why are you talking to that-” His Princess’ father says as he takes a step towards her, reaching out to touch her.

There’s a flash of silver, only noticed because he was looking for it, and then there’s screaming as ‘Darling’ falls back, clutching his blood soaked arm. His Princess carefully uses a cloth to wipe the blood off the blade.

“You took Crosshair.” Her voice is flat, emotionless.

She’s clearly pissed.

“You know,” She continues, some emotion returning to her voice, and she directs her comment towards him, “I really only considered two options when coming here.”

“Oh yeah?” Cross asks as he leans against the bars.

“Hm. Option 1, they took you and killed you.” She continues lightly, “And if that was the case I was going to kill them all, burn this place to the ground, and then throw myself at the Empire until they managed to kill me.”

“Dramatic.”

She shrugs a single shoulder, “Option 2, is that they took you and were using you as bait to make me come here. In this scenario, you were uninjured, just annoyed, and I just threatened great bodily harm and we carried on our way.”

She casts her gaze over him again, “Somehow,” She continues, “The idea that they might torture you never crossed my mind.”

“They are still your family, Princess. I’m not gonna blame you for not wanting to believe the worst of them.” Crosshair says lazily.

She turns to the cell door and effortlessly picks the lock and swings the door open, “Well, you’re the injured party, Cross. What do you want?”

“You have a blaster?”

She smiles and wordlessly passes it to him.

Even with nerve damage, and trembling hands, he’s still the best.

Three shots. Three blaster rounds.

Three dead bodies.

His Princess takes the blaster back and slides it in her holster, before she helps him with a shirt she brought him, “Are you ready to go?” She asks.

“More than ready.” He leans against her, needing her support to make it back to the ship, “Let’s get out of here.”

A week later, you step into the bedroom on your ship, your gaze lingering on Crosshair. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, glaring at his shaking hands. Nerve damage takes weeks to heal, even with bacta.

His hands will be shaking for a while.

Maybe you’ll take Tech up on that offer for a 3 month long vacation on Pabu.

But first-

You enter the room and kneel in front of him, taking both of his hands in yours and pressing light kisses against the palms of his hands. “Do they hurt?” You ask.

“It’s mostly just an ache,” He admits, bitterly, “I’m not going to be able to-”

“Shh,” You release one of his hands and reach up to cup his cheek, “Crosshair, your only responsibility right now is to heal.”

He scowls at you, though you know he’s more annoyed at the situation than at you. “I feel useless.”

“Nonsense. You could never be useless.”

“You’re biased.”

“Mm, perhaps. A little.” You stand and settle on the bed next to him, “But I’m also honest. You will heal. You will get back to 100%. It just takes time.”

He scoffs.

“Don’t be like that.” You say as you lay your head on his shoulder, “After that Wookie broke my leg in three places, you didn’t accuse me of being a burden or of being useless, even though I felt like I was.”

Crosshair shakes his head, and then leans his head against yours, “You gonna use my words against me?”

“If I have to.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I suppose you did pay for the best doctors to see me.”

“Yes, I did.” You reply smugly.

“Alright.” He turns to look at you properly, “I’ll be patient.”

“You’re a sniper, patience is your thing.” You tease him, throwing his words back at him.

His arms, strong and steady, hook around you and he pulls you onto his lap, “Yeah, yeah.” Crosshair leans in and kisses you hungrily, nipping at your lower lip roughly enough that you squeak, “So. You gonna tell me what you and Tech have been talking about?”

“...he’s invited us to come to Pabu until you finish recovery. I’m thinking that agreeing might be a good idea.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, “If you think it’s a good idea, Princess, then I won’t argue. But I refuse to stay with my siblings.”

“Of course not, we’ll be staying here or in an inn.” You brush your fingers across his cheek, “I’ll go let him know.”

Crosshair tightens his grip around you, “You can tell him later. I want you for myself right now.”

You beam at him, “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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tagthescullion · 6 months

Text

The Undead Diary of Luke Castellan

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: T

Summary: It's not Luke's fault the Underworld is understaffed and some of its doors connecting with the living world are left unattended.

Words: 2929

AO3 link

I’d like to begin this story by saying this wasn’t my fault.

Not completely. Or well, not exactly.

The decision was mine, I guess. Except that it wasn’t a decision. More like an impulsive action that turned out to have big consequences.

But, in my defence —a line I’ve been using a lot these past few years, and, come to think of it, all of my life—, I was left unsupervised.

Let’s go back to the beginning.

I died.

Was it painful? Yes, very. Was it unfortunate? Many would disagree. Did I have it coming? I might have, yeah.

At any rate, my arrival in the Underworld had been most expected (by both the demigods alive and the ones whose deaths I’d had a hand in). All things considered, betrayal to the gods and my old camp-mates and whatnot, I hadn’t exactly hoped for a loving welcome committee.

If I’m honest, my judgement and the execution of my sentence were far less harsh than I probably deserved.

Hades himself was in charge of my fate, and to my utmost surprise, he vetoed the judges’ decision to let me burn in acid in the Fields of Punishment. Instead, he suggested I made myself useful, to account for all the destruction I’d brought.

“My domain has expanded exponentially in the past century,” Hades had said. “Daedalus has proved a worthy addition to my efforts to keep it organised efficiently, and you will follow his example if you’re smart.”

And for the past year I had done my job well enough to keep the Lord of the Dead content.

Daedalus was grateful for another pair of hands, so to speak, for I’m not entirely sure I really had hands, or if my spirit’s consciousness believed it hard enough to make it feel that way.

The old man was an incredible and astute engineer, but he had trouble controlling his workers. I, on the other hand, had no idea how to even build a bridge with legos, but I had lots of experience in the field of leading reluctant people, monsters, and even minor deities into battle, which meant organising souls into efficient work groups was a piece of cake. And so I did —carefully watched by one of Hades’ Furies, of course—.

At the beginning, I didn’t see any fellow demigods. Not any I knew, anyway. I was sure some of the souls working under me had been demigods in the past century.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have the time, Hades had given me Wednesdays off —I didn’t really know what day of the week it was, time is an elusive variant in the Underworld, but the Fury was kind enough to remind me—. I just didn’t have the courage to face my old acquaintances just yet.

I kept to the outskirts of Elysium. Souls don’t need to sleep, don't need to eat, don't need to do anything, truly. So I wandered around, looking remarkably like the souls who’d forgotten themselves after so many years.

One day, I was spotted by Lee Fletcher.

It felt like a dagger through my unbeating heart. Lee Fletcher had been my best friend and the second person I’d failed to convince to turn to Kronos’ side. I was glad Lee hadn’t joined in the end, but I’d been shattered when I learned of his demise in Zeus’ Fist at camp.

Lee didn’t look particularly surprised, though.

“I was hoping you’d show your face around eventually,” he’d said. “You deserve a punch in the face and a friend to listen to an explanation.”

I had then offered my old friend a crooked smile. “That’s why I didn’t come round.”

Lee walked with me for a while in silence. I didn’t feel like explaining, and I suppose Lee didn’t feel like forgiving just yet.

After a couple of weeks, it became our Wednesday routine. Lee dared to speak before I did. He told me of what he knew of our respective siblings, and what he knew of everybody else, really. Demigods died and brought news even after the Battle of Manhattan. Obviously, a lot less frequently, but demigod life wasn’t easy in peace times either.

At some point, Lee managed to convince me to meet Silena.

I assumed if anybody was also wary of our former friends it was her. She’d been a marvellous informant, but that had also made her an incredible traitor.

There was a fraction of a second of tense silence when we stood face to face. Then Silena bursted out into sobs and hugged me tight.

“We fucked up,” she cried. “We fucked up, we fucked up…”

I agreed, of course. Gods, we’d fucked up big time.

Slowly, Lee threw more people my way.

Traitors at first, all of them filled with guilt and remorse. I imagine if they weren’t, they would’ve been burning in the Fields of Punishment with the acid the judges had wanted for me.

Then, there’d been a couple of kids who’d never joined my side. They were reluctant, I knew, but they clearly respected Lee enough to go along with him.

Eventually, I got used to the nasty glares, but, more surprisingly, I started getting comments around the lines of, ‘Something had to be done, though’, ‘They really don’t care much about us, do they?’.

Through Lee’s diplomacy and my visible humility and apologetic behaviour —which wasn’t natural to me, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to start defending myself—, my old friends appeared on my Wednesday walks without being coerced. And I even stopped dreading those meetings so much.

That was until spirits started disappearing.

It was rather chaotic at first. There was fear around, which wasn’t common in Elysium.

But then the fear turned into hope. They didn’t disappear. Rumours said they were going back to life.

My inner curiosity got the best of me, as it always did.

One Wednesday, I led Lee and Silena to Melinoe’s cave. She wasn’t home, which made me wonder whether she was in her father’s castle or just roaming around, scaring the shit out of innocent mortals.

When Melinoe wasn’t in her cave, there was always Thanatos, I knew, making sure nobody snooped around like we were doing. Thanatos was a rather strict fellow, and a very good ally to Hades.

In retrospect, it was easy to see he hadn’t been seen around in a long while. But then again, it’s easier to notice those things in hindsight. Time, as I said before, is hard to keep pace of in the Underworld.

“I don’t like this,” Lee said. “I don’t think we should be here.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Worst case scenario, they’ll blame me.”

Lee smiled. That had been a thing even before I left camp. Whenever something fishy happened, Chiron was always quick to point at me rather than Apollo’s golden son.

“I’d rather they blamed nobody,” Silena said. “This place feels terrible, let’s go back.”

I stared at my friends. Didn’t they realise? Thanatos wasn’t here, neither was Melinoe, the Furies would need some time to catch us.

“It’s a way out, guys!”

“Out?” Lee’s expression turned uneasy. “Listen, Luke, we shouldn’t mess around with that idea.”

“It’s been done before,” I insisted. “Or almost.”

“I’m with Lee,” Silena said. “What’s happened, happened. We can’t leave. We can’t go back.”

“There’s nobody here!” I took another tentative step into the cave. I felt a pull, pushing me out into the open, but I went further in. “It feels… strange.”

I felt warm and cold at the same time. I hadn’t felt much since I’d died. My spirit had felt a trace of sensation, but it was muted. As if it was a memory rather than the real thing.

Could I possibly go out? Into the living world?

Over the past year I’d pushed down those feelings of incompleteness. There were still so many things I wanted to do. So many apologies. But two in particular. There were two people I’d have given anything to see.

And perhaps, if there was nobody to stop us, we might be able to leave!

“Luke, stop it!”

But Lee’s voice grew dimmer in my ears.

I could meet them again, my two girls. Explain, tell them how sorry I was.

The force pushing me back grew stronger with every step, but it was no match for my determination.

Step after step, the sensations enhanced in my chest. Cold and warmth, and even a hint of nausea. The ground sloped down, slowly at first, then steeper as I kept going.

Then I realised I could smell. It didn’t smell like a musty old cave, it was the smell of summer. Of hot wind and freshly cut grass.

It only made my resolve stronger.

It was pitch dark. The light from the entrance of the cave had been lost completely.

I went another step further. Then another step. And another step.

I took a deep breath. I could breathe. I was breathing!

Another step. Another step. Another step.

The sound of my heartbeat filled my ears. Loud, strong, quick. Deafening.

Another step. Another step. Another step.

The force pushing me back was so strong now, that I almost tripped. But I regained balance and managed to keep going.

Another step… Another step… Another step…

Then the ground disappeared.

And I fell.

-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z

My first sensation when I woke up was warmth in my face.

A memory stirred in my mind. The smell of ripe strawberries, the laughter of children free for the summer holidays, the rhythmic sound of waves, a towel under my body, and the warmth of the sun hitting my exposed skin.

It was the sun. The sun! I was feeling the sun on my skin!

Then the feeling disappeared, and the brightness I could see through my closed eyelids banished.

A soft hand patted my cheek carefully.

“Hello?” Said a woman’s voice. “Young man?”

I opened my eyes slowly. Outlined by a halo of sunlight the face of a pretty woman of about thirty hovered around a metre away from me.

I tried to speak but my throat felt like sandpaper.

“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice held a trace of an accent. “It takes a while to get used to being back.”

Back.

In spite of the burning feeling in my throat, my face split into a grin.

“Back,” I rasped. “I’m back.”

The woman helped me sit up.

I studied her properly now. Her skirt, blouse, and sweater looked old-fashioned. Her hair was loose, but it curled in that style I’d seen in a thousand WWII movies. She had a warm smile and a clever look.

“I’m Luke,” I said, offering her a hand. “My name’s Luke Castellan.”

“Maria,” she replied.

She looked at my hand and shook it after a second of hesitation.

“I keep forgetting Americans shake hands. So impersonal,” she stated with a raised eyebrow. Her tone was teasing though.

“Are you—” I caught myself. “Were you dead too?”

“Right to the point, yes?” She smiled. “Yes, I was dead. I have been for a while. But now I’m here, and I need to find my son.”

“Your son?” I was surprised.

My perception of ‘mother’ isn’t the best, but this woman didn’t look like a mom to me. She looked like an old time movie star, those that always had perfect make-up, in the black-and-white photos I’d seen in the cinema close to my place in Connecticut.

“Yes,” she said. “My little boy. He should be an old man by now, I would have expected.”

“But he isn’t?” I wondered.

She shook her head, anger and sorrow transformed her expression.

“My daughter passed away,” she told me. “Not too long ago. She should have been old, but she was still a girl.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I looked down, and when I spoke it was full of bitterness. “Children’s lives should never be at risk.”

And despite what many may think, I do believe that kids shouldn’t be put in the line of fire.

Maria nodded, swallowed, and composed herself so fast I felt a little thread of envy. If only I could’ve put up a cheerful façade that quickly…

“You don’t look old enough to die either,” she decided, giving me a once over.

“I think I deserved it,” I admitted. ‘It was my choice’ sounded a bit too harsh. “Besides, I’m 23, that’s better than dying as a child.”

Maria huffed. “23 is still so young.”

“As opposed to…?” I asked.

She seemed horrified by my audacity.

“A lady doesn’t ask nor answer that question,” she said firmly. “And neither should a gentleman.”

I shrugged. She sounded fancy. I guessed in whichever time she came from, old-money people stuck to those ridiculous social rules.

“What do you know of your son?” I wondered. “Do you know where we can find him? Hell, do you know where we are?”

I scanned my surroundings. My eyes were unused to the sun, which made me squint a bit.

It looked like a meadow. The land was flat, not a hill on sight. The grass was green and soft under me, and far to my right, there was a big house.

“Italy,” she said. “Veneto.”

Holy shit.

“A bit far from where I expected to be,” I said.

“The Underworld has many exits,” Maria told me.

My muscles tensed. I had assumed she was a lost mortal, who had followed the path out of the afterlife by accident, but mortals in Italy wouldn’t be likely to call the Underworld by that name. Nor, I guess, would they be likely to have children who were supposed to be old but looked young.

“Oh, I know about all of this,” she smiled. “My children are— were, like you. Demigods. I’m… what’s that term he used? Clear sighted?”

I nodded.

Italian demigods. Did I know Italian demigods? Probably a fair few, but I wasn’t sure if any of the ones I’d met were from Veneto.

And she said she had died ages ago. Whoever her children were they would have been taken out of time.

It rang a bell in my memory, but my mind wasn’t clear enough yet for me to recall properly. Not to mention I’d known dozens of demigods who had bizarre stories.

Thalia was a tree for a while, she’d looked younger than she should have been that time she pushed me off that cliff.

Annabeth and her little gang had been in that Casino thing in Vegas, that had messed up time for them, too.

And the Sea of Monsters, there were a lot of islands there where children could have been stuck in time for decades.

“Are your—,” I hesitated. “Did your children ever get to camp? Camp Half-Blood, in New York?”

Maria’s expression turned dubious. “I think so. Bianca didn’t explain much, she didn’t stay long. But I reckon wherever my boy is, it’s in America. That’s the last place I saw them.”

That’s where she had died then.

“Then camp’s our best bet,” I said. “He’s alive, he’s likely to have at least crossed paths with somebody from there.”

She nodded.

She turned and pointed at the house in the distance. “That’s my family’s home. You can stay there for a bit. To rest.”

She stood and offered a hand for me to get up too.

“I— Yeah, thanks,” I said. I felt weak. I’d just come back to life. She was right to say it took some adjustment. I wondered how long she’d been back. “I could use a place to sit for a bit.”

In exchange, I could help her find camp and her son. Assuming the kid was still alive, that was. I wouldn’t go to camp myself. I’d be stoned the moment I set a foot in there. But leading Maria there was the least I could do after she’d been so kind to me.

I just hoped her son wasn’t somebody I knew. That could make things awkward.

We walked for a bit in silence. As we got closer, the house grew bigger and bigger. ‘House’ was an understatement, I thought. The place was huge.

Balconies, huge floor to ceiling windows, at least four storeys tall. It had a path that led to the main entrance lined with orchard trees, and off to the side there was a less pretentious dirt path that I assumed went to the servant’s entrance.

“I’m sorry,” I said, before I could stop myself, pointing at the immense building in front of us. “But did your family own Italy?”

Maria gave me a funny look. “It’s not such an ostentatious place.”

Perhaps if you are related to the Windsor family, then Maria’s family’s house isn’t ostentatious. If, like me, you come from the US suburbs, then it’s something taken right out of Downton fucking Abbey.

“My father was a marquess,” she explained, when she caught my cynical expression. “Sua grazia, il Signor di Angelo, and all the paraphernalia it came with. The house is all right, but we weren’t…”

But I had stopped listening.

Di Angelo. I did remember that name. Di Angelo was that little kid who’d popped out of nowhere with an army of undead soldiers and his godly father on toe.

But not even I couldn’t be that unlucky.

“What’s your son’s name?” I asked, as casually as I could.

“Niccolò,” she said with a proud smile. “But everybody always called him Nico.”

Nico. Nico di Angelo.

Well, fuck. To nobody’s surprise, I could be that unlucky.

#luke castellan #maria di angelo #lee fletcher #silena beauregard #hades pjo #nico di angelo #pjo #riordanverse #hoo #mis fics #tagthescullion #undead diary

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lemonlyman-dotcom · 13 days

Text

getting past the wounds of love “What are you smiling about?” Paul asks with a raised eyebrow in the rear view mirror. “Got a text from Officer Hotstuff?”

“Shut up,” TK says with a roll of his eyes as Paul and Marjan snicker in the front seat.

“Come on, Paul, it’s not even like that.”

“Oh yeah?” Paul teases as he puts the car in gear. “It looked pretty ‘like that’ the other night. You shoulda seen them, Marj. TK was grinding on that sweet, straitlaced boy so hard I thought we’d have to use the jaws of life to separate them. Officer Dreamboat was looking at TK with those giant heart eyes. He’s already in love.”

“Oh my god,” TK whines. “He is not. We’re not even dating. We’re just …hanging out”

“Sure, whatever you say dude. I mean, I’ve never dry humped someone I’m ‘hanging out’ with in the middle of a club, but good for you I guess.”

love in a series of bursts & inches Carlos has always seen him, flaws and all, as a whole person. He remembers his life back in New York, when he was fresh out of rehab and trying to figure out the kind of person he wanted to be now that he was sober. He was clean but he felt haggard and beaten down, his mind was warped, full of voices telling him he’d burned all his bridges, that he’d ruined any chance of a fulfilling life, of ever finding people who wanted to share in his life. He was unlovable, unreliable and most certainly undatable.

He thought he’d left any chance he had at a future back in that drug den, on a dirty slab of cardboard littered with discarded rubber ties and dirty needles. […]

But when he met Carlos on the side of a highway under glistening streetlights with a steady stream of sideways rain pelting their faces, he didn’t see TK as broken. Carlos didn’t look at him, clad in his hoodies, walls built up a mile high, bristling at the mere thought of someone getting close enough to hurt him, and see him as damaged goods. He saw him for the whole person he was, and everything he could be.

Why Do You Think I Ran Carlos has cataloged all of TK’s laughs; his delighted giggle, the small under-his-breath snort when he’s laughing at his own joke, the soft little gasping chuckle that only comes out during sex. The laugh TK lets out right now is Carlos’s favorite, the one where he scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth. The one he reserves just for Carlos.

Call Me If You Get Lost “TK? Carlos?” she says behind gritted teeth, “What the hell?”

“Hey Nance,” Carlos says as TK pushes past her into the room. A frantic movement to his left captures his attention, and he turns to see Mateo flailing around on the floor, pulling his boxers out from under the nightstand.

“What is this?” TK cries at the same time Nancy swings around and shrieks.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“Whoa…” Carlos reacts as he enters the room.

“What is he doing here?” TK asks with a finger pointing in Mateo’s direction, he feels like he’s going into shock himself.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Nancy’s still shouting. She rounds the bed and grabs a sweater from a chair, hastily pulling it over her head.

“It looks an awful lot like you’re having a clandestine affair with Mateo,” Carlos helpfully chimes in. He points to the unmade bed, “Exhibit A!”

Carlos turns to TK with a small smug smile and whispers, “See, I told you I was good at this.”

“Damn, babe,” TK preens, “Hot and smart. You really should take the detective’s exam. You would totally crush it.”

Como Te Quiero Yo (how I love you) On the morning of the third day of their honeymoon, TK is now regretting the fact that their parents put them up in the honeymoon suite. While it is nice […] all the walls are clear glass. Sexy last night when TK tempted Carlos into the shower. Not so much right now, when Carlos has a clear straight view of him where he’s sitting, hunched over in pain on the toilet.

“TK?” He calls from the bedroom, face scrunched in concern. His voice comes muffled through the glass walls, “Babe, are you okay?”

“Don’t look at me!”

“Okay, I mean… It’s kind of hard not to.”

“Carlos, I swear to god.” TK shouts, his own voice echoing off the tiles. He tells himself it’s to be heard, but his volume is just as much fueled by embarrassed desperation.

“Okay,” Carlos says. And if TK didn’t know any better, he might detect a hint of amusement in his voice. But he knows his husband isn’t a stupid man. He doesn’t have a death wish. So there is no laughter in this hotel room.

“Umm, what do you want me to do?” Carlos asks again, eyes steadily trained on the wall on the other side of the room.

—and—

“I’m sorry you’re sick, babe,” Carlos says, gently guiding him towards the bed. When TK whines in response he says, “and I’m sorry I laughed at you this morning.”

“Mean.”

“I’m always gonna laugh when you get the gurgle guts.”

“Wow, Carlos,” he whines, laying back on the bed and covering his face with a hand. “You should have included that in your vows. ‘I vow to be the caretaker of your wild heart... And to laugh at you when you’re dying from dysentery.’”

“What is this, the Oregon Trail?”

“Ahh! Carlos!”

All Your Colors Make Me Feel Alive “Carlos it’s,” TK stutters, “it’s okay now. I don’t feel that way now. But it’s always gonna be there. I might feel that way again.” He stops and bites his lip, runs a hand across his eyes. “I have a better support system now. I have Marj and Nance, I have you. I have resources. But that doesn’t mean it won’t ever get that bad again.”

Carlos nods, rubbing the back of TK’s head but not attempting to interrupt.

“I don’t expect you to wanna stick around, to want to deal with that.”

“Baby,” Carlos says quietly, fighting to keep his voice even, “what do you mean?”

“I know—” TK sniffs, running a sleeve-covered hand over his face, “I know I’m not easy.”

“I don’t need you to be easy, TK,” he puts a hand under TK’s chin to tilt his head up. Needs to be sure he hears this. “Hey, look at me.” When TK lifts his eyes slightly to make eye contact he continues. “I just need you to be alive. Okay, baby? Whatever you need.”

Thank you for the tags @filet-o-feelings @bonheur-cafe @sznofthesticks @freneticfloetry @vineofroses @ladytessa74 and pretending like @liminalmemories21 tagged me 🥰

Tagging @nancygillianmvp @chicgeekgirl89 @welcometololaland @carlos-in-glasses @thisbuildinghasfeelings @paperstorm @thebumblecee @reyesstrand @lightningboltreader @never-blooms @decafdino @your-catfish-friend @literateowl @tinyluminaryzombie @herefortarlos @doublel27 @strandnreyes @chaotictarlos and OPEN TAG 🏷️

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 7 months

Text

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

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